#aimless device

[clon240]

[radiophd]

aimless device -- no friend of mine

[idiopathicsmile]

I've been thinking about American diner lingo lately.

Like, relaying an order for poached eggs on toast as “Adam and Eve on a raft.” Or “shingles with a shimmy and shake” for buttered toast with jam.

(I personally learned about this phenomenon as a very young child because we had a picture book where a bear and an elephant are roommates and temp workers and they get a job at a diner for a while. Couldn't tell you why this streamed back into my brain like a week ago, but here we are.)

I'm not sure I can articulate this but there is something so beautiful to me about it. We as a culture know so little about its origins—maybe the 1870s, maybe the 1880s—or even really why it exists.

Wikipedia (yes I wikipedia'd this, yes I feel actual embarrassment about the lack of academic rigor in this aimless tumblr post but also there is also just not a ton of information on the topic) suggests that some diner lingo might've been mnemonic devices for short order cooks to remember specific dishes but honestly scroll through any list and you'll find it mostly isn't that. What it reads like is bored food service workers, mostly in the 1920s through 1970s, looking for a way to amuse or at least entertain themselves.

Milk is “moo juice.” Jell-o becomes “nervous pudding.” Black coffee is “a mug of murk.”

Western history loves its individual heroes, but my guess is the practice arose organically at multiple luncheon spots across the US. We don't know the names of the servers and cooks who came up with the terms but a few of the terms have survived, in a fashion—as wider used slang (“Joe” for coffee), as a vintage-y affectation in quirky restaurants of the present, and in compendiums of self-consciously useless factoids (oysters wrapped in bacon are transmuted into “angels on horseback”). It's something about the ordinary people of the world of the past, the tiny fossils we leave behind without even knowing it. One unknown day in history, someone then working as a diner employee thought to call a tall stack of pancakes “Jayne Mansfield” because for some reason it made their day a little better, and this somehow caught on to the point where I can, without doing much work, still find multiple written sources insisting it happened. It wasn't a marketer or a CEO somewhere, it was just a bunch service workers passing the time and leaving the slightest little linguistic footprints behind.

I don't know. Imagine if one of your inside jokes from work was still being spread by offbeat trivia lovers a hundred years from now.

[oleworm]

One interesting thing about The Passenger (2023) that I haven’t seen mentioned here yet is how it begins not unlike a typical action-thriller involving a violent man and a hostage situation—and indeed the trailers market it as such—but then as the story progresses it unexpectedly turns into a rape and revenge film.

Benson’s violence and aimlessness, the cluttered house, the dirty car full of trash, the chronic dissatisfaction that permeates his existence, which he projects on Randy and the waitress, Marsha—all of these are sequelae to the traumatic event suffered at the hands of his teacher, implied to be of a sexual nature, but we do not discover this until two thirds into the film. Then it all falls into place. The mere fact contextualises the character. On second watch, his bizarre rants, the timing of his tics, his decoration of the giraffe plushie take on a new and sickening meaning. Or rather, we can access a meaning that is closer to the truth, when before we had been kept in the half-light in much the same way that Randy was, trying to make shapes of the shadows that make up Benson’s fractured personality. The “toughness” is a façade. We find that the tells were there from the beginning.

In this subvariant of the revenge genre the wronged person is usually a woman, who often goes on the revenge journey herself. Other times she serves as the device for a man to go on a rampage to take revenge on her behalf. When men are protagonists to these stories, it is almost always on behalf of the woman wronged, but they are rarely the ones directly affected. Acts of sexual violence are not supposed or expected to happen to men, in the imagination of the dominant culture.

The scene where Benson walks up to his teacher and beats him to death is filmed as if the man were an evil thing, a monster-memory, a representation of Benson’s trauma rather than a person. The man is not emphasised in a way that we are invited to sympathise with him. He barely speaks. His face is seen but briefly. Later it becomes a hole of gore. The focus is on Benson and his struggle, his dissociated state, his raging and his fear. It makes sense that the actors later spoke of this as the moment where Benson comes the closest to killing Randy, when he begins to ask questions about the man he has just turned into a bloody ruin.

Though it is the teacher that chokes on his own blood, at the closing of the scene it looks as if Randy has to go out to Benson and rescue him.

[greeneyessmize]

Popping in here with more theories!

(Admittedly, some of these I had in a reply to another person's post, but I think they can stand on their own.)

I think Polin will end up across the street in the Featherington estate because I am pretty sure they are setting it up for Pen to have the first Featherington boy. (I am also hoping for twins with a girl first for the sheer drama of pissing off her sisters and annoying Portia because that means Colin and Pen will be straightening out the very shady Featherington estate and her power will be null & void. She could control Harry or Albion. She won't get any traction with Polin. It has also been indicated that the actress playing Prudence will not be back next season.)

That would mean we would see Polin potentially as much as Kanthony. Maybe more if it is Eloise's season since I am really hoping that Peneloise will be back up and running. I have read that the higher ups have referred to Penelope as the heart of the show. You can't remove the heart and keep moving forward at all well.

On that note, I also think that the LW reveal will be limited to the Bridgertons, the Queen, and a very small amount of other people. Losing the LW narration device is probably not something they are willing to do any time soon. Why mess with something beloved?

I also believe we are going to see at least a one year time jump if it is Eloise's season next. There has been no whisper about Marina so far, and for there to be Eloise and Phillip, there cannot be Marina. And there has to be time between Marina dying and Phillip and Eloise being together, even in a loveless marriage you cannot remarry immediately in that era. Having the twins still be so very young would eliminate a lot of Eloise's growth as a character, imho, because those kids take her on a wild ride.

It makes more sense to have Benedict go next. He is aimless this season and needs roots. The issue, though, is that facets of his story with Sophie are probably not going to make us like him much unless there are some big changes. The whole "be my mistress because you are too low born to be my wife" just gives me the full ick. If we can just get around that at the very least, I think we can move forward somewhat gracefully.

The beginning of Francesca's book could really fit in the spaces of both seasons, neatly around the edges. We know she loves John. But those of us who have read the books, we know the end destiny.

That's all I've got for now!

[wilcze-kudly]

The more I think about it, the more I think Bolin could easily embody that "human treated as a weapon/tool, who also believes that of themselves" tropes.

Like, it is not a stretch to say that Bolin has been "used" at least three times by antagonists of the show. By Kuvira, for his unique bending abilities and his good reputation, by Varrick for his looks, charisma and popularitu and by Eska for physical labour and her... um... you know I think I'll need to make another long post about Eska's weirdly intense attachment to Bolin.

In these relationships there is an onbious pattern, Bolin letting a more assertive/experienced person take the lead and order him around. Even when he's hurt or humiliated or frightened, he keeps his head down and does what is required of him until some big event (usually only vagely related to his current predicament ) allows him to "break free".

But without a decisive push, Bolin often appears unable or extremely unwilling to disobey the people he views as currently 'in control of him'. Often he's manipulated or pushed into something he's uncomfortable with, or explicity doesn't want to do, even hurting those he cares about.

Sometimes I wonder if even Bolin subconsciously sees himself as just a tool for others to wield and command. That it's easier to let others take charge than to think for himself, than to deal with the responsibility of governing himself. A responsibility he was never taught to handle.

This, as most analysis of Bolin ties back to his traumatic childhood and his codependent relationship with Mako.

Bolin grew up following Mako's lead. He never got to peel off from Mako, never got to slowly build up his independence, as children in more stable environments do. Because seperation from his brother would usually mean danger.

Hell, Mako often acts like a strict parent, since he had to step up to the role. However, often Mako tends to disregard Bolin's own agency and preferences in favour of Bolin's physical safety. Which isn't a bad thing, and Mako was doing as best he could, however this does obviously lead to Bolin being a little stunted in the decisionmaking department.

Bolin lacks agency, as a person. He relies on others leading him. One of the reasons him and Korra get along so well. She's headstrong and decisive and can easily direct him. This is probably why he also gravitated to Kuvira after Korra became incapacitated. He even explained to Mako that "Kuvira is basically just like Korra".

Bolin likes to be given a purpose and that purpose is given to hin by other people. You can see how lost he is when left to his own devices. I mean, Mako left him alone for like 2 days in B2 and Bolin immediately glued himself to Varrick like an abandoned baby koala. And the only times he was able to stand up to Mako, someone who often guides him, is when Bolin is, let's say, "wielded" by someone else (Varrick or Kuvira respectively). It's also fucking painful that whenever Bolin does branch off from Mako, he's always slapped back down, because the person who lead him "astray" turned out to be a villain.

Especially between seasons, and post B4 when team Avatar isn't together, isn't actively driven to do something, Bolin gets lost.

He's aimless in times of peace. He bounces from career to career, unable to focus on anything, because he's so used to tob being directed to fight, to literally survive. It's also important to note that he started training under Toza when he was like 13, no wonder all he can do is combat.

This, coupled with his lavabending being one of Bolin's most prominent skills (also note that lavabending is the only discipline of earthbending we've seen that can't easily be translated into building or art. Lavabending is pure destruction, at least in the form we're shown.).

Korra has her Avatar status, wisdom gained through adversity and her determination. Asami has her company, her ingenuity and drive. Mako has his detective work, and deductive skills. Bolin's just a good fighter and occasionally lifting the mood.

How is he meant to exist in times of peace?

Even though he is clearly uncomfortable with conflict.

Does Bolin have any interests? Things he likes to do other than eat? Other than perform and contort himself for other people to like him?

I thought the mind control plot from Rote could've started an arc of Bolin realising he can be more than a pawn or a tool, but alas, the comic was dissapointing on many fronts, including this one.

I know Bolin is supposed to be the imamture comic relief character, but he's very compelling and multifaceted to me. He has a lot of potential to be a groundbreaking character, however it doesn't seem like the creators are going that way. So um. That sucks.

Also this whole thought process came to me from listening to She was a bird, I was an arrow and thinking of weilin so that's the context of this analysis lol.

I'm gonna need to clear these thoughts up after a while, but hey, enjoy the silly Bolin rambles

[blueskittlesart]

Hi hi lore question! Do you ever focus on the enemies in the games? Like how the -blins and -fos are sentient and have their own villages and cultures (to my knowledge, as far back as TP but I never had any of the earlier games). How these guys live and serve Ganon even though they should be all rights be separate societies. Is there anything in the game lore or storytelling that shows how this came about or how they interact with each other?

(side note but the TP mini boss in the yeti house seems to be a normal lizalfos that got corrupted and transformed by proximity to the mirror imo)

i haven't focused too much on it but i think it's definitely interesting!! in earlier games, the only enemies who specifically served ganon were the -blins, which were at least visually implied to be somehow related to him because they were all pig monsters like him (this was before the gerudo lore was added.) but there were also some instances of races that are now pretty ubiquitously friendly being hostile--most notably the zora in alttp behave just like menial enemies and will attack you if you come near them, even after you talk to their king. so there is some precedent for these creatures to not be necessarily EVIL so much as they are hostile.

I honestly don't remember very much about tp so i'm gonna use botw/totk as my jumping-off point here just because i'm more confident about it, but in those games the description/general vibe of the monsters sort of shift from "race of nonhuman creatures who are Evil and serve ganon Just Because" to "creatures specifically created by and for ganon, who rely on ganon's power to sustain themselves and are seemingly compelled against their will to carry out ganon's will." because you're right that if left to their own devices, the monsters in these games will generally just kind of. exist in their own little societies. but the second they so much as SEE you, regardless of if you're bothering them, they go into attack mode. the existence of the blood moon and the dialog we get about it suggests to me that these monsters are specifically creations of ganon--the blood moon is supposedly "when ganon's power is at its peak," and it causes "the aimless souls of slain monsters to return to flesh." the fact that ganon can revive these monsters when his power is heightened suggests that 1. they were created by him in the first place and 2. they are under his control in some way. Zelda also makes reference in a few cutscenes to an increased level of monster activity being a sign that the calamity is approaching, implying that ganon is creating more and more monsters as his power grows in preparation for his eventual return. so, at least in botw/totk, I don't think the monsters can really be treated as independant races that just so happen to be hostile, since their existence seems to be contingent upon the existence of ganon and they appear to be constantly under his control to some degree. imo the fact that they form packs that resemble societies is probably just a result of having a lot of downtime in the hundred years link was asleep, and maybe a base instinct that understands strength in numbers.

[blackflash9]

The flaws of the Colonial Brotherhood:

-Achilles is a self-righteous fanatic.

-Liam is blinded by dogma.

-Kesegowaase is a ruthless murderer.

-Hope is drunk by power.

-Chevalier is an elitist jerkass.

My point? Shay and Connor, even if they don't interact with each other, their actions benefitted the Brotherhood: Shay wiped out the Colonial Brotherhood and Connor reformes it into the force of good its supposed to be.

LONG POST: The flaws within the Colonial Brotherhood reveal an intriguing wrinkle in the Assassin philosophy itself. Unlike the Templars, who maintain a distinct vision for shaping humanity’s future, the Assassins lack a unified, long-term goal beyond defending freedom from oppression. This gap is starkly highlighted when the Colonial Brotherhood operates unchecked, without the overwhelming opposition of the Templars to focus their purpose. Left to their own devices, the Assassins’ lack of cohesive vision exposes a weakness: idealists without a blueprint, defenders without a clear direction, and crusaders who can become aimless when not challenged by a force as rigid and purposeful as the Templars. In this sense, Shay’s betrayal—while difficult to justify—might have been inevitable. His defection exposes the pitfalls of Achilles’ uncompromising belief in the Assassins’ responsibility to direct humanity, a belief that morphed into dogma and, ultimately, fanaticism. Achilles viewed the Brotherhood’s mission as an imperative, a duty to protect and guide. Still, this self-imposed “responsibility” mirrors the Templars’ mission of control and order, albeit with different means. Without the Templars’ opposition, this unchecked responsibility led to a rigid, almost tyrannical version of the Brotherhood in the colonies. The organization’s noble ideals became tainted by an overbearing sense of purpose, failing to see that by trying to direct humanity, they strayed dangerously close to the very authoritarianism they sought to prevent.

In many ways, Achilles embodies the three great ironies that Altaïr once identified within the Assassin Order. These ironies call out: Altaïr Codex #4 [1] Promoting peace through murder [2] Striving to open minds while enforcing obedience [3] Condemning blind faith while practicing it It is woven into the fabric of the Brotherhood and is meant to "ground" the Assassins. Still, Achilles’ actions in the colonies reveal how deeply these contradictions can impact the Order. First, Achilles' devotion to the Brotherhood’s cause leads him to justify violence in the name of peace (i.e., Lisbon), seeing the destruction of potential threats as a necessary means to protect freedom. Shay’s defection, however, exposes the flaw in this approach. By holding to this paradox, Achilles perpetuates a cycle of violence that risks turning the Assassins into the very oppressors they stand against. His unwavering commitment to “peace through murder” backfires, driving away those who once shared his ideals and planting seeds of dissent that ultimately lead to the Brotherhood’s near destruction in the colonies. The second irony—opening minds while enforcing obedience—is also central to Achilles’ leadership. Achilles is a man who believes in guiding others along a strict path, demanding loyalty to the Brotherhood's ideals. Yet this approach, intended to enlighten and protect, veers dangerously close to the authoritarianism he opposes. By expecting his followers to adhere rigidly to his interpretation of the Brotherhood's mission, Achilles stifles the independent thought he claims to champion. Shay’s rebellion against this structure illustrates how such rigid obedience can alienate those within the Order and sow discord. Finally, Achilles’ conviction in the Assassins’ duty reflects the third irony: revealing the dangers of blind faith while practicing it. Achilles believes fervently that the Assassins are responsible for shaping the world, protecting its freedom, and, in a way, “saving” humanity from itself. However, this faith blinds him to the broader consequences of his actions, leading him to impose his vision of zealotry. His certainty in the Brotherhood’s purpose and right to act mirrors the same dogma he denounces in the Templars. Shay’s betrayal underscores the inherent danger in this unyielding belief - Achilles’ commitment to the Order ultimately becomes a self-fulfilling downfall. This lack of a defined endgame may keep the Assassins aligned with freedom.

"There is always something else that needs fighting for. This is something you never warned me of, maybe because you thought I would have been deterred– you would have been wrong but I know you were not accustomed to that. Life carries on here. The people seem happy– they are certainly safe, at least for now. One of my brotherhood asked me something I have been struggling with, what happens if– when– we win? When we stop the Templars? It is a question I certainly do not know the answer to; perhaps you did not either." - Connor Kenway (c. 1781)

Ultimately, the Assassins’ lack of vision for humanity’s future may make them the counterbalance to the Templars. They represent the possibility of freedom unbound by rigid doctrines or imposed destinies. While Shay’s actions may have been destructive, they also cleared the way for Connor’s reforms—reminding the Colonial-later-American Brotherhood that their strength lies in guarding the potential for freedom, not dictating its path.

[clavissionary-position]

Ikeprinces Ranked By How Well They Park

God Tier

CHEVALIER . He parks so well that it’s unfair even having him on the list. He can mentally visualize and predict where all the empty spots in any parking facility are long before ever going in. He knows local parking customs no matter where he goes. There is no style of parking he cannot flawlessly execute just from reading about it. Legend has it he never even took his driving exam; they just gave his license to him.

SARIEL . There’s never been a parking space that’s looked Sariel in the eye and lived to tell the tale. His side-parking alone makes you want to squeeze your thighs together while biting back lewd cries. As he shifts the gears to park, he looks at you out of the corner of his eye, gives you that devilish smirk and tells you he hopes you're ready to show him what you've learned.

JIN . Watching Jin park one-handed while casually sucking on a lollipop is like watching a 3-star Michelin chef prepare a world-class dinner right in front of you. You can’t help but want to thank him for the visual food. He keeps it classy and casual at the same time, and being in a car with him at all makes you feel like seat-belts and air-bags are totally unnecessary.

Valet Tier

RIO . His parking is already outstanding, but it’s the added customer service you get on top that truly makes him shine. You find yourself talking to him as if you’ve been friends for years, and it’s only once the conversation is over that you realize you’ve been sitting parked for over half-an-hour.

NOKTO . It’s almost surprising how good of a parker this Klein is. But it’s not like you can regularly show up to foreign embassies and expect to be treated with respect if you butcher their parking area. He's probably the prince you see drive/park the most because of his fondness for long, aimless late-night drives.

LICHT . He’s also a Klein that parks well. Must run in the family. His back muscles flex beautifully underneath his shirt when he reaches through the window to get parking tickets. He still does the awkward open-the-door-a-crack-to-double-check thing, but he's never, not once, had to readjust his parking.

Heart Attack Tier

ALTER-KEITH . It’s simply erotic how confidently he parks. He surprises you with unexpected maneuvers every now and then, mostly to tease you, but always so he can study your reactions. And the way he uses his free hand to entwine his fingers with yours; and then how he moves your connected hands to shift the gears instead of letting your hand go to do so... *clutches chest in pain*

LEON . Makes you feel like you’re riding along with a golden-age movie star, what with his flashy maneuvering. If High-Octane Parking were a thing, Leon would be the posterchild. Half the time your heart is all the way up your throat, but It. Is. Fun. As. Hell. You almost don’t want to get out of the car, and you can tell just how much fun he has showing off as his laughter coasts atop every rev of the engine.

SILVIO . It’s impossible to fully judge Silvio’s parking or even driving capabilities while also nursing a nosebleed (because you can’t stop staring at his sexy forearms when his hands are on the steering wheel). His wealth, connections and status give him access to the best parking spots, so it’s safe to assume he’s not burning bridges by parking like an animal. Also, he’s Silvio! Why would he be bad at parking? Unless he happens to catch you staring like that and then oh fuck oh fuck oh fu—

GILBERT . Prefers to let you drive, but he gets so unbelievably jealous when you interact with parking meters and ticket-dispensers, that he either shoots the offending device on sight or cleverly manipulates you into parking elsewhere. If that ‘elsewhere’ has an excruciating walking-distance to your destination, he’ll manipulate the situation and then somehow you’re both back home, on his bed, doing kissy-bitey things. So instead of letting him boss you around, be sure to put your foot down on the brakes and tell him he needs to suck it up (he will). If he’s driving, he’s a god-tier parker.

CLAVIS . He has made it a personal goal to invent a new type of parking every two weeks. He’s never been able to beat Chev at those silly parking mobile apps, or even Tetris, so he’s decided to one-up him in the most ridiculous, real-life way using cars. Clavis parks the way you can sometimes find two or three jigsaw puzzle pieces stuck together in unholy ways. Every sound that comes out of a car operated by Clavis Lelouch is symphonic chaos in the best and worst ways. No one has a higher monthly car-insurance premium than Clavis fucking Lelouch. Except for Yves.

IDGAF Tier

LUKE . He parks diagonally, taking up multiple parking spaces. His backseat is an amateur’s collection of unpaid parking ticket stubs. A wave of honey-scents floods out whenever he opens his car door. He unironically listens to Nickelback, so the combination of Nickelback and honey smells coming out of a parking lot can only mean one thing.

RIP Tier

KEITH . (After finally arriving at the parking location two days late) It’s not that he’s a poor-parker, he’s just one that overthinks the hell out of it. Is he going too fast? Is he going too slow? Is there enough of a gap on your side for you to get out? Is there enough of a gap that people can comfortably get into their cars on either side of his? Is his car so tall, I mean big, that it creates an eyesore when someone’s looking down the line? Should he just park directly inside that ditch?

YVES . He’s not the one bumping into cars, they’re the ones bumping into him!! Ranking him this low for something beyond his control is SLANDER!! Though this is largely only the case when he's driving by himself or with people who aren't you. If you're in the car, his Luck Stat goes through the roof, which makes it easier for him to show off just how much of a careful and dexterous parker he is. And his bangs do a cute little forward-backward swish just as he finishes (in sync with his ear ring).

[pekoehoneyncream]

Ghoaptober # 24

Prompt: Wish

Words: 800~

TW: None (sfw)

This version of Ghoaptober was created by @spadesandshovels

We've got some unsubtle PriceGaz in this one aswell

Enjoy!

Ghost watched, enraptured, as Johnny puttered about the kitchen humming and making them bacon butties or ‘bacon pieces’ as the Scot called them. Gaz wandered in and plopped down at the table beside Ghost, his eyes tracking Soap as he idled beside his most frequent stop. Checking if the temperamental toaster was burning their bread.

“Tav, are you humming ‘when you wish upon a star’?” Gaz blurted when the song finally clicked in his head, some measure of good-natured mockery staining his voice. 

“Aye,” Soap answered snappily, “an’ whit of it? Mah li’l cousins are on a disney kick, the films were playing twenty-four seven when Ah popped over. Cannae get them outta mah head.”

“Be right back,” Gaz tossed over his shoulder as he darted back out of the kitchen. Ghost and Soap exchanging shrugs and baffled glances in his wake.

Soap had finished the sandwiches, sat down to the table, and was half-way done his when Gaz slid back into the room. Breathing hard and toting a wireless speaker. 

“Tav,” He said sternly, “You’ve got, like, three minutes to eat that, then we’re fixing this.” 

Soap was confused, but as willing to play along with Gaz’s schemes as always, and powered through the last half of his sandwich in record time, washing it down with big gulps of water. Ghost chewed through his meal with no haste, content to have dinner and a show. 

After few long moments of fiddling with his phone and the device, a ding sounded and Gaz made a victorious trilling noise in his throat, slamming the speaker down on the table. A bit more fidgeting with his phone and then club music started blasting, the bass of the speaker sending rattles through everything on the table. Ghost flattened his free hand on the wood, enjoying the vibrations buzzing under his palm. 

Soap gave an excited whoop. Catching onto Gaz’s plot he bounced out of his chair and into the centre of the kitchen, dragging his fellow Sergeant along with him. They bopped there energetically, but with no real intent, until the music shuffled to a song they recognized. If the way they cheered and started singing along were anything to go by. 

Ghost froze, the last few bites of his sandwich hanging in the air before his gawping mouth. Johnny was dancing, but not the aimless bouncing or headbobbing Ghost had seen him do before. Johnny sent his body rolling through moves that were nothing less than pure sex. He was grinding his hips, throwing his head back, dragging his hands over his skin, shamelessly bending over to pop his ass. Every so often he would eddy up against Gaz and they rocked together in a way that Ghost didn’t think could get any more erotic, even if they were actually naked. 

Gaz was no slouch either, but his dancing had a more deliberately seductive air, that Soap’s pure unbeguiling enjoyment overshadowed. At the umpteenth showing of fuck-me eyes from Gaz, Ghost managed to force himself to glance over to where Gaz was aiming and was unsurprised to find Price in the doorway, gripping at the frame with white-knuckled hands. 

The song came to an end, but Ghost was offered no relief. The next one that came on was slower and Johnny was determined to make that a problem for Ghost's blood pressure. He slowed down his moves, each thrust, roll, and swing reined in, honed into a masterclass of temptation. Ghost wouldn’t have been surprised to see scales with each flash of skin Johnny’s enthusiasm revealed, with the siren song that he was singing through Ghost’s veins.

The next song had a solid three four pattern, couched in bassy club nonsense, but recognizable. Gaz gave an excited yelp and latched himself onto Johnny, snatching up his hand and grabbing hold of his shoulder. Soap laughed and began amiably leading them around the room in a fluid waltz, guiding Gaz and easily compensating for his inexperience. The three four metre faded into a speaker screeching bass drop and the Sergeants fell apart laughing. 

“Garrick,” Price barked abruptly, “With me.” About facing, he marched away with Gaz hot on his heels. If the man had a tail it’d have been wagging. 

Soap meandered back over to the table, giggling as he clicked off the speaker. The sudden silence ringing through the kitchen. 

“Tha’ was fUN!” Johnny’s voice kicked up into a yelp as Ghost manhandled him down to straddle his lap. Transitioning his bracing clutch from the edge of the table to Johnny’s hips. 

Ghost nipped chastisingly at Johnny’s neck as unrepentant little giggles kept shaking through his chest, pulling him in tighter to show him the full breadth of Ghost’s problem. 

“Need some help there, Si?” Johnny teased, grinning and lacing his arms behind Ghost’s neck.

“If it's you that’s offering?” Ghost husked into his ear, “Always, Johnny.”

An eager shiver ran over Johnny’s skin and he tilted his head down to steal Ghost’s lips in a kiss. This wasn’t how he’d pictured his afternoon going, but he wouldn't wish for a single thing to change. 

Thank You For Reading!

Price coming in clutch with the Horny Grip. Not that Ghost is any better.

PekoeHoneynCream's Masterlist

[brisksunrise]

Some more of Waylen.

Waylen's general everyday life was that of an aimless college student, having picked a degree path without even really thinking or knowing about what he wanted to do in life, falling into the trap of thinking that just having a degree of some kind would instantly open more doors.

The outfit that was a part of his body as a Meloetta Morph was capable of being shifted into a small variety of styles.

The sudden ability to actually be able to properly appreciate and feel affected by music as a whole was an intense, overwhelming experience at first. So many emotions surged within him, especially since his entire body could outright FEEL every intent and meaning to the melodies.

As a Meloetta morph, Waylen's bunny headset is capable of receiving radio waves from the surrounding area, as well as tapping into radios and devices playing music and play the music directly to him.

The aimless, dull college life of this young man just trying to slink by as quietly as he could without too much attention has certainty hit a swerve.

[literary-illuminati]

2024 Book Review #16 – The Saint of Bright Doors by Vajra Chandrasekera

I grabbed this on a recommendation I now forget the specifics of, but which I am incredibly glad I listened to. Not a perfect book, but a beautiful one. It really does immerse you in a capital-w Weird setting in a way I haven’t gotten to enjoy in a while, and might the best in years at really weaving it in with a sense of the mundane and the bathetic. Pacing and character development and plot are a little all over the place, but still a great read.

The story follows Fetter, the only child of the Perfect and Kind, anointed messiah of the Path Above. His mother tears his shadow off of him at birth, and forever after he must choose to remain tethered to the earth and not float away into infinity. He is raised from birth as a tool to take vengeance on his father by committing each of his five unforgivable sins – culminating, of course, in holy patricide. His childhood is spent in indoctrination and murders – and oh, he’s also the only one he knows who can see the monstrous devils who share the world with humanity.

So anyway, all that gives him a lot to talk about in therapy.

The actual book follows Fetters’ life as an aimless young adult in the city of Luriat, with its layers of impenetrable government and byzantine system of castes and races inherited from successive colonizers, its regular pogroms and plagues, and its tendency for any doors left closed and unwatched for too long to instantaneously become permanently shut portals to Somewhere. Over the course of the book, he is dragged into a revolutionary conspiracy, learns his father is coming to the city, learns deep metaphysical secrets, is a pretty terrible boyfriend, becomes a suicide bomber, and learns to fly.

To start with the negative, the pacing of the plot is...okay, maybe not bad, but it’s really not trying for the things I’d expect it to. A whole act of the narrative is spent meandering through an absurd purgatory of refugee/prison/quarantine camps Fetter has been consigned to. Lovely writing, thematically important, does eat up a lot of page count which then leads to rest of the book being things happening very quickly one after the other with very little in the way of buildup or reflection. Time is enjoyably spent just detailing the experience of Fetter’s day to day life, but much of the supporting cast feel more like plot (or thematic) devices than characters. The book ends with the protagonist loudly reciting the big lesson he’s learned from the events of the book. So yeah, less than perfect book. Still, I found all the sins very easy to forgive.

As mentioned, this was the first fantasy book I’ve read in a while that felt properly fantastical, like it was created from first principles rather than being the latest in a hoary old lineage stretching back generations. Which might be complete bullshit, I don’t know – not like I’ve read a great deal of other South Asian fantasy to compare it to – but it worked for me. A big part of which is how very modern it is. This is a secondary world with prophets and plague-bearing anti-gods, forgotten timelines whose ghosts leak into the world, and a whole plethora of almost- and not-quite- messiahs. And also one with cellphones and UN-administered refugee camps, labyrinthine bureaucratic politics and scandals over inappropriate allocation of imported medical devices. It all feels like a reflection of the present and its own concerns rather than the thousandth-generation pastiche much of the genre does, I suppose – which is something I really did appreciate.

The world of the book – or, at least, the little slice of it the story is concerned with. There’s clearly grander and stranger things happening off in the distance – is one intensely concerned with caste and class, race and religion and breeding. Luriat is weighed down with the architecture and high culture of successive waves of colonialism, and its elites organize and govern the population according to a syncretic mix of all of their ideological castoffs. Politics – and in particular the use of plague and quarantine on one hand and sectarian pogroms on the other to control the populace – is pretty key to the whole book. It’s also just about entirely beyond Fetter. Not that he’s dumb, just that he’s apolitical, in the sense of treating government like an inexorable and inevitable fact of life to be worked with/around or avoided, not something you can understand or change. Which makes for fun reading as there’s clearly a whole Les Mis thing happening like 0.5 degrees to the left of the book’s plot.

Anyway, I’m still sad Pipra didn’t get more screentime, and the whole ending feels almost comically rushed, but absolutely a worthwhile read.

[rayalltheway]

Remember the Little Warrior AU?

Well guess what campers - we got a new LMK OC for it

She’s a newcomer to a whole lotta established lore so quite a bit of that is mixed in, but I’ll try to contextualize it easier. Character Description time (The events described go up to Season 4 of LMK) :D

Tiě hú

Alias: The Iron/Gunpowder Fox

Gender: Nonbinary She/her

Age: 2000+ (Young adult mentally/physically)

Species: Hulijing (Awakened Gunpowder Weapon)

Background: Tie Hu is no typical fox demon - she was once an ancient experimental gunpowder device crafted by humans, and through means of cultivation, eventually came to life. This might have something to do with her human makers being unknowingly being aided by hulijings, stealing her away for their own selfish purposes just as she gained awareness. Her time with the hulijings was throughly unpleasant, eventually getting discarded once she proved to be more trouble than she was worth. As technically a “thing” unable to remember the reason for her existence, Tie Hu was aimless until she encountered the leader of an isolated clan of demons, a gibbon named Bai Meimao, who took the young fox girl into her fold and showed her true compassion. Tie Hu would become a faithful servant to the Butterfly clan, utterly devoted to her lady (and to a lesser extent, Bai Meimao’s elder sibling Changbiyuan) like a loyal daughter. She would use her nature to hone herself into a deadly assassin skilled with gunpowder weaponry -- still taking it as her purpose to be solely a living weapon rather than an actual living being. But when a powerful bone demon came and destroyed her adoptive family, including Bai Meimao, Tie Hu was unable to fulfill it and was burnt out, forced into a lifeless state for over a millennia.

During this time, Changbiyuan had escaped Lady Bone Demon as a spirit, and eventually garnered enough strength and help to return to the mortal realm and avenge their family -- but was also left believing they were the only survivor of their clan. Meanwhile, Tie Hu finally woke up thanks to the sheer force of a powerful fire somewhere in the world...and unlike Changbiyuan, she’s not ready to let go yet. She wants her family back, and rumours of a scroll containing memories of the world might be her best shot.

(Concept sketches)

Soooo...she's basically an ancient version of a robot. A very explosive tempered, socially withdrawn and immature robot who wields guns, is made of iron, heat and gunpowder and hates the demons she’s modelled after, but yeah. I’ve already got a lot for her already, hope you guys are intrigued:D

(young design)

Oh, also she’s an oc x canon ship with MK. Anyways more to come on this fox girl ehehehh

Link to the LWAU master post

[weebsinstash]

I was wondering, would Mayday tell the difference between us the the YouTwo?? Cuz from the movie she looks very perceptive and smart enough, so I can’t help but wonder if she could tell when it’s us or YouTwo?

For example; we probably blow on her stomach to make her laugh whenever we greeted her. But YouTwo? She just holds her at arms length and looks at her like she’s a disease

And probably Peter B Parker would know it’s us or not??

I like the idea that certain people and especially the more animal-based Spiders can always kind of inherently tell who's who just by smell alone, but also, something I think I haven't utilized in many of my ideas yet is the Spidey Sense. You can lowkey just spidey vibe check someone and kind of tell or sense stuff about them? And like I dunno if I'm misinterpreting the scene but didn't Miles also have certain visions with some of his Spidey Sense episodes like in the first movie, he has visions of the spider being an alchemax spider just before he meets Blonde Peter, or, idk, he saw visuals with his Spidey Sense

Like sidebar but the whole, kind of vision thing, imagine you're extremely stressed and have you know maybe been doing some self harming stuff and Peter B sees you're going through it one day and, you're actually about to open up to him when you experience the Spidey vision/premonition of, you tell him and he immediately goes and tells Miguel, and you realize oh he's kind of a snitching bastard ain't he (but it's for your own good he promises he's just worried about you kiss kiss uncle Pete loves ya)

But no, I was maybe thinking, YouTwo pops up and Reader is going through their 'beginning a depressive episode' shit and you can tell YouTwo is new and freaked out and, well, it's real easy to see yourself in, well, yourself, and you're like "hey I know what it feels like to feel alone, maybe you could, hang out with this friend of mine, just this once" and you give some tips on how to act around them and, maybe the more you get depressed and feel useless, you actually let them take over more and more and it's when they have some decent "power" that they start actively replacing you and messing with you and trying to kick you out and get rid of you for real

Reader, who is also feeling aimless and depressed: hey other me, why don't you go hang out with this buddy Pavitr of mine, he has this healing energy--

YouTwo: *gets along well with Pavitr and he winds up inviting other friends of yours and YouTwo makes their own independent plans with all of them, basically assimilating deep into your entire friend group and giving themselves more opportunities to steal your friends and more people, and also these hangouts become later 'proof' aka "well im the real one and i can prove it, hey Pavitr remember when we--"*

Reader: hmmmm definitely don't like that!

But no just. Picture Peter B one day finds a little bruise on Mayday, maybe a few of them, and he noticed her temperament is a little different. He can just TELL something is wrong and so can her mother Mary Jane, and Peter thinks, well, there's really not many times she's even out of his sight, ALTHOUGH he DID let 'you' babysit a few times. And at first he wants to play it off, "oh you're just inexperienced with babies and Mayday can be a total handful, you probably just made a mistake" and 'you' even lie and say, maybe it was another kid or Spider animal who got to her when 'you' had barely turned your back

But Peter B gets a little tiny baby monitor/listening device gadget, like a little hard plastic keychain that looks innocent and is ultra durable, and he attaches it to Mayday anyways, just to find out definitively what's happening, and he's with Miguel one day making idle chit chat and they can just hear 'you' over the baby monitor, "why does he keep leaving you with me. I don't even like you, you nasty little monster" and Peter B is just sort of like. ":) haha I'm sure they're. They're joking. They're totally joking" and there's just a series of *yelp* "did you just fucking bite me? Little BITCH!" *Mayday cries out and starts bawling* "yeah you're lucky that's all you get, my parents used to do way worse to me--"

Cue Peter B and Miguel bursting into the room because both fathers are understandably ENRAGED because 1. Dude have 'you' been hurting Parker's literal actual baby and 2. This is not the person they thought it was. Oh SHIT is this not the right person they thought it was

Peter B eventually meets up with you, the real you again, because sometimes i imagine Reader just quietly moves to a normal part of Nueva York and you hand your Spidey life over to YouTwo, and youre understandably a little hateful and dont want to talk to him, but he kinda just, deposits his baby into your arms. Hes gonna baby test ya and see if youre the real one. Mayday just is totally relaxed in your arms, which are noticeably much more careful holding her than your double was because Peter B actually showed you how to hold a baby, and she also has a bandaid on her hand from scratching it against something and you're just like "oh no, you got a little boo boo 🥺 why does your DUMB DADDY keep bringing you around places you can get hurt" and Peter B is like "well ok I think that's a little uncalled for but this one is definitely the real one"

Peter B is then at the front of the Anti YouTwo lynchmob because "that fake HURT MY BABY, Miguel!" which of course wins over a bunch of other formerly skeptical Spiders. You think Jess would ever give YouTwo a second chance? Fuck that, she's not gonna trust some temperamental monster around her baby whenever it's born! Meanwhile Spider Cat who can't talk is over here like "yeah well why do you think I kept biting them, they're a fake 🙄 you see this bullshit, Spider Miette" "jail for faker, jail for faker for one thousand years--"

The Spider Society finally 'gets you back' all "and arent you so happy things can just go back to normal again :)" and you're like "uhhh no fuck you guys, I'll live here but only because you don't give me any other option, the only ones of you I still trust anymore are the animal Spiders, the little kids, Hobie the realest bitch in here who never doubted me, and the toys, isn't that right special edition neon funko pop Miles Morales"

One day after YouTwo has replaced you they get too comfortable thinking everyone is always never once going to question or doubt them anymore and some absolutely heinous shit comes out of their mouth and like they get the social equivalent of one of those Telltale or Fallout video game HUDS pop up, "EVERYONE disliked that" "Miguel will remember that" "social karma lost"

YouTwo, not realizing you did one last thing to fuck them over on the way out: oh hey it's that Hobie guy that's been gone for ages, the real me told me the special password to let him know I'm the real one was "blue lives matter"?

the second that shit comes out of YouTwo's mouth he instantly knows as well as literally anyone around who knows Hobie now knows that's the fake you. YouTwo gets some real life ass [YOU CANNOT FAST TRAVEL WHEN THERE ARE HOSTILES IN YOUR AREA] as Hobie and everyone else for that matter instantly goes into full "I can't kill you but I can beat your ass" mode

[byhees]

that smile on your face.

엔하이픈 재윤 ・ female reader + word count 600 genre fluff high school au potential enemies2lovers warnings not proof-read nicknames mention of ‘god’, word implying ‘stupid’ — more

a/n. requested!

“why out of all, he picks you?” a grumble falls from your lips, and you heave a sigh, intentionally dragging out the sound, making it sound more dramatised than usual.

jake simply walks into the tiny storage room, and picks up a discarded plastic box. “you do the stopwatches, i’ll get the cones,” he utters, before walking towards the dust-coated mess of multi-coloured plastic cones.

clicking your tongue, you drag yourself to the metal rack, eyes set on the flimsy cardboard box on the top shelf, its side having a large ‘stopwatch’ writing scribbled across— must be the ‘thing’ mr. kim was referring to.

standing in front of the towering rack, your gaze shifts upwards, as though ‘setting your eyes on the prize’. extending an arm towards the top shelf, you find yourself scrunching your nose at the aimless flailing of your right limb.

your fingertips graze the metal edge, them being so tantalisingly close, yet frustratingly out of reach. brows digging into your skin, you withdraw your hand. damn, did you shrink or something? or did they switch out the old rack?

you shift your body, taking a glimpse at the room. doesn’t seem like they’d keep stepladders in here. and, no— of course asking jake is not an option, you’d rather scarf down a sock than ask for his help.

a scoff slips out your mouth, and you resort to the next best thing— balancing.

gripping onto the rack, you step onto the first shelf, its low position giving you an advantage; whilst balancing precariously atop the ‘stepping block’, a voice happens to call out. “knew you were short, didn’t know you were this much of a numbskull,” jake chimes from behind you, his footsteps becoming eminently louder.

the moment the shuffling of his shoes against the ground stops, a resigned sigh falls from behind.

as you tug tighter on the edge of the metal shelf, knuckles turning whiter by the second, he begrudgingly mutters, “i’ll do it.” your eyes widen in surprise, and before you’re able to say anything in protest, jake directs you to step aside, making it visibly clear that he’d handle it.

stepping in front of the metal rack, his long limbs reach upwards, fingers deftly gripping the edges of the box, poising to retrieve it effortlessly.

“god, you’re so short, you’d have to go on your tippy toes to kiss me,” jake singsongs beside you, the rattling of objects mimicking the hammering of your heart.

what did he just say?? kiss him?

your head does an immediate snap towards his direction, eyes flickering from the sly smile prancing on his lips, to the crease of his eyes, clearly suppressing the urge to burst into laughter.

jake takes a mere glance at your face, before succumbing to a soft chuckle, hands still in the midst of grabbing the little circular devices. “that should be thirty,” he adds, counting the stopwatches in the plastic box.

you simply resort to a gape, mind still scrambling to grasp pieces of reality. you probably misheard him; there’s absolutely no way— zero chances— that he’d say such a revolting thing. him? and you? kissing? disgusting.

“c’mon shorty, don’t wanna keep mr. kim waiting,” he cooes, and you can hear the curve of his lips, the teasing grin plastered all over his face.

clearing your throat, you adopt a brisk walk, grimacing at how he’d been holding the door open for you, a smug smile glued on his lips.

taglist open! @halcyoni-ki @wondipity @yjjungwon @shysakuno @niktwazny303 @crxzs @g4m3girl @minhosify @haechansbbg @yeomha @stepout-09-15 @chansburgah @sp22sworld networks! @kflixnet @enhanet

[dont-f-with-moogles]

Hi Terra

I love your fics!

May I request a drabble for this dialogue prompt from @\otpprompts's blog? Levihan or any Levi or Hange other pairings and sfw or nsfw are fine.

Person A: "staring very intensely at B's chest"

Person B: What is it?

Person A: Your shirt.

Person B, looking down at their shirt: What's wrong with it?

Person A: It's still on you.

Thank you!

The Suit  (another Friends crossover - sorry!) Characters: Levi x Hange; Nanaba; Floch  Word Count: 1425 words

Autumnal air had driven Hange and Nanaba from the balcony, forcing the pair to slide the glass, double doors shut behind them. Seated upon the couch in Hange’s lounge-diner, both had lapsed into sentimental silence. Hange drew in a shaking breath, their eyes fixed upon the television. Nanaba reached for a tissue to dab her eyes. 

“So beautiful…” she murmured appreciatively. 

Instead of the screen, the two friends were actually gazing with saccharine fondness at a three piece suit on a hanger.

It was a work of master craftsmanship. Hange had hung the cashmere-silk blend garments upon the door which led into the hallway. Pale grey trousers, complemented with neat, dark pinstripes, were draped over the edge of the television stand. These were partially covered by a matching waistcoat with neat, pearl buttons and an immaculate, silk-lined suit jacket. 

“I know…” Hange’s voice cracked. “Hey, pass me a tissue.”

A sudden rumbling sound broke their quiet contemplation. Hange’s phone shuddered against the low coffee table, its screen illuminating an unknown number.  Frowning, Hange studied the device for a moment before swiping across the bar and lifting it to their ear.  

“Huh? Floch?” 

Nanaba was met with a scowl as Hange endured the voice on the other end of the line. Finally, they cut him off with a derisive snort.

“Well if you weren’t such a candied ginger stick, it would’ve been harder for me to pin you to the ground!” Hange cried, rising to their feet.  Nanaba watched them pace around the coffee table, gesticulating violently. It was only as they drew close enough to smooth the sleeve of their new suit jacket that their eyes softened. 

“The fact remains; I picked it up first. You wouldn’t have even known about the wedding discount sale at Kleinmann’s if I hadn’t told you-”

Then Nanaba noticed their posture stiffen. 

“Hold on - you did what? You listen here, missy!”

Cursing vehemently, Hange threw their phone upon the sofa cushion, much to Nanaba’s astonishment.  

“That was the guy we saw at Kleinmann’s!” Hange growled, “Floch. He’s outdone himself this time!”

“What happened?” Nanaba shifted forward upon her couch cushion to catch a glimpse of Hange’s bitter resignation.

“You know the band that played at your wedding? Wings of Freedom?” Hange shook their head. “Well, Levi wanted them for our day too… but this fucker has booked them! Says he won’t cancel unless I hand over the suit…”

Nanaba’s eyes widened.

Hange continued their aimless march around the coffee table, fretting with wild movements. “What do I do? That is the suit. And it's the only one in that size!” They touched the material again wistfully. “But Levi wants the band!”

“Maybe you could talk Levi out of it?” Nanaba tried helpfully.

With uncanny timing, there came the rattle of Levi’s key. In one fluid motion, Hange snatched up the suit hanger, flung the garments across their coverlet and slammed the bedroom door shut. As Levi entered the apartment, he found Hange loitering in front of a blank television screen, scratching the back of their head absent-mindedly. 

Nanaba panicked.

“Uh… two?”

“...correct!” With a lightning reflex, Hange withdrew their hand from their hair, presenting two fingers. “I told you we have a psychic connection, Nana!” Levi glanced between the pair of them.

“...you guys spend way too much time together,” he declared, shrugging off his black jacket and placing his shoes neatly by the door. “This is what you two call entertainment…?”

“No, we’ve been catching up! Uh…” Hange and Nanaba shared another conspiratorial look. “We were talking about music actually… about how it’s more common to hire a wedding DJ these days as opposed to wedding bands. Right, Nanaba?”

“Y-yes…” Nanaba agreed woodenly, “who would have a band at their wedding anyway?”

“You and Mike?” Levi returned in a one neat serve, “you’d be a lot more convincing if Hange and I hadn’t danced to them at your wedding.”

“Right….” Nanaba sank back against the sofa cushion, conceding defeat without protest.

“Look, I liked Wings of Freedom when we heard them,” Levi continued, seating himself on the couch beside Hange and crossing a leg across his knee. “I’m not saying I know what’s popular but I’d choose them all the same because… well…”

Hange was studying him intently. Even as Levi left his sentence unfinished, they were poised as though ready to grasp his very next words.

“...nothing.” Levi exhaled through his nose and, removing his phone from his trouser pocket, placed it down heavily on the coffee table.

“Come on, Levi…”

“We’re not going to laugh… why do you like them so much, hmm?”

Levi’s eyes flicked uneasily from one face to the other. As he caught sight of Hange’s inquisitive gaze, the coolness in his expression began to thaw. His features warmed as he spoke. Hange and Nanaba could not help but edge closer, captivated by the honeyed tones of Levi’s voice; mesmerised by an emotion so pure, so profound that they felt themselves momentarily transported into his memory….

“...we were standing up on the terrace,” Levi recounted the night of Mike and Nanaba’s wedding. “You took me by my fingertips, like this-” He leaned to the very edge of his seat, catching the tips of Hange’s fingers and drawing them to him. “And we danced. Uncertain at first, then we got closer. You actually have some rhythm…” Levi gave a breathy little laugh. “I remember following your lead, Four Eyes. I didn’t know what I was doing. And that’s when it started to rain…”

In the present, all three heads jerked upwards as they imagined rain drops catching in their hair.

“...and below, we could hear everyone scream and run inside. But not us.” Levi threaded his fingers through Hange’s. .

“You put your arms around me. You looked…filthy. Your hair was soaked. Your glasses were all misted up and gross and you could hardly see what we were doing. But you insisted that we stay.” 

“‘Just a little longer?’ That’s what you asked me.” 

Nanaba lowered her head, smiling at the accuracy of Levi’s Hange impression. 

“And that’s when I knew… I wanted to stay with you all night,” Levi finished, “because you’re the person I wanna share all my dances with.”

A hushed awe had fallen over the lounge.

“Damn it,” Hange sighed. They gazed longingly towards their bedroom door, thinking of the beautiful suit that lay beyond it.

***

This was going to be a difficult goodbye. Posing in front of their stand mirror, Hange slid their hands inside the pockets of their pinstriped trousers. They turned to the side slowly, admiring how the material hugged their hips and glided down their legs. Rolling their shoulders back, Hange lifted their head. Light caught the jacquard silk paisley pattern tie fastened at the base of their throat. A handkerchief adorned their left breast pocket in the same silver material. Hange flicked open the button on their jacket, allowing the garment to fall open and reveal the crisp white of their shirt, their slender body accentuated in a beautifully fitted waistcoat…

The bedroom door opened behind them, causing Hange to whirl round.

“Don’t come in! I’m trying on a suit!”

“Ah,” came Levi’s voice on the other side of the door. “You never said you’d got a suit.”

Hange gave themself one last look over. And then their shoulders slumped.

“It doesn’t matter. I have to take it back.” 

“So what does it matter if I come in?”

“Oh… guess you’re right.” Hange pulled the door open. “But you have to promise me that you won’t like it, okay?”

Levi opened his mouth to respond but found himself momentarily robbed of words. He swallowed. Steely grey eyes roved down Hange’s chest and legs.

“By the way, I booked Wings of Freedom,” Hange told him.

“That’s great,” he managed hoarsely, “but that suit… Hange, you look so…”

They caught his eye, their expression entreating him not to continue.

“...bad,” Levi finished lamely. He stared intently at Hange’s chest.

“What is it, Levi?”

“That shirt.”

Hange scrutinised themself.

“What's wrong with it?”

“It's…. still on you.” Levi swallowed again. “Makes me wanna rip it off…”

Before Hange could respond, he was sliding the jacket from their shoulders, his lips pressed to the flushed skin on their neck. 

“Levi… ah, Levi… don’t rip it…”

He lifted his head, hot breath ghosting over the shell of their ear. An impatient thumb slipped beneath Hange’s tie.

“...well, maybe you can rip it a little…” Hange conceded as their eyes closed blissfully…