#like I have enough money to select a seat

[fly-the-pattern]

[asteroshearts]

Date Night

Itadori tags along for one of your date nights and wonders how you have a completely different Nanami Kento than the rest of the world.

Nanami x Reader

Tags: she/her pronouns, public nudity?, third wheel itadori

"Good evening, we apologize for the wait. Thank you for calling Gyomei's Ginza branch. How may I help you today?"

"Hello." You could never get sick of his voice. "I have a reservation for Nanami at 19:00. I know it's last minute, but can we add another person?"

"That can be done: we can add another chair to the table you selected," the hostess responded. Grinning wildly, you turned in the passenger seat and met your fist with Itadori's. "Do you have any special requests for this party member?"

"Don't include the drink course for him," your husband stated. Broken beams of white light from the street lamps came and went across his glasses as he drove by. "He's a child."

"Of course, will this extra person need a high chair?"

A gasp rang in the car.

"That won't be necessary." Quickly shutting off the call, Nanami huffed as you burst out into giggles at Itadori's sputtering.

"Aw, he's our son, Kennie."

"Nanamin!" his pink-haired student cried from the back seat. "Why did you say that?! Now they're going to think I'm seven or something!"

"You are a child." The man didn't even bother to glance at the rearview mirror.

"Maybe we should've gone with the long con," you teased. "Do you think they would've given us a discount if we said that Yuji-kun was twelve? That could save us a bit of money at a place like this!"

"Do you think I'm broke?" Nanami scoffed before pressing down on the accelerator, taking off in Tokyo.

Itadori hadn't initially planned to crash your date night.

Although they had finished the assignment efficiently, Nanami noticed something was up with the teen despite how quickly they exorcised the curse. From the boy's slouched posture and tucked shoulders, Nanami easily got the boy to confess what was on his mind.

"Oh…it's my grandpa's birthday today…" Eyes facing the ground, his voice suddenly grew quieter. "It's the first time I've ever had it without him."

It would've been so simple to say his monotone condolences, take a step away, and move on with his day. However, one call to you later, you had no problem with inviting Itadori along your night with your husband. In fact, you were even more certain you had married the right man when he asked permission to bring his student and help take Itadori's mind off his late grandfather's birthday.

But, Itadori didn't want to third-wheel at his pseudo-teacher's date, wouldn't that be kinda weird?

Nanamin seemed just, so – well – cold. Don't get him wrong, he enjoyed the man as a mentor, but to tag along for a date? He wasn't sure how the blond managed to score a pretty girl like you as his wife, but he didn't want to spend a night with you while Nanami silently ate at his side.

However, when he brought it up to the group chat that Nanami might be paying for his meal at this place called "Gyomei", Nobara yelled at him loud enough that he could hear it through text. A Michelin-starred and free meal was something a teen boy like him couldn't pass up.

"Um!" Itadori called out to you after Nanami had parked in the underground garage of the high-rise you were going to. "Thank you again for inviting me!" Pink coloring his cheeks, you had mentioned earlier when Nanami picked you up that if they didn't allow reservation modifications, you would just let the deposit go and find another spot to have date night at. Not only were they in the most expensive area of Tokyo, but he knew from Gojo's blabbing that Nanami's coveted date nights were never a spontaneous event. They were planned weeks, even months in advance, to get you to the best venues, restaurants, and events. To think that you had just easily let him drag along…touched him more than you realized.

You chuckled at his attempt to bow in the backseat, folding your legs so you could turn in your seat. "It's no problem at all! It's always so fun to talk with you, Yuji-kun! Good thing they let us add another chair though, I've been wanting to try this place forever."

Although, he wondered why you weren't making an effort to get out of the car. Nanamin had parked a while ago, and you still haven't opened your door. Were you waiting for him to pay for your parking spot?

"Yeah! Gojo-sensei tells me these places usually don't allow modifications for reservations."

"Oh. That." Your shoulders fell before a large smile broke out on your face, laughing at your own joke. "Let me tell you a little secret, Yuji-kun." Leaning in closer and lowering your voice, you confessed, "We lie to Gojo."

Huh?

"He wants to crash our date nights all the time, but Ken would rather eat rocks than invite him," you said with a laugh. "So we lie and tell him it can't be done."

Door opening on your side, you perked up as light flooded your car and you turned you head up to gaze at your husband holding the door.

"What are you laughing about?" your grumpy husband asked. Although his voice was dull and drab, Itadori wondered how you managed to brighten up so much just at the mere sight of the blond man. He was even more confused at how you only stepped out of the car after Nanami had opened it, so much more different than the blond he knew who was strict and hated doing anything beyond the required effort.

To the Nanami who told everyone to drag their own baggage, this seemed like night and day, yet here you were, not even lifting a finger.

Where was the real Nanamin?

"Not at you," you reassured, slipping out as Nanami stepped back slightly. "At Gojo."

Face souring as if he had eaten a lemon, he quickly told you that he didn't even want to think of the white-haired man tonight, not when it was your night. "If you wanted to laugh at clowns, I should've taken you to the circus instead."

Holding on to his arm, you looked up at your husband. "Well then, good thing we have Yuji-kun with us, right? At least someone will laugh at my jokes today."

Exhaling tiredly, Nanami pushed up his glasses to hide the small quirk of his lips.

"Itadori-kun, what are you waiting for? Get out of the car."

Eyes widening, he jolted in his spot, clumsily opening the door and trying not the hit the car next to you. "R-Right!"

"Aww, maybe you should be the gentleman and open the door for him."

Rolling his eyes beneath his round glasses, he placed his hand over your hold on his bicep. "Do you think I open the door for everyone?"

In the background, Itadori watched as you were eye-to-eye with your husband.

Oh, he realized. It's still Nanamin. It was just that you got special treatment.

"You were a sorcerer too?!" Yuji shouted in the restaurant, far too loud for your comfort.

"Itadori-kun!" Nanami snapped from beside you, wine glass held up to his lips. Gasping at his mistake, he quickly scanned the restaurant, eyes skimming across lavish tables draped with silky white cloth, dainty lighting up above, and flower bouquets scattered across the room, but thankfully no wandering or surprised eyes from other patrons that were caught up in what he had yelled out.

"Sorry…" he said, dropping his eyes to look at the first few courses in front of him. Sighing, now Nanami was even more glad that he selected the most secluded table in the restaurant, far away from the other booked tables where everyone got an obstructed view of you three, but where he could see everything in the room.

You waved off your husband's irritation and squeezed his hand underneath the table. You waited until his knitted eyebrows relaxed a bit before you even thought of looking away.

"That's alright, Yuji-kun." You had met him before this, but you were sure that you had given off the impression of someone who was pampered and privileged as you opened up the door for Nanami and Itadori that one day in nothing but a simple chemise (that Nanami covered up before the teen's eyes) and your face mask on with your hair up. Certainly not battle-ready. Not to mention, you had introduced yourself as another office worker, leading Itadori to believe that was where you two met.

"You didn't know," you said understandingly before your eyes softened. "That's actually how Ken and I met — Oh, he was so different back then. He actually gave me a whole box of poetry inspired by our favorite emo bands back in — "

"Darling," he said sharply, rather than affectionately.

Laughing off the intense aura Nanami was giving off, you continued. "You know, I come from a pretty old sorcerer family. We were a big deal back in the Meiji period, but we all died off since then." With a shrug, you added, "My mom never wanted me to be a sorcerer anyway, so I guess it all worked out that I ended up quitting after graduation."

"Huh?" Itadori tilted his head in confusion. "If your mom didn't let you, how were you able to join Jujutsu Tech?" With those old coots around every corner, it was harder to get into JJ Tech than leave.

Barking out a laugh, you grinned at the pink-haired teen. "Cause I thought I was sooo edgy back then. I thought I was being so cool." Then, suddenly — you grew pacified as the onslaught of memories hit you. When you spoke up next, your voice was a lot quieter. "I was obsessed with being different and finding myself, I thought…" When your memories conjured up a certain brown-haired boy you had lost once upon a time, you faltered. "At graduation, I realized I ended up losing a lot more than I had discovered."

A large hand landed on your thigh, and you were only called back to earth after Nanami had given your leg a quick squeeze. Nothing suggestive or intense, but as you focused on the warmth of his palm and the feather-like touch of his fingers brushing across your skin, you focused again on the present.

"I was just lucky and landed myself a good job. My brother-in-law was one of the co-founders of a well-to-do startup, and they got me a cushy position, so I'm more than happy with what I have now." Placing one of your hands on top of Nanami's you made sure to point those last words at him, just to assure him. Righting yourself up to push these memories behind you, "And besides, I'm sure Ken has the short end of the — "

Slam!

When you blinked the splatters from your eyes, you realized what had happened around you. A tripped-over waitress was hands and knees on the ground, three dishes of your lamb roast had scattered across the polished wooden floors amongst shattered plates, and furthermore, your pristine button-up shirt was warm and drenched in dark red wine sauce.

"Shit," you muttered into the quiet air, and that was all you needed for chaos to descend from every corner. Itadori was yelling something in your ear, your husband was quickly trying to pat your shirt dry, the tearful waitress was extremely apologetic on her knees, and all while the owner of the establishment came rushing forward to see what the commotion was all about.

"What is the meaning of this!" the man roared, red in the face before whirling in on the girl. "Hima — !"

"M-Ma'am, I-I'm extremely sorry," she said with her head bowed while she was still on the ground. "I hope that you can please forgive me — "

"Hey," you said easily. The last thing you wanted was for a young girl to cry. "It's alright," you tried to speak up against the overlapping voices.

"Please forgive us," the owner said, head bowed as well while he gave her a nasty glare from the side. "She's new here. I assure you that this behavior is unacceptable here, and I'll be sure to — "

"Hey," you sternly spoke through. "It's fine. Really. Everyone makes mistakes," you said gently, keeping your eye carefully on the young girl. "And it's just a shirt. This will come off." Tilting your head up toward the blond man who was worriedly hovering around you. This was something that he gifted you. "This stain will come off, right?"

Giving you a quick nod, Nanami carefully pulled out the strands of hair attached to the side of your neck from the spill. "If it doesn't, I'll buy you a new one," he said immediately.

Quirking up your lip at him, you said, "That's unnecessary. Like I said, it's just a shirt." Catching the girl's eye contact, you said calmly, "Everything's fine. Please go patch your knee up." You excused her.

The boss seemingly wanted to argue, opening his mouth to argue as the girl thankfully nodded, hidden behind a curtain of her hair before she rushed away, but the sight of your husband's dark stare from over your shoulder, as he stood large, muscled, and broad, shut him up.

"Where's your bathroom?" you asked. Your shirt was becoming transparent and sticking uncomfortably.

The owner looked extremely apologetic again. "It's currently closed for cleaning, but I'll let my employees know — no more than five minutes — !"

"That's alright," you repeated shortly.

"Go get my wife a laundry bag and a towel." The owner certainly wasn't going to argue when your husband stood like a pillar behind you. Holding his clean hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose, he breathed carefully. "As fast as possible."

"R-Right away." With a bow, the owner made another uneasy promise of covering your dry cleaning, restaurant bill, and that he would send someone to clean this up immediately.

"Kennie," you called. As the spill cooled, the sauce stuck to your skin and was starting to become oily and coagulated, overall unpleasant the longer it lingered. Cringing, you said, "I don't want to wear this shirt any longer, can you help me?"

No further words were needed. With a quick flash of movement, almost as fast as how he took down curses with his ratio, Itadori watched as the older man pulled his blazer off his body and stood to hold it up around you like a curtain.

The man's large arms were nearly encircling you, muscles flexing as he tilted his body and blazer to give you all the privacy you needed to change. Facing the ceiling-to-floor windows that gave you the grand view of the Tokyo skyline, you began unbuttoning your shirt.

Although Itadori caught a peek of the top of your lacy black bra, he quickly averted his eyes with pink cheeks, both out of shame, and with how Nanami's gaze could've set him on fire.

"You can put your shirt here," Nanami gestured, nodding toward the back of his chair. Nodding, you quickly dropped your wet shirt out of your hands, allowing Itadori to see the LEMAIRE tag poking out from the folds.

You patted yourself clean with the cloth napkins you had around the table, and you thanked Itadori as he handed you his. Once you cleaned off as much of the spill as possible, your bare shoulders finally met with the sleek silk lining of your husband's jacket. As you slipped your arms around the oversized jacket sleeves, Nanami finished helping you button up his jacket.

Taking a knee, the blond man cleaned up your chair before he let you sit down. The blazer was comically oversized on you, giving you broad shoulders from the sturdy padding, and the lapels gave you a low cut where your bra could still be seen, but it was better than nothing.

The blond man let out a deep sigh. If he wasn't in public, no — if you two were the only people at the table, he wouldn't waste any time to tuck his face in your shoulder or rest his head on your lap even.

"Darling," Nanami started, and immediately Itadori was shocked at how the stern and reserved Nanami seemed so soft. "This date's been a mess, I'm sorry — " Weak even, against your presence.

"Why are you apologizing?" you said with a chuckle. "The date has barely even started yet! And now we get free food!"

Giving you a frown he added, "What's the point if you had to be embarrassed like this?" Beautiful brown eyes peered up at you, and you swore you could never get sick of the sight, not even to this day.

"Embarrassed? I've done a lot more humiliating things as a high schooler — willingly too." With a grin, you reached over to pinch his high cheekbone. "And I love wearing your clothes anyway."

"I — "

"Nothing a shower won't fix," you interrupted him by grabbing his face and leaning over to give him an Inuit kiss. "And what's the matter with one 'ruined' date?" Holding up your hand, you showed off your grand wedding and engagement ring. "You locked me down anyway," you said cheekily. "I'm not going anywhere."

Yet the blond man looked regretful anyway. Ashamed that he made your night anything less than wonderful.

You wondered where it all came from, this insane pressure to give you what he deemed as a perfect life — the perfect adulthood, rather. Perhaps it was from how you constantly repeated how much you valued and appreciated him when he was being bogged down by competitive coworkers who walked all over him.

Or perhaps it was from the look on your face as you sat next to Haibara's body in the morgue, as the light slowly dimmed from your eyes.

Heart swelling with true love, you couldn't resist pulling the man forward for a real kiss. One deep and hearty, skin against skin, until space had never existed, and you could get your atoms to touch.

"Um..." Itadori squirmed uncomfortably in his seat.

Did you forget he was here?

[tarot-archives]

Soshiro H. x reader— rich boy AU

is this really an AU? he’s a from a rich family in canon. anyways, fluff | established relationship | a n g s t.

Soshiro comes from Generational wealth. His family has been in the business since ancient Japanese times where sharp Katanas were the best way to kill Kaiju.

He grew up in those traditional homes with sliding doors, tatami mats, tea rooms, and nannies wearing kimonos. He even has a garden—a FREAKING ACRE OF GREENS, ZEN GARDENS, WITH THOSE KOI PONDS.

He used to play with those ornamental fishes when he was younger. Not caring that they cost over a thousand dollars, as if they were those cheap goldfish won in a festival fair. He accidentally, killed one because he overfed his favorite golden Koi, and all he got was a gentle lecture.

Anyway, enough about his childhood. Do you want to know why he’s as skilled as he is? Because he has talent and the money to spend swinging the sword rather than worrying about rent or his next meal.

It was surprising to know how down-to-earth he actually was. he’s kind, eager to have a good time, and a very loving boyfriend to boot.

Coming from a poor family, where circumstances pushed you to join JAKDF, you didn’t know the Hoshina’s. You just came to know Soshiro as a friend you made along the way since joining the selection.

You have sweat together in training. You have bled together on the battlefield. he pushed you to greater heights, and you were his newfound sunshine—the light of his day.

So of course he has to treat his girl during their anniversary. He has planned everything to the last second, just enjoy the surprise.

You looked down at your watch. It was a few minutes before the agreed time for a chauffeur (a fancy word for his hired driver) to pick you up. You had thought he had contracted one of your colleagues or spent a good amount for a taxi, not THIS. This being a limousine with a butler carrying a huge bouquet for you.

You tried to clear up the mistake. Maybe there was a different rich guy who shared Soshiro’s name, or a fancy lady with yours. But no, it was YOU.

It was difficult to accept, but Soshiro spent a good amount of money on this already. It would be wasteful to reject the day he made especially for the two of you, so you followed. The plan went off with a shopping day in the high streets of expensive fashion outlet stores in Tokyo. You begrudgingly accepted the dress your boyfriend chose for you, and internally you were screaming.

Then came the spas. Then the beauty parlors. Then finally the big dinner at the end of the day. And of course, it’s one of the most exclusive membership-only restaurants in Tokyo. You wondered if they take credit card installments for the bills.

You were guided to the seat where your boyfriend had reserved. He was already there, sitting with one hand resting on his cheeks, completely bored out of his mind until his eyes landed on you.

His eyes widened, scanning your entire form from head to heels. A noticeable blush bloomed on his cheeks.

“you look…” he swallowed, unable to say the words he wanted to say out in public.

You gave an awkward chuckle, “expensive?”

“Breathtaking,” he managed to say. His hands went to your shoulders to assist you with your fur coat, but after seeing your skin, he pulled it back up again. “you’re easily cold right? It’s a very chilly restaurant. You better keep it on.”

You agreed, but the redness of his ears tells another reason for his suggestion. And it made your heart flutter.

The dinner went smoothly, but there was this nagging voice at the back of your head. Everything was too expensive for a first date that you had worried about Soshiro proposing tonight, too soon for your liking. He can see that you’re a bit bothered now too as dinner comes to a close. The anxiety from the impending doom of the bill and the costs looms over your poor brain.

Soshiro reached for your hand, careful not to move too quickly or you’ll fly. “what’s wrong? Do you not like your food? Did I get you the wrong dress?”

“No, it isn’t that… I mean, maybe it is?” you squeezed his hand, trying your best to keep calm. “don’t you think this too… expensive?”

“I just thought our first anniversary should be special.”

“Yes, I know,” your mind reminded you of the price tag, “but the limousine, these clothes, and the dinner? Hoshiro, how much did it cost you?”

And that’s when he explained about him and his background, which made everything else about him click. You don’t know whether to cringe since your situation was like those K-dramas of a rich x poor trope. Would a cranky mother offer you a billion yen to leave her beloved son? then would she splash water in your face when you refused? This day was too tiring to think about the what-ifs.

“does it bother you?” he asked. His hand still not leaving yours as he waited for your reply.

“it doesn’t, but I hope you know I didn’t date you because of your background. I honestly didn’t know,” you had to make it clear. Another anxiety blooms from your head. It’s the one about life status, financial compatibility, and your background. But you want to give him a memorable night, even if it’s the only one you can give (the only one you can afford).

“do you want to come over to my place?” the homemade gift you labored over was forgotten, along with your pride.

an: my first soshiro piece! man, me realizing he came from generational wealth did numbers on my brain. also, y/n made him a bracelet for their anniversary, but since she wanted to give him something else, i wonder what it was…

[dotster001]

Quiet End

A/N: Your first non canon, custom content end is here! I've tagged everyone from the of tag list, and everyone who voted for this particular end. If you wanna add your vote for the next one, you can do so in the comments here.

Chapters: Part One Part Two Part Three Choose Another ending

You have to do this! It's all you've been talking about for a week!"

"I just can't!"

Idia was all dressed in a suit and bow tie, but stubbornly standing outside the door to the restaurant. Ortho gave him a pleading look.

"Idia! Come on! Pull it together! You'll always regret it if you don't go in there!"

As Idia was about to send out another string of curses, when an angry Grim, wearing a bow tie, and holding a clipboard, slammed open the door and stomped over to Idia.

"Shroud, pull yourself together or, I swear to the seven, Ashengrotto and I will have a reconciliation, and you'll never have another chance with Y/N!"

With that shout out of his system, he stormed back into the restaurant, probably to try and tell the band and you that "your date" was still coming.

Idia was still frozen, but now it wasn't just out of social anxiety, it was the anxiety that if he blew tonight, he blew any chance of future nights with you.

"Okay, that's it," Ortho said, pushing Idia.

"No…"Idia said through gritted teeth.

"Initiating thrusters," Ortho said, and Idia heard the thrusters kick in, and felt Ortho's pushing get significantly stronger.

"No, no no!"

Once Ortho had pushed him through the door, he let him go, and escaped back out, leaving Idia to make eye contact with you and the band. A smile bloomed across your face, and you waved at him.

Idia took a steadying breath, and robotically walked over to your table, taking a seat.

"Sorry I'm late," he muttered.

"It's totally fine! I'm just happy that you're my date. The last date Grim set me up on was with Azul, and, well, I'm sure you heard how that went."

Idia nodded. The entirety of NRC had heard the story of how Grim had been roped into a contract with Azul, so that Azul could date you. Only a select few knew the truth, though.  Azul had begun construction on a second branch, which meant his income was slightly lower this quarter. And Grim wasn't that good at business math. Which meant Idia was in.

"You're happy it's me?" He asked, unable to hold eye contact with you.

"I mean, yeah. Of course I'm happy it's you! I like you. Quite a lot," you grinned, and his hair turned a deep red as he buried himself in his hoodie like a turtle.

As if the moment couldn't get anymore overwhelming, you looked over your shoulder at Grim, who was yelling at the singer in the band, and then leaned in enough that he could deeply inhale your scent.

"Wanna get outta here?"

….

The two of you were quietly walking along campus. Neither of you spoke, but neither of you needed too. It was a comfortable silence.

At length, Idia muttered," I quite like you, too."

You looked startled, but then smiled happily.

"I'm so happy, Idia. Thank you."

"Why? I'm just a loser otaku, with freaky blue hair…"

"Sevens, Idia! You're sweet, you're smart, you're funny, and despite how you feel, you're quite hot. Like that jawline could cut glass, dude."

He looked at you, not convinced.

"My god, I have to do everything around here," you said with a groan, before grabbing his face and kissing him.

His eyes widened in shock, but as he watched, you seemed to be enjoying the kiss. So he closed his eyes, and just took you in, letting the moment be.

"Y/N! Shroud!" 

You separated, and he couldn't stop himself from chasing your lips, until he realized that the angry sound was Grim.

"Both of you skipped out on your rather expensive date, so I just had to pay the bill. I expect rapid reimbursement."

You raised an eyebrow at Grim, then rolled your eyes.

"Whatever, Grimmy. Your money comes from me anyway."

"Don't sass me! This has been a rather stressful evening! We're going home, and neither of you gets to see each other until you've learned your lesson."

He stormed off, and you made to follow, but not before leaning in to Idia and whispering, "Let's do this in your room next time."

His heart was so full as he watched you leave, a dreamy sigh on his lips.

....

Tag list-@shytastemakerthing @stygianoir @leonia0 @lleoll @eccedentesiast-sapphic @supertmntgirl @cxsmicdustdreams @aethermostbeloved @krystalkiller25 @asmallbean3 @theneurodivergentdummy @candlewitch-cryptic @smilingfox22-blog @phantomgaming1920 @the-dumber-scaramouche @noidonothavetimeforthis @bontensbabygirl @xxoomiii @somany-fandoms-solittle-time @bre99 @stupidsimp @sus0daddy @a-small-tyrant @imlost-sendhelp @mizukiblogs @i-like-forgs @astral-ami @homestuckotaku

[oracle-of-dream]

Photo Finisher

Minors DNI

Summary: Yechan is from the rookie idol group, 82Majors, and his managers have set him up in the studio to get some amazing photos. But he's heard of your other prizes for good behavior, so he's interested in your other services...

Warnings: Male Reader, Blowjob, facial, degradation, domYechan, cum eating

Wordcount: 1.7k

You spent your morning selecting the songs for the playlist vibe you needed for today's photoshoot. Rookie idols were always tricky to deal with. Most were scared so stiff that they could hardly count as models...

Today, Yechan from 82Majors was your muse. The appointment was a last-minute order from management, and someone must've paid a chunk of money to call you in before noon. It's a part of your contract that you don't have to work before noon without an extra fee determined based on your mood for the day. It was 8am, so you told your boss to push for 40% higher than your usual rate. This usually moved companies away to pick a later time, but your boss immediately texted you back, telling you to get ready.

It was ten minutes before the photoshoot was supposed to start. Your staff set up everything from lights, cameras, software, and canvases. There was murmuring in the prep room, which is the room before entering the main studio, which meant the client had arrived. After some time, likely for hair and makeup to work him over, a young man with brown hair and strong cheekbones entered and greeted you.

"Hello, photographer y/n. It's a pleasure to be working with you, and thank you so much for taking our call so late minute." He bowed deeply.

"Yeah, hi. Just called me, y/n. Photographer y/n is a little much."

The boy nodded. "I-I'm Yechan, from 82Major!"

"I know who you are. I read the paperwork," you replied dryly.

Your morning coffee hadn't kicked in yet... This was going to be an extremely rough morning.

Yechan took his time to go around to the rest of the staff and introduce himself to each of them, handing out small gift bags from his company.

You looked at your phone for the time. 8AM.

"Okay, that's enjoy chitchat. I'm already at 30% on the irritated scale, and being behind schedule will make it jump to 50%."

With your clear directions, everyone hopped to attention and started scrambling to their stations. Yechan hustled off to get his hair and makeup re-touched before stepping onto the canvas.

"Yechan, if you have any issues or questions with the photos, tell me. The one thing I hate more than waking up early is someone who can't speak on issues.

Yechan nodded eagerly and took followed directions beautifully. Every single angle, down to the degree, was perfect. Clearly practiced. Because of that, you managed to wrap up the first set of photos easily.

"Let's take 10 and switch outfits. We're making excellent time, so let's keep the pace up." You announced to the team.

As you went back to your studio chair, Yechan approached you meekly.

"Yes?" you asked without looking at him, more interested in your phone.

"Um... I'd like to ask you about your services, sir." Yechan mumbled.

You rolled your eyes before looking at him. "My services? I'm a photographer. I take pictures. Be clear about what you want."

"Okay, then I'll be straightforward." Yechan took a deep breath before continuing, "I'd like to please you."

You raised an eye. "Please me? I'm happy enough that we're ahead of schedule. You want me to be happy? Keep working hard."

Yechan shook his head. "I don't know if there's some sort of secret code or something... it's honestly a little embarrassing to just say, you know."

You giggled in your seat, finally looking up from your phone. Yechan was a pretty good-looking man. Knows his angles, good body proportions, and a face card that doesn't look like it'll decline with its high limit. You bet he was about 6 1/2 inches, with a left curve. You read that he was from Canada and the brother of another idol, but you can't remember the brother's name...

You sat back in your chair. "Do you mean you want to have sex with me, boy?"

Yechan's face got pink instantly. "Well, they said you were really frank. But I still didn't–"

"So it's a no?"

"It's a yes! I do want to have... s–sex with you."

You smiled. "And what did you have in mind, young man?" The age gap between you wasn't big, but you could tell he was melting from you treating him like he's the younger in this situation.

"I want to do whatever makes you happy."

"So you have no plan? That's not very well prepared of you."

"I'm pretty skilled though! I got a few tricks!"

You smiled bigger. "Tricks? And what if I refuse? Yechan's face turned white. He clearly didn't consider the possibility of you saying no to him. "You didn't think I was some prostitute, did you? That you could just say, sex, and I'll give it?"

He shook his head, "No! Of course not–I'd never think that."

"Then tell me, what would you want? If you can have anything from this."

He looked around before getting closer to whisper. "Um... If I could choose. I think I'd be really into cumming on your face after you suck me off, and maybe I call you a few names and stuff..."

"Oh, that's it?"

He shrugged. "I'm a rather simple guy..."

"Then, simply guy, let's finish this up so we can get busy," you winked at him as you went off to find more of your staff, leaving him alone with a clear boner.

The photoshoot resumed, Yechan in his new outfit. The crop top really complimented his figure, and honestly got you more excited for what was coming. You could also tell he was pretty excited. His cock could barely stay inside his pants, a few pictures had his tip peeking out, and you personally deleted those to save him from the embarrassment.

After the photoshoot, Yechan went into the dressing room to get changed. You dismissed the staff for the night, thanked everyone for being present, and then walked into the dressing room.

"Hello? Anyone home?" You called.

Yechan let out a small yelp, covering himself. "I'm in here!"

"Yes, obviously. I came here to find you." You closed the door and locked it behind you. "I'm here to give you the reward you requested for being such a good boy today."

Yechan's face was red, his shirt and underwear were on, but his pants were still on the floor.

You winked at him, "easy access? For me? How considerate."

"That's not–"

You dropped to your knees and started crawling over to him. "This is your reward, remember? Anything you want goes, but if either of us says stop, we're done."

Yechan nodded, still covering his crotch.

You crawled right up to him, your face inches away from his dick. "Are you going to hide all day? Isn't it your desire to take charge?" You unbutton your shirt, letting it sensually slide down your shoulders, but not taking it off completely.

"So, I can just go?" Yechan asked again to be sure.

"Yep, just–" Yechan pulled your hair and pushed you into his crotch, making you huff his musk. Slightly sweaty, but pretty clean. You could feel his cock throbbing under the thin fabric, 6 1/2 inches, and curved to the left... You moved your hand to touch it, but Yechan slapped it away.

"Did I tell you to use your hands, s–slut!?" He hesitated at calling you a slut. But the submissive look in your eye reaffirmed him. "Use your mouth to take it out."

You maneuvered your mouth to his waistband, nose grinding against his abs, and dragged his boxes down. His cock smacked you in the face as you moved. His balls were heavy and full, he was throbbing like crazy, and even a slight graze earned a guttural groan. Yechan had really been waiting for you...

"Get to work, whore."

You look up at him, still keeping your hands off him as you caught his cock in your mouth and started licking.

"More than that, I don't want you half-assing it. I'm a busy man!" He pulled on your hair, pulling you into him to make you take more.

Yechan was starting to get more into it, which made you want to mess with him. He wouldn't last long if you tried to push him to it, but if he's so busy, then he can handle it. You straightened your back, corrected his hand to move your head and not pull your hair, and relaxed your jaw. Yechan noticed the change in your attitude as he started getting greedy. Pushing you deep, holding you there, all while telling you how much of an attention whore you are. You pressed him more, flattening your tongue and turning off the gag reflex. You were taking over.

"Wait, holy f–fuck," he moaned as he grabbed a nearby table. "Oh, you're so good. So, so, good at this." You squeezed his balls, earning more praise. "My balls too! Fu–fuck, baby just like that. Keep chugging it." He pushed you down, controlling the tempo, making it faster. "Your mouth is amazing, I–I'm gonna fucking cum." He almost whined as you pulled off of him, jerking him off and licking his tip. His pressure was building. Fast. "Please let me cum on your face!"

You giggled. "Say it in character!"

Yechan's words were still fumbling. "I–I will cum on your face?" He questioned before you squeezed his balls firmly. "God Damn," his cum shot out and landed on your face. "My... g–god." He wouldn't stop, pump after pump. It was at last 8 pumps, full of cum, now on your face. Each was accompanied by a thrust and whining moans from Yechan. You stroked him through it all, milking him completely before giving the tip a lick and a kiss.

"All done?"

Yechan breathlessly smeared his cum on your face, using his cock. Pushing it toward your mouth. "I'm sorry for the mess..." He said breathlessly.

You pulled out your phone and took a picture with Yechan. Cock still out and cum on your face, but a little less as you wiped some off. You put the tip back in your mouth for your picture, earning more begging from Yechan.

"P–Please! No more, I can't cum again!"

You help Yechan finish getting dressed and clean yourself up, sending him on his way and adding his photo to the folder with the others...

[bleachbleachbleach]

Senkaimon Travel Procedures

"There are many benefits to being a marine biologist."

Even though 99.99% of interdimensional travel is baked into normal Gotei procedures that shinigami use every single day, I feel like the Gotei has probably made it difficult for no other reason than it's not anyone's job to make it not difficult.

Like, it'd be nice if you could receive your Living World Assignment and then, at 7AM on launch day, show up at a senkaimon and go through it. Cake! (Or--well, you know what I mean, this being Soul Society.)

But I feel like this line from my work’s website about there being "many benefits to using a travel management system" exists because our previous travel management system was so bad it felt like it should be regulated by the state as a form of gambling. I see no reason why the Gotei's version would NOT be like this. So:

You cannot, in fact, simply show up and walk through a senkaimon, on the date the Gotei itself told you you would need to do so. You need to go to the physical Travel Management Office, which is run by like two dudes from the Kidou Corps.

You will give them your deployment summons, which they will cross-reference with the copy they may or may not have received. (You need to time your trip to the Travel Management Office such that you have enough time to make your arrangements, but the mail also has enough time to make it through the entire Seireitei postal system.)

Despite the fact that this paperwork is handled entirely analog, the next part of this process involves a giant mainframe like the ones they have at the 12th. It prints data matrices that only these two Travel Management Office Kidou Corps guys can translate into dates, times, and--most importantly--prices.

Yes, you have to pay to use the Senkaimon. Well, not you personally. Your Division does. But you will at some point have to submit your receipts to your finance officer along with your other qualified expenses and it's a whole thing.

Also you had to submit a budget for your own mission that the Gotei is telling you to go on, but you had to base those prices on Death.Net's info, which is not the same info as these Travel Management Guys have.

By the time they've translated and you've selected, the mainframe prints out another matrix. Cue more translating, and more selecting, because the senkaimon time/date you've chosen is now a completely different price, well above what was originally printed. It's also at a different time, and a different day... (+/- 2-17 hours).

Expect to go through this several times, choosing time/date/price packages completely at random because you know that by the time they come back for second confirmation they'll be different. This is the gambling part of your trip to the Travel Management Office (you set aside the whole afternoon, right? You told your 10th Seat where you were going?).

The constantly shifting data is because despite being the "refined" way to travel to the Living World and back, senkaimon travel is still fairly complex, and the ability to travel (or how much energy it takes, hence the cost) is dependent upon... who knows. Solar flares. Whimsy. The stoichiometry of souls. How many people are on duty at the Kidou Corps. Obama. Bitcoin.

Speak of "and back"!!! You need to arrange that, too! If you miss your date, imagine doing all of this. But via denreishinki, instead of in person. Imagine.

Those fancy trips where it seems like captains/VCs just jump through a senkaimon? It's because instead of arranging a particular "flight" they just bought out every single opportunity within a block. This is hideously, hideously expensive. But: 1) Sometimes it's subsidized by the Central 46, if the circumstance is dire enough (but it's a reimbursement, not an advance. So, fill out that paperwork when you get back, if you don't die!). 2) This can be paid for with personal funds if it's in excess of the division budget. What else are they gonna do with all that money, right?

Even this doesn't mean there will be an instantly available senkaimon portal to avail oneself of, so sometimes after spending 7 million kan to buy out a senkaimon block you still have to wait a bit behind the doors in that little receiving room space. Yeah.

It's possible to have someone else go to the Travel Management Office and make your arrangements for you, if you have better things to be doing. But a lot of Captains/VCs actually still go themselves, either for security clearance reasons (you can't outsource your travel plans if you're on a top-secret mission lmao), or because they're private and don't want people handling their business. This means if you're the two guys who work at the Office, it's a pretty cushy gig if you're into meeting celebrities (or what passes for them in this place).

The only downside is that they're almost universally in a rush and fucking angry that they're at the Travel Management Office.

As they say, never meet your heroes!

[f1-05-writer]

Blurb: Redbull racing welcomes a new doctor to the medical team but she the boss daughter and has caught the eye of max verstappen…

So this is the first part of my story hopefully you like it! It will be a bit of a slow burn!

Part 2 posted!

Length: 1145 words

I brace my knee braced on top of the hard plastic and give an almighty pull of the zipper and yet it still doesn’t budge. The sheer amount of clothes I’ve crammed in are refusing to be contained. “Come on you can do this!” I mutter, trying desperately to psych myself up. With a final burst of brute strength, the zipper eeks closed. “Fuck yes!!” I shout triumphantly settling down on top of the conquered suitcase. I survey my surrounding and settle further into my new position, realising that this is the last thing I have to do. My apartment is now fully packed up. However, the tranquillity of this moment is quickly interrupted by the sweat on my forehead making it's presence known, I grimace as the hem of my shirt comes up wet after swiping it across - Brisbane humidity is not something I will miss. After being here for five years for my medical degree, I'm ready to leave. To do something new. The first stop of that is heading to Bahrain –for the first Grand Prix of the year. Just as I'm about to stand and start wrangling this stupid suitcase out the door of my flat I hear the ear-piercing ring of my phone. Muttering out a curse at the stupid tone and swipe to answer not bothering to look at the name – I already know who it is based on the fucking ringtone.

“Hi Dad, what are you calling for” I query

“Y/N/N,” he starts with, using the shortened version of my name, “I can’t wait to see you again only a few more hours till you are in Bahrain with me! The start of many races together. I was just calling to check that you’re all sorted for the plane – it will be on the tarmac waiting for y-”

I do a double take at that comment and “Wait what! I've already booked my flight you didn’t need to send the plane down – I’ve told you it will make people look at me differently if they see me coming in on the company plane – they will think I only got the position because of you!” I screech, running my hand through my hair, this however, does nothing to sooth my frustration as my fingers get tangles in my mess of curls. Whilst my battle rages with my curls dad continues unperturbed, “Darling, you know that’s not true I had nothing to do with the selection process for Dr Trome.” I finally freed I continue exasperated “I know that dad, but other people don’t! it already hard enough people think I get handouts for being a girl and now people will say I only got it cause I'm RedBull’s Team principles daughter”

My father, Christian Horner sighs “I'm sorry darling, I just wanted to make your day easier – will you at least take the car from Bahrain airport to the track?”

I mull my options over – an Uber on Grand Prix week will cost me and arm and a leg, I know shit about Bahrain public transport and nor do I particularly want to wrangle my luggage around on it. Knowing my options are slim to none I agree to the car picking me up. Pleased with my answer my father finishes the call with a rushed I love you. `

 

I look down at my phone and my heart drops “FUCK” I scream. Frantically I grab everything do a curtesy sweep of my flat – it was really nothing to write home about – despite my very wealthy parents I am determined to make my own way – I want my successes to be mine, that everything I have earned in life is due to my own hard work not my last name, not my parents’ money but my skill. Jumping into a Taxi without a second to spare if I want to make my flight on time, I tell the driver to head to the terminal. An excruciating  25-minute drive later I arrive. With barely enough time to breath, I make it in time to check in. Finally, I have a chance to breath once seated on the plane – I'm always on edge in airports, the sheer mass if people, the lack of control it all sets me on edge. Checking my emails for the details of my position with Dr Trome.

 

Dear Y/N,

 

I hope you are traveling safe and once again congratulations on securing the position

Now that you are on your way, I just want to reaffirm what the expectation and the duties that this position involves –  you are my one of back up team doctors you will be mainly responsible for the wellbeing of your assigned driver – this has yet to be determined but you will be informed once you have arrived in Bahrain.

This includes a whole multitude of aspects but as this is merely an internship with RedBull Racing’s Medical team you will NOT be responsible for making decision merely informing me of your proposed medical plan and talk through the rational with me, we will then decide the course of treatment – this experience is meant to challenge you showing you what life as a team doctor is like – the taxing pace of travel, athletes in their peak physical health and give your hands on training.

When you land at 4pm please come straight to conference room 140E for the run-down of operations.

Once again Congratulations and welcome to RedBull Racing

 

Kind Regards,

Dr Trome

MD, BSc

 

Unable to contain my excitement a wide, slow smile spreads across my face. This is it. The start of a dream. Heading into medical school I was unsure of where I wanted to end up hospital rotations left me feeling drained and unfulfilled – I yearned for travel and excitement. My view of hospitals was probably warped due to the pandemic, but I was desperate not to suffer through that now. When the medical faculty at university had posted about an internship at RedBull racing I just couldn’t pass up, I dared not speak a word to my family about this – I knew my father would inject himself into the situation despite my protests and the obvious ethical violations. So, I quietly applied, not telling anyone and then 3 months ago after the whole interview process was complete, I got the internship. And that’s why I now find myself seated on a plane headed for Bahrain. I look out the window imagine the exciting possibilities that await me when this plane lands

 

Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, the current time in Brisbane is 6pm the flight time to Bahrain is approximately 18hours and 45 minutes so settle back, get comfortable and enjoy your flight. We thank you for flying with us.

 

I settle into my seat and get ready for the start of my new life.

[caspersickfanfics]

Written for @monthofsick Day 13: Professionalism Failure

Prompt List | AO3 | Ask | Rules

Warnings: Vomiting, fever, implied scat/diarrhea off screen

Anon asked:

Hey! I was wondering if I could request the professionalism failure for sick Cyno Tighnari caretaker? Maybe cyno has gotten food poisoning from a work event and has to somehow keep it together until tighnari can rescue him? Or maybe he can’t and has to deal with the embarrassment of it all. I just can imagine Tighnari being really protective over him if the other academy members give him a hard time~

A/N:

I don’t think this really makes sense in the canonical progression of things, but as I wrote this I imagined it taking place before Nahida had time to select actual good sages to replace the old ones. So the sages here are like the default ones who were next in line after Azar and that group. Essentially, they’re connected to Azar still but weren't directly convicted of any crimes and they have a lot less power. Idk, thinking about politics too much even in fiction makes me mad so I’m just gonna do a bit of a hand wave here.

This meeting has been a thorn in Tighnari’s side since the sages demanded to arrange it weeks ago. Despite his best efforts to wriggle his way out of it, the thorn had stuck. They’d backed him into a corner of sorts; the Akademiya demanded his presence specifically to even consider allocating funding to assist in the healing and maintenance of the Avidya Forest. Somehow, now that he’s in attendance, it’s even worse than he’d expected.

He scowls at the itinerary in front of him. It’s weighted so that anything anyone’s interested in will happen at the very end. No chance of leaving early. He probably shouldn’t have gotten his hopes up.

The one saving grace is that Cyno is here as well. While the matras’ financials are essentially secured as a matter of tradition, the specific way in which the money gets distributed is up in the air. Depending on the outcome, Cyno’s internal sense of justice may be placed in alignment with or in opposition to their mandates. This meeting may be even more important for him than for the forest rangers.

Which is why Tighnari is alarmed when, about 45 minutes into the 5 hour meeting, Cyno’s head is pillowed in his arms, resting upon the ridiculously long conference table. Although Tighnari is seated a distance away, he thinks he can see sweat matting the matra’s hair down. With any luck, he’s just being paranoid, though that seems unlikely. Even more so when Cyno raises his head and suddenly stands. His typically warm skin tone has paled to an ashy brown. He’s hunched over, too. His posture is altered so slightly that Tighnari doubts anyone else has noticed, despite all eyes turning his way at the scrape of his chair, but it’s glaringly obvious to him. Not to mention - this is Cyno’s second time interrupting the meeting. For the second time, too, he quietly excuses himself for the bathroom.

It’s fortunate that Alhaitham is still Acting Grand Sage. Tighnari had been somewhat grumpy towards his friend for the fact that he hadn’t been able to exempt him from the meeting, but the fiery grudge is doused when the ex-scribe’s glare silences annoyed complaints from the other sages about the General Mahamatra’s exit. If Alhaitham’s lingering frown is anything to go by, he’s noticed something off about Cyno as well.

The meeting continues on, and its participants are forced to split into breakout groups. They’re meant to be discussing the continued importance of knowledge to Sumeru, though no one seems to care enough to stay on topic. Instead, the people around Tighnari begin trash-talking Cyno.

“That’s enough gossip, I think,” Tighnari asserts dryly. He recognizes a handful of the nuisances around him as Bimarstan employees and smirks as they pale before him. “Sorry, who was it you were saying is unprofessional? I, for one, wonder about the ethical repercussions medical personnel might face if they were, say, reported for rudely speculating on a past patient’s personal life.” He resists the urge to make specific jabs at a particularly loud doctor whom he has quite damning intelligence on, but keeps the option available for future use as needed.

Fortunately, his colleagues are just barely smart enough to catch his threat. They carry their discussion to the topic at hand, and then onto some other irrelevant gossip that Tighnari doesn’t care enough to comment on. Instead, he’s distracted by tracking the time that Cyno’s been gone. Ten minutes, then 15. When the door finally creaks open, conversation lulls. Heads turn.

“I apologize for the disruption,” Cyno says upon entering. He looks… marginally better than he had when he’d left. The sages accept his apology with minor grumbling that is cut surprisingly short - again, likely thanks to the Acting Grand Sage. Tighnari will thank him, later. He tries to let his concern fade away, but is unable to resist clearing his throat.

“I’d like for the General to join our group, if that’s alright? I believe his insight would be rather beneficial to our current discussion.” A discussion to which Tighnari has been paying no attention. He is grateful once again for Alhaitham, who nods and silently leaves no room for disagreement.

Up close, Cyno looks exhausted. Tighnari was right to be worried. Cyno runs hot, but doesn’t tend to sweat; definitely not this profusely. He’s quiet by nature, but has never hesitated to voice his opinions. Now he says nothing even when their colleagues unapologetically speak with microaggressions and horribly biased misconceptions about the Eremites. His eyes are unfocused; Tighnari wonders if he’s hearing the conversation at all. As time passes, Cyno’s condition only worsens and he drifts closer to Tighnari’s side. Eventually, the matra’s stomach makes an angry noise and his cheeks flush. Tighnari pulls him aside.

“Do you need to leave?” He asks gently. Tighnari silently dares anyone else to comment with a quick glare at the rest of the group. They continue to chatter amongst themselves, shuffling out of earshot. Perhaps out of respect, an effort to grant some privacy; perhaps simply to gossip more. Tighnari simply does not care - not right now, at least. He’ll deal with it later if he needs to.

“I’m sorry,” Cyno says, voice weak. “I’m okay. My–” He sucks in a sharp breath and winces, his hand shaking as it drifts to his midsection. A moment passes; the pain intensifies and then relents. When he speaks again, Cyno’s voice is dulled. “My stomach is just disagreeing with something I ate.”

Clearly. If his partner were feeling better Tighnari would argue that this is a severe understatement. “You’ve been feeling bad this whole time?” Tighnari asks instead. The General shrugs.

“It’s manageable.”

Very deliberate phrasing, Tighnari notes. Outwardly, he nods. “Let me know if that changes, Cyno.”

The meeting carries on. It’s boring and obnoxious. The loud doctor continues to be vocal about his nonsense. Tighnari rebukes him occasionally for the sake of a bit of entertainment, but the other man is easily cowed. He defers quickly to Tighnari’s judgement each time. Uninteresting, but probably for the best; there’s no point in getting worked up over someone who will likely lose his position for malpractice in the next few months.

For his part, Cyno remains unspeaking in the presence of the rest of the group. He sits off to the side and fidgets, looking at the floor. His cheeks are flushed, which Tighnari suspects is due to both a fever and humiliation. When the side of his face comes to rest against the table, Tighnari resists the urge to remove his heavy headdress only because he knows that doing so would embarrass Cyno further.

Next on the itinerary is free discussion, meaning that everyone at the meeting is supposed to get up, walk around, talk to people… Tighnari does not care for this sort of connection making. He doesn’t bother moving, and responds politely but vaguely to anyone who approaches him. More importantly, he responds the same way when anyone tries to approach his partner - perhaps with a touch of extra heat. Of course, Cyno could fend for himself, even in his current state, but Tighnari has no doubt that at least some of their colleagues have picked up on the General's vulnerability and are deliberately targeting it. He’s just sent someone away perhaps a bit too forcefully to be called diplomatic, when a cool, clammy hand wraps around his arm. Cyno is looking up at him.

“Tighnari. I feel sick.” A queasy burp escapes him. Tighnari frowns.

“You’re nauseous? Cyno,” he chides. “You need to rest at home.”

Fortunately, Cyno nods in agreement. “I’ll let the sages know that I’m leaving. You should stay,” he says, waving away Tighnari's skepticism. “I can handle this and - hic! - there’s no need for the forest to suffer for my failings.”

Tighnari nearly rolls his eyes. He’s sure that neither the forest nor the matra need to face consequences as a result of an illness entirely out of Cyno’s control; though he can acknowledge there is some benefit in his presence here, if the other man is able to hold out on his own. If he stays, Tighnari could at least ensure nothing disastrous happens regarding either of their positions.

Still. He would easily sacrifice that for the sake of Cyno’s wellbeing.

He watches the sick man approach the sages, who sit in large, looming chairs, making Cyno look tiny. Alhaitham stands, as if to stretch his legs, and moves close. Frustratingly, with all of the chatter and the distance between then, Tighnari can’t hear a thing without imposing on the conversation directly. He can see Cyno speak, and then Alhaitham nods. The elder sages frown and one says something, before two more join in. Cyno's head bobs, then shakes, and then he muffles what looks to be another burp into his fist. He’s still for a moment, aside from his Adam’s apple bobbing frantically. 

Even without knowing the exact words exchanged, it’s more than evident that the sages are unwilling to respect Cyno’s needs. Tighnari is about to interfere when Alhaitham’s voice jumps up a notch - likely deliberately at a volume just loud enough for Tighnari to hear.

“So,” he’s saying to the other sages, “you’re saying that a doctor whose medical skills are acknowledged by the Akademiya must verify that he’s ill?”

Tighnari tenses. He immediately glances around the large room, eyes searching. Alhaitham is still speaking.

“For example,” he continues. “A Bimarstan doctor?”

There’s no use checking whether the sages agree - Alhaitham has them cornered. Now Tighnari just needs to— Ah. There.

He barely resists grabbing the doctor by the ear and latches onto his wrist instead. Under his breath, he speaks with venom, “Cyno is sick, clearly, don’t you agree?”

The man is silent, probably stunned, and Tighnari continues. “Or would denying the obvious truth be worth risking—”

“Oh no, yes, you are correct, Master Tighnari,” the doctor rambles nervously. Tighnari pushes him before the sages. They glance at one another. Cyno looks up, as well, but stays quiet, taking measured breaths.

“Well?” Tighnari asks. “He’s a Bimarstan doctor.”

With the glares of both Tighnari and Alhaitham pinned on him, the eldest sage slowly nods. Tighnari turns his gaze to the doctor and taps his foot. “Go on, then.”

“Oh! Um, yes, I believe that the General Mahamatra is experiencing some, uh, gastrointestinal distress. He should rest at home for the quickest recovery.”

“And,” Tighnari jumps in before he gets a chance to scurry away. “Would you recommend that someone assist in his care during this time, perhaps due to the strain of having been forced to stay on his feet for so long?”

“Ah, yes. Master Tighnari is correct, it would be wise for him to accompany the General. Should– should you all agree–” His backtracking cuts off with a wheeze as Tighnari stomps on his foot.

The eldest sage doesn’t look pleased, but he sighs, unsmiling as he spits out begrudging words. “I will allow it. But the forest watcher must agree to reapply for his funding and return to the city in a few weeks' time... Should he still be interested in the Akademiya’s support, that is.”

Tighnari grits his teeth. These geezers always need to get the last word in. “Fine,” he snaps, foregoing any pretense of politeness. He all but drags Cyno out of the conference room - gently of course, though he’s sure they’re equally eager to be elsewhere.

As soon as they’re through the door, Cyno stops.

“Tighnari. The bathroom— urp!” He lurches forward with an empty heave, then scrambles away. Tighnari is quick on his heels, and finds Cyno in an unlocked stall, trembling with his head hanging over the toilet. He hasn’t been sick yet, but it’s only a matter of time.

“Hey,” Tighnari speaks quietly. “Deep breaths, okay?”

Cyno glances at him briefly, then nods and squeezes his eyes shut. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles. Tighnari scoffs.

“For saving me from that meeting? Cyno, please.”

The matra shakes his head. “It was important. And now you’ll have to come back. Not to mention– ugh,” a queasy shudder runs through him before Cyno is able to speak again. “Not to mention having to do the paperwork a second time.”

It’s an annoyance, but the paperwork isn't a big issue. Tighnari tells Cyno as much. “Just focus on getting better.”

The sick man has lost a great deal of the color in his face, and sweat glistens on his temples. His whole body is tense. Tighnari brushes his hair back, hoping to protect it from any mess and provide some comfort at the same time. ��Try to relax,” he says.

“Guh,” Cyno moans. “I feel so… gross.”

Tighnari aches in sympathy. For as ill as Cyno looks, he’s sure he feels even worse. Minutes pass slowly. Cyno’s stomach makes angry noises and he’s periodically wracked by hiccups and burps. Eventually, Tighnari coaxes him into leaning back against his chest. His hands card through Cyno’s hair as the sick man turns, pressing his face into Tighnari's neck.

“You’re okay,” Tighnari murmurs. There are warm little puffs of air against his neck and it tickles, but he remains still.

He’s just beginning to sweat from his partner’s body heat when Cyno lurches away from him, hunched forward over an empty but gut-wrenching belch. His entire body heaves three times until he’s burping up a flood of vomit. It pours out of him with alarming urgency. Tighnari keeps his hair out of the way, but he can do little else but watch as Cyno violently empties himself. Each time he thinks it may be over, Cyno’s stomach contracts again. He sways; Tighnari steadies him just in time for another jet of puke to splash into the toilet water.

Disgusted shudders run through Cyno while he tries desperately to catch his breath. When he gets close, he is overtaken by coughs that bring up more bile. He groans.

Fortunately, there’s only so much in his stomach. When Cyno’s retching fails to bring anything else up for a handful of minutes, Tighnari half-drags him out of the stall, away from the sour smell. It seems to help. Cyno wipes his face and swallows thickly.

“How are you feeling?” Tighnari asks.

Cyno shrugs. “Bit better. For now.”

Tighnari hums; it’s to be expected. He suspects a bout of food poisoning or the stomach bug, so the next 24 hours or so will likely be challenging.  It’s a humbling thing, being able to do so little in the way of comfort at such a time. Still, he does what he can, massaging the back of Cyno’s neck, feeling him relax in time with his ministrations. He only stops when the matra begins drifting off.

Tighnari pokes his cheek. Cyno cracks an annoyed eye open, and Tighnari raises a brow. “Oh, I’m sorry. Did you want to sleep here? In this bathroom? Where our colleagues will eventually find us?”

Cyno nods. Cheeky bastard. His words are slurred when he speaks, as if his mouth has relaxed along with his body. “As long ’s you keep doin’ that…”

With a snort, Tighnari pulls them both to their feet. “Let’s go, you big lummox. I’d much rather give you a massage on your couch than on these gross tile floors.”

“Mhm,” Cyno mumbles, leaning heavily against his partner as they walk. “Nari… thank you.”

Chest warm, Tighnari ruffles the other man’s hair lightly and presses a quick kiss to the top of his head. “Any time.”

———

Fanart for this fic!!!

———

If you enjoyed the fic, feel free to let me know by replying directly to this post, by sending me an ask, or by sharing your thoughts with me privately and anonymously through this survey! I would super appreciate it <3 Thank you so much for reading!!

[sinofwriting]

I've thought about how jarring a socioeconomic class jump would be. Going through your routine to prepare (both physically by readying your things and mentally) to take transit/go to the airport with enough time budgeted for any hiccups, only to sit with your shoes on, bag in your lap because your husband takes a car straight to the destination/skips tsa and gets to the airport right before takeoff. Suddenly having to redo all your routines to get through life sanely because they're no longer needed and you'd waste your time. There would also be a loneliness of being a bit isolated in the upper class, no longer able to people watch or feel that vague sense of company from being with the masses. Luckily you have a husband overly eager to do anything and everything for you. Following a half step behind to memorize your routine, sitting next to you-shoes on- for the hours to kill before you actually have to leave, helping pack your bag while your brain is a bit scattered trying to establish a new routine and runs his fingers over your belongings with reverence, stroking your hair/hugging you when you get antsy feeling like you'll be late, arm around you keeping your whole side pressed against him in the car/through the airport, distracting you from that isolation with excited conversations, bubbling questions, and big, shining eyes (but I don't mean that in a Stockholm syndrome-y way). Sorry this is weird lol. -🦢

Okay, but things like this were doing through my head when I was traveling (which I rarely if ever do) and it would be so jarring.

No more long lines at security, waiting for your zone to be called to board, getting stuck with the middle seat cause you could only afford basic economy and couldn't shell out the additional money to select your seats. Having to take care what you pack because you can only bring a personal item and carry on because those are free, but checked items are not.

It would be so jarring.

And there is the distraction of your new husband, who is watching as you try and roll up all your clothes to fit easily in your carry-on, and he watches as you debate between two pairs of shoes because you can only bring one pair (the pair your wearing on the plane) before he finally steps in and dumps three different shoes into a suitcase and all the clothes you had looked sad to not take with you before zipping it and telling you not to worry.

His fingers intertwined with yours is so new and distracting you don't even notice you've gone through security and are now seated on the private jet, his arm now also wrapped around you, seat belt buckled by him, while his other stretches across his lap to still hold your hand.

[trtyutr]

Attention of the Court V

Ryan lies on his couch, clad on in his boxers. His hands lie on his five week baby bump. One lies on top of the baby filled mound while the other paces the side of the bump that looks more as if it six months along if it were normal. It was the last week he was staying in his apartment before he moves to a small condominium. Then the packages arrive.

It takes him a bit to get up to the door. He opens the door a crack before taking a peak outside to see if there's anyone who would see his nearly naked form. When he saw that the coast was clear, he looked down to see two boxes, one small and red, the other large and blue. He moves as quickly as he can with his over one hundred kids weighing him down. He manages to push them inside just in time for him to hear some another door down the hallway open up. He's safe. He grabs blue box. Its cardboard is that same dark shade of blue as the envelopes. He rips off that the blue tape to find a piece of paper on top of a bunch of neatly folded up clothes. The paper says that he was given ownership of a managed account with $112,500 in its portfolio. "It's increasing by 50% each time. I think I can get used to it. "The clothes are also pretty nice." He said as he picked through them. There was a variety in the selection, t-shirts, fishnet tank tops, to white button down dress shirts. These actually came at a great time, because he down to three boxers, two sweat pants, and a hoodie that barely covers half his belly. He tries on a t-shirt. It's a bit tight, but it fits. It even covers his baby bump. It doesn't leave a lot to the imagination, though. He turns to the red box. It flips open easily to reveal an amulet on a silver chain along with a note. "You only have to wear it for five minutes for our deals. I don't think it's my style, but I want the money." He sets an alarm for ten minutes, just to be safe. He puts it on. The metal is cool, and for some reason wearing it makes him feel off, like his thoughts can't form. It wears off after five minutes, and when the alarm goes off, he puts the amulet off and forgets it. Three days later, he's at the gay bar. He's sitting at a table alone. He's wearing a tank top, a jock, and jeans. He sips his water, when he hears "Can I buy you a drink?" He turns around to see a shorter man with bit chin scruff and a brown leather jacket. "I'm fine with water, but I would like your company." Ryan says patting the seat beside him. "I'm sorry if this is forward, but are you" "Pregnant? Yes. I'm about five weeks along." The strangers face knits together as a few gears start to turn, but soon he smiles again as the glamour pushes away all those bothersome questions. "I was going to ask single, but pregnant is good is good to know too. It's hot." He scoots his chair closer. The man puts his hand on Ryan's leg. "You're hot." Ryan's at the stranger's place. He's peeled off the tank top and lying on the bed. He's being showed a series of strap one. "Which one does Daddy like?" Ryan points to a ivory white eight incher. "This one, and don't worry, I'm loose enough." He says taking off his jeans. "No wonder a slut like you is pregnant. That's even hotter." A condom, some generous lube, and a transman rutting into him, Ryan's cumming into his jock hand's free. "Dear Peers, my game is covered, and our fertile Ryan is growing like a garden, but only with his womb, so I'm going to send him a fruit basket with everything that a growing father needs. Every vote of yours will add your voted fruit to the basket. I have some wonderful Milky Coconuts, great for building pectorals. I have Juicy Peaches, great for the glutes. Heavy Avocados that hang low and heavy on the tree, perfect for making man virile. Long Bananas, which will help his manhood. Maybe Fatty Olives to add some fat on his form. Or maybe Protein Packed Berries to help build his muscle. " (Instead of winner takes all, each vote in this poll will make Ryan grow in whatever you vote for.)

[kleyamarki]

HI so i wrote the implied meeting between salman paak and kleya. it's part of my magnum opus eat your young andor concept fic. this is ultimately going to be bix-centered, focused on "throw enough rope till the legs have swung" (pretty on the nose for ya, sorry paak)

anyway, it's below the cut. maybe let me know what you think? idk i'm bored.

The man has Ferrix written all over him. It’s in the way he leaves the seats in the room for those much older and those much younger, the way he genuinely listens to everyone in the room, and the mechanic’s oil he’s tried to wash out of the jacket he wears. Kleya selects him as her mark out of the packed room. A speaker drones on about the injustices the Empire has rought, and Kleya nods along – she agrees, obviously. But speaking to a room of people will ultimately do nothing. It’s her job to pick out people she believes will be willing to take an extra step. She has hope for the man who would come all the way from Ferrix.

[ok itty bitty time skip (because i’m impatient with my writing brain and want to share this anyway), like a matter of a few minutes, think rebel meeting but more like a lecture. kleya looks like she should be part of it, like she could be one of the leaders of this little group, even. but she stands on the outskirts of the room, like she’s the lowest rung of the leader totem pole. in reality she’s not one of them, but she’s there to see if she can get anyone for her & luthen’s purposes. she also introduces herself to paak. obviously with a different name and all that. okay onto the rest]

“You know,” Kleya says over a cup of caf, “If you’re serious about this, you could be our liaison on your homeworld.” She uses ‘our’ lightly in terms of the current surroundings. She hopes he doesn’t notice the leaders of the group aren’t fraternizing with the attendees. Her network needs this. The Separatists here might too, but there’s a reason she’s handpicked him specifically. They don’t need to know that. 

Paak lets a huff of air out of his nose, a laugh, maybe, “Ferrix? They’d rather take the Empire’s money and ignore them.” Kleya’s brow furrows as the words leave his mouth. “They have each other, they can ignore the rest.”

“But you’re here.”

“But I’m here,” he sighs.

Kleya spies her opening. “I can offer more money for the Imperial toys you trade already.”

“You don’t want some uprising?” Paak raises an eyebrow, silently saying what Kleya wants him to realize – you’re not the same as them, the Separatists she’s playing. Maybe he even thinks their arrangement would be less dangerous than an overt uprising. She hopes, for his sake, he doesn’t have to learn the truth of the matter. 

“We know the game you salvagers play,” Kleya says, revealing just enough to reel him in. “And we could put it to better use. A use you’d probably like more, anyway, considering you’re here.” She sips her caf, looks back at the room.

Paak is silent for a moment longer than Kleya would like. He sips his caf too, thinking. She interjects, “You’d get a radio, signal when you have something for my buyer. We’ll catch it, he’ll pay a visit. All fairly simple, if you can get your hands on equipment we need at the right time.”

At that, Paak nods. Although he still looks the slightest bit uneasy, Kleya knows she’s got him. “As long as the radio’s alive, you’ll get a stipend too.” She debates for a split second what she’ll say next, but goes ahead anyway, “All the better for your family, right?”

Paak raises an eyebrow, but there’s something in his eye that says he’s in for the guarantee of a regular income stream. “You said liaison,” he says, finally, “Could I bring someone in, put them in contact with your buyer?”

Kleya doesn’t want to say yes, but they need Ferrix. “Sure, you’re the one on the ground.” A half-truth. He doesn’t need to know that. 

Paak nods, “You have a deal.”

Kleya suppresses a smile. She can still be happy about the small successes. “We’ll send you the radio in the next few weeks. Signal, and the buyer will come.”

[wanderingblindly]

Hi there, I might be kind of obsessed with the idea of rbr charles or rbr lestappen so I need to hear the thoughts of some people who might not be in the "lestappen gate 2023" bubble as I am :)) Do you think this can actually happen and become reality? And please be honest. Thank you! :)

omg hi I'm so sorry that you've asked possibly the most verbose person to talk about this, but anyways --

In my opinion, it's highly unlikely but not impossible.

There are three main components to consider here: Red Bull, Max, and Charles (all discussed below the cut in painstaking detail)

Red Bull Racing

Red Bull has invested an insane amount money into Max -- he's the present and future of the team. Therefore, any decisions that Red Bull makes will be weighed heavily against how it affects Max. I split Red Bull's main decision making points into three categories:

Ability to keep Max happy: I'll expand on this in Max's section, but basically I believe Red Bull will want a second driver that keeps Max happy until his 2028 contract renewal -- on whatever terms that means for him.

Willingness to play 2nd fiddle: Although Red Bull has had intense teammate dynamics before (Seb/Mark, Max/Daniel), there's definitely more risk when intentionally stepping away from the obvious first/second driver dynamic. Taking a midfield driver like Checo -- someone who's never going to threaten Max -- makes sense in that regard. Someone like Charles, who could theoretically bring the heat to Max in quali and in a race, poses the question: Is that an amount of risk Red Bull wants to take on (cough cough taking each other out cough)? Horner said he believed that Daniel was "running from a fight" when he left Red Bull -- so maybe it's a risk he doesn't mind.

Someone consistent enough to get Red Bull 1st and 2nd: Obviously a total sweep is the goal for a team at the height of their dominance, both on race day and in the overall points. This is where Checo has famously struggled (we've had an astonishing lack of RBR 1/2 podiums and his quali results are universally laughed at). It's also where one could make the strongest case for Charles. Charles is a known competitor in an inconsistent car; he's strong in qualifying, has produced significant race results, and has a demonstrated amount of internal drive. All things that Checo lacks in regards to producing points for the team. If Horner were to pick someone not in the RBR program for a second driver, someone with Charles's ability to handle disaster without losing his resolve? Highly attractive.

Some may say that Horner is more likely to take someone from RBR to fill the second seat. While there is a great selection, Red Bull doesn't have a demonstrated history of actually using it's development program to promote to Red Bull. So. Get fucked I guess lmao.

Max Verstappen

In most teams, I don't think a driver would have much say on who gets signed for the second seat. However, considering Max is Red Bull, I think his voice would carry significant weight.

I break his motivations down into two sections:

How he defines 'good racing' + need for competition: Love or hate Max, I think it's pretty uncontested that most of his opinions stem from his desire for good, competitive, interesting racing. One also cannot underestimate how intensely drivers crave competition -- they're adrenaline junkies at the top of their game. Therefore, Max's willingness to play along with RBR Charles will depend on if he thinks the best competitive racing is derived from intra-team or inter-team fights. I could see an argument for either: comparing top talent in the same machinery, or a battle of which team (not driver) will come out on top. Hard to say, to be honest. I think it's also important to consider that Max has broken an unfathomable amount of records this season almost entirely uncontested; I'd wager that it's stoked a need for real competition in him (hence why he seems so elated after any battle with Charles or Lando). He's made comments that he wants Charles in a more competitive car, but I don't think he meant that to come at his own expense. I think Max would prefer traditional competition (he's a bit of a traditionalist), meaning inter-team.

Maturity + ability to handle an internal threat: Max has (arguably lol) matured since he last had a competitive teammate. Whether or not Max agrees to a top-tier teammate again will depend on his confidence; does he truly believe he'll beat him every time? Is it worth the risk to feel pushed to his limits? Has he won enough that returning to a true fight is the next goal? How will he handle that? I'm inclined to say that Max would rather be the golden boy of his team -- unthreatened. It seems like he'd rather have competition coming from external sources (see: him not following team orders in regards to Checo).

Charles Leclerc

I don't think it's likely that Charles's desire to win has yet outweighed the Ferrari mythos/personal connection. That said, I don't think it's unlikely that it will eventually. Especially considering how distraught he's been this season -- it certainly could be a catalyst. That said, the following criteria is based on the assumption that Charles would even want to leave Ferrari, which I don't entirely believe atm:

Immediate desire to win: The thing that will push Charles away from Ferrari is probably not personal, it's professional. Charles is a hyper-competitive athlete in a hyper-competitive league; he doesn't have infinite time to wait on Ferrari if he truly wants to win now. Red Bull has a demonstrated history of success and strong team infrastructure (engineering, pit crew, pit wall strategy, etc.). If he wanted to make a move purely based on professional interest, Red Bull would be the team based on current standings. He could go to a team comparable to Ferrari (McLaren, Mercedes, AM), but that would be riskier on an immediate horizon.

Belief that he can beat Max: I believe that every F1 driver probably thinks they could beat anyone else if given equal machinery (and practice in said machinery). It's a sport entirely based on self-assuredness in the car, after all. Charles would only be willing to make the leap if he truly believes he could beat Max on his home turf -- which would be an insane demonstration of confidence, but maybe not as far fetched as some may think. I do wonder if his time at Ferrari has been a hit to his resolve, though?

Willingness to play 2nd driver: If Charles is going to move to Red Bull, a team with an established golden child at the peak of his career, he'll have to be willing to potentially play 2nd driver. Unless he delivers insane results fairly immediately, it's highly likely that Red Bull will always favor Max when it comes to things like team orders, strategy, etc. Plus, he and Max are the same age -- it's not like George who may get to stay at Mercedes long after Lewis relinquishes the 1st driver seat. Again, I think this ties back to Charles's assessment of his abilities against Max's; I do think this is a significant risk though.

In conclusion, I think that Red Bull's motivations factor as a "maybe", Max factors as a "maybe leaning no", and Charles as a "maybe leaning no".

[illarian-rambling]

Thanks for the tag @mk-writes-stuff, this is a new one for me!

Siren Tag

Rules: mythological sirens sang about someone’s greatest desire. What would some OCs see if they sang to them?

Let's get the whole gang in on this!

Izjik: All she wants is a simple life, really. Her friends are successful, End never invaded her mind, and she's free to cavort through the forests and rivers on wild adventures that are for fun rather than necessity. There's probably some smokin' babes in there too, tbh.

Sepo: First off, obligatory Illari siren song doesn't work on Illari sirens, but I'll say the mythic ones are different. Sepo deepest desires are split, I'm afraid. Most of him is happy on the surface world, and wants nothing more than to see his friends happy and find renown as a composer. But a little, buried piece of him still wishes he was back at the Saryimastra Seat where life was so much simpler and he had a god that loved him.

Twenari: Sirens would sing to her about power. The power of the Araunian desert wielded as a hammer massive enough to tip the scales of the universe towards justice. The power of rune craft able to let her finally understand the world down to its basest level. The power to never be powerless again.

Djek: All he wants is a loving family, really. He would be welcomed back with open arms by his parents as they cried over how wrong they were to abandon him. He would be able to show the other Outcasts how strong and capable he is, how easily he can keep them all safe.

Astra: In her wildest dreams, Astra is just as skilled of a mage as she brags she is. She's wealthy, respected, maybe a little feared. Her parents live in a big house bought on money she made from patented inventions. Mashal is at her side in the human body he longs for so dearly.

Mashal: Speaking of! Sirens would sing to Mashal of the warmth of sunlight on his face again, air in his lungs, and the burn of exertion as he rides into the sunset. He's human again and has his memories back. Astra is at his side, a famous mage, and I'm gonna stop these musing here before they get too rated R ;)

Ivander: He wants to be free of his curse. After that, I'm not sure if even he knows. I think maybe he'd like to track down his mother again and hear her say that she never meant to leave him with his horrible family. Probably, he's still just hanging out with Ceyrel at the BAI, except no curse.

Elsind: In Elsind's dream world, they were never kidnapped and get to see their mom every day. Changelings are accepted, so she can walk freely in her natural form. I think she'd own a cute little book shop with fresh flowers in the windows and the best selection of steamy romance in all of Salis.

Avymere: They would never admit this even to themself, but in their deepest longings, Avymere isn't heir to the duchy. They're a regular person, maybe some sort of traveling caravan guard, with friends and no responsibility for millions of lives hanging over their head. I think they'd throw up if they ever saw this though

Faalgun: No gambling addiction, let's go! Sirens would tempt Faalgun with a life where he doesn't feel that constant hollow itch inside himself, only quieted by moments of the highest stress. He's an officer in the Flying City Ten'ka, successful and unbothered.

Nyda: Fuck all that astronomy shit, the sirens would show Nyda her life as a mercenary of legendary renown. She's badass, unbeatable, strategic. Her family sings her praises, and her name is spread far and wide, not for the Burningrock Method, but as Nyda Burningrock the warlord.

Kaulakri: Honestly? Her dearest dream is a massive, uncharted archipelago where she can sail to her heart's content without having to worry about food or disease, mapping even the tiniest of outcroppings as she goes. In this dream, Nyda also admits Kaulakri is the better scientist and agrees to start taking actual notes.

Pashananath: In this dream, Pash isn't one of the Fair Folk. He's one of those gross little elves with their gross sets of inhibitions. He doesn't have to worry about getting stabbed because he stepped on someone else's toes, and he can play music and explore without worrying that he's not fulfilling his Contribution. He can be good without feeling weak.

Anarac: Come on, man, he just wants his sons back. That's all. Matter of fact, even just one short conversation would do, then he'd be happy to face oblivion. Also, I think he really wants to eat an incredibly good sandwich again. Simple man, simple tastes.

I'll tag @wyked-ao3 @leahnardo-da-veggie @thecomfywriter @mysticstarlightduck @seastarblue and anyone else who wants in :)

[linkemon]

Two player game (Kozume Kenma x Reader)

Friendly reminder that English is not my first language. You can check my Masterlists both in English and Polish here. Consider supporting me on Ko-fi. You can also check out my commissions if you’re interested.

Other oneshots can be found here.

ᴋᴇɴᴍᴀ ɪꜱ ᴛʀʏɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴄᴏᴘᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ɢʀᴏᴡɪɴɢ ᴜᴘ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰɪɴɪꜱʜɪɴɢ ꜱᴄʜᴏᴏʟ. ʟᴜᴄᴋɪʟʏ, ʜɪꜱ ꜰᴀᴠᴏᴜʀɪᴛᴇ ɢᴀᴍᴇ, "ᴡᴀꜰꜰʟᴇꜱ ᴠꜱ ᴘᴀɴᴄᴀᴋᴇꜱ", ɪꜱ ɪɴ ʜɪꜱ ʟɪꜰᴇ. ᴛʜɪɴɢꜱ ɢᴇᴛ ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟɪᴄᴀᴛᴇᴅ ᴡʜᴇɴ ʜᴇ ᴍᴇᴇᴛꜱ ᴜʟᴛɪᴍᴀᴛᴇʙᴏꜱꜱ63…

Additional information: 1. This is a Youtuber AU (although in theory Kenma canonically became a YouTuber, just much later). 2. All comments under Kenma's stream are part of the fun game with my readers. They made them up for the purpose of the shot. 3. Game Waffles vs Pancakes was completly made up just for the purpose of this oneshot. Originally it was a different kind of food but I couldn't translate it to sound good.

— Honey, please lock the house. — Kenma’s mom stuck her head out the door. — And don’t play all night!

The boy grunted something like an confirmation. She always said the same thing when she left for the night shift. He shuffled after her, turned the key in the lock and ran back upstairs as fast as he could. 

He put his books back on the shelf. He had studied enough. His class probably hadn't even memorized half of the material. Kozume sighed in satisfaction. He finally had the evening to himself. He stopped by the store on his way home from school. He bought snacks especially for the occasion. Kenma took them out of the cabinet. He also turned on his computer. He had only had a new PC for a week. He was still as happy as a child when he turned it on. He had chosen the parts himself, including the graphics card. All so that he could play games in even better quality than before. He sat comfortably in his old armchair (he didn't have enough money for a new one but the seat was fine). 

He threw in a notification about the stream, then checked to see if the program was capturing the image. All that was left was to put on the headphones and he was ready.

He double-clicked on the icon he already knew well. A quiet, cheerful melody rang in his ears. The words Waffles vs Pancakes appeared on the screen. He smiled involuntarily at the sight of the login screen against the background of the red and white tablecloth. 

Login: Silent_Cat 

Password: ****** 

His nickname pretty much reflected the way he ran his business. He didn't talk much. He was aware that he had a talent for being a gamer. Quick reflexes and well-developed strategic thinking were his strengths. However, he never really shined when it came to interpersonal relationships. Because of that, he couldn't talk like many famous YouTubers. But that didn't bother him. For some reason, people found it an interesting way to break away from the mainstream. They came to him to watch him play. He enjoyed it. As long as there were people who enjoyed him, he was going to continue. 

He glanced at the clock. Kenma had plenty of time. He had planned a challenge for today and intended to play a hundred matches. He thought it would be a good way to motivate himself. There were some interesting moves since the recent update. He hadn't learned all of them yet.

He liked this game. The idea itself seemed very cute to him. At the beginning, there was a lucky draw. There were two options — a waffle or a pancake. New skins were added all the time but he liked the black version of the dough with cat ears the most. He almost always chose it. He loved cats. Plus, going to Nekoma meant something.

After the introduction, it was time to choose the mode and an opponent. For now, there was only the option to play against a friend or someone selected by the system. The creators announced additional possibilities but they were only a small team. Everything took time. Besides, he didn't expect miracles from a completely free game. 

The condition of victory was to defeat the opponent in the battle for the plate. There were many attacks and special items. Despite this, the fight itself did not have complicated rules. It was both friendly to new players and challenging to more experienced ones. Pleasant, pastel graphics and short turns made it hard to tear yourself away from it. It was incredibly addictive. 

That's how Kenma spent a few hours in the company of his (newly) favourite game. He didn't even notice when it got completely dark outside. The only light besides the monitor was the colourful keyboard. He pressed pause. The fiftieth game meant a break. His bladder was showing signs of its weakness. It was all because of how much Sangria and energy drinks he had drunk. 

He glanced at the chat. It was chaos as usual.

cekoladowyjogalik: First in the comments! 

tykmiocienieruchawy: Wake the  fuck  up  Cat , we  have  a pancake to burn!

AgusiaSzczygie: I wish everyone who reads this a nice day/evening <3 

CzwartaFata: Remember to stay hydrated, my dears

ksiadzpedophile-: ratJam KIWKA ratJam KIWKA ratJam KIWKA ratJam KIWKA ratJam KIWKA ratJam 

tapsychopatka: TATAKAEEEEEE

tykmiocienieruchawy2 :   Mmm pancakes <3

CzwartaFata2 : Respect for waffles!

Gimper : If you do a somersault I'll give you 5k ¥  via donate

ksiadzpedofil-numer_2: When will you play Haikyuu? 

JojoSiwa: Shit

sewing.machine: Show us your socks! 

The comments were coming so fast that he found himself tearing away from them. He wouldn't have been able to keep up with them all. 

Before he knew it, the hundredth match had come. His eyes were sore from staring at the screen for so long. He rubbed his eyelids. It was well after midnight. Tomorrow, at the Japanese, Kuroo will have a hard task — keeping him awake. He already felt sorry for his friend. If only Yaham-sensei didn't get the idea to quiz him on the last lesson. Nothing will save him. He yawned, realizing that the system had finished the drawing. 

Player Found — UltimateBoss63

He hadn't lost a single game in ninety-nine games. He felt proud. He was aware of the matchmaking system's flaws. He had more than one account, so his ranking didn't reflect his skill. Still, the hours he spent practicing were his. The effort and work were real.

This time he became a pancake. The figure twitched its ears and went on the attack. Kenma used his favourite dough kick but the attack was repelled. Similarly with his signature pistol and karate chop combo. He tried three different strategies. The combos didn't help. He had enough time to defend himself but he couldn't land a punch. Kozume felt the thought of defeat slowly forming in his head. He was counting on some miraculous reversal of his bad streak. There was half a minute left and UltimateBoss63 was still on the plate. Stupid nickname, he thought angrily. The guy on the other side of the screen was probably laughing at him now.

He rarely lost his composure. But if anything could do that, it was the games. He slapped the keyboard angrily. He felt bad. He felt like he had been unnecessarily happy at first. If he hadn't set his mind to it, the disappointment wouldn't have been so great. He hadn't planned to win every time but since he had come this far, he could end the night with a win. Instead, he had lost five to one. 

UltimateBoss63: gg 

Good game? He raised his eyebrows in disbelief. Someone was mocking him harshly. The overwhelming advantage of his opponent was undeniable. He tried to find positives but it only came out that now he had to learn a dozen new combinations and counterattacks. He had picked up a few things from him. 

UltimateBoss63 sent a friend request. 

He threw the mouse on the table. Now he was really pissed… 

He looked at the comments. The chat had gone crazy. Both because of the loss in the last match and because of the opponent. He noticed a few hateful statements and some spam. It was high time to recruit moderators. 

Linky-chan: Will you ever get back at them? 

This caused a ripple. Everyone was clamoring for another fight. For the sake of peace, he chose Accept Invitation. Because how else would he find this person again? 

— I’ll get even when I get a million subscribers — he replied sourly. 

By that he meant never. He didn't see his future in YouTube or Twitch. It was a hobby he devoted his free time to outside of volleyball but he didn't see it as a source of income. Especially since his audience was tiny. The market giants set trends. He wasn't one of them. 

— Kenma, you're still awake? — the father called, drawn by the light outside his son's door. 

— That's all for today. Thanks for your time. Silent Cat signing out! 

He turned off the recorder and the monitor and got into bed in his clothes. He pulled the covers up to his chin, trying to breathe evenly. Dad went into the room. The creaking panels made themselves known. The man stood for a moment, listening, then walked away. 

At that moment, Kozume thought that this would be the end of his acquaintance with Boss. End with an accepted invitation to be friends at Waffles vs Pancakes… 

Kenma made a basket with his hands, softly bouncing the ball. He and Kuroo still came here to practice. Even if technically they didn't have to do it anymore. Force of habit. 

The spring break was looking good. There was young green everywhere. The grass was growing thicker and thicker. The cherry blossoms danced in the air, giving off a pleasant scent. The sun was slowly setting below the horizon. The slight chill made him glad he had brought his jacket. The crickets were chirping, filling the silence more and more boldly. There was something calming about the sight of the familiar stairs and the old netting. As well as the mechanical movements that came so easily after years. 

And yet this spring has somehow not been peaceful at all. Quite the opposite. 

— Are you going to play volleyball in the future? — Tetsurō asked. 

— I haven't decided yet — the boy replied. — From what I've read, there's a team at the university, but...

It won't be the same. He didn't have to finish the sentence. His friend understood what he wanted to say. Nekoma would always be their true team. The people they had created memories with. They had shared victories and defeats together. They had shed sweat, blood and tears. They had achieved so much. At the thought of everything slowly falling apart, he felt sorrow in his heart. 

It might not happen right away. They would definitely meet up a few times to play a few games. They would still write to each other from time to time. Maybe they would even invite each other to important functions when the opportunity arose. But over time, the bond would weaken. He knew that but it didn't make the pain any less. 

His family and friends kept telling him it was normal. After all, it wasn’t every day that you graduated from high school. Letting go of so many things that meant so much to him was hard. He didn’t like change. The idea of ​​having to rebuild his life from scratch terrified him. Becoming an adult brought a bit of excitement but not enough to completely eliminate the fear. 

— If life doesn't work out for you, you can always become a YouTuber! — Kuroo laughed. 

Moving away from home. New people, new places, new things to learn. Just the thought of it made something inside him turn. 

— Maybe I would if someone wanted to watch me — he sighed. 

For some time now, he had been having moments of doubt. He had invested a huge amount of time in games and related activities. On one hand, it brought him joy. On the other hand, however, there was no tangible benefit. Something he could brag about. He wanted to feel that it was worth doing. Preparing for exams took him a lot of time. Because of this, the channel had been stagnant for some time. Streams appeared less often than before. He tried to upload videos regularly but he didn't always manage. He wondered if it was worth continuing. 

— Poor Kozume-chan. — Tetsurō pretended to wipe away a tear. — The fame has gone to his head and a hundred thousand subscribers aren't enough for him.

— What are you talking about now? — He caught the ball, interrupting the exercise. 

His friend looked at him with a piercing gaze. The Nekoma captain really did resemble a cat sometimes. 

— Are you asking seriously? 

He was answered by a nod. 

— Dude, what have you been doing for the last three days? — He pulled out his phone and started typing something into the search engine. 

You could see some thumbnails. He must have opened YouTube. 

— I was doing everything.

There was nothing specific behind that phrase. He went shopping and to the cinema. He went out for cake with friends and helped his mother around the house. The same as always but in a different way. 

— Everything but Internet? 

— Yeah — he agreed. 

He did a detox. He had never tried it before but the timing couldn't have been better. He decided to try it mainly because of the uncertainty of his future life. If he had a few things to think about, he didn't want to get distracted. 

— That explains a lot — his friend said. 

He shoved the phone under his nose. Kenma pushed his blond hair out of his face and looked at the small screen. It was showing a video from the biggest YouTuber on the market — Pewdiepie. He was about to ask what he needed it for when he suddenly understood. At the end, there were thanks to Silent Cat. To him! He got a huge compliment for his series of guides to Waffles vs Pancakes. The channel was linked. The time stamp didn't lie. At least a dozen million people must have seen it. 

— You’ve hit a hundred thousand and you don’t even know it! — Tetsurō slapped him on the back. 

He was laughing his head off, holding his stomach. A mother with a child passing by on the road looked at him like he was crazy. 

Kozume tucked the ball under his arm and ran towards the stairs. 

— Where are you going? — the boy called after him, trying to control his laughter. 

— That's the end of my internet break! I'm going to check it out! 

He sped home at a speed he never thought he could muster. He had trained with the rest of Nekoma but endurance had never been his strength.

He fired up the device, put on his headphones and began to review the statistics. In recent days, interest in his channel had increased. He was pleasantly surprised to see that these were not empty numbers. Many comments were being left. 

The more he watched the whole thing, the more he noticed the success of his favourite game. It seemed that the popularity of the war between the dough characters was growing at an alarming rate. And his channel, which was largely built on it, was rising along with it. 

He felt his motivation return. His doubts had given way to euphoria. He was going to stick with his newfound determination. He would use the time before moving to central Tokyo. He would develop the channel and then see. 

There was only one thing left for him to do — play Waffles vs Pancakes.

And so his gaming night began. He couldn't remember the last time he spent so much time in front of the computer. His eyes protested because he forgot to take breaks but he didn't give up. This was the time to polish his skills. Besides, the new people on the stream gave him strength. He didn't want to waste the opportunity. Many of them seemed to be having as much fun as he was. 

It was only his father who called him to order. 

— Kenma, it's five in the morning. Go to sleep. 

— I’m an adult — he replied, rubbing his eyes. 

— First of all, you will always be my child. Second, as long as you live under my roof, you go to bed at normal hours. — With that, he left. 

The boy sighed. His father was right. As always. He wondered what would happen once he became a student and his support disappeared. Would he turn into a sleep-deprived, living corpse? He almost shuddered at the thought. Cooking, cleaning, bills… Soon, all of this would become a daily occurrence. 

— Last match — he whispered into the microphone. 

He chose to connect with a random friend. He had a full list for a long time. It was faster to search like that. It also made it easier to match people of similar level. Even if official updates had long since patched up bugs in that regard. Force of habit. 

Player Found — UltimateBoss63

The teenager racked his brain. The avatar looked familiar. He scanned the profile for the last time they played together. The date went back three years. The ranking was in the top hundred (just like his own). Only then did he realize who his opponent was. 

He briefly considered canceling the game but who would he be if he didn't try? He wasn't going to chicken out. 

To say the fight was fierce would be an understatement. Neither player wanted to give up even a scrap of the plate. They traded blows over and over again. The late hour and fatigue did not work in Kozume's favour. He decided to pretend to be worse than he was, so that he could attack later with strong weapons. The strategy seemed to work but he failed to gain a significant advantage. 

He thought the guy must have some nerve. He played recklessly. Seemingly recklessly, putting a lot on one card. In the end, however, it always turned out as if the whole thing had been planned. He had come up against a difficult opponent. 

The summary screen appeared before his eyes. He tied the score at three to three. Better than last time but still not perfect. 

He was just about to log out when a female voice came through his headphones: 

— [Reader], what do you want to eat today? Waffles or pancakes? 

He hadn't expected that. It seemed to him that they had been playing without voice communication. 

— Mom! — There was a slight crack. 

The microphone was turned off at the speed of light. He noticed it by how quickly the icon changed color. 

He laughed. Whoever was on the other end wasn't a man. And they were speaking Japanese. That in itself was a huge surprise to him. 

As he expected, the chat went crazy. Everyone was quoting that one spontaneous sentence. He had a feeling the clip would hit the web and go viral. The first memes were already being created in his group. He should have been happy but he felt a little guilty. Maybe someone didn't want such a stupid mistake to be the subject of laughter. 

He chose direct message. He wasn't sure what he wanted to write. He had an apology in mind. That's how he would normally react. For some reason, however, he sent something completely different. 

— Sooo, waffles or pancakes? 

He hit his forehead. Why did he do that? Had the late hour gotten to him so badly? 

When he saw the three moving dots, he was hit with heat. He wasn't prepared for the answer. He hadn't considered at all that the girl could still be active. 

— Hi, sorry for this situation… 

Thus began the strangest relationship he had ever experienced. It cost him a day without a drop of sleep but it was worth it. 

The boy glanced nervously around the convention. There were booths everywhere. From where he was standing, he could see the colourful otaku zone. Manga, dakimakura, pins, keychains and figurines. There were a lot of cosplayers milling around there. They were posing, preparing for a photoshoot. Across the street, a section of general fantasy was set up. Through the open doorway, he saw the speaker and a crowd of people in a circle. Their loud laughter carried far away. He checked his phone. She should already be there. When he looked up, someone approached him, shyly asking for a photo. He agreed. He still felt a little uncomfortable but he tried to overcome it. He accepted it as part of the job. 

The whole place seemed to overwhelm him. That's why he decided to stop by the dining area. It was a bit quieter here. Maybe not completely but still something. Besides, the smell of ramen enticed him. He ordered a bowl of the steaming dish and headed to the table. The warm broth effectively lifted his mood. The rich taste of the thick liquid spread pleasantly down his throat. It also helped to calm his nerves. 

He adjusted his blond hair, making sure it was in place. He glanced at his clothes for the second time that day. Should he wear something else? Maybe the sweatshirt and skinny jeans that were torn at the knees were a bad choice? He tightened his fingers around the strap of his backpack. 

—Do they sell waffles and pancakes here? — The question sounded from right above him. 

He lifted his head. She was standing in front of him. After three years, she had finally come to Kantō. He had wondered many times what their first meeting in person would be like. They had seen each other on cams and knew each other's voices but it wasn't the same. He felt strange. Nervousness was making itself known but her smile made it disappear.

He would never have suspected how it would all turn out. It started with losing in his favourite game. Then there were conversations, stupid memes and cooperative games together. Slowly, they moved on to talking about everyday life. They called each other and sometimes they sat on webcams. Sometimes until late at night. Then they saved each other with coffee. After all, the lectures didn't pass themselves.

They helped each other get through a new, difficult phase of life. The adversities of adult life hit him hard. Terrified by the amount of responsibilities, he wanted to give up everything. His friends went their separate ways. And he was far from his family, their advice and constant care. As an only child, his task was additionally difficult. If it weren't for her, he definitely wouldn't be here. YouTube gave satisfaction but it took up a lot of time. At times, he wanted to give it up to devote himself to his studies. It was she who convinced him to persevere. She showed him things he had stopped paying attention to. People, comments, fanart, animations, gifts — the community he had created was thriving. Taking away what he loved would be unwise. 

He treasured every moment he had with [Reader]. He didn't want to lose them. He was afraid if the image he had created in his head so far was real. But the girl dispelled all his doubts. She was as talkative as ever. 

He stole glances at her, wondering if she could possibly seem even more perfect in his eyes. He imagined what Kuroo would say. He would probably tell him to propose to her right then and there. He smiled to himself. 

The sun was slowly disappearing behind the horizon, so they headed towards a specially prepared room. The attraction to celebrate one million subscribers was held with great pomp. Usually, he didn't make a big deal about round numbers. Now, however, he felt obliged. Someone pulled an old recording from a stream, in which he promised to get even with UltimateBoss63. On top of that, he was invited to the largest Japanese convention. He asked the organizers if they would let him organize such a game. They agreed. After all, there were many people interested in the already iconic game. As a leading content creator in this field, Kenma was quite an attraction. Especially since he rarely appeared at such events. 

He tied his hair back with his lucky black hairband. He didn't want it to get in his way. He also let the makeup artist apply powder. The sponge tickled his face pleasantly but he refused to do more. The woman seemed to notice his reluctant expression when she suggested lip gloss. 

He sat down at the station prepared for him. Someone had even made sure that Silent Cat had cat headphones. He put them on and checked the sound. The mouse and keyboard seemed fine as well when he launched the test game. 

The entire game was to be broadcast on the internet. He was used to streaming at home. However, he had no experience with television appearances. The broadcast on one of the smaller channels stressed him out a bit. 

[Reader] noticed his nervousness. He wondered if she noticed his shaking hand. 

She got up from her chair and went over to him. They had a minute. Everyone was telling her to sit down because she wouldn't make it but she ignored them. 

— You can do it — she whispered, placing her hand on his shoulder. 

He took a deep breath. If she believed in him, then he could do it. He would perform in front of the cameras. 

The entire match went by on autopilot. Despite that, he enjoyed it. As always, the girl was a challenge for him. He used everything he had learned from her over the years. Dodges, attacks and combinations that he had practiced for hours. He knew he was good but proving it in front of so many people was something else. He felt proud when he pushed his opponent off the plate. He won four to two. Even if he didn't register it right away. 

The lights shining directly at him were blinding. Someone even threw confetti. He stood up from the computer and bowed. 

— Thank you all for supporting my channel and [Reader] for this gameplay.

He didn't add anything else. There was no need. He had already recorded a video for the occasion. He had posted it yesterday. Empty words were not his style. 

He then stepped out of view of the cameras. He warned them that he wouldn't do an interview. He had limits. This was way beyond his comfort zone. [Reader] didn't have that problem, though. 

The reporter quickly introduced herself and the girl. He had the impression that she didn't take a breath between sentences. 

— How do you feel about giving Silent Cat first place? — she asked the first question. 

The girl looked at him. He smiled slightly. He hoped it would give her courage. 

— I'm not sorry. He definitely deserved it. We've known each other for a long time, so I know he worked hard to win. Kozume-san is a very hard-working man in general and I admire him for that... 

He didn't hear the rest. The sincere compliment knocked him off his feet. He considered his success well-deserved but hearing it from someone who knew him so well was something else. His parents were skeptical about his career. He didn't blame them. They imagined their son in a completely different place. They got used to the idea of ​​him being YouTuber but they never fully understood it. They preferred him to focus only on his studies. The boys from Nekoma congratulated him at the class reunion. However, they didn't know anything about games and the industry related to it. Their conversations were mainly about volleyball. Even Kuroo, despite being his best friend, didn't understand everything. So this praise had great meaning. He felt a pleasant warmth spreading inside. He blinked. He couldn't fall apart among so many people. Besides, today was too joyful for tears. 

He shook his head, his mind returning to the small broadcast screen set up backstage.

— What are your plans as a developer after the success of Waffles vs Pancakes? 

He replayed the sentence over and over in his mind, trying to figure out if he had lost the thread. But it seemed he hadn't. The people in the studio and on the live chat seemed as baffled as he was. 

The reporter looked at the clipboard with questions. She was met with a moment of silence. She bit her lip slightly. It seemed that this topic was to be kept a secret. 

[Reader] regained her composure, however. There was nothing left for her to do but to press on. 

— We plan to continue adding new updates. Since we started earning money, we've been trying to expand the team with talented people. I think we're doing quite well. Our brand new project is already in the work. We hope you'll welcome it with enthusiasm. 

— Where did the idea for such an original game concept come from? 

— My mother, whom I want to greet from this place — she waved —  she likes to experiment with Western cuisine. She often asked if I preferred waffles or pancakes for breakfast and that's how it all started. 

— A wonderful genesis. — The woman bared her teeth as if to cover up her previous mistake. — We won’t keep you any longer. Is there anything you’d like to add?

— Yes. — She nodded. — I hope no one judges my ranking based on who I am. Aside from managing the company, I'm only responsible for graphics. I don't program moves or design the combat system. I'm just a player like anyone else. However, I won't be participating in ranked matches anymore. The company takes up too much of my time. Thank you for the interview. — She bowed. 

She approached Kenma a little hesitantly, as if in contrast to the cheerful, feisty version of herself from the entire day. 

— I hope you're not angry. — She scratched the back of her neck. 

— What for? 

— That I didn't tell you about my second job. I was a little afraid that if I did, you'd feel embarrassed to play with me or stop speaking honestly about the game. — She looked away. — And your opinions have helped us a lot these past three years.

He would never have guessed that she was the one behind his favourite game. Of course, many other people had a hand in it but without her, his life could have been completely different. He probably wouldn't be standing in the studio now. Maybe he would have even quit YouTube and never met her. 

— I'm not angry...— he sighed quietly. — Just a little worried.

She didn't answer, waiting for him to elaborate. 

— That we'll talk less often because you won't have time to play anymore. 

He knew how much time it would take to build the company. It was never easy in this industry. He couldn't help the dark thoughts that were swirling in his head. He didn't want to be separated from someone he cared about again. 

— Hey, what are weekends for? Besides... after all this time, I don't think we're friends just because of the Waffles vs Pancakes, am I right? 

How did she do it? She always knew what to say to make him feel better. Even if it wasn't anything big. Sometimes a conversation or a simple, hackneyed phrase and other times a simple funny message with a stupid emoticon. Even that had a big effect. 

He walked her to the train. She had a return ticket booked. She couldn't stay in Tokyo. The exam dates required her to be a dozen or so hours away tomorrow. It was the distance between them that they had only just met for the first time. 

He breathed in the cool night air. When they reached their destination, the first stars were already twinkling in the sky. Their glow was lost in the yellow light of the lamps. Mosquitoes buzzed persistently above his head as he helped the girl with her small luggage. He suspected it was because of the unmown, tall grass behind the rail fence. 

He stood on the platform, crumpling the sleeve of his shirt. The proposition he had been considering had been on his mind the entire way to the station but saying it seemed incredibly difficult. 

The conductor was already looking around for stragglers standing outside the marked line. 

The girl stood by the open window, smiling slightly. She had had a long day full of excitement but she seemed just as happy as he was. So he decided to ignore the little voice that said it was pointless and do something spontaneous. 

— [Reader], shall we meet after the exams?

She leaned out from behind the window, ignoring the displeased look of an elderly lady. The passenger had chosen the floor in this spot to place several large bags. 

— Are you serious? — She beamed. 

He nodded, feeling a blush rise to his cheeks. 

— You could come to me. Or I could come to you. — He nervously tugged at the strings of his sweatshirt. All of his clothes were stretched to their limits. He should definitely stop doing that. 

— Sure! We'll work out the details when I get home!

The train made a prolonged sound. 

Kenma watched as the girl closed the window. He waved at her for a long time. It wasn't until she was out of sight that he came to. He didn't move for a moment, staring into the dark distance. He knew they'd see each other again soon but he already missed her. 

He pushed his hair back from his forehead and shoved his hands into his pockets. When he got back to the dorm, he would read the new comments and render the video for tomorrow. Plus, he had a lot of material to review. He should be tired but he felt as if he had more energy. He adjusted his backpack, then pulled up his hood. He chose a street with little traffic and slowly walked toward his apartment. 

And as he walked down the street, the thought occurred to him that maybe growing up wasn't so bad after all...

[michellemisfit]

Weekly Tag Wednesday ✈️ Neeeooow Edition

Thanks for the tag @deedala @energievie @sam-loves-seb @mybrainismelted @sleepyfacetoughguy @guinguin1984

—---------------------------

Name: Michelle

Age: Old enough to know better

Location: My bed, wrapped in a fuzzy blanket

📍where are we going? I wanna say Cape Cod, but it’s -3 there right now, so fuck that. Australia it is! 🦘

📍whats the weather like there right now? 22•C (feels like 24), according to Google

📍are you an over-packer or a light-packer? Over-packer, though I have also been known to pack 12 bras but not bring any pants… though these days I keep very detailed lists and get Ruth to double check my packing multiple times!

📍are we taking a plane or a train? If you can find me a train, I’ll take it! Hahaha but no. Neeeooow all the way! ✈️

📍early morning departure or an overnight trip? If we’re going to Australia it’s gonna be all of it. Loooong travel. I’m gonna watch so many movie and my butt is gonna go so numb!!

📍what song are you playing in the car while we drive to catch our departure?

📍we need to grab something on the way, starbucks or dunkin? Fucking Dunkin’ Donuts. The last time I was in the states we stopped at a Dunkin for donuts and were informed that they didn’t have any donuts… like, wtf? And then we found out that they are phasing out selling donuts. Like, double wtf?!? So yeah, Starbucks all the way.

📍we've made it to the transportation place 🚂✈️! be honest, are we on-time or are we rushing because we're running late? Always early. I’d rather spend an extra 3 hours in an airport McDonalds than be late for a plane. I get travel anxiety.

📍are you taking the window seat or the aisle seat? I like the aisle seat for the freedom to pee when I want, without annoying someone else! (This is gonna be everyone’s answer, isn’t it? haha)

📍we're settled in our seats, are you gonna read or watch a movie/show? Bit of both. I do like getting my money’s worth in beverages and free movies, so I try and watch and consume as many as possible. But sometimes my ears hurt from too much earbud wearing, so I switch to reading for a bit. Then back to movies!

📍what are you reading/watching? Generally all the movies I thought ‘oh, might go and see that’ in the cinema and never did. And then as we get closer to landing I will swap to a movie I know inside out, because it will inevitably cut off before I get to the end.

📍are you using wireless or wired headphones? Wired. I don’t fuck with pods.

📍are you going to take a nap or stay awake? I can sleep pretty much anywhere, but I get overtired and twitchy anxious on planes, so I’m not the best airplane sleeper.

📍do you want a salty snack or a sweet snack? Salty snack 90% of the time. However I also like bringing my own selection of snacks, so I’m not held to the whims of the airplane company! lol

📍we've arrived! are we heading straight to activities or are we gonna rest at the hotel? I actually don’t mind. I’ve gone straight from airports to restaurants, concerts, plays etc and it’s been fine. Make the most of the day you’ve got and all that. Depends on how much luggage I’ve got though.

📍finally, pick a treat to reward yourself for a travel day well done! A nice looooong sleep in a comfy bed!!!

Tagging @darlingian @too-schoolforcool @jrooc @heymacy @heymrspatel @gallawitchxx @juliakayyy @crossmydna @rutherinahobbit @rereadanon @redshirt2 @crestfallercanyon @creepkinginc @captainjowl @the-rat-wins @tsuga-of-mars @ian-galagher @iansfreckles @ohkate @faejilly @palepinkgoat @sickness-health-all-that-shit @look-i-love-u @francesrose3 @vintagelacerosette @gardenerian @lynne-monstr @notherenewjersey @mickeygifs @mikhailoisbaby come travel with me 🥰

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Booz Allen ticketmastered America's public lands

Ticketmaster’s spectacular failure to competently sell tickets to Taylor Swift’s first concert tour in five years has revived scrutiny of the ticketing/venue/promotion/management monopoly created by Ticketmaster’s merger with Live Nation, especially the “junk fees” the company sucks out of fans’ pockets:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YfPiqgLPro8

What’s a junk fee? It’s all the crap that Ticketmaster tacks onto the cost of your ticket, like a “convenience fee” for using a credit card. Once all these fees are assessed, 78% of the price of some tickets is just fees.

https://www.vulture.com/2022/10/biden-is-coming-for-high-ticketing-fees.html

Junk fees aren’t limited to Ticketmaster, they’re everywhere: “resort fees” at hotels, bag and seat-selection fees on airlines, $35 fees for bounced checks, and on and on. Wherever a company has pricing power — because they’re the only game in town, or because you’re desperate — they rip you off with fees:

https://www.yahoo.com/video/1-biden-welcomes-crackdown-junk-161329851.html

Take cable TV. The cable operators have divided up the USA like the Pope dividing up the New World, carefully demarcating each company’s exclusive territory and ensuring that cable companies never compete with one another. That’s why cable is such a dumpster-fire of junk fees — Comcast just jacked up its nonsense “broadcast fee” to $27/month:

https://arstechnica.com/tech-policy/2022/11/comcasts-sneaky-broadcast-tv-fee-hits-27-making-a-mockery-of-advertised-rates/

OK, fine — turn off the TV and get out there and touch grass! America’s system of national parks and public lands are the jewels in the country’s crown, a remnant of those long-ago days when government could and did do stuff for the American public, an art that (to hear conservatives tell) is now lost to the ages along with the secrets of the pyramids.

Just navigate to Recreation.gov, which consolidates permitting and entry for 13 federal agencies and…

::sad trombone::

…pay your junk fees.

Want to pay your $7 to hike the prized Coyote Buttes North at Arizona’s Vermilion Cliffs National Monument? Sure, just pay a $9 “lottery application fee.” Even by junk fee standards, this is a very junky fee — it’s not a fee for paying a fee, it’s a fee for the chance to pay a fee.

Only 4–10% of lottery entrants get a permit (Coyote Buttes is a very fragile ecosystem and entrance is severely limited), which means that Recreation.gov’s rake from this junk fee is about 1,000% of what it actually makes on hiking permits.

Well, at least that money is going to Coyote Buttes, right? Preserving the petroglyphs and the dinosaur tracks and whatnot?

Nope. The Bureau of Land Management gets the $7 entry fee from the 64 daily hikers who are lucky enough to visit Coyote Buttes. The $14,400 in lottery fees that the day’s hopeful hikers pay to Recreation.gov for a shot at a permit all go to a giant military contractor: Booz Allen.

I know. What. The. Actual. Fuck. On his BIG newsletter, Matt Stoller explains how a beltway bandit like Booz Allen became the Ticketmaster of America’s public lands. The deal started in 2017, when Booz got the contract to build Recreation.gov “at no cost to the federal government.”

https://mattstoller.substack.com/p/why-is-booz-allen-renting-us-back

Booz Allen didn’t promise to run a government website out of an abundance of patriotic zeal. Like all public private Partnership contractors, they wanted to figure out how to scoop of gigantic amounts of public money without any public accountability:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/10/01/the-palantir-will-see-you-now/#public-private-partnership

Booz Allen now gets to run America’s public lands like its own corporate fiefdom. At the outset of its deal, it was able to set its own prices for fees unilaterally — that is, it could simply announce that, say, everyone who wanted to visit Mount Whitney would pay a $6 fee (16,000 applicants, 5,300 of them successful, $100,000 in junk fees for Booz).

But then Thomas Kotab, an “avid hiker,” sued the BLM for the $2 junk fee tacked on top of the reservation system for Red Rock Canyon. The Federal Lands Recreation Enhancement Act (the law that allows federal agencies to charge for access to public lands) requires that agencies hold a notice-and-comment for each of these fees. The $2 fee didn’t go through this procedure.

Kotab won…sort of. The court upheld his challenge, requiring that Booz’s public lands junk fees go through public notice. But Booz didn’t refund the $2 it had illegally collected from the people it ripped off to visit Red Rock Canyon — and it figured out how to neuter the notice and comment system.

Here’s how that works: the federal agencies that Booz ticketmasters each have a Resource Advisory Council, which the agencies stack with their own cronies, who then rubber-stamp whatever the agency wants to do. RACs pretend to be accountable to the public, but boy is the pretense thin:

https://www.fs.usda.gov/Internet/FSE_DOCUMENTS/stelprdb5442009.pdf

So now, when Booz wants to tack a junk fee onto a public space, it gets the relevant agency to do a notice-and-comment for the fee, and the RAC files comments saying that this is a great idea, and the agency throws away all the public comments that say otherwise, and voila, Booz gets another junk fee.

All of this is incredibly frustrating, not just another example of corporate looting of the public’s purse — a huge barrier to our public lands. The idea that the military industrial complex has ticketmastered Teddy Roosevelt’s public parks should shock our consciences.

But there’s something we can do about this! The part of the Federal Lands Recreation Enhancement Act that authorizes agencies to assess fees runs out in Oct 2023, and when Congress renews it, they could add an amendment to block Booz’s junk fees.

Or, as Stoller notes, “Biden, through his anti-junk fee initiative could simply assert through the White House Competition Council to the 13 different agencies that they end Booz Allen’s practice of charging these kinds of fees.”

https://www.whitehouse.gov/briefing-room/blog/2022/10/26/the-presidents-initiative-on-junk-fees-and-related-pricing-practices/

[Image ID: A stunning view of sunrise at Theodore Roosevelt National Park. In the foreground, a cigar-chomping, top-hatted ogre stands at a podium emblazoned with the Booz Allen logo, yanking on a lever made of a golden dollar-sign. He holds aloft an inverted National Park Service arrowhead logo, pinched disdainfully between his white-gloved thumb and forefinger. Rising up from behind a mountain on the left side of the frame is trustbuster-era editorial cartoon image of Roosevelt, swinging his 'Big Stick.']