#which i actually liked the beginning and then it got so dry (ironically)

[itsactuallycorrine]

I burned through TAZ vs. Dracula so fast but it was so fun and engaging, and you could tell they had a blast doing it. My 2nd favorite campaign of the entire series (after Balance)

[mediocreanomaly]

Rookie.

Cecil Stedman x Reader (GN!Reader, Age Gap)

Authors Note: Yes I'm a Cecil stan. No I won't apologize. There's just something about that old man's dry humor and morally grey decision making that enraptures me.

Cecil had stared down literal demons with a steadier pulse than this.

No, seriously, he'd experienced just about everything during his time on earth, kaijus, dead gods, alive gods, magic, mad science, fish people who, ironically, were pescatarian. Yet somehow, this is what shocks him.

“You don't want this, kid,” he sighs, pressing his fingers to his temples like he has the mother of all headaches coming on.

“You think you do, but you don't.”

The cocky mother fucker across from him just grins.

It's hard to pinpoint when exactly this had gotten so out of hand. With Rae, Rex, Rudy, Monster Girl, and Bulletproof gone, to say they were short a few guardians had been an understatement, and unfortunately, it had been Cecil who'd had to run the new tryouts. In the end only one really stood out, some local hero with the ability to steal other people's powers through touch for half an hour at a time. It wasn't much but apparently it used to be five minutes which suggested it could be extended whether that ended up being through training or the GDAs tech was yet to be determined but Cecil was desperate for a Hail Mary after his plan b and c against Mark had done jack shit and a temporary Viltrumite was as good as ever in terms of plans.

Looking back on it Cecil should have seen it from the beginning, the way the rookie had sat up straight like a dog waiting to impress its man with a trick when he'd walked in, but several of the others who'd known who he was had put on faces as well so he'd written it off as an attempt to impress.

The actual tryout had gone similarly; the little sneak had managed to get their paws on a few powers before getting into the ring and had made sure everyone knew it when a few training robots had nearly gone through the walls. Admittedly, Cecil had enjoyed the cunning; powers only got you so far if you didn't have the brains to use them, so it had been an easy call to green-light them onto the team.

Then things had gotten weird.

It had started with the training. Cecil didn't make it a habit to oversee every regimen; that's what Immortal was for, but he tried to stop in at the beginning of the month to see how the new members were settling in. When the rookie had noticed this, they'd begun showing up thirty minutes early and lingering late, purposefully trying to flaunt whatever flashy power they'd managed to snag for the session or showing off their new record for weights. Again, Cecil had begun wondering if they were attempting to brown nose their way into some higher position because it had at least become clear they were showing off for him.

It hadn't really clicked per se until a few months in when the rookie realized their golden ticket to seeing him was running reports to his office, a chore even Black Samson attempted to avoid at all cost.

Cecil should have nipped it in the bud; they'd begun overstaying their welcome as of late. He didn't do conversation, but God damn, the kid didn't give it a rest; they'd chatter on about how the guardians were, how their day had gone, about how great the GDA was. When he'd responded with varying levels of noncommittal grunts and ‘Do I look like your diary, kid?’ They'd begun a new approach.

Food, for one. Dropping off food with their reports because ‘there was no way he ate with his schedule’ which was half true but it didn't make it any easier accepting meals. Then they'd somehow managed to pick Donald's brain about interest of his and sneaking it into conversation.

‘I was just listening to Miles Davis the other day’ (they hadn't) ‘Ugh I could really go for a scotch right about now’ (they hated it)

What was worse is it had begun to work. Cecil didn't know why he hadn't told them to give it up and get the hell out of his office, if it had been anyone else he certainly would have but he was still a man at the end of the day.

It's not like he hadn't appreciated the occasional man or woman passing by before, but he was well out of his prime, not to mention too damn busy to even humor a one-night stand, much less anything regular. Besides, it's not like anyone really glanced his way these days, or they hadn't until you.

You had thrown some colossal-sized wrench into his life that he'd been trying desperately to ignore, which wasn't typically his style. Cecil was a problem solver at heart and saying ‘no’ to some green newbie on the team should have been one of the easiest decisions he'd made in a long life of hard calls. So why were you still sitting across from him and why was he still playing this game?

You pick up a stress ball off his desk that Donald had gotten him years ago (Cecil highly doubted he even remembered) and toy with it in your hands.

“You do know I'm not actually a kid right?” You retort

“You're still a kid to me, you're a third my age, rookie.” he watches the way you roll the ball between your hands, back and forth, back and forth.

“Put that down,” Cecil snaps, and you put it back on his desk, hands raised in mock surrender.

“Okay, well, I can consent is all I'm saying. Besides, you've been watching me too” you huff nonchalantly lounging against the seat.

Cecil stiffens at the accusation and sets his jaw in irritation. Watching you? Of course he had, he was the director of the GDA it was his job to watch you.

“I've been watching you because it's my job to make sure our new Guardian of the Globe isn't a liability” he answers cooly “Especially the reckless ones.”

That gets a snort out of you.

“Come on, boss, I've been on good behavior,” you say with a grin that drips with young cockiness and naivety and makes Cecil understand why he's losing hair.

It's irritating, both because you're a smug little bastard and because you aren't wrong. Cecil didn't need to look through your files or check in on the cameras to make sure you were getting on. All the reports said the same thing, a little rough around the edges in terms of discipline and skill but a very promising investment to both the team and GDA with great potential and a knack for following orders (especially when they came from Cecil himself).

“Plus-” you continue before he can lay his next words of disapproval down upon you. “-the fact you're even entertaining the conversation makes me think you're not as opposed to this as you're trying to make it seem.”

Ceci keeps his composure but internally, as much as he hates to admit it, you had a point. Despite all his reservations here the two of you were.

“Don't mistake tolerance for interest, kid.” he says a warning in his tone. “just because I'm listening to you does not mean I'm not opposed to this”

Your smile falters for a fraction of a moment before a new set of determination falls over you as you cross your arms.

“You're lying.” You cross your arms and fix Cecil with your own hard look forgetting the playful facade in favor of your own equally serious shift in mood.

“You barely let Samson talk about the weather but I get half an hour about jazz? I call bullshit.”

Cecil's eyes narrow at the accusation.

“I'm not lying I'm… omitting certain details.” He says crossing his own arms mimicking your stance, silently daring you to challenge him again.

“you mean the ones where you're interested in me?” You ask raising an eyebrow refusing to lose this little verbal tennis match.

“Interested is a strong word.” He replies cooly, but damn it all. Why did it sound like he was trying to convince himself?

“It's more… tolerating your relentless advances.”

And there it was, acknowledgment of the subject he'd been dancing around.

“Oh, so you have noticed,” you reply pleased.

Cecil fixes you with an unimpressed look, as if he could miss the outrageous peacocking that had begun to take place in his presence. His only saving grace had been the fact that no one in their right mind would guess who you were showing off for.

“That's good, I was starting to think it was going to waste.” You continue unbothered.

Cecil grits his teeth, torn somewhere between annoyance and grudging respect. The rookie had persistence if nothing else.

"How can I not notice you constantly showing off for me," he retorts "You're like a damn puppy. All eager eyes and wagging tail."

“For some reason…” you drawl leaning your elbows on his desk. “I feel like that's your type”

“My type?” Cecil lets out a short laugh, caught off guard by the audacity of the statement.

“I'm not sure you want to know ‘my type’, kid. It's anything but fresh-faced overly eager do-gooders.”

You shrug.

“Maybe. Or maybe you don't mind what sort of outlook or attitude you get so long as you're listened to in the end.”

You trail your fingers over the nameplate on his desk, tracing out the engraved pattern of ‘Director Stedman’

“And I've never questioned your orders, sir.”

Cecil's gaze follows the movement of your fingertip, trying to ignore the stir in his chest.

“You don't question me because it's my job to keep your naive ass alive.”

“Why are you pretending you don't want me?” You fire back.

“is it such a big deal if you feel a little something for someone?”

Cecil feels his patience thin at how easy you make this sound, like he's some handsome stranger at a bar and not the director of the god damn GDA.

“It's not about feeling, and it's a little bit more than a ‘little something’ You're like a damn virus, always there infecting my thoughts.”

He pushes away from his desk, fist clenching at his side like a physical manifestation of the internal struggle he was feeling inside.

You frown and furrow your brows at the man at the firm reluctance on the other man's behalf.

“Why are you saying it like it's bad? I've been thinking about you too you know”

A sharp laugh escapes between his teeth, harsh and humorless.

“It is bad, kid. This… whatever this is, whatever feelings you think you have, it's dangerous.”

Cecil begins pacing the spot behind his desk, his steps quick and frustrated.

“This isn't some high school crush, you can't just move on when you realize how wrong it is.”

You huff slightly insulted by the implication.

“I've put a hell of a lot of effort into this for a ‘high school crush’” you reply unimpressed.

“I wouldn't be asking if I wasn't serious”

“How can you be serious? You're more than half my fucking age!”

Cecil runs a hand through his hair frustration etched into every line of his face. Despite his better judgment, he could feel his ability to keep up the argument waning.

He pinches the bridge of his nose and exhales.

“What could I possibly offer you aside from a life time of trauma and a constant reminder I'll probably die before you hit your fourties?”

You wrinkle your nose at the distasteful words.

“you're sixty, not eighty, plus I have money on the fact that you'll manage to outlive Omni-Man on spite alone.” you muse before letting your expression fall into something more serious.

“but honestly? I don't care about that. I like you. I mean sure at first I just thought you were attractive but-” you continue before Cecil can make a smart comment. “-you're competent. Like overly competent. You're witty in conversation and I know you care more than you let on. Let the others say what they will but I've seen the things you do for people's families and for their safety, maybe the job limits what you can do with that good but that doesn't mean it's not there. I'd like to know that man.”

“You make me sound like a god damn saint” he mutters eyes flickering to yours.

Your words had hit more then a few nerves whether he liked it or not. Ones that deep down… he knew had already begun to fracture.

You sigh and meet his gaze, unwavering.

“I get it more then you think. I'm young, not stupid... I won't pretend it'll be an easy relationship but I'm in it to try.”

You pause before adding, “and if it makes you feel better I like that you're an asshole too.”

Despite everything, an amused smile plays at his lips and with it a small pang if affection.

“You like me because I'm a bastard? That's a new one I'll admit.” he retorts, dry humor in his voice.

“what can I say?” You shrug “your general irritation is charming.”

You watch him carefully knowing that this was the make it or break it moment.

“... Would it really be so bad? You've given your life to the GDA, you could use something nice behind closed doors.”

Something nice…

He could feel his feet on the metaphorical edge of whatever leap was ahead of him. He was being worn down with your persistence but what was scarier is that he didn't really want to fight it in the first place.

“You know how how this would look right? The director of a top secret defense agency dating some rookie hero?”

You can feel it. The way you've got him snagged.

“I won't let it affect my work performance, hell I'll sign an NDA if you want”

“an NDA, how romantic” he scoffs but there's an undercurrent of sarcastic amusement at the idea.

Despite his barbed words, he appreciates the practicality. It was, after all, one if the reasons he'd been drawn in in the first place.

He let's out an exasperated sigh.

“... You're too damn stubborn you know that?”

You grin, already knowing you've won.

“I'll grab my pen.”

[bumblesimagines]

‘i never thought i'd ever see you again.’

‘i never got your name.’

w/ milly’s rhaenyra and male! reader ? like maybe male reader ends up being her betrothed rather than laenor xd

Pronouns: He/Him/His

CW/TW: Typical GoT/HOTD warnings, Alicent and Viserys marriage, arranged marriage trope, not much tbh?, some lying by omission, some mentions of rhaenyra's complicated relationship with gender

Rhaenyra's veins buzzed with anger, irritation, and exhaustion, the reins tightly gripped in her hands leaving imprints along her palms as she rode through the forest. The wind lashed at her face, her silver hair whipping behind her; the closest thing she could get to mimicking the feeling of flying with Syrax. Her father's words echoed in her mind, reminding her she'd never be the son he always longed for. Always just the princess, always just the daughter meant to marry some noble arse and have a million of his babies, even as the heir to the throne. 

A furious groan escaped her lips, her eyes beginning to sting with tears. She rapidly blinked them away at the sight of another person up ahead by the lake and tugged on the reins, bringing the horse's speed down to a trot. Her chest heaved with pants and her hair had no doubt lost the pristine style her handmaidens had brushed it into, the bright color of it being the only telling part of her royal blood. The stranger crouched by the lake looked over his shoulder at her and stood, wiping his dripping hands on his pants. 

"Princess Rhaenyra," He bent at the waist in a bow, his boots leaving prints in the mud as he approached his grazing horse. He wrapped his hands around the reins and swept his eyes over her, his lips curling playfully. "Which fool has upset the heir of the Iron Throne so soon into the day?" 

Rhaenyra released a dry, breathless laugh. "My father." She answered, half-expecting him to trip over himself to take his words back but he hummed and nodded, heaving himself up on the saddle of his horse. The horse huffed softly and raised its head, chewing on the last bits of grass in its mouth.

"Fathers make the worst fools." He said, gently tugging on the reins in her direction, the calmness in his demeanor reminding her of her uncle in a way. There he stood in the presence of Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen and he seemed as if he were speaking to an old friend. Rhaenyra relaxed at that, used to most trying to suck up to her or being intimidated by her titles, but she couldn't help eyeing him with a hint of suspicion.

His clothes lacked any specific coloring symbolizing one of the Great Houses for they were mostly brown and akin to what the smallfolk typically wore but even the most confident of peasant men were prone to stuttering or stumbling over themselves. The stranger simply smiled at her, dipping his head as his horse walked past her and back into the forest.

"I never got your name," Rhaenyra called, pulling on the reins and pressing her heels into her horse's sides. The horse complied and moved after him swiftly, slowing down once they were walking side by side on the small natural trail leading back to the Royal camp. With a better look at him, Rhaenyra had to admit he was handsome, especially with the mystery surrounding him. 

"Surely my name is unimportant to a lady such as yourself, Princess." He spoke with a hint of a playful tone, his head tilted back to watch the birds fluttering about overhead.

Rhaenyra hummed quietly and looked forward once again, dread beginning to bubble up in her stomach. She'd made a bit of an outburst after her and King Viserys's little spat in the main tent, and she hardly had the patience or desire to face her father or the other nobles who'd witnessed it. "You claim fathers make the worst fools." She glanced at him. "What makes yours a fool?"

"He's stubborn, as most old men are." He sighed. "He never allows his mind to shift from his opinions, even if it may cost his family. Though, I suppose when my mother is the one making the actual decisions, he desires to show his fellow men he's in charge."

"I'd like to meet your mother." Rhaenyra chuckled softly, the words repeating in her mind and making her throat tighten with intense longing. Nothing would ever be able to replace the immense gaping hole in her heart left behind by her mother's passing and her father's decisions afterward. The vultures circled and circled until her body had been reduced to ash before they swooped down to peck at the leftovers. Otto... Alicent. 

Rhaenyra inhaled deeply through her nose and plastered on a polite yet fake smile, turning to look at him once more. (Y/N) finally dropped his attention away from the sky and turned toward the princess, arching a questioning brow upon noticing the look on her face. "What is it, Princess? We must make haste if we wish to return to camp before nightfall." 

She groaned. "I do not wish to return to camp. I... I wish I were someone else, frankly.. someone nobody would be able to sell off to some fancy man like a mare and made to live the endless cycle of falling pregnant and producing child after child until my husband is content. I am a princess and the heir to the throne yet- yet I am treated no better than your common lady." 

"Us men do have more freedom, though I am afraid you'd be forced to marry regardless of being of either sex, Princess. It is what's expected of the highborn folk." He shrugged lightly, glancing over the branches above and scanning the sky for the position of the sun. "I suppose we may ride through the forest for a while longer but if anyone were to search for us, they'd be... far from thrilled seeing us unchaperoned and alone together. They may even have us wed." He winked playfully.

"Is that not what lowborns dream of? Marrying royalty?"

"Aye, some do. There's many a tale of beautiful lowborn daughters being swept away by a handsome dashing knight. You cannot fault the imagination of the desperate." He spoke and tugged gently at his reins, directing his horse off the path and further into the Kingswood. Rhaenyra followed, pleased to hear the bustle and chatter of camp drift further and further away. 

"Where are you from, man with no name? A distant land?" She questioned teasingly, taking note of the way her thighs began to ache. It'd been too long since she last took to a saddle, she realized. Rhaenyra would remedy that quickly when she returned home. The stranger laughed softly, a pleasant-sounding thing, and gave her a grin. 

"If consider The Reach a distant land, then yes." He responded.

Commonly known for being the home of chivalry and where knighthood was greatly esteemed by its residents, the Reach was perhaps one of the wealthiest regions in all of Westeros. Rhaenyra had heard plenty of it from Alicent back when they exchanged more than forced pleasantries. Her former friend oft' spoke of showing her around Oldtown, the home of House Hightower and the most notable city in the Reach. There were many houses, many places her newfound friend would live and work near. She tried recalling all the houses from the Reach that'd attended the hunt.

"And whom may your lord be? Lord Hightower?" 

"Lord Tyrell." He answered. "He believes I am too young to not be wed with children by now. He is a kind man, if not perhaps rather daft at times. I'm fond of him, truly, even when he becomes aggravating."

"It's rather surprising to hear you are close with Lord Tyrell." Rhaenyra's brows raised. Sure, plenty of lords and ladies favored the servants who took care of them frequently, but they hardly ever got close enough with them to speak so freely.

"Oh," He chuckled. "He's known me since I was a babe."

By the time night fell, they'd strolled through part of the Kingswood in avid conversation, only putting an end to their riding when it was deemed better to collect some wood for a fire. Rhaenyra leaned back against a fallen log and listened to the comforting sound of fire crackling, the embers rising and spinning through the air with each delicate breeze that swept by. She watched them dance with the breeze while her thoughts drifted elsewhere, to what life may have been if she'd been born as her father's desired prince. 

"You should sleep, Princess." The Tyrell boy spoke from his spot beside her, his arm perched up on the log and hoisting up his head. His eyes remained closed but his body seemed alert, fingers twitching with each distant crunch or animal cry. "We'll rise with the sun and return to camp lest anyone realize you spent the night away with a stranger. I'd rather remain off King Viserys radar."

"Is that so? What if I wish to tell my father of how I met an odd man out in the woods? That'll surely garner his attention." Rhaenyra giggled softly and turned to look at him, watching the corner of his lips twitch upward. 

"It certainly would, Princess." He murmured and lifted his head, gently rubbing his knuckle over his eye and glancing over the dark woods around them. The fire illuminated his face in a warm, near-golden glow. Rhaenyra thought of her father's insistence that she wed someone, anyone. What would he do, she wondered, if she told him of a lowborn she liked? 

"You never told me your name."

"It is of little importance, as I said. You will return home to King's Landing soon and all this will become a distant memory in days to come." His eyes slid over to her, and she hummed quietly, her lips parting to insist otherwise but she knew the life of court would sweep her up and she'd only recall him late at night when her thoughts stopped running. "Sleep."

"I do not plan on forgetting you." She told him in a surge of confidence and some rebellion, planting her hand on the forest floor beneath them and leaning forward to press their lips together. Not her first time kissing someone, for she and Alicent had exchanged curious kisses during their youth but her body nonetheless tingled with excitement. 

"Princess," He sighed but she placed her other hand on his cheek before he could draw back and scold her on whichever societal rule they broke. "You-"

Rhaenyra tilted her head back slightly, swiping her tongue over her lips and giving him a small smile. "I wish to be free for a moment. Will you help me?" She asked softly, staring into his (E/C) eyes hopefully, otherwise it'd be a rather awkward night. 

"Whatever the princess's desires."

The time had finally arrived when her father had grown tired and displeased with the lack of progress in their combined search for a suitable husband. He'd strongly considered Laenor Velaryon in hopes of mending what'd been broken when he chose Alicent over Laena, but the rumors of the young Velaryon preferring boys over girls reached King Viserys ears fast enough for him to change his mind and choose another strong contender. 

"I believe you'll be quite content with Highgarden, Rhaenyra," Alicent spoke softly, her words directed at her but eyes distant as she bounced little Helaena in her arms. Her handmaiden remained silent as she attempted to wrangle a wiggling Aegon and Rhaenyra could only grimace at the struggle. "It is.. a beautiful place. My mother was friends with Lady Tyrell in her youth and oft' spoke of the beauty of it." 

"I see." Rhaenyra sighed. "I am.. certain it is as lovely as you claim. But I will reside in King's Landing, as it is my duty as heir, is it not?" She lifted her brows at her father.

King Viserys sighed deeply and opened his mouth to speak but the carriage lurched to a stop and their names were called into the air, signaling their arrival at the seat of House Tyrell. Rhaenyra inhaled through her nose and held it to calm the irritation simmering in her veins, reminding herself there was a chance at seeing the mysterious stranger from Kingswood. Her legs shifted under the skirt of her beige-colored dress, thighs pressing together as she felt the ghost of his lips roaming over her shoulders and the touch of his hands when they cupped her face. 

"The Princess and heir to the Iron Throne, Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen!"

Rhaenyra gathered her skirt in her hands and stood up from the cushioned seat, moving toward the door and carefully stepping down. Her eyes first wandered over the large white stone castle surrounded and protected by three rings of stone walls. Many of the outer walls were covered by sparse greenery, from ivy vines to beautiful roses. She could hear the delicate sound of a harp playing coming from the open doors leading into the castle. Everything felt... calming in Highgarden. 

"King Viserys," Lord Tyrell greeted eagerly, bowing as far as his frail bones allowed him to while his wife gave a short curtsy and regarded them with an air of coolness. Rhaenyra liked her already. Lifting his arms and offering a pleasant smile, Lord Tyrell said, "Welcome to Highgarden. It is an honor to host our King, Queen, and Princess."

"What a beautiful home you have." Alicent complimented, her elbow subtly bumping into Rhaenyra's arm. 

"Yes," Rhaenyra nodded and Lord Tyrell's features brightened with the praise. "It is... incredibly soothing being here already."

"You flatter us with your praise, My Queen, My Princess." Lady Tyrell offered a polite smile, her hand rubbing along the subtle bump in her belly, soaking in Rhaenyra with her eyes before she turned sideways and nodded up the flight of stairs for someone else to join them. "And we are incredibly flattered you answered our proposal. May I introduce my son, Ser (Y/N) Tyrell."

Rhaenyra's gaze flickered away and her eyes widened into near saucers. The stranger from the Kingswood grinned mischievously back at her, no longer clad in dirty clothes and instead in dark green with the sigil of House Tyrell. (Y/N) Tyrell... what a sneaky bastard, he was. Rhaenyra clamped her teeth into her bottom lip and forced herself to be silent under the watchful eyes of everyone around them. Her heart fluttered, a million questions and playful complaints flying through her mind.

"King Viserys, Queen Alicent," (Y/N) bowed in greeting to the two, a fond smile gracing his lips when he gazed upon her half-siblings before a playful twinkle appeared in his eyes once he turned to her. He scooped her hand into his and raised it up to his face, brushing his lips over her knuckles. "Princess Rhaenyra, what an honor to finally meet you." Rhaenyra finally smiled. 

"Now with the pleasantries aside, we've hosted a feast in honor of your arrival and this beautiful betrothal." Lord Tyrell said and eagerly beckoned them within the castle as servants swiftly took their belongings into the castle and to their temporary bedchambers. Her father and Alicent followed, the two men chatting blissfully and sharing laughter while their wives walked idly side by side. 

"Would you like a tour of the gardens? They're in full bloom this time of year." (Y/N) offered her his arm and she took it, giving a nod and allowing him to guide her into the castle where the sound of the harp grew closer and louder, the gentle music filling the bright halls. 

"I never thought I'd ever see you again," Rhaenyra admitted, gazing over the light-colored walls. Everything in Highgarden seemed bright and warm, especially welcoming and calming. The Red Keep oft' felt dreary and cold but Highgarden seemed vibrant with life and more open with large windows allowing the light to pour in. "Why did you keep this hidden? I would not have cared if you were a noble."

"I never said I was a lowborn, Princess. You assumed I was." (Y/N) reminded her lightly, guiding her down a flight of stairs and into a large vibrant garden with a gorgeous fountain in the middle spouting water in a continuous flow. He plucked a bright red rose from a bush and offered it to her. "It appears the Gods had plans for us regardless, though."

Chuckling, Rhaenyra took the rose. "It appears so."

[friendsoup]

In Your Arms, Again | Tennant x Reader

Recipe: Slight Continuation of Workplace Randevu, Canon to that story I suppose, Just like then the reader is implied to be female but it's not explicitly stated!, Mostly gender neutral with a hard feminine lean, Tennant is Pathetically in Love, Wet Dog Tennant, Jealousy on both ends, L-word Said (love, not lesbians), Reader is insecure about the relationship, But maybe Tennant is too?

WC: 1,300

Chef's Note: It feels SO good to be writing Tennant again. I missed my wife, tails. You can find the first official part here, but you don't need to read it to understand this one.

It’d been so long since you had a day off. Sure you had the weekends to yourself, but only barely. There was so much housework to be done in your tiny apartment. So many bills to pay, so many things to clean. It seemed like those two measly days a week went by in the blink of an eye. Leaving you more tired than when you came in. 

But here you were, free as a bird on the most romantic day of the year. You’d spent half the morning preparing yourself for the night, doing your hair and painting on makeup. The other half was spent on your outfit, which you still didn’t feel completely comfortable in. It was a bit out there, showing off skin in places you weren’t used to showing off. Your gal friends had recommended the dress, even offered to help pay for it. 

If you want to find love, you’ve got to show off the goods.

That’s what they told you at least.

You had love though. At one point. A certain blonde jeweler, who came in and out of your life as she pleased. Despite all your nights longing for her, she hadn’t shown her face in your city for six months. It was the longest you’ve gone without seeing her, and you were beginning to grow resentful.

You could imagine all the girls she was seeing, all across the world. All the hands she was holding, kisses she was giving away. It felt wrong, this jealousy. The two of you weren’t even an item. But you couldn’t help losing sleep over the girl you couldn’t keep.

That was in the past now, you were sure. Now you’re smarter, stronger. You were going to find someone that actually stayed in your bed past morning. Someone who really cared.

You gave a last spritz of perfume, inhaling the floral scent. It was a homemade brand, a friend of yours made with her own garden’s flowers. You weren’t usually the type for perfume, but you wanted to hide that smell of shame that'd been sticking to you since Tennant left.

You were a brand new person now.

You marched to the door, swinging it open with full confidence, only to stop in your tracks.

The woman on the other side seemed just as shocked to see you.

And all too familiar. 

“T-Tennant?” You whimpered. Now this was a cruel joke. You were just talking big game about getting over here, and here she was. In the flesh. “Heya, doll.” She muttered back, rubbing the back of her neck with a gloved hand. She looked tired, there were clear eye bags under those piercing red eyes of hers. Her normally well groomed hair was frizzy, down and out of it’s normal loose ponytail. Even her clothes, which she always took great care of, were disheveled. There was a clear lack of ironing, and she was missing that iconic annoying hat she wore wherever she went. “What’s cracking?” “Why- I!” You puff out your chest. “I ought to knock you on the kisser! You’ve got some nerve, showin’ your face round here, after you left me high and dry for months! I swear, you must be daft or somethin’! Don’t you know how much heartache you left me in? I-I!” Tears begin to form in the corners of your eyes, which you quickly stifle. You don’t want to cry, not now, not in front of her.

“You’re right.” She says dryly. Her tone catches you off guard, with just how hollow she sounds. “I left you, and that wasn’t right of me. Darling, I’m sorry. More sorry than I’ve ever been in my life.” She takes a step towards you, lifting a hand to your face. “You’ve got to believe me when I say-” She pauses, and sniffs the air.

“What’s that?” She asks, leaning into your neck.

“What’s what?” You reply confused, placing your hands on her shoulders. You don’t want her to come too close. Yet.

“Perfume. You smell like perfume.” She states, her eyes narrowing. “In all the years I’ve known you, you’ve never put on perfume. Who’s is it?” She asks, eyes flickering back up to meet yours.

Is she… jealous? Your heart skips a beat. 

“Ain’t nobody you should care about. I just happen to like the scent.” You bite back. “I’m sure you smell of a thousand perfumes.”

“I don’t-” Tennant begins to argue, before pausing. She can’t refute that statement. “You know it’s not like that.” “Not like what?” You push further. “You get to mosey on up to any Jill, Jade, or Joan. And I’m not allowed to wear a girl’s perfume? What kind of justice is that?”

“It ain’t justice, I’m just wondering.” Tennant pleads now, dropping her head on your shoulder. “I’m sorry. Please. I didn’t come here to fight.” 

She sounds so tired.

Your heart continues to ache.

“What you come here for, then? Here to make good on your promise?” You ask, still acting bitter.

“No, not yet.” She sighs. “I ain’t got nothing but peanuts. I just…” She hesitates, squeezing her eyes shut. “I wanted to see you, doll. I couldn’t wait any longer.”

Your grip on her loosens. “How long have you been in town?” You ask, worried for the answer.

“A minute. The second I landed here, I went to see you.”

That was the response that you were scared to hear. It was words like that, that made it impossible to tell just how deep her feelings went. Did she want you for you? Or for the convenience of a lover in the city?

“And lucky me,” Tennant jokes, “You got all pretty for my arrival. You miss me that much, sugar?”

Your intelligent mind begs you to push her away. To shove her out the hallway, and slam the door in her face. She’s gotten you nothing but trouble, leaving you with pain beyond anything you’ve felt before. And yet you don’t move. You find yourself frozen in the moment, trying to push forward any such response. 

She notices your falling tears before you do.

“Oh dove.” She lifts her head from your shoulder, wiping a tear with her thumb off your cheek. “Ma jolie colombe. Ma vie et ma dévotion. Mon monde.” She whispers to you, in a tone so light you’re afraid to breathe, lest you shatter it.

“French.” You observe aloud. “You speak french now?”

“Bits and pieces. I learned in Paris.” She explains, brushing a piece of hair out of your face. “Do you want me to show you what else I’ve learned in Paris?”

You can’t say no. Your body won’t let you. You nod softly, and she wastes no time pressing her lips to yours. Her hands move to your waist, while yours stay on her shoulders, the two of you holding each other in a waltz. 

The kiss is unlike anything you’ve had in your life. The passion behind it leaves your entire body on fire, your head spinning as if you’ve gone drunk off of it. 

She pulls away after what feels like an eternity, the two of you breathing heavily. You see that some of your makeup has smudged on her face. You’ve made a mark on her. 

“I do what I must to make a sale.” She whispers to you, pressing her forehead against yours. “But never once, never, did my heart stray from your hands. I’m yours, fully and completely.”

“I love you.” You say, unable to keep the words back. “I…” She begins, finding it hard to speak. Your heart beats faster, the uncertainty of her next words weighing down the moment. Will she turn and run? Like she always has before? 

“I love you. God, doll, I love you.”

You thank her with a kiss. It seems love has found you.

[g0nta-g0kuhara]

DRV3 blackeneds and how you would (maybe) perform first aid on them if they managed to survive their executions (part 2)

I'm surprised you guys seemed to like the last post I made along these lines, so here's some self indulgent brain rot yet again. Once again should say that I'm just a beginner and am omitting stuff

Kaede:

For this, let's say that Kaede managed to escape being crushed by those spikes at the end. She'd either have to be gently lifted down, or have something moved under her so that the rope was no longer strangling her. After that, she should be carefully lowered to the ground for assumed spinal injuries (hold cspine). If she got nicked by the spikes at all, put pressure to those injuries. Treat for shock, give oxygen.

Kirumi:

Kirumi DEFINITELY has a major spinal/head injury. She should be immediately held in cspine and then checked for broken bones, which should then be stabilized. This is a rough one because of the sheer amount of lacerations she has- first aid responders would probably have to quickly identify the worst ones (ie the ones bleeding the most) and immediately bandage them up to put pressure on them while bandaging up the minor ones and freeing their hands to again deal with the major cuts. Treat for shock, too. You'd need all hands on deck for this one.

Korekiyo:

Other than dizziness and disorientation, the spinning at the beginning should be no problem. The biggest concern would be the major burns he would have over 80+% of his body, which would be life threatening. You'd have to remove as much of his clothes that were submerged in the boiling water as possible before any swelling, but not if they were stuck to him. Use cool (not cold) water to lessen the pain, then cover him in a dry sheet until you can get more help. I'm going to assume some kind of internal head injury (re: bleeding from the eyes?) and say to hold cspine just in case.

Gonta:

Uhhh. Hoo boy. okay. The biggest concern here is obviously the gaping chest wound. This would be extremely difficult to deal with and is kind of immediately out of my scope, but If I had to try and do something, Id say to pack the injury and slow blood flow as much as possible. Lower him and hold cspine, though the stake he's tied to might ironically help with this (considering the exit wound is probably through the spine, I'm not sure it would help MUCH, but it's better than not doing anything). I guess while youre waiting for more help you can care for the stings? but the chest wound is going to be problematic enough I don't think you'd have time to worry about that.

In a much more ideal situation, the bug's leg would stay through him and help to stop blood loss. But regardless, this is a really rough one.

Kaito:

If we're just talking about his execution itself, we'd have to check for broken bones and hold cspine for an assumed spinal/head injury. But that's not what killed him, is it? I'm not entirely sure how to go about Kaito's illness... from what we have in canon there really isn't much that could be done via first aid anyways. Keep him comfortable, give him oxygen, let him cough up the blood. The only way a first aid responder could do anything is if we were playing by the rules that his "illness" was actually poison. If you could figure out what poison it was, that could be extremely useful for him getting the help he needs later. but yeah, not much you can really do about that for him in the moment.

[saras-almanac]

I’ve seen this idea or comment multiple times: That Tommy has no character. Which is either on its own or in connection to not understanding why anyone likes BuckTommy apart from two hot guys together. I’m not going to get into the second one here, but the idea that Tommy has no character is just false and either a completely failure in media literacy at best or a blatant ignoring of canon at worst.  

Now do we know everything there is to know about Tommy? Absolutely not, and I’m not trying to claim otherwise. But I would also point that question to any of the other characters on screen: Do we know everything about Bobby, about Chimney, about Buck, etc? I would say No, we don’t. I think the one we have the most information about is Buck just purely because the framing of the first season being about his growth and also because Buck is just such an open book about pretty much everything in his life and feelings. But even still, I don’t think we know everything about him. And that’s okay!

But back to Tommy—we actually do know a fair bit about him and have seen him grow and develop a bit. When we met him in “Hen Begins” in season 2, he’s not outright rude but he is very much, “not gonna put a target on my back here” because of Captain Gerrard (and/or perhaps because he had already realized his sexuality or was beginning to uncover it). When we meet him for the first time chronologically in “Chimney Begins,” he’s more rude and pretty dismissive of Chimney’s offer of friendship, even actively avoiding him. Again, this could be because of Gerrard, the environment here where it didn’t feel like anyone was really friends per say, or it could be down to what Eli tells Chimney: That these guys are not going to let just anyone in until they prove themselves, especially not a probie.”

However, the thing that shows the most about who Tommy is and his growth is his time in “Bobby Begins,” where it’s clear he’s got a really solid friendship with Hen and Chimney, making bets about the new Captain, going out for drinks, having those looks in the engine as Bobby gets them lost. It’s clear in the narrative in season 2 that Tommy, for all of being in only 3 episodes, has grown and changed a lot. (Which is why I find it so ironic that so many people criticizing this “retcon” of Tommy’s character always forget to mention Bobby Begins where it’s clear that Tommy’s friends with Hen and Chimney. I get that some fans want a full apology, but to me it reads like that probably already happened, or at least a conversation, a clearing of the air. Not everything needs to be directly spoonfed to you.)

Tommy coming back in season 7 has shown a bit more growth, as well as showing us sides of him we haven’t seen before. His patience and kindness with Buck and the newness of their relationship and Buck’s sexuality. His humor being dry and a little dark—“We’re all gonna die anyways” or even him suggesting to give Buck flying lessons because his fees are competitive. He’s open with his vulnerabilities when he feels safe enough to do so—immediately sharing his own jealousy at the 118 to Buck when Buck’s talking about his jealousy, telling Buck he cut the date short because he didn’t want to pressure Buck. To me, it shows maybe more growth or just another side of him because we only saw him in connection to his friends, where as Buck is a love interest.

Is this a lot of information? I guess it depends on what you want. Do we know his favorite color or his interests or how he romantically woos people or what he likes to do on his days off? I would argue that we do know a decent amount of that—he likes monster trucks, I assume watching romantic comedies as his favorite movie is canonically Love, Actually, he enjoys craft beers, knows and participates in Muay Thai, has a car lift in his garage so must know something about cars or mechanic stuff, is a pilot and firefighter, enjoys flying for fun on his days off, and has a trivia / karaoke thing (I’m still not sure if it’s a karaoke trivia or trivia at a karaoke bar, the wording confused me but whatever). Honestly, that’s more information than we have about any love interest Buck or Eddie have ever had when they were just starting a relationship.  

And that’s also a huge point that I think is being missed by these types of arguments: Buck and Tommy are just starting a relationship, as in they are just getting to really know each other. So there is more to learn and uncover about each other. And honestly, we the audience are probably not going to be privy to a lot of that because it’s an ensemble show. So instead, they’ll likely show us that they’re moving forward and getting more comfortable with each other when they do interact—the kiss in the hospital reads to me as two people who’ve been spending time together and getting to know each other a lot more where they feel more comfortable. Hell, even just Buck’s change from his hesitance in episode 5 to his confidence in episode 6 is supposed to show his growth in accepting his sexuality and comfort being with Tommy.

The whole point is that the show sketches the outlines and maybe fills in some spots, but they sort of expect you to be able to still see the bigger picture of things. We know the outline of Tommy and are waiting to see it all filled in. That’s why he’s such an intriguing character and love interest for Buck—because he’s developed enough as his own person but there’s still enough blank spaces to explore with. He is the most developed love interest that Buck’s ever had, but he’s still just become Buck’s boyfriend so there’s still more to learn about him. That’s what dating and being in relationship with someone is: learning about them, their likes and dislikes, and what they are like in relationships, seeing if you’re compatible. So while there is already a massive head start in characterization than anyone else (except maybe Abby but even she wasn’t a fabulously written character and was honestly a terrible protagonist), there’s still more to learn about him and that’s a good thing. And while I can’t speak for everyone who ships BuckTommy, I can say that for me, it’s so fun to extrapolate on the bare bones of character and see how they develop in canon.

Tl;dr: Tommy does have a character. It's just a lot of showing and not telling and some people can't handle that.

[toughtink]

anime/manga i really enjoyed in 2024:

i wanted to do some kind of end of year recap because i really got back into watching anime and reading manga this year and last!! here's some of what i loved~

~dungeon meshi~

action, adventure, cooking show, and necromancy! i honestly thought the premise of “classic dnd style adventure party kills monsters and cooks them into iron chef-worthy dishes” sounded boring and that it’d get old fast, but it was actually a fun way to do world building!! and they change things up just as the episodic nature of the monster food starts to feel too repetitive, unlocking waay more depth than i ever expected for this story! find your inner senshi to treat yourself to something delicious and nutritious, your inner chilchuck to know your own value at work, and your inner marcille to remember that “forbidden” is really just a strong word for “super cool” when applied to magic.

the manga is complete (english box set available + there’s an extra companion book about the world you can get!), and the current anime has season 1 out in full which gets about halfway through the story. it’s become well known in fandom spaces for having a main character who is often read as autistic and has a relationship between two women central to the storyline. though it’s not explicitly made romantic, it’s easy to read it that way. it should be noted that this is not a romantic series, but the (platonic) relationship building is superb. warning that this show can be violent at times and they don’t shy away from bones and flesh, but it's not so much a gratuitous gore fest as mostly just informative, tbh.

~apothecary diaries~

half historical drama, half episodic mystery show—and then there’s the slow burn romance…like really slow burn…like i binged the anime and then the manga and now i’m wondering if i gotta get my hands on the light novel. maomao is a fantastic lead character, and i honestly can’t get enough of her dry wit.

the light novel series, manga, and anime are all ongoing. the storytelling is often goofy but also has many more somber moments as it does deal with serious themes such as sexual exploitation, child loss, and extreme power imbalances due to the hierarchy of the palace. for example, the main character grew up in a brothel and is kidnapped and sold into servitude right at the beginning of the story; the plot revolves around her job in the inner palace where all of the emperor’s concubines live and try to give him heirs. it’s based on imperial china, but technically its own world.

~skip & loafer~

i haven’t fallen so hard for a slice of life since…ever? the plot is kind of meandering, but we're here for the sweet and slow growth of friendships and romance in adolescence! the first season of this anime technically aired entirely in 2023, but i've been keeping up with the manga and loving every second.

the main character is a small town girl moving to tokyo for high school with big dreams to return and save her dying town. she lives with her glamorous aunt nao (who we later learn is trans and has some of THE best writing i've ever seen in manga for a trans character) and slowly builds a group of great friends, including the school's "popular" boy. it's about first impressions and assumptions and the awkwardness of growing up. the creator has an ethos that treats every character as fully rounded, no one is just a side character. it's hard to pin down what exactly i love about this series so much, but it's sweet and earnest and made me feel both nostalgic and also more compassionate to who i was as a teenager--as well as all the other teens around me just trying their best to get through it all. it's just lovely and calming, and i highly recommend getting your hands on the manga while we wait for the second season of the anime!

~dandadan~

this anime landed on the radar of my husband and me around the same time but separately—he thought it was a supernatural horror series, and i thought it must be a romantic comedy based purely on fanart. turns out, we were both right! it's chock full of references to classic horror and sci fi with a teen romance b-plot and an outrageous sense of humor. no really, i've seen way more outrage about this one than i ever expected. i'd compare it's energy and level of ridiculousness to kill la kill, maybe less kinky but definitely still raunchy!

the plot revolves around two teens who have run afoul of both their local ghosts/yokai and space aliens who want to use/collect human reproductive organs. i've seen multiple people shocked by the creepiness of the aliens strapping down and stripping the main female character in the first episode, so here's your warning! the MCs unlock their own supernatural powers to fight back the baddies, but our male main character realizes he needs to get back his own genitalia which becomes the main plot. like i said: raunchy! outrageous! maybe not for everyone! the creator is pretty clearly just throwing whatever sounds fun as the next monster of the week for the crew to face up against rather than agonizing over drama or anything, which is sort of refreshing to see. this series certainly gets creepy at times but never grotesque, at least not to me (i feel like i have a relatively low tolerance for grossness?). it's honestly been shockingly fun and goofy, and the friendship and blossoming romance between momo and okarun is very, very sweet. that said, it may not be for you if yokai stealing balls isn't a premise you can get on board with.

[ireallylovepupplies101stuff]

Gods AU Oneshot: Tails and Tales.

Summery: Bendy's not the only one who's not exactly happy to be living in the kingdom of the gods, but maybe a certain kindhearted mug can help things feel not so bad.

--------------

Carrying cleaning supplies in his arms, Bendy walked through the halls of the Dish Gods family castle to go do his next job of the day, when he paused at the sight of Mugman coming from the opposite end of the hall.

Soaking wet and leaving a trail of water behind him.

Looking down at the floor, Bendy looked back up at Mugman with a deadpanned look. “I hope you don’t expect me to clean up after you without you asking.”

When Bendy’s comment caught his attention, Mugman seemed to snap out of his train of thought as he looked behind himself to see what his brother’s servant meant. “Oh! Sorry! Let me clean that up. I’d appreciate the help though if you don’t mind.”

As Mugman approached, Bendy offered him a clean rag and empty bucket as he put the cleaning supplies down and grabbed his own rag to help his friend. “So is there a reason you look like you jumped in a lake fully clothed? Training gone wrong?”

Amused, Mugman chuckled as he did his best to squeeze the water out of his clothes into the bucket. “Nah, I haven’t broken my record in drenching myself by accident with my powers yet. This was all Cala.”

Pausing in soaking up the water on the floor, the demon looked at his friend with a perplexed look. “You, were with Cala? You and I both know she hates the gods, what with her being kidnapped and turned into a pretty art piece against her will.”

Sighing, with his clothes no longer dripping wet, Mugman started drying the floor along with Bendy. “I know, Cuphead thinks I’m being dumb for doing this. I just… I don’t agree with my mom actually accepting Cala as a decorative gift because she’s an actual person, but I can’t really talk with her about it because she’s always so busy. So, I thought I could at least try being nice to Cala and get to know her, so she doesn’t feel all alone.”

“You have noble intentions Mugman, but you can’t get her to talk to you if she doesn’t want to.”

With how Mugman’s head dropped a little at that, Bendy let out a small huff as he patted the demi-god’s shoulder. “Like I said though, you have noble intentions. Just keep being a gentleman. If it doesn’t work out like you hoped, at least you can say you tried and respected her.”

Thanking Bendy for his kind works, Mugman continued to clean up his mess with his friend’s help until he was done and continued with his daily business. Now with that mess cleaned up, Bendy could go do what he was actually supposed to do that day.

Clean the outside of Cala’s tank, ironically.

Entering the room, Bendy looked over at the large tank in the middle of the room, which was about the side of a small sized bedroom made of glass, full of water, sand at the bottom, and a few large rocks. He watched as the mermaid/gorgon, who had her back to the door as he laid on top of one of the large rocks, looked over her shoulder, then perked up at the sight of him. “BENDY!”

Smiling a little, Bendy approached the tank and got to work cleaning. “Hey Cala. How are you?”

“Bored, as always. PLEASE tell me about your day. I don’t care if you spent it scrubbing the floors. It’ll give me some form of entertainment!”

Doing as she asked, Bendy did indeed tell her about his day. Thankfully it was more interesting than just scrubbing the floors. He told her about how Cuphead had started to make Bendy sit down and take it easy whenever the demi-god had breakfast, and even shared his bacon with him as they sat and chatted.

At one point when he mentioned that though, he noticed Cala looking irritated as she crossed her arms. Confused, Bendy asked. “What? What’s wrong?”

Cala huffed. “Nothing, just, these gods think they can do whatever they want with us.”

“Some of them, yes. I can’t begin to tell you how much I’ve ticked off some of the schmuck gods here… Cuphead is different though.”

Scowling, the mermaid/Gorgon gave her friend a firm look. “Bendy, he’s making you sit down and eat with him like some kind of forced date!”

Stopping in his work, Bendy put down the rag he was using to clean the tank and looked directly at Cala. “No he isn’t. I’ve said no to Cuphead before, and he’s respected that. He knows if I didn’t want to sit down and eat with him then he can’t force me. If he tried, that wouldn’t be pleasant for either of us.”

It then occurred to him what else Cala said, which made Bendy blush badly. “AND IT’S NOT A DATE! That glassface demi-god keeps making fun of my size! He’s probably trying to fatten me up so I grow more or something!”

As Cala covered her mouth to hide her amused grin, Bendy chose to ignore that as he continued talking. “Look, I don’t blame you for not liking gods considering your situation, but is being angry at all of them when some have nothing to do with this really helping at all?”

Cala’s amusement completely vanished as she frowned and refused to make eye contact. So Bendy continued. “As far as I know, I’m currently your only friend, and I barely have any free time to keep you company. If you befriend a god you think you can trust, you’d have someone new to talk to you, and who knows, maybe that god would help you?”

When Cala didn’t answer, her face full of conflict, the demon sighed and decided to keep working. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. Everything is your choice. Just think about it, okay?”

With her staying silent, Bendy let the subject drop as he continued to do his job and talked about his day.

—

Peeking his head into the room where Cala was kept, Mugman hesitated to enter fully.

He doubted Cala would like this at all, but that was okay. If she doesn't, then he’ll respect her wishes and leave her alone.

That doesn’t mean he looked forward to the rejection though.

Taking a deep breath, Mugman completely entered the room. He noticed how Cala looked over her shoulder before quickly turning away again, but he was used to that. So, he continued to do what he had planned to do.

Hearing shuffling going on behind her, Cala curiously looked behind her again. Normally at this point Mugman would at least greet her, so his silence was odd. What she saw him doing made her even more curious. “What are you doing???”

That made the demi-god pause mid action. Looking over the tarp in his hands, Mugman cleared his throat nervously. “I um, thought you’d like this…”

Continuing, Mugman hooked each end of the tarp to the top of Cala’s tank, covering one side of the glass. On Mugman’s side, it just looked like a blank tarp, but on Cala’s side, she could see many pages of paper pinned to the fabric, all of them with writing on it.

Moving to the side of the tank so he could see Cala properly, he watched as the mermaid/gorgon looked surprised as she moved closer to see his handy work. “I figured you were bored… I prepared a lot of stories for you if you finish this one. I-I can ask Bendy to change the papers though! That way I won’t bother you, anymore.”

When Cala didn’t say anything, the demi-god took that as a sign that it was time to go. Sighing quietly, Mugman put on a polite smile. “Take care Cala.”

Stepping away, Mugman was halfway out of the room when he heard her call out to him. “W-wait!”

Stopping, Mugman looked back and saw how Cala had moved to the top of the tank and peaked her head out of the water to see him past the tarp. He patiently waited as she toyed with her, hair, tentacle, and hesitated to speak. “... Thank you. You didn’t have to do this.”

Mugman gave a small shrug as he played with his blue cloak nervously. “I know. I wanted to.”

“... Why did you pick this story? The title seems interesting.”

Not expecting that, Mugman’s eyebrows went up in surprise, before he smiled and walked back to the tank and explained why he was fond of the particular story. Cala listened closely, and occasionally asked a few questions which Mugman happily answered.

At one point Bendy nearly entered the room, but when he opened the door and saw Mugman and Cala deep in conversation about the story Cala was reading, he smiled and quietly closed the door behind him as he left.

[cadet-aviator]

‘Mess and Household Training’ (1)

It took a while to really get used to this ‘new’ life, but not all that long: after I had offically completed the 24-week Disciplinary Supervision – the delayed punishments for my demerits during Camp – nothing much changed.

Almost all my non-school hours were now taken up with duties and drills as an Army Cadet. Inspections almost every day, rules for almost every aspect of my boy’s life, after I few weeks it became second nature. Even my Dad got used to me calling him Sir and giving me specific orders to sit down (although he did forget, sometimes, and I would just stand there, at the breakfast table, until he remembered...). It was a trying time for him and me, but this little extra routine actually drew us closer, I think.

I reported to barracks twice during the week and most of Saturday for new types of training, and most of these were actually really nice. I acquired some new skills.

What did surprise me was that almost all of that training was ‘Mess and Household’, nothing particularly ‘military’, no weaponry, no strategy, no combat training, almost none of that.

‘M&H’ meant lessons in doing laundry, ironing, shoe care, making beds, cleaning, everything you’d need for running a household, and then also cooking and ‘serving’ – the last part was something I had been introduced to during Elite Camp. 

I say it was pretty nice, overall, because even though the standards were at 100%, as always, the instructors were usually much older officers, and they enjoyed teaching me and the other cadets, a group of about six.

Also nice was that on Saturdays I was allowed to remain in School Cadet uniform, which was practical for me; it appeared later that in many of the places where M&H cadets were put to work, wearing whites was customary anyway, to indicate that they were ‘serving cadets’. I was to learn that different branches of the military, even different regiments, had different traditions and different uniforms for their serving cadets.

So I did a lot: the first weeks were taken up with hours of lessons in very very meticulous ironing.

In case you've never done that, it's a science in itself (or so I learned). We took the shirts from the dryer a little before they were really dry, because when they were still a bit damp you could make a much sharper crease. You started with the collars, then the sleeves, then the upper shoulder part. You had to learn where a crease or a fold had to be, and so on.

I had experienced this before (when shining my shoes): I’d enter into a zen-like level of focus. I’d see only the fabric, the steam, the iron, and I’d hear only the voice of the instructor. I say zen, because the attention to detail was religious; to my instructor any performance below 100% was simply impossible. So when I say ‘hours and hours’, I’m not exaggerating.

We got lessons in different kinds of fabrics, weaves, patterns, we learned just how textile responds to pressure and to folding, how it needs to be cleaned, how to remove stains, and so on. I was always a bit more ‘theoretical’ in school, a bit of an intellectual, you might say, so working with my hands was a nice change. 

As I said before, I never questioned any of it. All of this was done in silence, with just the instructor talking. Talking to the other cadets was allowed only during our 10-minute breaks, and then we would usually just talk about the work - it was clear to us that we weren't there to make friends.

I did begin to develop a vague idea as to why we were trained for household duties. Some of the clothes we had to work on were from high-ranking officers; I had heard about conscripts who were assigned not to military tasks, but to real officer’s households, as valets or butlers. I had not heard that this could apply to cadets as well (but I was to find that out). I didn’t mind the rumours.

I just wanted to serve, and serve perfectly, and be quiet and at ease.

After the shirts: shoes. And after that: tablewear. Carrying a tray. And so on.

(All images are AI-generated)

[morphogenetic]

cosplay to-dos before ALA hits:

Dec 22:

finish neku pants (aka "wait for these to dry, iron them, and then put metal wiring before hemming these properly"): 3 hours to be safe

hem apollo pants properly (.....yeah idk how I didn't do this either): 2 hours tops, probably less

neku shirt fixes (4? hours, this shouldn't actually be that much work but it's stretch fabric that I haven't tried on this machine yet so you never know...)

rest below bc this got long.

Dec 23:

kai jacket fixes (have to move all the sewn-on buttons over by an inch....joy). this is probably an all day task so 8 hours+ >.<

Dec 24:

yttd collar sanding (mild work but shouldn't be too bad) - my guess is 3-4 hours on this bc of the many steps but otherwise p simple

yttd collar painting/modge-podge-ing (p limited work) - like....two hours maybe? black paint and then yellow but that's it, the more annoying part is really waiting for it to dry

start yttd collar wire glueing: an hour or two at most, but then have to wait for it to dry fully. Yaaay.

finish kai re-button-ing if that isn't already done

Dec 25:

crimmus. also technically a spare day just in case I haven't finished any of this other stuff. you know how it goes.

oh wait I guess technically I need to finish collar glueing stuff around this point. Lol!

Dec 26:

kai wig styling day! honestly no real idea on how long this is going to take but I'm going to estimate at least half the day. Yaaay.

once ^ is done: makeup test time!

Dec 27 + 28:

two days because iiiiits neku shoe time making baybee!!!!!!! i technically know how to do this already i am just REALLY not looking forward to it. So it goes.

Dec 29 (maybe 30th also):

the nightmare that is the neku wig. i don't even want to BEGIN to think about this which is why it's so late LMAO

Any extra spare days:

Apollo, Neku, Kai, and Junpei masks in that order (apollo is priority bc I have a funney idea for him but you knooowww :3)

[somediyprojects]

DIY Ottoman Slipcover

Project by Brett Bara:

If you’ve got a boring old ottoman hanging around, or if, like me, if you happen to find one of those plain cubes on sale, it’s easy to recover with a custom slip cover.  This is another fantastic way to bring some fun textiles into a room with a project that you can sew in an afternoon or less. (I swear!)

This slip cover uses only basic straight seams, and I’ll show you the trick for getting nice, sharp 3-D corners. So let’s get started! –Brett Bara

What You’ll Need

1-2 yards fabric, depending on the size of your ottoman

Sewing thread to match

Tape measure

Sharp scissors

Straight pins

Sewing machine

Iron and ironing board

Selecting and Preparing Fabric

A heavier-weight fabric is great for this project since you’ll want it to be sturdy enough to stand up to some wear and tear. Heavy cotton, canvas or duck cloth are all great choices, as are many upholstery fabrics. If you have kids or pets or otherwise expect your ottoman to need to be laundered regularly, you might want to choose a machine-washable option. As always, I recommend beginners start with smooth-textured fabrics, so avoid any options with a lot of texture until you’re comfortable with sewing.

I’m using Butterfly Jubilee from Mod Green Pod, which is a heavy cotton.

If your fabric is machine-washable, wash, dry and iron it before beginning.

Measuring and Cutting

Measure the ottoman from edge to edge, and note the size of the top and sides.

To the top piece: add ¾” to the height and width. So if the ottoman top measures 14” square, you need to cut 1 piece of fabric that’s 14 ¾” square.

To each side piece: add ¾” to the width and 1 ½” to the length. So if each side of the ottoman measures 14” square, you need to cut 4 pieces of fabric that are 14 ¾” by 15 ½”. (As you proceed, be sure to sew the side pieces so that the longer sides are vertical; the extra length is for the hem.)

*Note: these instructions call for a ½” seam allowance, yet I’ve instructed you to cut each piece ¾” larger than actual size (normally you’d cut each piece 1” larger than actual size, to allow for the ½” seam allowance on both edges). But because you want the slip cover to be snug, we’re decreasing the normal 1” extra to ¾”, for just a smidge of negative ease.

Time to Start Sewing

Place two side panel pieces right sides together, with longer edges aligned. (You will be sewing along the longer edges.) Remember to check to be sure your fabric pattern print is facing in the right direction so that your print won’t be upside-down!

The trick of this project is that you want nice, neat corners on your slip cover. To accomplish this, leave ½” unsewn at the top of the seam. Measure ½” from the top edge of the fabric and place a pin to mark the spot. Continue to pin the two pieces together along the entire edge you will be sewing.

Begin sewing at the first pin with a ½” seam allowance. (Again, leaving that first ½” open). Backstitch to reinforce at the beginning and end of this and all seams for this project, and continue sewing all the way to the edge of the fabric.

This is what it will look like with the open ½” at the top of the seam.

Sew all four side pieces together in this manner, forming a tube. Iron all seams open and flat.

Slip the tube over the ottoman to make sure it fits well. If it’s not snug enough, make note of how much smaller it needs to be, and redo the seams where necessary. It it’s too snug, you can let out seams.

Now it’s time to add the top piece. Align one edge of the top with the edge of one of the sides. To get nice, neat corners, here’s the trick: Fold down the ½” open flap at the top of the side seam, completely out of the way. Then place the top piece of fabric over this.

Feel with your finger where that folded-over flap ends, and place a pin at an angle right at the spot where you feel the fabric ending underneath. Your goal will be to begin the next seam right at that spot. This spot is ½” from the top edge of the fabric, with a ½” seam allowance.

Continue to pin along the seam, and repeat the same process at the other corner, folding down the fabric underneath and placing a pin at that spot.

Sew along this edge, from corner to corner, with a ½” seam allowance – beginning and ending the seam ½” from the edge of the fabric (so you’re leaving ½” open on both ends). Remember to back stitch to reinforce the beginning and end of these seams.

Repeat around all four edges of the top, pinning and sewing each side separately as you go.

You’re almost done! Turn the slip cover right-side out and try it on again for size. Take this opportunity to double-check the hem; you should have 1” of excess fabric along the bottom for the hem, but if any shifting occurred, you may have more or less. Take note of that now and adjust accordingly when turning up the hem.

Turn the piece inside-out again and clip the corners on all three sides where they intersect. Removing this excess fabric reduces bulk inside the corners, for sharper edges.

To hem the bottom, turn under the fabric ½” along all 4 sides of the bottom, pressing as you go. Turn under another ½”, press, and pin in place.

Sew the hem, close to the interior folded edge. Finally, press open all seams on the finished piece.

You’re done! Don’t you love your new ottoman??

[bleedingredridinghood]

(CW: include personal anecdote regarding the same vein of fandom conflict, mentions the emotional side effects of this kind of drama within fandom spaces, in a way that could be considered graphic, followed up by personal example of how these harmful side effects can present. Goes on to describe how to use writing to recover from trauma, gets a little too philosophical with it, honestly probably not worth the read, but I wrote it, so I'll post it.)

Tbh, this why I don't like being an active part of fandom anymore. Like, I got into MHA when I was younger than class 1A, and yeah, I developed a crush on Bakugou. I was like a year and a half younger than him when that crush first developed, and it's been long standing. I do think of him as being the same age as me, because manga time doesn't work the same as actual time. Even still, I don't wanna be lumped in with people who think a lot of this shit is okay, y'know? While he is 26 by the end of the series, it's still tricky. I don't post a lot of my fics anymore because of that-- most of my fics are fluff, but even still.

And for JJK, Gojo is an adult the whole time, which is honestly such a relief (I mean, I was also already an adult when I got into it). And while, yeah, kinks and fetishes are fine (I guess), some of it still goes to an extent that's concerning. I get if it's a scenario (like roleplay or something, idfk), but without the addendum of aftercare, it's hella dicey.

Idk, it just makes a lot of fandom spaces feel unsafe, because someone's either going to forcibly associate you with something that makes you wanna burn your skin off, or you're going to stumble upon something that makes you wanna burn your skin off.

And, like, on a maybe too personal note: as someone who is gray-asexual and mostly sex-repulsed, these things cause a lot of harm!!! Like, A LOT of harm. Maybe I'm just not equipped for how weird people get online (I spend most of my time with people IRL), but I often have to take WEEKS off of being active on various platforms because of how harmful all sides of this can be.

Like, to imply that a character with a Lawful Good, Neutral Good, Chaotic Good, or Lawful Neutral alignment would just be okay with half of the shit people pull??? Is INSANELY out of character, and genuinely should be considered a crackfic.

Please don't get me wrong: writing out your own trauma is an important and wildly effective treatment method used in various trauma-based diagnoses. What people don't mention is this means that somewhere along the way you have to acknowledge that this trauma you experienced was not only something you did not ask for, but was also something BAD!!! Something that SHOULD. NOT. HAVE. HAPPENED. TO. YOU. The point of writing it is not to romanticize it, but to process it so you can see the situation rightly, and begin the process of recovering from it!!!

Most of my trauma involved a lot of really painful decision making, torture, violence, homelessness, etc. Writing about that and all the emotions from it help me grasp what I feel and process what was actually my fault and what wasn't. It's made me a more compassionate, happier person, with a pretty lively sense of humor. This is not in spite of the disturbing nature of what I've survived, but because I now understand what happened and how I can use that understanding to grow from the wounds I carry.

You cannot do that if you keep romanticizing all the blood you've spilt. It isn't lovely. It isn't glittering. It isn't exhilarating. It's just blood. It's just red. It's sticky as it dries and crumbly once fully dry. It smells like salt and iron and humidity. After awhile, it smells too sweet, like Splenda mixed with Robitussin. The blood you have spilt is not beautiful. The beautiful part is you. By romanticizing ones trauma, you dissuade yourself from that truth, and I don't know why anyone would be okay allowing others to walk that kind of deceptively cruel path.

The amount of incest, noncon, and pedophilic jjk smut content is getting out of hand.

"Just scroll if you don't like it!" - this doesn't negate the fact they're posting disgusting scenarios. They're targeting an audience of people who should seek therapy. That kind of shit is not okay.

It's like saying "scroll part a zoophile account on Twitter if u don't like it." See how stupid it sounds?

This Fandom is slowly becoming one i regret being in because of just how disgusting people are becoming. Come on guys, do better.

It's okay to have kinks and fetishes, but that doesn't mean they're okay. It's not okay to sexualize minors, it's not okay to sexualizw little space, it's not okay to sexualize r//pe! I get dubcon, but noncon? That's literally just nonconsensual sex.

Anyways. Rant over. Do better, people.

[mrcrowblargs]

The final set of missions to get Gortash's netherstone: sabotage the steel watch, iron throne, and punking the greasy bastard himself. Roleplay wise I figured these would all have to be done in quick succession as once Gortash knew we broke his alliance, well, he commanded the city and I figured all the city guard would be aggro on us. Even without the watch, it would be annoying.

Catching up on my play logs, spoilers beyond!

Leading up these missions, I refused Wulbren's mission to blow up the Steel Watch factory and stole the runepowder bomb from him. Could be handy for later. Once inside the factory, I agreed to help the Gondians and went for the Iron Throne which was both fun and very frustrating.

Okay so, the fustration mostly came from my own hubris lmao. I had a rough idea of what to expect and figured I'd do a dry run to see if my loadout would work. Despite fucking up a bit I got everyone out, even Wyll's dad, but then when doing a last check of the map I was like, wait, what're those chests to the north? Reload...

two tries later THE CHESTS WERE JUNK... I thought they would be good shit because a notepad above mentioned that the place was formerly used for research and projects might still be left behind.

reload again... and then I kept having problems with bugs. The gnomes would Dash and then not move at all. On one try I got everyone except Karlach ran out of movement 3m before the ladder. Another I accidentally quickloaded lmao. in the end I got everyone except Phoenix Lubbins out... the dash bug was just too stubborn.

Omeluum's a cool dude. Very helpful for getting people out. Glad we got to see it again. :D

The real prize of the Iron Throne mission: THE WAVEMOTHER'S ROBE! Had to get everyone to try it on though maybe should have washed the blood off first.

I do believe Aldiirn wore it best, especially when dyed into his colour. Dayumn.

Back to the Steel Watch Factory, we were warned about the huge titan defender or whatever. Lae'zel makes her badass boast. LAE'ZEL MAKES GOOD ON HER THREAT. When that thing went into defense mode, she just fucking wailed on it hard enough to break the shield on her own. hot damn.

meanwhile Wyll was doing this lmao.

All the Gondians int he factory except the one temp companion guy beefed it, which sucked but they would not stay away from the exploding steel watch. Freaking gibbed, man. Seems they changed the AI behaviour in a recent patch so might be nice to try out again.

Also the bit with using Illithid Persuasion to control steel watch in the city? That was really cool. Narrating the watch's body as YOUR body of metal and gears. Loved it. Honestly I fucking love the whole zombie brain control thing they had going on. Good body horror shit.

Then KABOOM! No more Steel Watch and Barcus unites the gondians and ironhand gnomes! I'm proud of him, like dang in Act 1 he was just a little guy strapped to a windmill. Like truly the littlest of guys. But he put himself out there and stepped up to make a difference!

Back at camp, Wyll got to reconcile with his father! Ulder was so freaking harsh on the guy but I'm glad he chilled and had a good heart to heart. Wyll's going forward as the Blade of Avernus! Aldiirn talked him out of going on a roaring rampage of revenge against Mizora, maaaaaaybe a little selfishly, but revenge is no way to life. But hey, if Mizora just HAPPENS to get in the way... smack her!

I had actually already done Wyrmway at this point but apparently took no screencaps. Fun little puzzle dungeon then WOOOAAAHH WHAT??? story moments. And EPIC battle.

All this meant Gortash was next on the chopping block. Ohh it was so good to basically be like, "Karlach, go fuck him up." Enlarge -> Soul Coin -> Rage just buffing her to hell on the first round. And then um. Everyone got exploded by the GREASY TRAPS!!! Fuck Gortash. Second try, I had Astarion sneak to the back and begin combat by launching an exploding arrow right at Gortash and all the traps around him. Went perfectly, Karlach stomped him to pieces, no notes.

Karlach's breakdown after was so sad though. like shit. she did not deserve her situation one bit. She deserves hugs. hugs and good things!!!! let me hug her pleeeaaaase

[theficblog]

JUST NOT ENOUGH

NA JAEMIN

Prologue: Your boyfriend Jaemin can get really shy, times like these make you the one that initiates something physical

Genre: Fluff + Bed sharing AU

Wordcount: 899

Prompts: “Give me the remote.” + “We could get caught, what if someone bashes in!?” 

Warnings: None

A day that had been full of walking, roaming, eating, bargaining, clicking pictures with your boyfriend's new camera, and overall touristing had finally come to an end, leaving you exhausted. 

You tossed your bag and shoes on the floor and sank into the bed. This was the perfect time for a bath. There was something about a bath filled with perfumed bubbles that instantly calmed you down, and it was even better if you added some candles.

"Umm. Actually, I-I'm fine, you can go ahead with it, I'll wait.." Jaemin replied, rather, refused your offer of him joining you in the tub, despite the fact that it would be fantastic for company. But, you see, you couldn't expect the man who shuddered from head to toe at the smallest brushing of fingers to join you in a bath, naked.

"Alright." You declared as you headed inside, returning not before a good thirty minutes, only to find your boyfriend with his eyes glued to his laptop screen. 

"Editing those photos again?" You questioned him, as he sat on a sofa chair, at some distance, to the left side of your bed, while drying your long locks, which smelled of your honey and lavender shampoo.

You did not waste much time in getting yourself ready for bed, still somehow utilising that time to converse with Jaemin. Once you were done, you finally pulled over the duvet with a sigh.

"Come, Sleep!" You patted the right side of the bed, indicating your boyfriend to finally give his body some rest.

"Just a minute." He replied, without even looking at you once, his eyes still glued to the electronic. 

You hummed back, stretching your arms, staring at the ceiling. It took Jaemin more than a minute for sure as by now you had introspected the last six months of your life, only after the design and lighting got too boring to bear.

"How long do you plan to stay there?" The tub of patience overflowed with water. "All night." He reverted, concentrated on the screen, only if you concentrated that much on your classes, you'd probably be working for NASA. 

"Huh? All night?" You inquired, but your brain's bulb blazed and lit up quickly

"Oh, Ohhhhhh." You said it out loud, emphasising the second oh.

In the twelve months of being together, the maximum extent you had gone with Jaemin was a kiss. Just a kiss. Okay, maybe some touchings here and there, but it was never just enough.

"Stop being so melodramatic, this is just bed sharing, not the beginning of some porn movie, Jaemin." You nagged at him, now this was one rare time you were not on the receiving end. 

A blush took over his cheeks, he pushed his hair back, the silky locks interlocking with his fingers. "Al-alright."

-

It had been fifteen minutes since then. Jaemin laid to your right, arms and legs straight in the 'attention' position, keeping a prescribed distance from you as if it were a military drill.

"Sniff" he voiced, it was evident that he was cold, a result of not covering his flesh with the bed linen. 

"Could you increase the temperature by a bit, maybe?" Jaemin requested, pointing to the remote control that was seated on the stand closer to your side. 

"It's pretty hot, isn't it?" You mumbled with your face buried in the sheets, it was cold after all. Ironic. Maybe you should have been more careful about that. 

"Give me the remote." Jaemin pleaded this time. He was trying his best to reach out, stretching his arm out to have access.

"Hmmm, take this" you grabbed the duvet, not the remote, offering him some room inside it.

Much to your amazement, he accepted it, even though his arms were still crossed, his shoulders straight and his body stiffened. Sleeping under arrest would have been more comfortable. 

That was enough. He was your boyfriend.

You pushed your face out of the white sheets, turned on your side, and wrapped your arm around your boyfriend's torso on the spur of the moment. You pillowed his chest, as you let out a sigh. "Finally.”

Jaemin on the other hand, was too stunned. His body which was still positioned the same way, now began to change its posture. His hand was shivering and struggling to place it around you.

"Let me help." You held his hand, firmly placing it on your body. 

But again, this was not just not enough.

You shifted your gaze upwards, meeting Jaemin's black, round eyes that were glinting with happiness. You knew he always wanted this but never dared.

Impulses took over once more, and you pressed your lips against his, leaving him stunned once more. It was only you at first, and it took him a while to reciprocate the same action. You were both too engrossed in the moment, concentrating solely on the smooches and tongues.

"We could get caught! What if someone bashes in?!" There went off the security alarm again. Who in their right mind would enter a locked room? There's nothing wrong with two adults, fully clothed, sharing a bed and having a good time together.

"Na Jaemin I swear to God!" 

Jaemin burst into laughter hysterically, throwing his head back, right before he was smashed with the velvet cushion in the face.

You could bet this night was going to be eventful.

LET ME KNOW YOUR VIEWS + ALSO SEE : MASTERLIST

PLEASE REFRAIN FROM PLAGIARIZING ,TRANSLATING, OR POSTING OUTSIDE THIS PLATFORM.  

[tanadrin]

In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth. And the Earth was formless and void, and darkness was over the surface of the deep, and the Spirit of God hovered over the waters.

And the Spirit of God looked around and said, "It's a bit muggy, isn't it?"

And the Spirit of God, who was also one of the angels whose job it was to do the actual grunt work, was not in a terrific mood. Because the Spirit of God--whose name was Raguel, and whose official title was Angel of Justice--would really have preferred at that moment to be up in Heaven, in the spheres of eternity beyond time, space, and reality, enjoying a nice, cold glass of something with bubbles. Instead, however, he was hovering over the waters, which were murky and dim, and trying to see if anything interesting was happening like it was supposed to. But the atmospehre was choked by volcanic ash and meteoric dust, and the Sun was still pretty dim--ergo all that darkness--and Raguel was pretty sure he was wasting his time. In his right hand he held a great rod of iron, which he was using to poke at the shallow bits in kind of a desultory way.

And as Raguel was poking, there was a loud crack and a burst of lightning, and Azazel, the Angel of Death, appeared in the air beside Raguel.

"Sorry I'm late!" he said. "Gosh, I completely lost track of time. Been out whacking neutron stars together for fun, you know. Lovely watching all those heavy elements go whoosh! all over the place."

"You're not late," Raguel said with some displeasure. "Nothing's happened yet."

"What, nothing?" Azazel looked down at the surface of the deep. "How can you tell?"

"You just can," Raguel said. "It's still all just amino acids and nucleobases. Not so much as an enzyme yet."

Azazel looked at his watch. "Huh. The All-Subtle isn't usually late."

"Pah," Raguel said. "The Ever-Adept's got nothing to do with it. This is all down to Adriel's boys in the astronomy department. They were five hundred million years late delivering the first Population I stars, and it's all been chaos since. This whole place is a rush job. Look!"

He waved one shimmering arm out over the endless expanse of sea.

"They forgot the continents! Not so much as a granite boulder peeking above the waves!"

Azazel looked around. He did seem to remember something about how Earth was going to have dry land, divided from the sea.

"Maybe the mortals will be… aquatic?" Azazel suggested.

Raguel shook his head. "They have their excuses. 'Oh, we'll fix it with plate tectonics, we'll build the cratons up over time. We'll have the first super-continent ready in just a few hundred million years!' I've seen the drawings. Their 'super-continent' is barely the size of Australia."

"Oh dear," Azazel said. Then, "What's an Australia?"

"Doesn't matter," Raguel said. "If the biology department fucked this up, there won't be an Australia, or much of anything else for that matter. It'll be HD 49674 all over again. Did you know this is the fifty-third planet in this galaxy that's supposed to have had life on it that's failed? At this rate if intelligent life ever does evolve, it's going to wonder why the universe is so damn empty."

"I imagine that the Giver of Life is, er… displeased?"

"He's not thrilled," Raguel said. "But you know how it is with Him. Soon enough he's off on his next idea. I think this might really upset him, though. He's been talking about these damn monkeys nonstop. He's got big plans for them. Language. Religion. Art. Science. Something called 'pickleball.' I'm not looking forward to breaking the news to Him."

"Oh, yes," Azazel said. "I suppose it gives me more time for supernova billiards. But… I don't know. I was kind of looking forward to the whole Angel of Death gig."

"Were you?" Raguel said. "Seems like a pretty grim task."

"Oh, I don't know," Azazel said. "There should be lots of travel. Lots of meeting new people."

"Briefly," Raguel said.

"Your problem," Azazel said, drawing himself up, "is that you don't appreciate the grand scope of things. The Plan as a whole. The elegance of a really good Divine Mystery."

"That's because I've seen how the sausage gets made," Raguel said. "You don't spend ten billion years trying to wrangle Powers and Dominions and subcontractors without developing a certain cynicism about all that. Without noticing that the Plan, such as it is, seems rather improvisational."

"I'm pretty sure that's blasphemy," Azazel said.

"Go report it to a priest," Raguel said. "Oh, wait, you can't, because they're never going to evolve in the first place."

"Someone's got a case of the Mondays," Azazel muttered. And Raguel was annoyed by this bit of snark, not least because Mondays had not been invented yet. So he poked Azazel with his iron rod.

Now Azazel became wrathful; and he yanked Raguel's iron rod from his hands. And Raguel said, "Hey! Give that back!" And Azazel held it away from him at arm's length and said, "Bite me." And the two angels scuffled for a bit, and Raguel tripped, and fell into the waters.

Azazel was embarrassed by his behavior, which did not befit the Left Hand of the Creator, and helped Raguel up. And they apologized to one another. And then Raguel looked down to wring some of the waters out of his shining white robes, and saw something stirring in the shallow end of the deep.

"Look!" he said.

Azazel gasped. Raguel's tumble had caused a ripple, which had perturbed a small clump of organic goo clinging to a rock. There, in a small pore in the rock, the first primitive cell was forming. The first life on Earth.

"Finally!" Azazel said. He raised his hands, and there was a thunderclap, and there appeared in them a scythe of black steel, whose blade was dark as night, whose edge was ruin.

"Not yet!" Raguel hissed. "It's just getting started!" For an agonizing few minutes, they watched this primitive proto-cell congeal, tremble, absorb some interesting molecules that were floating by in the primordial seas, and then--hestiantly, as if it was an actor not quite sure of its lines--begin to divide. Just as it pinched itself off in the middle, Azazel let the scythe fall. There was a whisper in the air that spoke of extinction, of grief, of the long silence at the end of time. Then two cells were sitting where once one had stood. And Azazel was holding something in his hand that sparkled with a faint blue light.

"Is that…?" Raguel began.

"A soul!" Azazel said. "They told me about these. I had no idea they would be so beautiful."

Raguel looked over Azazel's shoulder at it.

"Hello, soul!" Azazel said. "What is your name?"

The soul, whose earthly existence had been somewhat less than a quick cigarette break, sat in Azazel's palm and quivered. It said nothing.

"What do you do with them, anyway?" Raguel asked.

"Um. You know, I'm not sure," Azazel said. "Maybe I'll start a collection. We've got all that unused space up where we were going to put the true forms of reality, before we dropped the whole Platonism angle. Could probably fit a couple TREE(3) of souls up there."

"Shouldn't you check with somebody? Maybe these soul things are important."

"I'm sure it's fine," Azazel said. He manifested a small jar, and tipped the soul into it. He held it out to Raguel. "Souvenir?" he asked.

Raguel shook his head. "No," he said. "You're the Angel of Death, I think souls should be your department. But thanks. I guess this wasn't a total waste of an afternoon."

He was about to unmanifest, to return to the endless empyrean beyond, when he paused, and looked down at Azazel's scythe.

"Did you just have that ready to go?" he asked.

And God said, "Behold! I have created the fourth primordial force: the weak interaction!"

And the angels all clapped and nodded politely, and there was a long silence; and finally Verchiel, the Angel of Grace, spoke up and asked, "Er, what exactly does it do, O Fashioner?"

And God said, "What do you mean, 'what does it do?' It's the fourth fundamental force of the universe."

And Verchiel said, "You mentioned that. Um. But it's just that the other three sort of have a brand, you know? Gravity helps build large-scale structures, acts over vast cosmic distances, shapes time and space. The strong force is secret, hidden, binding together quarks and all that. Electromagnetism, very cool stuff, somewhere in between. We're all big fans of the whole magnetic monopole double bluff, very clever. But, er. What does this 'weak interaction' do?"

And God said, "It mediates radioactive decay. Sort of."

And Verchiel said, "Radioactive decay? All radioactive decay?"

And God said, "No. Just some kinds."

And Zephaniel, the Chief of the Ishim spoke, and he said, "A whole independent force just to mediate some kinds of radioactive decay?"

And God said, "Well. Not totally independent. Technically it's related to electromagnetism."

And Zephaniel said, "Wait, it's not even a real force?"

And God said, "It's totally a real force. It's just that it's one aspect of a combined electromagnetic and weak force. An electro-weak force, if you will."

And Metatron, the Celestial Scribe, scratched his head at this, but said nothing.

And Cambiel, the Angel of Transformation, said, "Maybe you can walk us through it from the top."

And God Sighed an immense Sigh, and said, "All right, fine.

"So the way it works is that all of space and time is permeated by a field that has imaginary mass."

And Cambiel said, "Imaginary mass, O Generous Provider?"

And God said, "Yes, imaginary mass. It's tachyonic, d'you see?"

And Sarathiel, the Angel of Discipline, said, "Wait a minute, I thought we agreed nothing was going to travel faster than light? All that 'c' business and the whole Lorentz transformation thing. What's happening with that?"

And God said, "Let me finish. The field is tachyonic. The particles in the field all move slower than light."

And Sarathiel had to think about this for a second.

And God said, "The point is, a field with imaginary mass has a non-zero vacuum expectation value."

And this really gave Sarathiel trouble, since he had never been very good at math.

And God, seeing this, went back to explain. "Most fields, like the electromagnetic field, have no effect when they are at their lowest energy state. It's like they're not there at all. If you give a field imaginary mass, then it vanishes only when it's at a very high energy state, and at a low energy state, it has a nonzero value everywhere."

And Sarathiel nodded, but he was confused, because he didn't understand why God would create such a thing.

But Verchiel thought he saw where God was going with this, and he was amazed.

"Truly, you are cunning beyond measure, O Only One Certainly Sound and Genuine in Truth! Only now do I understand your design! For in order to make the universe homogenous and isotropic, it is necessary that all large-scale fluctuations in temperature and mass must be evened out early in the history of the cosmos; and therefore, you have designed a field which will rapidly expand space after the Big Bang, many orders of magnitude in brief moments, and then swiftly and spontaneously decay as it gives up the energy it began with, giving rise to radiation and particles of all kinds as it does, which will condense into the material universe! It is a wonder to behold."

And God said, "What? No. I mean I did, but this isn't the inflaton field I'm talking about. This is something else."

And Verchiel said, "Wait, it's not?"

And God said, "No, I'm going to use a different field to drive cosmic inflation. The properties of this field are totally different."

And now Verchiel was also confused, and lapsed into silence.

And God said, "Like I was saying, this field is a scalar field with imaginary mass, and it does spontaneously decay to a ground state with a non-zero value. But it's not the inflaton field. Instead it combines with the W1, W2, W3, and B bosons."

And Metatron began to flip back through the pages of the Heavenly Record trying to figure out where he'd lost the thread.

And Zephaniel said, "The what bosons?"

And God said, "The W1, W2, W3, and B bosons. I'm sure I mentioned them. You know, the massless bosons?"

And Zephaniel said, "I'm pretty sure we only talked about the W+, W-, and Z0 bosons. All of which you said were going to have mass, O Owner of All Sovereignty."

And God said, "Yes, but this is how they get them, you see. Once this field acquires a nonzero value everywhere, the massless bosons interact with it and get mass. Well, some of them do. They turn into the W+, W-, and Z0 boson. And the photon."

And Zephaniel said, "…and the photon, O Accepter of Invocation?"

And God said, "Well, I did say I was going to unify the electromagnetic force and the weak interaction, didn't I? This is how. Above the critical temperature--right now I'm thinking 10^15 K, but I'm open to feedback on that one--electromagnetism and the weak force act as a single unifying force. Below that temperature, the field gets a nonzero value, you get three massive bosons to mediate the weak interaction, and the photon pops out seperately."

And Zephaniel said, "That seems… a bit overly complicated, doesn't it, O Reinstater Who Brings Back All?"

And God said, "No, it's exactly what we need. Look, that way the W and Z bosons have something to do, but the weak interaction still only travels short distances. Gravity is still the star of the show on cosmic scales, as it were. But now quarks and leptons can swap their flavor!"

And Zephaniel said, rather weakly, "Their… flavor, O Source of Good?"

And God said, "It's this new quantum number I'm trying out, to give the three generations of matter more unique identities."

And Cambiel said, "Three generations of matter? Now I'm really confused."

And God said, "I'm sure I mentioned this. You've got the lightest quarks and leptons, and then two heavier versions of each that can decay into the lighter versions."

And Cambiel said, "What do they do? New kinds of chemistry, is it?"

And God said, "Well, no. Mostly they just decay in a couple microseconds. Or even faster."

And Zephaniel began to rub his temples, and Cambiel sniffed.

And Cambiel said, "This all seems a bit ad hoc to me. Not really the stuff of an elegant and obviously ordered Creation. Why not have four generations of matter? Why not a trillion?"

And God began to grow irritable, and said, "Well, that's not really up to you, now is it? We're going to have three generations of matter, and the electroweak force, and that's that!"

And Zephaniel said, "As long as we are unifying fundamental forces, perhaps we could somehow also unify the electroweak interaction with the strong interaction, or even gravity."

And God hesitated saying, "Well, I haven't decided about that yet. I'm not sure I want gravity to be quantized, you know? Seems to take some of the geometric elegance out of general relativity."

And now it was Zephaniel's turn to sigh, and he bowed his head. "As you wish, O Possessor of Authority of Decisions and Judgement."

[purpleyellow]

Like a sticker

NCT 24th member / Dream 8th member

Bee’s Masterlist

“Bee goes to visit 127 on Studio Choom″

requested by: @smuchsmut

a/n: Feel free to share your thoughts with me💛

Bee and her manager sneaked inside the big room where NCT 127 was currently recording their performance of Sticker for the Studio Choom channel. 

To be fair, she wasn’t supposed to be there in the first place, but after checking with some producers, they allowed her to pay a visit, as long as she doesn’t get spotted by any cameras.

There’s a table filled with water bottles on the side, so the girl heads there first to lay down some pastries she had brought along for the staff and members. As she’s turning away to look for someplace to sit, her eyes meet somebody else’s, who recognizes her despite her wearing a low bucket hair and a mask.

“YUN-HEE” Haechan shouts and runs to give her a hug, at the same time the director warns the members about her visit’s condition.

“What are you doing here?” Taeyong laughs, approaching them with Doyoung while the rest of the members disperse to record some behind the scene footage.

“I was in the building for a meeting and asked if I could come over” Bee answers after Doyoung is done hugging the air out of her.

“Don’t lie. We know you can’t go a day without seeing me” Hyuck makes her roll her eyes and gives her a side hug. They lead the group to the monitor, where the rest of the members are huddling around to watch the last clip they had recorded.

Greeting the remaining guys, Bee, once again, gets crushed, this time by Taeil’s and Yuta’s hugs, has her hat stolen by Jungwoo (who tried to put it on but got stopped by the stylist on his side) and got her hair ruffled by Johnny and Jaehyun.

She knows Mark’s the only one she hasn’t talked to yet. And ironically, he’s standing on the other edge of the group, so she can only send him a quick smile and wave before the group has to begin monitoring their performance. Something like disappointment washes over his face, the emotion only lasts for a second, but Bee can’t help but take notice of it.

The clip starts playing from the second verse, and though she had heard Sticker before, she had never seen what the performance for it looked like. Which led her to suppress a yelp when Mark suddenly showed up on the screen for his part.

Distracting herself from the body rolls, Bee focused on adjusting the hat back on her head, while mentally pep talking her that she’s a professional and those kinds of moves are completely normal. The girl is back on her game once his part is almost over, and she calmly watches the rest of it in silence, only mumbling a “Cool” during Yuta and Jungwoo’s part.

Quickly after that, the clip ends, and the boys hmm in satisfaction. Bee claps a couple of times before Yuta gives her a back hug and smirks at the others.

“Did you hear? She wowed when we showed up. We have the best part, don’t we?” Jungwoo approaches them and sings his verse while gesturing straight at her. Bee can only let out a panic giggle, and thank god most of her face is covered, so the others won’t see her getting flustered.

“You just like us way too much” Yuta teases her, and glances at Mark sitting stiffly while looking at their exchange. “You like us more than Mark, don’t you?”

His question, makes Bee’s throat go dry, and Mark’s eyes almost pop out of their socket. Before they can say anything, Jungwoo laughs, “I don’t know, Hyung. Bee might like us, but Mark can’t live without us near him”.

The girl almost sighs in relief, once she realizes the actual meaning of the older’s question, and looks at Jaehyun, Taeyong, and Haechan already back on the stage. Nodding to her manager, Bee turns to the boys still around her.

“I’ll get going now. It was only supposed to be a quick visit, so I don’t want to get in the way”.

“Already?” Mark chimes in as soon as she’s done talking, and the boys send him a concerned look. Lowering his tone, the boy shrugs and looks away when speaking, “I mean, you haven’t even seen the chorus yet. It would be a shame to miss that”.

“I mean, I can always see it later” She tries to argue, but the pleading look on his face makes her give up on it.

Checking back with her manager, Bee agrees to stick around for five more minutes before leaving once and for all. She goes to stand next to the staff when the boys go back into place to stretch, get ready to shoot the second chorus.

Now, one thing she knew from working with Mark, is that he gave his 100% to every single performance, so it’s no surprise he’s in his element once the song starts, and he’s in the center. But Bee gets surprised by his charisma being even more extravagant, and a small part of her relates it with the fact he was the one who made her stick around longer.

Her eyes follow him, even when he’s not center anymore, and in a split second, Mark looks to check if she’s still watching him. A confident grin breaks through his face when his eyes meet hers, and Bee is conflicted between rolling her eyes at his behavior or melting into a puddle right then and there.

Right as the music stops, her manager taps her arm, indicating for her, they should leave. Bee quickly waves to the members, not expecting them to actually see it, since the director was currently giving them instructions, and turns around to follow the way out.