#had to pick an option but the joke was such a low hanging fruit i couldn't resist

[nitritre]

Checks out.

probably some shit that sans would pull

[forlix]

𝘀𝘂𝗯𝘁𝗲𝘅𝘁・l.f.

— in which you forget that your hot housemate follows you on twitter.

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱𝘀・1.1k 𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴・roommate!felix x gn!streamer!reader 𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲𝘀・fluff, flirting, kind of an smau, implied friends to lovers, humor if u count jeongin being a piece of shit

𝗮/𝗻・saw this tweet the other day and it was so painfully lix coded that i knew i had to write something asap. contains a tiny bit of gaming jargon but is hopefully comprehensible. ENJOY ♡

y/n ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱₊˚⊹ @ y/nxx

if someone brings you fresh cut fruit to your table when you're gaming, they either like LIKE you or it's your mom

11:23 A.M.・Oct. 2023・220.2K Views

bokkie 🐣 liked your post.

“My tweet?”

You read aloud the newest text in your chatroom, and your face brightens when you remember the one in question.

“Oh, about the fruit—no, it’s so true though. And I love my mom, don't get me wrong, but I have an inkling she did it to guilt trip me." You change your posture and adopt your best motherly tone of voice. "‘This is your tenth consecutive hour wasting your young adulthood in front of that damn screen. I am now going to hand deliver apple slices straight to your mouth.’ That kind of vibe, y'know?"

A slew of messages follows your anecdote, but it is a comment from one of your moderators that catches your eye first:

je0ng1n: what about the other option tho 👀

You groan at the sight of his username. “Man, why are you always here? Don't you have a job?"

je0ng1n: i’m on break je0ng1n: taking a dump je0ng1n: ungrateful bitch

You brandish a middle finger to the camera. “Hope the dump sucks."

je0ng1n: HEY je0ng1n: don’t even joke about that :(

An involuntary cackle precedes your next words. “If you’re actually wondering, though, the only person who’s brought me fruit while I’m playing video games is indeed my mother. Heartbreaking, I know.”

At this, the steady flow of messages morphs into a gallery of depressed cat emoticons; your audience never fails to impress you with their way with words.

“But if someone other than your disappointed parent is bringing you fruit,” you go on, “they might as well get on one knee in the process, honestly. That's such an adorable, loving thing to do.”

Suddenly, the words MATCH FOUND splash across your monitor, and you move your cursor to accept the game invite—only to be met with a pop-up window and a familiar error sound that grates on your ears like screeching tires.

You know how this story ends: the lights in your mouse go dark, and you look on in dejected silence.

je0ng1n: LMFAOOOOO je0ng1n: bro’s mouse definitely just exploded again

“You guessed it," you sigh. “Hang tight for a sec, guys."

Half an hour ago, you could’ve sworn you heard sneakers being kicked off, a set of keys falling against plastic. Now, you pull one side of your headphones off and roll your chair a few feet backward, calling through your half-open door: “Lix, are you home?”

You pick up on a soft clunk that sounds like metal hitting wood—the cutting board, maybe?—and then your housemate's low, accented answer bounces off the walls of your shared hallway.

“Yeah, you alright?”

“The mouse,” you say helplessly.

“Ah.” It’s not the first time you’ve summoned him for this. “Be right there.”

A few seconds later, you remember to tack on a hurried disclaimer: “I’m live, by the way!”

“I know.”

This brings a bashful smile to your face, though the expression quickly turns to one of pure dismay when you return to your desk and witness the disastrous state of your chat.

Felix has become a regular guest on your stream by now, always popping in to show you a TikTok or ask for your opinion on a new pair of jeans or simply give your camera an awkward wave—but he may as well own your channel with how completely and unequivocally he has captured the hearts of your viewers. They’re convinced he’s the sexiest person to ever grace the earth, with his chiseled features and coffee-colored eyes; with a grin that could set entire estates on fire and a voice that could scrape the nadir of the Grand Canyon.

Do you agree? Absolutely.

Do you have any intention of voicing this sentiment, so long as you’re splitting rent with him? Absolutely the hell not.

Another of Jeongin’s messages—GET ME HIS NUMBER OR I GET VIOLENT—inspires you to minimize the stream window before Felix gets here. It’s for the best.

A few moments later, the door opens, and the air shifts inside your room. A hand comes to rest on the top of your head; a familiar silhouette appears in your periphery. There is a fond grin plastered across your face and a bright greeting sitting readily on the tip of your tongue.

But then, Felix places a plate of freshly cut fruit in the empty space to the left of your keyboard—here, he hums, the sound falling against the shell of your ear like a drop of melted chocolate. And the gears of your brain grind to a complete stop.

There is no further acknowledgment; no supplementary explanation for what he's just done. He simply picks up your mouse and gets to work.

The words of your tweet swim dizzyingly before your eyes, not unlike those halos of stars and birds that revolve around disoriented cartoon characters. And you’re suddenly, achingly aware of your roommate's arm nudging against yours as he tinkers away; of the aromas of vanilla and laundry detergent that always come with his proximity; of the heat that’s risen to your face, and the plethora of questions that have surfaced to your mind.

A soft huff of laughter follows a gentle utterance of your name, and you snap out of your trance. Felix’s eyes are glinting with amusement when you meet them.

“It’s been recalibrated,” he says, handing back your mouse. “Just give it a few minutes.”

Your fingertips brush over his palm when you accept the object, and even this blink of contact has your heart performing an elaborate hopscotch routine across the plane of your chest.

It’s either your mom, or…

“Thank you,” you mumble, finally retrieving your larynx from the bottom of the Atlantic.

“Anytime,” Felix returns, and you know he means it. “You need a duo, by the way?"

“Yes, please.”

He gives you a warm smile at this, and there’s a hint of something else—something new—in the curve of his lips. “Give me two.” And he’s gone as quickly as he'd come.

You will never know how Felix slips his phone out of his pocket the second he emerges from your room, his pulse hounding his ears as he turns a nervous gaze upon his screen.

There is now a supersonic blur of messages saturating your chatroom, a colorful cacophony of moving emotes and capital letters, but he is focused wholly on the person in front of the camera and how you slowly lift a hand to your mouth, deathly silent despite your every viewer demanding your comment on the matter, your sanguine cheeks visible even through the gaps of your fingers.

That is all he needs to know.

Felix sinks into the leather of his gaming chair and bends to power on his computer. Only after a deep breath blows past his lips does his smile start to stretch into a grin, every bit as embarrassed as it is relieved.

je0ng1n: no way je0ng1n: no fucking way je0ng1n: my heart fluttered je0ng1n: wtf je0ng1n: how’d you pull HIM??

y/nxx has removed je0ng1n as a moderator of this channel.

𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸? please consider reblogging, commenting, or sending me an ask to let me know; or, read my other works here. thanks so much for the support ♡

© 𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗹𝗶𝘅 (est. 090323) · all works are pieces of original writing and all characters and relationships are purely fictional. please do not repost or reuse for any reason.

[cheri-translates]

[CN] Victor’s Business Exhibition Date

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a date, 企展之约, which has not been released in EN 🍒

[ This date was released on 16 July 2021 ]

After a meal on this weekend afternoon, I’m nestled on the sofa, watching a new episode of an anime.

MC: Hahahaha!

Watching the comical antics of the main character on-screen, I can’t help but laugh out loud.

“Whoosh--”

Hearing the rustling of papers from behind, I subconsciously shut my mouth, my line of sight flitting past the sofa and landing on Victor.

He’s sitting at the dining table, a look of concentration on his face while he reads a report. The small dining table is full of documents.

I had initially planned to watch movies with Victor at my place today. I didn’t expect him to be so bogged down with work lately, and unable to relax over the weekend.

MC: Victor, am I disturbing you? Why don’t you use the study room or my bedroom instead?

Without lifting his head, he props up the spectacles on the bridge of his nose.

Victor: Who was the one who wanted to “stick” together with me over the weekend?

MC: ...that’s true, but you’re focusing on work now.

He has no intention of continuing the conversation. Rubbing my nose guiltily, I head into the kitchen quietly. After cutting some fruits, I bring them over to the dining table.

MC: In that case, I’ll apologise to CEO Victor~

Sticking a toothpick into an apple slice, I bring it to him. He tilts his head up slightly, taking a bite from the apple in my hand.

From my peripheral vision, I spot an invitation card with the words “Elementary and Middle School Students” on it. Curious, I take a closer look.

MC: “Corporate Culture Exhibition for Elementary and Middle School Students”? Is LFG participating in the Corporate Culture Exhibition?

Victor: We received the invitation and haven’t decided if we’re participating.

MC: I see... I’ve never heard of this exhibition.

Victor: The government organised it this year. 

Victor: The officials said that it’s meant to introduce elementary and middle school students to outstanding occupations and various career paths to help them establish their aspirations.

MC: This exhibition seems pretty meaningful. It’s beneficial to LFG’s business image too.

MC: Come to think of it, I wonder if little kids have an understanding of LFG, and what kind of impression they have of LFG?

MC: Oh yes! There was a news report on elementary and middle schoolers going on company tours. Does LFG want to organise a similar activity?

Ideas come one after another in my mind. I rattle on about my opinions, but Victor doesn’t express anything.

When I start making an inventory of the company tour for students, the pen in his hand pauses, and he lifts his eyes slowly.

Victor: I can consider the exhibition, but not the company tour.

MC: Why not?

His deep eyes sweep over the anime on the television screen before landing on me.

Victor: There’s already one very noisy kid in LFG.

-

In the end, Victor accepts the invitation to the Corporate Culture Exhibition. The exhibition commences as scheduled.

Out of interest, I offer my services to Victor. I become a volunteer responsible for decorations at the venue.

Seeing the detailed and vivid posters introducing various occupations  in the exhibition hall, the LFG employees next to me are slightly awed.

LFG Employee A: It’s really nice that we have the chance to understand different occupations. When I was young, I thought there were only astronauts and scientists in the world.

LFG Employee B: Even if you only knew of those careers when you were young and decided on an aspiration, it might not become reality when you grow up. I wanted to be a dancer, but I’m doing something completely unrelated to the arts now.

LFG Employee A: That’s true. If it weren’t for the excellent pay in LFG, I’d probably be at my old home opening a second-hand bookshop and retiring early. Oh yes, MC, what did you want to do when you were young?

Getting pointed out suddenly while engrossed in their discussion causes me to be stunned momentarily.

MC: When I was young...

I blink, recalling somewhat faraway memories. Before I can ponder deeply, my phone rings - it’s a call from Victor.

Victor: Come to the café near the entrance of the exhibition hall.

MC: Now? What for?

Victor: ...what else can you do in a café? Play golf, amend proposals, go horse riding, drink coffee - which one do you think is the most suitable?

MC: ...to be honest, I can’t decide between the two options of “amend proposals” and “drink coffee”.

Victor: I ordered a custard cake. If you don’t come over, I’ll take it that you’re not interested.

MC: I’ll be there immediately!

After notifying those LFG employees, I turn around and head towards the café.

MC: Is this really okay? The others are still busy.

Victor: When did you have such a high sense of awareness? Who was the person who painstakingly learnt “Slacking Hacks” on the internet a few days ago?

MC: I was reading that for fun... I wasn’t planning to put it into practice.

Lifting my phone as I squeeze into the packed café, I notice that most of the people here are parents who are preparing to accompany their kids to the exhibition.

Victor: There’s still an hour till the exhibition begins. I’ve already told Goldman to inform everyone to take a break. In short, there’s no need to feel guilty, because...

Taking two steps into the café, I spot Victor at a glance as he sits at a table near the window calmly.

Seeing that I’m walking towards him, he puts down his phone gently, lifting his head to meet my eyes.

Victor: Aside from you, there’s another person who’s “slacking”.

Taken aback for a moment, I quickly react to the meaning in his words. My brows arch upwards as I take a seat.

MC: I didn’t expect to ever “slack” together with CEO Victor.

Elated, I pick up a fork and try a bite of the dessert in front of me. The custard melts in my mouth instantly, and it’s sweet and smooth.

MC: Delicious! As expected of CEO Victor’s pick~

Victor: Even delicious food can’t stop you from being talkative.

Right after saying this, he seems to stare at me fixedly, his expression slightly strange.

Just as I’m about to ask why he’s looking at me that way, he lifts up his coffee, his lowered eyelashes covering the smile in his eyes.

...am I overthinking things? Why do I feel as if he’s making a joke out of me?

Feeling puzzled, I notice a pen and a post-it booklet at the edge of the table.

MC: This is...?

A staff who is passing by takes a step forward, smiling as he explains.

Staff: This is a small event by our shop. You can write your hopes or suggestions for the children, then hang it on the “Hope Tree” near the door of the shop.

Struck with an idea, I pick up the pen and a post-it note.

MC: Victor, shall we write a few suggestions for the children too?

I tear a post-it note and give it to him. After staring at me in silence for a while, he suddenly reaches out his hand.

Victor: Give me one more.

MC: ?

MC: Does CEO Victor want to write a mini essay?

Ignoring my joke, he writes a sentence on each of the two post-it notes. He hands one to the staff, and stuffs the other one to me.

Bewildered, I sweep a glance at the post-it note given to the staff. The words “You only have one life” are written on it.

Lowering my head, I stare at the post-it note in my own hand. In an instant, I realise why he displayed such a strange smile earlier. There’s a short sentence written on the post-it note:

“Dummy, there’s custard on your cheek.”

??: Hello, could I trouble the two of you to help me with something?

My face reddens. After wiping the custard off my cheek with a tissue, I hear an unfamiliar female voice next to me.

Turning towards the sound, I see a lady standing beside me with two small boys.

Woman: I need to use the washroom, but bringing two boys with me isn’t really convenient. Could I trouble the both of you to take care of them for a while?

I ask for Victor’s opinion with my gaze, and he responds with a slight nod. Understanding this, I nod at the mother.

MC: Of course we can.

While thanking us, she gets the two children to sit at both ends of the table before hurrying off.

The table now comprises of the four of us - two adults and two children. The air gets filled with an inexplicable, thick awkwardness.

Victor looks at me. I look at the kids. The kids look at Victor... Clearing my throat, I decide to break this strange atmosphere.

MC: Kids, how old are the both of you?

Kid A: Mommy said that we can’t give personal information to strangers!

MC: ...

I didn’t expect to be given the cold shoulder the moment I opened my mouth. I release an embarrassed laugh.

MC: Personal information... You can use such advanced terms. You’re so smart haha.

A soft and low chuckle drifts to my ears. I glance at Victor as he picks up his coffee with a blank expression, staying uninvolved in the matter.

The other boy suddenly widens his eyes and leans towards me, pointing at my volunteer name tag and reading it aloud.

Kid B: L! F! G! Do you two work in LFG?

MC: Well...

I ponder over this. LFG is the investor of my company, and Victor is the CEO of LFG. So...

MC: I guess so.

Kid B: In that case, what are the two of you doing here? Did you sneak away?

MC: ...

Although these are unintentional words from a child, I avert my eyes guiltily. At this point, the kid who behaves like an adult speaks loudly.

Kid A: That’s impossible! Mommy said that everyone who works at LFG are really incredible people! They won’t sneak away!

Victor: Cough...

Victor pauses his sampling of the coffee. As though he choked on something, he clears his throat.

Kid B: Really?

The kid blinks his eyes as he waits for our response.

Victor’s expression is a little unnatural. He picks up a newspaper from a rack near the window, immersing himself in it.

Seeing him like this, he probably recalled the earlier conversation we had on “slacking” as well.

It’s rare to see Victor being choked up by someone. A little demon with horns suddenly appears in my heart.

I can’t help but laugh inwardly while turning to the kids.

MC: You’re correct. The employees from LFG never sneak away. We were talking about work-

MC: Right, Vic?

[Note] In CN, MC calls Victor “小李” (“xiao li”, which translates directly to Little Li).

Saying this, I wink at the person opposite me.

Victor arches his brows, astonishment in his eyes. Without waiting for him to speak, I immediately do a “stop” gesture with my hands.

MC: The previous proposal for the show is too conservative. There aren’t any highlights, and it isn’t clear who the target audience is. It might be a waste to show it during prime time.

Adjusting my posture, I clasp my fingers on the table, mimicking VIctor’s tone and expression.

MC: When will you be submitting the new proposal? Tomorrow is the deadline.

Kid A and B: Wow...

Awed gasps from the kids drift to my ears. I straighten up with pride, tilting my chin towards Victor.

He stares at me with a calm gaze, his eyes gradually illuminated with an unreadable, dense light.

He lowers the newspaper slightly, blowing the coffee in his hand gently and unhurriedly.

Victor: Are you sure these are the only problems, Miss CEO? 

Victor: I've also “reflected” much on that proposal, and there are some problems I haven’t had the chance to tell you about. 

Victor: Since you brought it up, I have no choice but to do a “self-reflection” here.

Victor’s tone is composed, and there isn’t a ripple in his expression. As compared to my pretentious posture, he’s laid-back and natural.

Victor: The theme of the show is too general and lacks a segment which stirs the audience. 

Victor: The structure also has the shadow of previous shows. A change in form but not substance - it’s a little unoriginal. 

Victor: A scandal broke out yesterday involving one of the guests for the show. A replacement guest has not been decided upon.

Victor: Also...

MC: Stop! I... I get it!

He leans against the back of the chair, a teasing glint in the depths of his eyes.

Victor: When will you be submitting the new proposal? Tomorrow is the deadline.

MC Tonight, tonight! I’ll definitely submit it tonight!

I reply instantly, my voice carrying with it some alarm. The corners of his lips hook upwards, and he retracts his “overbearing” aura.

Victor: I’ll wait and see.

I heave a sigh of relief, then feel a dryness in my mouth. Lowering my head to take a sip of coffee, I see the disappointed gazes of the two kids.

My cheeks flush. Just as I’m about to say something to salvage some pride, their mother returns, thanking us while taking them away.

I glare at Victor indignantly. He chuckles softly, then clasps his fingers together on the table just like I did earlier.

Victor: I look forward to your next “challenge”.

-

After the exhibition ends, Victor and I leave work early.

The weather is really nice today. We pick a restaurant nearby, planning to head there on foot.

Dusk hangs low, and a misty pink evening mist smudges the sky.

Perhaps due to how smoothly the exhibition went, little emotions surface in my heart. 

Beneath this beautiful sky, how many young aspirations and lives took flight earlier?

Victor: Why are you just standing there in a silly daze? Aren’t you hungry?

Retracting my thoughts, I see that Victor has stopped in front of me, his body turned to the side as he looks at me.

I hurriedly catch up to him, pulling on his arm.

MC: Victor, why did you write “You only have one life” on the post-it note today?

Victor: It’s true that you only have one life. Even an elementary student knows this principle.

MC: ...that’s not what I meant. I’m asking about what’s implied in it. For instance, are you asking the kids to seize the day and work their hardest?

His gaze lands on me. Seeing how serious I look, he slows down his pace slightly.

Victor: If you were to meet your childhood self, would you tell her to work her hardest?

MC: Mm... it’s difficult to say. I might tell her what to do in order for the current me to be even happier?

Victor: And that the reason why you can’t use an overly objective and rational principle to teach others. 

Victor: It’s a desirable trait to work their hardest so that there won't be any excuses to stop in their footsteps. 

Victor: But this doesn’t mean that everyone must have the goal of working their hardest.

Victor: After all, every person expects different things from themselves. 

Victor: Not everyone wants to stand at the peak. 

Victor: As compared to looking down from a mountaintop, there are some people who wish to happily and simply appreciate the scenery along the way. 

Victor: This might sound simple, but being an ordinary person isn’t easy.

Victor: “You only have one life” - this phrase has many meanings in different contexts.

I’m stunned for a moment. I initially thought that Victor’s words were meant to be a motivational quote, and didn’t expect for him to have such thoughts.

Even when he’s faced with young children, he doesn’t wish to give a fixed answer on the basis that he’s a mature adult.

My lips curl upwards, and I can’t help but stick a little closer to him.

MC: You’re right. After all, aside from people who stand at the peak, there are even more ordinary people.

MC: Ordinary people have one life too. They need to cherish it properly, and do what they want to do.

MC: CEO Victor, I’ve learnt something from you!

Clasping my hands together, I bow in mock seriousness. An almost indiscernible smile lifts the corners of his lips.

MC: Come to think of it, I had so many aspirations when I was young. Lawyer, teacher, police officer, judge... I didn’t expect to become a producer in the end. Perhaps in a parallel universe, there’s a me who became a lawyer, teacher or judge!

The scene from the café flashes across my mind, and I burst into laughter.

MC: I might even be a CEO! What do you think?

After I say this, Victor turns his head and gives me an amused glance.

Victor: I think you do behave like a CEO.

MC: It’s because I’ve been influenced after spending such a long time by your side~ Returning to the topic - what was your aspiration when you were young? To become a powerful business tycoon?

Victor: ...have you ever heard of a child having such a pragmatic dream?

MC: In that case, tell me about it?

He doesn’t respond, and simply keeps his eyes faced front. No matter how much I probe, he doesn’t speak.

The sweet fragrance of desserts wafts into my nose. Following the scent and turning to the bakery near the roadside, I’m struck with an idea.

Since I can’t crack this difficult question in a straightforward manner, I decide to adopt the process of elimination.

MC: A baker?

Victor: ...

A signboard with the words “Watchmaker Shop” enters my vision, and I immediately look at him.

MC: A watchmaker?

MC: The boss of a lottery shop?

MC: ...director of a zoo?

Throughout the journey, I rack my brain and ask him about all sorts of occupations. However, it’s clear that none of them are correct.

Finally, we stop in front of a crosswalk, waiting for the red light.

Looks like I won’t be able to get any answers from him today. Disappointed, I let go of Victor’s arm, releasing a soft “hmph”.

MC: Aren’t you curious if there was a choice and you weren’t the CEO of LFG, and if I weren’t a producer...

MC: What would our identities be? Would we meet? And what kind of a relationship would we have?

The red man at the other end of the road suddenly turns green, signalling for us to move forward.

My hand, which had drooped to the side, is lifted up gently by someone. His broad palm conveys a comforting temperature.

Victor: There’s nothing to be curious about.

The crowd flows past in an endless stream on the crosswalk. Their footsteps are hurried, and the tips of their feet point in different directions.

I look at the person beside me. His gaze is resolute as he holds my hand, taking large strides towards the restless crowd.

He seems to sense my gaze. Lowering his head slightly, the light in his eyes is deep and scorching.

Victor: The life that I want to choose most is already in my hand.

-

[ MOMENTS ]

Victor's Post: Turns out someone could still go to work normally after staying up to watch anime last night.

MC: Could we cancel tonight’s reservation at the restaurant? I really want to go straight home to sleep...

Victor: Eating is a necessity. The location will be changed to your home.

-

Victor's Post: Turns out someone could still go to work normally after staying up to watch anime last night.

MC: As long as I’m hardworking enough, nothing’s impossible!

Victor: Working hard to make yourself even more stupid?

-

Victor's Post: Turns out someone could still go to work normally after staying up to watch anime last night.

MC: I solemnly vow not to do such things again.

Victor: This vow better count before you start on the next anime.

🍰 Call: here

[givemethatgold]

Fix’er Upper Pt. 3

Pairing: Eventual Frankie Morales x F!Reader Warnings: Clumsy injury, more stupid fighting Length: 2.5k Notes: If these two dummies could have one (1) adult conversation they’d be in bed together by now. Instead, we get this! *waves around vaguely*

PART ONE, TWO

Money was tight. You had been trying to ignore the dwindling stack of cash, telling yourself that you didn’t actually need to fix the cracked drywall, replace the old oven, or fill in the missing patches of shingles. 

That ignorance had finally come to bite you in the butt. You were rudely woken at three a.m. to the clap of thunder and the pat-pat-pat of rain hitting the house. You loved storms, the excitement of the lighting, and how fresh the air smelled once the rain had passed. 

You rolled over onto your back so you could watch the lightning flashing between the cracks of your curtains. A tap on your forehead quickly destroyed the excitement you were feeling. The wet ‘splat’ was quickly followed by another, and another, and before you were able to scramble up and search for the closest thing resembling a bucket, it had turned into a steady stream.

“Fuuuuuuuck!”

The next morning, the sun rose and shed its light upon a beautiful scene. The leaves, now free from dust, were beginning to turn, the grass glimmered with raindrops, and the sky was clear. You, on the other hand, were a verifiable disaster. 

Hair unkempt, heavy bags under your eyes, and wearing the first items of clothing you could find in your scramble last night. Your exhaustion was so complete, it hadn’t even dawned on you to change or freshen up a bit before going out into the public eye. All you could focus on was getting to Hank’s Hardware and buying all the shingles you could get your hands on.

Once again, however, you were harshly reminded of your dwindling savings and just how expensive fixing up a house could be. The owner, Allan if you remembered correctly, had shown you the right size and style for your home’s roof and you nearly choked at the price.

“You know,” he had said gently, “we do have the option of a payment plan. I don’t let just anyone use it either. It’s for trusted customers. I have a good gut on who I can trust.”

“Really?” You asked, feeling a little pathetic while also knowing now was not the time to let pride ruin such a good thing. “And, um, what does your gut tell you about me?”

“Welllll,” he smiled, hooking his thumbs into his suspenders and leaning back a little to size you up. “You’re hard-working, feel like you have something to prove, won’t back down from a challenge, and are in way over your head with that damn old house.”

“Oh.”

“No offense, ma’am! Sometimes I forget myself and talk to strangers the same way I’d talk to my friends.” He patted your forearm gently then hooked it back into his suspenders, pretending he didn’t notice you jumping at the physical contact. “But it’s true. No denying you won’t be able to shingle all by yourself. I’d offer, but I’m in no shape to be climbing up roofs.”

“That’s very sweet of you, truly. But I’ll manage! I doubt I could afford a handyman, so it’ll be me and my stubborn self scrambling around up there.” You joked, but it fell a little flat since the both of you knew it was the truth.

“I’ve got an idea...” Hank trailed off, his gaze searching around by the till. “Maybe you two can help each other out?” He fiddled at the computer for a minute, then grabbed a flyer from the corkboard mounted behind the counter before handing you two pieces of paper. One was a receipt of what you owed him after this latest excursion and a detailed timeline of when small payments could be made. 

Glancing up at him, you gave him a watery smile and thanked him for being so kind. Allan waved you off and pointed to the second paper.

‘Help Wanted’ it read, ‘Morales Acres. Light physical labour, quiet environment, rate of pay dependent on quality of work.’

“So friendly and welcoming,” you murmured, sarcastically, under your breath. Not quietly enough though because Allan snorted out a laugh and agreed that the ad was worded very abruptly. However, he vetted for the owner of the farm and suggested you head over to see if he would be willing to trade labour for labour.

Or at the very least, you thought, pay you so you can afford a roofer.

Following the directions Allan had provided for you, you quickly found Morales Acres. Surprisingly, it was a very short distance from your own home, making you wonder if the owner had been one of the people to drop by during your first weeks here.

The driveway was a beautiful, winding drive. The view of the farm was obscured by thickets of trees on either side of the road but you managed to catch glimpses of a pond and a few bales of hay before rounding a bend and driving into the yard.

A small gasp left your lips at the sight. It was picturesque! Something out of a travel magazine, or on every city girl’s Pinterest board. The driveway came to an end in front of a statuesque barn painted in the classic red and white, stone walls cordoned off certain areas that, from where you sat, looked like they could be used to house sheep or hens. A few small sheds were lined up along the other edge of the yard but the main attraction was the neatly lined rows of apple trees all heavy with fruit.

Climbing out of the cab, you slowly made your way into the yard with your mouth hanging open dumbly. It was just so peaceful here and it was obvious that the owner cared deeply for the property. You were enchanted and fell immediately in love.

“You must be the help Allan called to say he was sending over,” a warm voice rang out.

Looking around for the source your gaze widened, then immediately hardened, when you caught sight of who was talking to you.

“You!”

“You?!”

To say it had been a smooth business agreement would be a total lie. You and Market Asshole, Frankie you reminded yourself to call him, had bickered back and forth for the better part of an hour before shaking hands. Surprisingly, you had both argued more for the other person’s benefit, something you had been mulling over since.

If this guy was such an ass, why was he also acting like his help with your renovations wouldn’t be worth as much as you picking apples? You knew your presence disturbed his peace, and that you weren’t as strong as he might have hoped his helper would be, and he still hadn’t trusted you with all the workings of his orchard. 

So, while you weren’t going to argue anymore, you knew you were getting the better end of the deal: you help him gather his harvest and get it safely stored in the barn, then he spends the same amount of hours helping you. While the weather during September was prone to drizzle, you had convinced him that a tarp thrown over the baldest patches of roof would be fine and that the apples couldn’t wait. 

He had grumpily conceded your point but had sworn that as soon as the last of the fruit was picked he’d be over to do a proper job of it. So continued the uneasy truce between the two of you for the past four weeks. The first week was the hardest as your hands, unaccustomed to work, blistered, and your muscles ached from sudden use. You had initially tried to pass the time by making conversation but you got the hint and stayed quiet once Frankie started choosing trees farther and farther from yours.

Slowly, however, the blisters healed and gave way to callouses. Your muscles became accustomed to the work and you were able to carry twice the amount as you had started off with. Your home could now boast electricity and running water everywhere it should be, and the pile of discarded furniture had been reduced to ash by a spectacular bonfire which Jacquie and her family had joined you in admiring.

Today started off as a normal day. You showed up for harvesting at the break of dawn, having discovered you much preferred the cool morning air over being up on a ladder with the midday sun beating down on you. The trees were obscured by a low fog that had yet to burn up, but you knew what section you needed to start on. 

Enjoying the way the fog enveloped you, making you feel like you were in a magical world, you began to hum and your steps took on a dreamy dance-like quality. You had never taken lessons or had even been allowed to make such a spectacle of yourself while living with Brad but now you felt free enough to spin, twirl, and glide. Overcome with the joy your freedom gave you, you began to belt out “These Are a Few of my Favourite Things”, The Sound of Music having been played on repeat when you were a child. 

Once you reached the ladder, you hoisted the basket onto your back and continued to sing whatever songs you could remember while you worked. A particularly boisterous rendition of “Do Re Mi” had you flinging your arm out wide and leaning back on the ladder for a dramatic finish.

The apples threw you off balance. 

With a screech, you fell backward, managing to twist yourself around to land awkwardly on your hands and knees instead of on the basket of apples strapped to your back. You seemed to have come away unscathed, with just scratched knees and a throbbing in one wrist. Thankfully it wasn’t your dominant hand.

“Whoa!” Frankie called out, catching sight of you on the ground with the ladder tipped on its side, “Everything okay? Are you okay?”

Coming to a skidding stop next to you, he grasped the basket and slipped it off your back with ease. 

You took a few deep breaths and nodded. “Fine! Fine, just bruised knees and ego...” you assured him.

“What were you thinking?!” He tore into you, “You could have broken your neck! Or ruined a whole barrel of apples! Then what would I do?! This job doesn’t come with health insurance for Christ's sakes!” Running his hands through his curly, brown hair he let out a huff of air and walked over to where your ladder lay on the ground.

“Un-be-fucking-lievable!” You called out, incredulously. While trying to get to your feet, to march over and wag your finger in his face, you put too much pressure on your injured wrist that caused pain to scream down your arm.

You managed to mask the cry of pain as a cry of frustration and got to your feet. Surreptitiously cradling your hand against your chest, you grabbed another basket and walked past Frankie to start climbing the ladder again. Looking at the ground so he wouldn’t see the tears of pain in your eyes, you mumbled, “I’ll be more careful, alright? I’m sorry.”

Stopping your ascent with a hand on your arm he stuttered out what might have been the beginning of an apology but he couldn’t quite seem to put the right words together so he just cleared his throat.

“Just...” he said in a much softer tone, “just be more careful. Okay? I can’t lose my best worker.” 

The lame joke made you smile despite yourself. 

“Employee of the month,” you replied in a dry tone, “hurrah.” 

You shared wry smiles while a silent apology passed between the two of you. His dark brown eyes held a warmth to them you had never noticed before. Their hue reminding you of every tree in the orchard from the early light to the sunset, golden flecks reminiscent of the sun. His face, weathered from so much time spent outdoors, was marked with laugh lines, worry lines, and a small scar gracing his left cheek. 

Your eyes wandered past the scar to note how long his scruffy facial hair had grown and how it had started to obscure those pleasantly pouty lips. 

Then, with a start, you realized you were staring at this infuriating man’s lips like a hormonal teenager. With an embarrassed squeak, you quickly scurried up the ladder, hooking your elbow around each rung to avoid any more pressure on your wrist.

To say Frankie was coping well with having someone around would be a gross overstatement. 

It’s not that he didn’t like the company or wanted to be alone. The problem was that he was starting to like her company too much, to care too much. And caring too much had been the root cause of all Frankie’s sorrows.

First, there had been his Dad, trying to impress the man who never even wanted kids. Then the force, always feeling like he needed to prove himself and desperate for praise. After that was his wife, ex-wife, and trying to be someone he wasn’t so she would stay interested and in love. The pressure created by caring about these people and the expectations they had for him drove him to abuse drugs. Then his friends came calling and Frankie went against his gut because they had cared so deeply about something and he had cared deeply for them.

His wife, his kid, his family, his job, his friends. He had cared more than they did and he had come away worse off. At least now he was clean and sober, and was very aware of the irony of him now making and selling an alcoholic drink.

No, it was best to stay alone. He loved too freely and put too much stock in being loved back and every. single. time. it hurt him.

So, he closed himself off from you. Initially, he didn’t think it was going to be an issue, especially considering how you two had met. But then he found himself smiling at your stories, idly leaning against a branch so he could watch your graceful moments. He hated watching you leave, knowing you were going home to that piece of shit house that he should really be fixing up for you.

He recognized the signs and nipped them in the bud; working farther away, replying to questions with the fewest possible words, focusing purely on work, and maintaining a professional relationship. It pained him to push you away but deep down he knew it was best for the both of you.

Which brings him back to this moment.

Frankie was too stunned to notice your awkward climb up the ladder. Standing there, dumbly, for another few seconds. Wondering, all the way back to the idling tractor, what the hell had just happened.

One minute he was just driving the tractor minding his own business and the next he was having a mild heart attack after seeing his only worker laying limp on the ground. Then, after arguing like usual, you had shared a...a moment and stared at his mouth almost long enough to tempt him to use it.

Part Four

If you’d like to be tagged please send an ask!

@rebelliouscat @pedro4ever @speakerforthedead0 @yespolkadotkitty @ilikechocolatemilkh @weirdowithnobeardo @pedro-pastel @disgruntledspacedad @a-skov @trash-dino-5000 @reader-s-cantina

[umbravitium]

"Ass grabbing, biting, scratching spanking is a-ok," He says counting with his fingers.

"And don't get me wrong I sometimes dabble on butt play when I'm with men," he clarifies "but it's the low-hanging fruit for me, why settle for it when I have such a beautiful companion and so many other options to choose from at this time, so if it ever tickles your fancy to make me the receiver of your affections, we can negotiate in advance --- but I'm talking too much again, sorry." he recognized as soon as she grabbed his length.

"We can definitely finish the task at hand" he jokes "Then go for a ride a bit later, that should wrap up the day's activities nicely." He proposed but he was already moving his hips slowly, stubbornly slowly.

He looks at her with a playful, daring smirk. He's lost some of the steam she had built up as is normal and expected since they paused, he wonders, just how quickly can they pick up the pace again?

This will be a team effort, "I still don't know if you need a warning dearie" he reminds her, and ultimately if she doesn't answer, he figures, she does not care for one.

She lowered her eyes, suddenly a little bashful. The way he sounded so enthusiastic about kissing her, why did that.. why did that make her feel a little fluttery in the chest?

It has to be his voice! Something about it is wrong and she needs to work harder to make his throat capable of only moans and half syllables.

But she refrains. For a small moment. "Without hesitation." She answered honestly. And yeah, her heart was racing at the thought. She swallowed forecfully and was almost thankful of the distraction, turning to watch him pull her hand away, "Oh. Okay. So no butt play but also no ass grabbing at all...?"

She wanted to be very clear on what he wanted. They'd gone fast. Hot heavy and not so many words. It was reassuring to have this little dialogue.

"No. That's okay. I like it sometimes but only when.. other things.." She shifted her eyes to side glance at him, a little smirk on her reddened lips, "are happening also." Hel put a little more weight down on his hand, "Things that I don't want to distract me from you."

She meets his kiss with the same eager enthusiasm. A little bit of doting in her eyes as she watches him drag her lip between his teeth. She slowly shook her head as she leaned her head back a little and tucked some of her hair behind her ear.

"I want to..." She shifted back taking his wet length in her hand again, "finish what I started."

[writingwithcolor]

I have a question about one of my characters in something I’m writing. My characters name is Hai Chen the story takes place in England so all of the characters speak English. She meets one of the characters and introduces herself as Hai, I’m planning to put some dialogue like this. Character A: who are you? Hai: hai. A: yes, hello, but what’s your name? Ect. It’s meant to be a comedic scene but I’m not sure if this is okay.

Character named Hai Chen, making joke off her name

I mean, it’s kind of silly and reaching for low-hanging fruit (why wouldn’t Hai say “I’m Hai” or something like that), and also making fun of names. What does everyone else think?

–Mod Jess

Agreed. From this, I’m getting that the character’s only named Hai because “Haha that’s funny because in sounds funny in English!! xD”

Also, considering that Hai is a Vietnamese first name, I would expect a Vietnamese character to have their surname spelled with Vietnamese’s romanization- Tran, not Chen (Mandarin’s romanization of the name).

If you were going for a Vietnamese character, I would suggest changing the spelling to Tran however I’m sure that mixed Chinese/Vietnamese people could have their name spelled as such.

Even Vietnamese people influenced by Mandarin-speaking countries could have their name spelled with Mandarin’s romanization- I guess it depends on whether or not the character is Vietnamese.

TLDR: Please don’t make a joke out of a character named “Hai Chen”. The name itself isn’t bad, but using it as a cheap attempt at comedy is insulting. :)

~ Mod Em

Commentary

@trishmishtree Hai can also be a Chinese first name because literally any word can be a Chinese first name. But then it’s doubly silly because Hai’s parents would have named her Ocean

@magnetofanboy Also, 99% of the time, if you can make a joke about someone’s name, they’ve heard it before. Think about how it would feel if you had a name that people thought was funny and random people you met would make the same joke over and over. This applies for anyone, not just poc, but it affects poc disproportionately. It’s not an awful joke but I don’t think that anyone of color would find it funny.

@kristos-nikos My last name is Cox and throughout my youth, I got asked if my middle name was Sucks. Hilarious, right? Making fun of names in any context is some boring ass unnecessary shit.

@tomatobookworm Hai could be a Chinese given name, but the most likely option 海 (sea) is not an usual name for a woman. Why did the parents name her that? Was she born near the sea? Were the parents first generation and have to cross the sea to the new country? If there’s no back story, it would feel like the author just picked a random sound in naming the character.

@volleyness My brother’s name was 鹤(he) and he got made fun of in school because of how it was pronounced in English. He found it so annoying he gave himself an English name so people would stop making jokes with his name. I think that if the character is constantly having their name be the butt of a joke, they may find it more annoying than not so it wouldn’t really be funny for the 100th time.

@enchantrash-files unless op wants the character making the joke to be disliked by the reader, this aint a good idea. it’s insensitive asf

@teashadephoenix Speaking *completely* from my white perspective, I knew a Vietnamese man named Hai and he made this joke occasionally (“Hi, Im Hai”) when introducing himself, but I got the sense that he did it BEFORE ignorant white folks could. 0/10 would not use this gag

[tommodirection]

Can you write one where you surprise Niall on tour? like its Niall's birthday and yn said he couldn't come bc of work you can do whatever you want at the end maybe put a smut 💗

Heylo! Thank you for sending in a request! Sorry this took so long! I hope you enjoy! Also, I don’t write smut, so it’s more implied at the end!☺️

Surprise

Niall Horan x Reader

Warnings: swearing, innuendos, spelling errors, brief mention of coffee addiction

Word Count: 2.1k

Masterlist

—

“Niall, I’m so sorry I can’t make it,” you apologized over the phone, probably for the thousandth time in the past week.

“Love, listen, it’s okay, you have to work, I understand, it’s not your fault,” Niall reassured you.

“I just feel really bad, I mean, it’s your birthday! What kind of girlfriend doesn’t make it to her boyfriend’s birthday?” You asked, clearly panicked.

“A girlfriend whose boyfriend has an abnormal job that requires him to travel around the world,” he said and you groaned. “Love it isn’t your fault, we can still FaceTime after the show, we’ll spend all night together then,” you heard the smile in his voice.

“I guess you’re right,” you sighed. “But I’d much rather just be there with you,” you bit your lip.

“Me too, but it’ll be okay, we can just celebrate when I come home, it’ll only be a few months late,” he joked and you giggled.

There was a knock on your bedroom, it opened a little to reveal Hailey, your friend.

“Listen, I have to go, but I’ll definitely call you tonight, okay bubs?” You asked, trying to hurry.

“Alright, love you,” he sang through the phone and you bit back another giggle.

“Love you,” you said, quickly hanging up and setting your phone down.

“You ready to go?” Hailey asked, a suitcase in her hand.

The truth was, you weren’t really going to miss Niall’s show. It was meant to be a surprise. You were going to fly down the night before his birthday, and then you were going to surprise him on stage, sounds simple enough to plan, right?

Not when your boyfriend’s show was in London, and you were in your shared LA apartment. Not when it was a ten hour flight.

It took off at 8 am in LA, so you’d arrive at 6 pm, LA time, but 4 am London time, so you’d basically have major jet lag and you’d get little to no sleep, but it was fine.

You grabbed your bag from under the bed, where there was no chance Niall could’ve seen it.

You popped up, grabbing your phone and carry-on bag.

Hailey practically shoved you into the car and hit the gas before your door was even closed.

You glanced at the clock, it was only 6:45, you had plenty of time.

“Hailey, why are you in such a rush?” You asked, shoving your bag in the backseat. You buckled your seatbelt and she huffed.

“This is why I’m hurrying,” she grumbled and gestured to the road. LA traffic.

Sometimes you forgot you lived in one of the busiest cities in the world, and not a small suburban area where there was rarely any traffic.

LAX was only a ten minute drive from your house, but the traffic tripled the time, you got there thirty minutes later, both of you running to the security check-in.

After clearing security, Hailey dragged you to the gate, clearly agitated. She stopped in front of the gate, seeing you had fifteen minutes left to board. She mumbled something under her breath and threw herself down in a chair.

You sat next to her, hesitant to touch her, but you still placed your hand on her arm. “H, are you okay? What’s going on?” You asked, keeping your voice low.

She looked away, clearly embarrassed. You tried to catch her eye but she kept looking away.

“Hailey,” you demanded, and she finally looked at you.

“I haven’t had my coffee this morning,” she admitted. You chuckled and stood up.

“That is definitely something we can fix.”

About fifteen minutes later, you were on the flight. Ten hours after that, you landed in London.

You and Hailey treaded into the hotel, both exhausted. Hailey could never sleep after drinking her coffee, so she didn’t sleep. You didn’t sleep because you were still a bundle of nerves.

It was mostly irrational fears, just little things that didn’t make sense, but still made you bite your nails. Your head was mostly just filled up with thoughts of him not wanting you there, but you knew Niall, and you knew he wasn’t going to be upset.

You and Hailey decided to book one room, you’d share with her tonight, and stay with Niall the rest of the time, she claimed you needed time alone, something you agreed with.

You settled into the bed, burying your head in the pillow. Excitement overwhelmed you, but your body was too tired to respond, so about three minutes later, you were out.

—

You woke up about four hours later, much more sleep than you thought you’d get.

Hailey was already up, sitting on her bed with a plate of food, her cup of coffee on the nightstand. She looked over at you, smiling when she saw you processing the surroundings.

“I got you breakfast,” she said, leaning over and grabbing another plate from the other side of the nightstand.

You groggily thanked her and began eating, the burnt toast leaving a bitter taste in your mouth, “Did you purposely burn the toast?” You asked.

She let out a low chuckle, “No, a little girl, a little toddler, insisted on making the toast, and I didn’t want to break her heart. Just eat the fruit when you’re done, it’ll cancel out the taste,” she suggested, and you squinted at her.

You didn’t think that was accurate, but you shrugged it off.

While you ate your burnt toast and bittersweet fruit, Hailey explained the itinerary for the day. First, you’d order lunch, and eat in the hotel room. Then, you’d stay in the hotel room until around five, then you’d drive to the stadium, Niall’s show started at five thirty.

You had to remain in the hotel room so your surprise wouldn’t be ruined. Dating a celebrity, meant you became a celebrity. You couldn’t go out in public without being recognized, so if someone had seen you, and posted it, word would’ve gotten to Niall that you were in London.

The day was pretty boring, Hailey ordered Nando’s, claiming she’d never had it before. You watched a few old rom coms on the cable television in your room, there weren’t many options.

Around four thirty, Hailey began getting you ready for Niall’s show.

You had chosen the look, and she was there to help you complete it. She had allowed you to get dressed in your own (thankfully) and even let you put on your mascara.

Instead of a fancy dress, you decided to wear a nice pleated short-skirt, a plaid black and white one. You’d chosen a red turtleneck, knowing Niall loved that color on you.

You stepped out of the bathroom, quickly taking a seat in front of Hailey. She grabbed her makeup bag and got to work.

You had told her to go light, it was Niall’s birthday, not a wedding, but Hailey liked to over exaggerate things a bit.

She had already put on the basics, including a perfect Smokey eye, something you still couldn’t accomplish. She had chosen a bright shade of red lipstick, one that matched your sweater perfectly.

After about six different styles, she decided to put your hair half up, curling it towards the ends.

You were surprisingly patient through the whole thing, humming and nodding when she spoke about nonsense at work, trying to hold still as much as possible.

She stepped away, a satisfied smile on her face. You stood up, and gave her a little twirl. She tapped her finger against her chin as if she was thinking.

“You know who you remind me of?” She asked, and you shook your head. “Heather Chandler,” she said confidently.

You have a confident smile, placing your hand on your hip. “Listen, if I look like the sexiest woman alive, I am completely okay with that,” you shot back and Hailey giggled.

She glanced down at her watch, her eyes going wide. “Shit! It’s 4:55! We were supposed to be on the road at 4:45!” She exclaimed, gripping your arm tightly. “Grab your shoes! Put them on in the rental!” She ordered, and you scurried to do what she said.

You both ran to the car, and you climbed in, not even getting buckled before she pulled onto the street. You looked around the car, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“When did you have time to pick up a rental car?” You asked, looking at her profile.

“I woke up two hours before you did, grabbed some good coffee from a café down the street, and ran back to the hotel. My cup ran out, so I grabbed a shitty hotel cup. That’s when I grabbed breakfast,” she explained and you nodded, then realizing what she had meant.

“You only got two hours of sleep last night?” You asked and she shrugged.

“Eh, I’m fine, just a little tired, but one more cup will help with that,” she said, and you shook your head firmly.

“Hailey, no, when we get there, I’m making you take a nap, and don’t even try to argue with me!” You ordered, pointing a finger at her.

She gave you a fake pout, then an exaggerated sigh, “Fine.”

You thanked her, and waited while she drove there, turning on her playlist. A few One Direction songs came on, ones she claimed she didn’t know how they got on that playlist, but you loved it.

About fifteen minutes later, you pulled up near the back of the arena. Hailey parked the car, shutting the engine off. She turned to you, “Got your ID?”

You nodded, pulling it out of your purse to show her. She stepped out of the car, you followed shortly after.

It was weird, having her take the lead, you were the one who planned it, but she did a much better job of running it, she was in charge of executing it.

You both made your way to the gates, ringing a buzzer. The man requested to see your IDs, and let you in after clearing you.

Niall’s manager ran up to you, giving you a quick hug before instructing you where to go. You told them what you had told Hailey, and you made sure someone was making sure she slept.

You stepped onto the platform, waiting for your cue. Niall was performing right now. It was a small show, so he didn’t bother with any openers, giving them a paid night off.

He was talking to the crowd now, meaning you were about to be lifted up. Your palms began to sweat, so you resorted to wiping them on your skirt.

“Thank all of you so much for coming out tonight! As many of you know, today’s my birthday, and it means the world to be celebrating it with you all!” He shouted into the mic.

You adjusted your mic, clipped to your collar, and braced yourself when the platform rose.

Niall and everyone else must’ve noticed, because he went silent, the crowd roaring in confusion.

The smoke cleared to reveal you, an extra effect Niall’s manager insisted on having.

“Speaking of who you get to spend your birthday with,” you said, smiling at Niall.

His jaw dropped, and he stood frozen for a few seconds. The audience was cheering, screaming and you swear you heard someone in the first few rows crying.

Niall nearly dropped his guitar, deciding to gently set it on the ground instead. He ran over to you, immediately sweeping you up and spinning you around.

He set you down and pulled you into a tight hug, burying his face in your neck. “You actually came,” he said, and you nodded.

“Of course, I can’t leave you all alone on your birthday,” you bit your lip, pressing a quick kiss to the top of his head. “Happy birthday, bubs,” you placed your hand on his cheek, and he leaned into it, beaming at you.

“I love you,” he whispered, and you smiled back at him, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

“I love you too,” this caused the crowd to let out a collective ‘aw��, making both of you blush. You gently massaged his scalp, pulling away from his embrace. “I’m going to go backstage now, you finish this concert strong, I’ll be waiting,” you had taken off your mic, and whispered the last part in his ear.

He grabbed your arm and pulled you back to him, “Don’t you dare start without me,” he growled and you smirked, pulling away.

“Maybe I will, maybe I won’t,” you bit your lip and he let out a small groan, “I’ll see you backstage,” you sent him a wink, making your way back to your platform, where you were lowered back down.

You were in for quiet the hell of a night.

———

Permanent Taglist: @everything-is-alrightt

(Lemme know if you want to be added!)

[astrovian]

the official ranking of RA photoshoot outfits (pt. 1)

as @dykethorin​ said when I first proposed doing this particular ranking,  “Some real Decisions™️ were made” with these shoots y’all

all photoshoot outfits (for part one) under the cut

the official ranking of Daniel Miller outfits here

the official ranking of Adam Price outfits here

the official ranking of Claude Becker outfits here

guys, I’m crying with laughter

hey quick question: what the fuck was this photoshoot??? (and also I need current RA in these poses)

it’s real nice to see a fun, loosey-goosey RA (before he established himself in the broody-character archetype) but there are so many questionable fashion choices here

when I started this list I had two options:

1)     allow some leeway to the older photoshoots because, let’s be real, the early 2000s were an atrocious time for fashion that a lot of us would most rather forget we participated in

2)     judge them by today’s standards, which is harsh but some of these outfits deserve it

naturally, I chose option #2

It’s so hard to even pick where to start. the too-loose pants? the ill-fitting suit jacket? The untucked dress shirt that is for some god-forsaken reason undone in two separate directions??

I have chosen one thing that sums the outfit up as a whole: what monster decided to put the shirt collar over the suit jacket????

the jazz hands scream “hey I’m a FUN guy” but the suit screams “I’m the yo-pro asshole at the office who is so unreliable you’re pretty sure some nepotism must surely have had an influence during the hiring process”

I originally said ‘I guess we should be glad there’s no surfer necklace’ but then I had the horrifying realisation that it’s a 50/50 shot as to whether that would improve this outfit or make it worse. and you know when there’s even slimmest chance a surfer necklace could improve an outfit somehow that it’s time to take a good hard look at yourself

1/10 just because this photoshoot made me genuinely laugh out loud

wait I’m sorry, what-

how on god’s green earth is this the same photoshoot (?) as guys, I’m crying with laughter????

the great thing about these lists is that you are getting my genuine reactions as I progress down the images. I had no idea this was the same photoshoot (?) until approximately 10 seconds after writing guys, I’m crying with laughter

this perfectly encapsulates the duality of man – one moment it’s all goofy jazz hands and the next it’s a hunk-of-the-week moment

this man and guys, I’m crying with laughter are the equivalent of looking at pictures of yourself in high school vs. in your 20s/30s/at your prime. the whiplash is insane

and why is he in front of barred windows?? it appears they were afraid of what would happen if this hunk escaped into the general population

I still can’t believe they kept the collar over the suit jacket though

I’m so conflicted guys, the urge to numerically rank this terrible outfit is strong but uh… as per usual shirtless ones aren’t fair/10

revenge of the killer surfer necklace

do you ever look back at a specific moment in time and are so thankful that someone took one tiny action? one small thing they did in the heat of the moment that probably seemed innocuous at the time but had far-reaching consequences? for example, it might something as simple as deciding to take a umbrella on a bright sunny day only for it to be extremely useful on the way home when the weather turns

this is how I feel about the person who decided RA could leave that top button closed for this shoot

if you squint, you can see the surfer necklace under that top button. and thank god you have to squint

this is such an early 2000s look though. that shirt by itself is fine and would actually look killer with a properly fitted suit nowadays. it’s the shirt dress and loose denim look with makes no sense to me

2/10 for a pretty uninspiring early 2000s outfit

revenge of the uh… 

from the same shoot as revenge of the killer surfer necklace this loses .1 of a mark for adding a jacket, while pretty innocuous, to an already busy outfit

1.9/10

were we really that afraid of legs?

why were we, as a society, so obsessed with loose, ill-fitting pants? why were we so desperate to conceal legs from the general population? what secrets were we trying to hide? I understand the comfort factor on the hand, but on the other did anyone actually have eyes

the sneakers/suit combo I can definitely live with. but those pants (that I’m convinced must be pyjama pants in another life) turns it all into a sloppy, blurry mess

2.7/10

is it a bird? is it a plane? no, it’s… a floating RA?

what is it about photoshoots in the early 2000s where they just make no damn sense. it’s my opinion that the theme/concept of a shoot should not overshadow the subject, and that’s the correct opinion (as well as being the exact opposite as to what’s happening here)

maybe there was a hint or reason as to why floating wizard RA exists in the article that this shoot presumably came with, but I don’t get it. clearly I’m far too literal of a person and need to embrace my inner artist

looks pretty, still weird

moving on the entire point of this post, the outfit, I uh,… oh god

I’m pretty sure this the same (and similar, if not) outfit RA wore in the North & South behind-the-scenes, and how we as a society went from John Thornton’s stiff collar and top hat to this is amazing

maybe we were so obsessed with period dramas back then because it was a nice alternative to indulge our eyes in when we had to face the harsh, cold reality of modern fashion at the time

anyway – trust me, while I am all for a man in a necklace, let’s pray surfer necklaces never come back 2.9/10

I genuinely was looking up “pinstriped jacket jokes” because I couldn’t think of anything off the top of my head but then I realised I don’t need a joke here because pinstriped jackets are a joke all by themselves

I feel like there may be a situation where pinstriped suit jackets might grow on me, but this is not that situation

also I don’t really know where I stand on the belt, but I certainly think I’m leaning towards the ‘why’ part of the scale. if you’re gonna make a belt that prominent in a photoshoot, at least make it a fun belt

3/10

I’m noticing a trend in these photoshoots and it’s these horrific backgrounds

I will admit that the non-patterned suit jacket is going with the jeans a lot better here. but now that my attention isn’t focused on that, all I can see are the dress shoes. WHY DID YOU PUT DRESS SHOES WITH STRAIGHT-LEGGED JEANS???

please someone I am begging you, can we as a society get to tapered jeans already

3.3/10

did RA genuinely ever get put into any clothes that actually fitted him properly at this point in time?

look, I know I’ve been picking on the bootcut jeans & loose attire that plagued us in the early 2000s (or 2006, to be specific to this photoshoot). what can I say, it’s the low-hanging fruit. or loose-hanging, as the case may be

I do appreciate that rich brown leather jacket and that smile. but that’s where it stops. someone take dress shirts and dress shoes away from bootcut denim PLEASE

3.5/10

this is the bad-boy from your hometown in every rom-com ever

as with well this in an interesting development that I can’t say I disapprove of below, the lower rating is simply because from what we can see, it’s just a plain shirt. however, that dipped v-neck? mm-mmm

look at that smirk. this man knows what he’s doing to us, dammit.

why do you persist in hurting us this way 4/10 

well this in an interesting development that I can’t say I disapprove of

god bless the person who said we need this shirt wet and clinging and only half-soaked

I’m so sad that I have to give this such a low ranking because uh… we’ve established I have a weakness for those biceps

this does also get bonus points for the creativity of “only this portion of your shirt needs to be wet for your close-up” but at the end of the day it is a solitary grey t-shirt even if it is floating in an attractive sea of muscles

4.5/10

the photographer really said ‘who gives a crap about the clothes’, huh?

an interesting shirt! but as much as I love RA’s face, we should be able to see more of the shirt (and the outfit) because uh… it’s hard to make a judgement call on a photoshoot outfit without that

also, it’s just so hard to concentrate on some of these with RA staring into my soul like that

*sigh* 4.6/10

hello sir, are you as kinky as your shirt?

this is one of the few occasions on which I will give the bootleg baggy jeans a pass. interesting choice to go shoeless for all outfits in this shoot – but the way the shirt is all crumpled is annoying me an incessant amount. I am begging you, someone pass this stylist an ironing board PLEASE

4.7/10 for a crinkle-cut RA

all that’s missing is the beer cans

I’m not sure of the short sleeves here. I think with the shirt open as well my brain doesn’t know where to look

HOWEVER, this is an RA from the early 2000s that I can get behind – largely because he’s not drowning in his denim

the nice, plain belt which matches with the shirt? excellent

interesting choice to go with the bare feet – this entire look (and the quality of that concrete floor) screams ‘we’re chilling at a summer party in your parent’s basement in the early 2000s’ if not for one thing – that couch is way too nice looking. am I being too pedantic about this? no. If you’re gonna go for the whole basement party look, you need a couch that’s falling apart and has at least one questionable stain on it

that being said, I would hang out in this man’s basement

it’s a shirtless one so once again, I cannot give a numerical answer/10

I’m not sure if this man is dangerous or is just an idiot

they may have been wanting RA to embrace his inner Daniel Miller here but that is NOT a jacket that should have its collar popped or if it is, it definitely should not be popped that much. just turn the intensity of that pop down by… at least 35%

this look is telling me to embrace my inner lacy, ruffled collar that men in England used to wear around the 1500 - 1600s. I hate it and refute it with every part of my soul

this is what happens when you embrace your inner Daniel a little bit too much 5.6/10

the return of the leg monster

not much to say about this except once again we are terrified to put RA’s legs into well-fitted pants. what secrets are hiding underneath those voluminous billows? will we ever know?

5.8/10

the one that crushed my hopes and dreams and then spat on my corpse

so I admit it, I got really excited because I thought that this was a leopard print shirt and I was like “this is something I did NOT know that I needed until right now”, even if I would argue that it could have been nice in a little bit of a brighter colour. no matter, I thought it was a nice subtle addition to this plain suit and was just very excited at the prospect of RA rocking leopard print even though I almost always hate leopard print in single every form it comes in

and then. upon zooming. a disappointing paisley. sorry, paisley lovers. I hate it

I would also argue here that the pocket square would have been nice in a plain, bright colour rather than another patterned item thrown into the mix. come on stylists, stop letting me down with your pocket squares

also if there is a point where a suit can be too shiny, I think we’ve found it. I could wax floors with that fabric and I’d rather be thinking about RA’s talent & good looks rather than imagining him being used as a human mop

the hand porn is uh… strong with this one 6/10

the hand porn one

the ring is a nice subtle touch but I can’t decide where I stand on this tie. for me, the checks are just a *wee* tad too small. so small that it I’m scared it will turn into one of those optical illusions with a number in it if I stare at it the tie for too long

the pocket square could also have not tried so hard to blend in with the rest of the suit jacket. give me some colour, baby!

Richard really needs to put his hand down so I can actually concentrate on the clothes 6.5/10

 I’m just dotty for this one (I’m so sorry y’all)

so suave. so shiny. I wanna stroke that fabric so bad, it looks so soft

the dots bring a nice yet understated touch to a monotone outfit and GOOD LORD those thighs

they just had to pose him like this to torture us, I’m convinced. also they call him a “commanding gentleman” in the subtitle which is really just unnecessary to verbalise when he’s sitting like this

Someone put me in a rom-com with this man 7.2/10

the modern magician (at least he ain’t floating this time)

I know that the hat should be the focus of this shoot but I can’t get over those shoes

tangentially related, I have never understood why they make men’s dress shoes so excessively long and pointed. these certainly aren’t a good example of this but uh… I don’t understand why men’s dress shoes are clown shoes

I think part of what’s throwing me off is the sockless look. normally I can handle (and even love) it with some shoes but there’s something about the hem of those jeans and those shoes that turn them into slippers when worn sockless

I love the two-tone scarf but what really excites me is the plaid shirt that we can barely see. I’m eternally sad that they had RA hid it in this pose. and also, come one. you could’ve at least gotten a chair with an actual back to it. that can’t be good for his back at all

the one bonus of this outfit is the hat because when do we ever get RA in hats?? and hats that aren’t baseball caps?? a nice, rare touch. but also one which hides most of that face so…

can we talk about the fact that my gut tells me those jean cuffs have been deliberately turned up at the front and all I want in life is to reach into this image and flip them down 7.5/10

*pterodactyl noises*

holy macaroni. that demin shirt. and this shirt’s even a nice lighter denim colour??? and the v-neck?? SIR

I know he’s worn some faux-denim shirts in the last few years (see: Uncle Vanya rehearsal pics) but as outerwear? knocked it out of the park in this one

also I know this is a shirt not a jacket, but this shirt made me think about how I never realised how much I needed RA in jean jackets until today

It could be argued that a nice crew neck cut would work slightly better than the v-neck but that’s really a personal choice

a lovely respite for my weary eyes 7.7/10

a truly, truly blessed image. the sort of image that would bring you endless good luck

I know I’ve given a lot of pants crap on this list but these. these are the ones. these are doing the lord’s work for sure. and god bless the person who decided to shoot from this particular side angle.

and then the shirt?? I’m honestly afraid it may rip if he moves. I could leave or take the tie though. it’s not adding a whole lot to this outfit and I would much rather that shirt be uh… open at the top for a glimpse of uh… well. you know.

this RA outfit laughs in the face of all those early 2000s RA outfits 8.1/10

me running to open my phone every time an RA-related notification pops up

my only sadness is that this shoot was in black & white. we need more action-shot RA shoots!

also the subtle plaid?? *chef’s kiss*

well, I said ‘my only sadness’ but is it also me or are both ends of that tie strangely square? that is throwing me off from an otherwise spectacular photoshoot outfit, I won’t lie

8.5/10 for a man of action

this is what we all like to think we look on the way to work. hate to break it to ya - we don’t

god, that wind-ruffled hair. the rustic look provided by both the suit material & the photo editing. that stare over the top of that coffee mug. the casual ‘I just picked up the paper on my way out this morning’

words fail me

would it be weird if I said I would pay money to be able to run my hands through anyone’s hair that looks as soft and wind-swept as that 8.9/10

the comfiest RA

I love. love. love this outfit, especially the sweater. the pant colour goes extremely well with this one and I’m so glad they didn’t just stick him in jeans. the is the softest, comfiest RA and I love it. this is an RA who you can simultaneously share a beer and takeaway with at home, cuddling up on the sofa while you watch a film, as well as an RA who will take you out to eat fancy pasta at an upscale restaurant.

the choice of sitting on a stool is also great. my only real gripe here is the watch (and even that’s a minor one, really). the watch isn’t THAT bad, but it’s chunky face reminds me slightly of the watches boys in my class would wear in middle school. the watch could be a *wee wee tad* slicker, but really, I’m nitpicking here (and this is the only time I will admit to it)

the more I look at it, the more this becomes one of my fav RA pics. the slight smile. the relaxed pose. the hint of hand porn

weirdly, for some reason this picture gives me the exact same comfy and ‘just chilling out’ feeling as when I hear the song “Kiss Me” by Sixpence None the Richer 9.5/10

[thetomorrowshow]

Slower Than Words Ch. 26

First  -  Previous  -  Next

Me, writing this chapter: I am going to create a situation that is so awkward,

cw: food

~

~SHARON~

welcomes you

Remus eyed the sign suspiciously as he drove past. It was set low in the ground, as if it had sunk a bit over time. It didn’t look familiar at all—none of this did. Did he have the wrong place?

Patton shifted a bit in the seat beside him, looking around with interest. They’d reached their destination, after all. Remus couldn’t help but doubt himself. There were other Sharons in the country, after all. Maybe they’d just gone to the wrong one.

Something about this city called to him, sure. But that didn’t mean anything—the cult had called to him too. Remus’s instincts weren’t the best.

He was roused from his thoughts when Patton softly tapped his shoulder. They were passing a grocery store—Save A Lot. It was time for lunch, wasn’t it?

Remus pulled left into the parking lot of the store, which was fairly empty for midday Friday. Only three cars, and a fourth pulling in at the same time as them. Remus parked in between two of the other cars there (mostly because he could) and hopped out, taking a moment to stretch before entering the store. Patton got out too, walking around to the driver’s side while Remus continued to reach toward the sky.

Patton led the way, holding the door open for Remus, who looked up as the bell jingled. An older man waved from behind the counter. A shopper milled about in the nearest aisle. Classic rock played quietly in the background. It was nice, in a weird way. Very peaceful. Very easy.

Pat headed for the bathroom and Remus watched him for a second, before turning down one of the aisles at random. They probably needed some fruit or something. He followed the aisle through to the small produce section on the other side of the store. Another employee leaned against the meat counter on the other side of the section, eyes glued to his phone. Remus froze and stared at him, waiting to be told that he wasn’t allowed back here. Nothing happened.

Remus fully exited the aisle and checked out the fruit. Oranges, apples, different apples, a handful of pineapples. The oranges were the cheapest, and Patton needed citrus too. There was a vitamin in citrus, right? Vitamin D? C?

Whatever it was, he was pretty sure that Patty needed it. He needed every vitamin, actually. Remus picked up an orange, about to pull a plastic bag from the roll.

“Oh my gosh. No way!”

Remus dropped the orange, spinning on his heel and straightening up. His heartrate spiked, breathing quickened, and he stood at attention, keeping his eyes on the linoleum floor.

“Remus?”

He chanced a quick look up, forcing his eyes almost immediately back down. He saw . . . a woman. Young, probably about his age. Tall. A shopping basket over her arm (probably why he hadn’t heard her coming. No squeaky wheels). Smiling. She was completely unfamiliar, but by now the watery reflection of the lights on the floor had gotten into his head where he was. In a grocery store. In his hometown. Not back there.

With effort, Remus wrenched his head up, meeting the woman’s eyes. “H-hey,” he said, clearing his throat. “What’s up?”

“So it is you!” The woman laughed a little. “I haven’t seen you in years. How’re your parents?”

This woman knew him. So he had definitely lived here. But this wasn’t a very big city, and if she knew him, then she had to have known his family, right? Why would she have to ask him how they were? Had they moved away? Cold clutched at his heart as he considered that option. They can’t have. He can’t have lost them before he even found them.

“I-I dunno, just got in town. Haven’t even dropped by yet.”

The woman nodded. “Where do you live now?”

“Other side of the country,” Remus hedged, “Desert-y place.”

“Oh, I grew up in Arizona,” the woman said, almost commiseratingly. “So hot. There were days that I’d just go stick my head in the freezer.”

Remus laughed nervously. “Yep, wish—wish I coulda done that.”

“Mhm. Really, I haven’t seen you since—gosh, since we graduated! You didn’t even come to the graduation itself, I heard that you skipped town practically the day after school got out.”

Okay, someone he’d gone to high school with. Remus remembered being sorta close with the other kids on the soccer teams, but he mostly hung out with the stoner kids to annoy his parents. He couldn’t see how he would know this chick. Maybe they’d been lab partners? Or maybe she’d been someone he hung out with?

The woman seemed to be casting around for something to say, her eyes eventually falling on his face. “Wow, that mustache has really filled out, huh?”

Remus’s hand flew up to smooth it unconsciously. “Yep, this is a couple years’ hard work,” he boasted. The woman chuckled.

“No offense, but it used to be this terrible shrimpy little thing,” she said. “I remember prom night when you picked me up you were all grumpy because your mom made you shave it off. You didn’t even talk to me until we got there!”

Oh shoot.

Oh no.

This was an old girlfriend.

Remus hadn’t dated anyone in years. He’d tried for a while, those first months in the cult. But the gals weren’t interested and the guys were too scared, so he’d given up. He hadn’t really minded it, honestly—he had dated all through high school, but looking back he only did it to make his parents mad. They didn’t want him steady dating until he was an adult, and definitely didn’t want him dating dudes and stoners, so he had done both over and over again between the ages of thirteen and eighteen.

Now, though?

Maybe it was just the cult stuff talking, but Remus wasn’t interested in a partner. The romance part sounded cute (he’d never admit it, but part of him really wanted to curl up with his partner and watch a romcom, teasing each other lightly), but the rest of it sounded like way too much of a hassle. He didn’t have the time, not when he was carrying the load of three different people’s trauma. And while he had a feeling that the commitment might help ground him, he just wasn’t interested in the rest of it. If that made sense. Heck, this was his own head and it didn’t really make sense.

Anyways, he remembered this woman, just a little. Not much about her, or how well they worked together, or if they had truly been in love. He mostly remembered that he had left without breaking up with her, without even telling her goodbye.

“Yeah, I was a terrible kid,” he said, secretly waiting for her to agree with him. Instead she shrugged.

“Sure, you were always hanging out with weird people,” she replied, “but you were very kind. I definitely don’t think we were meant for each other, but I had fun with you.” She winked and Remus almost physically recoiled. He didn’t like when people winked.

A hand tapped his elbow and Remus jolted, turning his head. Patton was there, smirking a little bit.

The woman’s eyes traveled between them, clearly trying to figure out their relationship. “Boyfriends . . . ?”

“Kidnapper and victim,” Remus said, turning back to her fully and smiling toothily. He felt a little bit more in control now. She barely seemed uncomfortable, instead sharing her own smile.

“Right. Well, tell your parents I said hi,” she said, waving slightly. Remus noticed the ring on her wedding finger, but before he could ask, she answered.

“D’you remember Claire, from the swim team?”

Remus opened his mouth to lie, but she continued to talk.

“Well, after you left, she comforted me and helped me decide what I wanted to do for the rest of my life, and the answer turned out to be her!” the woman laughed at her own joke, and Remus laughed along, not quite sure why. It was obviously a practiced line, and he didn’t really find it funny either.

The woman reached out and patted him on the shoulder, a warm look in her eyes. “Seriously, it was great to see you. Everyone was really worried about you, we thought you’d died in some ditch. Take care!” And with that, she was turning down another aisle, quickly out of sight.

“Who was that?” Patton asked as soon as Remus turned to him. The smirk was gone, his eyes now wary.

“A friend from when I was a kid,” Remus signed distractedly, looking at the oranges again. He grabbed two, then a third one just in case and led the way back to the cash registers. On the way he snagged a package of beef jerky, grimacing at the price.

That was the weirdest encounter he’d had, probably ever. At least it was proof that they were in the right place.

-

“No clue where we are,” Remus sang under his breath, checking the street signs as they passed a church. The area looked vaguely familiar, so that had to mean something, right? Apparently not, because after the grocery store experience, everything looked familiar. He pulled to stop in front of a stop sign, patting Logan’s car as it groaned. For a moment, he let his eyes close and his head rest on the steering wheel.

Patton tapped his arm, waiting for him to look. “Trust your instincts,” he signed, finger-spelling the last word. He smiled softly at Remus, then turned back to the window, pulling the patched hoodie closer around his shoulders. Remus took a deep breath. He could do this. He’d survived a cult. He’d saved a whole kid from the same cult. He was awesome.

Remus took his foot off the brake, letting the car carry him from street to street, waiting for something to happen. If this didn’t work, then he’d go street by street, knocking on every door until he found his parents and brother.

Then, as he turned right in a somewhat busy intersection, his hands spasmed. Muscle memory took over, and he turned right again onto a smaller street. Memories of driving this road far too fast in the darkness of late nights and early morning flooded his mind, overlapping and playing simultaneously. In the memories, he followed this street through, then turned left at the end of it.

So he did, his arms turning the wheel almost without conscious input. Another two turns, and he was Euclid Ave, a street name that made his heart jump into his throat. Just two houses down, there it was.

150 Euclid Ave.

Suddenly, the home phone number was on the tip of his tongue—he’d memorized them together. He recalled his parents, sitting on the sofa, clapping for a miniature version of him reciting the full address and phone number.

He stared at the house so hard stars appeared in his vision, surprised to feel almost nothing. It was familiar of course, just like everything else, but it was also . . . normal. It almost felt like he’d never left. Or like he’d gone back in time, back to when this was right. Back to when this was who he was.

“Home?” Patton asked out loud, the middle of the word slurring a little. Remus’s eyes misted a little bit.

“Yeah,” he managed. “Home.”

-

Knock-knock-knock.

Remus rocked back onto his heels, shooting a reassuring smile to Patton. He could do this. No sounds came from inside the house, but there were two cars in the driveway, so someone had to be home. Hopefully both were his parents, then he could see everyone together.

But his brother could drive now, right?

They were five years apart. When he’d left, his brother had been in middle school. Now he was probably in college. If he was away at school, he wouldn’t be home right now, would he?

Remus knocked again.

Now there was sound from inside, the creaking of footsteps on floorboards, the running water. Adrenaline suddenly pumped through his veins, and the wild thought of running back to the car crossed his mind. He could get out before they ever knew he was here, just leave and nothing would change.

Did he want it to change?

Click-click. The door unlocked.

Swung open.

Remus composed his face the best he could, trying to smile and look as normal as possible. He could do this. He could do this.

He looked up.

A face, lined, clean-shaven, framed with close-cut dark hair that was greying at the ends. A face that Remus saw from the stage of a talent show, sitting in the audience, smiling and clapping along with his clarinet rendition of Jingle Bells.

The shoulders were broader than Remus ever thought his own would be, proved otherwise by time. Remus saw the shoulders from the closet of his parents’ room, where occasionally on Sunday afternoons the boy was allowed to try on suit coats that swallowed him completely.

The left hand had a simple silver band, one that Remus could see resting on the aluminum foil ring holder he’d made in class as a Father’s Day present. He’d always been afraid that it would catch his fingers when they played the hand stacking game.

Remus’s eyes traveled back up the arm, the shoulder, the neck, the face, back to the eyes. Blue, almost grey, a color that neither he nor his brother had inherited.

“Hey dad,” he croaked. “I'm home.”

The eyes widened.

~

Taglist: @enragedbees @gotta-love-alejandra @bunny222 @basiic-emo @patt0n-sanders @rosiepupper @fangirlgeekandfreak @dn-fan21 @that2000skid @remy-the-lemon-berry @itsadastraperaspera @xionbean @sanderssides-angst @hell-yea-we-gay-tonight @maybedefinitely404 @broken-pencils @thewhimsicallibrarytech @doomllily @hereissananxiousmess @judyismydog  @arodynamic-enby @at-that-one-nerd @therapysides @awkwardandanxiousfander @thekitchenpan @im-an-anxious-wreck @larkiaquail @anteonnix @fantasticfander21

[acommonloon]

TL;DR

about last night's mperfect ending. After stops at three Louisville venues, each more fun than the last, we decided to get a nightcap in New Albany. We didn't manage to get a drink at any of four stops in that sleepy town but we did witness a police officer chasing a black man down the side of State Street. Still watching for a news report.

Alternately a night for Morgans

_____________________________________________________________

D's niece's husband, J, is a sweet guy. He has almost no family of his own living in the area and his own family unit consists of an unruly teen (not his) a precocious 6 year old and 3 year old twins. It's a lot.

With that in mind, I always wait for him to contact me and he always earns his kitchen passes so when he texted me he had a free night out I was glad to hang with him. I only asked if he had a curfew. No sir. He's nearing 40 and regularly admits he wishes he could more often frequent the places D and I do, meaning bars and restaurants. I remember those days when self came last.

Our 1st stop was World of Beer. With 50+ taps and hundreds of bottles and cans sitting in glass front coolers directly across from the bar, it's one of my go to spots. J immediately set about building a flight of five small pours while I took my time picking one or two low gravity beers to sip since I was driving. They had two bartenders on this Wednesday night, Morgan was ours and our service was prompt and friendly. By the time we finished a plate of tots, loaded with melted cheese and fresh jalapeno slices I had our plan.

I hadn't been to Commonwealth Tap since before 2020. This small wine bar is in a movie set sort of town called Norton Commons. Think "The Truman Show." The houses were all built over a small number of years and though they are comprised of many different styles, with no two near each other being the same, they are on the same size lots and there is no variety in terms of weathering or decoration. Everything to plan. Unreal. Creepy.

I glanced at the wine list on a chalkboard noticing a Turley Zin at $18 and a Cotes de Rhone at $8. When the bartender asked what I wanted, I said, "Talk me out of the Turley and into the Cotes. He hesitated for a second and I said, "I want something minerally, earthy, not fruity." Like a Beaujolais Morgon or an Italian grown on the side of a volcano. Before he could reply, a guy sitting at the bar said we don't have that on tap. The Cotes is your best option and the bartender handed me a generous taste saying, try that.

I took the glass all the while evaluating the man who'd spoken up. He'd said "we" don't have that. He was alone at the bar except for us. I doubted he was just a bold regular, maybe drunk, who felt everyone benefited from his opinion, he wasn't drunk. Then he stood up and walked over the the wine racks. His search was one of familiarity and he pulled a bottle and sat it down on the bar next to me. Was he an employee or maybe a distributor on good terms with the staff? Then he began talking about the wine, about his many trips to France, and I suddenly I knew. "You're an owner here aren't you?"

He laughed and admitted he was. He introduced himself, Neal Morgan and for the next 40 mins or so he told us about himself and the bar. He told us about his wife, a pediatrician who worked for 20 years in Indiana and he went so far as to describe his Scottish heritage along with his general thinking about wines. When he said he was going a friend's house for a pizza party, I thought he was about to leave. Then he said he was going to take a kick ass wine but first he wanted me to taste it. It was a California pinot noir priced at $30 more than the first bottle he'd put down on the bar. It was fantastic! He gave us tasting notes and I admitted I couldn't perceive half of what he reeled off. I said he spoke like a sommelier and he laughed again and said he claimed he had a better palate than Kenny, the sommelier who worked for him. He thanked us for coming in and seemed sincere. When he left, J looked at me and said, "That was amazing." I laughed and said it was a Wednesday at a bar.

Before we left, I asked Rainha to make me a Penicillin and we talked about Scotch. She related how she introduced her brother to Scotch and now that's all he drank. We talked about how things were during the shutdown and I told her about a new place I'd been the previous Saturday. Outside, J exclaimed this was just the best time! He said he'd never be able to talk staff like that, let alone the owner. I said talking to industry people was one of my favorite things. They are so interesting and I think they find it refreshing when someone at the bar wants to hear about them instead of wanting to talk about themselves. Then I said, I know where we'll go next. Maybe Stephen is working.

Our next stop was at Cuvee Wine Table and Stephen greeted me at the door with a huge "Shane!" and a hug. If J was impressed with Commonwealth, I thought he should fasten his seatbelt. Stephen is a trip. Except, Stephen exclaimed I'm on this side of the bar now! To my quizzical look, he said he was the manager now. Amidst introductions, our bartender, Andie came over and introduced herself. She was tall, regally thin, and wore a colorful scarf on her head. She offered an engaging personality I perceived as professional banter but sensed alos she seemed to enjoy her job.

When I described what kind of wine I preferred, she said, "OOh how about a white?" Ooookay??? I thought to myself, this is going to be fun. Stephen came back as Andy set my glass down in front of me and asked, "What are we having?" Andie said, it's the Santorini. Stephen, a newly minted sommelier, immediately launched into an enthusiastic description about this remarkable wine from a Greek Island. He said it was so constantly windy, they braided the vine boughs into bowls to protect the fruit on the inside. I smelled it and it reminded me of a Sav Blanc but when I tasted it, I knew I'd found a new favorite. It had a salty savory aspect with more minerality than any white I'd had previously.

Andie was from Lexington and our other bartender, Heather, was newly arrived from the Nashville area. Heather was training behind the bar but seemed tres calm. At one point she asked us to wish her luck and I realized she was going to take an order. When she came back, I was a little surprised but delighted when J asked her where she was from specifically. It turned out they were from the same area and knew the same high schools and such. Great fun. When Stephen came and asked if we were eating, I said, "What am I having?" The cassoulet he responded immediately and then he tried to add in sweet breads but I insisted I was out on that. J selected a flatbread and when my giant bowl of white beans with pork and a small chicken leg came, I felt I'd got the better order. He admitted sheepishly he just didn't like beans and that was that.

I suggested we finish with a French brandy served in proper snifters and asked for a bottle of the Santorini to go home. It was full dark but comfortably warm walking to the car and J asked if I were up for one more on him. I suggested we go see Emily at Brooklyn and the Butcher. She made me a perfect drink in January and I'd been craving another ever since.

All the way to New Albany, J kept bringing up how much he enjoyed the two wine bars and how he hoped he and his wife could indulge in similar experiences when their children were older. He worried his wife didn't really like anything but sweet wine and was picky about that. I laughed and said D was exactly the same but she was game to hang out and recently started to appreciate ciders and frutied beers, and even some semi-sweet wines.

There were still plenty of cars parked on the street when we arrived at Brooklyn and the Butcher. I noticed there was no one at the hostess stand when we walked in but I breezed past into the bar. There were two women sitting at the bar and I was a bit disappointed when I realized the bartender wasn't Emily. I was even more so when she came over and apologized but said they'd closed already. I laughed and made a joke about the owner being an old man for closing so early then I realized who it was sitting at the bar. I asked, "Is that Emily sitting at the bar?" she said it was and I got up and walked over. We talked for ten minutes about my last visit and I asked her about her trip to Savannah. She kept apologizing for the bar being closed but I assured her I would be back. It was fine, we'd walk down to The Earl.

I got a bad vibe the minute we walked in. The bar was mostly full and there was only one bartender. He was wearing short shorts and took forever to get us a drink menu then never looked our way for the next five minutes. I suggested we go to Recbar nearby. There it was the same. The lone bartender, woman this time, was overwhelmed and though the bar was half empty she never looked our way before I lost patience.

Okay then. We were driving to my final option (so I thought) when I stopped at a light. J said, "Look at that! A cop is chasing that guy!" Sure enough through the sparse traffic I could see a black guy sprinting along the side of the normally busy road. His arms were pistoning up and down, his hands flattened into chopping motions like a track sprinter. Coming behind but steadily losing ground was a hefty police officer. He looked ridiculous and I can only imagine he might be thinking everyone watching thought he looked ridiculous. I wondered if he might pull his gun.

The light turned green then and I moved forward. That's when we spotted a car with the front passenger side crushed in where it had impacted the guardrail, on the opposite side of the road. There was a cop car with its lights flashing parked behind it. I couldn't see any activity around the cars as we drove past. About a half mile up the road we pulled into the parking lot of our 4th attempt to get a last drink. It was closed.

We laughed and decided we'd had enough fun. As we headed back towards the scene of the incident, sirens and flashing lights were suddenly all around us. I guess there was a manhunt. I weaved through parked cruisers while J counted eight more with lights flashing on side streets . Fifteen minutes later I dropped him off. He thanked me profusely but it nothing but what I like to do anyway.

20 mins later I pulled into the garage and for a second my heart did the little flutter it always does when I see D's car parked in its spot. Then I sighed remembering she wasn't home and wouldn't be for another week.

Just a Wednesday.

[grifalinas]

So in EPISODE ONE, we find the LADY living a normal life- or so it seems oooo~~~~. She's working as a barista as a locally owned coffee shop, believing she lost the last twenty-five years of her life to a coma. Yes I ripped this from Men In Black but it's the easiest handwave. Low-hanging fruit hangs low for a reason. Unknown to her, the café is owned by a FAIRY, who is also a- well, stop me if you've heard this joke before.

Among her coworkers is the WEREBEAR, who has been going through some CHANGES lately. He just moved to a new town looking for a fresh start after {BACKSTORY REDACTED} but the fresh start he was looking for didn't involve growing hair in odd places, packing on weight, and being hungry all the time. Actually, it did, part of his move involved finally starting HRT. No wonder it's taken him so long to realize he's literally turning into a BEAR, when he's also turning into a BEAR at the same time. This is about the standard you can expect for jokes on this show.

The story picks up with the WEREBEAR and the LADY talking about his experience with testosterone and how he didn't realize it was going to make him SO much what it is. She suggests he goes to his doctor because that doesn't sound normal actually.

On her way home that night, she walks past the MANSION, just like every night, and has a strange sense of deja vu. Deciding to satisfy the odd pull the MANSION seems to have on her, she walks up to the door and knocks. A BUTLER answers the door and when she asks who lives here, politely informs her that it is the home of his master, who is currently out. The MANSION doesn't seem to have a pull on her while she's standing beside it, so she decides that her curiosity has been sated, and goes home.

At home, the VAMPIRE is standing on her balcony. He asks her to let him in, but he's a creepy guy standing on the edge of her balcony asking to be let into her house so she kicks him. He plummets several floors to the asphalt below, then gets up and brushes himself off and yells some kind of return to her before stalking off.

She goes down to inspect the scene, thinking maybe there's been some kind of prank, and when she gets down there she finds the MEMENTO from the end of the pilot with a note that says "Recuarda Me". There's a cool effect and a flashback to the events of the pilot, just before the LADY and the VAMPIRE are getting ready to go take on the BEAR GOD. She tells him that the MEN WHO WEAR BLACK SUITS will wipe her memories, and tells him that this is the most fun she's had in ages and she hopes he'll remember it for both of them. He tells her he has the option of doing literally that and we're meant to infer that he stored her memories in the MEMENTO to be returned to her later.

With her memories restored, she goes to the MANSION, where the VAMPIRE and the POLTERGEIST are both delighted to see her back. The VAMPIRE informs her that the reason he took so long to restore her memories is because he wanted her to have at least a few weeks of a normal life before she went back to Knowing Things.

Now that she Knows Things again, she is able to put together the evidence of her coworker and realize he's turning into the new BEAR GOD, since while gods can die, their godhood doesn't and just transfers to a new host. They go to confront the coworker just in time for him to TRANSFORM and run off into the woods.

They go track him down, but sometime during the chase they decide that it actually might be better if they leave him, because otherwise the godhood will just transfer again. When they find him, they are able to get through to him and restore his grasp on his humanity, so he can take on his godhood properly.

At some point it is addressed that it's kind of weird that the GOD OF BEARS is in a human vessel. This never comes up again.

With the WEREBEAR now in control of his abilities, the TRIO decide that they should just form their own SECRET ORGANIZATION and take care of threats to the masquerade. They return to the MANSION to discuss the idea.

The episode ends with the POLTERGEIST decorating the OFFICE in the MANSION where they will meet with CLIENTS, and the BUTLER opening the door to let in a HUMAN, who is carrying a flier with a call for INTERNS on it. The stinger of the episode is the VAMPIRE out in the city hunting for his next meal.

[ptergwen]

to be held

warnings: just the floofiest fluff and lots of kisses

summary: a snow day with tommy boy

a/n: it’s been a long ass minute hi guys!!! i’m so sorry for not posting i’ve been super busy with school and all that stuff BUT i have a bunch of wips rn! imma make up for it i promiseeee. until they’re all done here’s this :,) sidenote: stay safe from miss corona! always wash your hands after (and if) you go out or sanitize if you can’t! regular cold symptoms doesn’t = coronavirus! this is all really scary but try not to panic, just pay attention and take care of yourself bby

—

it’s a given that days off are a rare thing you and tom get to have. his demanding schedule and your own social life don’t allow for a lot of downtime, so tom’s break between onward press and uncharted filming has been a god send.

catching up on much needed sleep, self-care days with shared bubble baths and face masks, and video game sessions (that you mainly enjoy because of tom’s arms around you to help with maneuvering the controller) make up your current routine. the most you’ve had to worry about lately was what takeaway place to get dinner from.

you’ve definitely spoiled yourselves, but so what? you deserve it. doing nothing is everything you two need right now.

today greeted you with piles of snow covering your driveway and the streets, which gave you an actual reason to stay in. it also made the freezing cold london weather even worse. tom insisted on a hot meal for your troubles. you were planning to crank the heat and leave it at that, but he wants to show off what he learned from the cooking lessons sam has been giving him.

plus, you’re hungry, and he’s so adorably excited to make breakfast for you.

once you’re swaddled in a fuzzy spider-man blanket that you may or may not have stolen from tom, you head downstairs. you find him in the kitchen gathering ingredients. there are already two mugs filled with hot chocolate and mini marshmallows on the table. sam must have taught him well.

one says “tea’challa,” and the other is shaped like the iron man mask. if something is marvel themed, tom buys it. you chuckle to yourself at your fanboy of a boyfriend and hug his waist from behind, blanket hanging around your arms.

“you’ve turned yourself into a burrito. that bad?” tom turns his head to give you a cheeky smile, a box of pancake mix in his hand. the cold doesn’t hit him the same because he’s his own personal furnace. how convenient for him.

“and i’ve already raised the heat. i’m running out of options here, tommy,” you whine and tighten your hold on him. “i’ve got one for you. after breakfast, we could cuddle for a while? how’s that sound?” “mm, let’s go for the whole day. i feel warmer just hearing about it.”

still smiling, tom pecks your cheek and walks over to the stove. you keep clinging onto him while he makes the rest of the batter. it’s like how a koala is with bamboo. after pouring the batter into a pan, tom turns around fully in your arms. you take the opportunity to bury your face in his chest, feeling absolute bliss in being flush against him.

he’s soft and warm and shaking with laughter. he’s better than hot chocolate on a snowy day.

“love, what’re you doing?” tom laughs out and holds you at arms length. you make a noise of protest, going back to your new comfort spot; him. “i don’t know, pre-cuddling with you? yeah, that’s what i’m gonna call it. pre-cuddling.” “oh, so this is a warm up. literally.” your scoff is muffled by his shirt. he engulfs you in a hug with arms around your lower back.

you pull away slightly to pepper his chest with kisses, earning another breathy laugh from him. you know his sweet spots. after one more kiss to his collarbone and a low call of your name, his hands move so they’re holding either of your sides. “don’t get me wrong, y/n/n. i’m super into pre-cuddling, but there are pancakes that need to be flipped.” “damnit, tom.”

huffing over-dramatically, you free him from your arms. he looks you up and down. grabbing the pan off the stove, his gaze lingers on you. of course he picks right now to be a tease. the chills are starting to make their way back, and your blanket doesn’t do much about it. nothing can top the way it feels to be held by tom.

“can’t believe you have the audacity to leave me for pancakes. pancakes that aren’t even from scratch, at that,” you tease. the look of shock on tom’s face puts a satisfied smirk on yours. “hey, i’m a beginner! sam says i have to work my way up to making my own recipes.”

proving his point, he flips a pancake too high by accident and just catches it in the pan. he silently cringes at the almost kitchen disaster. “i see that now,” you remark, making tom groan and turn to face the stove.

he plates the slightly mishappen pancake and less confidently flips another while mumbling something about how it worked when he tried it with sam. not wanting him to discourage himself, you hold him by his waist again and place a few kisses behind his ear, which always drives him crazy.

“you’ll get there, baby. i’m sure the way you’re making these will come out just as good. it’s really cool that you’re giving this a try, yeah?” “thanks, love. you’re right. i’ll just take it as a miracle that i‘ve come this far without burning the house down.” he’s half joking but half serious. your lips trail down to his jawline, him tilting his head back to encourage you to keep going.

“you’re really good at that,” he breathes out as you press more soft kisses to his skin. “good at what?” you feign innocence in practically a whisper, since you’re close enough for tom to hear. his eyes close for a moment before he shuts off the stove and puts the pan down. he faces you again with slightly parted lips.

“distracting me. that’s twice today. it’s like you want me to actually set our house on fire, y/n.” he contradicts himself by pulling you closer, his hands on your hips. you let yours move up to his shoulders and tilt your head to the side.

“well, at least that would make it warmer.” “you’re such a div, you know that?” tom squints at you with a small grin, leaning his head down. he purses his lips expectantly. now it’s your turn to be the tease. “stop using british insults at me and go finish breakfast, chef holland.”

his grin fades. “but- but my kisses-“ “they can wait, but my stomach can’t. i’m gonna go set the table,” you pat a pouting tom’s shoulders, leaving him to go through the drawer you keep silverware in.

after putting out forks, knives, napkins, and grabbing toppings from the fridge, you go back over to tom. he steps aside to present two plates with bigger stacks of pancakes than you were expecting on them. “tada! i made a few more for your impatient stomach. or rather, bisquick made a few more.” he does jazz hands around the spread, both of you sporting matching smiles.

you look down at what he made and back up at him. “tom, baby, you think that’s a few?” “you said you were hungry!” picking up a plate, he makes a ‘duh’ face and holds it out to you. you take it. “fair enough. these do smell really good. like, really really good. are we sure the right holland is in culinary school?” his humble side takes over, a light shade of pink dusting his cheeks.

“aw, don’t say that before you’ve tried them.” “then i’ll say it again after i do.” you poke one of his blushing cheeks and nod towards the table. shaking his head, tom grabs his plate and walks over with you.

you both sit facing the window to watch the snow fall as you eat. even though it’s freezing you, it can still be pretty to look at. multitasking is a virtue. you load up your plate with maple syrup and chocolate chips, tom opting for fruit on the side. he sips his hot chocolate and watches intently as you cut your stack of pancakes.

licking your lips, you dip a piece into some syrup. you’re happily surprised at the taste of your first bite, bumping tom’s leg with your own to express what you can’t say with a full mouth. he leans in closer.

“how is it? good?” his eyebrows are raised in anticipation, trying to gage your answer. you turn to him and throw your arms around his neck all in one movement. he catches you and giggles as you kiss all over his cheeks, nose, forehead, and finally his lips, letting that one last the longest. your hands slide down to hold tom’s arms, him stealing another kiss from your lips.

he’s so precious that you sometimes have to find other ways than words to tell him that.

“in case you couldn’t tell,” you start, out of breath. “that’s a yes. i’m enrolling you in culinary school for real.” “that’d be fun. sam could use some competition.” “and you’d get to bring home more really good food for me.” he chuckles and rests his arm across the back of your chair, each of you ready to fully dig into your breakfast.

tom has the same reaction that you did, his face lighting up in awe at how the pancakes turned out. you’re tempted to launch another kiss attack on him, but your grumbling stomach wills you to finish eating first. it’s worth it. both of you end up clearing your plates and staring out the window at the mess of white and grey, too full to move.

“it’s really coming down out there. wonder when it’ll stop,” tom yawns and settles his arm around your shoulders. “that reminds me. cuddles?” “ugh, i physically can’t get up right now. let’s stay here.” you have to admit, you’re already pretty comfortable.

moving your head to rest on tom’s chest, you nod, your hair tickling his neck. you outstretch the spidey blanket still on you for him to get under. he wraps the rest of it around himself and leaves a quick kiss on the top of your head, leaning further into your side.

soon, your chills are long forgotten.

[2manyfandoms2count]

#MarichatMay Day 28

Aaaand I’m back with some fluffy Adrien “she’s just a friend” Agreste doing what all good friends do when there’s a black out; bringing them food. 

I can’t believe it’s already the end of May!! Oh well, I’ll just embrace my lateness and bring Marichat May into June for a bit ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Enjoy!

@marichatmay

---

Day 28: Lights out

Black outs hardly happen in Paris; “the City of Lights” wouldn’t be a fitting epithet if they did, after all. Ever since the rise of Hawkmoth, though, they had become more frequent, even if just for an hour tops, the Akumatised seemingly being fond of throwing large objects into electricity generators. 

It had therefore taken Marinette by surprise when the power had gone off in her neighbourhood, on a crisp November night. She hadn’t actually noticed at first. She had come home from the Collège Françoise Dupont and crashed on her bed, exhausted from a busy week at school. Her parents were absent, on a trip to a baking convention, so she gave herself some time to hang around, scrolling on her Instagram. After a full day of Brevet Blancs, the least she could do was relax. She gushed to Alya about Adrien’s newest pictures via text message while Tikki got the live commentary, making sure to save the ones she would ceremoniously be putting up on her board. It was a hard task -how could someone look so good all the time?- which was only interrupted by the signal that her battery was getting low. She groaned and rolled over to plug her phone in, but noticed the charger did nothing to rectify the situation.

Confused, the young girl tested several power outlets in her room before trying to turn on the lights. Nothing happened. 

“Mince, alors.” She swore lightly, taking the few steps that separated her from her window. She peeked outside, looking out for any commotion that would betray another attack. 

She could see lights across the Seine, and the Eiffel Tower was sparkling, sign that it wasn’t a city-wide problem, but the streets near hers were pitch black. One of her neighbours waved after seeing her, and shouted there had been a small fire in a nearby shop, with a potential gas leak, which was why the firemen had deemed fit to turn the power off for the block; it was supposed to be restored later in the evening when all necessary checks had been carried out. Marinette thanked him and went looking for candles in the mean time.

“Do you think Ladybug should go and help them?” She asked Tikki as she searched through drawers for matches.

“Unfortunately there isn’t much you could do.” The Kwami replied, floating up next to her, eating a macaron. “I’m afraid a Lucky Charm would not help in this situation.” 

Marinette made a face, thinking about her dinner. She was doubtful she’d be able to eat anything warm tonight. She entrusted the candles to Tikki and rummaged inside her fridge, grabbing some cheese and fruit from it. She took the remains of a baguette on the counter and some cutlery before making her way back upstairs. 

She set up for the evening, lighting candles around her room to allow her to see. She found some battery-powered ones buried in her Christmas decoration trunk and settled with a blanket and a book on her chaise. She was in the middle of a tense scene when there was a thud on her roof. Paralysed, feeling as if her heart could rip out of her rib cage at any moment, she let her book drop as her skylight slowly opened. She scrambled for the knife she’d brought up with her and stood up in what she hoped was a good attacking stance. 

A familiar dark figure dropped on her bed, holding what looked what looked like a picnic basket.

“‘Evening Purr-incess, did so-meow-ne order room service?” Chat’s eyes glinted in the candlelight as he slid down her ramp. 

Marinette’s arm dropped to her side. She was torn between yelling at him for scaring her half to death and hugging him for not being a burglar. And also (maybe) because he was him. “Hey Kitty, think you could give me a bit of a heads up before barging in like this?” She ended up saying, with just a hint of reproach in her voice.

“Sorry if I startled you.” He said sheepishly, scratching the back of his head. “I came as soon as I heard about the black out. Will you forgive me in exchange of food?”

Adrien himself hadn’t been affected, despite living just a couple of streets away. The Agreste Mansion was very well equipped to deal with situations like this one. Had Nino not been suddenly logged off from their UMS game, he probably wouldn’t have known about the situation at all. His first thought had been for Marinette, whom he knew was spending the weekend alone. Showing up at her door as his civilian self with provisions was not an option -how would he explain his father letting him go outside in the middle of a power cut, when he wasn’t usually allowed out any other time?-, but for all she knew Chat lived on the other side of town.

“That’s really nice of you, thank you Chat.” Marinette smiled and decided he deserved a kiss on the cheek for his efforts. “What made you think I needed company?”

Chat froze slightly. He hadn’t come over in a while, too busy studying for their exams. He technically wasn’t supposed to know she would be alone as her parents had only remembered the convention in the middle of the week. “Er... Adrien told me you might need stuff? He called me earlier.” That was a believable lie.

“Adrien talks about me?” Marinette’s heart fluttered in her chest. She resisted the urge to swoon, but couldn’t fight the blush creeping up her cheeks.

“Well, yes, I mean you’re his good friend, and good friends worry about each other in blackouts, don’t they?...” Chat trailed, a little puzzled by her reaction. Of course he would talk about her. She was the person he valued most beside Ladybug. And his oddly composed family, he supposed.

Whether Marinette chose to ignore him or whether she simply didn’t hear him, too busy internally jumping up and squealing at the information, he didn’t know, but she didn’t reply. He was happy to see her with such a wide smile. Marinette’s happiness was one of the prettiest things he’d ever seen, and he worked in the fashion industry, so that was saying something.

Chat cleared his throat. “Anyway, is there anything you need help with? In the bakery purr-haps?”

Marinette snapped back to reality. “Oh. Yes, I guess, I need to check the fridge downstairs is working, just in case. Do you have to go?”

“For you, I have all the time in the world.” That was another thing friends could tell each other, right?

“Okay, let’s head downstairs then. Do you need a flashlight?” She climbed to her bed to get hers, a relic from when she used to secretly read past her bedtime.

“I’ve got my night-vision goggles on, don’t you worry.” He winked, tapping gently on his mask.

They made their way down to the bakery’s storage room, at the back of the building. Marinette lead the way, expertly dodging bags of flour as she weaved her way towards the fridge. Chat trailed behind, marvelling at the many supplies that surrounded them. Sweet smells tickled his nostrils, chocolate, vanilla, raspberry, rose and passion fruit in between others, an original combination he very much enjoyed. Too busy basking in the quaint atmosphere of the bakery, he tripped on a box and brought down a packet of rice flour and a couple pans in his fall. The commotion gave Marinette a jump scare; she had been checking the temperature of the fridge, which seemed to be stable, with her back to him. She turned around, shining a light directly at Chat, lying on the floor covered in white powder, grinning guiltily.

“Sorry?” He said as he got up, trying to dust the flour off. His hair was completely white.

“Let me help you.” Marinette strode up to him with a giggle at his unusual appearance and mussed up his hair, standing on her tiptoes. The flour fell like snow over both of their faces. She smirked as she heard him purr in response. “For an animal that’s supposed to be discreet, you’re hardly light on your feet tonight.” He stuck his tongue out in response. Standing so close to her, their faces bare inches apart seemed to freeze his thoughts for the benefit of accelerating his heart beat.

Satisfied everything was in order, and the bakery was locked and secure, the pair went back upstairs, grabbing a box of macarons as they did, Chat admitting he’d omitted to bring dessert. They settled on the floor in Marinette’s room, laying down the picnic. Marinette was impressed by the amount of food there was.

“I wasn’t sure what you’d want to eat, so I just took what I found.” Chat shrugged. Namely, sushi, quiche, ratatouille and beef Wellington.

“You’re really the best, you know that?” She smiled in reply, her head tilting to the side as she looked at him fondly. What would she do without her Chaton?

“Purr-etty sure that would actually be you.” He held her hand absentmindedly. 

They joked around as they ate, both enjoying the company. It had been a while since Adrien had had dinner with anyone. He appreciated Marinette’s humour, and her interest in him, while still being respectful of the mask and the secrecy that went with it. Marinette was glad to have Chat with her tonight. He made the black out more cheerful.

They ended up curled up in her chaise after dinner, Chat reading her book out loud thanks to his night vision. The traditional candles had burnt out, decreasing the light source in the room. His voice, so familiar and smooth, lulled Marinette to sleep. She snuggled against him as he spoke, embracing the warmth of his body. Chat stopped reading and looked at her affectionately, reluctant to disturb her in her slumber. He moved delicately from under her and picked her up, bridal style. He carried her to her bed and tucked her in. He nipped back down to get a piece of baguette and cheese for Plagg (the Kwami would never forgive him if he didn’t get him anything), and a battery-powered candle to leave beside her bed, in case she needed it when she woke up.

Marinette stirred as he open her skylight, muttering something along the lines of Lucky Charm. Chat found it odd, but didn’t question it. 

“You’re my Lucky Charm, you know that Purr-incess?” He whispered as he carefully tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and kissed her on the forehead before leaving.

Marinette woke up the next morning in the best of moods. The power was back on, and she’d had the most wonderful dream of Adrien calling her his Lucky Charm.

[askguzma]

Discord Log: Hammond

Guest Starring: @grimomcns

Ask-Guzma:

Guzma is making his way back from grabbing a cup of cocoa and a malasada, almost to his apartment complex, in fact he's not even 2 whole blocks away, when he comes face to face with someone he knows. Hammond? What was the obnoxious spoiled rich boy doing here? Oh... it's Winter, of course they're in Alola again. Shit. He tries to avoid eye contact, but the other already spotted him and is moving in on the offensive. "Well would you look at who it is?" Damn, his voice is just as snarky and grating as Guzma remembered it. He pauses, but doesn't respond at first. "Surprised you decided to show your face here in Hau'oli again. Honestly I'm almost a little surprised you're even still in Alola. What could there be for you in a place where literally the entire public hates you?" Guzma's grip on his lunch tightens. He doesn't want to engage him, but having stopped already, he feels obligated. "What do you want, Ham-face?" His voice is restrained. "Ha! Want! That's cute, you think I want something... I guess I'm just surprised you aren't hiding in shame, right? Isn't that what you do best? I heard that instead of helping and re-homing all those lost children you manipulated, you just left them without another word." Hammond crosses his arms over his chest, a smug smile on his lips. Guzma questions what he's gaining from this. What does he get out of tormenting him? And where did he even hear this stuff? "The hell do you know 'bout what happened?" Hammond rolls his eyes. "All of Alola knows. It's not like it's a secret, right? Big Bad Boss of Team Skull goes and disappears. Suddenly Skull's running around like a torchic with its head cut off without their leader... they fell apart didn't they?" Guzma only hangs his head in shame. He doesn't have a reply to that. "I'm right, aren't I?" Still no reply.

Grimoncns:

Grimsley had just been out for a walk, really. Luck was going mad from being suck inside with her babies...and it was about time he started weaning them. So, out he went for a stroll, deciding to try and catch Guzma on the way back when he saw a scene that was rather unexpected. Oh, anyone with eyes could tell that Guzma was unhappy, and it brought a brief frown to Grimsley's face. Soon, however, he replaced it with his pokerface smile, approaching and giving Luck a reassuring scritch to her ear. "...good afternoon, gentleman..." He greeted smoothly, tucking his hands in his sleeves. "how does the day greet you?"

Ask-Guzma:

Guzma IMMEDIATELY snaps around at hearing Grimsley's voice and look of relief on his face is astounding. He hurries over to him, but stops and hesitates, not wrapping his arms around him... it looks like he wants to, but... he glances over his shoulder at Hammond. The boy notices and approaches with a sly smile, adjusting his tie, pale green eyes fixed on Grimsley. "Well, it's a pleasure, isn't it? Not every day I get to commune with the dead, hm?" He scoffs and tucks his arms behind his back. "So you must be Guzma's new fling everyone's talking about. I knew he had no standards, but THIS is a bit of a surprise. I think when the day greeted you it SCREAMED and tried to tuck you back in for the morning." Guzma is gritting his teeth, turning to SNAP at him. "The fuck you want, Ham-face!? Pretty sure nobody asked you!" "Oh, Guzma... those are harsh words coming from someone in your position, aren't they? I'd actually heard you moved into this complex" he points over his shoulder with one thumb, "and I wanted to drop by to let you know my dad happens to own it, that's all. Figured since the world finally figured out where you were that I'd come pay you a visit." "Tch, why'd'you care so much? I'm flattered, but I ain't into you." "Obviously" he looks to Grimsley, "I see you prefer necrophilia."

Grimoncns:

"....." Oh. Well, now, it was one thing for Grimsley to make those jokes about himself, but it was another matter entirely for someone to bully him for it. In his gut was a mixture of anger and...slight shame. People were MOCKING Guzma for being with him? But Grimsley was used to these low blows, keeping a smooth smile on his face, even though his cat was starting to bristle up from anger, herself. "Man, oh man...what is going on today? I come here for a warm and friendly greeting...and instead end up being cut to the quick. I must've done something fantastic to upset you...." He gave a bow of his head in greeting, his smile certainly NOT matching his eyes. "Elite Four Grimsley, at your service....your father must have some money to own the complex. A shame he doesn't have enough money to send you somewhere to learn manners and basic human decency. What was the name of your finishing school, the City Pound?"

Ask-Guzma:

Hammond's eyes narrow. Oh, okay... so this one knows how to bite back. An amused, if even a little perturbed smile crosses his lips and he gives a little nod. "I thought you were familiar. I think you misspoke, didn't you mean to say FORMER elite four? I'm pretty sure one of the qualifications for being a member is having a pulse. Also, my father happened to send me Quentin Academy... and if you'd had a proper education you would know the difference between proper English and Kalosian."

Grimoncns:

Here we go. Time to roll back the sleeves, proverbally. "....well, it's probably better I don't have a pulse, as I would have died laughing from you trying so hard. As for proper education, it's clear that Quentin academy has....low standards at best..." He gently wrapped his arms around one of Guzma's, his smile sharp enough to cut a hair in half. "....you're right, shame on me for daring to insinuate someone like you could possibly come from the same place as dear Professor Sycamore. He doesn't deserve to be associated with someone who's only company in bed had to be paid for."

Ask-Guzma:

Guzma's eyebrows are raised. He happily accepts his partner's arm, glaring down at Hammond with what can only be described as a combination of disgust and pity. Hammond, however, at seeing that this cat has claws decides to pick a different target, glaring up at Guzma. "Like you have any room to be sneering, Guzmania. Your only defense or consolation in this matter is clinging to... to THIS. Heh, if only you'd clung to your team like you are to him. If you'd ridden their backs instead of riding this stiff's dick and actually had the ability to whip them into shape, maybe they'd still be here. In fact, if you hadn't beaten them at all, maybe they'd have given enough of a rattata's backside to come looking for you when you abandoned them... isn't that right?" Guzma looks away, biting his lip. That... hit too close to home. "Y-you got no place to say nothin' about--" "Y-y-y-you got no place to-- BAH do you hear yourself? Run along with your tail between your legs like the coward you are, Guzmanina. My father will hear of this and you'll be homeless, not unlike the urchins you dedicated yourself to using like discarded toys in your little pity party of a team."

Grimoncns:

"...you can't get to me, so you're aiming for low blows now? Mm...surprised you know how to hit Guzma verbally in the dick. Surprised you know anything about them at all, seeing as you clearly don't have one.....I know your type. Spoiled rich boy that has no idea how to take care of himself, so he acts like he's hot crap until someone comes along that can tear him down. Then he runs home crying to daddy to fix all his problems with money and connections JUST so he can feel better bout himself. No deep, true relationships to speak of, and the only ones you have are BECAUSE of your dad's wallet. Am I getting CLOSE?" He leaned forward some, eyes narrow. "A bit of unwanted advice...open your mouth one more time and I'll make sure that your bruised ego is the last of your problems."

Ask-Guzma:

Hammond's smile falters and his eyes narrow. That stuck him, but he's doing his best to keep his wounded pride from showing. "Ha! You talk a pretty big game for someone whose addictions cost him his job. At least there's still scum like Guzma to suck up to you, right? Good thing neither of you clearly have any standards." He pauses to take a step closer and leans in to smirk at him. "The only low blows I'm seeing here are the two of you settling on each other. Low-hanging fruit all that's within either of your grasp, isn't it? Heheheh"

Grimoncns:

Grimsley's smile turned warm, almost familial as he sat a hand on Hammond's shoulder, gently squeezing. "....better to be low-hanging fruit than a rotten apple that fell off the tree." He cooed. Then, without warning, he jumped up, kicking out both feet as hard as he could, aiming on either side of the sternum. Oh, much as this punk deserved it, he didn't want to cause TOO serious of harm. He even landed on his feet, dusting himself off and acting like he'd done nothing at all, looking to Guzma with a casual smile on his face. "....so, how does takeout sound tonight? I'm really feeling sweet and sour chicken..."

Ask-Guzma:

Guzma hurriedly takes hold of Grimsley's shoulders and swings him around the other side of himself, putting his own body between him and Hammond, half out of defense to keep Hammond away from Grimsley and half because WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU JUST DO!? Meanwhile, Hammond is sputtering on the ground, hands over his chest and pavement staining his fancy pleated pants. He's coughing and struggling to breathe at first, shock evident on his face as he tries to process what just happened.

Grimoncns:

"What? That's not a yes or a no. Why the face, Guzma?" Let him fight Hammond, he'll rip his hair out.

Ask-Guzma:

"Ah um... I uhh... y-yeah... I think so... I don't... ah um... I...." He's nervously stuttering, eyes on Hammond. He has two options here. Either try and help this fuckerstick and hope his boyfriend doesn't end up in prison for assault, or RUN, RUN AWAY AS FAST AS POSSIBLE AND STILL HOPE HIS BOYFRIEND DOESN'T END UP IN PRISON FOR ASSAULT, FUCK.

Grimoncns:

"...he'll be fine. I kept the knives in my sleeve..." He sighed, tucking hands in said sleeves and shaking his head. "I would apologize, TRULY...but I did warn him. And what better way to shut him up than taking his breath away~?" Grimsley let out a soft chuckle, walking over to kneel down in front of Hammond with a rather malicious grin on his face. "Here's the real kicker....considering my reputation here in Alola is a pretty high one, do you think for one moment that anyone is going to believe that weak, frail ol' me did this to you? You can run home crying to Daddy any time you like. I'm DYING to hear what he thinks about you finally being put in your place..."

"But oh, wait, I'm already dead, aren't I? Guess the anticipation can't kill me, but man, oh man will I look forward to it all the same...."

[eliteconnections44]

The 5 Mistakes Most Single Women Make

According to Elite Connections reviews, research shows that single women looking for love tend to make the following mistakes. Have you made any of these or are you making these mistakes right now?

#1. Many single women have unrealistic expectations.

If you think your Mr. Right must share every interest with you, then that is an unrealistic expectation. Let’s say you are an avid reader, but he isn’t. This shouldn’t be a deal-breaker because as long as your interests and his interests are compatible, you should give him a chance. Perfection is a joke because perfection doesn’t exist.

Now let me clarify which expectations are realistic and which expectations are unrealistic. Here is the uncomfortable truth: Elite matchmakers point out that if you are looking for a successful husband, you only need to pick two standards as your realistic expectations, e.g. 1) he must have a successful career; 2) he must be kind. Then if he also has other positive character traits, those are bonus benefits for you. By contrast, many single women have a long list of standards – that makes the entire project looks like a wish list: 1) he must be wealthy; 2) he must be generous; 3) he must be kind; 4) he must be handsome; 5) he must have a university degree; 6) he must be under 40 years old; 7) he must come from a good family; 8) he mustn’t have an ex-wife …. How realistic is that?! Therefore, elite matchmakers claim that you’d better choose two standards as your non-negotiables, and the rest has to be negotiable if you actually want to find a husband.

#2. A lot of single women are entitled.

Women try to be good friends to each other by saying, “You are so great. You totally deserve the best guy. You are such a good catch. Any guy would be very lucky to marry you.” Interestingly, men don’t say that to each other. A matchmaker in Los Angeles states that when a female friend says, “What a good catch you are”, she is possibly selfish because that usually means she wants you to like her. In contrast, a selfless friend would tell you exactly what you need to hear (and that’s oftentimes not what you want to hear). American author Tracy McMillan even asked her female friend to write down reasons why a guy would not want to date her – her honesty is much appreciated. Frankly, what you think of as cute can be annoying to men and you need to be aware of that. Then you can take action accordingly.

#3. Most single women rely on Internet dating completely.

Yes, you read that right. I said “most single women”, not “some single women”. This might shock you, but it’s a fact. A matchmaker in Los Angeles once said, “Ten years ago, online dating was a taboo topic, but today online dating is mainstream, if not the only way for the majority of single women looking for love. However, the success rate of Internet dating is actually pretty low (about 35%). We’ve seen a lot of complaints about online dating – many women complain that they only meet bottom feeders on dating websites and dating apps – that’s not surprising at all, because successful men don’t really need to join dating sites and dating apps as they probably don’t lack options. Also, many successful men don’t want to publish their photos and dating profiles on the Internet because they are relatively well-known in their local areas. That’s why joining a dating app or a dating website isn’t the best way to meet successful men.”

Elite Connections reviews indicate that many successful men prefer professional matchmaking services, for they understand the value of their time – they would rather spend some money to hire elite matchmakers instead of spending their time looking for suitable women by themselves. That’s because successful men consider their time more important (they can always get their money back, but they can’t get their time back). As a result, after hiring elite matchmakers, successful men can be introduced to qualified candidates directly, thereby saving their time.

#4. A large number of single women are not motivated.

Although many single women say that they want to get married, in reality, their actions tell us that they don’t. Let me explain.

Our grandparents’ generation probably had to get married because at that time, most women were unable to find proper jobs – they had to rely on their husbands financially. Consequently, a woman’s real job was her marriage those days. This also explains why the divorce rate was very low at that time.

But in today’s day and age, women are able to find proper jobs. In fact, many women have high-profile jobs. Thus, women don’t rely on men financially these days. As a consequence, the necessity of marriage isn’t very obvious anymore. That’s why modern women are much more likely to get divorced (nowadays the divorce rate is around 50%) or stay single – in terms of lifestyle, they are married to their careers.

If you are a modern woman with a successful career, you probably need to think about your motivation: Are you motivated enough when it comes to looking for a husband? If you are actually motivated, you may consider hiring a matchmaker in your area and take action today.

#5. Instead of creating opportunities, some women are waiting for opportunities.

In life, you either wait or create.

Some women can’t take the initiative due to fear of rejection. Thus, they wait for the guys to ask them out. Sadly, men who approach them are often not the guys that they actually want. Hence, women would be well-advised to figure out a way to meet men proactively. Don’t be a waiter; be a creator!

A dating coach states that if you are doing it right, you should get rejected & here is why: If you never get rejections, that means you are only reaching for the low-hanging fruit instead of realizing your potential. When you get a rejection, at least you know you’ve tried your best, so now you can sleep at night. What should keep you awake at night is knowing you didn’t try your best. Of course, apart from trying your best to meet men in your local area, you can use a professional matchmaking service to help you in this regard as well.

Now you may wonder, “How can I create opportunities to meet men?” A matchmaker in Los Angeles has provided some examples for you:

Do the group version of activities that you already do. Let’s say you like music. Instead of sitting at home while listening to music, you may go to a concert where you can meet lots of like-minded men. Perhaps you like painting – you should join a painting class in your local area. When an attractive guy is walking eb you in the corridor of your office building, you “accidentally” drop a pen and make sure that he can see it. Now he will pick up the pen and say, “Excuse me. You dropped your pen.” Then you can say, “Thank you so much. Oh, this is my favorite pen. Are you working in this building as well?” This conversation can lead to something romantic easily.

Read Elite Connections reviews and see why they are an A+ rated agency. Contact the Elite Connections matchmakers in Los Angeles.

310-459-2612 info@eliteconnections.com www.eliteconnections.com

To know more details, [ Click Here ]

[survivor-kuang-si]

Episode 1: “I’m shaking in my crocs.” - Tyler

Okay so to begin my game I've started to attach myself to everyone. I'm trying to communicate with them to the best of my ability. However, Kai searching for the idol is pretty suspect if you ask me. I'll keep him close to see what he makes out to be. Other than that, I want to try and be everyone's best friend, but then get them out when necessary. From first impressions, I feel like I can trust Devon and Brendan. Danganronpa solidarity. However, Alexa may be targeted for being the only girl on an otherwise all-guys tribe. If she does get targeted, I want to try and save her so she's in my pocket. Let's play some survivor!

 Already straight out of the gate these people are boring me. I woke up super early cause here i am thinking all these Americans will be awake for this. But nope, pretty much no one is online. Quite frankly, i'm thinking of sueing.

  Ahhhh I'm so glad I'm here! It's exciting

 So Turkey just asked me to be his first ally seems like a stand up guy that I can get along with. In small tribes you can never be comfortable but pairs have run the game before.

 So the game has just officially started! I'm starting to get a feel for everyone and I'm liking some of my options. I started having a conversation with David and straight away knew I wanted an alliance with him. He seems dumb and I like dumb because it usually means they are easier to manipulate. I would love to hire all the dumb people to be my firing squad, after all they're all just expendable sheep.

Heyo. So, after taking a look at the roster, I don't think that I stand a chance to win, as I'm the only non-native English speaker. From my experience, I should avoid "standing out".

So to not stand out even more, I won't be getting a really high score in the first game. 

I won't look for a hidden idol either. The people aren't too talkative so far, which really isn't a bad thing. I can just blend in, hopefully. Let's see where we go from here by laying low :)

 This reward challenge is so infuriating, i ended up getting a really good score eventhough i have 0 clue how, but hey, i'll roll with it. David just told the tribe that he can't participate in this reward challenge as his plane was delayed 5 hours. Not good enough David. I expect you to get in that control tower and sort out the planes yourself.

I hate winterbells, I hate it with avengence. The annoying bunny, the annoying bells and the annoying music!!!!!!!!!! ARGH!

 With two members of Tanha being mutes i'm feeling pretty safe if we were to go into tribal. Myself, David, Andreas and Amanda are the only people talking in the group chat. This leaves Valentina and Haylei on the outs and hopefully they're some low hanging fruit to pick off. David has already come to me trying to lock them in, so i'm going to stand back and let him be the boss because its way too early for me to want to stand out. You can play in the mud, i'll stand here and watch.

 Couple Things: 

1. I hate Winterbells. 2. Stix's comment about how he was going to vote rubbed me the wrong way. It's just like, keep it to yourself. If you are just going to be out in the open about how you are going to play, I don't think I could trust you to keep secrets safe. All in all, I would rather keep him at arm's length with information. I can see him playing a very loyal game though, so that helps me if he wants to work together. 3. Brandon came to me and offered to work together. Of course I said yes. We both like Danganronpa and we both seem to have similar tastes in games. I want him to be my ride-or-die since he came to me first and all. I think right now is too early to make any moves, though. So we'll just wait and see 4. Alexa has a HUGE score. I want either me or Brandon to buddy up with her so we can find out what she did at the Garden of Eden.

 https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=-S4UBWGhpss

  So we're doing this first immunity challenge and all I can think is, wow, my teams killing it! Why should I kill myself when 1) we are already doing so good. ANd 2) I don't have a target on my back at all. So you bet your ass I did a minimum job and also lied to my tribe! Now I just gotta hope they don't figure out that I lied, but if they do, I feel pretty comfortable in my abilities to talk my way out of it.

okay so I've been doing pretty good in this challenge, i think lmfao, and my tribe is like "33k" "160k" When im over here fucking getting close to 1million. Thank god this is a reward challenge but im really hoping that the other tribe suck ass as much as my tribe does lmfao. Also, im not in this community but i thought i'd try it out, but everyone says "akfadkdfkagklag" im like wtf

 I really like my tribe! Everyone is pretty active and nice! Kai has flawless opinions on BB19, Stix and I are from the same city, Branden and I are both from tengaged which is surprising since I didn't think anyone from tengaged would be playign this season, Devon is pretty quiet but that's okay I know he's been busy with work the first few days and Rafael is pretty fun to talk to.

  So i scored the best challenge score on my tribe! Which honestly wasn't hard, they're all very incompetent. Looking at some of the scores from other tribes, im shaking in my crocs. So i get sent to the garden of Eden with Brandan and McKenna. We have a riveting conversation on call and all decide not to take that lovely temptation. Well i mean i said i wouldn't. I want that idol! I came here to play so honey, you're gonna have to hand over that clue. I wouldn't call it lying, i mean if i told them i was going to take it they'd have a one up on me, and we cant have that. So now i have to throw the immunity challenge! Sorry Tahna, looks like i accidently slept threw the entire challenge! After all i am Australian! David has just told me that i'm his number 1 and I guess he is my number 1 as well, but that doesnt mean im telling him i have the idol clue! Also because i told him 'all about what happened in Eden' he promised to tell me what happened if he was to go in. Sorry David ;)

 The tribe winning the reward really raises moral. That advantage will be super useful for the upcoming immunity. The tribe has decided to go and give the extra life to Brandan since he did get the highest score on the reward challenge. This might get him labeled as comp beast, and thus targeted. For immunity, the plan is to target one tribe and get them out so it ends the challenge quickly and efficiently. I came up with the plan, and have been the most active in the chat. I'm scared of this since it would make me look like a leader, and being a leader puts a target on your back. I doesn't bode well with me. Other than that, I think if we did go to tribal, I would vote out Stix since he has been a bit aloof during the time the game has started. I would like to continue working with Brandan, but have also grown fond of Kai. If Kai, Brandan, and I were in an alliance, that would be my ideal scenario. Raffy logging out!

 I'm trying to convince McKenna or Ally to take on my ideal plan for the challenge as my own, I do not want to put my name out and be singled out if the plan fails. My plan: I'm trying to get our whole tribe to 'shoot' at the Tanha members, send them to tribal because Koalang has an advantage. I personally believe the advantage is an auto dodge if they can't get it off. If Aphi Sa coordinates shots on Tanha, Koalong might tag along and send them to tribial instead of us. Obviously, I don't feel 100% safe, I'm going to be working at the beginning of the challenge. If I get shot while I can't get on my phone, I'm out. I am trying to implement a tribe plan for the challenge without tagging my name on as I can't be there to lead the troops out of the gate.

My tribe is hard to get the correct feel of, I'm not sure if I'm talking to much to them or if they appreciate me having something to read. As far as alliance members go, I am currently trying to find who I would like to be most loyal to in this game. Zach is a strong front runner, as well as Charlotte. I like Ally and McKenna, but McKenna seems like the most likely to "Caesar me" JG is my ideal first boot if it comes to it. He doesn't talk in tribe and has not responded to my pms. Maybe they're all PMing behind me but I doubt it, our tribe chat is DEAD.

 Took a little sneaky peek for the idol. I have to come back again! I was so close! Bloody Mitchell flashing all his idols

 It's annoying that we didn't get anywhere in the challenge. I know some people struggled but I'm like seriously, I struggled and you got less than me, really? I think some weren't really trying and if that happens again I won't be impressed!

 This idol clue was actually such an amazing advantage! After looking for the idol i realised that there was no way anyone could find the idol without the clue. So i know where im looking next round! I am encouraging people from my tribe to look for it so i can seem like a 'team player'. When really, they have no hope.

 I think I've placed myself really well socially in the game. I've been talking and bonding with everyone in the tribe. Though I doubt we will go to tribal. Our strategy is solid. The only change is that we've decided to go for the other tribe as one of their members, Tyler, basically threw the challenge by typing in the sharpshooter chat before the challenge began. Now tey are down to 5 members. This should be easy.

 We just slammed this contest like what the hell , you're not going to show up , I was just in a finale and had a funeral to go to and I was here , LOL THESE PEOPLE ARE JOKES

well that challenge was easy and I think i have very good social bonds right now and I hope I have something flowing with Ally and EG. Zach is chill but I think hes chill with everyone, charlotte is basically inactive and idk hes just weird lmfao, ian just talks to me but we never even formed anything hah

 OMFG what rubbish pile of poo tribe have you put me on. I am so so peed off right now. Considering I am the one with the bad timezone here...... URGH. I was gonna write a long complicated one and I am actually so beyond peed off I don't think I can. I'd better not go I am telling you that much. An 8 hour task and they lasted 16 fecking mins. Hardly anyone talks and noones putting any effort in.

AS expected, the plan worked flawlessy. Aphi Sa even helped out to take down the other tribe. It went smoothly, but Amanda really pulled it out even if she had no one but herself. I'm impressed and kind of sad. Sad that a simple typo brought her down. If she got to the merge or if I end up with her in a tribe, I would definitely love to work with her.

Yay we won both challenges! To recap my day a bit, I'm now in two separate duo alliances! I'm in #TeamBuffalo with Stix and Team Tengaged with Brandan, I really like both of them and Rafael so hopefully us 4 could possibly form a larger alliance together? We'll have to see.

 Ahhhh I'm so happy we won but I definitely think Amanda should get some sort of reward for doing that because the only thing that stopped her from winning was bad spelling.

 Just won our first immunity! My tribe is unstoppable and my plan is working great. I'm keeping a really strong social connection, while also making myself look like I'm beatable in challenges individually! You think firing at 6:06 was a mistake?....oh boy are you wrong. If I'm gonna win this thing, my plan needs to keep going Day by day. Just a little more than the day before. But I'll tell you what, next immunity challenge, if we somehow don't win. I'm ready to make a big move already.

 Well that's fabulous 0 for 2 *strikes pose* Go team.

 Okay, so Brandon has made an alliance with him, Kai, Alexa, and I. While I'm all for an alliance, with six people on this tribe, it really seems easy for it to fall apart. Unless, we don't go to tribal until three tribes become two, I don't see this alliance lasting too long. But at least the two people I want to work with (Kai and Brandon) are with me. Alexa, if it comes down to it, will go out of everyone. For now, however, I need to up my social game with Kai and Brandon so they will want me around more than Alexa. Devon is also someone I feel like I can trust. A side duo with me will be pretty good for me. My tribe rankings would be: 1. Brandon (since he seems to be in everyone's ears and already calling strategic shots) 2. Me (not first because I haven't started strategizing with people) 3. Kai (third most active and useful in challenges) 4. Alexa (she's in by no means a bad spot. The reward challenge should make her higher, but she also doesn't interact as much. I consider her the bottom of the alliance) 5. Devon (sort of just there. A floater) 6. Stix (Bottom of the tribe. A bit aloof when it comes to conversation. Nice guy though)

 Aphi Sa represent! A two round Sharpshooter win has to be something to be proud of right? Full offense to Koalang, we carried you that challenge. Tanha, it was nothing personal we just wanted the advantage to be a non issue and from your reward scores, you seemed like the tribe that would have the least active at the beginning. When Tyler started typing in the challenge chat before the game started I kept thinking to myself, "Do it, come on do it, press enter!" That two round win is my strategic win, I came up with the plan to target Tanha, sorry, I came up with the idea that we do a spread offensive first round to take out the afk's at the start, I was the one who gave the list to the tribe of the names on the other tribes. I did that... with the help of my tribe. Ally is the only person in this game that knows that I was the mind behind a 15 minute challenge, I had to work so I was only going to be active for 3 or 4 rounds so I spent the time leading up to the challenge thinking of routes the challenge that could take and the fastest way to win it for my tribe whilst I could take part or set them up for success in my absence. I reiterate spread offense, logically I wouldn't be the only one who could only participate for so long and hit the people that would be in my boat. Then tactical strikes on the ones that dodge, sadly for Amanda she was the only one on her tribe who participated. My hat's off to you girl, 9 dodges in one round, I couldn't do it, alas a spelling error got you. Can happen to anyone one when the game is on the line and you know everyone is coming for you. Ally proved vital in my quest to get my plan portrayed to the tribe while making everyone feel like they were part of the discussion. In our tribal discussion she helped sway the conversation to points that would emphasis the plan I pm'd her about for the challenge. Hopefully this is indicative of a partnership I would like to have in this game. Everyone felt included, everyone felt vital. Aphi Sa is safe, as great coaches say, “We're on to the next Challenge.”

 Hello ladies and gentlemen, lovers and fighters, high tops and sober bottoms, it is MISS Kelsey Mikaelson, coming to you live and in colour~! That's right, she's back in the business, ready to fight for the crown! And, surprise surprise, no one's talking to her! LOL, let me stop the third person. Entering this season, I was actually quite excited due to the chance to play with actual, like...new people like myself instead all those flops who win a season per month. However, against my expectations, I'm accepted less with these new people than usual XDDD I don't feel like anyone in the tribe is really...like, happy to see me or enjoying speaking with me. It's just not a nice air but what else other than jealousy can start off a season like this? ;) I really wish Tahna won the immunity challenge but that didn't happen so...I've just got to push myself to talk to these people, as much as they don't want to talk to me. Let's hope I don't go home first, that wouldn't be too good a look. If I can make it through this one, I've got a knack I can last so...let's put our hearts up for this one! Wish me luck, loves! ^__^ And THAT'S all there is to it! The body is HERRRREEE! -Kelsey Mikaelson

 Yeah, we were the target to go at the challenge, and it was sad to see us going down so quick, but oh well. With one person attending, that's just how it goes. Not much more to add here :)

 Okay so i'll give like a brief "initial thoughts" run through of everyone, where I stand, and how i'm feeling about the overall game. So, without further ado, let's introduce my fellow tribe mates! First we have Ally. So her and I briefly talked, and it was the minimal type of conversation. I heard from a fellow friend of mine that she is extremely loyal, trustworthy, and likeable, and that I should attempt to befriend her. My goal for the upcoming days is to grow really close with her, and try to form a solidified bond. Next, we have Charlotte. I know of her from another ORG, in which I evicted her (but it was an unanimous vote so let's hope it's not impacting on our relationship). Similar to Ally, we briefly talked on the first day, and it was more about other things opposed to just the simple "hey what's up!" talk, so that's something. I'll probably try to strengthen my relationship with her slightly. Ian's next. He's a goofy person to be honest. I think out of everyone, i've talked to him the most. He's not the most... relatable or easiest to talk to, but he's chill. I think I could see myself working with him to an extent, purely for the benefit of my game, but nonetheless, I need to keep talking to him! Following Ian, we have JG. I have not spoken one, single word to him/them/her. The reasoning is that I want to start a little bit, so we have a bond, but I need someone I can vote out first. Unfortunately, for the luck of draw and timing, they're the one I chose. Maybe things could change though? Who knows. The last individual we have is Mckenna. I really like her, and her and I talked a lot about various things and she has straight out asked me to work together. I said yes, because I do. The only issue with Mckenna is that I think she's playing a social, snake-like game, and i'm a little worried, but it's kind of too early to call. So in conclusion of the initial thoughts, I think I stand okay with everyone. I'm going to try to be more active and helpful so that i'm an attribute to keep around, because quite frankly I want to win. Now, for my strategy. Like every game i've ever played, my intent is to be a strategic goddess. However, I want to revamp that and focus on my social game. In Bahamas (shout out to Dana), my game was purely social, and I made it to final three, placing second and LOSING by one vote against Dana. Strategy was an aspect of my game, but not everything to me. This time, as it's a main season, i'm putting all my energy into this. I'm going to attempt to be manipulative, and run the merge phase and win. Obviously, I won't, i'm too cocky, but that's my hopes and dreams. I want to excel strategically and socially, and be okay competitively. One thing i'm excited for is that this game, I plan on being extremely cutthroat. Will that bite me in the ass? More than likely, but whom cares. I want to be fun, entertaining, and play hard, and if I lose because lack of respect... whatever. But keep in mind that may be subject to change as i'll probably develop secured relationships, and be really nice and loveable. I need to work on my jury management skills, so maybe i'll tell people if i'm voting them off. WOOO That's it for now! Sorry about my ramble! Talk to y'all soon!

 Challenge = Thrown , I'm not going to lie, i didn't mean to send a message to the challenge chat, but i'll take it cause it actually ended up working in my favour! My tribe is from places all over the world and the only person who actually participated was Amanda, which i find hilarious. Annnnd the only person that Amanda wasn't angry at wasn't me🤷🏼‍♂️. Look at me go. We lost the challenge 😭. David and Fairy (Andreas) both talked to me prior to the challenge, and we shared gentle words about how we wanted Haylei absolutely eradicated from our tribe. And what do you know, we all just end up talking about this in the tribe chat, it's not like Haylei will ever log on to see it. It's nice in rounds like these where the vote is obvious, to step back and let others feel like they're in charge, gettem nice and comfortable *Pretty aggressive and Malicious Laughter*