#anyway i think this is a really nice sentiment for the new year

[10yearsofdnp]

December 31, 2014: Looking back, 10 years later... I think he did just that! ❤️🥠

[euthymiya]

Sukuna who was never close to his twin brother and never cared about the pipsqueak runt of a kid who’s his nephew.

He doesn’t care and doesn’t want to be associated with that bullshit. His brother doesn’t take the hint ever and invites him to everything. “My sons’s birthday party” this and “my son’s kindergarten graduation” that. What sort of graduation is meant for a kindergartener anyway? That’s a load of nonsense. But Jin is as annoying as ever with insisting on keeping contact and trying to get Sukuna involved and he hates it until by some tragedy out of nowhere, his brother and sister and law are dead. Yuuji’s left an orphan and no one can care for that kid because there’s no one left.

No one except Sukuna.

They ask him, too. The social workers. They turn to him and say some pitiful script about being “the only family left to take custody of him.” He knows pretty well what’s going to happen to the pipsqueak if he doesn’t agree. The foster care system and the possible horrors such a bright (even if annoying) kid could face makes him question saying no for a second. He’s surprisingly conflicted.

And it’s out of sheer impulsiveness alone does he end up as a single, grumpy, begrudging uncle who’s got custody of a child he never really cared to know in the first place.

And then he meets you.

Sweet, bubbly, warm, and so weirdly happy. Dictionary definition of what an elementary school teacher should be. Yuuji’s absolute favorite person on the planet as he waves hello at you enthusiastically every time that Sukuna drops him off and goodbye every time that Sukuna picks him up.

“I heard his new guardian would be his uncle. It’s nice to meet you,” you murmur to him the first day he picks up Yuuji after school, a look of pure melancholy on your face as you stare at him with an unearthly amount of compassion and sympathy. “Yuuji’s parents were wonderful people. I’m really sorry for your loss.”

“Wasn’t that close with either of them,” he grunts out. You look over at where Yuuji’s gleefully playing on the slide of the playground. Too young and innocent to realize that’s been ripped away from him. Too naive to understand what it means to grieve. Too hopeful about the world around him to realize just how cruel it can really be.

“Oh,” you murmur, nodding slowly.

He thinks that your unnaturally kind demeanor will finally be broken for a split second of judgement. What sort of heartless bastard doesn’t feel an ounce of grief for his own brother’s death? Instead, however, you seem to look at him with some weird sense of wonder.

“You’re a good uncle for stepping up regardless,” you say softly, “it’s more than what most would do in your shoes.”

“Yeah, whatever,” he clicks his teeth, unbearably uncomfortable with how weirdly sentimental this all is. “He’s just a five year old. How much trouble could he be?”

You raise a brow in amusement, eyeing him like he’s got one hell of a surprise waiting for him. He doesn’t like the vague way you hum, “Yeah. How could such a little human cause trouble, right?”

“I’ve got it under control,” he grumbles, a little annoyed that you seem to think that out of all things, a simple child would be enough to cause Sukuna any issues.

“Let me know if you need anything,” you smile.

Yuuji calls to you from the distance, squealing look what I can do! before he does a rather clumsy spin. Sukuna raises an unimpressed brow. You clap and praise him with an exaggerated gasp of approval.

It’s oddly endearing, he thinks to himself—you, not the kid. The kid’s barely tolerable.

“C’mon, you brat,” Sukuna calls. And then he looks at you and gruffly adds, “And I don’t need help.”

“Okay,” you grin brightly. It almost feels like you’re saying that a little sarcastically. “I’m sure you’ve got this parent thing down.”

Before he can even correct you that he’s an uncle, not parent, Yuuji comes running over on clumsy, short little legs and grabs onto Sukuna’s hand.

“C’mon, Uncle ‘Kuna!”

Sukuna doesn’t miss the way your eyes soften. Weirdly enough, he feels this odd sort of squeeze in his chest that doesn’t make any sense. Maybe he’s just getting old—that has to be it.

[king-spite]

update on this!!! it went well lmao :]

so after lots of thinking i decided i'm gonna come out as trans this college year (to classmates, teachers, etc) and when i tell you i'm TERRIFIED🧍

[singingcicadas]

Megatron's Opposite Day

"I free slaves"

This is Soundwave binding Ratbat but seeing as Megatron did the same thing to Pentius by putting his spark into Trypticon and reformatted Rumble and Frenzy into cassettes against their will I think he approves a lot of this practice

Megatron on Optimus and humans, after his defeat in All Hail Megatron ⬇️

he really salty

"I implant ideology" aka brainwashing

Decepticon cause = Megatron. nuff said.

"I liberate cities" says the person who let Nyon burn to make a point

Cities are too small, think bigger

Holding New York hostage.

"Like Autobots, they believe in the sanctity of life" which he doesn't. Kudos for being honest.

Allowing troops to do free-rein massacre is a reward for conquest. Nothing like some easy murder for de-stressing.

The Simanzi massacre which halved the Cybertronian population is off-screen so it doesn't deserve its own pic

"The revolution"

"We only feel good when we stand with a blade in one hand and a throat in another" "Let's make the entire face of the planet into our new gladiator arena"

What nice, confidence-inspiring revolutionaries. I'm sure they'll rule the population with benevolence after they've killed all the Necessary People with Necessary Violence. Final interpretation of what constitutes as Necessary is reserved for the sole discretion of Megatron, ofc.

Good goals.

Sentinel might be an absolute asshole but at least he's got one thing right: they're literally a gang of thugs who gets high off murder.

"The people are my utmost concern"

'The people': ................

"Battling for freedom"

Freedom of what? Function? Autonomy?

Religion?

the ability to choose whether to fight? on which side to fight?

Idk why they used the word "pogrom" for this, it's way too specific

Anyways it doesn't matter, they won't be missed.

Good for Bumblebee for calling him out. Screenshotted this just to appreciate Megatron's bitchy face ⬇️

Other urban legends:

"Megatron loves Cybertron" let's just burrrrn it

He did fight to save Cybertron in Chaos Theory but also made it pretty clear why he did it. It's not out of the goodness of his heart or any sentimental reasons like that. It's an ego/dominance thing.

Plus his wording when he's trying to convince Optimus to let him go with the Lost Light: "I broke the planet. And that, Optimus, is why I owe it to you - to everyone - to find a replacement."

Replacement.

In other words: I made a mess and can't be bothered to clean it up, so I want to get away from it and find somewhere new to start clean.

I don't think Optimus appreciates the favour.

"Megatron tore down a corrupt government" which is true, just too bad that he's worse

He's also, um, a closeted Zeta admirer?

"Megatron advocates equality" ???

Megatron x dictatorship is literally his OTP. They were inseparable for four million years. A lot of people died trying.

"Megatron cares about the Decepticons" no he doesn't. Not his troops nor its cause.

Like for one thing he treats them with complete scorn

Admits that the most useful thing about keeping Starscream around is that he can bully underlings into line

Wants to use the humans' nuke to get rid of his troops and reformat them into peaceful drones after they outlive their use because they were "too ruthless" for his perfect peaceful society

Has zero scruples about fighting Deceptigod, just affronted that his own soldiers are being used against him

And basically just drops the Decepticons like a bag of vermin after he surrenders. He never once mentions them of his own accord, other than to insist he has nothing to do with them. Even his surrender speech is something Optimus makes him do as exchange b/c he wants to go on parole. He wasn't planning on making a public address otherwise, he was just going to leave them hanging.

Looking at the publication timeline, Megatron started out as an established Evil McEvilson-type villain similar to how he is in G1 and it's not until Chaos Theory in 2011 that JRo really gave him a sympathetic backstory that drew his characterization away from the bloodthirsty pugno ergo sum warlord into someone who once held ideals about societal reform and remains convinced of his own moral supremacy throughout the 4 mill years of death and war, adding worldbuilding such as Functionism/oppression/government corruption as justification for the beginning of the Decepticon movement. But because the start of the Decepticons was already written in Megatron Origins and every evil thing he'd done up till Chaos Theory can't be retracted and they had to keep Megatron as a villain until his story was no longer central to the Autobot-Decepticon war line, and JRo didn't try to downplay the atrocities he'd committed (some of the most sadistically disturbing things Megatron did were exclusively in MTMTE flashbacks), but rather tried to distance him from them and placed the focus on the juxtapositions to emphasize change, this as a whole just resulted in Evil McEvilson getting turned into Hyper McHypocrite.

[necromelli]

your first christmas with finnick was a few months after your games. you had isolated yourself in your new home, refused to talk to anyone or do anything, but somehow, sixteen year old finnick and mags managed to drag you out of your house. finnick pretended something happened to mags and he didn't know what to do, and despite the smirk that threatened to dissolve his lie, you followed anyways.

you were greeted with the smell of homemade cooking, even from the outside of mags house. some sort of fish caught fresh cooking. fresh seaweed bread, and all sorts of desserts splayed out on the counter. you were greeted by mags smiling face, outstretched arms, and a big kiss to your cheek. the first thing she handed you was a soft, knit sweater that was specially made just for you. with a simple glance, you saw finnick's grinning face as he held up his own matching sweater. he was so excited that you couldn't help but feel excited too. mags insisted you stood near the tree with finnick so she could get a picture of her 'two favorite kids' (it's one of your favorite photos, and you keep a tiny version of it with you wherever you go).

then, finnick is far too eager to open the few presents that are under the tree. you don't remember the last time you ever saw the boy so excited — childishly excited — and so you try to burn it into your memory. despite the fact you didn't prepare any gifts for you, mags and finnick still had three little gifts wrapped for you. mags got you a nice notebook and spiced, wintertime tea set. finnick got you new pens to go with your notebook, obviously planned. and really, you're having a ton of fun despite the fact you weren't planning on celebrating the holidays.

then, mags is in the kitchen cooking again, and she tells both you and finnick to get out so she can concentrate in peace (finnick is bursting with energy). so, the two of you go sit down by the beach, and as you're sitting there with your new gifts, wrapped in the soft sweater mags made, you decide that you like this little family. while finnick is knee deep in the water saying 'it isn't that cold', you're drawing on three hagstones you found (it was perfect, really. they were all in the small spot, waiting to be found) and pulling fishing wire through to make an ornament. it's got three little stick figures in varying heights, meant to represent the three of you.

and mags tears up when you show her the present, and when you give finnick's his, he's definitely sniffling. (by the next holiday, you realize finnick is just overly sentimental during holidays). you mumble out something along the lines of 'hagstones are supposed to provide protection and you guys make me feel safe and I wanted you guys to feel safe too'. it's cheesy when they both hug you, but you don't mind. even when finnick laughs at you for crying, despite the fact he was crying too. and then mags scolds you two for fighting, but it doesn't last long because christmas dinner is done and you're all eating.

then, just when you think it's over, you three end up on the couch, wrapped in some big, fluffy, duvet drinking hot coco listening to music. you swear they put sleep syrup in your coco without you noticing because you feel so safe and content, for the first time since the games, that you're falling asleep tucked under mags arm like an eight year old listening to her and finnick talk.

[petriwriting]

Memories - Sirius Black X Reader

Summary: Harry finds an old notebook that belonged to Sirius during his Hogwarts days. In his scruffy handwriting, in an old dusty journal found in Sirius's bedroom is the story of Sirius' first real love.

A/N: Fluff, nostalgia, a little bit of angst if you look too hard. The reader is feminine, using she/her pronouns. Oneshot - blurb is very short but very sweet.

I made a friend today on the train to Hogwarts. She is very sweet and seems very nice. She had a ribbon in her hair, I thought that she looked nice. we talked and she said that she liked my hair too. I also made some new friends. I got sorted into Gryffindor house, it's crazy since my family is all from Slytherin house. I'm sure Mother will be so upset. She is always upset about something.

Harry read aloud to his curious friends, Hermione leaned over his shoulder curiously to look at the small dark grey journal, it was tatted beaten-down bound with leather, covered in dust, but well used.

"Keep reading, Harry," Hermione said gently, knowing that he wasn't reading it with malicious intent, but instead in an attempt to feel closer to his godfather. he turned a few pages until a page caught his eye, and began reading once more.

Reg and I got into a quarrel over some things that didn't really matter. he says I should be more concerned with our family. Reg and I used to be close, but after my third year, he became cold. I love my brother, but I hate to see him hanging around those gits. Malfoy in particular, but I know he is happy now as he has joined the Slytherin team. he's their seeker, but he's no match for Gryffindor this year.

This entry made Harry smile slightly, and chuckle. he continued to flip pages, it was heartwarming. He turned the pages, looking through some messy potions class notes and annotations, and an entry about the marauders map, and how he saw Peter Pettigrew (Wormtail.) sneaking out every night to sneak food from the kitchens. One page, in particular, caught his eye.

I Love Her.

I have loved her every day I've known her. She is brilliant, her eyes sparkle when she speaks, her smile is so bright it lights up the room as if you'd cast Lumos. She's incredibly intelligent, but kind. She's always been gentle with me. I've never met another like her.

I wish that I could make this all go away. All the secrets, the war, the hatred. I wish we could start a family one day, live in a little cottage, and raise children far away from here. We'd visit James and Lily every Christmas, and Remus on halloween. I could give her my mother's ring. I doubt Regulus would mind. We could be so happy. I remember the first day we met. I think i knew then that she was special. She has been unconditionally devoted to me. The night my mother burned my name off our family tree she held me in her arms as i cried and i finally felt what home is supposed to feel like. I wrote her a letter, expressing my yearning for her. I plan to give it to her very soon, along with a locket I picked out. Lily insisted on the dainty silver chain with a locket of our picture from our first year together, she even helped me enchant to image to capture y/n's smile as she sat next to me. she say's it's sentimental, and that girls like this sort of thing.

I never had a home, truly. just four walls surrounding me. My own mother disgraced my name, Regulus has been absent in my life. I'm thankful for my friends but my love for y/n is like no other. i just wish want her to feel the way i do, i hope she does. With everything, she can not get involved it's too dangerous. But I will love her anyway. The kind of love that could break the most heinous curse.

Harry stood for a moment, looking over his godfather's handwriting. it was sentimental. "I wonder if we could find her," Harry offered hopefully. "There's no mention of a last name." Ron pointed out. "I'm sure we could ask someone, if she knew the black family she can't be too terribly hard to find," Hermione said, offering a comforting hand on Harry's shoulder. "I think Sirius would love that."

[jesuis-assez]

Which holiday or special event would you most like to see celebrated on an episode of The Rookie, and how do you imagine Chenford would celebrate it?

Here we go:

Their wedding (special event)

Birthday

New Years Eve

Wedding - They did an episode [their 100th] for Nolan and Bailey surrounding this They eluded to and dare I say foreshadowed the possibility of this happening for Tim and Lucy. So it'd be really amazing for that to transpire.

I crossed out that last part in the second gif, 'cause I don't even want to entertain that thought. There is no IF about it. Otherwise, I'm happy to live in delulu land and pretend it happens… in my head.

Since they clearly did see a future there, while together. Enough to talk about kids, grandchildren etc. It stopped being even a question, after they started dating each other. So, I mean?? They were that certain.

Also there's that theme of them dancing at weddings. From Tim saying to Rachel "I don't do weddings." -> to dancing with Lucy at every wedding he's been to thereafter, with the added exception of him asking her to save him a dance. And then flash- forward dancing with her at their own wedding. Can you see the vision? 🤣

Perhaps they could do something special with Lucy's moon ring. It already holds such a sentimental value for both of them. I wonder if Lucy thinks of it as their ring rather than just hers? Considering the events of Day of Death.

Perhaps Tim proposes to her with a new ring, but it's the same moonstone. He has it remade for her. I think that be something special. OR.. she loses it? And Tim is the one that finds it AGAIN and brings it back to her. Only this time he proposes to her with it? During that proposal, he mentions how this ring led him to her once and he can't imagine spending the rest of his life without her (a little parallel to his speech in 6x10)

MAYBE they have Angela help him with the proposal and he does it at the station, where they first met. He proposes in the briefing room, IN THE SAME ROOM HE FIRST SAW HER, ON THE SAME DAY HE MET HER. That's romantic AF 🤣 and we know he is that with her whether he's intending to be or not.

[ I would write all of this in a fic or something, but I'm not sure if anyone would want to read it 🤣 My one motivation would be to emotionally destroy you all... affectionately ofc :) But also.. I don't think I have the emotional capacity needed to even attempt to plan and write a whole a** fic right now. ]

I'd imagine they'd celebrate their wedding with something that's more them (as most couples do anyway) Do I know what that looks like? No. If I were to write it, would I know by then? Yes. But, for right now.. I have spent a long time on this question, as I do with all asks. *slowly nods* Besides, I talk a lot of shit about writing for them, but I've never done it. So, it'd be nice to finally write a piece 😂

Birthday - I don't think Tim cares for his birthday. (But either Tim or Lucy, preferably Lucy... This time It'll be a much happier birthday. Instead of all that *erm* chaos that occurred. Y'know, like Mad dog jumping off a roof and everything horrible after. Like, fuck... 😦 VERY unhappy birthday 🤣

Tim makes Lucy breakfast in bed 🤪But first he lets her sleep in for a little bit. (We know he does this for her) They each have thoughtful ways of being there for the other. Sweet gestures they do for each other.

And then he'll wake her softly with a forehead kiss (because I need another one) Or she'd wake to the smell of pancakes and she'll find either a single rose resting on an envelope or a bouquet of Lucy's favourite flowers waiting for her.

I really think he'd go all out for her. Like... a whole day's worth. He'd take a 'personal day'. As for his birthday gift to her? Goodness... He's really good at gifting, as we know. After all, he took notes from her 🤭 He really notices.

He really listens and pays attention to her, he's that in tuned with her. And THAT in love with her. He wouldn't fuss over his own birthday, but if it's Lucy's? He's going to make it special for her.

I have an idea of what he would say in the birthday card, something on the lines of:

" If I could give you one gift, it would be for you to see yourself through my eyes. You are the most beautiful, extraordinary, kind-hearted, strong person I have met. I am so grateful for your presence in my life and to know you. I know without a doubt in mind, that you will achieve anything in your path. And I will be there with you every step of the way, as I always have and always will. With every smile, word and touch, you are the best thing that came into my life. I love you with all my heart and that love only grows stronger in your presence. Happy birthday, sweetheart. "

I don't know. Something like that. Hopefully they'd be in a much better place than where they were at in 6x08, that he can sign off the card with his name.

I think Lucy would like for Tim to also see himself through her eyes, as well 🤔Tim believes in Lucy more than she believes in herself and despite how low Tim may think of himself, Lucy mutually thinks the world of him.

New Years Eve - Oooh... What about a parallel to them sitting on her couch? Like when they first kissed in her apartment, only they're sitting down instead? They talk about how far they've come and they bring up their undercover mission, how they had to pretend to be a couple. They talk about what they would love to happen in the new year. Then they toast to new beginnings, possible advancement in Lucy's career etc.

Thaaankk yoouuuuu for this ask. I ♥ it. I spent a whole hour typing it out + more time happily making gifs to support by babbling 🤣😉

[yonomori-rei]

ADA - SECRET SANTA

A/N: Hey all! Rei here! How would our fav Detective Agency celebrate Christmas this year? Why by doing a Secret Santa, of course! Content Warning: strong language and some suggestive themes in Naomi’s part.

[Spoilers for S1 EP 11 and WAN]

MERRY CHRISTMAS AND HAPPY READING!!! 🎄

Who got who? – they’d probably just draw names from a hat or smth:

Fukuzawa → Kyouka

Ranpo → Fukuzawa (he definitely did something to make sure he gets Fukuzawa – our jealous baby would never let him be taken by anyone else 😂)

Yosano → Ranpo

Kunikida → Tanizaki

Dazai → Kunikida (this li’l mf definitely rigged the game, I feel sorry for Kuni)

Tanizaki → Yosano (bro would be panicking so hard 😂)

Naomi → Atsushi (poor boi)

Kenji → Naomi

Atsushi → Dazai (teehee)

Kyouka → Kenji

General: This IS a detective agency, so most could guess if they tried. Therefore, they would probably agree not to try guessing who got who. But I still feel like Dazai ♥️ and Ranpo 🍬 would have undoubtedly guessed everything by now... Anyways, let’s see what each member decided to get for their Secret Santa!

-------------- FUKUZAWA GOT KYOUKA ---------------

Fukuzawa (probably) wouldn’t sweat it. He would most likely get her something cute (but NOT in a paedophilic way – our president is not like a certainsomeone *cough* MORI *cough*). I want to say he’d get something similar to a maid’s costume if he goes for clothing (yk like the one she was wearing when she begged Fukuzawa to let her stay in the agency) but is that too weird? 

Or maybe, he’d get her a pet cat 😂 as it's canon she also likes cats – I mean, have you seen her with Atsushi? 🤭 But whatever he gets, it will suit Kyouka, cuz I feel like they have similar taste.

--------------- RANPO GOT FUKUZAWA ---------------

Now...I’m scared. Remember in WAN when Atsushi got Fukuzawa rice balls (it was rice balls right?) and Ranpo ate it all...I feel that Ranpo would get him some nice snacks, but by the time the day for their Secret Santa had come...poor Fukuzawa would be present-less cuz our sweet detective decided to eat what he got for Fukuzawa 😂

So, sorry Sacchou, but you’re gonna have a miserable Christmas this year (I’m enjoying this too much XD)

----------------- YOSANO GOT RANPO -----------------

As much as I want Yosano to do her signature, not-at-all creepy, psychotic, sadistic, I'm-gonna-take-great-pleasure-in-murdering-you grin as she hands her victim her present, she got Ranpo, so that’s not gonna happen *Rei proceeds to bang her head hard on the keyboard in front of her because why would she give Yosano the one member she would not be able to scare??? Well...Rei IS a sucker for Yosano and Ranpo’s platonic relationship – BUT SERIOUSLY, AREN’T THEY CUTE?!*

Aaaaaanyways...Yosano would probably know Ranpo the best (after Fukuzawa of course) so she should get him something either sentimental to him – idk what (Ik, I’m so great at headcanons 😩) – or just stick to sweets as we all know how much happiness this boy gets cuz candy. But either way, Ranpo would be happy with his gift and Yosano would put a lot of thought into her gift to him – especially since their first time meeting was so heart-warmingly wholesome!

--------------- KUNIKIDA GOT TANIZAKI ---------------

Oh lord! I feel sorry for Tanizaki. 😂 I feel that Kunikida WOULD NOT GIVE A SHIT about what our orange-haired softie wants 🥲. He’d probably force a timetable planner onto this poor guy and sternly tell him that he expects Tanizaki to have a full-on schedule ready for the new year (Momma Kunikida wants to turn Tanizaki into a mini-him) ... Istg, this perfectionist is obsessed with his ideals – but I love it ��

----------------- DAZAI GOT KUNIKIDA -----------------

Now, my hubby over here is the ABSOLUTE WORST, and Kunikida...my sincerest apologies *then proceeds to cackle for 10 mins thinking about how Kunikida is going to suffer*

Dazai would either forget about it and get something really really REALLY stupiiiiiiiiid like a silly Christmas hat/jumper or maybe even some really long elf shoes that makes the wearer trip and fall (and gets a kick out of watching cuz he somehow manipulated poor Kuni into wearing it).

AND HE DEFO BOUGHT IT USING KUNIKIDA’S CARD.

Or he would think really carefully from Day 1 to get Kunikida the absolute worst present ever and obsess over it. Why can I see Dazai just wrapping himself up in extra bandages (like the cute mummy he is) and presenting himself to Kunikida?? (It’s like when he told Atsushi in WAN that he was the snack – and I wouldn’t mind if he said that to me 🤭)

Tbh, I can't see him getting a proper gift at all (like with Ranpo) 😔, so, sorry folks...

---------------- TANIZAKI GOT YOSANO ---------------

LMAO, he’d be panicking so hard! But also, one of the only ones in the agency to actually try and make their Secret Santa receiver happy. It's canon he’s scared shitless of Yosano (I mean, anyone who wants to live would be) so we can imagine this poor softie just desperate to find the best present to appease our hot goddess. After all, who wants to get on Yosano’s bad side. (I mean, I wouldn’t mind being punished by her – 😳). I feel like he’d inconspicuously try to get close to Yosano so that he can find out what she likes/would want (although e spent more than enough time strapped to her examination bed – I’d be disappointed of you don’t know what Yosano likes, Tanizaki).

In the end, he’d just get her some brand new medical supplies (maybe she might have been talking about it in the agency and he overheard her) since everyone knows our queen loves to cut people open and I firmly believe that Yosano would literally drag Tanizaki to her lair as soon as she opened her gift and use them on him. Hey, at least someone will be happy...

----------------- NAOMI GOT ATSUSHI -----------------

I'm sorry my innocent kitty 🥺. She definitely gets him something sexual. And no, nothing can change my mind. This bitch came up with the idea of getting Atsushi to fuck for his entrance exam so...nope, she definitely got him some sex toy or another. AND DAZAI YOU LI’L FUCKER, GET BACK HERE RN! Atsushi would probably be blushing so hard, and Dazai would probably be explaining how to use whatever toy Naomi got him in detail 😭. I’m sorry my innocent cinnamon roll...

Maybe Dazai even stole what Naomi got Atsushi, broke into a certain ginger’s house and used it on him...teehee

------------------- KENJI GOT NAOMI ------------------

A cow 🐄. It doesn’t matter who he got, he will definitely get them a cow. Naomi would probably keep it tbh, but I feel that Tanizaki would object...that is, until she puts her hand up his shirt and threatens to punish him at night...

----------------- ATSUSHI GOT DAZAIII -----------------

I’m literary gonna be using WAN as my reference for this. He’d definitely want to put all his effort to give a gift that Dazai would be happy with so Atsushi will try to find out what he likes, but his mind would probably come up with suicide-related stuff. And Atsushi definitely does not want to encourage Dazai. 😂 But Atsushi would want to come up with something that is truly a well thought gift, not only because he’s a kind-hearted soul, but also because he respects that manipulative bastard as a mentor and so would want to give back for everything Dazai had done for him. (I truly do wonder what Dazai did for him...🤔)

Anyway, I feel like Atsushi would get him a mix of stuff...like a gift basket, with bandages, maybe a few books, FLOWERS, and probably delivers a long arse speech about why he is the best mentor ever before giving Dazai is gift on the day. And the expression on Dazai’s face would be PRICELESS 😂😂😂

------------------ KYOUKA GOT KENJI -----------------

Now, this one takes getting to know their Secret Santa to a while new level. I can totally see her STALKING Kenji and trying to gather as much info about him as possible...In the end, she’d probably get him the best present ever...maybe another one who gets a cow for their Secret Santa 😂

She’d definitely make our sunshine boy happy with what she got him, so I think it would be something that reminds him of villages or maybe a souvenir from the city cuz he’s always fascinated about city life and how different it is from his hometown.

[hausofanya]

 ͏ ͏ ͏͏  ͏ ͏ ͏ 11:10 PM ͏ ͏ ͏͏  ͏ — ͏ ͏ ͏͏  ͏ new sentiments, old memories.

featuring cléo anya torell, bang chan, and the hsk ensemble. word count 1.3k ( 1347 ) notes from june 🙂 ( haunted ) + told thru chan’s pov.

“everyone get the fuck out.”

the room instantly chills. conversation and laughter are cut short, silence washing over the studio room. the staff startle at his crass language, immediately scrambling to get their things and leave, bowing hastily.

alexei and malani frown instantly as well, moniqa hovering a few feet away near a piano. cléo doesn’t look up from where she’s sitting.

“it’s okay.” her voice is calm, irritation flaring up in him. he watches as she turns to her friends and twin with a soft smile. “he doesn’t know. i didn’t tell him.”

“so everyone knew except for me? when were you going to tell me—”

“back up.” he blinks and alexei is between him and cléo, expressionless other than a blazing stare. a chill runs down his back but he stands his ground. “you’re a nice guy. don’t make me have to do something drastic.”

“alexei.” moniqa’s tone is warning, but she, too, throws a loaded look chan’s way.

chan watches as malani reaches out to squeeze cléo’s hand, the younger offering a timid smile in return. “it’s okay. we needed to talk anyway. you guys can go.”

the other three look reluctant, alexei more than all of them, but he’s the last to leave before cléo shuts the door behind them.

chan stares at the back of cléo’s head.

“i’m sorry you weren’t able to find out through me,” she eventually starts, turning around to face him in the now empty studio. “i didn’t expect word to travel so fast. that was my mistake.”

her formality sickens him. “we were supposed to get through this together.” his brows furrow in disbelief. “were we not helpful enough? i know—i know we’ve been busy, but the activities—but you’ve been practicing with me, with us, what—”

all his words leave him in a rush, stuttering as he tried to make sense through it all. was she giving up? after everything?

“i don’t understand, cléo.” he laughs incredulously as he runs a hand through already tousled hair. “do you not want to be in the group anymore? is that it?”

cléo frowns. something in his chest leaps at the change in emotion. “no. i mean—it’s not about you. or any of you. i did it because i wanted everyone else to have a career free of my mistakes.”

chan stares at her for a moment before sputtering out a laugh. her expression sours even further. “so you speak for everyone now? you should have talked to me! to us! none of us care about your scandal!”

“it’s not about the scandal—it’s about me,” cléo’s voice raises to meet his budding hysteria. “it’s about me constantly making mistakes, and fucking up, and—”

“bullshit.” cléo physically flinches at the word spat out with so much vitriol, her expression bordering on betrayed. a mirror image of his own shattered heart. “you are ours. ours! one of us. and we were going to get through this together!”

“chan, please—”

“do you really think any of us give a fuck about what anyone else thought?” his voice cracks on his anger, sadness, hurt. “you weren’t supposed to make this decision alone! what about me? or the group, or—”

“you said you wouldn’t blame me if i left!”

he freezes, eyes widening at her sudden blurt. confusion clouds his mind, still riddled with intense emotions. and then his remembers.

i’m just glad you stayed, honestly. there were times when i seriously though you were going to quit. i wouldn’t have blamed you, though. if you did leave.

“you said—that you wouldn’t blame me if i chose to leave. this is me leaving. i’m sorry i didn’t consult you, or—or tell anyone but the company, but i did it for you. for all of you. i don’t want to be selfish anymore and i'm so tired.”

she looks devastated. for the first time in the almost six years he’d known her, he was at a loss for genuine words. his hands twitch at his sides. out of frustration or despair, he didn’t know. it stung to even think about.

“there’s nothing you can say to change my mind. i’m moving to the other label. and you can wash your hands clean of me.”

“cléo, can you just—we can figure this out—”

“this is me figuring it out!” her eyes brim with unshed tears. his first instinct is to reach out and wipe them way the same way he’d done all those years ago. “i’m sorry it’s not the decision you wanted to hear. but it’s what i think is best for everyone.”

(this is what i think is best for you.)

“we would have fought with you.” his voice is stilted, stepping closer to her. hurt spears his chest again when she steps back. “we were fighting with you. don’t do this to us.”

(don’t do this to me.)

jokes aside, um. thanks for believing in me and what i could do. i’ll work hard to bring the best version of myself in all that i bring to not just stray kids, but to everything that i set out to accomplish. it’s more than just having a dream, i’ve realized. putting in the hard work to actually achieve it speaks more volume than just waxing poetic, so. here’s to letting myself go.

“i’m letting go, chan. jyp thinks i’ll be better under aura.” cléo sniffles, her tears finally spilling over. “miss kandi is actually pretty nice, and everyone i know is there, and—”

“i’m not part of that.”

cléo’s hand snaps up, fear and panic swirling in her eyes. “no! i mean—no, i’m doing this because i care about you!”

disgruntled, he just shakes his head. “it’s okay.” he sends her a pained smile and backs up when she starts to approach him, palms raised. “i get it now.”

you’re very brave, you know that, right?

“i’m doing this because i care about you,” she stresses again, voice wavering. “i’m going to fuck up again. i don’t know when, and i don’t know how, but if this is what it’s like to be associated with me—then i don’t want your name to be attached to it.”

“you care.” cléo’s expression crumples when he says such, nodding vigorously. “you’re very selfless. but i’m not thanking you for it.”

she looks distraught again. “chan—”

“i don’t know how else to put it for you, but when you care about someone, you suffer with them.” chan shrugs in the face of her denial. “it’s true. it’s what me and the other boys have been doing. or not suffering, exactly. but shouldering your pain. it shouldn’t be yours to hold on alone. that’s what having friends are for.”

he cuts her off when she attempts to explain herself again. “it’s fine. this is what you think is best, so i support you. we’ll support you. ‘cause that’s what friends do. but i wish you would have talked to me first.”

his (somewhat) strong façade cracks once more when she begins to cry again, finally stepping forward to wrap his arms around her. she falls apart in his arms just like she’d done before. only this time it feels like they’re worlds apart.

“i should have listened to you when you said you didn’t trust him.” cléo burrows deeper into his hold, her tears staining his shirt. i’m sorry.

“i wish we could have been more than enough for you,” he murmurs in response, resting his head atop hers. i’m sorry, too.

thank you for believing in me, too. ‘cause it’s not all one sided, you know? you chose this as much as we chose you. and it goes the same for the others, too. i think we’re very fortune to have you on our team, and stray kids wouldn’t be the same without you. so thank you for letting yourself go.

[everythingwasalreadypicked]

Tw: mentions of past death and murder, suicidal ideation

Alabaster sighed, trying to ignore the gurgling of his stomach as he patrolled through Manhattan's desolate streets. It was empty, had been empty for one and a half years. The wreckage left from a long won war loomed over him like a phantom, the ghost city judging him with every step he took.

Abandoned buildings towered over the entire city, lifeless save for the occasional Monster Donut shop still crackling with vibrant lighting. The sweet smell was tempting, but no doubt an employee would report to Lord Kronos that he took a food break during his patrol.

Alabaster took a shaky breath, wedging his cane out of the crack on the asphalt it got stuck in.

His mother had finally gotten a throne. Nothing else mattered.

Maybe if he said it enough he'd start believing it.

The silence was deafening, with no signs of New York's infamous uproar.

He wondered whether Morpheus was pleased that he'd put down 'the city that never slept'.

Well. Almost put down.

Annabeth Chase, of all people, stood in front of him. Her hair done up under a scarf, her face scratched and scraped. Interestingly enough, she wore a Camp Half-Blood shirt. It seemed to barely hold itself together, with different coloured stitches and patches made of vastly different materials plastered on the fading fabric, but sentimentality and all, Alabaster supposed. Didn't matter it was small for her frame, not when it might as well be the only camp shirt left.

It looked more comfortable than the satin chaffing against his skin anyway.

"Torrington." She acknowledged, spinning her knife in her hand, eyes glaring daggers.

He really really didn't want a fight. Not only was he tired and hungry, but this was Annabeth. They knew eachother, once.

A traitorous part of him whispered; you knew Sherman too, didn’t stop you from driving your sword right into his heart, did it?

An acrid feeling stabbed the back of his throat.

"Are you mapping out where to stab me or just plain checking me out, Chase?" Alabaster forced out a cocky smile.

Her eyes flashed, "Why are you here? You're not welcome, General."

"Routine patrol." He shrugged. "I should ask you that question, technically."

"Not your business." Annabeth circled him, holding her dagger between them the whole time. Alabaster didn't attempt to move an inch, to draw his sword from where it hung on his back. "But someone needs to keep watch on Olympus."

Alabaster glanced to the side. Empire State Building stretched towards the skies, deader than Zeus’s chopped up pieces resting beneath the deepest part of Tartarus.

"You're wasting your time," he murmured, "you lost. Your gods abandoned you. They aren't coming back."

Annabeth growled behind him. She could very well strike and stab him in the back with their current positions, but Alabaster found he didn't really mind the possibility.

"Maybe try out the remains of Camp Half-Blood instead? I heard the weather is real nice there at this time of the year," he mused, shifting his weight onto his cane more, "I'm sure Grover will be fine. Never took you or Jackson as the gardening type, though."

It was quite hard to miss the giant tree growing out of an apartment fire escape. Even if it hadn't been an open secret that Perseus Jackson and Annabeth Chase took refugee in the former's home.

The truth was neither of them were worthy of being considered a threat by his lord anymore.

Or so Lord Kronos said and who was Alabaster to argue. Less work for him.

A whooshing sound... and a cold metal pressed against his throat while a body pressed against his own.

Annabeth hissed into his ear, "If you think you're scaring me—"

"I just hear what people say about me, that's all." It would be so easy to lean forward, to finally be able to sleep for more than four hours for once. To rest as his blood spilled all over the asphalt. The brand on his back flared up as if his Lord heard and disagreed with Alabaster from the throne he sat upon kilometres away. "Monster of Mount. Tam, was it?"

"You're no monster," Annabeth sneered, backing off and clearing her dagger with her shirt as if it touched something dirty, "You're a dog if anything. Wandered far away from your owner, did we? Lost your leash, Torrington?"

Alabaster flitted his gaze to the ground, shame curling inside his chest. Always trust Annabeth Chase to find the words that hurt the most. Hadn't changed a bit from when they were eight. "Go home, Chase. I do not want to fight you."

"You would lose," Annabeth slotted her dagger inside the hilt strapped to her belt. She declared, "I don't know you."

Fast, devoid of any attachment. Just like ripping off a bandaid.

"No," He agreed, a grim smile on his face as he pushed past her, "and for Titans's sake, don't get out of the house when my Lord knows I'm here."

"Coward," A scoff made him stop on his track yet again, "I hope you die in a ditch."

Alabaster stared at the hand he was clutching his cane's handle with. It was harder to see under the black nail polish, but the dried blood was there, sitting atop his nail beds and laughing at him. Just like the green magic staining around his veins in splotches, just like the feeling of never being able to wash away the blood on his hands. Just like the screams and pleas for mercy plaguing his nightmares.

"You and me both, Chase. You and me both."

[aledethanlast]

If I'm already on the topic of the foxes and grown ups, let's talk about Kevin.

I think Kevin mellows out a lot by the time he goes pro. In part because there's not nearly so large an axe over his neck anymore, but largely because around his fourth year, when pro teams start seriously trying to recruit him, he realizes that his caustic and dismissive attitude towards his teammates can't really fly anymore. It's a Raven behavior, a label he's both disavowed and been disowned by, and most coaches are not his dad who will let him do whatever and kowtow to his expertise. He was an assistant coach for one semester, and never a captain. His behavior has a deadline and if he misses it, it might end his career. He's gonna need to make an actual effort.

And he wants to make the effort! He always admired the Trojans for their good nature, and while he is definitely a fox, he thinks he'd very much like being part of a more friendly team.

So when he signs on to his first pro team (the culmination of six weeks of studying various teams for play style, lineups, press reputation, and point stats), he feels ready to turn over a new leaf. If nothing else, he thinks he'd like to make more friends now that he doesn't have Andrew and Neil around all the time. And the team seems like a nice bunch! They're talented, driven, he can see how he can mesh with them.

This sentiment lasts him about a week.

"Put Neil on the goddamn phone," he says as he slams the door of his car.

"Kevin," his father says on the other end of the line. "We are at practice right now."

"I know, that's why I called you."

His father sighs in the way he does when he needs a few seconds to debate who he should blame for this latest headache. Then he hears a fist on glass on the other end, and a minute later the little fucker says "Kevin. How are you."

"I don't know how you did this or why, but I am going to fucking end you."

"Please be more specific." Smug little motherfucker. Kevin slams his foot on the gas and pretends it's Neil's neck. Though he eases up a bit when he almost tailspins out of the parking lot. He hasn't driven a car in six years, fucking sue him.

"Practice ended three hours ago, Neil. I am now leaving the stadium. Can you guess what I was doing in that meantime?"

"Rediscovering the lost city of Atlantis," Neil says, deadpan, and when Kevin goes to trial for homicide he is going to play this recording back for the court and they're going to call it justified.

"No, see, by the time Gotlieb started talking about Atlantis, I knew he was fucking with me. That doesn't salvage the two goddamn hours I spent trying to convince my teammates that the pyramids weren't, I shit you not, built by Napoleon." He pauses as he reconsiders what just came out of his mouth. "This was Andrew's idea, wasn't it?"

"Kevin, if you only talk to people about exy, they're going to think they can only talk to you about exy. Now your team knows you're an actual fucking person. Have fun with that."

Plague upon his fucking house. "Are you expecting a thank you?"

"You promised yourself you'll make more friends. I'm just holding you to it. So...yes."

Kevin doesn't say it, and he tells himself its because Neil doesn't need the ego. Somehow Neil hears him anyway. "Drive home safe, Kevin."

"Go get your rookies in line, Captain," Kevin says, and hangs up. He dials Andrew next; he needs to know just how much of Kevin's thesis Andrew turned into conspiracy fodder.

[cantcompetewhereudontcompare]

Can you debunk the wellington video please? That's the only Larry video that still convinces me to this day

I'm not sure what you want me to debunk about it because nothing happens in it.

One thing you need to realize is that all of the "Larry proof" that exists is either:

Taken out of context

Examining normal things and twisting them to mean something else

Ignoring known information

Straight up fake

Nobody that wasn't a Larrie would look at that video and think "oh my god, these two people have a secret relationship and fake girlfriends." They see two drunk young men in a bar full of people, hanging out with other friends. They're not doing anything even remotely interesting in the video.

Essentially, they were inside a bar in Wellington, New Zealand, and the song Glad You Came by The Wanted started playing on the radio. To which Louis started to yell/sing "oh-oh-oh-oooh-oh-oh-ooooh". Skip to 20 seconds in the official video:

The Wanted were a British boyband that was formed in 2009, the year before 1D (which came out of the X Factor in late 2010). In fact, The Wanted performed at The X Factor during 1D's season, and both bands met and filmed this video.

The Wanted released this single, Glad You Came, in the summer of 2011, and they were battling in the charts with JLS, another boyband that came out of The X Factor in 2008. In fact, JLS's single (She Makes Me Wanna) was #1 and Glad You Came was #2 on the same week (first week of August 2011). At this point, 1D hadn't released their own music yet, and had been recording their album and doing promotional stuff to get their name out there. What Makes You Beautiful would be released in mid August 2011.

In this context, The Wanted did an interview with the shitty tabloid The Daily Star, where they shit-talked JLS and crowned it by saying that that they were glad they weren't "an X Factor boyband" specifically name-dropping 1D with, in hidnsight, a hilarious comment:

"We are glad we are not an X Factor band. One Direction, where are they now?" he said. "It's nice that we are a band who started with nothing. The X Factor is just for that moment and we did not want to be trapped."

Ooof. Anyway, the 1D guys were asked about this statement and they brushed it off, saying it was probably taken out of context. But that was too gracious. A little bit later, when WMYB started to become massive, The Wanted was asked about 1D's success, to which they condescendingly replied that they didn't feel threatened because 1D were more of a "Bieber-mania" phenomenon and they were very different from The Wanted (you know, because The Wanted were so mature).

WMYB came out in America in January 2012 and Up All Night (1D's debut album) in March. The Wanted's song was covered by Glee around this time, so their song became a hit there too. So both bands were hitting America at around the same time. Of course, the mania for 1D was much bigger, and they also got a hit album and sold out shows out of this.

The Wanted was bitter, so they did a bunch of interviews repeating the sentiment about 1D being a band for kids, and also putting down 1D's success. "Are they really that successful? I don't know" type of comments. Then they would get backlash, and they would take to Twitter to say that they were being misconstrued or taken out of context. Then they'd give another interview essentially saying the same thing. This happened multiple times. Remember, January-March 2012.

So in THAT context, Harry, Louis, Niall, and Liam go to a bar in Wellington, New Zealand, and get drunk. And inside the bar, Glad You Came starts playing. Louis starts yelling the melody, and afterwards yells "WANKERS!" as in, The Wanted are wankers. Because they were.

Of course, Larries decide that Louis instead yelled "boyfriends"...

Who the FUCK just screams the word "boyfriends"? Even if they indeed were gay and drunk at a bar? Like, what on earth would prompt someone to scream that? And WHY? Do people just randomly scream different types of nouns describing relationships for literally no reason? Have you EVER seen anyone do that? Just screaming "COUSINS!" or SISTERS!" or whatever? Larries could, at the very least, TRY to make it make a modicum of sense.

Anyway, Niall and Liam were outside and Harry was inside with Louis, presumably getting drinks. There are a bunch of other people around as well, as they were standing standing in the middle of the bar. After Louis screamed, Harry put his arm around Louis and whispered something in his ear. If I had to guess, he said, "Shut the fuck up there's a ton of people here."

Larries decided that Harry was, instead, kissing Louis' neck. In a bar full of people. And that nobody around them batted an eye at it, for some reason.

A bunch of fans across the street from the bar were filming them (and filmed a lot more). After this interaction, one of the girls there whispered something that we can't really make out. Larries decided that she'd whispered, "Oh my god they're kissing." even though the whisper happened after Harry has already started to walked away from Louis.

Take away the subtitles from this video (the "boyfriends" and the "oh my god they're kissing") and you have... absolutely nothing:

In fact, the people that filmed the video denied that they were kissing or that they said they were kissing. To which, of course, Larries claimed that "management had gotten to them." Instead of "we just created something out of thin air." In fact, the people from this video even asked Louis about Eleanor and if he missed her right after this interaction.

One would think that if they'd just witnessed the ultimate Larry interaction (cringe), they... wouldn't ask Louis about his girlfriend.

Just so we're clear, this is Harry whispering something to Zayn in a similar position:

Explain to me how this is any different than "the Wellington video." It is, quite literally, exactly the same:

Here's another version that's worse quality but a little longer, where you can see that, still, literally nothing else happens. Once again, compare it to Harry interacting with Zayn:

Both are in very public settings, both are with bandmates.

I've been trying to understand for almost 15 years what the hell is so special about this video and why Larries freak out over it. I've seen Harry have more chemistry with a puppet than what we see in that video... quite literally, too:

Is that enough debunking?

[wordpress-blaze-227167784]

Workshop Guide: Defining Your Ideal Customer in Freight Forwarding

Objective:

To align sales, operations, and finance on the ideal customer profile (ICP) for your freight forwarding business. This workshop will help your team focus on profitable, long-term relationships instead of chasing low-value leads.

Duration: 2.5 - 3 hours

Facilitator:

Recommended: Sales Director, VP of Sales, or an External Consultant (e.g., ALL2S Consulting)

Participants:

✅ Sales Team ✅ Operations & Customer Service ✅ Finance & Credit ✅ Leadership/Strategy Team

🔹 Be strategic on who represents each group. You want a good mix of experience—not everyone has to be a senior manager. The voice of desk operations must be adequately represented, or process needs to be in the room to ensure realistic execution and support alignment.

📍 Step 1: Pre-Workshop Data Collection (1 Week Before)

🎯 Goal: Establish a baseline understanding of your current customer landscape.

✅ Pull key data from CargoWise or internal systems:

Number of active customers (past 12 months)

Total shipments by customer, trade lane, and vertical

Top trade lanes (volume & revenue)

Key industry verticals served

Profitability by: Customer Trade Lane Vertical

📌 Why This Matters: Many companies assume they serve all industries equally, but data often reveals certain lanes and verticals are far more profitable than others. This pre-work ensures we focus the conversation on facts, not assumptions.

🚨 If you need help analyzing your CargoWise data, ALL2S Consulting can assist in bringing your current state into focus.

📍 Step 2: Workshop Kickoff (15 Minutes)

🎯 Goal: Set expectations and outline the importance of defining the right customer.

✅ Facilitator opens with:

Why defining an ideal customer profile (ICP) is critical.

The impact of bad-fit customers on profitability, efficiency, and team morale.

The cost of onboarding a new customer ($400+ on average with minimal initial profit).

The importance of playing the long game—hunting caribou, not rabbits.

💡 Key Message: In a time where costs are being monitored like a hawk, we cannot afford to waste resources on low-value leads.

📌 Time Management Tip: I was once told a task will fill as much time as you give it. If you schedule 3 hours, it will take 3 hours. If you give it 3 days, it will fill 3 days. This process does not have to eat up a ton of time. If you complete your pre-work (i.e., pull the data, analyze it, and provide it to the workshop team in advance), you can have very focused conversations that don’t take days—but instead just hours.

Especially with the senior leaders in the room, it is hard to pin them down, and they often cannot afford to spend days in workshops. One way to keep things on track is to have a timekeeper who is very draconian about it—when time’s up, time’s up. If people know you are serious about time limits, they will often cut out extraneous discussions that pull the group off-task.

⏳ So, make sure you have a timer AND a timekeeper with a strong cut-off game!

📌 Documentation Tip: With all the good insights coming from this workshop, you need to make sure you have a note keeper to document everything. There are templates available to recap and codify what has been agreed upon. If you need one, I have them—and I’m not too stingy to share. Reach out, and we can discuss what you will come to find as a significant step in the right direction toward moving your organization into better strategic alignment.

Often, when workshops are scheduled, people roll their eyes and believe they are a waste of time. But making sure the efforts are documented and finalized—distributed by senior management with the full weight of enforcement—will ensure: ✅ A happier sales team because they know who to target and where to hunt. ✅ A more focused operations team because they won’t be spread too thin across too many different types of customers. ✅ A satisfied finance team because this is a proactive way to manage the risk of bad debt and identify opportunities to maximize profitability.

📍 Step 3: Identifying the Ideal Customer Profile (60 Minutes)

🎯 Goal: Define what makes a high-value, long-term customer and what to avoid.

✅ Break into groups & discuss:

What industries/verticals align best with our expertise?

Which trade lanes or logistics models do we excel at?

What characteristics make a high-value, long-term customer?

What red flags indicate a bad-fit customer?

Are there specific Incoterms, payment structures, or shipment patterns that don’t work for us?

📊 Activity: Create a customer scoring system:

A-List Customers: Strategic fit, recurring shipments, strong financials.

B-List Customers: Moderate fit, potential to grow into A-list.

C-List Customers: One-off shipments, price shoppers, high-risk.

💡 Red Flag Alert: Customers who “date” forwarders—jumping around looking for the lowest price—are risky. You want to be the marrying kind and play the long game with committed partners.

📍 Step 4: Documenting Your Ideal Customer Profile (ICP) (30 Minutes)

🎯 Goal: Create a clear ICP to guide sales, marketing, and operations.

✅ Outline the Ideal Customer Profile: ✔ Core Trade Lanes & Vertical Focus ✔ Typical Shipment Types & Volumes ✔ Preferred Customer Behaviors (long-term relationships, contract shipping, etc.) ✔ Financial & Operational Fit (payment terms, creditworthiness, service expectations) ✔ Red Flags to Avoid

📌 Deliverable: A 1-page Ideal Customer Profile (ICP) shared across departments.

📍 Step 5: Aligning Sales & Lead Generation (30 Minutes)

🎯 Goal: Ensure sales teams are targeting the right customers.

✅ Key Discussion Points:

How do we qualify leads before investing resources?

What messaging attracts the right customers?

How do we implement a lead scoring system?

How do we create a smooth handoff process between sales & operations?

💡 Sales Tip: Don’t send your hunters to bring home rabbits when you need caribou. 🦌

📍 Step 6: Review & Optimize (Final 15 Minutes)

🎯 Goal: Plan how to keep refining your ideal customer profile over time.

✅ Quarterly Strategy Check-In:

Review new customers onboarded – do they fit the profile?

Identify misaligned customers and adjust strategy accordingly.

Adjust target markets or service offerings based on profitability trends.

Gather feedback from finance, operations, and customer service to refine criteria.

💡 Big Picture: The freight forwarding business thrives on long-term, strategic relationships. Saying “no” to the wrong customers today will make space for high-value customers tomorrow.

🚀 Final Takeaway: Focus on the Right Customers, Not Just More Customers

✅ Hold regular strategic conversations to refine your customer criteria. ✅ Align sales, operations, and finance to avoid misaligned leads. ✅ Always play the long game—short-term wins with the wrong customers will hurt long-term profitability.

🚨 Need expert help to analyze your CargoWise data and structure your ideal customer strategy? 📢 ALL2S Consulting is here to help!

🔗 Reach out today and let’s get your business on the path to strategic, profitable growth.

Source: Workshop Guide: Defining Your Ideal Customer in Freight Forwarding

[definitely-not-a-wasp]

In Defense of Fang's Gang

The first time I read Maximum Ride (ten years old) (6th grade) (fully in my Warrior Cats phase) I hated Fang's Gang. While I wasn't online so I can't say for certain, I believe that this was a popular sentiment— they were, after all, the thing coming between Fang and Max, and serving as evidence that Fang had 'moved on' from the flock.

However, now I am an adult, and am going to make the argument that Fang's Gang is one of the best written groups in the Maximum Ride series, and should be appreciated more. #JusticeforFangsGang2k25

First: They Make a Lasting Change in the Flock

One of my biggest complaints throughout the series is that if the stakes keep rising, but the flock doesn't change longterm— they split up from time to time, but they're always back together by the end of the book. They fight and have breakdowns, but none of it leads to longterm change: Max is the leader, Fang is her dark and quiet love interest, Iggy and Gazzy are immature and love bombs, Nudge is chatty/feminine and wants to be a normal girl, and Angel is always Max's little girl by the end of the book. This makes all of these conflicts seem unimportant in hindsight, and the plot become predictable and repetitive.

Enter: Fang's Gang.

Fang leaves the flock, and gets a new group! And they STAY with that group for multiple books! While none of us liked Fax getting split up (until I, personally, became an adult and a professional hater), this caused a measurable shift in flock dynamics that didn't fully go away until Maximum Ride: Forever (boo). Therefore, I would say that Fang's Gang are the most successful secondary character group in the whole series, and they should get points for that.

Second: They're Not Friends

Okay, weird way to start things out, but let me explain: when we meet the flock, they're pre-established as a unit. That means Max gets to do a lot of tell not show. She says she loves everyone, but habitually treats Iggy and Nudge like shit. She says she's the leader, but she doesn't cook (see previous post). We hear Gazzy and Angel have a special bond as blood siblings, but don't see them interacting in a way that's different from the rest of the flock very often. When it's revealed that Dr. Martinez is Max's mom and Ella is her half-sister, they immediately get slotted into a family dynamic without any awkward transitions.

For Fang's Gang, we meet everyone when they meet each other. Their dynamic is rocky, it's uncertain, so JP has to actually put in work and SHOW us their dynamic. They play "Never Have I Ever" as a bonding activity, Star and Ratchet annoy each other for fun, Fang notes how uncomfortable he initially feels when he talks for an extended period of time as their leader, we get to see Maya slowly break away from her identity as "Max's Clone" as she spends more time with the Gang. Therefore, even though they only exist for 2-3 books at most, they feel more dynamic than the flock. Which isn't great, because they're really not that dynamic. This says something about the level of writing going on.

Three: They all Have Distinct Personalities.

...They hated Jesus because he spoke the truth.

Look, I will be the first to admit that they're cardboard cutouts of characters, but at least they were cardboard cutouts that were distinct from each other! In a world where Iggy and Gazzy are practically the same character, we have two evil German scientists, and all of the corporate scientist villains have the exact same talking points and vocal patterns, having "Tough wise-cracking Guy" "angry blond girl" "angry girl's nice friend" "Awkward and easily excited" "Smarmy clone with identity issues" and "Fang" is an improvement!

Four: Just Let Them into Your Hearts Already

They're fun. They're funky. They got some bad press because they broke up Fax, but tbh I think that also did the series a service.

Anyway they're popular in my heart.

[stupidlittlespirit]

heyy i'm actually writing a reader insert fanfic about a younger homeless stanley during the holidays.. i know your specialty is ford but i was thinking about what kind of gifts stan would like and i feel like i have no idea?? i started asking myself the same questions about ford too. maybe in early childhood stan and ford would have received similar presents for birthdays and hanukkah and stuff? maybe they like different things as adults, maybe they'd enjoy the nostalgia of something they'd both received before? do you think there's something they'd want as adults but are too afraid to ask for?

in my head, mullet stan is still processing his sort of financial and familial trauma and would be reluctant to receive any charity and ford feels like the type to deny himself the "trivial" joys of life and stuff. booze and cigars feels more like stan in his great uncle age and, other than that, his whole life, even after relative economic stability, he just kind of. hoards money. instead of buying stuff with it

anyway i instantly thought of your genius and thought i might ask for your thoughts on it.. overall this is just me blabbering because i realized i could send you an ask on this topic and i got too excited

I think it was established in TBoB that Filbrick let them pick out a literal cinderblock or something for Hanukkah, right? I can't remember and I'm not looking in that cursed tome right now, one episode is enough for a week LMAO

But yeah, they probably never got much in the way of nice stuff.

If it's when Stan is homeless, he'd probably enjoy something as simple as a homecooked meal and new clothes! The smallest of things mean so much more when you have nothing, but I think being shown love is the biggest gift of all in those moments. Being taken care of is very meaningful; Give him a bath, somewhere to sleep, make him a big meal, give him some booze, something to take his mind off of his shitty situation. Things like that vs gifts that would be meaningless for him. If he's homeless, too, he has nowhere to put his belongings. Having something fancy or whatever would likely put him at risk of getting robbed, too.

He would be hesitant to accept charity if it was presented in a way that suggested you pitied him, but there's such a thing as 'positive' manipulation, iykwim? He'd react as though he didn't want it, but with some gentle persuasion ("I was making dinner anyway, just thought you might like some" or "Eh, I was sewing my clothes up before you got here, so I'm not really doing anything special for if I fix yours too") then he'd come round. You have to make him think it's his idea. He wants it badly enough that it wouldn't take much. It's kinda like reverse negging LMAO.

Ford likes functionality. If you were to gift him something at any age, he'd appreciate something that he could use. In his later years, post-portal specifically, he'd be appreciative of gifts from the heart as well. Photos or sentimental things. Or maybe something he enjoyed before he fell into the portal and missed a lot. A VHS of an old movie he loved or like a Casio calculator watch or something? Nostalgic things.

I don't think either of them would ever actually ask for anything outright at any point in their lives. They're both really quite independent.... To a fault, actually. It's detrimental to them but it's an old habit. You'd have to pick up and remember things they mentioned off-hand, and then gift them.

I hope that helps! :) Sorry it took me so long to answer this <3 Feel free to send me anything else if you need more!

[needleanddead]

I hope you're prepared for a few questions packed all in one ask then! *cracks knuckles*

I've actually just discovered Lucas a few days ago, and whenever I find something/someone I'm interested in, I consume every piece of information available, same with all your amazing Lucas asks and fics. I'm a sucker for horrible people being all lovey-dovey in their own sick way. So!

What does Lucas do with his darling's belongings? You once said, if I remember correctly, that he throws them away because he doesn't want them to have any ties to their old life. But does he look through their stuff? Their backpack? And does he keep some things? Like maybe medication, hygiene products, makeup (because asking Lucas to buy makeup for his darling would be disastrous, I feel like. He would not know which products in what shades to buy), clothes, or just things he knows they'll be happy to have back? For example: I have a stuffed animal that I cannot sleep without, so would he throw it away too or maybe even get it back if I asked him nicely for it? Or would he just get me a new one? (Which would make me cry, btw.)

Does Lucas allow his darling to go to the bathroom alone at night? This goes for both when he still sleeps on the couch in the beginning but also when he sleeps with them in bed after a while. Does he want them to wake him up each time? I bet this is one of those privileges he grants over time, once they gain his trust.

I've read in an answer to an ask that Lucas is in his forties, and so I'm wondering: does he treat his darling differently based on how old they are? Is he more prone to playing a caretaker when they're like, what, 15-20 years younger than him? Also, does it bother him in any way when his darling is literally old enough to be his child - maybe early to mid 20s - or is it something he doesn't even think about?

One of the asks you answered a few hours ago intrigued me as well, so I just wanna explore it a bit. (This part is NSFW, just FYI!) How is the first time being intimate with Lucas? Is it more unrestrained, since he's wanted them since the moment he saw them, or is he overwhelmingly gentle? Especially with a more nervous darling, all sniffling and nervous because they just see him as a ruthless killer still, not wanting him to touch them, but they don't really have a choice in the matter. Would he just shush them and take from them what he wants, or would the focus be on them entirely, just him wanting to make them feel good? Make them feel safe and like they can - and *should* - trust him? I wonder how that would play out, especially when his darling is trying to push him away.

Okay, wow, this is probably the longest ask I've ever sent! Have fun with it and I'm looking forward to your answers. (:

Ah anon, sitting down to answer this with a cup of tea and thinking very hard . . . like all characters, Lucas shifts around a bit and some of my older posts may be outdated (sometimes the character tells me differently to what I have always believed of them!), but I will answer as best I can!

He does, usually, get rid of darling's belongings. For one thing, he can't risk them having things like phones or wallets in their possession (phones get taken to the edge of the woods and smashed up, he's paranoid of trackers!). ID cards get cut up, other identifying things get thrown in wells, scattered through the woods as far away from Lucas's cabin as possible. So yes, he looks through their stuff too! He might keep a FEW things, if they look particularly sentimental (a bear? Perhaps. Sometimes underwear or pyjamas or clothing, if he's not sure yet if he has things that will fit them - and if not, he'll keep them for the wardrobe anyway). These things he does keep won't get given to them right away, though; like all things, they have to prove that they deserve them! Earn them back. He probably WOULD keep medication for them (he's not foolish enough not to realise what it is), but makeup . . . no, that probably goes. If they come with him willingly, actually, once he's slaughtered everyone they're with, he might just let them bring the whole bag once he's checked it through for the most dangerous items (weapons, ID, etc)!

No. They're expected to wake him up. Chances are, if he's sleeping on the couch, he hasn't actually fallen asleep anyway - he's used to every little noise in the cabin, and he's excited about having his darling under his roof - even if they think that they're being quiet, they probably end up seeing a shape in the hallway and a voice rumbling out to ask what they're doing and to reassure them that he's there to help. You're right in that it's one of the privileges that get granted over time; a few months in, once they've proved that they can be trusted, he might get woken up by darling saying they need the bathroom and instead of getting up he just smiles sleepily and tells them to hurry on back to bed afterwards, then.

Honestly, he doesn't really think about his darling's age! A younger darling who says something he doesn't understand might get a fond and exasperated "kids these days" kind of response, but other than that . . . He would put himself into the caretaker role even if his darling is older than him (and yes! He's forty eight!). It's not about age to him, but about how . . . helpless they are. How much they need him. If they are a lot younger, it doesn't bother him; he doesn't think about them being young enough to be his own child, but more he thinks that they haven't had enough time in the world to be truly corrupted by it.

He tries, very, very hard not to hurt his darling and not to let his desires get the better of him when the time does come that he can't hold himself back. He's aware that he's big and strong, and often his darling is smaller and softer - it's easier, actually, if darling is sniffling and whimpering and begging, than if they fight back. He reassures them with kisses and soft murmurs and asks them not to cry (the feel of his hardness against their thigh, twitching when they take a great sob, proves that actually he really doesn't mind the crying). He tries to take his time; work them open slowly, make sure that they're ready to take him. Tries to make sure that they get to come too - but when it comes down to it, when he's actually inside, he can lose himself just a little too easily in how it feels and might bruise or be a bit too enthusiastic. He's always terribly sorry about it afterwards, kissing and soothing them - and he promises that they won't have to get up in the morning and he'll make the breakfast. As long as they're not outright screaming and clawing, he'll accept a little bit of tearful whimpering - it's a big thing, after all, sleeping with someone you love for the first time!

[apparitionism]

Bonus 2

Here’s the second part of a holiday story, begun in part 1, about how Myka and Helena, in a vaguely season 4 world in which nobody’s going to go to Boone but through which they have thus far been separated, are reunited for a day-before-Christmas-eve retrieval in Cleveland. Helena has been summoned by Claudia to serve as Myka’s backup, for Pete is spending some holiday time with his family... but as it turns out, the retrieval is necessary because—plot-semi-twist!—Pete Christmas-gifted his cousin, who is a bigwig at an accounting firm, with an artifact, a pen that apparently has something to do with Santa’s naughty/nice list. Which said cousin used to confer end-of-year bonuses—and penalties. As this part opens, Myka is just beginning to process the fact that the whole situation is Pete’s fault...

(And no, I didn’t manage to bring this thing in for a landing in this part. Nobody faint from the surprise.)

Bonus 2

“Okay,” Myka acknowledges, because what else can she do? The fact is that in any Warehouse-related context, “coincidence” is a non sequitur, and she begins formulating a plan to Christmas-gift Claudia with a T-shirt featuring that sentiment. How fast can she get a custom T-shirt made?

The irony is that Claudia would know.

“Yeah,” says Pete’s cousin—Pete’s cousin! She might be affirming the Claudia-irony in Myka’s head, or the situational irony Myka is now stuck in, or any of the vast array of ironies that make up the Warehousian unfolding of time itself. Myka would not have expected Pete’s cousin’s words to contain multitudes. And yet.

“He told me it was the kind of thing he thought I’d like,” that cousin continues, “and he was right. Effects aside, it’s a gorgeous implement. Perfectly balanced... which I guess works on an existential level too, doesn’t it? Naughty, nice.” She shifts the pen to rest a delicate crosswise on an extended index finger, testing its equilibrium as a chef might a knife.

The pen—or is it merely a different species of knife?—basks in Nancy Sullivan’s regard. “Resonant little instrument,” she says, with clear affection. “Anyway, we were talking about Pete.” A different sort of affection now colors her voice. “He went into this big production-number apology about it being sort of secondhand.”

“Oh?” Myka says, distracted by pens, knives, resonances... but, right, secondhand. Of course it’s secondhand. No new item could be an artifact. Or could it? This seems like a Steve-conversation topic.... and it certainly beats “H.G. is god knows where” for philosophy.

“Not because it’s not new,” Pete’s cousin says, apparently reading Myka’s mind, “but because he initially was thinking he’d give it to somebody else.”

Myka repeats her interrogative “oh?”, but she’s getting a feeling again.

“Yeah,” says Nancy Sullivan, and Myka really has to applaud her talent for broadly applicable affirmation. “He said he wanted to give it to his partner because, and I quote, ‘she likes the old-fashioned stuff,’ but then he realized he shouldn’t because, and I also quote, ‘she’s got this whole family feathery-pen dealy-thingy and I don’t want to upset her.’” She waves the pen again, this time directly at Myka, like a conductor imploring the oboes to pick up the pace. “And he told me his partner’s name,” she concludes.

“I’m sure there are lots of Myka Berings in the world?” Myka tries, weakly, raising her hands as if to offer Nancy Sullivan all those other Myka Berings. The last vestige of defensibility... then her hands drop, because really. She looks at Helena in apology, with only an indistinct, tangled sense of what she’s apologizing for. I’m sorry I occasioned this is part of it, yet there’s a deeper fault she feels but can’t quite ideate, one more consequential than an anodyne “oops.”

“Listen, he’s a really good guy,” Nancy Sullivan says.

“I agree completely,” Myka assures her. But in the interest of full disclosure, she adds, “Mostly completely. I mean, I’m going to kill him for this.”

Helena says, “Are you.” Her tone brings Myka up short: it’s impossibly knowing, suggesting insight into everything Myka has been thinking, about someday and talking and things.

Again with the reading so right.

Myka would love to have the panache to do more than glance furtively at Helena, to pull off a playful, similarly knowing response, like “that depends on my backup” (or something actually clever that will doubtless occur to her during some post-holiday post-mortem). Instead she goes with a not at all interrogative “Oh.”

Nancy Sullivan looks from Myka to Helena. Then she says, “Okay, revision: A really good guy who might be hanging onto some unreasonable hope.”

Myka wishes she could keep from glancing yet again, now, at Helena—now as she grasps the fullness of her underlying error, now as she formulates a hopeful plan regarding someday saying out loud “I’m sorry I didn’t recognize that he had any such hope and that I didn’t make completely clear that any such hope would never have been anything but unreasonable”—but the wish doesn’t work. She glances... thus proving Nancy Sullivan’s point.

“He didn’t mention you,” Pete’s cousin tells Helena. “I think I see why.”

“I’m both offended and pleased,” Helena says, with her customary little thank-you head-bow.

Rather than luxuriating in the familiarity of that head-bow, Myka tries to head off a more detailed discussion of Helena’s role in it all (and what a nondescriptively limp phrase that is) by observing, “The sixth-sense thing is quite the family trait.”

“Ah. Sure. You’ve had experience,” Nancy Sullivan says, a little droop in her voice.

Has she taken Myka’s words as criticism? Myka hurries to reassure, “Sometimes it’s very helpful.”

“But. Other times.” This is heavier, and now she must be referencing her own vibe-related experiences.

“Your family get-togethers must be really... charged?” Myka tries.

Nancy Sullivan offers another all-encompassing “Yeah.” Then she laughs. “But at least we don’t have a feathery-pen dealy-thingy like your family does.”

Helena clears her throat, an attention-garnering ah-ha-hem, as if it’s in the stage directions preceding her next line in some farce. She inclines her head: more stage-direction drama. Finally, “You do now,” she says in benediction.

Nancy Sullivan’s jaw drops. “Wow,” she says, and “wow,” she repeats. Then she laughs again and says, “He really should’ve mentioned you.”

Myka might laugh too, but she is preoccupied by the way in which Helena’s well-chosen articulation has persuaded her body to remind her that it and she have reached no mutually satisfactory agreement about appropriate reactions.

And that in turn sparks Myka to a realization: once the retrieval is accomplished, there may be a nonzero chance that she and Helena could enjoy a bit more of that liminal together-presence...

Myka’s body makes its best effort to crash through the gauzy ideating her brain would prefer to do about what such time could entail, and after no small amount of nethers-vs.-cerebrum struggle, she manages to propose, truce-wise, a simple Let’s just hope it exists.

Surprisingly, body and mind are willing to shake on that, giving Myka leave to slip on a glove and pronounce, “Just give us the pen. Then it’s over. Mostly. The money will probably revert... so you’ll most likely have to redo the bonuses the old-fashioned way.” Hearing herself, she amends, “Well. The regular way.”

“I don’t mind redoing. But reverting...” Pete’s cousin tightens her fingers around the artifact, pulling it near to her body as if she might be considering, for one last “maybe,” the idea of punching her way out.

Myka tenses, and she doesn’t need to cast a glance to know that Helena is doing the same.

She glances anyway... and indeed, Helena alive with wiry readiness is a sight worth the seeing. So worth it, in fact, that Myka is genuinely, if improperly, disappointed that said sight doesn’t cause the truce to collapse.

After a moment, however, color returns to Nancy Sullivan’s knuckles, and Myka removes the pen from her slackened grip.

But then Nancy Sullivan cocks her head. “Is it really over though? I feel like something else might be happening.”

No. No. Absolutely not. “Something else is always happening,” Myka says, affecting nonchalance as she slides the feathery foolishness into a static bag, ignoring its yipping sparks of protest. “Don’t worry about it.”

Nancy Sullivan casts a skeptical look at the barky little bag. “If you say so. Anyway seeing Pete’s face when I tell him you and I –and he and I!—are fellows in family feathery-pen dealy-thingies now? Might end up being the second-best end-of-year bonus of all, given everything.” There’s a little mockery in her voice, echoing the cousin Myka knows so well.

“And the best such bonus?” Helena inquires.

“Docking Bob’s pay,” Nancy Sullivan says instantly.

Myka snorts, and Nancy Sullivan turns back to her and says, “Are you okay with me being glad we met?” Like she’s mostly but not entirely sure of the response she’ll get, and that’s another echo.

“Only if you’re okay with me being glad too,” Myka says, her own voice sounding a familiar note—one she’s pretty sure Pete would recognize.

After a nod, Nancy Sullivan turns to Helena. “I’d say it to you, but I feel like there’s something extra going on with you, like—”

Myka steps in: “Honestly, always,” and then she’s hustling Helena out of the office even as Helena chirps, “I’m both offended and pleased by that as well!”

Back in the elevator, Helena speaks first. “I did not expect that,” she says, sounding entertained by—practically bubbly about—the entire scenario.

“I should have,” Myka grumbles.

“You’re too hard on yourself.”

“Oh god no,” Myka says, involuntarily. “Too easy if anything.”

Helena’s eyebrows rise, and her eyes accuse. “I’ve known you for no small amount of time,” she says.

Myka’s previous review fights that statement, but she doesn’t speak of it.

Her lack of response prompts a heavy I-am-no-longer-entertained sigh. “Must I return to the phrase ‘your truth’?”

“Please don’t,” Myka says. That’s also nearly involuntary, but it sounds too harsh, like she’s dismissing as unimportant that bookstore interaction, as well as the entirety of those in-extremis manifestations of herself and Helena. Rather than apologizing for that, for surely it would prove far too entangling, she tries to draw Helena’s attention back to the entertainment. “I like Nancy Sullivan. She reminds me of Pete and his mom.”

“Pete’s mother? I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure.”

That’s a bit more jousty, backed by curiosity. Good. “She’s a Regent,” Myka says, for it’s the most salient piece of information she has about Jane Lattimer.

Helena stills. Her jaw hardens. “Then perhaps I have indeed had the... pleasure.” Cold. Cold. Cold.

You idiot, Myka scourges herself. Why couldn’t she have done the normal thing and left Pete’s mom as “Pete’s mom”? But now, but now: now she’s seen this wound, down there under the ice, and she wants to test that ice, but she can’t, regardless of her wish and want to know know know, to know everything Helena has been put through, so as to know whom to hate (and she hopes that doesn’t include Pete’s mom) and whom to someday thank (and she double-hopes that does include Pete’s mom). “Anyway I think the cousin had the right idea,” she says, pushing back to the now, to what just happened. “Using an artifact to do what are really decent things, even if they were judgmental.”

“Rather Old Testament,” Helena says. “Strangely inappropriate for this holiday, no?” She asks that like she’s really thinking—wondering—about it.

Myka congratulates herself on having provided a distraction, however minimal, from whatever Regent-pain her unthinking reveal caused to surface. “I hadn’t thought about Santa being more Yahweh than Jesus,” she says, to enhance it, “and I’m not sure what it says about my position on salvation that I genuinely wish we could have let her keep that pen. Or even better, if we could maybe ferry it around to deserving arbiters... wouldn’t that contribute to the greater good, even if it’s in a judgy Old-Testament way?”

Helena’s face moves as if she’s about to answer, but before she can, a rupturing screech of metal-on-metal complication resounds decisively through the space, and their ear-popping descent slows, slows, slows...

...and stops.

After an appropriately irony-bearing pause, Helena says, “This elevator seems to disapprove of your suggestion. Or perhaps it’s your theological indecision that displeases?”

All Myka can manage is an extremely resigned “I am not surprised.”

Efforts to summon help strengthen the “disapproval” interpretation: they’re fruitless. No one answers the emergency line, and this mirrored box is, according to both their phones, the place where cell service goes to die. Or where that service is interfered with by a theologically offended pulley-based mechanism.

“I genuinely cannot believe we’re stuck in an elevator,” Myka says. It may be the most true statement to which she’s ever given voice.

After a beat, however, she concedes, “But of course I can.”

Helena casts her gaze around. Once again, exaggeratedly stage-direction-y. “At least it’s reasonably well-appointed. For an elevator in which to be... stuck.” She seems to relish articulating “stuck,” so she’s back to being entertained. Not quite bubbly, but definitely entertained.

Myka can’t get past her annoyance with the elevator’s disapproval, so she says a peevish, “I don’t like mirrors.” She’s painfully aware now that they cover not only the walls, but also the ceiling. She can’t even look heavenward in supplication, sarcastic or otherwise, without regarding herself. It really is too much.

Given that no other communication technology is working, she resorts to the Farnsworth. She gives thanks for Warehouse mojo, or whatever enables it to elude the elevator’s wrath, when Claudia answers with, “No info on ‘lists, making them’ yet.”

“We dealt with that,” Myka tells her. “New problem.”

“Another artifact?”

“Who knows? Maybe Pete’s in an elevator somewhere else in this town making bad decisions, and they’re redounding to our detriment.” She’s vamping. Stuck in an elevator with Helena, she’s vamping. Instead of simply basking in such fantasy-made-fact, she’s vamping.

She doesn’t bother wondering whether Helena knows she’s doing that; if this little adventure has done nothing else, it’s reminded Myka that Helena always knows. It’s both wonderful and terrible to be so legible, particularly to someone Myka so often finds frustratingly illegible.

“I’m not following,” Claudia says.

Speaking of illegible: Myka, heal thyself. “We’re stuck. In an elevator,” she clarifies.

Claudia makes a noise that, impressively, marries a gasp and a snicker. “Are you really? Or did you push the stop button, like people do?”

“Like people... what?”

“When they want to have a little uninterrupted chat,” Claudia says, pedantic, as if now she’s the one who’s “clarifying.”

“Nobody does that in real life,” Steve says from offscreen. Myka is pleased to know he’s around.

“Myka just did,” Claudia insists in his direction. “Didn’t you,” she insists at Myka.

“If I did,” Myka says, “why would I be calling you to get us out of here?”

“Yeah, why would she?” Steve asks, but from farther away.

Don’t leave! Myka wants to exhort. She would never admit to needing backup in a counter-Claudia sense... but she does appreciate when Steve provides it.

“Oooh, because maybe the chat didn’t go so well,” Claudia says with great, and to Myka’s thinking entirely inappropriate, relish.

Trying for calm pragmatism, she says, “Wouldn’t I just... unpush the stop button then?”

“Myka,” Claudia says. It’s the most chiding, disappointment-laden use of her name Myka has ever heard, even when measured against all the times her father has uttered those two designating syllables. “Believe me when I tell you I’m a fan,” Claudia goes on, turning mollifying, “but you really need to lean in when it comes to tropes.” Myka can’t imagine how to respond to that, so she doesn’t. Claudia sighs—seemingly everyone’s preferred go-to when Myka fails to produce words—and says, “Did you try calling maintenance? Pushing the emergency button? Using your cell?”

“Yes, yes, and no service. Do you genuinely think I don’t understand modern communication technology?”

“I think you pretend you don’t understand newfangledness all the time. Particularly when you’re trying to show off how sympatico you are with H.G., who incidentally doesn’t seem to be piping up like I’d expect. Did you knock her unconscious after your terrible chat? Or maybe during it?”

Helena has indeed been very—very surprisingly—quiet while Myka has explained the situation to Claudia. And she doesn’t step in to help Myka out now. So much for any counter-Claudia backup.

“There was not a chat,” Myka says.

Helena is regarding herself in the mirrored ceiling.

“But there could be one now?” Claudia nudges. “Let me see if I can see what’s up. I’ve got cell service.” She disconnects.

Helena abruptly abandons her ceiling self-contemplation, focusing her gaze upon Myka. It’s disconcerting. “Are you attempting to avoid an uninterrupted chat?” she asks.

Myka can’t suss the question’s sincerity. And notwithstanding all her ideas about talking, she suffers a cringing internal “yes.” Externally, however, she says, in what she hopes offers at least a veneer of sincerity of her own, “No.”

She doesn’t follow up by asking “why would I be doing that,” because Helena would probably have a guess. And because that guess would probably be accurate: “You are a coward,” Helena might say, and Myka would regrettably have to either tell the truth and agree, or lie and disclaim any emotional investment in whatever the outcome of such a chat might be.

Silence. Longer than it should be... or is it as long as Myka deserves?

You wanted time together. Don’t bellyache about the form it takes.

“Your objection to mirrors,” Helena eventually says.

“What about it?” Myka asks. Her very soul flinches.

“What is it?”

Myka has never before stated her dislike of mirrors aloud, and she regrets having done so now. To play it off, she says a dismissive, “An artifact.” And yet the truth is that despite the unnerving nature of her interaction with Alice’s mirror and how it continues to prey on her mind, it isn’t really that—or rather, that only intensified her dislike.

But when Helena proposes, “Yet another ‘dealy-thingy’?”, clearly (and preciously) trying the phrase out in her mouth, Myka misleadingly (intentionally misleadingly) nods and says, “They’re all dealy-thingies.”

To that, Helena says, “Interesting.”

Myka would probe that word, but to do so might destabilize the ground, here in an elevator. Instead, for the moment, she tilts her head in the direction of the Christmas muzak, the literal elevator music, being piped in. “Oh, sure, that still works.” She gestures at the speaker, a thin dark stripe between two mirror-panels, from which the sound is emerging. The elevator is nothing if not insistent.

In truth, she doesn’t mind Christmas carols. She does mind the bowdlerization thereof, and isn’t that an attitude the dogmatic elevator really ought to share? O holy night, the stars are brightly... synthesizing? It’s wrong.

Now even her mind is vamping. Great.

Helena tilts her head toward the speaker, however, and Myka appreciates her willingness to be redirected. At least for a moment.

In fact, for all her vamping, mental and otherwise, Myka finds herself absurdly content to simply stand against a mirrored elevator wall and regard Helena... who in that instant of Myka’s acknowledged contentment seems to accept their predicament as unlikely to be resolved in a timely fashion: she sits down, of course elegantly, resting her back against her side of the box and stretching her legs (her legs, Myka’s body notes, just to let her know it’s still paying close attention) out in front of her.

The looking-down perspective is a bit disorienting—although at least this time it has nothing to do with being stuck to a ceiling—but Myka has no time to process it, for Helena’s next salvo, looking up, is, “You’ve been expecting me to remark further on naughtiness, haven’t you.”

Reading, yet again. “I kind of have,” Myka admits. It seems an overly judgmental statement, particularly given that Myka has to deliver it as if from an elevated bench. And yet... she kind of has.

“I’d rather not fulfill that expectation,” Helena says. “If we could speak of other things.”

Myka is a little thrown, but thankful. “That is entirely fine by me. What do you want to talk about?”

“Honestly?”

“Honestly,” Myka says, meaning it as an answer to either interpretation of Helena’s interrogative: Are you asking what I want to talk honestly about? or Are you asking, with honest intent, what I want to talk about? She hopes Helena will respond similarly.

“Something that interests you,” Helena says.

That’s not in any way what she was expecting. “Really?”

“Really.”

It’s a word similar to, yet very different from, “honestly.” What, in a real sense, interests Myka? In this moment, all she can think to say is “you.” And perhaps because her normal inhibitions are disordered, here in this stopped elevator, that’s what she blurts out.

And that seems, incongruously, to take Helena aback. “What about me?” she asks.

Myka can’t say “everything.” It’s the real answer (really), but it’s far too... big. For an unexpected reunion, an unexpected uninterrupted chat—although Claudia or rescuers could at any point interrupt it, which Myka should hope happens (should)—it’s far too big.

So: smaller. What occurs first to Myka is “where have you been”—but that would most likely seem accusatory. She needs something else. Something something something...

In the aftermath of the Warehouse not being destroyed, she’d felt herself full of hard-earned wisdom and bravery: enough, surely, to stop hesitating. Enough, surely, to act. Or enough, at the very least, to articulate.

“Wisdom” and “bravery” now seem nothing more than labels on empty containers, and so “faintheartedness” is the fullness with which Myka here initially accuses her today self. But as Helena breathes and waits for an answer, Myka revises that, gentling it to “caution.” And she adds “care.” Because she is trying to attend to, to appreciate, that breathing. And that waiting.

These might be nothing more than self-indulgently comforting shifts in vocabulary... but then again they might be akin to the shift from “Christmas” to “end-of-year.” Gentle. Inclusionary.

The something something something that occurs to her—because in attempting to avoid her own reflection, she is confronted instead with multiple Helenas—concerns a topic she probably should censor but doesn’t: “When you were a hologram... or a projection, or whatever we should call it... did you have a reflection?” She then reflexively backtracks, “It shouldn’t matter? But I don’t know.” That last, she means both ways. She doesn’t know: whether the reflection existed, or whether it matters. But maybe it’s a sneak-up on things, because she shouldn’t ignore things, and because a seemingly inconsequential tangent might tiptoe toward importance.

“I don’t know either,” Helena says. “I suppose I would have?” Her face contracts. “Or perhaps not, as I don’t know how that holographic projection of myself was... projected. But I do intend to look into it.” She says this last as if Myka has caught her in some inattention, a recklessly uncompleted assignment.

“I never even started majoring in physics,” Myka laments, which is true but also, she hopes, reassuring in an I didn’t do the homework either sense, “so I don’t know the optics of it. Projections. Light and mirrors. “ She doesn’t mention that in the wake of Pittsburgh, she had indeed tried researching such things... she’d got as far as some advanced volumetric displays, ones using dust particles as screens onto which lasers projected light, but at a certain point, a tipping point, the idea of Helena existing as—being relegated to—nothing more than light and dust seemed to scream a surpassing insult, a degradation conjuring death, and it was more than she could bear.

For now she puts that away. She shakes her head, shakes it free, and changes tack. “Anyway, that’s probably the wrong approach. This is Warehousey, so thinking outside physics, the laws... okay, all I know about reflections, unphysically, is that vampires don’t have them. So if you didn’t have one, then maybe all holograms are vampires?” Ugh. Ugh ugh ugh. She would have done better to speak of dust, that and light and despair. Going with vampires instead? Talk about vamping...

“Presumably not vice versa,” Helena observes, seemingly taking Myka’s words far too seriously. “Certainly fictionally. Also not overly flattering, in the syllogistic sense of ‘Helena was a hologram, therefore.’”

“They’re very popular though,” Myka temporizes.

“Stoker’s novel was all the rage,” Helena allows.

The chat stalls out. Interrupting itself?

Myka nevertheless feels pressure to fill the silence: it’s her fault. Will a simple truth suffice? “I didn’t expect to be spending the day before Christmas Eve with you,” she says. “Or any day with you. In Cleveland.”

A small smile from Helena marks this as a more welcome fill than a question about reflection. As do her next words: “Nor I with you. In Cleveland, or any place. Equally, I didn’t expect to be sent on a mission with you.”

“That part of it went well.” Myka gestures at her bag that contains the artifact.

“We did—and now do once again—make a good team.”

“I’m glad we got the chance to do it again. Glad, but also... relieved.”

“Relieved,” Helena echoes.

That wasn’t a question, but Myka answers anyway. “Well, obviously, first,” she says, feeling herself launching into an explanatory babble that she fears she’ll be powerless to stop, “because you didn’t have to talk anybody out of using Joshua’s trumpet, so that really makes a difference in terms of how we—”

“‘First’,” Helena quotes, interrupting (stopping), conveying her full knowledge that that too is a vamp. “And second?”

“That we still are.” This, Myka says simple and frank.

“A good team?”

That is a question. Myka knows “yes” is the only sensical answer, so she tries to say it. But the depth and weight of the ways in which she and Helena “still are” choke her: they “still are” in the basic sense of existing, which was never a certainty; and even better, higher, these hours they’ve spent together today have made clear, to Myka at least, that they “still are”... well. She’d like to finish that with something like “in love,” but instead she tries to leave it, even in her head, at “still are,” with their time-crossed, maybe-destined predicate undefined.

“A good team” should be good enough—true enough—for now.

So after a stretch of time during which Myka knows she’s been focusing her gaze far too intently on Helena, she manages that “yes.”

Helena waits to speak.... are her eyes glistening more brightly than usual, or is Myka hallucinating? “I’m relieved as well,” she says, and Myka chooses to simply delight in whatever prompted such a saturated sparkle.

It draws her closer.

She crosses the small-yet-large elevator-width that separates them. “I need to either sit down beside you or help you up,” she says. “Do you have a preference?”

“For?” Helena’s eyes continue to glow.

That shine... Myka has hopes. They may not be realized, but she has them: the product of relief, “still are,” and an unknown predicate. “Whatever’s next,” she says.

A bit of time passes, with Helena now being the one focused most intently. “I’ll stand,” is her verdict.

Myka reaches down with both—both—hands, offering, and Helena reaches up, accepting. Their fingers meet and clasp, and too cold, Myka thinks, for both of them have a chill in those extremities... but first impressions of temperature promptly fall away as the new reality of the clasp roars into precedence.

Myka has never been so certain of, so certain of and enchanted by, what must and will happen next in her life. Never in her life so certain, as the clasp tightens, as their torsos lean, as Myka’s body begins an at-last congratulation, one that will become a celebration—

A voice from somewhere overhead barks, “Everybody okay in there?”

TBC