#and don't worry about length matching

[quickdeaths]

@princessonia

Having stayed up way too late reading The Magical Revolution of the Reincarnated Princess and the Genius Young Lady, Rio rolled out of bed long after the sun had risen. For lack of anything nutritious to eat in her dorm room, she helped herself to a couple cookies that Sato-senpai had dropped off the other day, as well a half-finished sports drink from her mini-fridge. She sighed, dragging her sleepy body over to her desk chair. Why did days always have so much stuff to do in them?

Immediately after turning on her monitor, she was crushed beneath a tsunami of notifications. "Ughghghgh," she groaned, grabbing her glasses and looking for what was important. "Fujioka-san, did you send your research documentation to Director Wada? He needs it for the grant application, but we can't find it." "Sorry," Rio mumbled to herself as she typed. "It must have bounced." That sounded better than she'd forgotten, right? "I attached it to this email, please take a look."

"Rio, I don't want to keep having to remind you. You need to update the guild spreadsheet with your raid availability. We're light on healers right now, so if you can't make it, I need to draft in some replacements." Biting at her lip, Rio clicked over to the spreadsheet, looking at the scheduled dates. "I dunno about that..." After some hesitation, she marked Unavailable for the next raid, but left the following ones blank. "I marked tomorrow's. I'll let you know about the weekend when I know more."

Over the next few minutes, she rapidly pre-ordered some limited-edition goods that were close to selling out, fired off a few emails to her colleagues, and made sure to heart all the memes her friends on Discord had sent. "It's a lot of work being so laid-back," she observed with a small sigh. "But at least I can get back to reading." The day was pretty clear, as far as she remembered, so swapping into another set of pajamas and then getting comfy was all her day had in store.

It was only once she'd achieved maximum coze, wrapped up like a sushi roll in her blankets with her manga, that she suddenly jerked up, fully falling out of bed still imprisoned in her blanket wrap. "Agh!" That 3rd-year who had asked to come to the lab and ask questions was coming today. Like, fifteen minutes ago! Roughly disentangling herself from the cozy state, Rio swapped out her PJs for a comfy turtleneck and sweatpants, and threw her bag over her shoulder. Catching sight of herself in the mirror, she frowned and shook her head. No time to straighten her hair, messy with an ahoge would have to be fine.

Shortly after, the elevator arrived at her lab, the girl already out of breath from running down the hallway from her dorm room. A very put-together girl looked like she'd been waiting patiently(?) out front, and Rio threw open the doors from the inside. "Nevermind-senpai, hey! Sorry, I was doing stuff and I lost track of time." What stuff specifically didn't need to be explained. "I hope you weren't waiting super long? Come on in, let's talk." It was a lot of work being so laid-back, indeed, as she wiped a few beads of sweat from her temples.

[pushspacetocontinue]

Eclipse - Villain Verse thread for icangiveyouanything

@icangiveyouanything

The interviews had been a perfect start to getting his messages across to the world. People liked him, as much as it felt strange to admit to himself. Audiences were receptive to what he had to say as he answered questions. Of course, he had to pretend he was just as confused as everyone else when it came to his miraculous recovery from the long coma. Not everyone could know the truth about how he was given this second chance to save them all from themselves.

Not yet anyway.

It was a quiet day for the time being. He sat on his balcony, a small smile on his face as he watched the sunset with a cup of hot chocolate in his hands. But then he felt a familiar presence in the air, and the smile grew just a bit wider.

"I think we have an old friend visiting, Misty."

"Meee..."

[phantomyre]

@aonemanarmy

It had been several days since Sephiroth had locked himself within the basement of the Mansion. Time no longer seemed to have any meaning to him. But neither did the lives of those who anxiously awaited his return. There was a different air about him, now. Darkness had slowly crept into his heart-- a corruption that even caused the candles to tremble as he paced the room, alone with his thoughts. And yet he wasn't completely alone. Further down the small cloister and tucked in a cold chamber, another man was battling his own darkness-- a pandemonium of his demons, clamoring for control over their host. Two men within close proximity of each other, facing a corrupt entity who wanted ownership of their minds. Only one had chosen to unite himself with this powerful darkness and claim it as his own. Feeling the disturbance in the atmosphere, Vincent quickly sat up from his coffin. Something was not right. He was accustomed to the various monsters wandering the mansion. But this aura wasn't coming from an ordinary monster. A looming sense of devastation tugged at his chest, calling him to investigate. Though not quite understanding this feeling, Vincent arose from his coffin and made his way towards the library. The air seemed to get thicker the closer he moved towards his destination. There at the center of the library, a tall man with long silver locks was hunched over a book, several more scattered throughout the room. That hair... it couldn't be him.

There was only one person he had seen with hair that color. And though it was brief, he wouldn't forget the son of that beloved woman. Keeping to the shadows, Vincent pressed his back against the wall around the corner, remaining out of sight should the man venture out. Questions ran through Vincent's mind. What if it was Sephiroth? Why was he here, and what was this eerie aura about him? He could hear the man let out a depraved chuckle. As quiet as it was, it sent a faint chill down Vincent's spine. If this was indeed Sephiroth... The gun strapped to his thigh suddenly felt burdensome.

[conorxsurvives]

Closed starter: @zoaoliveira (Starting) Location: The Settlement

Even though Conor had been in Arcadia for a year now, and even though he was a guard and had been on the settlement many times before, there was still a lot he didn't know about it. Maybe if he talked to people more or asked more questions, he might have a better idea of things, but he kept to himself a lot. That had been true even before Garrett had died, but his reclusiveness had increased dramatically since his husband's death. And since coming to Arcadia, well...there were many day stretches where he barely spoke at all. It was a lonely existence, but it after so long living in such an isolated way, sometimes Conor felt like he had forgotten how to interact with people in a normal way. So he saved his words for when they counted, and he tried to keep to himself as much as he could without coming across as rude (he'd been raised to be polite, and it was ingrained in him now). But lately Conor had begun feeling more like he was part of the community, which was actually something new for him; before Arcadia, he'd lived alone in the forest, but now he lived in what could only be described as a town, albeit a twisted, shadowed version of one. So he found himself feeling just a little more comfortable around the residents of Arcadia. But while the Settlement still felt very mysterious to him, Conor still headed in that direction. He had a job to do today.

As a guard, Conor was given certain responsibilities, and after doing this for a year, he was beginning to be trusted with more important jobs. Today was one such day. As he reached the Settlement, Conor thought about Zoa, whom he would be accompanying today. Like most of the residents of Arcadia, Conor didn't know much about her. They were in town meetings together, and Conor's impression of her was that she was very passionate about her role as a scout. Zoa always seemed to have quite a lot to say; Conor thought she had probably spoken more in a single meeting than he had in every meeting combined. But he still respected her point of view - Zoa had been here a lot longer than him, after all. And Conor respected her bravery, knowing that a scout was a dangerous job.

People around the settlement knew who Conor was by this point, if not by name then by face at least, so no one questioned why he was there. He found the place he was meant to meet Zoa, waiting for her to join him, and as he did so, Conor adjusted the hatchet strapped to his thigh (he'd fashioned a sort of holster out of re-purposed strips of leather), making sure it was easy accessible. Similarly, Conor had his axe strapped to his bag. The job they were doing wasn't the most dangerous he'd experienced in Arcadia, but he'd learned to always be prepared in this town.

[lumiroleplays]

for @inkdreamt

Being a mother is a funny thing. Your child is never truly only the age that they are now. Wednesday may be 15, but for Morticia, she is also every other age she has ever been ever since she was born. Staring at her means seeing not only the fierce teenage girl she is so proud of in front of her, but also the little child that used to cut off her doll's heads. Just like Morticia herself as a young girl. Though she tries to keep herself from comparing Wednesday to who she used to be as much as she can. But sometimes it's hard. Mostly because she carries so much love for her girl it feels good to see a little bit of herself in her. Either way, most of those feelings do not show up on her face. Or at least, not anywhere else but in her eyes as she steps out of the car and gets inside the school for one of the scheduled visits. Morticia wouldn't often go alone and her heart already aches with how much she misses her husband; she also knows Pugsley wanted to see his sister, but she and Gomez had agreed it would be a good thing for her to spend some time alone with Wednesday, and their daughter is aware of it. Morticia isn't sure about how she feels with that, but it will not be a surprise for her. As she enters the school grounds, her eyes almost immediately catch sight of her little raincloud. She would find her anywhere, in any crowd. Her smile is subtle as she approaches her daughter, hands creeping around her shoulders and her face, as close as she could get to touching her, but without actually doing it. "Hello, my darling."

[dragon-clan-and-company]

Puella Veris et vir Siderum

(Closed RP with @wxvebreaker)

The skies of the Astral Sea were as beautiful and dreamlike as they were dangerous... The silvery and purple haze that hung about the stars hid countless secrets from times immemorial, and the ship that floated in the ether wasn't even akin to a grain of sand on the shores of a beach, but something smaller yet still... Aboard the ship was a man, of late twenties, in a suit of ornate bronze armor with occasional patina-green accents, at his side, a shield of gleaming platinum, depicting the profile of a noble Dragon, and on his back a cape of chainmail, made of a similar bronze on the outside, with platinum on the inside, as though to complete the ensemble of his mixed-metal menagerie of protectors... His face was fairly handsome, but with a few particularly striking features- A large scar on his left cheek, telling of a life met with its' share of strife, and a pair of crimson eyes with a lively spark of passion behind them. His hair was a somewhat longer mess of brunette hair, kept in check by a black bandanna tied back atop his head.

"Wait, is that...?" His crimson eyes widened as he saw clouds black as the void of space beginning to approach. He held his right hand out, calling to it a blood-red spear of immaculately ornate design. He looked to his crew- all magical copies of himself, disguised as other people as a contingency, save for a hulking golem made of some assortment of uniform metals. "Reginald, plan delta, scenario 65... I'll see if I can't try to impact that psychic storm, and keep the ship intact..." Golden lightning suddenly crackled around him, forming a almost spectral visage of crackling Dragon-like armor over his normal armor. He flew forward with intense speed, charging straight for the storm ahead... After an impressive surge of willpower-made-manifest, something of a specialty of the Astral Sea, he managed to calm the storm a bit, just enough to let his guard down as a final surge blasted him off to starboard by the perspective of the sky ship behind him... He went careening straight into one of the occasional portals dotting the Astral, this one a rainbow swirl of colors. After falling through, he was suddenly in the night sky of an alien, breathtaking land... He was so taken aback, that he didn't pay attention to the fact he was still falling, streaking through the sky like a golden shooting star, heading near what seemed to be a decent-sized fishing village of some sort... Though there wasn't much time to deliberate or form a plan as he went falling to an outlying area by the shore... He was able to spot a figure for a brief moment as he tried to adjust himself so he didn't crash right into her!

"WHY DOES THIS ALWAYS HAPPEEEEEN?!" He cried out, tracing a protective sigil over himself, as he fell face-first about a dozen feet from the figure in question... All things considered when the rest of his body flopped unceremoniously into the sandy soil, he wasn't very much harmed... The lightning crackling around him quickly dissipated as his eyes remained snapped shut, a bit of a wince as the impact did seem to affect him to some degree.

[fullmxtal-elrich]

@flamesignite Found Ed in Domino~!

Ed had been living with Roy for about a week now, however without a job he had grown restless and as a result, decided that while Roy was off on his military duties for the day, he would get some work done of a different kind.

By the time Roy arrived home for the day, the house had been deep cleaned in every corner and the scent of food was drifting through the hallway, with a very proud Edward finishing checking on a few things. Turning to greet his adopted father with a smile, he happily set a plate of baby-back ribs glazed with honey barbeque sauce (a recipe he'd learned from his mother years ago before she'd passed), along with coleslaw and some sauce on the side upon the table.

"Hey, dad! Welcome back. I figured you might be hungry so I thought it might be fun to have some dinner ready for you when you got back. There's some cornbread in the oven still, and I'm almost done with the Biscuits and Gravy, oh and there's sweet corn on the cob in the pot, if you end up wanting sone of that too."

He spoke as though it was the most normal thing in the world, though he sort of forgot that the only one who really knew he could cook like this was Al. He'd never shown these skills off to anyone else before, except maybe the Rockbells when he was learning some recipes from them.

"How was work by the way? Feel free to sit down and dig in, I still have to finish these last two things before I can join ya."

[estfenrirswood]

location: thistle & sage | open to all!

The morning sun cast a golden hue over the quiet streets as Aiysha unlocked the heavy wooden door of Thistle & Sage, her heart swelling with anticipation as her lavender matcha latte chilled her hand. Today was no ordinary day—it was the eve of a full moon, a time when magic hummed with a potent energy that resonated through every corner of her shop. Thistle & Sage exuded an inviting aura of mystique. Aiysha had spent weeks preparing for this moment, carefully arranging shelves adorned with shimmering crystals, jars of dried herbs, and intricately carved wooden wands. The scent of lavender and sage mingled in the air, soothing and invigorating at once.

As she lit the last of the incense sticks, their fragrant smoke curling upwards like tendrils of possibility, Aiysha felt a subtle shift in the atmosphere. The town seemed to hold its breath in anticipation of the mystical night to come. Werewolves, with their heightened senses, would soon roam under the moon's watchful gaze, and fellow witches would converge to harness the lunar energies.

Outside, a few early risers paused to peer through the shop's windows, curious about the new additions to the shop. Aiysha knew that some would be drawn by curiosity, others by an inexplicable pull towards the mystical energies that emanated from within. She welcomed them all, knowing that each visitor brought with them a unique story and a quest for understanding.

With a final adjustment to a display of moonstone amulets, Aiysha stood back and surveyed her domain with a sense of pride and reverence. The morning sunlight filtered through the shop's windows, casting soft patterns of light and shadow over ancient texts and shimmering crystals. Everything was in place, poised for the magic that would unfold with the rising of the full moon.

Aiysha flips the "Closed" sign to "Open" with a satisfying click, then pulls back the curtains beside the door, inviting more morning sunlight to spill into the shop. With a contented sip of her latte, she sets the cup down and flips a switch on a Bluetooth radio, seamlessly connecting her phone. Jhene Aiko's voice fills the air, gently chasing away the lingering quiet with a soothing melody.

[pyramultimuse]

closed starter for @autistic-cowboy

Cupid!Hanzo & Demon!Cole

As a demon Cole was meant to be out spreading sin, using his powers to influence the humans so that their souls would end up in hell. His attention was drawn to something far more interesting, he found himself an angel. That what he thought until he got closer this angel was actually none other than Cupid, the god of love and desire. Out and about with his legendary bow and arrow, making the humans fall in love. The mischievous demon just had to mess with this handsome deity.

"My, my, my, what do we have here?" Cole asked as he flew over to the fluttering cupid. "A damn fine hunk if I do say so myself. Though I'd expect nothing less than perfection being the son of the goddess of beauty Venus herself." The demon said licking his lips as his eyes took in the other's appearance. "A rather lustful looking outfit you got on there, Cupid." He purred in his deep robust accent as he reached out with clawed hand to casually flip up the other's toga skirt.

Cole himself wore a very revealing outfit himself that was mostly black leather. Riding chaps with a thong that left nothing to the imagination. Over his muscular chest were straps and belts in an X pattern. No shoes as he had cloven hooves for feet. Horns on the sides of his head like bull horns, with a long tail ending in a spade tip as well as medium sized draconic looking wings. His skin was tan with a reddish tint with dark brown hair over his chest and arms. This demon was definitely an Incubus variant.

[worthyheir]

@hisoath / vaguely plotted starter

There has been peace, calm, for over a decade now, but even still, he waits for the other foot to drop. He's been accused of being paranoid, more than once, of thinking that there are still those who supported the Usurper just waiting, biding their time until they find a weakness. Most of the dragons were dead - the few that remained were still young, and his family was nearly gone. Really, just his younger brother Aegon remained to him now, and his little brother, not so little now, was still practically a shadow to him, almost as worried about the future as he was. Inheriting the throne had been meant to be something he would do further in time, had hoped his mother's reign would last decades, not a half year. These thoughts weigh heavy on him daily, though they are not the largest of his worries. Peace was fairly widespread, but ruling the Kingdoms was still strenuous, and time consuming. If he hadn't had such a competent council, it would likely not be going as smoothly as it had been for the last decade. When he had asked Cregan to be the Hand, he had almost expected the other man to turn it down. Much like Dragons did not belong in the North, Winter Wolves did not enjoy the South any better. Temperate climates that reacted to their blood, their nature, in the opposite ways. Now, the end of spring was on the brink, and summer lingered nearby. Already, the weather was growing warmer, but not intolerably so. At least, not to him. Just as he had been oft tormented about his reaction to the snows of the North, the frigid temperatures (that were not even near how far the cold would fall in the midst of winter), he quite enjoyed it now that the shoe was on the other foot, so to speak.

"I think you might detest the heat more than I did the snow." There's certain advantages to being born in the North versus the South, and it was certainly easier to warm up in Winterfell than to cool down in the Red Keep. The comment is made when it is just the two of them, standing on the balcony outside of the council chamber, overlooking the city. There are more important things to discuss, but the council has already dispersed, and serious topics are beyond him for a moment. "I can see it on your face."

[avastyetwats]

Plotted starter for @izzyeffinhands

It wasn't the first time Stede has given Israel a backrub. It was something Stede really enjoyed doing because of how much much it relaxed his lover, how much it calmed him, and how he could help the tension from the day melt away. Anything Stede could do to help Israel relax and to make him feel good, he would do. He loved doing so. Besides, it allowed Stede to just... touch him, to feel him, to love on him, to adore him. To worship him, even, which didn't have to be done in just a sexual manner. And it wasn't. Not for them. They had their different ways of worshipping one another, and this was one of them.

And every time Stede would touch Izzy like this, he'd often trace his scars with the tips of his fingers as though trying to help heal them more. It was also Stede's way of reminding Israel of all that he's overcome, of how strong he is, while reassuring him that he was safe, that he'd make sure no harm ever came to him again if he could help it. Not only would he use his fingers, but his lips, as well. He'd often pepper his skin with featherlight kisses, all along his scars and between them, moving up to the back of his neck while his fingers danced up his sides just as he was doing now. Touching, and kissing, him with such gentleness and care as Stede always did.

He pulls his head back, then, and slides his hands to the middle of his lower back and starts their journey back up. His thumbs pressing against his spine and rubbing in circles while his other four fingers are stretched and spread apart, applying equal pleasure as he moves up his back, feeling all of the built up tension within him dissipate. When he reaches his shoulders, he doesn't move back down. Instead, he pushes both hands up the back of his neck and into his hair, now caressing his scalp with the tips of his fingers and then his nails as he moves them back down to his shoulders. Gods, his hair is so beautiful, Stede thinks to himself with a smile.

He becomes distracted with it, his focus now shifting from his back and to his hair, which he's certain Israel won't mind. He combs his fingers through smooth, dark locks lined with gray that Stede very much loves. It's attractive, really. Sexy. And it matches wonderfully with his neatly trimmed, salt and peppered beard. Everything about his man oozes sex and charm, he radiates beauty and allure. All which Stede has complimented out loud before, including in this moment as he runs his fingers back up through his hair, loving how it's grown in length. It's perfect for simple styling, something Wee John made evident the night of Calypso's birthday, and sitting here now, Stede can't help but want to do a little something. Something he wonders if Izzy has ever had done to his hair. He knows how much he enjoys having it played with, something he and Stede have in common, but Stede can't help but wonder what all he's had done to it. If anything.

His fingers resurface just above his ears and he uses his nails to gather what hair he can before bringing them together, meeting in the middle of his scalp, testing the length. He really has grown it out more since they've met, even more so with the help of Stede's own products, and oh, how the ideas are flowing now. "Israel," he breaks the silence finally, hands letting go of the hair he had gathered and now just brushing them through again. "have you ever had your hair braided?" He questions, the reason for his asking probably obvious. It's been a while since Stede has braided anyone's hair. Since, well, his daughter. Where he actually learned to braid and do other simple styles. He smiles at the memory of his daughter sat in front of him, or even in his lap, while he brushed and braided her hair. Bonding moments with his daughter... moments of actually being a father.

"May I?" He asks after some seconds of silence, his fingers not having stopped playing with his lover's hair, not even for a second.

[seccndchances]

@starbcrnsx (Elain & Cassian)

Elain had been making her way home from work, a bushel of sunflowers resting against her forearm as she did. She contemplated taking the long way home, but had decided against it last minute. A choice that quickly rewarded her, She noticed a tall familiar figure. Her eyes widening at the sight, she picked up her pace quickly. "Excuse me." She called out, before doubt slowly began to creep in. She had ran into both sisters at this point and had come to realize too late that they didn't remember her. She didn't know if she could handle yet another person she knew and cared about not recognizing her. She took two calming breathes before continuing forward. She had to view his wings as a sign, Azriel had his alongside his memory. How could the magic of this place logically explain away the existence of his otherwise. "Cassian?" She called out, reaching a hand out to touch his back to draw his attention. "Cauldron protect me, do you recognize me?" She questioned carefully, bracing herself for disappointment.

[dramatisperscnae]

closed starter for @bruz3r's superheavy arc >w>

Once upon a time, Dick had thought he'd never put on the cape and cowl again. Once upon a time, he'd actively avoided doing so until there had been no other choice; Bruce was gone, a murderous pretender was aiming for the title, and it had been a choice between stepping up and going against orders or seeing the legacy Bruce had worked so hard for - the legacy he'd given his life for - completely destroyed. And then Bruce had come back, and Dick had given the legacy back more than happily.

How times have changed.

And yet how they haven't.

The cowl still feels strange on his face, the cape too heavy on his shoulders, but what choice does he have? Gotham City needs Batman, and in the absence of the real one Dick is just going to have to do. Like hell he's going to let anyone else do it [excepting maybe Damian, once the boy is old enough, but that won't be for years yet]

At least this time Bruce isn't entirely gone. Not physically, anyway; mentally…well, the man is still there, but he's not the same. How can he be, without the memories that shaped him? And without those, how can he be Batman?

He can't.

Such are the thoughts on Dick Grayson's mind as he runs the night's patrol. It's been an easy one so far, but in Gotham that can change in the brief pause between heartbeats. And so it does now. He's known the Wayne Foundation was holding a benefit tonight, a fundraiser for one of the Foundation's many child welfare projects, but he'd hoped - in vain, but hoped nonetheless - that it might go off without a hitch.

No such luck. The moment the word of shots fired comes over the Batmobile's radio he's turned the car around while the tires squeal in protest, flooring the accelerator and all but rocketing through the city streets, all with one thought foremost in his mind.

Please don't let Bruce be there…

[historias-multorum]

Flowers of the Field

For @flamesignite

Amestris was proving to be far more advanced than Oonbachi. Compared to her home, it was like walking into a whole new different world. Yet at the same time, she saw the same problems if only painted a different color: War, strife, famine, disease, and of course, orphans.

It was disheartening at first, but it only prove to strengthen her resolve to want to do better to improve the lives of those less fortunate than her. That's why she took over the very orphanage she grew up in. It took a lot of work, but she wouldn't have it any other way.

Today though, besides running her usual errands, she wanted to explore a little bit. She's never really gotten to see Central City in its entirety so she wanted to change that. Of course she stood out given her Oonbachi attire, but that different bother her one bit.

[therapardalis]

[Serenade Meme from @callsign-black-leader.]

🎵 Star Wars Kinect Soundtrack - Blasterproof ------------

Been there, done that, messed around I'm having fun, can't bring me down ...

It had been a hell of a fight. Not just the initial battle, the one that had landed Thera in the medical bay, but the one that followed, as she argued tooth and nail with the attendant droids to let her out of there and continue her recovery on her own ship, thank you (please was sewn in underneath, but that would never see the air of day).

It's not that she's scared of an infirmary - it's just that she hated the poking and prodding and the disinfectant smell (the fact that she's always walked out of them, but so many others haven't). Not clear memories at all, just dots in her hind brain stirred up by the clean white walls and the scent hitting her nose.

She got her own way eventually, of course, partly by proving she was strong enough to walk out by doing so, bag of belongings clutched to her chest. All of which must have done wonderful things for her reputation, and led to her spending the next day and a half behind a secured hatch, not wanting to deal with anyone at all.

But Poe Dameron, it seemed, refused to be just anyone. The music was loud enough to get her attention, to encourage a peek through a viewport just before the singing started. Oh, dear gods. The entire hangar was watching him strut about outside her ship, singing (not too badly, mind you!) into an earpiece mic from a flight helmet.

Thera wanted to laugh. She knew what he was doing, annoying her enough to bring her out of her funk. And it was working, damn him. Except for the quick, brief hiccup that was all too close to crying instead. But then she opened the viewport and yelled down.

"The kriff do you think you're doing??"

[bcysdontcry]

CLOSED STARTER for @cemrexduymaz. LOCATION / SETTING: a few days after Halloween, coffee shop, morning.

The following days after Halloween were just as uneventful and lazy as Silas expected them to be, all by design. Every year he tacks onto his age, every year he puts more wear and tear on his body that is increasingly less tolerant of it, means he needs even longer to recuperate from a full night (and early morning) of partying. So, he's slowly but surely easing himself back into his routine, starting with a late morning coffee run.

But, a simple visit to one's local coffee shop is more difficult than it needs to be. He supposes he should've expected it with all of the one-on-one reunions he's been having as of late, however he doesn't, and he just barely manages to school his expression when he spots Cemre.

It'd be easy to grab his coffee and leave, it really would be, but he made some sort of vow to stop taking the coward's way out. A real 'come to Jesus' moment. So, instead, he mans the fuck up (as his father would tell him to do), grabs his coffee, and... approaches Cemre.

"Long time no see." Casual, calm, he can do this.