#i might get to make tables for a furniture company

[tincansamurai]

job interview next weeeeeeeeeek get me outta unemployment i'll take suuuuuch a low wage for a consistent schedule. time to cut my hair rip nasty mohawk

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Are you requests open yet, right?

Can you make something with Fenrys, like, him and reader are mates, and they are trying to get a child for so long, and one day they discover that they are expecting.

(I really liked your writing, and very few people write about him, so I wanted to thank you for this 💕)

Had a blast writing this truly. Thank you for requesting and the kind words, I hope you'll enjoy it. 🤍✨

Little pup

At first, you didn't talk about it. You both were still young and for the most part, had wanted to explore the world together. Just you two. Try new things. See new places. Travel. Indulge in each other's company. And the mating frenzy hit you so hard that you didn't leave your house for over a month. And by then you were convinced that everyone passing by could smell the sex lingering all around.

And yet even in that month, it wasn't about getting pregnant. Fenrys was learning how to please you and you were doing the same. It was the desire to explore that drove you. To bring each other immense pleasure. Till the last breaking point. Till the moment all you could see was stars. Till furniture was breaking. But the thought of conceiving never crossed your mind.

But it's the first time your period is late and you're feeling so weird that Aelin had to drag you to the healer's level. It's the joyful smile on the woman's face when she says, "Oh you might as well be pregnant", that breaks this bubble of cold water over your head. "How exciting would that be? Babies are so rare and to have one ahh...", the healer beams as she ushers you to lay down. You reach for Aelin's hand almost instantly. The nerve suddenly so uneasy in your chest.

And then the healer's face drops and so does your heart. Sadness washes over you and it's like you had lost something you didn't even think you wanted five minutes ago. "You started your circle, darling", she says lowering your skirt down and you just want to crawl into yourself. "Ah, yes", you quickly move to get down the table. Glad your back is to the two women as you quickly wipe your tears. Suddenly feeling so frustrated. You feel Fenrys tugging on the bond yet that only makes your heart ache more so you push him out of your head quickly. Drowsing the bond in complete darkness.

Fenrys comes home way earlier than he should have been there. And you know it's because he would always drop anything for you. High stake leaders waiting for the meeting? Fuck them! His mate needs him so he's leaving and gods save the souls who try to stand in his way.

He knows by the silence that something had happened. Something that upset you. Ticked you over. Then Fenrys smells the blood. Gears turning before he realizes that your cycle had finally shown up but why the sense of sorrow then? This feeling of pain makes him rub his chest as he too tries to soothe the aching.

"My, love", Fenrys shrugs his cloak off carelessly, stepping closer to the bed. You're completely submerged by the furs all over your body. He makes a quick work of pushing them to the side until your wet cheeks come into sight and Fenry's heart drop even more. "Love", he breathes out in worry. But that only makes your tears well up more. A choked-out sob leaves your lips before you move to push away from your mate. That jabs Fenry's heart too.

"Love, if you don't tell me what's going on...", and then this shien of anger washes over you. Painting your cheeks in even more crimson shades. "Talk to you? Talk about what, huh?", you leap at him, fist coming in contact with Fenrys's strong chest.

But then you draw your hands back, looking at them with so much disgust. Fenrys steps in quickly taking your smaller palms into his. Your mind was too chaotic for him to read now. So he had to trust you to let him in on your own time. "What is going on...", you mutter, "You're overwhelmed and your body is full of hormones", even Fenrys frown at his own words but that's the truth in a way. The question still stands though. What caused all of this? "I thought I was...", you breathe through the sobs, "Thought we had...", and then it's full-on sobs, till your legs give out and Fenrys quickly wraps you up in his arms, rocking you from time to time.

There's no way to tell how long you've been crying by the time you're only sniffling. Eyes puffy and red, holding onto Fenrys for dear life. And he had run out of comforting words by then, opting for silence and love that he poured through the bond. You push away from him slightly. Knowing full well that you owe him an explanation. Because he too would have been a part of this if you had been pregnant. Your eyes well up with tears once more as you glance at him and Fenrys is ready to cradle you once more but you stop him. "I saw a healer this morning. She thought that I might...", you swallow the lump in your throat, shoulders sagging, "might be... pregnant". Fenrys's heart jumps up his throat. Suddenly he's almost hyper-aware of his surroundings. Threats. Smells. Sounds. But then nothing. And then just like before it all falls into place.

This. All of this was because you weren't. Because there wasn't a babe growing in your womb. No little Fenrys, or Y/N. And it's almost like another slap to his face because he only now realizes that you never really talked about it. Becoming parents. Growing your family. Being together and having one another was comforting enough. But seeing you like this. "I'm sorry...", you whisper and Fenrys draws his gaze back to you. "What for love? There's nothing to be sorry for", he brushes your loose hair away from your face.

"For not being pregnant", Fenrys frown at your words. And frowns so deep that his eyebrows nearly come together. "Now you take that back", his hands cup your face, "You take that back and never dare to apologize for something like this".

And you know that it comes from his heart because he loves you. Because no matter what you do he will always be there. "What if I can't?", you ask him, biting your lip, "Then we won't have any and that will be more than enough because we would have one another", he's quick to reassure you. And once more from the way his eyes are gleaming you know that he means it. "Come here", he mutters m, bringing you back into his arms, and wrapping it up in the comfort of his warmth. Drowning out the world around you.

All of this leads to a long conversation about children. One that you share late at night, both tangled between the sheets. Let the stars and the moon be the only witnesses of your wishes and dreams. And you both know that's so rare. And something that many couples don't even get close to. Fenrys knows how he and his brother Connall had come pretty late into their parent's lives. But then what a blessing it was to have two babies. Yet the time span was what scared him the most. Not because he was desperate. Don't get him wrong he wanted to see you pregnant. Know that it's his baby growing within you. But he could tell how fragile this topic made you. How you would shiver any time someone brought up the conversation of babies. How you would halt at the sight of younglings running around in the streets. How you forced a smile once Ellide got pregnant and you had brushed away your sad tears saying that it was only happy crying.

And it's only a handful of years later. Many disappointing visits to the healers later that you jolt up in the morning rushing to the bathroom. Fenrys is out of bed just as fast, darting after you and reaching to hold your hair out of your face as you emptied your stomach into the toilet. His hands rub comforting circles over your back. Your skin looks clammy and pale and it makes Fenrys sick to his stomach as well.

Because what if all the sorrows had finally eaten you from within in? What if he had missed something? Overlooked you not eating well, not sleeping enough. Your head drops to the side, and Fenrys quickly turns you over, reaching for the tap before flickering water over your face. If an illness claimed your life... if he would be left alone...it's a selfish thought but one that has been his number one fear ever since he saw you for the very first time.

"I'm fine", you groggily say and Fenrys only huffs, "Fine my ass, you're barely conscious". Those are harsher words than he wishes that thrown your way but he's so worried. So worried his own eyes are blurry. Then he moves up quickly, you tightly pressed to his chest. "Fen, I just need to lay down", but he doesn't listen as he throws the door open. Not caring that he's shirtless, or that you are only wearing one of his shirts. He rushes down the hallway, yet he's still mindful of not shaking you too much.

The healers haven't even finished their morning preparations when he storms in, eyes wild. The healer who had been tending to you for years now jumps up instantly. "I don't know what's happening", Fenrys admits as he lowers you onto the bed. The lady presses her palm onto your forehead before cradling your cheek. "Y/N, what's hurting?", she asks softly but you only shake your head. Her mouth falls into a tight frown and she orders a couple of other healers around, turning to Fenrys so he would tell her what happened.

"When was the last time you ate, girl?", she asks strictly, fingers running over your stomach. "Breakfast", you breathe out, "yesterday". Fenrys growls in frustration. He had returned home late last night, you had already been asleep and so he never even thought about the fact that he didn't ask anyone on his way up if you had been down to eat dinner. The healer shakes her head, "Silly, silly girl. Mirth, bring the lady some light breakfast and a tart", she says even though you turn to protest. "You're with child and this is all stunt you pulled here is because you didn't eat", every sound in the room dies down. Your eyes grow big and for a moment you're sure you just mistaken her words. Surely not... but it's the way Fenrys is looking at the healer with the same surprised eyes that makes you realize that he heard it too.

"Congratulations you two. A strong heartbeat", she carefully presses her palm to your shoulder. Knowing full well that once the information fully settled in Fenrys's brain anyone that would get near the slight swell in your lower stomach would be marked an enemy. The wolf closes the distance between you two. He doesn't yet trust his words so he just leans in pressing his forehead to yours. And now that it's been brought up you do smell slightly different. And the heartbeat. How did he miss the heartbeat? What kind of father will he be if he missed his child growing inside you?

"The best kind", you mutter, "the best kind of father", your hand cups his cheek, and the white wolf instantly nuzzles closer to you. He kisses the side of your head, brushing the tears from your cheeks. "Our baby", he mumbles, pressing his palm to your stomach, "Our little pup", you put your hand over his. And then Fenrys breaks into fits of giggles as he brings you closer into his arms. You too can't help the smile even if the dizziness still lingers. And you suddenly feel complete as if this was all that was missing. Now the picture would be complete. "A father, my beautiful mate will make me a father", he beams, brushing his lips against yours in a messy kiss, but the door swings open as the younger healer walks in with a trey. The laughter stops and Fenrys is snarling at the door, teeth out. Your hands push against his chest softly, "Darling, she means no harm", you reassure him yet his eyes don't leave the poor girl now shaking by the door. "Thought you seen him protective, girl? Welcome to the next stage", the older healer chuckles as she hands you the sweet bun.

[radiant-reid]

Let It Snow

Summary: Apparently, getting stuck in a cabin with Spencer isn't too bad

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader (fluff)

Word Count: 1.0k

Masterlist | Navigation

"We're never going to get out of here by tomorrow." She complains, looking out the window where the snow is already probably half a foot high, and it's not forecasted to end any time soon.

Maybe the idea to use some of their remaining vacation time to retreat to a little cabin in the Vermont mountainside wasn't well thought out. Although it was almost Christmas break, apparently, it was too cold for serial killers to kill, so the BAU workload was light, and Hotch was more than willing to give them time off.

But the chance planes will be leaving, or even be able to land in DC if the cold snap had traveled south, is next to zero. By morning, they might be completely snowed in.

She turns back to look at her gorgeous boyfriend, who is snuggled under a blanket on the couch, tucked up like a burrito with a mug of tea on the table. "How are you not freaking out about this, Mr. Planner?"

"Doctor Planner." He jokes. "And I'm not freaking out because I like spending time with you here."

She smiles, stepping away from the window and to the couch where she sits next to him.

The inside of the cabin is cute yet luxurious, fitted with polished wood, a grand fireplace, and nice furniture. Most importantly, it's cozy, with one bedroom off the side of the open-planned kitchen and living room. The windows are impressive, floor-to-ceiling glass that shows the rows of pine trees covered in white snow. It's peaceful and quiet, and that's what they needed.

Spencer takes his arm out of the blanket and wraps it around her, pulling her closer. "I'm not worrying because, for once, I don't feel stressed." It's remarkable, really, since he's been stressed since he was five. "Who cares if we don't get home tomorrow or this week?" He asks rhetorically. "We've got food, power, a backup generator, and, this might be my bias, but good company."

She giggles, nuzzling further under his arm. "You're right."

"I always am." He reminds her. "Now get out of your coat and shoes, and come cuddle with me."

She obliges. It's warm enough with the fire on that she doesn't need anything more than sleep shorts and a hoodie of Spencer's. She hurries back to the couch where Spencer has set up snacks.

The news on the TV is on, a weather reporter talking about a snowstorm coming over the east coast. It's not good news. "Are you seeing this?" She asks Spencer, turning the volume up as she stands behind the couch to watch the show.

He nods, unphased as he pours more tea. "Let it snow, Y/n. Just let it snow." He instructs, taking the remote and turning the TV off.

Y/n huffs, sitting down next to him. He pulls her closer so they can both see out the wide windows at the settling sun and pink-painted sky.

"Don't you think it's so beautiful?" He asks. There's a soft wonder in his expression that's usually not there. She imagines it's what baby Spencer looked like opening his college textbooks at thirteen.

She places her fingers on his cheek while they both stare at the scenery. He hasn't shaved since they left, and it's a good look on him. "Not much snow growing up in Vegas, huh?" She asks.

"Maybe twice." He recalls, turning back to look at her. She leans forward to kiss him a couple of times, appreciating how warm he is to be around. "I don't mind it, though, because it makes me feel like a little kid now." He confesses. "Like I had encyclopedias when I was a kid and I still love learning facts, but it's not a novelty."

He could not be any cuter, all soft. It melts her heart completely. "You're adorable." She tells him, holding his cheek tighter when he tries to hide his blushing by turning away. "Stop. I'm your girlfriend, I'm allowed to say you're cute."

"Can we just lay here forever?" He wonders. "Stare at the bright stars, then watch the sun come up, see the snow falling all day, and look at the sunsets."

It does sound ideal. "We might need sleep, though." She reminds him.

Spencer's already thought of that. "We can do that here, too. I just want you to always be this close."

She leans forward to kiss him a few more times. "Sounds like a good plan." She agrees, pressing her cheek to his so they can both look out the window. "This is going to be my happy thought now." She admits. "You know when there's something horrific at work and you have to think of a good thing to balance it?"

Spencer can feel his happy thought changing as well. "What was it before?" He asks curiously.

"The first time you kissed me." She reveals.

He pulls back in shock. "God, really? That was horrible."

She shakes her head. Maybe he was sweating because of how nervous he was, and maybe his lips were only on hers for a short second and he had no idea what to do afterward, but it was them. "It was sweet."

"I'm just glad my Ph.Ds were a redeemable quality." He jokes.

She laughs with him. "Baby, everything about you is a redeemable quality, even though you don't have anything that needs to be redeemed."

"I really love you." He says softly.

"I really love you too." And she really doesn't hate unpredictable weather events anymore.

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[icycoldninja]

Fluffcember #20 (SOLDIER boys + Reno x reader)

Owning a cat headcannons

♡Sephiroth♡

-Takes a little while (think 4-5 months) for him to learn to tolerate the cat, and nearly double that time for him to accept it as part of his life, which is understandable, considering that he's practically a cat himself.

-He'll let you pick the first name, but he chooses the surname (yes, your cat has a surname), and it's something remarkably humanoid. Imagine explaining to the vet that your cat's name is Sparklepaws Pembleton-Clark.

-Once he gets used to the feline, he'll start seeing it as his sibling. He will have full on conversations with the cat, ones that are very serious and not at all baby talk. When the cat wants to eat, a conversation like this might take place:

"Good morning/afternoon/evening, Pembleton-Clark, what would you prefer for your meal today?"

"Meow."

"Ah, cat food, a fine choice. Please be seated and I shall deliver your food presently."

"Meow."

"You're very welcome. Have you read the paper, by the way? I heard there was a sale on feline litter at the local supermarket."

-Will play with the cat and tickle it; occasionally can be spotted on the couch with the fluffy fur-baby in his lap, stroking and petting it while watching TV or reading.

-Basically, the pet is family, once he gets used to it.

◇Genesis◇

-Loves the cat the minute you bring it home. He'll pick it up and carry it around, cooing at it like it's a baby.

"Awwwww, who's a good little fluffy snookums? You are! Yes, you are! My pretty little puffy fluffle--awww so cute. Soooo cute."

-INSISTS upon naming it; your cat is officially called Her Divine Majesty Emperess Gen-Gen II, and there is nothing you can do to change that.

-Pampers the cat, giving it baths every month and grooming it as well as keeping its claws trimmed and it's fur nice and shiny.

-Sometimes he even ties it's fur up into little pigtails and decorates it with hairclips before taking pictures of it and sending them to you.

-Coddles the cat, spoiling and playing with it whenever he can. He sees your pet as an extension of himself, and therefore treats it the way he wants to be treated. (Lavishly)

-Adores the cat and always will, just as he adores you.

♧Angeal♧

-Angeal is the embodiment of the dad who says "We're not getting a cat" and then proceeds to adore and spoil the cat like a young child. He was against getting a pet, but then saw the fluffy little thing you pointed to and just caved.

-Lets you name it because he doesn't care what it's called. Unless you named it after yourself. Then he can't even look at it without tearing up.

-Is a true tsundere towards that cat, always giving it the side eye; regarding it with cold professionalism. But deep down, he loves that furry thing and will definitely let it sleep on the bed with him.

-Buys it toys and those little tree jungle gym things, as well as treats. As stated before, he keeps a cold front but truly adores that kitty.

-Will let it sit in his lap while he does paperwork, and sometimes even brings it to Shinra with him. (everyone gets jealous and always wants to pet it)

-All in all, loves that furry cutie, even when it scratches up the furniture and tears up his socks.

☆Reno ☆

-He and the cat eyed each other at the pet shop for 10 full minutes before he agreed to taking it home. Reno has had experience with cats, having owned one himself before, and knows exactly what kind of trouble they are.

-Very suspicious of the cat for the first several weeks but soon eases into its company, once he's sure it won't tear up his stuff. He soon goes from uncomfortable and jittery to relaxed and loving.

-He'll pet the cat, feed the cat, play with the cat, and even eat with the cat. He'll literally have a cat food bowl and a highchair set up so the cat can eat at the table like a human. It's the most adorable thing ever.

-Once he and the cat have bonded enough, he decides to make it his partner in crime. He'll try to train it by giving it treats whenever it knocks over a specific object, except the cat gets the wrong idea and thinks it'll get a treat whenever it knocks stuff over, so Reno has essentially turned your cat into a furry wrecking ball.

-Has decided to name your cat Sir-Smashes-A-Lot in light of this behavior. A cute name for a cute (but mischevious) cat.

-Sometimes he'll use a pet-friendly fur dye and dye Sir-Smashes-A-Lot's fur to match his. You might come home to find both your boyfriend and pet sporting bright green locks of fur/hair.

[yuri-is-online]

hi!!! congrats on getting more followers! i was honestly so excited when i saw the masquerade prompts. you don't understand just how much i love your works ( ´ ▽ ` ).｡ｏ♡

may i please request prompt 3 for leona, vil, and jade?

thank you so much!!!

3. You were invited to this stupid party by someone you really can't stand, but you can't find them anywhere. Thankfully you found this wonderful person to dance with who is a great time and nothing like that person at all.

And you don't know how much it means to me that I make you happy when I post (つ﹏⊂) I do write things that amuse myself yes, but seeing my regulars in my notes makes me so happy. I think about you guys when I write stuff all the time ♡

notes: they/them used for Yuu, yeah I came up with this prompt for Leona what of it, references to Ch 6 with Vil, Jade and Yuu are implied to be in the "what are we" stage of the dumpster fire situationship. The other event requests can be found on my masterlist.

Leona

How hard could it be to find a lion- well anywhere now that you are really thinking about it? They stand out, have an incessant need for sleep, are constantly making demands of other people, and oh yeah this one has a fucking tail. You would have thought it would be extremely easy to find Leona even if everyone was wearing some sort of costume because you would have just needed to pin the tail on the asshole but no. It would seem that several of these obnoxious costumes came with tails. Yours included, it was extremely annoying to sit on and you found yourself with many uncomfortable questions about how Leona, Ruggie, and Jack functioned at NRC with those things. Do beastmen have different furniture to accommodate their tails? Just how different is a beastman's anatomy to a regular man's and would Leona just show up already so you could stop thinking about his ass?

"Hey watch where you're goin'." Your thoughts are interrupted with faux fur. Lots of it, you loose your mask in the struggle to pry yourself free of the stranger's costume and are unable to use the anonymity to hide your opinion of his costume.

It sucks. Whoever this guy is he must have really pissed off Crewel to get stuck with this weird abomination of a fur trimmed cape. It barely matches the antlers on his head, he doesn't seemed that bothered by your look, offering you back your mask with a shrug.

"I know. Ugly as shit right?"

"You said it not me." You fix your mask back into place and look at the buffet table next to you both. "Hey have you seen a lion around anywhere? I thought I might find him next to the meats but haven't had much luck so far."

"A lion hm?" This man leans back folding his arms so really know he's thinking. "Can't say I have. Why ya' lookin for him?" He bends just a little bit closer to you. "Am I not good enough company for you?"

"But sir," You fake gasp "we've only just met and this lion invited me. I need to at least let him know how annoyed I am he made me waste my evening."

"Oh do you know." The man laughs. "Well we really should go find him then." He offers you his hand and takes you towards the dance floor, tossing his heavy, ugly cloak around as he does letting the weight push other couples out of the way.

"I thought you were taking me to look for my lion, Mr. Deer." Leona knows you are teasing him, that doesn't mean his ears twitch any less at being called a deer. "Are you sure you didn't just want to dance with me?"

"Bit full of ourselves aren't we?" He dips you and relishes the way you gasp. "Since when was he your lion?" Since you stepped on his tail but you don't need to know that. He certainly didn't until Ruggie pointed out.

"Since he decided to invite me to an event I was already invited to." You have every right to sound this smug but he really is not in the mood to admit it.

"You sure seemed content to ditch him for me. Sure that's smart of you? You're pretty tiny I'd hate to see you get eaten." The grumpy part of him sort of wishes you had ditched "him" to keep looking for your lion.

"Ah well." you sound shy, he hears your heart rate quicken ever so slightly. "I sort of owe him an apology? Every time I try to talk to him I get a but tongue tied and say a bunch of stuff I don't really mean." This is not news to him, he knows the steps of your heartbeat as well as he knows his own.

"Maybe he invited you because he owes you one too." He picks you up as the song ends, arms wrapped tight around your waist pinning your arms to your side and carrying you off back towards the buffet. "Do me a favor and get rid of the mask would you? I'm tired of you acting like I'm some stupid herbivore."

"LEONA?" Oh so you really didn't know. Pity that just makes him laugh louder. He had wanted to do the gently put he drops you just a tiny bit to hear you scream as payback for not knowing it was him. People are staring but he really doesn't care so long as your eyes remain on him until the night is over and return when you wake back up.

"Now," he sets you down in the corner where you found him "I believe you were complaining about me wasting your evening? Well I am all ears, just where do you suggest we go?"

Vil

Saying something out loud really does have a way of making it sound worse. "I cursed sweets Trey sent over to prevent the spudlings from cheating on their diets." Did not sound unreasonable to Vil. When Rook added "without telling the person whose dorm I was staying in or asking for their permission" he had initially scoffed, brushed it from his mind and gone back to preparing for VDC. Why would that matter? They weren't in charge of VDC, they didn't have any say in how he ran his group.

It's just one of the things he would like to scold his past self for. That action had nothing to do with the VDC; Yuu had correctly seen it as a further alienation of them from the broader school population and stripping of their autonomy. It was not something that occurred to him because Vil was not in the habit of viewing people as throwaways, everyone regardless of circumstance had potential. All they had to do was work hard and they would flourish, and the longer he looked at Yuu the stronger he felt he was right.

You had not originally been invited to the dance. Crowley had explained that first years needed permission from their Housewarden to come, and since Ramshackle did not have one, and you apparently did not count you were not allowed. Vil had been the last person you expected to stick up for you. Sure it sucked to hear someone say inviting you was "just a formality" but you were not going to complain about someone making it easier to feed Grim. You had intended to hunt him down and make Grim say thank you, but your great mage master had somehow managed to ditch you before you had found anyone you recognized, let alone Vil. It made you feel very alone, dissociative even, which had not been helped by the figure who appeared asking if you were alright.

"Do you need to go someplace more quiet?" You shake your head, fully aware your mask likely isn't helping your argument.

"No sorry I was just looking for..." The words die in your throat, you realize you aren't quite sure what to call Vil exactly. Friend sounds presumptuous, acquaintance sounds rude, and he is certainly not your anything let alone Housewarden. "The person who invited me." It sounds lame, but it settles you enough to let you stand without feeling dizzy. "I wanted to say thank you." The man in front of you smiles hand coming up to his face as if he is trying to hold back laughter.

"I don't think the Headmage needs anymore of an ego boost. Besides, isn't it a bit too early to be looking for someone you know?" You bite your tongue to keep from digging yourself into a hole, of course this stranger thinks Crowley invited you like he technically invited everyone else. And it would sound like you were a crazed fan if you admitted you were looking for Vil now, no one was as unaware of his fame as you were.

"I- I guess." You swallow your nerves and prepare to excuse yourself.

"Are you alright?" His voice is so beautiful, his concern doesn't sound fake at all as he guides you out onto the balcony and politely looks to the side when you take off your mask to breathe in the fresh air and steady yourself.

"Sorry." You have no idea what you are apologizing for.

"There's no need to apologize. You were invited, you belong here." He says it so forcefully you really want to believe him. "When people make you feel out of place, when they do things you don't like you have every right to let them know and demand an apology."

"Hah." You let out a sharp breath, turning to face your new friend with a rueful smile. He reaches behind his head to undo the straps of his mask as you continue to speak. "That sounds nice but you have no idea who I would start talking back to-" The mask falls and you stop dead, Vil's gaze just as intense as when he caught Ace, Grim, and Deuce but this time solely aimed at you.

"Why are you stopping?" He does not close the distance between you, no matter how much Vil might want to erase it he knows the first step cannot be his. "My advice isn't going to change just because you want to scold me. If anything I encourage it, true beauty cannot be achieved without feedback."

"You scare me." You admit.

"I am aware."

"I think you hate me." You take a hesitant step forward.

"I did not expect you to make me happy." He meets you in the middle, gently taking your hand and placing it just over his heart. "But you have been an unceasing source of joy from the moment I first properly spoke to you. If I have ever done anything to tarnish your happiness... no I know I have. I have made you feel small and alone and that is never a way a want you to feel." Vil is surprisingly strong, and his heart is beating faster with each word he says despite the perfectly collected look on his face. "If there is something I can do to apologize..."

"You could dance with me." The request is still much too timid, but a palace is not built overnight.

"As you wish."

Jade

Poor tiny Yuu, all lost, alone, and confused in the middle of a sea of people. They're searching for a needle fish in an unforgiving ocean, very much aware that they are running out of time. There is fear in their actions is so palpable and fragrant he stops to take a deep, shuddering breath and tastes it, rolling it around on his tongue savoring the imagined flavor.

Jade has you right where he wants you, all he has to do now is strike.

You are annoyed. Aggravated, slightly distressed maybe but you don't want to succumb to panic. Jade had slipped a handwritten invitation to the Masquerade under your door (that was completely unnecessary as Crowley had announced that everyone was invited) you had chosen to interpret as a threat. Confronting the bastard had only gotten you some fake sniffles and an insistence he would never ever hurt you.

"I am not accusing you of hurting me." You say blank look firm upon your face. "I am stating you threatened me." Jade has the audacity to quiver his lower lip.

"We have a one drink minimum here at the Mostro Lounge." His voice certainly wavers but sometimes you wonder if Jade has ever actually been afraid before, because the shit he is trying to pull right now really doesn't make it sound like he has. "Please at least order something, I would hate to lose my job."

And now the motherfucker is nowhere to be seen. You have got to look like an idiot, a well dressed dinosaur stomping around the jungle in a way all the other dinosaurs find annoying. Not that you can tell, everyone is wearing mask yourself included. The only way you would have of knowing who was who would be if you had somehow coordinated costumes, or checked with Crewel to see what someone was assigned. Which you did not do, but Jade very likely probably-

"Oh I am so sorry, are you alright?" Someone has walked into your thoughts and directly over your person, sending you both crashing to the floor. He recovers much more quickly than you do, reaching to help but pausing just before he touches you.

"I'm alright." You don't sound quite like you are, but you don't shy away from his touch as he helps you to your feet. It's hard to get a good read on the man in front of you, the mask he wears covers his entire face, including his mouth and his costume is billowy with a cape you swear could hide you both. As if sensing your thoughts he makes sure to flourish it as he brings you up to your feet. It's cute, you really wish you could see the way he looks.

"Would you like to dance?" He asks, not immediately letting go of you after he sets you upright. "It would be a waste to spend an entire evening so lost in your thoughts." You pause, considering your options, considering your partner. Jade is a neat dresser, this man is certainly neatly dressed, but he has a decidedly Rook like hat on, complete with some truly monstrous feathers, that's obscuring his true height. You also have a distinct answer that you are being watched and that this question as a wrong answer.

"Yes." You take his hand to his surprise, dragging him not to the center but off to a secluded corner of the ballroom where the music is still loud enough to hear but quiet enough that you can talk. Not that your partner seems to intend to do that, he holds you with a strange degree of gentleness guiding you through the steps of a much more formal sort of dance than you had ever done before.

"You seem quite frightened." The man finally says as the music begins to slow. "I do hope that wasn't because of me, I am only here to help after all."

"Motherfucker." You try to step on his toes and he laughs, taking control of the dance by tightening his grip on your arms and spinning you behind one of the lengthy curtains to press you up against the window.

"Later." is all he says as he ditches his mask, letting it fall who knows where as he pulls you into a deep heated kiss, intent on robbing you of as much air as he has sanity. He bites down on your lower lip as he leaves, sucking it until it swells and letting you up for air as he tightens his embrace. "You can yell and be angry at me for as long as you like later, but for now-" He presses another quick kiss to your lips "argue with me in a different way, hmm?"

[rancidpancakebatter]

A Childhood Innocence-[S.H.]

Pairing: childhood!best friend!Steve Harrington x female!reader

Prompt: I saw this post and all I could think of was my babygirl Steve Harrington. 

Summary: Steve Harrington was your best friend once upon a time but years apart makes you see him in a new light. Takes place during season 2.

Word Count: 4.4k

Content Warnings: Mentions of blood, Cursing, Toxic Masculinity/"Man Up" Allusions (Mr Harrington is the worst and I want to roast him on a spit)

A/N: This is my first time writing for Steve Harrington and it was certainly fun. In the future, fics with him will be much more fluffy <3

also, only your father's last name is Stokes

(Y/N/N)=Your Nickname

Hawkins, Indiana is where you grew up, but not where you called home. It's where you were born, it's where your parents met, it's where you lived until you were ten. 

In the Summer of '77, your family relocated to New York. Your father was the second half of Harrington&Stokes and the company opened a branch in Albany. The Harringtons were much more attached to Hawkins society so that meant "The Stokes" had to leave. 

Your parents told you at Sunday dinner. Mr Harrington made a toast to your father and to the company's growth. 

"Albany won't know what hit it!"

You remember feeling like the world had tilted on its axis.  You gripped your chair tightly worried you might fall off. Your mother noticed your expression and tried to gently explain the change that was happening. Her words fell on deaf ears as you could only focus on the boy across the table.  

Stevie Harrington. Your best friend and partner in crime. Born in the same year and attached at the hip. Your moms were best friends and they wanted that for their children as well. So you guys did everything together. 

Sometimes he could get on your nerves but you had built a sort of alliance through the years. You both were often shown off as trophies by your parents at their company soirees. Perfect little children, both gifted. One with brains and the other with brawn. It was nice to have someone your age in that stuffy office. Someone who gets it. 

You remember your last sleepover. Your room was barren: all furniture and trinkets gone, save a small lamp plugged into an outlet in the wall. Stevie sat next to you in his sleeping bag with a glum look on his face. You're sure yours didn't look much different. 

"Are you gonna forget about me?" His eyes were glassy with tears he refused to let fall. 

"No, of course not. Besides my parents say we're gonna visit for holidays and stuff, so I'm not gone forever." You weren't sure who you were trying to comfort. 

Stevie just sniffled, nodding his head. 

The next morning you left and the Harringtons waved your family off in the Uhaul. Both your father and Mr Harrington teased all the "girls" for getting emotional. 

Your mothers hugged and cried and promised to call while you and Stevie sat in the back of the open truck, swinging your feet. He held your hand as you cried. He had to keep his composure in front of his father lest he face a lecture. 

After your goodbyes, the Harrington family stood on the side of the road looking similar to the picture above their mantle. Only Stevie didn't even bother plastering on a fake smile. Your father climbed in first while your mother held the door for you. You looked back at Stevie and tried to give him your most convincing smile before you scaled your way up to the seat. 

"Wait!" You turned to see Stevie tear away from his father's grasp.  

He ran straight to you, tackling you in a hug. You felt his tears fall on your shoulder and squeezed him tighter. Eventually, his father called out to him and he let go. He looked back at his father's stern expression and took an unsteady step towards him. 

"Here take this." In his hand was his woven red, yellow, and blue bracelet. 

You took it from him and risked another quick hug before turning and finally climbing in the truck. 

That was almost 7 years ago. You had visited for the first two years, but then slowly Hawkins became distant memories. You saw Stevie's parents when business called for it but between your nice private school, new friends, and ballet classes Stevie took a back seat in your mind. 

Returning to Hawkins felt like a dream. It was almost unsettling driving through Mainstreet, like opening a diary you had long since forgotten. Your new house was much bigger than the one you had left behind. It's a unique experience, returning to a place so familiar yet foreign. 

The Harringtons were waiting for your family as you pulled into the driveway. The lived just down the street. Apparently, the Harrington family had moved, not long after you, into the "nicer" part of town. Cheers and Shouts rang through the air as your parents spilled out of the Uhaul to greet each other while you and Stevie just stared at each other. Two strangers who used to be friends. 

He helped you unpack and set up your furniture all while trying to make awkward small talk. You told him about your life in New York and he tried to catch you up on his. He promised to help you adjust, to be your friend. He kept his word. 

Steve had changed a lot in 5 years. You had too, you guess. Like now he goes by Steve. 

"Just Steve, not Stevie or anything else."

He's a lot less shy, cocky even. You were surprised to see he's popular, nicknamed "King Steve". He was once a bit of a playboy but now he has a girlfriend, Nancy Wheeler, who seems really nice. He doesn't seem to care about grades anymore. 

But he was also the same in a lot of ways. He still played sports, both swimming and basketball. He still had the same sense of humour. He still loved watching movies and listening to music. He was still sweet (although he tried to hide that). 

What surprised you most though was how he had somehow become a babysitter. He wouldn't tell you much about how this came about. He did fill you in on the "Byer's Incident" though. You thought the tale was a little tall but everyone said the same thing, so you never questioned it. 

School was pretty okay. You assimilated with Steve's group of friends. Your classes were easy because of your previous schooling. You joined the cheer squad. All in all, Hawkins wasn't so bad. 

That was until October. Hawkins gained another "New Kid" who seemed to have it out for you and Steve. Steve because Billy wanted to be top dog and you because you called him a creep when he hit on you. 

Then Nancy broke Steve's heart at a Halloween party. He was reasonably upset and confided in you. You hung out after the party, talking it over. The day after she shattered it, unable to tell Steve she loved him. He was then further disgraced when he found out Nacy had run off with Jonathan. 

Steve got it in his head that he should apologise, for what you weren't sure. No matter how many times you laid out the facts to him he wouldn't listen. He told you he had to get her back and left. That was Saturday afternoon. He left and you haven’t seen him since. You were starting to worry. 

You figured, at first, that his plan was successful and he was just preoccupied. You waited around all Sunday to hear from him. Your parents were all out of town in Tulsa and you were instructed to look out for each other. You waited out at his house for hours and nothing. 

When the sun started to set you decided you would track him down. You riffled through the phonebook and found the number to the Wheeler's house. A sweet woman answered the phone but told you that Steve was never there. 

"Nancy's spending the weekend at Ally's, if he came to see her we would have told him the same." She must have sensed your defeat because she offered up some other information. 

"You know what? Dustin stopped by. Nance told me that Steve sometimes babysits him. He may know, let me give you the number."

You thanked her and hung up to call the Hendersons. Unfortunately, Ms Henderson didn't know where Steve or Dustin were either. She told you to call the Sinclairs, who told you to call the Byers. You called a few times and there was no answer. A dead end. 

You paced Steve’s empty house. Where was he? Did he even come home last night? He was a good driver but sometimes he was stupid, impulsive. What if he crashed his stupid BMW? No, no, someone would have called you. Surely his parents or yours would have told you if they got a call. 

After an hour of imagining the worst, you called Mrs Wheeler again and asked for the Byers' address. She warned you about driving up there in the dark and you didn’t have the heart to tell her you would be walking. You locked up the Harrington house and left a note for Steve if he did come back. You didn’t know how long the walk would be but you didn’t care. 

You reached the mouth of the Byers’ driveway exhausted but suddenly relieved. There you could see a car you recognised as Steve’s. He was here. You had found him. But then you noticed the obnoxious blue Camaro. What the hell was Billy Hardgrove doing here? That’s when you heard screaming. 

“Stop!” “Stop it!” “You’re gonna kill him!”

You started running up the gravel path. The screaming stopped before you reached the door. There’s nothing that could have prepared you for what was on the other side. Hargrove was laying on the floor with a bloody nose, a gaggle of tweens were standing in the living room, one holding up a pair of keys, and Steve was bloodied on the floor. 

The kids all stopped and stared at you and you at them. No one moved as your collective brains tried to figure out what was going on. Then you heard a small groan and remembered why you were here.

“Steve!”

You fell to the floor beside him cradling his face. He blinked a few times before you saw a glint of recognition in his eyes. 

“Hiiiiiiiiii” You wanted to strangle him for trying to be cute right now.

“Arthur. Steven. Harrington. I am going to kick your ass." He smiled and the blood on his lips leaked onto his teeth.

“Billy beat you to it.” And with that, his head lulled to the side and he passed out. 

“Shit, shit, Stevie? Steven!” You looked back at the kids still staring at you. 

“I need a damp wash rag and a first aid kit.” They stayed frozen, just looking at each other as if having a silent conversation. “NOW!” 

That got them to scramble. They returned with a warm washcloth and a handful of colourful bandaids. You looked at the kid you assumed was Dustin with a raised brow. 

“It’s all they had.” You huffed, accepting them and trying your best to clean up his face. 

The kids fell back into the kitchen as you cleaned him up. When you were done you did your best to move Steve onto the couch.You walk in interrupting whatever important meeting they were holding in hushed whispers. 

“I want answers. Now. What happened?” They looked at each other instead of answering. You were getting real sick of that.

“Hey! Over here! Why the fuck is Stevie knocked out on the couch right now?” They must not have appreciated your tone, because only the small brunette spoke up. 

“Who the hell are you?” You watched as they all looked you over. 

“I’m his friend, your turn.” The kids did another silent group convo before Dustin shrugged. 

“Billy came over looking for Max and Steve went to send him away because Max said he would kill us. Then he saw us in the window and next thing we know the psychopath is  throwing open the door and pinning Lucas against a cabinet, making threats. Lucas kneed him the dick to get away and then he was all like ‘You’re dead Sinclair. Dead!’ and then Steve was all like ‘No, you are.’ Then he punched him right in the face. Then he got a few more punches in, it really looked like he was gonna win for a second. But then Billy smashed a plate over his head and Steve fell over on the carpet there. And Billy was on top of him, cackling like a maniac while he punched Steve over and over. We thought he was gonna die, but then Max drugged him and then…well, you’re here now.” 

You blinked dumbly for a moment before cursing under your breath. 

“We don’t have time for this! We have to go, they need us!” You look at the brunette confused.

“Go? Go where? Who needs you? Who’s we?” 

“That’s need-to-know information-” The kid in war paint and a bandana says.

“Yeah, party only. And Steve. And Max too.” Dustin tells you. 

You look at them in disbelief. “Stevie isn’t going anywhere right now, and I assume he’s supposed to be babysitting you. You can’t just leave.”

“People are gonna die if we don’t leave, right now!” The brunette's face was red now. 

As you looked around you saw nothing but desperation on the faces of the children surrounding you. You were inclined to believe them, as crazy as it seemed. All of your paranoia turned out to be justified, maybe theirs were too. 

And that’s how you found yourself driving down the back roads of Hawkins in Billy Hargroves’ car with a bunch of kids you didn’t know and your best friend unconscious in the back seat. Not at all how you thought your night was gonna go. You were on a long stretch of road and the car was very quiet. Was very quiet. 

“Can I ask you a question?” You glanced in the rearview mirror at Dustin. 

“How about you each get one question and you have to tell me your names? Then I return the favour.” You saw some nods from the backseat passengers. 

“I’m Lucas,” said your navigator. “How long have you known Steve?”

“We were childhood best friends until I moved to New York when we were ten. But now I’m back.”

“I’m Max, Why do you call him Stevie? Are you dating?” You scoffed. 

“No, no, that’s just what we used to call him when he was a kid.”

“Dustin here, and you guys are asking the wrong questions. Is Steve’s full name Arthur Steven Harrington?” 

“Yeah, he’s named after his dad.” Dustin let out a laugh. 

“Oh my god, King Steve has the dorkiest name ever! Wait, his name is Arthur. He’s King Arthur! That’s kinda cool, actually. Why doesn’t he go by that?”

You huffed, “Dunno and I said one question.” 

Dustin’s face fell into a grimace. You glazed back at the brunette who sat silently staring out the window. He seemed especially stressed. You felt you had done a good job of calming down the kids, even if it was at Steve’s expense. 

“And what’s your name?” He remained silent until Dustin reached over to smack his arm. Dustin gave him a look of raised brows and that seemed to do the trick.

“I’m Mike.” His answer was short and clipped. 

“Nice to meet you, Mike.” Your attempt at warmth did nothing to soften him up. 

“Right, my turn then. I’m (Y/N). Now Lucas, where are we going? Like more than directions and more than some farm.” He seemed to hesitate before answering. 

“Look, this is all really dangerous. It’s better not to get involved. The less you know the better.” You were confused by his sombre tone. What did a twelve-year-old know about life and death?

“Well, I hate to tell you but I am involved. I’m driving you all to this dangerous location, so maybe you could give me an idea of what I’m getting myself into?” He let out a sigh before explaining you were going underground to set fire to a hive mind running through all of Hawkins.

“Right, of course. That’s uh…okay, sure. Max, What’s connected to this hive mind underneath Hawkins?”

“We’re not sure. We know there’s demidogs and whatever’s inside Will right now. I don’t really get it myself, I just joined this circus today.” Jesus, every layer of this just added more confusion. 

“Wait, Will? As in Will Byers, Jonathan’s little brother? There’s something inside him?” Dustin scoffed. 

“What happened to one question?” You let out a small laugh.

“Alright, alright. Dustin, What’s inside of Will?” It blows your mind how longwinded this kid is. But you remember Steve saying something about that. He gave the whole rundown. About how Will was kidnapped by an interdimensional creature and taken to the “upsidedown” and how he’s been seeing the “Mind Flayer” and how it got to him. 

“Wow, okay. Mike, What’s the plan?” He glared at you from the rearview window. 

“You don’t believe us.” You felt the venom he spit at you and you weren’t sure what to do with it.

“Mike it’s not that I don’t believe you, it’s just this is a lot. Imagine you’re me for a second. You go out looking for your friend and then before you know it a bunch of twelve-year-old kids are telling you the most boring town in the world is actually the epicentre of some evil dimension.” You hoped he would understand and maybe stop being so angsty towards you. 

“We're not kids! And we’re not twelve, we’re thirteen!” You apologised for the assumption while Mike continued to stare you down. You thought that was all you were gonna hear from him, but he must have decided you were genuine. 

“Our friends are trying to close the portal right now. The demidogs are gonna be swarming them, trying to protect it. The plan is to get to the centre of the hive mind and draw them away, clear a path for them.” You huffed out a sigh, soaking in his words. 

“So, we’re the bait. Got it.” 

The car fell into silence once again, the roar of the speeding engine filling the cab. You ask Lucas to give you directions again. Not because you need them, you’ve been to Merrill’s Pumpkin Patch plenty of times, but just to hear something. You needed a distraction from your spiralling mind and the nerves you felt eating at the lining of your stomach. 

“What’s going on?”

For a second you forget that you’re driving dangerously fast in a car you don’t know well without a license, and you whip your head around to look at Steve, relieved that he finally woke up. He sees your face and begins to panic and that makes you panic too. More so than you were before. You only turn back around when you hear Lucas yell at you to look out. You swerve narrowly avoiding a mailbox. Everyone starts screaming at each other and you snap. 

“Everybody shut the hell up!” Your head is starting to hurt, your brain being stretched to its thinnest in the last six hours. 

“Oh, wait,” Lucas says catching your attention. “That’s Mount Sinai. Make a left. Make a Left!” 

You pull hard on the steering wheel, coming off the road a bit before correcting yourself. Steve has not stopped yelling at you to both slow down and stop the car. You do neither as you continue to focus on Lucas’s voice. 

It’s not long until you’re crashing through the familiar “Merrill’s Farm” sign. You park the car and everyone starts spilling out. You take a deep breath as you hear Steve start to try to wrangle the kids. You hear Dustin trying to talk him down and decide to help. 

“Now, I know you promised Nance that you would keep us safe. So, keep us safe.” Steve begrudgingly takes the bag that Dustin hands him and Dustin makes his way to the hole.

Only as he’s walking away does Steve notice you rummaging through the trunk for your own gear. He puts his hand out in front of you to stop you. 

“Woah, Woah, Woah, you’re not going down there.” You push his hand away from you and grab your bag. 

“Uh, yes, I am.” He stands up straighter now, squaring up to you. 

“Like hell you are! You don’t even know what’s going on here, okay? This is fucking dangerous and I don’t want you anywhere near it.” You fix him a steeled gaze he hasn’t seen since you were kids. 

“Listen to me, Steven. They filled me in on the way here. As confident as they are that we’ll survive, both of us know there’s a really good chance none of us make it out. Someone needs to watch over those kids and only one of us here isn’t suffering from a possible concussion.” You move to grab the Axe you brought. 

“(Y/n)-”

“Look, you made a promise right? To keep them safe? Well, I did too, and I’m not about to let you walk through a hell dimension without me there to keep you safe.” You push past him, putting on your chemistry goggles and tying the T-shirt you found around your nose and mouth. 

“Hey, (Y/n), wait.” Steve goes to grab the bridge of his nose before wincing. “Let me go first so I can spot you.”  

That night he drove you home. The car ride was quiet. He pulled into his driveway and neither of you moved to get out. Both of you were thinking about everything that happened. 

“(Y/N/N), are you okay?” You blinked a few times before answering. 

“Yeah, I think so.” You looked over to Steve and you were reminded of the many years you spent apart. He’s so grown up now, no longer little Stevie. You didn’t realize you were staring until Steve looked away. 

“I’m so sorry.” He was looking straight ahead; his hands were gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white. “You never should have gotten caught up in all of this.”

“Steve it’s okay-”

“No, Don’t. Don’t you dare say it’s okay. None of this fucking okay. You risked your life today. We could have died. You…you were looking for me and that’s my fault. And now your life will never be the same.” You rolled his words around in your mind, polishing them like a pearl. 

“It was my choice. I could have left several times, but I didn’t.” He scoffed at your words but you cut him off before he could retaliate. 

“If it were the other way around, what would you have done?” Steve’s mouth opened and closed but nothing came out. 

“Don’t blame yourself, okay?” He shook his head back and forth as if trying to shake your reassurances out of his ears. You pulled on you your jacket sleeve and placed your wrist in front of his face. 

“Do you see this?” His gaze fell onto a band of braided thread, the colours muted after the years. 

“You’re stuck with me. I’m not going anywhere. And that’s my choice.” His grip on the steering wheel loosened. One hand fell to his lap while the other reached out to touch the bracelet in disbelief. 

“You still have this thing?” You just nodded your head as his fingers traced the skin of your wrist. 

In the glint of the streetlights, you saw his eyes get glassy just like all those years ago in your childhood bedroom. You reached across the console and did your best to wrap him in your arms. It took a moment for him to respond but when he did he held you tight. This hug lasted much longer than the one you received before disappearing behind the horizon in a Uhaul. 

When he pulled away he didn’t go far. His arms stayed wrapped around your waist and yours stayed around his neck. The expression on his face wasn’t one you recognised. His eyes were swirling with something, the chocolate brown of his irises deeply saturated. 

You never really looked at Steve before now. His face had matured a lot since you last saw him. His features are soft yet distinct. The moon cradles his face and you think he looks almost holy, a guardian angel damned only to protect but never protected. He has freckles of different sizes on his cheeks that trail down the side of his neck, the only flaws you can find. Even when beaten up he was beautiful. 

Steve was having a revelation of his own, several really. He knew you pretty, that wasn’t new. He also knew that he loved you. But now he can’t help but think of his conversation with Dustin earlier that day. Electricity was singing in the space between you. Had it always been there? 

That day behind the school gym he had called Jonathan Nance’s “other boyfriend”. She just as quickly called you his “other girlfriend” and told him he was just as guilty. He brushed it off at the time thinking it was nothing more than deflection, but now he wasn’t sure. He told himself that you guys were only so close because of your history, because he promised to be there. But these past few months he’s been relearning you. Your favourite snacks, songs, shoes, all of those things had changed and he loved getting to know you again. Now he sat in his car with you a breath away and he had never wanted to kiss you more. 

You had both been staring at each other for a while now, too close for too long for it to be acceptable between friends. You felt his hand move from your waist to hold your face and for a second you forgot to breathe. Your brain was doing pirouettes and grande jetés in your brittle skull. You watch his caramel eyes drift from yours to your lips. His thumb is tracing small circles on your cheek and you feel something akin to fire; pulsing flames dancing between you. He starts to lean in and you panic. 

“Stevie are you sure?” He looks at you with furrowed brows.

“Do you not want this?” Your emotions were fogging your brain, this was your last shred of sense he was prodding at. 

“That’s not what I asked.” Your voice was smaller than he had every heard. He paused, thinking through his answer. 

“No, I’m not but I think we should try.” And that was enough for you. 

Tag List: @Defrosting-strawberries, @fanfics-intead-of-depression, @heejinw0rld, @jedisstark, @Qualitybeliverflower, @rudy-the-winged-wolf, @scorpiolystoned, @wannapizzamymindposts, @whoreforklitz,

[canmom]

авантура Цанмома у Београду

avantura Canmoma u Beogradu, or, the adventure of canmom in Belgrade

it's another one of these 'travels of canmom' posts! last time we went to Gamescom in Germany. this time I went to Belgrade for a company event.

I can't actually talk that much about this one because the main thing I was doing was cooking up game pitches for what we might work on next (kind of like a game jam but just for concepts), and while that was very interesting and I learned a lot about how to get ideas across in limited time and make judgements about what videogames might sell and how long they'd take to make and such... it is however probably not something I can talk in too much detail about yet, because we might end up making these games, so I can't be like 'the theme was x and we pitched y'.

so instead I will mostly talk about Belgrade! and show some of the photos I took that don't have game developers wandering around in them.

that's Nikola Tesla airport. did you know that Nikola Tesla was from modern-day Serbia (at the time, the Austrian Empire)? I didn't but I do now!

most of the week was spent in this fancy villa...

...which is called the Villa Saga Paradiso. it must once upon a time have been some stinking rich family's holiday home, because it's a super weird building, with such features as a pool table, swimming pool, tennis court, library, and even a weird kinda stage thing on the top floor. definitely full of weirdly shaped rooms and interesting old furniture, it felt kinda like a place a moomin might hole up. so here's some pics of the place.

also the view was kinda insane...

also! here's a pic of a Serbian snail that came out rather nice:

anyway on Saturday we went into the city centre to do some more touristy shit. I went to the two places in Belgrade that presumably everyone goes, namely the Fortress and the Temple. but I also got some shots of the city centre...

(also a tram shot for the trams girls in the audience)

so as you can see, the vibes of central Belgrade are p Southern European sorta architecture, lots of pale stone walls and tiled roofs and the like. but you also have these crazy cool looking tower blocks from the communist period...

...which were unfortunately quite hard to photograph out of a moving car window.

But yeah, we were on our way to the fortress.

Belgrade Fortress has a pretty storied history. At one point it simply was Belgrade; even after that, it's been occupied by variously the Byzantines, Turks and Austrians, who all made various additions and modifications to the fortress, and sometimes accidentally blew it up. Nowadays it's become a kind of park and tourist area, surrounded by the river, and thus some pretty impressive views...

as well as various things that tourists might like to look at, like statues of dinosaurs and tanks, and people dressed Historically.

apparently you're only allowed 30 images in a post, so let me make another one for the Temple, which was the craziest building I saw, and the butt statue...

[dreamperfectarchives]

Sweet Silence

Summary: Dabin makes a bet with his friends without thinking about the consequences and gets into trouble.

Or boys will be boys, Ugh.

Bet!AU | M.List | Word Count: 1.6k

DPR Live x Reader: Angst, fluff, miscommunication, your friends with other khh artists. drama. arguments, men are dumb!

A/N sorry, it's on the shorter side but please enjoy!

How it started;

"If you accept this bet, y/n might not speak to you ever again."

Dabin rolled his eyes.

"He knew you better than anyone, and he believed that you wouldn't break up with him over a bet. Especially since he would explain everything in detail once the bet was over and he had won, proving those guys wrong.

“Okay, you have three days to complete this whole game, so that means no sleeping and no texting your girlfriend,” Ian smirked as he explained the rules to Dabin. “We’ll come into your flat to make sure you’re fed and hydrated, so you don’t die.”

Your boyfriend had a smile on his face, feeling thrilled at the idea of proving his friends wrong and winning the bet. However, he got too caught up in the excitement and forgot to inform you beforehand that he would be gone for three days while the dare was taking place.

“Bring it on, guys!”

He didn’t think that the outcome, in the end, would be so… terrifying. 

How it went; 

“You know what’s weird?” you said as you grabbed a drink out of your fridge. “I haven’t heard from Dabin since last night.” 

Hoody sat comfortably on the floor, intently flipping through the pages of a fashion magazine. Meanwhile, Sohee carefully painted her nails with a deep and rich shade of red.

“He’s probably just hanging out with the guys,” one of them answered. 

The other simply hummed in agreement. 

"Oh, that's a nice colour," you complimented Sohee before sitting next to her on the couch, being careful not to disturb her. "You're probably right, but, weirdly, he's taking so long to text me." 

Hoody closed her magazine over, before grabbing her drink off the coffee table, “you know what you need?” She suggested after taking a sip. “A girls night with us! We can invite Lee Hi and DeVita too.” 

You let out a sigh, the idea did sound like fun. It had been a while since you all hung out together and had a good time. Besides, maybe Dabin needed a break with his friends, just like you needed one with yours.

“Okay,” you agreed. “Let’s do it, but we’re staying in.”

Sohee laughed as she closed the nail polish bottle, “we wouldn’t have it any other way.”

The evening was a relaxing and enjoyable one, filled with laughter, good company, and indulgences like wine, face masks, and friendly chatter about relationships. We rearranged the furniture to create a cosy space on the floor, where we could lounge on blankets and pillows and fully unwind.

The thought of your boyfriend not messaging you all day, even after you texted him to ask how he was, was unsettling. It was unlike him to go this long without responding, even when he was with his friends. It just didn't make sense to you.

Was he mad at you? Did you do something wrong? 

A sigh escaped your lips as you finished your drink. Hoody was the only one who stayed after everyone went home. It had been a lovely night, full of laughter and endless fun, but now you were getting annoyed.

You sent another text.

An hour later, still no response.

It was almost 3 am and Hoody was sitting on the couch, scrolling through channels, hoping to find something interesting to watch on TV. As time passed, you seemed to become more and more irritated, letting out a sigh which Hoody took as a sign to turn off the TV and encourage you to go to bed.

While watching Hoody remove her makeup, you asked, "Do you think he's breaking up with me?" as you sat on the edge of the bathtub.

“That boy is completely in love with you,” she scolded, looking at you through the mirror. “Don’t be stupid.”

You laughed at the scowl on her face, “Sorry, it’s just unlike him, you know?”

She nodded. “If he doesn’t text or call you tomorrow, you can be as angry as you want, and I’ll be just as angry with you. Deal?”

“Deal!”

->

After Dabin failed to message or call the next day, you and Hoody sulked and complained about inconsiderate men. She was just as angry as you, she’d promised she would be the night before, you were so thankful for having a friend like her. 

“How can you go two days without messaging the love of your life?” She shouted, throwing popcorn at the TV as the protagonists kissed in the rain. “I’m so pissed off right now.”

You laughed at her sudden outburst, “It’s okay, I've decided to give him the silent treatment until he apologises.”

Hoody seemed to like your idea, and let you know she was only a call away if you needed her before she left as she had work the next day. 

Now, it was just you and your thoughts. 

The day had passed by quickly, as it always did when you were hanging out with your friends. However, now you’d found yourself unsure of what to do. You couldn't even talk to Dabin, as he wasn't talking to you in the first place. Besides, you didn't want to speak to him until he apologised. 

A sigh parted your lips as you stared at the multiple messages you’d sent the night before, how annoying, you thought. 

You started typing out a message, fingers moving swiftly across the keyboard as you let your thoughts pour out, you wanted him to know how he made you feel and what you were going to do about it before muting his messages and tossing your phone to the side. 

On the other hand:

Dabin was clueless about the impact of his actions on your feelings. He was engrossed in his video games and consuming the food that his buddies had brought for him. He convinced himself that he only had to endure one more day, and then he would see you and clarify how he had won the bet.

However, the happiness he had been feeling vanished as quickly as it had come when he saw your recent message. The message read, 'I'm not sure why you're not talking to me, but I know I haven't done anything wrong to deserve this. If this is your way of breaking up with me, then so be it. But at least say something instead of going cold.'

As he tried to call you, the call went straight through to voicemail, and his heart fell through his stomach. You thought he was breaking up with you, and he was now panicking. He couldn't bear the thought of never speaking to you again, and he realised that Ian was right.

This bet was not a good idea. 

He moved quickly, leaving a mess behind as he shoved his shoes on and grabbed his keys to make his way over to your place. The bet wasn't worth winning if it meant losing you. This whole situation was stupid to begin with. 

He arrived at your apartment just before midnight, panting heavily as he knocked on the door, praying for you to answer.

When you opened the door, you appeared annoyed. Your expression grew even more irritated when you saw him standing there. He watched as you crossed your arms and visibly became smaller under your glare.

“What do you want?” You argued. 

He quickly entered the room and closed the door behind him, saying, "I'm here to apologise. It's not what you think."

You stepped back as he tried to reach out to you. "What is it then?" you asked.

“It was a stupid bet–”

"Excuse me, what?!" you interrupted, feeling angrier. 

"It was Ian's idea. He provoked me by saying that I couldn't go three days without texting you or sleeping, and I wanted to prove him wrong," he rambled. "I know it was stupid, and I'm so sorry for putting you through this."

"I can't believe this! Did you really put me through all of this emotional turmoil just for a bet?" You unfolded your arms and settled your hands on your hips, staring at your partner in disbelief. You let out a deep sigh and collapsed onto the couch, feeling defeated. "I honestly thought you were going to break up with me."

Dabin knelt in front of you, taking your hands into his. He kissed the back of each hand and gazed deeply into your eyes. "I am so sorry for what I did," he spoke in a soft tone. "But I promise you, I'm not breaking up with you. Ever! I want to marry you one day. I'm so in love with you."

He could tell you were still upset with him, but the faint smile appearing on your lips told him that the two of you were going to be okay.

“You’ve got a lot of making up to do,” you told him to which he nodded in agreement. “Also, Ian is in a lot, and I mean, a lot of trouble.” 

Dabin laughed at the mischievous grin on your face before jumping onto the couch next to you and pulling you into his arms, “god, I missed you.”

How it ended:

“So, you failed,” Ian smirked.

Dabin shrugged as you walked into the room where he and Ian were sitting, then smiled at you.

“Ian, you are in a lot of trouble,” you said, watching the smirk fall off his lips. “I’m not sure why you’re sitting there so smugly.”

Ian appeared visibly frightened as he contemplated the severity of his situation.

Let's just say your friends had a lot to say.

[sillylittlestoryblog]

Meet cute

Greg Hirsch x Reader

Warnings: its cheesy romcom stuff, english isnt my first language, this isnt canon to succession at all, might be somewhere season one but shiv is working at waystar, use of y/n

Fluff nothing more.

Summary: Reader is Shivs assistant and has to bring some secret documents to Toms new assistant. He is your bosses cousin and has been working at waystar only for a few weeks. You are more than curious to meet him.

Notes: i loveeee succession and i love Cousin Greg the egg. I am not ready for it all to end. And damn the last episode is gonna air one day before my birthday. Another reason to cry at my birthday…it happens every year. Also none of my friends are into succession ( such bad friends ) so if you want to be my succession bestie pls dm me. Thx for reading this. And if you like it, just so you know, comments are like long hugs to writers :)

A loud knock on your office door interrupted your work. For hours you sat on the same boring documents and your head was literally glowing. The day had not started very well. After you arrived late at the trainstation and had missed your train, you felt you already knew that today would be awful. As you walked out into the New York winter air with cold ears, you almost collided with someone else. Why didn't this giant pay more attention to where he was going?

At Starbucks you quickly bought an overpriced coffee and two bagels. One for you and one for your boss. You had overslept and didn't really have time for breakfast and even though you were actually quite good at your job, you could get fired at any time. Waystar was not known for treating its employees well. The longer you worked there the more you hated the company. But you couldn't just quit. You have to pay rent and have enough money to keep you and your two cats alive. You needed that job. That means, that it happened more than often that you had to skip eating or sleeping. The main thing is that your boss has her hot coffee and snacks on her expensive coffee table every morning. And you need to do your job as her assistant perfectly, without ever being late.

But most mornings she wasn't even in the office. you could only wonder what happened to the cold coffee.

About four hours after you ran sweaty and red-headed to your little office to spend the next few hours in front of your computer, there was a loud knock on the door.

"Heyy, Good Morning Y/N. Nice to see you. Can you please bring these to my husband on the other floor. I have a meeting now. See you.“

And away she went again. Shiv Roy had handed you a pack of documents, at least thats what you thought it was. You read the word confidential printed on the envelope in red color. Even tho you were in the middle of something, you decided to take a break and bring that envelope to Shivs husband.

You weren't sure where it suddenly came from, but on the way to the elevator you got a little nervous. Not only because of Shiv's somewhat strange husband. Tom Wabsgans had given you the ick from the beginning. He was tall and rich, like almost every other man who worked here. And yes money can make people a bit peculiar. But Tom... he was on another level. You had once heard him yell at a co-worker for "breathing too loudly". Also, there were rumors going around that he offered to give some employees a fortune, if they would be his "human furniture" for a week. If anyone in this building would claim that Tom had a piece of meat cut out of his own body to eat as a steak, no one would be surprised. You least of all. He gave you a strange feeling every time. But your nervousness came from something else.

The day before, Inej, one of your best friends who used the office next to yours, had whispered to you at lunch that she had seen tom's new assistant. She had grinned and said:

"so if I wasn't already in a happy committed relationship with this awesome guy, I would have given him my number for sure. Fuck Y/N, he's really cute."

Since this talk you had caught yourself wanting to know more about this guy. Because cute wasnt how you would describe most guys who worked for Logan Roy. Most of them where sleazy, moneyhungry guys with big watches and tailored suits. They catcalled all the women who worked with you, honestly you hated their guts.

Inej had sent you a message the night before. She'd heard from two of Tom's coworkers that the assistant was probably part of the Roy family. A cousin or nephew or something. If this rumor was true, then it was definitely the hottest gossip in ages.

The elevator ride didn't take long and with the envelope in your hand you walked confidently towards Tom's office. You had already raised your hand to knock on his office.

But it should not come so far, from the side came a great force that almost made you fall. But before you could curse again the shitty "all women must wear high heels rule" and hit the floor, someone held you by your waist.

"Oh god sorry. Uh. I'm really sorry about that."

You had no idea how you could have almost been knocked over for the second time today. You were kinda getting angry. Why was this day so awful.

"oh fuck, can't you be more careful?!"

When you turned to the side you almost regretted your loud harsh tone.

In front of you stood a tall guy, brown hair, crooked tie and an apologetic and quiet adorable puppy look on his face.

„So, uh, i m sorry. Truly? uh…Truliest.“

You didnt really know how to respond. Damn that guy is tall.

„Wait, uh, are you Y/N? You know because i, uh , i didnt stalk you or something, i saw you on a photo, this coworker, uh, i think her name was Inej, she showed me a picture, like of you guys, and - well i just assumed that might be, uh, you? And i…“

„What?“

„I am Greg, i uh work for Tom, and yeah so yesterday- i talked to this wom…“

„No i get that part. You really need to look where you are going…Greg.“

You were putting on a little smile. Inej was right, he was cute, and apparently also very clumsy. And nervous?

Greg was tucking his hair behind his ear. He didnt looked that shocked anymore. A small smile creeping on his face.

Damn. You really liked that face.

„I am really sorry, Y/N. I kinda, uh, feel like i owe you something?“

You were blushing. Nervously you looked down. He is so tall he probably can’t see the blushing like that.

„Would you maybe give this to Tom?- its from Shiv. And probably important.“

You handed him the envelope. You could have sworn your hands touched. You felt like cringing. This feels like you are in a stupid romcom. Stop blushing and smiling this isnt pride and prejudice.

If you hadn’t looked down while being flustered, you could have witnessed Greg’s cheeks turning a little red too.

Nervously he gave you a thumbs up.

„ sure. Uh - and, eh, maybe i could buy you something for lunch? I don’t know… there is this really cool pizza place i always wanted to go, i … sorry, maybe you don’t even like pizza. Eh i just thought we could maybe go there? And i would pay - obviously. -Not because i am a man or something, uh like i am a feminist and i believe you could pay for yourself, but, uh i you know almost knocked you over because i didnt look where i was going…“

His nervous rambling continued. Your little smirk turned into a genuin smile.

„Hey Greg.“

„Uh yeah?“

„I would love that.“

On the way back to your office, you forgot how horrible this day started. With a smile on your face you pushed the button to go up. Entering the elevator you looked around, he was still standing where you left him. Grinning to himself. You saw him looking back up to search for your face, right when the elevator doors closed in front of you.

[littlesweetchurro]

Malfunctioned

Chapter Two

Bakugou

Bakugou's fist slammed into the wall. The receptionist squeaked, her eyes wide.

"What the fuck do you mean, 'standard solutions'?" He snarled, looming over the desk. "Did you not hear a goddamn word I said?"

The woman—Bakugou hadn't bothered to learn her name—stammered something unintelligible. Her gaze darted around the room, looking anywhere but at the fuming hero in front of her.

Bakugou's teeth ground together. This was the third fucking support company he'd visited today, and his patience was hanging by a thread.

The first had been a joke. A bunch of starry-eyed idiots more interested in getting his autograph than actually fixing his gear. He'd stormed out after ten minutes, leaving behind a room full of singed eyebrows and bruised egos.

The second... Christ, the second had been even worse. He'd tried to play nice, really he had. But then they'd started talking about "upgrades" and "premium packages." As if he needed their overpriced bullshit. He'd made his opinion on that quite clear. Last he'd seen, they were still trying to put out the fire in their demo room.

And now this place. He'd had high hopes for this one. They came highly recommended, supposedly the best in the business. But so far, all he'd gotten was the same cookie-cutter crap as everywhere else.

"Listen here," Bakugou growled, leaning in close. The receptionist flinched back, the scent of his nitroglycerin sweat filling the air. "I need someone who can fix my gear. Not slap a band-aid on it, not sell me some fancy new toy. Fix. It. Is there anyone in this goddamn building capable of doing that?"

The woman's mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. Bakugou's lip curled in disgust. Pathetic.

"I-I'll get the manager," she finally squeaked out.

Bakugou straightened, crossing his arms over his chest. "About fucking time."

As the receptionist scurried away, Bakugou paced the lobby like a caged animal. His eyes scanned the room, taking in the sleek furniture and modern art. All style, no substance. Just like everything else in this place.

He caught sight of his reflection in a polished chrome sculpture. His hair was a mess, more wild than usual. Dark circles shadowed his eyes. And there, just visible above his collar, was a thin scar from where a villain had gotten too close during his last patrol.

Bakugou's jaw clenched. He needed his gauntlets.

The sound of approaching footsteps pulled him from his thoughts. A man in an expensive suit strode towards him, plastering on a fake smile that made Bakugou's skin crawl.

"Dynamight, sir! It's an honor to have you here. I'm Tanaka, the head of our R&D department. I understand you're having some issues with your support gear?"

Bakugou's eyes narrowed. This fucker better not be another waste of his time.

"Yeah, you could say that," he growled. "My gauntlets aren't firing right. Misfires, weak blasts, the whole nine yards. I need it fixed, and I need it fixed yesterday."

Tanaka nodded, his smile never wavering. "Of course, of course. We'd be happy to take a look. Perhaps you'd like to come back to our lab? We have some exciting new prototypes that might interest you—"

"Did I fucking stutter?" Bakugou cut him off, his voice dangerously low. "I don't want your new shit. I want my gear fixed."

Tanaka's smile faltered for a moment before snapping back into place. "Ah, yes, of course. Well, why don't you show me the problem, and we'll see what we can do?"

Bakugou grunted, reaching into the duffel bag slung over his shoulder. He pulled out his gauntlets, slamming them onto a nearby coffee table hard enough to make the magazines scatter.

"There," he said, gesturing to the scorched and dented equipment. "Firing mechanism's fucked. Calibration's off. And the blast radius is all over the place."

Tanaka leaned in, examining the gauntlets with a furrowed brow. "Hmm, I see. These are quite... unique. Custom-made, I assume?"

Bakugou's eye twitched. "No shit. You think I'd wear some off-the-rack crap?"

"Of course not," Tanaka said smoothly. "It's just, well, our technicians might have some difficulty with such a specialized piece of equipment. Perhaps it would be easier if we started from scratch? We have some excellent new designs that—"

"For the last fucking time," Bakugou roared, his patience finally snapping, "I don't want your shitty new designs! I want these fixed!"

Fucks sake!

Was he fucking speaking German?

Tanaka took a step back, his practiced smile finally cracking.

"Now, now, there's no need for that kind of language," he said, holding up his hands placatingly. "I'm sure we can come to some sort of arrangement. Why don't we discuss this in my office?"

Bakugou's hands sparked, small explosions popping in his palms. "The only thing we're going to discuss is how quickly you can get someone competent to look at my gear."

Tanaka's eyes darted nervously to Bakugou's hands, then to the exit. "I... I'm not sure we have anyone available at the moment who could handle such a complex—"

"Bullshit," Bakugou snarled. He took a step forward, relishing the way Tanaka flinched. "You're supposed to be the best in the business. Are you telling me that was all talk?"

Sweat beaded on Tanaka's forehead. "N-no, of course not. It's just, well, custom work like this requires a certain level of expertise, and—"

"And what?" Bakugou's voice was quiet now, deadly calm. "You don't have that expertise? Is that what you're saying?"

Tanaka's mouth opened and closed, no sound coming out. Bakugou could practically see the wheels turning in his head, trying to find a way out of this situation without admitting defeat.

Bakugou's lip curled in disgust. He'd seen enough.

Without another word, he snatched up his gauntlets and shoved them back into his bag. He turned on his heel, stalking towards the exit.

"Wait!" Tanaka called after him. "Perhaps we could—"

The door slammed shut behind Bakugou, cutting off whatever pathetic offer Tanaka had been about to make.

Outside, Bakugou took a deep breath of the cool evening air. His hands were still smoking, small pops and crackles echoing in the quiet street.

Three companies. Three fucking failures.

You

Monday morning arrived with a vengeance, bringing with it a pounding headache and the harsh reality of your job at Tech Nexus Solutions. You dragged yourself to work, praying for an easy day to nurse your hangover. The universe, however, had other plans.

"Hey!" your coworker Hana called out as soon as you entered the office. "Mr. Morita is on the warpath. He's demanding changes to his support gear... again."

You groaned, rubbing your temples. Mr. Morita, aka Rubber Man was proving to be a notoriously difficult client, a minor pro-hero with an inflated ego and a penchant for nitpicking every detail of his gear. "What is it this time?" you asked, dreading the answer.

"He says the material isn't breathable enough and the color is off by two shades," Hana replied, wincing sympathetically.

"Of course it is," you answered.

Taking a deep breath, you steeled yourself for the impending confrontation.

The vane of your existence was calling people, you hated making phone calls. Why couldn't you just send an email? But no, you had to put on your big girl pants and be professional.

You grunted.

You dialed Rubber Man's number, putting on your most professional voice. "Good morning, Mr. Morita. I understand you have some concerns about your gear?"

What followed was a twenty-minute tirade about the supposedly subpar quality of his suit. You listened patiently, jotting down notes and occasionally interjecting with clarifying questions. When he finally paused for breath, you seized your opportunity.

"Mr. Morita," you began, in your most professional voice, "I appreciate your attention to detail. However, I must remind you that the material we used was specifically chosen for its durability and flexibility, which are crucial for your quirk. As for the color, I have the approved shade right here in front of me, and I can assure you it's exactly as specified."

"But it doesn't feel right!" he spluttered, making you wonder who, what single individual had been responsible for his fucking huge ego. His mom probably.

You smirked, thankful he couldn't see your expression over the phone. "Feeling right and being right are two different things, Mr. Morita. Perhaps what you're experiencing is the natural breaking-in period for new gear. I suggest giving it a week of regular use. If you're still unsatisfied, we can schedule a fitting to address any specific areas of discomfort."

There was a pause on the other end of the line. You held your breath, hoping your blend of logic and compromise would appease him.

"Fine. One week. But if I'm not satisfied, I expect immediate action."

"Of course, Mr. Morita. Your satisfaction is our top priority," you replied smoothly, hoping your customer service voice was on point today. "Is there anything else I can help you with today?"

After assuring him once more that his concerns were being taken seriously, you ended the call, exhaling loudly.

"Nicely handled," Hana said, impressed. "I thought he was going to demand a complete redesign."

You grinned, feeling a sense of accomplishment. "Sometimes you just need to speak their language. A little flattery, a dash of logic, and a sprinkle of standing your ground." You stood up and stretched trying to relieve the kink your neck. "You know all standards when dealing with heroes."

As the morning wore on, you found yourself in need of a caffeine boost. You made your way to the break room, hoping a strong cup of coffee would chase away the last vestiges of your hangover.

"Did you hear? Dynamight is looking for a new support company!"

Your ears perked up at the mention of the explosive hero. Dynamight, also known as Katsuki Bakugou, was one of the top heroes in Japan. Working with him would be a massive opportunity for any support company.

"Are you serious?" another voice chimed in. "That would be huge for us if we could land that contract!"

"Yeah, but can you imagine dealing with his temper? I heard he made his last support tech cry."

You freeze, coffee forgotten as you strain to hear more. You really didn't like gossip, not really, well maybe you did like it a bit when it wasn't about you.

"I heard he actually set fire to the last company's prototype room," someone says in a hushed tone.

You rolled your eyes. Typical hero gossip, probably exaggerated. Probably. Though you really couldn't be sure when it came to the explosive hero. Dynamight's temper was legendary, but so is his prowess as a hero. Working with him would be the opportunity of a lifetime.

"Can you imagine trying to work with that? He'd probably blast you across the room if you suggested an improvement."

You snorted quietly.

"His gauntlets are a work of art, though," someone mused. "The way they store his sweat and amplify his explosions is genius."

"True, but they're also incredibly complex. One wrong move and they could malfunction catastrophically."

You found yourself nodding in agreement. Dynamight's gauntlets were indeed impressive, a perfect example of how support gear could enhance a hero's natural abilities. The thought of working on such advanced equipment sent a thrill of excitement through you.

"Who do you think they'll assign to his account if we get it?" one of your coworkers asked.

"It'll have to be someone who can handle the pressure. And his attitude," another replied with a chuckle.

You took that as your cue to enter the break room, pretending and failing like you hadn't heard a thing. "Morning, everyone," you said casually, making a beeline for the coffee machine.

Your colleagues greeted you, their conversation shifting to more mundane topics. As you prepared your coffee, your mind raced with possibilities. Working with Dynamight would be challenging, no doubt, but it could also be the opportunity of a lifetime.

You returned to your desk, sipping your coffee thoughtfully. The idea of designing support gear for one of the top heroes in the country was exhilarating. Sure, Dynamight had a reputation for being difficult, but you'd just proven your ability to handle demanding clients.

You could do, you knew you could.

A small, ambitious, prideful part of you wondered knew you'd be perfect for the challenge. After all, if you could talk down Mr. Morita, how much worse could the explosive hero be?

Little did you know, you were about to find out exactly how much worse it could be.

[ch3rriewine]

Lattes and love {R.J.L}

summary: You're new to town and the nearest coffee shop has a very cute barista.

warnings: 3.1k words, nothing rly :p just fluff

authors note: I HAVEN'T POSTED IN A WHILE SORRY!!! this is gonna be a series i think^^ send me requests!

The days start melding together after a while, the whir of the espresso machine always playing at the back of his head at this point. Nothing is interesting in Remus’ days anymore, sometimes a customer will yell at him for not having a specific pastry in stock, but he has thick skin. It’s just a continuous cycle, but he likes it like that. The familiarity is nice. But when you come in one day, all smiley despite the early hour of the day, yes he works the morning shift. What about it?

He stares from behind the counter watching you carefully. You make your way to the cash register and say your order to his coworker. You ordered a matcha latte, iced, with almond milk. His brain takes a second to process what's being asked of him, but he gets it soon enough. His hands moved gracefully from one area to the next, already having the instructions to make your drink etched into his brain. His mind was elsewhere, who were you? Did you just move to town? He's never seen you before, and believe that he would've remembered a girl like you. The green drink sits in his hand, the condensation from the plastic cup dripping down his hand, but he couldn't care less, his mind wandering as to who you were. He calls out your name from the cup.

"Hey! That's me," you say walking to the counter, an easy smile splayed on your lips. As you take your drink from his hands, the unthinkable happens. His fingers brush yours. "Thank you!" you hurry back to your laptop, afraid someone might swipe it off your table.

Did that actually happen? He stares at where your skin met his, the tiniest hint of a flush rising up his neck and to his cheeks. As soon as his coworker calls his attention once more with a new drink to make, does he snap out of his temporary trance.

Your fingers sit unmoving atop your laptop's keyboard. That damn barista. His damn freckles, damn fluffy hair, damn scarred hands, damn everything. He's completely taken over your mind, and you hate him for it. Maybe hate is a strong word, he is unbelievably attractive, so how could you hate someone as pretty as him? You try your best to ogle at him discreetly, but anyone who's looking for it will find you completely in awe of him. Maybe you should just go up to him and say hi, what could go wrong? A lot you realize as you think of the possible outcomes, so maybe not that. He could find you incredibly creepy, he could be in a relationship already, or he could just not find you attractive. That last one might be the worst of them.

You leave the small coffee shop unsatisfied and behind on your chapter. You went there to read and work, and all you could think about was that silly barista. You didn't even know his name! Silly, stupid boy. Your walk to your new apartment is quiet other than the sound of the city keeping you company. Your apartment isn't the biggest, but it's the best you could do on your salary as a writer. I mean, everything works so far, so who are you to complain? You moved in a week ago and still, your furniture is yet to arrive, so you're stuck with your futon and an air mattress, except for the small trinkets and appliances that you brought with you on your solo roadtrip. You land with a thud on your temporary bed, having changed out of your outside clothes. Maybe you should go to the little shop everyday till he falls in love with you. You laugh at the thought burrowing yourself deeper into your comforter and promptly drifting off.

The next day, you take a deep breath and walk out the door of your building ready to never see the cute barista ever again, maybe that was his last day? It was not, as he was there once again standing behind the counter looking as handsome as ever. Unfortunately for you he's behind the register today, so you'd have to talk to him.

"Hi!" you say to your mystery man, "May I have a, uhm, an iced dirty matcha latte? With almond milk, please?" you end your sentence with a simple smile. He notices.

"Mhm. anything else?" he smiles back, a crooked, lazy grin. Your heart rate picks up a tiny bit.

"Hm, what would you suggest? What's your favorite pastry here?" you ask, trying your hardest to not stumble over your words.

He thinks for a moment before saying, "Probably the chocolate chip muffin,"

"Okay, I'll have that then," you respond. He tells you your total and you pay in cash.

"And this order is for?" he asks. You tell him your name. He repeats it in a whisper to himself, like he hadn't called it out the day before. "I'll call you up when your order is ready," he says easily, voice smooth.

"Thank you..." you trail off, silently asking for his name. Wow, look at you go, you flirt.

"Remus, my name is Remus." he replies, leaning on his arm propped up on the counter.

"Thank you, Remus" you end the short conversation and walk away hot in the face, with your palms sweating. He's just a person, why are you so nervous?

He makes your drink immediately, leaving someone to tend to the register while he sets about his mission to make the best goddamn latte you've ever tasted. Why does he even want to impress you so badly? He would rather not dwell on that thought, so he doesn't and puts all his energy into making this silly drink. He completes it eventually, and even warms your muffin. Sure, you didn't ask for it, but he's being...friendly to the new girl, right? Last minute, before he forgets, he scribbles a silly drawing on the side of your cup. It's stupid, really, it's a drawing of a stick woman with hair similar to yours with a book he saw you holding and an arrow pointing to you labeled "you :]". What can he say, he knows how to impress a gal. He calls out your name once again and watches you practically leap out of your seat and rush over to where he is.

"For you," he gives a smile matching the one he scribbled on.

"Thank you!" you say cheerily, stabbing a straw through the top and mixing it. Taking a long sip, you watch as he stands almost nervously waiting for your reaction.

"Wow, this is pretty good," you compliment him. You saw him rush to make it, but maybe he just really likes making these drinks?

"Glad to hear," he replies, waiting for you to notice his, dare he say it, adorable drawing. You nod turning the cup once you see him looking at it in your hands. Your eyes light up just the tiniest amount once you spot it.

"It's like looking in a mirror," you look up at him, a little giddy he took the time to draw this, as simple as it is.

"I'm a great artist, as you can see," he scratches his neck, cocking his head a little.

"It's lovely" you hold your hand over your heart,"Thank you, Remus."

"Anytime, lovely" he smiles back as you walk away with a smile and your muffin. He tries to sneak looks at you his whole shift, most attempts being successful, apart from the time he caught some old guy's stare. He watches as you pack up and leave. Hopefully he'll make friends with you. Hopefully something more.

The days pass by and Remus only makes it better. Your banter, and borderline flirting, have a small brightness to your day, just the thought of your anticipated jokes with him make your heart beat even a little bit faster. You walk in that one Sunday morning to order your dirty matcha to start your day with a pep in your step from the progress you've managed on your current novel. You started a new coming of age story with the main character working in a bookshop meeting this cute boy and forming an unexpected friendship, maybe even something more.

"Hi Remus." you greet him with a tightlipped smile.

"Hey! I'm just about to go on my break, what did you want?" he shoots an easy smiles back.

"Oh..I'll just have a dirt-" he cuts you off.

"A dirty matcha, got it" he nods chuckling a little. Your cheeks heat a little.

"Yeah, the usual." you nod emphatically, playing with your fingers. You're a little disappointed at your arrival being at the same time as his break, leaving little time to ogle at him from your seat. He notices your disappointment.

"How bout I, uh, I take my break with-with you?" he looks at you from under the floppy brown mess that is his hair that is in need of a haircut.

"I'd really like that," you answer him, lighting up the tiniest bit. You walk to an empty table, flustered, he just does something to you. You settle down, putting your stuff on the chair beside you. You watch as he walks to the back and take his apron off before he disappears into the room. Your palms are a tiny bit clammy and you nervously fiddling and fixing your hair, why are you so nervous? He's just a new friend in a new city with new experiences. And maybe you have the tiniest crush on him, so what? It'll fade in no time, besides he probably has a girlfriend, or boyfriend. Probably not even attracted to you! So many possibilities that can be true. You're so consumed with your anxieties that you don't notice him standing at your table.

"May I sit?" he asks with a furrowed brow, slightly concerned with your blank, wide-eyed stare at the wood grain. That seems to snap you out of it though.

"Wha-oh! Yes, of course!" Maybe you said this a little too enthusiastically, what happened to being the cool mysterious girl from a strange town? Who cares at this point, you've had enough embarrassment in this shop already. He takes his seat across from you. He looks like he wants to say something, but doesn't look so confident in his statement. He gets through his internal battle eventually.

"Can I have your, uh, social media? Or your number, or any sort of communication." he ends it with an embarrassed chuckle. You honestly though he'd never ask, you've been friendly for how many days and he still hasn't asked you for anything, you were starting to think he didn't actually enjoy your company.

"Of course, give me your phone," your outstretched hand meets his cracked phone. You shoot him a look at the sight of the screen to which he shrugs.

"I'm clumsy," he explains. You roll your eyes and type your number into his phone, then your social medias, and maybe snap a selfie to add to your contact. He grabs his phone back to type something unknown to and unknown person. Your phone vibrates in your bag.

xxx-xxxx-xxxx

do u wanna hang out outside of my workplace???

You chew on your thumb, looking back up at him. He shoots you back a smile similar to a square bracket. You type back,

:]

yes ^_^

╰── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╯

The bookstore he took you to is quaint and you love it. He texted you after his shift to meet him outside the coffee shop that Sunday afternoon so you two could walk there together. He said that this shop was run by an old married couple who have a mutual love for books. True to his statement, the only employees there are Martha and Clyde, said married couple. The place is decorated with pre-loved furniture and plants nurtured with care. You fall immediately in love with this place. You look up at him with an excited expression, morphing his to match yours. You grab his hand and drag him through the aisles to find the romance section, ever the romantic.

"Do you read romance?" you ask him while browsing the rows of books for something that will catch your eye.

"I've read a couple," he says absentmindedly, also surveying the collection of books that sit on the shelves in front of him.

"Hm, this one about rivals who fall in love," you hold up a book with green edges and a blue cover, "or this one where they're both dying?" you hold one up with a white cover and purple lettering.

"Both sound interesting," he takes them from you to analyze further "just get both." he decides

"Remus, I'm going to go broke if I get both," you're over exaggerating, of course, but you really don't need two new books when your unread book pile is already growing rapidly.

"Then I'll buy it for you" he looks up at you and raises his eyebrows in an unspoken question. Do you want me to?

"I can't possibly let you!" you throw your arms up. Why would he want to anyways? "Don't feel like you have to, I'll just get the one about the rivals." you make your decision walking down the narrow aisle, taking the your chosen book from his hands.

"Fine," he shakes his head, further messing up his hair and follows you out. He makes you stop by the science fiction section so he can browse too.

"You getting anything?" you ask him, standing behind him and fiddling with the hem of your skirt while he crouches to reach the very bottom of the shelf.

"Maybe..here!" his burst surprises you "I can't believe they have it!" he looks up at you with his mouth open and eyes bright.

"What book?" you crouch down to reach his level.

"It's a story I used to read as a kid, it's about this guy who turns into a monster sometimes," he looks at the back confirming that it's the book he's looking for. "I accidentally dropped it in a lake one summer and haven't been able to find it ever since, but now.." he turns to you, displaying the book in his hands. "I found it."

"I'm so glad," you warm a little. it's sweet he's so excited about this. His excitement makes you excited for him. "Can we check out now? My feet are killing me in these heels, let's grab food and you can tell me about the series." you take his hand once more to navigate where the cash register is.

Checked out and satisfied, you look for the nearest restaurant that won't drain your wallets. There's a small brunch place that looks cheap enough to satisfy your bank accounts and yummy enough to satisfy your tastebuds. He gets you a table for two and soon you're settled in a cute window booth with milkshakes and food. He goes on and on about this story and why the main character is so cool, and yet it doesn't seem to bother you at all. You even find it endearing how he's so passionate about this.

"So that's why-oh am I boring you? Sorry, I didn't mean to go on like that," he scratches the back of his neck in embarrassment, a pink flush tinting his cheeks ever so slightly. It's cute, he's cute.

"I don't mind, it's nice hearing about it." you say to him.

"What's your favorite book then?" he asks taking a sip of his chocolate milkshake. Now it was your turn to ramble. He watches you with careful eyes as you talk about how simple details mean so much more than what they seem. He loves you like this, all sucked into the fictional universe. It's cute, you're cute.

You two stay there for a while, talking about books and different interesting experiences that has happened in your life. By the end of it he has you laughing your ass off and a smile permanently stuck on your face, how do people find friends like his? You finally decide to pay and leave after an unknown amount of time, who even keeps track these days?

"I told James it was a stupid idea!" he laughs along with you.

"And he just did it anyways?" you giggle.

"Yes! That fucker never listens to me then whines about how he regrets it after," he shakes his head in fondness. He's so content right here, right now, sharing little stories back and forth, just getting to know each other. He never wants this to end. You're so interesting! Why would he ever want to stop talking to you?

"Oh my god! It's 7pm," you realize the time when you check your watch for the first time in a while.

"Is it really?" he asks and you confirm by showing your watch. He has work early tomorrow and he has grad school works to finish. "I have work early tomorrow, will I see you there?" he's hopeful that he'll get to see you and stare.

"Oh..maybe not, I have furniture to buy and assemble." your shoulders slouch in dissatisfaction. Why did you have to plan that on that day? "Will you be there the next day?"

"No," he drags it out slouching with you. "I have a pretty big presentation that day," you stare at each other, both disappointed at the fact you won't see each other for a while. You two get the check, pay, and walk out.

"I guess I'll see you next week" he smiles, in the lamp post lighting he looks ethereal, the shadow of his hair falling over his face. The shadow grows as he looks down to rummage through his pocket for a cigarette. He holds it in between his lips and lights it.

"You smoke?" your eyebrows furrow, tiny wrinkles forming on your forehead. He wants to rub them away.

"Unfortunately," he sighs and smoke follows out and into the night air.

"You can get cancer from that y'know." your lips purse.

"As I've been told." he laughs, looking down at you with a grin blessing his face.

"Put it out! I don't want you to die!" you scold him like he's a child and you're his irritated mother.

"Fine!" he drops it and stomps it out. After he's thrown it out, ever the environmentalist, he returns back to you under a lamp staring at him as he makes his way back to you.

"See you next week." he brings you in for a hug. That catches you off guard, frozen in place, but you relax into it. He smells of sandalwood and coffee. It's relaxing.

"See you" you respond in a meek voice. You're in a little too deep

[terrence-silver]

Had a dream about getting food eaten off of me (non-sexually) and now I can’t stop imagining Terry having human furniture

Definitely seems like something 80’s Terry would have

It’s as though he views those lesser than him as not even human

But, honestly, c'mon, lets be real. Lets take the pink goggles off for a second: Try and imagine being this guy's ⬆️ employee at the height of his prime and just the absolutely debauched and downright freaky stuff you'd witness while working for him in the 80's.

It's the type of thing that puts Succession to shame, I feel.

Because, I do envision him coaxing people through the ringer of fire for his own sick pleasure, elaborately hazing them and having them take near goddamn ritualized amount of tests to progress anywhere in the hierarchy he's created; envision being a Dynatox employee, for example? A young Intern or someone wanting a promotion? Someone wanting to get ahead in Terry Silver's world? Nothing's for free, right? So, what would you be willing to do to get ahead under him? Don't even necessarily think it's about sex for Terry, but rather, more so about power. Ways he can perversely abuse it without consequences. Perhaps that ambitious secretary gets to stand behind his work desk for hours with their stack of papers because he's ordered them to, acting out the role of an elaborate human...shelf. Maybe if the fancy strikes him, he orders them to do it on one leg to fuel his own sadism and make it more difficult for them. Shift positions and hold up his ashtray for him as he dabs the residue of his cigar into it. Maybe get under his work table so he can place his feet over their back while they're on the floor, on all fours, and conduct a meeting, nobody even suspecting what's going on beneath the desk and even if they do, can you really confront the CEO of a conglomerate? Terry Silver, of all people? He might do it shamelessly in open view of everyone, acting entirely unfettered, nonchalant and all smiles, penalizing someone who's failed him and the strict NDA's all his workers sign render their lips sealed in sight of such measures. He can be an immensely kind boss after all. Truly. He rewards good effort by the tenfolds and punishes failure unscrupulously without you initially even knowing you're punished; he could be all kindness even as he puts you through the worst trauma of your life. Shocking what people are willing to overlook if you bribe and buy their silence with enough money and Terry would've loved testing and pushing that boundary each and every time.

Yeah, someone failed to dispose of a toxic waste delivery in Thailand.

Got to pay the ultimate price of being Mr. Silver's footstool for a month.

For all he's concerned, they got off lucky.

Imagine if they were a Whistleblower. You dread to think what happens to those.

Does he just have them dangled above a vat of toxic acid like he's a supervillain?

Does he maniacally cackle while he has his henchpeople do it?

What about the parties he attends and organizes? Company events? There's a naked woman (or a naked man) in front of Terry Silver's exclusive table in the VIP lodge and he's dining off of her and talking business with Firm Directors, Big Wigs and Fat Cats like it's no big deal, being as cool as a spritzer and you're not certain if this is a prelude to Caligula's orgy island on Capri you've just wondered into working for him and having earned your place here or any actual black tie all-personnel and special guests gathering, a stern faced Intern still standing behind Terry perfectly still and you could be left in equal measure confused if they're just that dedicated and professional and strictly no nonsense even at a party or if they too have been punished to act out the role of a disciplined human ornament in public while Mr. Silver gorges on the import Sushi plucked off of a pair of nipples and talking sums and numbers with great gusto. It's barely just 11 PM. You almost dread to think what'll take place after midnight, as you overhear Mr. Silver jokingly say something in the vein of 'If you want it that badly, what are you willing to do for it?' to a fellow Company Chairman from Japan as the honorable guest of the hour and it has you shivering in your skin because you'd just rather not know. You're not supposed to know, even though rumors fly and they come in any shade and variety of insanity right before disappearing as if though no gossip never existed and until all the remains is Terry Silver's squeaky clean image, leaving you wondering what working for him in his own private accommodations might be as a member of personal staff, up in that big mansion in LA, if working out at HQ is this unhinged. Your devotion is meant to be absolute and your silence total. After all, it is finely specified in your work contract; breaking any of Mr. Silver's requirements will result in the assurance you'll never get serious employment anywhere ever again; his reach goes shockingly far.

And all because you might've peeped about something off you saw or heard.

Who would believe you anyway, though? When Mr. Silver is all charm?

Only just the most loveable, entrepreneurial guy out there.

But, how deep does the rabbit hole really go?

When we put all of this into perspective, it is easy to understand just why Season 4 Terry Silver was so keen on wildly alerting and rehabilitating his image for a short blip. With the amount of skeletons this dude undoubtedly had in his closet, it is no wonder.

[sentenceme-leni]

Monday. Minimum 1 sentence.

---

Belle shot up on the bed, heart still thudding against her ribcage. The vision of the portal swallowing Rumpelstiltskin into the ruins of the Enchanted Forest gentled into reality as her eyes settled on the familiar pieces of furniture around the room.

What a horrible nightmare.

Belle took a few breaths. Reminded herself that Rumpelstiltskin being absent from their bed just meant that he was working in his laboratory.

He was in no danger.

"I'm being silly," she chided herself.

She still grabbed Rumple's robe and swung her feet off the bed. Force of habit had her summoning a witchlight to the palm of her hand, but magic remained stubborn to follow her direction.

Her brain caught up and she switched on the night table lamp.

"I'm not interrupting," she told herself. "I'm keeping him company."

Barefoot company, as it turned out. Though Belle only realized once she stepped off the thick carpet that covered the hallways of the mansion.

A quick warming spell was slightly more obedient, as it translated into keeping her soles dry. Her toes at least didn't complain as she marched over the damp grass.

And wasn't that interesting? Was magic more attuned to the laws of physics in this realm? It struggled to create light from air, but it seemed content to keep two distinct substances separate.

Was that why the townline focused on returning them to the versions that fit in a world without magic?

Her hands already itched for pen and paper, and she quickened her steps to Rumpelstiltskin's laboratory.

"Sweetheart," he greeted her, looking up between her and the dark night behind her. "What are you doing up?"

"Couldn't sleep." She walked over to the spot that had become hers in the last few days. A pile of books and notes was waiting for her. "Thought I'd make myself useful instead."

Rumpelstiltskin gave her a grateful smile, but he still shook his head. "You should rest, my dear. Leave the all-nighters to the one of us who doesn't need to sleep."

In truth, Belle had never been convinced that he needed as little sleep as he boasted. Irritable was a mild word when he spent too long a stretch locked in his tower.

Belle knew of a few tricks to convince him to join her for a walk or a snack. Now that they had declared their feelings, there were even more excuses to squeeze herself in his busy schedule.

However, this search for a way out of Storybrooke was not something she wished to interrupt.

He had worked for decades - centuries! - to come to this land. The new roadblock at the townline would hardly drive him to quit his search.

"I'm staying, Rumple. I won't be able to get back to sleep anyway." She reached for her pen, already wording her thoughts on how magic might be adjusting to a world wholly new to it. "I had an idea."

Though he pursed his lips, his eyes lit with interest. Over the years, he had learned to value her input. Her research skills often surpassed his, and she had a way to puzzle out information that left him in awe of her intellect. "If you're sure..."

Belle nodded. "I'm sure. Besides," she added with a little smirk, "the sooner you bring your boy home, the sooner I can keep you in bed through the night."

The End

20/05/24

[pansy-chic27213]

A Hobbit Wedding 💍🌿🎇🏔️

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Setting: This is an outdoor event - you can lean more into the garden vibe or see if you can rent some space on a farm. Your end-goal is to set up a massive tent. This will be the most expensive aspect of the wedding, but the result will be off the charts. Or, you can throw all that out the window, and rent out the original Hobbiton in New Zealand.

Decorations: The keywords here are rustic, overgrown, and cottagecore. As much as possible, aim for English cottage furniture, with fluffy blankets and pillows, mixed with nature elements like moss, wildflowers, and baskets of fruits and veggies. One cute idea might be to have 12 tables, one for each of the Company’s dwarrows. You could include their hats from the book, as well as an item that represents them, such as Oin’s ear horn. Of course, you can incorporate swords, archery equipment, and rings.

Entertainment: This is definitely a wedding where you want to invite your guests to dress up; that said, you’ll probably find it worthwhile to get the ground cleaned up in case people commit to going barefoot. With proper precautions, you can have a fireworks show, as well. You might consider doing a trivia-night style riddle contest, and you want to make sure there’s space for dancing and getting your jig on. As I did mention archery equipment for aesthetics, you might also consider having an actual archery course.

Food: Homecooked is the vibe here. You can lean into cute, tiny finger foods like tea sandwiches, bite-sized tarts, and plentiful berries, but your big winners will be a roasted meat, fresh greens, and abundant potatoes. If you can get more than one kind of potato in there, you’ve succeeded. For drinks, you can do themed cocktails, but you can keep your drink menu more on theme (and less expensive) by limiting the options to a couple wines and a fun option like mead.

This wedding is all about comfort and mixing the fantasy of adventure with the joy of loved ones.

[grandmaster-anne]

The King’s cousin David Linley on his new career

The Times article by Lisa Grainger | Published 25 January 2023

The Earl of Snowdon talks to Lisa Grainger about his book on English crafts, and mentoring future creators at his furniture-making college at Highgrove

There aren’t many people who’ll admit that crafts can reduce them to tears. The Earl of Snowdon is one of them. At one event, he recalls, musicians including Jeff Beck, Mike Rutherford and the Clash were invited to meet and interact with “incredible luthiers, who make violins and guitars and cellos”. It was “just magical”, he says. “It really did bring a tear to the eye . . .”

Since David Linley, King Charles III’s cousin, became the first royal to follow a vocation — producing handmade furniture — and set up an eponymous business, he has been one of Britain’s most vocal champions of crafts. Which is why he wrote a book, Craft Britain: Why Making Matters, co-authored by Helen Chislett, to bring attention to extraordinary craftspeople around the country.

The glossy tome, with an erudite introduction by the design writer Stephen Bayley, is not only a directory of all the key crafts organisations from Cornwall to the Hebrides but a compendium of some of our nation’s most remarkable makers. It takes in embroiderers based in Hampton Court Palace and chair craftsmen from Orkney, leather sculptors and cobblers, marquetry specialists and even a whip-maker.

Sadly, Chislett says, some crafts were left out of the book because the skills have died out. For instance, England no longer has a cricket ball manufacturer even though the game was invented here, “and we probably won’t make bats for much longer”. Hand-stitched kilt-making is on the Heritage Crafts Association Red List of Endangered Crafts, as is neon sign-making; even bell-making is on its way out, with churchgoing declining.

On the other hand, there are crafts that are growing. Ceramic-makers, for instance, have sprung up in the southwest of the country. In Newcastle metalworkers whose families previously might have made ships are constructing metal furniture. Chislett adds that crafts fairs are becoming increasingly popular, particularly with the younger generation. “They’re a lot more into sustainability . . . and you are less likely to throw something away if you know who made it.”

There’s a growing appreciation of bespoke objects at the very high end of the market, Linley says. At his furniture company (from which he resigned in November) clients loved coming in to commission bespoke pieces with little quirks: a secret drawer with a martini shaker in it, or an inkwell filled with a specific colour of ink. “You can fantasise about what you like and get someone to bring it to life,” he says.

His own London home — “a little flat, which I am very lucky to have” — is filled with handcrafted items that have meaning: a pair of candlesticks that belonged to his theatre-designer uncle Oliver Messel; cushions embroidered by British seamstresses; tables turned by fellow carpenters; a pair of bespoke British shoes made “in precisely the colour and style and shape I like”. Each of them feels special, because “there is something rather lovely about a piece that’s come from the hand of a human”, he says. “It resonates with the human spirit.”

The next part of Linley’s professional journey, he says, will be nurturing others who want to work with their hands. At Street Farm at Highgrove, the Gloucestershire home of the King, an old barn has been converted into the Snowdon School of Furniture, where Linley is going to help to mentor the next generation of furniture-makers. “I am 61 now,” he says, “and it’s time to step back and allow the young people at Linley do things how they want. I have worked all my life creating a brand. And I can now do things for the Prince’s Foundation that are enjoyable and freeing.”

Having made furniture for almost 40 years, Linley says he’s relishing the fact that crafts are becoming more mainstream. “Today you’ll hear Tracey Emin talk about craft, and even sportsmen. This morning on Radio 4 a commentator was talking about a footballer as a craftsman and comparing him to Picasso. That might have been a comparison too far — but there is now far more recognition of the skills needed to do something well. And that can only be a good thing.”

[beesmygod]

Uhauls for local and Pods for long distance. Those are used like generic terms like "Jell-o". Look up different companies and compare prices. Pods are very inconvenient because you'll have to live without your stuff before and after, but the cost is by far the cheapest for big distances. Sleep on an air mattress for awhile and eat off paper plates. BIG RISK IF YOU'RE MOVING FAR DISTANCES: See if you can stay with friends to look for a place in person. Websites like Zillow don't list everywhere, and they sell data to landlords to see where people are interested in moving, so they can buy houses and jack up prices. We live in Hell. You might be able to find someplace cheaper if you drive around in person regardless.

Also if you can help it/stomach it, don't move to the city. Move 30 minutes (or more) away from the city. You can always find a cheaper place than getting gouged by some shitty landlord renting you a place in the city for over 2-3k a month where the floor is caving in and the street smells like piss.

Go to shipping places (uhaul not UPS) and liquor stores for boxes. Liquor stores throw them out daily, and shipping places let people donate boxes which is great for everyone. Make a HARD assessment of what you need/what you can stand to lose/what you can replace. I've never had a new couch, and it seems like I never will. Often facebook marketplace (set up an account now if you don't have a facebook account. it's a safeguard for scammers) and craigslist have people who are happy to give things away just so you can get rid of it for them. Second hand furniture grosses you out? Clean it. Get a free couch with stains and rent a cleaner from home depot. Free table? wipe it down and/or paint it. Also consider the landfill. You can clean and restore things. It's time, but it's not money. Youtube is there to teach you how to do these things. If there are things you absolutely can't allow yourself to buy used furniture (no judgement! I wouldn't want a used bed!), either reconsider throwing stuff out or look into refurbished/damaged equipment. Never be afraid to ask friends for help either especially if you're small or disabled. If you feel bad, buy/make everyone lunch and/or dinner. More hands means less work and full bellies make happy faces. All you need is deli stuff to make sandwiches and chips for lunch, and little ceaser's for dinner. Let them know before hand what you're serving when you ask. It's more courteous and you don't have to worry about what if people don't like the food or what if they're expecting something nicer, and that means less stress for everyone around. Moving FUCKING SUCKS and it's expensive. This can save you hundreds even if it won't feel like it, and it will come down to how much work you want to put in vs how much you're willing to save, but every penny saved helps. I have moved enough that this all feels like normal/common sense stuff to me at this point, and I'm sorry you have to move, but I hope this helps anyone if only as a jumping off point.

anon to the rescue!! thank you anon