#the beverage wasn't even labeled

[wellthatschaotic]

our headspace is so funny.

yelena: [watching front like its tv]

me: [notices shes chewing on something] hey what are you eating

yelena: idk. chips

me: what kind

yelena: [holds up the bag and it literally just says "chips"] chips

[actually-safer-to-kiss]

The Morning After

Summary: Reader and Spencer are waking up after a big fight the night before.

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Category: Angst, Comfort

Content warnings: Relationship troubles

Word count: 1k

You woke up not convinced you had slept. Your eyelids sticking together and sore from the stark morning light must indicate otherwise, right? It stings no matter how often you blink. It’s a similar sting to chlorine and your body clears it out. But no matter how many times you blink, the pain remains.

Normally, Spencer’s hogging the bed, his arms pressed against your back like he was in a casket but sideways while you grip the edge and hope you don’t meet the floor with your nose. Stretching your arm out to feel the other side feels unnatural. No hand ready to grab you and smack your knuckles with a kiss. No grinding teeth that you’ve told him is a sign of stress and he should get checked out.

This all felt worse. Even though Spencer was just in the living room, he still felt too far away. But what’s the right way to deal with that? How does one bounce back from such a brutal night?

Well, you don’t bounce back. You take it slow. You pick yourself up from the pillows, your body aching like a hangover. Sitting upright did not help your headache; the pain between your eyes is strong, recovering from scrunching so violently in the midst of sobbing and yelling. You’re both lucky the neighbors didn’t call the cops.

You sway around the bed, left to right like a stiff pendulum. In the doorway, you see your boyfriend. His hair is a moppy mess. He's got a fresh dark roast in his hands, and it takes all his concentration to bring it to his lips. It’s almost precious if you didn’t remember you’re partially responsible for putting him in that state. You watch him sip slowly, the heat hits his skin and he remains unfazed. He pulls it away.

“Morning.” You croak out. You push yourself out of the doorway as you wrap yourself tight in your robe.

His face turns to you as he considers another sip. “Morning.” He puts his cup on the end table. “There’s… uh there’s plenty more. If you want any.”

You nod, crossing your arms close to your chest. Even though you don’t waste time grabbing the hot pot and plenty of creamer, your mind concentrates on the feeling of eyes pressing into your back. The sound of the leather shifting with his weight, maybe he was watching to make sure you weren’t walking out (like you may or may not have threatened to do last night). When you turn around though, he does too, he knows you saw it.

Because you know what to do.

You walk to the couch, taking the side opposite as you take two gulps of your beverage, ignoring the semi-sweet liquid’s heat. You settle in with your cup close by while Spencer occupies himself with his own hands like he’s been called to the principal’s office.

“Do you… want to talk about it?”

A third sip. “Yeah, probably best.” You eventually put your cup down after another eager drink. Your magazines were arranged on the table in front of you, labeled by issue. And not just that, but the books that were once sprawled on the floor were put back neatly on the shelves, in their intended alphabetical order. You pause at the sight. “You… wait, you cleaned up last night?”

Spencer coughed to pretend he wasn't so tired, saying "Yeah. I couldn’t sleep, so I figured, you know, why not?” He equipped the rhetorical question with a shrug.

You rub your face. It all hurts. “I didn’t mean to back into the shelf. I hope you know that.”

“I know.”

“Good, okay.” The silence is thick. Expected, but still daunting. The chest pain that comes with holding your breath so sternly is not something you thought of before. And you wish it would go away. So you start it. “Do you want to go first, or would —”

“I’m sorry.” Spencer interrupts.

“Huh?”

“I’m really sorry. What I said, it was out of line.”

You sigh. The relief of it all (or part of it, the rest will come in time) pours out with one exhale. Your lungs still feel the ache, but again, in due time. “Me too. I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have retaliated the way I did.”

Spencer’s lips pull into a smile as his head falls back. “Okay. Good.” He swallowed. “Good.”

You don’t waste time taking up space between you. Your knees touch as you reach out to brush his cheekbones with your knuckles. You move further up and rub the redness around his eyes. They match yours. So you know the area is sensitive. Spencer, however, looks up at the ceiling as you touch it. Soon though, he takes your hand and presses a kiss to the skin. “Not as sloppy as I usually am."

“It’s okay.” Your grip tightens in his. “I think we both need to rehydrate.”

“And sleep more,” Spencer said.

“That sounds nice.” You slip out of Spencer’s hold and comb his hair back with your fingers, clearing them from his face. “Want to go back to bed?”

Spencer’s face scrunches and readjusts in his seat, rubbing his shoulder blade against the couch’s back. “I don’t think I can. It’s not easy to turn comfortably here.”

“You don't have to sleep on the couch.”

Spencer looked back at you. “Really? You sure?”

“You deserve a decent sleep in your own bed.”

Before Spencer has a chance to protest, you’ve picked yourself up from the couch and started pulling him up by the wrists. Despite his weary state, he followed you and stood up himself. You tugged his arm to the bedroom, to the sweet relief of a mattress, pillows, and potential cuddles. Spencer however tugs back, and he brings you into a soft hug. His head on your shoulder, his arms linking together to cage you into the warmth of his body. You gladly (and sleepily) follow by putting your arms around his neck. And you stay there. For a while.

[itstheghostofmypast]

16.51

University Student P.Seonghwa x (F)Reader

Summary: Sometimes, you just need a sugar boost and some Lego sets to make your day a bit brighter - oh, don't forget the main ingredient, Park Seonghwa.

Genre: Fluff

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1.1K

Est.Read Time: 5 min

Networks: @cromernet @k-labels @illusionnet

A/N: For my hardworking girlboss- @edenesth (a late bday present of sorts).

With a heavy sigh, she placed her bag on the bench before slumping down beside it. Whoever said university was fun deserved a special place in hell. Two years in, and she still had to sit on a patch of grass surrounded by her friends, all looking up at the camera with smiles that would put toothpaste ads to shame. Not to mention the endless hours of back-to-back classes, followed by the nonsensical amount of assignments and projects given to them, all made her wonder what exactly was this all for? She was not birthed to become a slave of capitalism, a slave of the system- she was but a mere butterfly, all too willing to flutter around in an endless field of opportunities, skipping from one soft petal to another, tasting the sweet essence of a blissful and youthful life.

Or she could get a rubber-clad four walled white room, at least she'd be able to pass off being delusional as a crazy person, rather than someone claiming she was so depressed she had begun day dreaming in classes. Her fingers twitched at the thought of how a few juniors caught her crying in a bathroom stall today, though they were far from cruel, their consoling words just made her feel worse- maybe she really wasn't cut out for all of this. This hectic schedule, this hectic lifestyle, these expectations.

She was so invested in falling down her pit of misery and despair that she didn't notice someone pick up her back, replacing it with their own presence, nor did she notice the way he was now staring at her, for a good long while too. Her attention was grabbed by a sharp ice-coldness that spread across her numbing cheek causing her to jerk away as she gasped, cupping her cold, wet cheek, turning to glare at whoever was foolish enough to mess with her- oh.

“You know…one bad presentation doesn't define you…wasn't even that bad.”

The rumble of his hushed voice had her senses tingle, perhaps his ASMR hobby was actually well worth it, though he was still an idiot because even a dead man could see how bad her presentation was today. She tilted her head to glare at him, but once again, her view was obstructed by a condensed plastic cup filled with some kind neon green beverage - he was probably trying out those horribly weekly juices again.

“You weren't even paying attention today,” with a soft mumble she sat back straight, her legs spread out in front of her, head leaning against the uncomfortable back of the bench, staring up at the pastel adorned sky, could this day take any longer to end? Closing her eyes, she continued, “And also, you're lucky the lecturer didn't catch you. How many times have I told you not to show up in my class? Especially if it's not your majo-ack!” she choked at the sudden intrusion, something stabbing the back of her throat before disappearing as quickly as it had come.

“Shit- sorry! Why'd you open your mouth!?” He gasped, pulling back the drink, trying to not laugh at how comical it was- yes, he felt bad because he hurt her, but it was ironic how his romantic gesture just had him blowing around.

Swatting his hand away she glared at him, at his hideously good-looking face, at his stupid boba eyes, and his hair -at this point she wanted him to trim it because he was serving more looks that needed, especially with so many people eying him. With a huff, she crossed her arms over her chest and turned to face him, “Exactly why are you here, Park Seonghwa!?”

“Me?” He pointed to himself with the cup in hand, before bringing the plastic straw to his pouty lips, taking a sip and humming, “I came to cheer up my butterfly, got her a treat too, but instead almost killed her.” With that, he 'carefully’ pressed the straw against her lips, this time being cautious not to stab her again this time. His smile deepened at the way she took a sip, watching the way her eyes twinkle at the taste, or perhaps the rush of sugar that she oh so desperately needed after the horrid day. He let her hold the cup, busy drinking away, his hand now reaching up to her face, gently caressing her cheek with his knuckles before his finger tucked the few loose strands behind her ear, “I'm sorry today didn't work out as planned.”

Placing the empty cup between them she sighed, facing him with a small smile, thankful to have someone like him, to have someone like him take care of her, be there for her, smile at her, pull her up when she was down I the dumps, have her try new things- like this Kiwi and Pineapple juice. He may have been a bit thick skulled sometimes, sometimes his inner nerd would win as hed demand they build random lego sets in the middle of the night, or he'd force her to watch him play Animal Crossing- but one thing for was for sure, reaching forward she placed her hand on his, giving it a light squeeze.

“It's alright…I'm glad you were there, it made me feel better.”

At that, he tugged her closer, pulling her into his warm embrace, giggling when he felt her sigh into his neck, gripping his shirt as if she was afraid he'd disappear. Truthfully, even during the whole mess of her presentation, the only reason she had kept going was because he was there, smiling at her, silently rooting for her, encouraging her to go on- then instantly hiding when her lecturer turned around to look at whom she was staring at, her handsome, caring, loving clown.

“I'm glad it did because I missed a test today, so at least I know it was for nothing.” He hummed, chin atop her head, enjoying the moment -

“YOU WHAT!?” Shoving him away, she glared at him wide-eyed, a test!? He skipped a test to be there!? She wasn't sure if she were to find this romantic or just stupid-

“Oh my, would you look at the time!” Standing up, he grabbed her bag, slinging it over his shoulder, grabbing the empty cup before gripping her wrist with his free hand and pulling her up, “Let us go, fairy princess!! Time to build your castle lego set! SO WE CAN HAVE OUR HAPPILY EVER AFTER FOREVER!” He declared ragging her along ignoring her complain about him not taking his academics seriously- who cared about a stupid test, he'd make up for it with extra work, all Park Seonghwa could think of all day, was her, because if he was sure about anything about his anxious, doubtful, self-conscious existence, was that she was his reason of being.

Taglist: @edenesth @skteezcursed @mlysalt @the-kpop-simp @spooo00oky @bunnyluvr25 @s-h-y-a @ateezswonderland

[recuira]

after hours

after hours : a live action buggy x fem!reader fanfiction

for some odd reason, you have no idea who he is. and he fucking loved that.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

chapter one | caution. chaos. coconut. his pov;

I didn't like to put a label on things; doing so made things too specific, too real. And for me, I preferred for things to seem as unspecific and false as possible.

I preferred for things to be simple. There is beauty in simplicity.

Maybe that's why I found her to be so gorgeous.

She was simple.

There was not a single thing I didn't know about her. I didn't need to go out of my own way to find out her favorite color or food - she told me (though not directly). She told them. She told everyone. She was rather open about herself while I kept everything private. I had my reasons to remain rather anonymous and to stay out of the spotlight and thrive in the shadows while she glistened in the spotlight. She was an open book.

But I still wanted to read her.

I wanted to study her.

And maybe that's why I traveled to the North Blue - to be closer to her. But I wouldn't admit that aloud. I would seem rather insane if she knew, and I wasn't insane. My mind operated differently to others. I was often classified as different and odd, especially by my peers when I was still in school. I was teased to be the quiet kid, picked on because of my nose. I was deemed to be the one most likely to commit some type of horrid act. They weren't wrong, but no one likes to be judged for how they truly are.

She didn't judge me.

Well, of course, she didn't even know me.

But she wasn't the type to judge. Which made my appeal to her even more strong and wild. I was finally able to watch her up close, months after first discovering a rare form of art like her.

The bar was packed, much to my dismay. I liked things to remain quiet despite my love for disarray. I was able to think when it was quiet. I’ve always had thousands of thoughts racing through my mind, so much so that it was difficult to pick a single train and hop on board. But when my eyes landed on her, my mind settled.

She was sitting alone in the corner of the bar, a large round booth all to herself. She had a small yet cute smile on her round face as she sipped on a beverage. Not alcohol- no, she hated alcohol, which is why I cut back on it. I wanted to be the best version of myself for her. Well, whenever I got the courage to talk to her, that is. She made me cower in fear, in anxiety. Someone so timid and fragile as her made someone like me- a pirate, a killer, a clown fall to his knees. I was a fool for her.

Lifting up my drink, I took a sip of the carbonated juice, grimacing as the alcoholic tang was nonexistent. I scoured and gave in, waving down one of the waitresses to add something to my drink. Maybe then I would be able to think straight and finally be able to talk to her. I needed something to fog my judgement and give me the balls to go talk to her- although my dick was confidence enough. God, the way she made me feel was impeccable. She made my pants tighten when she took a sip of her drink. I watched her pink lips suck on the straw as she kicked her feet and examined a newspaper on the wooden table. I squirmed in my seat and leaned back, a deep sigh leaving my lips.

Once the waitress topped off my drink, I waved her off and continued to sit by myself, admiring the maiden who sat by herself. By herself? God, I still didn’t get that. How was she alone? How was she sitting by herself in a bar as crowded as this one? She had friends, many of them. She had family, too. But why must she sit in silence and all by her lonesome?

I huffed and itched at the back of my neck, my hand dragging down to grab my chin and cover my nose. I clenched my jaw and pondered the possibility that my ego would actually allow me to stand up, walk over to her, and sit across from her. Maybe I could buy her a drink? But nevertheless, I remained glued to my seat, downing at least three glasses of whiskey. I lost track.

I lost complete track of time that whenever I finally came back to, she was standing tall, slinging her coat back over her shoulders, and starting for the door. I gulped and turned, my eyes following her. But before she could leave the bar and disappear for the night, a tall, stout man blocked her exit. I squinted my eyes.

“And where do you think ‘yer going?” The pirate smirked, his arms folding over his chest. His belly bounced as he laughed. “Going so soon?”

“Please let me by,” She instructed, trying to budge past the weighted man but to no avail, he stood still. “What is it you want?”

“To see you undressed.”

I grabbed the edge of the table, feeling my body grow hot. It wasn’t because of her, though it mostly always was. She had an effect on me. But this man, he angered me, fucking enraged me. I could feel my blood beginning to boil as he continued to harass both her and me.

“Oh, come on, what’s a sexy little lady like you got going on tonight?” The fat man hummed, reaching forward to grab hold of the leather backpack that hung over her shoulder’s. She shoved him away and backed up.

“I’ll find another exit,” She announced and turned on her heel, starting to head to the back of the bar where other patrons parted through.

“Come on!”

She walked right past me, speeding down the aisle. I closed my eyes and inhaled the sweet, delicate scent of her perfume and shampoo. Vanilla and coconut. Fuck me.

“I can walk you home!”

She stopped in her steps and faced the obese pirate, her arms folding over her chest. “Fuck off, you pig!” She spat, eyes rolling as she started to turn around once again but she stopped, and looked at me.

Oh my god, she looked at me.

At me.

“Baby, can we go?”

I blinked. What?

“Please?” She asked, looking at me with such desperation in her eyes that a tent started to form in my pants.

What? What was she doing? I didn’t know whether to accept or deny. Why was she doing this? Was she delusional? Stupid? Hallucinogenic?

“I know you wanted to have a bit more to drink but I feel much safer walking back with you. You can come back after,” She smiled softly and stepped toward me, her soft hand resting on my shoulder. She then leaned down, inching closer to me. Her lips grazed my ear, hot breath making my skin redden. “Please go along with it,” She pleaded.

“Ah, so you have a mate, huh?” The stout pirate laughed, taking a few hard steps towards the two of us. “That’s okay with me.”

Her soft eyes darted from me to the pirate and then back to me. She looked so enchanting when in distress.

“Hey.” I grabbed her wrist and squeezed it. “Yes, of course, darlin’. Come on.” I moved her arm and she backed up, standing straight. I dug through my pocket and tossed as much spare change I had onto the table then scooted up. My hand grabbed hers tightly, not wanting to let go. She looked at me, her eyes sparkling with confusion but I just led her down the aisle, my free hand wrapping around her shoulder. “You look lovely tonight, by the way. It slipped my mind whether I told you or not.”

“Oh, uh…” She looked down, her face growing as red as the nose on my face. “Thank you.”

“Yeah,” I whispered and as we approached the door, the pirate seemed to be cowering in fear as he finally recognized who had the honor of taking this lovely maiden home. And it was me.

“I-I’m sorry, sir, I—“

“Step aside,” I growled.

“Yes, s-sir, I’m sorry. Of course!” He was about to piss himself.

I faked a smile and as soon as he moved, I pushed the door open and allowed her and I to walk down the narrow wooden staircase and back onto the dock. To my disappointment, she pulled from my grip and grabbed the straps of her backpack, letting out a deep sigh as she folded over. “Jesus,” She whispered.

“Are you okay?” I asked, taking a step to approach her.

My hand rested on the small of her back and I smiled softly though the red paint extended it from cheek to cheek.

“Thank you for doing that.”

“Oh, uh?” My eyes furrowed. “It’s no problem.”

“You’re not gonna try to get in my pants, right?”

“N-No! No, no. No.” I lied with a reassuring smile.

“Okay, good,” She grinned. “Guys are so weird. I swear the ugly ones are the ones that are most obsessed with me. I attract the weird ones.”

I clenched my jaw. Ouch.

“I’m sorry if I interrupted you. You—“

“Don’t apologize. It’s okay,” I shoved my hands into the pockets of my coats and I dragged my foot. “Are you gonna be okay?” I tried my best to act uninterested in her but my body was bouncing and I wanted nothing more than to throw myself onto her. She was divine when she was distressed.

“What’s your name?”

“Uhm,” I swallowed. “Buggy.”

“Oh, that’s new. I’ve never heard of that name before. Is it a stage name? To match your makeup?”

“Makeup?”

“You look like a clown. Is that your real nose?”

“Nose?” I grimaced and nodded my head. “Yes. Yes, it is real. Any other questions?”

“No, I’m sorry,” She smiled and let out a deep sigh of relief. “Thank you again, honestly.”

“You need to start watching out for yourself. If I wasn’t there, you’d have been his next plaything,” I gagged at the thought.

“Why were you there?”

“Huh?”

“You look like a pirate. So what made you sit by yourself in a bar? Where’s your crew?”

All these questions. I smiled. I loved her curiosity.

“I was a pirate. Uh, taking a bit of a break.”

“What for?”

So I can follow you around and learn every single little thing there is to know about a beautiful goddess such as yourself. “Personal reasons,” I lied. I dipped my head down and traced my foot along the wooden planks, chewing on my inner cheek. “What’s your name?”

I knew it, I just wanted to hear her say it.

“It’s Y/N. I know, it’s not nearly as cool as yours.”

I laughed aloud, bursting into a fit of cackles and giggles. “What? You’re insane. Thanks for the flattery but try to find a souvenir keychain with a name like mine.” I wiped a fake tear.

The dimming sun finally disappeared past the ocean’s horizon, leaving Y/N and I surrounded by dimly lit lanterns and the settling sea crashing waves against the old dock. I stood still while she seemed to be trembling. It was rather cold. “Uh,” I started to slip my jacket off. “Do you need it?”

“No, no, I’m good. Thank you, though. I’m gonna start heading back now,” She announced as she looked over her shoulder, squinting. “It’s getting really late.”

“Yeah, uh, it is.”

“Well, Buggy, it was nice meeting you. I’d give you a hug but no offense, you reek of beer,” Y/N smiled.

“It’s whiskey,” I remarked.

“It’s all the same to me.” I know it is.

“Do you need me to walk you home?”

“No, I’m good. We’re still strangers and I don’t feel safe with someone I’m unfamiliar with knowing my address. No offense, though.” She said ‘no offense’ a lot. And I already knew her address. I even had access to the spare key she often left underneath a clothed doormat. “Thank you for the offer.”

“Don’t mention it.”

She nodded and smiled, showing her gorgeous teeth. Her cheeks were pink, dusted by the cool air. Her hair wafted off her shoulders as the breeze picked up. Her aroma caught my attention once again.

“Can you turn around? I don’t want you seeing where I’m going.”

She’s adorable.

“Yeah, alright.”

And so I did. I turned around, making her feel a bit more at ease. I swallowed, staring straight into the endless ocean ahead of me, listening to the sounds of her soft footsteps slowly disappear.

When I turned around, she was gone.

And so was the sweet smell of vanilla and coconut.

[everytangbo]

DRAFT- Five moment they almost realized they're in love. [1/5]

(yes, I'm reusing this one, cause I made it for this moment)

As annoying as it was, it comes with a deep yearning for something beyond his reach, as he's been waiting for the day it could happen again.

And so, it was long since the details leading up to the event had faded from his memory.

That day he was beyond upset, mad even; not everyone knows that, but Chung Myung always had the bad temper of a moody teenager. He wore rage as much as his uniform. So, no, he cannot remember every trifle that has pissed him off throughout his life.

However, some yobbo said something that stirred something within him, something that shouldn't have hurt the way it did. It felt heavy, gross, like gurgling mud inside his guts.

And, after settling things up, he couldn't handle being around a bunch of meddler, so he just runned for a quiet place to rest. Of just a better place to be in.

Although it happened far from Chengdu, it was still closer than Weinan. Sulking alone in Tang Bō's room was just the most logical conclusion.

He invited himself in, as usual, and went straight to his room. Unsure how long he sat there on the frame of his window. Drinking the first beverage he found in his room; that lavish bastard

That spoiled brat. He even got into the habit of labeling apart the toxic bottles, not that he saw any risk in it, let alone anyone else taking them by themselves.

“I'm sorry I kept you waiting.” Tang Bo disrupted the silence. He had the decency to look embarrassed for keeping his unexpected visitor waiting. "I felt you arrived an hour ago, I was wondering how long it would take you to vandalize my work.

Chung Myung chucked and gave a grin. "How so? you already darn good at self-sabotage"

Tang Bō rolled his eyes.

"I wanted to come. But there was an... Inconvenience... And I mean the elders." Tang Bo brushed off, closing the door behind him. Chung Myung took a jug, looking out the window with little interest . "Is something the matter?"

Chung Myung shrugged. "Eh—"

He took another jug.

Now, here's a thing Chung Myung refuses to understand: One of them was actually good at shoveling their feelings inside a locked chest, swallowing the key, and throwing it down the highest cannon. But it wasn't him.

Chung Myung thought he was good at hiding it; but no, he was good at hiding, not at hiding it.

Instead, Chung Myung failed to understand how Tang Bo could simply crack his skull open to scavenge every corner of his mind. Clung his fingers around his brain and knead it, skin him and slice him open. Tang Bo never struggled to embrace him as the ugly sack of flesh and bones he was.

What he did then, was what Chung Myung was expecting. Because Tang Bō was so emotional, he had to walk near him, do something so everly sentimental like placing a hand on his shoulder. Chung Myung saw it coming, he'll do something to cheer him up and Chung Myung will be falling for it. Like an idiot.

There it was: a hand on his shoulder, a squeeze, and smile, Bō's dimple showed on his left cheek —the way it always showed when he was looking at Chung Myung, he wondered if people were even aware of its existence—.

Bō sat in front of him. So close. Too close, Chung Myung noticed. With his knee pressing a spot inside his legs. Ah, he didn't see that coming. Chung Myung could only watched enthralled, as Bō took the bottle from his hands and leaned forward, so inviting.

Chung Myung saw nothing but his pair of pleading puppy eyes. He couldn't help but lean forward too, mirroring his movements, waiting for something to happen. If only Chung Myung could see his own eyes to see the way he looked at Bō.

Once more, Bō caught him off guard, closing the distance and pressing their foreheads together.

Chung Myung was rarely shaken by anything.

But it never crossed his mind that kind of touch was possible. That people could sit that way, that close, touch like that. It had him wonder if what they were sharing had ever been shared by anyone else. If that kind of closeness was even right. That maybe he was experiencing something that was meant to be forbidden, a new form of transgression.

Not that he cared.

It surely felt like something bound to be secret, just for the two of them. Something that no one else was allowed to witness nor know about, that couldn't —shouldn't— happen outside those walls.

It was only theirs to share.

His breath was still caught in short gasp, he didn't mind losing air if it meant that he could get to preserve that moment a little longer. So he stayed perfectly still, and left it all to him.

Then, there was a hush, a short sentence, something he wish he could remember instead of the shiver it sent down his spine. So soft, so kind, he could hear a smile in his voice.

Chung Myung mumble as well, agreeing with whatever Bō said and stayed like that. Whether it was a minute or an eternity. Until whatever he was troubled about seemed trivial, and he realized it was, so let the turmoil fade.

[storyofmychoices]

Close Talking

[Trystan Thorne x Lilah Rose Masterlist]

Pairing: Trystan Thorne (M!MC) x Lilah Rose (F!MC) Book: Crimes of Passion I , Chapter 6 Word Count: ~1,500 Rating/Warning: General (mentions of death/murder)

Prompt: @choicesbookclub ; @choicesjuly2023challenge sleepless night ; @choicesprompts Rewrite: Psych (tv series) [Scene]

Synopsis: Lilah is at the office, typing up her report on the Iverson Ball, when Trystan stops by to check on her.

The lamp on her desk cast a warm glow amidst the dark shadows enveloping the office. Lilah's attention was consumed by her report detailing the events that unfolded at the Iverson Ball. Frustration coursed through her veins as she recalled the moments before the simple intel-gathering mission turned into a complicated murder and arson scene. 

The room tags haunted her thoughts. There had been something—a flicker of suspicion—as she read the label before entering what they thought was the Rockefeller Room, but she brushed it aside, ignoring her gut instinct. Now, the weight of regret settled heavily upon her shoulders, trapping her with her guilt. If she had paused instead of moving forward as if she had all the answers, Bethany might still be alive. 

A knock echoed through the quiet office, but Lilah was too distracted to notice. Trystan let himself in and made his way to her.

It wasn't until she caught sight of him casually leaning against her desk that she snapped out of the fog. Her tired eyes met his. "Trystan?"

"Detective. Still burning the midnight oil?" he quipped, a mischievous smile played on his lips.

Glancing at the clock, "It's almost 4 am." She shook her head, not amused.

"Yes, but, 'burning the 4 am oil' doesn't have the same ring to it." He nudged her playfully, trying to lift her mood.

"Trystan, stop," she grumbled. "What are you even doing here? I thought I sent you home."

"I couldn't sleep," he admitted, his tone softening. 

"There's late-night diners for that."

"They don't have you," he admitted. His unexpected vulnerability caught her attention.

"You think you're being cute, but I can confirm, you're not." She attempted to divert her attention back to her report. But the words blurred as her focus wavered.

Trystan slid a cup of coffee closer to her. "I thought you might need this."

"Thanks," she replied, offering a grateful smile as she took a sip. She let the soothing comfort of caffeine warm through her veins.

"Now," Trystan began, pulling a chair beside her and swiveling her's towards him. "Do you want to talk about what's bothering you?"

The weight of her guilt crashed back down on her. Lilah buried her face in her hands. "It's my fault."

"What is?" Trystan inquired, his gaze filled with genuine concern.

"Bethany. She's dead because of me."

Trystan shook his head gently. "Unless you've mastered the art of astral projection and can be yourself while also masquerading as a masked serial killer, I'll have to disagree with you."

"That's not... You don't get it," Lilah retorted, frustration lacing her words as her voice rose. "I messed up. I noticed the scratches on the room's sign before we went in. If I had taken a minute, a few seconds even, to consider why that might be, I might have noticed the scratches didn't match the frame, and maybe I could have saved Bethany, and this whole thing would be over. I made a mistake."

"You're a great detective. You'll get him next time. Mistakes don't define you."

"Tell that to Bethany and to the next woman that dies because I didn't stop and process every clue." 

"We all make mistakes. Trust me."

"Well, maybe I'm not as comfortable with my mistakes as you." Her fingers were to her lips, but it was too late. The words had left her mouth. "Trystan— I—" The look in his eyes hurt more than she could ever imagine. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that. I'm just tired and clearly caffeine-deprived." She took another sip of the warm beverage beside her. "It looks like I'm making a lot of mistakes tonight." Her head hung low as she attempted to turn away.

He placed a reassuring hand over hers. The warmth of his touch pulled her back in. 

"I'm sorry," she mouthed again.

"I know." His thumb brushed gently over hers. "And for what it's worth, you weren't alone tonight. I missed it too." 

"I'm the detective, though. You're just the... arm candy," she replied, a hint of a smile tugging at her lips.

"So you find me attractive? I knew it," Trystan teased.

Lilah shook her head, almost allowing herself to smile. "I should get back to work."

"I'll leave you to it," Trystan said, preparing to leave. But instead of getting out of his chair, he placed his hands on the armrests of her chair, leaning closer. "You did enough. Don't beat yourself up."

It might have been her exhaustion, but despite her brain telling her to move back, she didn't. "Trystan, what are you doing?" Her eyes flickered up at him.

His nose brushed against hers, their breaths tangling in the charged air between them. "Nothing." His eyes locked onto hers, refusing to look away.

"Really? Because if you're doing what it looks like you're doing, it's going to be one of those things we were just talking about."

"What's that?"

"A mistake." Lilah's voice grew softer, her eyes never leaving his.

Trystan's lips curled into a smile, his voice lowering. "I agree, but that's clearly not what we're doing."

"Okay, really? What do you say that we're doing?"

His upper lip pressed gently against hers, their eyes still locked together, their unspoken desires pulling them closer. His words intermingled with their shared breaths, "I call it very close talking."

"Ahh, I see," Lilah whispered, her breath catching in her throat, unable to escape the allure of his pull. "Do you have anything else to say?"

Trystan's lips lingered for a moment. Their gentle proximity teased a would-be kiss, a tantalizing look of what could be. "I think I'm good for now," he murmured, savoring the moment, etching her into his memory.

Reluctantly, he pulled back, leaving the heat of their connection to linger in the air. 

"Well, goodnight," Lilah offered, a hidden smile gracing her lips.

"Goodnight, detective," Trystan smirked, his eyes glinting with promise for more. He sauntered out of the office and back into the night.

With newfound determination, Lilah found the strength to refocus on her report. She wouldn't let her mistake define her. As she immersed herself in her work, a spark of hope lit within her. She would learn from tonight, and next time, they'd be ready.

sdfjldskjf I can't even express how much I love Shawn and Juliet's close talking scene. It's forever one of my favorites and I couldn't think of a better rewrite for my Lilah and Trystan!

I hope you enjoyed this little mash-up! 💛💛💛💛

[newsalvations]

leo woodall, bisexual + biromantic, cis man + he/him → isn’t that oswald “oz” michaels? i’ve seen them hanging out with the sirens. i hear they’re twenty-eight, but they’ve only been in alexandria for their entire life. they seem to be whimsical & alluring, but also unstable & cruel.

BASIC INFORMATION

full name: oswald gage michaels

nickname(s): oz, ozzie

age: twenty-eight

date of birth: august 10

hometown: alexandria, louisiana

current location: alexandria, louisiana

species: siren

ethnicity: white

nationality: american

gender: cis man

pronouns: he/him

orientation: bisexual + biromantic

occupation: lead singer of tbd band

living arrangements: at the chateau

language(s): english

accent: lousiaian

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE

face claim: leo woodall

hair color: auburn

eye color: blue

height: 6'2"

weight: 154 lb

build: athletic

tattoos: a siren on both of his arms; various others

usual expression: devilish grin

distinguishing characteristics: his smile, his bright eyes

PERSONALITY

positive traits: whimsical, alluring, confident

negative traits: unstable, cruel, spiteful

myers brigg: esfp

zodiac sign: leo

element: fire

enneagram: the individualist

temperament: choleric

hogwarts house: slytherin

moral alignment: chaotic neutral

primary vice: wrath

primary virtue: generosity

fears: losing his voice, dying again

hobbies: singing

FAMILY

father: toby michaels

mother: charlotte michaels

sibling(s): aren michaels, one other brother

pet(s): none

FAVORITES

weather: rainy

season: winter

color: black

music: emo / punk rock / alternative

movies: comedy / horror

beverage: beer

food: burgers

animal: dolphins

NSFW

preference: vers top, dominant

kinks: breeding, rough sex, dom/sub, control in/out of bedroom, lingerie, open to others

anti kinks: scat, vomit, blood play, etc

BIOGRAPHY

oz grew up in a fairly normal and happy human household. they knew about the supernatural and seemed to get along with everyone. oz was the sweetheart country boy who played for his high schools football team and went to church every day. nobody could truly hate him, or so he thought.

at the age of sixteen, he was invited to a kickback in the woods with a few of the other kids from his school. what he didn't know was that a group of witches planned on sacrificing him for some blood pact that they needed. although they tried to muffle his screams, it burned him back to life with a rage he'd never experienced before.

the witches realized what they did and quickly began to scatter, he'd eventually track them all down and brutally killed them one by one until he burned the leader alive in the same place he'd been sacrificed.

after that, he knew he wasn't the same. giving up football and church, oz discovered that his voice was even more beautiful than it'd been before. he had always been talented at singing but it was different now and he decided to abandon his life to persue music. without a word to his parents, oz left in the middle of the night to california where he'd form a band of sirens, banshees, and harpies; quickly got the attention of record labels who ended up fighting over them.

the bands freshman album was an overnight success, people were almost hypnotized by his voice and he grew a loyal but rabid fanbase. he'd find his way into the beds of married men, from hollywood execs to fans of his. he didn't care.

the band released more albums as time went on, becoming a mainstream success despite the numerous controversies they found themselves in. oz was known as a heartbreaker and various accidents began to follow the bands name, including the deaths of those who knew them personally and fans. the biggest scandal was when one of oz's biggest fans was found with his husbands dead body in their bed and people believed the man did it to try and win oz's affection. little did any of them know that oz specifically told this fan that killing his husband was the only way to prove his love for him.

after this, their record label was furious and wanted the band to clean up their image. something oz wasn't interested in. he still had a desire to burn the world down, no matter what the costs were. they agreed to leave the spotlight for the time being, work on a new album, and maybe rebuild their image.

he's been back in alexandria for a few months now and the itch to destroy more marriages and couples is still getting to him, now that he can't do it to his pool of fans.

[steak-n-popotoes]

FFxivWrite '24 - 23

"You sure you're old enough to handle these...?" It could be so difficult to tell with some Milalla.

Though his eyes were locked on the floor instead of the vendor, Beef nodded vigorously and thrust his arms up over the counter. Gale didn't react to the sudden crowding as she was too busy trying to burn a hole into the vendor's eyes with her own.

"Well... alright..." the vendor said as he lowered garishly-colored cans into each of Beef's hands. He then pointed to one, "This one's full strength," and then the other, "and this one's reduced potency." The distinction was essentially useless, as Beef still wasn't looking at anything but the man's face and his own leather flats.

"Our Beloved Queen made sure to inform most of us merchants that you and yours were visitors from outside the dome, and that we shouldn't worry ourselves about compensation or regulator ID checks." And that means I can't make sure that you can drink these safely, he wanted to say, "So I made sure to start you with an easy one. Genolt's brew would be a bit much for one so green."

When Beef didn't move an ilm for a handful of seconds, the vendor felt he should check in. "You get all that?"

Beef nodded hard again, nearly jostling Gale from her perch.

The vendor had his doubts.

"Well, uh... enjoy. Just make sure the right one gets to Genolt, alright? And don't make mention of this to Rhodina or her drones."

On his way back to the Neon Stein, Beef gave his cargo a once-over. Once was enough to make his eyes water. It took a while to figure out where the text was in the mess of colors and imagery, and even longer for Beef to sound out the letters one by one.

In one hand was a can with a disinterested-looking Hyune man on the label called "...On ...Cloud ...Nine," and in the other was an obnoxiously aquamarine can labeled "...Bahamut ...Blast." They had Bahamut here? Beef looked around in concern as though the wyrm may have been in his immediate vicinity, but all he saw was more neon lights and fashions.

Well, neither Bahamut nor the thought of blasting put one in mind of a milder beverage, and clouds were comparatively soft and fluffy. Thus, On Cloud Nine must surely be the one meant for him.

After some time spent parsing how to get at the can's contents, Beef eventually got them into his stomach, which very quickly responded with a surge of shivers that traveled all the way up his spine and across both ears.

The feeling passed rather quickly, however, leaving nothing in its wake but a sour and distinctly vague artificial flavor on Beef's tongue. If there were any other changes, they went unnoticed. So, Beef merely shrugged and continued on his way back to Genolt with the other half of his delivery.

[bowel-glitch-blog]

Faygo: Grape (Review)

note: Myles didn't get around to buying this flavour last week, so he'll be editing this tomorrow to include his opinions!

(our ratings & experiences)

Flavour Accuracy

Myles: 20/20 Roni: 19/20 Average Rating: 19.5/20

It's pretty much the perfect combination of that sickly sweet artificial grape flavour and the flavour of actual grape juice. Even if I were evaluating the accuracy of the 'grape'-ness of either definition, I think it'd score high on both. Only reason I'm not giving it a perfect score is because it tastes just barely a bit too sweet.

Now THIS is what Faygo should taste like. Unlike all the other Faygo flavors reviewed so far (which all taste like an elephant's piss overloaded with sugar), this drink precisely simulates the taste of grapes while still tasting the way a soda should. It's almost as if the grapes that were used to make the natural and artificial flavoring of this drink came from Dionysus himself.

Health Concern

Myles: 10/20 Roni: 3/20 Average Rating: 6.5/20

It tastes pretty fine in terms of 'is this killing me', but after checking the back of the bottle... Wow. Faygo had to count this bottle as 2 servings instead of one because the sugar content is 164% of the recommended daily sugar value. 164% isn't even real. How did we accidentally go from the lowest sugar content in the first week to an absurdly high one??? And we started on cotton candy?! The only reason this isn't at 1 again is because my body felt completely fine after drinking the whole bottle.

I probably should be concerned since this is an American drink with the sugar content and all the artificial elements to match, but I guess it's the flavor of the beverage that dispells most of my concerns since it actually tastes good. Then again, that sugar content of 82 grams does seem pretty concerning...

Color Appeal

Myles: 12/20 Roni: 13/20 Average Rating: 12.5/20

Looks pitch black at first glance, but it's actually a dark grey-purple colour that you can really only see if you shake the bottle. I like purple, but I feel pretty average about this drink's colour. It matches the flavour well and it's certainly not unappealing, but I feel like they could've done better with it. Maybe a slightly more vibrant purple would bring up my score for this.

If I'm being honest, the colors of the label are more appealing to me than the color of the actual drink. But it's this near pitch-black color with purple tones here and there that reminds me of Ribena so it's all good with me.

Overall Enjoyment

Myles: 20/20 Roni: 18/20 Average Rating: 19/20

It's pretty good! If I hadn't checked the back, I feel like my enjoyment would be a 19 or 20 out of 20. They hit all the marks with this flavour and the drink had an interesting enough flavour profile that I didn't get sick of the taste. This is a good time to mention that neither Myles nor I are affected by sugar (i.e., we don't get 'sugar highs' or 'sugar crashes'), so that factor isn't involved in any of our rankings.

Unless there is another flavor out there that can make me change my mind, this is the best Faygo flavor out there in my eyes. If it's there on the drink shelf at EzyMart, I'm taking it. It makes me wish that the other flavors were this accurate to their name.

Re-drinkability

Myles: 20/20 Roni: 17/20 Average Rating: 18.5/20

The only reason my score is knocked down is because of the sugar content written on the back of this thing. I actually really like the drink as-is, and I'd get it pretty often if it wasn't so detrimental to my health! Same feeling as Pineapple, but better. Another side note is that this flavour is sold out everywhere in our main city except for one store location. Could be a sign that Grape Faygo is actually good!

Would I drink this again? Absolutely. This isn't even the first time I've had this particular flavor before. I chose this flavor for this review knowing it would be a relief from the tongue-incinerating experiences that were cotton candy and pineapple. I can only hope the other flavors that we are yet to review in the future are as enjoyable as this.

Summary

Myles’ Rating: 82/100 Roni’s Rating: 70/100 Average Rating: 76/100

Grade: B

[songtwo]

for years i would beat myself up thinking i had made all the wrong choices - wrong school, wrong city, wrong career and there was no way i could've possibly controlled that but i would just wish i had been born someplace else that wasn't as fucked up as it is here and the future terrified me bc there was nothing clear about it and around me things just seemed to get worse and worse. then around mid summer 2022 i started to accept things as they were and even though i was not happy or content i knew I couldn't stay that way so I started making peace with the good things - my mom, my pets, being able to go to school and living in a city that was a little less awful than others. and this is not in a law of attraction live laugh love manifest girlboss etc kind of way but soon afterwards things started looking up. i got an internship at a record label, i met the love of my life and applied for my current job as a music journalist - all within the span of one month. and from then on life has just been wonderful. I'm starting to achieve my dreams and i finally feel loved and seen and overall it's been perfect.

so again this is not in a live laugh love kind of way i think me being trying to be positive and good things starting to happen was a coincidence but the point is: for the longest time i thought and even hoped i would die before 23 and i genuinely believed i was doomed to live a miserable and lonely and meaningless life and now my dream life seems more possible everyday and i hope i get to live until 95 and im the happiest I've ever been. so i think what I'm trying to say is things eventually do get better. it will take years and it will feel like forever but it does get better and its like when rainer maria rilke said life has not forgotten you!!! it might take 21 years or 30 or more and life might take unexpected turns and everything will feel hopeless but i really do believe things will turn out okay eventually and there is nothing u can do but hold on and stay strong and it's so cliche and annoying but it is true and there is always art and hot beverages and loved ones to hold your hand and keep you company while you wait for the sun to shine again

[sepheroth]

➌ ❝ this cabin was a bad idea. ❞ (why are they in a cabin together? Who the hell knows xD)

WINTER STARTERS/PROMPTS

It's playing in the back of his head. What was? That Pink Panther music that's been stuck looping over and over again in his mind on repeat. He didn't know why. But that was sort of fine because if anything, it helped Sephiroth to crack into a smile. A natural one. Not forced. But at all the same, he was grateful he'd been the only one who could hear it. Hopefully, this didn't cause his answers to be too obviously off beat. He looked back at her a moment and then he'd turn around surveying only to see snow fall on the other side of the window on the opposite side of the cabin. This time the display was a lot more obvious that the weather would get worse. Too bad there wasn't any skates lying around. Wait. Why was that too bad? He wasn't planning doing any of that. At least he hoped not..."It was a bad idea. Luckily for us, we shouldn't be around too long. Unless you desire for it to be so?" He'd made a few calls after fishing out his phone. Then Sephiroth began wondering how bad or how decent the wiring and signals might have been around this area. The Icicle Inn seems relatively small and that's because that it was. The imaginary music began to fade back into the nonexistence and he was glad that it did once he made his way toward the back of the cabin, one of the rooms--the very one behind the both of them. An empty bedroom with small mattresses which were pushed together. Covered in decent bed sheets, there was also a dresser toward the corner of the room. It seemed empty or at least it was the immersion that it was because he couldn't really imagine someone purposefully leaving their things here. Unless they were in a hurry. But sometimes, it did happen. And there was a lamp upon the night stand. There was also a television on the side of the door just a few slight inches apart just before he made it in. It was one of those really old box sorts, the out of date types. He wondered if it still worked...? Where was the remote? His next wonders lead back to search for a kitchen. it didn't matter how small that it was. As long as it was in working order and didn't appear to put them at risk of a fire hazard. So while he was there, he'd check before he lit the stove and then he opened the cabinet door to search for non perishables. Luckily for him again there had been. Then once he found a decent kettle he'd rinse and clean it before filling it with water once he found some beverages appropriate enough for it. There was coffee, tea, hot cocoa and some other beverages that he couldn't make out what it was. It wasn't the type of coffee he'd usually drink, but it was something. It couldn't have been more than a few months or so old that he could hardly make out what it said as the labeling began to fade but he had some sort of idea. There was canned food too and he was grateful for that too. After that he returned to Emily. At least he now had some idea of how long they'd be here for. Even if it was a old shows and reruns of things he never really had gotten to see--he hoped that the television worked. And if not, he had hoped there was at least a radio somewhere they could listen to kill their boredom.. He happened to be in mid thought when he opened his mouth to talk to her, his eyes darted back to Emily again but he wasn't particularly staring. Hmm. "Good news is that I've manged to find some things that could be of some use to us. The bad news? I've still no clear idea where the remote or things like soap, spare blankets are. If there are any. I'll have to keep looking. And back to what you were saying before? It can be a bad idea depending if you could settle for the old fashion and out of date furnishing. At most we'll only have to suffer here an entire night."

[connors-chocolate-history-blog]

Part 5: The Industrial Revolution and Chocolate

Pictured above: a postcard of Cadbury's Bournville Works factory in Birmmingham, England. Bournville was a model village created by Cadbury to house the company's employees.

The industrial revolution, and its consequences, have been a disaster for the human race a boon to chocolate production. Modern cocoa powder was created by Dutch chocolate maker Coenraad Johannes van Houten, who discovered that a hydraulic press could be used to remove the fat from cocoa beans. To this day, the process is called "the Dutch process".

Meanwhile, in England, new chocolate companies run by families began springing up to produce chocolate. Many of these families were Quakers, and they went into the chocolate business because of religious persecution and to promote a healthy alternative to alcoholic beverages. The largest of these was Cadbury, which even built a model town to house their factory workers. The company had a strong charitable ethic, and an emphasis on family values. In Switzerland, Nestle popularized milk chocolate, claiming to provide a more nutritious chocolate bar. One of the oldest chocolate companies in the United States, Ghiradelli, was founded in San Francisco in 1852 by the Italian chocolatier Domenico Ghiradelli. Ghiradelli remains America's best-known "luxury" chocolate brand, with a quality over quantity approach and a European flair. But it's hard to talk about American chocolate without talking about Milton Hershey. The Pennsylvania Mennonite created America's largest chocolate company, created a town to house his workers (and a theme park!), and was the official chocolate maker of the US Army for decades. He was a pioneer in marketing, to the point where if he found a wrapper for a Hershey bar in the street, he would put it right-side up so the label would show. Debate the quality of his oddly cheese-tasting chocolate all you want, but the man was a pioneer.

Around this time, production of the actual bean moved from Latin America to West Africa, with the Portuguese colonies of Sao Tome and Principe becoming the first chocolate producing nations in Africa. Most of the slaves who worked on Latin American chocolate plantation were of West African origin...weird coincidence, since the chocolate companies turned a blind eye to slavery in their chocolate farms. Well, okay, technically it wasn't slavery, they were indentured servants...but most of them didn't come home anyways. Jesus Christ, chocolate industry, can you STOP with the slavery for just five seconds?

The answer is...no.

[truly-quirkless]

"I promise, I wasn't trying to bring your skills into question." It was just that most didn't know what to put his True Form in.- Now that the label 'Symbol of the Dead' was spreading, he was sure it would be even harder to find decent clothes...everyone loved All Might- but he was sure they'd hate the real him.

"...you're welcome..." The two's murmurs were met with the door quietly shutting- and true enough, some time later, the dorm Fin and Yagi shared was abuzz as Fin all but *ran* to and fro, their fingertips tapping together rapidly as their eyes all but glittered.

"And this here, and that there--- and throw this out, put this just so...!" Fin was a blur as they surged across the dorm. They were getting rid of tiny dust mites at this point, picking up books and straightening them, re-organizing the games on the table, checking the plates for any chips, glancing over the snacks they'd poured into bowls...

They were wearing a black tank-top and shorts, alongside black tennis shoes and white socks that poked out the tops. Their hair had been neatly combed- and every now and again, they'd return to the bathroom to comb it back down, since it was rapidly becoming a mess from all their split-second bolts. Yagi, on the other hand, had gone for something a hint more formal than the clothes he used to wear when he was Toshinori.- A white-button up and some dark-blue dress pants, held up by the belt he wore regardless of form.

Yagi had managed to get reprieve from his sling- and the bruises and cuts around Fin's neck had faded into nothing but faint scars.

"Heya Mode!" Fin opened the door with a grin. "---I got everythin' set up- come on in!" The dorm was bigger than most of the other dorms that had been built- simply because it encapsulated both Yagi and Fin's dorms, resulting in a dual setup. There were even a few small corridors- one of which Mode was currently in, though Fin was quick to guide her to the main area.

The bed had been pushed into the wall, allowing the couch and table to take up most of the available space- on it were three games, each stacked atop one another.

"For the record, I will not be responsible for whatever happens." He nodded towards the alcohol. "But I'll keep an eye on you two all the same." It was a shame...it looked like some high-quality stuff, too- but Yagi would stick to his water. He knew his body had no chance in Hell of being able to ingest Mode's beverage. "I'm glad you showed up- Fin's been running around the dorm for the past hour..."

Fin's cheeks slowly began to color.

"HEY!...I was just excited, damnit..."

“We can play something American, sure. I haven’t played any so you’ll have to teach me this time.”

“Actually, I’ll bring the sake for all of us to share. I’ll let you be in charge of the dried squid snacks.” Pe didn’t want Finley cheaping out on the liquor. If the bottle wasn’t in the hundreds or thousands of dollars, Mode would rather not drink the calories.

She wore a rare smile. “I may be the least famous in my immediate family, but I do know how to dress people, All Might.”

“Thank you.” The woman flinched when she bowed in thanks for Yagi opening the door to the nurse’s office for her, “I’ll see you both soon.”

Some time later, the designer walked up to Toshinori’s door, knocking, a bottle of TATENOKAWA Junmai Daiginjo Komyo Yamadanishiki sake in her hand. It was one of her favorites - tasting more like rice than other drinks. Pe had dressed casually, in a summer pink & teal kimono with socks & sandals, a jeweled flower in her hair. The teacher had been looking forward to this, scars the only thing left on her body from her injuries.

[catboyebooks]

so when hinata gets to komaeda's cabin, nanami is there, and they go in together. komaeda has a fridge in here, notably, and hinata and nanami are curious as to why ("you think this guy was really into beverages?"), but when they open it the only thing inside is a bottle of poison. which is mostly empty. the poison bottle's label states that the liquid inside is "enchanted" and can kill instantly, that it's heavier than air when in a gaseous state, and that it breaks down on contact with water. this must have been another thing komaeda obtained from the octagon, and both of them start fretting after the fact as it hits them that during the last trial komaeda must have had a bottle of deadly poison and a bomb stuffed in his pockets. (nanami's like "what if he tripped" and hinata's like "i don't even want to think about it")

nanami wonders if perhaps komaeda used the poison to set another trap, because if so that'd be bad as such a trap could potentially kill everyone on the island. well, she's on the right track.

the other most eye-catching thing in the room is a glittery pink treasure chest — the one monomi said was stolen from her. nanami reacts in surprise when she sees it, but when hinata asks her if she knows anything about the box she claims she just thinks it's cute. she seems reluctant to look inside but hinata figures it's gotta be a clue. he opens up the box and inside is a notebook — flipping through, this looks like it must be monomi's diary. the entries are simple and childish, and it doesn't seem like there's any clues in here at first, but when he's flipping through it hinata notices a particular entry from when they were trapped in the funhouse. it mentions hinata's attempt to enter the final dead room. hinata seems like he's about to say something about this (i am too, but no editorializing rn) but just then monomi shows up and snatches the diary back. nanami asks her to confirm the diary is hers and she does only for monokuma to show up and say she's lying, monomi didn't write those entries, she can't write at all given she has no fingers.

monomi protests and tries to insist that she CAN write and she DID write the notebook but it's not convincing. after monokuma leaves hinata asks monomi about it and she quickly excuses herself and leaves too. nanami comments that it's no use trying to get answers out of monomi, but hinata's frustrated he didn't get to ask her about the diary, although he also thinks that maybe it's a good thing he didn't ask.

i think i've noticed the same thing he did about that one diary entry. monomi wasn't there when hinata tried to enter the final dead room. iirc, she was actually stuck inside the final dead room herself at the time, and it was confirmed this chapter that she doesn't have access to the camera feeds anymore. how would she have known about hinata trying to enter the final dead room when the only person who witnessed that was nanami? i'm about 99% positive this is the bit of evidence we need to prove she's the traitor, unfortunately.

[wellpresseddaisy]

Snape's Office, 1983

The package was a surprise.

It sat, loudly proclaiming its holiday cheer all over his desk blotter. The box and top had been individually wrapped, and there was a bow. Even the envelope propped against it had little sprigs of dancing holly pirouetting across the top and bottom.

The paper - deep green and silver - said it was from his Slytherins. Possibly. He slid his wand down into his hand and cast a few diagnostic charms.

They came up clean. Severus lifted the envelope and opened it carefully. He pulled out the card (thankfully without dancing greenery) and opened it.

Dear Professor Snape,

We know what you've done for us, how you've kept other professors and students from treating us all like pariahs. It was you who took a battered group of fifth years and taught them to look out for one another, to see that not everyone hated us. You taught us so many things in the last two years.

Your present is a testament to how well you teach when no one in charge is looking. You taught us to work together, and so we did.

We came up with the design together.

Maurice did the pottery work and mixed the glazes.

Annabeth and Howard designed the rune sequences (don't ask how many bits of parchment they set on fire in the process).

Amelia carved the runes since she has the steadiest hands.

Caradoc fired the kiln (with help from the House Elves...did you know they make the Hogwarts China?).

And we all activated them together.

This will keep your hot beverages hot and your cold ones cold, without overheating or chilling your hands. It will also warn you if anything has been added. Doc wanted to have it so the handle shot across the room, but he was voted down. If your drink has been tampered with, you'll hear a steady chime.

Gwendolyn compounded the drinking chocolate from a family recipe. Romulus blended the teas himself, although he made all of us do tastings until we could differentiate the notes he was talking about. Gwen just made us all lots of chocolate and fussed when we didn't drink up.

I did the extension charm on the box.

We hope you use it in good health, Professor.

A very Happy Christmas to you. (Niniane said to say God Jul as well).

Your 7th Year Slytherins

He blinked at the card. He hadn't expected this...especially not after he put them all in detention for a month for slacking on their assignments. When even Sprout complained, something had to be done.

But hadn't they kept surprising him, even from that first awful week he was house head? He picked up the package and lifted the top off. Inside, under a mound of tissue, sat a hand thrown pottery mug.

He lifted it out carefully. The heavy pottery felt right in his hand, with just enough heft to be comfortable. The glazes - soft and muted and all the colors of the Scottish Highlands in spring - made a calming combination. Touched, he set it on his desk and looked in the box again.

He pulled out a large cannister with a hand-printed label - The Hadley Family Drinking Chocolate. Four tea tins followed, all marked with their blends and notes on why Romulus had blended them that way.

He didn't deserve these children.

"Ellit!" he called.

A House Elf popped into his office.

"Yes, Professor Snape? What can Ellit be helping with?"

"I hate to ask this right when you're preparing for the holidays, but would the elves be able to send a proper Christmas tea to the Slytherin Common Room? With gratitude from Professor Snape?"

The elf hopped in delight. "Oh yes, Professor! We elves have been waiting for this! Fillip has trifle on standby!"

And popped back out.

He'd have to do something for the Hogwarts elves, as well, although he wasn't quite certain what. He appreciated that they kept his students from incinerating themselves making him a present.

And, well, it was about teatime, wasn't it? He picked up his new mug and a tin of tea and went to find his kettle.

[ridreamir]

Semi Serious Crack- PT 1 Ingo and Emmet

I'd like to start a series of random scenarios titled "semi serious crack" to allow for some sillier, mayhaps not so elegant ideas. I'd also like to keep the author commentary short on such posts. My performance may be down in current, but as you can guess by the topic of today's post, it was originally a coincidence yet isn't quite so anymore. Warning! Certain topics mentioned may be triggering! (Alcohol binging, tension + angst, and slightly suggestive themes) .

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Modern Unova is a place of miracles, with any kind of commodity that could be conceptualized within the means of current science available en masse for anyone to purchase. Unfortunately, there are words for things that divert the attention away from the fact that not all marketable goods are good for consumption-- a common sense for most people, but you were not well versed in these cushioning terms for products that are something other than what they sound like. (At least, not in this era of the Pokemon universe.) That is to say, certain adult beverages may come across as misleading, with their innocent enough packaging. And sure enough, the modern sciences can create a beverage that tastes nothing of the ferment of alcohol, so you can very dangerously be ingesting something without even realizing it.

Such was the case with these cute little "Soda Pops" as you thought they'd been dubbed, with Pink Spring Deerling illustrated in chibi style wrapped around the can. Had you read the label, you would have known you were making a mistake, but since a few were sitting neatly on the bottom shelf of the fridge at the twins' condo apartment, you thought nothing of it.

It was a great oversight on their part, they would admit. (So it seems that Skyla and Elesa like drinking these sorts of things, and that what you unwittingly stumbled upon was their stash, as they know neither Ingo nor Emmet will touch them. Since Ingo and Emmet were usually away, it was safe for either of the two girls to unwind on the balcony without fear of being seen together, and they've been given express permission to do so provided they respect the space.) What an unexpected surprise it was then, when the two of them found someone stashed away in the twins' apartment of all places, decorated with a few empty pink cans.

One semi-panicked emergency later and the twins had informed the station that they would be leaving early for a private, urgent matter.

Truthfully the effects of the substance weren't that intense. They had you loose and perhaps not quite as lucid, but it was nothing of the horror stories that most people are told (at least, not for now). It wasn't good nor bad, it was just, off. But loose wasn't good when so much of your character had relied on the restraint of action, the repression of reaction. Once you came undone, it was a vulnerability, and you weren't allowed to be vulnerable in this world-- not knowing the history of what happens when you let your guard down in this reality. And you thought that your relationship with Ingo and Emmet was, in a way, shallow at best. Aside from being a great source of entertainment and interest for them in the realm of battling, there hardly had been anything to keep you all together aside from a shared enjoyment of the weekend conventions down in Anville Town, when you three would occasionally ride the rail line together to or from Nimbasa.

That was about as far as this friendship of yours went, with your much different schedules. You were still a traveler just as before, always camping out in some tucked-away corner of the region, but since Ingo trusted you, Emmet didn't feel the need to keep light on his toes-- so you were told that if you needed a place, they were happy to provide. Again, you fiddled clumsily with your hands, afraid the worry was apparent on your face-- regardless of how washed out it felt under your current influence. If they saw this part of you and asked the right questions, that might open the door to other things that you don't want them to know about-- you didn't like the lack of control when you knew who you were going to be dealing with. Skyla had kindly been taking care of you whilst Elesa had been conversing with a slightly loopy form of you, laughing at your stories, charmed by the expressive ways you went shy and tried to censor yourself. She could understand why they might have felt so taken with you if any of this was to go by. Well, that was, until the switch flipped, and that restraint went somewhere far away, as if you'd given in and let go of whatever it was that was holding the pins to your mental ropes together. Suddenly what was a polite formality turned into random blurbs of various things you had thoughts about, many of which included your hosts both Ingo and Emmet. Some of it was bickering, some of it sounded regretful, and a lot of it was unnecessarily cautionary for this world of ease and comfort. You know, scaring the "younger" generation, as one does. Still yet, you were yourself, which was the hardest part about this entire situation. Of all people, it shouldn't have been you. It could have been anyone else.

When you heard the door, for some reason that eluded even yourself, you got up to greet them. But just looking at him here in front of you, you had to reach out and touch him. It had definitely been the most physical contact you've had in a while, since the days of Hisui that were hardly anything more than a fond phantasm of a dream for him now.

But this wasn't him, not with the way he twitched and squirmed wanting to shy away, trying to figure out what his body was supposed to do while Emmet gave a suspiciously sharp, gritted smile. It wasn't as he was before, he who had been so sure of himself for a person so lost, and would place a hand on your lap to just reassure you with a ghost of a smile upturned on his lips that you were doing just as well. "If you could please give us some time to catch up, we would both appreciate it greatly." Ingo would end up saying at some point in your dissociation, to indicate that the girls have done enough for today and he'd really rather not have an audience, especially not with how it seemed you were faring. Skyla could take the hint, Elesa might have ignored it if not for her getting dragged out by the coat collar. You buried your face into his neck, embarrassed by yourself, embarrassed by everything, wanting to wonder why it was happening to you. He seemed understanding enough and kept you held in place when it looked like you were going to pull away out of shame. The pair of girls spared you one last look before closing the door behind them. Finally, it seemed, Emmet wouldn't have to stay sidelined in this rare display of affection. His gentle hands ran gently but firmly against your sides, closing in on you from behind. Sandwiched between the two of them, Ingo kept you gently upright, and Emmet rested his head atop yours without shifting too much of his weight onto you. It wasn't exactly what any of you thought you had in store for you today, but you could tell it wasn't an entirely unwelcome development. A large part of you still knew that this wasn't normal, that platonically this was edging on many red lines, but the way Ingo sighed and deflated underneath you had almost for a moment convinced you that maybe there was something he remembered after all.