#chance finder

[angelitam]

Chance Finder de Chanel

Chance Three Moods Chanel Pour trouver la fragrance Chance de Chanel. Chance de Chanel se décline en 4 fragrances. Laquelle me correspond ? Chance Finder de Chanel Déjà achetée et testée la première fragrance Chance de Chanel. Mais depuis, la Maison a commercialisé d’autres variations. Elles sont au nombre de quatre. Chance, Chance Eau Tendre, Chance Eau Fraîche et Chance Eau Vive. Place au…

[rp-partnerfinder]

🌊23F looking (for other writers 20+!!) to write my mafia boy against your OC! He is definitely ur typical brooding, quiet type with a lot of issues but he is so special to me😭 and i want him to be paired with someone he can fully devote himself to! I am open to MxF or MxM pairings for him!

For MxM pairings, I want to do an enemies to enemies with benefits to lovers plot so bad, but I am definitely open to more plots if you don’t think that one would fit.  

 'i can fix him' and 'i can make him worse' are both very dear to me so anything goes.

some tropes id love to try with him are opposites attract, friends to lovers, arranged marriages/marriages of convenience, fake relationships, second chance!

I'm am totally fine with any type of OC's just not boring ones pleaseeee im begging. they can definitely be more submissive but please have a backbone or a good backstory. 

There will also obviously be darker themes of violence/blood so please be cool with that! Obviously also okay with NSFW! I do write on discord in third person, multiple paragraphs (adv lit - novella) and i am a daily replier. My boy has a realistic fc but i don't mind descriptions! Like this and i'll dm!

.

[cheriwritesig]

any hockey girlies that want a hockey girly friend 👉👈🔪👹 (it's not a threat if it doesn't become a real murder 💗‼️)

here's my friend admission card:

- Cheri, 19, a simp, what else can I say

- Will scream with you during games, will spam you with memes, reels, pictures about my AND your favorite players and teams

- Matter of a fact, I'm here for the giggles

- A yapper, can talk, will talk. and possibly annoy you

- I have something very important to show you btw!!

- Still not convinced?? I am a musician!! I could write you a song about our amazing friendship‼️‼️😫😫💗💗

psa: don't let the last point lie to you, I music, but I also slay at adhd and autism so music isn't coming out hashtag executive dysfunction

[sharoscylla]

Ripley, blankly: I didn’t think anybody was listening… I only said those prayers to cheer my friends up…

Finder: :3 cheered ME up

[beastsovrevelation]

In S1 Ep. 10, Ava should have kissed Adriel. Not because the show would ever intend a romantic arc, or because I ship them. Just for us to witness Mary's reaction, after she blows up the wall, and finds Ava in a liplock with a yet another dude she just met. This time, in a dungeon. Where he spent a thousand years, locked up for suspicious reasons.

[last-flight-of-fancy]

staring at the last two raids on my ff14 to-do list and going 'but what if they're hard tho?'

[seijorhi]

I think about Finders Keepers all the time 😩 The thought of being shared by the Seijoh 4 is enough but then add in the Inarizaki all while being forced to rely on your boys for both comfort and safety is just *chefs kiss* 😘 Anyway I’m really curious to know which team you’d feel would be the best at protecting the reader during a zombie apocalypse? I hope you don’t mind the question I just love the idea of the reader being forced to rely on the men that probably made her life hell before the apocalypse too lmao

ooh now

okay so here's the things, inarizaki MAY be the stronger team in terms of volleyball. i say may because i have had this argument with several friends several times and... the jury is still out.

HOWEVER, seijoh i think (or at least seijoh 4) have a phenomenal basis of trust and i would argue that their teamwork between those four is probably a touch more cohesive?

but as it stands within the fic, they've already done a pretty shitty job because in splitting up, they've managed to lose the reader, land oikawa on death's door and the remaining three are poised to walk into an undead ambush so... ya not a winning record there.

kita's perfectly adept with keeping the twins in line, they've got aran as kita's right hand/enforcer, bigger numbers and in this fic an established sanctuary with a whole bunch of supplies which kinda puts them head over heels above makki, mattsun, iwa and oikawa rn.

[isayoldbean]

i've been up past 3am the past two nights in a row and so i was determined to go to bed early tonight and then right as i was about to log off ff14 i remembered i hadn't done my weeklies and tomorrow is reset... biting and hatred and killing and maiming

[splashinkling]

Word Finder 28

wait. it's been over 3 months since my last word finder??

here are some words from @gwendolinequinn (eyes, moon) and @oh-no-another-idea (shoulder, sigh)!

tagging...I don't know, honestly! all of you! your words are know, please, brave, and sound.

eyes | Log 2,851

“Open up!” A man yelled through the door, continuing to slam fist against wood. “Brother, do you normally have a woodpecker the size of a horse in the morning?” Elizabeth groaned as she left the guest room. She yawned sleepily. “No, that would be frightening,” Lyzandir quipped. “Mother...” Jackal followed behind her, rubbing his eyes. “Who’s at the door? Can we execute them?” Elizabeth patted her son on the head. “Only if your uncle says we can.”

shoulder | Demons in the Den Chapter 1

I peek outside the window again, holding a candle to the glass. Under the moonlight, I see the girl sitting with her knees at her chest at the foot of the old tree, cradled between two large roots. She shivers as she notices the light coming from my candle. She smiles, trying to calm her shaking shoulders.

sigh | Demons in the Den Chapter 2

The moonlight draws my silhouette on the floor when I stand in front of the window. I sweep the glass on the ground against the wall with my boot and, careful of more shards of glass, I lean on the windowsill and stare at the starless, midnight sky. The residue of light coming from all over the city creates a thin lightscape above, drowning out any twinkling star. I sigh, closing my eyes for a moment.

moon | Log 4,878

Atop the hill, the old silver-wooded willow tree stood. Its bare branches creaked as the wind—strong yet warm—blew through and ruffled the three’s clothes. The two day-moons hung high overhead as the twinkling sun star swirled and danced to the azure sky’s will.

[monty-glasses-roxy]

I think it would be funny if after Roxy finds the horsies they just keep showing up. She leaves them alone for too long and one of them does a prison break out of storage to randomly trot through the atrium to say hi

It happens often enough that the manager has to put out a public statement and put posters everywhere explaining that Roxy found them in storage and now they're friends. Just a poster like "Have you seen a horse in the Pizzaplex? Don't worry! They're friendly! We just can't catch them!"

[osaemu]

GOJO SATORU: ❛❛ FINDERS KEEPERS, LOSERS WEEPERS! ❜❜

.ೃ࿐ streamer!au: the user "gojoslittleslut" tries to make a move on your boyfriend, but she doesn't stand a chance

contents: fem!reader. it's not too serious, nobody gets angry/jealous (except the comments lol). if u haven't already read the other streamer!gojo works u probably should so u understand the dynamic between satoru and his commenters !

author's note: reader is actually a mature person who doesn't pick fights with random ppl on the internet and i think we should all be more like her ꨄ︎

satoru leans back in his chair, idly chatting with people who pop up in his comments after he finishes his last round of the co-op game. his viewers are eager to chat, and some even shoot money satoru's way to draw his attention. whenever someone donates money, he gives them a quick shoutout and has a small back-and-forth with them, and he does that for everyone.

that is, until a user with a questionable username donates to his stream.

gojoslittleslut has donated $100.00!

gojoslittleslut: notice me pls

"shit, a hundred dollars?" satoru says, raising his eyebrows in mild surprise. "thanks, gojoslittl— oh, fuck, what is that?"

you look up from your laptop and see the way your boyfriend's cheeks have gone bright red. satoru laughs a bit nervously, so you get up and walk over, making sure to stay out of sight of the camera. you sit on satoru's desk beside his computer and peer at his screen curiously.

gojoslittleslut: im ur number one fan~

satoru's eyes flicker to yours for a second before he looks back at his monitor. "ah, well, thanks for the donation!" he replies, completely ignoring the user's advances.

suguru-geto: he has a gf ...

gojoslittleslut: yeah

gojoslittleslut: me

you cover your mouth to suppress a giggle, scrunching up your nose at satoru to let him know that you really weren't taking it too seriously. after all, it's just some random person on the internet—they don't stand a chance with your boyfriend. 

satoru reaches over and takes your hand, twining his fingers with yours off-camera. he ignores the sudden burst of comments that litter the corner of his screen, instead watching you intently. in response, you roll your eyes playfully and blow him a kiss, snickering when satoru pretends to faint.

eventually, he turns back to his screen, cerulean eyes doing a quick once-over of his new comments.

toji-fushiguro: ill take his gf any day

inumaki: we know gtfo

gojoslittleslut: toji i get gojo and u take his girl. deal?

toji-fushiguro: bet

"alright guys, settle down," satoru huffs, rolling his eyes. "for the record, i still have a girlfriend and i don't plan on changing that anytime soon," he clarifies, addressing the current feud going on in his comments. 

satoru's a good streamer—he does his best to keep things cordial and lighthearted with his audience, but he also knows his limits. one of his limits involves people trying to separate you and him, his one true pairing (of course satoru's otp is his own relationship).

your boyfriend leans closer to the screen and scowls good-naturedly, holding up the hand still wrapped around yours. "this isn't gonna change, so don't even think about it!"

satoru says his goodbyes and then ends the stream, turning to you with a sigh. "how down bad do you have to be to name yourself 'gojo's little slut?'" he grumbles, clicking through his stream analytics and finding the user. he opens gojoslittleslut's profile and studies it for a moment before hovering his mouse over the block button.

he leans back in his chair and tilting his chin up at you. "she just gave me a hundred dollars, so i kinda feel bad about blocking her," satoru muses, tapping his foot on the floor. he looks up at where you still sit on his desk, twirling a strand of hair around your finger. "c'mere," he mumbles, slipping his hands around your waist and hoisting you into his lap with a soft grunt.

satoru rests his chin on your shoulder and nudges his face into your neck, breath tickling your skin. "you know that i'm all yours, right?"

"of course i do," you murmur, settling into his arms. he's warm and comfortable, like always. satoru smiles warmly and kisses the side of your face, letting his lips linger.

"good. 'cause no fan account's ever gonna change that."

[finderskeepersfanfiction]

Not actually a FK picture, but it’s the pic that started me posting my fic, so...

Inspired from that SINGLE chapter in which freaking Omega-Zero Aile appeared

AU in which Omega Zero raises this little girl into a murderous machine

[bootsukki]

masterlist

as graduation winds down, tsukishima kei stands in the courtyard, looking out over karasuno high once last time. he holds his diploma tightly in his right hand, waving goodbye to some of his friends, rejecting the idea of having dinner with them, knowing that they will get a lot of chances to do so, as the majority of them will go to the same university, except for those like kageyama, yachi and hinata who have bigger dreams that require moving cities or even countries.

kei’s usual calm facade is in place, but inside, he feels the weight of the day, the end of high school, of volleyball with his team and of seeing you every day.

graduation is still one year away from you, getting into your third year this april. kei spots you waiting for him at the edge of the crowd that is going out of one last time and others like you, who still have years of high school to go through.

as he approaches you, he sees your beautiful eyes shimmering with unshed tears and his hearts soften even harder. he walks over and without a word, you fall into step together, wandering off-campus towards the tsukishima household. as you walk, you clutch the sleeve of his jacket and he lets you, walking in silence until you are in his house.

kei leaves his diploma on the living room as you walk upstairs to his room. the sight of the bare walls and some of his belongings in boxes makes you feel sad as you sit down on the floor, waiting for him.

as kei enters the bedroom, he gives you a cup of tea and you mutter a quick thank you, carefully leaving it on his bedside table, waiting for it to get cold.

“why’d you have to go and get all emotional?” he murmurs, though his voice lacks any of its usual sarcasm. there’s a quiet vulnerability in his tone as he pulls your hand into his.

you let out a shaky laugh, looking down, avoiding his gaze. “i… i don’t know. i know i’ll see you again. you’re not moving that far and it will only take me a bus to get to you but… it’s hard, thinking about not seeing you every day.” your voice breaks a little, and you quickly swipe at your eyes.

“you know what? i’m glad i won’t have to change my route to walk with you from your house to school”

you playfully punch his arm and he laughs, muttering a it’s a joke softly. for a moment, kei is quiet and when you glance up at him, you’re surprise to see a sheen of tears in his own eyes. kei clears his throat, looking away as if it he was embarrassed but his finders hold onto yours a little tighter.

“come here,” he says softly, reaching down to his jacket, fumbling for a second as he pulls off the second button, pressing it gently into your hand. you stare down at it, heart squeezing. kei holds your chin with his hand, pulling it up to stare into your eyes, his voice barely above a whisper. “this… i’ll be waiting for you, you know? i don’t want anyone else.”

your hand closes tightly over the button, tears finally slipping down your cheeks. before you can even mutter a thing, kei pulls you into his arms, holding you close. you feel his heart beat, fast and strong and you place a hand on his chest as his hand gently cradles your head.

“i hate this too,” he whispers against your hair, his voice rough, breaking slightly. “leaving without you.”

when he finally pulls back, there’s a tear slipping down his cheek, and for once, he doesn’t seem to care that you see it. he just reaches out, brushing a thumb across your cheek to catch your tears, as if that’s all he can do to hold back his own.

he pulls you closer into a gentle kiss, a soft brush of lips that deepens as you lean closer into him, tilting your head slightly as his hands move towards your jaw and the back of your neck, holding you as close as possible.

the kiss grows more urgent, as if you were pouring every feeling into it. both of your breaths quicken as your lips move together. as kei pulls backs for just a fraction, he opens his eyes, forehead pressed against yours and he smiles, leaning in again to peck your lips.

“you’re the one for me,” he says, voice low. “i’ll wait for you at university.”

“okay.”

“tell me you’ll be thinking of me as much as i’ll think of you.” he closes his eyes, voice shaking. “tell me you’ll miss me as much as i’ll miss you.”

“kei…”

“because… because i always think about you, when i’m awake and when i’m sleeping, I always dream of you. even when we are in the same city, or in the same building but different rooms, i miss you. i miss you when you are at extracurriculars or when i am in practice and i can’t see you, even if i had just said goodbye to you.” he sighs, “because i love you.”

you clutch the button closer to your heart as you kiss him again,

“i love you too.”

——————

hate the ending (Ｔ＿Ｔ)

[acowardinmordor]

You Left Me - You Miss Me - Six

Sup, I finally wrote the next part. Mostly because of someone trying to find it via the fic finder blog, which gave me a big ol spike in anxiety about the lack of update.

Part One .... Part Four - Part Five

---

“Rob, no.”

“Don’t you tell me ‘no,’ Steven Dingus Harrington!”

“You can’t drive to Hawkins and kill the guy.”

“Oh yes I can! I'll take your bat with me!”

“Babe, you still don’t know how to drive, and I have work in the morning so I can’t take you.” 

“I’ll figure it out on the way!”

She wouldn’t. She wasn't going to drive to Hawkins. She would definitely, absolutely, one hundred percent kill Munson if she had the chance and Steve didn’t talk her out of it, but Robin wasn’t going to leave him alone when he’d had a breakdown an hour earlier. She wouldn’t let him sleep alone for the next few days, and she would go to work with him in the morning, and she’d probably skip her Stats class so she could stick by him after work too. 

It took Robin about thirty seconds to realize something had happened. 

That was the gap between her opening the car door, and Steve speaking. All he said was “hey, Robs” and she cut off her ramble about chlorofluorocarbons. The same way he could tell by the sound of her stirring soup, or which color eye shadow she wore, she knew immediately something had happened. 

She touched his arm.

And he had a breakdown in the college parking lot. 

Steve updated the tag on the side of the box and put it back on the shelf. He was,technically, working. Robin was ranting and using a tie-dye shirt as a prop. 

“You don’t need to crash our car trying to go kill a guy I’m not even mad at.”

“Ugh,” she flapped the shirt at him and slouched against the edge of the shelving unit. “Why not? Why are you not mad at him? How? I’m mad at him! He took the kids away from you! They’re annoying little shitheads but you loved them and he jus---”

“Rob,” he interrupted softly. He couldn’t get into that side of it right now. 

“Sorry. Sorry. But you’re not this nice, Stevie. You’re wonderfully bitchy and petty and it’s one of my favorite things about you, and I don’t get this. He sucks! This was super shitty! Why aren’t you mad at him for being an asshole?”

“It’s not his fault.”

“He said it was his fault!”

Eddie blamed himself, and maybe it was his fault, but it didn’t matter. Not in comparison.

“Are you going to inventory anything tonight, or is this just going to be me?”

“No! And why are you working?”

Because if he stopped, if he let himself turn his full attention towards it, he was going to fall apart again, and stupid as it was, checking inventory used up just enough of his focus that he couldn’t drown. Steve flicked through the stack of size smalls, and wrote it down on the list. “Uh, because we’re at work?”

“We both work tomorrow tonight and there is no way that Mary or Nick have ever looked at the stock sheets in their life, they aren’t going to look tomorrow either. No one will know.”

“I’ll know.” He glanced up to make eye contact for a second, and she caved with a groan. 

“If you were anyone but my soulmate, buddy…” She folded the shirt terribly, shoved it into the gap between the cardboard and the other shirts, and finally closed the box. 

Letting the silence settle gave Steve a minute to breathe, and reset himself without the rising tension. She knew that, and waited until, unspoken, she knew he was ready to keep going. 

“Steve.”

“I am mad, Robs. I am. You know that it’s.. At the kids, and at Hopper, and at myself for agreeing to this stupid idea, but I’m not mad at him.” 

“Why does he get special treatment?”

Hearing how that sounded, he tried again, “No, uh. I’m mad at him, but, like, the same way you get mad when the grandma in the crosswalk is going really slow and then drops something and goes back, and you end up stuck waiting again even though you should have made it through the light before. Yeah, it sucks, but it’s not like grandma was doing it specifically to fuck with you. She’s just, you know, shopping or whatever. 

“It wasn’t like there was a friendship there that he betrayed. He did something for his own life and it was sorta sucky, and it sucks for me, but he feels really shitty about it, so I don’t think he meant for them to, you know, vanish.”

Robin thumbed down the stack of Levis, whispering the count as she went. Three more sizes got counted before she responded. 

“You carried him out of there. You saved his life.”

Steve hummed absently. “He wasn’t bleeding that bad. His trash lid kept most of them off. I panicked when I saw blood and picked him up.”

“And that doesn’t make you friends?”

“It’s not like I only saved him because it was him. Not like I stopped and thought about whether I should get the bleeding guy to the hospital. Lifeguard, remember?” 

The other half of the thought, he bit back. He’d had nightmares about Billy after Starcourt. Dreams where he could have saved him, and didn’t. Where he could have saved Max from having to see that, having to recover from that. He saw Eddie bleeding, he saw one of his kids screaming, and there wasn’t a thought in his head. Just the need not to let it happen again. Not again. Not Dustin too. 

He kept his eyes on the inventory form so she didn’t see that part. 

“Still think it should have mattered more. Life saving creates friendships.”

“He was unconscious. I know you don’t know much about how guys act with each other, but generally both dudes are awake when they become friends.”

She snorted at his weak joke, throwing her pencil at him. It wasn’t anywhere near her. 

“New record, champ,  that one wasn’t even close enough for me to pretend to dodge it.”

“Ugh, I hate you.”

“Love you too, Robs.”

He got through a full set of kids dress shirts in peace, counted and listed. Then he pulled down the crate of kid’s dresses, next on the list to check. 

The whole can of worms would tear open when, if, when Eddie showed up with something from the kids. There was no version of that day that wouldn’t end with him falling apart. If he skimmed them, if he burned them, if he read them, if he wrote back, if he refused to take them at all, it didn’t matter. He was going to fall to pieces. 

If they wrote and it was real, if it was petty, if it was anger, if it was grief, if it was gloating he was gone, if it was begging him to come back, if it was proof that it was always fake, always a temporary placeholder until they found someone they actually like. The imminent breakdown was going to be bad no matter what. 

Like those safety videos in school about seat belts. 

Like knowing the car crash was coming, knowing it couldn’t be stopped, and knowing that nothing he did was going to make it any easier to bear. Slow motion, watching a car come -- a beat up old van come towards him. No time to put on a seat belt, no way to brace for it, just accept that it was going to happen and hope you survived.  

Robin cleared her throat to get his attention, and Steve blinked back to himself. 

“Did, uh, did you say something?”

Robin watched him for a minute. He let her this time. It was easier to let her see what he was feeling than try to turn it into words, and he needed her to let it go for now.. 

“I’m going to skip my bio lecture on Friday afternoon.”

“Birdie, you don’t--” 

“You are going to call in sick at the skate rink. We are going to make snickerdoodles and brownies and the cracker bark thing, and order pizza, and we’re going to make ourselves sick eating too much, and we’re going to watch some random movie on mute and make up our own story and dialogue. Got it?”

“Got it,” he smiled.

And it wasn’t going to make it all better. Eating two pounds of butter in a day wasn’t going to make it easier when Eddie showed up, but it was like hitting pause on that video. Car crash was still coming, but he could look away for a while. 

***

Steve clung to the pass shelf from the kitchen as the expected car crash hit him on Monday. John, always eager for the chance to throw someone out of the diner, looked over Steve’s shoulder. It was a nice moment. A nice little thought before he had to face what he’d agreed to. If he asked, John would throw Eddie out. Literally. Nice image, but not the one he got to see.

Instead, he declined the offer, and grabbed the plates. 

“Gimme a minute,” he mumbled to Eddie, heading to the sweet elderly couple celebrating the birth of their second granddaughter with a leisurely breakfast. If he spent an extra minute talking to them, complimenting the polaroid of what seemed to be some kind of mashed potato swaddled in white and pink, it was to get a good tip, not because he was stalling. 

Eddie hadn’t moved when he got back. He was a step back from the counter, stiff, holding a paper grocery bag under one arm, eyes trained on the ugly teal of the stool’s seat.

“Well?” Steve asked bitchily, “Did you bring milk and eggs and bread, honey?”

He put it on the counter, clutching the folded top hard, like he was making sure it stayed shut. 

Like it was full of spiders or something. Mutual sentiment.

Steve grabbed it, tossing it onto the shelf where they kept personal belongings and the leftovers they’d called dibs on. He hadn’t expected Eddie Munson to be up to Franklin at eight am on a Monday. Eddie wasn’t a morning person. Steve thought he’d have a few more hours to brace. Now he had to deal with customers while that bag burned a hole in the back of his head. 

Luckily, Rebecca was serious when she said he could get mean with guests if he wanted to. Today wasn’t a want. It was going to be a necessity. 

Eddie was still standing there. 

“You can tell them I got it, or whatever,” he tried to dismiss him.

Something that looked like the tortured remains of a smile flickered on Eddie’s face. He gave up after a second and nodded too many times. “Thanks. Thank you. Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, right?”

It took a minute for Steve to catch up to the question. 

“I haven’t said I’m going to answer them. Or open them. Or keep them.”

Eddie was quiet for a minute, still not looking up, and Steve’s Travel-Size-Robin was vibrating with the need to make him so they could guess what the hell he was thinking. 

“Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday mornings?” he repeated. 

“Yeah. Sure, yeah,” Steve gave up. 

Eddie left, and Steve did the entire day’s front of house prep before Susan got in, trying to keep his head away from that damn bag. 

***

Steve didn’t open it. 

He fell asleep in Robin’s bed, grateful he didn’t have other work that evening, and doubly grateful when she made him eat some crackers and drink some water before they passed out for the night. 

If he was waiting for the impact the day before, seeing Eddie again the next day was so unexpected that the crash whooshed past him without an impact. He didn’t sit down, and he looked a little rough, probably from driving to Franklin in the early morning twice in two days. 

“Do you have…?”

“No? No,” Steve boggled at him, “How could I have anything for you to even -- No. Man, no.” 

Eddie nodded. 

Eddie left. 

***

Steve stared at the bag instead of taking a nap before their shift in the stockroom. Didn’t open it, that was way, way beyond him, but he did manage to look directly at it, and it was only a few saltines, but he did successfully eat. 

Robin, angel, light of his life, soulmate and perfect person got in the car after class, handed him a kinda gross protein bar that she stole from an athlete in her class who she didn’t like, and made him eat it. 

She didn’t make him talk about the bag shaped elephant in their apartment, and she spent the entire shift explaining the way Ann Carson’s translations of Greek plays had totally shifted how people read them, making them more accessible, and how the push to do the same with Shakespeare was incredible. 

When he went to crawl into his own bed that night, she grumbled, brought her favorite pillow, and climbed in after him. 

***

Eddie walked in at quarter to seven, right after three four tops seated.

“No.”

“Okay. Yeah.” Eddie looked small, probably because he was speaking at a normal volume, sounding like a normal human, which ran opposite to how Eddie was in Hawkins. He also looked like crap. 

“Why are you here, dude? You hate mornings. You don’t have to leave that early, I work until one.”

Eddie scrunched his face, but didn’t answer that. 

“No?” he asked instead.

Someone at table six shouted ‘waiter!’ 

“I’ll bring your coffee in a damn minute!” Steve yelled back, half turning with the carafe in his hand.

“Steve?”

“Look, I don’t have anything for you. Nothing. You don’t need to waste your time. I haven’t opened it.”

“There’s more than one -- oh,” Eddie scrubbed over his face. “Okay. Yeah. Okay. Do-- Are you going to? Open it.”

Thinking about opening it made him want to run away to Canada. 

Thinking about never knowing made him want to puke. 

Whatever weird face Steve made was something Eddie could translate. He only raised his head for a moment, just long enough to look. But then he covered his face with both hands, taking a deep breath that shuddered on the exhale. 

“See you Monday,” he said as a goodbye.

“Where’s my coffee?” the same guy yelled. Steve didn’t have the energy to deal with customers and whatever the fuck was going on with Eddie’s early morning emotional mess. 

“Wait a second,” he complained to both of them at once. Steve grabbed one of the big mugs, the ones they used for the expensive hot chocolate, filled it with coffee, and set the pour jar of sugar next to it. He looked from Eddie to the cup, pointedly. “Don’t crash. Bring the cup back with you.”

The asshole yelled for him again, and Steve turned on the terrifyingly polite smile that Robin had helped him hone. Then he deployed it on the asshole at table six. 

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

We are headed towards Steddie, on a path that will, hopefully, not feel like I brushed off all this to get there. However. Wow, they're hurting right now. You can't have Eddie's pov yet, it would spoil things, but. just. trust me. ow.

Still don't do tag lists. Once I know how many parts it'll be, this will go to Ao3, promise.

[guided-by-stars]

It baffles me when I see other people going through Stars and Time and they get frustrated when 1. Bonnie pushes Siffrin into the tear, and 2. Siffrin doesn't find the key in the Head Housemaiden's office and they get softlocked. There's frustration that comes out in other points as well, but those are the two situations where I've seen it be the most intense. I've seen people yell at Bonnie, yell at Mirabelle, yell at Siffrin, genuine anger and annoyance, some people will hold grudges. Say that this choice is stupid, try to find a way to avoid looping back. Usually at that point, I know I'm not exactly going to have the most fun watching them play.

I think some people trap themselves in the expectations of the medium. They're approaching it as a game first, and an expression of art or a story with people in it second. It genuinely surprises me sometimes when people treat characters as...characters, and not people. Do you not try to immerse yourself in the world and circumstances when you engage with media? Take it seriously? I see people try to justify these deaths. Most people aren't frustrated with the rock death, because they justify it as being a tutorial. At the same time, people who are already grumbling about having to go through Dormont again on loop 1... I'm not sure if this experience is for them. Considering on my completion file I ended far past loop 200... Acts 3 and 4 alone often have so much PURPOSEFUL looping, sometimes all the way back to Dormont.

People justify the softlock as a "tutorial" for the icon that shows when you cannot progress that loop...but at that point it had already been shown how tutorials were not made to be obtrusive. The fighting tutorial was centered around Mirabelle's own anxiety, an anxiety that progresses and grows throughout their journey through the house. The Bonnie taking down an enemy tutorial? That's not locked to any fight, it happens the first time that Bonnie has the chance to do so, it could happen anywhere! Adrienne could have easily coded it so that the first time the player was softlocked, the tutorial for that icon would play there. That's not the point of it. The point of it was to show how self-depricating Siffrin is, at that point in the game. How he puts so much of his self worth on his role as the trap disarmer and the key finder. How he blames himself for everything. How he sees himself as a failure. If you could just figure out where the key was if you tried really hard or something, you'd miss all of that. Almost everything in this game has a point and the point almost always is to show you more about the characters.

The game is meant to make you play through it countless times. It's meant to show you the experience of Siffrin, someone who has no choice but to go through it countless times. It's not for padding, it's not to be mean spirited or unfair or difficult, it's to give you an EXPERIENCE. When you want to fast forwards through text but you have a feeling that something might have changed and you stop just in time to see new dialogue, when you notice Siffrin's smile fading from act to act, when you make sure to pick up every souvenir from Dormont every time you loop JUST IN CASE you need to use it somewhere in the House, when you are so thrown off by the rock in the Death Corridor that you become paranoid and check every pillar afterwards just in case... and then you get the Memory of Pillars for your troubles.

When you check Loop's advice for quests you've already completed, just to see what they say about it, when you select text options that are already greyed out because you want and hope and desire there to be more to the conversation...maybe this time? When you do the friend quests again in Act 4 and you don't skip through them because you have a feeling Siffrin will be feeling differently now, and he does, and it's an entirely different experience this time. When you get the Bright Flower and you forget to give it to your party and then you go to talk to the king and see you can offer him the flower? When you bring the flower with you every loop after that just in case there's another person you can give it too and then you realize you can give it to the Head Housemaiden? That's what ISAT is about.

[mae-gi-writes]

Finders Keepers | Gally [TMR] - Part 1

In which Gally gets soft for one of the boys in the Glade, only…is it a boy? alternatively; In which Mai disguises herself into a boy to fit in the Glade, only to be suspected by the keen eyes of the Builder's Keeper.

NEXT >>

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"Enjoying life, Greenie?" 

Dark eyes framed by thick lashes look up with a scowl at the said Builder's voice. And here Mai had hoped for some peace and tranquility after having spent all day out in the sun pulling out weeds and listening to Zart talk incessantly about his love of plants and whatever. 

Gally stands ahead of the new boy, leaning against one of Homestead's supporting structures with the kind of grin that makes Mai want to run for it. No wonder so many new Greenies decide that the Maze is a fair chance. When Gally's out here storming through the grounds, Mai isn't quite sure that the Glade is as safe as they all make it out to be. His temper is something to be reckoned with. 

Mai's been here for only over a week and to say that it's comfortable would be a lie. It feels suffocating, all the more because of the number of people cramped into the Glade. 

Gally takes a step towards the Greenie and the latter freezes up for a second, inwardly screaming at him to go back where he comes from because god knows Mai does not want the peace created undisturbed. But seems that Gally doesn't read faces well, for he plonks himself down next to the new boy while pushing up his shirt sleeves currently caked with mud from all the hard work he's been doing around the Glade. 

The words fall from Mai's mouth without warning, "aren't you supposed to be with your Builders?" 

For a minute, Gally's eyebrows quirk up in surprise. Not a lot of people dare to stand up to him and yet, this new recruit has the kind of fire in his eyes that makes Gally smirk. Little smartass, he thinks to himself. 

"I'm their Keeper, I can do whatever I want." 

"Slacking off is also part of that job title?" 

"You've got quite a mouth on you for a Greenie." 

Mai's scowl merely deepens before he looks away. Gally's right. That's not the right way to keep a low profile here. In the Glade, hierarchy was everything and Mai is stupid to believe that Gally's interest in him excuses Mai from any sort of punishment he might have to offer. 

"Sorry," Mai mutters. 

Gally doesn't seem to mind, clapping a hand on the younger boy's back before he pulls himself back up, "Gotta go back to work Greenie. You coming?" 

Mai grumbles but does as told, already feeling the scars on his hands where he'd been pulling out weeds all morning. He just hopes that his phase with the Garden people is just what it is - a phase. There are far more fun things to be done around the Glade and unwillingly, the Greenie casts a glance back at Gally's broad back as the latter makes his way to his newest architectural invention.

Mai feels his face flush and quickly averts his gaze, knowing full well that he needs to get a hold of himself if he wants to survive in this place.

Well, she needs to get a hold of herself. 

----

Lie.

Lie to them. And to yourself.

Lie, Mai.

Those were the first few words that Mai heard echoing in the back of her brain the moment she'd stepped out of the metal box. The crowd of boys around her hadn't suspected a thing, considering that she was dressed as a boy, had close-cropped hair and was so scrawny one could barely believe a female's body laid underneath. The words were so poignant, dripping with venom of instructions, that Mai had done as told. She'd lied to them all, for the sake of safety.

And maybe that was what had saved her, in the long run.

It's complicated living in a Glade full of horny boys. Mai has to be careful because every second counts. When she goes to the toilet, for example, making up the excuse that she needs to do "a big one" as she'd mutter out to the other boys while averting her gaze elsewhere. Or when she's changing, always volunteering to go pick out weeds and quickly dropping into the Runner's chambers so she could get into fresh clothes. The biggest challenge had been the showers. It was communal and most boys didn't care at all for privacy. So Mai had to wait out in the dark. No boys enjoyed bathing in utter darkness, so night time was her best opportunity. She'd wait until everyone was drowsy enough not to realize that she was gone, scrubbing down her body in milliseconds before shoving on her new clothes.

Thankfully, the boys are either too dumb or too preoccupied with dealing with what the Maze has to offer to give her attention, and for that Mai is grateful.

"So have you decided?"

She looks up from her bowl of soup freshly made by Frypan and herself -- they'd decided to put her with the said young man for the day to see how she would fare and in all honesty, Mai thinks that this is probably the first time she's felt at ease with something -- into Alby's dark eyes.

Their leader is not one that speaks for nothing, and so everything that does come out of his mouth is of some importance.

"I definitely don't want to be a Slicer," she responds with a shrug, and takes another gulp of her soup. The leader takes a seat across from hers with an amused smile, "why not? I think it's fitting."

"Shut up Alby," she scowls at him.

"Alright alright," he lifts his hands in surrender, "considering your frame, I say we make you a Cook. Frypan needs all the help he can get anyway."

"That's offensive," Mai states, "what's wrong with my size?"

"C'mon Greenie, you're like four feet tall. You can't hold or build nothing, you suck at gardening, you've got no shuck stamina. I think the kitchen's where you belong."

"Thanks Alby, really shucking inspirational."

"You're welcome." Alby grins. Someone cries out his name then, something to do with the Runners, and he hits you lightly on the arm as he stands, "right. Off to work, shank."

Mai watches as his back shrinks with more distance, and wonders whether Alby suspects something off about her — or him. She's so careful, always double or triple checking, but she can never be too sure. Is that why he's sticking her into the kitchen where he thinks girls belong?

No, you're thinking too much into it, Mai thinks to herself. It's fine, you're doing fine.

Obviously, it's not just fine.

She busies herself all afternoon working as Frypan's assistant in the kitchen. He is easy-going and makes her feel a lot better, something about his presence reassures her, even though the close cooking quarters makes moving about impossible without touching one another. That's not something that Mai feels comfortable with, so she does try her best to avoid moving in the same direction.

Tonight is pork curry from the Slicer's last batch, paired with flavored rice and some green beans from the Track-Hoes gardens. The boys are hungry by the time evening falls and Mai busies herself by serving them one another another, until the familiar clamour of metal causes the entire Glade to freeze.

It's been a week, and yet Mai is still not comfortable hearing the gates close them in every night. The same gates keeping them from the outside. The same gates trapping them in, in a world that they can't even control.

Mai's fury burns as she thinks of it.

"Hey," she turns to see the blonde, the one that looks like an elf with features so delicate that she might swoon at the look of him. He's the next in line, amused by the fact that she seems distracted.

"O—Oh. Sorry," she quickly shoves a few pieces of Pork into his plate and loads it up with the greenbeans, "here you go."

"Thanks Greenie," he cocks his head st her curiously, "how you holding up?"

Mai shrugs, embarrassed that she can't seem to recall his name even though she knows he's second-in-command, "doing alright I suppose. Alby finally figured out what to do with me."

"Yeah I think you're better suited for it than picking out weeds. Zart wasn't impressed."

"It's not my fault your weeds seem to be ten meters long." Mai protests as a flush creeps up her neck.

Newt laughs, "I'm joking Greenie. Relax. Anyway," he lifts his plate in mock salute, "thanks for this. Hope I don't choke on it."

"Well I hope you do!" Mai yells out after him, only to add after some minor reflection, "—a little bit."

After having served all Gladers, Mai takes her own plate and tries to find a seat. Alas, the task proves itself hard upon noticing that all tables are already full. There's only one place open — and that one place is by the Runner's table.

Now, it's not that Mai wants to be rude and ignore them altogether. But the Runners only bring out the particular memory of her pathetic wheeze after having run merely a mile, deeming her not fit for the said job. That embarrassment had only made Mai want to avoid the Runners altogether if she could.

But alas, fate is not on her side today. She spots the asian boy called Minho, whose eyebrows quirk up when their eyes meet. He casts a quick glance at her tray, has a look around, before he grins and beckons her over.

"Hey Greenie," he says as soon as her butt hits her seat. His dimpled smile paired with his pretty crescent moon eyes doesn't help with her heart, "thought you'd never wanna show your shuck face around us after that run."

"Some people aren't Runners. Get over it," you say it more in a mutter but loud enough that it gets the entire table into chuckles.

"Well I think you might just be the next Frypan," another Runner says, "I'm Ben by the way."

"Mai," she responds, not enjoying the way his eyes seem to flicker over her face in thought, as if he's trying to figure out what's off with her.

Because there is something off, just not the kind that they'd expect.

"Huh, Mai." Ben tries it out on his tongue. He takes another bite of his curry, "how are you liking the glade?"

"S'alright. I just wish the Builders could maybe build us actual beds instead of having hammocks."

"Oh he said it," Minho claps Mai's back so hard she almost spits out her food, thankful he hasn't noticed when he only slings an arm around her shoulder to pull her closer, "hey Gally! Greenie here has a problem with your hammocks!"

Uh oh. Mai's horror triples as she watches the said Builder stand from his seat. Numerous eyes have swayed across tables to land on her now. Gally strides towards them slowly, a predator confident in his skin, she can't help but squirm back.

He's intimidating and scary. And yet, her stomach squeezed with an unfamiliar feeling altogether.

"You got a problem with the hammocks?"

Gally's voice brings her back to reality. Mai blinks, "uhm—no, not at all—"

"That's not what you said a few seconds ago Greenie," Minho grins, "come on. Tell him. He doesn't bite."

"He might," mutters Ben from your other side.

"Uh— I was saying how comfortable the hammocks were," Mai responds with a nervous laugh, "so yeah— good job Gally."

Gally doesn't seem convinced, but a call from Alby stating that he wishes to see the Keepers thankfully breaks the attention from Mai.

"Right," Minho quickly clears the plates  away, but not before ruffling Mai's hair as he does so, "I'll see you guys tomorrow. Try not to die Greenie."

Mai lets out a soft sigh as the asian boy makes a run for it, followed by Gally after having thrown her another glance. He doesn't say anything though and as the Glade slowly starts to die out — boys settling into their hammocks and others taking their turns in the showers — Mai is glad when no one seems to pay her attention in favor of sleep. No surprise there, considering how tiring they are after all this hard work.

She settles into her own hammock, tied up close to the elfin-looking blonde, and tries to get comfortable. The Maze walls look even larger as she stares up at them, her breath catching in her throat as she thinks of all the boys that have lived here for months without hope.

Mai falls asleep that night, dreaming of the what ifs and the endless possibilities of what the future might hold.

She just hopes that they'll make it out one day, hopes that the echoing voices at the back of her head are just that — voices.

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A/N: AAANd that's a wrap for the first chapter! Like I said, I'm in a TMR brainrot so don't mind me or my obsessive behaviour towards Gally in these series. And can I just say that Will Poulter has aged like fine wine. See you in the next chapter! Do let me know if you wanna be added to the taglist <3