#sap business one price

[saptutorials]

SAP Business One:The Ultimate ERP Solution for Small and Mid-Sized Business

SAP Business One(SAP B1) is an ERP solution designed specifically designed to help small or medium-sized companies (SMBs). SMBs can utilize SAP B1 to streamline processes, gain a better understanding into their business operations and make better choices based on data that is updated in real time.This article will look at the benefits and capabilities of Business One and how it can help…

[accelontechnologies]

SAP Business One Cloud Hosting: Elevate Your Business

In the ever-evolving landscape of business technology, SAP Business One Cloud Hosting emerges as a game-changer for B2B enterprises. If you're seeking a seamless, scalable, and secure solution to elevate your business operations, look no further. Accelon Technologies, your trusted partner, is here to empower you with SAP B1 Cloud Hosting.

Unlocking the Potential of SAP Business One Cloud Hosting

The digital age has reshaped the way businesses operate, presenting both opportunities and challenges. B2B enterprises, in particular, require solutions that foster growth, enhance productivity, and ensure data security. SAP Business One Cloud Hosting is the key to addressing these needs, and here's why it should be at the top of your list:

Scalability

In the dynamic world of B2B, growth is the goal. SAP B1 Cloud Hosting offers unparalleled scalability. It adapts to the changing requirements of your enterprise, ensuring that you are always equipped to seize new opportunities.

Cost-Efficiency

Managing IT infrastructure can be expensive and time-consuming. SAP Business One Cloud Hosting alleviates this burden. You can redirect your resources and budget towards core business activities, allowing you to operate more efficiently and effectively.

Mobility and Accessibility

The modern business environment demands mobility. With SAP B1 Cloud Hosting, your data is accessible from anywhere, at any time. This enhances collaboration and allows your team to remain productive, even on the go.

Data Security

Data is the lifeblood of your B2B enterprise. Keeping it secure is paramount. SAP Business One Cloud Hosting offers robust security measures, safeguarding your sensitive information against threats and breaches.

Simplified Management

Accelon Technologies takes the complexity out of technology management. We handle the technical aspects, ensuring that your SAP B1 Cloud Hosting operates smoothly, while you focus on strategic decision-making.

Dedicated Support

Choosing SAP Business One Cloud Hosting from Accelon means you have a dedicated team ready to assist you. Our experts are there to troubleshoot, offer guidance, and guarantee your system's optimal performance.

Why Choose Accelon?

At Accelon Technologies, we are committed to helping B2B enterprises thrive in a digital-first world. As a SAP B1 Partner, we possess the knowledge, experience, and expertise to guide you through the implementation and utilization of SAP Business One Cloud Hosting.

Our track record speaks for itself. Countless businesses have harnessed the power of SAP B1 Cloud Hosting with Accelon, streamlining their operations, and achieving sustainable growth. We understand the unique requirements of B2B enterprises and tailor our solutions accordingly.

Don't miss out on the advantages SAP Business One Cloud Hosting can bring to your business. Accelon Technologies is your gateway to a more agile, efficient, and secure future. Contact us today to explore the possibilities and embark on a digital transformation journey that will set your B2B enterprise on the path to success.

[praxisinfosolutions]

What are The Licenses That Affect SAP Business One Pricing?

SAP Business One is a popular ERP software designed to give small and medium businesses the technical expertise they need to run their business efficiently. The SAP Business One pricing will depend on many variables such as the number of employees and branches, the amount and quality of the data to be managed, the processing required and the level of integration.

Read more: https://thetimesproject.com/what-are-the-licenses-that-affect-sap-business-one-pricing/

[super-foultalestudent]

WBC is an offshore software development center partnered with Ikyam solutions on ERP Consulting in SAP B1, R/3, Oracle, and GST Implementation and support.

[ceilidho]

prompt: price/reader bear shifter fic. PART 2. (part 1 here)

-

The urge sits right under his skin.

It’s a month out from hibernation, the torpor not quite sunk in all the way just yet. Plenty of time still to stockpile supplies, train the new rangers before his leave of absence, and chop all the firewood needed for the winter months. Plenty of time on the surface, that is—with only a month left to go, John quietly acknowledges to himself that maybe he bit off more than he could chew this time around. 

It’s exhausting work though. The new batch of recruits are fresh-faced, hardly experienced enough yet to last the season without him, but he hadn’t had much choice with Gaz taking the year off to go back to school. He’s been regularly putting in sixty to seventy hour weeks, hardly leaving him any time to cook or clean or prep for hibernation. Time goes by in a flash. He hasn’t even done a quarter of the repairs around the house that he’d wanted to finish before slipping into the winter torpor.

Hard to figure it out. He’s been putting it off without a real reason, getting lost in the forest for long swaths of time, trudging through the new snow up high in the mountains. Hardly ever in his bear form, conscious of not totally giving over to the animal, but occasionally he can’t help slipping into like tumbling down a snowbank, just losing his footing for a moment and sliding, sliding, sliding until hours have passed and he finally hears his own chuffs and feels branches crack under the weight of his paws.

He winces when he turns back, bones creaking and cracking back into place. 

John has been smelling something around town for weeks now, something sweet and delicate like sap over a branch, but work has left him too busy to start anything. Instead he stops by the grocers every other day, where the scent is strongest, to pick up miscellaneous items. Canned soup here, steaks there. He stockpiles canned and tinned goods in his den, preparing for the long winter when he’s lulled into sleep for extended periods of time, but every time he enters his den, it feels oddly bereft. Empty. Missing something.

The month or so before hibernation always leaves him feeling groggy and laconic; it makes his eyes go half-lidded and his speech descend into grunts and one-worded answers. He spends so many weeks hoarding food and blankets and firewood for the brief moments when he wakes that he can’t stop himself from eyeing even the pretty cashier like another thing to hoard.

He holds himself back, but just.

John wakes up on the couch after a particularly rough shift, groggy and out of sorts. Flecks of sleep stuck in the corners of his eyes still. He’d run into another bear (a real one) on the trail hassling a couple hikers during his shift and it’d taken a couple stressful minutes to gently guide the hikers away before dealing with the bear himself. It’s easier to deal with them in his bear skin, but he generally avoids shifting in the month leading up to hibernation for a reason. It settles him deeper into his bear, draws the sleep closer.

He’s full of cuts and bruises, his side covered in a barely healed, particularly nasty gash, the flesh knitting itself together slowly. His stomach growls. He hadn’t had a chance to cook himself any supper when he got home before collapsing on the couch—had barely eaten lunch as well. That’s part and parcel of his way of life; even during the summer, the days had been long, extending well into the twilight hours. 

And bears need food. John burns calories faster than most, an enormous amount of energy expended when shifting into his other form. He’s a familiar face at every restaurant, grocery store, and market in town for a reason, even if that reason isn’t widely known. In the summer, there was at least some time during the day to gorge himself on berries or fish from a nearby stream, but the berries and fish have long disappeared with the coming of winter. It shouldn’t come as a surprise—hunger dominates his mind during the months leading up to winter—but it’s somehow caught him off guard this year. 

His head perks up when the doorbell rings. 

It doesn’t ring again, but he can hear someone on the other side of his front door, shifting from foot to foot. John isn’t expecting anyone and doesn’t remember inviting anyone over, but he gets up anyway to answer the door. 

There’s a pretty little thing waiting for him on his front porch with a bowl of stew and homemade sourdough bread. He recognizes her from the grocery store, the sweet smelling thing always looking over at him from the till. 

“Sorry to trouble you,” she says, peeking around him. Probably trying to be inconspicuous. 

It slots something in his chest into the right place. He shifts slightly to let her peer over his shoulder into the empty house; no wife or kids scurrying behind him. It eases some of the tension in her shoulders.

“No trouble,” John says. “What’s got you on my doorstep after hours bringing over supper?”

She’s exquisitely shy, almost nervous when she steps from foot to foot before holding the food out closer to him. He takes it, if only to avoid watching her strain. In his hands, it smells entirely too good; makes his mouth water. His bear huffs in his head. John can’t remember the last time he had a home-cooked meal. Certainly not since well before his mother passed. 

“You seemed like—I saw you come home. You looked dead on your feet, so I thought…well, I’d already made soup, so it wasn’t much trouble.”

“You saw me come home?” he repeats.

“Oh, I, uh—I live next door.”

“That so?”

She flushes prettily, just the slightest deepening of the colour over her cheekbones. “Yeah. Six months now. Moved in just before the summer. Anyway, I, well…sorry if you were in the middle of supper, I wasn’t sure if—I heard from Kate that you’ve been busy, so I thought you might appreciate not having to cook.”

“That’s mighty kind of you,” he says. There’s a pause where neither of them say anything. “Can I—I have, uh, a bowl in the kitchen if you want—”

She holds up her hands at that, taking a step back. “Oh no, sorry, I don’t want to…I don’t mean to intrude. I just thought I’d…you know…friendly neighbour and all.”

“It’s no trouble, really. Come inside.”

“No, I—I really have to get going,” she insists, finally turning away from him and descending back down the stairs. “Enjoy your supper!”

He watches her turn and scurry off back to her house, glancing down back once only to give a little start when she catches him still watching her. His nose twitches when he notices that even with the tupperware stacked in his hands, the distinct sweetness that had been hovering outside his door gradually dissipates in his neighbour’s absence. 

His bear rumbles inside his chest. 

In the mountains, he ruminates on his neighbour’s small kindness. It builds in his chest like a slow burning fire when he stands in the brisk cold and stares down into the valley below. The snow squeaks under his boots on the hike back down. The ache of hunger echoes through him again; he thinks of tupperware offered to him in two soft hands. Next time, he’ll invite her in. 

He’s pleasantly surprised when she comes by again not a few days later, this time bringing along with her a pan filled with berry cobbler, tinfoil crinkling under her fingers when she hands him the entire pan. The next day, she stops by with a jar of homemade apple cider. 

It takes awhile for John to coax her inside. She brushes off his invitations to join him for supper for days before he notices the cracks in her resolve. She lingers on the porch for longer than she should, body oriented towards his house even when she says that she has to go. John considers for all of a few seconds just dragging her inside, but there’s something immensely rewarding in reeling her in slowly. A slow hunt and the promise of a meal so decadent that it leaves his tongue heavy in his mouth.

When she finally concedes, his blood roars hot, the beast in his chest thickly nuzzled under his skin, satisfied. 

She’s skittish in his house. Hardly stays for more than ten minutes the first time he succeeds in getting her in. Just long enough to take a couple bites out of the gingerbread loaf that she’d brought over and he’d cut a few slices off before retracing her steps back to the front door. John holds back the instinctive urge to follow her and trap her in with a hand flat on the door when she tries to open it. It’s better to earn her trust. 

His interest just goes up and up as she continues feeding him throughout the week. Perfect mate keeping his belly full, keeping him nourished after a hard day’s work. She keeps him company on the couch when he invites her over on the weekend, dragging her little socked feet over the carpet and snuggling up on the other side of the couch like he might reach out and grab her. He might.

Part of John can’t believe that he’s been living beside this girl for going on six months and never scented her before. It permeates his house now, baked into the walls and carpet. He wishes sometimes she’d stop by and use his bed for a nap, if only so that he could come home to a bed smelling of her; he’d wrap a firm hand around his cock with the scent of her under his nose and tug himself off with his face pressed to his pillow, imagining her trapped under him, the plush pillows of her ass turned up to let him rut between her thighs. 

Her feeding him and spending time with him is confusing though. It confuses his bear, who associates all those things with mate. It’s nature to want to keep the thing feeding him. 

So he can’t help the way his bear expects her now. When he wakes up in his bed without a smaller body tucked away in his arms, it leaves him foul-tempered, short with his men. Picking up groceries becomes more difficult than ever when he instinctively beelines to her when he walks through the automatic doors, pleasure coiling in his chest at the sight of her staring wide-eyed at him. Always a bit shy, even as it slowly melts from her like old snow. Timidity from a season ago, still frosted over but shrinking. 

He doesn’t stop himself from dragging her into his lap before passing out on the couch after a long day at work, leaving her befuddled and uncertain. His arms don’t let her up though; they keep her pinned to his chest until he wakes back up an hour later, nuzzling the bristles of his beard over the soft skin of her neck and dragging a big palm up the inside of her thigh, seeking out the warmth between her legs even half-asleep.

His hand pauses its upward trajectory when she shifts. He’s slow to come back to consciousness, but far slower to move his hand. Mate, his bear rumbles in his chest when his fingers dig into the clutch of her thighs and John hears her muffle a yip. She should be soft and pliable for him, should let him drag his hand up into the space between her legs that she’s kept hot and tender for his touch. 

John lets her pretend at sleep until he finally moves his hand away, moving to sit up and leaving her curled up on the couch. He goes off to the kitchen to put on the kettle and comes back to find her awake, stammering out an apology for falling asleep. 

“None of that,” he grumbles, setting two mugs down on the coffee table. He sits beside her before she gets the bright idea to get up and leave. 

“Sorry, I didn’t plan on staying this long. I should get back—”

“Someone waiting for you at home?” John interrupts, curt despite himself. 

The idea of her going home to someone instantly aggravates him. Even knowing for a fact that there isn’t a man living in her house doesn’t tamp down the anger. He’s scented the exterior of her house once or twice; John would’ve caught the smell of another man by now if there had ever been one living in her house. He’s held off marking her house with come or piss, but that might have to change if she keeps dangling the possibility of there being another man over his head.

It’s his fault for not marking her yet. The trees in the mountains have been marked up over the years that he’s lived in this town, deep gouges in the bark marking the forest as his territory, but he hasn’t yet rubbed his scent into his mate’s skin. It’s his fault she’s still acting like an unattached sow. 

She hesitates; risks lying to him. He can see it plain on her face. “…No.”

His face softens, eyebrows pulling together sympathetically. “I’m not such bad company, am I? Stay for a little longer—all that food’s gonna go to waste otherwise.”

“I—I guess I can.”

“Brilliant. Drink your tea, honey.”

She picks up her mug and sips it quietly while John shifts her feet into his lap and digs his thumbs into her right sole. He shushes her when she jolts and tries to sit up, digging this thumb harder into the arch of her foot. 

“Enough of that. Back down,” he scolds.

“You, but you shouldn’t—you don’t have to do that,” she stammers, trying to pull her foot away and moaning inadvertently when he digs into a sore spot. Her hand clamps down on her mouth.

“Don’t give me that, aren’t you on your feet all day? And then baking for me after a long shift? It’s the least I can do, honey.”

She’s reluctant at first, but then squeaks again he rubs his thumb over the ball of her foot. Hardly able to deny the truth. It isn’t long until her little squeaks and moans start coming out unbidden, exhaustion opening her up. He can smell her sex leaking if he breathes in deep enough. 

“Promise to stay here and wait until I fix up supper?” he murmurs, keeping his voice low. 

She hums, eyes having slid shut. Without even really moving her lips, she mumbles, “Promise.”

“Good girl.”

Sleep warm, she finally settles into his house like she belongs, like she’ll be spending the long winter here as well. Her scent is as imbued in the couch as his. It’s cinnamon sweet. 

“Why do you even…buy so much food if you aren’t gonna use it?” she asks, drowsy enough that even if he were to respond, there’s a chance she wouldn’t hear it. “You hibernating or something?”

John smiles. “Something like that.”

[ghcstao3]

from this post

The first time it happens, it’s so unexpected that Soap can’t even be angry.

Now, he knows that Ghost has cold hands. He knows his gloves serve more purpose than to complete the look. And he’s more than okay with it. It gives them both a proper excuse to hold hands whenever they want.

Soap also knows that Ghost is sneaky as shit, and maybe he should have seen this coming sooner—but alas.

They’re on leave. Soap leans over the kitchen counter, scrolling on his phone while he waits for a pot of water to boil so he can get started on dinner. Ghost, as far as Soap is aware, is napping in their bedroom.

Soap doesn’t notice the shift in the kitchen when a presence joins him, too engrossed in his screen. And whether or not he was paying attention, he never would have heard Ghost’s footsteps, because despite being a man of his size, Ghost has mastered the ability to move with complete silence.

Then it happens. Soap’s comfortable and constant warmth is interrupted by two very cold hands being shoved up his shirt and pressed against his skin with a shock. Soap flinches and nearly smacks his head on the low cabinet above him.

The rest of Ghost follows, draping over Soap and pinning the latter to the counter where he has no choice but withstand the freezing temperature of Ghost’s hands.

A quiet laugh rumbles through Ghost. “‘S that cold?”

“There is something seriously wrong with you,” Soap grumbles in response. It’s answer enough for Ghost to relent and slip away, though the touch of cold lingers a moment still.

But Soap isn’t really upset. Not that first time, because he’d admit it was pretty funny.

Then Ghost keeps doing it.

The second time also happens that same leave, while Soap is sketching nothing in particular while splayed out on the couch. Then frozen hands are suddenly slipped under the collar of his shirt and whatever line he had intended to draw leads very far astray.

The third time Soap blames Price, because while they talked, the Captain had plenty of opportunity to let Soap know that Ghost was creeping up on him. When he didn’t, the bastard had the audacity to laugh when Ghost’s hand finds the back of Soap’s neck.

Soap loses count after that. And while it isn’t entirely bothersome, he’d really like some warning before he’s sapped of all his warmth by his partner with circulation issues. But Ghost is Ghost, and some battles Soap will never win.

But if he notices that Ghost does it less when Soap willingly shares his warmth more frequently, then it’s no one’s business that Soap starts holding Ghost’s hands as much as he possibly can.

[octuscle]

Hey, today i was walking home with my friend from high school when a gypsy old lady heard us, she said something about me being wise like a Rom Baro, she congratulated me and gave me this strange necklace that gives me gypsy vibes, i dont know if i should wear it, i mean its cool, but also suspicious. My friend put it on me and it started glowing, what is going on?

It makes you dizzy. You feel a bit sick. You tell your friend you have to leave. You start walking. Your friend calls after you. Something about his hand that was holding the chain feels funny. And that you should wait. You can't wait. You have to go. I have no idea where. Just away.

When you wake up the next morning, you're lying in the straw. Shit, where are you… It smells like… Horse? Yes, it's a horse stable. Of course it is. Your favorite mare foaled last night. You had to be there. You're a horse lover. A horse whisperer. Your mare is a magnificent animal. Her coat is almost the same color as your dark skin. And she runs like the wind. You are convinced that the young stallion attached to her udder will soon tell a very good price. Horses from your tribe are in great demand on the market. And rightly so.

Your mother calls for breakfast. Before that, you have to groom the mare. And muck out the stable. The horse is your capital. The horse always comes first.

Do you like being a gypsy? You've never thought about that. You're proud to be a gypsy. And your destiny is to soon become Rome Baro. And that is an honor and an obligation. But you are only 18 years old. That's not enough to lead a tribe. But you are doing your best to learn everything you need to know to be a good leader.

If you ask other people what it's like to be a gypsy, they usually have totally romantic ideas about singing and dancing around the campfire. Of fortune-tellers and thoroughbred horses. And some of that is true… But the reality is different. This morning your day started with problems with the water pump in one of the caravans. And you're about to meet the owner of the field where you're allowed to camp. That and much more is part of your duties as Rom Baro. Romantic? Emptying a blocked waste water tank. Well…

Horse trading is your main source of income. But sometimes you need money in between. And then it's not your mares that are your capital, but your abs. If you stand in the pedestrian zone, you can be sure that it won't be long before tourists want to be photographed with you. Yes, a bit humiliating. But no more humiliating than some poor sap taking another deep breath when you put your arm around him. Yes, you weaklings, that's what a real man smells like.

Business is a little slow today. People are stingy. Or in a hurry. Yet you look hot to fuck by your own standards… But it's not just you… There's competition up ahead. A picture of a gypsy! You know him… Isn't that…?

You haven't seen your brother since he effectively crowned you as Rom Baro by putting the chain around your neck. The joy of your reunion is great. And the demand for pictures with two model gypsies is much greater than with one. It's going to be a good day. And an even better night!

[halfmoth-halfman]

and i think i'm gonna love you for a long, long time

Pairing: Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x GN!Reader Word Count: 585 Warnings: alcohol mention, fluff, gaz and reader being complete saps for each other Prompt: Dressed Up & "I really want to kiss you right now." Disclaimer: I do not own modern warfare or any of the modern warfare characters. A/N: up next we've got a sweet, little drabble for @glitterypirateduck's GazFest 2023 💜

The wedding for one John MacTavish is a simple, beautiful affair.  

An outdoor event, themed in pale golds and dark greens, nestled in the soft glow of delicate string lights and moonlight. Love fills the air, swirling with a mix of laughter and happiness. There are no worries or stress, only the happy couple and their gentle dance as they smile and giggle with each other. 

It’s pure and perfect, but you don’t think about any of that. 

All you can focus on is the man sitting next to you. He’s not doing anything particularly special–his attention is elsewhere as he jokes and drinks with his captain while keeping a warm hand resting on your thigh–but you can’t help but stare. 

Beautiful is the only word you can use to describe Kyle Garrick. It’s so rare for you to see him dressed formally without the military fanfare. Not that you mind seeing him in uniform, but there’s something different about seeing him in a dark-colored suit with the golden light haloing his rich dark skin. 

He smiles wide, all shiny teeth and mirth, as he laughs at something Price says, and the exhale that leaves you is one of longing and desire. 

You must’ve been some kind of saint in a past life. The universe’s allowance to have him in your life has to be a gift, a reward for a good deed of herculean proportions. There’s no other way you could be so lucky to have met him, to be bestowed the privilege of his love. 

Price catches you staring, which isn’t hard considering that’s almost all you’ve done the entire night, and sends you a sly smile that you don’t pay attention to in the slightest. He tips his glass to Kyle, giving the sergeant–your handsome, perfect sergeant–a sly wink as he nods his head in your direction. Kyle tilts his head, turning around to catch your admiring gaze. 

He chuckles the moment he sees you, hand squeezing your thigh as he gives you a soft kiss on the crown of your head. 

“Having a good time?” he laughs, a look full of knowing as he meets your eyes. You hold his gaze, allowing yourself to get lost in the deep brown of his eyes.

When you don’t answer, too busy ogling him, he leans his forehead against yours with a knowing smirk. 

“What are you thinking about?” he murmurs, watching your eyes fall to his mouth. You look back up at him, blinking at him almost pleadingly. 

“I really want to kiss you right now,” you confess, a gentle purr of pure want. 

He hums thoughtfully, pretending to consider whether he’ll oblige you. You know he will; he couldn’t deny you anything anymore than you could him. 

You lean in, nudging his nose with yours in an attempt to get him to close the gap. Kyle laughs again, hand leaving your thigh to lightly grasp your chin and pull you in. 

You compare kissing Kyle to what heaven must feel like. His love is all-encompassing, surrounding you with warmth and love, leaving you feeling nothing less than cherished.

He pulls away first, and you chase after him, peppering kisses along his cheeks as they swell with laughter.

You don't know how you got so lucky, but he kisses you again, and you know that it doesn’t matter.

The universe has given you your soulmate–the other half of your heart–and you have no intention of ever letting him go. 

[brotherblaze]

JAILBAIT² —simon 'ghost' riley

▹ simon 'ghost' riley/gn!reader

▹ part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4

▹ synopsis: Ghost leaves you in Soap's care while he's away on a mission and the two of you get along like a house on fire. So much so, that Ghost's first order of business upon his return is to drag your asses home from a pub.

▹ cw: suggestive themes

▹ wc: 2,7k

▹ info: i'm blocking blank/default blogs; y'all look like bots

The training room is loud. You spot Price and Ghost in the corner of the room, overseeing whatever the newbies are doing; you think they take rotations overseeing the newbies but you don't care enough to actually ask. Ghost has his arms crossed over his chest, intently staring at two recruits sparring and you almost feel sorry for the poor sap that's gonna get his spirits absolutely crushed by him.

"I know that you've got a lot on your mind like 24/7, but God, if you don't look like a brainless bimbo with a dump truck ass standing there like that." You smile when he looks at you, head slightly tilted to the side. A few heads turn to you, probably whispering their condolences to your future as you stop in front of Ghost. "I dig it, I dig it so much."

"How about we use our inside voices?" Price says.

"Yeah, sure, okay dad." You clap your hands together once. "I got a B on my final essay and I'm here for my prize."

Price cracks a smile. He places his hands on your shoulders and squeezes gently. "I'm proud of you." The smile his words get is wide, a glimmer in your eyes.

When he pulls back, Ghost leans in, his mouth at your ear, black balaclava pulled up to his nose. His warm breath caresses the shell of your ear, sends a shiver down your spine, and has blood rushing to your cheeks. "Good job, pet." The tone is low, savory, thick.

And fuck, your beaming smile has his heart thundering in his chest like a wild horse. The blood is rushing so loudly in his ears that he doesn't even hear what you say before you take off again. He lingers for a few moments, staring at the doorway, willing his pulse to slow down again.

Soap grabs the office chair next to yours and sinks into it. He pulls himself closer to you, still keeping a respectful amount of distance between you. You wonder if Ghost had managed to scare him, too. Although afraid or not, he leans against the table you're sitting behind. He glances at the puzzle game open on your laptop screen, then looks at you.

"So, why 'Jailbait'?"

"Slang terms like 'jailbait' are hard to find an equivalent to in other languages. Especially if the languages are from different language families. 'Jailbait' is Germanic, I'm more comfortable speaking Uralic."

"You're not American?" He seems surprised. You shake your head.

"No, I just spent an ungodly amount of time watching American cartoons as a child; I'm from mainland Europe. I thought the term 'jailbait' meant someone who looks younger than they are, and Simon won't stop making fun of me over it—it's been three years." You look up from your laptop, eyes narrowed at the people in the briefing room—Ghost, Price, Gaz, and others you don't recognize—then look towards Soap. "And Price likes enabling him. Thanks for embarrassing me in front of my boyfriend, dad."

Soap physically takes a double take and you raise a brow. "You—"

"I really didn't think military men are this gullible." You turn your office chair towards him and jab him gently in the shin. "No, we're not related, but I'd say he's a better father figure than my actual father; tells me he's proud of me and all. We lived in the same building for a short while."

Soap relaxes; like he's had the weight of the world taken off his shoulders. He tilts his head back, a low string of Scottish curses leaving his lips. Finally, he looks at you, a small grin on his face. "I see why he calls you a pain in the ass."

"That's the name of the game." You pull your chair closer to him, one leg slotting between his so you're close enough to talk without anybody overhearing. "You got any dirt on Simon or Price? I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours."

He thinks for a moment, then smiles. "Okay. Ghost thinks we don't know he likes listening to Lady Gaga."

"He sleeps on his back like vampires in those old movies. I have pictures."

"I need those pictures. Price once passed out on the couch after three beers while the rest of us were eating Christmas dinner."

"Price used to do positive affirmations in the morning."

"Ghost buys his underwear only on sale; said it was a good financial decision."

"He still does that. Oh, he's a total cat dad, even though my cat doesn't understand him 'cause I don't talk to her in English."

Ghost's voice drifts in front behind Soap. "I'm going to make that cat bilingual." Soap freezes, and immediately shakes it off. He glances at Ghost with a slight chuckle. Ghost tilts his head to the side. "You two look chummy."

"Trading secrets; y'know, the usual." You nod at him, taking in the tactical gear, the weapons holstered on his body, the new mask. "Betcha gotta fight off the ladies with a stick looking like that. What's up?"

"We're heading out, should be back by tomorrow. Johnny, I'm leaving them in your care." He talks like he's handing over the most important mission. Maybe you should start compiling the differences between Ghost and Simon. "You," he flicks his fingers against your forehead, and you frown, placing your cool fingers over the place he flicked, "don't bully him, and take your medication and your vitamins."

"I don't need my antidepressants as long as I can look at your ass." You roll the office chair slightly to the side to catch the curve of Ghost's ass. "Tactical asscheeks—I'm feeling better already."

Ghost makes an annoyed sound in the back of his throat and you grin. You reach into your hoodie pocket and pull out your pill organizer, dramatically flipping open today's empty pocket. The remaining pills rattle when you shake it.

"Hey, Si," you begin, fitting the pill organizer back into your hoodie pocket, "what sound does a sleeping T-Rex make?"

"Copy. Behave."

"Me? Always."

He's gone quickly after that. Life continues on around you. So, you push the worry to the back of your mind, tuck it away somewhere you might forget about it. Soap is sitting next to you and you turn your laptop slightly to give him a view of the show on your screen.

"I'm surprised he didn't answer your joke; he's the king of shitty jokes," he says in the middle of the opening credits.

"He's not supposed to; he's gotta come home to hear the answer."

Suddenly, Soap understands.

You don't race to greet him when he returns.

And then he gets word that someone drove you and Soap to a nearby pub. And forgot you there.

He's suddenly invigorated from the draining mission by cold fury in his veins.

Price intercepts before Ghost can verbally eviscerate the person who drove you, pulls him away by the shoulder and wraps his fingers around a car key.

The drive is silent until they pull up to the supposed pub you're at. Ghost slams the car door shut with more force than necessary and Price doesn't bother saying anything.

The insides are dimly lit, the scent of alcohol sharp in the air. There's a rowdy group in the corner, a cake in the middle of the table. Ghost doesn't immediately spot you anywhere in the pub and it's got his heart racing, chest tight, because fuck, you're supposed to be here and every scenario of what if starts flooding into his mind like a violent torrent of water.

"Simon!" His head snaps up when he hears his name in your voice and you're emerging from the crowd of people with a bright smile. You throw your arms around his neck and he wraps his arms so tightly around you that you wheeze. His grip relaxes slightly. Price walks past him, towards Soap who's emerging from the same crowd, drunk. He almost stumbles over a loose floorboard.

"You having a party?" Ghost asks you and you giggle. He brings one hand to rest on the back of your neck as you pull away, his thumb stroking your jawline.

"We were gonna have a drinking competition but those guys asked if we wanted to celebrate with them 'cause someone didn't come and they didn't wanna waste the drinks." You point towards the group and Simon realizes they're all young women, about your age. They wave and you return the gesture with a gleeful giggle. "Think they asked 'cause they like Soap."

"Well, wave your new friends goodbye, we're leaving."

Ghost lets you go and watches you hurry back to the group of young women. They seem saddened at your departure, taking turns hugging you and shouting their goodbyes to you and Soap as you leave. Ghost helps guide you into the car, hand on your head as you duck to climb in and he buckles you up. You want to protest, tell him you're not five and can do it yourself, but he moves with such efficiency that you bite your tongue.

The drive is silent. You fiddle with the car radio but can't find a station signal. It's frustrating and in the end, you just leave it, white noise and all. Ghost turns it off.

"Fuckin' shitty thing," you mutter under your breath. "Hate this. Fucking hate Freud—why the fuck is he the father of modern psychology? He was a fucking pussy ass bitch who made really good points in his early work but then backpedaled and went 'oh well, actually, every male child sees their father as competition and every female child sees their mother as competition because they both have the desire to copulate with the parent of opposite sex', like what the fuck, dude? His patients had literally been abused as children and he gaslit the shit out of them and I'm supposed to hail this piece of shit turd as the end all be all? No, fuck that."

You pause to take a breath, already gearing up the rest of your rant, and Ghost speaks up.

"What's the name of that one show with the big robots?"

There's a momentary silence as you turn to stare at him. "Evangelion?"

"The one with the kid who cries a lot." He presses his thigh against the steering wheel and opens the bottle of water in the cup holder. He passes it to you.

"Evangelion." You take a sip of water.

"What's the plot about?"

"Do you want it chronologically or the way the anime put it? Fuck that, you're getting chronology. Shut up, listen—"

Price is almost in awe at the way Ghost has managed to de-escalate your rant. He recalls the one and only time he's seen you drunk like this, crying in the apartment building elevator, shaky breaths and choked sobs between cussing out the self-service checkout in the grocery store down the street. He hadn't known what to do, how to make you feel better, so he'd ended up sitting on the cold tiled floor of the hallway with you, not catching half of what you'd said, but still listening.

Now he's here, years later, listening to you prattle about hundred-meter-tall angels and robots piloted by children and whatever else, with someone who's successfully managed to defuse your breakdown-inducing drunken rant. And Ghost is listening intently, interjecting with a question every now and then.

Your arrival at base gets a few stares from others. They're easily swayed by Ghost's venomous look in their direction, all of them turning back to what they'd just been doing. Price grabs Soap and bids you goodnight.

Simon exhales a heavy breath when the two of you are finally in your (temporarily) shared room. The door clicks locked behind him and he tugs his balaclava off. You're still talking, wildly gesturing, but you've switched languages three times now and Simon has lost any thread of plot he'd understood.

He sinks down onto his bed with a tired sigh, head tilted back, eyes closed to allow himself this one moment of peace, one last pause before he can pass out next to you. He hears you stop in front of him, hands cradling his cheeks.

"Please kiss me, Simon." Your voice is a whisper into the cool air, hands dipping down the columns on his neck.

"You're so needy," he rasps, large hands now on your waist, pushing under your shirt. You're so warm and you startle when his cold hands make contact with your skin. You nod then, a small 'uh-huh' said under your breath, fingers tapping nonsensical patterns against his shoulder.

Either that or you suck at morse code.

Simon helps you shimmy out of your jacket and shirt, his fingers hooking behind your bra clasp.

Simon Riley is all jagged edges and scars, rough hands dripping with blood. So much blood—there's not enough water in the world to wash it all off. Sometimes he can't get the taste out of his mouth. He moves with the precision of a killer, tries to make no unnecessary movements, nothing that would threaten to compromise the mission.

You—you're soft. There's a glimmer in your eyes when you call out his name or see a dog on the street, a flower blooming between the cracked pavement of a sidewalk. Your hands cradle his face gently to place a kiss on his lips, like he's made of glass and any force you might exert when you touch him will make him shatter. You don't keep an umbrella on you, but a coral pink raincoat, tucked into the bottom of the bag you go to university with, right next to your apartment kets clipped to a plush raccoon.

You take hour-long showers twice a week just to focus on hair care.

What the fuck, you had said when you'd found out he showers in three minutes. The water doesn't even heat up properly in three minutes, you'd said. Simon had only shrugged.

His hot mouth trails down your neck, your collarbones, chest, all open-mouthed kisses. Wet tongue flicks your nipple and even your moans are soft. The breath that escapes you when he repeats his action is a soft exhale. Soft, soft, soft, too soft for him, too good for him—he's a seasoned killer, the shadow that goes bump in the night and grabs grown men from the back, a knife to the jugular as his departing gift.

The scent of your strawberry body kit washes away the scent of iron in blood.

"Stop teasing."

"You're drunk," he says, low murmur against your skin, reverberating into the hollow of your chest.

"'M not." You run your fingers through his blond hair, nails raking against his scalp. It's just barely long enough for you to grab a handful and tug and it elicits a breathy moan from him, forces the tension out of his neck and he leans further into you, hands on your hips.

More, just one more moment of solace, and then Simon is grabbing a t-shirt and pulling it over your head. He's a solid rock, unmoving as you use him as a point of leverage to peel your jeans off. He helps you into your yellow sleeping shorts, tightens the white drawstrings, and knots them.

His eyes fall on the faint marks on your thighs, most of them already healed. There's one, though, darker than the others that's still having trouble fading. He leans down, presses a gentle kiss against that one.

"Tease," you grumble. "Pain in my ass."

And he laughs, tired and suddenly in pain again, ribs aching from a blow he took to his bulletproof vest. He smacks your thigh and you tell him something not-so-nice in a language he doesn't understand as you climb past him to get to your cot.

By the time Simon has shrugged off his own clothes, neatly folded and placed where they usually are, you're mumbling incoherently, fading fast. The corners of his mouth curl up slightly. You reach for him and he takes your hand, fingers lacing together. He's careful as he lowers himself onto the cot that sometimes screeches and groans.

"Hey, Si," you mumble, "what sounds does a sleeping T-Rex make?" Even half-asleep, you pause for dramatic effect. "A dino-snore."

"Good one."

He pulls you close, close as he can, and presses a kiss onto your forehead.

bonus: When Ghost comes back from his run the next morning, he finds Soap in your (temporarily) shared room, sitting on your cot as you explain the lore of Evangelion to him. You have charts.

[cebwrites]

flowers for their s/o (law, coby)

a/n: the first thing i’ve written ‘proper’ in weeks, ahhh it feels good to be back~ 😌💕

masc reader, he/they law word count: 0.6k

Law

It’s not often, but they’d pick wild flowers for you on occasion while on one of their little expeditions - either in your company or alone, the walks he took to clear his mind. Law was always mindful of your allergies and cautious enough to never pick, or even get too close to, something they weren’t familiar with to avoid accidents via unwieldy flora; you could never be sure with the Grand Line.

You’d tag along with them every now and again, this gave you the opportunity to see Law deep in thought as they studied the local wildlife, their face scrunched up ever so slightly in focus while Law scrutinized over the sample image shown in their text book to the real thing. As opposed to the usual setting you’d see that expression in, typically in Law’s office or when he brought his work to bed with him. It was cute, the atmosphere comfortable, you don’t even remember drifting off to the cool breeze.

You’d awaken to a small bundle of flowers held together with loose twine - Law wasn’t in direct view but it didn’t take long for you to find them hunched over some rare bush native to the area, almost like he was trying to look busy. You smile, waltzing over in a lovey-dovey fashion to give your partner a kiss for their romanticism, even if only in the presence of the two of you, nature’s beauty, the wind carrying wafts of the ocean and the laughter of your crew, your family, a little aways.

Law would huff, pretend like you were making such a big deal out of a simple gesture before the façade fell. Even they wouldn’t keep it up when you gave him such a cheeky, bemused grin. They’d wrap their arms around your waist, walking you back to that sweet little spot under the shade where the two of you spent the rest of that afternoon between kisses, the lunch that Penguin had packed for “the resident love birds” (as Law had shambles’d their cackling old friend out of the room for his teasing), and flipping through books that hadn’t seen the light of day since even before the Heart Pirates first formed.

Coby

Our beloved marine captain is, unsurprisingly, a sap at heart. He adores when you show gestures of affection like this to him and is wholeheartedly willing to return the favor. He’s no less of a dweeb about it, though - much to Meppo’s chagrin since he’s the one who has to contend with Coby’s lovestruck rambling about you all day, before Helmeppo is then dragged to several flower shops around town so Coby can compare prices and product quality.

Somewhere down the line even Tashigi gets dragged into the mix - she thinks Coby’s enthusiasm is cute and whole heartedly supports her peer’s (adorable) romantic endeavors.

A few times now, the group bristles upon being asked who the ‘lucky lady’ is when presented with Coby’s enthusiasm, but Tashi and Meppo smile to themselves as the young man’s assertions that these flowers would be for his boyfriend grow bolder with every shop. In the end, Coby winds up buying from a little stand that catches his eye on the way home after his two companions have long left, giving him their condolences for not being able to find what he set out for initially.

You catch him in a warm hug when he returns home, both of you giggling mirthfully, as he presents you with the bouquet. You take a moment to admire it and then grin, capturing his lips in a loving kiss as thanks.

[oh-no-my-hand-slipped]

A Sneeze In Spring

A commission for @big-snot-1997

****************************

Word Count: 1595

Fandom: Webkinz (Gozium Bramble)

Genre: Holdback, Comfort

CW/TW: Brief Crying

******************************

Ah, spring. For most in Webkinz World, the season was a time of peaceful walks in the park, planting the first flowers of the year, and drinking a hot cup of tea while watching the warm rain fall outside. It was a period of relaxation for Webkinz before the busy summer arrived to whisk them into final tests, trips to the beach, and tending a fast-growing garden.

But, for the Gozium Bramble, spring was anything but relaxing. In fact, the season filled him with a sense of dread. The moment the icicles on his top branches began to melt, the tree felt his sensitive nose twinge at the thought of what was to come.

The butterflies.

Every year, the Mallowtails, who were attracted to anything sweet, flocked to his new blooms to sip its sugary nectar. He didn’t mind this, of course. Anyone was welcome to take his flowers – many a Webkinz used them to make crowns, wreaths, candy, even juice. But everyone was always very polite, only taking as much as they needed and thanking him afterwards.

Mallowtails, on the other branch, were very mischievous. They took great joy in teasing the bramble, especially his large nose. They would cover themselves in a thick layer of pollen from his blooms, then flutter down to his flaring nostrils, making him sputter and sniffle. If enough joined in on the game, he would have no choice but to let out an enormous sneeze, making all his gorgeous pink petals and yellow flowers drop to the ground.

But not this year.

The Gozium Bramble had been practicing this summer, fall, and winter. No matter how much the sun shone into his eyes, or how many leaves fell onto his nose, or how cold the winter nights got, he always fought his urge to sneeze. Over the months, his nose turned a dark blue and grew full with sap. But he knew that, in order to keep his beautiful pink petals, he would have to stave off any sneeze that tempted his nose.

Finally, the snow made way for tender, green grass, and the Gozium Bramble bloomed with his own spring array. His pink strings of petals and dew-tipped flowers were a sight to behold, and he made sure to keep it that way. He shifted with the wind, kept himself from swaying too far or too fast, and, most of all, kept his nose under control.

Webkinz gathered far and wide to see his petals, having picnics under his branches and collecting his petals and flowers for an assortment of spring-time treats. As much as he loved seeing his friends, the bramble’s nose bothered him throughout the festivities. By the time everyone left each day, he was always exhausted and sniffly. But, if this was the price he had to pay for staying beautiful, then it was worth it.

One quiet morning, the Gozium Bramble’s fear came true. He opened his eyes to see a pair of blue and yellow wings fluttering around his trunk. His nostrils trembled at the sight, but he quickly regained his composure.

“You…snf!...won’t make be sneeze this year, butterfly,” he said, more to himself than the Mallowtail. “No batter how buch you tickle my dose, I won’t…snf!...sneeze, and there isn’t anything you can do aboud it!”

The butterfly ignored him, landing on the biggest Gozium bloom and sipping its sweet nectar. A few others joined, picking the choicest flowers and drinking their fill. This shook a small shower of pollen onto the Gozium bramble. Even though this tickled his nose terribly, he still managed to sniffle away his oncoming sneeze. After all, it wasn’t any worse than the Webkinz picking his fruit the last few days.

“S-See? I’m…snf!...not g-gudda…snf!...sdeeze…!”

Just then, a single Mallowtail landed on the bramble’s quivering nostrils, bringing with it a stream of pollen from its earlier meal. It crawled onto the tip, flapping its vibrant wings. The tree had forgotten how tickly the butterfly was. With the soft touch of its thin legs and the gentle probing of its proboscis, along with a cloud of powdery pollen that brought tears to his glazed eyes…

But he had to stay strong.

The Gozium Bramble wiggled his nose, trying to make the Mallowtail fly off his nose.

“G-G-Ged off! Shoo! Snf!”

However, this only seemed to encourage more butterflies to join in. First one, then two, then a few more, and a few more after that…

The Gozium Bramble’s lower lip began to tremble as his nose slowly became covered in Mallowtails. No matter how much he swayed and shimmied, the butterflies would not be persuaded. They continued to use their proboscis to circle his nostrils, squeaking in laughter when he gasped.

“S-Stop! Y-You’re gudda…meh-make be…hih…HIH-!”

The tittering began anew, and his protests only seemed to spur them on. Soon, his nose could hardly be seen beneath the sea of yellow and blue wings. The bramble’s nostrils flared wider and wider, his pleas growing more and more desperate.

“C-Can’t…h-hhEH-! P-Please…I…hih-! hih-! HIH-!”

With a squeal, the butterflies fluttered off of the bramble’s nose. Their job was done.

After a final trembling hitch, the tree pitched forward.

“HUUU’TCHHHIHIIIEW! H’TCHIHIEW! H-Heh…HTCH’CHIEW!”

The Gozium Bramble sneezed and sneezed, unable to stop after so many months of keeping them back. By the third sneeze, his branches were completely empty, as all his petals and flowers fell into a pile on the grass below. The falling petals and pollen only prolonged his sneezing fit, and it was a long time before he could take a breath without a sneeze immediately following.

Finally, the fit came to an end, and the tree slowly opened their watering eyes. Upon seeing all his beautiful foliage laying in the grass, new tears rolled down their cheeks and down their great nose.

“My petals…my beautiful p-petals…”

The Gozium Bramble wept, their vacant branches drooping. No matter how hard he tried, he still couldn’t keep himself from losing his spring blossoms.

Now he was just an empty tree. There was nothing special about him now.

“Good morning!”

The Gozium Bramble looked up. Waddling down the path was Dr. Quack, holding a book under one wing. As the duck drew closer, his cheerful smile turned into a look of concern.

“My dear bramble! What ever is the matter?”

The Gozium Bramble sniffled. “I…snf!...lost all my p-petals…”

Dr. Quack looked down, kicking up the nearby pile with his flipper. “Ah, yes, it’s about that time, isn’t it?”

“A-And…I tried not to, b-but…I couldn’t…!”

The bramble dissolved into tears.

“Oh dear,” Dr. Quack clucked, sitting on the grass next to the bramble. He rubbed his wing soothingly up and down the tree’s trunk. “Now, now, it’s alright…”

With Dr. Quack’s comforting words, the Gozium Bramble eventually quieted, though his lip still quivered.

“Now,” Dr. Quack said, “why don’t you tell me exactly what happened?”

The bramble hiccuped, looking down at his lost petals.

“I practiced…snf!...all year to stop sneezing. So when the butterflies came, I wouldn’t sneeze, and I could keep my spring flowers forever. But now…”

“Ah, I see. You simply couldn’t help yourself, even with all that practice.”

The Gozium Bramble nodded. Dr. Quack smiled, taking the book out from under his wing.

“It’s always upsetting when things change. Especially when you try so hard to keep things the same. But…”

He flipped through the book, pointing his wing at a certain page.

“Change can be beautiful, too.”

The Gozium Bramble shifted his empty branches. “How can this be beautiful?”

“Well, have you ever wondered why you lose your flowers and petals every year?”

“Those Mallowtails,” the Gozium Bramble muttered.

“That’s true,” Dr. Quack said with a chuckle. “But, you see, they make you sneeze for a reason. According to The Webkinz Guide to Flora and Fauna by Charlotte Neighlor…”

He cleared his throat and held the book out in front of him.

“‘Mallowtails and the Gozium Bramble have a symbiotic relationship. Every spring, after a long migration, the bramble provides much needed nourishment for the hungry butterflies. After their annual feed, they, attracted to the blue hue of the Gozium Bramble’s nose, will land on it, covered in pollen. The tree sneezes from the irritation, not only spreading its pollen and seeds, but also shaking off the spring foliage to make way for summer leaves. Therefore, they can store food from the sunlight during the warmer seasons to prepare for the colder ones.

As a result, Gozium Brambles have evolved highly sensitive noses, and Mallowtails have changed their migration patterns to locations where the bramble is plentiful. One provides food and temporary shelter, the other provides pollination and a means to shed excess foliage. Truly, an example of a perfect relationship between insect life and fauna.’”

Dr. Quack closed the book and put it under his wing again.

“Your spring petals are prized because they only last for a short time, and only once a year. We celebrate the little time we have to admire them. But how they are lost, and how you and the Mallowtails have changed to help each other grow – now that is breathtaking. Ah, and look!”

The Gozium Bramble looked where Dr. Quack was pointing.

A single leaf poked out of one of the branches, only visible now that there weren't any petals around it. The sun shone through it, making it shimmer as it blew in the wind. The light showed the many veins that criss-crossed beneath the tender green. The Gozium Bramble lifted up the leaf, admiring it.

It was beautiful.

[praxisinfosolutions]

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[morgue-xiiv]

for the ask game: Idiot Doom Spiral

OKAY! I been working on this one for a while so it's gonna be great. Really high concept.

This is tough, not because he doesn't have good or bad thing about him, but because like. Everything about him seems like an opinion or vibe based thing. Like okay he's homeless because he lost his keys and ID and couldn't prove he had a right to enter his own home. Is he a fucking dipshit as I've heard many people say or is he a potent reminder of the insane precarity of our lives? I think the latter. Every person I've spoken to about it has a different idea of how he could get into his own house and every one of them runs out of ideas if you say "and if that didn't work?" even a couple of times. Even the game says there should be an obvious solution yet does not provide one. Oh your landlord would let you in. What if you rented through a managing agency and the staff turnover is high so no one recognises you? How would you even CONTACT your landlord? with the phone number you wrote down and carry with you everywhere even if you're on a jog? Oh your staff would let you in at work. Suppose they don't though? Suppose the main point people are on a week long business trip or your security guard says "look man I know its you but I'm not allowed to let you in without ID I could lose my job", you're a grown man so your parents could easily be dead or very far way. my absolute favourite take was "well the supervisor in your building would recognise you!" Yeah thanks Monica Geller, tell me you're American without telling me you're American. Hell, what if all this beurocracy is HARD and lying down on a beach drinking is EASY. That's the real reason, you maybe could get in "if you tried hard enough" but everyone has a limited ammount they CAN try and traumatic experiences like the cops locking you up for asking for help sap that energy Realllly fast. You, too, are probably 4-8 comedy of errors events from homelessnessliness. It blows!

1) He's very invested in his work and doesn't accept anything that falls bellow his standards of excellent BUT his job is predominately hollow overcompensated manipulative bullshit. BUT advertising is art even if you don't agree with the art or its aims. He's focused on his artistic fullfilment rejecting low concept ideas even if he thinks they would be functional effective ads.

2) I seem to recall him rejecting fascism as 'low concept stuff' but I can't find the line now so take my word for it. And I'm not even sure.

3) IDS was a very controversial Tory scumleech who oversaw massive punitive cuts to financial support for the disabled in the UK and it's funny as fuck now to call him Idiot Doom Spiral because they abbreviate the same. (that's meta as shit sorry)

3) he seems to really appreciate the company of his friends but he clearly views himself as "above" them somehow. Buddy, you had a fancy job but you're here in the dirt those are your mates now. coked up marketing exec aint the win over drunken small business owner and professional non-caller of Abigails even when you were society approved.

4) not above a little beneficial fraud. Does however take a pen "for his trouble" without negotiating or revealing that price in advance. But sometimes it's the racist lady's monkey pen so for the love of god yes please take it I hate that pen.

5) TFC: he's supportive if you tell him you're dating Kim

6) I really feel like there's more but he has so much dialogue goddamn

7) oh he refers to his ex as a "sweet piece of ass" the objectifying misogynistic little cumstain.

8) smart enough to not drink medical spirits

9) If you tury to embark on the cocain skull quest he pretty much looks into the camer and says "not unless we the studio get More Money to make a Bigger Game!" and that's really funny. I mean kinda sad now but that meta shit is funny. I guess in narrative he doesn't know that's what he's doing.

10) he's pretty entertaining and can chat shit on all day if you keep him in booze. We all need that friend.

[miss-ingno]

Everything I Wrote In 2023

...or at least the bits I posted to Ao3 :D 21 works with a word count of 71,998 total! I'm honestly surprised, I thought it was much less considering how little I felt like writing between work and health issues sapping my energy.

I'll sort these alphabetically by fandoms and within the fandoms chronologically from first posted to last.

Assassin's Creed II Title: Return To Sender Ship: Claudia Auditore/Desmond Miles, Claudia Auditore & Ezio Auditore Words: 3.5k Tags: Epistolary, Time Travel, Marriage, POV Outsider (as in Outsider on the Time Traveller PoV), In-Universe Documents Summary: Over the years, Ezio and Claudia exchanged many letters. These are the ones concerning Claudia's husband, then-stranger, Desmond.

Deja Vu by Dreamcatcher (Music Video) Title: All Our Memories, They're Haunted Ship: Jiu/Yoohyeon Words: 1.1k Tags: Memories, Regret, Grief/Mourning, the Queen is dead; long live the Queen, Dark Yoohyeon, Murder Summary: There are no witnesses to her ascent. There is no one she trusts not to stab her in the back. Title: Our Love's A Curse Ship: Jiu/Yoohyeon Words: 833 Tags: Backstory, Happy with A Bad Ending, Off-screen Character Death, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Yoohyeon's descent into madness, Assassin Yoohyeon Summary: Yoohyeon worked hard to create a perfect world for Jiu and herself. But perfection isn't forever.

Detective L Title: Both Is Good Ship: Ben Jieming/Luo Fei/Qin Xiaoman Words: 1.5k Tags: Relationship Status: It's Complicated, Pre-Relationship, Developing Relationship, Background Case, Post-Canon, Pre-Poly, Polyamory Negotiations, Insecurity, lbr they all have their issues but they love each other for who they are and that's what's important Summary: The day before the police ball, Ben Jieming and Luo Fei discuss who should accompany Qin Xiaoman. Unbeknownst to them, she already made her choice.

Dimension 20 - Mentopolis Title: Where in Mentopolis are the Prefrontal P.I.s? Ship: Ensemble Words: 800 Tags: Logic Grid Puzzle, Worldbuilding, Post-Canon Summary: It’s the Grand Opening of Daniel Fucks’ new Emporium of Exquisite Pleasures, but none of the other Prefrontal P.I.s have shown up! However, through his criminal network, Daniel hears some rumours about what they’re each up to. Can you help him find them and drag them away from whatever they’re doing for this most important of all events?

Granting You A Dreamlike Life Title: The Hero Returns Ship: Hong Lan & Luo Fusheng, implied Duan Tianying/Luo Fusheng Words: 826 Tags: Late Canon Fix-It, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, PoV Tianying Summary: The first thing Hong Lan does as head of the Hong family is to order Luo Fusheng back home.

Grimm (TV) Title: Back In A Spell Ship: Sean Renard/Juliette Silverton, Nick Burkhardt/Juliette Silverton, pre-Nick Burkhardt/Sean Renard/Juliette Silverton Words: 7.2k Tags: Time Travel Fix-It, POV Juliette Silverton, former Hexenbiest Juliette, Nick is not a Grimm yet, Identity Reveal, Magic Revealed, Dinner Date with Ulterior Motives, Secrets Summary: Going back in time has a price. Juliette will make damn sure it was worth it. Title: Sting Of Love Ship: Nick Burkhardt/Monroe Words: 1k Tags: Kissing Slice of Life Action/Adventure Wesen of the Week Episode Style Summary: Monroe accompanies Nick on Grimm business.

Guardian (drama and novel) Title: Growing Pains Ship: Shen Wei/Zhao Yunlan & Da Qing Words: 2.5k Tags: Case Fic lite, Haixing-Dixing politics, set between Episode 4 and Episode 5, Early in Canon, Zhao Yunlan takes a bullet for a Dixingren Hurt Zhao Yunlan Protective Shen Wei (Guardian) Morality Summary: During their most recent case Zhao Yunlan's superiors put him in a difficult position: follow orders, or summon Heipaoshi to hand over the Dixingren? Title: Telenovela Ship: one-sided Zhao Yunlan/Zhu Hong, background Shen Wei/Zhao Yunlan Words: 315 Tags: Slice of Life, Zhu Hong gets to be snake-y, Pining, Denial Summary: Zhu Hong watches dramas in her free time. Title: In This, As In All Things (WIP) Ship: Shen Wei/Zhao Yunlan & Da Qing Words: 13k+ Tags: Time Travel Fix-It, Time Travel: Post-Canon to Pre-Canon, Secret Identity, Identity Shenanigans, Established Relationship, Family Issues Summary: Given the chance to right the wrongs of the past, Zhao Yunlan and Shen Wei go back to before they met (again). But how much can they change faced with a very different SID than the one under Zhao Yunlan's lead? Title: Ruffling Feathers Ship: Zhu Hong & Da Qing & Ya Qing Words: 7.1k Tags: Post-Canon, Handwavey Fix-It, Yashou Politics, Case Fic, Zhu Hong and Da Qing team up to solve a theft, Yashou High Chief Zhu Hong, Yashou Worldbuilding, Mistakes Are Made, Zhu Hong is new to this job Summary: Zhu Hong is more than ready to delay her responsibilities for old times' sake when Da Qing approaches her about his missing bells. But the case takes them smack-dab into internal Yashou politics and Zhu Hong's mettle as High Chief is put to the test. Title: Two Of A Kind Ship: Ya Qing/Zhu Hong Words: 12.9k Tags: Time Travel Fix-It, Pre-Canon, Yashou Politics, Yashou Worldbuilding, Pre-Relationship, PoV Ya Qing, mentions of the Time Loop, Background Shen Wei/Zhao Yunlan, mentions of the canonical ending, Antagonist Ye Zun, BAMF Ya Qing Summary: Zhu Hong approaches Ya Qing with a warning from the future. Ya Qing is... intrigued despite herself. Title: Freezing Ship: Chu Shuzhi/Guo Changcheng/Ye Huo Words: 507 Tags: Character Study, Missing Scene, Episode 19 Summary: Stuck in the experimental lab, Chu Shuzhi has time to contemplate his newest companion. Title: Days of Splendour Ship: Shen Wei/Zhao Yunlan & Zhaodad & Zhaomom (novel) Words: 1.9k Tags: Wedding Planning, Wedding Fluff, Post-Canon Summary: Zhao Yunlan knows what he wants: Shen Wei, at his side, forever. Title: Happy Hour Ship: Shen Wei & Shen Wei's students, Shen Wei/Zhao Yunlan & SID Words: 975 Tags: Background Case, Shen Wei's terrible lies, undercover at a bar Summary: A criminal, a professor, and a cat walk into a bar. The professor's students did not expect to be part of the joke. Title: An Intimate Touch Ship: Shen Wei/Zhao Yunlan Words: 2.2k Tags: YOHE, Facial Shaving, Hair Brushing, Hair Braiding, Almost Kiss, Domestic Fluff Summary: Shen Wei helps Kunlun shave his beard. Title: Gossip Mango Ship: Shen Wei/Zhao Yunlan & Shen Wei's students Words: 1.9k Tags: Social Media, Episode Related (1-8), Canon Compliant, mentions of canon suicidal ideation and murders Summary: Not only does Dragon City university have a great and sophisticated study program for many different majors, it also has a flourishing social media site for students to discuss their studies social activities recent events.

Harry Potter Title: To Seek Knowledge Ship: Hermione Granger & Luna Lovegood & Ginny Weasley Words: 4.4k Tags: Female Friendship, Spell Theory, Bullying, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Hogwarts Second Year, Golden Trio (background) Summary: A precocious pre-teen on a quest for knowledge ends up changing the future. She even makes a friend or two on the way.

Naruto Title: Adventitious Ship: Haruno Sakura & Hatake Kakashi & Uchiha Sasuke & Uzumak Naruto Words: 5k Tags: Developing Friendships, set after the Wave mission but before the Chuunin Exams, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, in which Team 7 grows closer and Sasuke doesn't defect, Dai-nana-han | Team 7 Have Issues (don't worry they're working on it), Mission Fic (sort of), no literal geese were involved in the making of this fic, in which Team 7 accidentally topples several villains' plans Summary: To keep Team 7 busy, Kakashi-sensei sends his students on a wild goose chase. Much to his dismay, they actually find a golden goose.

长公主在上 | Zhǎng Gōng Zhǔ Zài Shàng Title: By Your Side Ship: Li Yunzhen/Gu Xuanqing, Li Yunzhen & Li Chenglin Words: 2k Tags: Post-Canon Court Politics Dom/sub Undertones Established Relationship Relationship Development Summary: After tricking the Chancellor into publicly rebelling, Li Yunzhen retires from politics.

[rjzimmerman]

Excerpt from this story from the New York Times:

Agriculture Secretary Tom Vilsack has a line about the state of small-scale agriculture in America these days.

It’s drawn from the National Agricultural Statistics Service, which shows that as the average size of farms has risen, the nation had lost 544,000 of them since 1981.

“That’s every farm today that exists in North Dakota and South Dakota, added to those in Wisconsin and Minnesota, added to those in Nebraska and Colorado, added to those in Oklahoma and Missouri,” Mr. Vilsack told a conference in Washington this spring. “Are we as a country OK with it?”

Even though the United States continues to produce more food on fewer acres, Mr. Vilsack worries that the loss of small farmers has weakened rural economies, and he wants to stop the bleeding. Unlike his last turn in the same job, under former President Barack Obama, this time his department is able to spend billions of dollars in subsidies and incentives passed under three major laws since 2021 — including the biggest investment in conservation programs in U.S. history.

The plan in a nutshell: Multiply and improve revenue streams to bolster farm balance sheets. Rather than just selling crops and livestock, farms of the future could also sell carbon credits, waste products and renewable energy.

“Instead of the farm getting one check, they potentially could get four checks,” Mr. Vilsack said in an interview. He is also helping schools, hospitals and other institutions to buy food grown locally, and investors to build meatpacking plants and other processing facilities to free farmers from powerful middlemen.

But it’s far from clear whether new policies and a cash infusion will be enough to counteract the forces that have pushed farmers off the land for decades — especially since much of the money is aimed at reducing carbon emissions, and so will also go toward large farming operations because they are the biggest polluters.

The number of farms has been declining since the 1930s, in large part because of migration from rural areas to cities and greater mechanization of agriculture, which allowed operators to cultivate larger tracts with fewer people. Over time, the federal government abandoned a policy of managing production to support prices, prompting growers to become more export-oriented while local distribution networks atrophied.

The last half-decade has been more disruptive than most. First came a trade war against China under former President Donald J. Trump, which drew retaliatory tariffs that cut into U.S. exports of farm products like soybeans and pork. Then came the pandemic, which scrambled supply chains and sapped farm labor, leaving crops to rot in the fields.

After Congress cushioned the blow with relief for farmers hurt by pandemic disruptions, things started to turn around. Even as the cost of supplies like fertilizer and seed rose, so did food prices, and farm incomes increased. In 2023, default rates on farm loans neared record lows.

“Farm balance sheets are the healthiest they’ve ever been in the aggregate,” said Brad Nordholm, the chief executive of Farmer Mac, a large secondary market for agricultural credit. “The tools available to American farmers to have a more predictable return, even when commodity prices change and input prices change, is greater than it’s ever been before.”

But wholesale crop prices are expected to decline over the coming year. Rising interest rates have made it more difficult to finance planting and harvesting, borrow for an expansion or just get into agriculture — especially since land values jumped 29 percent from 2020 to 2023.

That’s especially true for the smallest farmers, who are far less likely to be tapped into Department of Agriculture assistance programs and are more vulnerable to adverse weather, labor shortages and consumer whims.

“I think in some ways they’re in a worse position than before the pandemic,” said Benneth Phelps, executive director of the nonprofit Carrot Project, which advises small farmers in New England. “We see a lot of farmers making hard decisions right now about whether to stay in or get out, because they’ve run out of steam.”

That’s where the American Rescue Plan, the Inflation Reduction Act and the Bipartisan Infrastructure Law come in.

The laws have collectively provided about $60 billion to the Agriculture Department, which has parceled it out across a variety of priorities, from relieving farmers’ debt to paying them to reduce their carbon emissions.

The biggest chunk — about $19.5 billion — has breathed new life into subsidies to encourage conservation practices that improve the land, like cutting back on plowing and planting cover crops to sequester carbon in the soil. Some of the programs had shrunk in successive Farm Bills, which are five-year legislative packages that covers most agricultural subsidies, and about two-thirds of farmers who applied each year got nothing.

The new funding has added 16,000 recipients over the past two years. Preliminary data shows the expansion is allowing smaller farms to take part.

[jshookthighs]

thank you so much for your services <3 you are feeding us out here

I have recently fallen in love with the idea of Corey coming to visit you at work when it's a slow day . Maybe a little because he misses you and he's protective of you, but really he knows you're protecting him--especially (pre-Michael Corey) . He can just linger and talk to you and nobody really notices him because they're busy doing their own thing. And what? What are they gonna say? It's a public space and you're in charge. It's freeing, and you like to see him out.

Lmao i'm such a sap for this man (obviously) but I know you get it at least ;D

Ahhh, sweet, sweet domestic bliss - I am a sucker for that stuff, honestly it just makes me melt. Then you add Corey to that??? Bruh that's it, I'm done for.

For the easier reading experience (and honestly writing experience) I'm making us work at a gas station. I'm sorry if that sounds weird, it's just the first thought I had // also this is like a weird mix of headcanons and a fic

ANYWAYS

Corey Visiting You at Work:

Just imagine Corey just sitting quietly beside you at the register, perched on a stool you had stolen from the back room that he has now claimed his own. No one but him was allowed in his seat. Corey always visited you when you were scheduled for the night shift, claiming that he wanted to keep you safe from the creeps that roamed Haddonfield once the sun went down - but you knew he got lonely, missing coming home from a long day at the junkyard and slipping into bed with you, ending the night in your arms. Lying in your cold bed, surrounded by your scent, he physically can't relax and makes his way to the door, puts on his shoes, and slips into the inky black of the night with his heart leading his feet in your direction.

You don't complain though, you can't. You enjoy his company and he makes the unbearable shift like heaven on earth. There are large time differences between when customers come in and when it's dead quiet. In that space, you two spend the time talking and goofing off. Hell, Corey even helps clean so you won't have to worry about it - of course, he mostly does it to pay off his chocolate milk debt. Whenever he gets thirsty, he just grabs another bottle from the fridge lining the back wall. Even though each drink comes out of your paycheck, you couldn't handle telling him he couldn't have that delicious treat he loves so much. It's a small price to pay to keep him happy.

While the music that drifts through the building is early 2000's hits a playlist your boss insists plays all day, every day sometimes, a slow song comes on. It's times like these when Corey will stand up from his spot, grab your hand and lead you to the center of the store. His arms around your middle and yours around his neck, you both sway back in forth laughing at the romantic gesture in the most unromantic of places. He always knows how to make you feel loved. Of course once that song is over and the next one rolls around, you're both jumping around and dancing like idiots to NSYNC.

As much as you love having Corey at work with you, the customers really don't. Sometimes you both get so caught up in your conversations about what horror movies are the best or whether a hotdog is considered a sandwich or not that you ignore the line that waits for you to ring up their items. It's three in the morning, so you don't really care about the man drumming his fingers on the counter, Corey's enthusiastically talking about his passions, and like hell are you gonna rip your attention away from him. When you finally decide to do your job, you quickly finish up the transaction and went straight back to giggling and gossiping with the curly-headed man.

As the night goes on, the chatter tends to dwindle into a comforting silence, just the two of you just enjoying the other's company underneath the harsh fluorescent lights. While his stature is hard to ignore, sometimes, his presence isn't very obvious. He's quiet and he's learned to make himself invisible to a crowd, it's quite the talent he's acquired. While you fiddle with the register and check on the slushie machine, he likes to roam the aisles, just memorizing the items on the shelves. The night is calm and still, that is until the jingle of the bells hanging off the door rings out, announcing the entrance of a customer. You turn away from the wall of cigarettes you were restocking to greet whoever came in, instead of the typical image of some drunk kids or a shaggy-looking truck driver, you're looking directly down the barrel of a gun. This idiot had the audacity to try and rob the store. Of course, you're terrified as the masked assailant starts making demands of opening the register and not trying anything stupid. Unknown to this thief, he has royally fucked up. Out of all the gas stations at this specific time, he had to choose this one now. Luckily for you, he didn't notice the figure standing in the back corner, perusing the fridge for another drink. Taking slow, methodical steps, Corey makes his way behind the assailant. Your eyes, flash to behind the man, making him turn to look at where your eyes are pointed. As his guard goes down, Corey attacks. The men wrestle till Corey is able to knock the gun to the ground. They rip through the store - snacks and products tumbling from their shelves till they both fall to the linoleum floor between aisles and out of sight. You can hear the men struggling, fighting for power. Then there's a crash, the sound of broken glass then drowned out by a wet *squish* followed by gargling. Your heart is beating out of your chest - the silence suffocating you as you hold your breath. Then, you see a mop of curly brown hair peek over the shelf, a disheveled Corey shuffling back up to the front desk. He's shaking as he holds you close "Are you ok? Did he hurt you?" it's almost amusing to you how even in moments like these, he's more concerned about you than himself. You reassure him and check him for injuries as well. He's bruised and cut but overall not too bad. As for the other guy, that's a different story. He lays flat on his back, a piece of glass bottle sticking grotesquely out the side of his neck. It looks like Corey had smashed a milk bottle and used it as a makeshift weapon during the struggle. You can't help but sigh, placing your hand on your hips and surveying the damages. You walk over to the front door and lock it while telling Corey, "Well, if you get the body, I'll get the mop." Thank God your boss was too cheap to install security cameras, cause you had a lot of cleanup to do before your shift ends. As you pass him to head into the back room, you pull Corey down to kiss him on the cheek. "Thank you for protecting me, honey. I love you." you smile at the blush that dusts the tops of his cheeks. With that, you both get to work.

Ever since then, Corey has made it a point to come to every single one of your night shifts, even some of your day ones! You may have been unharmed this time, but he refuses to even let the chance of this happening again exist. He becomes your own personal work bodyguard, keeping you company and safe. Don't worry, darling, nothing's gonna hurt you, not while he's there <3

Note: Heyyyyyy so I definitely just rambled like a crazy person so sorry for subjecting ya'll to this. Don't be afraid to send me whatever - I love teeth-rotting fluff and down-bad smut. The only thing is that I'm a little slow when it comes to posting // I don't post very regularly