#admin: *blue screens*

[rook-hunt-chasseur-damour]

Get in loser we’re going shopping‼️‼️

Where to ^^

[accessible-tumbling]

Do you recommend using “Image description” for GIFs, or should I use something else? Should I specify it’s a GIF in the ID?

I personally use 'ID' and then specify that it's a GIF in the description.

[yournightmary]

Streamer!Ellie HCs

content warning:: fem!reader, modern!AU, mentions of getting hurt

AN:: Another headcannons, who would’ve thought? Streamer!Ellie was literally the reason I started writing. Enjoy :)

⇢ ˗ˏˋ streamer!Ellie who started streaming as a joke. Jesse was already a streamer and he constantly said she’d be good at it, so why not?

⇢ ˗ˏˋ streamer!Ellie who at first had such a shitty setup. No webcam, mic barely working and her PC couldn’t handle minecraft with shaders.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ streamer!Ellie who randomly went from 30 viewers average to almost 10k one day. Just blew up overnight.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ streamer!Ellie who gets canceled at least once a week. She just says dumb shit without thinking and has to apologize after. and people are just fucking weird.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ streamer!Ellie who lives off of snacks and won’t eat a proper meal if you don’t cook anything. She’s just always on that grind😎🔥

⇢ ˗ˏˋ streamer!Ellie who’s entire personality on camera is just a character. Screams and throws herself off of her chair on camera but goes non verbal every time she’s in private.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ streamer!Ellie who mostly streams games, especially minecraft & fortnite. She might make an irl stream once in a blue moon, but don’t expect it to be good.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ streamer!Ellie who loves her community and wants to talk to them more often but always ends up swearing and arguing with random people in chat.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ streamer!Ellie who gets copyright strikes and warnings from twitch admins almost every stream. Most of the times she doesn’t even know what she did wrong.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ streamer!Ellie who keeps your relationship a secret. She’s scared you’d get a ton of hate. (You would) ((Streamer fanbases are awful))

⇢ ˗ˏˋ streamer!Ellie who buys the most random things she can ‚for the lulz’. Whether it’s for her streaming room or bedsheets, she’s buying the weirdest option. (This made me think of her)



⇢ ˗ˏˋ streamer!Ellie who is definitely a hey mamas girl.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ streamer!Ellie who majorly fucked up and showed her personal instagram account (with your pictures) by accident. Her following went up by 10k almost instantly and she ended up deleting it:/

⇢ ˗ˏˋ streamer!Ellie who after that mistake took a hiatus for almost 3 weeks. I mean- logged out of every account she had and didn’t check any socials for that time.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ streamer!Ellie who came back to streaming thinking she’d get all the hate in the world but people were just joking that ‚she’s too much of a loser to have a pretty girlfriend’.

they were also surprised she was lesbian. She never talked about her private life on stream, not even once.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ In my mind she’s the female version of 2019/2020 Quackity. Is he still relevant? idk

⇢ ˗ˏˋ streamer!Ellie who jokes about selling feet pics and bath water a little too often for your liking.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ streamer!Ellie who once did a handstand for a 100 bucks. Ended up breaking her arm in two places and she couldn’t play games for almost two months.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ streamer!Ellie who gets hurt on stream so often she got flagged for self harm. Apologized on twitter though:)

⇢ ˗ˏˋ streamer!Ellie who definitely thinks loud=funny.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ streamer!Ellie who finds out she’s in some kind of drama every single time she opens twitter. It’s always for something stupid too, like saying she’d win in a fight against some random streamer and their fanbase gets pissed.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ streamer!Ellie who feels bad about having nice things so she just buys you a ton of gifts. Gotta spend that streamer money somehow🤑

⇢ ˗ˏˋ streamer!Ellie who showed you on stream once and the chat went crazy. People made edits of the 10 seconds you were on screen. Ellie watched all of them.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ streamer!Ellie who streams cutting her hair every few months. She says ‚she’s cooking’ while chat drags her through mud.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ streamer!Ellie who streams so much she started saying ‚chat’ in real life, even when she’s alone. Always gets embarrassed about it and apologizes.

Can you tell I was a dsmp kid during quarantine?

[euniexenoblade]

my heart goes out to all the robot girls effected by the crowdstrike issue. maybe now you'll give admin privileges over to someone else so we can install a better os and antivirus on you. with me you'd never blue screen except when i'm torturing you by turning off your cumming privileges :)

[mawofthemagnetar]

TFC’s Completely Normal Afternoon Where Nothing Goes Wrong And Nobody Dies Horribly

(shoutout to @lindentree for inspiring this silly fic!)

TFC sat in his little bachelor pad, coffee in hand, watching the steam rise out of his mug. 

It was a nice mug, all things considered. A gift from the other Hermits. A handmade blue thing, turned on a potter’s wheel, with an extra-large handle to give his old hands a break sometimes. Full of coffee from his ancient coffee machine, that gurgled and growled like a jackhammer being waterboarded.

TFC took a sip, and winced. Okay, so maybe it was time to leave the mine and get more coffee. He’d re-used the grounds for the fourth time, and now it was really starting to get properly bitter. 

He drummed his fingers on his glass-top table, listening to the echo against the cold stone walls of his little antechamber. Maybe he’d decorate the walls at some point soon. 

TFC shrugged, and opened his comm. Hopefully one of the other Hermits had some coffee beans. He wiped the stone dust off his screen, and held down the three buttons to switch it on. Yes, he kept his comm strapped to his arm like almost every other player with some semblance of sense. No, he refused to let the damn thing be awake for any longer than it needed to be. The Hermits were chatty folks, and when TFC was deep in his mines and deep in thought, the last thing he needed interrupting his musings was a million buzzing noises as Cleo and Jevin got into a slapfight in the general chat. 

TFC’s personal logo flashed across the screen (the three letters of his name in red, natch) and he took another slurp of his bitter coffee, wrinkling his nose. The comm beeped, and TFC opened the group chat and tapped out a quick message. 

<Tinfoilchef> anyone got any more coffee? I’m clean out. 

He put his comm down, and took another swig. 

And waited. 

And waited. 

And waited. 

TFC frowned. He was a patient man by nature. The same could not be said of the other Hermits, who were usually falling over themselves to help each other out. 

And he hadn’t gotten a reply yet. 

It had been a whole ninety seconds.

TFC scrolled up in chat, and he sighed, rubbing his face. He sank back in his chair in annoyance. 

Of course. 

He tabbed upwards, watching things spiral out of control… in reverse. 

<Renthedog was blanched to death> 

<Renthedog> THE PAIN! THE PAIN IS INDESCRIBABLE

<Vintagebeef was portaged to death> 

<Vintagebeef> RUN! THE BOATS! THE BOATS ARE COMING!

TFC rubbed his temples with his free hand, sighing in exasperation. ‘

“Guys, I dug up five stacks of diamonds, don’t make me do this…I don’t want to re-dig those tunnels…” TFC groaned. 

And of course the nonsense kept coming as he scrolled farther and farther back. Gee, that last message from Ren was about four hours ago, now...

<Iskall85 became part of the weft> 

<Iskall85> HELP GOD THE LOOM’S GROWN LEGS

“Does anyone on this server besides me even know HOW to weave?!” TFC growled, averting his gaze from his pile of unfinished weaving in the corner of the room. It didn’t exist. He couldn’t see it. His WIP’s couldn’t hurt him.

And on and on it went.

<Xisumavoid was hooked to death>

<Grian was torqued to death>

<Tango was unraveled to death> 

<Zombiecleo was racqueted to death>

“Right, I’ve seen enough.” TFC sighed, “On the bright side, at least I’ll have all the coffee I had a week ago, so there’s that…” 

He carefully tabbed through his various screens and menus until he arrived at the one bit of his comm that was set aside for admin functions. Now, TFC wasn’t a server admin. That much was true. But he had slight admin privileges, for one thing and one thing only: server rollbacks. 

While, say, Hypno would have had an extensive wall of options, showing his permissions and all sorts of bells and whistles, TFC’s admin console had a text box to input a date and a big red “GO” button. 

He looked mournfully at his ender chest, and, with a sigh, keyed in a date one week prior. 

And TFC jabbed his thumb on the big red button. 

The world flashed white, utterly blinding him, and a second later TFC was deep in the branch mine in a half-finished tunnel, the same spot he’d been exactly a week prior. 

Unfortunately, he was still in a comfortable sitting position, resting all his weight on a chair that suddenly wasn’t there, so he immediately toppled to the ground, landing on his ass in an undignified heap. 

“Ow.” TFC muttered, sitting up slowly and tapping through his messages. 

<Xisuma> oh, we rolled back. Is everyone alright!?

<Tango> Mumbo you are BANNED FROM TIME TRAVEL

<MumboJumbo> It wasn’t me this time! I mean it was. But blame Zedaph! 

<Zedaph> ME?! No! Blame Cub! Cub gave me the doodad! 

TFC rolled his eyes and typed out a message. 

<Tinfoilchef> Does anyone have any fresh coffee beans?

Silence. 

No messages. No new complaining. As all the hermits re-read TFC’s words and soaked them in. 

Finally, Cleo broke the silence. 

<Zombiecleo> TFC. How many times did you re-use your last filter of grounds. 

<TinfoilChef> eh, six? Seven?

<Zombiecleo> are you telling me we’d all still be in shuttlecock hell if you hadn’t gotten sick of the taste of reused coffee grinds?!

<TinfoilChef> Pretty much, yeah 

<TinfoilChef> anyway 

<TinfoilChef> does anyone have some fresh coffee? 

[pupsmailbox]

TECHNOLOGY ID PACK

NAMES ⌇　admin. ajax. alexa. am. atari. audio. auto. bailey. binary. blank. blu. blue. bluesse. browser. browsette. bug. byte. cache. calware. chip. circe. click. clicker. clickie. clicky. cloud. coda. code. codette. codie. cody. computette. crypt. cursor. cy. cyber. cybernet. cybernetica. cyberweb. cypher. cypherre. data. dell. digi. digitalia. digitelle. digitesse. disc. dot. electronica. electronique. emoticon. emoticonnie. fax. file. gig. gizmo. glitch. glitche. glitchesse. glitchette. graphique. hacker. hal. halware. hijack. index. informationne. intelligette. internette. interweb. java. javascript. juno. key. link. linuxe. lotus. lovebytes. mac. mal. malakai. malware. malwaria. memorette. memorie. meta. mic. micah. mickey. morphe. mouse. mousette. myspace. nano. neo. net. netette. nett. netty. paige. pascal. payton. peyton. pixel. programatha. programette. programme. pulse. reboot. rom. router. ruby. sam. sammy. screene. screenette. sean. shock. solitaire. spy. static. stutter. talia. tap. tecca. tech. techette. tessa. tetris. trojan. troubleshoot. ts. user. vir. virus. virusse. volt. vyrus. webbe. wheatley. whirr. widget. will. wirehead. wiresse. zap. zett. zetta. zip.

PRONOUNS ⌇　:-)/:-D. ^^/^^. ai/ai. alt/alt. anti/antivirus. arc/archive. audio/audio. bat/battery. beep/beep. beep/boop. bit/bit. bit/byte. blue/blue. board/board. bright/bright. brow/browser. browser/browser. brr/brr. bu/bug. bug/bug. buzz/buzz. byt/byte. byte/byte. c/cpu. charge/charger. cir/circuit. cli/click. click/clack. click/click. click/scroll. co/code. code/code. color/color. com/com. com/computer. comp/computer. compute/computer. computer/computer. cor/corrupt. corrupt/corrupt. CPU/CPU. crash/crash. cre/creeper. crtl/crtl. cy/cyber. cyb/cyber. cyber/cyber. da/data. data/data. delete/delete. di/disk. dig/digital. digi/digi. digi/digital. digital/digital. dra/drag. e/exe. electronic/electronic. enter/enter. er/error. err/error. error/error. exe/exe. fi/file. file/file. gi/gif. gli/glitch. glit/glitch. glitch/glitch. graphic/graphic. hac/hacker. hack/hack. hard/hardware. head/phone. hij/hijacker. ho/home. info/info. information/information. int/internet. intelligent/intelligence. intelligent/intelligent. inter/net. internet/internet. it/it. jpg/jpg. key/board. key/cap. key/key. key/keyboard. key/keylogger. lag/lag. lap/laptop. ligh/light. linux/linux. load/load. log/login. main/mainframe. mal/malware. me/media. memory/memorie. mon/monitor. mou/mouse. nano/nano. net/net. net/network. o_o/>_>. org/org. over/overwrite. page/page. pix/pix. pix/pixel. pixel/pixel. plu/plug. png/png. pop/popup. port/port. pow/power. pro/program. program/program. ram/ram. ran/ransom. reboot/reboot. reload/reload. res/restore. ret/retro. route/router. sca/scan. scr/scroll. scre/screen. scre/screencap. scree/screen. screen/screen. scri/script. script/script. sentient/sentience. shift/shift. site/site. skip/skip. soft/software. spa/spam. space/space. spy/spyware. stop/stop. te/tech. tech/nology. tech/tech. technology/technology. tou/touchpad. txt/txt. typ/type. upload/upload. user/user. vi/viru. vi/virus. vir/virtual. web/page. web/web. whir/whir. wi/wire. win/dow. win/window. wire/wire. wire/wired. zip/zip . ⌨ . ☣ . ⚙ . ⚠ . 🎞 . 🎨 . 🎭 . 🎮 . 🎵 . 👀 . 👁 . 💔 . 💡 . 💢 . 💣 . 💳 . 💵 . 💻 . 💽 . 💾 . 💿 . 📀 . 📱 . 🔇 . 🔈 . 🔉 . 🔊 . 🔋 . 🔌 . 🔎 . 🖥 . 🖱 . 🗡 . 🗯 . 🛠 . 🧿 .

[the-s1lly-corner]

Flufftober prompt 1: First kiss (Caine x Reader)

using this list as a reference! I'm actually currently writing this in mid may, but i got too excited to wait for october and due to my desire to make most of the prompts short fics, and my chronic issue of getting burnt out... im starting early! hooray! plot: the reader realizes that they have never kissed their boyfriend, Caine, and they want to change that! notes: reader is gn, established relationship, short fic, not proof read we die like gummigoo, possible OOC due to admin not being used to writing dialogue and caine is... caine word count: 764 cws: none

Much to the shock to many of the circus members, you and the ringmaster had become an item at some point in your stay in the digital world. Common questions you are are "Why?" or "What do you see in him?" and sometimes even "For all we know this could all be his fault... doesn't that bother you?"

You won't lie, the theories did get under your skin every once in a while, but it was never enough to make you step back from your partner. Asides from the chaotic in house adventure, he never really gave you a reason to distrust him or keep your distance. He spoiled you whenever he was given the chance, sometimes he would craft the adventures with you in mind. He never once intentionally put you down, really only making you feel bad on accident due to him not fully understanding human nature and emotions.

He planned dates, he gave you gifts, and he loved up on you whenever you gave the green light. Hand holding, hugging, cuddling, or just generally clinging onto you. Though, it's now as you sit across from him that it strikes you: of all the interactions you two shared, he's yet to kiss you. How can he when he's just teeth?

He sat there, chattering away. The way his jaws morphed and shifted gave the impression that they weren't... stiff...

You wave your hand to get his attention, and he stares at you; teeth parted enough to look at you. "Did you have an idea for your next adventure, tomorrow?" He propped his elbows on the dinner table and leaned towards you. Was that what he was talking about?

You chewed your lip, and stared at the curves of his jaws. "I was thinking about something, just not that," You said, and as expected he focused all of his attention on you- at least more than he already had. He leaned in closer, "Well don't keep a man waiting!" He perked his "chin" on his hands as he stared right into your soul. A little unnerving, but you had gotten used to that look.

You ran your teeth long your lips, sucking them in slightly before releasing. "Well," you began, and his eyes seemed to widen. "Well I was wondering if I could have.. a kiss?" You pulled a nervous smile across your face in a meek attempt to make the line feel less awkward in the air. He seemed to freeze a little, attempting to speak before stopping himself as the first syllable came out. You thought you had said something wrong, but the tension was quickly shattered as Caine began his chatter.

"Oh I thought you'd never ask! I was waiting for you to make a move, you know!" He chuckled before pulling out a bottle breath spray, sticking his tongue out and spraying it a few times. You vaguely wondered if it made his eyes sting. It didn't even cross your mind to wonder if he had the bottle on him at all times... or had he just pulled it into his existence with his powers?

He planted his hands on the table and leaned in close to your face. Almost to your horror, he "puckered up" or at least the closest he could get given his anatomy. His jaws formed a similar shape lips would make, the teeth sticking forward just a bit as he waited for you. You rose up to meet him, eyes darting across his teeth to find out where exactly to kiss. You settled on kissing between his top front teeth.

You were barely able to keep your lips to his teeth before he seemed to explode into a flurry of emotions. His eyes blue screened between his teeth, white text flashing across them. Star like sparks flew into the air followed by a thick billow of steam from his top hat. Never had you seen such a reaction from the ringmaster, and you were beginning to worry that you had somehow broken him. Within seconds he would regain his composure, before fanning himself. For such a small action, it seemed to really stick him in a bunch. The steam and sparks dissipate as he melts into his hands, jaws slack to look at you.

"Not bad for a newbie," He teased, and readjusted his hat. "Perhaps sometime I could give you a pep talk, come on what was the hold up for? Where was the confidence?" He continued.

This would only serve as the beginning to a new era of growth in your relationship.

[opencommunion]

a voteblue told me the other day that if I don't vote, my government "won't know I exist" and therefore won't know my grievances. I had to laugh because my governments at the state, federal, and local level have longstanding documented policies of surveilling my ethnic group! the government knows very well that I exist — from the moment I was born they identified me as their enemy, an "anchor baby" and "sleeper cell," a demographic threat and a national security threat. before I was old enough to form any opinion about my government they had already labeled me an enemy of the state. they know all about Arab grievances and have 0 interest in listening to us because they do not see us civilian constituents who they serve, they see us as hostile foreign others.

you have to get this through your head if you want to understand how Arabs in the so-called US move politically. we move with the understanding that this country is by default antagonistic and hostile towards us on the basis of our race, and to whatever extent we engage in electoral politics, we do so knowing that our government is fundamentally not on our side and getting our perspectives heard (much less empathized with) requires a lot of extra work beyond casting a vote. policies of surveilling Arabs are consistent across red and blue states and admins, and at every level of government (which is why I roll my eyes when I'm told to vote down-ballot — all the candidates at the local level hate me too!)

to give you a glimpse of how our relationship with our government actually works, here are some excerpts from a 2022 congressional testimony by Maya Berry (executive director of the Arab American Institute):

"The federal government has justified counterterrorism and other law enforcement practices in the name of national security for what is a seemingly endless 'war on terror.' In the process, the government has viewed specific communities, including Arab Americans and American Muslims, as a threat to national security and in so doing, has securitized their relationship. ... While not an attempt at a comprehensive list, the following are select examples of government and law-enforcement policies that have targeted Arab Americans (and in some cases, American Muslims and South Asian Americans) or viewed them through a securitized lens. .... In each of these cases, government or law-enforcement policies can be seen as facilitating discrimination rather than functioning as policies of a state actor obligated to safeguard and defend the rights of its citizens. In the wake of the killing of Israeli athletes in a terrorist attack at the 1972 Munich Olympics, the Nixon Administration created the surveillance program known as Operation Boulder. The program sought to silence Arab and Arab American voices within the United States through investigation, surveillance, and harassment. It 'specifically targeted Arabs with U.S. citizenship, resident aliens of Arab descent, non-Arab Americans sympathetic to Arab causes, as well as the relatives, neighbors, friends, and employers of Arab individuals.' Operation Boulder officially ended in 1975 after it was deemed 'not worth it' by law enforcement, though its demise would be announced in a major media outlet as 'A Plan to Screen Terrorists Ends.' In 1987, seven Palestinian men and a Kenyan woman were arrested in Los Angeles for distributing a magazine of the Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine, an organization then considered an advocate for world communism. For the students, known as the 'L.A. 8,' this was a deportable offense under the McCarthy-era McCarran-Walter Act. In 1989, a federal judge declared the charges unconstitutional and, in 1990, Congress repealed the Act. However, two members of the L.A. 8 faced the continued threat of deportation for decades until the government finally ended their effort to deport them in 2007. ... The case of the L.A. 8 is well known among Arab Americans. First, it targeted pro-Palestinian activists and raised the question of whether Arab immigrants or Arab Americans who advocated for Palestinian human rights were indeed protected by the same constitutional rights to free speech and association. Further, in proceedings of the case, it was discovered that the DOJ had a plan for a detention camp called, 'Alien Terrorists and Undesirables: A Contingency Plan.' ... In 2004, it was learned through a Freedom of Information Act request that the Census Bureau had shared demographic data about Arab Americans with the Department of Homeland Security on at least two occasions, in 2002 and 2003. Without a Middle East and North Africa (MENA) category on the Census, it is well documented that Arab Americans are an undercounted community. Yet, DHS was provided with data showing cities with more than 1,000 Arab Americans and zip code-level data broken down by country of origin.

In 2011, the Associated Press published an investigative report on New York Police Department (NYPD) counterterrorism and surveillance programs that directly targeted Arab American Muslim businesses, mosques, and communities in New York and New Jersey in the immediate aftermath of 9/11. The revelations of the breadth and depth of the NYPD’s surveillance program were shocking, with use of widespread 'ethnic mapping,' and reporting on innocent people going about their daily routines. The NYPD’s spying program and others like it are not only unconstitutional, but are also ineffective and significantly harmful to the communities they infiltrate. Not a single lead on terrorist operations resulted from NYPD’s spying activities. In 2011, the Obama Administration released the 'Strategic Implementation Plan for Empowering Local Partners to Prevent Violent Extremism in the United States.' The plan was introduced as a domestic counterterrorism strategy and became the foundation for the federal government’s Countering Violent Extremism (CVE) programs. In 2016, DHS began the Interagency CVE Task Force, which essentially approached community outreach to American Muslim communities as part of counterterrorism programming. Beyond the serious issue of the lack of an evidence-based foundation for CVE, these programs sought to deputize local community members and organizations to surveil their own communities on behalf of the U.S. government.

In 2011, a series of reports by an investigative journalist exposed biased FBI counterterrorism training material. Characterizing American Muslims and Arab Americans as prone to violence, some of the material’s 'highlights' include statements that 'mainstream American Muslims are likely to be terrorist sympathizers,' comparisons between Islam and the Death Star from Star Wars, and assertions that the 'Arab mind' is 'swayed more by ideas than facts,' and that unlike the 'Western Mind' being 'even keel,' in the Arab world, ‘Outbursts and Loss of Control [is] Expected.'

... In 2021, the Biden Administration established the Center for Prevention Programs and Partnerships (CP3). While appearing to be an extension of the Obama Administration’s Countering Violent Extremism (CVE) programs, Biden Administration officials have distanced themselves from previous CVE efforts saying they have taken a new approach. However, like its predecessors, CP3 seems to rest on flawed concepts about 'radicalization' that perpetuate stereotypes of communities and undermine public trust in government."

the US government pays very close attention to us, and it's only to our detriment. invisibility is not the issue here, white supremacy is, and you can't vote white supremacy out of a nation built on it

[katsukikitten]

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Fandoms include JJK, BNHA, Demon Slayer, Blue Lock, Bleach, Tokyo Rev, CSM, Naruto.

[mcsm-confessions]

someone said that rare pairs of characters who have never met are the shit and i was going to think of some weird ones but you can't beat the sheer shipping creativity this fandom has: petra x maya (the ocelot?), radar x pama (a literal computer), can't forget cassie rose x aiden, and gabriel x fred the admin, the plot device with 0 screen time who looks like a blue brick?? now i've seen it all

~~~

[poisonheadcrabsalesman]

Special Treatment

Or: John Halo vs Space Tricare

Thanks to @bloodgulchblog for encouraging me to follow this idea. It's a critical piece based and could have been a lot longer to be honest. Here's 2.1k words of John trying to navigate the average military clinic, many liberties taken, many details experienced.

-

The stilted conversations of the waiting room quiet at the first sign of potential movement. Mothers quietly clutching their crying babies or holding hands of children with ear aches and runny noses look up with tempered hope and frazzled nerves. Toddlers fascinated by the brightly colored show on the room’s single silent screen blink at the new person in the doorway. An elderly person with a cane and a fistful of paper documents frowns and shifts in preparation to stand. John’s own eyes scan the room in periphery, noting the changing body language and access to the exits. Hope was a fickle thing in a clinic. It’d been 15 minutes since the last person had been ushered back down the hall.

His appointment was scheduled for 20 minutes ago. He’d arrived 50 minutes ago. His doctored paperwork claiming his status and identity had been submitted 45 minutes ago. 45 minutes since his approach had been met with shocked stares and scrutiny before being dismissed back to the waiting room with its plastic and metal chairs with fading teal patterns and water-stained tile ceilings.

Somewhere Kelly was laughing at him. He could have sought medical help on board the UNSC Infinity. But the way people outside his team treated him rankled his sense of what he really deserved. He only did his duty-he didn’t want special treatment. But John was learning what planet-side military healthcare was really like - the hard way.

"Smith, John."

A nurse in plain blue scrubs holding a clipboard calls from right outside the front desk. The other nurse and tired looking security officer don't look up from behind the plexiglass as she blearily scans the room.

John stands before she calls his name again. He tries for a slow measured pace, but her eyes widen as he approaches. She recovers quickly and holds out her hand, "ID?"

He hands her his military ID, freshly made and slightly warped from its time in his pocket. An awkward photo and the issue date marked as the same day did him no favors. The cheap laminate flashing the holographic symbols of the UNSC over the fine black print. It had his real birthday on it, and he’d already memorized his benefits and DoD ID number. Part of him thought that it would help, but the other part of him wondered if it made him even more suspicious.

"Uh huh." She nods and looks him over. He knows he hasn't done anything wrong, but this is new territory for him. By seeking to avoid special treatment, John has stumbled into a world of suspicious admin and medical professionals. His own last name is classified, and though he might look like a walking cadaver he was thankful the ID office agreed on John Smith rather than John Doe.

The tired nurse turns and walks away, only looking back in frustration and waving for him to follow. He maintains a polite distance, but nothing seems to help her mood. Thankfully, it's not a long walk. Down the crowded hall past the clinic's tiny lab and waiting area to another gray and white room with an examination table. She tells him to sit and that someone will be by. The paper crinkles beneath him, but he bears it. There's more than a little doubt in his mind that the metal and plastic seat in the corner would support his weight. There’s barely anything else in the room; another uncomfortable chair, a stool near the logged out computer, a biohazard bin and some out of date infographic posters warning about common illnesses and a bizarrely detailed model of the inner ear.

There aren’t any signs of information for the usual suspects that John’s seen in the Infinity’s medical wing the few times he’s allowed himself to be wrestled there. Her crew having more civilians in the mix meant that the infirmary was different than he was used to. John looks and wonders where the vaccine information was or the signs of getting someone help. All he’s left with in this clinic are the signs of mesothelioma symptoms and law offices.

He sits and he waits and he wheezes slightly. The mask he’s wearing both for his own health and comfort and for others is a flimsy barrier compared to what he’s used to, but it’ll do for now.

The nurse didn't lie. Someone does come by, eventually. There's no clock on the wall, but without looking at his datapad John estimates that at least 30 minutes have gone by.

Another person in scrubs comes in, takes his vitals, and makes awkward small talk. He's a corpsman, Jones, and he tries to hide his reaction upon seeing John. Blue overalls and Navy are familiar enough he should put John at ease, but Jones is between him and the door.

John’s been on enough campaigns where waiting took the majority of his time. He’d been at the mercy of the decisions of others his whole life. But something about this clinic, lacking even the facade of care and bogged down in the bureaucracy of out-of-date admin set his teeth on edge. These people weren’t his enemy, but he could not count them as allies. He felt more secure in the waiting room with the blinds blocking the midday sun and the coughing child holding a Spartan action figure in their tiny fist.

The others must have talked because he enters the room with a polite knock and a burning curiosity in his eyes. John's not the Master Chief right now, for which he's grateful, but he misses the armor. There's no buffer between him and humanity.

Jones asks him the same questions he was asked by the nurse at the counter, and the nurse on the phone, and the administrator at the ID office, and Kelly when she found out he was going planet-side for treatment. Why?

At this point, John regrets trying to follow his new instinct to not let things get so bad he ends up in the infirmary. It’s not like he hasn’t toughed out illnesses before. But being sick and miserable amongst his team, and his crew felt worse. Master Chief couldn’t have a cold or be lain low by a respiratory infection. He had a job to do.

But that didn’t mean it was easy. Jones mangles his arm trying to find a vein to draw blood. Even after commenting on John’s paleness helping him locate some good ones. He palpates him and tries and misses. John bears it, and wonders distantly if he’ll get comments on this too from teammates and overbearing techs.

Jones leaves with two vials and an apologetic smile that is soured by some joke John forgets five minutes later. It’s not until another 15 have passed that someone in a lab coat flutters in, introduces himself, chides John to take better care of himself, makes an assumption about the illness and gives him a prescription. He’s halfway out the door before telling John where the pharmacy is.

Another body enters his space and he sidesteps out of habit. Smaller people seem to think Spartans are less like people and more like features in a room to work around. The nurse eyes him and goes back to his job of restocking the room and ripping off the paper where John had sat for most of the last hour.

“Did you need anything else?” He says more than asks.

John shakes his head and leaves, back down the gray and white hallway, past the lab where his blood is being tested. Jones told him to check his patient portal in the next week or so. Might be longer.

He makes it to the pharmacy unscathed, save for his arm, and sits down with a clear view of the exits.

A few rows over he overhears a whispered conversation between an adolescent and their guardian. He doesn’t mean to listen in but John’s never been big on reacting before understanding. He understands his world, but this was new and all the other patients weren’t giving him much to go on. Surely this wasn’t an acceptable level of care for the family, dependents and service members of UNSC? This facility alone was overcrowded, out-of-date, understaffed, and rundown to such a degree that John’s anxiety spiked when he arrived. But the same could be said for the base housing he passed, and the ID office, and the shipyard itself. The entire base was made to function a certain way for a certain amount of time, and it was obviously past that.

The adolescent complains to their guardian, hands fisted in some over sized jacket. “But the doctor didn’t even figure it out?”

The guardian looks stricken but rallies quickly.“The steroids are to help you recover and your body fight whatever caused the reaction. The doctor didn’t think the allergic reaction was severe enough for testing. It’ll be okay.” They try to comfort the child.

John’s perfect posture deflates a millimeter. It goes unnoticed by everyone around him, and for the first time that day, he’s glad his team isn’t here. To see him worn down so quickly, or to see the state of the people they are trying to protect.

"Now serving - at window number 2." A woman's synthetic voice rings out over the muted din of the clinic's waiting room. Tile floor that once might have been white and gray squeaks under the shoes of the next person in line.

John sits and stares at his datapad and the newly downloaded app that bears his own number. The lone screen displaying the number being served ticks upward and the woman speaks again. "Now serving - at window number 4." Another body shuffles out of the sea of people sitting under the baleful fluorescents.

He finds it strange that the Dumb AI doesn't actually announce the number, and that she's only saying the phrase in English. After 45 minutes waiting and watching, John doubts she's even an Dumb AI. This place doesn't seem to have the resources to justify one. Just a synthetic recording playing over and over, cool and impersonal, over the dull roar of illness. Sniffles and coughs and John’s own tired wheezing behind his mask.

He fidgets, on purpose of course, since they trained the fidget out of him. That and Mjolnir doesn't take kindly to twitchy Spartans. John was finding that civilians were intimidated by tall men in masks and sunglasses that sat still as statues. He was a polite statue, but that didn't help with the staring.

More time passes. It feels like he arrived at the clinic yesterday and five minutes ago. Windowless walls and water-stained ceilings close in with a sense of a stagnant forever-present. Never moving forward, never being helped, just shuffled around and waiting somewhere else. Buzzing fluorescents and strained breathing complement the clacking of analog keyboards and soft rough voices of pharmacists and techs working in their own hives located behind plexiglass and locked doors.

Another hour passes and the rhythmless dance of synthetic announcements, pharmacy techs, and doctor’s notes trickling through the computer system lands on John. His number is called and he shuffles to the window.

Name, ID, Birthday-here’s the meds, take twice a day with food. Instructions on the bottle. The rustle of a brown paper bag to hide the results of half a day.

And then he’s shooed away.

The dull red exit sigh points back the way he came all that time ago, past the security checkpoint and front desk, past the coughs and wheezes and crying babes of the waiting room, and out the shuddering, squeaking automatic doors and back into the sunlight.

Cars honk in nearby traffic. A single sickly tree provides some shade in the patchy yellow grass nearby.

Mission accomplished.

John heads back, feeling heavier than he did that morning when he woke with full sinuses and a productive cough. The pills in the bag rattle. 10 days of a treatment, refills as needed. He won’t be back. John has that choice, has more access to care, and for that he is both grateful and concerned. It wasn’t often he got to see what he was protecting, what he was a symbol of. A great machine slowly turning good people into good soldiers, but also a slow wave of ineptitude unable to help the ones keeping it running. Something like that would surely die a slow death.

But John doesn’t think about that. He can’t. That would require a more critical awareness of his role in this great dying thing that consumes all in its path. Cortana would have helped. She would have hacked the computers and fixed everything, but that was a fantasy.

[knight-dwx-09]

The New Admin

Jaune angrily open his bedroom’s door and slam it as hard as he can before storming into his bed and face plant on his pillow.

Jaune: Stupid Dad! Stupid Mom! Stupid Sisters! I did managed to save Jeanne from a Grimm so why can’t I become a huntsman?

Alexander: And that almost cost you your life

Jaune stop for a moment at the echo of his dad, turning his body to the roof and showing tears in his eyes. All the frustration and anger has left his body, and now, the only thing left was sadness and pain as he speak in a defeat tone.

Jaune: Why didn’t you believe in me dad? Am I really that talentless that you wouldn’t give me a chance? I just want to make you proud… make everyone proud…

He want to curled up to himself and go to sleep, hoping that it was just a nightmare… but a part of him still want to become a hero, even if his family didn’t believe in him. Then out of nowhere, a blue screen materialize in thin air with message on it.

It was…

Jaune: Huh? “Welcome to the system, Developer”? What is this?

[This is the developer’s Semblance]

Jaune: *Tilted his head* And what is a semblance?

[System level is too low to provide the answer]

Jaune: *Titled his head even more* huh… is there anything I need to know?

[The system will help the developer to grow stronger and reach the dream developer has]

[Aura are needed to open up the system]

Jaune: So I need this aura to keep whatever this is going?

[Incorrect]

[System will always be active even without aura but required it to access the system]

Jaune: And what is an Aura?

[System level is too low to provide the answer]

Jaune frowned at the exact same answer it had given to him.

Jaune: Then can you tell me at least how I can increase the level of the system?

[By gathering enough point through killing monster and change the story for the better then invest it to the system]

He began to piece some stuff together and from what he can gather, this system feel like some RPG game where you grow stronger by gaining experience and level up from beating the enemies and completing quests.

Then, he can become a huntsman even if he was talentless and this immediately brighten up him as a smile creep onto his face.

[Please chose one person to become your player]

Jaune: Huh?

[Developer can have one player to begin with. Having a player under the system will help the Developer to grow at higher rate]

Jaune: And how does that help me to grow?

[System level is too low to provide the answer]

At this point, that sentence had become really annoying to hear.

Jaune: Fine, as long as this can help me to become a hero

[That is correct]

[When Developer grow strong enough and have mastery over the system. New features could be added to benefit both Developer and the players]

Jaune simply nodded his head as he read the message.

[So please, choose one person to become Developer’s player]

Then a list of names appears on the screen which some he knows like his family, and lots of he doesn’t know.

[List of potential players]

- Ruby Rose

- Yang Xiao Long

- Lie Ren

- Pyrrha Nikos

- Weiss Schnee

- Juniper Arc (Locked)

- Alexander Arc (Locked)

- Trivia Vanille

- Ozma (Locked)

- Zwei

[Press here for the next page]

[Developer may choose only one player for now]

[Warning: The player will be given the choice if they want to accept to become Developer’s player. If they decline, Developer will be unable to pick them for 3 years. But don’t worry, Developer can choose another player immediately]

After reading all of that, this cause him to become extremely nervous at who he will choose since he could only have one at first. He want to pick the names he recognize but…

Jaune: Why even bother showing me my parents if I can’t choose them?

[System level is too low to provide the answer]

His eye twitch in annoyance.

[valictini]

Here is all the concrete lore info we have that COULD hint at one team being the cursed one (as far as i know, pls add onto it if i missed something) I am not counting all the player interactions and events that no admin could have reasonably predicted (sorry team Bolas, but just because you embraced insanity after a very unlucky day 1 doesn't mean you're cursed)

Blue team:

- Dapper's the only egg to explicitly tell their parent to win at all cost

– (copy pasted from @lb1412 's response) Mariana logged on the QSMP the day before the event, among other things he was led by Codeflippa to a trap (in the Nether ?) and got disconnected with a message that said something along the lines of "now your name is blue and for victory you will fight"

-(also copied) In the first Purgatory cinematic, we saw six different people on a screen with some info about them. 3 of them were from green team, the 3 others were from red team. No blue team member.

- (from @demodraws0606 's reblog) almost all the Kill contracts have been against blue team members

Green team:

- Forever has that Judas ritual book and we dont know what it does but it is very suspicious

- ElQuackity is straight up an agent of chaos invited by the eye entity

Red team:

- Now that we know what all the tickets look like, it is confirmed that all the special tickets' owners (minus Quackity) are part of team red

- Some people make the argument that the team compositions gave a disadvantage to Red Team for how many MIA players they had and how there were no pvp tryharders among them. I'm not entirely convinced by the first argument because among the other teams are people who were bound to log in once and never show up again after the first day, too. I do find it suspicious that aside from Philza, no big pvp players were in their team, though.

Additional info:

The eye entity gave a task to ElQ that could have let him know who the cursed team was, ( i suppose to help sabotage them?) But he was too weak to perform the task and never got the answer.

> it implies that the cursed team DOES exist but it could also be a lie just to taunt ElQ for being so bad at sabotage.

It's possible that none of the parameters I've listed have anything to do with the curse. It could be just random. Or it could all be lie and there is no cursed team.

[highway-road23]

This is Admin talking

It is very sad that krul dead without having any kind of special and unique and glorious moments of hers just like how other side characters like kureto or shinya had for themselves. Krul's personality and character was very well written and had so much potential but it was completely wasted thankful of takaya only focusing on two characters and their relationship for YEARS and completely ignoring all his other side characters aside that now it was time to remove them, which the removal itself wasn't bad or bad writing, it suddenly felt a too rush in forward although it was not and krul's death in all aspects was completely predictable just like how the title of the previous chapter "Queen's time" was a promising title telling us that krul's end is very close, but yep it felt bad and out of blue because unfortunately takaya never gave her enough screen times of her that now she had removed we can't accept it and get over with it, like krul never had any special plans of her and all she did was following mahiru's or ashera's plan and words but she, herself, never had a motivation forward although she was even older than ferid and she literally did nothing all these long times to make a plan of herself to defeat the first or gain more information although we can see how MALE characters like kureto, saito, ferid, ashera, noya and guren had their own plans in their own ways yes a character like crowley had non too but at least we have goddammit novels of him and we got enough screen times of him so that his death didn't felt too rushed or anything but for krul? Nothing. We had nothing. And the sad part is that she was an important side characters not a minor character like chess, horn, rene, lacus, byakkomaro, raimeki and etc. so that if she would remove from the story we won't feel that much of a problem with it, yes she was a side character but she was an important side character, she wasn't anything near a minor side character but unfortunately takaya showed again he is definitely too bad at writing not the side characters themselves but also FEMALE characters so badly too, like krul even in the story of her and her brother wasn't the main one and it was always ashera who was the main character in their stories and krul was playing role of a supporting character even there and it was no single motivation and act from her side throughout the whole manga although we expected so much more and high of her why? Because at the beginning of the manga it was shown that she kind of have plans for both Yu and Mika and she whispered some amazing and mysterious things to Mika and it made us be so curious over it just to realize that no it was never anything important and there were no actual and amazing plan from her side but the amazing plans was only from the male characters or mahiru and that is what made her death unbearable although it was a need for the story and it was simply her time to go away but because she laced character development a lot, her death felt so out of blue.

[trickphotography2]

D-Day by TrickPhotography | Chapter 2

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x female!reader

Word count: 3.1k

Synopsis: After finding out his girlfriend is pregnant, Jake is ready to move in and get married. The last thing he expected was to be hit with a six-month deployment at sea and missing the birth of his first child.

Chapter 1 | Master List | Ao3

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

Chapter 2

“Special delivery!”

You looked up from your computer and blinked at the older woman in your office doorway. While Joanne, the office receptionist, often waved on her way to the break room to restock the coffee or clean up after the guys, she rarely stopped by. The most interaction you usually had was stopping by her desk to get your mail and snag a piece of candy from the bowl. After you had strongly shut down the hints that you needed to help the administration department set up the holiday party, the relationship was strained. 

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to help - it was just that you were the only person outside of admin asked to do so. If she’d asked just one man from your team to do the same, you would have been more than happy to pitch in. But you’d walked in on one too many snide conversations about the ‘party planning committee’ to give the guys another thing to tease you about. 

So Joanne standing in front of your office was an oddity. Even more so was the vase of flowers in her hands. “What are those?”

“Flowers for you, silly! There’s a card and everything!” She stepped into your office as you stood, lifting the flowers to her face to smell before handing them to you. You frowned at the arrangement of white roses and blue hydrangeas, running a finger along the green foliage. It clearly wasn’t the obligatory office birthday gift and your parents never sent flowers. “Open the card!” Joanne said, clapping her hands. 

Sighing, you set the vase on your desk and plucked out the white envelope. The front said that the arrangement was called Blue Skies. Your frown deepened at the message on the back.

1) Thanks for the beers

2) Didn’t think you were a tag chaser

3) I prefer to be called a man in a bag or Hangman

4) I disagree

-- Jake

There was that phone number again. 

“Well, who is it from?” Joanne asked. “A secret admirer?”

“My parents,” you lied, forcing a smile while stroking the soft rose petals. 

“Oh,” her smile fell, disappointed that there wasn’t more gossip to spread in the office. “That’s nice of them. Any special occasion?”

“Not that I know of. I’ll, um… I’m going to give them a call to thank them. And thank you for bringing these to me.”

“Of course. I’m up front if you need anything.” 

As soon as she left, you collapsed back into your chair and let your head fall back to stare at the ceiling. For a moment, you debated calling Seresin but decided against it, tossing the card in your desk drawer to deal with later. Your attempt to focus on emails kept being interrupted as the scent of the flowers permeated your office, and the blue caught the corner of your eye. It was a relief when the meeting reminder popped up on the screen. Quickly, you locked the computer and gathered a notebook and pen, grabbing your coffee mug at the last second.

Mark and Glen nodded as you moved toward the break room coffee pot. They were talking about a golfing trip over the weekend that some of the guys were going on. When they asked what you were doing, you shrugged, “Just relax and catch up on some stuff around the apartment.”

“No hot date?” Glen asked. Unlike some in your office, you knew Glen was playfully teasing - you’d attended his wedding just two months ago, and the man was so obnoxiously in love with his wife. 

“Not unless you count Mr. Clean who will be getting up close to my baseboards,” you laughed. 

“Say the word and you’d have a lot of guys lining up to see your baseboards,” Mark smirked into his coffee, and you blushed. Glen rolled his eyes before looking at his watch.

“Meeting’s starting soon. Save you a seat?” When you nodded, he shouldered Mark towards the door, and you could have sworn you saw Glen swat the back of Mark’s head. With a deep breath, you set your mug by the sink and turned on the cold water, removing your watch to thrust your wrists under the stream. While annoying, Mark’s comment wasn’t the worst you’d heard. And you’d, unfortunately, opened yourself up for that comment - joking about someone seeing your baseboards? Rookie move.

Eventually, you turned off the water and dried your hands. After putting on your watch and dumping cream and sugar into your coffee, you made your way to the conference room for the weekly check-in. Thankfully Joanne had sent one of her staff in to take notes so you wouldn’t be in charge of the meeting minutes. 

Twisting in your chair, you looked at the flowers again and chewed on your lower lip. They’d caused quite a few remarks as your colleagues filed past your office following the meeting, a few people popping in to try and get the gossip. You stuck to your story about them being from your parents. Glancing at the open door, you grabbed the card from your drawer and held it up again.

The card was handwritten, which either meant that Seresin… Jake… had called in the order or gone to a flower shop himself rather than ordering online. The writing was small and precise; you could feel it indent the paper when you ran a finger over it. Flipping the card over, you saw that Blue Skies was in different handwriting. Which meant he probably wrote the note himself. 

Something about a guy going into a flower shop and picking something out for you made your heart give an unwelcome flutter. It was a bad idea. You interacted with pilots enough to know those wings usually came with an ego. There was too much of that in your life already, why invite more? And besides, what kind of nickname was Hangman? You knew enough to understand that it was his callsign. Had he been caught doodling in his notes one too many times, or was it some inside joke? Groaning, you tried to push away those thoughts. There was no need for you to know where it came from.

Picking up your phone, you quickly typed in his number and hit send before you could think too much. It rang repeatedly as you shut the door and crossed your arm under your chest. 

“It’s Seresin. Leave a message and I’ll get back to you.” 

“Oh, hi,” you said, unprepared to have been met with his voicemail. “I, um, I just wanted to call and say thank you for the flowers. They weren’t necessary. So, um… thank you again, and have a great day.” Cursing yourself after hanging up, you muttered, “Smooth.” 

The phone rang in your hand, flashing an unknown number. Against your better judgment, you answered it. “Hello?”

“Hi. It’s Seresin - Jake. Glad to hear you got the flowers. I was getting worried they got delivered to the wrong place.” 

“Right, um, thank you. Again.”

“You’re welcome. So I’ve been thinking about this conflict of interest.” 

“Oh?” 

“I’ve got nothing to do with contracts and I don’t even fly what you’re selling - I’m still in an old fourth-gen, like you pointed out yesterday. So there’s no conflict.”

“Really?” you said, feeling charmed despite yourself.

“And to your other point, I’ve very clearly a man in a bag, not a boy.”

“Man or boy, I don’t date pilots.”

“That a hard rule?”

“Yes.”

“What if I told you I was on the maintenance crew?” 

“Lying isn’t a great way to get a date.” 

“Who says I’m lying?”

“They don’t hand out those gold wings I saw on your uniform to just anyone, Lieutenant.” 

“You know a lot about uniforms. You serve?” 

“No, I’m a civilian.” When he hummed, you cleared your throat. “It was nice meeting you. And if you ever have $75 million lying around and want to purchase an F-35, feel free to call me and I’ll give you the sales pitch.” 

“That with the friends and family discount?”

“We’d have to be friends for you to get that.” 

“Ouch. Nothing on the family side?”

“Are you saying you're family? Because that would be another reason we can’t go on a date.” He chuckled, and you smiled. 

“I can see why you’re in negotiations.”

“It pays the bills.” There was silence before Jake cleared his throat.

“So dinner and drinks are off the table?”

“They are.”

“Damn.”

“No hard feelings?”

“Just a couple. It’s not every day you come across someone smart and gorgeous.” 

“You’ll get over me.” At that, he laughed and you grinned. 

“That’s usually my line.” 

“Oh, so you’re a heartbreaker? Good thing I’m dodging that bullet.”

“Guess so.” Neither of you said anything until he spoke up again. “Well, I guess I’ll see you around.”

“Yeah. It was nice meeting you, Lieutenant.”

“Jake.”

“Jake,” you repeated. “Have a good rest of your week.” 

“You too.”

When the call disconnected, you let your head fall back against the door and sighed. Why is it that a five-minute conversation with Jake was more fun than you’d had in months of being on dating apps? 

“So do you have any siblings?” Tyler asked, running his finger around the rim of his coffee mug. Smiling, you shook your head and subtly twisted your wrist to glance at your watch. Half an hour in and you were still playing twenty questions. You wondered when he would ask what your favorite color was. At least he wasn’t monologuing about his podcast like your last date. 

“Only child,” you replied. “You?”

“Two older brothers.”

“That must have been a fun dynamic growing up,” you smiled, adjusting your sunglasses. Tyler shrugged.

“Being the youngest sucked since I was the punching bag. Always wanted to be an only child.”

“It does have its perks. So are you from Lemoore?”

“Nah, got that DoDEA job and moved from the East Coast. Nothing like moving across the country to teach a bunch of third graders. I really wanted an overseas job, so that’ll be the next step.”

“That’s awesome. I really liked my teachers when I went to school on base.” 

“Yeah. Not to mention the pay is way better.” Your eyes glazed over as Tyler railed against the government teacher’s salary for stateside compared to overseas postings. You agreed that teachers needed to be paid more, but this wasn’t a great first-date conversation. You nodded where appropriate and sipped at your iced coffee.

And then you spotted him.

The downside of living near a military base was how small the community was. It wasn’t something you had necessarily picked up on while growing up when your whole social network revolved around school, but it was definitely noticeable as an adult. A perfect example was seeing a man you’d turned down walking towards the only open table on the patio of your favorite local coffee shop, clearly on a date. 

Jake pulled out the woman’s chair, settling her back-to-back with Tyler, and taking the seat opposite her. Which unfortunately put him in your direct eye line. While you couldn’t confirm it because you were both wearing sunglasses, you felt his eyes lock on you as you stared at him. It’d been three weeks since meeting him in the hangar, and clearly, he hadn’t had an issue finding a date. 

You tried focusing on Tyler, but your eyes kept drifting back to Jake. He looked good out of uniform. The green collared shirt he wore clung to his arms and chest, and was unbuttoned enough to hint at chest hair. You had a feeling it was a close match to his eyes. Forcing your gaze back to Tyler, you couldn’t help but compare the two men. Tyler was leaner, his dark hair long enough for him to continually flick out of his eyes. Tattoos decorated his arms - definitely your usual type. And he was dull. It had seemed exciting to set a date after only exchanging a few messages online, but this was a reminder of why you usually waited at least a week to screen out meeting someone in person. 

Jake’s laugh drew your attention, and your eyes flitted toward him before lowering to your drink. Running a hand through your hair, you pushed your sunglasses to the top of your head and propped your chin in your hand, leaning forward to focus on Tyler. You saw his eyes dip down to your cleavage and suppressed a sigh. You’d worn a cute new halter top decorated with flowers and a keyhole slit that apparently was just enough for him to get a peek at your breasts. 

As he rambled on about the renovation he was doing on his house (one tally in the pros column - homeowner), you absentmindedly ran your thumb through your glass’s condensation. With your customer service smile pasted on, you mentally ran through the lists of things you needed to get done that weekend. It was hard to ignore the chuckles and laughs from the table next to you, and you tried not to be envious of the easy flow of conversation between Jake and his date. 

Tyler eventually asked how you got into defense contracting, and you gave him the bare bones story - your dad did it and it was a career where you could use your English degree. Granted, working on a contract for washing planes - your newest project - wasn’t always the most exciting, but you liked it. “Too bad some of that military budget can’t go into education,” he smirked.

“Yeah, it’s absolutely an underfunded public service,” you agreed.

“Could divert funding for even a couple of those jets always flying overhead and get so much more bang for your buck.” It was on the tip of your tongue to comment on having to decouple property taxes from school funding, but it wasn’t worth the back and forth. Rather than answer, you took a sip of your coffee, glancing over Tyler’s shoulder to see Jake’s raised eyebrow. 

When you’d both finished your drinks and the date was coming to an organic end, you couldn’t help but feel a twinge of disappointment that another guy who had seemed promising on paper led to a disappointing date. As you gathered your purse and empty cups, he held the door open for you to go inside and return your dishes. “Well, it was nice to meet you,” you said while exiting the building, car keys in hand. 

“Yeah, you too. I had a good time.”

“Me too,” you lied. “It’s always nice to get out and meet someone new.” 

“We should do this again sometime.” You smiled rather than answer and returned the hug he pulled you in for. Thankfully, you were parked on opposite sides of the lot. You sat in your car with the door open until he left, and then got back out. While the date was a bust, you wanted another latte to get you through the errands you needed to run that afternoon. 

“Fancy seeing you here,” a voice said behind you in line. Taking a deep breath, you turned to look up at Jake. 

“Hi.”

“Date going well?” 

“I could ask you the same,” you said, glancing out the window to where his date was looking at her phone. 

“Just getting us some refills,” he shrugged. 

“Good for you.” When it was your turn, you ordered a large iced latte to go and moved to the opposite side of the counter to wait for your drink. You pulled your phone from your back pocket and opened the dating app. Jake moved to stand behind you, crossing his arms over his chest. After typing a quick message to Tyler to say that you enjoyed the date but you didn’t really see anything moving forward, you unmatched with him. 

“Ouch. Could have at least let him get home before breaking his heart,” Jake said. Ignoring him, you closed the app and locked your phone, slipping it into your purse. Tucking your hands into your pockets, you glanced over your shoulder at him. 

“Kind of a dick move to talk to another woman while you’re on a date.” 

“Really? Even when there’s no chance of a date or even friendship with the one I’m talking to?” 

“Yeah, still disrespectful.” 

“My bad.” Neither of you spoke for a long moment. He stepped forward to grab a few sugar packets and stood beside you. “So, aren’t schools paid for by property taxes?”

“Yes!” you said, throwing your hands up. “I mean, completely agree with shifting some defense spending to education but…” you trailed off, turning to glare at him. “Were you listening to our conversation?”

“English degree?” Jake smirked. You reached out to swat his arm before you could stop yourself, which only made him laugh. “Hard not to. Should’ve kept your sunglasses on - hid that you were bored better.”

“I was not bored!” 

“Which is why you blew him off.” 

“Pay attention to your own dating life, Seresin.” With another glance at his date, you scoffed. “I’m surprised you didn’t bring her flowers.”

“Blew my budget on a cute contractor,” he shrugged. 

“Thanks for that, by the way. Everyone at work’s wondering who I’m dating.” 

Jake leaned closer, and you could smell his spicy aftershave and a hint of coffee on his breath when he spoke again, voice low and rumbling in your ear. “Probably better that I paid for delivery instead of bringing them myself, then, huh, Sweetheart.”

Goosebumps erupted on your skin, and your breath caught. Slowly, you turned towards him, catching a glimpse of your stunned expression in the aviator sunglasses hanging on the front of his shirt, and looked up at him. His green eyes dragged from your arm, lingered on your mouth, and finally met your gaze. There was a loaded silence as you dropped your eyes to his cocky grin before turning your attention back to the coffee counter. “Don’t be a dick to your date, please. Don’t be one of those guys.”  

That seemed to bring him up short, and his smile dropped as he looked out the window to where his date sat, tapping her fingers on the table. They called your drinks, and you both moved to grab them. Your eyes met briefly and you gave him a weak smile. “Good luck.”

“I’ll see you around,” he replied. With a nod, you walked towards the front door, pausing as you pushed it open to see Jake leaning against the door to the patio looking at you. Smiling, he lifted one of his drinks and tapped a finger to his forehead in a small salute. You smiled back and returned it before walking out.

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Author's Note: DoDEA schools military funded schools on base. Stateside, it's usually only through elementary school, but overseas it goes through high school. They're just like a normal school, just funded differently (people always imagined a military training school when I say they're military schools).

Thank you for the support with this story! I do have a tag list running, so please let me know if you would like to be added to it.

Read Chapter 3

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[howlingday]

AU idea.

What if jaune went to atlas instead of beacon?

Nother AU fer the pile...

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"General Ironwood, sir!"

"At ease, Lieutenant Schnee." The leading specialist retracted her salute and stood with more relaxed stance. "I need your opinion on something."

"And you couldn't ask anyone else, sir?" The question was not in any manner of defiance, but in curiosity for elaboration.

"No." He shook his head. "Anyone else I ask would simply agree with what I decide."

"Have you made a decision, sir?"

"Not yet, but I have been weighing my options." He slides a tablet across the desk and, once it settles close to the edge, Winter moves to take it. On the screen was a young man, little older than her sister, with unkempt, blond hair and blue eyes of naivety. "I want your opinions on this young man."

"Understood, sir."

She scanned the document, noting quickly the errors made across the screen. Signed, but not stamped. Key blocks unmarked or marked erroneously. This was either a forgery or she was going to have to wring admin by their necks. The latter made her scowl.

"Do you understand?" The general asked.

"Yes, sir." She nodded. "This is a forgery."

"It's no forgery." He shook his head. "I've triple checked."

"Then admin aren't doing their jobs, sir."

"Admin hasn't seen this yet." He shook again. "This transcript was messaged to me directly."

"Directly, sir? But how-"

"I'm not sure, but I intend to find out." He took the tablet back from Winter and set it to the side. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened them, he spoke. "And I also intend to enroll him."

"S-Sir?" This was a first. She'd never been shaken before. "He has no formal education noted, not even self-taught. He could present a danger to Academy!"

"Are you questioning my decision?"

"I'm questioning your reasoning, sir, because you have none!" At this, he rose, crossing his desk to tower over her. "S-Sir?"

"You are aware that I am your commanding officer, aren't you?"

"Yes, sir." She gulped but did not take her eyes off his. "But I am also your deputy, your lieutenant, and if what the other specialists say is true, I am also your 'top fighter,' and I believe I speak on each of those authorities when I say that this decision could prove disastrous."

There was a long, agonizing silence held between them. He stood firm while she quivered ever so slightly. She hadn't been in her position longer than a month, and yet here she was, standing against him in what could be considered an act of treason. As he raised his hand, she resisted the urge to flinch, only doing so when it landed on her shoulder.

"Good." He smiled. "I can't have a second who's afraid to tell me I'm wrong." She gave a sigh. "However, that doesn't change my opinion. I'd like to enroll him into Atlas and mold him into a proud defender of Atlas."

"Sir, you're forgetting a crucial detail." She sighed. "His transcript is... Sir, it's FUBAR."

"Winter," he chuckled, "there's a waiver for that."