#what shovel are you even talking about that sounds a little weird

[theclaravoyant]

fireworks - bucktommy (T, ~1000wd)

AN ~ now taking prompts! because i can't help myself . in the meantime please enjoy this little hurtcomfort, inspired by the prompts "late night conversations/anxiety" for upcoming @evanbuckleyweek <3 (I couldn't wait that long!)

also on AO3.

-

Can't make it tonight babe :( Not feeling so hot.

Buck is running late, but not so late that he doesn't have time to stop by on his way to the Grant-Nash gathering for a little bit of boyfriending. Tommy had sadly had to pull out of this one, but not to worry, Buck has brought over his favourite meatball sub in case he's feeling like a pick me up.. and a bottle of ginger ale in case he's not.

Either way, as he approaches the front door Buck is surprised to hear music so loud – albeit muffled – that the bass in it shakes the windows.

“Tommy?”

He frowns. He, for one, isn't one to blast his workout mix when he's stuck in bed, or bent over a toilet bowl, or whatever other nastiness supposedly awaits him. The lights are off inside.

Brought dinner, he taps into his phone. All good?

He bounces on the balls of his feet.

Babe, let me in x

There's no response, not even those little bouncing dots. Buck is definitely not thinking about Tommy passed out on the living room floor or kidnapped or something. But he does pull up Athena's number before he reaches for the spare key. Just in case.

“Babe!” he calls, looking around. The house is dark. This still feels like something he shouldn't really be doing. “Tommy!”

He follows the sound toward the basement stairs, where light is coming through. From down below, he hears the grunts and slaps of rigorous exercise... or something else, and it dawns on him that well, he and Tommy haven't technically agreed, haven't really discussed, if they're exclusive or anything and he might be intruding on something and that little voice in the back of his head that tells him nobody's ever all in is getting so loud... He freezes at the bottom of the stairs, just before he can turn the corner and see something. What the hell is he doing. How fast can he back track without Tommy noticing that he's being jealous and weird and-

The music stops.

Well. Here goes.

-

“Evan?”

Tommy can't help it, his face lights up at the sight of him. Which is weird, because Evan looks sort of mortified. Probably because Tommy had bailed on something important to him under the guise of being sick and here he is, very much not throwing up or hiding from the light or anything, slicked with so much sweat his hair has dropped a few shades in colour.

“Tommy. Y- You're feeling better?”

“You brought a sandwich?”

“Botticelli's.”

Damn it. Tommy throws his head back, closes his eyes as a pang of guilt punches through him. The kid went and brought his favourite sandwich. He just wants to make sure he's okay. Damn it, damn it.

“I can explain.”

“Is this because you're not ready to meet Athena? 'Cause she can give one hell of a shovel talk but she's cool, really.”

“I've met Athena,” Tommy assures him. In spite of himself, a smile touches his lips, because that was kind of a significant part of this whole thing. “Evan – I promise, this has nothing to do with us.”

It seems to help a little bit. At least, enough that Evan trails after him into the basement proper while he paces and takes a swig of water and tries to wrangle the courage to say it.

“The fourth of July is just... not my thing,” he manages. “I don't really like fireworks.”

He looks Evan in the eyes as he puts it together. Maybe he knows Eddie doesn't either, maybe he knows it's a common trigger for veterans, maybe he just knows what it's like to try and pack the depths of unspeakable horror into words. Especially when you're meant to be a badass fearless firefighter.

“I'm sorry,” Evan says. The fear and confusion and anguish melts away, his expression painfully earnest and concerned as he closes the distance between them. Part of Tommy wants to bury his face, to freeze like a rabbit or run and hide, but something about Evan, as always, makes him stay.

“I'm sorry,” he breathes. “I didn't mean to lie. I'm just … used to dealing with this by myself. And you- you're so- I mean, you died? You actually, for real died in a thunder storm and you got in a helicopter to fly into a hurricane like it was nothing. I guess I worried you wouldn't get it.”

Evan cups a hand around the back of his neck and it's grounding, it's nice, and Tommy's forehead falls forward against Evan's. He takes a ragged breath. Evan's phone starts ringing.

“You don't have to tell me,” Evan says, “what you've been through. But I'm here for you, okay? If you want me.” He glances at his phone and adds- “It's Maddie. Just checking where I'm at. Want me to tell them I'm not coming?”

Tommy shakes his head. “No. Go. I'll be alright here, have a night in. My boyfriend brought me my favourite sandwich."

-

He smiles. Buck smiles back, and presses forward a gentle, comforting kiss before they part. Tommy shakes it off as he heads back toward the stairs, but there's a long stretch of silence. The muffled whistle and echoing boom of an airbomb sails overhead and he can hear Tommy's breath quietly catch and it's almost as if it pulls out the words from his chest.

“I can't remember the lightning.”

“Hm?”

He turns back. Tommy is watching after him.

“I can't remember the lightning, Tommy. That's probably why I can fly into a hurricane. It's- actually it's pineapple jello for me. It was all I could eat for weeks after they took the tubes out. Pineapple jello and vanilla icecream. The first time I smelt a piña colada after I got out, I thought I was going to die.”

I get it.

Tommy nods. After a beat, he adds-

“And hey, Evan. This is something I kind of like to keep to myself. So if anyone asks-”

“Violent gastro. Got it.”

He rolls his eyes, and huffs, and smiles as he tucks the little foam earplug back in place.

“I love you, too.”

[justanisabelakinnie]

Señorita Perfecta Isabela, I'm very curious what kind of songs do you like? Not that I'm very bored and want some new songs in my playlist

Ooh, I have a lot of songs that I like!

My favorite song by far is Little Miss Perfect by Joriah Kwame and Taylor Louderman! And its sequel song Ordinary also struck a chord with me! It really helped me to come to terms with the fact that I am a lesbian...and gave me hope that Monika and I will last as a happy couple! Don't tell Mirabel and Camilo I said that, though.

I also like the song Show and Tell by Melanie Martinez! I listen to her with my primo and prima-hermana all the time, and I love all her music! But this one is my favorite because it truely struck a chord with me, you know, perfectionism and putting up a front for others like a carnival attraction and all.

(as a side note, please don't call me Senorita Perfecta anymore? It's an insult mi hermanita used against me and I really don't like it, I no longer see myself as perfect and the fact that I'm still viewed that way by some really brings up some rather unsavory memories of the mask I was forced to adorn myself with. ty in advance. ;) )

But anyway, the final songs I like are Oh No by Marina! And the Diamonds(makes me think of what would happen if I had stayed pretending to be perfect! 0_0), and Angry Too by Lola Blanc.

Hope this helps you to feed your starved playlist! ;3

[onevolon]

smile for the camera

Jack Mojave X F!reader

note: you take a picture you shouldn't have.

word count: 731

warnings: dark. angst. it's not in a desert but a forest. honestly idk what this is supposed to be lol

you can also read it on ao3.

masterlist

This was a journey from the start. Sure, it wasn’t the first time she witnessed someone being left at the altar. Crazier things happened at the weddings. It makes her wonder what made them finally snap and run away every time. Especially these two looked so in lovey-dovey. But now the groom is nowhere to be seen. Weird.

One thing that is more annoying than a bride bawling her eyes out though, when the wedding is canceled, nobody cares about what will happen to the employees or what they should do. Everybody is own their own.  

And that’s why now she is middle of the nowhere in a fucking forest with all of my camera equipment trying to find her way to her car. Environmentalist piece of shits forced everybody to park miles away from the wedding location to not disturb the ecosystem more than necessary blah blah…

If she wasn’t so fucking lost, she might have appreciated the sounds of the birds chirping, the smell of the pine tree and the wind on her hair. But right now, it was extremely irritating to say the least. The smell made her stomach turn after the food she inhaled before they can take it. The wind was making her shiver to her very bones and… Maybe she should distract herself by looking at the photos.

She starts to scroll through the photos. Look all those happy faces… Now it’s all for nothing.

Okay this doesn’t really work.

She could try and take a couple of photos of the damn birds for her portfolio.

Carefully walking around the bushes, she tries to allocate the said animals. It is soothing to hear this rhythmic sound of these creatures and…

Something else was there…

Someone was…

…Someone digging something?

Yeah, there was a figure to her left with a shovel. What in the hell…

Stupidly, she gets closer while continuously pushing the button on her camera.

A man with a long coat… in a cowboy hat. Long hair… Dirty skin. You didn’t recognize him from the wedding. Who the hell-

“Well, hello there.”

She freezes.

“Wanted to see something cool, sister?” he says innocently.

She can’t move a muscle. Not even talk.

“Not a talker, huh. You would get along with him, then.” He says and point to the ground.

She instinctively follows his gesture.

There is a man.

On the ground.

Not moving.

Is he-

“Wanna join him, doll-face?”

You can’t look away. Not only because you’re both in danger but… he looks… familiar.

“I bet he would like that, now wouldn’t you, perv?” he nudges the man’s head with his boots and the man’s face turns towards her.

Oh, he looks blue.

He’s for sure-

The groom.

He is the groom.

“Was having quite the fun with that little bridesmaid. I was jealous not gonna lie. Wanted to have a good old adventure to myself.”

He killed the groom.

“And now we all are here.” He looked to her, self-satisfied.

Her heart was about to burst.

“Lost, aren’t you?”

“I-“

“Who are you?”

She doesn’t answer.

He casually drops the shovel and pushes the groom to the hole in the ground.

“The great questions, sister, the essentials… Where are you from? Where you going?”

She again doesn’t answer, too occupied to discreetly try and find something to use it as a weapon.

He starts to throw the pile of dirt on top of the man.

“To be or not to be?”

“Huh?” she says, distracted by the sudden topic change.

“Another great question. To be or not to be? It always comes down to that, isn’t it?”

She doesn’t know what to say.

“You choose to be, sister. To be here.”

She shakes her head.

“Oh, yes, yes you did. “ He smirks.

She begins to tremble slightly.

“No? Why don’t you run then? You can run.”

“I can’t move.” She says stupidly.

“Sure you can. In fact, when I count to three, you will flee like you’ve never done before.” He says while patting now closed grave with the shovel, putting some leaves on top of it to cover.

She starts to tear up.

“One…”

A tear drops to her face.

“Two…”

She takes a step back.

“Two and a half…”

Hurriedly puts down her camera and other stuff down.

“Three!”

She sprints.

“Game on, sister! GAME. ON.”

He goes after her.

[darkleweather]

(Please enjoy this ridiculously self-indulgent little Double Life drabble that involves a very specific headcanon I have for Tango that I wrote about in Been Here Before)

***

They’re picking up the burned mess Scar left of the ranch, hauling away blackened timber and shoveling out the coals. Maybe, Jimmy thinks, they can restart. It wouldn’t be so hard, and besides, they’d managed to save some of the animals, so that was all well and good.

Tango swears, and Jimmy looks up to see him standing across the half-destroyed building, shaking his hand. A log crusted with charcoal is at his feet, and Jimmy immediately guesses what happened.

“Still had embers on it?” he asks.

“Yeah.” Tango sighs. “You’d think I’d learn to be more careful now.”

Jimmy nods. Even with his gloves, his own hands are spotted with burns from before he’d learned to roll each log, carefully checking every surface for glowing coals and embers and wisps of smoke.

Tango though. Tango was made of fire, being a blazeborn. Jimmy had half-expected him to not be bothered as they'd rushed around trying to douse the fire. But he'd been overwhelmed by the flames, just like Jimmy had been.

“Tango—“ he starts hesitantly. “Not to sound like I’m blaming you, but—“

Tango gives him a tired look. “Spit it out, buddy.”

Why couldn’t you stop it? But that sounds too accusing. “Why did you burn?” Jimmy says, wincing as the words leave his mouth. He knows it’s the best thing to do, to talk this over, not let his questions sit and fester into resentment. But he doesn’t want to push Tango. Doesn’t want to seem like he’s blaming him.

When Tango looks puzzled, Jimmy clarifies, “I just figured fire wouldn’t bother you. Cause…y’know. The blazeborn stuff. Couldn’t you have stopped the fire before…” His voice trails off, and he gestures around them.

“Oh.” Tango sighs, and his shoulders slump.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Jimmy says immediately, regret flooding him. “I didn’t mean—gosh, sounds like I’m blaming you, I didn’t mean—“

“What? No, no, it’s not that.” Tango waves the apology away. “I’m not upset or anything. It—it makes sense that you’d ask, right? ‘Course it does. Anyone would. It’s just…weird to talk about.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Nah, I want to, it’s just kinda funny… I’m not really a softie, y’know? Emotions and all that kind of stuff. That’s Impulse and Skizz and all. Not me. I’m not an emotions type of guy.” Tango grins at him. “But I trust you, Jimmy. Hundred percent. So I know you won’t freak out about this.”

Jimm grins back, even as he feels a nervous jitter in his chest. It’s good to know that Tango trusts him.

“I just found out before Double Life started, which is honestly the weirdest thing about it all,” Tango continues. “There wasn’t time to tell anyone else. Zed’s the only other one who knows.“

Jimmy didn’t know much about Zed, other than what Grian and had told. The quietest and shyest of the hermits, Zed never ventured far beyond his comfort zone and so would never even consider doing something like the Life games.

“I’m not a blazeborn. It’s redstone.”

“Redstone?” Jimmy stares at him. “How—“ He frowns and scans Tango again. The hair that flared with flame. The golden freckles that sometimes seemed to glimmer in the sun. The red eyes.

Jimmy thought of Joel and his time as a blazeborn, the only other blazeborn he’d known. He’d looked a lot different. At the time Jimmy hadn’t thought of it, but now… “So you’re made of redstone?”

“There’s redstone in my blood.” Tango rubbed his forearm, and for the first time Jimmy noticed the grid pattern of scars, faintly paler than Tango’s skin color, cutting neat lines through the freckles of his arm. “I—I’m not from a normal world. When I was a kid, there were experiments done on me…and…” His voice trails off, and Tango shrugs.

He’s staring off into the distance, somewhere over Jimmy’s shoulder, with a glaze to his eyes that tells Jimmy he’s seeing something else.

Something past.

“And?” He prompts gently, his voice soft. He can feel an unexpected heat in his chest, and it takes a moment for Jimmy to realize it’s anger. He’s never angry.

But Tango had been a kid. And Jimmy understood that. He hadn’t been much more than a kid himself during Evo.

Cool. So we both have screwed up pasts. That's just...great, that is.

Tango blinks abruptly and brings his gaze to Jimmy’s face. “Sorry. I, uh…” He scratches the back of his neck, looking down at the ground. “Bad memories. Seems like I’ve been finding a lot of them buried in my past lately.” He shrugs again. “Anyway. That’s why I couldn’t stop the fire. I burn just as easily as anyone else, although it’s an easy mistake to make. Heck, I made it myself for years.”

“And you haven’t told anyone else?”

Tango shakes his head. “Zed was there. But Skizz, Impulse…I haven’t told anyone. I haven’t even told Xisuma yet. I dunno, it just… I have to let it sit with me for a bit. Let it settle, y’know.”

Jimmy nods. He thinks of an ocean, and a Queen, and a cod head, and he nods again. He knows. “Big reveals gotta settle sometimes before we’re ready to talk about them.”

Tango leans back against the fire-marked fence. “Yeah. Anywayyy…” He shifts his weight back and forth as if feeling awkward.

“Thanks for tellin’ me.”

“Yeah.” Tango’s still not looking at him.

Jimmy doesn’t stop to think. He walks across the clearing and wraps his arms around Tango, pulling him close in a hug. Tango tenses up for a brief second before he hugs Jimmy back.

“I mean it. Thanks for trustin’ me with this,” Jimmy says. “‘specially since you’re still figuring out how to tell everyone else. I ain’t gonna betray that trust, Tango. I hope you know that.”

“Course I know it, ya big dummy,” Tango says, grinning. “Now can we stop with the mushy mushy stuff and get back to work?”

Jimmy let go of him, grinning back. “So can I come visit Hermitcraft someday and see you do redstone work?”

“Absolutely! We’ll get ya whitelisted. I’ll show you around, mebbe teach you a thing or two about redstone.” Tango elbowed him. “You can go back to Empires and impress everyone with your newfound knowledge.”

They got back to work, the silence comfortable once again, no longer feeling strained.

[honourablejester]

PF2e Character Concept: Graverobber Ghost Eater Rogue

Since I was talking about grave robbers as a character concept and the lovely fact that Pathfinder actually has that as a background option ... I’m gonna build me a grave robber!

We’re gonna go rogue, because, well, criminal. But. I think for this one, we’re going to try a ruffian rogue. They’re lurking in graveyards, they’re lugging bodies around, they’re shovelling dirt and excavating coffins. They feel very physical. So we’ll go ruffian, and have equal Str and Dex, and for a bonus we’ll be trained in Intimidation. Which feels very right for a grave robber who, again, spends a lot of time lurking in graveyards.

They’re going to carry a shovel. This is important to me. Their equipment has to included a long tool (shovel) and a hooded lantern. The shovel can be used as an improvised weapon (1d6) if they want to. For their actual weapons, I think we’re going to go with a good, old-fashioned club, because they’re a very ‘hit them over the head’ sort of character, and a crossbow for range.

For ancestry …

Look. It’s slightly weird, given their views on ancestors and ancestor worship, but I really want a witch gnoll? Because creepy cackling dark-furred hyena rogue lurking in graveyards. You get some spooky occult spellcasting for free, starting with ghost sound, which feels both very useful and very thematic for a criminal trying to sneak into graveyards to loot bodies/graves. Also, seven foot tall creepy person lurking in graveyards with a shovel. The image is what I’m going for here. Heh.

I am wondering how well a grave robber gels with a gnoll’s reverence for the dead. Does it count if they’re not gnoll dead? They’re not this rogue’s ancestors, so it doesn’t count? Gnolls are also very pragmatic, which fits so well with the ghoulish pragmatism you’d get on a grave robber. They eat their dead, they use their bones. Is this particular gnoll just weirded out by putting the dead in boxes and leaving them to rot, and views grave robbing, in its own weird way, as almost a better way to honour the dead? At least they’re being useful. They’re giving strength, wisdom, prosperity to at least someone, instead of being locked in a box underground to just moulder. Eh, I think I can work something there.

And. On the subject of the dead. The thing about being a grave robber in a fantasy universe is that you’re a lot more likely to run into the undead as well. I do want to add something a little bit mystical to this grave robber. I did consider both the ghost hunter and exorcist archetypes, but … they’re both a bit too finicky? This character is not a grave tender, they’re a grave robber. I wanted something a bit more … pragmatic. Enter the ghost eater archetype, which opens, directly at the dedication feat, with the simple premise of ‘if a ghost hits you, hit it back’. Which I think fits much better for our pragmatic ruffian rogue? *grins* Yes. I think we’ll do that.

For stats, I think we can start with a +3 to Str/Dex, a +1 to Con/Int/Cha, and a +0 to Wis. We’re a thug. A slightly smart, somewhat intimidating thug, but we’re not necessarily all that sensible. Would we be in this business if we were sensible?

Because we’re a rogue, we can be trained in a shit tonne of skills, even with only a +1 Int, so we’ll get Acrobatics, Athletics, Deception, Diplomacy, Intimidation, Lore: Underworld, Society, Stealth and Thievery. We’ve got a couple bonus spots as well, so we’ll also pick up a little bit of Religion and Occultism, because when you hang around in graveyards as often as we do, you pick up some things, and we’ll also take a bit of Medicine just because it’s handy to have. To level, we’ll focus on Acrobatics, Athletics, Intimidation, Stealth and Thievery, and maybe divvy the rest between Society and Occultism.

Bundling this all back together … We’re a seven foot tall burly hyena person who’s fallen, by an odd combination of luck, pragmatism, natural talent, and some odd beliefs about the dead even by gnoll standards, into a career as a grave robber and resurrectionist in a non-gnoll society. Possibly we’re an exile from our tribe, possibly related to said somewhat odd beliefs. But we’re pretty good at our happy new career lurking in graveyards and politely thumping both living and undead nuisances over the head with a lovingly-crafted club and/or our shovel, whichever was fastest to hand. We’re enjoying it, honestly. It’s good, honest work!

Gnoll names are often bone-based, which fits so nicely as well. So we’re going to go a little over the top, here, and call her Knuckle the Lurk. A grave robbing, ghost eating, ruffian rogue. Heh.

[kitsmits]

Mono no Aware Bonus Scene!

25.5: “Plans and Purple Elephants”

This is a scene I originally wrote to include either in Chapter 25 or 27, but it didn’t really fit tonally in either. However, I still really like the scene and it does establish the start of some important character dynamics, so here it is! Enjoy :)

There was something strange happening.

Earlier that day, Sorano Kaede had arrived at Urahara Shoten bearing something entirely unexpected: food. Hot, homemade food. Ikkaku and Yumichika trailed in after her, arms laden with bowls and plates; they must have been on Kaede-watching duty, something Renji was glad to be exempted from on account of his training with Chad.

“Thought we could all use a pick-me-up for training,” she explained, directing Ikkaku and Yumichika to lay everything out. The smells alone drew Renji closer, despite his wariness of the woman. Everything just smelled…irresistible. There was some sort of shredded meat, still steaming and coated in a spicy sauce; fresh chopped vegetables and herbs; and was that rice yellow?

“Are those….tortillas?”

Renji nearly jumped at the sound of Chad’s voice behind him. Kaede looked up at the tall teen and smiled. “Yes - flour, not corn, I’m afraid. I couldn’t get the masa here.”

Chad’s eyes were wide under his thick bangs. “You made all of this?”

“Well, I couldn’t really sleep last night,” she admitted, tucking her hair behind her ear with a shrug. “And to be honest, I get kind of bored with Japanese cuisine after a week or so. Guess I’m just used to spicier food.”

“I haven’t had fresh tortillas in years,” Chad said, looking at the food like he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. “Not since I left Mexico.”

Kaede’s brows shot up. “¿Eres de México?”

Chad blinked in surprise. “Crecí allí. ¿Tú hablas español?”

That was when the weirdness really began. Renji looked on, growing ever more perplexed as the two spoke with mounting enthusiasm. He couldn’t believe his eyes, much less his ears; Chad had said more in the past couple minutes than Renji had heard, well, ever. Not only that…“The hell are they even talking about?”

“Beats me,” Ikkaku said through a mouthful. Clearly, he had no qualms about eating food made by Aizen Sousuke’s freakin’ wife. “Sounds like gibberish.”

“It’s Spanish,” Yumichika said with an exasperated sigh. “And they’re talking about some festival called the ‘Days of the Dead.’ Apparently, it’s coming up in a couple of weeks.”

“They have festivals for the dead? That’s creepy.”

“Says the Shinigami,” Yumichika retorted. “It makes sense, though; death is a universal truth, even for us.”

“Yeah, fair enough,” Renji conceded. Then something hit him. “Wait - how do you understand what they’re saying?”

“Because unlike some,” Yumichika answered, delicately picking at a tortilla, “I actually listen. You’d understand them too if you just opened your ears a bit. Shinigami don’t have language barriers; technically, we aren’t even speaking Japanese right now, it just seems like we are because it’s the predominant language for the Humans around us.”

“Wait, we can do that?” Ikkaku scratched his shaved crown. “I had no idea…”

“More like you just never noticed it before,” Yumichika corrected. “Also, the food is perfectly safe. I watched her make everything. It’s a bit spicy for my taste though, and far from what I’d call ‘aesthetically pleasing.’ The appearance alone puts me off.”

“I think I’ll pass, then,” Renji grumbled even as his stomach did the same. “Not a fan of spicy stuff.”

“More for me,” Ikkaku said, though it was barely intelligible as he shoveled a filled tortilla into his mouth.

As Ikkaku continued to stuff his face and Yumichika continued to sit and watch, Renji decided to pay more attention to the conversation between Chad and their mysterious new ally. At first, their speech continued to sound like fast-paced gibberish, but with a little concentration, Renji started to make out the words between the two of them.

“…have to show you some photos I took the last time I was there,” Kaede was saying. “They came out beautifully, if I do say so myself! I always found it fascinating that the calaveras for el Dia de los Muertos resemble skulls - kind of like Hollow masks, don’t you think?”

”I never considered that,” Chad admitted.

“Makes me wonder if at some point, people were more aware of Hollows’ existence around them, you know?” She smiled. “Or they’re just another classic ‘memento mori,’ and I’m thinking too much about it!”

”I haven’t seen a Dia de los Muertos celebration in years,” Chad reflected.

“Do you miss it? Mexico?”

“Sometimes. Mexico is a beautiful country, and it's where I made all of the memories I have of my Abuelo. But if I hadn't come back to Japan, I would never have met Ichigo, Inoue, and Ishida, and I probably would have never gained the powers that allow me to fight alongside them. I wouldn't trade that for anything.”

Kaede’s smile turned wistful, even sad. “I can get that.”

“What’s going on here?”

Renji, Ikkaku, and Yumichika spun around to attention at the sound of Hitsugaya’s disapproving voice.

“S’e bwa foo,” Ikkaku tried to explain with his cheeks stuffed like a chipmunk’s.

“Ooo, what kind of food is that?” Matsumoto asked at the same time, darting around her captain with an excited smile.

A vein visibly throbbed in Hitsugaya’s forehead. “How many times do I have to say it? This is a meeting to discuss Aizen Sousuke, not a dinner party!”

“Pretty sure you only said that once,” Renji pointed out. “Just now.”

“Well, I think all meetings would be better with a meal,” Matsumoto declared, already armed with a full tortilla. She took a bite and moaned, her eyes rolling up into her head. “It’s so good!”

“I hope I haven’t offended you, captain,” Kaede herself said, turning from her conversation with Chad. “I just wanted to do something nice for everyone, since our first meeting was…what it was.”

“An’ you can’t train on an empty stomach,” Ikkaku added while reaching for another tortilla. Yumichika slapped his hand away. “Ow! What’s that for?!”

“Save some for others,” Yumichika admonished.

“Why? You aren’t eating any of it!”

“Are Inoue-san and Kuchiki-san joining us?” Kaede asked, ignoring the Shinigami squabbling over her food.

Renji almost answered, but caught himself. He didn’t care if this woman brought a whole tray of taiyaki to win them over; he wasn’t about to divulge Rukia’s whereabouts to Aizen Sousuke’s wife.

Someone else did that for him.

“Oh, Inoue-san and Kuchiki-san went to Soul Society last night,” Urahara announced, sauntering over with his fan in one hand and cane in the other. “I believe they plan to train together at the 13th Division’s grounds.”

Renji wanted to strangle the man. That was privileged information, and he was just declaring it willy-nilly in front of an associate of their enemy?! Sure, Urahara claimed she was a former associate, but when it came to Aizen, Renji had learned not to trust anything on the surface. He remembered that day on Sokyoku Hill all too well, still saw Aizen’s hand puncturing Rukia’s chest in his nightmares.

He was about to give the hat-wearing man a piece of his mind when he spied the look on Hitsugaya-taicho’s face. The diminutive captain was positively glaring at Sorano Kaede - well, Renji was pretty sure that was a glare; he wasn’t overly familiar with the range of Hitsugaya’s expressions. The captain squared his shoulders and walked over to the woman with such deliberation that everyone around them had stopped speaking. Sorano Kaede watched him with a look of resignation, like she was expecting whatever dressing-down he was surely about to give her.

He stopped a few feet away from her - and bowed.

“Sorano Kaede,” Hitsugaya began in a formal tone, “please allow me to apologize for my behavior the last time we met. There was no reason for me to attack you out of malice.”

Renji’s eyes went wide as saucers. This was turning out to be a weird day. He wasn’t the only one surprised; Yumichika’s tailored brows had risen, and even Ikkaku had paused mid-bite. Only Matsumoto didn’t seem overly shocked by the scene, a small, affectionate smile on her face as she watched her captain’s actions.

Kaede’s face was difficult to read at first. She seemed surprised as well, but there was something deeper to it, something Renji couldn’t quite place but that resonated with him nonetheless. Then her eyes softened, and she lowered her own head.

“You have every reason not to trust me,” she said. “There’s nothing to apologize for. I do appreciate you doing so, and the humility and self-awareness it takes. Your division is lucky to have you as their captain. I’ll do my best to be the asset I promised to be.”

She bowed back to Hitsugaya, and when she straightened back up again, she smiled. "Now that we've gotten that out of the way, would you care for a tortilla? There's plenty of food left to go around."

"No, thank you," Hitsugaya replied stiffly, although Renji thought he could detect a bit of reluctance in the child-sized Captain's tone. "I'd prefer we all begin talking strategy as soon as possible. We're on a deadline."

"That is true." Kaede began resealing the containers. "The food will still be here when we finish."

"Ugh, but I'm still hungry!" Ikkaku complained loudly; even so, he shoved the last of his second tortilla into his mouth and stood up.

“As we are all aware,” Hitsugaya began once they'd all gathered in Urahara's small back room, “we only have an estimated three months before the Hogyoku awakens fully and Aizen comes to destroy this town. Considering the vastness of his reiatsu alone outclasses nearly every Shinigami in Soul Society, it is essential that we spend what little time we have honing our individual skills to as high a level as possible and preparing strategies that will give us the best odds of defeating him. To that end,” Hitsugaya's eyes slid to Sorano Kaede's, who sat directly across from him, “we require all the information you have on his abilities, especially in regards to his Shikai, Kyoka Suigetsu.”

Kaede met Hitsugaya's gaze evenly. “What do you know about it so far?”

”That he can create illusions that trick all five senses,” the young captain answered, “and that you only need to see it once to be affected.”

”That’s…well, it’s partially correct,” she conceded with a small frown. “But it’s not that he creates illusions; it’s called kanzen saimin, perfect hypnosis, because it relies on the power of suggestion.”

Ikkaku scratched his head, his brows forming a deep crease in his forehead. “So…like…does he make you see things, or does he…what the hell does he actually do, then?”

She sighed. “Purple elephants.”

“….eh?”

“What are you thinking of right now?”

Ikkaku blinked. “Well…purple elephants, I guess…”

“Are there any in this room?”

“No!”

“But could there be?”

“I mean - no! They wouldn’t even fit!”

“But now you’re imagining that there are purple elephants in this room.”

“Of course I am! You keep talking about it!”

“That’s the power of suggestion,” she said. “If I were using Kyoka Suigetsu right now, you’d actually see purple elephants in the room, exactly as you’re seeing them in your mind now. And it wouldn’t just be sight: You’d smell them, hear them, you’d even be able to touch them. Every sense you have would tell you that there are purple elephants in this room right now, no matter how illogical that idea is. That is what Kyoka Suigetsu does: it tricks your senses. But in order for it to do that, you have to have the idea in your mind in the first place.”

“Okay,” Ikkaku shrugged. “So…I just don’t think about purple elephants.”

Kaede shrugged. “Okay. Then don’t think about a shirtless Yamamoto, either.”

“Wha - ugh!” Ikkaku doubled over, clutching his bald head as though in pain. “Why the hell would you - I can’t stop thinking about that now! Agh, I need to bleach my brain!”

Hitsugaya grimaced, unable to stop his own mind from conjuring an image of the head captain without a shirt. “Okay. We get it.”

“You sure? ‘Cause I hear that Unohana-“

“Yes! We get it!” Hitsugaya crossed his arms. “So how do we counter it?”

“You don’t,” Kaede answered bluntly. “Or rather, you can’t. You’ve all been exposed to it at one point or another, right? You’ve all seen his Shikai release?”

“I haven’t.”

Renji started a bit at the sound of Chad’s voice again. For such a large, imposing figure, the teen was way too easy to overlook. Then he blinked, realizing what Chad had just said. “That’s right - you never saw him release his Shikai, and neither did Ichigo or Orihime! So we just have to make sure none of you see it!”

“And what do you expect that to do?” Kaede countered. “Sorry to burst your bubble, but if you think Kyoka Suigetsu is the only thing to worry about, you’re sorely mistaken.”

Renji’s brow twitched with annoyance. “Then why don’t you tell us something useful for a change, instead o’ just telling us how wrong we are about everything?”

She sighed. “It’s not just a matter of closing your eyes when you hear him say ‘Shatter.’ He can release Shikai without the incantation, so you’d have to close your eyes every time he draws his sword. Not exactly practical in an active fight. And if you think that you’d have the upper hand by simply avoiding the hypnosis, you’re again mistaken. Remember that every Shinigami fighting at your side is already under its thrall - and he doesn’t have to reactivate Shikai in order to use it on them.”

A chill hit Renji like a sudden cold front as her words sank in. “Wait…you’re saying that he can use that power without releasing his Zanpakuto? Just because we’ve already seen it?”

”That’s exactly what I’m saying,” she replied.

He wasn’t the only one shaken by this; even Hitsugaya had gone a little pale, though he tried to keep his stoic facade. “Even so…battles are decided by reiatsu. The full force of the Gotei, even just the captains and lieutenants…we’d dwarf him. He can’t control all of us at once, no one has that kind of reiatsu volume or control.”

“First of all,” Kaede said, holding up a finger, “he can, and he does. Back when we were…together, he was able to trick the senses of captains and lieutenant-class Shinigami from a wide distance. Once the suggestion’s been planted, it’s just a matter of spending a little more reiatsu to keep it active, and he’s got more than enough to spare. Second, Kyoka Suigetsu isn’t the most dangerous thing you’ll face from him.”

”You mean the Arrancar?” Hitsugaya asked. “They’re strong, but if we fight without limiters-“

”I don’t mean the Arrancar,” she said with a shake of her head. “And I don’t mean his own battle skills, either. It’s the mind games.”

A shadow came over her eyes as she spoke. “He will get inside your head - in fact, he already has, in one way or another. If you have any sort of grudge against him, he will use it to misdirect your gaze. If you have any fears about facing him, he will use them to psyche you out. He will rile you up to make you reckless, and in the next breath, he will make you feel overconfident or hopeful. He will use your own comrades against you, and even if you realize what’s happening in real time, there will be nothing you can do about it. You can’t warn them, or vice versa, because he’ll make it so you can’t hear each other’s words or see each other’s signals. You can’t even be certain of who you’re really fighting; all it takes is a bit of misdirection to alter your perspective.”

Cold dread sank low in Renji’s stomach. He hadn’t considered the full breadth of Aizen’s abilities; even having felt the man’s monstrous reiatsu, he couldn’t imagine the scale of power Kaede was describing.

But it seemed she wasn’t finished. “It’s not just that he can manipulate your senses; he can, and will, manipulate your mind and your feelings, and that, he can do without a Zanpakuto. For him, it isn’t enough to simply defeat an enemy physically; he wants to break you down psychologically first, shattering your sense of self, security, and sanity before he ever strikes your body.”

Something about the way she spoke chilled Renji to the bone, and not just because of the scenarios it put in his mind. It was something deeper, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

Matsumoto spoke up then, her voice almost uncharacteristically quiet and reflective. “Is that what he did to you?”

That. That was what Renji couldn’t put his finger on. The way Kaede spoke of Aizen wasn’t just as someone experienced in working with him; from the sound of it, she’d been on the receiving end, too.

“I thought you said you weren’t deceived by him,” he pointed out, trying to wrap his mind around these new, conflicting bits of information.

It was Urahara who responded, speaking so low and with such ice that, for a moment, Renji didn’t recognize the shopkeeper. “Deception isn’t the only way to manipulate someone.”

“The point is,” Kaede plowed forward, “it’s not something you can just train for. There are a few people among the Gotei who might be able to counter his reiatsu, but he will have planned for that. He always has a plan.”

“Which is why keeping Kaede secret is so important,” Urahara interjected. “You all focus on preparing for the battle you can fight: the Arrancar. We will deal with Aizen Sousuke.”

[merryfortune]

Three Months (and he was ready)

Written for @ygorarepairweek

Prompts: Hanahaki | Stargazing | Childhood

Title: Three Months (and he was ready)

Ship: Chatshipping | Naoki/Yusaku

Series: Yu-Gi-Oh! Vrains

Rating: T

Word Count: 1,317

Tags: Post-Canon, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Childhood Trauma, Meeting the Family, Secret Identities, Swearing, Shovel Talk

   Three months.

   That is how long Yusaku gave himself before he decided if he was ready or not. If he wasn’t, then he figured that he was never going to be ready and if he was never going to be ready, then it was best not to bother anymore. He would break up with Naoki. It would hurt but it would hurt more if they kept hurtling towards an inevitability that Naoki was completely oblivious to.

   But here’s the thing.

   Yusaku was ready. He wanted Naoki to know. Everything. Absolutely everything there was to know about him. That terrified Yusaku but he was ready so it was best for Naoki to know.

   It was such a weird thing.

   Yusaku didn’t think anybody could have picked it. He certainly hadn’t expected it, to not only gain a crush on the most obnoxious geek boy in school but have it requited but that’s just how the school days unfolded. Naoki had been really worried about Yusaku going MIA and was glad that he was back. They were in different years and classes now but they were still friends.

   Yusaku didn’t even realise they had been friends prior but he decided, for Ai’s sake, he wanted to try having this whole friend thing. Turns out, he really liked it. Especially when they had no connection to the Lost Incident and everything surrounding that like Naoki.

   He was just so refreshingly normal. The quirks which once bugged Yusaku about Naoki - like how loud he was and how expressive about his interests he were and how self assured he was - became qualities that Yusaku admired. So, he put in effort and soon enough, effort became effortless and a crush formed.

   It was part of the normal high school experience, wasn’t it? To have a go at dating under the nose of the teachers so Yusaku shot his shot. He wasn’t expecting much of it. Naoki had a very blatant crush on Playmaker, someone whom he did not realise was one and the same with his friend and schoolmate Fujiki Yusaku, and kind of a crush on Aoi as well as her persona as Blue Angel but… Naoki responded.

   “Yeah, sure, sounds cool.” 

   Naoki’s response couldn’t have been more blase but it sent Yusaku over the moon. It was that casualness that he really liked about Naoki. But it couldn’t be casual hang outs forever. Yusaku knew that much.

   So it was time. He had to know.

   “Oh, wow, you look… deathly serious.” Naoki commented as he sat down with Yusaku on the park bench.

   Yusaku’s head hung low, he held his own hands, in the middle of a suitable manspread. He looked miserable.

   “When you said you wanted to talk, I was a li’l worried but now I'm like, way worried.” Naoki rambled.

   “I have something I want to tell you.” Yusaku announced and he began to raise his head a little higher.

   “Dude, you're scaring me. You’re not… breaking up with me, are you?”

   Yusaku laughed cynically as he stared off into the distance, into the cityscape beyond the park, “Surprisingly? No. I thought about it, though.”

   “Oh.” Naoki made a small noise.

   “I want to tell you something really important about who I am.” Yusaku said.

   He fidgeted, moved slightly. Curled in towards Naoki and Naoki was struck by how terrified Yusaku looked. His green eyes were shiny with tears that he was fighting back, his lower lip quivered and his chin pruned.

   “Naoki,” he said, “I was kidnapped as a child.”

   “What the fuck…” Naoki’s jaw dropped.

   “And it doesn’t stop there. I was kidnapped and held in captivity for six months where I was forced to duel for my food. If I won, I ate. If I lost, not only did I not eat, I was electrocuted.” Yusaku confessed.

   “Bro, what the fuck?” That was all Naoki seemed capable of saying right now as his face was a mixture of disbelief and disgust. Not aimed at Yusaku, Yusaku knew, but as his captors. 

   “The reason I was taken was because I… I made friends with the wrong boy. The son of the scientist in charge. It wasn’t his fault and he is still very important to me, even if… even if he is…” Yusaku changed his mind. It wasn’t his place to spill Ryoken’s secrets, only his own. “It doesn’t matter who he is. What matters is that he is still a friend of mine and the reason his Father took me, and five other children, was to make these…”

   Yusaku lifted his wrist up to Naoki and… tada.

   “Hello Brave Max!” 

   Ai’s cheery voice was in total opposition to the mood and the revelations were now dropping left, right, and centre. Naoki’s already dropped jaw was now basically on the ground. He was Playmaker’s biggest fanboy, he was at least a little aware of what this black-and-purple little jellybean was. He knew what this meant.

   Fujiki Yusaku and Playmaker. After all this time and all this mouthing off, they were one and the same, Naoki put together. Yusaku could practically see the connection being made in the lights of his eyes.

   “This is Ai. He is the only family I have. No one ever came forward to claim me after the Incident concluded. Ai is an artificial intelligence with free will.”

   “You better take good care of my Yusaku.” Ai sneered, arms folded in front of him. “Or you will be in big trouble, buster.”

   “It… It would mean a lot to me if you knew this.” Yusaku said, shaky, teary. “I wanted you to know. I realise it's a lot.”

   “Yeah, it is a lot.” Naoki dumbfoundedly agreed.

   “But it's okay, right?” Ai asked, leaning up, his body turning into purple string cheese as he tried to get up into Naoki’s grille.

   “Uh, yeah, it’s okay.” Naoki said. “You can’t change the past and I do not have the fancy-schmancy vocabulary to, like, accurately talk about the magnitude of fucked-upness this whole thing has but dude. You are like. So brave, so strong, and I;ll be brave and strong, too. ‘Cause Playmaker can’t be cool all the time.” he rubbed under his nose.

   Now it was Yusaku’s turn to be dumbfounded. His mouth agape as he processed Naoki’s reply. When it finally computed, he laughed the teeniest-tiniest laugh that impressed both Naoki and Ai. He shouldn’t have expected anything else from his boyfriend, bombastic weirdo extraordinaire! He couldn’t have been luckier to have someone like Naoki to call his.

   Yusaku’s heart swelled, “Thanks, Naoki. I appreciate it.” The tears that he had been holding back began to stream down the side of his face.

   Naoki scooted in closer along the wooden plank of the park bench. He leaned in and he smiled a small smile, he wiped tears from Yusaku’s eyes.

   “Hey, man, thanks for telling me. I know I've got a big mouth but I promise, if this is the sort of thing you want to keep on the DL, I’ll keep it on the DL.” Naoki quietly said.

   “Thanks, Naoki.” Yusaku said again, all choked up this time, however.

   Ai popped up a little bit taller. He leaned into Yusaku and Naoki reached across, to half-hug Yusaku and get Ai in the mix.

   “It’s good to properly meet you now, little dude.” Naoki added as a whisper.

   “Yeah, same.” Ai murmured.

   Yusaku smiled. His heart raced but it didn’t hammer him like his anxiety or panic attacks or any other number of conditions he had leftover from the Incident, it just raced in a comfortable way. He was exhilarated from being vulnerable, from telling Naoki the truth and seeing his two most important people get along. That really, truly did mean the world to him. 

   He was glad that he had worked up the courage to tell Naoki these important things about him.

[gerardpilled]

This might be weird or random but since you talk a little about music I’m just wondering what people mean when they say certain music is “basic”? Like ts? I ask people but they never answer. Also the thing about Ghost, was it a personal opinion or genuine criticism? I try to actively listen to bands and artists and i feel like everyone just has a different idea but I don’t get when people say something is bad or good in music especially when it does what it intends to do? Or at least I think it is what they intend to do? Sorry to throw this on you I’ve been asking around and I did google this stuff but i couldn’t find anything unbiased and I know you didn’t sign up for this but I have no one to ask (everyone is a fan of something)

i think this is a discussion about art that has been happening since art was first publicized and especially commercialized. I definitely do not have the answer to everything but if you want my personal opinion - I do think there is a difference between liking music and that music being technically 'good'.

To answer your first question, i personally consider "basic" music to be music that is easy to listen to. It's not breaking any conventional standards to song structure and it's radio friendly. It's marketable. Whether that is because the beat is dance-friendly or because the themes of the song are PG and uncontroversial. I love mcr but they definitely fall into radio friendly music that is very easy music to listen to if you generally like stuff with a rock sound. Compare them to acts that inspired them like the Misfits or the bouncing souls and you'll understand why mcr was able to play on MTV and the formers have become legends in a skillset sense.

I think when a lot of people say music is bad it can be very subjective but there are specific things you can point to. Sometimes production is bad and the music ends up sounding hollow or fake. Sometimes the lyrics are immature and don't follow poetic rules they're founded on. Sometimes music can end up sounding too derivative in an attempt to copy a formula that works (see: Greta Van Fleet and Led Zeppelin).

Now, I don't think music being fundamentally bad means you can't enjoy it. I like music from artists I think are not talented when it comes to technical skill. Sometimes you just like to not think about the content you're consuming and I think that's fine

I think especially recently there has been a push to not have guilty pleasure art and if you like something that makes it good. If i were to be dramatic, i would say that is an anti-intellectualism approach and can lead to the general decline in the amount of effort big companies put into the stuff shoveled out to the public. Because imo that's where the issue lies. Small artists have always consistently put out work they've put their soul into, but companies will put the lowest energy and money possible into making music for the masses. I think you can be critical about the art you consume and continue to enjoy it.

If you're not really sure what i'm talking about, I recommend starting to take in more journalism about music. I personally love reading pitchfork reviews and the bad ones especially really give you insight on the talking points for what can go wrong with music. Also I know people hate him but I do enjoy an Anthony Fantano video. I'll watch videos from him for music i've never heard of. He is also good at pointing out specifics so even when i don't personally agree with him, you kinda gain an understanding as to how other people might see it.

[knowltonsrangers]

scrapped

[a/n: this is a scrapped chapter one of my gwash fic infectious. the first three paragraphs are stolen from what would be infectious ch1, but it felt weird taking it out. pls enjoy, I really loved this idea and I’m sorry I never pursued it :,) reader is f.]

TURN!George Washington x F!Reader

It’s not the setting he had wrote down when he was a child, on that little piece of white paper with black writing on the top.

What do you want to be when you grow up?

He can’t remember exactly what he put—a agriculturalist, maybe, something along the lines, but he knows he did not put this.

But it wasn’t that he hated this, no, it’s just in moments like these, maybe he wishes he was on a farm somewhere and was planting carrots.

“Washington, we’ve got problems!”

The door slams open, and in bursts Hamilton, waving a fistful of papers around as Lafayette follows him inside, quietly shutting the door over.

The man in question sits, thrumming his fingers along the top of his desk, watching as email after email pops up on his computer screen. As fast as he could blink, another appeared, then another.

The “Mr.” had fallen off Hamilton’s inquires years ago, after they had been well acquainted enough. Washington, himself, never cared if it was there in the first place, usually forgoing formalities when it came to himself anyways.

“Yes, so I understand. I have been notified by every department in the office.”

“We only have three, it’s not that many,”

They were, by all means, working on a small crew. Just a tiny district location of sorts—part of larger corporation—working on some rich bigs dime to develop security software.

As an old man at heart, he quite frankly had no idea what anyone was talking about at any given time. He was responsible for the numbers, the managing part, pertaining to checking that everything was right on the regular.

“You don’t seem so worried,”

George swears he can see Hamilton’s eye twitch, so he pushes aside his woes and drops his elbows onto his desk.

“I’ve just got the news alert, yes, the stock dropped significantly. I apologize if it seems I am ignoring it. My mind is not quite here today.”

“Are you not feeling well?”

Lafayette speaks from behind Hamilton, rounding the man to question him.

“No, I’m fine. Thank you.”

The sound of the phone echoes through the room, and he feels his hand reach over and pick up the device on autopilot.

“Washington.”

The person on the other end is speaking to him, but he’s hardly registered what they’ve said.

The air suddenly feels tighter, as if the realization dawns on him. He feels both Lafayette’s and Hamilton’s eyes on him, as he ends the call as calmly as he can.

“…Sir?”

“The stock is the least of our problems.”

It seems like such a difficult situation to enter, walking into a place that has already found it’s groove to now find solace in a now chaotic office.

Chaos would be an understatement, it appears, as you push into the double doors.

Paper…paper was everywhere. The printer seemed to be shoveling out nonsense, phones ringing off the hook, and the usual bustle of an once quiet floor now peaked at an extreme level.

“Oh…”

Your lips feel dry, but you hike your bag higher for the sake of trying to make yourself feel a bit better.

“Are you lost?”

Not realizing anyone had even walked behind you, you jump and swiftly turn around.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“N-no! It’s okay, Um, is this the subset of Culper Productions?”

“Ah, again, my apologies. No one usually comes in here looking for us.”

The man laughs, tucking a folder under his arm.

“I’m Nathan, pleasure to meet you.”

He extends a hand, and you happily shake it.

“I’m y/n, nice to meet you!”

Nathan smiles warmly.

“You seem to have caught us at a horrible time. But who are you to report to? I can take you to them,”

“Thank you! I appreciate that, I’m supposed to meet a Mister George Washington?”

“Boss, huh? Okay, I can do that. Follow me.”

He starts walking and you briskly follow, feeling a twinge of anxiety creep into your stomach.

“You’re kinda catching him on a bad day, so please don’t take this interaction for who he is. He’s a real nice guy, intimidating, but super nice.”

Suddenly, you’re in front of the door that has no inkling that it belonged to the man, George Washington. Just a wooden door, tucked away in the corner of the small office.

“I—thank you Nathan. I look forward to working with you,”

You swallow thickly. Nathan pats your shoulder.

“You too, y/n!”

As fast as he came, he was gone, and all that was left was for you to reach up and knock, but you never got the chance.

The door flies open, and a enraged redhead stands in the doorway, shouting things over his shoulder to someone inside.

Something tells you to step to the side, and as you do, he barrels past, waving around a folder as a blonde man follows quickly behind him, chattering away about something. From your spot, neither seem to notice you.

Now with the door open, and your heart in your stomach, you slide into the open doorway, knocking on the door.

“No, Tallmadge, I do not have the numbers from the tenth, you asked me three times already today.”

He…he would be your definition of ‘a man in authority’ if you could place a label on him.

His voice is a deep baritone, sitting behind a desk that is flooded with stacks of papers and folders. He has three empty cups of coffee in front of him, a fourth in his hand, broad shoulders sagged with pressure.

You clear your throat.

“Sorry, I don’t think I’m the person you’re looking for.”

His blue eyes yank up from the computer, jolted for a moment as he blinks wildly at you.

“My apologies ma’am. How may I help you?”

Nathan would be absolutely right regarding him being a bit intimidating, but not about catching him on a bad day.

His voice changes, a lighter tone, less…stressed, comes forward, as he stands from behind his mountain of work. He’s tall, very tall-an aura of authority just radiating from him.

“I’m sorry to interrupt. I was sent from the Delaware office, I’m here to help.”

Washington walks around his desk, crossing the room to with a perplexed look on his face.

“That…today is the fourteenth…isn’t it?”

“So it would be, yes!”
You chirp, and Mr. Washington sighs deeply, a rumble of forced laughter following shortly after.

“I am so, so terribly sorry. I knew of this, I-you’re Miss y/n l/n.”

He extends his hand.

“y/n is just fine, but it really is a pleasure to get to work here, Mr. Washington.”

You watch the way his large hand envelops yours, handshake as firm as you’d imagined it be.

“You are very understanding, thank you y/n. I sincerely appreciate that,”

“Thank you! It’s my job to help in any way. Just send me wherever, and I’ll do what I can.”

The smile the man sends you makes the anxiety disappear from your stomach almost instantly.

“I would offer a tour, maybe introduce you to some of the office-but may I steal you for an hour or so? I’ve misplaced some papers and my phone won’t stop ringing. As I’m sure you’ve realized, I’ve also been nagged to death by Tallmadge about these charts from the tenth…”

When you left Delaware, the office was being dissolved and majorly merged with another office. For some reason, being the second receptionist wouldn’t fly at the new office, so you were sent to the smaller location that never really needed one.

But now, you can understand the need for it.

“Of course! Here, let me.”

Washington was shuffling through a stack of papers, mumbling about the tenth when you set your bag down on the chair in the corner.

“Paper pushing is my expertise. I can get all this organized, you work on anything else that needs to be done.”

Washington looks at you as if you’ve said something impossible.

“I can’t possibly ask you to organize this atrocity y/n, not on your first day, and especially not after I can’t even offer you a proper introduction to the company.”

“You look like you need a break from searching through papers.”

You walk over to stand next to him, swallowing a little thickly as you realize just how much taller he was than you. Nevertheless, you reach outwards, grabbing a stack and begin thumbing through the papers.

“Where have you been all this time? The Delaware branch must be so sorry to have lost you,”

Washington rumbles, and you can’t fight the twinge of sadness that pulls forth at the thought. Instead, you offer a laugh, neatly shuffling the papers before moving on to the next stack.

“Yeah…about that. Let’s just say, I’m very happy to be here. Extremely happy to help.”

As you catch the date of the tenth, you grab the packet by the staple and pull the papers out.

“Here you go, the data from the tenth for Tallmadge.”

Washington did nothing to mask his surprise.

You, in turn, watch the way his hand comes up to gently take the folder from you, thumbing it open, as if he just doesn’t quite believe you.

“My, y/n. If you’ve just saved me two hours of looking, alongside hours of Tallmagde’s droning, I could honestly be the happiest man alive.”

“Here to help.”

You reiterate, smile brimming as you glance up at him sparingly.

“I’ll get this all de-cluttered and organized. Please, you work on whatever has the most precedence.”

If anything, George knew that he and you would get along just fine. And, he would make sure that no one in this office abused the absolute gem of a personality that you possessed, because it seemed you were just so sweet for your own good.

“Maybe I can finally clean my desk…”

He turns, and you peek around him, finding once more the same manila folders filled with white sheets of printer paper.

“You get started, I’ll help.”

[a/n: I have had this so long in my drafts, and if anything, this could stand alone as a gwash fic if i never get back to it :) sorry again for the repeated intro. mwah.]

[pikminpediaart]

Buffet Times (2/6)

What felt like an hour later, Sarge was roused from his lull. Charlie had finished the massage by this point. Sarge realized he had started drooling and his tongue was hanging lazily out of his mouth. Coughing, he sat back up and wiped the drool from his chin. “Wow that was… incredible,” Sarge looked up, seeing Charlie was still there. “Where did you learn to do that?”   “Do you feel bloated?” Charlie asked, ignoring Sarge’s question.   “Huh? Oh…” Sarge looked down at his belly. He could see it was still distended, but strangely enough, he felt his stomach growl in hunger. “Wha…? How does that even work?” He pressed his hand against where his stomach was, expecting to feel a large bulge from all the food he’d eaten. To his confusion, the area felt soft.   “It’s almost magical, you could say,” Charlie chuckled. “Now, the Fat Man’s Eating Challenge is where you eat as much as you can. If you make it past twelve pounds of food, then you get our ‘Free-Meals-For-Life’ coupon, allowing you two free visits to our restaurant per week for one year per pound of food you’ve eaten.”   “Twelve pounds?” Sarge gasped, standing up. “What if I can’t do that? You saw me barely shovel away three and a half pounds!”   “I can give you that massage whenever you’d like,” Charlie suggested, leaning forward and placing a hand on Sarge’s belly. He shook his hand a bit, causing the belly to jostle with it for a few moments.   It was odd. Normally Sarge would be against having someone touch his belly without permission, but he couldn’t seem to refuse this unsolicited belly rub. He opened his mouth to protest, but no sound came out. He figured he needed to back away from the hand instead, but he felt his body leaning into the rub… as if it had a mind of its own.   “If you can’t reach twelve pounds, however, then we’ll keep you here until you do,” Charlie’s devious smile returned as he continued to rub Sarge’s belly. “Welcome to Grand Surprises.”   Sarge, again, tried to open his mouth in protest, but he found only a whimper came out.   “Now, run along, big guy. Seems you’ve got some plates to fill… and a plate to finish!” Charlie removed his hand from Sarge’s belly. Sarge found he could move again. He turned to face Charlie but found the man was already walking away.   “Wait, Charlie!” He called, causing Charlie to turn around. “What… what was all that about?”   Charlie tilted their head, seeming a bit confused. “What do you mean?”   “You had a devious smile and… and I couldn’t talk. And your belly rub made me all-”   “Oh!” Charlie’s eyes widened. “Where are my manners? I’m so sorry!” Hastily, Charlie walked back over to Sarge. “I apologize. Grand Surprises has a special each week for the buffet. This week, though, has been a bit slow. You’re the first customer we’ve had in all day.” Charlie patted Sarge’s shoulder. “You’re going to feel a little… dazed. That would be why you may have had trouble talking when I was rubbing your belly.”   As an example, Charlie placed his hand on Sarge’s belly again. Sarge felt that same inability to talk appear. When Charlie took his hand off Sarge’s belly, Sarge could talk again.   “That is… weird,” Sarge said, putting a hand to his throat. “Is that permanent?”   “Temporary. Should be over when you finish the Fat Man’s Eating Challenge!” Charlie patted Sarge’s shoulder before giving a dismissive wave. “Now, go eat your food! Since no one’s been around, feel free to take seconds, or thirds, or even more!”   “If I can even eat that much,” Sarge rolled his eyes before walking past Charlie and grabbing a few plates. Periodically, he looked down at his belly, wondering if he was still actually full or not. He wanted to say he was, but the smell of food was too tantalizing for him to think otherwise. Getting past his hesitation, Sarge decided to hit the world-wide cuisine again. He figured he could fill up the plates with more food and come back to finish his half-eaten plate as well. If he did this correctly… and if he could somehow stomach all the food, he could reach the twelve-pound goal… but why did he want it again?   Sarge thought about this as he sat down and ate. The food, again, made his mouth water. He easily finished the first plate and immediately began on the second plate. Thoughtfully, he spoke aloud, “I suppose it would be cool to have two free meals a week. I might not use it all, though. I want to keep my figure the way it is… but knowing there’s an interesting gimick every week sounds good. Plus, that would be twelve whole years if I DO hit that twelve pound mark.”   Sarge nodded as he finished his thought. He was ready to take another bite but stopped himself when he noticed his plates were… empty. If he was measuring his fullness in plates, this was around the time he’d be full – two and a half plates. Staring down at his belly, he could see it was distended out a little more than before. A whine came to his throat. Was his stomach size getting bigger? How?   He gritted his teeth and got to his feet again. A few prods into his belly let him know that there was food in it now. He could feel it. It felt heftier than it was before. Was the previous food still in there? How was that massage even working anyway? Did it cause the food to digest instantly? Sarge had so many questions, but he knew he wouldn’t get answers by standing around. If he wanted to find out the truth, he needed to get back to eating.   Sarge decided to head to the meat section. Though he wasn’t overly-fond of meat, he knew it would be rather weighty and help with that twelve-pound goal. Much like with the worldwide cuisine, Sarge took sample sizes of each food. There were steaks, chicken, ribs, meaty soups, even vegetarian meat options.   By the time Sarge got back to the table, he saw his previous plates were gone. This was good, as it gave him room to place down his three new plates of meat… there was a lot.   Taking a deep breath, Sarge began eating again. With each bite, he felt his mouth water. He felt he could fall in love with the savory tang of the ribs. But as he took a final bite, he stopped… feeling the all-too-familiar bloat from before.   “What? Seriously?” Sarge gasped out, pushing his chair back a bit so the table wouldn’t restrict his belly. He groaned, leaning back in his chair. His belly felt absolutely stuffed. Though there was that strange softness he felt from earlier, he could feel the firmness of an overstuffed stomach. He was just surprised how much food he could shovel down now. That massage was insanely good.   “Was it like… this?” Sarge asked himself, trying to mimic the motions he could remember feeling on his belly.   “It was more like this,” the sudden voice of Charlie chimed in. Sarge felt his hairs stand on end as his body tried to instinctively jerk away… but the hand on his belly left him paralyzed. He wanted to blurt out his disdains again, but he couldn’t say anything as the hands swept up and down his belly, slower now than before. The motions left that same mesmerizing sensation as they had previously done… and again, the sensations lasted for an hour before Sarge felt himself coming to again.   (Part 2 of 6)   Artwork/Story/Characters (C) Pikminpedia

[augustjustice]

"Black Comedy Post-Apocalyptic Rom-Com" I gotta know, what's the premise of this one??? The vibes will surely be good!! ^_^

@pizzaqueen​: Totally belated but has anyone asked about Black Comedy Post-Apocalyptic Rom-Com for the WIP game??

Thank you both so much for the ask! I'm excited this one sounds intriguing, even though my word doc is woefully unfleshed out at this point lol. The basic premise of the concept for this fic is that it's set immediately post-Stranger Things Season 4 where Hawkins is basically entering Hell/the Upside Down is encroaching onto the Right Side Up, but...the few citizens of Hawkins left behind are making an attempt to get on like things are business as usual while our plucky band of intrepid heroes have taken up monster slaying on the daily. As you can tell from the doc title, there would definitely be a romance between Steve and Eddie (with some side Robin/Nancy) and the vibes would be very geared toward the mundanity of muddling through an apocalypse while also dealing with silly teenage problems. So, like...Eddie was resurrected after dying in the Upside Down and became a vampire, but he still has to deal with going to school and trying to finally graduate. The older teens decide to ACTUALLY go to prom, and since Hawkins is a ghost town and the dance has paltry attendance of the remaining members of the graduating class they figure, what the hell? And despite it being the 1980s actually openly dance with their real date instead of just acting as each other’s beards all night, that kind of thing. I would mostly just want to focus on the small things in life even during the worst times, with an emphasis on finding the silliness and humor (and romance) in that.

And a snippet to give a sense of what that might sort of look like:

“Eddie spent the night,” Steve says, the casualness of his tone giving way to a grunt as he swings and lands a blow to one of the pack of feral demo–cats? It’s about the size of a cat, at least, and that weird noise it’s making kind of sounds close to a hiss, though who could really tell at this point–that have invaded Mrs. Peterson’s backyard.

Robin just hopes they at least weren’t, like, raccoons, before this. Her fear of rabies is alive and well, and the possibility of getting Upside Down guts all over the ratty jeans that have become her designated monster-hunting pants is not only possible, but inevitable.

“Okay, are we talking spent the night as in…guy time sleepover spent the night, or, you know, spent the night?” Robin laces the words with insinuation, shooting Steve a pointed look, eyebrows raised.

Steve lets out a frustrated huff, running a hand through his hair. Robin doesn’t have the heart to tell him he’s wiped a small streak of black demo-cat whatever viscera right down the middle of his famous ‘do.

He’ll see it later. It’s not like they won’t head straight back to the Harrington house to shower after this.

“I don’t know?” Steve admits.

“What do you mean you don’t know?” Robin demands, the words undercut by an exasperated laugh.

“Don’t give me that look,” Steve levels the bat at her, pointing it accusingly, “it’s hard, okay, and after I listened to you talk about Vickie for months, you’d think I could get a little solidar–behind you!”

Robin spins around just in time, making a critical hit with the shovel in her hand. Despite her natural lack of coordination, her aim’s getting better all the time.

…The fact that Nancy’s been giving her some private pointers certainly doesn’t hurt.

She turns back to Steve expectantly, picking the thread of their conversation right back up again.

“Okay, well, what happened, exactly?”

“I mean, that’s the thing. Nothing happened, not really. Eddie came over, we smoked a little–it doesn’t do as much for him now, what with the enhanced vampire whatever–and then we just…talked. You know he can’t really sleep anymore, so when I finally drifted off, he, uh…he just kinda stuck around and…held me. He was still there when I woke up this morning.”

Robin’s eyes widen, and Steve ducks his head to avoid her gaze.

“I don’t know, Steve, that sounds pretty romantic to me,” she sing-songs the pretty, putting emphasis on the t as she rolls the word around in her mouth.

“Okay, sure, when you look at it from a certain angle, it totally does. But, then again, it wasn’t anything you and I wouldn’t have done, you know? So I can’t tell if he was cuddling me in, like, a friend way, or–”

“A boyfriend way?” Robin supplies helpfully, grinning wide when the question makes his cheek’s flush.

Steve is momentarily distracted by a screech near his ankle, which he silences with a definitive, bone-crunching thud.

“I mean…” he ignores her interjection, gesturing big and wide, bat wobbling in one hand, “you get what I’m saying though, right? Am I making sense?”

“No less than usual when it comes to your love life,” Robin quips, and gets a nose-scrunching, sour look from Steve for her trouble.

[spidersfanfics]

I Always Did Like True Crime

Reader x Actor Mark | Actor Mark is an Asshole | Time Loop Bullshit

Mild content warning:  This is an x reader, technically. But it's not a particularly happy one. And while Actor isn't technically abusive per se, he is, at the very least, overly controlling. And he lashes out quite a bit at the end. So if that's going to upset you, maybe sit this one out. Sorry ^-^;

Also,  I am aware that it has been confirmed that Engineer Mark from ISWM is NOT Actor Mark (And by extension, Heist Mark might not be either?) However, this half-baked idea of a fic was created before that stream happened and I wanted to reference all 3 CYOA projects Mark has made. So there you go.

You click the link and start scrolling somewhat absentmindedly as you shovel a spoonful of cereal into your mouth. Your boyfriend takes advantage of your distraction to surprise you with a kiss on the cheek as he leans over your shoulder. He glances at your phone while he pulls away and raises an eyebrow. “What are you reading?”

“Some unsolved case article my friend sent me,” you shrug, “You know how they are with supernatural stuff though, so who knows if it’s real.”

He chuckles, “I always did like true crime, what’s it about?”

You skim through the article a little more and do your best to paraphrase. “A mysterious dinner party was hosted at some old mansion. Four people entered, none ever came back. Well, more than four I guess if you count the staff but nobody ever counts the staff.”

“No, of course not,” he agrees, matching your sarcastic tone with a scoff. “Was it murder or something?”

“Well that’s the weird part,” you clarify, “No bodies were ever found either. It’s like they all just… disappeared. There have been alleged sightings over the years but nothing concrete. And they certainly never went back to their old lives.”

“I- wait what?”

You sense him freeze up behind you but think nothing of it. He’s always had a flair for the dramatic after all. “Yeah, weird right? I mean, I don’t believe in ghosts but that’s a fun story for sure.” You notice a detail of the article and laugh, “Funnily enough though, it seems that one of the guests was a renowned detective himself. If only he could solve his own case, right?”

“Ha, if only,” your boyfriend agrees, “This is a bit of a morbid topic for breakfast though, wouldn’t you say? Let’s talk about something else.”

You click the link and start scrolling somewhat absentmindedly as you push your waffle around with a fork. Your boyfriend glances at your phone as he leans over your shoulder and raises an eyebrow. “What are you reading?”

“Some unsolved case article my friend sent me,” you shrug, “Who knows if it’s real.”

He chuckles, “I always did like true crime, what’s it about?”

You skim through the article a little more and do your best to paraphrase. “A mysterious dinner party was hosted at some old mansion. Four people entered, none ever came back.”

“Was it murder or something?”

“Well that’s the weird part,” you clarify, “No bodies were ever found either. It’s like they all just… disappeared.”

You sense him freeze up behind you but think nothing of it. He’s always had a flair for the dramatic after all. “Weird right? And can you believe one of the missing people was the mayor at the time?”

Your boyfriend clears his throat awkwardly, “Mayor of where, did you say?”

“Uhh…” you skim back over the article a second time to try and find the detail but strangely enough come up empty. “Huh, it actually doesn’t say,” you mumble curiously, “So much for credibility right?”

“Right...” He doesn’t sound so sure.

“But if that’s true at all that’s pretty crazy,” You ignore the unease that’s begun to set in and try to break tension with a joke. “Could you imagine such an important person just up and disappearing overnight? What did his city even do at that point?”

Rather than respond to you however, you find your boyfriend muttering something to himself. A distant look in his eyes. You can’t quite catch all the words but he seems upset. What you do hear sounds like “Important… Damien.”

You furrow your brow in confusion, “Did you say something?”

His eyes snap towards you and he smiles sheepishly, “Nothing, honey. Why don’t you pass me that plate over there.”

***

“What are you reading?”

“Some unsolved case article my friend sent me,” you shrug.

Your boyfriend chuckles though it sounds a little forced. “Ah, true crime. Let me guess. The one about the mysterious dinner party hosted at an old mansion? They never did figure out what happened to those guests, right?”

You blink, startled. “How did you know? That’s exactly it.”

“I saw the same article this morning,” he explains as he ladles a bowl of oatmeal for the both of you. “I thought I recognized those images.”

You accept this with a shrug and dig into your breakfast. “Well yeah, then what do you think about the theories? From what I’m reading, people thought it might be some sort of publicity stunt at first. One of the guests that night was apparently some big game hunter known for being pretty eccentric.”

He sits down across from you and shakes his head, “People really will believe anything, huh? What does hunting have to do with anything?”

“Beats me. Faking your own death at a dinner party doesn’t exactly make a lot of sense,” you agree, “But I guess jumping to the worst conclusion isn’t great either so… sure. I can see how some people might have thought that at first.”

Your boyfriend muses on this, “He must have been quite the madman.”

“I guess…” you frown as a memory fights its way to the forefront of your mind and you reread the article quickly. “Hey, they actually have his name here. Wilford Warfstache. Does that name sound familiar to you? I feel like I’ve seen it before somewhere but I can’t place where.”

“Ah, Wilford…” he trails off with a thoughtful expression. Mixed with something else you can’t quite place… Hurt? Anger? He speaks up again though it’s not quite directed at you, “That sort of attention seeking stunt seems just the sort of thing he’d pull, I can see why people might have assumed that at first. Lying, backstabber that he is.”

Your eyes widen at the aggression in his voice as he finished that last sentence. “Woah hey,” you say nervously, “What are you talking about? Do you know this guy or something?”

He looks up at you suddenly as if he’d forgotten that you were there. A familiar smile spreads across his face as he hurries to reassure you. “Sorry, no,” he says quickly, “I uhh, read about him in a news article once. Seems he wasn’t a great guy. Selfish assholes like that just piss me off. But let’s not start the day off angry, my dear.”

***

“True crime.”

“Yes exactly,” you gesture wildly to your boyfriend in between bites of your fruit and yogurt. “But the rabbit hole goes deeper than that. You see, one of the guests had a sister. And apparently she went missing too at almost the exact same time.”

He frowns, “You don’t say…”

You lean in eagerly, your eyes wide with excitement, “Yeah seriously. Apparently whoever realized everyone went missing tried to contact her about her brother’s death and just. Nothing.”

You wait for him to react but strangely enough, your boyfriend was no longer listening. “If only she hadn’t shown up…” he mutters to himself, his voice low enough that you have to really strain to hear him. The few words you do catch are concerning, “Uninvited… who does that…”

With a sigh of annoyance, you tap the table next to his arm to get his attention, “Babe, you’re mumbling again. Speak up.”

But even that isn’t enough to snap him out of it. His muttering continues, growing ever more frantic as he goes on. “Celine didn’t have to die… meddling in things that don’t concern her… ruined my life…” Truth be told it was starting to scare you.

You lean further forward to grab him by the arm and he turns to you with a jolt. “Hey are you okay?” you ask with a worried expression.

He shakes you off and laughs a little sheepishly, “Peachy, darling. I think I’m going to brew some coffee to go with breakfast, do you want any?”

***

“Amongst the missing was actually the host of the dinner party himself.”

“Really.”

“Yeah, Mark Iplier? Ha, he shares your name. You know I always thought your last name was rather unique,” you laugh. “Apparently he was some big name actor at one point but I’ll be honest I’m terrible at remembering celebrities-” A loud bang interrupts you and you flinch as Mark slams his palms against the table. Cutlery rattles on the table and your breakfast shakes at the impact.

“Dammit!” He shouts and you shrink away from him, stunned by the sudden burst of anger. He bangs on the table again and growls in frustration, “Dammit! Why won’t you just play your role like a good partner and stop trying to remember?”

Well that’s concerning. “What?”

“Shut up about Abe and Wil!” he plows forward like he doesn’t even hear you. “I get it! I lost track of them and that was stupid of me but no need to rub it in my face, okay?” His breath is starting to come in bursts now, fast and short. He rears back to grab his face and stumbles a little as he squeezes his eyes closed, “Shut up about Damien and Celine too, those selfish stupid- Dammit!”

You swallow our fear and scramble to his side. “Mark? Mark you’re scaring me I-” you’re grabbing at his arms to try and calm him down when something hits you, “Why do those names all sound familiar?”

Mark takes advantage of your moment of hesitation to shake you off. He whirls around and glares up at the ceiling as if trying to communicate to some higher power. “Is this your doing, Warfstache?” he demanded to nobody and jabbed an accusatory finger upwards. “Are you here to steal another from me? Well you can’t have them! Not this time!” You swear the house shakes in response and you feel a jolt up your spine.

“They’re the only one without blood on their hands and you can’t have them!” You suppose he’s talking about you. His voice breaks and he’s starting to cry but you barely even notice.

At this point you’re reeling too as memories start to flood your mind. Memories you couldn’t place and weren’t aware you’d ever lost. “Five… There were five in that house, weren’t there?” With each word you speak, the world seems to crack a little more. It was all coming back to you now. “I was there… you were there. Holy shit, Mark. What have you done?”

“I gave her everything!” Mark shoots back, finally turning all his focus on you. “And then I did it again for you.” Tears stream down his face, more from anger than sadness you think. And either your eyes are playing tricks on you or he’s starting to flicker. “I did the date and you didn’t care,” he said as he suddenly became dressed in a well fitted gray suit and red tie. The walls are now more void than physical form.

Then he’s in an all black outfit that you could have sworn you’d seen in various news articles regarding museum robberies. “So I did the bonding and you just kept trying to run away from me.” And finally he appears to be dressed in… a space suit? Before finally settling back into his normal appearance, “So I did the looping and told you exactly what path to go down and here you still are screwing things up.”

You yourself might as well be tearing at the seams. Right along with the rest of the house. Mark reaches his hands out, grasping at air and begging you to take them. “Why is it not enough? Why won’t you just shut up and love me?”

The world explodes into glass and your vision goes black.

***

You click the link and start scrolling somewhat absentmindedly as you shovel a spoonful of cereal into your mouth. Your boyfriend takes advantage of your distraction to surprise you with a kiss on the cheek as he leans over your shoulder. He glances at your phone while he pulls away and raises an eyebrow. “What are you doing?”

“Oh, just watching whatever on youtube. You ready to eat?”

[strangesoulmates]

So I see your mention of Yassen/Alex/Yasha and I'm sure it will come as a surprise, but this is something I find myself very interested in. Please tell me more about how you might do Yassen/Alex/Yasha (in this AU or others!) Which version(s) of Yassen/Yasha would you go with? Which two do you think would get together first, or would they all get together at the same time? Would John be alive, and if so, how would he react to all of these things?

(Feel free to ignore any of these questions/share whichever thoughts about Yassen/Alex/Yasha you'd like!)

yeah, so I guess that this wouldn't technically be Yassen/Alex/Yasha as much as it would be Yassen/Alex/bb!Yassen.

I was imagining that it would be bb!Yassen/Alex first and then Yassen later, but the comments about Yassen helping bb!Yassen flirt has me wondering if that might end up in a "bros practicing kissing on each other" kind of vibes. Like, Yassen giving baby him seduction lessons to use on Alex. and it starts out all about Alex and like, Yassen wanting to get bb!Yassen to the point where he can be good for Alex (since, you know, he doesn't think Alex would ever even look at him given their history) but then, you know, they both probably start getting a little bit into it eventually. Don't see them really crossing the rubicon without Alex being like "you know what would be hot?" (which, while he does think is true, I think is mostly just trying to, you know, deal with the weird sexual tension they're having since it's clear neither of them is going to do anything about it otherwise).

John is still alive, and like, at first, NOT PLEASED. Again, while he isn't as obvious about it as baby Yassen, by like, trained assassin standards he is fucking OBVIOUS. Especially when its clear that Alex is now absolutely Yassen's first priority and he can (and will) let John die if it means Alex will exist. And then Alex has the gall to go ahead and enthrall his apprentice in the present as well. (when John points out that this is changing the past, Yassen just shrugs and is like, "I'm not changing anything I'm just giving him a head start")

But like, also, I'm pretty sure John can't help but like the kid, and there's very much a sense of "this is clearly my grand-apprentice" and he ends up liking Alex in spite of himself. Also, Alex appears to be on board team change the future, which at that point is probably John's goal, since he can figure things out based on what yassen is like, refusing to tell him and do.

And then he finds out Alex is related to him and I imagine that nephew and apprentice is probably acceptable in terms of like, level of relationship, and he tries to figure out how to give a double shovel talk. And then when he finds out alex is his kid? I think he pivots to like, being absolutely team "we aren't changing ANYTHING" and like, while he's happy Alex will have Yassen to look after him there's probably a little bit of judgment. But mostly being glad that Alex has someone to look out for him. And giving baby yassen ALL the lessons to protect Alex better in the future. And then trying to get future Yassen and Alex bcak where they belong.

Alex has...different plans. And with bb!Yassen helping him, uh, the "adults" don't really have a chance.

And I promise that this is much less cracky than it sounds, but like, still fun.

[isaacapatow]

* * #laundromat convo with @mayrarcjas

ike: -sidles closer to cass and penny -

Penny: -eyes isaac closely- Cass: -tugs Penny's arm and moves away, leaving Jake alone with him-

ike: dammit. they always have food on 'em. anybody else holding?

mayra: depends on what you want

ike: oh, you know me. i'm easy.

Cass: You can say that again

ike: -blows a kiss at her-

Cass: -dodges-

mayra: i thought that was my reputation? -snickers- i have a snack pack of peanuts

ike: gimme gimme. -cosies up next to mayra for peanuts like birds do-

mayra: -pulls out peanuts from bag- you don't need me to momma bird them to you do i? 'cause i know we're close but not that close

ike: not unless that's your thing, honeytail.

mayra: no, thanks. -hands bag over- okay, you gotta tell me. what's the honeytail nickname for?

Jake: Since I suddenly feel like I'm intruding, I'll leave you guys to your peanuts! -collects his clean laundry from the dryer and heads out-

ike: -greedily accepting the peanuts, shrugging- what's any nickname for? you seem like a honeytail. i … could elaborate on that but probably not here.

mayra: too pg-13 rated? -smirks-

ike: Heh. No, listen -- I thought it was a bird. Isn't it? There's gotta be some bird called honeytail. Since there's any number of tits.

Cass: I dunno, I'm with Jake. Why am I still watching this? Wanna go, Penny? Penny: do you even have to ask? Cass: We out. -feigns a mic drop even though she hasn't said anything remotely cool-

mayra: do i look like i spend my days watching and learning about birds?

ike: maybe. you're into all that meditation and mindfulness.

mayra: which has to do with an individuals self, not birds. only birds i deal with are the ones Salem brings to me as a gift.

ike: yikes. that cat of yours is a menace. plus she doesn't like me for some reason. but i'll win her over, just you wait and see.

mayra: you can start by getting it's gender right. salem is a he. and he probably isn't a fan of how massive you are. my other kitty is a fan. and that's the one that matters.

ike: -snickers, bumping against her with his hip- that IS the one that matters. anyhow all cats are girls. didn't you believe that as a kid? all cats are girls, and all dogs are boys. maybe i'm just stunted and never got past that.

mayra: my parents were too busy trying to make me the next einstein than teaching me silly things like that. plus, that might be your age showing.

ike: maybe. -shakes the packet of peanuts at her to offer her some- your parents had the wrong idea. you're brilliant in a whole different direction than einstein.

mayra: -holds out hand- well, thank you. i guess i can finally have the recognition i deserve from a different type of daddy.

ike: -groans softly- come on, i didn't deserve that.

mayra: oh? so should i not call you daddy during anymore? -smirks-

ike: you can if you want. but you know that wasn't what i was talking about.

mayra: and you should know, i wasn't talking about that either. -puts hand on his arm- how is it having ember here?

ike: weird. -leans a bit into her touch- i'm not qualified to be anybody's father. if i was, i woulda stuck around when she was little. but it's not like i can … un-be her dad.

mayra: sure you can. -shrugs- blood doesn't exactly make you family. at least, that's what i've learned. but this new world is all about starting over, right? no better time than the present.

ike: yeaaaaaaaah. -slings an arm around her to give her a squeeze and then gives her the rest of the peanuts- i'll figure it out. i just hope i don't fuck her up more in the process. were you close with your folks, when they weren't shoveling you into big brain classes?

mayra: are you truly a parent if you don't fuck up your kid? -leans into him and takes the peanuts, popping a few in her mouth- i wouldn't say close, persay. are we really going to talk about parents?

ike: i wanna know. i mean, if you wanna tell me. the whole, uh… -twirls his fingers- 'einstein' thing sounded like it was pretty rough.

mayra: -she sighs- my dad was the pediatric neurosurgeon at the children's hospital of philadelphia and my mom owned the biggest marketing company of the northeast region, meaning their child had to be something. i was playing piano without sheet music by the time i was four.

ike: -stops chewing, then swallows hard and leans back to look down at her with his eyebrows raised- sheeeeee-it. you weren't kidding about being expected to be a genius. so they wanted you to go into medicine? business? tchaikovsky?

mayra: -chuckles- they wanted me to work for nasa but i chose a different route. call it the first time i rebelled. i went to MIT for environmental health engineering but ended up leaving …

ike: i didn't know i was in bed with a goddamn genius this whole time. nasa?? that's outta this world. -snorts at his own joke, but subsides at her trail-off sentence- that one didn't work out for you, huh. engineering at mit.

mayra: it's amazing what people can hide, huh? -shrugs & pulls out from under his arm- let's go. it's getting stuffy in here. plus i got a cat to attend to.

ike: ohhhh-kay. whatever you want, honeytail. -trots out with her, reeling her in gently with his arm around her shoulders as they go and completely forgetting his own laundry-

[stinkybreath]

I’m proud of how this turned out so I’m crossposting from fb but I respect you so I’m putting it under the cut. Here’s 5 of the absolute worst bullshit I put myself through consuming in 2023 in my lifelong pursuit of cultural literacy. Individual explanations underneath each for those who are interested in me being a hater 🫶

I have tried really hard to develop my critical perspective this year so I do have actual thoughts about these but I did me best to make them entertaining as well.

The Stand - This year I embarked on an effort to read more Stephen King because I really like the Ranged Touch guys and I wanted to better engage with their show Just King Things. I read Carrie first (more on that in another post), which really set me up for such monumental disappointment when it came to this fucking book. Jesus Christ. I have scarcely read a better selling or more beloved work of popular fiction, and I have also separately scarcely read a more offensive and poorly constructed work of popular fiction. I don’t even know how to begin addressing the headache it gave me, but I was pissed off almost the entire time I read it. Caveat here that, like everyone else, I did love the “no great loss” section both on its own merits and as a cute little Vonnegut nod.

Goodnight Beautiful - I read a lot of shitty thrillers because they get miscategorized as horror very commonly- and while I don’t think genre boundaries are hard and fast I do think that these are very distinct groups- but they’re almost as satisfying so I guess I’ll take it while I’m here. But my lord. This is one of the shittiest shitty thrillers I’ve ever managed to make myself finish. I have brain problems that make it difficult for me to distinguish between characters when there’s a lot of action or time weirdness or whatever whatever, but based on reviews that I trust, it was so poorly done that even normal people couldn’t follow what was happening until the author took the reader by the hand and shoveled the answers directly into their mouth.

Stolen Tongues - for YEARS I’ve been hearing people rave about how unique and effective and just good this book is. My experience, however…

1)author can’t turn a phrase to save their life *vine boom*

2) this has such an extended ‘nlog breasting boobily’ description of the girlfriend that I think I literally gagged *vine boom*

3) racist. *vine boom vine boom vine boom*

No One Is Talking About This - one of my biggest pet peeves is the way most people (authors, journalists, thought leaders, your parents, congresspeople) talk about the internet. It is broad, with both the lack of specificity and the extremity that implies. The way someone talks about the internet can tell you so much about their perspective that they must not know how revealing it is or they’d be more embarrassed about how they sound (again, more on this in another post). This book is a great example- it’s inauthentic to the core. There are some readers who clearly interpreted this as funny glibness but the particular way Lockwood takes internet haterism ad absurdum lets me know she’s never had one single internet argument with someone. It pissed me off so royally that I nearly sent this author an email except I’m not convinced she understands how to open those.

The Vile Thing We Created - the only book on this list that I did not finish and yet felt qualified to speak on anyway. Suckered again by booktok! There was sufficient hype for this book that I let myself get excited, I even spent a few of my actual dollars to get the ebook for convenience. I am really enthusiastic about engaging with themes of the horror of parenthood, good or bad, because I find them an interesting reflection of social ideas about parents. However. Let me just excerpt some of this dreck so you can feel the full force of the normie milennial local cringe that is baked in to every sentence:

Lola was elbow-deep in her fifteenth batch of macaron batter for that week. Spring orders were in full swing, as were an ocean of orders for baby shower treats. It never failed. She never refused the business. Quite the opposite. Macarons meant time. Time meant money. She easily brought in an extra twelve-hundred dollars a week during baby shower season. Music floated into the kitchen from the living room record player. Depending on her mood, Lola’s extensive vinyl collection met her every need. While baking, she usually threw on some David Bowie, Foreigner, something along those dramatically-opposite lines. Today, Louis Armstrong’s “A Lot of Livin’ to Do” danced in the air, trumpet notes accompanying Lola’s bopping around the kitchen.

……….yeah. You can see why I ragequit at 15%. It’s also really fucking weird about the dialogue of the black characters.

[the-firebird69]

Watch "Uncle Buck Birthday Pancake" on YouTube

You started laughing he did because our son said you can make it edible and you can have a party and you decide to have a party when you call it a birthday cake he said it's one of their birthdays and they allowed it and it's really the math it's a hassle and then he told him the secret they're going to try and make the restaurant and this is the Uncle Buck and it's a family pancake and you each take a piece like a cake and salad a long time ago it was served that way and nowhere near that big but to families it was around 12 in that was for breakfast it's going to happen and they knew about it explain the story about one of our giant king was seen with a huge thing of pancakes and the children side and they were thinking who's that for and who saw they wanted some so bad he sat down and said we each take a piece and it cut it up and it is a tradition with her children. Any felt so happy he started cursing them out a little and said so you can get big so they ate a huge amount of it like half of it and said where's everybody else they came in and started eating it and he told the story you tried to find the name for it it's a feast they look pancake feast up in Norway and came out and it made it very fun at the pancake House my son said we should call it that and everybody can share to Norwegian story while they're at the table it'll be written on the napkin holder at a paper and when you have a birthday party they'll make a special one called Uncle Buck although we have a special name for it who put the special name for the big birthday cake and it is big and Uncle Buck next to it as the American name and the first one I guess the American name would be the John Candy cuz he invented it and we can't take it away from him it's like 35 inches across the 8"s high. And yeah adults will have a lot of it cuz at night they have those kind of pancakes it's party style with beer and a certain beer it's kind of sweet and a cinnamon is to reduce inflammation and boy the phone's off the hook they want the place opened and Uncle Buck we'll have to tell people how he did it cuz it's hard to cook it evenly and flip it right into line it up and to find the right shovel

Thor Freya

You think they're full of crap but they're not the guys and I are talking about it now they see it and say oh and Norwegian name they want to do it and the story brings cheers to people's eyes because of what these clones did and they messed everything up and the way out there and don't understand what the hell they're talking about even if they're succeeding and we have to stop them. It's a wonderful story and I remember it now and there's a specific name and it's fun. I like the idea of a shovel they don't really have a specials that big it's so damn big I almost wrecked everything in the kitchen cuz we filmed it already I'm bumping into things behind me and up top trying to flip it and finally I figured out how to do it you take the thing up and you flipping around and you hold it and it takes a little fall off so you can bring it down and it falls right onto the griddle it is technique and certain amount of oil in a certain amount of batter and certain amount of water I'll tell you what this is making me happy it's skill that I use people are trying to figure out how the hell I would and our friend says probably for making hamburgers and that's one way but no I make big pancakes that are 10 in so I just use the same technique and made it bigger. And what's going to happen is we're going to have a cook-off but really I'm going to be one of the famous chefs I want to get this going it sounds like so much fun and big cup of Joe and Joe's huge I can't miss out on this cuz it's a coffee company and I know about it I think we should probably try and get something going and they say no he says and they say two me as John Candy and what's weird is my character affects people differently and I'm smart and witty I make a lot of money and do things that aren't great but they're more friendly with me and I agree same with Aaron Mike but boy this would be great and he says he wants it up and operational by next July that's his birthday month and other people are saying it too I think we should do this and what he says is you take a small sit down and eatery in California although they're advancing I guess that's probably not great that's true he says on the seaside they're probably not too busy oh the wicked busy so in New Zealand for example Oceanside places are really busy but inlands are not and it's actually true but they need a lot of carbs tons of carbs and Tommy Allen was doing it up in the woods and it can be done like that too in cabins where you're working and I'm going to start doing it hey boy this is a fun pancake to make you haven't lived until you made one of these and they make them these are Norwegian people I've never seen one that big but I've seen one two for the cross and that's humongous it's like a very large round cake it's it is huge I suddenly get this idea they're always big and they always make things that big and big Joe would eat a stack of 8 or 10 in like five or six of them quite easily and he says it's true probably 10 at 10 in and his grandson says I don't think so and Preston says you're lying it's five or so at 10 inch but he eats them all and yeah that guy can put it away and his grandson candy the lately is not eating as much and he's smaller than his grandpa but he's not eating as much trying to lose some of the fat he didn't start growing like Superman not flying and I have to get this restaurant going there's a way to do it and it says with Norwegian people so he's wondering in Norway it's kind of tough we have something that's kind of neutral it's like Switzerland without the steadiness and have the guys help me and have them invest a little they say they like to do that very much and also it's a different pancakes like he said and they have that in Norway healthy ones real healthy the ones with real maple syrup and real honey and fruit and all sorts of things you wouldn't imagine like chocolate and beer for trying out loud so test it out there now people go out there and we'll see what they like so I'm going to put that together

John Candy

You want to do this and it's relatively harmless and it's a good idea and it's for a new coffee later on too I guess we have to work out what the deal is and you're going on it what it says is I'm going to be the new Frankie lupena right wrong or indifferent is what he says Ken says and John Candy he used to manage things and he'll find it therapeutic and there's other stuff attached to it and we know about that so we're going to kind of get going on this that sounds like fun

Big Joe

I want to find a thing to do and I know what to do is get involved it's a great idea and you need a bunch of picnic tables and they have a whole bunch of them down there we're thinking it's kind of like near Bavaria and they serve that kind of thing but it's been a custom that's kind of falling out but now people need it they just cannot eat enough and they're starting to eat again those oxygen is returning we're getting up to it now so it's a good time and the coffee is a great idea I mean the big huge cup of coffee in a big huge mug and selling giant travel models it sounds like a lot of fun it's a great idea and we were so bored at that place and we started making these big huge pancakes and we did not remember that it was so huge it's gigantic and I remembered our customer and we remembered our history and our customs and it was wonderful we started saying we used to make them really big those are pretty big probably as big as we did no those are a foot bigger I mean those are gigantic and these two are making them 12 in Justin and our friend here our grandson in the same bigger and hear them saying we don't have anything big enough to make them on and I started laughing this is not really happening

Preston

I've had enough fun for a day no I want to go ahead and do this it sounds like a lot of fun and have to have like a real beer and they still make them out there and you can get them they cost a bunch of money and girls is not one of them and we have a German beer out there someone said so they can try and hook it up and be at least expensive but boy what a great idea I want them to get it so I can go there we have several things to go up there for and they're urgent

Mac

So I'm going to whip out the shovel and practice. He says don't do it unless you're at a party and people are coming to snack and stuff and I said that's a great idea and honey would be good but separate from the actual maple syrup and I think whole foods has maple syrup and actually do and ask him where they were and he says it so I'm going to get some of that or have someone get it this is a great idea I might even put some Nutella in there since the easier thing to do and it really is this is awesome that's going to be great

John Candy

Can I go probably not they'll mail me a pancake

Steve Martin

I think we're going to have to get up there now starting to get hungry

Mac

Olympus