#but i also prefer drinks in mugs over cups too so IS this just a me thing??

[stellewriites]

why do things just taste better in bowls instead of on plates??

[nook-of-fanfic]

Investigation Tea

Pairing: Cody/Obi-Wan Kenobi Summary: Cody prefers caff. Cody knows Obi-Wan knows he prefers caff. So why does he keep making him tea? For Day 7 of @codywanweek - Prompt: Courting Word Count: 3,948 a/n: This one is my absolute favourite of these stories. Did I spent far too long trying to find any tea meanings? Yes. Did I give up because I couldn't find anything and base this entirely on flower colours? Also yes. Do I care? No. This was so much fun to write. also on Ao3

To say Cody was confused was an understatement. It had started shortly after their last mission. When he joined his general in their office for some flimsiwork, a mug of tea had been waiting for him. Tea. He knew his general knew he preferred caff, but he thought maybe General Kenobi had just picked up a new blend and wanted Cody to try it.

And then it hadn’t stopped. It had, in fact, gotten worse. Whereas it started with just a cup of tea a week, the other days still being caff, now there was tea pretty much every time the General arrived to the office first.

In the beginning it had always been the same tea: a fruity, slightly sour drink with a yellow colour. After about three weeks, another blend joined the mix. A refreshing purple drink with very small hints of spice. Cody much preferred this one, although he wouldn’t tell anyone unless asked. Over some time, the yellow drink became less and less present, the purple tea now the General’s go to for Cody. He himself drank his usual tea, not once having a cup of either of the teas he offered Cody.

Then came the pink tea. It was very light in colour, very fruity and far too sweet for Cody. He felt as if he just drank a cup of pure sugar. But when he looked up after his first sip, the sweetness was nothing compared to the sweetness in his generals smile and the softness in his eyes. If this was what it took, Cody thought, he’d drink the appalling cup of sugar everyday.

It was only when he was back in his quarters that he realized something was wrong. He wasn’t an idiot, he knew he had feelings for his general he wasn’t supposed to have. It was why he was glad General Kenobi suggested a joined office. Cody had easily agreed on the premise that it would be quicker to work through flimsiwork that had to be signed by both of them. The fact that it gave him time to subtly stare at the Jedi, or to see him as relaxed as he could be during the war, were just added bonus points. But he knew his general. He knew he wouldn’t offer Cody something without at least a fraction of a thought behind it. With a start Cody realized that the Jedi had never asked for his opinion on the teas, not even once. He had done that every time before this thing started. Cody decided it was time he started an investigation. His plan was simple, watch and document the teas he got for some time and then… okay, maybe not that simple. Cody had no idea what to do after documenting the teas, but at least it was a start.

And so began ‘Investigation Tea’. Cody noticed that his general would make him tea, but that the tea was not stored in their office. Whenever Cody arrived first, the only thing he would find was his caff and the general’s usual tea blend. Next, he noticed that the pink beverage was usually accompanied by snacks, whereas the purple tea was not. Cody had thought it was weekday related, but that didn’t seem to be the case.

If there was pink tea on Tuesday, there would be snacks. He was served purple tea the next Tuesday, no snacks in sight. Cody also realized that the pink tea had grown on him rather quickly. He just had to look at the way his general was smiling when he drank it, and he felt like he could do anything.

This was also an odd thing. Of course, the Jedi smiled at him whenever they met in the office, but not quite like the smile that accompanied the too-sweet drink. The last thing Cody noted before he decide on his next step was that there was less flimsiwork getting done whenever he had pink tea. His general seemed content to gaze at Cody for a majority of the time, and Cody enjoyed the short, not-actually-a-break break with his tea and the snacks and, of course, his general.

Once Cody had documented all these things in his mind, and stewed over them for longer than he would like to admit without coming to a conclusion, he figured his next step would be to get a second opinion. So, like any good brother would do, he called Rex in the middle of the night.

His brother picked up the call, answering with a gracefully grumbled “What?”. Given that this was a private call, Cody decided to let it slide.

“General Kenobi is acting weird.” Wow Cody, very helpful.

Rex seemed confused, “Isn’t he always? What’s so special this time? Also, do you even know what time it is?”

And so, Cody explained what he had found, carefully omitting the parts about his general’s smile rivalling the brightness of the suns they often passed by. Or how Cody was sure his eyes were softer than any material in the entire galaxy. He didn’t need Rex making fun of him for his crush, because that’s all Cody would admit to it being. Not now, and actually not ever, given that it had happened enough times already.

After relaying his train of thought to Rex, he had asked him if General Skywalker ever had tea with his former Master, and which teas that would be. When Rex pressed for a reason, Cody just told him he was thinking of a gift for his general. Rex agreed to ask his own general, but at a more appropriate time. All Cody could do now was wait. He laid down on his bed again and closed his eyes. Perhaps that would keep his thoughts from running wild, at least for a night.

Rex called back the next evening, because as much as he liked to tease his brother, he could tell this really was eating at him.

“General Kenobi does share tea with General Skywalker,” he reported, “quite often it seems. There’s some of it stocked in his office, I’m pretty sure. He also does it with Ahsoka. General Skywalker described the most common tea as slightly sour, but there is also an orange one that’s apparently very refreshing. He didn’t mention any other teas in particular. Ahsoka said the same, although she noted the orange tea is usually only for special occasions. Maybe it’s more expensive or something. I think there might be some meaning behind this, but I have no idea what it could possibly be. Have you tried searching the Holonet?”

“Thank you, Rex. You really think there’s meaning behind it?”

“Of course . General Kenobi doesn’t seem like the type to randomly do something like this without a good reason,” Rex mused.

“Okay. Maybe I’ll try searching something up. That seems like the next logical step,” Cody thought out loud.

“Good Luck, Cody!” Rex signed off, probably to go back to his duties.

Cody really should get back to his flimsy work too, but this was eating at him. He grabbed his data pad and started searching for the meanings of different teas.

This was getting ridiculous. Cody had been sitting here for hours now, and all he had found on tea was which benefits certain teas had and none of them were remotely familiar to him. There was one last place Cody could look, even if he had lost almost all faith in getting the meaning of the teas without having to directly talk to his general about it. An Archive of old traditions from all sorts of planets. If it wasn’t here, it would be nowhere. Scrolling past book covers of tea rituals that looked far too complicated to be replicated on a spaceship and ancient recipe books of “Tea sweets for religious offerings”, something caught Cody’s eye. It was a book titled ‘Stewjoni Tea: The uses and meanings’. That seemed promising.

Opening the book, Cody skipped through the opening that described how tea was a big source of income for most locals and, as such, a major part of the culture. There seemed to be tea for every single occasion. Apparently, it was costumers to brew these teas for others, and drinking it was a simple way to show that whatever meaning the tea had was accepted. The rudest thing anyone could do was pour the freshly brewed tea in front of the feet of the person who brewed it.

There was a supposedly relaxing lavender coloured tea given to new parents, ‘get well soon’ tea that seemed to hold slight healing properties and even a tea given to those in mourning as condolences. Throughout these pages, Cody had found out that the yellow tea he had been offered at first symbolised friendship and was brewed either for close friends or people you’d want to be closer with. The orange tea Ahsoka mentioned was a celebratory tea, brought out on happy occasions like birthdays, graduations or, as probable in the General’s case, a successful mission. But through all of this, Cody had not found either the purple or the pink beverage he had been served by his general.

With a heavy heart, Cody scrolled to the last remaining chapter, not holding out hope on it introducing any new teas. The chapter was titled ‘Courtship and Proposals’. Cody spluttered. There was no way this was the chapter he needed, and he was about to close the book entirely, but now he was curious. How bad could it be, he’d already skimmed through the rest of the book, might as well go through this one too.

‘The start of a courtship is always an offer for friendship’, it read, ‘but it should be quickly followed by an offer for courtship, as to not mislead the other party. The tea of choice for an offer of courtship should have a darker purple colour.’ Cody nearly choked on his own breath. What? No, this couldn’t be. He must have misread it. But no, there it stood, clear as day: ‘The tea off choice for an offer of courtship should have a darker purple colour and a minuscule amount of spice. The courtship is accepted by the other party through drinking the tea, although only implicitly. It is more of an openness to the possibility. The official acceptance of the courtship should be done with a traditional celebratory tea, as explained previously, brewed by the courted person.’

Cody felt his face heat up. His general had been courting him for months, if this book was to be believed. But why this way? Then Cody remembered. His general was from Stewjon. He must have wanted to keep the tradition up. And Cody had, unknowingly, halfway accepted the courtship. It wasn’t like the courtship was unwelcome, but Cody would have liked to properly accept it. So why hadn’t his general talked to him about it? Never mind, that would be a question for later.

Cody practically inhaled all the remaining info the book had to offer. When he learned that the pink tea he was getting from his general was a tea reserved for dates, he felt as though he nearly died from how flustered he was. Over the past weeks, he had been on multiple dates with his General, and he hadn’t even known. Maker, that explained the snacks and the amount of work not getting done when he was offered this specific drink. He learned that it was so sweet because it was supposed to represent the purity of the love one partner felt for the other. Cody had to do something, and do it quick, before his general got bored of Cody apparently not picking on the fact that his general wanted a relationship with him.

He remembered Rex telling him that General Skywalker kept some of the teas in his office. He shot Rex a quick message, requesting he ask his general for a teabag of the orange variant, preferably without telling anyone, especially General Kenobi. Part one of the plan, done. Now, he had to wait. Once the tea would be there he would make sure he would be the first to arrive to their office and he would serve his general the orange tea and everything would be solved.

If asked about it later, Cody said he absolutely did not use the time to think about the fact that his immediate reaction to finding out he had been courted by his general for weeks was feeling bad that he hadn’t been able to knowingly accept. Nope. Not him. And there also wasn’t the realization that he couldn’t even not accept. This was Obi-Wan Kenobi. He’d be an idiot not to accept the affection, because that’s what it was, given to him freely.

Cody absolutely did not, through all of this, come to the conclusion that he was buckets over boots in love with his general. Never happened. But that was only if someone asked. In reality, all of these thoughts came at the exact same time and Cody felt as if someone had punched him in the gut. He loved his general. This was so much more than the crush Cody had insisted it was. It had been for a long time. And it seems his feelings were returned. Cody felt his face heat up impossibly more. And if he kept his helmet on more over the next days when in the presence of his Jedi, nobody said anything.

It was another week before Cody had the opportunity to meet with Rex in person. In this time, Cody had made sure to be consistently first in their office. He didn’t know whether he could bear the tea or the smiles, not after knowing what it meant. He had a plan, and by everything he believed in, he was not going to ruin it by doing something stupid like kissing his general the next time he was offered tea, and this felt like the safest way to avoid that situation.

When the meeting finally came, Cody was at his nerve’s end. Rex passed a small package to Cody, who had to hold back from sprinting to his room right in the middle of the meeting to prepare the tea. But Cody was a Marshal Commander. He wouldn’t, couldn’t, leave a meeting without good reason, and he was patient. And most of all, when the meeting was over, he didn’t run. He walked, calmly and not at all faster than his usual pace. Back in the safety of his room, Cody opened the parcel. Inside it was a bag of tea wrapped in some flimsi, a list of ingredients that Cody ignored, and what seemed to be a handwritten note.

‘Have fun ;)‘, it read, in a handwriting that Cody didn’t recognize as Rex’s. Just a moment later, Cody’s face heated up again as he connected the note to General Skywalker’s notes on some of the flimsiwork he’d seen. He knew. Oh Maker, Skywalker knew. But then, Cody remembered one small fact he’d found out a while ago and smiled to himself. The young Jedi wouldn’t tell, not unless he wanted his own secret exposed.

And so, the last step of Cody’s grand plan could begin. He hoped the practice paid off. He had been making his general’s tea for over a week now, so it should be too difficult with this one either, right? Just to be safe, Cody pulled up the book again to check for any brewing tips. There was nothing particularly different to the others, so Cody decided to settle down for the night. It wouldn’t do for him to be tired tomorrow morning, not with this.

The next morning, Cody woke up before his alarm. He didn’t know why exactly he was so nervous. He was just accepting a courtship offer, not offering the courtship himself. Still, he felt as if his entire body was on fire. Okay Cody, breathe. It’s just General Kenobi. Just the man he had been slowly falling for for the better part of this stupid war.

He got up, got ready and headed to the mess for breakfast. It wouldn’t do to do this on an empty stomach. He scarfed down some of the tasteless mush they called food. When he was done and it was time, he went back to his quarters, grabbed the tea, and headed over to their office. Everything had to be perfect, and Cody had made sure to be very early, giving him enough time to prepare the tea. With the tea steeping, Cody went through the practised motion of making himself a cup of caff, and if his hand shook, he took no notice.

He prepared both of their workspaces, setting his flimsiwork opposite General Kenobi’s. Then, he set the table with the coffee and tea. By his calculations, General Kenobi was bound to arrive any minute now.

When he did arrive, Cody made sure nothing seemed out of the ordinary. General Kenobi thanked him for the tea, as always. Cody waited for his general to sit before doing so himself, as always. Cody grabbed the first piece of flimsi available and took a sip of his caff, as always. General Kenobi smiled and took a sip of his tea, also as always. Then his eyes widened and he spluttered, definitely not as always. He tried to cover it with a cough and took another sip of his beverage. His head snapped upwards and there was a silent question in his eyes. His mouth opened and closed, but it seemed as though he can’t bring the words out. Cody just smiled and nodded. This finally snapped General Kenobi out of his stupor and he’s in front of Cody in the next second, cupping his cheek.

“Really?”, he asked, “Do you really mean it?”

And Cody couldn’t do much except nod again at this, could he? He felt himself get pulled up, and then his general’s arms are around him. When he let go, there is another question, one that Cody had actually expected to be the first.

“How did you know?” His general’s hands were still on Cody’s arms and Cody should really stop calling him general.

“I found an old book, sir. It matched exactly with what you had been doing, so I thought I should react accordingly.”

“Oh Cody. Dear Cody. You are so brilliant,” General Kenobi breathes out, “but if you want this, I must insist you call me Obi-Wan.”

“Yes, Obi-Wan.” And wasn’t it the easiest thing to do? “So, how do we go about this?”

Obi-Wan laughs. Cody wants to hear the sound everyday for the rest of his life.

“Inside this room? We do whatever we want.”

For now, there was no reason to mention the fact that, once they left the room, they would have to be Commander and General again instead of Cody and Obi-Wan. For now, they sat at the table again, side by side this time, chairs so close their shoulders were brushing, and talked. No paperwork got done that day.

Some weeks later, Obi-Wan was first in their office. When Cody arrived, there were two cups of pink tea, as so often now, and Cody was immediately engulfed in a hug as soon as the door closed. He set the snacks he brought down in front of them and they settled into their chairs. But something was different. Obi-Wan seemed nervous, for some reason. He was shifting in his seat, probably hoping Cody wouldn’t notice. Cody, of course, did notice. He noticed everything about Obi-Wan, always had. And with their recent development, he noticed even more, if possible. Knowing Obi-Wan would not speak, Cody broke the silence.

“Cyare, what’s wrong?” Obi-Wan opened his mouth to protest that he was fine, but Cody’s stare apparently made him rethink it and sigh instead.

“It’s just,” Obi-Wan turned to face Cody and he was so close now, “Cody, dear, can I kiss you?”

Cody blanked for just a second. Then, a smile broke out on his face and he leaned in further. When their lips met, the only thought in Cody’s mind was that this was right. There was no other way to describe the feeling of their lips moving together, slowly, gently, as if they had all the time in the world. When they parted, Cody had no idea what time it was.They could have been kissing for hours, as far as he knew. And it was still too short. They did not get any work done that day either.

Another week later was the first time Cody didn’t sleep in his own room. They worked for longer than usual, courtesy of the casualty report of their most recent mission. There were too many brothers lost that day, and Cody could feel the exhaustion and grief throughout his entire body. He was sure Obi-Wan felt the same. When they were finished, only the night shift was awake. Obi-Wan tugged Cody along and it took him far too long to realize that they were going to the Jedi’s quarters. Once inside, Obi-Wan pulled him to the bed.

“Gen- Obi-Wan, what’s going on?” Cody asked. Obi-Wan just hugged him closer. Upon pressing the matter a little more, Obi-Wan admitted that he didn’t want to be alone this night.

Cody grinned through the pain still present in his mind. “Well, why didn’t you just say so?” To be honest, he didn’t want to be alone either. Growing up on Kamino with all of his brothers around him and then being a Commander who had to have his own quarters wasn’t exactly easy. Cody and Obi-Wan changed into their night clothes and laid down. Cody pressed his back against the wall and Obi-Wan settled with his head on Cody’s chest. He was asleep not even five minutes later. Cody smiled and set an alarm for the next morning before letting himself drift off.

From that day on, they spent the night together at least once a week. They would have loved to be together more, but they couldn’t afford to raise any suspicions. They still had to keep their relationship secret.

‘After the war,’ they had promised each other. After the war they could be together freely, wherever and whenever they wanted.

They had gotten used to this routine quickly. Get to the office, drop the titles, pull the chairs together and work, trading kisses and information in equal measure.

A year after Cody accepted Obi-Wan’s courtship, the war coming to a close, Cody got up very early again. He was just as nervous as he was that one fateful day. Just as that day, he grabbed a small package with some tea and made his way over to his and his boyfriends office. Before the door could close behind him, Obi-Wan entered the room as well.

“Good morning my dear. What brings you here this early?” Obi-Wan came to stand next to Cody at the small counter where they made their tea. He, too, was carrying a small package. He opened it and took out a tea bag. Cody, in turn, opened his package, also revealing a bag of red tea, the same as his Jedi’s. Obi-Wan laughed and pulled him into a kiss. There they stood for a while, tea temporarily forgotten.

‘When either party is ready to move on in the relationship, it is customary to do this with tea as well. The tea used for this should be red, fruity and have a generous amount of spice. The other party accepts the proposal by offering the same tea in return.’

a/n: Cody's frustration is entirely based on my own struggle when researching the tea meanings, because there was NOTHING except for health benefits and types of teas that exist when I looked it up.

[icedbatik]

get to know me game (I was tagged by @rimouskis and @sportsthoughts ... thank you both!)

do you make your bed?

Yep! In part because I like having a nicely made bed, in part because I use my bed as my design board/work space when I'm quilting. And, in part, because it's an easy way to have some small bit of tidy space in a house that has too much stuff. (My core being is "neat freak" but my reality is "please pull a truck up so I can toss stuff out the window".)

what's your job?

I am a newspaper copy editor/writer.

if you could go back to school, would you?

It depends. Would I need to keep working? Would it put me in debt? I like learning, but I already don't have enough time in my day to do everything I want to do. If I had to write term papers and study for tests while working a full-time job and still taking care of my household (groceries, laundry, meals, yardwork, running errands, all the other odds and ends involved), I think I might crack.

can you parallel park?

Yes, though I rarely have the need. (If you follow the instructions carefully, it's amazing how well it works.)

do you think aliens are real?

IDK. I accept the reasoning that it's unlikely we're alone in the vastness of the universe, and that it's a bit arrogant to think we're the only ones. But I also think it's unrealistic to assume others take a form we'd immediately recognize. And, if there is intelligent life out there, why, exactly, would it mess with us?! Have you seen us lately?!

can you drive a manual car?

Yes. My brother loaned me his pickup truck to drive after I graduated from college. (He didn't need it at the time because of his job.) The idea of not having to make a car payment was great incentive to learn.

guilty pleasure?

I'm not sure I feel guilty about any of my pleasures. But they include Tumblr/fandom, writing fic, Pens hockey, quilting and a daily mug of good-quality hot chocolate.

tattoos?

I have a permanent spot on my skin from when I accidentally stabbed myself with a pencil as a kid. I'm pretty sure that's as close as I'm going to get. (Mine is big enough and dark enough that doctors routinely panic when they see it, thinking it's skin cancer, until I remind them we've had that conversation before.)

favorite color?

black with all the bright colors, particularly the off colors (fuchsia, turquoise, teal); and all the blues that make up the ocean (There's a reason why batik is my favorite type of fabric. Solid colors aren't nearly as interesting as lots of colors playing together.)

favorite type of music?

The most straight-forward answer is rock, particularly classic rock, though I like a lot of different types of music on a song-by-song (or artist) basis. Most country music doesn't do much for me. My last two musical purchases were Disturbed's cover of "The Sound of Silence" and Sufjan Stevens' "Illinois" album, which is the basis of "Illinoise" the Broadway musical.

do you like puzzles?

I guess you could say that, since I quilt and "Tetris" is my favorite video game.

any phobias?

I'm not into snakes. I'm trying to do better about not panicking over them, but I still have absolutely no desire to see them, whether in my yard or in a photograph.

favorite childhood sport?

Riding my bike.

do you talk to yourself?

Of course. (At least, that way, I know someone is listening to me!)

tea or coffee?

Nope. I prefer drinking clean water to dirty water. (The idea of having a cup of tea is appealing, but the reality has never done anything for me.)

first thing you wanted to be be when growing up?

A photographer.

what movies do you adore?

"Dave" and "The American President" are both older movies but they have lead characters (Kevin Kline and Martin Sheen Michael Douglas, respectively) who are kind of my fantasy president. Can't find funding for this program that helps children? No worries. We'll just stop paying $500 for a screwdriver we can get at the hardware store for $5 and use the leftover $495 (per screwdriver) on food programs and after-school programs and utility-assistance programs. It's not that hard.

I'll tag @pr-scatterbrain and @maljic and @ehghtyseven and anyone else who wants to play. (Maybe I want to know you and just don't realize it yet! )))

[coffelovereco]

‿︵‿. ݁˖ . ݁ ☕︎ . ݁˖ . ݁‿︵‿

. . . Ah, the fresh smell of warm coffee fills the office you walk into. A bitter but gentle scent, alongside it gives in a gentle cozy feeling to the prosecutors feeling you just walked into. The sight of coffee set by the table just comfirmed the welcoming scent. but.. the coffee wasn't the reason you got into the prosecutors office, was it?

The gentle ambience was broken by a familiar figure standing in front of the desk, grabbing a mug filled with coffee as he shook his head, glaring at you through his visor that showed the famous red strips. He raised an eyebrow, he hadn't been warned someone was comming up to his office, but despite that, he just seemed to smirk his confusion up.

“ Ah, What a suprise to see someone here. Would you want a cup of coffee? Don't mind the other 2 they dont bite either. ”

It seemed like he meant no harm. His eyes then fell on the other 2 people there alongside him. Another prosecutor and... Is that a detective alongside the 2 of them? Perhaps it is. The other prosecutor seemed rather skeptical to speak. But the detective seemed to just stick his tongue out towards you.

[ End of beginning of the intro post. Prooced to the rest? ]

[ooc: Hello!! This is my first rp/ask blog! This also has my ocs so take note of the canon and noncannon that will be included.and i’m sorry if i act a bit ooc when doing the only cc here heheh- Also, This isnt only an Ask Blog, its also a rp blog! Similar go a hand of other ask & rp blogs! ]

About...

... Godot ☕︎ᝰ.ᐟ

𐔌 Goes by He/Him

𐔌 Main timeline is a Post-Prison Godot, so some stuff is diferent from his pre prison arc.

𐔌 Still the same coffee lover.

𐔌 You can ask anytime to speak to either Pre Prison Godot and Diego Armando, just do specify, cause or else main timeline godot will be used!

𐔌 Headcanons will be worked on at some point!

... Kimi Walker ᡣ𐭩ᝰ.ᐟ

𐔌 He/Them Pronouns

𐔌 He doesnt hold onto any specific timeline at all!

𐔌 Orange juice lover<3

𐔌 They have alot of mystery past that is in need to be discovered! But who knows when this silly guy will ever even open up..?

𐔌 Main love interest is Kristoph Gavin. He’s completely head over heels for Kristoph for some reason and he doesnt elaborate on it at all.

𐔌 i’ll make most likely a post with more about then at some point, i promise..! For now, he’s an extremily silly gentle soul that loves helping others and meeting people!

... Asher ☂︎ᝰ.ᐟ

𐔌 He/Him Pronouns

𐔌 his main timeline is the one after AJ. Although he has a version of himself back in PW, and a debut/younger version of himself aswell. You may make questions to those, just do specify to which one you asking when making him questions, or else main timeline will be used.

𐔌 theres an AU i’m working on where he takes over Miles’ role after Miles was murdered right after turnabout goodbyes before he left to go away. The AU's name is “SoulBond”. It’ll be better explained in a post in mods main acc.

𐔌 you may choose between which Au you wanna question, again just do specify which AU you’d like to speak with.

𐔌 He prefers Tea over Coffee but drinks coffee with godot in the office.

About the mod !!

𐔌 My main is @aa-ash3r !!

𐔌 You may call me by any of the following: Ash3r, Ash or Kimi. (I’m not oicky about any of the names!)

𐔌 He/Them/It pronouns !!

𐔌 only NSFW i allow in this blog is towards the characters & Ocs, and it cant be too much NSFW as it may make me uncomfortable and i wont answer it at all.

𐔌 Any & All Interactions with any character despite fandoms are always welcome! Its genuine fun!

𐔌 Please specify to who you are making your questions towards, this includes basicly any specific timeline or AU you might see going around this blog

𐔌 i also run @thegoofyactor !! :D

—·— End of the Log. —·—

[fangirlfrom-hell]

When Your Parents are Detectives, You Gotta Try Harder || Upstead x daughter

*re-posting this because I'm stupid and accidentaly erased my blog 🫠

Also Burzek x daughter and Stellaride x twins

Sophia is Upstead's daughter. // Leslie and Benjamin are Stellaride's twins. //Makayla is Makayla.

Jay, Hailey, Adam, Kim, Severide, Stella, Violet, Gallo, Ritter, Will, Joe, Sylvie, Matt involved.

☆ 

-"What the hell is that?" Jay said dramatically pointing to his daughter as she entered the kitchen.

-"Sophia Halstead. Human. Nice to meet you". -She had inharited her father's sense of humor.

-"I mean what the hell are you wearing!?" -He asked shocked, not paying attention to his daughter's joke.

-"Oh! This is called a dress. Girls usually use them when the weather is hot outside". -Sophia replied sarcastically. -"It's fresh, you should try it".

-"Yeah, I'm not into it, too short...why isn't it covering your knees?" -Jay crossed his arms in a scolding dad position.

-"Seriously, Jay?" -Hailey raised her eyebrows and gave a look to her husband, while pouring herself a cup of coffee.

-"Well, good morning to you too". Sophia rolled her eyes and sat at the kitchen island to have breakfast, trying to ignore the situation. Anyway, she had foreseen her father's reaction the moment she decided to wear that green dress with small white flowers for the picnic that day. He was, after all, old fashioned, as he used to joke about.

-"You look really pretty, hunny". Hailey smiled, knowing what was going through her daughter's mind.

Sophia never tought she would feel so embarrased. Other than the school uniform, no one had ever seen her wearing a dress or skirt before, not even her parents. To be honest, it wasn't her type of clothing, she preferred jeans and not so tight shirts or blouses, always big boots as shoes. But she wanted to give it a try, she wanted to feel "pretty" and look femenine as the other girls at school.

-"Yeah, I mean that's not in doubt". Jay continued his wife's statement. -"But I find it innapropiate, you can't just go out like that. You are too young, dress' too short, lot of psychos out there. Do the math". And he took a drink from his coffee mug with the "Ranger" insignia.

-"Whoa, ok It's not like I'm going to a rave or something. This reunion it's supposed to be only for friends and family, isn't it? There are not psychos in that group...that we know of at least". Her parents grined at that. -"Besides, I have my platform boots on. They are iron point, I still can kick some asses if I need to".

-"Swearing jar!". -Hayley and Jay said unison, closing their eyes tiredly. This language matter was begining to be a problem and the swearing jar wasn't helping enough.

-"All right, you oppressors of free speech". She said while standing up. -"I'll get the jar". And she dissappeared.

-"Since when does she like wearing dresses? -Jay threw the question into the air. -"I mean, what's next? Make up?"

Hailey stared at Jay with a smirk on her face and he felt deep in his bones how she was reading him, so he avoided eye contact.

-"Is she acting like this because of a boy? Because she does talk a lot about that Severide boy".

-"Jay, you are over reacting" -Hailey laughed. -"They are friends, and for the record, she mostly talks about his twin sister, Leslie. They are both Severide, you might be confusing them".

Hailey leaved her seat and stood next to him: - "This is not even about the dress, is it?".

Jay opened his mouth to say something, but words didn't come out, he was feeling a little bit silly. At the same time, he tried to match his toughts with gestures, but he just ended up doing strange movements with his hands.

-"I don't know what hand gesture to make". They both laughed and he used one hand to grab her waist.

-"I know it is only a stupid dress. I do worry about the psychos, though. -He pointed out. -"But the thing is that when I saw her, reality hit and made me realize that she's not a little girl anymore. Yesterday she was pucking over girly stuff and now...she grew overnight".

-"Yes, I get that feeling, but...". She sighed. "-If it makes you feel better, she's just pretending. I know you're scared of loosing what you have with her, but you won't".

-"What do you mean she's pretending?". -He frowned his eyes.

-"I think she just wants to feel pretty, or what she sees around that is supposed to be pretty. Hard to believe coming from that girl, but she's in a vulnerable position right now".

-"But she is beautiful". -He didn't say it just because he was his father, he meant it with his heart. Hailey's eyes lighted up.

-"She just wants to fit in, you know?"

-"She never cared about that".

-"Mh. She's a thirteen years old girl now and let's say that kids at that age can be really mean".

Jay nodded with a confused expression.

-"She's exploring to find herself, but she's still the impulsive tough girl climbing trees, playing to be a cop, screaming at the TV watching sports with his dad and watching horror films at midnight thinking we don't notice". Both smiled at those ideas. Then Hailey's countenance changed and she look to another way crossing her arms. -"Also the girl who hasn't hesitated in throwing punches to defend her friends from bullies...". They both stared into the abyss remembering that time they got a call from school because she hit a boy who had been bothering Makayla. Blood was involved and stitches were sponsored by uncle Will.

-"Yeah, we still need to work on that". Jay shruged.

There was a small moment of peaceful silence where they just stared at each other.

-"I think I just unlocked the fear of she not wanting to spend an afternoon watching a hockey game with her dad, if you know what I mean...".

-"What are you talkig about? I'm always up to watch hockey with you". Sophia entered the kitchen again, this time carrying the jar on one hand and a pair of skates hanging on the other one. -"Much better if you take me to a live game".

Jay looked at his daughter and laughed when he saw her knees all full of scratches from recent bike falls.

-"What's up with the skates?" Her mom asked.

-"We all are taking our skates or boards to the picnic".

-"Sounds like fun".

-"Yeah. It was Severide's idea".

Jay gave an annoying look to his wife.

-"All right, let's go. We have to pick Will on our way".

Social reunions were usual between the firefighters from Firehouse 51, the Intelligence squad and some doctors from The Med. They had known each other and even worked together for years and now their kids were also good friends. It was Cindy Herrman's plan to organize a reunion in other place than Molly's. Violet had the idea of a picnic and she was not going to allow it to be otherwise, therefore Ritter and Gallo were forced to help with the organization. Silvye also helped with excitement.

It was a warm sunday morning , the weather was perfect to be outside. When Hailey, Jay, Will and Sophia arrived to the park, some of the guests were already there.

-"Hey, Halsteads!" -Kelly yelled and waved inviting them to seat at his picnic table with Stella and their twins: Leslie and Benjamin. Kelly and Jay were good close friends.

Sophia approached to sit next to the twins. Since Leslie was sitting on the edge of the bench, the vacant space was next to Benjamin. Before she could sit, Jay took the box of lukumades Hailey was carrying and gave it to his daughter: "Go put them on the food table". And he took advantage to sit next to the Severide boy. Everything happened so fast and natural that nobody noticed it but Hailey, who was looking at him with a look of disbelief.

On her way to leave the greek donuts her mom had baked, Sophia started to feel insecured. She felt as everybody was staring at her, and part of it was true, because they weren't used to see little Halstead dressed delicately and they found it too cute. Cindy smiled kindly when she saw her and greeted her with a warm hug: -"You look specially pretty today", to which Christopher agreed. She was relieved when Gallo and Ritter approached her talking nonsenses, treating her with normality. She rushed back to the table when she noticed Trudy staring at her with amazement.

When she went back to the table, Adam and Kim had arrived with Makayla.

-"Did you bring it?" -Sophia asked her hurriedly, wanting to get out of there.

-"Yes, it's in my backpack". -And she took a blanket out of it.

-"Let's go". -Leslie said standing up, followed by her brother.

-"We brought a blanket for the picnic, if you don't mind us leaving the table". -Makayla said to Kim.

-"I find that real cute". -Stella intervened. -"You guys even brought a basket. Real definition of a picnic day".

And the kids ran off without waiting for an answer or permission from any adult.

-"Don't get too far!". -Adam yelled at them.

Hailey looked at Jay with a smirk, teasing him because his silly plan to separate Sophia from Benjamin didn't work. He just rolled his eyes.

Time passed, everyone was having a blast, and now that everybody had arrived and lunch time was near, it was time for Kelly to shine.

-"Grilled sausages cooked by Severide". -Cruz said excited. -"You don't get that everyday".

Tired of waiting for the food, the kids took their skates and ran off the place.

-"We're going to skate". -Benjamin informed before disappearing along his friends.

-"Don't get too far!" -Adam yelled once more by inertia, as if it was his responsability to tell them so, this time not even looking at them.

As soon as she put her skates on, Sophia started to brag: -"Hey guys, I bet you can't do a cartwheel in your skates". And she did one as if it was nothig. She didn't even remember she was wearing a dress.

-"Cool". -The twins said at the same time.

-"Easy to do it on ice for me, not in wheels". -Makayla said.

Benjamin was the only one on a skateboard and he started to do some easy flips. Everyone was goofing around, when Sophia dead stopped and stared towards the horizon.

-"What are you looking at?" -Leslie asked intrigued. And the four teenagers looked towards the same place, trying to figure it out.

-"There's no way!" -Ben looked at Sophia and she turned to look at him with a smirk and challenging eyes as saying "Watch me". She was looking at a hill, a very steep hill and she wanted to go down on her skates.

-"It's too dangerous". -Ben tried to stop her, but his words and worry only worked to encourage her more.

It was Sylvie the one that saw how Makayla and Leslie were running back towards the picnic.

-"I think something happened". -She said to Matt and they stood up from their places.

The girls' screams for help started to echo among the adults.

-"They were four when they left and I only count two of them". -Ritter observed.

-"Where's Ben?" -Violet asked.

-"Wherever Sophia is, for sure". -Gallo answered.

And suddenly they visualized the figure of the little Severide boy helping Sophia to walk, carrying her on his side. The girl was full of blood, it looked dramatic at the distance.

Not knowing what was going on, and not understanding a word of what Mak and Leslie were trying o explain, their parents ran to the kids.

Without thinking, Jay took Sophia in his arms and rushed to carry her back to the picnic, which wasn't too far away. She was silently crying in pain. Hailey followed with a worried face. Stella and Kelly patted his boy on the back and walked close to their friends.

Will quickly checked on his nice, helped by Sylvie. She was full of wounds, mostly on her legs and knees, but also on her hands and elbows. Some scratches on her face.

-"Ok, what happened?"

-"She wanted to skate down a hill...a really steep hill". -Benjamin started sounding very concerned. -"I told her not to do it, but I couldn't stop her! She did it really well to tell the truth, but that only worked for her to want to risk it more and...". He swallowed hard.

-"And what!?" -His father forced him.

-"She did it again, ayes blindfolded...backwards".

-"Jesus Christ, Sophia!" -Will said scoldingly.

-"Are you crazy!?" -Her mother was starting to loose her mind. These stories were recurring for her, but they were escalating in madness.

-"It's my foult. I should have tried harder to stop her. I'm so sorry!".

-"It's not your fault". -Jay said in a calming tone. -"The more you had tried to stop her, the worse she would had made it".

-"I helped her up the hill. I tried to carry her so she wouldn't get more hurt, but she didn't let me. She's a stubborn". -Those last words came out with certain recentment.

-"Stop talking shit about me as if I wasn't listening!" -Sophia screamed in pain. There was no space to think about the swearing jar in that moment.

-"Ok". -Will started. -"For a girl so young to have such stupid ideas, you are very luck. There's no need to go to the hospital, your wounds are not that deep, but it will hurt like hell for days".

-"Stupid dress". -She muttered.

-"I brought the first aid kid". -Violet gave it to the doctor.

-"I need to clean your wounds. This is going to hurt tons, Soph".

Hailey took her daughter's hand, knowing what was coming next.

-"All right, everybody go back to you activities". -Sylvie started. -"This is not going to be pretty, let's give her some space".

-"Let's go, Benjie". -Stella said to his son who didn't want to leave his friend. -"She's going to be fine".

After that, Sophia didn't want to go home, she was too proud to do it. She was silently eating her sausage sitting in between her parents.

-"Thank you for helping her". -Jay broke the silence talking to Benjamin.

-"Yes, thanks". -Hailey continued. -"It was very brave of you".

-"I could have done it" -Sophia shaked her head- "But this stupid dress got tangled".

Kelly and Stella laughed at Sophia's statement. The spirit of that girl had always intrigued them greatly, she really was the daughter of their parents.

-"To be honest, even thought I was scared about it, I was absolutely sure you were going to make it".

-"Next time make sure to use kneepads and a helmet". -Leslie pointed out.

-"There's no way there'll be a next time". -Hailey closed the conversation.

-"Listen to me". Adam said to Mak. -"If you ever do something stupid like that, you won't get out of the house until you turn 21".

It was noon when they got back home. On their way, Sophia was strangely silent. Jay sat on the living room couch to watch TV. Sophia came in slowly, not being able to bend her knees due to the wounds.

-"You need help?"

She sat next to her dad, while he pulled up the coffe table close for her to to bring her legs up and keep them straight.

-"Thanks".

-"My pleassure". He turned the TV off, knowing she had something in mind.

-"You don't need to worry. I will never use a stupid dress ever again".

-"Soph, you would've get hurt anyway...clothes are not the problem, it's your lack of criteria". -Hailey entered and sat on the table, looking at her daughter's knees.

-"No, I mean...it's not about that". -She sighed. -"Everyone was staring at me, as if I looked silly or something, felt like a clown. How could you even let me out like this?".

-"I think that if they stared was because you looked georgeus and nobody had ever see you like that before...not even us". -Jay said honestly.

-"I don't know what I was trying to prove. I just...". -Her eyes got teary.

-"You just what?" -Her mom asked.

-"I just wanted to feel pretty. Everybody sees me as an impulsive and reckless girl...".

-"And they all love you like that, for who you are".

-"Yeah, well...I don't know what I was thinking. Things have happened in school and it was a feeling that grew inside me. It's stupid...".

-"No, it's not". -Hailey reassured her.

-"It felt good at the begining, but when I was there at the picnic I didn't feel like myself. I was really unconfortable". Calmed tears began to roll down her cheeks. -"I don't even know why I'm crying".

Jay and Hailey remained silent looking at her.

-"I just want to look and feel normal as the rest of the girls...I feel small around them".

-"Sophia Anne Halstead". -His father started. -"Look at me: You are the most beautiful girl I've ever known. I'm being objective here".

Sophia grined: "What about mom?".

-"She's the most beutiful woman, you are the most beautiful girl".

They laughed.

-"I mean it. Inside and outside, you are precious. Who cares about the looks, anyway? You are beautiful if you want to look girly, you are beautiful if you don't. And if someone can't notice that, it's because they're blind and they can't see the wonderful piece of little human being that you are".

-"Thanks, dad". He wiped his tears with his hands and hugged her with one arm. Hailey sat on the other side.

-"Don't squeeze to tight". -She said to both of them. -"There are parts of my body that I didn't even know existed in pain right now".

-"Now, if being more "feminine" is what you want.." -Jay said releasing tension. -"...you should start working on that". Her dad pointed to the swearing jar that was over the edge. -"I'm just joking".

-"I owe it like $5 for this afternoon".

-"You owe it like $20, but we can let it go". -Hailey said strocking her hair.

-"What do you want to do now?".

-"Is there any hockey game tonight?" -Sophia asked cleaning her face.

-"We can find a repeated one or we can always watch one of those terrible horror movies you like to watch".

Sophia opened her eyes in surprise.

-"When your parents are detectives, you gotta try harder". -Hailey said standing up: "I'll make popcorn".

The tone of the conversation had changed to a more relaxed one.

-"Not that I approve, but you know who was truly amazed by your looks today? That Benjamin". Jay said playing in annoyance.

-"What are you talking about? He made fun of me, said I looked snobby".

-"He was lying! Tried too hard to hide it" -Her mom yelled from the kitchen.

-"We are detectives, don't you remember?" -Her father teased her.

Thanks for reading. If you liked it, it would help my soul if you give it a like, comment or share. 😌♡

[maehwajuuuu-chu]

Rai's Character Story 4 (Friendship Lv.5): Wine

Wine, the renowned treasure of Mondstadt, and the lifeblood of its citizens. It is an indulgence, a sin, and a part of the culture of its people, blessed by their own alcoholic archon. It is also something that Rai had to start indulging in at times, with Kaeya’s preferred meals typically being accompanied by glasses of wine and frequent trips to the tavern. It is not often that he chooses to drink, preferring to watch over the Cavalry Captain and listen to his drunken rambles, or witness the new bard and Eira competing over how many shots they can drink. After all, he was usually the one who had to drag those three out at the tavern’s closing hour, with Diluc shooting him a thankful look as he closed the tavern’s door.

Perhaps it because he was a foreigner that this country’s addictive love for alcohol was so strange to him. …Or maybe it was just him, he thought, a faint memory of a Sumeru vision-wielder enthusiastically drinking a whole bottle resurfacing. Rai, unfortunately, found comfort in being alert, with a sharp blade always by his side and ears pricked out for any strange noises. He would often stay up for several nights on end due to this, eyes involuntarily shutting while he tries not to shift around, before exhaustion finally hits him and he can sleep for a rare few hours.

Drunkenness would only mean an alcohol-induced state of sleep, a state of vulnerability that Rai detests. At first, he had always quickly declined any offers of alcohol, either by disappearing for another nightly patrol or angrily stuffing his face with several sliced fruits, so he couldn’t drink the wine even if he was forced to.

Many debated over his strange avoidance of alcohol, with one even suggesting, “He probably gets real stupid, y’know? I mean look, at that stupid, pretentious glare, of course, he wouldn’t want to embarrass himself.”

“Or maybe he’s allergic, not everyone can drink alcohol, y’know,” someone kindly remarked. “Oh, I pity him.”

In truth, the actual reason would be surprising… quite shocking to the dear Cavalry Captain, in fact.

On that fateful day, Kaeya had, of course, dragged Rai to The Angel’s Share, fully intent on drinking the night away once again. However, Rai wasn’t too keen this time, a furious scowl etched on his face.

“Kaeya, you have a literal 4 am patrol tomorrow, stop being ridiculous!”

Kaeya laughed, smacking the other’s back as he pulled out a bottle from the tray, “Oh my, loosen up a bit; a little bit of wine isn’t anything too drastic!”

Rai seethed as the Cavalry Captain patted his face with an amused smirk. He glared at the red wine being poured into the wooden mug, hands anxiously fidgeting with his sleeves. Suddenly, a small idea formed in his head; horribly impulsive, yes, but it would provide one simple solution for this one-eyed imbecile’s complete idiocy.

“Fine. I will loosen up.”

He yanked the mug from Kaeya’s hand, ignoring the other’s exclamation of indignation, and quickly downed it in one go, inwardly cringing at the strong tang of alcohol. He gingerly tilted his head back up, the cup dropping from his lips, wine dribbling from the corner of his mouth. He silently eyed Kaeya’s shocked expression, sweet triumph tugging at his lips as he wiped off the remaining wine.

“Give me the damn bottle too, you bastard. Anything you’re buying, I’m drinking all of it.”

This would later end up as a horrible decision, with a rather surprising consequence. Well, Rai ultimately collapsing over the table after an hour was not much of a shock. Fifteen cups of wine was nothing to laugh at. It was when Kaeya had tried to wake up the intoxicated man, that instead of getting his hand smacked away with a sour glare, Rai would suddenly stand up and tackle him. Kaeya barely managed to let go of the bottle he was finally able to open before he crashed to the floor.

“Rai, what the hell…” he groaned, trying to push the heavy man off him. "Archons, what are—"

Rai responded by silently squeezing Kaeya, face buried onto the other’s shoulder. The tips of his ears could be seen flushed red and his face hot against the crook of Kaeya’s skin.

“Warm.”

Kaeya tried to pull the clingy ex-mercenary off of him again, only to flinch as Rai nuzzled against his neck with a frustrated grumble and his grip tightening around his back. Kaeya finally sighed in defeat, struggling to stand as he held onto the sleeping drunkard who clung on to him like a giant koala.

“Buying all those bottles was probably not the best idea."

- - -

A/N!: HKJHKJH many thanks to @dawnbreak81 for checking and editing some of the grammar, I can't thank him enough for this honestly! (>.<)/// My billingual blob of a brain struggles at english. so much. and he is literally a miracle when I need to cry over grammar- Eira also belongs to @dawnbreak81 as well! She is a sweet little alcoholic chocolate addict and I love her.

[inklores]

domestic miguel headcanons that rot my brain <3

⁎⋆ miguel has definitely gone four days without eating once. whether it's a dismissive assertion that he is able to do so with his enhanced dna or is expected to sacrifice niceties as the leader of a sprawling spider society, he won't stop until he's finished his work for the day (or night). no doubt when jess finds out, she programs lyla to send her an alert when miguel misses more than one meal per day so she can personally grab him by the ear and demand he drinks some water.

⁎⋆ he likes stimulating games, when he has the time for it. chess + checkers with lyla as his partner (anybody else would be an easy win in his opinion), but he prefers other games more. newspaper sudoku, jigsaw puzzles, crosswords. anything that requires a bit of mental tinkering and keeps his brain busy.

⁎⋆ wears cozy slippers with his suit when he’s working after seeing how comfy peter b. looks. lyla has pictures.

⁎⋆ he adamantly takes his coffee black. anything lighter and it doesn't keep him roused the way he needs it to. he’s a keurig in a mug type of guy. definitely has a cup that reads “ok but first… coffee” on it.

⁎⋆ his love language is physical touch. miguel is a man of few words. he knows he comes off as uncaring and frigid. always task-oriented. never candid or emotional. his mind knows no bounds but his thoughts always tangle on his tongue. instead, he prefers little gestures. a gentle scrape of his knuckles against a shoulder, a hand on a shoulder, a pat on the back and a rare grunt of approval. i can see him doing that thing where he cups a waist when he has to get by.

⁎⋆ on the rare occasions he gets sick, this man turns into a CHILD. one, he's mad he can't work as efficiently. two, he hates feeling weak and vulnerable. he feels he has to compensate for his lapse in ability and over-works himself to the marrow, forcing lego spider-man to secretly plant an A/V bug in his residential unit that peter b. nicknamed "the baby monitor."

⁎⋆ he likes the soothing security of weighted blankets. after holding the multiverse together, it's nice to be held by something.

⁎⋆ he has chronic migraines and aches as a result of his photosensitivity. hence, some perpetual aggression sinking into his bones. it's why his laboratory is usually dark and his computer monitor displays a warm orange tint to reduce strain.

⁎⋆ he likes reading but doesn't always have time for it. he really likes periodicals and journals that most spider-people would find too boring to read, making him feel more intellectually superior.

⁎⋆ after jess disclosed her pregnancy, miguel began drafting plans for a daycare in hq. no heads-up, no formal dedication, just a casual renovation for a totally unprovoked child-caring facility. sure, it wasn't canonical for spiders to successfully start a family, but if they could... miguel knew firsthand that it had to be protected. for jess and her kid, and yes, peter b. and mayday. though he had a knack for charring some fried nerves, peter b. once inquired about the bizarre construction and upon finding out, he smiled, and never brought it up to miguel.

⁎⋆ he's such a present and absent dad to the younger members of his squad. yeah, he indulges pavitr in some vada pav and chai and weathers a verbose tangent about his latest save or his girlfriend but he also curls his lip at hobie's "screech" (AKA guitar riffs) and mutters about his piercings.

⁎⋆ he's really good at styling girls' hair. nothing too crazy, of course, but out of all the ponytails that swished around on the soccer field, gabriella's was always the most in-tact after a game. one mom even asked miguel if he could tie her daughter's hair similarly. he got so cocky after that.

⁎⋆ he goes to the strength & conditioning gym really early in the morning. like really early. people speculate that he’s nocturnal. but the gym is most likely empty then and miguel prefers that. he also works out to unwind, especially when he’s stressed tf out. and he’s always stressed, hence, big man bod.

⁎⋆ the spiderman 2099 burger was a birthday gag gift from peter b. but miguel secretly liked it so much, that it was no secret it stayed on the commissary menu.

⁎⋆ the first time his fangs extended after the spider gene splicing accident, he cut through his gum and lip and has a small scar there now.

⁎⋆ college age!miguel was so arrogant. girls thought it was charming but he was really, genuinely smart and had a job at alchemax already lined up before he graduated. he was probably popular. cocky, sarcastic, daddy-issues latino man with a big brain and big everything, c’mon.

⁎⋆ he snores really loud. he has those “dad sneezes” that sound like the whole house is coming down. with all those enhanced-hearing spiders, there have been rumors of a loose feral animal when miguel takes a nap or has allergies.

⁎⋆ when he’s not stressed and angry, miguel is tired and nerdy. he has a whole degree in genetics and worked as the head scientist at alchemax, i KNOW he is just as much of a dork as the other spiders.

⁎⋆ peter b. made fun of his airfoil cape once. “spider-man doesn’t wear a cape!” miguel still doesn’t forgive him and he def won’t forget it.

© danysclouds. — all rights reserved, writing belongs to gena.

[sunsetzer]

As I was drinking coffee this morning I started thinking about what the returners' drink preferences were and this came out of my head (under a cut because it's a bit long):

Terra is very sweet so I imagine she likes sweet coffee drinks, something like a vanilla cappuccino. She doesn't enjoy it if it's not sweetened enough but isn't going to complain if someone brings her coffee that isn't quite to her liking.

Locke is the kind of guy to show up to a meeting 10 minutes late with starbucks (that Edgar probably paid for). What he drinks could barely qualify as coffee and is more along the lines of "very wet cake". One sip would probably send Gau into orbit.

As a guy who lives in the desert, I imagine Edgar would rather drink iced coffee than hot, with a little cream and sugar in it. Even if the party is staying in a snowy place like Narshe, he's just in the habit of liking a cold drink. I also picture him as someone who only has coffee in the morning, and enjoys iced herbal teas through the day. His favourites aren't the expensive imported teas he is gifted by noblemen and politicians looking to get on the king's good side, but rather those that are made with the leaves and petals of plants endemic to the Figaro desert-- they remind him of home. (Where do they get ice? He's probably personally responsible for the creation of the ice box in their world.)

Sabin doesn't particularly like coffee, but he loves tea. Since he doesn't live in the desert 24/7 like his brother, he drinks it hot. After a hard day's work training he relaxes with a pot of his favourite herbal tea (similarly to Edgar, his favourite is a tea from Figaro for the same reason) in a peaceful manner that would surprise anyone but his brother.

Setzer has expensive taste in coffee, and prefers dark roasts with stronger flavour. He doesn't drink it black, though; he adds a splash of liqueur or an alcoholic cream (like putting bailey's in your coffee except way more ridiculously expensive). He swears it's only for the flavour, but there are maybe some of his worse days where that's not entirely true. He also drinks several cups of the stuff in a day, because the man is perpetually tired. He's possibly built up a tolerance to caffeine at this point like one does for alcohol (which I imagine he also has a high tolerance for).

Celes says she only enjoys coffee with a splash of cream, but she actually does like the same sweet drinks as Terra occasionally. She'll never admit it to anyone but Terra.

Resident feral child Gau had a sip of coffee one (1) time and has since been banned from all caffeine. He tore through the Falcon faster than any human person should be able to run and knocked over many things, including but not limited to a very disgruntled Setzer, who taught him a new curse word in response. Gau then hopped around shouting this new word for everyone to hear. Locke thought it was hilarious.

Shadow prefers his coffee black, but isn't picky if someone offers him a drink with something added to it. He strikes me as someone who likes it almost hot enough to burn.

Strago wants to drink coffee but Relm manages to sneak decaf into his mug more often than not. The man's 71 years old, too much caffeine might send him into cardiac arrest.

Relm herself thinks coffee is gross and adults are weird for enjoying it. She sneaked a sip of Shadow's black coffee once and was turned off of the stuff forever, despite being told that there are sugary drinks that aren't as bitter.

Cyan doesn't drink coffee, but occasionally drinks tea. Specifically, he drinks a traditional calming Doman herbal tea that reminds him of peaceful nights spent with his lost family, on nights when his mind wanders to his darkest memories. If he closes his eyes in the quiet, he can almost feel as though he is back in that castle, before the kingdom fell. It doesn't make him sad, though; it's cathartic.

Mog doesn't drink much coffee or tea, but he does like hot cocoa. Relm thinks he's the only sane one because adult drinks are weird and gross.

Absolutely under no circumstances should Umaro be given coffee. The consequences are very much the same as with Gau, but with much more devastating results. A caffeinated yeti managed to storm his way into the Falcon's engine room once and proceeded to knock several things out of place, causing the airship to make a crash landing. Edgar and Setzer spent three days repairing the damage.

Nobody knows what Gogo's coffee preferences are, mostly because nobody knows what Gogo exactly is. They have revealed nothing and will continue to be an enigma.

[cryingyetcourageous]

Headcanon: Essential Tremor

One of my favorite ways to make headcanons is to overanalyze canon and keep extending it to realistic conclusions. Like, Raivis shakes a lot. He's the only one I'm aware of where, rather than it being for a quick bit joke, it carries on and is seen in many interactions, even being acknowledged by other characters. It could easily be dismissed as "lol, lil scared guy is shaky, haha, he's so nervous" but guys-

He has also, canonically, had his spine crushed so severely that it's stunted his growth. Dude has nerve damage. Can you imagine what being pushed down on for centuries to the point of reducing someone's height by no less than 10 cm would do to the central nervous system? He's not scared all the time: he's got an injury-induced disability (not that shaking solely due to mental illness would be any less valid; Anxiety is a diagnosis, not a moral failure).

So, I carry that further-

In a situation like that, it makes sense that heightened emotions would worsen symptoms, but it probably wouldn't be limited to anxiety: being excited/happy or angry would exacerbate it, too. Any swing of the pendulum away from "neutral/calm" would excite his nervous system and make the shakiness more noticeable, as would physical activity. He's just as likely to shake when he's excited to see an old friend again as he is when an asshole driver nearly hits him as he's crossing the street. Positive emotions can be just as strong and, technically, just as disruptive.

But he's also found ways to manage, some healthy, some less so. At home, he probably uses a lot of wooden, metal, or plastic dishware. Personally, I lean towards him preferring wooden for bowls/plates and reusable plastic for cups... but he still has ceramic mugs. He will risk them shattering because it feels wrong to drink tea in anything else, and besides, he gets free mugs from events all the time.

He writes a bit more slowly than some people, and rather than fighting himself on trying to make smooth, coherent lines/curves, he instead "sketches" his letters. Multiple short strokes. He's tried typing instead, but for him personally, that's slower. For particularly long meetings, he does his best, but usually gets copies of notes from Liet or Eesti. (He used to make audio recordings, but between the background noise of people speaking over the presentations and the security risk, that's not a great option.)

For hobbies, he's found work-arounds. Playing the kokle is the one that took the longest to adjust to since it relies so heavily on fine motor skills, but because his tremor is usually rhythmic/consistent, he's learned to work with it so long as he doesn't play for too long, which tends to make it more exaggerated and less predictable. Crochet and knitting are much the same - short sessions with breaks. Singing isn't too affected as long as, again, he doesn't overdo it. Other hobbies aren't really impacted much.

I usually write him with a stutter, which is less because of nerves themselves and more because his voice wavers and, when it does so, he has a habit of trying to say the word/syllable again. Some sounds are more difficult than others, like "y". I don't know how to explain it except that y moves from one part of the mouth to another, and that "movement" gives a lot of room to extend too far. It also tends to be worse at the beginnings of sentences or directly after pauses. When he's really deep in thought and sort of thinking outloud, he stutters less because he's too distracted to notice his voice wavering. When he's more excited, positively or negatively, it often worsens because he's trying to get this thought/idea/feeling across and is more aware of every little "slip up" in his delivery, more likely to stumble over himself.

He's noted to have an alcohol tolerance that should be physically impossible for someone his size (40 "glasses" of alcohol. It doesn't specify kind, but regardless, that would give someone his size a BAC of 1.74 [beer] to 13.95 [spirits]). It's not a stretch to think of it as self-medicating, both in response to mental health because he has put up with so much shit jfc give him a break and also because alcohol is... a depressant! Alcohol is proven to reduce essential tremors. However, this is a very shitty fix because alcohol withdrawals significantly exacerbate them, so it's not great.

Anyways thanks for coming to my TEDtalk

[shmaptainwrites]

[CH.8] New Doctor on the Block

Chapter 8: Fear of the Unknown

Pairings: Hawkeye Pierce x fem!Reader

Characters: Hawkeye Pierce, Frank Burns, B.J. Hunnicutt

Summary: Reader and Hawkeye balance on the line between friendship and something more

Warnings: angst, they're idiots

Note: Again not gonna lie as much as this chapter is frustrating I LOVE it. also i know this is late BUT barely anyone reads this so does it really matter???

Series Masterlist - NDotB Masterlist

“If I see even one more eighteen-year-old in here I’m going to talk to MacArthur myself,” you groaned while taking off your mask and tossing it in the dirty laundry bin. “And what I’d give to get out of these scrubs.” 

“That can be arranged,” Hawkeye teased, but you were too tired to shoot him any kind of retort. 

“It is an honour to serve one’s country at the front, I don’t understand why all of you make such a fuss about it.” 

“Think of it this way Frank, if we kill all of our young men how are we going to have any more patriotic Americans to fight in World War Three?” you asked sarcastically. 

“Oh hardy-har-har,” he crossed his arms over his chest. “You’re all a bunch of peace-loving pacifists.” 

“Yeah, pretty much hit the nail on the head,” B.J. nodded. 

Once you had washed up a bit Hawkeye offered you his arm, 

“Walk you to your tent, madame?” 

“Of course, kind sir,” you curtsied and used the hem of your scrubs as a makeshift skirt. 

You linked arms with your fellow surgeon and began the walk to your tent from the OR. 

“You did well in there,” you told Hawkeye. “With that back injury. There were a lot of tough calls, but I think you made the right ones.” 

“Thanks. It’s funny, sometimes after one like that I can barely remember what I did,” he admitted. 

“Call it operating fatigue,” you said as you came up to the front of your tent. “This is me,” you shrugged. 

Hawkeye was about to wave goodbye and turn away to head to the swamp, but you stopped him. 

“D-Do you want to come in for tea, maybe?” you asked. 

“Tea,” he nodded thoughtfully. “Yeah, I could go for a cup.” 

You opened the door to your tent so he could enter and immediately went to boil some water in your kettle. 

“I get my parents to send me tea bags from back home. I can’t start my morning without drinking a cup.” 

“So not much of a coffee fan then?” 

“I’ll drink it on occasion, but I prefer a nice hot mug of earl grey any day. I developed a taste for it when I was serving as a nurse in England. There was always plenty of tea to go around,” you answered him while placing two tea bags in a couple of mugs you had in the room while you waited for the water to boil. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever been in here before,” he commented, browsing at the few things you had brought from home and put on display. “Magazine clipping?” he asked, pointing to a framed picture you had of a cozy little town tucked between a forest of maple trees. 

“No, that’s home,” you came to stand next to him, picking up the frame and examining it. “I took that picture before I left, just a little something to remember it by.” 

“Reminds me of my hometown,” he said. “Except maybe make it a little more coastal and add a dash of lobster theme here and there and you’ve got yourself Crabapple Cove.” 

“I guess that makes us neighbours then. You’re in Maine, I’m in New Hampshire.” 

“I really can’t say no to lunch with your family when we get back then,” he remarked and you chuckled just as the kettle began to whistle and you quickly rushed to take it off the heat so it wouldn’t wake anyone around you. 

You poured the boiling hot water into the two mugs while Hawkeye came and watched you work almost as intently as he would if you were performing surgery. 

“Here you go,” you passed him a mug. “Careful it’s boiling.” 

He took it from your hands and placed a curled knuckle under your chin, turning your face to his before you could pick up your own mug. 

“Your tip, madame,” he murmured, leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to your lips. Your eyes fluttered shut and your arms found themselves wrapping around his neck while he put his tea off to the side on your table. 

“Your change, kind sir,” you mumbled between breaths and kissed him back, waiting for the other shoe to drop, something to go off in your head and tell you that you shouldn’t be doing this. It didn’t come as fast as you thought, your head was too busy swimming in feelings you hadn't felt in a while, but when it did, you were quick to pull away. 

“Wait, wait wait,” you pushed him gently off you, just at half an arm’s length. “Ben, what are we doing?” 

“Well, if I’m not mistaken I kissed you and then you were kissing me back. And I don’t know about you, but I quite enjoyed it.” 

“No, I-I don’t mean that. I mean us,” you let go of him fully now. “I have kids at home, I’m a mother. I-I think I’m past the stage in my life where I can just do a nighttime rendezvous.” 

“What if I told you that’s not what I want?” he asked. 

“I-How can I believe you?” you squeezed your eyes shut and walked to the other side of the tent. “There’s a new woman every other night, Ben.” 

“I-” he sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “There hasn’t been one in a while.” 

“How long is a while?” you asked. 

He went silent for a moment.“Since the first night you came to the swamp.” 

You pursed your lips, “That doesn’t change the fact that I have a family to think about.” 

“And I’m starting to think this really has nothing to do with your lack of faith in me,” he pressed. “What is it really? Because unless I’ve been hallucinating, we’ve been tiptoeing around this line for some time and I’d like to think it wasn’t all one-sided.” 

“What do you mean what is it? I have responsibilities, Ben-,” 

“So do the rest of us. What’s the deal?”

“And why does it matter so much?” 

“Because I find these conversations go a lot better when both parties are telling the truth about how they feel!” he insisted.

You felt the lump in your throat begin to grow and you knew you couldn’t hold in what was in your heart any longer. He was right, he deserved the truth and you needed to say it. 

“You want the truth, Ben? I don’t want to fall in love with you because what if I lose you like I lost him?” you fought back the tears that were coming on. This was exactly what you needed right now, another thing to make you look like a helpless woman. “It’s just one thing after another, after another here, and I can't guarantee I’m going to get home safe to my kids let alone giving a piece of my heart to another person only for it never to be given back and buried six feet underground.” 

Hawkeye ran a hand through his hair and let out the breath he was holding in. 

“Look, I-I can’t guarantee anything, none of us can and I know that’s frightening. No-no it’s absolutely terrifying but isn’t that the whole point?” he asked. “Even if nothing happens you can’t guarantee you won’t still fall in love with me, and… I sure as hell can’t guarantee I won’t fall in love with you anyways,” he chuckled humourlessly. “I can’t even guarantee I already have.”

“I just…I can’t do this right now,” you shook your head. “I think you should leave.” 

Hawkeye said your name in a pleading tone, wanting to work this out with you, “I-I know I haven’t given you even the slightest reason to trust me, but I promise I’d move heaven and earth if it meant you’d be happy again. Just…let’s talk this out.”

 But it was late, you were tired and you couldn’t think straight. 

“Please…Ben. I-I just need some time,” you whispered. 

He sighed and nodded his head reluctantly before turning around and leaving you alone in your tent with your thoughts. 

Tags: @montyfandomlove

[irradiate-space]

Builders' Tea

for reasons, I occasionally receive updates from an Englishman who is restoring a Scottish castle:

Admonition the Fifty-first: A Cup of Tea is Essential to Keep the Team Happy

If you have self-built or self-restored or even commissioned any significant building work here in the UK, you will know the importance of builders’ tea (BT). Not only that everyone on site drinks at least a dozen cups a day, but that you have to make a good mug to ensure workforce morale.

It helps too if you smoke.

Or did.

Or at least can provide matches.

Smoking or possibly vaping (though I have no experience of the latter) has been an integral part of the tea taste experience for years and shouldn’t be discounted lightly in the building site experience of tea drinking. The cloying sweetness of a good BT can be cut through by a drag of Golden Virginia or similar. Prefabs are, in my view, too polluted with additives – like salt petre – oh – and filter. This is not to say a fag is necessary, or even desirable, its just that for historical purposes, one needs to see that a cigarette until recently has been a virtually compulsory condiment.

A big Newfoundland is helpful too – not as a condiment obviously, but to finish discarded mugs left on the floor, ensuring that next tea-break is presented with a “sparkling” set of crockery.

The builders’ tea which would achieve the equivalent of three Michelin stars for the maker takes practice and an ability to distinguish in microseconds between multiple tea shaded pantones as well as the respective mash- and sledge- hammers of sweetness.

Critical BT elements are:

One: a big mug. Preferably with a sweary joke on the outside, or for a fuller flavour, inside on the bottom as well. It needs to be a big receptacle for the purposes of ensuring adequate hydration in the squad member, but also to retain tea-heat to the bottom of the vessel – this is especially important for the self-styled raconteur of the group, who will, it is true, spend more time gassing than drinking, smoking, laughing or farting, but will still insist on a properly hot cup of char to the end of the mug and / or break. Two: boiling water. Not for the purposes of flavour as refined tea-baggers would have it, but so the tea remains hot for as long as possible, particularly after the violent pressing – (3) below – and multiple silver spoons – (4) below. Three: Violent pressing (VP). For a deep mahogany colour, despite full-fat milk and below-mentioned epic quantities of refined Tate&Lyle. VP is achieved with plenty of greased elbow and an over-large teaspoon (otherwise the already heroic number of four teaspoons of sugar becomes a teeth-crackingly legendary seven). The deep colour of a good builders’ tea will visually presage the hot, sweet assault when you drink it. Four: 1 bag of Tate&Lyle Silver Spoon a day. To sweeten and render the correct stiff tea-texture, in which teaspoon stands momentarily. The legend of the permanently upright utensil is an overstatement. What you need to see as you lift your hand from the spoon is a momentary hesitation, and then a smooth fall in an arc centred on the tip of the spoon sitting on the bottom of the mug. If either the spoon tip slips to the side of the mug or, the fall is as sudden as you’d expect in water or, if the jangle of the spoon hitting the side of the mug speaks to a jostling, and a multiple impact, and therefore a lack of meniscal tension in the liquid – well, then, I am afraid you will have failed.

Now you might ask, what of the actual ingredients? Well, bags are essential. You will not have time to muck about with loose tea, no matter how flavourful and subtle. As you will have gathered, subtlety will be entirely wasted. The jury is still out on round, square or triangles, and I think, is influenced by the fact that various brands have different technologies. For me its about the blend … And a good blend is essential. Yorkshire. Scottish. Cheap is ideal of course because the more dusting included with leaves the thicker the texture. Milk is important. Just on the turn can invoke disgust or, depending on the audience, reminiscence about growing up. Full fat is better – again thicker. Skimmed works, but its thinness mitigates against the overall effect. No, the lactal fizz behind your back teeth of a full fat or even, gold top, as lactose and sucrose interact is an essential part of the experience – although the richness of the gold top might just be too luxurious. Biscuits are the compulsory condiment. We began with variety boxes, roadtested all-comers then settled on Rich Tea, Gingernuts and Bourbons. The deciding factor was the performance of each having been dipped. All other things being equal, you are now ready to recruit your team and begin the restoration – in our case, the house, rather than the castle.

Isn't he wonderful?

[stressedanime]

You already know what I’m about to say. Hand over the Band AU WIP details! Put them in the bag and nobody gets hurt

LOL so as we know band au with nicos metal band and wills indie band, they get recruited to go on a reality tv show thats basically wifeswap but for band members and nico gets plopped into wills band. (its also called pink cloud summer from the song lyrics of daylily as we know to be the most solangelo song to solangelo)

as soon as nico saw will he was like "oh no he's hot" and im making will a lil oblivious at first to how hard nico is simping over him, so heres a lil scene of that :3 (sorry if the formatting is off, i wrote this scene in bullet points for some fucking reason)

Will rolls out of bed, deciding to head to the kitchen to grab a glass of water. He's wearing just his flannel pyjama pants, not bothering to throw on a shirt because who else would be up at this ungodly hour.

He could could honestly care less about what the camera’s saw.

He walks down the hallway as quietly as he can, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes and hoping he wouldn’t wake his siblings.

Will never spoke to them about the seasons affecting his sleep. He thought that sometimes, maybe they could tell that something was up, but he preferred it if they didn’t. He was their older brother, he had to be strong for them, and he definitely didn’t need them worrying about him. That was his job.

He squints as he reaches the entrance to the kitchen, his eyes adjusting to the light that is emanating from the doorway. Was someone else awake too?

Will rounds the corner entering the kitchen, and spots Nico sitting at the island, dressed comfortably in a hoodie, sipping on something warm in a mug. Noticing the movement, Nico’s eyes flicker up to Will’s bare chest.

Suddenly, Nico is choking violently on his drink.

His cup slams a little too loudly on the countertop as he splutters, trying desperately to breathe. Will rushes over to him, reaching out to pat him on the back.

“Jesus christ are you okay?” Before Will could reach him, Nico gets up from his chair and puts some distance between them. Nico continues coughing, and shakes his head waving his arms in some sort of loose placating motion. Will takes the hint and gives him space to get himself under control.

“Sorry,” Nico wheezes eventually. “You scared me.” Nico shakes his head, clearing his throat and avoiding Will's gaze. He’s completely flushed, even the tips of his ears were red. Probably from the coughing fit.

“Sorry,” Will apologises, giving him a small smile. “Didn’t think anyone else would be up at this hour.”

Nico shakes his head. “Me neither,” he says, voice still crackly.

After a beat of silence, Will crosses the kitchen, grabbing the glass of water that he originally came out to the kitchen to get.

After filling his glass Will turns around, leaning back against the counter top and faces Nico. He takes a sip of his water, eyeing Nico for a moment.

Nico had gone back to his spot at the island, hopping up on the barstool, pulling his knees to his chest. Briefly, Will thought that Nico looked cute, curled up like that.

[boldlyanxious]

Survival Juice

ttt 2023

Masterlist

“That’s a lot of chocolate,” Steph said.

Marinette glanced up at her and smiled, “It is, but sometimes you have to use regret levels of survival juice and the chocolate helps it go down more smoothly.”

She put the lid on the cup and walked over to the register to take her order, pausing to take a quick sip of her drink before she did.

“Survival juice?” she laughed. “Did you have a late night?”

“Yeah. Every night this week. I work every day but I also take commissions for design and I have a lot due soon.”

“That is hard.”

Steph looked up and studied the menu even though she had been here many times. She preferred the sweeter ones, but recently she was ordering drip coffee and staying just long enough to get a refill before she went on her way. Marinette suspected she was short on money so she came up with a plan for this time. She was really hoping that she was looking at the menu to extend her time here since the cafe was empty.

“You’re actually the one thousandth order this week. You get one free beverage, any size.”

“Really?” she asked. “Anything?”

“Yeah. It just can’t use more than two shots of espresso.”

“It has been so long since I’ve even considered ordering a fancy drink. What do you recommend?”

“I know just the thing,” Marinette said.

She turned away with a smile. She took a breath to calm herself. She had been waiting for this moment for weeks. She needed to make sure the shop was clear if she were going to offer something free so it didn’t get back to her boss. But also, she didn’t want anyone to see her hitting on a customer. There were far too many who would expect equal treatment.

She made it with maple, cinnamon and vanilla and whipped the milk frothy to make it extra creamy. It was as close to tasting like a waffle as she could manage. She looked up to make sure the woman wasn’t watching the final step. She added purple on top of the frothed milk and pulled out the mug she had for her. She had seen her stop to look at it one day and Marinette had hidden it for this very moment.

She poured carefully, making feathers down the side before making a heart inside a heart. She was not very good at saying what she felt. But she had always been able to have a creative flair that she used to make things. Hopefully, it would be seen for the confession that it was. She turned back with the drink, anxious for the other woman’s reaction.

“Is this for me?” Steph asked as she looked at the sparkling purple mug in awe. “I was so sad when they sold out. My work went out of business and I haven’t gotten a paycheck at the new place yet. It’s all going to my rent anyway.”

“It had to be purple. It matched the design,” Marinette said.

She said it like it was no big deal but she waited with baited breath for Steph’s response.

“It’s purple! How did you even do that?” she exclaimed.

“I’ve been practicing.”

“I know better than to hit on the hot barista, but if you give me the best mug in the world with purple hearts on top, I might just ask you to marry me.”

“As nice as it sounds, maybe we should start by going on a date?”

“Hell. Yeah.” Steph said.

Marinette couldn’t hold back her excitement. She climbed over the counter and pulled Steph into a hug. She pulled away just in time as people came in the door right after, but before Steph left her with the line that was forming, she left her phone number.

Art

[the-demon-of-a-thousand-eyes]

𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒟𝑒𝓂𝑜𝓃 𝑜𝒻 𝒶 𝒯𝒽𝑜𝓊𝓈𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝐸𝓎𝑒𝓈 𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝟨

Giving Friendship a Glance

Pairing: Alastor x F!OC (Theia, The Demon of a Thousand Eyes)

Chapter Summary: After a surprisingly calm but oddly charged interaction over coffee with Alastor, you greet Sir Pentious and his egg bois, then start another bonding exercise with Charlie. She pairs you into groups (all except Angel, who had to go to the studio), and you end up with Husk. Your exercise is to find one trait about each other that you find admirable. It takes some whiskey (and eyeballs for you) to loosen you both up, but an hour later and you feel like you know him a surprising amount better. After, Niffty thinks she found a thief in your room.

Word Count: 6.4k

Warnings: None

The next morning, you get out of bed, and changing into your day dress, shape it into something comfy yet fashionable, going with your signature popped collar, three-quarter length sleeves, and an asymmetrical hemline that feels like you’re wearing flower petals. Hair up in your signature bun, you pull the hairpin out from your pocket and slip it into your hair. Double checking your appearance in the mirror, you smile at your reflection. You haven’t changed in the last year much. Your skin is still your sapphire blue, which fades into a darker shade as it reaches your extremities, your claws a blue so dark it looks black. Your horns are the same, the tips so dark it looks black but fading back into that sapphire. Your eyes blink back at you, gold sclera and silver iris. Your black pupils match your black hair and eyelashes. The eyebrows and eyelashes on your face are also black. Winking at yourself with your center eye, you decide you are ready to greet the day.

Before you leave your room, you test out the subspace tunnel you’d created in your pocket. You set it up so it emerges just over the jar for easier access (as that is what it will most often be used for). While you don’t prefer to leave the lid off, it is much harder to replace it given you have less depth of field with only the ones on your wrist to view from, which will be the case most often. So you leave the lid off next to the jar.

Then, you leave and lock your room, and head downstairs to the kitchen, hopeful for some coffee. Breakfast sounds nice too, but given last night, coffee sounds as close to heaven as you’ll ever get.

While there is no one else in the kitchen upon your arrival, and indeed no one in the hall on your way there, either; you find a pot of coffee already brewing and almost ready to drink.

Looking through the cabinets above, you see a series of mugs all with personalized sayings on them, including the one you saw Alastor drinking out of earlier. In the corner there appears to be two new mugs, each with their own personalized sayings. One has a snake on it and says ‘Don’t Hiss Me Off!’ You see this is clearly for Sir Pentious. The one next to it has the phrase ‘EYE SEE WHAT YOU DID THERE’ Arranged like an eye test chart and an eyeball underneath. You smile wider, despite considering I for EYE substitutions your least favorite type of eye pun. You’re not sure who made this—you assume it was probably Charlie—but the sentiment, the attempt at inclusion, and the effort to make such a mug in a short amount of time makes you feel more welcome than you’d anticipated.

You pull it off the shelf and pour yourself a cup of the coffee when it indicates that it is ready. Then you set it on the counter, and using the subspace portal in your pocket, you retrieve two eyes to drop into your coffee. You take a sip and hum happily at how rich and bitter it is. Whoever made this really likes coffee, you decide. You’d have to if you’d brewed it this way on purpose.

Before you can debate on what to make for breakfast, you suddenly become aware of radio static, hear the faint lilting of jazz, and what you suspect is humming along to the tune. All the hairs on your neck stand on end. You lean against the counter and sip your coffee, attempting to feign indifference convincingly.

Alastor, indeed, is playing jazz from his microphone, and in the moments before he notices you standing there, he is humming along.

It would have to be him, you think with irritation. Can’t I just enjoy a cup of coffee in peace? Nevertheless you keep that smile you’ve worked so hard to maintain.

There is a faint click as the music is turned off. “Ah, good morning, my dear! Apologies if the coffee is a bit too strong for your tastes! I like mine bitter and black; the stronger the better! Perhaps it could be stifled with some cream and sugar to appease your palate?”

Casually taking another sip, you look over the rim of your mug at him with a smile. “And mask this wonderful flavor?” You ask, gesturing with your unoccupied hand. “Unthinkable! Not when it enhances the flavor of the eyeballs I’ve added so nicely.” You take another sip. “Should I thank you for this delicious cup of coffee, or did Niffty make it and you’re just here to reap the benefits of her desire to please you?”

Instead of answering, he invades your personal space to the point where you can feel his body heat again, barely a breath away as he reaches up and over you for his mug, then pulls away like it was nothing, like he hadn’t been almost touching you, and then pours himself a cup, which he proceeds to sip from immediately.

You eye him from over your mug and let one of the eyeballs fall into your mouth. So Niffty did make the coffee then. I’ll have to thank her later. You watch him watch you as you chew and swallow, then do the same for the other eyeball. The only sounds are muffled sipping and drinking.

“Oh how rude of me,” You say as you take another sip to finish off your first mug of coffee. “I forgot to say good morning in return.” You step closer, choosing to invade his space in turn as you reach for the coffee pot beside him, behind him, really, and fill up your mug once more. It’s still sitting on the counter and you’re still a half a breath away from him when you look up into his eyes and say, “Good morning, Al.” With a genuine and chipper smile, then lean against the counter next to him, still in his space. “You didn’t have to stop the music on my account, you know.” You slip your hand into the subspace in your pocket and pluck out another two eyes to drop into your cup, then take a sip, smiling wider as jazz fills the kitchen again. For a few minutes, you let silence fall between you, drinking your coffee and listening to the music. It’s surprisingly relaxing, despite what you’d expected from him. Eventually, it is you who speaks. “Do you play music on your broadcasts? Or is it mostly the screams of those who’ve wronged you these days?”

He looks pleased you’ve decided to take an interest in his work. “A little of both, though I admit I’ve had less of the delightful screams lately.” He sips his coffee. “This hotel has been a better diversion than I’d anticipated, however, so it has helped make up for the lack of entertaining content to put on the air. You should tune in, my dear, I think you’d rather enjoy it. I might even consider toning down the screams for your delicate ears.”

You chuckle, and that chuckle turns into a laugh, which becomes something too genuine to be the calculated one you had aimed for in the first place, but there’s no stopping it now, and you’re wiping away a tear as you set your mug down to avoid spilling your coffee for a moment. When you’ve finally caught your breath, you look up and he’s right there, a breath away again. “If you think I have delicate ears you don’t know me very well at all, Alastor.” Your wide smile returns in an instant. “If you knew anything about The Demon of a Thousand Eyes you’d know she loves to hear the sounds of her victims screaming while she tears out their eyes and eats them whole.” You pick up your mug again and take a sip, winking at him with the largest eye in the center of your face. “While a lot of rumors aren’t true, that one definitely is.”

Alastor opens his mouth to reply but before he can none other than Husk walks into the kitchen, hunched over and barely awake, a bottle of cheap booze already clutched between his claws. He shuffles over to the cabinet with the mugs and pulls out his, one that is orange that says, ‘Fuck Mondays’ on it. “Both a ya just gonna stand there or can I get some damn coffee?” He grunts out, then realizes how close you are, gets more uncomfortable, and backs off for a second.

You smile back at him despite his unpleasant demeanor. “No worries, it’s about time I get going anyway.” You step aside so he can squeeze in to get the coffee pot. You notice Alastor makes no move to change his position. He just watches you go, his look once again indecipherable to you. “Good morning, Husk. Good to see you again.” You tip your mug in Alastor’s direction. “I’ll see you later, Al. It was nice talking with you.”

If anything was discussed between the two of them you don’t catch it before you’re out the door of the kitchen. Out in the lobby again, you see Charlie, who apparently is a morning person, chipper and eager to greet the day. Vaggie looks like she barely stumbled out of bed, on the other hand, and has her usual if not grim, then dour expression on her face. Sir Pentious is here too, looking awake but not nearly as bright eyed and bushy tailed as Charlie. He’s surrounded by his little egg minions.

“Good morning, everyone.” You wave as you walk into the room. “Where’s Angel?”

“Good morning, Theia!” She replies with nearly unbridled enthusiasm. “He had to work this morning.” Charlie says easily, like Angel isn’t being tortured at this very moment. Just then you realize how little she knows of his predicament.

“Well I hope work goes…as well as it can given the circumstances and that he’ll be able to join us later.” You say with a tight smile. You walk over to Sir Pentious. “I don’t think we ever formally met.” You set your coffee mug down on the table and then pull your hairpin out of your hair to lengthen it into a cane, hand out for him to shake. “Everyone calls me ‘Theia’, The Demon of a Thousand Eyes.”

He takes your hand and kisses it with his snake tongue. It’s a little wet but not altogether unpleasant. He bows deeply. “Pleased to meet you, Theia!” He declares excitedly. “What do you think of my airship?”

“I like the design, but you probably surmised that from my love of eyes and eye motifs.” You replied easily. “The mechanics could use a bit of improvement but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t a good attempt. It might be more practical as a means of travel than as a combat weapon though. At that size it is vulnerable to attacks given its lack of durability and stealth. I’d be happy to show you some suggestions I have, though I can’t guarantee any success as I’m not familiar with large weaponry or mechanics.”

“I’d be honored to hear your advice!” Sir Pentious proclaims.

At the same time, Vaggie growls out, “No weapons in the hotel!” You’re not sure that Sir Pentious heard. If he did, he doesn’t seem to care.

You see Husk coming out of the kitchen, grumbling about something as he pours his bottle of cheap booze into his coffee. He goes and sits behind the bar instead of joining the rest of you.

The egg bois, as Sir Pentious calls them, decide to speak up.

“How many eyes do you have?”

“Do all your eyes have eyelids?”

“Do they all have eyebrows?”

“Are all those eyes yours?”

“If you wore glasses, how many would you need?”

“Do you see one picture or a bajillion?”

They are all hopping about as Sir Pentious scolds them. “Enough, minions! Do not bombard the pretty lady with so many questions! I must apologize, on their behalf, Theia. My minions are a little insane.”

“Don’t worry about it, Sir Pentious. I don’t mind questions from curious minds. I wink they make excellent pupils.” You reply. As you crouch down to their level, you swear you hear a slight buzz of radio static behind you, and then you see Alastor emerge from the kitchen. “I have twenty-nine eyes. They all have eyelids and can blink independently. Only the ones on my face have eyebrows, so seven of them do. They’re all mine, though I do enjoy eating the eyes of others who have wronged me or wronged those I care about. If I were to need glasses, I’d need fourteen pairs and a monocle.” You chuckle. “Rana would have loved that question if she were here with us. I’ll have to remember to tell her about that one. And lastly, bajillion isn’t a real number but to answer the point of your question, I do see the world as one big image. My version just has way more angles than yours does and I can see behind me at the same time that I see in front of me.”

“Who’s Rana?” Charlie asks curiously.

“Oh she’s one of my dearest friends. She’s an imp who lives and works in Imp City. She hoards eyewear. She doesn’t have any reason for wearing them; she’s got perfect vision. She just likes the frames.”

“I can see why the two of you would get along.” Vaggie says with a small smile. It’s the first time you’ve ever seen her smile.

You smile back at her, and it’s genuine for once. “Yeah I’ve known her for years. She’s awfully busy with work and helping manage my souls, so we only see each other once a week. Speaking of which, I’ll see her on Wednesday, so I won’t be here in the afternoon for anything you might have planned, Charlie.”

She smiles brightly back at you, declaring, “That’s alright, Theia, but I’ll be sure to make a note of it! We don’t have to do anything major these first couple of days, as we’re really just getting to know each other, which can be its own form of bonding.”

“So what’s the plan for today, then?” You ask her as you shrink the cane back to a hairpin, put it back in your hair, and pick up your mug of coffee, taking a sip and letting one of the eyes fall into your mouth as you sit down in what you’ve decided is your spot on the couch. You realize you haven’t seen Niffty yet but assume she’s running around in the hotel somewhere.

“Well,” Charlie begins as she claps her hands together once. “Since this is the first day for both of you and Angel isn’t here, I figured we’d do something simple. The ultimate goal of our hotel is redemption, and I realize that you don’t think you can be redeemed, Theia, but I think you can. While I know you’re not comfortable talking about why you think so yet, I hope you will be soon. The best way I can think of for you to be more comfortable doing that is to make you feel more welcome and understood. That’s why I made the mugs for you both for example.” She gestured to your coffee mug that you were sipping from.

You smile back at her. “I thought that was you.” You smile as you take another sip. “Thank you Charlie. The sentiment was very sweet.”

“You don’t like it.”

You take her hand, then, not wanting to see her cry. Her tears always made you sadder. “No, I love it. Optometry was a nice direction to lean into. I’m just very picky about my eye puns. It’s not your fault. You couldn’t possibly have known that. The most important thing to me is that it came from you.”

She sniffles and wipes away the tears that had been threatening to escape. “Really?”

“Absolutely. Your heart went into it. That makes it worth more than money could eye.” You wink your large eye in the center of your face, and she giggles. Mission accomplished, you think. “Plus I’m sure Sir Pentious will really like his.”

“Oh?” SIr Pentious asks curiously from the chair next to you. “What does mine say?”

“It has a picture of a snake and it says, ‘Don’t Hiss Me Off.’” You smile, amused, as you sip your coffee.

“Oh, that is a good one!” Sir Pentious brightens, delighted to be included. “It’s in the kitchen? Should I go get it? I don’t drink much coffee…”

“You don’t have to use it now if you don’t want to, Sir Pentious.” Charlie explains with a smile. “I just wanted you to be able to have it in case you wanted it, since the rest of us have them. Are there any other ways that you can think of that would make you feel as if you were more a part of this group we’re creating?”

You could treat Angel like he’s actually a part of this group. You think but decide not to share. Instead, you say, “I’m not really sure. I’ve never been a part of any group before. I’ve always stuck to myself for the most part.”

“Even while you were alive?” Charlie asks, surprised.

You blink, surprised at the question, and keep a well-trained smile on your face. No one has ever asked you about life before ending up down here, in Pentagram City, in Hell. “Even while I was up there, I was pretty much on my cone. I had family, sure, but I didn’t really have lens. I stuck to myself, until I ended up down here.” You shrug. “I’m just not much of a people person I guess.”

“What about you, Sir Pentious?” Charlie asks curiously.

He also looks startled. You feel a little better that you weren’t the only one surprised by this question. “I mostly was in my laboratory with my inventions.” He looks down at his hands. “I was much of an outcast as well.”

“Well that’s something you have in common then!” Charlie says, and you suspect that it is hard to break her of her eternal optimism. “It’s also part of why you’re here. Part of redemption is about being able to be vulnerable with others, to be willing to let them into your life. I know that might be a little difficult to begin with, but with some effort I know we can do it!”

You imagine that her relentless optimism can be grating if listened to for too long, but in small doses at the right time it could be highly beneficial. “I admire your optimism, Charlie.” You say to her, because it’s true.

If possible, she seems to brighten even more. A part of you is worried she’ll simply explode from such sheer joy. “I admire your amiability.” She says. “Oooh, that’s a great idea! Let’s go around and say one thing we admire about someone else, someone we don’t know well, and then they say something they admire about you! This was the perfect example!” Charlie divides the group up and coaxes Husk from the bar to join as you’ll need a sixth person to complete the groups of pairs, as Angel isn’t present and Niffty is who knows where in the hotel. He grumbles but agrees after Alastor shoots him a look. “Here are the teams: I’ll be with Sir Pentious. Vaggie, you’ll be with Alastor, and Husk and Theia will be a team. Now we’re going to take a little time to get to know each other before we meet back here to tell the group what we discovered we admire about the other person. Feel free to go elsewhere in the hotel to talk and get to know one another! We’ll meet back up in an hour!”

You’re relieved to not be teamed up with Alastor for this exercise, because as much as you’d love to hear him try to explain what he admires about you, you really don’t have the heart to open up to him and actually talk about yourself for an entire hour.

Husk gives you a look that isn’t unfriendly but isn’t thrilled either. You take it as it is and walk towards the bar, assuming that’s where he’ll want to go. He gives you a raised eyebrow but smiles softly. You finish your coffee, and chewing the second eyeball, set your mug on the bar counter. “So Husk,” You say as you stare at the rim of your mug awkwardly. “You want to go first or should I?” He’s standing behind the bar, not sure what to do either.

“Would ordering a drink make this easier?” He offers, gesturing around him.

You huff out a chuckle. “Yeah, sure, I don’t usually drink this early, but I guess it would help.”

“What’s your poison?” He says with his bartender charm.

“Whiskey’s fine. Just as long as it’s not Alastor’s personal stuff.” You reach into your pocket and into the jar in your room and pull out another two eyes.

He sets down a glass. “Ice?” He offers.

You decline. “Eyes are all the rocks I need.” You smirk, and drop the eyes inside.

Grimacing, he pours the whiskey in the glass and the eyeballs float to the top as it fills. You let it breathe for a moment, then take a sip. The burn in your throat is delightful, just what you were looking for to help you relax.

“Let’s pretend for a moment that instead of this whole ‘exercise’ Charlie has put for us to complete, that it’s just the two of us drinking together, swapping stories, yeah? That way there’s no pressure. So, why did you decide to come to drink today?”

“Why do I feel like I need a drink?” You ask, as if that had been the question he’d asked. “Rosie thinks that I don’t have friends, that living the way I am is unhealthy. I know she’s right, but I’m not good at making friends, and my life, up there or down here, has never been great.” You take a sip, savoring the burn. “I came here for Rosie, not for redemption.” You scoff. “Redemption. I mean, sure, in a hypothetical reality where redemption is possible, I can see some sinners getting redeemed. But for me? It’s not possible.”

“So you value your commitment to the friends that you do have, and from what I see you’re willing to try to open up to have more.” Husk smiles at you and drinks from his bottle. “That’s more than you think, kid. That’s pretty important.”

You smile back at him. He really is a good bartender. “And what about you, Mr. Bartender? I’d ask you the same question but I know you’re an alcoholic.” He looks surprised, eyes you strangely, but you wave a hand dismissively as you take another sip of your whiskey. “You put it in your coffee this morning, and not some fancy Irish Coffee either. Cheap booze. That’s alcoholism at its finest.” You say with a shrug. “So what made you turn to alcohol in the first place?”

“That’s one hell of a loaded question, kid.” Husk gruffly replies and takes a swig, finishing the bottle. He pulls another one out and pops it open, taking a swig of the fresh one almost immediately. “It ain’t exactly a short story, and we barely know each other.”

“It doesn’t have to be everything.” You reply as you take a swig. “I just need something to latch onto about you that I can see as admirable.”

A laugh emerges from his lips in the way that a hiccup does, unplanned and foreign. It’s bitter, unhappy. “There ain’t nothin’ admirable about me, kid. I’m old, I’ve lost everything and everyone worth anything to me, and I am stuck behind this bar for the foreseeable future. No one owns your soul, right kid?”

“No one owns my soul, no. I’m assuming Alastor owns yours.” You reply as you take a drink, letting one of the eyeballs, green this time, fall into your mouth. He gives you a look of surprise, and you chew and swallow before you continue. “One of the many traits of having so many eyes is I end up being incredibly observant. I’ve seen the way the two of you look at each other. You don’t do something until he tells you to, and then you do it whether you want to or not. It’s pretty obvious behavior if someone is familiar with the concept and is actively receptive to the idea.”

“I lost everything to him in a game I was sure I’d win. I’m not sure if Lady Luck turned on me that night or if I was just too cocky to think I’d lose, but I lost and I lost and I lost until there wasn’t anything left to lose, until I was too desperate to not offer up my soul, desperate and hopeful I’d win again. And now I’m here.” He sighs, and drinks a large swig of his bottle, taking a few gulps.

Your eyes widen. “Wait, I thought I recognized you. You were an overlord once, weren’t you? You had that casino, right?” You smile softer, feeling a little nostalgic. “I always thought that place looked so pretty. Clean, too. Reputable. Good staff. I wondered what happened to the place. Guess that makes sense; if Alastor won everything he wouldn’t have a need for you to keep it up and running.” You swirl the remaining eyeball around in your glass. “You still have admirable traits, Husk. You’re resilient, for one. Sure, you’re drinking yourself into a stupor and have to deal with Alastor as a boss, but you’re still trying to keep on keeping on even as the outlook of your future looks grim. That’s more than I can say for myself.”

“Thanks, kid.” He says with a smile, one wider than you’ve seen from him before.

You raise your glass to him. “To resilience.”

He raises his bottle. “To integrity.”

You don’t clink your glass and bottle, but you drink, letting the eyeball fall into your mouth, chew and swallow. You sip slowly and finish your glass. Husk asks you if you’re any good at cards and you tell him you know how to play some types, but with as many eyes as you have you have never been very good. He laughs as he understands how revealing eyes can be as a tell.

Before long, Charlie is saying that it’s time to wrap up and come back. Husk tells you to leave the glass on the counter, that he’ll take care of it later, and the two of you head back to the circle at Charlie’s behest. Alastor is sitting in one chair, Sir Pentious across from him in the other. Charlie is sitting on one side of the couch, Vaggie in the middle, and you’re sitting on the other side. Husk elects to stand until Alastor gives him a look, so he sits on the floor. You hold in a sigh but give him an understanding look. He gives you a small one back in return.

“So who would like to share what they learned that they admire about the other person?” Charlie asks, and when no one volunteers, she says, “Okay, I’ll go first! I learned that I admire Sir Pentious’ ingenuity! His desire to create inventions leaves something to be admired! Sir Pentious, what would you say you learned about me that you admire?”

Sir Pentious straightens his tie nervously. “Well I wanted to say your optimism but Theia already said that so I felt that wouldn’t be a fair choice.” He looks at you and you give him a sheepish expression. He smiles back at you, so it is clear he isn’t hurt by that, or at least you hope that is his intent. “So I settled on your dedication to your belief in redemption, despite what others may say or think on the matter. Having the belief in helping others is a strong quality.”

Charlie blushes, beaming widely. “My goodness, Sir Pentious, how kind! Thank you for sharing! Vaggie, would you like to go next? What did you find admirable about Alastor?”

“Alastor and I didn’t talk much. I wasn’t interested in conversation and I knew he was just going to needle me into saying something that I wouldn’t unless I was angry.” Charlie looks disappointed, but she pushes forward, saying, “That doesn’t mean I don’t know what I find admirable about him. Despite not agreeing with almost all of his actions and ideas, he does have one good quality. He is incredibly tenacious. Sure, he uses that for whatever conniving bullshit he’s planning, but at its core, determination and dedication to a goal is an admirable one.”

“My, my I didn’t know you had it in you.” Alastor croons, his head in his hand. “What I have learned to admire about Vagatha,”

You hear Vaggie mutter, “Not my name, but okay,” Under her breath.

Alastor gives her a look, but continues, “is her reliability. I know that what I expect from her as a response, she will give, and as an action, she will do. It makes it easy to understand her.”

“That’s not exactly the point of the exercise, Alastor, but I guess I can take that as an answer?” Charlie says with uncertainty. Vaggie glares at Alastor. He just grins smugly, as she continues to prove his point. “What about Husk and Theia? What did you learn about each other?”

“I learned that Husk is resilient.” You smile at him. “Despite all he’s been through, he’s still pushing through. That’s very admirable.” You decide not to elaborate, in case Alastor may take offense to you knowing about their relationship dynamic.

Husk seems to understand, sending you what you interpret to be an appreciative smile. “I learned that Theia has integrity. When she makes a promise to those she cares about, even outside of the confines of a deal, she feels not only obligated to carry out what she promised, but does so with purpose.”

Charlie claps, her eyes shining. “Looks like you’re already on your way to getting to know each other! I’m so glad we could do this exercise together! Now I’m sure you’re all hungry, so let’s take some time to break for lunch!”

You look at her curiously. “Is there a plan for lunch, or is this an individual activity?”

“Ooh, a lunch activity! That’s a good idea for the future, Theia; I’ll add it to my list! No, I didn’t have anything planned. You can see what’s in the kitchen, or you can leave the hotel to find something else to eat if you’d like. We have plenty of time for you to go far, even. I was thinking maybe we’d hold off on another activity today and wait for Angel to come back, meet tomorrow.”

“Alright, sounds good.” You debate on taking a trip to Cannibal Town to one of the cafes, but find yourself uninterested in either the long walk or the attention of using your powers.

Reaching into your pocket you decide to grab a handful of eyeballs instead. That should be enough to satiate you for now. As you do so, however, you feel a tug on your arm. You yelp in surprise. Through the eyes on your wrist, you see Niffty tugging on your hand. Everyone turns to look at you in alarm. “Oh, sorry about the spectacle. There’s, um, just a little situation I need to take care of upstairs.” You look at them sheepishly and awkwardly slink away, walking quickly up the stairs, hand pulled tight into your pocket. Something or someone has a firm grasp on your hand and won’t let go.

When you approach your door, you use your other hand to unlock it. Niffty is still holding tightly to your hand that is above the jar, floating in space coming out of the black void. “I caught a hand stealing your eyeballs, Miss Theia!” She exclaims. “I won’t have anyone stealing what doesn’t belong to them, not in my hotel!”

You smile softly at her, but wince as she yanks on your hand. “Niffty, that’s my hand.” You explain easily. “Those are my eyes on the hand’s wrist.”

She looks at you and blinks, confused. “It is?”

You nod. “It’s a subspace portal I put up so I can reach through my pocket and get into my jar of eyes. See, I’ll squeeze your hand.” You do, and she smiles softly.

“Oh my goodness, I apologize, Miss Theia! I didn’t realize that was your hand!” She lets go and scurries up to your shoulder to look you in the eye as you free your hand from the subspace. “Is there any way I can make it up to you?”

You chuckle and pat her on the head. “Don’t worry about it, Niffty, and there’s no need to call me ‘Miss Theia’. ‘Theia’ is just fine. It’s not even my real name, so there’s no need to be so formal.”

“‘Theia’ isn’t your name?” She looks at you, confused. “Why don’t you have people call you by your name?”

“Names have power. Knowing a person’s real name means knowing who they really are, and knowing who they are is a form of control. By giving people an alias I’m able to keep myself safer. Don’t worry, though. ‘Theia’ might not be my real name but it’s still a part of me. I identify with it more than my real one most of the time anyway. I certainly like it better. I chose it myself.”

“It suits you, Theia.” She says with that soft, fond smile.

“Thank you, Niffty.” You smile back. “So what were you doing in my room anyway? It was locked.”

Niffty points to the vent on the wall. “I don’t use the doors since I’m too short to reach and the bugs like to hide in the vents.” Her grin turns devious and determined. “There are so many bugs in this hotel and I will kill them all.”

“Squashing bugs can be satisfying.” You agree, thinking of how you'd like to crush Tino, and take a seat on your bed. You reach up to support her as you sit so she doesn’t fall. You don’t mind having her perched on your shoulder. It’s kind of nice, if a little odd. “Especially when those bugs have done something to wrong those you care about. Or sometimes just because it’s fun.” An idea hits you. “Climbing through the vents must lead to some awfully interesting places to visit. Anywhere you recommend I go?”

“I really like Sir’s room but that’s off limits to you. He likes it when I clean, as long as I stay away from the swamp. He doesn’t want me to fall in.” Alastor has a swamp in his room? You wonder to yourself but don’t comment. “He won’t let me in to clean his radio tower though. I bet it’s so messy there.” She pouts a little. “There are a lot of rooms in this hotel that aren’t being used. I like to chase bugs in them.”

“Do you clean the other resident’s rooms, or just Alastor’s?” You ask, curious.

“I clean the lobby, the kitchen, the hallways, and Sir’s room. I saw your hand through the vents and thought it was a bug at first. Charlie told me to stay away from Angel Dust, Husk, and her and Vaggie’s rooms after I found things they didn’t want me to see.” The devious look in her eye intrigues you, but you know better than to ask about it, at least right now.

“And where do you stay? Surely you don’t sleep in the vents.” You raise an eyebrow at her.

“Of course not, silly!” She giggles. “I sleep in the wall.”

You widen your eyes at her, confused and shocked. “What.”

“There’s a hole in the wall that the vents connect to. It’s all cozy. I have a pillow, a blanket, and a comfy mattress. I have my bug collection, my roach puppets, my art, and some pictures.”

“Surely Alastor doesn’t make you stay in a hole in the wall. Even Husk has his own room.”

“Sir offered a room to me but I liked the hole better.” She shrugs. “I asked to stay there, Theia. I like it. It’s small and homey. The rooms here are too big anyway.”

Niffty is a weird one, but I like her. You decide. “What if I decide I want to visit? I can’t exactly fit in the vents to join you.”

She brightens. “I’ve never had anyone want to visit my spot before. I’ll have to think about it. I’ve only ever used the vents. Maybe there’s another way to get to it, a way that bigger people can go.”

“Let me know, Niffty. I’d love to visit you and see your bug collection.”

“You want to see it?” She grins up at you excitedly.

“I’m always fascinated by interesting collections. Especially things that used to be alive.”

“I like you.” Niffty decides, and gives you a hug.

“I like you too.” You hug her back.

“Thank you for making the coffee this morning, by the way, it was delicious.”

She brightens further at that. “Of course, I make it the way Sir likes every morning. I’m glad you enjoyed it too.” She pats you on the arm and climbs down. “Glad it wasn’t a thief trying to steal your eyeballs, or worse, a nasty bug! Gotta go clean the lobby. I can smell dust.” Then she zips off at a speed that makes her seem to disappear in a blink.

“See you later, Niff!” You call, happy to have made a possible new friend. Popping a few eyeballs into your mouth, you decide that maybe you will make that trip to Cannibal Town. You’ve been eating so many eyeballs that you will soon need to restock, and you can pick up some other food while you’re there.

Maybe it’s the new connections or a change in scenery, but the idea of just pickled eyeballs for a while sounds less appealing. Maybe it’s time for a change there too.

A/N: For those of you who missed Angel this chapter, I did too! The next several chapters will take place on this same day, so there won't be Angel for a while but I promise he will return by the next 'day', though that won't be until Chapter 10 by the looks of it. I didn't anticipate spending as much time as I did on day one of this full week. This is a much longer story than I anticipated but I don't regret any of it!

At the end of Chapter 6, she decides to go to Rosie's to restock. Chapter 7 is when things get awkward, more awkward for our dear sweet, strange Theia, as Alastor not only insists on accompanying her, decides they're going to share a meal together before they go to the Emporium. Theia agrees, while suspicious. Things only get more awkward from there, and it isn't long before you suspect that this is either a trap or an unintentional date, and neither of them sound like good options for you. The food looks good though, even if Alastor is going to insist on paying and then you're going to have to feel like you have to make it up to him. Maybe you can threaten to tell Rosie about this if he refuses to let you go dutch?

First || Chapter 5 || Chapter 7

[castaway-achlys]

Does thoust have a favorite flavor of cup?

the subtle chaos of this question is so great. admin's answer is glass, but with silicone wrapped around it so that it doesn't slip and slide everywhere. this is a bottle just for visual aid but there are cups too.

i also collect mugs sometimes. i don't really use mugs that much because i prefer cold drinks over hot due to sensory issues and having a lot of temperature sensitivity, but i love mugs. there's nothing better than holding onto a warm mug on a cold winter day and watching the steam billow off.

i... uh... do humans have cup flavors? i like blue raspberry things a lot...

castor, they mean like. type. material. composition.

o- oh... i like plastic things, but the plastic that's decent for the environment! ... i don't want to break them on accident, and if i do break them, they're easy to re-melt or attach pieces to.

i also really like ceramic stuff... there's a tradition called kintsugi where you piece broken things back together and paint/accentuate the formerly broken parts... something about that makes me think things aren't always as bad as they seem, and things can get better and be improved even if it seems worthless.

styrofoam. my brother and the admin both hate the texture and feel and sound of styrofoam (for admin it's an actual misophonia/sound trigger), but i like chewing on it and making fun shapes. it's also fun to melt with a soldering pen or lighter.

please don't use a soldering pen or a lighter to melt styrofoam without parental or professional supervision... also don't stick it in the microwave. i beg.

i also like those dixie cups. you know the ones. the tiny paper ones. they make me feel even more giant than i already am. (i'm over 6 feet (about 180cm) tall!) >:)))

[spaceacethespookypansfanfics]

Smokydonuts

A (very) short fic I wrote for @foragemefromthemoss / @sams-shark (per their request) based on when John gets sick and Jack takes care of him. It’s very subtle because they have a subtle dynamic I feel. It’s my first time writing these two so hopefully it’s okay. Enjoy.

It was the cup.

And the cold.

And the stress.

Jack had told him. He told him to take it easy, told him to do his dishes, told him to wear a warmer jacket. But as always, John was too thickheaded and refused to listen to him.

And now he’s sick in bed at home.

Well. Jack’s home.

Since, you know, John’s house is . . . indisposed at the moment.

“Here you go, some nice warm tea and honey for your throat.” Jack sets the cup down on his nightstand by John’s head.

“Thanks,” John coughs. He pulls himself up in the bed with a strained, sickly groan that pulls at the sympathy in Jack.

It was such a fight to get John to this point, all curled up in bed and docile. They’d worn each other out arguing and now John was too exhausted to protest any more of Jack’s help.

John takes the warm mug with both hands, letting the steam waft into his face. He’s all congested and his head is filled with lead. He’s hoping the hot air will clear him up a bit.

Jack stands back while John holds his tea. He would prefer to be closer but it wouldn’t do anyone any good if he were to also get sick. Especially not John. So Jack stays just a few steps away while John blows on the mug.

“I can make some lunch if you’re hungry?” Jack asks though he has a feeling he knows John’s answer. Still, he’s the type of guy who asks anyway.

“Not hungry.” John sips the tea. He makes a face of “oh too hot, no wait it’s fine” as the honey soothes his sore throat.

“Alright then, you just sleep.” Jack starts making his way out of his bedroom where’s gotten John all situated. It’s not entirely ideal, but Jack doesn’t have any other rooms or beds and he wasn’t about to force John onto his very lumpy and uncomfortable couch while the man’s sick.

~

Jack comes in to check on John every few hours to make sure the man’s doing alright. He’s a very attentive caretaker. Especially towards the man he has a crush–his partner who he respects so much.

“John? You awake?” Jack calls out in a whisper in case the man isn’t. He opens the door slowly and as quietly as he can to avoid making any creaks.

There isn’t a response and Jack can only infer that John is in fact asleep. He very sneakily makes his way further into the room with the intent to still check on John anyway.

By the bed, Jack can see John’s sleeping face covered in sweat from his fever. Jack figured as much that John would still be running hot even in his sleep so he’d come prepared with a mixing bowl full of cold water and a wash cloth already damp and wrung out.

Jack carefully places the wash cloth on John’s forehead, hoping not to disturb the man. He waits for a moment, a little tense at the idea of waking John prematurely. It would only cause the man to be even grumpier.

When it’s clear he’s safe, Jack gently places the mixing bowl on his nightstand next to John’s empty mug, for which he grabs in return to take to the sink. Just as sneakily as he’d arrived, Jack departs in equal measure.

~

“Thanks,” John says suddenly through his cigarette. Jack turns to look at him.

“For wha–“

“For looking after me.”

“Oh.” Jack has to hide his face and the smile on it. “It was nothing.” He’s playing it cool. So cool.

John blows out a puff of smoke, resting his hand over the porch railing he’s propped up against, the cigarette hanging between his two fingers. Jack sneaks a peak from the corner of his eye, taking in the tired but respectable silhouette he admires so much.

“Wanna go for a drink? My treat.” John stares at the starry night sky and takes a drag of his smoke.

Wait? Did he just ask Jack out on a date? Or is it just a guy’s night out thing? Or is this just to make up for nursing him back to health all weekend?

Either way, Jack isn’t about to decline. He stops himself from reacting too strongly. “Yes!–sure. I mean. Sure. Les’ go.” He straightens out against the railing.

John nods, finishing his cigarette before smushing it out on the railing. He puts the butt in his current smoke pack to throw out later and walks down the porch to their shared squad car.

Jack follows behind, brimming with excitement and nerves.

It’s not a date. John’s just being nice, that’s all.

But it could be a date, is the thing.

Jack doesn’t let himself think as this as a date, lest his hopes are crushed at the end of the night. He’ll just enjoy spending social time with his crush–partner who he respects so much.