#shirt budget suffers

[danmeiljie]

Yuanxia are Even More Flirty from this outtake of Episode 28 in Advance Bravely

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

miscellaneous fellow honest headcanons

These aren't following any prompt in particular, these are just thoughts I had when I saw the guy hammin' it up and then turning on us.

Some of these headcanons are informed by fan art I've seen and discussions I've had with friends, while others are purely me.

Curiouser and Curiouser...

He calls people “little lads” and “little ladies”.

Fellow has a very noticeable laugh. Like, he grunts and snorts and has tears rolling down his cheeks. (He tends to laugh at others’ misery, thinking of it as “retribution” or “payback” for the injustices he has suffered himself.)

Bro shaves using a knife (yes, he shaves because he is a grown ass man) because razors are hella expensive.

He uses that cheap cologne and cakes it on THICK. This, in his mind, gives off the impression that he’s a well-off and put-together individual you should tooootally trust.

Also the type of person that lays it on thick with his words. If he’s trying to impress a date or something, he’ll shower them with so many compliments it almost seems fake. But no, he’s just the type to simp hard when he happens to be genuine 💀 most of the time he’s faking it though—

He’s very street smart, but in a way where he confuses hostile people by talking over them and acting overly friendly. They usually stuns them long enough for him and Gidel to skedaddle.

If he gets dumped, he'd be the pathetic whimpering boyfriend that begs for his ex to take him back. When they inevitably don't, he mopes all day about it.

He chain smokes and aggressively drinks as a coping mechanism on his bad days 😔 and sometimes he gambles (like, on those scratch-off cards) hoping that he'll strike it rich and buy him and Gidel a better life...

Basically, he generally does not have his shit together but tries his best to pass like someone who does (and usually succeeds at it).

Fellow appears in public wearing his full suit, but at home (ie whatever ratty temporary housing their boss found for them before they move on to the next place) he just wears a T-shirt and lounges around in boxers (and sometimes socks with holes in them).

He uses those disposable eyeshadow wands that snap in half at the slightest bit of too much pressure. Fellow acts like the Claire’s kid makeup he uses is the luxury stuff, but Vil can tell the pigmentation isn’t all there and there’s MAD fallout.

He may be broke AF and have his moments of emotional spiraling, but he has pretty decent budgeting skills. Fellow lives for sales and does extreme couponing to stretch their money as far as it will go.

He invests in other cost-saving methods like wearing shoes until the sole is literally flopping off and just adding water to residual soap in a pump bottle to make the soap "last longer".

Fellow is really good at cutting food (bread, beans) thin to conserve it. Yes, this is a reference to an old Mickey Mouse cartoon—

When he was younger, he had dreams of being an actor (and, more specifically, starring in musicals). That's why he's often humming, swinging around his cane, and/or whistling as he's on the prowl for idiots to sucker—they're remainders of his thespian days before his dreams were crushed into itty bitty pieces.

Man looks like he'd be great at tap dancing.

Before his current gig, he tried a bunch of other scams including a MLM at one point to get by. His signature spell came in pretty clutch in those days too.

Fellow’s not that good at reading or spelling—in fact, he was never a particularly strong student. (“I didn’t fail school!! The schools failed ME!!”) He’s easily frustrated by academics and thinks there should be more hands-on and practical skills taught in learning institutions.

I think it's a given that he and Ruggie would be besties since they both want to eat the rich but I also think Fellow would kiss ass to Azul and then rage about how shitty + entitled Azul is (Azul reminds Fellow of his boss)💀 Scammers hate other scammers because they're both competing to scam the same people--

Even though Fellow is an asshole to most others (well, when he’s not flattering them to lure them into a trap), he’s always nice to Gidel and puts him first. If there’s ever a situation where they’re short on something (clothes, food, etc), Gidel gets priority. This is why Gidel has a full outfit (even if parts are patches or mismatched) whereas Fellow himself has a glove that is so worn out there’s a hole in one of the pinkie fingers.

Fellow may not be blessed with a bounty of magic, but he’s quick on his feet and good with words. Because of these skills, he’s talented at spinning bedtime stories, which he often tells to Gidel to help him fall asleep on nights that are particularly cold and nasty.

Gidel still believes in Santy Claws and wishing upon stars, and Fellow doesn’t have the heart to tell him the truth. He’ll figure it out on his own one day, Fellow thinks. He just doesn’t want to be the one to ruin those childhood joys for him.

Playing pretend is another shared past time of theirs. It helps Fellow get into character before he goes off to swindle people, and it gives Gidel a way to express himself in spite of being mute. They have a routine they do together where Fellow pretends to be a doctor diagnosing a patient and Gidel takes down notes for him as his medical scribe. Yes, this is a Pinocchio reference—

They actually have many more games they play (mainly because they cannot afford other forms of entertainment). Some of the games are clever ruses conjured by Fellow to teach Gidel survival tips and tricks: the who-can-make-their-piece-of-bread-last-longer game, hide-and-seek (from the authorities), etc.

For special occasions, Fellow saves up some money on the side to grant Gidel little luxuries, like a box of crayons to doodle with.

Gidel hugs Fellow’s leg or waist to cheer him up when he’s upset. He also hides behind Fellow when he’s scared or feeling shy.

He’s just really attached to Gidel cuz they have no one else in this cruel world, just them against the world 😔 He sees a lot of his younger self in the little boy… the opportunities lost because of their circumstances… “It’s alright, Gidel. Leave it to Fellow-sama.”

[scoonsalicious]

Unwanted: Chapter 4, Unwelcome - Pt. 1*

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, Explicit Sexual Content - Minors: GTFO; I don’t serve your kind here - (oral (f receiving), unprotected PIV (only okay if one of you is a super solider who can't contract/spread, otherwise, wrap it before you tap it), bad jokes (should be a given at this point, really), dummies not understanding feelings.

Word Count: 2.6k

Previously On...: Bucky returned from his mission and your reunion got a little spicier than intended... not that either one of you is complaining! Deciding not to make it a one-time thing, you both agree to try a friends-with-benefits arrangement. What could possibly go wrong?

A/N: Yay! More smut! Aren't we all so lucky! <3 I magically managed to plow my way through writing Chapter 10 tonight, which means ya'll get Chapter 4, Part 1 a little earlier than I anticipated! I have to confess that I love the stupid banter between Bucky and Pocket. Their dumb playfulness is so #goals for me, lol. You've got a lot of fluff and such coming your way for a few chapters, meanwhile I'm at the point where I'm just writing all the angst and it is making me so sad. I subconsciously keep trying to fix it because I hate having them be at odds, but the story needs pain! And therefore I must make my babies suffer. Not right now, though. Right now is smut, smut, smut! Enjoy!

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917

Taglist: (Please let me know if you’d like to be added!) @jmeelee @cazellen @blackhawkfanatic @les-sel @marcswife21 @buckybarnessimpp @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @erelierraceala

You sat in your office, head bent over the latest budget requests from your lab staff. You tended to be pretty generous when it came to project funding, but this $15 million request for a proposed shrink ray had to be some sort of a joke. Did they want a lawsuit from Pym Technologies? A knock on your door drew your attention away from the submission in front of you.

"Come in," you called out, putting the shrink ray proposal in your rejection pile. Bucky entered your office, flashing you a seductive smile as he closed and locked the door behind him.

Leaning back in your desk chair, you let your eyes rove over his frame as he walked toward you. He'd obviously just come from the gym, his muscles glistening with a sheen of sweat and his t-shirt clinging to his sculpted chest. The sight of him made your heart race, and you couldn't help but feel a now familiar heat building between your legs. He looked absolutely gorgeous. "You're not my GrubHub order," you teased.

"Not your GrubHub," he said, coming around to sit on the edge of your desk, "but I bet I can fill you up just as good."

You both stared at each other for a beat before bursting into laughter. "Oh my God, Barnes," you groaned, standing up and wrapping your arms around his neck. "That was absolutely awful." You kissed him, relishing the feel of his laughter against your mouth. "I can't believe I willingly let you put your dick in me, jokes like that."

Bucky's laughter faded into a heated gaze as his hands traveled up your sides, sending shivers down your spine. "Well," he whispered huskily, his lips grazing against the shell of your ear, "I'm glad you let me, because all I can think about is doing it again."

"Then it's a very good thing you locked that door," you whispered back, trying to ignore the wetness his words sent straight to your panties.

His fingers traced the outline of your jaw, his feather-light touch igniting a trail of desire along your skin. The familiar weight of his presence grounded you, drawing you closer. Together, like this, it was as if you were the only two people in the world, as if no one else existed.

"I've been thinking about you all day," Bucky confessed, his voice laced with a mixture of longing and hunger. "Couldn't focus on anything else but getting my hands on you."

"I've been right here." You took a hand and palmed him through his sweats. He was already rock hard, ready for you.

"Tease," he moaned, slotting his lips over yours again.

Your breath hitched as he kissed you, a surge of electricity coursing through your veins. The heat between you intensified with each kiss, fueling the fire that burned deep within. The taste of him was addictive, and you wondered how you had spent over a year in his company without kissing him before now.

“Fuck,” he hissed, pulling back from you. “I don’t have a condom. I could go get one, come back…”

You shook your head, not wanting to delay another moment. You knew the serum made him immune to catching or passing on any STIs, and you were clean. “I’m on the pill, Bucky,” you said, bringing your lips to his again. “And I wanna feel you. So fucking bad.”

“Thank God for modern fucking medicine,” he grinned.

Bucky's hands roamed over your body, his touch leaving a trail of fire in its wake. He expertly unbuttoned your blouse without taking his mouth from yours, revealing the soft curve of your breasts. His lips trailed down your neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin.

"You seem to have forgotten your bra, Pocket," he murmured before taking his mouth to your nipple, swirling his tongue around it and sucking gently. Your knees weakened at the sensation, and you gripped onto his shoulders for support.

"Mmm, Bucky," you moaned, arching your back as he switched his attention to your other breast, giving it the same lavish treatment. The wetness pooled between your thighs, leaving you aching for his touch.

He stepped back abruptly, his eyes dark with desire as he reached down to unbutton your skirt. "I've been dying to taste you," he murmured, his voice thick with need.

You eagerly stepped out of your skirt, revealing the black lace panties that barely covered your soaking slit. Bucky's gaze darkened further as he looked at you, hungrily taking in every inch of your exposed body.

"Fuck," he breathed, stepping closer to you "You wear these just for me?" You just smiled at him, biting your lower lip. You had worn them just for him, but he didn't need to know that. With one swift motion, he lifted you up and placed you on the edge of your desk. The cool wood felt delicious against your heated skin as Bucky hooked his fingers around the sides of your panties, pulling them down your legs and stuffing them into the pocket of his pants.

"Thief," you chastised, but he only smirked at you as he dropped to his knees in front of you, his warm breath fanning across your slick folds as he hooked your legs over his shoulders.

You grasped the edge of the desk, your heart pounding in anticipation as he leaned forward and dipped his tongue between your swollen lips. A moan escaped you at the first touch of his velvety tongue against your throbbing clit. "Holy shit, Buck," you groaned. "Just like that."

"I knew you'd be delicious," he moaned into you.

Bucky's skilled tongue worked its magic, flicking and swirling with an expertise that sent waves of pleasure radiating through your body. Your head fell back, exposing your neck as you surrendered yourself to the sensations he was evoking. Each lick and suck was like an electric shock to your core, building the tension coiling within you.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, urging him closer as he devoured you with an insatiable hunger. The intensity of his ministrations brought you to the edge faster than expected, the coil within you tightening with an urgency that demanded release. You whimpered, your moans growing louder with each pass of his tongue.

"Bucky," you panted, pulling on his hair to drag him up. "Bucky I need you. I need you right now." Your voice was desperate, your body craving the feel of his thickness inside you.

Bucky's eyes were filled with a predatory glint as he stood up, his lips glistening with the evidence of your arousal. He swiftly rid himself of his sweats, releasing his swollen, throbbing length that begged to be inside you. The air crackled with tension as he positioned himself between your thighs, his hands gripping your hips firmly.

"Tell me what you want, sweetheart," he growled, his voice rough with desire.

You locked eyes with him, the intensity of your connection sparking a fire within you. "I want you inside me," you gasped, your voice filled with a desperate need.

Without any further warning, Bucky plunged into you with a force that stole your breath. The sensation of being filled by him, stretched and taken to the brink of reason, sent shock waves coursing through every nerve ending in your body. You cried out in ecstasy, the sound mingling with his own groan of pleasure.

"Jesus Christ, Pocket," he moaned, "you're so fucking tight."

He set a punishing pace, driving into you with a raw need that matched your own. The sensation of him sliding in and out of you sent sparks of delight shooting through your veins. Your hands clawed at his back, urging him to move faster, harder.

Each stroke hit that sweet spot deep within you, igniting fireworks in your body. The desk creaked beneath the force of your movements, the sound echoing throughout the room.

"Fuck," Bucky grunted, his hips slapping against yours with a primal intensity, "turn around."

He pulled out of you and flipped you, bending you over the desk before thrusting back into you from behind. The new angle allowed him to hit you deeper than before, and you could feel the tip of him kiss your cervix.

The desk continued to shake as Bucky pounded into you, the raw power behind each thrust pushing you closer to the edge of release. Your breath came in ragged gasps, your moans filling the air as ecstasy rippled through your body.

Sweat dripped down both of your bodies, glistening in the dim light of the office. The urgency between you was palpable, a desperate hunger that consumed every inch of your being. You could feel the tension building within you, coiling tighter and tighter.

"I'm...I'm so close," you managed to pant out, your voice strained with need. "Don't stop, Bucky."

He groaned in response, his thrusts becoming more erratic, his hips slamming against yours with an almost brutal force. The sound of your bodies colliding filled the room, drowning out any other noise.

Bucky's gaze bore into yours as you turned to look at him, his eyes filled with a mixture of lust and adoration. His grip on your hips tightened even further, his fingers leaving imprints on your skin as he pistoned in and out of you. The sensations he stoked within you built to an unbearable peak, threatening to consume you both.

With one final powerful thrust, Bucky sent you hurtling over the edge, your orgasm crashing through you like a tidal wave. You cried out his name, your body convulsing as waves of bliss coursed through every fiber of your being. It was an explosion that left you breathless and trembling, your senses overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment.

Bucky followed suit, ropes of his spend spilling into you as he found his own release. He bent his body over yours, burying his face in the curve of your neck, his moans muffled against your skin as he rode out the aftershocks of his orgasm.

For a few moments, the only sound in the room was heavy breathing and the faint echo of your heartbeats pounding in your ears. Your bodies were entangled, sweaty and spent from the intense release that had just washed over you. Bucky's grip on your hips slowly loosened as he pulled out of you, his length slipping free with a wet sound.

ith a shaky sigh, you turned around and immediately collapsed back onto the desk, your legs trembling from the sheer euphoria that had consumed you moments ago. Bucky stood there, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. His eyes were filled with a mix of satisfaction and tenderness as he looked down at you.

He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before moving to stand in front of you. His fingers gently brushed against your cheek, wiping away a stray tear that had escaped during your climax. You reached up, intertwining your fingers with his and bringing them to your lips for a gentle kiss.

"Are you okay?" he asked, concern lacing his voice. "I didn't hurt you, did I? I went a little harder than I meant to."

You shook your head, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "No, Bucky. That was... incredible. You didn't hurt me, you made me feel amazing." You paused, looking up into his eyes, filled with genuine affection. "You always make me feel amazing."

His gaze softened, and he brushed his thumb against your cheekbone. You moved to hop down from your desk, but your knees gave out, refusing to hold you.

"Hey, I've got you," Bucky said with a laugh as he steadied you, supporting you as though you weighed nothing. He began slowly buttoning your shirt back up, then slid your skirt back up your thighs.

"I think you ruined my legs," you giggled as he planted a kiss on your navel before tucking your shirt back into your skirt.

"Sorry 'bout that," he said with a smirk as he straightened up.

You let out a shaky laugh. "Yeah, I'm sure you feel really bad about it," you grinned.

He leaned in close to your ear. "Not even a little bit," he whispered, as though it was a conspiratorial secret. God, just his proximity and the sound of his voice sent a shiver down your spine.

"Looking to go for Round Two already, doll?" he asked you as he took in your physical response to him with a smug smile.

"I don't think my desk can take another go at the moment, or my legs, for that matter." You tried standing up again and were pleased to find that, though your knees were still weak, you were able to hold yourself upright. You glanced over to see Bucky watching you with a shit-eating grin. "You look a little too proud of yourself, you know."

"Tell me it's not fully deserved." He grinned at you like a mother fucking cat who had just found a saucer of cream. You rolled your eyes as you began picking up the avalanche of papers that had fallen from your desk to the floor. Bucky came around and bent over to help set your office back to rights.

Once everything was back in its proper place, you stood back to admire your work. No one would know that you'd been thoroughly railed here just a few minutes before. You watched as Bucky picked up the framed photo you kept of the two of you on your desk.

It was from your trip to the New York Botanical Gardens last winter. Bucky had confessed to you that, due to spending so much time on ice while under Hydra's control, he'd developed an intense hatred-- almost fear-- of cold weather. So, when a particularly brutal cold snap had him feeling exceptionally out of sorts, you'd taken him up to the Bronx to visit the Enid A. Haupt Conservatory, where you spent the day meandering through the paths of the hothouse, surrounded by humidity and tropical plants as though you were in the middle of the rainforest. In the photo, Bucky stood next to you with his arms wrapped around your shoulders, your hands hanging off of his forearm as he leaned into you and kissed your temple. Your face was scrunched up into a ridiculous smile.

"That was a great day," Bucky said, tracing the photo with a flesh finger. "I don't think I ever told you how much it meant to me, means to me, that you did that for me." His voice had dropped to something deeper, softer.

You felt something in your heart flutter at his words, the sensation new and a little frightening. The sensation made you nervous in a way you couldn't identify. "Buck," you said, swallowing thickly, "there's not much I wouldn't do for you. I hope you know that."

His crystal blue eyes bore into you as he looked at you, almost as though he was waiting for you to say something more. When you didn't, he let out a sigh and placed the photo back on your desk.

Looking back up at you, the intensity was gone from his gaze. "You hungry? I figure we must have burned enough calories to justify a big lunch." His cocky grin was back in place.

"Yeah, that sounds perfect," you said, linking your arm in his and patently ignoring the way the contact sent a swell of affection through your heart. "Let me pop into the bathroom to clean up, and then we're good to go."

<- Previous Chapter / Next Part ->

[chimielie]

“I’m just saying,” you tell your roommate as she shoves her wallet into her purse while you scoop up two of her bags, “spending so much money here for gourmet groceries is...”

You trail off as you realize that she’s more preoccupied with spending an extra second staring at the cashier she’s been pining after (expensively, you might add, because she comes here every week just to stand in his line) than listening to your half-hearted lecture. You glance back at him with her, jolting when you notice someone crossing in front of you from the corner of your eye.

“Move, register's mine for the next hour.” You look involuntarily at the speaker, who taps your friend’s crush (Yahaba, his nametag reads) on the shoulder. It’s a crowded space, so you stare up at the replacement cashier from scarcely six inches away, absorbing his visage like several blows directly to the kidneys.

He’s thicker-set and shorter than Yahaba, hair shaved to his skull and dyed blond with the exception of two dark stripes at his temples. Two tiny metal spheres straddle his left eyebrow, featuring above lashes so long he might as well be wearing eyeliner (actually, he might be) over burning eyes you could spend hours admiring. And—be still your beating heart—the shaved head reveals thick black hoops hung in his ears, glinting merrily under the fluorescents. There are piercings studded into the cartilage above, too, matching his eyebrow jewelry. He turns a little, so you can see the nametag pinned to his tie-dyed shirt; it reads Tarō, in awful scrawled handwriting.

“You are the most beautiful man I have ever seen in my whole entire life,” you say loudly, not a single thought passing through your brain prior to or during the process of speaking.

He stops talking and stares at you. The sounds of the store, the squeaks of cart wheels and the music over the speakers, are suddenly headache inducing. Your friend slaps you lightly on the arm, a motion that you read immediately as you did not just say that, holy shit.

“Say thank you, Kyō,” Yahaba says jokingly, and she emits a noise too high-pitched to actually be laughter. Your face, meanwhile, is frozen. You think you might actually be deceased. This must be rigor mortis.

“Don't think I’ve ever been called beautiful before,” he says, squinting those gorgeous eyes like he's trying to decipher a dead language.

“I am so sorry,” you say, reaching out to haul your ass and your roommate’s out of here now. Your hand closes around nothing and you look around to find her engrossed in conversation with Yahaba, who is now apparently off the clock despite his replacement coworker wasting time looking at you like someone might look at a dead fish that had been thrown at them. “Um. I am so sorry. I didn’t intend to... harass you at work.”

He grunts in dismissal, flashing you a smirk that reveals fanged canines, and if you’ve had one thought that’s inappropriate in a public setting, you’ve had them all by now. “I have to deal with—” He tilts his head toward the growing line, cussing under his breath and rolling his eyes. “You have a good night, though."

Despite your miserable shame, you take comfort knowing that your friend finally had a real conversation with Yahaba, even getting his number while you suffered under his intense gaze. You can cope with embarrassment if it brings something good into the world.

The silver lining is gilded over when, at two minutes past ten, you get a text from an unknown number.

just closed. u doing anything now?

this is kentarō from the grocery. i got ur number from yahaba who got it from ur friend.

hope thats ok

You smile at your phone, envisioning the wrinkle between his brows as he typed the last message. You're gonna have to start budgeting for fancier groceries.

[osamucide]

ADA secret santa . . . .ᐟ

wc: 1.4k

cw: crack, everyone is a menace, no reader included, probably some ooc, language, alcohol, drug mentions, suggestive gifts but nothing strictly nsfw, this is really just silliness

reid: happy christmas to those who celebrate! this was fun to write and think about i hope you guys enjoy and get a kick out of imagining this chaotic group being a dysfunctional family as much as i do

. . . .ᐟ

first things first: who gets who?

just like everything else at the agency, it’s a fucking ordeal.

dazai writes down everyone’s names to draw out of kenji’s hat, but he’s given them all nicknames, some more horrendous than others, and kunikida’s standing at the whiteboard writing down everyone’s favorite colors and t-shirt sizes when naomi pulls a name and asks, “who is ‘bawss bitch’?”

“president fukuzawa, duh,” dazai chirps.

cue face-palms and eye-rolls around the room.

“naomi, draw again. the whole point is that no one else kn-“

“thanks, ranpo, we know the point.” yosano reaches into the hat for herself. “who is . . . ‘tightass’?”

everyone glances to kunikida, who freezes and turns slowly, threateningly, toward the bandaged menace.

dazai tries so hard to contain his laugh, but ends up snorting unceremoniously.

so, commence kunikida choking him out and demanding he write down everyone’s proper goddamn names so they all know what the hell is going on. atsushi’s on it, copying everyone’s legal, government-registered first and last name down onto one sticky note each, and the drawing restarts.

names are distributed. instructions follow. yosano lovingly requests the biggest bottle of tequila the budget will allow.

the office party will start on christmas eve at 6pm.

. . .

naomi’s forcing junichiro into the ugliest, most uncomfortable-looking matching sweater anyone in the office has ever seen in all of their days (it’s got glitter-hot glue balls and messily sown-in sequins all over it. it’s hard to tell if it depicts something festive or if it’s the cover of lil wayne’s 1999 studio album tha block is hot).

yosano has cracked into the bottle of wine she’s kept stashed under her desk all day and is drinking straight from it.

ranpo’s encouraging her to chug while he makes a sizable dent in the huge tray of cookies provided by fukuzawa.

atsushi’s on the verge of tears because he’s never celebrated christmas with anyone who cares about him before, and kenji’s doing a mediocre job at consoling him.

dazai has brought eggnog and announces to everyone, at the exact moment that kunikida finishes off his third glass, that it’s spiked.

kyoka’s dragging haruno toward the group, where she places a reindeer antler-headband atop the older girl’s head. kyoka smiles so purely at her. it puts the fear of god into poor haruno.

it is 6:08pm.

once junichiro’s in his sweater and thoroughly suffering and atsushi’s stopped hiccuping, fukuzawa summons everyone around the tiny office tree for secret santa.

and here’s who got who.

. . .

president fukuzawa has drawn ranpo’s name for the third year in a row. he always goes with some sort of snack, but this year he found these on etsy and couldn’t resist.

the boss lets out a chuckle. everyone is jazzed. atsushi covers kyoka’s eyes. ranpo sticks his tongue out at fukuzawa (but cracks into the bag immediately).

. . .

ranpo drew yosano.

yosano lets out an unhinged laugh and puts it on. ranpo, mouth full of gummy dicks, lovingly retrieves a bottle of tequila from hiding. already half a bottle of wine and two glasses of eggnog in, yosano throws her arms around the great detective for a siblingly hug. atsushi is covering kyoka’s eyes again. he wonders if he’ll have to do this for every present.

. . .

yosano got kunikida.

“sorry, I couldn’t find an actual prescription.” kunikida’s lips are pursed in disappointment, not out of lack of appreciation but for shame in her joke. everyone knows it holds weight. dazai is on his ass laughing. kunikida remarks how he’s been needing a back pillow for his desk chair anyway. atsushi has his head in his hands.

. . .

kunikida got junichiro.

dazai and ranpo are nodding solemnly. no one is laughing because it’s true other than naomi who insists kunikida really does have a sense of humor. wow!

. . .

junichiro drew dazai’s name.

“awww!” dazai croons, holding it to his chest before going to place it on his desk next to his nameplate. “tanizaki, I’m so glad you think so.” again, everyone knows it’s true and laughs because of it this time.

. . .

dazai got fukuzawa.

it’s extra funny to dazai at this point because the boss is such a cat guy and also he and yosano have already snuck off cousins-at-thanksgiving style outside to smoke whatever (all while he’s on his way to being plastered. yosano’s the resident alcoholic, yes, but no one can ever truly contain dazai’s festive substance use). fukuzawa laughs - it has to be an effect of the alcohol on him too, everyone thinks, because no way would the stoic man ever crack a smile at such a gift let alone actually use this fucking mousepad. dazai tells him he’ll cry if he doesn’t see it on his desk next week.

. . .

a break proceeds because kunikida swears something got fucked up in the drawing process now that half of them have looped around. yosano, dazai, and ranpo are doing tequila shots. haruno explains to kunikida that it’s fine - someone had to go first - and they should just pick someone to start the second round of gifts. kunikida’s scribbling in his notebook trying to figure out what they screwed up. kenji insists that they’re already playing the game, there’s no point in trying to rewrite it now as long as everyone has a gift! kunikida looks visibly intoxicated like he’s about to pop a vein in his forehead, so kenji just laughs nervously and takes the reins. he tells kyoka to go next.

. . .

kyoka drew haruno.

it’s in a pretty purple bag, christmas spirit somewhat lost upon the child. atsushi almost starts crying again (dazai’s been slipping him eggnog). kyoka’s already assembled and glued the flower together. haruno smiles appreciatively. it will go on the front desk.

. . .

haruno got naomi.

no one expects this from haruno but it’s a huge hit, especially juxtaposed with junichiro’s gift from kunikida. it’s a book cover over a blank notebook and the only thing she apologizes for is that it doesn’t say “sibling.” naomi is red in the face and forcing a laugh. dazai and yosano are a second away from hoisting the girl up on their shoulders like she just made a winning touchdown. atsushi’s head is in his hands again.

. . .

naomi got atsushi.

it’s him if he was a single-celled organism, kenji remarks. atsushi is wholeheartedly pleased with this gift and gives naomi an extremely awkward hug. he holds onto it like a lifeline for the rest of the night.

. . .

atsushi pulled kenji’s name.

he wasn’t sure how seriously to take the gift, but he thought these were fitting. kenji beams and jumps up and down and hugs atsushi so tight the older boy starts to go blue in the face.

. . .

and finally, kenji drew kyoka.

kyoka wants the spiderman one. kenji obliges.

. . .

new and old traditions alike arise; yosano and ranpo each gift each other $20. fukuzawa has given both of them the $20. it's a ritual they refuse to let die. dazai tries to get kunikida to do a shot out of his mouth which leads to shouting and beating. atsushi sits both of them down on the couch and forces them to drink water and be nice to each other. naomi, haruno, and junichiro pick out a christmas movie to project onto the wall as background noise; they settle on a cheesy musical hallmark movie suspiciously similar to the one they put on last year. kyoka and kenji join ranpo in raiding the dessert table. yosano is singing! she is trying to get everyone to sing with her. dazai is the only one who joins. he is wearing the i ♥️ cock(tails) hat. they start with silent night and end with skeeyee by sexyy red.

before long, drunken detectives fall into their chairs and couches with blankets and plates of sweets to get comfy for home alone 2. dazai wants a whole couch to himself but that's unfair, so he settles for stretching his gangly ass legs across kunikida and tanizaki. kyoka and kenji curl up on the floor in a pile of blankets; the girl looks on the verge of sleep. naomi and haruno squeeze into a chair; yosano finds herself flat on the ground, nearly finished bottle of wine in hand; ranpo's feet are kicked up on the nearest desk and he sits in his chair near fukuzawa, who overlooks his employees with tired satisfaction. atsushi glances around at his his colleagues, and for as unhinged as they are, he feels lucky to have a group of people so welcoming to call his friends. all is peaceful and happy, except for ranpo's incessant burping and yosano's eventual snoring. it's fine.

merry fucking christmas.

[infernaleikon]

oooh, what about The Moment in the fashion au where Anakin gets his makeover and obi is just. stunned speechless. bonus points for padme in that au!

soooooo, this has taken me an age and a half. it's not really a "makeover" tbh but i hope you like it anyway!!

this is also my first fill for my obikin bingo card, for the "office au" @obikin-events.

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

editor-in-chief obi-wan and assistant anakin | (4.2k)

Obi-Wan scowls at his watch as he makes his way through the office space. He swallows down the groan that’s been building up in his chest, refusing to let his growing irritation and impatience echo around him. There is no need to involve any of the staff in his souring mood. It’s not like any of them can do anything about it, anyway. The only who can is, incidentally, also the one who brought it on.

Anakin was supposed to go over the budget report with him thirty minutes ago. Obi-Wan is used to Anakin being a bit liberal in interpreting set appointments between them but he’s never actually been this late to any of them before. And whenever something had come up, he’d notified Obi-Wan in time, and vice versa.

Now, Obi-Wan can’t even reach him because Anakin—uncharacteristically—left both his tablet and phone, and his headset at his desk. He’s not answering his personal phone either. And he’s nowhere to be found.

Obi-Wan exhales deeply. It’s been a long day and the cursed budget report is the last thing he wants to do, but it’s also the last thing he has to do today before he can go home. The thing remains the bane of his existence and the only thing—the only one—who gets him through it is Anakin.

It’s not like Obi-Wan can’t go through the report alone. He has plenty of times until—

He smooths out his cuff.

—until one day Anakin had noticed how tedious Obi-Wan found it and joined him to get through it faster, presumably. Since then, it’s become something like a ritual, a pocket of time just for them: Anakin always blocks off more time than they would really need if they worked through it diligently. Except their conversations always drift off to other topics, growing into discussions about this thing or that, before they’d return to the task at hand.

It’s Obi-Wan’s guilty pleasure. He rather selfishly has not yet told Anakin that it’s not part of his job to—well, to basically hold Obi-Wan’s hand while he’s suffering through the budget report. For all that they see each other every day and spend so much time together, it’s rarely just the two of them and even rarer still a conversation that doesn’t revolve around some issue concerning the magazine.

Obi-Wan has quickly learned that he quite likes having Anakin’s undivided attention. And their budget report meetings give him just that.

So it’s not that he can’t do it by himself. It’s that he doesn’t want to.

It’s also that Anakin was supposed to grab the report.

Obi-Wan is just about to resign himself to a long night at the office when he hears Anakin’s laughter as he passes the Closet. The sound skitters down his spine in a pleasant tingle. A woman’s answering laugh joins Anakin’s.

Irritation bubbles in Obi-Wan’s gut. Anakin was supposed to meet him a half hour ago. Instead, he’s in the Closet doing—something. With someone.

At least he’s not in the utility closet, a treacherous little voice in his head soothes.

Taking a deep breath in, Obi-Wan pushes through the glass doors of the Closet.

The admonishment dies on his tongue the second he rounds one of the clothes racks and spots Anakin standing in the middle of the dressing area.

“No, no, no,” the petite woman standing right in front of him is saying, words catching on a laugh. She reaches up and undoes the first few buttons of the pale blue dress shirt Anakin’s donning. Her fingers graze the skin of Anakin’s throat and the bob of his Adam’s apple is visible even from where Obi-Wan is standing. “You don’t want to look like a stuck up econ major.”

Anakin laughs. “Maybe stuck up econ major is exactly my style,” he says as he tips his head down to look at her.

A snort makes Obi-Wan turn his head. Aayla is stretching on one of the chaise lounges. “No self-respecting econ major would be caught dead wearing what you usually wear.”

“She’s right,” the woman in front of Anakin says as he starts rolling up one of his sleeves.

Obi-Wan recognizes her. Padmé Amidala, a young, rapidly rising politician, who’s the subject of their coming issue’s editorial. Obi-Wan had met with her a few days ago to talk about some details, and she’d been slated for a dress rehearsal today. It would explain why she’s here.

And why Anakin got distracted and forgot about the budget report. He’s been mooning over her since the first time she stepped foot in the building.

Obi-Wan ignores the tight-cold-hot feeling behind his ribs.

“Fine, okay,” Anakin huffs with a small head shake and a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. He rolls the other sleeve up to his elbow, exposing the sinewy stretch of his forearm. Obi-Wan’s mouth is suddenly dry. “It’s definitely not my style. I could do stuck up econ major, though. Stuck up econ majors couldn’t do me.”

Obi-Wan clears his throat and decidedly does not think about anyone doing Anakin.

Anakin’s eyes flicker up to meet his, and Obi-Wan can see the exact moment he realizes.

“Oh, shit,” Anakin says empathetically. “The budget report—”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan says. He crosses his arms over his chest and raises his eyebrows. “I’m glad you have not forgotten about it entirely. Though I suppose this…” Obi-Wan tips his head to indicate their surroundings, “is more entertaining.” It comes out more sardonic than he means it but Anakin’s slight wince, the way he ducks his head and passes a hand over the back of his neck, feels oddly satisfying.

“It’s my fault, actually,” Padmé interjects.

I’m sure it is.

She smiles apologetically at Obi-Wan. Her hand is on Anakin’s biceps as if to soothe him and she’s standing half in front of him, like she’s shielding Anakin from Obi-Wan. It’s a ridiculous thought, of course, but their proximity to one another grates on Obi-Wan’s nerves like few other things do.

He’s being irrational. It’s become an odd pattern.

“Please.” Obi-Wan waves her words away with a smile that feels fake. “You are far lovelier company than I am, I’m sure. It’s no wonder Anakin got sidetracked.”

Anakin scowls lightly, eyes darting from him to Padmé, and then to his feet, as if he’d been caught in something. A beautiful, rosy pink flush rises to his cheeks, the way it always does when Anakin is embarrassed or caught off guard.

Obi-Wan almost feels bad.

Almost.

Padmé steps away from Anakin then, revealing his full outfit. The pale blue button down is tucked into a perfectly fitting pair of black dress pants. Black suspenders with silver clasps run along his torso, emphasizing the lines of Anakin’s upper body. The clothes show off his trim waist and the width of his shoulders. The open collar that allows tantalizing glimpses of his clavicle and throat, and the rolled up sleeves make him look casual with an almost understated, effortless elegance, similar to and yet wildly different from Anakin’s usual style.

Obi-Wan’s mouth is suddenly as dry as the Tatooine deserts.

Anakin spreads his arms a little. When he meets Obi-Wan’s gaze there’s something akin to a challenge in the upward tilt of his chin, but his eyes keep fluttering away and he’s chewing on his bottom lip, the dusky blush still faint on his cheeks.

“Doesn’t he look fantastic?” Padmé asks with a little, excited clap of her hands.

Obi-Wan tries to gather spit in his mouth to unstick his tongue from the roof of his mouth. “You look―”

A few things cross his mind none of which he can utter in a professional environment without getting slammed with a sexual harassment case, rightfully so.

“Dashing,” he finishes, rather lamely, he supposes. Dashing doesn’t even begin to cover it.

Anakin rolls his eyes at him but his flush darkens a bit. “Please rein in the compliments.”

“I can hardly contain myself,” Obi-Wan returns with a wry smile. His mouth still feels dry.

“It is quite a glow-up,” Aayla chimes in as she sits up, crossing her legs at the ankles. She grins at Anakin good-naturedly before propping her chin on her palm. “You don’t look like a dumpster racoon anymore.”

“Yeah?” Anakin says and raises his brows at her. “What do I look like now, then?”

Aayla tilts her head from side to side as if to ponder. “Like a regular racoon,” she decides with a shit-eating smirk. “Still a pest.”

Obi-Wan sees Anakin bristle and Aayla’s smirk widen. They squabble like siblings, and Anakin always rises so easily to her bait. It’s as entertaining as it is exasperating, at times.

“May I ask what brought this… makeover on?” he asks before the two of them can really get into it.

“Oh, I asked about Anakin’s wardrobe choices and when he said that he’s embarrassed about working here, I asked him to show me how he’d dress otherwise,” Padmé answers. She’s made her way over to the shoe rack, probably to pick out a fitting pair for Anakin’s outfit.

Obi-Wan barely registers it, though. He glances at Anakin. “You’re embarrassed working here?”

“No!” Anakin says hastily. His gaze skitters away as he turns and slips on his sneakers.

“Oh,” Padmé says again. “No, that’s not―”

Obi-Wan doesn’t want to hear Padmé’s explanation, though. He wants to hear Anakin’s. But Anakin is busy bustling around to collect his own clothes. He grabs the binder with the budget report before straightening. His eyes don’t meet Obi-Wan’s eyes once.

“I’ll bring back the clothes later,” Anakin says over his shoulder to Aayla. He nods at Padmé and then beelines for the door as if someone was chasing him.

“He’s not―” Padmé starts again when Obi-Wan turns to say his goodbyes but stops, wincing. He smiles at her, and it feels just as fake as before.

“Have a nice evening,” he says instead of waiting for a more detailed explanation, and leaves.

Anakin is already in his office when Obi-Wan gets there. He’s moving around the room as if hounded by something, all jerky motions and hasty gestures while he gathers pens, colored sticky notes, and other stationary they might need.

Obi-Wan gives himself a moment to watch him, take him in with the changed clothes, and how he looks in this space now.

Anakin is striking. He’s always been―Obi-Wan knew that boy was trouble from the first moment they met. The clothes have never taken anything away from Anakin’s odd charisma, have never made him less beautiful. And yet, there’s a subtle change to him now, in this new attire. Obi-Wan is certain he wouldn’t have noticed if he hadn’t worked closely with Anakin every day, and even so it’s hard to pin down exactly.

He looks, inexplicably, as if part of him has been revealed.

A number of questions rattle around in Obi-Wan’s skull, one more pressing than the other, and all just as desperate and anxious. Something in him wildly roars at the thought that Anakin is embarrassed working at Jedi, and it begs him to ask, to implore, to find a way to make Anakin comfortable. Because, that part of him says, if he’s embarrassed, it’s only a matter of time before he leaves.

Obi-Wan swallows every question that threatens to fall off the tip of his tongue. It’s not his place to pry into something that’s clearly personal and private. Especially as Anakin’s boss.

“Anakin,” he says gently.

Anakin barely glances up before his gaze skitters away again. “I’ll order some food from Dex’s and then we can get started on the report.”

“It’s late,” Obi-Wan reminds him. Outside, the approaching evening casts the facades of the highrise buildings in the first blue hues of the night. “There’s no need for you to stay. Go home.”

“No. I know you’re going to sit here and go through this thing until it’s done,” Anakin says, dropping the collected items on the low table in front of the couch.

“Well, yes―”

“Yes, and it’s my fault that you have to stay late, so I’ll help you get it done faster,” Anakin argues as he moves back to Obi-Wan’s desk.

Obi-Wan smooths a hand over his beard. Anakin always works doggedly to fix mistakes he thinks he’s made, often with such obstinate insistence that he runs himself ragged in an attempt to prove―something. It has blown up in his face on occasion and created―not a problem, per se, rather―a…situation that Obi-Wan has needed to fix. Anakin’s red face and clenched jaw has always set his teeth on edge in these moments but he still doesn’t understand how to help him…or what even makes Anakin react to perceived mistakes the way he does.

“That’s very kind of you,” Obi-Wan starts. “But I can’t ask you to stay late to do this. It’s not part of your job.”

He sees Anakin’s jaw work as he stares at a point between his hands on the desk. With a deep inhale, Anakin says, “I’m your assistant. It’s right there in my job title that I’m here to assist you.” Anakin meets his eyes now with a stubborn set to his mouth.

Obi-Wan barely manages to bite back a groan.

“Besides,” Anakin adds and grabs the phone, already dialing, “I wouldn’t get free food if I went home now.”

Before Obi-Wan can say anything, the person on the other end picks up and Anakin gives them the order. He rattles it off smoothly, getting everything Obi-Wan would order from Dex’s for himself, and it makes something hot pour through Obi-Wan’s ribcage. Obi-Wan allows himself a moment to enjoy the feeling of its warmth spreading through his body.

“Just don’t leave stains on the pages or Jocasta will have my head,” he huffs after Anakin’s hung up the phone.

Anakin grins at him like he’s going to attempt just that.

An hour later they’re—uncharacteristically—almost done with the task at hand and in a—more or less surprising—turn of events, it’s not the report that has Obi-Wan clinging to the last, gossamer-thin shred of his sanity.

Anakin is walking up and down in front of the couch table and gesturing as he talks, and Obi-Wan has found himself practically on eye-level with his ass. And for the first time since Obi-Wan has known Anakin, his ass is not covered by a plaid shirt or lost in shapeless, baggy pants.

The black dress pants fit Anakin like a glove, accentuating his waist and hugging his ass and thighs nicely. Obi-Wan definitely doesn’t think about how firm and biteable they look.

The sleeves of the dress shirt wrap neatly around his biceps and the fabric stretches across his shoulders whenever Anakin gestures wildly. It’s not tight by any measure but it’s perfectly fitted to the planes of his torso. Obi-Wan hasn’t thought of Anakin as lanky, really, but his usual wardrobe does a good job at hiding his frame, his build, and while Obi-Wan can’t say he’s surprised by Anakin’s actual physique, he’s…enticed. Inappropriately so.

It doesn’t help that the pale blue of the shirt brings out his eyes and the warm tones of his skin.

It’s impossible to look away from him.

So, really, it’s all of Anakin that has Obi-Wan keeping a white-knuckled grip on his composure.

“Okay—what?” Anakin snaps. He halts his pacing and crosses his arms over his chest defensively. Obi-Wan tries—and fails—not to notice how the sleeves stretch around the flex of his biceps.

Obi-Wan lifts his gaze from Anakin’s arms to meet his eyes. Smoothing his face into a mask of mild confusion, he says, “Pardon?”

Anakin looks at him like he’s calling bullshit. “You’ve been staring at me the way you stare at—at models or mockups or―or photoshoots that you don’t like,” he accuses, shoulders rising minisculely. The furrow between his eyebrows deepens with his frown but the line of his mouth looks―unhappy. “So, what is it? Do you not like the outfit?”

“Apologies,” Obi-Wan says. Anakin scowls and drops his gaze to stare at the low table. His arms remain crossed, however, in a manner that appears significantly like he’s trying to shield himself. Obi-Wan winces inwardly and tries again. “I apologize, Anakin. I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable.”

Anakin quirks a brow and shrugs. “You didn’t,” he says, full of false bravado, as he raises his eyes again without meeting Obi-Wan’s, instead letting his gaze drift to look outside the windows.

Obi-Wan takes in his profile: the barely perceptible downwards slant of the corner of his mouth, the tension in jaw, the slight furrow of his brows. Anakin rarely shows discomfort or soft vulnerability, though he’s open with his other—loud, bold, deep—emotions.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan implores softly. He waits until Anakin, with some reluctant hesitance, turns to meet his eyes. “I do like the outfit. I was looking―or staring, I suppose―because you look―”

“Like a fraud?” The tone of his words drips mocking self-deprecation.

Obi-Wan bites back a sharp rebuke. “Comfortable,” he finishes, ignoring Anakin’s mocking words. “Like you’re comfortable in your own skin. In a way you haven’t been before.”

Anakin blinks at him.

“It suits you,” Obi-Wan adds, and then, “Both the outfit and the look.”

Anakin dips his head but it barely hides the soft pink dusting his cheeks. When he looks back up, there’s a stubborn little tilt to his chin. “You should really work on your facial expressions,” he huffs half-heartedly.

“Apologies,” Obi-Wan says again, trying to stifle the grin tugging at his mouth. “Would it help if I told you that whatever it is you saw on my face was awe?”

Anakin’s arms drop from their defensive position across his chest as he turns to fully face Obi-Wan, the color on his cheeks turning into a rich, dusky pink. He looks so wonderfully flabbergasted and so beautifully pleased at the same time that Obi-Wan very nearly coos.

(Gods, he’s such a sucker.)

For a moment, Anakin dips his eyes down with a proud little smile. He shakes himself out of it when he looks up again. “Guess I have to pay more attention to your face, then,” he muses and his brows crinkle as his gaze sweeps over Obi-Wan.

“Oh?” Obi-Wan’s stomach, stupidly, flips.

Anakin’s shoulders rise lightly. “Well, I do have to know what you think, and I thought I was on top of your face already—” He stops abruptly and his flush extends all the way down his throat now, past his collarbones, and disappears under the fabric of the shirt. “Facial expressions! On top of your facial expressions! Because I’ve been watching you so closely—” Anakin stops again, face scrunching, before he presses the heels of his hands into his eyes for a brief moment.

He could probably illuminate the office all by himself if the lights weren’t already turned on.

Obi-Wan’s stomach has gone from a flip to somersaults even though he knows Anakin is talking about being observant and attentive. It’s one of the things Anakin had told him on Obi-Wan’s first day: that he needed to know what he was thinking so he could help Obi-Wan in the best possible way.

Obi-Wan’s stomach just hasn’t gotten the message yet.

Obi-Wan clears his throat lightly. “I appreciate your dedication…to my face,” he says, trying for teasing, and breathes a sigh of relief when his voice doesn’t come out strangled.

Anakin makes high-pitched noise. He’s still steadily glowing crimson but he rolls his eyes. “You suck,” he says, with feeling, but there’s a slight wheeze in his tone.

“Can’t say that I don’t.” It falls from his mouth before he even realizes what he’s saying, but his own mortification and Anakin’s utterly gobsmacked face drive regret through him like a lance. “I’m sorry, Anakin,” he quickly adds, just as heat rises into his own cheeks. “That was inappropriate. I apologize.”

“Okay.” Anakin’s voice comes out like a croak and he clears his throat once, twice. “Thanks. I mean—” He rubs his palms over his thighs. “Yeah. It’s—okay.”

There’s a beat of silence during which Obi-Wan feels pinpricks of anxiety prattling along his skin, regret and discomfort twisting in his gut.

A thought strikes him then, and suddenly, he needs to know. “Is this why you’re uncomfortable working here?”

“What?” Anakin seems adorably confused before his expression morphs into one of alarm. “No. I’m not—” He sucks in a breath. “I’m not uncomfortable or embarrassed working here.”

Obi-Wan frowns, unconvinced, but something within him unspools nevertheless. Anakin sits back down on the couch, half turned towards him, with one leg tucked under himself. He sighs and runs a hand through his messy curls, tangling his fingers in the soft-looking strands, and then scrubs it, almost furiously, over the back of his head for a second.

Regret lances through Obi-Wan once again. “I’m sorry, Anakin, you don’t have to answer it. It’s not my place to ask.”

“I like working here,” Anakin says, so fiercely that it freezes Obi-Wan to the spot. “I like working with you.”

Oh, what a siren song.

Anakin drags in a deep breath and releases it in a long exhale. “A lot of people make fun of people who work in fashion and lifestyle. It’s still seen as—I don’t know—silly and unimportant, and people who work in this industry are regarded as airheads or vain, unless it’s someone really high up the food chain, like you.”

Obi-Wan turns towards him and sinks his shoulder against the backrest as he watches Anakin rub the pads of his fingers over the seam of his pants.

“There are enough people who just don’t take you seriously when they clock you as someone working in fashion or when you dress…differently. When you use fashion as a—a way of being who you are.” Anakin lifts a shoulder as he frowns at his hands. “So, I just, um, say I don’t care about it.”

It, Obi-Wan realizes, means more than one thing.

“People make assumptions all day long and I can’t stop anyone from doing that but—well, I guess, I can. Not play into their hands at least,” Anakin continues. His Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows. “And besides, you know, there’s more pressing stuff like housing and food and since I don’t like sharing either, fashion is—it’s—just a non-issue by necessity. Also, I am firmly against fast fashion, as you can see.” He begins motioning down himself but aborts not even mid-way through. “Well, not right now but tomorrow for sure.”

Anakin sucks in a breath through his teeth and lets his shoulders slump before he looks up to meet Obi-Wan’s gaze. There’s something akin to a challenge in his eyes, defiant and defensive and ready to strike, as if he’s waiting for Obi-Wan to pass judgment on him. But that soft, vulnerable part of him remains exposed: a glimpse of a part of Anakin that’s so delicate he rarely allows anyone to see.

And he trusts Obi-Wan with it.

The weight of it is—immeasurable.

Obi-Wan hums. “I do have to say I am quite surprised that someone as brazen as you pays any mind to the opinions of others,” he points out with a wry smile, keeping his tone jovial. “May I advise finding new friends if yours are judging you for expressing yourself?”

“How have I ever not thought of that before?” Anakin scoffs and rolls his eyes. “Guess I am too brazen.”

Ah. Wrong approach, then.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan says, softening his voice, “you’re exceptional at what you do. I wouldn’t get half of the things done in a day if it weren’t for you covering my back. Do you know how many people have envied me for my ‘feisty assistant’?”

Anakin scowls at his hands. “How many?” He sounds as if he can’t help himself but ask.

Obi-Wan curls his lips in a smile. “I’ve lost track, to be quite honest, but I wager you do come up in conversation at least once a week.”

“Oh.” It’s a soft little thing, full of surprise and pride. Anakin snaps his eyes up at him and purses his lips like he’s trying to keep from smiling. He rubs a hand over his neck.

“I know your value, Anakin,” Obi-Wan adds, imbuing his voice with conviction, with affection. “And it’s got absolutely nothing to do with what you wear, but I see the way you carry yourself in these clothes. Don’t let the ignorant assumptions of strangers dictate how you express yourself. Don’t make yourself smaller for anyone.”

Clearing his throat, Anakin ducks his head. His lashes fan over his cheeks as he blinks, casting long shadows along his skin.

He’s beautiful when he’s brash but there’s something inexplicably gorgeous about him when he’s bashful and flustered, a kind of unwitting vulnerability that speeds Obi-Wan’s heartbeat up and makes him curl his hands into fists to keep from reaching out to wrap a hand around the back of Anakin’s head to guide into the crook of his own neck.

Anakin clears his throat again. He smiles, small and happy. Obi-Wan answers with his own smile.

“I mean,” Anakin starts as he sits up a bit straighter and sharpens his edges, “duh.” He sounds insufferably cocky and though the softness has disappeared from his face, there’s a faint blush on his cheeks. “You would crash and burn without me.”

Obi-Wan sighs, faux put-upon, and Anakin grins.

Later, on his way out of the office, he makes a note to call HR in the morning.

[weclassybouquetfun]

I have a passing knowledge of Jaime Reyes' Blue Beetle from the character's appearance on SMALLVILLE, BATMAN: THE BRAVE AND THE BOLD and these panels.

Milagro, you are so real for this.

And this is where my true knowledge about Blue Beetle comes from - Ted Kord's Blue Beetle and his friendship with Booster Gold.

Blue & Gold Forever.

So with only knowing the bare minimum about Jaime I was able to watch BLUE BEETLE with no expectations. It's an incredibly vibrant, fun and heartfelt film. I'm concerned at its low box-office showing, but films with bigger leads and bigger budgets have also failed at the box office, or at the very least, didn't recoup it's budget and marketing. There has never been anything that was a guaranteed box office success. I would rather it tried to get eyes in theaters than get lost on HBO Max where it was originally slated for release. Here's hoping National Cinema Day on Aug 27th (where theaters are selling tickets for $4 for all formats) will bring more people to the tent.

Too true.

My thoughts on BLUE BEETLE

Nothing but SPOILERS.

THE GOOD

Xolo Maridueña (COBRA KAI) is a great Jaime. If you have seen Maridueña across these five seasons of COBRA KAI, it's not surprising. He has shown consistently that he can play humour, dutifulness, vulnerable and excel at action.

Big up to COBRA KAI's annual blow-out fight sequence.

Oddly enough, at the end of the film I didn't think we got to know Jaime beyond a cursory level, but I'm sure if they did a deep dive on him I would complain about that too as my issue with origin story films is that so much real estate is given to building up the history of the character, that the plot and action seems relegated to the final act. But I guess BLUE BEETLE gave us all we need to know about Jaime.

Good egg, duty bound, gets hard from hugs (and kudos to this film for actually having a character who gets horny. Comic book films are nearly always a sexless thing, but my guy Jaime pulling his shirt down to cover his crotch after Jenny's (Bruna Marquezine) tale of woe was refreshing.)

-Really liked Jenny Kord. She wasn't the typical damsel in distress. She's formidable in her own right. She and Jaime doesn't feel rushed or shoehorned in. I especially loved the fact that they didn't just make her the love interest,

Though she and Xolo are great together,

but also gave her - in the Reyes - a new family. If she and Jaime were to go pear-shaped we can just know that Jenny still has a place within the Reyes clan.

-We have not one, but two new members to the Legion of Great DCEU Family Members. Joining the mom and dad of SHAZAM, AQUAMAN's dad, THE FLASH's mom is BLUE BEETLE's Alberto Reyes (Damián Alcázar) and Nana Reyes (the Oscar nominated Adriana Barraza).

Still waters run deep and Nana proved that. She's not just up in her room sewing and watching reruns of "María la del Barrio". She is sitting back waiting to showcase her experiene while fighting in the revolution.

And Alberto Reyes! He was this film's King T'Chaka. Always with a wise word, strong, caring. I hate that he had to die and I think it's a worn out trope that a hero has to suffer loss in order to come into their greatness, but it worked. Long Live Alberto Reyes!

Just enough George Lopez to not be annoying. He's funny, but only in small doses IMO so he was just good enough and used well enough that it wasn't eye-rolling. I really loved that he wasn't just there for the obvious comic relief, instead Uncle Rudy is a brain.

The opening along had me hyped. It set the tone and it lent to idea of the scarab being from space, but the inclusion of a classic Blue Beetle comic sketch just ::chef's kiss:

-Director Ángel Manuel Soto listed which stories he pulled from for this film,

but I see a lot of BATMAN: THE BRAVE AND THE BOLD episode "Fall of the Blue Beetle" in the bits where they go to Ted Kord's home/lab.

-The way they took OMAC/Kevin Kho backstory and merged it with Carapex's. In the comics OMAC was a Cambodian child of war, in this film Ignacio/Carapex was left an orphan and trained by the School of the Americas (rebranded Western Hemisphere Institute for Security Cooperation) whose training manuals advocated tortuing and blackmailing civilians. Using Kord Industries as not just a amorphous shady big tech corp, BLUE BEETLE's writer Gareth Dunnet-Alcocer and Soto tied Kord Industries to the realties of what big corporations are doing globally.

This ties into another thing I loved about the film - it had a strong cultural identity. From Nana using Vivaporú (Vicks Vapor Rub) as smelling salts to rouse Jamie, to El Chapulín Colorado(!!!).

The idea of gentrification that affects people across colour lines and specifically targets people of lower income.

The full integration of Jaime and Khaji-Da being exemplified by Khaji-Da (voiced by singer/actor Becky G) speaking Spanish.

THE BAD

-Is there someone with less screen prescence than Susan Sarandon? I don't know how she was ever a thing. I guess they needed a "name" but there several other actors like Anjelica Huston or Sigourney Weaver who would have done something more with that role. Carla Gugino. Anyone else!

-The establishing CGI of Kord Entrerprises was basura. There was a tangible change in F/X as if mid way through post-production they found out WB-Discovery was moving it to theatrical release and they effects crew got a cash infusion.

-While I came around on the character towards the end, I wasn't a fan of Milagro. Glad they aged her up but she fell into the trope of annoying movie sibling and it grated.

THE REST

-Harvey Guillen's character died in the film (good!) and he appears to be dead again on HARLEY QUINN (not good. There is no way Nightwing's death sticks).

-Soto and James Gunn says that Jaime has a future in the DCU. While an interview snippet is making the rounds where Soto says he would like Jason Sudeikis (TED LASSO) to play Ted Kord, I don't really believe that is true as the source is from an online site I'm not familiar with and people lie for clicks.

Yes, Buster. All. The. Time.

-While comics! Jaime lives in El Paso, Texas, film! Jaime lives in Palmera City - on El Paso St. - which was created for the film (and appeared in the comics months ahead in a tie-in). Soto found inspiration in Texas, Florida, and Puerto Rico. But I wonder what Palmera City's real-world city will be when James Gunn finishes the DC Map that he say is being redone. Maybe because over the years Metropolis has been Chicago/Delaware/New York.

Metropolis is not in Delaware, GTFOH.

[27dragons]

New Year Countdown: Dec 19

Well, why NOT have a Geraskifer Library AU?

Dec 19 - Geraskifer - Library AU - Mistletoe

Geralt came up from the basement archives, his arms full of heavy volumes, only to find his path to the reference desk blocked by a stepladder.

On the very top of the stepladder was Geralt’s boyfriend, stretched to the limits of his not-terribly-impressive height to reach the library’s high ceiling. The stretch had caused Jaskier’s shirt to come untucked and reveal a stretch of pale skin that made Geralt’s mouth water.

On the other hand, these books were really quite heavy. “Jaskier,” he sighed, “what are you doing.”

“I’m decorating!” Jaskier said cheerfully. “It’s almost Christmas, you know!”

Geralt knew. He wasn’t terribly excited about it, but he knew. He looked around for help, but Yennefer was helping a patron. “The library is already decorated,” Geralt pointed out.

“Yes, well, no one consulted me, and some vital things were left out.”

Geralt frowned and looked up at the ceiling. Jaskier was attempting to fasten a bit of greenery to the ceiling tiles. “Is that mistletoe?”

“Well spotted!” Geralt couldn’t tell if Jaskier was being sarcastic or if he’d just been spending too much time in the children’s library and hadn’t quite shaken that overdone enthusiastic tone.

“We left out mistletoe on purpose,” Yennefer said as the patron left. “There are already too many people trying to make out in the stacks, we don’t need to encourage them.” 

“That’s why I’m hanging this one out in the open,” Jaskier said. “And at the entrance to the reference desk, so only people who work here should pass under it!”

“You think that will stop them?” Yennefer wondered.

“Well, no, but at least this way I have plausible deniability.”

Yenn and Geralt exchanged a long-suffering look. Unlike Geralt, Yenn was slender enough to squeeze through the tiny gap between the ladder and the side of the reference desk. She took three of the books off the top of Geralt’s pile, lessening the load significantly.

Geralt managed a smile for her, and she glanced around quickly before planting a kiss on his cheek.

“Oy! Jaskier complained. “Where’s mine? I’ve been under this mistletoe longer than either of you!”

“I can’t kiss you,” Yennefer said. “Your face is all the way up there.”

“You know what isn’t?” Jaskier suggested, waggling his eyebrows.

Geralt rolled his eyes. “Save it until we get home,” he put in. “And take down that stupid mistletoe.”

Jaskier huffed. “Fine, spoil all my fun.” He pulled the sprig free and put a hand on Geralt’s shoulder for balance as he jumped off the ladder.

Yennefer plucked the mistletoe free of Jaskier’s grip.

“You’re going to throw that out, aren’t you?” Jaskier sighed.

“Of course not,” Yenn said, She tucked it into her hair, where it somehow managed not to look ridiculous. “I’m going to take it home and put it in a new place every day for surprise kisses.”

“Can one of those places be over the bed?” Jaskier wondered.

Yenn hummed thoughtfully. “If you’ll finish the ordering for the digital library today, so I can get them all turned in on time,” she bargained.

Jaskier brightened. “I’m on it!” He folded the stepladder and tucked it under his arm and practically speedwalked toward his office.

Geralt stepped behind the reference desk and dropped the rest of his stack of books with a sigh of relief. “Those weren’t getting any lighter,” he said. Then he eyed Yenn. “Orders aren’t due until next week.”

Yenn winked one violet eye at him. “No, but if he can get it done today, then that gives me a few days to pare down his list to something that actually fits our budget, and he’ll be too happily sexed to complain.”

“Hm.” Geralt eyed the sprig of mistletoe in Yenn’s hair, then ducked to kiss her before turning back to his duties.

Maybe not all Christmas things were so bad.

[elementary-my-dear-daddy]

Earning Your Keep - Chapter 3: "Being for the Benefit of Virgil Sanders"

Analogical (Virgil and Logan)

Read the previous chapter Here or on AO3

Chapter Summary: Logan attends an event for Virgil's charity and they share a drink.

Virgil was sitting on the edge of his sofa, biting his nails as he waited for Janus to finish up getting ready in his bathroom. The benefit dinner tonight started at 7, it was currently 5, but the both of them needed to be there around 5:30 to help set up and it took 20 minutes to get to the venue- wait, would an hour and a half be enough time to set up? What if there was traffic on the way or a problem with the venue. They were so going to be late!

“Janus, what is taking you so long?” Virgil called from the couch.

“Do not rush me, Virgil, I will just put my make-up on slower and unplug the iron that’s heating up just to make you suffer.” Janus called back, “Stop worrying, I’ve got everything under control. Honestly, we could show up late and things would be fine.”

Virgil got up and went to go give himself a once over in the mirror. He looked fine, but he was still worried about looking unprofessional or something. He kept pacing around until Janus was finally ready to leave.

“Alright, have you called a car for-” Janus asked, being interrupted by Virgil tugging him towards the elevator.

“Yes it’s been waiting downstairs for ten minutes now come on we’re late!”

~~~~~~~~~~

Logan was looking through his clothing, determining what to wear tonight. He wasn’t in this sort of predicament often since he rarely found himself going out to events frequently, but tonight was Virgil’s event. Luckily, he wasn’t scheduled for a shift tonight, allowing him to attend. He sifted through various shirts and polos with his job’s logos stitched on in some way, but nothing really compared to what he imagined would be a ‘business formal’ event. He settled on a clean blue button up with a tie to add a flair of professionalism and began to get ready.

After combing his hair and stuffing his phone, wallet, and keys into his pocket, he left his one-bedroom to leave for the event.

He took the bus since his car was currently in for repair. Fortunately, there was a stop not too far from the address the flyer provided, and once he reached it he only had to build up the nerve to enter the building.

Logan didn’t quite understand why he was so nervous. Perhaps it was due to the fact that he wouldn’t know anyone here except Virgil, and he was likely busy socializing already. It also could have been the type of people attending. Just from looking in from the sidewalk, he could see that he was obviously underdressed, but he owed it to Virgil to go, so he marched up to the entrance and waited to be allowed in.

There was a small line of attendees marking down their names in a guest book, which Logan assumed would be used to track the donations that Virgil had mentioned at lunch. When it was his turn, he neatly added his signature before entering the venue. It was a large space, with multiple small tables placed throughout and a stage towards the back. A bar stood off to the side, offering drinks to its patrons, as well as a long table that had a spread of snacks and sandwiches. He held off from beelining it over to the food, despite the fact he was limiting himself to two meals a day for budget reasons and his stomach growled with want. He stuck to a corner, merely observing the crowd and watching people mingle. That was, until a sharply dressed man walked up on stage and spoke into the microphone. 

“Evening, everyone. If you don’t already know me from working with the foundation, my name is Janus, and I’m one of the associate directors here. Thank you all for attending-”

Logan watched as the man gave a short speech about the charity and their upcoming projects. It was interesting to see what went on behind these sort of organizations, since he never really knew. It wasn’t long though before the man passed the mic off, however.

“We have one last interruption as our founder would like to say a few words, Virgil?” Janus looked to the stairs going up to the stage. Lo and behold, Virgil was making his way up them and towards the stand. He appeared in much more business-like attire, a black suit with a checkered purple tie. Logan couldn’t place why but seeing him in such a state made his stomach drop much like the last time he was dragged on a roller coaster.

“Um, hi. I’m V-virgil Sanders, the f-founder of the organization.” He stammered, “I just wanna say thanks for coming and have a good night. Thanks, um, yeah. Thanks.”

He quickly hurried down the stairs as scattered applause sounded throughout the room. They were quickly replaced by the low thrum of chatter that Logan heard when he first entered. He wanted to seek out Virgil, since he was the only person who he really knew here, so he scampered through the crowd to find him. He couldn't have gotten that far from the stage.

Once he was on the other side of the venue, he gazed over the area, trying to find the man who invited him. After a few minutes, he sighed and resigned himself to grab a quick drink and snack before heading out. This felt like his high school prom where he played the role of wallflower for the night. He turned to head to the bar, but didn’t see the figure blocking his way until it was too late and he bumped into them, spilling the drink they had in their hand over the both of them.

“Oh, I’m so sorry I-” Logan now saw that the figure was Virgil, “Virgil! Um, hello, I’m incredibly sorry, I didn’t see you-”

“No no, my bad I saw you and was trying to, sorry I-”

“We should probably find some napkins to-”

“Clean up.” They said in unison, causing both men to give a small laugh.

Virgil looked around, “Uh, the bar might have some napkins?”

The both of them took one of the stacks resting on the edge of the bar and began patting down the spilled liquid on their clothes. Virgil had the brunt of it, the drink staining his coat and tie.

“Again, Virgil, I’m sorry about all this. It was entirely my fault.” Logan said, throwing the soaked napkins into a nearby trash can.

“It’s really ok, I don’t really like this jacket anyway.” Virgil took it off and folded it over his arm, “Janus said I needed to look nice or something, but I’d have rather just come in a hoodie and jeans.”

“Oh, well you did succeed in looking nice.” Logan responded, not quite realizing that his words might have been taken in a more intimate sense until they’d already left his mouth. He blushed lightly, “I mean, as in formal, since the event called for this type of attire.”

Virgil smiled, “Right. Look, uh, this might be a shot in the dark but I was going to head out since I don’t really know anyone here. But I don’t wanna leave you stranded, unless you wanna stay! Then yeah stay here but I was gonna go home and change and you know, if you wanna come with or something…”

“Oh,” Logan was sort of taken aback at the sudden invite, “Um, are you certain? I don’t want to intrude-”

“No! No, I invited you so…” Virgil stared at the floor, not wanting to meet Logan’s eye’s in fear of rejection, “Just if you wanna.”

Logan gave it some thought before responding, “I don’t know, I rode the bus here and don’t know if there will be any stops close enough for me to walk to.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that, I can get you a ride back.” Virgil added, “Wait, what happened to your car is it ok? Did something happen?”

Logan shook his head, “No, I used the money you gave me to fix it. It’s currently with a mechanic.”

“Oh… that’s great. I’m glad, but uh, did you wanna come with or not? You never answered the question.”

Logan bit his lip, “Well, I suppose, but I really do not want you to feel as though you’re obligated to.”

“I don’t, I promise.” Virgil offered with a smirk, “Now I kinda wanna split before I get too overwhelmed with how many people are here, c’mon.”

[danmeiljie]

Bring Your Twink to Work Day!

Xia Yao in Advance Bravely shows what a great little helper he can be.

[lifeindollcity]

I picked up a L.U.V. doll today! Brooke is my favorite so she was the first I wanted to buy. She's got fantastic articulation and the clothing quality is excellent. I do wanna grab the fashion packs.

Sad to report that these dolls do suffer from having plastic gibbers in their heads holding them in places, but otherwise getting her out of the box wasn't too bad. She also looks great in Clawdeens clothes and vice versa.

Also I think having a "budget" line where you can get these dolls in simpler outfits would be a great idea. Like simple shorts and shirt combos, little cocktail dress, something along those lines.

[beardedmrbean]

US retail giant Target saw sales fall in-store and online for the first time in years after a backlash over its Pride Month offering.

Sales dropped 5% in the April to June period compared with the same time last year - its first fall in six years.

The decline followed controversy over some of the firm's LGBTQ Pride merchandise.

It later removed items from some stores over concerns about staff safety.

Target's chief executive Brian Cornell said the decline in sales also reflected the fact shoppers budgets' are being squeezed as the cost of living remains high.

The firm said the impact of those forces was difficult to separate from other issues, such as the calls for a boycott over its Pride month range.

It saw damage to in-store displays and the clothing merchandise, which included a wide selection of items, including t-shirts decorated with rainbows, "gender fluid" mugs and children's books titled "Pride 1,2,3" and "I'm not a girl".

It ultimately removed certain items from the 2,000-piece collection. A number were from a collaboration with transgender designer Erik Carnell's Abprallen label, which faced criticism for items, sold elsewhere, featuring images of pentagrams and horned skulls.

The firm's decision to remove the items, which it made citing employee safety, prompted further outcry from Target customers who celebrate Pride.

Speaking as the firm provided investors with a quarterly update, Mr Cornell said the firm planned to approach future partnerships with caution, while still celebrating "heritage moments".

"As we navigate an ever-changing operating and social environment, we are applying what we learned," Mr Cornell said.

Mr Cornell said Target had seen sales start to pick up again in July, after the sharp drop in June.

But executives forecast weaker performance than previously anticipated for the rest of the year, in part because of concerns about the impact on buyers as a pandemic-era halt to student loan payments finally expires.

Target is the latest US company to face costs as LGBTQ issues increasingly become a political flashpoint. Disney and Bud Light are among the other brands who have faced similar customer boycotts and backlash.

Its report also offered a somewhat gloomy perspective on the health of the American consumer, whose robust spending until now has been credited with helping the world's largest economy defy predictions of a downturn.

Target said buyers were cutting back on items such as clothing and home decor, as rising prices force people to direct more of their monthly budgets to staples such as groceries.

The report's weaker than expected sales contrasted with other recent indicators which showed resilient consumer spending.

A day earlier, the Commerce Department reported that retail sales rose 0.7% from June to July, greater than expected.

Those figures were boosted by a jump in online sales, which coincided with Amazon's annual Prime Day sales event.

Despite the sales fall, Target shares rose more than 6% in early trade, reflecting stronger profits than investors had expected.

[madefate]

❛ paw . to fondle my muse’s [ ass ] . stolas and blitz / @helluvaflames

It's not very often that Blitz is caught by surprise. He likes to think he's better trained than that - years of experience in every environment that's needed him to be on his game or suffer the consequences. So it must be a testament to how comfortable he's gotten around Stolas - at Stolas' place, sprawled out on his chaise, going through his phone with more intention than usual as he actually gets a little work done for I.M.P. He may not be the fastest reader, but he's quick with numbers and their budget is, like, - actually doing well.

So when he feels the hand sneak onto his ass and give it a squeeze, a thrill races up his spine - part from the sensation, part from the momentary shock that just makes the sensation that much stronger. Blitz perks up immediately, the phone dropping from his hands, eyes wide for a moment before a cheeky grin breaks out.

❝ Oh no you don't. ❞ As he feels Stolas' hand start to pull away, Blitz already has his tail around his wrist, holding him there until he can sit up with a satisfied grin, grabbing for the front of Stolas' shirt and yanking him down for a kiss.

❝ You're not getting away from me, Pretty Bird. ❞

[dallasareaopinion]

So you want to fix Social Security, how about…… merchandising

Yes that is right let’s sell t-shirts with cute sayings about being old and baseball caps saying I’m old, I have medicare with a new spruced up logo.

Why not? It is certainly the American way.

Okay maybe not, but certain people in Congress are wanting to raise the age for full retirement to 70 to help stave off Social Security running low on funds.

Interesting that the very same people who can receive a pension up to 80% of their last salary, (depends on years served, age) and because of their salary as a   Representative they receive higher social security payments than the average person in general receives want to save social security by hurting the people who need it most. 

And think about this; one of the reasons people don’t earn much through their social security is due to lack of wage growth while they were working. So the last 50 or 60 years of slow wage growth and not just relative to the rate of inflation has hurt the social security fund and hindered the amount of benefits people receive when they start taking their social security payments. Did you need another reason to be hissed off that the federal minimum wage is squat ($7.25) and hasn’t changed in how long? (2009)

Yet our elected officials who are paid by your tax dollars are receiving significantly more than the people they are elected to serve with pension funds, yet most Americans do not have a pension from their employer anymore so need social security as a basis for their retirement income. And we are told we have workplace retirement savings plans for us to save which is true, but it helps if we earn enough to save or as all these good politicians will tell us, make the sacrifices to save more. Sounds like a good idea, except heath care costs are growing faster than inflation, housing costs are exploding, so yep we have all this extra money to save. 

And your elected officials also have a savings plan through the Federal government and you guessed it they also receive a “company match” paid by your tax dollars.

So most Americans have suffered through anemic wage growth, high costs that eat into savings rates, and a social security plan that is the ripe to be cut to balance the federal budget. 

And somehow or another these elected officials keep getting re-elected over and over again to the point everyone wants term limits, but won’t discuss the real issue of holding our elected officials accountable to us and representing us. And some of them earn over $100,000 in pension, receive higher than average social security and have a savings plan where money is deposited for them. And the icing on the cake, better healthcare. 

And then there are some that want Wall Street to manage the Social Security Trust fund. Sure, put the people who hoard wealth in charge of the average person’s turnip squeezed life blood. That sounds like it will work…. for them. And they just love supporting decent wages for workers, too. uh…………… Well they should.

Maybe hocking t-shirts and caps is the solution and you can do that until you are 80 if some in Congress have their way.

Yet if you are a regular reader you know that there are other ideas espoused that at least think about you and I.

[mjulianwrites]

makeup and darcy, texture and little cyrus, and formal for helios, selene, drea, and evaine <3

makeup: Does your OC wear makeup? How often? What kind? Why do they wear makeup, and do they like it?

pre-canon darcy doesn't because they're being So Cis And Respectable. but they would like to. maybe they have let cassandane do their makeup before for the gender euphoria of it all. in an ideal world they would want to go for some eyeliner and mascara on a regular basis and maybe some fancier eye makeup and contouring on occasion just for fun

texture: Does your OC favor any specific kinds of cloth or textures? Is there anything they can’t wear or don’t like? What sort of fabrics do they prefer?

prince cyrus has pretty intense sensory issues so he definitely has strong texture preferences. he prefers fabrics that are soft and stretchy - in an ideal world he'd wear sweaters (especially chunky knit ones, because it's satisfying to run his hands along it) and pajama pants all the time. but because he is the prince he has to spend a lot of time in suits which are Bad because he is not a fan of anything with tight seams or waistbands that dig into his skin. or ties, because they make him feel like he's choking. so any time he's dressed up he is suffering at least a little bit :(

formal: What’s your OC’s formal look? Do they like dressing up? Do they have different looks for different occasions?

helios LOVES dressing up, he's got top surgery and an unlimited wardrobe budget now and goddamn if he's not going to make the most of it. his go-to is a purple suit with his dress shirt sluttily (chastely) unbuttoned and lots of gold jewelry to accessorize. the gold rings on every finger are a house of saturnini thing but i think he can also have stupid earrings for fun. and stupid matching shoes. but i think he also wears a lot of different colours, he just defaults to purple for official appearances because that's his signature colour.

selene is so hot oh my god. she's like if a disney prince were the prettiest girl in the world. so i think she wears a lot of grey and white suits with low-cut and/or cropped button-up shirts, high waisted pants and fun little knee-high boots. and her silver hoop earrings <33

drea is not a big fan of dressing up but unlike kane she doesn't hate it on a sensory level, she just would rather be wearing her knife vest. or her military jacket at LEAST. but she'll go for a simple red dress on the rare occasion that she's at an Official Fancy Event with kane. something she can move in. there are at least five knives hidden on her person.

evaine goes for boxy suits pre-canon, probably mostly grey, nothing flashy. she's one of the most powerful people in parliament but she doesn't dress like it because she’s a woman of the people or something. after the coup though she's trying to suck up to the church so she undergoes femmeification (diversity loss) and starts wearing more like. Nice Feminine And Modest Blouses 😔

[teejeepshirtnewsblog]

As Told By Shirt

As Told By Shirt

Well one thing I do every month until December is put money 100 maybe 200 to the side I do this because I cut some things out that I dont need to do going out to eat taking the As Told By Shirt to see movies or just going out as you know gas doesn’t get cheaper and what these kids want nowadays is not either lol it’s more I can say what not to do but I believe people know what not to do when it comes to saving money especially for the holidays sometimes it gets overwhelming but in this matter its mind over matter do I need these snacks and junk food right now, do I need to go to my friends house or whoever’s house right,do I need to go to the movies which one you think is cheaper you have to keep in mind on what you need and don’t need so answer your question to keep on top of your budget what ever you deem that you don’t think you need to do is how you can stay on top of your budget and I want to point this out my answer to your question varies for people all make money different from the other and spend on what can be afforded I hope this gives you a idea on how to budget your money and help you save money for holidays most of all lkeep you above the line where majority of people are suffering at.