#its seems like a funny ball of chaos

[happiighost]

I feel like the three main points you need to grasp in order to understand Metal Gear Solid are:

Nanomachines are magic.

Everyone is horny for violence.

War bad but also really cool but also bad.

The rest will fall into place eventually.

I shall keep that in mind, thank you!

Metal Gear is one of those series that has been on my list forever. It looks like loads of fun. It's kinda silly I've never sat down within considering my older brother and one of my good friends love it. one day i shall! I do admit it's funny getting only bits and bobs of information through stuff online.

[deprivedreality]

𝗪𝗲 𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗸𝗻𝗼𝘄 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗻𝗼 𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝗶𝘀 𝗯𝗲𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝗻 𝗞𝗮𝘁𝘀𝘂𝗸𝗶 𝗕𝗮𝗸𝘂𝗴𝗼!! 𝙚𝙭𝙘𝙚𝙥𝙩 𝙢𝙖𝙮𝙗𝙚 𝙆𝙖𝙩𝙨𝙪𝙠𝙞 𝘽𝙖𝙠𝙪𝙜𝙤 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙜𝙡𝙖𝙨𝙨𝙚𝙨

Word Count: i don't know

Content: katsuki bakugo with glasses isn't an office siren, he's more of an attractive dwight schrute imo. gender neutral reader. drabble. fluff. i just saw these pictures on pinterest and I watched myself cook.

Katsuki Bakugo rubbed his temples as he squinted at the whiteboard in the training room. The writing blurred together, a hazy mess that made his already limited patience dwindle faster than usual. His vision had been weird ever since that run-in with a villain wielding a blinding quirk during his internship with Best Jeanist. The doctor had said his sight would recover in a few weeks, but the lingering effects were starting to piss him off real bad.

“Bakugo, you okay?”

Your voice pulled him from his thoughts. You were sitting beside him, your head tilted slightly as you observed his uncharacteristic struggle.

He's been rubbing and rubbing his eyes that you're worried they'd pop off any moment now. Damn, he can't even focus on his notes of fucking course cause he can't read it with the stupid combination of fucking astigmatism, myopia and glaucoma.

“I’m fine,” he grumbled, averting his gaze.

You weren’t convinced and, of course, you were concerned. “Doesn’t look like it. You’ve been squinting at everything for the past few days. Maybe you should get your eyes checked again.”

“Tch, I don’t need a damn checkup,” he snapped, but his annoyance lacked its usual bite. You frowned.

“Come on,” you said, standing and grabbing his arm. “What’s the harm in getting it checked? If there’s nothing wrong, great. If there is, we’ll figure it out.”

He sighed, realizing you wouldn’t let this go. “Fine. But if this is a waste of time, I’m blaming you.”

It's a good thing you two were still in school grounds, it means Recovery Girl is no more than a few halls away from where you and bakugo were studying at.

The clinic was quiet when you arrived, and Recovery Girl was quick to examine Bakugo’s eyes. After a series of tests, the diagnosis was clear: his vision was still recovering, but for the time being, he needed glasses to help him see more clearly.

Bakugo’s expression was a mix of annoyance and disbelief. “Glasses? Seriously?”

“It’s just temporary,” Recovery Girl assured him. She then walked towards a closet in the far back and whipped out what seemed to be nerd glasses. “Here, try these.”

The doctor handed Bakugo a pair of black-rimmed glasses. He put them on reluctantly, and you had to stifle a laugh when you saw the way his eyes looked magnified through the lenses.

“What’s so damn funny?” he snapped, narrowing his newly enlarged eyes at you.

You couldn’t hold it in anymore and burst out laughing. “I’m sorry, but—oh my god, Katsuki! You look like a cartoon character!”

He scowled, but there was a faint pink tint to his cheeks. Despite his irritation, there was something oddly satisfying about seeing you laugh like that.

"I'd put a bow on that glasses if you'd let me! All you need now are beaver teeth and you'll be a certified goof ball!" You laughed, basically breathless. Even Recovery Girl couldn't help but stiffle a laugh.

“Shut the hell up,” he muttered, taking the prescription and storming out, but not before glancing back to catch you still grinning.

The next day, Bakugo walked into class wearing his new glasses. The room went silent for about three seconds before the laughter began. Even Todoroki and Tokoyami couldn't help their grin, their lips twitched in amusement.

“Bakugo!” Kaminari wheezed, clutching his sides. “You look like a scientist!”

"Whoah! Bakubro! I feel like I'm in a 3D movie with those lenses!" Kirishima added, laughing even harder than Kaminari.

"Heavens, Bakugo, Is that magnifying glass? Or are you just that eager to start class?" Even Iida couldn't help himself and added to the chaos. Bakugo was starting to erupt.

“I bet he can spot a typo on a billboard from a mile away with those,” Mina chimed in, tears of laughter streaming down her face.

"I bet he's craving bananas!" Mineta boomed. Unlucky for him, he was within Bakugo's range and got his ahh exploded.

“Shut the hell up!” Bakugo roared, his hands sparking ominously.

But his outburst only made them laugh harder.

You, sitting at your desk, couldn’t stop giggling either. You already had the laugh of your life when you saw him wear it for the first time, now you had the chance to actually examine him with glasses. “I think he looks cute,” you said loud enough for him to hear, still smiling.

Bakugo froze but his hands were still in the middle of choking Kaminari and Mineta, his glare snapping to you. “What? You didn't think it was yesterday,”

“It is cute though. Now that I stare at you more," you repeated, a teasing lilt in your voice. “The glasses suit you.”

He blinked, momentarily thrown off by your words. The classroom fell silent, everyone holding their breath to see how he’d react.

“Hypocrite,” he muttered, finally settling, sitting down and turning his attention to his notes. But you didn’t miss the way his ears turned red, or the way he didn’t try to blast anyone after that.

I think he looks cute! The glasses suits you... now that I stare at you more. I think he looks cute! It's cute though. I think he looks cute! Chanted at the back of his mind over and over. SHUT UP!

The next day, Bakugo showed up to class without his glasses. The change was immediate—everyone noticed, but no one dared comment on it. His glare alone was enough to keep them quiet.

During lunch, you slid into the seat next to him. “Eee? No glasses today?”

“Wearing contacts,” he replied curtly, poking at his food.

“Why? The glasses were cute,” you said, resting your chin in your hand as your gaze sauntered off.

He gave you a side-eye glance, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly when you weren't looking at him. “Yeah, well, I’m not here to entertain you idiots.”

You pouted dramatically. “I liked the glasses. I thought for sure you'd wear them until you get better. I never thought you'd like contacts. Are you ever gonna wear them again?”

He shrugged. “Maybe.”

“Maybe?” you repeated, narrowing your eyes. “That’s not good enough, Bakugo.”

“Tch,” he muttered, pushing his tray aside. “I’ll wear ’em during our study sessions, alright? Happy now?”

You blinked, caught off guard by his casual mention of your study time together. But you smiles nevertheless. “Oh. Yeah, that works! Lemme decorate it!”

“The damn glasses are not mine, idiot. But whatever,” He stood abruptly, leaving you alone at the table, your cheeks warm and your heart racing.

True to his word, Bakugo showed up to your next study session wearing his glasses. You couldn’t help but smile as he sat down across from you, his usual scowl softened by the frames perched on his nose.

“You know,” you said, flipping through your notes, “I think I like you better with glasses. You looked extra goofy cute.”

He snorted, leaning back in his chair. “Yeah? Well, don’t get used to it. I’m ditching these things the second my eyes are back to normal.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the fondness in your smile. “Whatever you say, Bakugo.”

For the rest of the session, the two of you worked in comfortable silence, broken only by your occasional teasing and his gruff responses. At one point, you scribbled a tiny pink bow to which you cut out and Bakugo actually agreed with your request to put it temporarily on it. And though he’d never admit it out loud, Katsuki Bakugo didn’t mind the glasses so much when it meant he got to see you smile like that.

ᓚᘏᗢ @deprivedreality 2024 | all rights reserved.

[redocity]

Can I get a request with Buck and a reader with a mischievous cat who somehow keeps breaking into Bucks place so he has to keep calling the number on its tag and you (his neighbor) has to keep coming round to take the cat back? And both of you are crushing on each other hard and one day you tie a note to your cats collar asking him on a date?

FURRY FRIEND INTRUDER — E.BUCKLEY

your cat has an affinity for crashing bucks apartment. he doesn’t mind, it means he gets to speak to you again.

evan buckley x gn!reader | 1.0k | fluff | masterlist.

a/n — this is the cutest thing ever, thanks for the request, lovely 🫶

Buck had gotten used to many things in his life—chaos, fires, rescues—but the one thing he hadn’t expected to get used to was the soft sound of paws padding across his floor at the crack of dawn. Again.

He blinked awake, groggy, and looked over at the foot of his bed where the intruder sat; Your cat, Winston. The black and white ball of trouble was staring at him with wide, unblinking eyes, tail flicking back and forth. This was the third time this week.

With a groan, Buck sat up and rubbed his face. “Winston, how do you keep getting in here?” he asked, but the cat only blinked lazily and jumped down, padding toward the kitchen as if he owned the place.

Buck sighed and grabbed his phone. He’d memorized your number by now, not that he’d ever admit it.

Every time Winston showed up, Buck found himself torn between frustration and the absurd excitement of getting to see you again.

It wasn’t the worst thing in the world—having an excuse to call you—but he wondered if you’d think he was incompetent at keeping his windows shut.

He shot off a quick text.

Winston's here again, I think he’s plotting something, should I be worried?

It only took a minute for your reply to pop up.

Haha, he’s got a taste for adventure

I’ll come get him, you’re sure you’re not letting him in in your sleep?

Buck chuckled, shaking his head. There was something easy about texting you. He couldn’t help the way his heart sped up at the idea of seeing you, even if it was just because of your sneaky cat.

Ten minutes later, there was a soft knock at his door. Buck opened it, finding you standing there with an amused smile and a slight flush on your cheeks. You had that look again—the one that made Buck feel like he could melt right there on the spot.

“Sorry about Winston,” you said, stepping inside. “He only ever seems to do this with you. Maybe he likes your vibe?”

Buck laughed, crossing his arms as he leaned against the doorframe. “Well, if Winston’s got good taste, I can’t argue with that.”

You laughed softly, and Buck couldn’t help but grin wider. God, you were gorgeous.

He tried to play it cool, but the truth was, he was crushing on you, hard. It didn’t help that every time you came by to pick up your cat, you were always so sweet and flustered about it, and he couldn’t stop imagining what it’d be like to spend more time with you.

Outside of these bizarre cat-retrieval encounters, of course.

Buck’s heart did a funny little flip as Winston wandered over, rubbing against your leg as if he wasn’t causing all this trouble on purpose.

“Do you want some coffee before you take him back?” Buck asked, half-hoping you’d say yes.

You smiled, and for a second, he thought you might stay, but you gave a soft laugh. “Thanks, but I’ve gotta dash to work. Maybe next time?”

“Next time,” Buck repeated, feeling oddly hopeful. “I’ll hold you to that.”

You grinned and scooped up Winston, waving as you left, leaving Buck with an odd sense of longing that lingered long after you were gone.

—

It happened again the next day. And the day after that. It was almost like clockwork: Winston showing up in Buck’s apartment, and you coming to fetch him. The more it happened, the more Buck found himself looking forward to your visits, no matter how brief.

But today, something different happened.

Buck had just gotten back from a long shift when he heard the familiar sound of Winston’s paws padding across his kitchen counter, the familiar ball of fluff yawning in what almost felt like a joke on his own tiredness. He let out a small laugh, already reaching for his phone.

As Buck scratched Winston’s chin, he noticed a small piece of paper tied around his collar. Frowning, he untied it and unfolded the note.

So, since Winston keeps bringing us together, how about we make it official? Would you like to have dinner with me?

Buck stared at the note for a moment, his mind racing. Did this mean what he thought it meant? A wide grin spread across his face as he grabbed his phone, his fingers quickly typing out a message.

I think Winston’s trying to tell me something. I’d love to go to dinner with you, you free Friday night? 6?

He didn’t have to wait long for a reply.

Friday sounds perfect! I’ll keep Winston out of your hair until then

Buck smiles down at his phone screen. Then another message pops up.

Maybe :)

He laughed, looking down at the cat who was now purring contently under his hand. “Looks like you’re a little matchmaker, huh?” he said, scratching behind Winston’s ears.

Winston just purred louder, and Buck couldn’t help but feel a surge of excitement for Friday night. Maybe having a mischievous cat as a neighbor wasn’t so bad after all.

[lvnleah]

figuring it out | beth mead.

this is a fic about a personal experience so please be kind with it <33

You’d always been the kind of person who jumped headfirst into relationships, never spending much time between them. Friends and family joked about how you were “boy-obsessed,” but it never bothered you much. It was just who you were—or at least, who you thought you were.

When you signed for Arsenal, your world expanded in ways you hadn’t expected. The team was welcoming, and you quickly found yourself surrounded by incredible women who shared your passion for football. Among them was Beth.

Beth was funny and unapologetically herself. She was one of the first people to make you feel at home in the squad. You clicked immediately, forming an easy friendship that quickly became close.

Beth being openly gay wasn’t a big deal to you. You had plenty of gay friends and teammates throughout your career, and it never crossed your mind to think about it any deeper.

At least, not until Beth.

The first time you realized something had shifted, it caught you completely off guard. You were at training, and the two of you paired up for drills. Beth cracked some ridiculous joke that had you doubled over laughing, and when you looked up, her grin was bright and carefree. Your stomach flipped.

“That bad, huh?” she teased, misinterpreting your reaction.

You shook your head, forcing a smile. “No, you’re just—” You stopped short, unsure how to finish the sentence. Funny? Beautiful? Both felt dangerously true.

Beth tilted her head, a playful glint in her eye. “I’m just…?”

“Annoying,” you shot back quickly, hoping your voice didn’t betray the chaos in your chest.

“Right,” she said with a mock glare, tossing the ball to you. “Let’s see if you’re still laughing when I beat you in this drill.”

That’s weird, you thought, brushing it off. It’s just because she’s so funny you tried to convince.

But the feelings didn’t stop. They crept in at unexpected moments—during team dinners, when she sat next to you, her leg brushing yours under the table; during training, when she scored a brilliant goal and turned to you with that mischievous glint in her eye.

You told yourself it was admiration, nothing more. You admired her skill, her confidence, and the way she seemed to make everyone around her feel at ease. It didn’t mean anything.

One evening, after a particularly gruelling match, the team gathered at a local pub to unwind. You found yourself sitting beside Beth, her shoulder pressing lightly against yours. She was in the middle of recounting some story, her hands animated as she spoke.

“And then Leah completely wiped out!” Beth laughed, her eyes crinkling in the corners.

You laughed too, though you hadn’t really been listening. You were too focused on the way her lips curved, the way her laughter seemed to fill the room.

“You okay?” she asked suddenly, catching you staring.

“Yeah,” you said quickly, looking away. “Just tired.”

Beth narrowed her eyes but didn’t push further, though you could tell she didn’t believe you.

Then came the away trip.

You and Beth shared a hotel room, and the evening was perfect in its simplicity. You ordered room service and watched a cheesy rom-com together, laughing at the over-the-top plot twists.

“That is the most unrealistic kiss I’ve ever seen,” Beth said, throwing a piece of popcorn at the screen.

“You think you could do better?” you challenged, raising an eyebrow.

Beth smirked, leaning back against the headboard. “Oh, absolutely. I’d nail it.”

Your stomach flipped again, and you quickly turned your attention back to the movie.

At some point, she fell asleep, her head resting on your shoulder. You didn’t move. You couldn’t. Her steady breaths and the warmth of her so close to you felt oddly intimate. And for the first time, you wondered if maybe—just maybe—you weren’t as straight as you’d always believed.

The realization terrified you. It kept you up all night.

You were twenty-five, surely you’d have realised you’d liked women before now?

The next day, you avoided Beth. Your usual easy banter felt strained, and when she asked if you were okay, you brushed her off with a weak excuse about being tired. But Beth wasn’t believing it.

“Alright, what’s wrong?” she asked during training, pulling you aside.

“Nothing's wrong,” you said, avoiding her gaze.

Beth sighed, her expression sceptical. “You’re acting weird. Did I do something?”

“No,” you said quickly, feeling guilty for making her think that. “No…It’s not you. I’m just…dealing with some stuff.”

“Okay,” she said after a moment, her voice softer. “But you know I’m here if you need to talk, right?”

You nodded, but the lump in your throat made it impossible to say anything more.

Back in London, you put distance between yourself and her. You threw yourself into training and found reasons to skip team outings. But Beth wasn’t one to be ignored.

She showed up at your apartment one evening with a bag from your favourite Chinese takeaway.

“You’ve been weird lately,” she said bluntly, settling onto your couch like she belonged there. “Talk to me.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you lied, grabbing the food and avoiding her eyes.

“Right,” Beth said, drawing the word out. “So, it’s just a coincidence that you’ve been avoiding me for weeks?”

You hesitated, the weight of her gaze making it impossible to keep up the charade. “It’s complicated,” you finally admitted.

Beth sighed. “I’m not going anywhere, you know. Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out.”

Her words made your chest ache, and for a moment, you considered telling her everything. But the fear of losing her made you keep your mouth shut and just told her it had to do with an argument with your mum.

It all came to a head during a team night out.

The pub was crowded, and the drinks were flowing freely. You felt yourself relaxed for the first time in weeks—until you caught yourself staring at Beth. She was mid-conversation, laughing at something Leah said, and you couldn’t look away.

She noticed.

Her eyes met yours, and she raised an eyebrow, her lips quirking into a knowing smile. Embarrassed, you excused yourself and stepped outside, the cool night air doing little to calm your racing heart.

You heard the door open behind you, and a moment later, Beth was there.

“You’ve been acting so strange around me,” she said, her voice laced with concern. “What’s going on?”

The alcohol made you bolder than usual. You took a deep breath, the words spilling out before you could second-guess them.

“I-I like you, Beth. And it’s terrifying because I’ve never felt this way about a girl before.”

Beth’s eyes widened, and for a moment, you were sure you’d ruined everything. But then she stepped closer, her expression softening.

“It’s not so terrifying once you let yourself feel it,” she said quietly.

Beth’s words hung in the air, her voice steady yet filled with something deeper—something understanding. She didn’t look surprised or awkward. If anything, her expression softened further, like she knew exactly what you were feeling.

“It’s okay to be scared,” she continued, stepping closer. “I’ve been where you are.”

“You have?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

She nodded, her gaze steady. “A few years ago, before I came out. I was terrified of what it all meant—of how it would change things with the people I cared about. But the hardest part wasn’t figuring it out. It was not letting me feel it. I wasted so much time convincing myself it was easier to just…pretend.”

Her words hit you like a wave, a strange mix of comfort and fear swirling in your chest. You looked down, unable to hold her gaze. “I don’t even know where to start.”

Beth reached out, her hand brushing against yours. “You already have. Telling me? That’s the hardest part.”

You let out a shaky laugh, still staring at the ground. “I thought the hardest part was figuring it out.”

“That’s hard too,” she admitted, squeezing your hand gently. “But you don’t have to do it alone. And you don’t have to have all the answers right now.”

You hesitated, the weight of your emotions making it hard to breathe. But when you looked up, Beth was still there—calm, patient, and unshaken.

“Did it take you a long time?” you asked, your voice quiet.

She nodded again, her smile tinged with understanding. “Longer than I’d like to admit. But once I stopped fighting it, once I let myself feel what I was feeling…it got easier. And it was worth it.”

“Worth it?” you repeated, your voice cracking slightly.

Beth’s smile widened, a little teasing now. “You’re worth it.”

You blinked, your heart pounding in your chest. For a moment, you didn’t know what to say, but Beth didn’t seem to need you to.

“Come on,” she said, tugging your hand gently. “Let’s go back inside before Leah starts a bet about why we’re out here.”

You laughed despite yourself, her words easing some of the tension. “Leah would absolutely do that.”

“Exactly,” Beth said with a grin. “And she’s terrible at keeping secrets, so we’d have the whole team asking questions by tomorrow.”

She started to pull you toward the door, but you hesitated, your hand tightening around hers. “Beth?”

She stopped, turning back to you.

“I don’t know where this is going,” you admitted, your voice wavering. “But I know I don’t want to lose you.”

Her expression softened, her fingers lacing through yours. “You’re not going to lose me. Whatever this is, whatever it becomes—I’m here.”

Her words wrapped around you like a blanket, warm and reassuring. For the first time in weeks, the knot in your chest loosened.

“Okay,” you said softly.

Beth smiled, her grip on your hand firm but comforting. “Okay.”

With that, she led you back inside, her presence steady beside you. The noise of the pub seemed distant now, the weight of your fear lifting just enough for you to feel something else—something new. Something that felt like hope.

You started spending more time together, your bond deepening as your relationship evolved from friendship to something more. For the first time in your life, you weren’t rushing into love. Instead, you were savouring every moment with Beth, learning what it meant to truly fall for someone—not because you’re afraid of being alone, but because they make your world brighter.

It was subtle at first, the way things changed. You found yourselves lingering a little longer after team dinners, sharing small moments that felt big. There was the touch of her hand on your arm as she joked with you, the way she caught your eye during training, a shared glance that meant more than words could say. Slowly, you became more comfortable with the new dynamic between you. The fear, once overwhelming, now felt like something you could navigate together.

One night, after a quiet dinner at your apartment, the evening wound down with the two of you sprawled on your couch, the flicker of a movie casting soft light across the room. There was something different in the air—an unspoken tension that neither of you could ignore.

Beth looked at you, her eyes soft, a little vulnerable. “I’m glad you’re here,” she said quietly, her voice almost a whisper. The simplicity of it struck you, the way she didn’t need to say anything more but you felt the weight of her words.

You met her gaze, your heart pounding a little faster than usual. “Me too,” you replied, your voice matching the softness of hers. There was no rush, no pressure. Everything felt easy, and yet, there was a part of you that knew something was about to shift.

And then, without another word, you leant in. The kiss was at first, tentative, as if both of you were testing the waters. But the moment your lips met, something inside you clicked. It was warm and tender, an undeniable pull between the two of you that neither of you could deny. Her hand moved to your cheek, the touch gentle as she deepened the kiss. The world outside your apartment faded, and for a moment, it was just the two of you, everything else irrelevant.

When you finally pulled away, breathless and a little dizzy, Beth’s eyes locked on yours, a question lingering in them. “Are you sure?” she asked softly, her thumb brushing over your lips.

You nodded, the uncertainty gone as you stood up and pulled her off of the sofa. “Yeah. I’m sure.” You smirked as you pulled her to your bedroom.

The next morning, you woke up in Beth’s arms, the warmth of her body pressed against yours. For a moment, you didn’t move, just savouring the quiet, the intimacy of the moment. Your fingers traced absentmindedly over her skin, and when she stirred, her sleepy smile was the most contented thing you’ve ever seen.

“Morning,” she murmured, her voice husky with sleep.

“Good morning,” you replied, your heart full in a way it’s never been before.

You shared a quiet breakfast, talking about everything and nothing, your laughter filled the space between you. The ease of it all makes you realize just how much it felt like home.

Later, when you both got up to go to the kitchen, Beth brushed her hand across your lower back, her touch lingering for just a moment longer than necessary. The simple gesture sent warmth flooding through you, a reminder that this is real, that she’s real.

Beth turned to you as if reading your mind, a soft smile playing on her lips. “I don’t know where this goes,” she said, her voice serious but kind. “But I know I want to be here. With you.”

You looked at her, your heart swelling with emotion. “Me too,” you answer, feeling a contentment you never thought you’d experience. “Wherever it goes, I’m with you.”

A few months passed, and everything between you and Beth felt natural now—like breathing. You’d spent so much time together, both on and off the pitch, that it was impossible to remember what it was like before you met her. The bond you shared was undeniable, and to your surprise, the fear you once had about being vulnerable with her had completely faded. Beth had become your home in a way no one else ever had.

You’d kept things private for a while, just the two of you, figuring things out at your own pace. The other girls on the team had noticed the subtle changes—the way you were always paired up together, the way your smiles lingered a little longer when Beth was around. But no one had said anything, and you were thankful for that. For now, it was yours to hold onto.

But all good things, you knew, couldn’t stay hidden forever.

It started innocently enough—just a casual team dinner after a long week of matches. Everyone was laughing, chatting about their plans for the weekend, and you and Beth were sitting side by side, as usual. But that night, there was a different energy in the air, and you couldn’t quite put your finger on why. Your teammates were more observant than you thought, picking up on every little glance you shared, every laugh that was just a bit too intimate.

Leah leaned in with a teasing grin. “So, you two gonna tell us what’s going on, or are we gonna keep pretending?” she’d said, her eyes flicking between you and Beth.

Beth froze for just a second, but then she laughed, a low sound that eased the tension. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she’d said, glancing at you. But her smile was too knowing, too soft.

Steph, who’d been sitting across the table, raised an eyebrow. “Come on, seriously,” she’d said, the corner of her mouth twitching into a grin. “It’s obvious. You two are practically inseparable.”

You felt heat rise in your cheeks, your heart pounding in your chest. You glanced at Beth, who was looking at you now with that same playful glint in her eye. There was no hiding it any longer.

“We’re not hiding anything,” you’d said, your voice a little too defensive for your liking. “We’re just…” You’d trailed off, unsure how to put it into words. But then Beth leaned forward, her hand brushing against yours under the table, and the simple gesture made everything click into place.

“We’re together,” she’d said simply, her eyes meeting yours with an unspoken promise. “Been for a while now.”

The room had fallen silent for a second, and then the teasing had started in full force. Leah was the first to break the quiet, a grin spreading across her face. “Well, about time! We all knew it,” she’d said, nudging you with her elbow. “You two are way too obvious to keep it a secret.”

You’d laughed, the tension in your shoulders easing as your teammates bombarded you with questions and congratulations. The teasing had been light-hearted, the kind of playful banter you’d come to love. But underneath it all, there’d been a sense of acceptance, of warmth. No one had judged, no one had been uncomfortable. They’d just been happy for you.

As the evening had wound down and the group had begun to disperse, you and Beth had ended up walking out together. The night air had been cool, and the city had been alive around you, but it had felt like it was just the two of you in the world.

“You okay?” Beth had asked, her hand brushing against yours as you walked side by side. Her voice had been soft, her usual teasing tone replaced with something more serious.

“Yeah,” you’d replied, glancing at her with a smile. “I’m okay. Actually, I’m better than okay.”

She’d grinned, a familiar twinkle in her eyes. “Good, because I’ve been wanting to ask you something for a while now,” she’d said, her voice taking on a nervous edge you’d never heard before.

You’d stopped walking, turning to face her, the unease in her voice immediately catching your attention. “What is it?”

Beth had looked at you for a moment, her eyes searching yours as if trying to find the right words. Then, with a deep breath, she’d said, “Will you be my girlfriend?” The question had been simple, but it had felt monumental in the quiet of the night. “I know we’ve been taking our time, and I want to make sure you’re ready, but I don’t want to wait any longer to ask you. Because I—” She’d cut herself off, looking down at the ground briefly before looking back up at you. “I really want you to be mine.”

Your heart had swelled at her words, the honesty in her voice taking you by surprise. You’d always known how much she cared about you, but hearing her say it—really say it—had made your chest tighten with something new, something beautiful.

You’d taken her hand in yours, squeezing it gently. “Yes,” you’d said without hesitation. “Yes, I want to be your girlfriend.”

Beth’s face had lit up, a huge smile spreading across her face. “Really?”

You’d laughed, nodding. “Really.”

Beth’s smile softened, and her hand gently cupped your cheek, her thumb brushing over your skin as if she was memorizing the feeling of you. The moment hung between you, full of promise and warmth, and without thinking, you stepped closer to her. The city sounds faded away, leaving just the two of you in the quiet night.

Beth leaned in, her eyes flicking to your lips, and then back up to meet your gaze. You held your breath, the anticipation building between you, and in that second, everything seemed to fall into place.

With a smile that made your heart skip, Beth closed the distance, her lips pressing softly against yours. It was gentle at first as if testing the waters, but then it deepened, as if the world had finally caught up to what you both knew was inevitable.

When you finally pulled back, breathless and smiling and just like that, you knew you were exactly where you were meant to be—together.

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

super duper congratulations on 5k, you absolutely deserve each and every one lovely ! i’m sure you’ve got a ton already, but at the suspiciously low number of soap requests, may i ask for an enemies to lovers ? perhaps in a ‘constantly-butting-heads-to-the-point-where-everyone-around-them-is-bashing-their-skull-in-from-annoyance’ to lovers sense. and maybe a dash of forced proximity? i know he’s a literal ball of sunshine, but i will enemies to lovers-fy any character i can get my hands on and you do the trope justice every! time!! of course, only if you would like to, sending love! <3 xx

—A Song of Gnashing Teeth

⇢ ˗ˏˋ 5k Drabble Masterlist ࿐ྂ

╰┈➤ ❝ [There was never a day where the two of you weren't butting heads - everyone was at their wit's end. Of course, you would both be forced to cooperate at some point.] ❞

“Stop moving,” the command comes in from your right ear, fizzling in and out as the connection pops. The comms were spotty in the higher altitudes, and even as the sweat stuck to your skin and the bugs buzzed, it still tried its best to come through. 

Just as you were trying your best not to snap.

“I’m not moving, Captain MacTavish,” you ease out. “I’m lined up.” 

Sniping in South America was the mission for the next two months—targets lined up with terrorist connections that needed to be six feet under per Shepherd’s orders ASAP. Two teams had been sent out, but only to work together for this instance. Yours, obviously, and the second belonging to a man you’d not seen in years.

The taste was still bitter in your mouth when you were around him, though.

“Don’t lie to me, Dearie—scope’s shakin’ more than a drunk after his sixth bottle.” Your eyes glare ahead, a sneer building slowly over your lips.

“You’re one to talk?” You scoff, dense foliage swaying as you focus on the head of one of your targets. Your men listen intently over the line as the two Captains bicker—all in the town below waiting to do a snatch-and-grab of one of the individuals you would need to interrogate. “Moscow, Russia, five years ago,” you speak in clipped sentences. “Target in her penthouse. White curtains swaying in the breeze. What do you do, Soap? Oh, that’s right,” you growl, “you shoot the damn marble statue thinking it was her after two bottles of shit wine.”

There’s a click of a tongue over the line. A smirk easily heard that leaves you fuming.“I remember I happened to be a bit distracted that day, Hen. Not as much as you, though, aye?”

“Only thing I was distracted by,” you flick off your sniper rifle’s safety, undisturbed by the blatant insinuation. “Was your ability to not fucking see clearly.” 

A low grumble wafts out, cutting the line a few times. 

Your joined unit all seem to try and stop their hands from slapping their faces in annoyance—the connection heavy with tension and anticipation. Whoever decided it was smart to put the two of you together either thought it would be funny, or they hoped you could both get past your own egos for the sake of the mission. 

As if. 

“I’m taking the shot,” you sigh. “Team One—get ready to intercept the second target on my go.” 

For once, the Scot seems to agree with you, voice coming back to that serious gruff bark. “Two, keep the area locked down; no need to let the others get too excited and pop off shots. Save our arses the trouble.”

You let your finger slip down to the trigger, eye open and stance relaxed—taking into account distance and wind as you level to notch three. 

“On my go,” you say again, the comms lighting up with affirmatives. “Three…two…” Your finger squeezes just as, “Go,” is muttered into the air. 

In the scope, you watch the head of your target explode into a mess of blood in black and white, the spray flying into the air like rain only to fall once more as the body drops. 

The conjoined teams do as they’re told, moving in the middle of chaos to grab at the second mark—one needle to the neck later, and it’s a limp form that they drag into the back of an awaiting van. 

“Mission success. Pack it up and let's get goin’.” John’s voice breaks you out of your focus, letting you blink at the disappearing van before you shift your head away entirely, taking a low breath. “Shepherd’ll have new orders.”

“‘Course he will,” you grunt, moving to push up into your knees and crack your back. 

It’s only after a moderate hike back into the woods that you see him waiting, having trekked back from his perch as well, through bugs and branches. The rifle is slung over your back, just as his is loosely held in front of him. 

“John,” you mutter in greeting, slapping away a mosquito. Blue eyes glance your way, scar moving as a smirk meets your eyes. He never changed—even that mohawk is still the same. A disheveled dog down to the bone in his mouth.

“Dearie,” a firm nod is leveled. “Nice shot, then.”

“Ironic,” your head tilts, slowing as you meet him a few feet separated. A silence settles like steel to the hard floor, the long pause that draws on tension as a tight cord. 

John clears his throat, watching you as your eyes narrow, brow twitching. 

He steps once more towards you with one foot, leaning in.

“I suppose this is where I wait for you to slap me,” he tilts his head, still smirking. 

“I’m thinking about it,” you draw, blinking slowly. “Don’t tempt me, MacTavish. I don’t need disorderly conduct and assault on my record.” 

“Done worse.” You scowl.

“You’re acting like you want me to do it, damn freak.”

“I’m just saying I’d be expecting it, is all.” Smooth chuckles waft out as your hand waves in exasperation, walking forward. It’s only after you’re about to move into the trees and disappear from view that he calls once more to you. 

Your feet slow, but don’t stop.

“I really did miss you.” Eyelids moving just a tiny bit wider, your lips thinned out. Boots shuffle in the grass from behind you. “Thought you’d come back eventually, aye?” 

You stay silent, body still near the sentinels of old tree trunks. 

The parting of the two of you could have gone better—there were some things that couldn’t be fixed. You’d always be at each other’s throats, needless of missions or personal matters. 

You look over your shoulder to lock with digging blues—the structure of John’s face always seared into your mind so much so you could draw it even if years had passed.

“You never gave me a reason to stay.” 

He blinks in surprise, but you’ve already shifted away, heart pinched. 

“Good working with you, Captain,”  you say, already gone. Memories linger in the air, suffocating you. Your eyes close tightly, and you grit your teeth. “Call me if you need me.”

A shout echoes above the yells from the town far into the distance, meeting your ears. 

“I plan on it!”

You huff under your breath, but your skipping heart betrays you.

[kathlare]

a change in the wind

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: Lando takes a break from the chaos of his life with a round of golf alongside his friends, Max and Tom. During their playful banter, the conversation turns toward the upcoming Dubai trip and his complicated situation with Claudia, a girl he's been casually seeing.

Wordcount: 2.1 k

Warnings: none

full masterlist // request over here!

December 16th, 2022 - Paris, France

The crisp London air carried a chill, but the sun peeked through scattered clouds, offering a rare winter reprieve. Lando lined up his shot on the green, squinting as he adjusted his stance. His golf bag sat nearby, its bright colors standing out against the muted gray of the sky, while Max Fewtrell and Tom Bale stood off to the side, bantering as they waited their turn.

—Mate, if you take any longer lining that up, the sun’s gonna set,— Max called, leaning on his club with a grin.

Lando rolled his eyes, shaking his head but not breaking his focus. —Maybe if you spent half as much time on your swing, you wouldn’t be in the bunker every other hole.—

Tom chuckled, nudging Max. —He’s got a point. You’ve been shite today.—

Max scowled playfully. —Oh, sod off, both of you.—

Lando pulled back, his club slicing through the air with precision. The ball soared high, landing just shy of the hole. He let out a satisfied hum, tossing a glance over his shoulder. —Like that, Max. Try taking notes.—

—Show-off,— Max muttered as he stepped forward, but his smile betrayed his amusement.

The three of them had spent the better part of the morning on the course, a rare chance to unwind during the off-season. For Lando, golf was less about the sport and more about the company—a distraction from everything else swirling in his life. And today, he needed the distraction more than ever.

As they moved to the next hole, Max and Tom fell into a conversation about their Christmas plans. Lando trailed behind, half-listening as his thoughts wandered.

—So, Dubai next week, yeah?— Tom asked, glancing over at Lando. —Who’s coming, by the way?—

Lando shrugged, nonchalant. —Same lot as usual.—

—You bringing anyone?— Max asked, a sly grin forming.

Lando knew where this was going and sighed. —Why does it matter?—

—Because it’s a couples’ trip, mate,— Tom said with a laugh. —Everyone’s bringing someone. You’re not planning on showing up alone, are you?—

—No,— Lando said quickly, perhaps too quickly. He adjusted his cap, looking down at his club. —Claudia’s coming.—

Max let out a low whistle, clearly amused. —Claudia, huh? The one you’ve been... hanging out with?—

Lando shot him a warning look, but it only made Max grin wider. —What? I’m just asking. You’ve been spending a lot of time with her, haven’t you?—

—It’s nothing serious,— Lando said, his tone clipped. —She’s cool, that’s all.—

Tom raised an eyebrow. —Cool enough to take to Dubai? Sounds serious to me.—

Lando let out a short laugh, shaking his head. —It’s not. Trust me.—

Max smirked. —If you say so. But don’t act surprised when she starts dropping hints about “where this is going” after the trip.—

Lando groaned, running a hand through his hair. —Why do I even hang out with you two?—

—Because we’re the only ones who can tolerate you,— Max shot back, grinning.

The three of them walked down the fairway toward the next hole, the sound of their clubs tapping against the ground a rhythmic backdrop to their conversation.

Tom chuckled, shaking his head. —It’s just funny, mate. You’ve been avoiding labels, but now you're dragging Claudia into a group trip with everyone already in relationships. You know she’s gonna expect something, right?—

Lando's jaw tightened, his thoughts shifting back to Claudia. He hadn’t wanted to bring her, not really. But Max and Tom were right—everyone else was paired up, and he didn’t want to be the odd one out. It was the pressure of it all, the unspoken expectation that if you’re single, you should at least be with someone. And Claudia, despite everything, seemed like the easiest option. Nothing complicated, no strings. Just a temporary fix for a situation he was trying to ignore.

—Yeah, yeah. I know, alright?— Lando muttered, trying to brush it off. He was about to take his next shot when Max cut in again, his tone light but laced with curiosity.

—You sure you’re okay with it though? Bringing her along, I mean. It’s a bit... much for a “nothing serious” kind of thing. You don’t wanna make things weird if it goes sideways. And you know what happened with you and Amelie, right?—

Lando’s swing faltered. He didn’t need Max bringing up Amelie right now. It was the last thing he wanted to think about. But the name hung in the air like a weight, a reminder of everything that had gone wrong and why, maybe, he wasn’t in the mood for another complicated situation.

—Max, please,— Lando said through gritted teeth. —Not now.—

Max held up his hands in mock surrender, his grin fading into something more serious. —Alright, alright, sorry, mate. Just saying, don’t let the pressure mess with your head. You don’t have to drag Claudia along just because everyone else is with someone. You’re better than that.—

Lando wasn’t so sure anymore. He had thought it would be easy, a no-strings arrangement with Claudia, but something kept gnawing at him. Maybe it was the constant reminder of Amelie in his mind, the ghost of what could’ve been and what had crumbled before it even had a chance to start. Max’s comment lingered like a sharp sting. He didn’t need to be reminded of the past right now. The whole thing with Amelie had fucked him up more than he cared to admit, and the more he tried to escape it with distractions, the more it came back to him.

Tom, sensing the shift in the mood, cleared his throat. —Anyway, back to the trip. Have you guys got the plans locked in? Everyone’s still staying in that insane villa?—

Lando nodded, grateful for the change of subject. —Yeah, the usual place. It’ll be good to get out of here for a bit. Clear my head.—

Tom grinned. —Sounds like exactly what you need, mate. Just, uh, try not to get caught up in whatever’s going on with Claudia, alright? I can already tell it’s gonna be... interesting to watch.—

Lando gave him a half-hearted smile. —Yeah, yeah, thanks for the advice. I’m sure you’ve got plenty of relationship wisdom to share.—

Max laughed, shaking his head. —You know, I never thought I'd see the day when you’re the one dodging relationship drama. You’re usually the one stirring it up.—

Lando snorted, not bothering to respond. Instead, he adjusted his stance again, focusing on his next shot. The more he thought about the trip to Dubai, the more complicated it felt. There was the pressure of being surrounded by couples, of making sure he wasn’t the odd one out. But then there was also the nagging weight of Claudia, the girl he’d been casually seeing since November, who, despite what he told himself, was becoming more of a fixture in his life than he cared to admit.

As they moved to the next hole, Max fell into step beside him, dropping his voice so Tom wouldn’t hear. —Lando, about Amelie...—

Lando’s stomach dropped. He knew where this was going, but he wasn’t ready for it. He wanted to forget about Amelie, about everything that had happened between them, but it seemed impossible. She was always there in the back of his mind, haunting him in ways he couldn’t quite explain.

—Max, not now, seriously,— Lando said, trying to keep his tone neutral, but there was a sharp edge to it.

Max didn’t back off. He never did. He had a way of pushing when he knew something was bothering Lando, and today was no different.

—It’s just... I heard from Amelie’s building manager. She’s moving out. She’s leaving London. I thought you’d wanna know. She’s heading back to New York, for good, I think.—

Lando felt his chest tighten, the air around him suddenly too thick. He dropped his golf club, letting it hang loosely in his hand, the swing forgotten. Max was looking at him, waiting for a reaction, but Lando didn’t know what to say. He had no idea how to respond. The thought of Amelie leaving London—leaving completely—hit him like a punch to the gut.

—What do you mean, moving out?— Lando’s voice sounded distant, even to him. He wiped his hand across his face, trying to shake the sudden rush of emotions flooding in. —I thought... she was just in town for the movie?—

Max sighed, glancing around to make sure Tom wasn’t overhearing. —Yeah, well, she wrapped up Wicked. She’s done with that. Apparently, she’s not keeping the place here. She’s going back to New York. Said she’s done with London for now.—

Lando’s mind raced, piecing together fragments of the last few months. He hadn’t really kept in touch with Amelie since the Abu Dhabi Grand Prix, where she’d barely acknowledged him. The silence between them had grown thick and impenetrable, filled with awkwardness and unspoken words. She had been in London during her filming, and they used to spend time together—sometimes with other people, sometimes just the two of them—but after everything fell apart, after they ended it, it felt like she just... vanished.

Max had always kept tabs on her, even though Lando didn’t directly ask. It was subtle, just the occasional mention that Amelie was fine, that she was doing well in her life. But this—this felt like more than just an update. This felt like a chapter closing, and Lando had no idea how to process it.

—You didn’t think to mention this before?— Lando finally asked, his voice tight with a mixture of hurt and frustration. —You knew she was leaving?—

Max winced, clearly sensing the shift in the air. He ran a hand through his hair, looking a bit uncomfortable. —I didn’t want to bring it up, mate. You weren’t exactly in a place to hear about it. And, well... you and her... you know.—

Lando’s chest tightened even further. He hadn’t even realized just how much he'd been subconsciously waiting for some sign from Amelie, some form of closure. And now, just like that, it was slipping away—fading into the distance. He should’ve expected it, really. She'd moved on. She had a life that didn’t revolve around him anymore. And yet, hearing it from Max, like some final confirmation, hit harder than he cared to admit.

—Right, I get it. She’s moving on. Good for her,— Lando said, forcing the words out with a tight smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. He picked up his golf club, trying to act like it was all just another day, another conversation, but it felt like the ground was shifting beneath him.

Max gave him a look, sensing the weight behind Lando's words, but he didn’t push any further. He knew how Lando operated. When things were tough, he shut them out, locked them away, and kept going. Max respected that, but a part of him wanted to make sure Lando wasn’t bottling up too much.

—If you need to talk about it, you know where I am, yeah?— Max said, his tone softer now.

Lando nodded, but it was a hollow gesture. He didn’t want to talk about it. Not now, not ever. He was tired of thinking about Amelie, of constantly trying to piece together what went wrong, or what could’ve been different. She was gone. She was moving on with her life, and it was time for him to do the same.

But hearing it from Max, that final confirmation, felt like a slap in the face.

—Yeah, thanks, mate,— Lando muttered, then added, almost as an afterthought, —I’ll figure it out. It’s whatever. Just... it’s a bit much today, you know?—

Max didn’t respond right away. He just watched Lando for a moment, his expression a mix of concern and understanding. But he didn’t press, giving Lando the space he needed to process it in his own way.

Tom, thankfully, hadn’t caught onto the tension between them. He was too busy chatting about the best restaurants in Dubai and what kind of trouble they’d get into over New Year’s Eve. But for Lando, the rest of the afternoon felt like it was happening in slow motion. Every word, every laugh from his friends seemed distant, muted. He tried to keep up the conversation, but his mind kept drifting back to Amelie.

She was really gone.

The thought lingered, gnawing at him. He had tried to convince himself that he had moved on. Hell, he’d dated a handful of girls since they’d broken things off, even if they were all distractions—nothing serious, nothing that required much attention. But with every passing day, those distractions started to feel more hollow. None of them measured up to what he’d had with her, even if that was flawed in its own way.

They finished up the round of golf, and Lando couldn’t quite shake the feeling that something had shifted inside him. He was supposed to be getting away from all of this, right? Dubai was supposed to be an escape, a chance to breathe and reset. But instead, all he could think about was what he’d lost, and how much it hurt to finally accept that it was gone for good.

The guys were chatting excitedly about the upcoming trip as they walked back toward the clubhouse. Lando tried to feign interest, but it felt like everything around him had turned into a blur.

—So, you still set on bringing Claudia?— Max asked, nudging Lando as they walked.

Lando hesitated for a moment. The question hung in the air, and he realized he wasn’t sure. Claudia had been a good distraction, a safe choice, but now he wondered if he was just dragging her along to fill the void left by someone else. The pressure to bring someone had been overwhelming, but now that the trip was close, he didn’t feel as sure.

—Yeah, yeah. It’s fine, I guess,— Lando muttered, trying to sound indifferent.

Max studied him for a moment before nodding. —Alright. Just make sure you know what you’re doing. Don’t let things get complicated if you’re not ready for it.—

Lando shrugged, offering a weak smile. —I’ll be fine. It’s all good.—

But deep down, he knew it wasn’t. The trip to Dubai was supposed to be about fun, about escaping the pressures of the season, but instead, it felt like another reminder that nothing ever really stays simple for him. The more he tried to avoid the complications, the more they seemed to follow him around. Amelie’s departure, Claudia’s presence—it all felt like one big mess he wasn’t ready to untangle.

As they got into their cars to head home, Lando glanced at his phone. He had a few messages, mostly from Claudia, asking about the trip and making plans. He hadn’t replied yet. Maybe he was avoiding it. Maybe he was avoiding everything.

But he couldn’t run away forever.

He just wasn’t sure he was ready to face it all yet.

[sephythespooky]

DCA secret skeletons

HAPPY HALLOWEEN @tyra-altavilla, i'm your secret skeleton <3

i'm mostly a writer and it was so scary to get a prompt that seemed drawing-centric but I did the best I could! I hope you like it <3

words under the cut

Sun was eagerly laying out boxes and felt, glue sticks and pipe cleaners, giggling eagerly. He’d already gotten into his chosen costume for this year (thank stars that management didn’t have time to assign one to him or any of the other daycare staff this year!)

His long lanky body was draped in a white robe tied with golden rope and a collar made of carefully chosen plastic gems in red, yellow, and blue.  He had a headband taped to his forehead so his rays could still move, with a tiny cardboard snake on the center, and clip on earrings of colors that matched his collar.

Moon yawned and slipped down on his fly wire, wearing a purple suit and a wig of brown yarn with a purple top hat, “Are we almost ready, Sunny?”

“We are!” he looked up and beamed, “Oh, your costume is so dapper! Who are you, Moony?”

“I’m Willy Wonka,” he grins and pulls a cane out of the dress up box, “and my candies are my moondrops, of course.”

“Oh that’s so clever! I love it!”

“And you’re a pharaoh, right?” he asked gesturing to Sun’s outfit.

“Yes yes yes! Ancient Egyptian outfits are so elegant and pretty!

“Um…” both turned to look at Eclipse, the middle ground between the two and voice of reason, came out of the bathrooms in his own costume, a sparkly wire halo over his head and soft white wings attached to his back around his loop. The long white fabric around him only fell to his ankles, but the look was obvious even if he was shyly shuffling and his rays were partially retracted.

“Clipsy!” Sun went over and hugged him, “You look so cute cute CUTE as an angel, and it’s so perfect for you!”

“Thank you,” Eclipse hummed and relaxed as he hugged Sun back, “I was scared it’d look silly.”

“Clipsy…” Moon cooed as he took over when Sun let go. “Why would you ever look silly to us?”

“W-well…after what happened before the refurbishment…” he fidgeted his hands behind moon’s back, “I didn’t know if…if I’d deserve this kind of costume.”

Both of the other animatronics felt their metaphorical hearts crack.

“If…anyone here,” Moon sighs softly as he lets go, “doesn’t deserve to be an angel, Clipsy, it’s me. You did nothing wrong. You couldn’t possibly have stopped anything or fixed it. You got Cassie out of our daycare and away from our chaos. You calmed the storm that virus had caused in my mind and Sun’s to an extent.”

“He’s right,” Sun’s own rays were deep in their slots with heartache, “I was so so so MEAN to the people just trying to do their jobs and sometimes it even bled to the kids and…Clipsy, between Moony and I, if anybody deserves that halo, it’s you.”

The three were very down for a few seconds, but a loud “fwump” and clatter of balls changed that pretty quickly.

Another set of rays, darker orange than any of the others, pops out of the balls, along with a dark red and black face, “happy happy halloween, siblings mine~”

The voice was slightly deeper than Sun’s ‘scary’ voice but bright and full of affection.

“Prominence!” Clipsy gasped and ran over to the ballpit, his bells jingling, “What’s your costume?”

“Your is lovely, yes yes, Clipsy. Mine is funny.” The spindly animatronic moved oddly, though being a suit controlled by the wires inside rather than a normal endo explained the fluidity. “Ta-da!”

Walking out of the balls, Prominence showed off his white jumpsuit with red stripe on the side, with matching helmet, “I’m Turbo-tastic, heeheehee. I figured, if I am an arcade glitch and HE was an arcade glitch sort of, then its appropriate, yes yes.”

His brother clapped for him and Sun giggled, “It seems most of us wore white without meaning to except for Moony.”

“I don’t mind standing out. I already do since you three have warm colors mostly and I’m all cool blues.” Moon leaned on his cane and smirked, “Besides, isn’t there a line about taking a sunrise and making a lemon pie in the song from the original Wonka movie or am I forgetting?”

“no that’s right,” Clipsy chuckled. “But it’s good to see we’re all happy with our costumes and nobody has to change or something.”

“Why would we have have to change?” Prominence asked curiously as he curled up on top of the playhouse.

“I thought,” Clipsy looked at Moon, “that someone might pick a costume that is too scary for the kids.”

“I have one like that,” Moon grinned, smug as a shark, “but that is saved for the haunt later tonight. Teens and adults are fair game for scaring, after all.”

“Ooooh, can I help you, please please, Moon?” Prominence’s eyes glittered as he plonked his helmet onto his head, retracting his rays, “I can be real spooky scary, yes yes, can try to copy the cybug version maybe? Borrow some arcade machines from DJ’s back room for it?”

“Might be a good idea, but we’ll have to ask Freddy. He has final say,” Moon nodded, happy one of his brothers wanted to scare on this happy holiday.

“I don’t know why you two like that. I do not not NOT like screams and running at all,” Sun groaned a bit, “It’s so grating on my gears.”

“I don’t like it for more the emotions behind it, but I do agree,” Clipsy murmured, “Still, if it makes everybody happy in the end, I don’t see the harm.”

“Understanding as always,” Moon hummed and used his fly wire to swim gracefully through the air, “Now, I believe we have a daycare to open!”

“Right you are!” Sun ran after him, with the other two on his heels. If there was one thing all of them agreed on, it was that they loved their jobs and playing with the kids was the best part of any day.

[alpydk]

🌿 🌸

Good morning anon. Thanks for the ask, talking about fics I love! I did a huge post the other day so quickly going to add them in here as well. - Recommend only one hahahahahaahahahahahaahaha.

🌿Rec someone else’s BG3 fic and tell us what you like about it!

The 5 from the other day (Find the post here to see why)

Alchemy 410 Broken Horizons Weave me the Sunshine Professor Dekarios Twin Compasses

And now some more that I didn't link Weave and Woods - @weaveandwood - Honestly I just love the pairing. Auroria is such a good character who I genuinly see ending up with Gale. And it's not been all that eay relationship where they fall in love and are happy. They have their challanges. I most of all love seeing her learn new spells because that doesn't really happen in fics and its great to see. (Especially how proud she is with it.) "The second, third, fifth, ninth tries were similar. On the tenth try, she thought she saw a few sparks of electricity surrounding the arrow, sending a surge of pride through her. She was close, she could feel it. " - Come on Ori, you can do it!

---

Strange Highways - I have been on about this fic since chapter one. No fic has caught be like this. It's like it calls to my chaotic nature and I will keep screaming it into the Tumblr void like some insane looney fan. Just me alone with my billboard - READ THIS FIC. It's Cazador in a rock group in the 80's. It's funny, has amazing music referances but most of all it's just so fucking good to read.

The words spoke to his soul, into the very depths of it. He felt them with every cell of his body. This was not like the weak melodies bards played back in Faerûn. This music had authority. It had power.

Master of puppets, I'm pulling your strings

Twisting your mind and smashing your dreams

Blinded by me, you can't see a thing

Just call my name, 'cause I'll hear you scream

It was perfect. He imagined saying the words, making them his own. This was a supreme incantation, it had to be. This one would make people obey. Just Fuck Yeah!

--- Paperback Writer - (Short 600 words) - Haarlep edits Raphael's novel. It's fucking funny and I love it. Simple as. "Quivering, the hero took my hand I’m pretty sure Tav told you not to touch them, and it made you pout for a week."

And now the non Bg3 ones... because oops...

RE: Umbrella Asylum (Resident Evil) - @judasiskariot - It's got that lab, depressing, in your head build up mood. You know the one, everything is clinical but there is evil shit going on. The descriptions are fucking beautiful and I love it. "Icy blue eyes that were at least as cold as the black lenses of the glasses." - Just that about Wesker. I still think of it even now. ---- La Petite Mort - One of the most beautifully written crackfics I've ever read. Barbie/Dracula. - Just try it and love it. He should have gotten rid of her by now. Made a meal out of her, at least, even if only the once: her blood will surely be sweet, so sweet, heady and deep and dark when he drinks from her.

But he keeps finding excuses.

Not yet. If I'm honest my reading of fics has been limited recently. I have a few too many that just seem to have been abandoned and I'm becoming hesitant to start up reading newer chapter fics. I'm also a little put off when I see things at chapter 54 and then find its over 200k worth of words to catch up on. Yeah, I need to have people recommend fics to me so if people want to send me asks with their recs go ahead.

🌸Rec one of your fics and tell us what you like about it! Only one.... But I'm so good. (They say, going through the 40 fics knowing they really could be better.) I'm my own worst critic. Fuck it, you get more than one. This is my answer!

Cabinet of Oddities - It's Nana's story. What started all this chaos. It is love and adventure and mental illness and healing all rolled into one big Galemancer sized ball. 56k words of just me. I may also be writing the sequel/prequel right now... “A kiss does not necessarily have to mean love though, just as a hug certainly does not. Is that what you were expecting to feel?” He looked into her eyes. He had always been that of the hopeless romantic. As much as he wanted to believe his own words, he knew he was not the type to kiss without love, or at least potential love.

She gazed back at him. “I’m not sure. I wasn’t expecting to feel fear though.”

“And, do you fear me?” He hoped that she would say no. That maybe this feeling could blossom, that all their unspoken feelings could be revealed and yet he was also nervous of her answer. That if she said no, it would be something else holding him to this mortal coil, someone else who would eventually realise he was not good enough.  Just look how fucking good that is. (I'm not allowed to be down on myself so the other end of the spectrum it is)

--- Tattered Souls - RuganxGale (Also writing the sequel right now) - This is my ZhentWeave baby. This is all for me. I love it and that's all that matters. Honestly writing something like has been extremely liberating and I recommend everyone write something like this at some point. “Just get out of here...” Rugan’s voice was weak, his gravely tones quiet, and he tried to lift himself from the ground.

Gale spoke calmly, keeping his eyes on the mercenaries in front of him. “Not without you.” He could unleash the lightning bolt and possibly fire a magic missile before being hit if he moved quick enough.

“This isn’t your fight.” A hacking cough brought up small amounts of blood, which were spat onto the ground. “Just leave.”

An arrow flew from a trigger-happy archer whistling past Gale’s ear and he almost unleashed the lightning bolt in reaction, stopping only as he saw Rugan stand before him in defence of the female Zhentarim.

“Gale, not your fight...” Love me some cliches and tropes. Love them.

--- Okay, last rec. Not that anyone will read all of this, anyway. You're all looking for your own fics after all (I do that then get quietly depressed when my name isn't on the list... But we all do that, right? Right???)

Where is that child now, I wonder? - Gale past short (500 words). I keep thinking of this one a lot recently. Of young Gale and his relationship with his father. This is probably more a head cannon than an actual fic but it's stuck with me. - I recommend a read if you're looking for ideas. "No! I won't let my son read poetry and become like a delicate flowered prick of an elf. Weak, pathetic! No, he will do as I say and do it when I tell him to!" 

Again, thanks for the ask. I do love talking about recommendations and I have a number of Chase whump fics on the bookmarks list, as well as a few quick one shots I've enjoyed. Would love recs from others as said - The more angst the better. :)

[modelbus]

Congrats on 1000!! I’m here for the event :)

Tommy, band and broken

I kinda did this with my last Tommy band AU, but yknow what I like Band!Tommy okay. And he’s a drummer this time because I said so :)

Pairing: Cc!Tommy x Gn!Reader

Band AU - Broken

“They’re all broken!” The shriek tears through the house, jolting you awake.

Living with your bandmates was constant hell, but you signed up for it. It seemed like someone was always practicing, but you learned to ignore that. The late-night karaoke sessions you didn’t actually hate: they could be fun. But the number of times you’ve walked in on someone live-streaming to fans? Too high for comfort.

But your bandmates were your best friends. You wouldn’t want to live anywhere else, or with anyone else. Even if you did sometimes question that choice.

“Who the fuck did it? Who broke my drumsticks?” Tommy screams. Resident ball of chaos and drummer, he’s the basis for 90% of the bad ideas in the house. Including the hole in the kitchen wall.

With a loud groan, you drag yourself out of bed. Tommy’s room is just down the hall from yours, but he’s already at your door when you open it. His hair is an absolute mess, and clutched in his hands are broken drumsticks.

“You.” He snarls, jabbing one at you.

“…what?” You yawn, blinking blearily in return. Did he break his drumsticks? Why is he so mad about that this early in the morning.

He gives you a suspicious squint, then nods. “I bet it was Tubbo then, if it’s not you.”

“What?” Is all you can repeat.

“My sticks, you idiot!” He exclaims, waving his fist in your face. “Someone broke them!”

“Are you sure it wasn’t you?”

He does have a habit of breaking them. Especially on stage. Granted, he tosses them into the crowd at the end of every show, but you’re pretty sure half of your expenses are just drumsticks.

“I’m going to get Tubbo to fucking admit it, and then you’ll regret ever doubting me.” Tommy informs you, turning away and storming off down the hall.

You’re easily entertained, so you follow along quietly behind him.

“This feels like a bad idea.”

“Shut up.”

“Why would he break your drumsticks?”

“Fuck off, I don’t know!”

“Are you absolutely sure it wasn’t—“

He spins around, throwing half a drumstick at you. “It wasn’t me!”

It flies past your head, hitting the wall. Thank fuck he never learned how to actually aim.

“Now are you on my side or not?” He asks.

On one hand, being on his side would be funny. On the other, if Tubbo actually did break them all as a prank, you want nothing to do with their prank war.

Funniness wins out.

“I’m on your side.” You reluctantly say.

“Then knock on his door.” Tommy points at Tubbo’s door. You send him a glare, but do as ordered and knock twice.

Nothing.

Tommy shoulders past you and bangs loudly on the wood. The entire door shakes in its frame, and you wince. If you have to buy a door next because of him, you’re killing him.

After a long moment, the door swings open to reveal a disgruntled Tubbo. There’s pen on his cheek, and his hair is sticking directly upward. Definitely someone who just woke up.

“You did it.” Tommy says, not allowing Tubbo to say a word. “Admit it. You did it.”

“Did what?” Tubbo yawns, looking past Tommy at you.

And then the fucker winks.

“You bastard! You fucking bastard!” Tommy screams, noting the movement. Before you can stop him, he lunges forward and tackles Tubbo.

They crash backwards, with Tubbo shouting in pure fear. You watch them tumble around, Tommy trying to shove his broken drumsticks down Tubbo’s throat. Or something like that, you couldn’t figure out what was going on between the shouting and fighting.

“Die! Die you bastard!”

“I didn’t do it! It wasn’t me!”

Slowly, you step forward, and close the door. You can still hear their muffle cries from behind the door, but you can’t see them anymore.

Out of sight, out of mind, right?

[sylpheedz]

In Memory of Jeysen Perez Lyons (1996-2022) & Akira Toriyama (1955-2024)

    This is actually quite late, but I'd like to take a minute to pour one out for a very good friend of mine who took his own life two years ago now, and a man who's creativity touched countless young lives all over the world.

Eulogy below, puttin' it under a Read More. Warning, it does talk about s**c*de and if you're not going to be okay after reading about it, probably don't read it then.

I'd like to start with Toriyama-sensei (right). 

    Akira Toriyama captured hearts of millions every with stories of friendship, growth, and gloriously, ridiculously intense anime action since 1984. He was the man behind art of the Dragon Quest games, and most notably, Goku, the character that would inspire countless to always surpass their limits and giving their very best...or something like that. 

    I'll admit, I was never really a DBZ fan myself. Never did get with the hype. I'd catch it a few times on old Toonami, but it just never really captured my attention the way it did for so many others. Never even really made the discrepancy that it was anime, it was just another cartoon to me as a kid. 

    But the funny thing is, you don't even really have to be a DBZ fan to still be affected by it. While I never really watched the show itself, I was exposed to it by the animations by fans it inspired, specifically Super Mario Bros. Z, a fanfiction sprite animation series by one Alvin Earthworm where Sonic and Shadow team up with the Mario Bros. to fight Mecha Sonic for the chaos emeralds and prevent him from destroying any more worlds. There was that and Nazo Unleashed, which was a flash animation that used frames of the show for its fight scenes, which was the rawest shit ever to me as an adolescent. These animationss' fight scenes, which were very heavily inspired by Dragon Ball Z, are what inspired me to practice my art and work my way up towards animating.

    So while there may have been a few middle men involved, but even my creative mind's been influenced by Toriyama. And for what it's worth? I'm thankful for the madness he's given me. All the AMVs and fight scenes I concoct in my head while either laying in bed unable to sleep or taking a shower. Who knows. Maybe I actually will watch the show just for some ideas on animation techniques.

    While I may not have personally been as enamored with DBZ as everyone else, I knew someone very closely who was an absolute madlad for it.

    His name was Jeysen Lyons (middle), and he's probably one of the best friends I've ever had in my entire life. Hell, maybe even the best. I met Jeysen back in my very first year of middle school, along with Masatoshi and Chris, my first real friends after having spent my elementary days ostracized among the other kids to the point of suicidal thoughts. 

    He was a really funny kid, dirty jokes galore and could quote entire YouTube Poop videos from memory (and we had some much raunchier shit back then lmao, it really was a different time from today). It was always more fun when Jeysen was around.

    After graduating middle school, I found it harder to keep in touch. I'd always get so engrossed with my own life that I could never really keep up with old friends like I'd want to. Never was good at keeping up. But there were still some summers where we could get together at his mom's apartment for his birthday, July 10. Eventually, his mom found work in another state, and they had to move to Mississippi. After that, I hadn't heard from him for a while. I don't remember how, but at some point I managed to get ahold of Jeysen's Steam account and could talk to him from there, and we friended each other on Discord. It was always so much chatting with him online, though sometimes he would some concerning memes, which wouldn't be surprising considering he lurked 4chan.

    On that note, it seemed like he absorbed the sentiments regarding us queers as probably a lot of 'channers would normally have, ranging from "don't be publicly visible" to "just need to be shot". Once my egg cracked, it became one of those things that were more...complicated. And thanks to that, I wasn't sure how to tell him about...well, me.

    I wasn't sure how he'd react. Would he accept me while thinking me stranger tan he thought? Would he have still considered me a friend but disrespected my identity openly? Would he have completely and totally hated me, moving forward? I wanted to tell him, but I always got too nervous whenever I tried, so we'd just end up chatting, which was always still fun, but I so badly wanted to break the ice with him at some point.

    Other than that, we'd even talk about each other's personal projects, like my Revolutionary Vanguard Minerva, and his Perfect Universe, which is about a high school boy that gets caught in an alien war of good and evil and attains god-like power in the midst of it, and has to try to keep it from driving him mad. I always thought it was an interesting premise. I wish I asked him more questions about it.

    At some point two years ago, Jeysen contacted me sounding...exasperated. Panicked. I told him that whatever was happening, he could talk to me, and that I'd be there for him whenever he'd need me. But after I said that, he just said he'd be fine, and then left.

    Fast-forward to days later, in the middle of calling my representatives about another horrendous internet bill that came back, I tried talking to Jeysen again, as I was a bit worried. I got a response, asking me if I was "M". I asked them to clarify, and they asked if I was [deadname]. I said yeah.

And they told me they were his mom, and that Jeysen had died.

    I thought it was a really strange prank at first. I even got angry, told them to knock it the fuck off. But then I looked up his name, and sure enough, there he was, in an obituary.

I couldn't believe it. Jeysen really did do it. I lost my best friend. 

I lost my brother.

    From what his mom said, he was frantic about something involving "docksing". I'm thinking she meant doxxing. It sounded like at some point Jeysen caught the attention of somebody who knew how to get people's info, and that sent him into a panic attack while they were already trying to transfer him to different medication for bipolarism. 

    His demons got the best of him in a moment of emotional instability, and he was finally pushed too far, and now he's gone.

    It...still doesn't feel real. It still feels like I could just reach out to him, right now, on this chat client like usual and start talking to him again. Maybe it'll never feel "real" to me. But it is. My boy is gone.

    His mom assured me it's not my fault, and I know it isn't. But I keep replaying scenarios in my head, where maybe if I'd just...been the one to approach more, maybe he wouldn't have done it. If I'd taken more time to ask him about his day, ask him about Perfect Universe, to watch DBZ or other anime with him...

    If I'd just gone out of my way to spend more time with him... Maybe I could've made him stay. Maybe I could've saved him. Maybe, maybe... I could go over all the "maybes" in the world, but it wouldn't change the reality that he is not here anymore. Not a day has gone by where I haven't thought of him at least once.

    And this is actually why Toriyama's death hit me harder than other deaths. I actually started crying when I found out. It felt like I was losing a part of my bro, in a way. Which is probably silly, that's a whole-ass other person, another individual. It's not like DBZ is going to stop being a thing because he died. I have no doubt is probably as immortalized in Japanese and probably even worldwide culture as Astro Boy. Actually, more than Astro Boy. Atom's admittedly a little more niche...

    But the worst part? I never got to tell him. I never gave him the chance to reject me, but I also never gave him the chance to accept me either. Now I'll never know. I'll never know whether our friendship was flimsy and fleeting or made of iron. I'd like to hope it was, personally, but... 

    Either way, I'll always miss him. Life's much duller without my brother with me. I have so much that I want to talk to him about. So many new ideas, so many new things I wanna do with my life, now that I'm finally going through my transition journey. But I guess that'll all have to wait till I'm up there with him.

He'd better be up there. 😠

Lemme tell ya, folks. 

If I go up there and find out the Big Boss in the sky put him in the incinerator for "being a quitter" when he was already in inconceivable pain that caused him to take his own life? 

He is catching these fucking hands of mine. I don't care if I'm gonna lose, it's on sight for doing mah boi like that. 👿🔪

I will dive down to hell and fucking claw my brother out of the lake of fire myself if I have to.

But in all seriousness, if I could go back in time, even if it meant I had to start my life completely over, I wouldn't even blink if it meant I could see my brother again. I can only hope he's in a better place right now.

...Or ol' man God and I are gonna have to have some words. 😡

[starlitcorgi]

Hi......If you don't mind, can I ask, what are your top 10 (or top 7) favorite media (can be books/ manga/ anime/movies/tv series)? Why do you love them? Sorry if you've answered this question before......Thanks....

Hmmm 🤔 my favs are always changing but at the moment.

1. Gokurakugai: Alma is a precious cinnamon roll who loves his mentor Miss Tao like a sister. I really love their platonic relationship and the fact that Alma is incredibly emotionally balanced. Like he's not this typical macho guy. Probably because he's surrounded by strong female role models. It's really refreshing for Shonen and I really hope it gets an anime series because I think it has the potential to be as big as JJK and Demon Slayer.

2. Jujutsu Kaisen: I love Yuuji as a ML and I'm usually a side character gal. So it's great to actually like the lead character. I've noticed in this current generation of Manga and Anime that our Male Leads are becoming much more well rounded and likeable. I love Yuuji's strength and his resilience, he definitely deserves all the love and hugs. I also of course love Gojo and I kind of hope Mappa deviates from the manga in regards to his fate because man that hurt.

3. Demon Slayer: I read the manga start to finish and loved every minute of it. The anime series is just as good. I love all of the characters in this in their own rights. From the protagonist to the villains for me at least the author got everything right. It's Shonen at its best. To be able to make your audience love Rengoku in such a short time is an amazing feat. To care so much that you feel as devastated as Tanjiro to me the Mugen train arc is a masterclass in story telling. It's sad that the series will be coming to an end soon but I think for me this will always be in my top 5.

4. Ghost in the Shell: This is the movie that started my love of anime/manga. It's a cinematic masterpiece and everyone should watch it at least once. It was well ahead of its time and it's not surprising that it inspired the Matrix.

5. Hells Paradise: I love the manga and the anime. Gabimaru is so relatable to me, I think we share the same sarcastic and apathetic nature lol. I love it as well because it gave us one of the best disabled characters in current manga generation. Shion is an epic character for the disabled community, being partially blind myself it's nice to be represented you know? And he's not full of loathing or self pity, he embraces his blindness and uses it to his advantage. He's funny, kind, strong and handsome. He never questions Sagiri's competence, he doesn't try to send her of to the kitchen like his colleagues. He recognises her talent and encourages her to achieve her goals. In short Shion needs to be protected at all costs.

6. Chainsaw Man: when I first saw this pop up on Shonen Jump I didn't have high hopes. It seemed like a crack series but this is exactly why you shouldn't judge a book by it's cover. I love this series even though it hurts me 😭. Denji is a typical hormonal teen, power is a ball of chaos and Aki is just trying to keep everything together. Plus Angel 😇 is one of my fav characters of all time maybe because he reminds me of my daughter lol.

7. Elfen Lied: this is another classic anime the violence is on par with AOT but once you get past that you have this heart wrenching story. Lucy is a monster created by her environment and the abuse she suffered. This is also one of the most beautifully animated series of all time. The art is phenomenal.

8. Solo Leveling: I fell in love with the Manwha and was so excited when it got picked up for a series. I'm loving the anime so far, though I'm two episodes behind. Due to my sight loss I have to wait for the English dub but dubs have gotten way better than when I first started watching anime in the early 2000's. I love Jinwoo's tenacity and the fact that he just cuts through the villains. He never really worries about whether that makes him a bad person. Sometimes you just want to see bad people get what's coming to them. Plus this has some of the most epic fight scenes, I can't wait to see them animated.

9. Tokyo Ghoul: I spent most of Tokyo Ghoul crying ugly tears 😭. Ken Keneki has one of the most heartbreaking storylines in all of anime. It's just painful to read/watch Gege definitely took a leaf out of the Tokyo ghoul book when writing JJK. Yet still I couldn't put it down, I'm a sucker for punishment. It's a great mix of characters as well, I love that we see goth culture mixed in there as well. You do get those Crow vibes the way it's so gothic in inspiration and the art work is stunning. I think the only illustrator that tops it is Yuta Sano.

10. Attack on Titan: AOT has been deemed controversial because of it's fascist themes. However I think it's only problematic if you think Eren is the hero in this story. I actually really can't stand Eren, it's pretty obvious that he's been radicalised by his experiences early on. The foreshadowing is strong with him you know he's not going to turn out well from the start. The real protagonists for me are Armin, Levi and Hange. Like these three are definitely trying to save their comrades and people. Whereas Mikasa is constantly having to save Eren and Eren jumps to mass genocide pretty quick. Levi almost feels like he's representing the audience with his snarky commentary. I also love Levi and Hanges platonic friendship. They really get each other and their banter is a joy to watch especially in the first season.

[mspegasus17]

Care of Magical Creatures

Pairing:f!MC x f!MC (Charlotte x @jeniffler's Melvina) Words: 2220 Summary: The two girls get to take care of a puffskein. CW: Fluff, mentioning of parents' death and bullying Read on Wattpad, AO3 or under the cut ↓

"Your task now is that you will look after a Puffskein for a month in pairs. I want you to treat the animals well and look after them as a team. Think of it as your very hairy child." Professor Howin pointed her wand at a small cauldron on her teacher's desk. "I will now draw the pairs." The cauldron wobbled, contracted and spat out two small pieces of paper. The Care of Magical Creatures Professor caught the pieces and read out the names.

"The first pair is Poppy Sweeting and Duncan Hobhouse." Charlotte stifled her laughter. "This could be something," she thought. "Poor Poppy." The little Hufflepuff threw the anxious Ravenclaw a smile. At least she tried. She seemed rather unpleasant with her partner. Professor Howin drew the next pair. "Alienor Callington and Cornelia Pierce." The black-haired Ravenclaw glanced at the brunette Slytherin and shrugged. Cornelia twisted her mouth into a half-hearted smile. She had probably hoped to be able to form a pair with her boyfriend.

"Next, we have Charlotte Hunter and Melvina Strange." Charlotte's heart skipped a beat. She had hoped to be able to work with the pretty Slytherin. She had had her eye on her for a while, but apart from a few brief conversations here and there, she had never really spoken to Melvina. Let alone spend time with her. Charlotte glanced over her shoulder. Her gaze met Melvina's. She immediately blushed and smiled nervously. Charlotte returned the smile and tucked a black lock of hair behind her ear. She didn't notice which pairs were still being drawn.

Professor Howin clapped her hands, waking Charlotte from her trance. "Please get together in your randomly selected pairs, and then I will assign you your Puffskein." Chaos broke out between the students. Some pairs were already arguing about who should come to whom. The classroom, if you could call it that, was in a state of excited hustle and bustle.

"Hey," a sweet voice called out next to Charlotte. The Gryffindor hadn't even gathered her papers when Melvina was standing next to her. Charlotte turned to her partner. "H-hi." "Now that's what I call an exciting task. I can hardly wait to introduce Bob to his brother or sister." The Slytherin's hazel eyes shone with excitement.

Charlotte raised an eyebrow in confusion. "Who's Bob?" "Well, my baby!" Melvina opened her shoulder bag a crack. In the spacious bag lay a teal ball of fur. In its paws, it held a glittery teddy bear. The Niffler was fast asleep. Charlotte's eyes widened. "Is that a Niffler?" she asked in astonishment. Melvina nodded and closed the bag again. "He can't be alone, so I carry him in my bag. Otherwise, he would attract too much attention." "Well, then I hope the Puffskein isn't too shiny," Charlotte joked, making Melvina giggle. "He'll still try to stuff it into his bum bag," laughed the Slytherin. Now it was Charlotte who giggled.

Professor Howin had started calling out the individual pairs and assigning them a cuddly muff. It was Poppy and Duncan's turn. Melvina nudged Charlotte with her elbow. "It's funny that Duncan and Poppy, of all people, have to work together, isn't it? The two are as different as day and night." Charlotte grinned at Melvina. "That's what I thought too. Poppy will definitely get all the work and won't even complain about it because she likes it so much." The Slytherin shook her head, laughing quietly. "These Hufflepuffs are just too good for the world." Charlotte nodded in agreement.

"Miss Hunter and Miss Strange!" Professor Howin called the two. They trotted to the teacher's desk to take their Puffskein into their care. "Please take care of Frank," Professor Howin explained, stroking the black and brown puffskein on her desk. "Hello, Frank." Melvina knelt down to be at eye level with the fur ball. He blinked at her with his honey eyes and squeaked happily. "Looks like Frank likes you," Charlotte said with a grin. "Well, it would be pretty stupid if he didn't like his new mommy," Melvina replied, straightening up again. She picked up Frank, and Charlotte took the small bag with Puffskein care supplies from her teacher. "We're going to have a lot of fun, Frank. I promise you," Melvina told the magical creature in her arms.

Professor Howin assigned the remaining pairs to their Puffskeins and ended the lesson early. Charlotte and Melvina had agreed to find a quiet place in the gardens to introduce Frank and Bob to each other. The black-haired Gryffindor conjured a picnic blanket, and they sat on a piece of grass near the fountain.

Melvina put her head in her bag, and all that could be heard was a muffled murmur. With a wide grin on her lips, she sat up again, and a sleepy Niffler peeked out of the bag. "Charlotte, Frank, this is Bob." Charlotte held out a hand to the small platypus-like creature. "Nice to meet you, Bob," she said gently. The Niffler took her index finger in his two tiny front paws, sniffed it and let go again.

"I guess I'm not shiny enough," laughed Charlotte. Melvina shook her head. "Apparently not, but he likes you. Otherwise, he would have stuck his tongue out at you." Charlotte laughed even louder. "So he's a little rascal," she stated. "He is. But he's my everything." Melvina nudged Bob. "Come on, don't be so shy. Meet Frank."

The Niffler gave his mom an uncertain look before climbing out of the bag and slowly crawling towards the Puffskein. Frank hummed happily and blinked at Bob with curious, bulging eyes. The two of them got longer and longer until their noses finally touched, and both creatures froze. Suddenly, Frank's long tongue shot out and licked Bob's soft fur. The Niffler screamed and fell over in shock. His short legs kicked in the air. "Oh, Bob!" Giggling, Melvina turned Bob over again. "You're a good actor again. Or have you been snacking on my cookies again?" Bob avoided her gaze, and Melvina glanced into her bag.

"Bob! Those were the good caramel cookies, you old glutton!" She stared at the little cookie thief in disbelief. "I thought you hated caramel. Now I have to think of something new to keep my cookies safe from you." Melvina shook her head and gave Charlotte an apologetic look. "I would offer you a cookie, but there are only crumbs left." Charlotte staggered away, smiling. "It's fine. Although they seem to have tasted good." "They are the best cookies I have ever eaten." Melvina gave Bob a thoughtful look. "So it's no wonder Bob ate them all. I'll bring new ones tomorrow," she explained, turning her gaze back to Charlotte.

"How come we never really talked?" Melvina asked after a moment's silence. Charlotte shrugged and absentmindedly stroked Frank, who had rolled over to her. "I guess it's because we're in different houses. And then it's the sworn enemies Slytherin and Gryffindor. It's hard to make friends outside of your own house. At least that's how I feel. I... don't tend to approach others on my own. I'm more likely to be adopted." Melvina nodded. "I understand what you mean. I feel the same way. I'd probably never get out if Cornelia and Veronica didn't drag me to parties and introduce me to their friends. I just prefer spending time with Bob." Smiling, she stroked the Niffler's teal fur. Bob was curled up on her lap.

"Understandable," Charlotte murmured. "I prefer the company of animals and creatures to that of humans." The Gryffindor bit her tongue so as not to say too much. She had a tendency to overshare, and she didn't want to mess things up with Melvina by telling her too much about herself and her negative experiences during their first real conversation.

The school bell rang, signalling the end of class. "Wait! How are we supposed to carry Frank around with us all day and make sure he doesn't do anything stupid in class?" asked Melvina. "I can't put him in my bag with Bob. It'll just cause chaos." Charlotte opened the bag that Professor Howin had given them. "Maybe there's something useful in here." She momentarily rummaged in the enchanted bag and finally pulled out a carrying bag that seemed to be made for a Puffskein. "Come on, Frank. Get in," she said to the fur ball. Frank, on the other hand, just blinked at her and made no move to roll into the carrying bag.

"Maybe a treat would help?" suggested Melvina. Charlotte nodded and searched the bag for something that looked like something edible. A few round somethings fell into her hand. They felt like dog biscuits. Charlotte sniffed the ominous balls uncertainly. They also smelled like dog biscuits. Shrugging her shoulders, she took a handful and held them under Frank's nose. The cuddly muff's pupils grew huge and he hummed happily. "Yes, they seem to be treats," Charlotte said with a laugh and used them to lure Frank into the transport bag. When he started to pounce on the small pile that Charlotte had thrown into the back corner of the bag, she buttoned the clasp and looked at her work with satisfaction. "Well, that wasn't so difficult."

The two students stood up and agreed that Charlotte would take Frank with her until lunch break. Then, they would meet again in the entrance hall and discuss everything else.

During their lunch break meeting, they agreed that Frank would stay with Charlotte until he and Bob got on better. They took a closer look at the contents of the bag and found that the supposed treats were Frank's real food. So he was easy to get excited about. After lunch, they agreed that they would meet at every opportunity to complete this partner task together.

A few days passed, and the two students became a well-rehearsed team. Every day, they sat on the picnic blanket in the garden. Melvina brought different kinds of biscuits to each picnic, and Charlotte organized different drinks. Bob and Frank got on better and better, and soon, they started playing together on the lawn. Charlotte and Melvina also got to know each other better and better.

Small talk turned into jokes, and jokes turned into deep talk. Melvina talked about her childhood in America and about her loving parents, who had died in an accident. Charlotte talked about her time in Cornwall and about her family. She spoke about her cousin Emily, who lived with her mother in Norway and with whom she had no contact since Charlotte developed her magical powers because Emily found it too scary and Charlotte, as the only witch in the family, was a freak in her eyes.

The two discovered that they had a lot in common. For example, they were both Muggle-born and the only witches in their families. They both liked to snack and were generally sweet-toothed.

The days went by, and Charlotte felt more and more comfortable with Melvina. Frank and Bob now only slept together. That would be a problem when the task ended.

One evening they were sitting on the picnic blanket at their usual spot again, eating chocolate-mint biscuits and drinking raspberry lemonade. Charlotte and Melvina sat next to each other and watched the two creatures playing. "The two of them are really cute together," Charlotte enthused and reached for another biscuit. Melvina reached out for the tin at the same time. Their hands touched, and the two students shyly pulled their hands back. "Y-you first," Melvina stammered. Charlotte's cheeks glowed, and she took two biscuits from the tin to give Melvina one too. She clinked her biscuit against Melvina's and looked deep into her eyes. "Cheers."

"Have your eyes always been so blue?" Melvina asked without taking a bite of her biscuit. Her hand was still floating where they had clinked their biscuits. Charlotte raised an eyebrow. "Yes. They haven't changed." "They're like the ocean," Melvina said, fascinated. Charlotte turned bright red. She didn't know how to answer that and took a bite of her biscuit instead.

"Can I ask you something?" Melvina blurted out. "Um, sure." Melvina looked shyly at her biscuit. "Is there... Well... Is there someone by your side?" Charlotte choked on her biscuit. She hadn't expected that question. Coughing, she took her raspberry lemonade and washed down the stray crumb. "I... Well... No," she admitted and took another big sip. "Good," Melvina said and finally took a bite of her biscuit. She felt Charlotte's confused look on her and quickly swallowed the bite. "Good to know, I mean," she tried to save herself. "What do you mean?" Charlotte asked. Melvina sighed. She let her shoulders droop in defeat. "I like you, you know?" she began to explain. "And I would like to spend more time with you, even after this task. And... well... a partner at your side would complicate the whole thing." "Are you asking me if I want to go out with you?" Charlotte tried to shed some light on the matter. "Maybe," Melvina murmured. "Well, if that's what you want, then yes. If you don't want to, then no." Charlotte laughed and put her hand on Melvina's. "I would really like to go out with you, Mel."

[rosewoodconch]

RWCH Readathon Days 13-14?

Undercover Princess: Ch. 40-45

Mega liveblog

Ill be honest. I'm really ill: but i am on a bus for 2 hours. So: heres a really porrly written summary of like... the lead up to the ball

Ch. 40

"Promise you'll also be happy"

Well...

Shes happy sometimes?

I really like that again we see that question of jamies origin which doesnt seem so important until youve read everything else

Ill be honest, i usually skip the valentines day bits

Lola is an icon, shes right. Jamie not liking cupcakes is blasphemous

And ellie getting lottle the flowers her name was named for is really sweet and i miss this era of them when it was so easy to fix

Also that note is so incredibly stupid and yes its a threat but also imagine jamie in his room making up the rhyme

"They might take ellie away" GIRL YOUR JOB IS TO PROTECT HER NOT TO KEEP HER FOREVER. Go read the diary again cmon

Ch. 41

Exams! The ball! Finally we hear more about the ball. Its crazy that they get results that quickly

Lottie having nightmares about failing her exams is... oh this poor girl

Shoutout to angus the most scottish person here i love him

Binah is so funny. I absolutely hated people who reacted like that in school

I'm so proud of Lottie like genuinely because after all of the chaos, shes still done incredibly

I was that one sobbing ivy girl ngl. I litterally appealed my b in nat 5 physics because i was convined i deserved a A. I didnt

Ollies messages was so sweet. I missed him so much. He deserves so so so much better. I wish he was able to know things but hes so right to be concerned and hurt. Then "have a good life"

Heartbreaking

Ch. 42

DRESS SHOPPING i probably dont have many thoughts other than OMG DRESSES AND SHOES so sorry in advance

Lèon is an icon and i love him

"I never like to be predictable" YES LOTTIE HARNASS THE SASS

Hes so real with the day and night hes all of us

I really wish ellie got to wear a suit here, it wouldve contrasted so perfectly to the book 5 ball

THE SHOES OH MY GOD THE SHOES

Ellie telling jamie to "just leave" is such a horrible awful thing to have said knowing all we know on reread.

Ch. 43

Jamie lore

I like that we get this explanation before the ball. Because rereading we can see how much the "normal" route relates to ani and saskia and it makes us wonder about who else could be

Jamie is different

The fake story of Hirana, and all of the information about her being lied about not just to ellie, but to jamie too, is so so sad.

Ellie wants nothing but Jamie and her to have normal lives. For them to not be connected in this way. "Everyone should get to choose"

I really love that thats echoed in the ending of the series.

Ugh again with the trust. How often do we hear them go we need to trust each other then lottie hides more stuff again. Im tired lottie.

The Cinderella moment 😭😭😭😭

Ch. 44

Let it be known that in the audiobook connie says Queen Matilda

Her "Real Room" makes me so so happy and i cannot wait to eventually read about it again.

In fact does Lottie ever see it!??!?!?! Someone tell me

See this is what i mean about the trust thing.

Im sorry but if a girl i had a crush on pinned me against the wall, said to tell her a secret or shed bite me i think id pass out

"Youll be mad at me" well no shit sherlock

Jamie is an icon and i love him. Never change

Ch. 45

"I cant promise not to be mad, but I'll hear you out" is so eloquent and I'll always have that in my mind

Creepily similar? A resemblance perhaps?

Ellie lying to try and help lottie is sweet but scary. Because how often does she do this?

I really do think that underneath he is pained for lying to his queen. But not just because hes loyal to her, or that it is his job, but also the queen is nurturing and kind and i think he does internalise that

Lottie defending herself to jamie is so painful

I love the difference between jamie "acting pained" and then the following

For anyone who isn't using the audiobook, i want you to understand how terrifying it is when it switches pov here. Because the whole book has been connie, for the prologue was her mum.

But here, theres a male voice. Jamies va.

Jamie recognising all the palace staff is really sweet

The fact that he has such a routine, hes been trained to hide his emotions from everyone including himself.

And the simple sentence of "he broke down" honestly cuts deeper than if it had been fully elaborated. Its so simple. And thats why its so powerful. He cant even cry and feel comfort. He has to retreat away from everyone and everything

Next chapters are the ball and everything so I'll probably do another mega liveblog for those ones!

Its just easier when I'm ill to group them like this!

[marsrize]

Tim’s cat [Part 1]

Ao3: Here! Summary : Tim comes home and discovers that there is a cat in his house. The problem? Tim doesn't own a cat.

Chapter 1: It's not funny.    

Tim was tired. He had been awake for almost 30 hours. It was far from his record, but the more time passed, the more difficult it was to stay awake for days on end like he used to do. His body seemed to be failing him. It wouldn't be the first thing that gave out on him in his life.

Tim returned to his house after a hectic patrol. Despite his battered and tired body, he wasn't sure he would get any sleep. As he undressed, he noticed that there was something on his couch. A sort of black stain. There were two blue beads in the middle.

He blinked several times. He thought he was hallucinating and went to his room.

Tim woke up with a start several hours later. He wasn't sure exactly how long he'd managed to sleep, but it seemed like enough time to at least get up right away, without having to wait on his bed for at least five good minutes for his headache to subside.

 VLAM.

Tim frowned.

Someone was in his house.

He sighed.

He grabbed a taser that was lying on the floor among his clothes. It was better to take a weapon that might be more "traditional" for a civilian to have in his home than one of his Red Robin weapons. He opened the door to his room quietly and quietly made his way to the source of the noise. From the hallway, Tim could see that a glass had fallen on the floor. He moved closer until he reached the end of the hallway, just outside his living room.

No one was there.

Tim walked into the living room on guard. He looked carefully at all the corners. Nothing seemed to have changed its place. His gaze went to his open kitchen. It was then that he saw the intruder.

Their eyes met. This thing... had very light green eyes.

The thing blinked several times as it looked at him. Then, the thing stretched out its entire length and began to lick its paw. The thing was ignoring him!

Tim blinked several times. He sighed in exasperation.

There was a black cat with green eyes on his kitchen counter.

And this little monster had already broken several glasses.

Tim went back to his room, retrieved his phone. The first thing he did was to check if one of his brothers had already sent him a message announcing the prank. There was nothing. A new sigh escaped his lips.

He headed back to his living room. The cat was still on the counter. This time, he had comfortably rolled himself into a ball to take what looked like a nap in the exact spot where the glasses had been the day before. He then took a picture with his phone and sent it to the family chat group.

From Tim to FAMILY Chat group

[Sent cat picture]

“Which one of you jerks put a cat in my house?!”

Chaos ensued, with everyone denying responsibility and Tim feeling like he was losing his mind.

Tim decided it was time to catch the little troublemaker and find out who was behind the prank. He snuck up behind the cat, trying to grab him before he could dart away. But the cat was too quick for him. It darted away, knocking over a vase in the process.

"Hey, come back here, you little devil!" Tim shouted, chasing after the cat.

The cat ran under the couch, and Tim tried to grab him from underneath. But he misjudged the cat's position, and his arm got stuck. He struggled to free himself, but the cat just sat there, looking at him with amusement in its eyes.

"Okay, this isn't funny anymore," Tim grumbled, trying to wiggle his arm free.

Just then, the cat jumped up and sprinted across the room, knocking over a lamp in its wake. Tim chased after it, but the cat was too quick. It ran up the curtains and perched on the windowsill, looking down at Tim with an air of superiority.

"You may have won this round, cat, but I'll catch you eventually," Tim said, panting.

The cat simply meowed and licked its paw, unimpressed with Tim's efforts.

Tim tried to lure the cat down with treats, but the cat just turned its nose up and yawned. He tried to corner it, but the cat was too agile, leaping over his head and running circles around him. Tim was left dizzy and disoriented, while the cat continued to wreak havoc around the room.

In the end, Tim gave up and collapsed onto the couch, defeated.

The cat began to stare at him from his new perch on top of his closet. The creature seemed to be looking at him with a surly expression. He squinted.

How in the world did this beast get into his house?

As he stared at the animal. The creature stretched and lay down to observe him.

Since no one in his family seemed willing to help him out, he tried his luck with his group of friends.

The problem was that instead of trying to help him, they started suggesting cat names and incidentally making fun of him for being " bossed around by a cat".

Tim rolled his eyes at his friends' teasing. "Very funny, guys," he muttered sarcastically.

"I'm glad my suffering amuses you."

Tim jumped back in shock, nearly dropping his phone. The cat simply sat there, completely unfazed by his reaction. It seemed to be staring at him with an almost judgmental expression. Tim couldn't help but feel a little ridiculous for being scared of a cat.

"Alright, you win," Tim said, throwing his hands up in defeat. "I give up. You can stay here for now, but don't get too comfortable."

The cat simply blinked and continued to stare at him. Tim couldn't tell if it was satisfied with his response or if it was plotting its next move.

As Tim sat down to enjoy his coffee, he couldn't help but feel like he was being watched. He looked over at the cat, who was now grooming itself on the table. Tim shook his head and chuckled to himself. He never thought he'd be the kind of guy to have a cat, but here he was, being bossed around by one.

"Well, I guess you need a name," Tim said, looking at the cat. "Any suggestions?"

The cat simply continued to groom itself, ignoring him. Tim rolled his eyes and took a sip of his coffee. He had a feeling he was going to be stuck with this cat for a while.

[whosingsofjoy]

In a Sunroom of My Own Design

This is a very unstructured, stream of consciousness...thing! I wrote last night, just feel like sharing!

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It's a weird feeling when you realize that you're becoming someone who you've never known you wanted to. It's a weird feeling to know myself, be myself, without feeling like I really really know myself. It's a certain kind of detachment, hard to describe. Who am I? I don't know. I guess I'm nice, and funny, sometimes overly passionate or enthusiastic, I'd do anything for my friends.

I like art, and by that I mean patterns and colors and stories. I like music, and by that I mean I feel invincible flying along the freeway with all the windows down. Sometimes, I feel like there is a ball of chaos wound tightly in my chest. And in some cases, the ball unwinds and that passion comes at the wrong time and I make mistakes, or feel like wandering the streets like a stray dog. And, I know that's okay. Sometimes. I sit in a sunroom of my own design and think of wishes.

I like stars, but not the real looking kind, the childish ones. And definitely not the ones my childhood neighbor taught me to draw. I am me by design. I am me by the choices I've made, and that's heavy sometimes. But, I make apple pie to share with my families, and sometimes just for myself. Or because I heard a song I really liked. I can make any place a home, I've done it so many times. Maybe it's easier, letting myself, my body, be my stable home. I cover the walls of my green apartment with love, on accident or maybe not.

I love change, and by that I mean I love getting to decorate and learn and become more of who I am. There's pain sometimes, of course, everyone feels it. I'm not sure if there is a way to fumigate those crawling worms. So maybe, I just move them outside. I can hold that pain gently, despite. I am grateful to experience what shapes me. I am grateful for the reminder that I am bigger than my mistakes, I am bigger than what has hurt me, I've made my life beautiful and I sit in a sunroom of my own design.

I am surrounded by color, everything I have is mine. It is me. I made this, and I made who I am. It was not my mother, or my father, or any of the other uncountable adult figures that have passed through my life. I decided to be kind. I decided to do what's right. I decided to care for myself even when its hard, I decided to stick it through with the people I love, especially when it's hard. I still make mistakes, and I wouldn't claim to be a saint, or even correct about most things. But I am good, and I don't think I ever cared too much about being bad. And by that I mean, not when someone or something I love is on the line. It's all relative. And I'm happy to have come to a place where I am glad to be who I am most of the time, and no one can make me feel ashamed for that. I've suffered my share, I have fought that sickly doubt. I am so much bigger than lazy expectations.

I am here on this earth to be me, recklessly. I am here to love, recklessly. I give everything my all and I will see it through. I used to describe myself as a boulder, but that doesn't really seem right. Too stagnant, when all I do is move. What is resilient, but not unmoving? Not predator, not prey? Maybe I'm more like the moss, that grows and lives, finds its way in so many places. Brings life where there might not be. Yeah, I guess that seems more right.

I think the simple fact is that I am me, I made me, and I might not know exactly who that is but there is so much joy to be found on this journey and until I know for sure, i'll just keep on going. Going and growing and loving and persisting and I'm gonna do it all.

In a sunroom of my own design

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[michellesmusing]

Schiller's day off

*Not Written by me, but by AI. It helps me reading more and learning new words since English isn't my first language... I only use AI for ideas sometimes, or short funny stories...*

Schiller thought he had the situation under control—until Aleksandra, his 2 year old daughter discovered the dog.

Not Schiller's dog, of course. He didn’t do pets. The tiny French bulldog belonged to one of his neighbors, but it had somehow wandered into his apartment when his security detail cracked open the door for a delivery.

“Puppy!” Aleksandra squealed with delight, toddling toward the squirmy ball of fur before Schiller could intervene.

“Aleksandra, no—”

It was too late. The dog, equally thrilled, darted toward her with all the force of a torpedo, knocking her flat on her diapered bottom. Instead of crying, Aleksandra erupted into giggles, wrapping her arms around the dog’s neck in a sloppy hug.

“Puppy likes me!” she declared.

The dog, meanwhile, seemed to have developed an affinity for Schiller’s imported leather loafers, which it began gnawing on with gusto.

Schiller stared at the scene in horror. "This... is unacceptable."

He reached for his phone, intent on summoning the building’s security team to remove the intruder. Before he could make the call, the dog barked and scampered away—directly toward his desk.

“Stop it! Nyet!” Schiller barked, but the dog was already up on the chair, sniffing around the documents he’d been reviewing earlier. With a triumphant yip, it grabbed one in its teeth and bolted across the room.

Schiller lunged after it, narrowly missing the corner of the coffee table. “That is classified information, you flea-ridden menace!”

Behind him, Aleksandra clapped her hands and cheered, clearly thinking this was all part of the fun.

The Bathtub Incident

After finally coaxing the dog out of the apartment (and rescuing the now slightly chewed document), Schiller decided it was time for Aleksandra’s nap. Unfortunately, Aleksandra had other plans.

“No nap!” she shouted, squirming out of his grasp like a particularly slippery spy.

“You need to rest,” Schiller said, trying to sound calm. “Even operatives must sleep.”

But she was already halfway to the bathroom, her tiny hands fumbling with the faucet on the oversized tub. Within seconds, water was gushing out, splashing everywhere.

“Aleksandra, stop!” Schiller snapped, rushing to turn off the water. But not before Aleksandra had tossed in an entire roll of toilet paper, which promptly disintegrated into a soggy mess.

“Bath!” She declared, clapping her hands.

Schiller closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to summon the patience he usually reserved for dealing with inept subordinates. “Fine. Bath it is. But no more destruction.”

What followed was twenty minutes of chaos: bubbles overflowing onto the marble floor, a rubber duck flung with surprising accuracy at Schiller’s forehead, and a toddler who seemed to think splashing him was the height of comedy.

By the time he finally got her out, dried off, and into pajamas, Schiller looked like he’d just escaped a firefight.

The Toy Debacle

With Aleksandra finally in her playpen, Schiller allowed himself a moment of respite. He poured himself a glass of whiskey, letting the amber liquid calm his frayed nerves.

But the peace was short-lived.

“Daaaaddy!” Aleksandra called, her voice sweet and sing-song.

Schiller froze. That tone usually meant trouble. He turned to find her holding one of his prized possessions—a Fabergé egg he’d acquired during a particularly daring operation.

“Aleksandra, put that down,” he said carefully, setting his glass aside and moving toward her with the precision of a bomb disposal expert.

“Pretty egg!” she cooed, shaking it like a rattle.

Schiller’s heart nearly stopped. “Do not—”

Too late. The egg slipped from her tiny hands, tumbling toward the hardwood floor. In a flash, Schiller dove forward, catching it inches from disaster.

He sat on the floor, cradling the priceless artifact like it was an injured comrade. Aleksandra, oblivious to the near-catastrophe, plopped into his lap and kissed his cheek.

“Love you, Daddy,” she said, beaming up at him.

Schiller sighed, his frustration melting away. “You are lucky I love you too, malyshka.”

By the end of the day, Schiller was utterly defeated. As he finally tucked Aleksandra into her crib, her little hand clutching his finger, he whispered, “You are the most dangerous mission I’ve ever taken.”

She yawned and smiled in her sleep, and for the first time in years, Nicholae Schiller let himself laugh.

The Unexpected Visit

Schiller had just managed to settle Aleksandra in front of the TV with her favorite cartoon, giving himself a precious moment to collapse into the armchair and sip what was left of his whiskey. His shirt was damp from the earlier bathtub debacle, and there was a faint smear of mashed peas on his collar, but he didn't care anymore.

The knock at the door was the last thing he wanted to hear.

“Boss?” came a familiar voice from the other side. It was Ivan, one of Schiller’s most loyal (and least perceptive) lieutenants. “It’s urgent.”

Schiller groaned, downed the rest of his drink, and went to open the door, fully prepared to chew Ivan out for interrupting him. But before he could say a word, Aleksandra toddled over, clutching her stuffed rabbit and grinning up at the visitor.

“Hi!” she chirped.

Ivan froze in the doorway, his eyes darting between the toddler and his disheveled boss. “Uh... Boss? Who... is this?”

Schiller ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. “This is Aleksandra. My daughter.”

Ivan’s jaw dropped. “Your what?”

Aleksandra, clearly delighted by the newcomer, held up her rabbit. “Bunny!”

“I... I see that,” Ivan stammered, still trying to process the scene. His fearsome boss, the man who struck terror into the hearts of rival operatives, was currently being climbed like a jungle gym by a two-year-old.

“Is this the urgent matter?” Schiller asked, his tone icy.

Ivan blinked, snapping out of his daze. “Oh! No, sir. There’s a... complication with the shipment. The buyers are getting impatient.”

Schiller pinched the bridge of his nose. “Of course they are. Handle it.”

“I would, but they’re asking for you specifically,” Ivan said, glancing nervously at Aleksandra, who was now tugging on Schiller’s pant leg. “Uh... should I come back later?”

“No,” Schiller growled, scooping Aleksandra up and handing her the TV remote to distract her. “We’ll deal with this now. What do they want?”

Before Ivan could answer, Aleksandra accidentally pressed a button on the remote, changing the channel to an infomercial featuring blenders.

“Look, Daddy! Spinnies!” she squealed, pointing at the screen.

Ivan coughed into his hand, clearly trying not to laugh. “Boss, maybe I should—”

“Say one word,” Schiller cut in, fixing him with a glare that could freeze water, “and I will personally assign you to babysitting duty.”

Ivan wisely fell silent.

The Conference Call Fiasco

Moments later, Schiller was on a secure video call with the impatient buyers, Ivan standing awkwardly in the corner. Aleksandra sat on Schiller’s lap, happily munching on animal crackers and occasionally trying to press buttons on his keyboard.

“This is unacceptable, Schiller,” one of the buyers snapped. “You promised delivery by tonight!”

“You’ll have your shipment,” Schiller replied coolly, effortlessly shifting into his trademark calm, menacing tone. “There have been minor delays. Nothing more.”

Aleksandra, meanwhile, had grown bored of crackers and decided to grab Schiller’s pen, drawing wobbly circles on his arm.

“Is... is that a child?” another buyer asked, squinting at the screen.

“No,” Schiller said flatly, placing his hand over the webcam before anyone could get a clearer view. “Let’s focus on the matter at hand.”

But Aleksandra had other plans. She reached for the keyboard and hit the spacebar, unmuting the call just as she declared, “Daddy! Look! I draw!”

The buyers stared, visibly stunned. Ivan, on the verge of losing his composure, turned away to hide his laughter.

Schiller closed his eyes, muttering something in Russian under his breath before addressing the buyers again. “The situation is under control. You’ll receive your shipment by morning.”

He ended the call before they could respond, slumping back in his chair as Aleksandra beamed up at him.

“Draw more?” she asked innocently.

Schiller handed her a piece of paper and the pen. “Draw here. Not on me. Or the walls.”

Ivan, still trying to suppress his laughter, finally spoke. “Boss... you’re, uh, surprisingly good at this.”

Schiller shot him a withering glare. “Say that again, and you’ll be negotiating with the buyers instead of me.”

Bedtime Chaos

By the time night rolled around, Schiller was confident that nothing could faze him anymore. Aleksandra had already upended his meticulously ordered world, and somehow, he’d survived. All that remained was to get her to sleep.

“Okay, Aleksandra,” he said, carrying her to her small bed, which had been hastily set up in his guest room that morning. “Time to sleep.”

“No!” Aleksandra declared, clutching her stuffed bunny tightly.

Schiller sighed. “You’re tired. Even you cannot deny this.”

“No!” she repeated, bouncing on the mattress with the energy of someone who hadn’t just spent all day wreaking havoc.

“Fine,” Schiller muttered. “What do you want? A story? Music? Bribery?”

Aleksandra considered this, then pointed at him with a mischievous grin. “Song!”

Schiller blinked. “A... song?”

“Yes, Daddy! Sing!”

Schiller, who had successfully brokered deals with warlords and assassins, was suddenly at a loss. “I don’t sing.”

Aleksandra pouted, her big green eyes filling with crocodile tears. “Pleeease?”

He stared at her, weighing his options. Giving in was a hit to his dignity, but the alternative was a tantrum loud enough to wake the entire building—and possibly alert rival operatives.

“Fine,” he grumbled. After a moment’s thought, he began humming a lullaby he vaguely remembered from his childhood. His deep, steady voice filled the room, and to his surprise, Aleksandra’s eyelids began to droop.

“Night, night,” she mumbled, snuggling into her pillow.

Schiller exhaled in relief, quietly backing out of the room.

A Threat Revealed

Schiller was barely two steps into his study when his phone buzzed. The number on the screen sent a jolt of tension through him. It was Andrei, a rival with a penchant for overstepping boundaries.

“What?” Schiller answered sharply, keeping his voice low.

“You’ve been busy,” Andrei drawled, his tone laced with smugness. “I hear you’ve taken up... parenting.”

Schiller froze, his blood turning to ice. “What are you talking about?”

“Don’t play dumb, Schiller. Word travels fast, especially when someone as secretive as you is seen buying animal crackers at the corner store.”

Schiller clenched his jaw, mentally cursing his earlier trip to appease Aleksandra’s snack demands. “If you’ve touched her—”

“Relax,” Andrei interrupted. “I haven’t done anything. Yet. But it’s interesting, don’t you think? How vulnerable you’ve become.”

Schiller’s grip on the phone tightened. “If you so much as breathe near her, I will destroy everything you’ve ever built. Do you understand me?”

Andrei laughed. “Such a doting father. We’ll talk soon.”

The call ended, leaving Schiller staring at the phone, fury and fear battling in his chest.

The Resolve

Steeling himself, Schiller went to check on Aleksandra. She was still fast asleep, clutching her bunny, her peaceful face illuminated by the soft glow of her nightlight.

Schiller stood in the doorway, his jaw set. For years, he’d been untouchable, a ghost who operated in shadows. Aleksandra had changed that—she was his one weakness, and now his enemies knew it.

But as he looked at her, so small and innocent, he felt a fierce protectiveness that eclipsed his fear. He would do whatever it took to keep her safe, even if it meant taking more extreme measures to ensure no one dared threaten her again.

Quietly, he pulled out his phone and dialed Ivan.

“Double the security around the building,” he ordered. “And find out who leaked Aleksandra’s existence to Andrei. I want them found. Now.”

“Yes, boss,” Ivan replied, his voice unusually serious.

As he ended the call, Schiller leaned against the doorway, watching Aleksandra sleep. She had no idea how dangerous the world around her was, and he intended to keep it that way.

“You are more trouble than anyone I’ve ever known,” he whispered. “But you’re worth it, malyshka.”

Aleksandra stirred slightly, murmuring something in her sleep, and Schiller allowed himself a rare, genuine smile.

The world would come for him, as it always did. But now, it would have to go through him to get to her.