#have smthg light and fun for once

[kashmirichaiwithmehr]

what’s the best/least annoying way to order custom drinks at starbucks 😭 i feel so annoying ordering them

dont feel annoying!! its literally sbux's whole brand to customize drinks so idrc thaaat much (and tiktoks boosted that even more). id say there are some ways you as a customer can make it sightly easier for the baristas working tho if ur worried about that?

ordering in the cafe as opposed to mobile so u can help the barista understand what exactly it is u want. ALSOOOO u can do a LOT more at cash than on the app!!!!!!, like adding certain things to cold foam or adding smthg like lemonade to a frap (dont knock it till u try it)

saying the order piece by piece instead of all at once so we can punch it in piece by piece and not have u repeat it 10 times (it helps bc the system to punch orders in has diff customizations all over the place so we have to search for things in diff "windows")

if u want smthg u saw online or someone sent u PLS dont just stick ur phone in our faces without saying anything. the amount of times ive had ppl do that is ridiculous (btw if its someone who has a hard time speaking english its a different situation and i dont mind). maybe start off by making light convo w us and being genuine and saying that you wanna order smthg u saw online and then theyll ask u for the recipe. sometimes the barista (ex. me) will ask u to put the phone down so i can just read the recipe which makes it easier for both parties (i dont like touching other ppls phones but thats just me)

pls dont feel annoying ordering it !!!!! the whole point is to have fun drinks. one piece of advice ill give to everyone tho is that if ur taking smthg off tiktok sometimes the ppl posting it dont work at starbs and dont know how our process works and they give an unnecessarily convoluted way of ordering a simple drink, so ask a barista for their opinion! just having a friendly convo w ur barista can help bc they might tell u ways to order things and customizations they like !! <33333

[le-amewzing]

Sartorially Suited

Inspired by something I've noticed over the last several seasons. ;3

Fic: "Sartorially Suited" [FFN] [AO3]

Pairings/Characters: Ellie Bishop/Nick Torres, Leon Vance, Jack Sloane, Donald "Ducky" Mallard, Jimmy Palmer/Breena Slater–Palmer, Kasie Hines, Timothy McGee, & Leroy Jethro Gibbs

Rating: K+

Words: ~4,440

Additional info: romance, family, friendship, 3rd person POV

Summary: Those around Bishop and Torres every single day think they know these two special agents quite well, almost down to the very last detail. But there's a new detail these days that gives each of them pause, makes them wonder…

               Somedays, Leon Vance thinks he's running a tried-and-true, proper agency. Other days, he wonders if his agents have been sent to him by way of Henrietta Lange.

               It has less to do with their day-to-day tasks. He does consider himself lucky not to be heading Special Ops; Hetty's agents either have a death wish or truly are unlucky enough to cross paths with at least one explosion seemingly every single day. But, Vance wonders a time or two in his walks to and from his office that give him a good gander at the rest of the orange room, he muses that he's been too lax around here with the dress code.

               His people don't go undercover regularly, as does Hetty's team. But this is a federal agency, like the FBI or the CIA. Outside of officers in uniform who work on base, civilian workers are meant to dress in work attire. Collared shirts or blouses, ties, suits, polished shoes. Vance hasn't read the NCIS employee handbook in a long time—that's HR's role, unless a major overhaul is required and demands his attention as agency head—but it's not a difficult dress code to follow.

               Most of the teams on the floor he knows follow it well. But there is always one…and even now, this morning, Vance's eyes drift directly down to the near middle of the bullpen, to the Major Case Response Team. Gibbs' team.

               If this were a more serious gripe, Vance knows he'd get nowhere trying to budge Gibbs. There's no budging a Marine, and Vance knows better than to try. Besides, Gibbs does well to represent the agency; there's actually nothing to nitpick about the way the seasoned team leader suits up for work.

               McGee follows in Gibbs' footsteps, it seems. Or maybe his own, Vance muses with the tiniest of smirks as he thinks of the technical background and by-the-book way of doing things he and McGee have in common. But it's true that McGee's not an issue in this instance, far from it.

               On the other hand… Quite McGee's opposite is Torres, and now Vance's thoughts circle back to Hetty's team. In t-shirts and jeans, Torres dresses these days much the same as if they've just brought him in from out of the cold, much as though he's waiting to change into some costume and adopt a fresh alias he has yet to wear. The team has suffered one hardship after another since Torres joined, and Torres joined on a less-than-positive note at that—sometimes Vance wonders if he made the right call, keeping him here in D.C. instead of sending him out to L.A. where he might've been more comfortable around fellow chameleons Callen and Hanna…

               On yet another hand, maybe Torres fits in all right here if he already has some influence of his own. Vance does a slight double-take, his eyebrows rising subtly, when he sees Bishop walk away from her desk to share a file with McGee and allow Torres to look over her shoulder at her copy. And, seeing her stand, the director sees it's not one but two agents on Gibbs' team dressed casually in jeans today.

               Huh.

               Bishop has always come off as a little straight-laced herself—by-the-book, like McGee, Vance would say—but she's not the type who gives off a casual vibe at work. Torres' influence is his only answer for it, but the notion actually makes Vance smile as he turns on his heel to head for his office.

               He's far less concerned about dress codes that day than he is about his agents getting along and feeling as though they belong.

               The detail sneaks up on Sloane when she's actually busy reading their body language instead.

               She knows she made everyone a promise—and, to be fair, it's a promise she keeps with herself, too, before anyone around her can even ask—not to analyze them without their knowledge. But sometimes Sloane can't help it. Sometimes her mind wanders and the analysis kicks in, like second nature. Sometimes, she has a new academic article at the forefront of her mind, and lingering on the topic occasionally sees her testing out new ideas or looking for new clues.

               Reading people is one of her favorite aspects of her job, even if it sometimes tells her much more than she can handle. But there are always new tidbits to learn about body language, new things to interpret. Granted, she wonders if she'll ever be able to crack the tough nut that is Leroy Jethro Gibbs (and if she does, that's a psychology paper that would come with awards if not grants, if she were interested in those things), but the young ones are just…so much easier to read.

               Sticking around their desks while assisting on a case is a great way to pick up on subtle cues. Such as McGee's frown every time his phone buzzes—has he realized yet how often he frowns when that thing rings or a text comes in? Or the way Torres folds the tiniest corner of his papers—they all know paperwork is the last thing he wants to do, and he'll do anything to stall completing it. Or when Bishop chews on her bottom lip—ah, time to slide a lollipop her way.

               The trio pieces together the clues slowly, too slowly where time is of the essence, so Sloane turns her folder around and selects the likeliest of persons of interest, holds up the man's photo. McGee's the first to thank her, and in the absence of Gibbs he directs the other two to go pick him up while McGee stays behind to review their preliminary search on the suspect and do a second, deeper dive into the man's background.

               Sloane tells McGee he's welcome and takes a little bow—though she's reluctant to admit it, Vance was right about coming here, because she's never been welcomed anywhere else the way she's been welcomed here—and she turns to go, glimpsing Bishop and Torres while they wait for the elevator.

               Despite the murder case they're working, the two chat, all friendly smiles, and Sloane thinks she sees what she was reading about just this morning. Torres scratches below his neck, on his collarbone, and Bishop's left hand is curled around the strap of her backpack, but she scratches the back of her hand with her right. It makes Sloane smother a grin—all right, so she read about subconscious grooming gestures indicating interest in potential mates, but she knows better than to jump to conclusions about her colleagues, even if they do look like a good…match…

               Hold up.

               Sloane squints as Bishop steps into the elevator and Torres follows. Sure, it's a little chilly these days, so they both have jackets, but—their jackets just now weren't matching, were they? And these weren't their NCIS windbreakers, either, but black baseball jackets, so they're not something easily mistaken.

               The elevator door slides shut, and Sloane comes to her senses. No. She has to be mistaken. They've seen Torres' mostly-black wardrobe, and that's not Bishop's style. Of course not. Bishop's all beige-and-caramel sunshine while Torres is brooding black and dark gray rainclouds.

               So Sloane has to be wrong about the matching jackets, just as the article from this morning must be misinterpreting their body language. Sometimes people just have an itch they have to scratch.

               (Although, her memory recalls as she studies the case file back in her office and her mind wanders again, it's not universal that matching items are for friends and family only. In other countries, people wear matching things only with their lovers…hmm….)

               At times, Ducky feels a touch forgotten in the archives, morphing from NCIS' Chief Medical Examiner into Historian. It's not a magical job, although it does appear to be quite safer, but it's nice to be remembered when Sloane comes and plucks him from his research and categorizing for lunch or tea or when Palmer rings him up and they chat like old times, as if nothing at all has changed.

               On the bright side, leaving Autopsy has given him a certain amount of freedom, and Ducky stretches his legs more these days, so long as the clouds above forever hold their peace. He likes to think he doesn't need the maps or blueprints in the archives to know his way around the base; his walks allow him to memorize nearly all of NCIS, a newfound achievement in a lifetime full of innumerable accomplishments big and small.

               When with Palmer or Sloane or Gibbs or even without, Ducky people-watches a little more often these days, too. It's a nostalgic thing, but it always brings him home, makes him feel at home, especially when he thinks back to years ago and how close he came to losing all this at the hands of Harper Dearing.

               So Ducky sits on a bench, breaking into bite-size bits a pastry his mother never would've eaten but for which her namesake regularly asks when he visits the Palmer household, snacking and sipping his tea in the late afternoon, watching the goings-on across the various footpaths outside the building. He has no intention of disturbing anyone while he enjoys this small repast, although the gentleman in him can't be quelled when he sees Bishop and Torres stroll towards the visitors' coffee cart on the lawn. He goes to lift his hand in polite wave, not necessarily to summon them over, just to be friendly—but curiosity halts him.

               Well, that's rather interesting. Ducky doesn't consider himself a couture connoisseur (except for bowties—he certainly knows his way around bowties), but in bright sunlight it's hard to miss the picture Bishop and Torres paint: both of them in black denims and shoes and blindingly white shirts. Torres is, of course, a casual offender, Ducky thinks to himself with a chuckle; Torres is in a white t-shirt, and Ducky can't recall a lone memory of the young man in a button-up for any reason other than the sake of a case. Bishop wears the button-up, actually, and it looks nice, though Ducky can hear his late mother's voice in his head, griping about women wearing clothing that appears to be menswear. So Ducky doesn't wave to the pair of agents, but he does wave the intruding thought away.

               Ducky glances at them again, another thought hitting him that it's nice to see Torres in something that's not black. He's not certain if black is Nicholas Torres' favorite color, but it did worry Ducky, the way Torres was pulled back to the States and the way he had to adapt to team life. Who knows? Perhaps they'll see Torres in something that's not a neutral one of these days.

               His gaze lingers on them a bit longer as they wrap up at the coffee cart, likely joking about something as they share in a laugh, and Ducky can't help his smile. They strike a nice image, but it's their demeanor that has him musing something else.

               Has he seen this type of thing before? There's a—a chemistry, about the two of them, that feels quite familiar, and yet not… It takes a moment for Ducky to place his finger on it, and Bishop and Torres are far out of sight by the time he lets his mind head for the comparison.

               Perhaps he's seen something like this, just not quite. Still, Ducky can't help but think of Tony and Ziva. Those two took their time warming up to each other, and they definitely had their individual personalities beforehand, but there were slight changes, too. Tony—he became stricter about the niceness and the neatness of his suits after Ziva made the decision to stick around not only as liaison but as part of the team. Ziva—she traded in her looser, street-worthy, fight-ready attire for feminine blouses and makeup the more she acclimated to the U.S.

               But they never actually dressed alike.

               And there Ducky pauses to chuckle at himself. Of course the comparison is absurd. Tony and Ziva happened—the proof is adorable little Tali. But reading into Bishop's and Torres' fashion? He has to laugh at himself. An expert at fashion, Donald Mallard is not.

               Jimmy knows not to waste a good opportunity when he sees it. That said, if he can't finish this report in the next five minutes, then this surprise night out will not happen because Breena upstairs will walk back to her car and head home and start watching their DVR backlog without him.

               He looks the report over two, three times, and scribbles a sticky note to Kasie—K, Can you include the toxicology summary again? I lost my copy. SRY! J—before grabbing his things. He swings past the lab, slides the report under Kasie's door, and then takes the elevator the rest of the way upstairs, hoping beyond hope that Breena hasn't left yet. He checks his watch; he still has two minutes…er, a minute and a half left, after all!

               Jimmy pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose and nearly collides with the elevator door, he's that impatient for it to open. But luck is on his side, because his beautiful wife is still there, shooting the breeze with Bishop and Torres. He grins automatically, picking out Breena's laugh from the others'. "Sorry for the wait," he says as he claims the spot on Breena's right.

               "No worries, Jimmy," Breena says. She notices his hair sticking up, doesn't comment on the likelihood of his nearly colliding with the elevator door for the umpteenth time in his impatience, and reaches up to smooth a tuft back while she jerks her head towards their friends. "Ellie and Nick were just telling me that they're planning on a team truce for April Fool's this year."

               He quirks an eyebrow at them. "April Fool's? But that's still months and months away."

               Torres shrugs. "Eh, let's be real, Jimmy: If we don't make the concerted effort now, the temptation's gonna be too hard to resist."

               "So then what were you guys laughing about?"

               Torres grins, so Bishop answers: "Well, McGee wasn't present for the truce, so we're deciding whether to do the right thing and include him anyway…"

               "…or wait and see if he has another day where he's just so insufferably McGee," Torres finishes for her. He says this part while looking at Bishop, the grin still there and Bishop giving him a look that says she's not sure she quite trusts that grin, not when pranks are involved. Their interaction has Breena laughing again.

               "My vote's for everyone included," Jimmy says.

               "Diplomat," Torres teases, though he says the word like a curse.

               "Then Breena deserves a dinner fit for a diplomat's wife," Jimmy retorts, and he tips his head to the agents and holds his arm out for Breena to take.

               She happily accepts, and she waves bye to the other pair, but her eyes linger on them for a moment, just long enough that Jimmy has to tug her along. Breena's eyes glint with interest when they reach his car, though she keeps her thoughts to herself.

               Jimmy cocks his head to one side. "Uh, I know I made a diplomat joke back there, but I assure you we won't splurge that much. Victoria's college fund is always at the front of my mind," he insists.

               Breena blinks and smiles. "No, it's not that. Jimmy, you should've told me about them." Her smile turns into a playful smirk while they buckle up.

               "Uh, told you what about whom?"

               "Jimmy. About Ellie and Nick."

               "Yeah, I—I don't follow," he replies with a deer-in-the-headlights smile.

               "That they got together."

               His smile doesn't lessen. "Um. Come again?"

               Breena shakes her head at her husband. "Jimmy, you haven't noticed?"

               "I think I'd notice something as big as that." His shoulders sink a fraction. Even if he didn't notice, he would hope his friends would tell him at some point. After all, Ziva wasn't far off the mark, calling him "still everyone's favorite confidant." "Anyway," he says, getting back to their conversation, "what gave you the impression that they're…y'know?"

               She chuckles softly as Jimmy exits the parking lot and they pull out onto the main street. "It's pretty obvious by how they dress."

               All right, now he's confused. "Come again?"

               Breena grins, a sight he catches out of the corner of his eye. "No, really! They're not twinning, don't worry—although that would be obvious, for sure. But it's their styles, honey." She sinks into her seat a bit, a happy sigh escaping her lips. "It's cute, actually. Their boots are an exception, because those were the same. But the jeans and t-shirts… Ellie's usually all business, but this is a nice look for her, too."

               "I—uh—wuh—" Jimmy closes his mouth and furrows his brow, attempting to jump aboard Breena's train of thought. He hasn't given his friends' clothing much thought before, let alone their styles. But he's also trying to recall just these details from today, from earlier tonight, from minutes ago.

               Bishop and Torres…? Bishop and Torres… Bishop…and Torres…

               Jimmy's not entirely sure Breena's interpreted it correctly—after all, clothes are just clothes, right?—but he's impressed nevertheless and knows he's got the perfect dinner topic for them tonight: Imagine if keen-eyed Breena Slater had been a federal investigator instead of a mortician….

               Kasie Hines doesn't need clothing to tell her anything. She has seen this coming from a mile away, before Bishop and Torres were even aware themselves.

               But can they be any more obvious?

               Kasie doesn't mind when the gang comes downstairs for updates. Hell, she loves a visit; some of them are chattier than they appear to be, and Kasie adores that. But she is also not here to be anybody's third wheel. And that has to be the case by now, whenever Bishop and Torres are the ones who grace her lab with their presence these days.

               Before, it was obvious through their interactions. These two complete each other's sentences in a way that would make identical twins envious, and they each take their overprotectiveness to extremes (okay, so that last bit Kasie hasn't exactly witnessed herself, but it's not her fault that McGee's kind of a blabbermouth).

               Nowadays, there's never more than a foot of space between them. But their clothing is a more glaring beacon, something so obvious even a child could point it out.

               Bishop's all but traded in her dress slacks for jeans or the rare fitted cargo pants. Her blouses seem to be gone, too—now she's all plain t-shirts, short- or long-sleeve. Her shoes lean a little more combat ready, too. About the only thing that hasn't changed is her cozy sweaters that she still swims in.

               And Torres? He's probably the one to blame for Bishop's huge change in style, but Bishop's had some influence on him, too, Kasie would say. The dude has been spotted in color! If one can call white, off-white, silver, and gray colors. And hey—wait—is he wearing the same brand of boots Bishop is? Hmm…

               But, frankly, the freakiest thing occurs one day when the two of them walk into the lab and, before either of them can speak, Kasie turns around and gets an eyeful:

               Bishop and Torres. Jeans, tees, those boots. But those tees are tucked into their damn waistbands the same way, what the hell!

               She can't even with them. Outwardly, Kasie is all too happy to assist her friends and coworkers with their current case. And, inwardly, she does a little cheer, because it's about damn time these two got their act together.

               But internally Kasie mainly just wishes for her friends to stop throwing pheromones around her damn lab already. Come on, people!

               It's not the first time he's teased Torres, and it's not even the first time he's teased Torres about this particular thing. But…McGee catches himself before teasing Torres this time, because, somehow, today of all days, he sees something he hasn't seen before. And it's not even on Torres.

               Is it just McGee or…does that flannel Bishop has layered over her top look a lot like one of Torres'?

               He stops, stares at his keyboard, squints at the keys and pretends to type while he panics. This is— No, that can't be— Surely, he's not— They're not—

               All right. Breathe. He's the senior agent of the three of them. He…he's been around longest. He's the oldest of the three of them. He's—he's seen things. He's experienced things. He's worked with Ziva and Tony and Kate, so of course after those three he can handle anything.

               McGee takes a peek above his monitor, looks across the way at the two of them at Bishop's desk. …nope. Now that he's seen it, he can't unsee it.

               This had been another great chance to poke fun at Torres again, honestly. Almost from the get-go, the guy has seemed allergic to his own desk. But over the years he's gravitated more often than not to Bishop's more than…to anyone…else's…

               McGee purses his lips. No. It can't be. But he takes another peek at them.

               This time Bishop and Torres stare back.  Torres has one eyebrow quirked, like "Bro, what the hell?" and Bishop's got that pinch between her eyebrows as though she's getting ready to correct McGee about some detail.

               McGee ducks his head, does an excellent job feigning normalcy. If either of them bugs him, he'll just say he had a thought about the money trail that flew away and he's working on getting it back.

               Neither of them asks what's got him making funny faces at them.

               Meanwhile, McGee continues to stare at his screen and take away nothing of the words and numbers staring back at him. He can't, because he's far too busy dismantling his panic.

               There is absolutely no way that Bishop and Torres are together.

               Besides, why even think that? People can loan people clothes in a platonic manner, too. So there's absolutely no reason whatsoever to jump to conclusions about these two. He doesn't even want to think about it.

               Not to mention, McGee mentally adds to his running list of denials with a glimpse at the empty desk of their fearless leader, Bishop and Torres work together. There are rules about this sort of thing. Tony and Ziva were a weird, rare exception and—and—and—well, the circumstances are not the same, whatsoever.

               McGee should just be glad that his junior agents get along so well, is all. So, with that crazy notion put to rest, McGee catches Torres' eye again and motions him back to work at his own desk, ignoring the way the latter dramatically yowls the short walk back, eliciting an entertained, not irritated, chuckle from Bishop.

               …Gibbs has rules. He has rules so people know what lines they're going to cross, because…rules are made to be broken. He always teaches his agents, his kids, every last rule. But that made-to-be-broken part is a secret, is a lesson that everyone has to learn on their own. God knows he's learned it time and again.

               And it's his rules and that secret lesson that come to mind at the end of one workday when he sits at his desk, wrapping up some nonsense paperwork. McGee's already gone home to Delilah and the twins, Sloane stopped by on her way out and ended up walking out with Vance and Kasie, and Palmer better have his butt out of Autopsy and on the way home before it's past his daughter's bedtime. That leaves him in the bullpen with Torres and Bishop dragging their feet as they shut down their computers for the weekend and grab their things.

               Normally he'd tell them goodnight without lifting his head from his work. But they're not far from his desk, so Gibbs pauses to give them a brief nod, a Gibbs family sign of affection, before they head home. And maybe his head's been wrapped up in this case or maybe some part of his attention will always be outside of the office, with Tobias and Emily, but now his focus is here and stalls long enough that he couldn't cover it with another brief nod if he had the mind to do so.

               "Uhh…Gibbs…?" Bishop prods, her brow furrowed.

               Gibbs takes in the obvious sight before him, internally snorts about the trouble Rule Twelve has caused him over the years, and simply smirks. It's a soft expression, though, and he shakes his head and ushers them on with a wave of his hand.

               They nod, wish him a good night, and pick up some speed on their way to the elevator. And then Gibbs is left in peace to finish his work.

               …but, of course, that exchange with Gibbs just now is on Bishop and Torres' minds, and they're fidgety the entire elevator ride down.

               Bishop runs her hands—yes, both of them—through her hair while Torres stands to her left, cool as a cucumber. "Oh, my God, Gibbs totally knows. He knows."

               "Pssh. C'mon, Ellie." He shrugs then…and, in doing so, reveals that he's less cool cucumber and more jumping bean. "We've said nothing! How can he possible know?"

               "Nick! I'm wearing one of your shirts today!" she hisses.

               He throws up both hands in a calming gesture, but their conversation halts when they reach the ground floor and exit the lobby. But, outside, most everyone else has gone home already, so it's all right to be a little conspicuous. Torres cocks his head to one side and peers into her eyes. "But, seriously. How could Gibbs possibly identify a generic black shirt?"

               Bishop chews her bottom lip and stares up at him with large eyes.

               Torres pulls her into his arms, an action to calm both their nerves. "Even if a tight black tee on me looks just as sexy hanging a little loose on you…" He shakes his head dramatically, heaves a sigh for added effect.

               That does the trick. Bishop breaks into a laughing smile and reaches up, going to pat his stubbly left cheek and instead choosing to hold his face, bringing it close to hers, letting their noses touch. There aren't many shadows in the NCIS parking lot, but the pair is dressed for the occasion—matching black boots and jeans, his short-sleeve tees—so…if they've been found out (or are about to be)…might as well make good use of those shadows, yeah?

B3c No particular timeline in mind, tho this was written with a pre-s18 mindset, hence no spoilers. -w- STILL! These last several seasons, esp in s16 & 17, I've noted something I can't unsee myself: That is the blessed wardrobe dept. for this show dressing Ellick's actors alike, I kid you not. It doesn't happen in every episode, and Bishop's style has seen the most change, but it happens often enough and blatantly enough that I took note and pointed it out to my dad and my friend and now we all see it (we're all Ellick shippers, too, so we could be biased, but I DIGRESS :P). I remember in my film classes how important sets and wardrobe and props could be, but my heart has been squeezing over this detail for so long and it took me a long while to figure out how/if I could ever write this observation as a fic. Turns out, doing this in my style of ship-thru-another's-eyes (particularly, the process of my old Haikyuu!! oneshot, "Are They…?") is exactly what I needed! :'D Not to mention all the POVs! X3 Some details of Ellick's outfits are stretched here, but *not everything is—some are based on real things seen in the show*. Jsyk! ;D (And regarding Ducky's summation of Tiva, I have one additional, s17 wardrobe comment: Note that, seeing Ziva back, without stability and without Tony around, Ziva has reverted to dressing like her old self, more mobile and danger-ready, oho. :O) Oh, also, Sloane's psychoanalytic bit about the grooming habits—that's a real thing! I read that recently in a news article, tho, not an academic journal, *lol*. (Also true is the matching-is-for-lovers detail in other countries; I'm sure there are other examples, but I know for a fact that Japan is one such country where people tend to match with their lovers in lieu of friends or family.) Anywho…! I enjoyed writing from all these diff POVs and deciding to include Ellick themselves at the end. The Jeena section still makes me smile and laugh a lot, tho, altho Vance's opening is just. XD (I'm a fan of all the NCIS shows. c:) So how about you? Do you have any details that are your favs? Which section/Whose POV(s) did you enjoy reading the most?

Thanks for reading, and feel free to leave an anon/unsigned review via the FFN link or comment via the AO3 link at the top of the post, especially if you enjoyed this!

~mew

[sunflwryu]

man, i just thought of something...the plot for “yes” would’ve been juicier if you were a complete stranger yandere! sunghoon had his eyes on for quite some time, but you didn’t know him cuz you came to the competition for fun. damn, missed opportunity...

also, the rest of this post contains spoilers for what happens in it so go read that if you haven’t yet! also this includes mentions of anxiety but not that much since it was described a lot in the fic.

but anyway, here’s my thoughts/headcanons on what it would’ve been like. ig you can say it’s kinda like a director’s cut but not really...

you came with your fiancee or better yet, spouse??

the staff comes to take you from the audience as soon as hoon finishes his gold medal routine

you and your s/o think it’s like for some publicity stunt so you think nothing of it

so the staff makes you put on some skates and you’re like nonono i don’t wanna go out there cuz that’s too much, and the staff’s like, go ahead it’s gonna be fine and not too long anyway

oh yeah, if you have a wedding ring, maybe one of the staff subtly removes it??

then, hoon goes up to get you and bring you over to the center, holding you close as the surprise plays out like it does in the story

you think that hoon’s just holding you close since you’re not steady and to look good for the cameras, but it’s a little off to you

but hoon’s really enjoying holding you close cuz he’s touching his beloved for the first time??

maybe you think the surprise is from your s/o and you’re wondering how they did it (but you still hate the attention) so you’re not as uncomfortable; the show must be done after this, right? maybe you’ll say like “that’s so sweet”

you wait for hoon to skate you to the exit but his grip is tight and the lights change

hoon starts to proclaim his love and describe things about you that only your close ones would know, and you start to get increasingly scared on top of the anxiety, like you don’t know this man at all aside from the fact that he’s a famous skater

“they love to take walks in nature” or maybe even “our dog [your dog’s name] was what bonded us together” or smthg

bonus points if you just got the dog a week ago

when he kneels down with the ring and the engraved names, you will be horrified and really really scared of hoon, because why is he doing this? why do the staff look okay with this and that it’s all natural? wtf did he tell them?? how long ago was this planned that the ring was custommade and engraved??

hoon’s really threatening btw with the hand squeeze at the end, reminding you of the consequences directly in a low voice since he doesn’t have to come off as trustworthy to you about this

“you’ll be ruined if you don’t say yes” maybe as the chilling last line or smthg like that

oh, and your s/o?

a look of hurt, maybe even betrayal, thinking that you were cheating on them with hoon, cuz how would hoon know some of these things you two didn’t tell anyone yet, like the dog you got recently??

or on the other hand, fear, because they trust you not to cheat and the realization of the inevitable “yes” you will be forced to say

even juicier on the last bullet: your s/o starts to stand up for you, saying that they’re your s/o since they know you have anxiety and can’t stand up for yourself that well, giving you hope to get out of this situation

but hoon shuts that down immediately by painting them as a crazy delusional stalker of yours

who’ll believe your s/o over a well-liked celebrity?

he’ll use money to mess with the legal records so that if your s/o was your spouse, your marriage certificate would be nonexistent or smthg

he’ll bring you in his arms once again and you’re so uncomfortable, and he’ll comfort you about that supposed “stalker” of yours, turning off the microphone when he sees you’re about to protest

“don’t worry, love, they won’t be able to get you as long as i’m here” with a trademark smirk of victory

i mean it’s good as it is now cuz of the betrayal and all, i won’t change it since it’s already published, but oof...i can’t believe i didn’t think of that.

i hope you liked this, it was fun to make! i might do more in the future, so maybe you can send me some thoughts or concepts to make headcanons on. it can be of already existing stories too. i might do them as fics tho if i’m feeling really inspired and the idea’s really good tho so be warned.

make sure to read my rules tho first cuz they still apply. i’ll make an official post? on this once i think more about it and if i like it enough to do it more/put it on my main page cuz fics take quite some time to think of and write.

[lloydskywalkers]

let me just start out by saying i love ever single one of your stories!!! i’m pretty new to the show and your works just add so much more feeling to everything and it’s sooo good!!! i don’t know if you ever do requests or not, so don’t bother with this if you’re busy!! but if you ever get a chance could you write smthg abt Jay and Kai? their friendship is so underrated but so good and i live for the moments in the show when Kai’s big brother instinct(tm) kicks in for him as well as Nya and Lloyd

aH thank you so much!! i’m so glad to hear that :D and this isn’t...exactly what you asked for, but Kai and Jay have this fun of dynamic that reminds me a lot of me and my brother, and i’ve been tossing around little bits of interaction between them for a while now, so i tried to make something coherent out of those :’D

Jay likes to think he’s pretty good at the whole compartmentalizing thing, for the most part. Mainly because he actually knows what it means, and it is not, for instance, locking your team up in a literal compartment while rushing off to fight the other compartment that is your resurrected homicidal father into submission.

“That was one time,” Lloyd will grumble, as if he’s only almost-died once. And then Jay will flinch, because that’s where his compartments come into play.

(Nadakhan gets one, Unagami gets another, the whole fun-times adoption reveal another, and everything else can get stuffed into the metaphorical attic since they won’t pay rent.)

Unfortunately, the attic is where the bad stuff lives.

Metaphorically.

If Jay had a nickel for every time he almost lost all of his friends, he’d have two nickels, plus another nickel for Cole falling into the fog, and another for Lloyd getting crushed by a roof, and another for Zane blowing up, and another for Nya in that awful dress with paling skin as her breathing stutters and the light in her eyes draining and —

And Jay is way, way too familiar with how it looks when his family dies, and all the nickels in the world won’t help that.

So while Jay likes to think he’s pretty good at compartmentalizing, he also thinks he’s got a valid excuse for the way he reacts when Lloyd goes down in the fight that afternoon. Sure, some vague part of his mind remembers that they’ve got a plan they’re running, and Lloyd should easily be able to handle a tiny little stumble — but Jay’s mind is stuck in glaring oranges and health bars, the unsteady gasping noise Lloyd had made before he went down, dissolving into digitized cubes just like everyone else, and Jay—

Jay can’t handle that, compartments or not, so he clears the space between them in a heartbeat just in time to take the bullet that comes hurtling Lloyd’s way.

It’d probably be a very noble and touching scene, if one) Jay didn’t make a hideous squeaking noise when it hit because bullets hurt, and two) the bullet would have missed Lloyd by a good two feet anyways.

Ah well, he thinks, as everything devolves into panicked yelling. It’s the thought that counts.

Except thoughts do not count when Kai is involved, apparently. Or any of the rest of the team, for that matter.

“What is wrong with you?” Kai hisses right in his face, eyes wild and sparking. “I was covering Lloyd, what were you doing?”

“Filling in for you, obviously,” Jay retorts. He has an excellent followup to that, real snappy and all, except that’s the moment Kai’s hand clamps down on the bullet wound in his arm to stop the bleeding, and Jay ends up stifling a shriek instead.

Great, he thinks, fighting back stinging tears of pain as he tries not to take Kai’s apparent wrath too personally. At least Cole looks worried, along the the rest of the team, who are dutifully concerned for his wellbeing like proper teammates should be.

“He’s going to need the hospital,” Zane informs them, his voice a lot steadier and calmer than his words make Jay feel. Zane’s eyebrows furrow as he studies his arm. “Stitches, probably.”

Jay swallows, trying not to curse. There’s a sharp scream as Nya finishes taking out another attacker just beyond them, and Jay figures that’s good enough.

“Okay,” Lloyd says, squeezing Jay’s wrist briefly. Either in comfort about the stitches or thanks for trying to cover him, Jay’s not sure. It’s a nice gesture, nonetheless. “Kai, Cole, can you get him there while we finish up? Sooner the better.”

Cole gives a sharp nod, and offers to take Jay from where Kai’s got him in a death grip. Kai shakes his head, and Jay’s stomach sinks. Sure enough, as soon as they’re clear of the scene, Kai starts going off.

“What did you mean, ‘filling in for me’,” he grinds through his teeth, clearly not about to let this go.

Jay bristles in response at his tone. “I meant,” he bites out, through a hot flare of pain in his arm. Kai’s always merciless with the bandages, even when he’s not in a mood. “That you weren’t there. So I covered.”

He should leave it at that, but Jay’s in a foul enough mood to finish with a condescending, “You’re welcome.”

Kai’s expression grows thunderous. “You didn’t need to. I was right there, you shouldn’t have — you weren’t needed, you should’ve held back.”

Jay feels his chest go tight. His head is clouding with anger, and the pain in his arm isn’t helping, but — ‘you weren’t needed’? Kai really didn’t skimp on the jerk juice this morning, did he.

“Oh, like you could’ve done so much better,” Jay glares. “Lloyd would’ve been toast by the time you got to him.”

“I could’ve made it!”

“Yeah right—”

“I would have, and I wouldn’t have gotten hit!” Kai snarls back. Something in Jay snaps. Or maybe it’s just the steadily increasing blood loss, but of all the nerve—

“Well you didn’t, ‘cause you weren’t there!” he snaps back. “You were too slow, which is real funny since your brain is too!”

It’s not his best comeback, he’ll admit, but Kai looks as if he’s about to light him on fire, if he weren’t stuck carrying Jay like the cover of some awful romance novel, blood getting all over his uniform as they both scream at each other. Maybe Jay will get lucky, and Kai will combust, and they’ll both go up in flames before they can remember that Cole is right there watching them.

“Cut it out, now!”

Oops, too late. For all the incensed authority in Cole’s voice, there’s still a traitorous falter that lets them both know they’ve screwed up. They fall silent, the atmosphere heavy with the lingering tension and new sense of guilt.

And the disgusting sound of Jay’s blood leaking through the makeshift bandage and hitting the ground, truly revolting, he hates blood.

“Just…no more. Please, shut up until we’re at the hospital.” Cole marches forward, snatches Jay from Kai’s arms, and proceeds to beat the fastest route to the hospital at a militant pace.

Jay still looks like some helpless romance cover heroine, dangling from Cole’s arms like he is. It occurs to him that he doesn’t even need to be carried — it’s his arm that’s hurt, he can still walk—

But any protests die rapidly at the look on Cole’s face. And at least this way, Jay thinks sullenly, he can fixedly ignore Kai.

Then again, Kai’s got a killer glare, and Jay’s always been garbage at ignoring people when his feelings are hurt.

* * * * * * * *

Despite the fuss everyone makes, Jay’s arm really isn’t that bad. They hook him up with some pretty sweet meds so he remembers zero of the actual arm-fixing, and he wakes up just in time to complain about being held in the hospital for ‘observation’ or whatever.

“It’s to make sure there’s no infection, or that you don’t rip your stitches out,” Nya tells him pointedly. Jay cringes under the look she gives him at that last part. Geez. You get kicked in the stitches one time after sneaking out early and suddenly no one’s got any faith in you. Typical.

“Why couldn’t we have just gone to medbay,” Jay grumbles. “Pixal gives way better stitches than this, anyways.”

“Gun wounds get hospitals,” Nya reminds him. “And it’s not fair to put that kind of pressure on Pix when we can avoid it.”

“It wasn’t that bad.”

Nya glares at him. “It most certainly was that bad.”

“Oh, so when you get your arm crushed by a car, it’s fine,” Jay glares back. “But when I get a tiny little bullet nick, it’s that bad.”

Nya rolls her eyes, ignoring him. “Just think of it this way,” she says. “Now you have a little more time before Lloyd starts weeping apologies all over you.”

“Aw, no,” Jay groans, leaning back in the hospital bed. “Tell me he’s not blaming himself, Nya.”

“I think we had a promise about not lying to each other, or something,” Nya says, sympathetically. She winces. “Pretty sure he made the connection, too.”

Jay frowns. “What connection?”

Nya shifts, her eyes darting from side to side. “The, uh, the whole…Prime Empire, thing.”

Jay stares at her for a beat, trying to reconcile his blatant shock with the roiling nausea at the mention in his stomach. Nya looking at him all kind and sympathetically isn’t helping, either, because she might have made it down to the final two, but she was never all alone, and the reminder that she’d have been fine if Jay hadn’t gotten her killed twice is—

Bad. Real bad, not good, zero out of ten stars. Maybe he can take a bullet for Nya, next, and that’ll — that’ll help things, maybe. Equivalent exchange? Restitution? Some kind of fancy word that means Jay swears he’s gonna make it up.

In the meantime, he smothers the rising sickness in his throat and sinks lower into the bed, sulking. “It’s too easy to recognize trauma in this team.”

“I hear you,” Nya sighs, wearily. She nudges his shoulder, rising from her seat near the bed. “Speaking of. Someone’s got something they want to say to you.”

It takes Jay a second, but his eyes widen as Nya heads for the door. “Wait, wait wait wait, don’t you dare—”

“Love you,” Nya says cheekily, before taking her merry leave of the room. There’s a brief scuffle from outside, and the sound of Kai yelping, before Nya shoves him through the door, slamming it shut behind him with a damning click.

For a second, Jay’s tempted to hit the ‘call nurse’ button as hard as he can, in some desperate attempt to escape. Then he gets a good look at Kai, who’s turned a pale, queasy color that frankly looks awful on him, which is saying a lot ‘cause there isn’t much that doesn’t look good on Kai, but the expression he has on now—

Aw, man, now Jay’s feeling guilty and it isn’t even his fault. Stupid moral conscience center, he curses himself.

“So, uh…” he begins, because far be it from him to let this kind of awkward silence stretch on any longer. “Nice, ah, weather we’re having?”

Kai doesn’t respond, staring fixedly at the floor, and Jay sizes up the ‘call nurse’ button again. Just for the both of their sakes, of course.

But then Kai takes a deep breath, blows it out, and rocks back on his heels, fiddling with his hands. “I, um. I’m sorry.”

Jay’s jaw drops open. Which is probably an overdramatic move, all things considered, but unless he’s suddenly lost the ability to understand words, Kai just apologized to him.

Kai apologized. To him.

It’s not that Kai apologizing is some great big deal — Kai might have his pride, but he’s also an intuitive and good-hearted person who knows when he’s messed up. But to him?

Jay knows how he and Kai work. Kai knows how he and Jay work, and he’s breaking the rules. Because Kai and Jay don’t apologize to each other. Unless it’s some awkward expression of sympathy, they’ve never needed to. They fight dirty, aim for each other’s kneecaps, swear eternal vengeance and hatred at each other before storming off, then an hour later Jay’s bounding into Kai’s room to show him dumb meme videos and neither of them even remember what they were fighting about.

Acknowledging said fight with something as gushy as apologizing is not only useless since they both forget what they’re apologizing for anyways, but also useless because it’ll take too much time, and counterproductive on top, because it’ll most likely end in another fight about who apologized better. So for Kai to walk in and say sorry—

“Oh no, who did you kill?” Jay says, paling.

Kai spears him with a look, but it’s so pathetically watered-down and miserable that Jay forgets to glare back.

“Sorry, sorry,” Jay mutters. “I just—”

“No, no, I’m the one who’s sorry,” Kai interrupts. He hesitates, then sighs. “But that’s fair. I — I was unfair. To you, back there. Like, really unfair, in a bad way, ‘cause you were shot and I know you meant well, but you—”

Kai gestures wildly with his hands, his stream of words cutting off. Jay is left to stare open-mouthed at him again. Babbling like this is Jay’s thing. Kai is breaking all the rules today, huh.

“I just…” Kai trails off, ducking his head. “I don’t like watching you guys get hurt. I don’t — I don’t like watching you get hurt. And I get scared, but it comes out angry, and then I make a mess of things so I’m — sorry. Really sorry, for biting your head off.”

He exhales, a little shaky, fingers balled up in tight fists as his head hangs low, refusing to meet Jay’s eyes. Something softens in Jay’s chest, like gooey melting butter or something else equally pathetic. But it’s rare that Kai vocalizes this stuff, despite the fact that Jay knows he cares, and it’s nice to hear it, so he figures he’s entitled to all the butter he wants.

Jay’s own gaze falters, and the something starts to twist. He bites his lip, tugging half-heartedly at the bandages around his arm.

“Well,” he pauses, thinking of the way his brain had shifted to autopilot when he’d watched Lloyd falter, the razor-sharp shard of terror that always splinters through him when any of their teammates come too close to the awful images of death left in his head. He swallows. “I guess I don’t really have any room to talk,” he murmurs. “Be pretty dumb if I blamed you for that.”

He’s preparing to sink back into his own well of self-pity and loathing, resigned to spending the next few hours until they check him out of the hospital replaying bad memories in his head, when Kai’s next to him all of the sudden, shoving him over on the hospital bed.

“Hey, hey, what’s the big idea—”

“Move, c’mon. You don’t need that much room, you’re a stick,” Kai grumbles, before grinning brightly in success as Jay makes him space. The contrast in expression is enough to startle Jay into silence, and Kai takes advantage. “I know that look. But you already got shot, so you gotta cheer up now.”

“So you’re forcing me into cheerfulness by stealing my hospital bed,” Jay scowls, but the sting is lost in the sudden surge of affection as Kai elbows his way on the bed with him, a steady warmth by his side.

“I’m gifting you my presence, you should be celebrating,” Kai huffs, as he pulls his phone out. “Now stop looking so sad and watch this video I got of a bunch’a geese chasing Zane at the park the other day.”

“You’re such a jerk,” Jay says, but he’s already snickering as he leans his head against Kai’s shoulder to get a better look.

He’s forgotten to tell Kai he forgives him, but like most things between them — Jay doesn’t really need to say it out loud.

[justanotherfluffreader]

Haikyuu!! Team captains as roommates

I’ll probably do a part 2 bc I know I left some out

Daichi Sawamura

-Very calm (is domestic a better word?)

-Won't mind if you borrow his stuff without asking, but you should probably return whatever it is before he notices

-One time you forgot to give his volleyball jacket back

-He found out right before a game

-Cue the angry Daichi face from the commercial break skits

-Super chill, will pretty much let you do whatever 

-But that changed once you were at a party and Rich someone set the host’s house on fire

-Tries to keep the place clean, and you help out too

-His room passes the s a k u s a c l e a n c h e c k

-Sometimes you’ll have cleaning sessions that would take less time if you two didn’t play music and sing along for some songs as you cleaned

-Will be veerryyy protective if you need help or are being bothered

-Cue the angry Daichi face again

Tetsuro Kuroo

-An absolute dork

-Can and will tape random science jokes on the walls

-His room is probably really messy

-He thinks he’s trying to stay clean but he really isn’t 

-A huge fan of roommate bonding activities- when they go in his favor

-One of those people who say that Monopoly is a game of luck if they lose, but a strategy game that shows how smart they are if they win

-Tbh me too sometimes lol

-I fell like Kuroo would really like P!ATD

-Please don’t ask why because irdk lol

-One time, he got mad bc of school and decided to blast music as loudly as possible

-So you’re just sitting on the couch, watching anime or smthg

-And all of a sudden, you hear

-“I CHIME IN WITH A HAVEN’T YOU PEOPLE EVER HEARD OF

-CLOSING A G*DD*MN DOOR NO ITS MUCH BETTER TO FACE THESE KINDS OF THINGS

-WITH A SENSE OF POISE AND RATIONALITY”

-*deep breath*

-“KUROO TURN YOUR MUSIC DOWN”

Koutarou Bokuto

-This boi is absolutely W I L D

-A somewhat crazy roommate

-But not "insane" crazy, more like the "fun" type of crazy

-But still understands that sometimes you want your personal space or just want to be alone

-Did that first part make sense? Irdk

-A n y w h a y s

-I think he’d try to keep his room clean, and at first it really is

-But then he kinda forgets about when he reminded himself to clean sooo

-It’s pretty messy now

-He makes sure you two always do something fun together each week

-Whether you're watching a movie, playing a game together, or even just sitting together and talking, there's always something you do as "roommate bonding time"

-Once "roommate bonding time" was him teaching you how to play volleyball (if you already know how, then it was practice)

-He ended up accidentally spiking a ball into your face

-y i k e s

Toru Oikawa

-Can and will either be overdramatic or get into petty fights over the tiniest things

"Y/N DID YOU USE MY MOISTURIZER LAST NIGHT" again, i really dont know

-"Yeah sorry lol"

-"wHAT GET BACK OVER HERE"

-Sometimes he'll share his stuff, bUT only if it’s a special day or if he’s in a good mood

-I feel like Oikawa would really try so hard to make his room aesthetically pleasing

-Would probably be a VSCO at some point, and there are still fairy lights hanging up and possibly a whole freaking collection of Hydro Flasks

-Not super into roommate activities, but it somewhat depends on what you’re doing

-One time accidentally called you his S/O but the Iwa called him out on it

-”Oh, yeah! Here’s a funny story about my S/O-”

-”Trashykawa, stop lying. Y/N’s your roommate, not your S/O.”

-cue sadkawa

Yuuji Terushima

-If Bokuto is Neutral Wild, Terushima is C H A O T I C  W I L D.

-Will steal your stuff, and only gives it back if you notice

-Which is how you managed to recover your favorite hoodie

-”It’s not stealing, it’s called forcefully borrowing it, Y/N! Look, I was planning on returning it. Okay?”

-His room would be pretty clean!

-I’m probably thinking this bc he’s a class 7 student and idk why I thought that

-A N Y W H A Y S

-Will include you in a bunch of his tiktoks, no matter the genre

-And his fans think you’re his S/O 

[kmp78]

Final Tampere vibes...

Did you know that Tampere is home to the world´s 1st spy museum?!

It´s quite small and unassuming yes, but still a very interesting for a visit!

For example, I did not know that this guy, Salomon Rosenbaum aka Sidney Reilly, was the real James Bond who the movie character is based on!

Other famous spies were also featured...

... including of course the most famous of them all: Mata Hari.

They even had one of her rings on display! The ring had a secret compartment for poison...

Below is a “portable phone” used by British cavalry in 1918!

Also there were some interactive components in the exhibit which allowed us visitors to try out our spy skills, for example there were hidden 2-sided mirrors and encrypt challenges (also you could get a lie detector test done but I wasn´t brave enough....THEY DON´T NEED TO KNOW MY CRAPS!), and invisible ink!

First you write smthg on a piece of paper with a special pen which has invisible ink in it...

See?! You can´t read what I wrote down!

But put it under UV-light and... TADAAAAAA!

Fun!

Lunch was a light one this time! Well, if you can call a sandwich cake a light lunch...

For those unfamiliar with the concept: sandwich cake is basically just like a regular cake, but with savory ingredients! Instead of a sweet cake base, you use both white and dark bread (toast most commonly) which are moistened and stacked with all kinds of goodies...

This one had ham, relish, paprika, cucumber and cream cheese.

SO GOOOOOOOOD!

A few more Tampere sights for ya...

I just love these old buildings! Helsinki used to have loads of these too as this was the type of architecture we had in Finland a few hundred years ago, but sadly ours have mostly burned down or been demolished...

And FYI @ginie62 : they also hold a “KITTIE QUIZ” once a month at a local cat cafe, sooooo...  Let´s go!

I did contemplate on splashing 7€ on this shirt but nah...

The grandest statue in town is a fountain in Näsikallio Park, depicting a scene from Finland´s national epoch the Kalevala.

The “main attraction” is Maiden of the North who is spinning yarn.

Also featured are statues of us ordinary mortal folks representing the main industries of Tampere: handcrafts and industrialism. 

For dinner I discovered a semi-KFC which I had never tried before! This one was called ZiCi and while plating wasn´t exactly Masterchef...

... taste could not be faulted and the dips especially were BITCHIN´ GOOD!

I went with hot chili, honey-mustard and buffalo and oh man did they kick all asses! I need this chain in Helsinki STAT!

Or KFC... I just really want more fried chicken in my life.

And that´s about it, folks! Tampere over and done with!

Thanks for reading and stay tuned for more travel diaries from... somewhere... at some point! :)