#just something short this time; yes 850+ is short

[da-birb-writes-sometimes]

This Wasn't in the Itinerary

Both of you work so hard, it's only right that you be treated to a vacation.

Character; Ruggie Bucchi

Content; fluff, gender-neutral reader, drabble

Word Count; 850+

AN; This is for a mutual of mine who brain rotted and I wanted to write a version of it. I hope you enjoy it!

“A vacation? That I get paid for,” Ruggie gave Leona a semi-shocked look. What's he playing at here?

Leona rolled his eyes, “Yeah, you’ve pulled your weight and then some, so yeah, you’ve earned it. Already booked you a room too, so don’t even try gettin’ out of it.” He tossed a key at Ruggie, who clamoured trying to catch it.

Ruggie’s brows were pinched, but he looked at the key; it looked fancy, way too fancy. “How much was this?” Did I really earn this? “I can’t-”

“Too late, room’s booked. They also got some fancy schmancy breakfast options too,” Leona handed him a card that had all of the information about the resort, all in pretty cursive. "So yeah, you can accept it."

Dear Ruggie Bucchi, Escape the stress of your life and come to The Canopy, a resort focusing on rewinding and letting your hair loose. Enjoy the fresh breakfast made by the best pastry chefs in the Sunset Savannah. Take a dip in one of the many pools on the grounds. Head out on a river cruise and look at the local wildlife. The Canopy is an all-inclusive resort, and we hope you enjoy your stay with us! Room Type & Number; Single bed with a minifridge, as well as a balcony with a hot tub. Room 183, East Wing.

This… this is real. “I-,” he took a deep breath and exhaled. “Thanks, Leona.”

“Don’t mention it,” Leona said nonchalantly He wouldn’t tell Ruggie, but he has been planning this vacation for him for weeks. “Just enjoy it. Ya earned it.”

. . .

When Ruggie arrived at his room there was already a small bag in the process of being put away, but it wasn't his. He double-checked the room number, yup, Room 183, East Wing. then why was there another bag in his room? But that scent smelled familiar-

“Ruggie?”

He turned around and saw you, standing in the doorway holding a brochure for some local shops. “Prefect?” He asked back, equally confused about the entire situation. “What are you doing here?”

You entered the room and went to your bags, looking over the card Professor Crewel left outside your doorstep. Or at least it said it was from the professor, but he hadn't said anything to you about it, but weren't complaining, you worked your butt off. Plus you didn't have to pay for any of this, so you weren't going to turn this down. “On a vacation. And you?”

“Same boat. Well, a forced one,” he also looked at your card. Room 183, East Wing. Had they double-booked the same room by accident? “Wanna talk to the front desk?”

You both looked at the bed; it looked nice, fluffy, and like it was made from the softest clouds. But it was a single, just big enough to hold one person. There was no way it could hold more without the two of you being crammed together. Ruggie could feel his ears heat up at even the idea of being in such cramped quarters with you.

You sighed and grabbed your bag, mentally preparing to talk to customer service. "Not really, but sure, why not?"

. . .

You both returned from the front desk to your room. Your shared room. And there were no other rooms available. Both you and Ruggie were stuck with each other, as the shuttle bus back to Night Raven College didn’t come back until tomorrow at noon at the earliest. So you would be stuck here for the night, sharing a single bed, together. But there were worse ways to spend your vacation, plus you like Ruggie.

“If you want I can take the floor, I don’t mind,” he offered, rubbing the back of his neck.

You placed a hand on his forearm, stopping him. “No, it’s okay,” you gave him a soft smile, “I don’t mind.” 

You got into bed a squished yourself to the edge so Ruggie could have the other half. Once he got comfy he looked up and then quickly looked away, and so did you. It was a tight squeeze, but like hell were you going to make him sleep on the floor. 

Huh, did he always have flecks of silver in his eyes? You shook your head, trying to shoo those thoughts away. When you looked back up though, Ruggie was already asleep, lightly snoring. Has he always been this pretty?

He shuffled over to you, slinging an arm across you. “Mmm, don’t leave,” he mumbled.

You stiffened but then relaxed, sighing. You carded your fingers through his hair and looked at him softly. “I won’t.” You sat there for a little bit before you too fell asleep, hiding your face next to his heart. A steady thump thump thump luring you deeper and deeper into a calm dream. 

. . .

“You did that on purpose didn’t you,” Jack asked, looking up at Leona.

Leona shrugged, “Eh, they don’t need to know that.”

Professor Crewel was not the one to gift you an all-expenses paid holiday, it was Leona. He had grown tired of the two of you not admitting anything and it was driving him up the wall, so he decided to speed things up. Hopefully, his plan turned out… the both of you deserved good things.

[ladychota]

I Missed You

Pairing - Loki x Female Reader

Warnings - Crying Loki, freaking Thanos dusting half the universe, grief (lmk if you want me to add anything)

Summary - The Avengers leave for a mission, leaving you and Loki alone in the compound to do whatever you want... but something unexpected happens.

Word Count - 850

A/N - This takes place at the end of Infinity War to near the end of Endgame, but Loki survived Thanos and his neck-crushing hands

Masterlist

"I'm glad they didn't let you go on that mission," You say, stroking Loki's hair as he lies on your chest.

"Oh really?" He replies. "And why's that?"

"Because it means we can spend time together. I missed you when you went to Asgard with Thor,"

You feel him smile against your stomach. "I missed you too, my love. So much. When Thanos came for us, I honestly thought it was the end. I thought I'd never get to hold you ever again,"

You hum in sad acknowledgement. "I started to get worried after the first few weeks of no contact. I was so scared that something had happened and I wasn't there to save you..."

You feel his hand stroke your face lovingly. "Well, we're here together now. That's all that matters, darling,"

"I agree," You smile. "In fact, why don't we do something? We should make use of this alone time,"

Loki sits up just enough so he can see your face, then leans forwards and presses a kiss to your lips. "I'd like that,"

You both get up and stretch, planning what you could do together.

"We could do some baking," You suggest. "Or reading,"

"Hmm... we could make those little fairy cakes you like," Loki pulls you towards him, a grin playing on his lips.

"Yes! They're my fav-" Your sentence is cut off by an odd pull in your chest. The smile is wiped from your face.

Something isn't right.

"Are you okay, my love?" Loki asks, concern lacing his every word. "We don't have to do it,"

You look up into his worried green eyes, your breathing becoming short.

"S-something's happened," You say shakily, feeling your body weakening.

"What do you mean?" Loki's grip tightens on your arms.

Something black begins to swirl around you... ashes, perhaps?

"Wait... wait Y/n! No!" His panicked voice fades away; his body disappears. You stumble forwards at the lack of contact. 

The ashes that were once floating around seem to sink into your skin. You look around at the once beautiful room as it slowly transforms. The wallpaper starts to peel and discolour, the furniture overturns and breaks itself, the light in the room disappears as the curtains are drawn.

You freeze, looking around the room as your heart is gripped by fear.

"What the fuck..."

What just happened? Where did Loki go? You feel your strength returning, but that feeling of weakness is quickly replaced by terror.

"Y/n!?" You hear a shout and fast feet down the corridor outside. "Y/n!!"

"Loki!?" He bursts through the door and freezes as you run a stressed hand through your hair. "I don't know what the hell just ha-"

You stop speaking as you notice him walking towards you slowly; timidly; his eyes filling with tears.

"Are you alright?" You ask, your voice breaking slightly with worry.

His hands cup your face, caressing your cheeks so gently it's as if he's worried about breaking you.

"Are you really here?" His voice is a hoarse whisper.

"Yes...?" You whisper in return. "Why wouldn't I be?"

His bottom lip trembles as the welling tears finally spill and trickle down his face. To think you were speaking of making fairy cakes only a moment ago...

"Y/n... my love, it's been five years,"

Your brow furrows in confusion. "Five years? Since what?"

He lets out a shuddering breath. "We lost, Y/n. That mission the others were sent on? They lost. Thanos snapped. He killed half of the universe, in-including... you,"

Your heart fills with dread, Loki's teary eyes only making it worse. "But then... how am I here?"

A small, sad smile graces his face before it disappears only a moment later. "We got the stones back. Bruce snapped and... and... you're here,"

His arms wrap around you as he buries his face in the crook of your neck, sobs wracking through his body. He's holding you so tightly it hurts, but you don't care.

"I'm here, Loki..." You murmur, trying to reassure him as tears spring to your own eyes.

He pulls away after a few minutes, attempting to steady his breathing as he looks down at you.

"I missed your beauty," He whispers. You notice how tired he looks, how the spark in his eyes seems to have died. "I missed your laugh and your jokes. I missed your voice, the twinkle in your eye, the lines you get on your face when you smile," He gives you a small, wobbly smile; you're both on the verge of tears once more as he continues:

"I missed the happiness and love you brought me. I missed the way you fiddle with your hair or my hand when you're nervous, the way you snuggle into my chest when you're tired, the way you try anything and everything to make sure I'm comfortable and happy..." He takes a deep breath.

"I missed you, Y/n,"

You feel your heart break slightly upon hearing his words, a single tear slipping down your cheek. You move onto your tip toes, leaning up to kiss him in silent gratitude, his words meaning more to you than you could ever express.

But your lips never meet.

Instead you're met with the blinding light of the world exploding around you.

[auspicioustidings]

Make your own way home

Word Count: 850

SPOILERS for MWIII BELOW THE CUT!

Summary: Short little drabble of what happens a few weeks after that ending cut scene.

CW: Dubcon/non-con by virtue of spirit possession.

If there was ever an example of wrong place, wrong time, you think you were it. The trip alone to the Highlands was supposed to be a journey of self-discovery. It was supposed to calm your mind, let you meditate in nature and find some peace. Not be in your head so much.

And now here you were, in your head. Stuck in your head. 

You hadn’t ever really given much thought to whether you believed in ghosts or not. You thought of them as something from horror films, always creeping in the dark and spooking young couples in their new house. You had never considered that they could be out in the hills during the daylight, waiting for a warm body to commandeer. 

And he had commandeered you without too much of a fight. For a few hours you had wrestled him for control, but his will was overpowering. It didn’t help that whoever had rudely put themselves in the driver's seat was an arse.

Let me out

“Cannae dae that, got places to be.” 

It’s my body!

“Our body hen.”

No, absolutely not, this is not a communist body, this is single ownership

“In that case, it’s my body” he laughed, seemingly finding your screaming in your (his?) head amusing.

It is NOT

“Let me see if I have a pretty wee body tae match my pretty wee voice.”

You could only watch as he took your body to the lakeside and peered into the glassy surface. It was bizarre, watching your own face light up in a grin that looked nothing like yours. He seemed pleased with what he was looking at, and you thought if you were in control you might have blushed. In fact, you knew that to be the case seeing a dusting of colour appear. Interesting, your body at least still reacted to your emotions. 

“Fuck me, look at this,” he all but purred, a hand coming to squeeze at your chest.

Oh, oh it wasn’t just your emotions that your body still reacted to. You felt the touch as if it was someone else’s hand on you and you certainly felt the sick little bolt of pleasure from it. The little bit of excitement of how horribly wrong this was. 

“Dinnae tempt me hen, told ye we have places to be. Once we get there we can play together as long as ye want.”

You could not think of a single thing to say to that and you almost felt a sense of motion sickness when your body started moving again, trekking through the mountains at a pace you would never go at. You tried everything. You pictured a battering ram to try and smash through to get control and he responded by putting thoughts in your shared headspace of the ramming turning lewd. You sang obnoxiously and he only joined in using your voice, delighted with how it sounded. You gave him the silent treatment and got so painfully bored of it that within 30 minutes you were back to just wailing in your head. 

“Ye know, they dinnae usually stay.”

What do you mean?

“When we take a body, the previous tenant disnae usually stick around.”

Am I going to die?

“Naw if ye dinnae want that. Even if ye did, might keep ye around. If ye behave might even let ye have control for a wee bit, would ye like that?”

If being possessed was not terrifying enough, the concept that the thing possessing you one, had plenty of experience and two, had never had anyone survive was making you feel sick. You felt that feeling in your body and he felt it too if his confused little grunt was anything to go by.

“Come on hen, be nice,” he said, not stopping but shoving a hand unceremoniously into your pants to rub gently. “Just relax.”

It was an insane feeling, you touching yourself but it actually being someone else controlling the movements. He wasn’t going fast, the languid pace seemingly aiming to soothe more than anything. It was wild that it sort of worked, that sick feeling fading out to a hazy rolling pleasure that was only just a gentle simmer.

At some point you felt your thoughts drift off to a strange sleep even though your body was still awake and moving. When you felt consciousness leak back in, you could see yourself approaching a house. 

“Look who's finally awake! Good timing princess” he said. You could hear the exhaustion in your voice, you wondered if he had let himself and the body sleep at all. Maybe if the body slept, you could wrestle back control.

You watched as your hand came to knock at the door. Watched it open to reveal a huge man in a skull balaclava. Watched and very much felt when your body launched at him, pushing the mask up to get your lips on his. He reacted as if he knew you, holding your body tight and laughing into your lips.

“Knew you’d make your own way home.”

“Always do LT.”

[violentvaleska]

𝑨𝒃𝒚𝒔𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝑴𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔

sɪx ᵗⁱᵗᵃⁿ

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ʟᴇᴠɪ ᴀᴄᴋᴇʀᴍᴀɴ x ғᴇᴍᴀʟᴇ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: ᴡʜᴏ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜᴛ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴅʀᴇᴀᴍs ᴡɪʟʟ ʙʀɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴏ ᴄᴏᴜʀᴛ ᴏɴᴇ ᴅᴀʏ? ᴄᴇʀᴛᴀɪɴʟʏ ɴᴏᴛ ʏᴏᴜ, ʙᴜᴛ sᴛɪʟʟ ʜᴇʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ; ᴅᴇғᴇɴᴅɪɴɢ ᴀ ᴛɪᴛᴀɴ ᴡʜɪʟᴇ sᴏᴍᴇ ᴏғ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴅᴀʀᴋᴇsᴛ ᴅᴇsɪʀᴇs ᴀʀᴇ ʀᴇᴠᴇᴀʟᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡʜᴏʟᴇ ᴍɪʟɪᴛᴀʀʏ.

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: ᴠɪᴏʟᴇɴᴄᴇ, ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏғ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ, sᴇxᴜᴀʟ ᴛᴇɴsɪᴏɴ

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs: ↫ ᴘʀᴇᴠɪᴏᴜs ɴᴇxᴛ ↬

ғᴀɴғɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ

ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴏɴ ᴀᴏ3

ᴛᴀɢɢɪɴɢ: @ajmiila02 @xiernia

Year 850

If there was one thing you did not see coming, it was being a witness at Eren Yeager's trial, which will determine whether he lives or dies. You did not actually see him turn into one of those monsters, but your dreams clearly predicted the outcome years ago. How this is possible you don't know, but a personal letter from the Commander of the Survey Corps himself made it clear that your testimony in this case is needed to help Eren.

The trial starts in an hour, and you're currently waiting for Smith in front of a makeshift office, anxiously fidgeting with your fingers, a habit you've learned to adopt whenever you need to. It helps you clear bad thoughts from your already clouded mind. While you try to concentrate, you find yourself drifting off somewhere else, right into the world of your visions. Some of them have already come true, and others are just confusing you. The incident with Ile's notebook was the worst so far, the others are barely worth mentioning. Footsteps make you look up and when you see two figures, one smaller than the other, walking directly towards you, you stand up instantly and salute the men.

"Commander, Captain." You greet them, your body stiff and ready to follow their lead.

"Faye. At ease." Erwin smiles warmly and puts a hand on your shoulder, pointing to his office. The other, smaller man is Captain Levi, and you can't help but notice that he looks even more tired than the last time you saw him, which was about a year ago.

"Please, have a seat." The blonde offers, and you gladly accept, looking around with interest. The people in the inner districts must have a good life, considering how well furnished this small room is. Levi is more reserved than usual, simply keeping his arms crossed as he leans against the wall closest to the window, just behind Erwin's desk, and looks out at the farmers with disinterest.

"You look well, has the Trainee Corps treated you well, my dear?" The Commander asks, a charming smile on his attractive face. With that kind of charisma he could certainly influence his soldiers to the point of death, but you learned to be very careful with him, as he was with you.

"It was a challenge, but I managed." Short and simple, he'll be happy with that.

"Great. You're a smart young woman now. I'm sure you know why I asked you to attend Eren Yeager's trial." He's straight to the point, his smile slowly turning into a thin line.

"Yes, although I wonder how credible my testimony will be." You admit and meet the Captain's eyes, who quickly looks away, only letting out a soft sigh.

"Don't worry about it. I told Zackly about you and your talents months before the recent events. He's a bit sceptical, but he doesn't reject the idea that you're something special." You'd like throwing up, feeling the sickness overtake you.

"I'm not special." You spit a little hatefully and stare at him with a deep frown that would challenge Ymirs.

"But you are, don't you see?" You turn your attention to the Captain, frustrated by his words that seem to mock you. It would be strange to think that the great Captain Levi sees you as something special.

"No I can't Captain, why don't you enlighten me as to how I am special?" Your teasing encourages Erwin to roll his eyes as he leans back in his seat.

"Oh, I don't know, Cadet, maybe because you can fucking see death! What are you, a banshee?" He's angry at your myopic view of yourself, and clenches his hands into fists. You rise from your seat and glare at the Captain with hatred, trying to ignore the boiling rage in your gut.

Remembering the last time you saw him, you feel a sickening sensation in your stomach. While he treated you with violence, the two of you eventually bonded over your shared confusion about yourself. All that seems gone now, and you wonder what the dark-haired man might think of you. He was the one who brought you to the safety of the walls, the one who cared for you after a night's attack. But Captain Levi is also the one who suspected you of being a potential threat. The chaos of his actions and thoughts makes you feel absurd and different from him.

"Faye. Why don't you sit down? And Levi, please don't provoke her, it's unnecessary." Commander Erwin speaks up, clearly demanding a peaceful conversation in his working environment. You do as he says and let yourself fall back into the wooden chair, your eyes moving from Captain Levi to the Commander.

"I wasn't aware that you felt that way. I hope you understand that you are special from our point of view." His words catch your eye, and while you don't like the idea of being seen that way, you nod your head in silent agreement.

"Now that we have discussed this matter, I would like to talk to you about the trial. The heads of the other departments have been informed of your situation."

As you close your eyes, your current situation hits you. You'd been more comfortable with the fact that only the Survey Corps and a few other higher-ups knew about you. Within a few hours, everyone would know, even your fellow cadets. Would they hate you? Not trust you?

"You're the second case found outside the walls, if I were you I wouldn't mention it. Most of us didn't even know about Grisha Yeager anyway, I'm sure the others won't either". You agree, knowing it won't help your case at all.

"What if they don't trust or believe me, what if they want to execute me?" Her question lingers in the room, and it is quiet enough to hear a needle drop.

"Tch. They won't. Stop being stupid." Levi reassures you in his own way, though it should turn out that your concerns are eligible.

━━━━━━━༺ - ༻━━━━━━━

Whispers make their way through the crowd as Commander Erwin introduces you to the military, deeply suspicious looks hanging on you as you step forward, fingers trembling with nervousness.

"Cadet Faye Engel. Is it true that you predicted Eren Yeager's transformation into a Titan?" You jump at the harshness of Commander Nile Doks voice.

"I dreamed it." You neither confirm nor deny his accusation, hoping for a better outcome for both Eren and yourself.

"You documented all these dreams and sent monthly reports to Commander Smith. Did you write down every dream you had?" He asks, looking at you as if you were his prey.

"I did, the Commander told me to." You say simply, and get a strange feeling as the Commander smiles triumphantly and picks up something that one of his soldiers has given him. A diary, wrapped in a brown leather cover. Your eyes widen in recognition at the dream journal; your dream journal, to be exact. Someone must have broken into your quarters after you arrived this morning and left to have breakfast with Armin and Mikasa.

Before you can ask how he got hold of your personal belongings, he begins to speak in a loud and clear voice.

"This is Cadet Engel's dream journal. We configured it and noticed that she clearly left out some of her dreams." Erwin, who is standing right next to you, gives you an angry look, clearly displeased with you.

"What did she leave out?" Erwin asks, giving Nile a stern look. At the MP's next words, your face blushes a deep red.

"The death of fellow soldiers, how it looks outside the walls and sexual fantasies about your Captain and Section Commander." The room falls silent and you notice the man next to you stiffen. Captain Levi looks straight ahead, his bitter face barely showing any form of emotion.

"I could care less. And frankly, I don't see the need to humiliate a cadet in front of the entire court." You are surprised to see Erwin come to your defense, considering the way he looked at you just a few seconds ago.

"A witch!" The priest of the wall church shouts, pointing at you, completely ignoring the words of the scout commander.

"Don't you see? She has been summoned by the evil that created the Titans! Sent to lure us out with her pretty face." Your body tenses, you shrink under the eyes of all the men watching you.

"She will seduce the Captain and Section Commander. No doubt using them to stab us all in the back." You swallow, scowling at how ridiculous that sounds.

"Nice conspiracy theory you've got there." Levi simply comments, rolling his eyes at the madman of your opposite number. He seems to completely ignore the fact that you had dreamed of him in an unbecoming way.

"She needs to be hanged!" Clear accusations in all their glory. You stand next to Levi, who nudges you to the side, telling you to stand tall and proud.

"They'll tear you apart if you don't." He explains curtly, looking straight at Eren, whose body is crouched and tied to a pole in the middle of the cord room.

"I'm not a witch." You spit and look at the pastor with a rigid gleam in your eyes, making him shut up for a second, too stunned to speak.

"I'm from the Shiganshina district, I saw it fall and people being torn in half! How dare you accuse me of such nonsense when you were in the luxurious district of Mitras while my family died out there!" You raise your voice, lean over the railing and point at Eren.

"This boy has seen things you can't even dream of. And you all call for his death as if his life meant nothing. He is human too, damn it!" A hand on your shoulder makes you gasp, and you turn your head towards the black-haired Captain, who tries to calm you down, but only gives you a small nod. You have to take a deep breath, your hands clenched into fists as you stop yourself from saying more. It would be foolish to let your emotions get the better of you, especially because of the misconceptions these men have about women. If you speak your thoughts, you're hysterical, but if a man does, he's considered rational.

"Human?" Commander Nile Dok speaks up, picking up a piece of paper to read.

"Eren Yeager and Mikasa Ackerman were nine years old when they murdered three kidnappers." A crumble breaks through the courtroom and you notice Erwin's eyebrows turn into a deep frown, clear frustration written all over his face. You didn't know that Eren and Mikasa had to go through this at the age of nine, it must have been terrible.

"You all call it justified self-defense, but I can't help but be disturbed by the fundamental lack of humanity in their actions." You winced at that, baring your teeth at the Commander from a distance. You hate that man, he's only provoking the soldiers more than necessary.

After the trial you listen to Eren's defense and even smile a little when he calls the members of the military police "cowards". He's right, and after seeing their behavior today, you'll regret ever thinking of joining them. When one of the MP's points his rifle at Eren, your smile quickly fades. You barely notice Captain Levi leaving your side, only looking up in confusion when you see him walking at a fast pace in Eren's direction. Is he going to help him? Protect him? Raising an eyebrow, you look at Erwin, whose attention is focused on the Captain, a small glimmer of hope in your eyes. The moment you look back at Eren, a gasp escapes you as the captain lifts his leg and kicks the boy right in the face. A bloodied tooth flies out of Eren's mouth and lands on the floor, but the black-haired bastard doesn't stop there. He continues to kick and punch Yeager with no remorse, causing Mikasa to lose her temper. If Armin hadn't held her back and reassured her that she should just watch, you can be sure she would have jumped into action.

“You know personally, I think nothing instills discipline like pain. You don't need a good talking to. What you are in need of boy is to be taught a lesson.” Eren's breath is heavy and infrequent, the Captain's booted foot on his head keeps him from moving. You can't help but to notice that Captain Levi must have held back on you all this years ago.

“And you happen to be in perfect kicking position.” As he continues, you look away, finding the way he mistreats his subordinates is disgusting. Surely there must be a reasoning behind his cruel acts of violence.

“Hold on Levi.” Commander Dok demands, looking as shocked and scared as the others.

“What is it?” He moves away from Eren, glaring at the Commander with nothing but disdain for the man.

“It's dangerous. What if he gets angry and turns into a titan?” Nile tries to reason with the harsh man, not once taking his attention from the titan shifter in fear he might miss something. Instead of stopping, Levi kicks the poor boy once more, grabbing him by the hair. His face is swollen and blood trenches his skin, it's a horrible sight.

“Don't be silly. Afterall, you guys just wanted to dissect him, don't you.” Baffled you realize the reason behind his gruel beating. The Captain wants to prove a point. He makes a point at mentioning Eren's titan kill count during his transformed moment and him being an intelligent enemy. He also states to be able to take him down himself.

“How many of you can say the same? Before you torment the beast you'd better think. Can you actually kill him.” The obvious answer is no and seeing it written all over their faces truly makes you think how strong the Captain really is.

Erwin offers his proposition, offering to take Eren under Captain Levi's supervision and will take part in the next mission.

"What if he loses control?" Zackly, the general, asks with interest. So far he has been nothing but neutral and obedient, which you really appreciate. He even listened patiently to your testimony, though the way his old eyes lingered on you was unsettling. Levi shrugs his shoulders and offers to kill Eren if things go wrong.

With this promise, Zackly decides to leave Eren Yeager in the care of the Survey Corps, and while everyone believes this unexpected outcome to be the end, everything freezes in surprise as he gives another direct order.

"Cadet Faye Engel will be transferred to the Survey Corps immediately. If she can predict the future, I want her close to Yeager as an extra security measure." You certainly didn't expect this. A little worried you move closer to the Commander, hoping that he at least knew about this possible outcome, but he seems to be as baffled as you are.

"Gladly, General." Erwin speaks in a loud voice and before you know it he is pushing you out of the courtroom, not even giving you a chance to say goodbye to your friends.

"Commander, what..." the blonde ignores you and turns to his soldiers.

"Release Yeager and take him to Hanges' office. We'll meet there in five minutes." Erwin demands, his hand not even touching your shoulder as he continues to lead you forward, away from the courtyard.

"Get me Mike and Levi." You can tell he's stressed, maybe even a little exhilarated. He hadn't planned to have you under his command so soon, things would have to be rearranged now.

"Yes, sir!" The scouts drift off, running in two different directions. The tension is palpable as Erwin holds you in his tracks, moving you to his liking so that your body is facing him.

"You will be part of Mike's squad from now on. I may have to make some changes, but it's important that you stay close to Eren. Do you understand, Faye?" Nodding their heads, the two of them exchange glances and you could swear that a hint of mad fascination is growing in them.

"Don't gamble with your life. Yours may be of much more importance than we suspect at the moment." You raise an eyebrow, wondering why you of all people would be so careless with yourself, but his answer is cut short when Mike and Levi catch his attention. Only now do you notice their absurd height difference.

You look at Mike, a smile on your face as the man reaches out to take your hand. A small giggle escapes you as he takes it to his hand and plants a small kiss on the back of it.

"Cadet Engel. Is it possible that you've become even more beautiful over the years?" He wonders, his voice deep and calm as he grins at your deep red face. Feeling completely nervous and overwhelmed, you stammer your words, causing Levi to roll his eyes, looking like an angry hound compared to Mike.

"She's gotten older Mike, she's probably even legal now. Your attempt to flirt with a girl is sad." The Captain mumbles to himself, catching only a frustrated side-eye from the taller soldier.

"I've been legal for a long time and a woman, not a girl. I know for a fact that I'm 23." You sass back, relying only on your dreams for the truth of that statement.

"Are you sure? Your nasty fantasies don't sound very mature to me." Flinching, you pull your hand away from Mike's to confront Levi, but Erwin immediately de-escalates the situation.

"Now, now. We are in public. You can discuss your mutual disgust or adoration for each other later." The Commander demands, turning on his heel to walk past his commanding soldiers and cadet.

"Our focus is now on Eren and Faye, I have a change of plan I would like to discuss with you all. Considering that Zackly has given me a second ace, I want to keep them both close and well protected."

Erwin Smith is a good commander, perhaps even a respectable man, but you can tell there is a dark desire deep in his heart. Wants and needs he wants to fulfill, and you may be a part of it.

As you follow his lead, Mike bends down to your level and whispers something in your ear that sends a shiver down your spine. "I don't care what they say, little cadet. I am honored to be an object of desire in your dreams."

[rottingcorps3s]

"Mistaken Friendship" Part 2 - S.R.

Simon "Ghost" Riley x gn!reader (they/them pronouns and no identifying features are used)

Simon is put off by how friendly the local barista is and hurts their feelings when he turns down their ‘friendship’ he refused to admit that they had.

Rating: Right now, like 13+, but may be subject to change.

Word Count: 850 ish words

A/N: This part is very short short so I decided to post them back to back. I'm planning to have part 3 written out by next weekend and will hopefully be posting it around then. Part 3 should be longer!

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4

The next time that the pair would come into contact again was about 2 months later. Simon had been in a similar situation to last time forced awake by yet another nightmare, this time at a much, much later time of night. 2:34am read the clock that sat idly on his nightstand to the right of his bed. He was up and out of the confines of his plush covered heaven in a flash, same emotions as last time and every other time before that. Anxiety, fear, stress, stress, stress, stress, stress.

Rinse, recycle, repeat.

Phone, shoes, jacket. He was down the street faster than he had been in a while, his mind still sitting at home in his bed shivering with anxiety. He opted for taking a longer walk compared to the last time, causing the 10-minute trip to turn into 35 minutes. By the time he was walking down the familiar street it was now a quarter past 3 am. The neon sign that he had once seen before seemed to shine brighter tonight, which in hindsight made sense, considering that it was later than usual and most of the businesses had closed for the night. He slowly approached the door, slightly hesitating as he was brought back to reality with how late it really was. The inside of the store was empty. The lights to the front of the store were shining brightly creating the illusion that they were in fact open and running. He glanced over at the sign that should’ve had their store hours posted on it, but it was blank, giving him no helpful information. His next step was to try the front door, which he did. He pushed against it, and it resisted his attempted intrusion. There’s you’re answer, he thought. He slowly turned away, opting to try again another time when he inevitably had another night terror.

“Excuse me!” A familiar voice rang through his ears; he slowly turned around. “I’m sorry, we’re open,” said the same voice which he had heard say something similar once before, “I just needed to run to the convenience store for a few things.” He nodded silently in agreement; his hands shoving themselves deep into his coat pockets.

“If you’re okay with waiting a few minutes, I can still make that drink for you.” They offered. They stood a few feet away from him in front of the door to the café, keys in one hand that was shoved into the keyhole unlocking the door, the other held a few plastic bags that had a variety of products shoved into them.

“Sure.” He said simply. The glass door was shoved open in front of the pair as they both entered. Simon took his place in front of the register while they raced behind the counter and to the back area of the store. The swinging door closed behind them but did little to block out all the noise. A few curses here and there, the slamming of what he assumed was the fridge door and an excessively loud sink faucet that creaked with the turning of the knob. They approached a few minutes later, now wearing a simple black apron.

“Sorry about that.” They apologized whilst rubbing their damp hands against the front of the apron. “I don’t get many visitors this late at night.” They humored to themself.

“Oi, no problem.”

“What can I started for you?” They asked, that sweet smile once again on their face just like the last time they had interacted.

“Uh,” Simon hesitated for a moment, “hot americano, please.”

“For Simon, right?” They asked, which caught him slightly off guard on hearing his name.

“Simon,” he agreed, “yes.”

Like last time, they disappeared behind the machine and appeared a few minutes later, drink in hand. Simon reached to his pocket where he tended to keep his wallet, his fingers dug around for a moment before being met with…nothing. Fuck, he thought. They must’ve been able to tell that something was wrong as they furrowed their brows in concern.

“Is everything alright?” They questioned, already knowing the answer.

“Uh, I don’t have my wallet.” He stated simply; averting his eyes to avoid looking directly at them. Embarrassment flooding his veins.

“Oh!” They exclaimed, “Don’t worry about it, I owe you one for making you wait anyway.” They chuckled quietly, their laugh sounding like velvet to his ears. He looked back up at them; their eyes were squinted with the small smile that resided on their face.

“I-I feel to bad,” Simon said which caused them to contort their face in confusion, “I’d hate for you to get in trouble.” he rumbled out, “You also gave me my last one on the house.”

“Can I tell you a secret, Simon?” They asked; he nodded silently in response. They craned their neck forward slightly, observing their surroundings for any potential eavesdroppers before finally speaking, “I’m the owner…” They whispered a fake expression of shock on their face at their confession. Simon rolled his eyes in response, a small half-smile taking over his features. “So please,” they started whilst gently pushing the drink over to him, “I insist.” Simon didn’t question the action any further, plucking the drink out from in front of him and bringing it to lips to take a swig.

[alakazamboni]

Cosplay

MP100 Fanfiction, Gen, Serizawa Katsuya & Reigen Arataka, ~850 words

Part of WawaWeek Day 2: Fashion/Official Art

Serizawa dresses up like his favorite video game character.

...

Katsuya stood outside the door of the office, fidgeting.

It was important to try new things, he reminded himself. Reigen-san stressed this point all the time. Particularly when it involved rouge non-spirit related exorcisms.

So why was he so nervous? Tugging the corner of his sleeves down, Katsuya smoothed his green tunic and re-positioned the little felt shield over his back. Soon, work hours would be over, and he could go run around in the con across the street.

Surely, Reigen-san would approve, right?

Steeling himself, he pushed open the door and announced his arrival. His announcement was met with an excitable shout from the kitchenette. The bitter tang of instant coffee permeated the air.

Katsuya was never particularly fond of Reigen-san's brand of instant, but he never shied away from the warm familiarity. There was something ritualistic about it. Domestic.

Besides, if he drowned it in cream, he could barely taste the bitter twang.

"I'm almost done in here," Reigen-san shouted.

"Take your time," Katsuya answered, safely kept out of Reigen-san's field of vision for the moment. He put his bag and shield away, and situated himself at his desk.

"Ah," he thought to himself as he self-consciously adjusted his costume. "I never knew how embarrassing this could be. Cosplayers are really amazing people."

His musings were imminently cut short as his boss rounded the corner and promptly yelped and dropped his tray of coffee.

Fortunately, Katsuya had developed something of a six-sense for falling beverages of scalding degrees, and was able to catch them with little issue. Unfortunately, he was pretty sure his boss had fallen into some kind of dress-related shock.

"Uh- Reigen-san?"

His face colored first from pale as a sheet, then to a dusty pink. "Wha- wha-" He stammered.

Despite the nervous tremors in Katsuya's arms, he managed to set the drinks down on the table with practiced ease. Choosing to feign ignorance, Katsuya asked, "Is there something wrong, Reigen-san?"

As if snapped from whatever exception his brain encountered, Reigen-san's eyes widened, and his hands whirled around. "N-n-nothing!" he managed to stutter. "Are you ready for work, today?"

Katsuya bowed his head, happy that Reigen-san decided against bringing up the bright green elephant in the room. "Of course, sir!"

"Good!" Reigen-san collected his mug from the coffee table and marched to his desk. "We have a lot to do. Yes. A lot." He slurped loudly from his mug. "So much, in fact, that I think I need to-" He stood up abruptly. "I gotta go."

Bewildered, Katsuya watched as Reigen-san, coffee in tow, expediently disappeared into the massage room. From his perch at the small reception desk, he could clearly hear the sounds of cupboards opening and closing in rapid succession.

Normally, this would have made Katsuya incredibly nervous. But as time went on, and he got more comfortable in his position as deputy, Katsuya just learned to accept that Reigen-san was going to do what Reigen-san would. His boss somehow straddled the line between a reliable foundation and an agent of chaos.

"Things would just be as they were going to be," Katsuya decided.

Hazarding a sip, he savored the taste of awful instant. Despite all of his complaining about the price of half and half, Reigen-san always dutifully served him a painfully pale beverage. In turn, Katsuya had learned how to prepare Reigen-san's tea. Give and take. Push and pull.

Something heavy fell to the ground and rippled the liquid which could only loosely be described as coffee in Katsuya's mug.

"Are you okay in there?"

"Yeah!" Reigen-san's voice sounded strained through the wall. "I'll be out in a moment."

"Okay-"

"And flip the sign to closed for me, will ya?"

Katsuya stood to do as he was told. "Do we have an appointment, sir?"

"Something like that," Reigen-san answered.

About ten minutes later, an out of breath Reigen-san emerged from the massage room. Katsuya's jaw dropped.

"Heh-" Reigen-san's mouth twitched in a self critical smile. "I guess we had the same plans."

Struck mute, Katsuya could only nod. Reigen-san had donned a similarly green tunic, beige tights, and tall boots. In one hand was a cardboard shield and sword. In the other was a balled up piece of fabric that Katsuya could only assume was meant to be his hat.

"I was going to go after work, but-"

"Do you want to go now!?" Katsuya interrupted, standing up so quickly that his knees smacked into his desk.

Reigen-san nodded sharply, cheeks still red. He pulled the iconic, wind sock of a hat over his blonde hair. "I didn't know you liked the Legend of Ekubo." Two bright red felt circles were on either side of his hat. It's long, stylistic tail slung gallantly over his shoulder.

"I didn't know you cosplayed," Katsuya said back. His head was light, and suddenly, he knew what dress-related shock must feel like. Those tights were awfully revealing in ways that made Katsuya feel like a kid again.

"This is uh- this is my first time," Reigen-san admitted. Then, he struck a heroic pose. "Now, lets go defeat the forces of evil!"

"Yes sir!" Katsuya eagerly replied. They both left the office, laughing and palling around, soon vanishing into a see of other cosplayers.

[coldshrugs]

take another step off the edge

pairing: io/estinien word count: 850 note: estinio first kiss fic. do not look at me.

Dinner, drinks, talk of their work in the area and beyond, questions about how they’re doing besides; these meetings with Estinien have become something of a regular occurrence for Io. Each one leaves her eager for the next, hoping they might stay for one drink longer, recount one more story, let one more silence drag on between them—a comfortable tension, like a sore muscle finally being stretched.

Afterward, Io usually takes the short walk to the aetheryte plaza before returning to Mor Dhona, but tonight she has the luxury of a guest suite in Meghaduta palace. They bypass the small, shimmering aetherytes that would quicken their journey, favoring instead a scenic trek through Radz-at-Han, from the Meyhane at the far end of Artha, to Dharma.

Were she accompanied by someone less familiar with the city, the visual cacophony—vibrant color streaming from every surface and the late evening crowd bustling from one lively venue to the next—would still be overwhelming. Somehow, the present company makes the sights and sounds lush. Inviting, even.

Even relatively mundane outings are more pleasant with close friends, Io muses, the words ringing in her mind each time their arms brush as they sway out of someone’s way. Close friends, yes. But lately there is a thought she cannot shake...

Estinien navigates the labyrinthine streets with his usual calm decisiveness, though his pace is unhurried. An attempt to prolong the night, perhaps? It wouldn’t be objectionable. She enjoys spending time with him.

Though he doesn’t say much, his expression is relaxed. There is a softness about him that would look out of place if she did not know him so well.

They meander through the city, making quiet conversation and sharing jokes along the way, stopping when something catches their attention; a street musician, a vendor offering spun sugar, the proprietor of a noticeably vacant tavern promising free drinks to the first twenty people in the door.

The evening stretches out, little by little until they have nowhere else to go besides their quarters.

They reach their destination, a high-ceilinged corridor meticulously painted with vibrant shades of green and pink and accented with delicate gold leaf. The sight is astounding, even in the dim light. Meghaduta’s guest hall is uncharacteristically free of the attentive staff so prevalent in other parts of the palace.

They are alone, and Io feels it keenly.

Feels it like her tongue against the roof of her mouth. Like her chest rising and falling in stuttered intervals.

Her door lies a few paces ahead, and Estinien’s is just beyond it. The easy peace between them simmers. There’s no crowd to make way for, and still, they walk close enough for their hands to brush.

Io hesitates in front of her door, a hand on the knob, and looks up at him. Estinien crosses his arms, caught in a sliver of moonlight. Gods help me, has he always looked like this?

“I’ll say goodnight.”

Io leans against the door, lingering.

Hoping.

“You need not say it so gently, you know?” Estinien does not step away. He’s half-smiling, and there’s something spirited in the words. Almost like a challenge.

A wave of giddiness rushes through her chest. Friends for years, allies even longer, and now something rips at the seam between comfort and possibility. He stares down at her, unflinching, familiar, and full of fondness.

Io tugs the thread.

“How would you prefer I say it?”

Her eyes flash to his lips, still smiling, and she’s not sure who moves first.

Estinien raises a careful, calloused hand to her cheek before sliding it behind her neck. Io clutches his shirt greedily, feeling the warmth of his skin bleeding through the fabric. Each pulls the other to them, movements fluid and certain, anticipating where the other will be before they've arrived.

They collide.

A tender spark ignites between them, the answer to a question they’ve asked privately for several months: could you feel the same?

Yes, is the wordless reply, lost to the heat of this Thavnairian night. Yes, they say with searching hands, wondering how close is too close as they reshape their friendship into something new. Io feels starved for him, even as she gasps against his lips, pressed between the door and his body.

Io’s hand is still on the knob and, in her haste to move it anywhere else, she fumbles and the door swings open behind them.

The kiss breaks. They catch themselves mid-stumble, fighting to keep their laughter quiet. As mortifying as alerting the staff would be, the feel of his hands at her waist and on her back would be worth a bit of embarrassment.

Estinien touches her face again, thumb sweeping across her cheek, and kisses her quickly. “More fitting, wouldn’t you say?”

A smile plays on his lips, unbidden, brilliant, and he makes no effort to restrain it. How long has he waited for this?

Io beams, covering his hand with hers. “Then I should expect the same in greeting tomorrow.”

He hums a little laugh as he parts from her, turning to leave. “Goodnight then,” he says, closing the door behind him.

Io is left standing in the center of her dark room, in the wake of Estinien’s warmth. The ghost of his kiss still tingles on her lips. She resists the urge to follow him next door and pick up where they’ve left off.

Unable to stop smiling, she readies for bed. Tomorrow, and what it promises, cannot come quickly enough.

[stereax]

If you still want questions, who do you think made the best moves so far this off-season? And what do you think fitzy was on when talking about Akira yesterday?

I always always ALWAYS love questions :)

Under the read more!

Best moves in the offseason:

Generally, the idea this offseason is don't bet the farm. The cap is going to jump next year. Wait it out. Here are my picks for top GMs:

- Fitz (Devils). Toffoli for Shango and-a-third (the third he got from Sevo's sign and trade)? Meier 8x8.8? Bratter 8x7.875? Even the small acquisitions like Colin Miller (for a fucking FIFTH!) are great. Pinching pennies and trading only expendable pieces. Yeah, I'm a homer, so what?

- Zito (Panthers). There was a need (defense), he addressed it. Mikkola, Rodrigues, even Lorentz and Stolarz. Didn't blow the bank and got what needed to be done done.

- Davidson (Blackhawks). Yes, fuck the Hawks for being racist and for the Beach scandal, but you gotta give it to Davidson, who maneuvered to acquire a bunch of vets from cap-strapped teams for next to nothing and sign them to short-term deals for Bedard to learn from. Foligno, Hall, Perry, all for a single seventh??? Oh, and they drafted Bedard. That helps too.

---

As for what Fitzy's on... I assume speed.

Okay, so the goalie sitch: Vitek is confirmed in the NHL. We need one more NHL goalie, plus one goalie we can call up in case of injury (ideally two).

Akira is really young for an NHL goalie - he's just turned 22 recently, and, among NHL goalies, only one has had more than 10 starts in 22-23 and is under 22. That's Spencer Knight, who's 21. You do have some young goalies who are rising prospects, such as Levi (also 21), Dostal (22), Sogaard (22), UPL (23), Kochetkov (23).

What sets Akira apart is his high save% compared to them. In 22-23, Knight had a .901, Levi had a .901, Dostal had a .901, Sogaard had a .889, UPL had a .891, even Kochetkov, rising goalie phenom, "only" had a .909. Akira had a .922. StatMuse shows this percentage as fourth in the ENTIRE NHL (for 15+ games played), only behind Vezina winner Ullmark, Gustavsson, and Sorokin. Also reassuring - he posted a .921 in the playoffs (an astounding .950 in the first round... and a less-than-stellar .874 in the second).

That being said, Akira has a low sample size to pull from. In 21-22, our Year of the Seven Goalies, he lost every game he played and posted a .833. And goalies, as we are all aware, are voodoo. It's entirely possible that he regresses back to a .850 player. Do I think it's going to happen? Haha no. But still.

Kochetkov is set for another year of third-stringing behind Andersen and Raanta. Fitz might want something similar for Akira, trying to bring Hellebuyck in without giving up Vanecek and attempting to roll Helle/VV this year - I find this relatively implausible because of our cap situation plus the idea that Helle would be mentoring Schmid if anything. The other option is he's looking for a free agent goalie (Stalock? Jones?) for a one-year contract to act as a stopgap. Remember, Nico Daws is injured until Christmas and likely won't be performing well until February. Kallgren is fourth-string, realistically. The issue with a free agent second goalie is that it would likely force Vitek to make many more starts - and his quality begins to decline after game 40 or so. This is why Devils fans are mostly all advocating for Akira and VV to be the starting tandem. We just need a good third-stringer for injuries. I heard Nashville is accepting calls on Askarov...

One last note - Akira also has a "fuck this shit carry time" factor, where he generally plays ten times better when someone else playing in net before him fucks it up (see: Blackwood game 82, Vitek against the Rangers). It's a real thing. Who knows if Fitz isn't simply trying to light a fire under Akira to train even harder this offseason.

[dazaiapologism]

hey wanna see something crazy.

There are vast swaths of my life I do not remember. Things just didn’t stick as well then, when I was so deeply fucking lost in the sauce of my own goals. I remember outcomes, momentary frustrations and even the occasional divine revelation. But do I remember washing the dishes in college? Did we even cook as much back then?

I remember being miserable - not all the time, but in bursts of short-lived realization. That I was being held back. That I could go so much further on my own. That I didn’t know how to say no when it was causing me problems. Or rather, that I chose to persist in spite of these problems, chasing an idealistic sense of self.

I didn’t understand at the time what I was letting go of, maybe because I’d never really had a chance to hold it properly in my hands in the first place. I knew I wanted it, I was so sure emotionally that I was ready for it. So when someone came to me, asking for it, promising it in return, how could I have said no. How could I have turned away from it then when we were so young and so scared and so horribly out of our depth and so unable in our own distinct ways to acknowledge that there were parts of it we couldn’t handle alone.

(this is exactly what I mean by a mind-body moment.)

We really were too much the same, in ways I didn’t see back then. Maybe I learned some of who I was through watching him - and its important to note here that I don’t mean that I took on his mannerisms, I more mean that in seeing him act I understood that that was how I had been wanting to act all along.

I didn’t mean to get this far into it, to be honest. I just wanted to ground myself a little before committing to something (probably my job at this point, though I had hoped to do dishes first I don’t think I really have the time now). I think I can though. I think it’s childish of me to refer to my job as my job, when I know damn well that I have three people’s interview feedback pending and everyone deserves a timely response and yes I am caught up in the disconnect between my ideal self and the things I can accomplish but I also know I’ve been wasting a lot of time too, so today I want to close that gap a little. Because I can. It will require sustained focus and commitment to a task but look at you! You wrote 850 honestly pretty fucking good words.

Deep breath. Remember, a deep breath stimulates the vagus nerve, helps stabilize the autonomic nervous system.

Tendency towards catastrophe is just a tendency, you can reroute those emotions productively whenever you want.

[cutest-bunny-writings]

Happy Thursday Bestie!! Could I get 271 with Park Jimin??

Thank you!!❤️

I'm gonna assume you mean the 850 list. Here we go, fluffies!😉

(Sorry this one's so short.)

#271: Tuesdays were her busiest days. It seemed like the whole world wanted to compensate for the relatively quiet Monday by putting all of her appointments on the day after. And she would have to see him again just at that moment when she wanted to cross the street at lunch time.

"Hi."

"Hi."

And suddenly it felt like all of yesterday came back to them.

Warnings: reader has mild amnesia, reader likes to keep busy, Jimin likes to watch the reader work, Seokjin ignoring the reader on accident, mentions of Namjoon breaking a vase, Jimin and reader start freaking out because Jimin for got to schedule some appointments.

Pairing: secretry!Jimin X mild amnesiac!personal assistant!secretary intern!reader

---

"Mr. Kim! Mr. Kim! Mr. Kim!" You chanted running after your boss but he still wasn't turning around. "MR. KIM!" You shriek and finally he turns on his heel. "You have a meeting in five minutes, here's your coffee, I'll take care of your paperwork in the meantime, don't worry, and I'll put the vase Namjoon broke back together!" You rushed it all out before running away and hearing some mumbling from Seokjin about overworking yourself.

---

Jimin watched you run around hastily around the floor getting things done.

You were just supposed to do things like file paperwork and help schedule appointments. Plus, you were just a paid intern.

But here you were, running around doing everyone's job for them. These freeloaders were going to be screwed when you left.

---

Tuesdays were always busy for you. It was your productive day.

And nobody likes to schedule meetings or appointments on Mondays.

The paperwork is a nightmare.

---

Lunch was approaching fast and you couldn't be more thankful.

You were going to go get lunch for the Kims and maybe Jimin if he chose not to leave his desk.

---

Turns out that today was a take-out day for Jimin.

You found this out because you spotted him standing on the corner.

---

When Jimin saw you, he hurriedly walked over to you.

---

You stared at the man in front of you.

"What?" You were extremely confused by his awaiting eyes.

"You still haven't given me your answer." What was he talking about?

"What answer?" But then a recollection of yesterday's events hit you like a truck.

He had asked you out yesterday and originally thought it was a joke or he was going to make fun of you.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Mr. Park. I-"

"I told you to call me 'Jimin'"

"Right, sorry, Mr.- I mean Jimin."

"It's okay. But please let me know your answer." He took your hand in his and kissed the knuckles.

---

The rest of your work week went by fairly slow, giving you time to ponder an answer.

Ultimately, you were going to say yes because you didn't do anything on the weekends.

"Jimin?"

"Yes?" He acknowledged you but continued to focus on the emails he was going through.

"Do you want to do something this Saturday?" You looked at the tablet in your hands nervously.

"Sure. Like what?" Resoonding to an email about Namjoon breaking something else.

"Maybe... watch a movie?"

"Where at?" Forwarding an email to Taehyung.

"The drive-in?"

"Sure." Finally turning to look at you.

---

The date went well and a second was planned.

After a few more dates you two started dating officially.

Initially, everyone was stressed out at the idea of you two constantly being attached at the hip and becoming useless.

The opposite happened.

---

"Jiminie!" You yelled while laying in your Alaskan king sized bed, checking your tablet for work emails.

"What?" You boyfriend hollered from the bathroom.

"Soekjin wants to know if you booked his Tuesday morning appointments!"

"SHIT-" He came running out of the bathroom with a towel loosely sitting on his hips.

"JIMIN!" You shrieked at the forgetfulness. "HOW COULD YOU FORGET THOSE!?"

You both continued to panic before finally managing to plan the appointments and passing out for a good night's sleep.

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

My asks and submissions are always open! Send a number from 1-850 or 1-525 and I'll write a drabble/fic! Please specify which list though!😌

I love you, my fluffies!🥰❤

[neon-pink-witch]

Let me give you all a prime example.

Company posted a load that was in total 330 miles. They had this listed at $900. If we do some math we can find that Company is paying roughly $2.72 a mile. Disel is right around $6 a gallon or so. I do not know the millage our trucks get but its fucking semi-truck so I can't see the millage being super steller.

Now, to get $4 a mile for this load it needs to pay around $1200-1300. If that sounds steep, to get $3 a mile then the load needs to pay $990. On the surface that doesn't sound to far from the posted rate. However, it is.

When I called Company was first off rude and hung up on me. And second told me that they were listing these runs at $850 and had had trucks take them. So lets math again. 330 miles at $850 means they paying roughly $2.50 a mile. However trucking is not just drive time. You have to factor in diesel, loading and unloading times, any toll that the truck may pass through. When it comes to that $900, our driver gets a cut(because we pay our people) my parents get part(owners of the company) and I get a part(because I book the load).

Adding myself into this, I make a 1% commission right now on top my base pay. So right there the load is now paying $891. I'm not sure what the drivers cut is and I'm not sure what my parents cut is off the top of my head either. But you can see where when you add in all this, then $900 isn't a lot. We also have to factor in any stops our drivers may make be that for food, showers, fuel or because they ran out of driver time(per US law)

Oh! There's someone else I forgot. We use a factor company to get paid for our loads. What a factoring company does is they act like a middleman(sort of like a fixer in a way?) if a company doesn't want to pay us or takes too long, the factoring company has the resources to go after the company so that we all get paid. I love our factoring company but they don't work for free so we have to pay them.

Oh yes! Then there is the insurance on our trucks that has to be paid monthly and while I won't say what the number is because that's not my place to say I will say that the monthly bill has a comma in it.

We also pay a monthly fee to have access to the load board so we can book our drivers. Of course all these monthly bills are budgeted for and such but I hope my point still comes through.

This is why these places playing $2 a mile isn't okay. There is so much going on behind the scenes with all of this. Add in that lumber prices are up(something we often haul) and you all can understand why I'm pissed about these places short changing not just my drivers but ALL drivers across the states.

[ynsbrightorbs]

CIRCLE (Hange Zoe x Fem Reader)

⋄ ⊱ ACT ONE: Forget Me Not ⊰ ⋄

ac: @ _kozuha twt

⋄ ⊱ ❈ ⊰ ⋄

YEAR 850

Blood.

You watch as the droplet pools at the tip of your finger, creating an ever growing dew drop of crimson on your once pristine skin. It grows in size until any shaking movement of your hand threatens to send the tear down the extremity.

There was something endearing about the blood. Whether it was the color, the warmth, the stinging pain still throbbing, you didn't know. Yet your eyes remain fixed on the liquid; your breath held up in your throat.

Then the door opens, an abrupt entrance that causes your shoulders to flinch, instantly sending that growing bead of red down your finger through all your efforts to keep it still; to watch just how much could leak from you.

You finally breathe as you drop your hand down to the table you sit at, tilting your head up and away from your body and towards the entrance of the building.

It's morning, still so early that the streets had yet to become populous. Having a customer so early was rare, but you understood exactly why as your eyes came into contact with the person who had ruined your morbid game.

Dressed as that of a military officer, you understood what they would need before they had to explain it to you. There was only one reason why military personnel would attend a floral shop: a funeral was in order.

You had grown accustomed to arrangements for these events, putting together large bouquets to sit atop the casket as friends and family mourned their lost one. And that morbid curiosity in you had somewhat enjoyed the process of arranging a floral farewell for the deceased.

"Good morning, what may I do for you?" You ask, brushing off your bloodied finger along the leather apron strapped to your waist, hiding the act under the wooden table top.

Their appearance strikes you; brown hair tied back atop their head letting a short layer hang to their shoulders, pale skin with a rosy colored hue, a pair of oval glasses perched on their hooked nose, and underneath a black eyepatch covers their left eye and wraps around their head.

A single brown eye meets the E/C of yours through the glare cast onto their glasses and immediately your struck with a layer of confusion.

You notice the green jeweled bolo tied around their neck, the color glimmering as they step inside the shop. You had seen the bolo before, one given as an honorary veteran status to those only in the Survey Corps. You had seen it on the neck of their Commander, Erwin Smith, the man who from time to time had stopped by to order more funeral arrangements. You had never seen the stranger now approaching in the shop.

"Morning," Their voice is low, solemn, and warm, "I'm looking to have a funeral arrangement made."

Once you finish cleaning the blood from your finger, you stand from your chair, keeping your eyes on the stranger before you.

"I'm sorry for your loss," You begin the routine speech, "Let me get my book and I'll be more than happy to assist you. Please, take a seat."

You motion towards the table you sat at, a round wooden structure with three matching chairs, a small blue vase holding a fresh bouquet decorates the middle. Left on the table, the pair of shears and bundle of roses that you had been working to dethorn, the same rose that had pricked your finger lies flat by itself.

You turn to the back of the building, trying to locate the hand woven book that held every transaction you had made in your time running the shop, listening to the stranger as they move to the table. The chair they pull scraping along the wooden floorboards before they sit with a sigh.

"Do you run this place by yourself?" As you reach for the leather spine of the book, you glance over your shoulder, meeting their eye already placed upon you.

"Yes," You offer a quick smile, turning back to your task and gripping the book, opening to a new page and grabbing an ink and quill with your freehand, "For three years now."

You take your seat once more, pushing away the roses you had been preparing to the side and replacing them with the open book. Lined pages discolored with age with a smell of crafted paper that had always comforted your nose.

"That's lovely." Your eyes lift up to them at their words, the vocabulary striking you with peaked interest. Their eye on you, their hands folded atop the table, their aura steaming off of them in soft tendrils that you can almost see; a warm glow, caring and inviting, one that you have to tear your eyes away from.

You smile at them in response, uncapping the ink and fixing the quill comfortably between your fingers.

"May I have the name of the deceased?" You glide your hand over the top of the page, waiting for an answer, and soon it comes, yet to your surprise, it stings.

"Erwin Smith."

You lift your head up to them with an underlying shock. An image of the man who used to come by every now and again flashing through your mind. Then it hits you; the Survey Corps' mission to retake Wall Maria had left their numbers at a staggering low, and with only a couple days having passed their return, that loss had included their Commander.

Your lips split as you retract your pupils from them, meeting them back down to the blank pages. Though you knew the man to a surface level, you remember how he used to buy single flowers with his orders, trading his coins and then placing the flower down on the table you now sit at, leaving the shop with a soft smile. Small gestures to an even smaller relationship that gave you all the clues you needed to understand how kind his heart was.

Sifting through your thoughts, you begin writing down his name.

"And what are you looking for for this arrangement?" The words bitter on your tongue as you await their reply.

"Hm...I haven't really thought too much on it," A soft chuckle leaves their lips, "What do you think?"

Although this was your profession, you loathed that question and others similar to it. Of course you had ideas, beautiful ones that flowed easily in your head, you had yet to gain a confidence in them.

What if they don't like my ideas?

Perhaps they think it's odd.

Why would they think anything coming from my mind is acceptable?

All of these thoughts and more of their likeness plague you, the belittled self esteem riddling your bones as you attempt to pull together any sort of idea for the stranger. Erwin Smith's face, his kindness, not aiding to your trials in the slightest.

"Well, for funerals, the usual base people gravitate towards are hyacinths," You lift a freehand towards the bundle of white flowers sitting in their respective vases to the right, their eye following your direction, "Lilies are another favorite," You point them towards the hanging flowers to the left, "And people tend to ask for-"

"But what do you think?" They interrupt you, meeting their stare and holding it across the table, "I want to know what you gravitate towards."

You sit in silence for a few seconds, watching as they lean over in their seat, their eye staying locked on yours as you're now too nervous to break the contact. It was now unavoidable, having to state your own opinions, your own likes and dislikes. The same ones that had been shut down many times in the past.

But the strangers eye isn't harsh like your parents had been, they watch you with intrigue, with a soft curiosity as you jumble the words on the tip of your tongue.

"Bluebells," You utter, instantly darting your eyes away from them and to the blue flowers sitting patiently near the front window of the shop, "They tend to symbolize care and warmth. Kindness. I didn't know the Commander that well, but he did come by a few times for reasons like this. Based on my interactions with him, I think anyone from a mile away could feel the kindness in his heart."

You meet their stare once you've finished, hesitantly looking back down to the blank book and apologizing for your small ramble.

"No," They break your remorse, "Don't apologize. What else?"

You can feel your heart racing in your chest, a throbbing pulse emanating from the healing cut at your finger.

"Forget-me-nots. People usually order them for smaller bouquets but I feel like they add a sense of vulnerability to larger arrangements. I suppose I could use a hyacinth base, a layer of bluebells with some smaller foliage fillers. And top it off with them."

You watch them lean back in their seat, straightening their posture and perching an eyebrow with a small, warm, smile.

"I would have just said roses and been done with it."

That nervousness, that self doubt, almost regurgitates from your throat with a plea of remorse but they continue their words before that volcano erupts.

"That being said, I'm glad you're the one doing this and not me."

Praise.

"Think you can have it done in two days?" They ask, their eye moving towards the rose buds waiting to be trimmed on the table, "That's when the memorial service will be."

Your head begins to nod before the words spill from your lips, "Yes, yes that's no problem." You dip the quill into the ink pot once more, taking it to the page and begin etching in the details you had described, your hand trying its best to control the shaking of your writing.

"Will this be enough to cover the cost?" As you finish the detailing, you lift your eyes from the book, directly landing your attention to the satchel of coins they place before you. A black bag, the gold coins clinking against one another as it settles onto the wood. You don't need to look inside to know it's above and beyond your commission for an arrangement like this.

"Oh, that's far too much, it would only be-"

"It's the least I can do for your help," They cut you off, "I can't imagine many would have come up with an idea as admirable as yours."

Praise.

You begin to grow flustered at their kind words, the sensation almost immobilizing you yet you keep pushing, refusing to let someone as generous as them waste their kindness.

"Please, I can't let you overpay." You place a hand on the pouch, beginning to slide it back towards them, yet their own hand meets the fabric, halting the motion. The tips of their fingers grazing your own.

Their eye locks on yours, both of your lips ceasing your words before they stand from their seat, removing their hand from the bag of coins. You watch as they brush the wrinkles out of the olive green coat fastened to their figure, watching as they take a step towards the middle of the table. Their hand now reaching out to the rose before you.

The stem only one thorn away from being trimmed, the same thorn that had pricked your finger making a home at its base.

"I'll buy this too then." They hold the rose delicately between their fingers, giving the stem a twirl as the dark red petals flutter with the motion.

Roses had become a rarity. Since the Titans first broke through Shiganshina and Wall Maria - the domains in which the roses had primarily grown - they now symbolized a level of wealth. A single rose coming up to cost with that of a meal for ten, or a single cutlet of meat.

"Is that alright with you?" Their eye meets yours, looking down to you as you remain in your seat.

That nervousness that had begun to do a number to your confidence keeps the words caught in your throat, the feeling of a burning rod sizzles them shut inside of you as you keep their stare. You only nod your head, offering a small smile before trailing your eyes back down to that sharp thorn that had made you bleed.

You grab for the shears on the table, standing from your chair and taking a step towards the soldier.

"Here, I had just started this one when you came in." You lift the sharp edge to the base of the stem, their fingers moving aside as you enclose the shears around the thorn. Their eye watches you from above, only paying attention to the way your brow creases in concentration as you clip the harmful prick away from their rose.

You listen to the thorn hit the wooden floor, the hard piece of stem clattering on the ground before your eyes look up to them, swiftly retreating from their fixed gaze and letting your eyes fall to the deep green cabochon adorning their collar. The jewel sits at eye level with you, and if you looked close enough, you could see your reflection shaded in with the green hue.

You stare into the bolo for a few seconds before catching yourself, your hand still grasped onto the rose and the shears in your other. Once you notice, you immediately drop your grip, stepping away from the stranger and bowing your head slightly to their superiority.

"You have a lovely business," Their words lift your head back up to them, "I'm looking forward to seeing you, and your work." Though their words had come across as confident, loud and strong, they speak the last few with an underlying softness, this time tilting their own head down to you before turning towards the door.

You're left speechless, stunned by not only their assured presence, but by their willingness to show respect to someone of such a lower rank.

You watch as they grip the metal knob of the door, turning it in their hand before glancing back to you.

"By the way, may I have your name?" You quickly try to swallow down the burning in your throat to answer.

"Y/N," And before your next breath, you let your own curiosity get the best of you, "And yours?"

They offer a smile, a small expression that turns into a solemn look as their eye grazes your stature.

"Commander Hange," You feel your breath hitch, "Until we meet again, Y/N."

You watch as they open the door, the hinges creaking in response, before they exit the small shop. Even then, you watch from the window as they mount the horse awaiting outside, placing the rose in the front pocket of their coat, watching as they begin a trot down the street until they fully disappear from your view.

And it wasn't until two days later, the day of Erwin Smith's memorial service, that you met their aura again.

Although you hardly knew the man, you sit in silence that morning. The arrangement prepped and ready on the table, your hands folded on your lap, your eyes staring blankly out of the shops window. You watch as the crowds of people begin their day. You watch as they converse in the street, smiling, laughing. And you wonder how the world can continue moving after death.

You wonder of Erwin's family. Did he have one? You wonder of Erwin's friends. Are they mourning? You watch the strangers faces of happiness and contentment, and you wonder how the they can wear such smiles when so many others are grieving.

These thoughts come to a stop as a horse gallops into view, dark brown with a matching mane. The moment you see their olive coat, you arise from your seat. A sudden reaction, an eager one you weren't expecting, yet your body takes control before you can ponder on it.

Commander Hange enters the shop, their appearance just the same as it had been those few days ago. And to your surprise, more so a shock, they wear a smile.

"Morning, Y/N." They say through their grin.

"Good morning," You bow your head, "Commander." With your head tilted low, you don't see, or hear, the soft chuckle leaving their lips at your formality.

"Is this it?" You lift your chin up, first looking up to them, following their eye focused on the flowers at the table.

"Yes," You feel your nerves tingle inside of you, your voice coming out shaky due to the fact, "If you'd want me to make any quick changes, I can do so, at no extra charge."

They lift a hand to you, not taking their eye away from the arrangement as they signal you to stop.

"Why would I want to change this?" They begin, "It's lovely."

You're left with no words. Their compliment leaving you speechless as your eyes trail to the bouquet. Scanning over the white hyacinths. The blue bells. The cedar leaves and myrtle. The delicate forget-me-nots on top, all tied together with a light blue ribbon.

You remember staring at the arrangement for hours the night before. Wondering if it was too much, too little, too boring, too over the top. But to Commander Hange at the very least, it was lovely.

"Don't you think?" You look back to them, catching their eye already on you. You can't muster a single response, simply nodding your head in a forced agreement; although you had a hard time believing your work had been anything along the lines of perfection, you didn't want to rebute them.

The Commander picks up the bundle delicately, holding it all in one arm with a sigh.

"Well, I appreciate your work dearly." They bow their own head to you, yet as they look back up, their eye looks behind you, to the vase of leftover roses you had just stocked on the front counter.

They walk to the vase, your eyes following them as they brush by you, the scent of the bouquet wafting as they pass. You watch as they pick out a single rose, bringing it to their nose for a moment, then turning back to you.

"Hold this for me, yeah?" They gesture the flower to you, your eyes grazing the soft petals, then grazing the soft skin of their long fingers. But you take the stem in hand, their fingers letting go as you do and reaching into their pocket.

They slip out a pinch full of gold coins, just a few tokens over the price of the single rose, and place them down on the counter. Their eye meeting yours, offering a soft smile, and their feet motioning towards the door.

Your brow furrows, your hand almost reaching out to grab them but you stop at the remembrance of their status.

"Wait, I-" They stop at your call, glancing over their shoulder with the bouquet in hand, "Your rose." You say, holding out the flower they had just purchased for them to take. But the Commander only shakes their head.

"For you," They reply softly, opening the door without taking their eye off of you, "Until we meet again, Y/N."

As they leave the shop, securing the arrangement to the back of their horses saddle, you stand perplexed with the rose in your hand. You watch as they ride off down the street, disappearing from your sight once again, and you wonder what they had meant.

Until we meet again.

You grip the roses stem, gazing into the bundle of red petals. Slowly you bring the flower to your nose, smelling the sweet scents that emanate from the bud. A small smile growing on your face.

⋄ ⊱ ❈ ⊰ ⋄

A week had passed. Business had been as usual. And the rose Commander Hange purchased and left in your possession had begun to wilt.

A day didn't go by that you hadn't thought of them. Their polite words of praise. Their tall stature. That green jewel that dazzled your reflection.

Until we meet again.

But now you wonder if they had meant that; that you'd meet again. And you didn't know why you'd want to meet them again. Yet secretly you had hoped they'd walk through that door some day with another arrangement request. Another funeral. Another name for your book. And although it was a selfish, morbid thought, you wanted it. You wanted to meet them again.

As the day had come to an end, the sky growing dark and the shops along the streets beginning to close, you sigh at yet another day gone by without meeting their brown eye. But you scoff at that thought, walking to flip the sign on the window to read 'CLOSED'.

They're the Commander, you think, who knows what they have on their plate. They've forgotten me by now. They've had to.

You're pulled out of your thoughts, or more so scared out of them, as a figure rushes to the front door. As you had yet to lock it, it opens in one swing, a gust of air flying through the frame, and the familiar face huffing as they try to catch their breath.

It takes you a minute to realize it's them. Their brown hair tied up the same way it had been yet strands are now loose and unkept. From their closeness, you catch a bead of sweat trickling down the side of their hairline, only then coming into contact with their eye as yours pass by the brown globe that you, for some reason, couldn't stop thinking about.

Their breaths are uneven, painting for air yet they manage to speak, "Are you closed yet?"

You look to the sign in your hand, the wood flipped over and the engraved words indicating the shops closure on display. But you didn't want to be rude, or perhaps you didn't want to come across as rude to them - and you didn't want to turn them away. So you keep the sign in your hands, looking back up to them with a respectful smile.

"Not yet." Which wasn't a lie, and it also wasn't the whole truth.

They sigh in relief, letting go of the door and allowing it to enclose them inside. The smile that comes with their relief is one that you find yourself having to rip your eyes away from.

"Thank goodness," They chuckle, "It's been a week, correct?" You keep still as they walk into the shop, heading straight for the counter opposite the door.

You become flustered at their inquire; you knew exactly what they were referring to, a week had passed since they'd last step foot into your building. But you didn't want to come across as eager. And this fact in and of itself confused you, as to why you'd care in the first place if the Commander knew you had kept track.

"A week since what, may I ask?" You try to remain proper as you turn to them, following their back with your eyes as they come to a stop and meet your stare, a smirk curled up at one corner of their mouth.

"Forgive me for presuming, Y/N. A week since I last came by."

It's now that you realize the self proclaimed idiocy of your false forgetfulness. Coming to the peculiar acknowledgment that Commander Hange had themself remembered and kept track of the days.

"Oh," You breathe, "Yeah," You curse yourself in your thoughts for using such casual phrases, "I mean, yes, Commander. It has been a week." You bow your head apologetically, missing the smirk that creeps into a smile as they watch you.

"No need for all that," They reply, lifting a hand towards the vase of roses on the counter, only a few left that have remained somewhat fresh in the nutrient rich water, "Well, I have a request of you." They pluck out a stem just as you lift your head back to face them. The Commander lifts the rose to their nose, taking in a breath of the floral scent and meeting their eye to you.

"I'd be happy to assist you."

They bring the rose back down, twirling it in their hand.

"Would you be able to make me a bouquet?"

"Yes, that would be no problem at all, what are you thinking of for the arrangement, Commander?" Your fingers begin to nervously pluck at the stray threads coming off of the long skirt you wear.

"Surprise me." They pull out a satchel of clinking coins, one black the same as the pouch they had given you on your first meeting. Without warning, they toss the payment to you, your arms barely quick enough to catch it in awe. Just as the first time, the amount had been much larger than your commission fee.

"I-I'm sorry," Your brow furrows as you feel the coins in the bag, "May you elaborate on that?"

"Surprise me," They repeat, that smirk reappearing as they watch your confusion, "I'll come back in a week to pick it up, is that alright with you?" They begin to walk back to the door you still stand next to.

Though your mind begs for reassurance, to continue asking questions of which flowers, what type of vase, simple or exquisite, your heart begins to thump too fast at their growing closeness for your words to keep up with.

"Yes, that's alright."

"A week is about the lifespan of the roses," Their voice takes a dip in tone, one laced with suggestion, "Correct?"

Your eyes sink down to the flower in their hand, their arm slowly outstretching it towards you.

"Just about." You answer, the petals brushing just along your bust.

"Lovely." And with a perch of an eyebrow, they gesture for you to take the stem, but your lungs feel as if they're on fire from the breath you're holding in. You're arms feel stiff as you stare into the bud, your eyes trailing over each fold of the petal, each vein of deep maroon that snakes inside its skin.

"I'd just take it if I were you," The Commander says, "I can stand here all night. I don't tire easily."

Your eyes flock to theirs, and hesitantly they graze the black eye patch adorning their face. But you finally breathe, exhaling through your mouth and taking the rose in your hand, holding onto the stem tightly as if it could aid your raging nerves.

"Atta girl," They smile, placing their once outstretched hand into the pocket of their coat, "Well, have a good night." They open the door, and like a repetition of the last time you had seen them, they glance back just before they exit.

"Until we meet again, Y/N."

"Good night, Commander." You reply as they exit.

Just like a repetition of the last time you had seen them, you bring the rose to the tip of your nose and inhale the sweet scent they had gifted you with.

⋄ ⊱ ❈ ⊰ ⋄

And just like Commander Hange had told you, a week had passed, each day you counted, until they appeared under the door frame of your shop.

Early morning. The sun not even peaked over the Walls. Yet there they were, bright eyed and a smile on their face. Dressed the same, and their presence had now become a joyful encounter as you awaited their return.

"Morning, Y/N." They greet you.

"Good morning, Commander," You reply, tilting your head in respect, "Your bouquet." You gesture a hand out towards the small table, towards the arrangement you made for them.

Pink and white dahlias, red tulips, vines of matching sweet peas, all mixing together in a clear vase; an added ribbon of white lace at the spout of the glassware.

As the Commander's eye meets the arrangement, your palms begin to sweat as they remain silent and expressionless.

Is it too much?

Perhaps it's too pink.

They had said to surprise them, but being me...

"What are these ones called?" Your focus whips to them, noticing that they've moved to the table, now pointing at the large flowers, in the midst of your thoughts.

"Those are dahlias."

"Do they have their own hidden meaning?"

And like instinct, your lips begin to recite the information you had grown an admirable interest towards, "People tend to relate them with wealth, elegance, and," The next word is more difficult to come out, though you spit it from your tongue even as their eye makes you want to swallow it down, "Love."

Their expression turns to a reassuring joy, a soft smile cracking their hardened face. Your cheeks threatening to blush with a warmth before you look away.

"I hope it's to your liking." You hear their steps approach, nearing the opposite side of the counter you stand behind.

"It's beautiful," The warmth now spreading across your face, "Thank you, Y/N."

"It's my pleasure. Thank you for your business." You try your best to keep yourself professional, but the tingling feeling fluttering in your stomach as you feel their stare on you flusters you even further.

"My only problem is," You look up right away, fearful of their potential complaint, their potential criticism, "It'll be a little difficult for me to carry such an arrangement on horseback."

"Oh, I can exchange the vase for you." You motion towards the bouquet, ready to switch out the glass with a paper bag, but their hand grips your wrist, a firm yet gentle touch.

"I was thinking, instead, would you be kind enough to look after it for me? Change the water. Let it get some sun," Their smile still on their lips, the flesh pink and plump on the bottom, "I'm not entirely sure how one takes care of a beauty like that. But I'd bet quite a lot that you'd do a wonderful job at it."

The pad of their palm runs warm on your skin, almost as warm as your cheeks now steaming with a rush of red.

"Are you sure, Commander?" You ask, frozen in place as you look up to them.

"Quite certainly," They finally let your wrist go, turning towards the flowers as they admire it once more, "It'll give me another excuse to come by."

But before you can question them - if only you had enough confidence to do so - they turn towards the door.

The same repetition of words exchanged. The same goodbyes. The same promise of another meeting. And you watch as they mount their horse and ride down the street. Turning back to the arrangement they left in their wake.

You wonder if they had ever planned on taking it with them in the first place.

⋄ ⊱ ❈ ⊰ ⋄

The feeling in your chest as the days passed and still no sign of the Commander was an odd one. A feeling or emotion you couldn't quite grasp. And as the days passed, as those days turned into a week and then another, and as both the rose and the bouquet they had left you with had begun to lose their petals, the hope and excitement of their returned appearance soon began to wilt with the flowers.

⋄ ⊱ ❈ ⊰ ⋄

⋄ ⊱ ONE MONTH LATER ⊰ ⋄

After a long day, you take a sigh as you sit in the back room of your closed shop; the room concealed with an arched entryway that leads into a kitchen and narrow staircase up to your living quarters.

Everything was just as it should be as you tried to wind down from your day. But even though you try your best not to, your eyes can't help but to gravitate towards the dead remaniants of the bouquet on your kitchen table. The once green stems now a dry brown color. No petals remain, and the buds that once grew with a vivid yellow now droop over the sides of the glass vase. The only aspect remaining in tact is the white lace bow still tied onto the spout.

You knew it was time to toss the dead foliage out, but it felt wrong. As if the moment it hit your garbage pail your memories of the Commander would be thrown out with it. Their brown eye. Their matching sleek hair. The green bolo. Their pink lips. The way they called your work lovely. The way they never complained and only praised you.

You had become so used to them, their promise of another meeting always being kept. Except for the last time.

But they're the Commander of the Survey Corps. They're busy. And I'm me.

Small. Replaceable. Incompetent. You.

Those derogatory words and more shuffled through your mind as you stare at the dead flowers. Those derogatory words spoken by your family once again being proven true.

Then a knock at the door sounds.

A loud and urgent knock that makes you jump in your seat, sending your head to fly back towards the archway leading into the dimly lit shop. You watch as the candles you left ablaze on the other side of the wall flicker against the walls. And then another knock sounds.

It had now been forty minutes after closure, and the knocking now runs an uneasiness through you as you stand from your chair, peeking a head into the archway. And it's now that you wish you had installed a window into the front door to be able to see who awaits on the other side.

After another knock, this one becoming softer, you push yourself to answer the call. Meeting the door and pressing a hand to the lock, but before you undo the latch, you call out to the late night caller.

"Who is it?" You ask, and the voice that replies makes your heart drop in your chest.

"It's Hange," You're taken aback by the causality, "I know it's late, but I..." They trail off, your head moving to the door and pressing your ear against the wood as if you could hear their hesitance better, "I wanted to see you."

It wasn't a favor. A funeral order. A need to purchase. It was you that brought the Commander, Hange, to the door of your floral shop.

You slide the latch open, moving to open the door, and the sight that greets you is truthful. The Commander dressed just the same. The smile on their mouth as you appear in the doorway just as it had been all those weeks ago. A smile that almost pulls one to your lips, but you push it down in order to keep formality.

"Commander," You bow your head down, "How may I help you?"

And before you can lift your head up, they reply, "Have you eaten yet?"

Your eyes lift up to them, wide as you take in their inquire, "Excuse me?"

"Dinner. Have you had dinner yet, Y/N?" They rephrase.

You're stunned, confused, yet you shake your head in reply.

They lift a quick smile, "I apologize for taking so long to return. I'm still getting used to the whole 'Commander' thing," They use their fingers to jokingly quote the title, "I know this may be absurd, and feel free to tell me no, but I'd be honored if you'd join me for dinner."

Your lips split apart. Your heart picking up from your stomach only to beat erratically in your chest.

"I'm sorry if this is out of the blue," They continue, clearly nervous of your reaction, "I would just. I'd really love to get to know you."

You had never been a romantic. You had never been one to go out to dinner with others. And the thought of it makes you more than nervous, especially when the one on the other end of the meal was the Commander of the Survey Corps.

But is it romantic?

They hadn't specified. Perhaps it's just a dinner. Just a meal. Another waste of their kindness and gratitude.

And who am I to decline their generosity?

"Yes, I'd-" You choke on the smile they give you at your acceptance, "I'd like that as well."

"Perfect!" They glance over their shoulder, their brown horse awaiting in the background, "Well," They turn back to you, "Shall we?"

"Yes," You offer a smile back, "Allow me to change and close up here. I'll be back in a few minutes." You bow your head once more, Their smile turning into one of amusement with the gesture.

"Of course, I'll be here." They bow their own head to you, their eye staying locked on yours as they do, and this time, a genuine smile is pulled straight from your heart strings at the mirrored motion.

⋄ ⊱ ❈ ⊰ ⋄

CIRCLE

ACT ONE

FORGET ME NOT

⋄ ⊱ ❈ ⊰ ⋄

the full story is available on ao3 and wattpad under the profile misaaot <3 hope you enjoy!

[winterburnwriting]

Hello There!

No, it isn't a dead blog until I let it die! Yes, it has been about 2 months since I last posted. And I wish I were coming back to tell you all that I was absent for so long because I was spending that time working very hard on the short novel. Unfortunately, that isn't really the case. Truth be told, I didn't have much going on that was preventing me from working, I just didn't feel like working on it and failed to summon the willpower to make it happen.

However, I did also have a computer problem in the last week. My primary computer several years ago was a decent enough (at the time) PC with a GTX 1070 and such. Nothing fancy, but it was fine. Then I went to college for one year and decided early into that I was going to buy a high-end laptop, since I had to buy one for classes anyway. I bought an Alienware m17 R4. It was a nice ugprade from my PC so I used it as my primary computer for the last couple of years. Since October 2021, I think. This is what I was writing my book on.

Unfortunately, it has been losing functions and components bit by bit for a very long time and seemed to be headed towards total lemon-ness. I was down to no wi-fi, no trackpad, no bluetooth (without a USB adapter), and no built-in screen (I used an external monitor). It was not looking great. Then it seemed to reject all video output whatsoever. Then it decided it didn't want to boot. I tried to open it up and diagnose and fix the issue to no avail. I sealed it back up, and it had the same issue plus a loud beeping! I mean, very loud. I kinda gave up at this point and decided to order some nice new parts for my now-old PC.

Once I had gotten some parts together I opened my laptop back up to take the SSDs out and put them into my Franken-PC. Then I saw something shocking. The battery ribbon cable.... was not plugged back in for the last test. I say "to hell with it!" and plug it back in, and I try to test the laptop again. And wouldn't you know it? It works fine. I am 850 dollars into the hole on a new emergency PC build. And the laptop works fine.

This was frustrating, but the laptop was going to die sometime soon anyway. So I go ahead with building the PC, I move the SSDs over, and I set everything back up the way it was before I got the laptop. Just with a nicer GPU and a worse CPU.

At least videogames look prettier now.

And I am now using my old mechanical Corsair keyboard, which I had bought towards the end of using my PC before switching to the Alienware. So that will take some getting used to for writing. But speaking of writing.... (drumroll please!)

I'm halfway done writing the first draft of my short novel!

This isn't as impressive as where I'd like to be by now, but it's still neat. I hit 23,291 words at the end of my writing session today, and I am aiming for around 45ish thousand words for the final product. Hopefully it won't take me so long to write the second half. I just need to stay productive, and maybe I can finish the draft by the end of June! I would really like to be (self) published in the Fall so I can start working on my first big proper novel in the last quarter of this year.

Anyway, since I haven't written very much since I last wrote here, I won't be leaving an excerpt. That, and it's 2:15 AM and I have work at 11 AM in the morning. So I should sleep. But I will be posting here again!

I hope this blogpost finds you well, and I wish you a lovely day.

[vapehk1]

Uwell Caliburn GZ2 Pod System Review: A Cool Mini Vape Device

The Uwell Caliburn GZ2 is a small vape pod that looks super cool. If you know about the Caliburn AZ3, it's similar but with a bigger battery and even cooler look. Let's dive in what makes this vape pod special. Features and Specifications: - Design and Build: Crafted from durable and lightweight aluminum-alloy, the GZ2's chassis is both lightweight and incredibly portable. It's perfect for vapers on the go, with dimensions of 68.9mm by 23.8mm by 23.6mm. - Battery and Power: With an 850mAh battery capacity, this little device packs enough power to last throughout the entire day. The maximum wattage output stands at 17W, and it offers a voltage range of 0.8-1.0ohm. - Pod and Coils: The Caliburn GZ2 utilizes Caliburn G2 Pods, with a 2mL capacity. The included 0.8ohm and 1.2ohm Caliburn G Coils ensure that the system can create delicious flavors from your favorite eJuice. - Charging: Recharging is made effortless with a USB Type-C port. - Operation: Draw-activated for ease of use, with an LED indicator light to display battery status. - Safety and Precautions: Proper priming of coils and pods, along with understanding of rechargeable batteries and technical knowledge, is advised for safe usage. What You Get in the Box: - The GZ2 Device (the main part) - 2 Pods for holding the juice - Coils to make it work - A charging cable - A manual to help you figure it all out It's Available In: - Black - Blue and Black - Silver - Orange and Black - Red - Purple What's Good  - Battery Life: It lasts a long time. - Tastes Great: The flavors taste really good. - Easy to Carry: It's light and small, so you can take it anywhere. - Simple to Use: You don't have to press any buttons, just use it. What's the difference between Caliburn GZ2 and AZ3 Specifications Caliburn-GZ2 Caliburn-AZ3 Materials Cartridge: PCTG Device: Aluminum Alloy, PC Cartridge: PCTG Device: Aluminum Alloy Dimensions 72.5 mm × 28.9 mm × 22.9 mm 68.9 mm × 23.8 mm × 23.6 mm Net Weight 47 g 39.5 g E-liquid Capacity 2 ml, offer TPD, FDA, INT version 2 ml, offer TPD, FDA, INT version Output Power Maximum 17 W Maximum 17 W Pod/Coil Specifications FeCrAl UN2 Meshed 0.8 Ω CALIBURN G Coil FeCrAl UN2 Meshed 1.2 Ω CALIBURN G2 Coil FeCrAl 1.0 Ω CALIBURN G Coil (sold separately) FeCrAl Meshed 0.8 Ω CALIBURN A3 Refillable Pod (preinstalled 0.8 Ω) FeCrAl Meshed 1.0 Ω CALIBURN A3 Refillable Pod (additional) Battery Capacity 850 mAh 750 mAh Filling Top filling by removing the mouthpiece Top filling by removing the mouthpiece Airflow Control Yes No LED TRON-Style RGB Light Breath-Pulse LED indicator Lanyard Yes Yes Type-C port Yes Yes   https://www.youtube.com/shorts/J-rFXJRg0r0 So, What's the Big Deal?: The Uwell Caliburn GZ2 is a fun and easy-to-use vape pod just like Caliburn AZ3, while its performance is a little better and the appearance with LED is more beautiful. If you're looking for something small, stylish, and works well, this is a great choice. If you want to know more about vape pods, eJuice, coils, or anything else related to vaping, the Caliburn GZ2 is a great place to start. Please remember, vaping products are for adults, so make sure to follow the rules and guidelines for using them. Where to buy Uwell Caliburn GZ2 Read the full article

[thenextcelestialchapter]

FUCK THE LAZY KUDO SYSTEM AND FUCK YOU IF YOU NEVER COMMENT AND ONLY KUDO

I don’t give a fuck anymore. Honesty hour! I just deleted a fic that had 64 kudos and 850+ hits. I’ve deleted fics that had even more before. Gosh why would I do that if ppl obviously enjoyed it?

Because only one actually nice comment was left on it. Only ONE. And I appreciated that comment and committed it to memory. But otherwise there were just 3-4 other short/lazy/annoying “GIMME MORE” type comments, and then some asshole went out of their way to complain about the type of smut they would have written if they weren’t too lazy and ungrateful. 

I deleted the complaint. The complainer proceeded to leave a longer more infuriatingly offensive complaint and telling me I ought to engage in a “conversation” with them about it. Yeah, no, blocked, and thanks for ruining the experience of rereading the fic for the very person who FUCKING WROTE IT!!

I WORKED HARD ON THIS FOR A FUCKING MONTH AND YOU RUINED IT FOR ME IN TWO FUCKING DAYS AFTER GETTING TO MINDLESSLY CONSUME IT IN AN HOUR. GO FUCK YOURSELF. GO FUCK YOUR CRITICISM UNLESS SOMEONE OUTRIGHT ASKS FOR IT. LEAVE NICE ENCOURAGING COMMENTS SPECIFYING WHAT YOU LIKED, YES IT’S FINE TO LEAVE KUDOS MOST OF THE TIME, BUT IF YOU NEVER LEAVE A COMMENT YOU ARE NEVER GIVING AN AUTHOR A REASON NOT TO WANNA DELETE THEIR FICS SO IF YOU REALLY ENJOY IT SAY SOMETHING DON’T JUST SAVE IT FOR LATER BC IT MIGHT NOT FUCKING BE THERE LATER BC OF THAT LAZINESS AND LACK OF APPRECIATION.

[the-firebird69]

This is like the smallest size it really is a 20 CC and it would not move our sun or daughter at all he's 260 lb and this child is probably 35 40 lb he says it probably would but erect the thing after a short time good movie if you pushed it along but they have training wheels that have shocks and it's just a lot of fun but a lot of kids take them off pretty quick and they get going and they scoot around it's just weird as hell cuz they get good at it real fast little little kids like this and they're racing circuits everywhere and they're going to love this there's going to be an influx and the kids doing it are going to love it cuz they can beat him and have bikes to the Japanese and they'll be real circuits for him because of so many competitors and they know it too they've been waiting for it probably waiting for him and Santa Claus and really I work up the North Pole too and my name is Ajax and I do have a goddess wife and she asked her name out there as I say we're waiting and we see but you see the equipment around they named it after me no we started off the business ages ago and they stole the name and we talked under for cover and something like that he says and it's true we didn't we weren't present. But here it is this is the size bike and we're going to start with that and it will be fully assembled partially assembled or not assembled and we sell them partially assembled but the starting price I give is fully assembled so you get the idea and for this bike

The Hard knock kicker 5150 20 cc dirt

Fully assembled price is $350

Partially assembled is 325 and not assembled at all is $275 and the shipping is about $50 less if it's not assembled at all it's usually about $70 or $100 for shipping but for that much money you cannot get a bike of this quality anywhere you just get a crappy mini bike

And they go up and increments of 10 believe it or not for children

30 cc's the fully assembled price is $400

40 CC's the fully assembled price is $450

50cc the fully assemble price is $500

There's a leap here and it goes to 80 is what he said is true

80cc fully assembled price is $650 and it's not much of a change but it's a big change in power and only children who are seasoned at riding should ride it or bigger children it's made for a smaller child but you have to be a seasoned Rider going to go flying off at 80 mph and our son has seen people do it all the time

The next size is

125CC these are all dirt starting assembled price is $850

250cc dirt and we're back to it and I believe we said 9:50 disassembled and like 1200 assembled or something that's about right and partially some of those about 1050 and that's right it's cheaper than Chinese dirt bikes because it's made here there's no shipping no shipping time and no wartime problems

And the 350cc dirt fully assembled is 1250

And these are real bikes if you want it Enduro add $200 but they start at 1:25 cc's because kids can't ride them on the road and we're going to work on a Moto super Moto and adventure bike he said the adventure bike should be kind of beefy otherwise it's a fake adventure bike and it's an Enduro and I do agree with that and the supermodo's kind of similar since it's more like a sport bike and we don't have a sport bike but that's kind of the way they're in style is

And we had another idea and it was for a touring bike now and we have that it was for a nice little number we're going to have trikes too yes and quads but when he was thinking of was for a little electric bike and we will have those and several sizes and they will be inexpensive but they're for children and for their use around the block and they have gears and they have to be under three Watts just hardly anything and that's the motor at the motor which is worse but we can get about 20 miles an hour out of it if you get it and it's just going to be for a little little kids probably this size and we traded out and we put it in the same frame the same body with the same controls except for the electric motorcycle controls it's a motorcycle it's not a bicycle and 20 mph you could go about 30 miles on a charge it takes 15 minutes you have to bring a charge pack with you and you'd have to put into 110 but you might find your kids like 50 miles away from you by the end of the day so they better have a cell phone

Ajax and Goddess Wife