#numbers are subject to change as the list adjusts

[rika-mmendmethings]

Against Blood & Water l Sylus

Chapter 4

Ch 3 | Chapter 5 next Wednesday

Summary: Seventeen years ago, your life had taken a turn for the worse when your newborn twins were separated from you by a cruel twist of fate. The same fate had led you to the N109 Zone, to your children who were all grown up now. Reconciliation with your boys would've been slightly easier had they somehow not acquired a father figure over the years who wasn't letting them go anytime soon.

Warning(s): Subject to change as we progress further into the story. For this chapter: mentions of guns, stalking and drugs/drug dealings, first meeting with the devil himself

Word count: 2.9k

Playlist coming soon.

Notes: A long chapter as a compensation for lost time ;) Did you notice the parallels between Elysium's menu in the last chapter and this chapter? This story is for the Sylus girlies' who consider Luke and Kieran their babies. A little information on the timeline: in this story, the reader is 35 with Luke and Kieran being 17. Sylus never felt like 28 to me, so he's a hot-ass 39-year-old man (bear with me). The timeline is a bit confusing, I know, but soon it'll be cleared, too. If you have any more questions, feel free to ask me, and I'll try my best to give you a proper answer without revealing too much. Let me know if you wish to be added to the tag list for this series. ♥

Tag list: @babyx91 @pillarofsnow @beyond-the-stars-fairy @yuki-sama6 @sylviewrites @idiashusband @sadmonke @monophobix @lunarvolley @stxrrielle @fries11 @gremlinartstudio @lillycore @novthirty @animegamerfox @cathedralofaudra @nm4565natty @69-gojos-wife-69 @eolivy @namjoons-toenails @silverianni @nezuswritingdesk @beaconsxd @justpassingdontworry @ruyaya @browneyedgirl22 @rafayelridesfisheatsfish @sneakysnakeysstuff @midiplier @colonelcalebs-pipsqueak @dana-nite @lazeriii @into-deepspace @nommingonfood @eden-axe @verysleepylilguy @lunia-likes-pomegranet @do-clouds-smoke-weed @sowntears @batgirliee @slovesyouuu @blythered @rievendell @larailorelei @owodi @eden-axe @some-gurl-idk @sarah22447 @belles-reads @kanjiharitama @astvriisk

You cursed inwardly at the absence of a peephole as you pressed yourself flat against the door. Gun raised in your dominant hand, you reached for the doorknob with the other, turning it with excruciating care. Then, without further hesitation, you yanked the door open, heedless of the risk — after all, you were armed. That should be enough.

Standing before you was a short, elderly man, adjusting his glasses as he squinted at a crumpled sheet of paper. At the sound of the door opening, he looked up and scratched his head. “Is this apartment number 404?” he asked, entirely unfazed by the weapon in your hand. Perhaps he was just another product of life in the N109 Zone, where paranoia and firearms were part of the décor.

You felt your heart trying to recover from the brink of cardiac arrest — all for this?

“This building only has three floors, mister,” you deadpanned, rubbing your temples in mild irritation.

He chuckled gleefully, apparently amused by his own mistake. “Oh, dear gods! My bad, young lady. Enjoy your evening,” he said with a carefree wave.

You forced a polite smile and shut the door before he’d even turned away. Shaking your head in disbelief, you set your gun down on the table and wandered back into the dimly lit living room. Collapsing onto the couch, you picked up the mechanical bird that had been silently observing you. Its eyes remained vacant, yet the long-range tracker beneath its talon blinked persistently in red.

You tried to scratch the tracker off to no avail. Frustrated, you fetched a fork and prepared to pry it out manually — but were halted mid-movement by the bird’s sudden, piercing cries of distress.

You sighed, rolling your eyes as you set the crow down beside you, your gaze drifting absently into the distance. You could feel the bird’s curious eyes fixed on you, and with a shrug, you turned your attention back to it.

“What?” you muttered. “Your creator probably embedded ten more trackers somewhere inside you. It's not like I’ll be able to find them all before my location gets compromised, so I’ll leave you be, birdie.”

The mechanical crow tilted its head and gave a subtle nod, as though it comprehended your reasoning — and agreed. It then began preening its artificial feathers with a calm efficiency that almost made you forget it was just a machine.

You studied it for a while, unable to suppress a flicker of admiration for the intricate craftsmanship. On impulse, you scooped the crow back into your hands, turning it over to inspect the fine detailing etched into its metallic body, ignoring the irritable caws it let out in protest. It fluttered in a futile attempt to escape, but its damaged wing kept it grounded.

A pang of guilt shot through you.

With a sigh, you stood and retrieved a pair of pliers. Holding them up, you addressed the bird, “I’ll try to fix your bent wing, if you’re willing.”

You were offering it the chance to back away — to refuse the aid of your untrained hands. But your lips curled faintly when the crow hopped forward, climbing onto your lap and settling with its wings spread out in quiet submission.

Carefully, you worked on its mangled wing, using the pliers to straighten the deformed metal feathers — casualties of the bullet that had nearly torn the wing off. When you were done, you gently set it down and gave it space.

With hesitant beats of its wings, the crow lifted into the air, wobbly and a bit unsteady, yes — but it was flying again. You watched with a quiet sense of pride, half-expecting it to head straight for the nearest exit.

Instead, it circled once, then landed beside your hand, staring up at you.

You raised a brow, amusement flickering in your eyes. “What? Not planning to report back to your master?” you teased, stroking a finger gently down its smooth, cold head. “Or maybe you’re sticking around to spy a little longer — just in case I spill something useful?”

The bird offered no response, no artificial chirps or movements. It simply settled beside you, tucking its wings neatly beneath its frame.

You exhaled, raking a hand through your hair as sleep overtook your senses, your body succumbing to the land of dreams.

The next morning, you woke with a well-devised plan already playing out in your mind as you freshened up for the day. It was simple, really: you'd visit a run-down bar named ‘Gemini’ where a man named Herald was waiting. He had promised to provide insider information on the drug lord’s upcoming deal locations — for a modest bribe, of course.

You were just about to head out when a familiar pair of glowing red eyes blinked up at you mid-popsicle bite. With a resigned sigh, you realized you couldn't risk leaving your most valuable lead unattended in the apartment.

You rummaged through the storeroom, still cluttered with leftover construction materials, until you unearthed an old rope. Returning to the living room, you grabbed the mechanical crow in one swift motion, ignoring its caws of protest. You secured the rope around its head and beneath its wings, fashioning a makeshift leash. A quick tug on your end confirmed it was neither too tight nor too loose — just enough to keep it in check.

The bird glared at you with unmistakable indignation, its metal feathers puffed out in defiance as it hopped into your path. You shot it a sharp look and warned coldly, “Get in my way again, and I’ll stomp on you so hard, even your synthetic feathers won’t know which direction to fall in.”

The mechanical crow appeared to understand the threat — albeit reluctantly — and, still a bit pissed, settled by your side as you locked the door behind you.

You made your way down the streets to the bar, the mechanical crow hopping ahead of you. You almost felt as if you were taking your pet crow for a walk — almost. Considering the bird was more of a hostage than a companion, and the aged rope barely qualified as a leash, the comparison felt far from accurate.

You made it to the club with a side-eye or two on the streets and searched for the burly man as soon as you entered. The interior was only sparsely crowded, making it easy to spot your contact. You took a seat across from Herald, carefully concealing your mechanical stalker beneath the table, its leash (rope?) still securely gripped in your left hand.

You handed over the promised payment, listening intently as Herald detailed the timing of the shifts between dealing locations. In a few moments, he passed you a hastily drawn map of the N109 Zone, the dealing routes marked with crude arrows and highlighted dots. You tucked the map into the pocket of your blazer as he left, and then made your way to the terrace of the ten-story building, a half-finished vegetable skewer in one hand and the rope (leash?) of your little stalker in the other.

Standing on the terrace, you gripped the cool metal railing, your fingers curled around it for balance. Your feet were perched on the narrow concrete lip running along the base of the railing, just elevated enough to allow you to lean forward slightly. The height gave you a better vantage of the ground below, though you found your mind wandering to the thought of what it would be like if you fell. You took a big bite of the vegetable around the skewer, concluding that you’d live but the injuries you’d face would be fatal. 

As you absentmindedly took another bite from the skewer, your gaze flicked toward the bar below. A customer had just entered, and you couldn't help but notice that the doors weren’t the traditional wooden kind. Instead, two tall, sturdy mirrors stood in place, perfectly aligned, each reflecting the other. The corners of the mirrors were adorned with delicate silver filigree, now chipped but still beautiful.

Twin mirrors facing each other…hm.

You took the final bite of your skewer, a strange sense of familiarity tugging at the edge of your thoughts. You couldn’t place it — but before you could dwell on it further, the mechanical crow began flapping its wings in a frenzy, thrashing and twisting as if desperate to escape the rope looped around its neck.

Startled, you tossed the skewer aside and hastily dusted off your hand, tightening your grip on the rope. But it was too late. With one final violent jerk, the bird slipped free, its tarnished wings catching the dim light as it soared to the adjacent railing and disappeared into the shadows.

Left with no other choice, you drew your gun from the holster beneath your blazer and aimed at the faint glint of crimson in the darkness. You muttered a curse under your breath — damn the N109 Zone and its perpetual gloom, even at eleven in the morning. You couldn’t risk letting that bird escape. You shifted your aim slightly, targeting the wing, intent on mangling the metal just enough to ground it.

You pulled the trigger.

But the recoil caught you off guard. A sharp, startled scream tore from your throat as the force knocked you off balance. Your feet slipped from the narrow ledge, and in one fluid, horrifying motion, your body tipped over the railing. You plummeted, arms flailing, the wind shrieking past your ears as terror clawed its way up your spine. Ten stories down. This was your end.

Then — everything stopped.

A thick, red-black mist coiled around your body, engulfing you. In an instant, it yanked you upward back to the terrace. Before you could make sense of it, you were back — kneeling on the terrace floor, your chest heaving. You wiped the sweat from your brow with a trembling hand, blinking rapidly to clear your vision.

You saw a shadow on the ground moving towards you and you whipped your head up. The first thing you saw was your stalker bird perched obediently on his shoulders making everything inside you still. His voice, when he spoke, was deep and measured, with a touch of amused disdain.

“Someone really ought to revoke your pistol permit, sweetie.”

Right at that moment, you saw a small bullet hole right in the center of his forehead and minimal blood splattered on his face. Your hand flew to your mouth not out of the knowledge of the fact that you had shot him when you were meaning to shoot the bird, but out of the realization that he was alive and walking around as if he owned the place — that the bullet hadn’t killed him, as if death had chosen to skip him entirely.

You rose slowly to your feet, gripping the gun tightly as you sized him up. The mechanical crow perched dutifully on his shoulder was all the confirmation you needed — this was the man who had sent it to track your every move. Your stalker. And yet, paradoxically, this same man had just saved your life. Then again, you wouldn’t have ended up in that kind of situation if his little invention hadn’t startled you in the first place.

You watched with thinly veiled curiosity as he dragged a finger across his forehead, the bullet hole sealing itself as though it had never existed. Calmly, he retrieved a small black handkerchief from the pocket of his blazer and methodically wiped the blood from his face.

“How is this even possible? How are you still standing—just who the hell are you?” you asked, finally finding your voice.

“A friend, sweetie,” he replied smoothly, returning the handkerchief to its place. Were your ears failing you or did you actually hear ‘fiend’ instead of ‘friend’? 

You chose not to voice your inner conflict. Instead, you crossed your arms and scoffed. “Friends don’t usually set their creepy little spy inventions to their so-called friends’ backs.”

He hummed in agreement, a low, velvety sound that matched the glint of amusement in his crimson eyes. They regarded you not with malice, but with the kind of knowing mirth that suggested he was three moves ahead — and quite enjoying it.

“I suppose I owe you an apology,” he began, voice smooth as silk. “Though, in my defense, necessity has a way of making choices for us.”

He stepped closer, the click of his boots against the floor deliberate. Then, with a slight tilt of his head, he offered a name like it was a game piece laid on the board:

“I’m Sylus. Leader of Onychinus.”

The name landed like a stone in your stomach. You straightened instinctively, mind racing — Onychinus. That was who employed your children.

As if unfazed by your reaction, he produced a coin from his pocket and began flipping it lazily between his fingers, each spin catching the dim light. His tone remained conversational, almost indulgent.

“Onychinus has, regrettably, found itself under the radar of Linkon’s Crime Department. A tedious affair, really. The recent... activity spike within the faction hasn’t helped. Naturally, I’ve been searching for someone competent enough to handle a few inconvenient legal entanglements. Imagine my surprise when I learned that one of Linkon’s finest legal minds was wandering around the N109 Zone.”

He gave a subtle nod to the mechanical crow perched on his shoulder.

“So yes,” he said, lips curling into a smirk, “I sent Mephisto to keep an eye on you. Strictly for your… safety, of course. The N109 isn’t exactly a welcoming place for an outsider like you.” He paused, tilting his head slightly, that smirk deepening. “And, well… turns out that decision paid off quite nicely, didn’t it?”

You swallowed the sarcastic “no thanks” on the tip of your tongue and crossed your arms instead, tapping your foot with restrained annoyance, forced to keep your demeanor since you didn’t have knowledge of the extent of his powers.

“So what now?” you asked, voice edged. “Am I expected to sell my soul just because you showed up at the right time?”

His smile turned cryptic, as if he knew something you didn’t. “Something along those lines.”

You narrowed your eyes, about to respond, when he smoothly cut in.

“All I ask is that you lend me your legal expertise. Temporarily. Help me navigate a few… complexities. I’d say that’s a fair trade for pulling you back from death’s doorstep, wouldn’t you?”

If your department found out you were even considering this offer, they’d have your resignation letter written before you could blink. But then again, it wasn’t like your hands were clean. You’d tampered with major criminal cases before, manipulating outcomes with your probability evol — all while claiming not to be an evolver when you first joined the judiciary.

"What exactly do I stand to gain in return?" You jutted your chin toward him with defiance, finally easing your gun back into the holster beneath your blazer.

"You’re a shark," he commented, the corner of his mouth curling into the faintest hint of a grin.

"You should see me when there's blood in the water," you shot back coolly, your lips pressed into a firm line.

Sylus didn’t hesitate. "Protection in the N109 Zone. Especially when you're forced to wade through the mess that brought you here in the first place. Housing at my estate and most needs taken care of. No one will know you're working for me, and your position in Linkon’s judicial branch will remain untouched. Your expenses will be handled. You'll have regular access to Mephisto, Luke, and Kieran."

He let that last part hang, crimson eyes observing your reaction.

Your breath hitched as you heard him mention the names of your twins. That alone was enough reason for you to work for him. You’d see them again. Every day, even. You could rebuild something real, something fragile that had almost been lost eighteen years ago. Thank goodness that the little semblance of pride in you prevented you from bursting into happy tears right at that very moment. 

You cleared your throat, eyes flickering to a distant point as if searching for a reason not to give in.

"Alright," you murmured, gaze steady now. "I'll work with Onychinus—for the time being."

Sylus leaned back in his seat, exuding a quiet satisfaction. "Excellent." He extended a hand, his voice like velvet over steel. "Welcome to Onychinus."

You took his hand in a firm shake. His grip was tightened for a fraction of a second and you could’ve sworn you saw some kind of hostility in his gaze before it was gone.

"Why don’t you gather your belongings from your apartment?" he suggested. "We’ll head to the estate once you’re ready. I’ll drive."

You gave it a moment’s thought, then nodded. He gestured for you to lead the way, ever the gentleman with a predator’s patience.

Once your footsteps had faded and the terrace fell silent, Mephisto, perched nearby, cocked his head and let out a low, inquisitive caw. His gaze remained locked on the door you had passed through, the space where you'd stood, almost as if he were waiting for you to reappear. 

After a long pause, Sylus finally spoke, his voice a whisper that still managed to echo with dark resonance. "They say to keep your friends close..." He let the words dangle, his lips curling ever so slightly. "...but it’s your enemies you should keep closer… Close enough to feel the pulse of their fear, yet distant enough that they never see your blade until it’s too late."

He turned to follow you, Mephisto perching back on his shoulder.

Author's exclusive cuts episode 1:-

In Latin, "Gemini" means "twins." Gemini is a bar which was sponsored by Sylus himself, a year after he officially met Luke and Kieran. Most of the ornaments and even the architecture of the place allude to the general theme which is 'twins'. Additionally, the menu of the bar is everything that the twins' like. The bar is "run-down" as a result of the twins antics overtime.

Check out my other works if you liked this ♥

[rootedinrevisions]

In the Wings: Part 1

SUMMARY: When you're offered the chance to work as a hair and makeup artist on Top Gun 3, it feels like a dream come true. Leaving behind your routine for a Hollywood blockbuster, you arrive on set with high hopes but little expectation of the whirlwind to come. That all changes the day you meet Glen Powell—charming, grounded, and quick to make an impression. As your professional relationship grows, so does a spark between you, but you're still keeping things strictly work. For now, the only thing you're certain of is that this job will be like no other.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thanks to Anon who sent me this request and gave me the idea. I'm really hoping I can take your idea and do it justice. I think this will end up being around 4 parts. But if I feel like I need to make it longer or shorter I'll adjust as I finish revising it.

WARNINGS: None.

WORD COUNT: 2.5k

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The email came through on a Wednesday afternoon, catching your attention amidst a relatively slow workday. The subject line read: “Film Contract Inquiry – Urgent Response Requested.” As you clicked it open, your curiosity piqued instantly. The production team was interested in hiring you as a hair and makeup artist for an upcoming film. But unlike most offers you’d received in your career, this one was cloaked in secrecy.

You scanned the email again, focusing on the specific wording. Top secret. No details were given about the film itself, just the fact that you would be based primarily in Southern California, near San Diego, for a total of twelve weeks. The cryptic message hinted that you might also be required to travel for a few additional shoots at other undisclosed locations if needed.

While these types of jobs were nothing new to you—you’d been working on movie sets for over a decade—this one had a different feel. 

For one, they didn’t even mention the title of the project. 

And the compensation offer attached to the email? Far beyond anything you’d ever been offered before. You leaned back in your chair, letting the numbers sink in. They clearly wanted the best for this film, and the pay confirmed it was going to be something big.

But how big? The secrecy surrounding the whole thing was hard to ignore. There wasn’t even a mention of the production company involved, and everything was handled through private communication channels. 

Not only that, but they'd already sent over a non-disclosure agreement for you to sign. Until the movie was officially released, you wouldn’t be able to discuss a single detail—not the actors, not the plot, not even the locations.

The NDA felt like a weight in your inbox, staring back at you as you reread the email for the third time. Something about this film was different, and it intrigued you. Whatever it was, it had to be major if they were going to these lengths to protect it. And with that thought in mind, you clicked “Reply” and began typing.

* * * *

The flight to San Diego was uneventful, and the California sunshine greeted you as soon as you stepped out of the terminal. You quickly spotted a driver holding a sign with your name on it. After introductions, you handed over the address they’d provided, ready for the next step of this mysterious journey.

As the car began weaving through the busy San Diego streets, you took in the sights—the familiar palm trees, the ocean in the distance, the hustle of a city on the coast. You’d worked in Southern California plenty of times, but something about this trip felt different. The secrecy still clung to you like a shadow.

The driver made small talk, but you were too focused on the location to fully engage. It wasn’t until you noticed the roads becoming less crowded, the landscape shifting from city to something more… official, that your curiosity spiked. Fences lined the road now, and you could see uniformed personnel at several checkpoints as the car continued.

A military base?

Your heart skipped a beat as realization dawned on you. You leaned forward, squinting out the window at the upcoming sign confirming your suspicion: Naval Air Station North Island.

The driver pulled up to the security gate, handing over the proper identification and passes. After a brief exchange with the guard, the car was waved through.

You sat back in your seat, processing. So, this film has something to do with the military. That narrowed it down, but not by much. There were plenty of military-themed movies out there, but none that warranted this level of secrecy. You thought back to the emails, still trying to piece together what kind of project could possibly be in the works.

The car came to a stop outside a large set of trailers tucked behind an aircraft hangar. Military personnel and crew members bustled around, a few actors you didn’t yet recognize standing in clusters nearby. The atmosphere was buzzing with excitement, but still, no one gave anything away.

The driver helped unload your bags, and you thanked him before making your way toward one of the trailers you’d been instructed to report to. A sense of unease mixed with anticipation settled in your chest. You were about to find out what all the mystery was about.

With your equipment in tow, you approached the door to the hair and makeup trailer, pausing just long enough to take a breath before stepping inside. Whatever you’d signed on for, you were about to find out—whether you were ready or not.

You stepped inside the trailer, greeted by the familiar scent of hairspray and cosmetics. The space was bustling with activity—mirrors lined with bright lights, makeup kits neatly arranged, and hair styling tools humming in the background. Three other stylists were already there, each at their own station, chatting quietly as they organized their gear.

You scanned the room for an empty spot, finding a vacant station near the back. The butterflies in your stomach settled as you began unpacking your kit, laying out your brushes, combs, and palettes with the same precision you did before any project. Your hands moved with a practiced ease, though your mind was still racing with questions about the film. You tried to brush it off as first-day nerves, but the secrecy of it all still gnawed at you.

A couple of minutes passed before one of the stylists, a brunette with sleek hair pulled into a tight ponytail, approached you with a friendly smile. “You must be the new hire for this project. I’m Katherine,” she said, extending a hand.

“Hi." You said as you gave her your name and shook her hand.

“Welcome! You’ll love this crew,” she said, gesturing to the others who were busy in their own areas. "We’re still settling into the schedule, but it’s a great team." She paused, lowering her voice slightly, “Though this project is next-level crazy, right? So much secrecy.”

You nodded, laughing softly. “I know, right? I’ve never had to sign so many NDAs before starting a job.”

Just as you were about to ask more, the door swung open, and a crew member entered, holding a stack of papers. He looked around before making his way toward you. “I’ve got your list of actors and the schedule for this week.”

“Thanks,” you said, accepting the documents from him.

He gave you a quick nod before heading out, leaving you alone with the list in hand. You glanced down, scanning the schedule you and the other hair and makeup artists would be following. Then you notice the names that are listed.

Tom Cruise. Miles Teller. Glen Powell.

Your eyes widened slightly as recognition hit. You’d heard those names before—especially from Top Gun: Maverick. You looked up from the paper, your heart picking up its pace again. Could it be?

Before you could process it further, you overheard one of the other stylists—Lily—speaking to Katherine in a hushed tone. "I think I saw Tom Cruise on set earlier. They’ve kept it under wraps, but... it’s definitely Top Gun 3."

Your breath caught in your throat. Top Gun 3.

It clicked. The secrecy. The military base. The list of actors. This wasn’t just some random movie set—it was one of the biggest sequels in recent history. You were part of Top Gun.

You tried to keep your face neutral, but inside you were buzzing with excitement. Top Gun 3. You had landed a job on one of the most anticipated movies ever. You looked back down at your list, realizing that you would be working with some of the biggest names in Hollywood over the next few weeks—one of them being Glen Powell.

Your mind raced as you processed it all, but you kept your cool. This was your job, and you needed to stay professional, no matter how starstruck you might be. You took a deep breath, refocused, and went back to setting up your station, knowing that your first day on Top Gun 3 was just beginning.

You were adjusting the lighting at your station when the trailer door creaked open again. You didn’t pay much attention at first, focusing on getting everything perfect for the day ahead. But then, you heard a familiar voice—a low, playful tone that filled the room with ease.

"Is this where the magic happens?"

You looked up, and there he was—Glen Powell, standing in the doorway with a laid-back smile on his face. He was taller than you expected, dressed in casual workout gear, his hair its natural shade, but you knew that wouldn’t last long. Your first task was to lighten Glen’s hair a few shades to look a little more naturally sun-faded than his darker natural color.

His eyes landed on you, and for a brief moment, there was a spark—an instant recognition of something unspoken.

"Yep, this is where we make the magic happen," you responded, grinning as you set your tools down.

Glen walked over to your station, his posture relaxed yet confident. “You must be the one in charge of turning me into Hangman 2.0.”

You chuckled, motioning for him to take a seat in the chair. “I guess I am. Ready to go a few shades lighter?”

He raised an eyebrow, taking a seat in the chair with a smirk. “Let’s see what you’ve got. I’m trusting you with my hair, so no pressure, right?”

“Oh, none at all,” you quipped, rolling your eyes playfully as you grabbed the bleach kit. “Just a couple of hours and we’ll make you camera-ready. Shouldn’t be too painful.”

The banter was light, but the chemistry between the two of you was undeniable. Even though this was your first time meeting, the interaction felt natural, as though you’d known each other for longer. Glen was easygoing, and you found yourself smiling more than you expected as you worked.

As you began sectioning off his hair, you asked, “So, are you nervous about going blond again? Or is this just another day in the life of Glen Powell?”

He leaned back in the chair, his grin widening. “I won’t lie, the last time I did this, I felt like I ended up looking like an extra from Legally Blonde. But hey, if you’re the one doing it, I’m sure it’ll turn out great.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “I promise, no Legally Blonde vibes. Just a subtle lightning. You’ll still look like Hangman.”

Across the trailer, a few of the other makeup artists glanced over, their eyes darting between you and Glen, smiling knowingly. Sarah, one of the artists working on another actor, shot you a teasing look before leaning over to her client, Jay Ellis, who raised an eyebrow in Glen’s direction. You overheard a soft chuckle from Jay as Sarah whispered something.

Glen, oblivious to the side glances, watched you carefully as you applied the bleach, a casual silence settling between you for a few moments before he broke it again. “So, how’d you end up on this project? You’ve got to be pretty top-tier if they brought you onto Top Gun.”

You glanced at him, surprised at the question. "I've been in the business for a while. Special effects makeup is kind of my specialty, but I do all kinds of stuff. They contacted me about this job, and it was all very hush-hush until I got here."

He tilted his head, clearly impressed. "Well, looks like we’re in good hands.”

You felt a subtle warmth in your chest at the compliment, though you brushed it off quickly. “Just doing my job,” you replied, grabbing a small brush to touch up a few sections of his hair. “Anyway, you’ve got the easy part today. They’re filming inside, so minimal makeup. Just enough so you don’t look like a ghost on camera.”

He chuckled. “Don’t want to scare anyone off with my Casper-like complexion.”

As you continued working on his hair, the conversation flowed easily. You asked him about his last few projects, and he asked about yours in return, keeping the tone light and casual. There was something effortless about talking to him, and it made the time fly by faster than expected.

When the bleaching was done and his hair was the perfect shade of lighter blond, you gave it a final check in the mirror. “Well, what do you think?” you asked, turning the chair slightly so he could see the result.

He inspected his reflection, his eyes lighting up in approval. “I’ve got to say, you nailed it. No Elle Woods here.”

You rolled your eyes, biting back a smile. “Told you.”

With his hair done, you moved on to the makeup—just enough to prevent any washout under the bright lights. It was quick and simple, a few strokes here and there, but even as you applied it, the easy conversation continued.

“You know,” Glen said suddenly, as you brushed a bit of powder on his face, “for someone working in Hollywood, you’re pretty laid back. I’ve had stylists who barely talk and are just all about the job, and then there’s you—who’s actually, you know, fun.”

You laughed softly at his words, feeling the compliment slip into the air between you. “Well, I try. I’ve learned that being chill makes the day go by smoother.”

He smirked, his gaze locking onto yours for just a beat too long. “Good policy.”

There it was again—something between you that neither of you acknowledged aloud, but it lingered, making the air feel slightly heavier in the best way. A moment passed, and you stepped back, finishing the last of his touch-ups.

“All done,” you said, stepping back to clean your brushes. “You’re officially camera-ready.”

He stood from the chair, taking a quick look in the mirror again. “Not bad at all. You’re good at this.”

“Thanks,” you replied, flashing a small smile. “Just don’t mess it up too much before they get you on camera.”

He chuckled, his eyes catching yours once more before he turned toward the door. “No promises.” And with that, he gave you a playful wink and left the trailer, leaving you with a slight smile lingering on your lips. 

As soon as the door closed behind him, Sarah leaned over with a knowing look. “Looks like you and Glen are gonna get along just fine.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the grin that spread across your face. “It’s just work,” you said, though the butterflies in your stomach told a slightly different story.

Jay chimed in again, smirking. “Yeah, sure. But I’d say that was the most fun Glen’s had in a makeup chair in a long time.”

[marshymallo]

FIC RECS: 「 call of duty 」

this list is subject to change every time i find new works to add to the collection

「 Double Date, Double Down by @swordsandholly 」

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Fem!Plus-Size!Reader [ 18+ ]

Synopsis: When you get a call in the middle of the afternoon from your friend begging you to fill an empty spot on a double date your initial instinct is a hard no. After all, no one wants to go on a blind double date and be surprised by the fat friend. It doesn’t help that this Simon guy is stupid fucking hot and obviously doesn’t like you - if his lack of talking is anything to go by.

「 Skin Deep by @rememberwren 」

Tattoo Artist!Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Fem!Reader [ 18+ ]

Synopsis: Reader, looking to expand her horizons, gets her first tattoo from Simon.

「 Mister(s) Steal Your Girl by @charliemwrites 」

Task Force 141 x Fem!Reader [ 18+ ]

ADDITIONAL WARNING: THE READER’S FIANCÉ IN GENERAL, UNHAPPY RELATIONSHIP CURED BY HEALTHY POLYAMORY, OCCASIONAL TALKS OF WEIGHT / ‘BEING TOO HEAVY’

Synopsis: After proposing, your fiance "suggests" an open relationship before you two officially tie the knot. You're not keen on it at first - until you meet one Kyle Garrick. And then his friend, Johnny. And then their lieutenant, Simon. And then their captain, John. Your fiance's given you one hell of an engagement gift - even if he doesn't know it yet.

「 Cherry Red, Crimson Blood by @soaps-mohawk 」

Task Force 141 x Fem!Reader, Price x Gaz, Ghost x Soap [ 18+ ]

ADDITIONAL WARNING: A/B/O DYNAMICS, INDIVIDUAL CHAPTER WARNINGS

Synopsis: Task Force 141 operates successfully without an omega, at least that’s what Price has been saying since its formation. Two alphas and two betas balance the pack just fine, and they have the numbers to prove it.

It works for a while, until the Omega Initiative is born and the 141 find themselves having to adjust to the sudden addition of an omega to their pack. Fresh out of an institute, you’re hardly fit for their secretive, dangerous world, or so Price thinks. 

As each member of the team gets closer to you, things begin to come to light, not only about you but about the decision to force you into their lives. Maybe, just maybe, Price was wrong and the 141 does need an omega after all. 

「 Repentance by @1u11ablues 」

Phillip Graves x Fem!Reader [ 18+ ]

Synopsis: Phillip comes home late, so he had to endure his punishment.

「 With The Lights Out by @captainfern 」

John Price x Fem!Reader x Phillip Graves [ 18+ ]

Synopsis: Price and Graves don't have anything in common. Except, of course, their attraction to you.

「 Can’t Stop Thinking About… by @a-b-riddle 」

Task Force 141 x Fem!Reader [ 18+ ]

ADDITIONAL WARNING: HELLA ANGST, PART 1/10 IN THE SERIES (YOU CAN FIND THE OTHER PARTS ON THE AUTHOR’S MASTERLIST)

Synopsis: A poly relationship with the 141 where the boys get so wrapped up in their own bullshit, they begin to neglect you… so you leave.

「 The One by @miniwheat77 」

Creepy!Phillip Graves x Fem!Virgin!Reader [ 18+ ]

ADDITIONAL WARNING: NON CON, SCUMBAG GRAVES, THERE IS A PART 2

Synopsis: You meet your friend’s creepy neighbor while dog-sitting and… It doesn’t turn out how you expect

[ddwcaph-game]

Update Previews!

Today's update post has three new changes/additions:

New Character Development Variables for F6E

New Difficulty Settings

Trait and EXP Updates

Before I show the previews, I just wanna say that after this update, I'll try to focus more on the story, and less on the gameplay stuff. I've actually gotten a bunch of breakthroughs with the story recently, so look forward to the introduction posts of the other two crush options soon!

New Character Development Variables for F6E

I'm thinking of adding a second set of character development variables for F6E! While the primary purpose of the first set of variables is to determine how major story branches will play out, the second set is intended to be less impactful, and only affect flavor text and dialogue.

New Difficulty Settings

Instead of the starting twin relationship traits secretly modifying your NP cost and NP recovery stats, I decided to add new difficulty settings to the last choice in the prologue.

Here are the difficulty modifiers:

🟢 Slice-of-Life Difficulty: +10% Overall EXP, +25 Max NP, +12% NP Recovery, -20% NP Costs when retconning stat checks, Stat Penalties from 🤯 [HEADACHE!!!] are capped at 25% 🟡 Adventure Difficulty: Normal EXP, NP Cost, and NP Recovery modifiers 🔴 Superhero Difficulty: -10% Overall EXP, -25 Max NP, -12% NP Recovery, +50% NP Costs when retconning stat checks 🔥 Apocalyptic Difficulty: -33% Overall EXP, -50 Max NP, -12% NP Recovery, +100% NP Costs when retconning stat checks, Stat Penalties from 🤯 [HEADACHE!!!] are 25% Worse

It's important to note that the difficulty settings DO NOT change the stat check requirements, so this wouldn't really affect you much if you don't use NP very often. Your Max NP is now also tied to your Total EXP gained (you gain 1 Max NP for every 2,500 EXP gained instead of gaining Max NP every chapter), so that's why the settings give EXP Bonuses/Penalties. Of course, these are all subject to changes later.

Trait and EXP Updates

As I've said before, I'm reworking the "bucket list" idea to be much simpler. Some traits/passives will now give a small amount of EXP when you pick certain choices.

I'm adding these bonuses to make picking traits more impactful, make gaining EXP more meaningful, and to add a sense of progression/character development for your MC. For example, Troublemaker MCs will now gain a small amount of EXP when picking Sensible/Disciplined choices.

Here's the full list of additions:

The EXP bonuses are minor enough (most choices will only give around 10-30 EXP), so you won't really miss out on much if your Troublemaker MC wants to keep causing chaos anyway. The bonuses do stack however, so we'll see if the numbers need adjusting in the future.

The EXP Notification won't appear if you gain EXP this way, so don't worry about extra clutter! Speaking of, I actually found a bunch of bugs that made certain Traits give more/less EXP all the time while coding, so whoops! 😅 It's not really game-breaking so I'll just include the fix with the next update.

Anyway, that's all I got for now. Let me know what you think of the new changes!

[pancakeke]

you KNOW what I'm bitching about under the cut

today at work my boss emailed our development team with me on CC and asked if they had updated something that altered system lead times for components. our department (procurement) was called out as the source of delays but she believed our scheduling program wasn't factoring in extra time for us to request quotes. this isn't something the scheduler has ever done, I don't know where she got that idea.

I had zero prior knowledge of any issue until reading this email btw.

anyway she cited a component part number in the subject of the email only and said an order using it was slated to ship from our facility before the component was received. she did not bother providing the order number, or any other links. the body of the email ended with a number that didn't resemble the component PN or order number and when I looked it up there weren't any results.

a developer replied saying nothing had been changed and asked her to provide concrete evidence by giving him an order number. he did not bother looking up the component number (though I guess it was in a stupid place, and there wasn't a link to hand hold). if he used that he would have seen that it was only used by one order. it takes 2 clicks to reach an order from a part page.

I checked the order and saw that our sales team (who decides the reasons for order fulfillment delays) edited this order yesterday to remove one component and add the component my boss mentioned. they did not, however, update the order's ship date or notify my team via either email or ticket. the new component had a longer lead time than the original, so this was a problem. this change and the creation of a delay was not my dept's fault though, so blaming us for it is total bullshit.

now if you're keeping track: of the 3 parties involved here, all 3 have failed to do their due diligence, 1 has provided insufficient details, and 1 has entered false information and failed to communicate any details entirely. the developer is not off the hook yet though.

I checked out the math that determines the date this order ships from our facility. all steps from procurement to shipment are laid out with the amount of time each should consume, and then at the bottom the number of days for all steps are added together and stacked on the order entry date to get a ship date.

except there are two of these sections, one that shows everything as it was the moment the order was first entered and one that shows everything for the order's current form. the current form had one accounting processing day included (standard for all orders) but the this was listed as 0 days for the original form section.

this means the order's original form, which sets the ship date for an order, is always 1 day sooner than current (and real) ship date calculation. sales has to manually adjust set ship dates or they will not update. so development did break something after all. the guy in this email thread was either unaware yet confident enough to make a statement claiming otherwise or made a knee jerk response saying they didn't do anything.

no one looks. no one reads. no one communicates. everyone makes judgements despite all those things. I'm going to start throwing bricks.

edit: btw I replied to the email with all the info I found including numbers, links, and screenshots. I am responsible when it matters.

[obsidiancreates]

One Undead To Another (Chapter 16)

(Trigger warnings for graphic depictions of injury/dying, blood, nightmares)

Gus tips the delivery person and walks back into the main room of the office with two still-steaming burritos in a bag. Shawn feels the memory of salivating at that same smell– god, not even a week ago. Somehow it feels like it’s been years since he woke up cold and starving, but at the same time it’s been seconds. Is that a vampire thing, an ADHD thing, or a trauma thing? Is it worth figuring out? Not right now.

His mouth is bone-dry as he accepts the burrito. It smells good, great, and the way the warmth of it seeps through the tinfoil into his hands is heavenly. He feels no excitement to bite into it. 

“Alright.” Gus sits down at his desk. “Test number one– garlic.”

“I dunno about this, man. I told you I get hungry after I get hurt.”

“Shawn, we need to figure out your supernatural weaknesses before going back to taking cases.”

“I think we can consider garlic a lock!”

“Sunlight isn’t.”

“... Fair. … Fine. But only if you make some posters to hang around so we get some more private cases.”

“Why? Are you hungry again already?”

“...”

“Do I need to pull out the pencil rosary again?”

“Maybe? It’s not… bad. It’s just kind of… there. Can we just– I’m taking a bite, if I burst into flames or turn into a pile of ash just know my text about my Tears for Fears vinyls still applies.”

“Shawn.”

“Just making sure.” Shawn unwraps the burrito. It’s weird, to know something smells so delicious and know it should be making your mouth water and know you should be excited to eat it, but none of that matters. It’s like the whole experience is hitting a glass wall, clearly there, just barely out of reach to him. 

He takes a bite. Shredded pork, salsa, guac, there’s even roasted corn in this one. It’s loaded, incredible, and he can’t really enjoy it because even though it all tastes exactly like it did when he was human it doesn’t mean anything. Nothing is satisfied by it. In fact, the pang of hunger sharpens as the taste of the pork specifically floods his mouth.

It’s meat, and it’s wrong. Close, so close to what he needs, but not right.

“So?”

Shawn swallows. “Didn’t even burn.”

“Alright, garlic is a no.” Gus crosses it off his list. “We’ve gotta find some garlic flowers next and see if those do anything.”

“Garlic flowers? Don’t be silly, Gus.”

“Garlic flowers are another classic vampire ward, Shawn! They’re used in the original Dracula novel!”

“It’s a novel?” 

“We had to read it in the seventh grade, remember?!”

“Not really. I do remember watching one of those old uh, black-and-white movies with Count Dookie.”

“Count Dooku, Shawn.”

“Gus, he was one of the bad guys, let’s not sweat over his name.”

“You’re trying to distract me.”

“Am not.”

“You are! You’re deflecting again!”

“Deflecting? Please.”

“We agreed, last night, that if you got uncomfortable with focusing on the vampire stuff or the psychic stuff you’d say it outright and we’d switch gears.”

“... Alright. Alright, yes, I’m… wanting to change the subject for a while.”

“Fine. Psychic stuff still fine, or no supernatural stuff at all?”

“None at all, man, I just… let’s watch a movie or something. Least that won’t be different.”

“Alright. Hey, I think American Duos is on.”

“Really? … Wow. Their ratings must be terrible, it’s the middle of the afternoon on a weekday.”

“The guy they replaced Zappato with is kind of lacking, and they had to replace Emilina last season and she’s not great either. I think it’s only still on because the producers are afraid of telling Nigel St Nigel he’s off the air.”

“Really? It sounds awful. Let’s watch the entire season.”

“You know that’s right.”

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Nice of you to join us today, detectives.”

They both freeze in their tracks. Lassiter turns around first, adjusting his tie nervously. “Ready to get back to work, Chief. It was just a 24 hour thing, and I’m firing on cylinders today.”

“We both are,” Jules jumps in.

“Good, because your homicide case wrapped up the other night and we need a few closing details from you both. You’ll find the paperwork on your desks–”

“Chief!” Buzz jogs over. “We just got a report on the wire, body pulled out of a lake. Looks like drowning.”

Jules makes eye contact with Lassiter. Shawn’s abilities really have evolved. 

“Oh, detectives!” Buzz grins at them both. “I’m glad you guys are feeling better today! Oh, um, Detective Lassiter, I put any remains of journals or anything we found from the mansion in a box and left it by your desk.”

The Chief turns to Lassiter with a disbelieving, you-better-explain threatening smile. “Uh, detective, when did you ask Officer McNab to do this?”

Crap. “Uh, over the phone yesterday, Chief.”

“And you heard about the mansion burning down… how?”

“... Well, uh… Spencer! Yes, Spencer called me in the middle of the night, said he had a vision. Normally I would’ve told him to screw off but I… humored, him, when he asked me to tell McNab… that.”

“You… humored… Mr. Spencer?”

“I blame the fever, Chief.”

“Well, then… I’ll blame it as well. If Mr. Spencer thinks something additionally important is in those journals, I’ll let you hold onto them for the moment, but it’s looking like this case is pretty much completely shut, at this point in time. Right now I want this drowning case to be your top priority.”

“You got it, Chief,” Jules says, giving a too-wide smile and overly enthusiastic thumbs-up. The Chief eyes her oddly for a moment, and then walks back to her office.

“Keep it together, O’Hara, you’re the one who convinced me to play along with this crap,” Lassiter whispers as they quickly walk to his desk.

“I’m trying! The bigger the secret, the harder time I have keeping it!”

“Then why in god’s name are we doing this?!”

“Because Shawn doesn’t deserve to go to jail or a mental facility for something he had no control over!”

“You do realize–”

“As soon as I said it. But Shawn’s not one of the the bad guys, Carlton. It’s different. He’s one of us.”

“... Yeah, alright.” Lassiter tries to sound unconvinced as he agrees. They reach his desk and he takes the lid off the box, frowning as he looks inside. “This is what McNab considers salvageable? He’s more off than I was before the divorce.”

“Oh, Carlton.”

“... My therapist says turning the situation into humor could help me move past it.”

“Alright… well, if you think it’s helping.”

Lassiter looks back into the box, slightly flushed with embarrassment now, and carefully looks through. “I don’t know that we’ll get anything helpful from this.”

“Well, maybe they’ll trigger some kind of… psychic revelation for Shawn.”

“We’re bringing him evidence now?”

“He’ll probably steal it out of evidence if we don’t.”

“You finally caught him doing that?”

“No, but, we both know he does.”

“... Fine. At least this way we can ask for it back. … Let’s focus on this drowning thing instead. You were lying when you said you’d call him, right?”

“No, I was not.”

“O’hara, you saw him this morning. He’s not even close to ready to work on a serious case.”

“... Fine. I’ll wait until we have evidence of foul play. If nothing suggests that, I’ll just tell him it was an accidental drowning case tomorrow.”

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Henry closes the door to the security room and gives himself a moment to chuckle, tossing his badge up once and tucking it back into his suit pocket. He forgot how much he enjoyed flashing the badge to get into places.

He pulls up the security feed from outside the store on the night in question. He scrubs through, trying to pick out any suspicious details.

There. 

Just before 3 AM, a motorcycle is caught speeding by. It’s too blurry an image to tell if it’s Shawn’s bike, but Henry’s always considered ‘confirmation bias’ to be something that applies to other people. His investigations have never suffered from such a thing.

He scrubs through some more. Cars, cars, it’s too dark and blurry on the camera to tell them apart by make or model, much less license plates. The motorcycle is all he’s getting from this. 

He stands up, straightens his suit, and leaves. Maybe he’ll get something better from a more expensive store’s security feed. 

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Shawn scoots a little further away as Gus lets out a snore and mumbles something flirtatious in his sleep. He thinks he’s getting an okay handle on the hunger thing– his throat is shot to hell again already, the temptation of Gus’s blood a little bit like that time his dad put a marshmallow on a plate and told him if he didn’t touch it for fifteen minutes he could have two. Comparisons keep drifting through his head, all the different things he can taste from having Gus so close, even when he does his best to stop breathing it in. 

Again, the movie snacks aren’t helping whatsoever. He keeps eating them anyway.

His mouth aches again. Pulses with pain in time with Gus’s heartbeat. He should really stop setting up situations where he’s alone with one or more of them.

He leans his head back on the couch and closes his eyes. The sound of the movie is sharp against his ears, just adding to the headache, getting less and less comprehensible as he slowly drifts off to sleep.

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Juliet doesn’t have Thornburg.

Juliet doesn’t have Thornburg.

So why is she dying?

Shawn is holding her hand, trying to confess, but the words are stuck in his throat. Jules is wheezing, her eyes bleeding, looking into his with a fear dulled by a thick glaze of illness. Jules is dying. Jules is dying.

Lassie doesn’t get shot in the graveyard.

Lassie doesn’t get shot in the graveyard.

So why is he dying?

Shawn is holding Lassie as he bleeds out– no, he’s holding Mary Light, no, he’s holding Lassie, no, he’s–

Lassie’s blood is spilling out of his chest. He’s looking at Shawn with a level of terror that Shawn never ever wants to see from the detective, never should see from him.

He’s holding Mary again. “Wake up, Shawn.”

Lassie is dying in Shawn’s arms.

Lassie is dying in Shawn’s arms.

Gus doesn’t fall off a cliff when he grabs onto the extreme sports murderer.

Gus doesn’t fall off a cliff when he grabs onto the extreme sports murderer. 

So why is he dying?

Shawn holds Gus at the bottom of the cliff. Gus’s blood coats the rock beneath them. His eyes are completely sightless, his mouth trying to form words that will never come, not with a head injury like this. Gus’s hand grips Shawn’s so tight it hurts, a silent plea to save him.

Gus is dying and Shawn can’t save him.

Gus is dying and Shawn can’t save him.

Henry is not the victim of a plane crash.

Henry is not the victim of a plane crash.

So why is he dying?

Shawn struggles to keep his father’s head straight with one hand as he tries to get the radio working with the other. Henry is barely awake, wheezing, mumbling incoherently. Shawn can’t make the radio work. He can’t call for help.

He looks at his dad and sees regret shining in his bloodshot eyes. Henry reaches out with one bloodied arm and grabs Shawn’s bicep. There’s a tree branch impaled through his abdomen. He looks Shawn in the eye and opens his mouth–

“Wake up!”

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Shawn sits up with a gasp! His grandmother’s voice screaming through his father’s mouth echoes in his head as he pushes off the couch and runs to the bathroom, splashing cold–

No, no, he’s colder than it is, he switches the tap and splashes warm water on his face. It’s unnatural, it’s wrong, it’s not something his skin should be anymore– the warmth shocks him into full wakefulness.

“Shawn?!” Gus’s footsteps are like hammers against his skull, his quickened heartbeat like a jackhammer. Shawn presses his hands over his ears.

“Shawn!” Gus’s hands are so warm, so warm, warm warm warm blood spilling into Shawn’s jeans from Gus’s skull at the bottom of a cliff–

“WHAT THE–!”

Shawn finds himself presses against the bathroom wall, Gus standing in the doorway with the makeshift rosary held up, wet handprints on his shirt. Gus is shaking. Shawn realizes he feels fangs poking his lip.

He gulps in a breath, pressing his hands to his torso, then his face, holding them out– he repeats until he feels like he’s in his own body again. Gus watches, poised to run.

Shawn shakes his head, trying to knock the last echoes of the nightmare out. They won’t ever go away. They won’t ever go away.

Something clicks. He looks up. “Oh, god. I didn’t–”

“You lunged right for my neck.”

“I- Gus, I’m so– I didn’t–”

“I could tell.” Gus relaxes a little. His heart is still pounding. Shawn realizes belatedly that his voice has gone raspy again. Gus keeps the rosary held up. “What was that?”

“I-I… don’t…” Shawn swallows. They agreed he’d be honest. They agree he had to be honest, at least between the two of them. “I had a nightmare.”

“... About?”

“I don’t… want to talk about it.” If he talks about it he’ll relive it, he’ll have the images take over the real world again and if that happens he’s not sure he won’t try to–

“... Okay. Okay, but– Shawn, that was terrifying.”

“Yeah.”

“And your voice is all messed up again.”

“Noticed that too.”

“... You know, when I went out with Willow–”

“You guys actually went out?”

“Yes! A couple times! Anyway, she told me about this vampire bar place for people who pretend to be vampires.”

“So?”

“So… do you think you could handle just having a little from someone, uh… consenting for their own reasons?”

Flash of white, film grain, stalking up behind the burglar, covering his mouth, sinking his aching fangs into warm soft flesh and drinking–

Shawn shudders– he wishes it was because he disliked the feeling of the memory– vision? … Memory. God, he wishes he disliked it.

“Not doing that, Gus. First of all that’s not my kind of kinky business–”

“Eugh! I was trying not to say it outright, Shawn!”

“I know you were, that’s why I did. Anyway, second, that’s… too, vampire. Way too vampire.”

“... I could see if someone there is willing to donate blood.”

“Gus. You’ll pass out just trying to get the bag here.”

“I can handle it.”

“You don’t want to.”

“It’s that or you drinking me!”

“I won’t drink you!” Shawn doesn’t mean for it to come out panicked– but the way Gus tenses and raises the cross a bit more shows it did, in a bad way. Shawn shakes his head again, looking down and trying to regain some composure. “You– you just shouldn’t have to do that, buddy.”

“You shouldn’t have to be undead. It’s not a fair situation to any of us, Shawn.”

Jules, Lassie, Gus, Henry, bleeding bleeding bleeding dying dying dying Dying And Leaving Shawn Along FOREVER–

“I’m going.” Shawn is snapped out of it by Gus digging his car keys out of his pocket. “You just zoned out again and started shaking. If you don’t get blood, one of us is going to be in big trouble, and either way it goes it’ll be bad.”

“Gus–”

“I’ll just close my eyes or something! I’m putting this in front of the door on my way out, I’ll be back as soon as I can. And I’m letting Lassie and Jules know what I’m doing.”

“... Could you uh, leave out the–”

“Don’t even have to ask. Just… try to relax a little while I’m gone, okay?”

Shawn doesn’t agree or disagree. Gus leaves, and Shawn splashes his face a few more times before going back to the couch. He sits in the spot Gus had fallen asleep in. Maybe he’s imagining it because he’s so cold, but the spot still feels a little warm.

His cell rings a moment later. Crap. He lets it go to voicemail.

“Shawn, call me back, would you? What’s the point of these damn things if you just ignore it all the time? Look, I got a letter about your bike insurance and they’re raising the monthly payments. You put the damn bike on my card so I think I’m entitled to know how well you’re taking care of the thing if I’m going to keep paying for it.”

Shawn groans. He tosses his phone to the other side of the couch. He’ll reply later– or maybe never. 

Henry wheezing, staring with dull bloodshot eyes, reaching out–

…

He’ll reply later.

[dystopicjumpsuit]

Martyrs and Kings - Chapter 1

A Clone Walks Into a Library

Rating: T (rating varies by chapter; mature content will be tagged)

Pairing: Kix x archivist/historian OFC

Wordcount: 3.3k

Warnings: slight angst; mentions of canon character deaths; office politics are canon in the GFFA

A/N: Finally migrating this story over from AO3. I'll be posting a chapter on Tumblr every few days until I'm caught up, but if you'd like to read ahead, here's the link to the story up to chapter 8.

Summary: Clone medic Kix is a man displaced in time. Captured by Separatists and put into cryostasis when he learned the truth about the clones' inhibitor chips, he awakens fifty years after the end of the Clone Wars. The Republic is gone. The galaxy has changed. And now, the last clone trooper searches for answers with the help of a New Republic historian.

Next chapter | Masterlist | Sign up for my tag list

Republic City, Hosnian Prime

32 ABY

The man gazed up at the imposing building in front of him, squinting against the harsh sunlight. The air was chilled despite the brightness of the day, and his breath swirled in clouds around him. He stood, seemingly oblivious to the pedestrians that bustled past as airspeeders whizzed through the skylane behind him. Few noticed the man, but those who did felt a strange sense of unease, of slight wrongness, as though he did not quite belong in the setting. Whether they observed this or not, the pedestrian traffic instinctively steered away from him, leaving a wide bubble of space around the stranger.

He stood, unmoving, for some time, locked in a silent debate with himself, until at length, he reached a decision. With a sharp nod, he walked into the building.

It was cold in the New Republic Galactic Library. Maree readjusted the shawl that she always kept in her office for mornings like this, then wrapped her hands around her mug of tea as she scrolled through the morning’s holomessages. Most of them were from colleagues complaining about the temperature. Most recently, the head maintenance droid had sent out a dispassionate mass response explaining that the sprawling complex’s central climate control had been automatically adjusted due to the spring equinox. Maree’s eyes lit with amusement as the indignant replies began to pop up in her inbox.

New Republic efficiency at its finest, she thought. Everything had to be automated. It didn’t matter that the outside temperature was still well below freezing; the equinox had passed, and so they were moved to the spring climate schedule. No doubt the decision had come from a droid that had no problem functioning in the cold. It would probably take weeks of complaints and committee meetings by the time the issue was resolved, and by that point, Republic City would likely be in the middle of a full and magnificent spring, rendering the problem null.

She nearly laughed as she skimmed through her messages and saw identical leave requests from two of the department’s interns who thought they were being subtle about their burgeoning romance. Ah, young love. Who was she to stand in the way? She quickly approved the requests, then moved on to carefully review the latest research directive from the New Republic Judiciary. Finally, she could longer put off reading the last message in her inbox. Despite herself, her heart began to beat a little faster as she opened the message. 

To: Dr. Maree R. Finnall From: NRGL Department of Outreach Subject: Decision on Expedition Proposal Submission Submission Number: ORE-R-72-00066T5 Dear Dr. Finnall, It is with great regret that we must inform you that your recent expedition proposal has been rejected. As you are aware, the current political climate in the Outer Rim is somewhat tenuous. . .

The message went on, but there was no need to finish reading it. Force knew she’d received it often enough to know what it said. Maree turned off the holoprojector with a small sigh. She took a sip of her tea and grimaced when she found it had gone cold. 

Taungsdays, am I right?

She crossed to her small kitchenette and dumped the tea down the sink. She briefly considered making another cup, but it would likely share its predecessor’s fate, so instead, she moved to gaze out the massive window. Glacial air flowed off the transparisteel, but the view was worth the discomfort. The early morning sun sparkled off the thick layer of frost covering Republic City, transforming it into a glittering wonderland. Beyond the city’s magnificent towers and spires, she glimpsed the deep azure of the western ocean.

I love it here, she reminded herself. It wasn’t exactly a punishment to stay on Hosnian Prime. Surely the benefits outweighed the disappointment of yet another rejected proposal.

The soft chime of her office door startled Maree out of her reverie.

“Come in,” she called.

The door slid open to reveal one of the library’s receptionists, Eidani Olphes. Maree didn’t know her well, but she passed the younger woman at the library’s front desk every morning when she arrived at work, and Maree always tried to be friendly with the support staff. She remembered her own early career when senior faculty were often dismissive and condescending, and she had vowed never to be the cause of anyone feeling so small and unimportant. 

“Good morning, Eidani,” she said with a warm smile. “What can I do for you?”

“Dr. Finnall, I have a gentleman here who is visiting Hosnian Prime to research the Clone Wars. Do you have any availability to meet with him this morning?”

Maree’s interest was piqued immediately. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d gotten such a request from a private citizen.

“As a matter of fact, I’m free now,” she said. “Is he here?”

“Yes,” Eidani replied. “TJ-60 asked him to wait outside your office.”

Eidani fidgeted a little as she spoke, and Maree wondered if the man had made her uncomfortable. Maree commed her droid assistant, fully prepared to ban the visitor from the library if he had harassed the young Devaronian.

“Teejay, please show the gentleman into my office.”

“Right away, Dr. Finnall,” came Teejay’s monotone reply.

Maree heard the outer office door hiss open as Teejay directed the visitor to her office. Eidani turned around as soon as Teejay opened the door and watched his approach with a wide smile and undisguised interest. As the visitor walked into view, Maree realized she had misread the young receptionist’s reaction.

Force almighty.

Maree had never seen such a gorgeous man. He was tall and athletically built, with golden brown skin, curly black hair, and a neat beard. His nondescript clothing entirely failed to disguise his powerful frame, and he moved with the relaxed confidence of a man with absolutely nothing to prove. The beard emphasized his high cheekbones, but his eyes were the most arresting. They were a warm, luminous brown that reminded her of sunlight glinting through amber. Something about his face tugged at her memory, and she wracked her brain trying to remember if she’d met him before.

“Hello again,” Eidani giggled. “This is Dr. Finnall. She’s our Clone Wars expert.”

His solemn gaze flicked from Eidani to Maree, and she nearly blinked at the intensity in his eyes.

“Maree Finnall,” she said, shaking his hand. 

“Kix,” he replied.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Kix.” 

“Just Kix,” he said.

He had a lovely voice, smoky and dark and beautifully accented, and Maree briefly wondered if he had any flaws at all. She hoped she had a better sabacc face than Eidani.

“My mistake,” she said. “Please call me Maree.”

“You specialize in the Clone Wars?” he asked.

 “To a degree. My scholarship focuses on the military history of the late Galactic Republic and early Imperial periods,” Maree clarified. “The Clone Wars are, of course, a major part of that era. How can I help you?” 

He glanced at Eidani, who was staring up at him with a worshipful expression.

“I, er—I’m looking for some fairly detailed information,” he hedged.

Maree took the hint.

“I see,” she said. “Please come in. Thank you, Eidani. I’ll notify the front desk if we need your assistance again.”

“Of—of course!” Eidani gushed. “Please let me know if you need anything. Anything at all!”

“We will keep that in mind,” Maree smiled.

She shot a meaningful glance at Teejay, who immediately began to usher Eidani out of the office. Maree closed her door and turned to Kix, who was looking around the room with interest.

“Nice office,” he said.

“Thank you. Please make yourself comfortable,” she replied, gesturing to the soft, padded armchairs that were strategically placed around the room. “May I offer you a cup of tea?”

“No, thank you,” he said. “I don’t want to be a bother.”

“It’s no trouble at all,” she said. “Let me know if you change your mind. For now, can you tell me what specific information you are looking for?”

He selected a chair that was oriented so that it faced both the window and the door of the office, she noticed. Maree’s mother was the same way; she hated the vulnerability of having her back to an opening. Mindful of Kix’s hypervigilance, Maree picked up her datapad and settled into a chair on his left, leaving plenty of space between them, as she prepared to take notes. From this angle, she could see the edge of a tattoo peeking out from his hairline. It looked like aurebesh, but his hair covered too much of it to be sure. It was intriguing, and she had a sudden and distinctly unprofessional urge to brush the hair away from his face and take a closer look.

“I’m interested in the late months of the wars,” he said. “Everything after the Battle of Anaxes.”

She tapped the information into her datapad. He observed her closely as she worked. She wasn’t accustomed to such scrutiny, and she found it slightly distracting. She felt a bit like a bug that was being dissected and studied.

“I can prepare an overview,” she said, “but that is still quite a broad area as there were so many simultaneous campaigns. Is there any particular battle or unit that I should focus on?”

“The 501st Legion,” he said in a clipped tone.

“General Skywalker’s legion. A fascinating unit,” she said. “Are you interested in their actions in the Imperial era as well, or only those preceding the fall of the Galactic Republic?”

“Both,” he said. “Is there a way to research individual soldiers in the battalion?”

“Yes, if you send me a list in advance,” she replied, “though it may take me a few days to compile the records. Will you be on Hosnian Prime long?”

“As long as it takes,” he said.

“I see. Perhaps we can meet on Primeday morning?” she suggested. “That should give me time to collect the combat reports at least, and once we’ve had a look at those, we might have a better idea of where to direct our research efforts.”

“What time on Primeday?” he asked.

“Any time you like,” she said. “I’ll have Teejay clear my schedule so I can be at your disposal all morning. I do have appointments in the afternoon that I won’t be able to reschedule, unfortunately.”

He looked startled. “Oh, I don’t want to take you away from your work for that long.”

“This is my work,” she said. “And I am delighted to meet someone who shares my interest in this particular field. Not many do. Consider yourself warned; you are far more likely to get tired of me than I am likely to run out of things to talk about.”

“I doubt that,” he said, meeting her eyes squarely. 

“Let me know if you still feel that way after I send you so many reports and articles that I crash your datapad,” she said.

He smiled for the first time since she’d met him, and it made him look younger and even more handsome, if such a thing were possible. She found herself smiling back at him even as she told herself not to indulge her interest. Not only was the man a client, but he was at least a decade younger than Maree—much closer to Eidani’s age, in fact. 

“I should forewarn you,” she said. “This period of history—it’s a difficult one. Most of the stories do not end well.”

“Trying to scare me off, Doc?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Not at all,” she said. “I just want you to be prepared. There’s a reason most historians choose other periods to study. It’s a hard time to confront.”

“I understand,” he said, and something in his eyes told her that he truly did. “I will see you on Primeday.”

Kix exited the library feeling decidedly ambivalent. He stepped into the frigid air, which had failed to capture any heat from the bright sunshine during the time he’d spent inside the building. Still, he took a deep breath and felt the sting of it in his lungs.

He had been nervous when he entered the library. He’d spent over a year with Sidon Ithano and his crew, throwing himself into their skirmishes with a ruthlessness and ferocity that startled even the notorious pirate’s crew. But the violence failed to distract him from his own thoughts. He’d been consumed by grief and rage, overwhelmed by feelings of failure and guilt and the futility of everything he and his brothers had suffered and sacrificed. And worst of all, the knowledge that all of his brothers—every single one of them—were long dead. 

He had never felt so alone. 

Every time he looked in the mirror, his fallen brothers’ faces looked back at him. So he avoided mirrors as much as possible. Growing a beard helped disguise the resemblance, but he still couldn’t stand to meet his own eyes in the reflection. When he decided at last to uncover his brothers’ fates, the ship’s Twi’lek mechanic Reveth had warned him that nothing good would come from digging into the past.

“It ended bad,” she said. “I don’t think it could have ended worse. Don’t do this to yourself.”

They had been lying in bed. It hadn’t taken them long to seek each other’s company after Kix joined the crew. They both needed comfort—needed to forget. Just for a moment. He was haunted by his memories, and she by her hopeless, despairing love for the ship’s mysterious captain. They found oblivion in each other’s beds, but nothing more.

“I have to know,” he said, no longer able to bear the uncertainty. 

And so, he took a temporary leave from the Meson Martinet crew and traveled to Hosnian Prime in search of someone who could give him the answers he needed. The New Republic Information Bureau had directed him to the library, explaining that the facility maintained an extensive staff of archivists. At least one of them would surely be able to help, the information droid had assured him. When Kix had arrived at the entrance to the library’s vast structure, he’d hesitated, remembering Reveth’s warning before he’d departed the Meson Martinet three days earlier.

He’d shaken off the voice in his head, squared his shoulders, and gone inside. The pretty young Devaronian receptionist at the front desk hadn’t been able to answer his questions, but she had located an archivist who could, leading him through the labyrinthine facility with an ease that spoke of many such trips. She had been friendly and outgoing, peppering him with questions that left him tongue-tied, so he responded with mostly monosyllables or silence. His reticence did not seem to affect her at all—quite the opposite, in fact, and by the time she had located the archivist, she had escalated into full-blown flirtation. It had been a relief when the office droid had requested him to wait outside the office until the archivist was free to speak with him.

When he’d been admitted, he braced himself for another verbal onslaught, but the archivist was very different from the bubbly receptionist. She was older, for one thing. Her elaborate hairdo was threaded with silver, and a few fine lines crinkled around the corners of her eyes, evidence of decades of laughter. Her greeting had been friendly while maintaining a professional reserve, and he was struck by her low, melodic voice. 

And Maker, she was beautiful. Kix had found himself staring as she introduced herself, taking in the graceful contours of her face. She was dressed in elegant, flowing robes, and he had felt a moment’s self-consciousness about the shabby plainness of his own garb. But she had given him a kind smile, and despite the chilly air of the library, her small hands had been warm when she had clasped his in greeting. He clenched his fist lightly when she released him, trying in vain to hold onto that warmth. 

Her office was a comfortable, cozy room that seemed more like a home than a workplace—at least in Kix’s opinion, accustomed as he was the the harsh sterility of Kamino, the endless gray of the Republic Star Destroyers, and the chaotic violence of the battlefield. There was a large desk, which he had expected, and an assortment of soft, mismatched armchairs set around the room, which he had not. The expansive view from the enormous window naturally dominated the space, but she had decorated the room to suit her own taste as well. Several paintings hung on the walls, a few sculptures were tastefully displayed through the room, and there was a vase of fresh flowers on the desk. When she offered him tea, he noticed a small kitchenette, and he wondered exactly how much time she spent in this room. 

As she settled into the chair next to him and began discussing his request, he felt his anxiety spike again. He wasn’t sure how he was going to explain his interest in the Clone Wars without giving away his identity. It was something of an open secret in the Outer Rim that Sidon Ithano traveled with a clone trooper—though there were those who insisted this was merely another rumor designed to fuel the Crimson Corsair’s intimidating reputation. In general, Kix kept to himself, and he was reluctant to disclose his origins to anyone, let alone a government representative. To his relief, she did not interrogate him about his motivations; instead, she directed her questions to how she could best assist his search. Her soft voice made him want to lean in closer when she spoke, and as they conversed, he felt his tension begin to disperse.

She had a way of drawing him into the conversation without pressuring him for personal details, and he deeply appreciated her tact. It was not easy for him to talk to people, whether they were strangers or friends. Not like it used to be. He was not the same man he’d been before the Separatists tortured him for information and shoved him into a cryo-cycle stasis pod. 

During the Clone Wars, he had been fun-loving and easygoing. He’d been popular with his fellow clones and with the civilians he encountered—in fact, the bubbly receptionist from the library would have been exactly the kind of partner he would have sought out during a night out at 79’s. And most importantly, he’d had a group of brothers who were his best friends. Hardcase; Tup; Jesse; and the Domino twins, Echo and Fives. They had fallen, one by one, replaced by shinies, until it was just him and Jesse left of the original group—and Captain Rex, of course. The best commanding officer a clone could have asked for, and the closest thing Kix had ever had to a father. 

Finding Echo alive had been a miracle, and it was entirely due to Rex’s instincts. But the man they had found on Skako Minor had been so different from the ARC trooper who’d been left for dead at the Citadel that he had felt there was no longer a place for him in the 501st, and so Kix had lost Echo a second time. That loss was what had pushed Kix to take up Fives’s investigation. What he had found had horrified him deeply. He had tried desperately to alert the Jedi to the sinister plot, but the Separatists had found him first.

And now, fifty-one years later, he was a stranger in a strange galaxy, begging an alluring historian to tell him how his brothers had died.

---

Chapter 2

Tagging: @blueink-bluesoul @secondaryrealm @spicy-clones

[lgcmanager]

HAPPY FOUR YEARS, LGC SUPERSTARS !

after all of the exhausting practices and schedules, every trainee and debut artist falls asleep…only to be woken up in a world that may be familiar or foreign to some people…

WELCOME BACK, LGC UNIVERSITY STUDENTS!

to commemorate lgc’s fourth anniversary, we are bringing back lgc university! for the muns who were not present during last year’s run of the anniversary event, this is an alternate universe ( au ) storyline in which all of the lgc muses are now students of lgc university! in the first iteration of this, all of the muses had to take several tests ( and even a final exam with DBSD’s daehyun as the proctor ) and pass in order to complete the term.

now in this alternate universe, it’s summertime and some people could associate it with summer camps and all, but in lgc university this is the time when they host their yearly house tournament and prom night! 

and here are the following houses:

YOUNGGONG

REPRESENTATIVE LGC GROUP: TYPE ZERO

HEAD OF HOUSE: CHOI DAEHYUN

RUINA

REPRESENTATIVE LGC GROUP: VERSUS

HEAD OF HOUSE: WU YANG PING ( YP )

EGARIM

REPRESENTATIVE LGC GROUP: AGITO

HEAD OF HOUSE: KIM HYUNBIN

AVERTINE

REPRESENTATIVE LGC GROUP: CRYSTALLIS

HEAD OF HOUSE: NAM SARANG

FLORINTHE

REPRESENTATIVE LGC GROUP: FABULA

HEAD OF HOUSE: KIM YOUNGIM

( note: the names chosen are actually the continents that represent each of the lgc groups [ sans nova ] for the webtoon! a special thank you to all of the muns who participated in that last year, especially the muns behind @lgcxnoeul/@lgcminseo, @lgcxminji/@lgcsena, and @lgcichika/@lgctaiyou/@lgcparker for the names suggested above! )

likewise, TYPE ZERO, V&A, CRYSTALLIS, and FABULA will be in their respective houses and will serve as part of the “student council”.

for the full list of where everyone is placed, you can look over HERE.

STUDENT PROFILES

another aspect that the muses got to select are their majors. this time around, you will be given the option to choose which of the following majors your muse is pursuing currently. for the ones that have participated in last year’s anniversary event, you COULD keep the same major that was selected before OR you can change it to one of the other options.

for the years, there will be some slight adjustments but should be relatively similar to last year’s anniversary event where it will be based on when your muse joined the company ( ic wise ). here is how the years will be divided:

1ST YEAR STUDENTS: any muses who joined lgc entertainment from JANUARY 2022 to JULY 2023

2ND YEAR STUDENTS: any muses who joined lgc entertainment from JULY 2020 to JULY 2021

3RD YEAR STUDENTS: any muses who joined lgc entertainment from JANUARY 2019 to JANUARY 2020

4TH YEAR STUDENTS: any muses who joined lgc entertainment from JANUARY 2015 to JULY 2018

for the majors, here are the following choices:

acting

communication

creative writing

dance

linguistics

music theory

studio arts

for this requirement, just fill out the student profile below and make sure to tag the post as lgc:universityprofiles. this WILL NOT count for activity. you will receive points for completing this, but for this anniversary event the number of points you receive and the distributions will be announced AFTER the anniversary deadline has passed. 

LGCU STUDENT PROFILES

NAME: [ muse name ]

YEAR: [ please refer to lgc u sheet or the info above for this ]

MAJOR: [ choose ONE major only; acting, communication, creative writing, dance, linguistics, music theory, studio arts ]

SUBJECTS RANKING [ pick what your muse’s top five favorite subjects are based on the list below. the list has to be ranked in order, with 1 being the highest. ]

ACTING FUNDAMENTALS

ART OF PROBLEM SOLVING

ASTRONOMY

BEGINNER YOGA

CALCULUS

DANCE HISTORY

DRAWING I

ENGLISH IN SOCIETY

HISTORY OF PHOTOGRAPHY

INTERPERSONAL COMMUNICATIONS

INTRODUCTION TO PROBABILITY

JAPANESE CONVERSATION THROUGH MOVIES

KOREAN LANGUAGE & LITERATURE

MARKETING COMMUNICATIONS PRINCIPLES

MUSIC PRODUCTION

PEOPLES, CULTURES, ENVIRONMENTS

PERFORMING ARTS

PHOTOGRAPHY I

SCULPTURE FUNDAMENTALS

WRITING FOR MASS MEDIA

3 RANDOM FACTS: [ list 3 random facts relevant to the lgc university verse. this can range from how you think the muse got accepted to the university, favorite classes, interesting moments in any of the classes mentioned above, etc. basically have fun writing the facts because it’s an au! ]

please submit the following form on the points blog before OCTOBER 7, 2023 11:59PM EDT.

NAME: MUSE NAME SUBJECT: LGC UNIVERSITY (STUDENT PROFILES) - PROFILE: [ LINK ]

[incandescentflower]

3 for handholding for achi/karan?

hey stickies! thanks for the prompt! number 3 is "cold hands in warm hands" and honestly, you had me stumped for a hot second. I was like "cold hands, in Thailand?" 🤣 but the answer came to me.

I hope this is what you were thinking. :)

This is part of a Cherry Magic Thailand fic ask game I'm playing while the show airs. Send me a prompt from one of the lists and I'll write you a ficlet! Details are in this post.

I have a few more prompts I'm still working on. Thank you to everyone who sent some along!

This is also on AO3 here. The other prompt ficlets in this series are here.

a little extra warmth

It had been an extremely busy week. Their company had a potential huge new client and everyone in the office had a task in trying to bring them in and pitch a partnership with them. Karan had spent many nights doing research, looking through their sales data and putting together an extensive proposal. 

Achi had spent just as much time organizing the visit, schedules and various meetings. It involved multiple divisions from each company. It was a huge undertaking, with people’s schedules changing and deadlines shifting. 

Karan was so tired by the end of the day, all he wanted to do was to flop next to Achi at his desk and lean on his shoulder. Starting a relationship with Achi had so many wonderful aspects and seeing him every day at work had always been something Karan loved, but now, instead of secretly watching on his own and wondering if Achi could ever think of him back, Karan knew Achi probably was thinking of him whenever Karan caught him looking in his direction.

It was a distraction like none other Karan had faced and he was not always doing a good job of keeping it under wraps. But Achi had made it clear - he was fairly private, he didn’t want to be the subject of the office gossip. This was new and he didn’t want that pressure. Achi hadn’t said he didn’t ever want to tell people in the office. Just not right now.

Before he had confessed to Achi, people would sometimes notice the special attention Karan gave him. Karan thought he had been successful at redirecting any suspicions by making sure he did something thoughtful for someone else pretty blatantly after. He tended to try to show his coworkers how much he appreciated them anyway. 

But wanting to make Achi smile was like breathing. Sometimes he wasn’t even aware he was doing it.

So instead of wrapping his arms around Achi as soon as they met to leave the office, Karan would nod and stand next to him waiting. He would wait as they walked down the hallway. He would wait as they walked into the elevator. He would even wait while they walked out of the building and made their way to his car. 

But then he stopped waiting. That’s when he was allowed to reach for Achi and grasp his hand. This time when he did, he found Achi’s hands were absolutely freezing. 

“Achi, how are your hands so cold?”

“Oh,” he said, pulling it back.

“No, come back here.” Karan put both of Achi’s hands between his and rubbed them vigorously, trying to generate some heat from the friction. 

“It’s the A/C. It’s freezing some days.”

“I didn’t realize you were so cold. I would have done something.”

“Karan, what are you going to do?” Achi said, with an amused look on his face.

“Well, my preference would be to hold onto you like this, but I could figure something else out.” 

“It’s fine,” Achi said. “I just put them in my pockets if they get too cold. I’ve tried to get facilities to adjust the temperature, but apparently any shift would make the larger office space warmer and people can’t focus on work if they’re too hot.”

The long preparations for this client had meant long meetings in their conference room, which is why they had ended up in the colder space recently. The small space in the heat of summer meant that the air conditioning was on full blast. 

Karan had noticed it was colder, but it hadn't occurred to him that Achi would be uncomfortable.

--------

The next day Karan was concerned enough to sit right next to Achi in the meeting, despite having kept a little distance before to respect Achi's desire for them to be discreet. And it was the right call because he caught Achi shivering about an hour into it.

"Perhaps it's time for a break?" Karan suggested and everyone agreed.

The room cleared out and Karan was ready, he slid the warm mug he had in front of him over to Achi. He looked at Karan, a little question, but he nodded and reached for it. Karan slid his hands over Achi’s as he grabbed the mug with both hands, giving him a little extra warmth while no one was around to see it. His hands were still too cold in Karan's opinion, but he knew this would help.

Achi laughed, but took a sip and smiled. He was so adorable. This is why Karan did these things. Achi could have easily done this for himself, but he wouldn’t have thought about it. He was too busy getting together the materials for the meeting to do anything for himself before. So Karan would do it.

That evening when he took Achi to the ferry on their way home, Achi said thank you again for the drink to warm him up. 

Karan smiled. “It was just an excuse to get to hold your hands during the day.”

It may have sounded like something silly, but it was the truth. Even that small touch made Karan’s day better. 

--------

The following day, when Karan got to the meeting, Achi already had a cup in front of him. Karan was glad that what he had done yesterday reminded Achi to take care of himself, but Karan was secretly a little sad that he wouldn’t get to be the one to make Achi smile that time, or have a reason to touch him, even briefly, during the day. 

He sat down next to Achi, who shifted his seat toward Karan a bit. Karan must have jumped a little when Achi reached over and grabbed his hand. That's how unexpected is was.

Achi pulled Karan’s hand over to him under the table and wrapped it around something warm. He smiled as he held Karan’s hand there, everyone at the meeting settling around them as it was about to start. 

“Oh Achi,” Rock said. “Did you happen to find that…” he trailed off, obviously noticing the weird way they were both holding their hands under the table. 

Achi pulled his hand out and held it up between them. “Karan noticed I was cold and shared his hand warmer with me. Wasn’t that nice?”

Rock nodded, looking kind of confused, and seemed to forget his question. He instead sat down on the other side of Achi, settling into his spot and opening his laptop. 

Achi didn't at all seem flustered by Rock noticing this. He simply reached for Karan’s hand again under the table.

“Achi?” Karan asked in a hushed tone, still uncertain what was happening.

Achi placed the warmer in Karan’s hand, giving it a quick squeeze before he let go and picked up his pen, ready to take notes.

Karan wasn't sure what else to do but place the warmer in his jacket pocket.

“Thank you, Karan. I’ll let you know when I need it again,” Achi said, biting back a smile.

Ah. So that's what Achi was doing. It was a small thing, but still Karan was surprised. People still might say something, but Achi had given him a little excuse for them to be close on some of their longer days. 

It meant Achi was getting a little more comfortable, a little less worried about what other people might think.

Somehow it ended up being Karan who was completely warmed up inside.

[danglovely]

Regrading Taskmaster: S05E08 Their water's so delicious. and Series Five Winner.

*Score changes noted in parenthesis.

Goodbye Series Five, you will be missed. Also, I think I may get a bit too verbose, so feel free to TLDNR.

Prize Task: The Most Awkward Item For Somebody Else To Take Home

I gotta say that there are some A+ submissions in this one. Bob goes for a pretty baseline political joke which I would describe as uninspired. Sally bringing in balloons creates a fun thing to do on the stage at the end of the episode and I do appreciate that. However, Nish and Mark are the tops here. A bathroom would be harder to get home than a bunch of curry.

Aisling: 2 Bob: 1 Mark: 5 Nish: 4 Sally: 3

VT 01: Get this coconut as far from here as possible. You may not touch the ground. You may not step on anything more than once. The coconut may not travel by car.

There's a list of restricted items you can send to Fiji.

This is interesting because "the ground" can mean different things in different contexts. One could imagine a game of "The Floor is Lava" where stepping on the carpet might not feel like it's in the spirit of things.

Alex breaks it down in studio by explaining that it is okay for him to step on the carpet, but when he leaves it he can't return. I think I get the heart of what he's going for, but it's a messy rule. Nish appears to shuffle his feet a bunch of times on the carpet, but Mark is the only one who gets disqualified.

There's another question in whether you measure the maximum distance the coconut ever got from the living room or just where it ended up at the end of the task. It really doesn't feel like Sally got her coconut to the post office in the allotted time (especially since it couldn't travel by car).

Furthermore, Alex said Aisling got it further than Bob but for some reason Bob got 4 points.

All this said, there are so many problems here that I think I have two choices: (1) Defer to the original scoring. (2) Completely discredit the task. Seeing as this task never seemed particularly controversial, I'll defer to the original scoring but switch Bob and Aisling.

Aisling: 4 (+1) Bob: 3 (-1) Mark: DQ Nish: 2 Sally: 5

VT 02: Create the best graph.

I'll fill his boat with piss.

What constitutes the best graph? The most important factors would probably be interesting subject matter, accuracy, and ease of comprehensibility.

Nish's graph is easy to understand -- spending time with him is fun at a 1:1 ratio . . . although who knows what units of fun are measured in. It's also clever because he uses himself as the y-axis and makes the thing vertically. It's not a particularly interesting subject, but it's fine.

The point Mark is trying to make is that individual politics is an incredibly small factor when held up against the vastness of eternity. I believe it's supposed to be a bar graph, but the scale is intentionally done poorly to help effectuate the point so I'm not sure. It's kind of ambiguous what the y-axis is measuring (there's a percentage symbol, but percentage of what?). Greg dismisses it because he immediately forgot the subject matter and I am in agreement that it wasn't an amazing effort.

Sally's graph compares how much sex she gets versus how much sex she wants over the course of time. It's easy to understand and I would be bold enough to say it's interesting subject matter. The only downside is that she builds it out of a variety of different objects, so it's not very pretty.

Aisling's graph is attempting to compare the number of women and men on Taskmaster by series. The data is pretty easy to visualize, even without a graph: 1/5, 1/5, 1/5, 2/5, 2/5. Lots of problems here. The lines shouldn't start at zero (unless we're including Edenborough as Series Zero), the show didn't begin with more women than men in the cast, and the lines should be flat for the first three series then adjust beginning with Series Four. This is an easy last place.

Bob does a bar graph of units of piss by county. I can't verify it's accuracy, so I'm giving it five.

Aisling: 1 (-2) Bob: 5 (+1) Mark: 2 (-1) Nish: 4 (-1) Sally: 3 (0)

Solo Task: Make the most fish puns.

I just thought you were bad at speaking.

I almost want to give Sally a point for the unfairness of it all. Alex did not make his puns in a minute, he made them over the course of days. No points for either of them.

Sally: 0 Alex: 0 (-5)

VT 04: Write and perform a song about this woman.

Do we strike you?

This is an obvious contender for the best task in the entire show. I think the opinions on this one are pretty well settled. The team of three writes a very funny and unhinged song, but Mark and Nish absolutely knock it out of the park. Greg was still splitting points here so the team of two somehow only get three for the best creative work anyone has produced on the show.

I really really want to give them five, but absent a disqualification four is the maximum.

Aisling, Bob & Sally: 1 (-1) Mark and Nish: 4 (+1)

Live Task: Throw the egg through the hoop and catch it as many times as possible. You may not touch the net or post.

This looks pretty straightforward.

Alex blowing the whistle and Nish immediately losing his egg is the funniest, most predictable thing ever. For some reason Aisling starts the task standing on the base of her hoop, so she definitely touched it. By the end, Bob is the only one who pulls off a successful throw and catch.

As unfair as it seems, logistically the other four contestants should probably be put into joint second. Aisling should be disqualified, but I read this one as disqualification stopping score accumulation rather than outright losing you the task.

Aisling: 4 (+4) Bob: 5 (0) Mark: 4 (+4) Nish: 4 (+4) Sally: 4 (0)

F I N A L

Aisling: 12 (+2) Bob: 15 (-1) Mark: 15 (+4) Nish: 18 (+4) Sally: 16 (-1)

Oh my god, I gave Nish a win.

S E R I E S F I N A L

Aisling: 119 (-7) Bob: 125 (-13) Mark: 129 (-1) Nish: 115 (+8) Sally: 124 (-6)

I triple checked my math because I in no way thought I'd have Mark beating Bob. I think it ultimately boiled down to evaluating what he did objectively whereas Greg enjoyed randomly docking him for laughs. Even so, I was pretty sure Bob was going to win so this is a stunner.

In the end, I gave Nish two more episode wins than he had in the real show. Aisling never ended up getting one (losing that tiebreaker with Mark hurts).

With that, I can say goodbye to Series Five. Series Six is next and it's worse, but I won't let that stop me. If I end up doing a regrade of Champion of Champions, it'd likely be after everything else. It's taken me six months to get through five seasons and they get longer from here, so it'll be interesting to see if I'm still plugging away at it by then.

Anyway, having gotten through five seasons, my version of Champion of Champions would have been Josh, Richard, Dave, Hugh, and Mark. I'd honestly say we're better off with the cast that we got.

[sciencestyled]

The Alchemical Marriage of Pi and DNA: A Hilariously Twisted Saga of Mathematics in Science Education

Ladies, gentlemen, and distinguished nerds of the jury, strap yourselves in and adjust your monocles; we're about to embark on a wild ride through the whimsically warped world of mathematics in science education. Imagine, if you will, a universe where Pythagoras DJs at the biggest raves, Newton’s apple is a viral meme, and Einstein's hair isn't just a style statement but the ultimate symbol of scientific rebellion. Welcome to the chaos.

Now, let's get down to brass tacks, or should I say, brass abacuses? Science education, that hallowed ground where the brave dare to tread, has long been the breeding ground for future world leaders, Nobel laureates, and that person who finally figures out how to get printers to work on the first try. But at the heart of this intellectual jungle gym is the unsung hero, the silent beatboxer to science's rap battle: mathematics.

Ah, mathematics, the language of the universe, or as I like to call it, the universal gossip column spilling the tea on everything from the atoms twerking in your coffee cup to the swagger of galaxies on the cosmic runway. It's the tool that transforms the abstract into the "Oh, snap, I get it now!" moments in various science disciplines. Whether it's statistical analysis, modeling, or computational methods, math is the secret sauce that makes the science burger taste so darn good.

Picture this: you're chilling in biology class, right? Suddenly, the teacher drops the bomb that DNA replication is basically just a very meticulous braid of nucleotides, kind of like your cousin trying to explain the plot of "Inception" – it's all about patterns, baby! And who's there, with a smug smile and a calculator? Math, ready to explain the party tricks of enzymes and the RSVP list of amino acids.

Or how about when you're knee-deep in environmental science, crying into your recycled notebook about deforestation, and boom! Math swoops in, cape billowing, with statistical models that predict the effects of human folly on Mother Nature's mood swings. It's like having a crystal ball, but instead of vague warnings about tall, dark strangers, you get graphs and charts showing precisely how screwed we might be if we don’t change our ways.

And let’s not forget the rock stars of the scientific world: physics and chemistry, where math plays the lead guitar and occasionally smashes it on stage. Want to know why atoms don't just decide to break up the band and go solo? Quantum mechanics, with its mathematical autographs, has the answers. Curious about the cosmic mosh pit that is the universe? General relativity throws down the equations to keep the party going at the speed of light.

But, dear audience, it's not all just numbers and equations, oh no. Mathematics in science education is like the ultimate crossover episode where every character from your favorite shows turns up. It's "The Avengers" of academia, where every discipline brings its own superpowers to the table, united by the common goal of understanding this weird, wonderful, and absolutely bonkers reality we call home.

And in this era of technological razzle-dazzle, computational methods stand at the forefront like the cool kids in class, coding their way through problems like hackers in a Hollywood movie, minus the dubious ethics and questionable fashion choices. From mapping the human genome to simulating climate change scenarios, computational science is the VIP lounge of the academic club, and math is the bouncer deciding who gets in.

So, as we stand on the precipice of knowledge, gazing into the abyss of ignorance, let us remember the words of the great sage, Weird Al Yankovic, "I was valedictorian, I got a full ride to MIT, and I was on a very strict diet of milk, fish, and honey - until I started to break out in Pi." Mathematics in science education isn't just a subject; it's a lifestyle, a state of mind, and the ultimate cosmic joke that we're all in on.

In conclusion, as we navigate the labyrinthine corridors of science education, let us clutch our graphing calculators like the swords of yore, ready to duel with ignorance and emerge victorious. For in the alchemical marriage of pi and DNA, we find not just answers, but the right questions, the kind that lead us to the edge of the universe and ask, "So, got any snacks?"

And remember, in the grand scheme of things, whether you're splitting atoms or merely splitting hairs over the Oxford comma, mathematics is there, the faithful steed upon which we ride into the sunset of understanding, leaving bewilderment in our wake. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go help Schrödinger's cat out of the box. It's been meowing for quantum assistance, and frankly, the suspense is killing me – or not.

[moonbiscuitsims]

Werewolf community on the Sims 2

If you like these characters check out my YouTube Video introducing them; I'll be doing some let's play soon. <3 CC List with some of the content is here. Any support for my posts and stories is appreciated :3

My little werewolf community in the middle of Deadmoon Lakes

The twins Nora and Fenris are the founders. Their condition for joining is that you had to have been unfortunately savaged and turned into a werewolf and have no where to go. How kind of them?

Poor Berry did not think there would actually be werewolves in the old abandoned farmhouse that his friends dared him to enter...

At least Fenris and Nora are friendly and soon he actually started to adjust to life at the community. He is a knowledge sim so he feels like he's learning a lot about occult matters he didn't know about, especially once he found out here that there are also such thing as vampires...and apparently they're terrible and smelly!!

A few weeks later, Calendula arrived and Berry became quite fond of her. They also seem to both be messing around with others, but they feel a connection.

...a deep connection x)

Sometimes they all take little trips to the coast for a change of scenery. Berry tried learning break dancing but didn't really get anywhere with it. So he went inside the beach bar an played a little bit of poker instead.

There was this creepy guy with scary eyebrows who kept going on about... finding a test subject, saying his old one had... escaped and asking Berry if he was interested. Berry politely declined... he got a bad feeling. There was also this greyish lady who absolutely stunk, like her skin was rotting away or something, maybe she had a disease? it was almost like she was a zombie. Good thing the game crashed and Berry was able to get out of there!

Nora also is starting to get a crush on a strange alien lady she met out on the day trip to the beach, she'd never seen anyone like her! then again, she is a human wolf so there's that...her name's Chloe Curious. She hopes Chloe feels the same way...Chloe even decided to come up to the mountains from her coastal getaway to see Nora again but is this just a one time thing?

Apparently she lives super far away, all the way out in the desert, a small town called "Strangetown". Berry mentioned he met someone creepy from there...Nora has her number so hopefully they'll keep in touch and maybe she can go down and visit her.

Meanwhile she and her brother have a community to help run. She can't just leave her friends, her job and all the dogs for a girl she just met.

I mean look at him <3 pups are Nora's real true love.

[coastal-stargazing]

Mayhem in Nevada - Plot Introduction

I'm currently trying to work on a detailed summary/synopsis of the plot. Expect a poll soon. The plot will be posted in 5 separate parts, before everything is put/compiled together on one final post. Each part is numbered, as I don't always come up with things in order. Here they are, listed below:

Part I: Putting back the “Super” in “Superfly”.

Part II: Craziest road-trip ever!

Part III: Nevadans are strange people.

Part IV: Who da' hell is the Shredder!?

Part V: Time to say goodbye...

Since the Shredder is going to be in the second movie, as hinted in the mid-credits scene, I will try to be careful when describing him as a character. Having some leeway will prevent me from having to make major adjustments to the plot when the second movie comes out. If I do plan on writing this, I will likely work on parts I-III first, saving parts IV & V for later, when the sequel comes out.

---

Note: This post might be subject to change, so I will likely make announcement posts regarding any [future] updates.

[riddlemaster101]

Ok I'm going to add a bit of experience from when I did this, in 2018 and 2019, based on this post. Heads up, it does refute a lot of the above, at least for where I lived at the time (central Illinois)

1. the prescription you get from an eye exam is a lot more subjective based on your doctor's opinion than you think it is. I've had eye doctors who meticulously changed the prescription for every tiny variation every time I went in (insurance covered once/year for a while so I got a lot of prescriptions). I've also had eye doctors in the same office who noted the change but thought it was too minor to put on the prescription and that your eyes can't tell those minor variations anyway, so unless I came in with a specific complaint, I wound up with the same prescription as last time.

Both of these approaches are fine, it depends on what you need and if the eyedoc is willing to work with you. One of the "oh a slight thing changed we need to fix it" prescriptions gave me a blinding migraine behind my right eye and I had to roll it back; some of the "don't adjust" prescriptions didn't fix a problem that I needed fixed. For your appointment, you should just be upfront if you're having any issues with your vision and try and describe them as clearly as possible.

And, at least with the people I worked with, if your prescription is wrong/doesn't work, you can usually get a new one free of charge in the next month/two months. (note: if you suspect something is wrong with your prescription, don't put this step off! after six months your eyedoc will generally consider it to be "your eyes just shifted again" and you'll have to pay for another prescription. but your prescription should be somewhat guaranteed for like a month or two)

2. while places like walmart absolutely will give you a prescription for relatively cheap, they do not adjust glasses or check prescriptions from glasses you ordered online for free (anymore). This is a somewhat recent policy change in direct response to how many people are buying online glasses and using the local business to get them checked (it also depends who specifically is there on that day), but the official word from most eyedoctors/glasses sellers is that if you didn't buy from them, they won't deal with their glasses.

3. I have bought eight pairs of glasses (reading, bifocal, distance, sunglasses and their backups) from EyeBuyDirect and every single prescription has been wrong by a lot. They do have a "return" policy (they'll send you new ones for free and send your old ones to be donated), but after the third attempt they start charging you. That's right: they get your prescription wrong, get the replacement wrong, and then charge you to fix it for the third time. I have had the actual wrong prescription (nothing like my one on file), the "right" prescription but off axis/mag by enough that I couldn't use it, and the two prescriptions listed in my file being mixed up. Getting this straightened out was a pain (see point number 2), since I couldn't check the prescription myself and no where in town would do it for free (I checked something like 10 separate stores/locations, including walmart). I eventually paid $20/pair to get my eyedoc to check them, which was a lot but notably still cheaper than buying through the eyedoc. Because of this, I cannot recommend using EBD to get glasses.

I can't speak for the other online stores, but I will say that a lot of the glasses sellers I spoke to in 2019 (trying to get the prescription checked) said that they are seeing so many people coming in these days with the wrong prescriptions from online glasses. Yes, they're biased because they want to sell you much more expensive glasses through them. This doesn't change the fact that, between the eight original pairs I bought and the eight replacements and the 5 re-replacements (21 total), the prescription was wrong about 2/3 of the time.

This has eventually led me to buy frames with clear glass from EyeBuyDirect and get the eyedoc to put their own lenses in the frames. I only do this because EBD makes the lightest weight frames in a style I like that I've ever found, which helps me wear them for a very long time, otherwise I think I would drop them entirely at this point. This is not cheap, but it is cheaper than buying both the glasses and frames from your eyedoc, and gets you around the prescription check/fitting issue.

tl;dr: if you're having issues with your prescription, go back to the original eye doctor who prescribed it and have them re-check (should be free if done within a month). and be a little cautious of EyeBuyDirect (and other online glasses retail for cheap) because they are cutting corners to keep the price down and sometimes those corners are the accuracy of your prescription.

where are those startups that are disrupting the glasses industry

[idigitizellp]

The Secret Sauce of High Achievers: Habits of Top-Performing College Students

The first time Aarav walked into the Patuck-Gala Degree College classroom, he was overwhelmed. The syllabus looked daunting, the professors seemed strict, and his classmates appeared far more confident. But by the end of his first semester, Aarav had transformed from an anxious newcomer to a top performer.

What changed? It wasn’t just intelligence or luck-it was a set of habits that set high achievers apart from the rest.

So, what’s the secret sauce? Let’s break down the key habits that make college toppers shine.

1. The Power of a Growth Mindset

High achievers believe that intelligence and skills are not fixed — they can be developed through effort and practice. When faced with a difficult subject, they don’t just accept failure. Instead, they analyze their mistakes, ask questions, and refine their approach.

Aarav, for example, struggled with accounting in his first semester. Instead of assuming he wasn’t “good at numbers,” he sought help from professors, watched online tutorials, and practiced every day. By his finals, he was among the top scorers in his class.

2. Smart, Not Just Hard Work

Ever noticed that some students spend hours studying but still struggle, while others seem to ace their exams with ease? The difference lies in smart studying. High performers use techniques like:

Active recall — Testing themselves rather than passively re-reading notes.

Spaced repetition — Revising concepts at intervals to improve retention.

Pomodoro technique — Studying in focused sprints with short breaks in between.

Aarav realized that reading through notes for hours didn’t help. Instead, he started summarizing concepts in his own words, using mind maps, and practicing past question papers.

3. Consistency Over Intensity

Cramming the night before an exam rarely leads to top scores. Toppers build a habit of studying consistently. They break down large topics into manageable chunks and review them regularly. This not only reduces stress but also leads to deeper understanding.

Aarav dedicated two hours every evening to revision, ensuring he never had to pull all-nighters before an exam. This steady effort paid off when exams arrived — he was prepared, confident, and stress-free.

4. Asking the Right Questions

Top students are not afraid to ask questions — whether in class, during discussions, or on online forums. They don’t just memorize; they seek to understand.

During lectures, Aarav made it a habit to note down doubts and clarify them with his professors. This proactive approach helped him grasp even the toughest topics.

5. Networking and Peer Learning

Success isn’t a solo journey. High achievers surround themselves with motivated peers. They participate in study groups, share notes, and discuss concepts. Teaching others is one of the best ways to retain knowledge.

Aarav joined a study group where members would take turns explaining concepts to each other. This reinforced his learning and introduced him to new perspectives.

6. Mastering Time Management

With classes, assignments, and extracurricular activities, college can feel overwhelming. Top students excel at prioritization. They create to-do lists, set deadlines, and allocate time efficiently.

Aarav used a simple planner to track assignments, deadlines, and exam dates. This helped him stay on top of his coursework without last-minute panic.

7. Taking Care of Physical as well as Mental Health

Success is not just about academics. Top performers understand that a healthy body fuels a sharp mind. They maintain a balanced diet, exercise regularly, and ensure adequate sleep.

Aarav initially neglected his sleep to complete assignments but soon realized that a well-rested mind was far more productive. He adjusted his schedule to get 7–8 hours of sleep, and his focus improved significantly.

Our most read blog on How to Balance Academics and Extracurricular Activities Like a Pro helped Aarav with this point.

8. Staying Curious and Passionate

Top students don’t just study for exams; they develop a love for learning. They explore beyond the syllabus, watch TED talks, read books, and engage in discussions.

Aarav developed an interest in finance beyond his coursework. He followed financial news, read books, and attended workshops, which not only helped his academics but also prepared him for future opportunities.

9. Embracing Failure and Feedback

Every top performer faces setbacks. The difference is that they view failures as learning opportunities rather than obstacles. They actively seek feedback and work on improving themselves.

When Aarav failed a quiz, he didn’t get discouraged. Instead, he analyzed what went wrong and improved his strategy, making sure he never repeated the same mistakes.

10. Staying Disciplined and Self-Motivated

Ultimately, the biggest differentiator is discipline. College life comes with distractions, but high achievers set clear goals and stick to them.

Aarav made sure to reward himself after completing tasks, keeping himself motivated. Whether it was a short break, watching his favorite show, or a weekend outing, he maintained a balance between work and leisure.

Unlocking the Secret is in the Habits by Patuck-Gala College

High-achieving students don’t possess any superpowers. They cultivate habits that set them up for success. The good news? Anyone can develop these habits with commitment and effort.

Aarav’s journey from an overwhelmed freshman to a confident top performer wasn’t magic- it was the result of small, consistent habits. If he could do it, so can you. The key is to start today.

[gtechwebindia1]

Enhance Your Photos with Professional Image Editing Services

Photos are essential for communication, branding, marketing, and self-expression in the digital age. Quality images are crucial to conveying your message, whether you're a business owner, photographer, or memory keeper. A good image starts with a great shot, but it typically needs a little polish. Here come professional image editing services. Expert editing can improve the aesthetics and functionality of your photos.

Why Image Editing is Important

Editing images goes beyond filters and brightness and contrast. Professional image editing uses many methods to improve images, correct flaws, and add interest. By removing unwanted objects, fixing lighting, and tweaking colors, image editing creates polished, professional photos, that stand out. Businesses, photographers, and social media influencers who use captivating visuals to engage their audience must take it.

The Benefits of Professional Image Editing

Enhanced visual appeal Professional image editors can improve any photo's appearance. They can enhance colors, contrast, and sharpness to make images stand out. Businesses that need high-quality images for websites, ads, or product listings may benefit from this. Enhancing image clarity and vibrancy can make your content stand out and last.

Perfecting Details Beautiful images can be marred by blemishes, distracting objects, or poor lighting. Professional image editors can fix these flaws and enhance every shot. Image editing lets you perfect every detail, from retouching portraits to removing distractions from landscape photos.

Consistency is fundamental while designing visuals for a website, social media, or marketing campaign.  Professional image editing can help you standardize your images.  For a consistent visual, editors can fit colours, tones, and styles to the identity of your company. Businesses seeking brand recognition should prioritize this.

Enhanced Engagement Visuals matter more than ever in the digital media competition. High-quality, edited images attract your target audience, increasing likes, shares, and comments. Enhancing images on Instagram, Facebook, and Pinterest can boost engagement for products, services, and personal moments. They make your content stand out in a crowded digital space and get noticed.

Time Savings Many people try basic image editing, but it can be time-consuming and complicated if you don't know the software. You can save time and focus on other tasks by outsourcing image editing to professionals. Professional editors can quickly and accurately edit a large number of images.

Types of Image Editing Services

Professional image editing provides many services for different requirements. Common image editing tools are:

Retouching and Restoration: Retouching and restoration include removing flaws, wrinkles, and blemishes from portraits, restoring damaged photos, and changing skin tones for a refined appearance.

Background Removal and Replacement: One of the most popular image editing services is background removal and replacement. For product photos, e-commerce platforms, and promotional materials, this keeps the focus on the subject.

Color Correction and Enhancement: Another popular service is adjusting color balance, contrast, and saturation to make photos look better. This corrects poor lighting or sets a mood in images. Images can be manipulated by adding or removing elements, merging photos, or creating composites. Advertising, marketing, and creative projects use image manipulation.

Image Resizing and Cropping: This service formats your images for web use or subject emphasis.

Why Choose Professional Image Editing Services?

photo editing services, offer several benefits.  Using cutting-edge tools, and methods to generate high-quality outcomes, professionals can manage challenging editing jobs that amateurs cannot.  Professional editors can also assist you in appearing more polished and wow your audience with their meticulousness.

 Gtechwebindia provides expert image editing to improve your images.  From simple edits to sophisticated photo manipulations, their professionals improve your images.  Hiring experts will help you to save time, enhance picture quality, and produce beautiful images.

Conclusion

Professional image editing services can help business owners improve product images, photographers improve their portfolios, and hobbyists share beautiful photos online. Expert editing improves photo quality, consistency, and impact, making them more engaging and appealing to your audience. Explore Gtechwebindia's professional image editing services to improve your images today!