#and it is and it's total hell and i never even know anything

[hearts4hughes]

OK HEAR ME OUT BUT LIKE SOMETHING WITH THIS TIKTOK BROO IT NEEDS TO BE WRITTEN and u’re rhe first author that came to mind😣🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️

Link:

https://vt.tiktok.com/ZSk7dosHa/

ೃ࿔:･ bsf!rafe punching jj for you

it’s not jealousy. well, that’s what you keep telling yourself. it’s not jealousy—it’s just rafe. he’s always been like this. too protective. too intense. always hovering near the edge of something darker. but he’s also the one who carries your drunk ass home, who leaves snacks in your passenger seat, who remembers every tiny thing you’ve ever said like it matters. he’s your best friend.

you say that a lot lately. mostly to convince yourself. you were on your way into tannyhill when you heard the two voices. rafe invited you over for a movie night—a tradition between you two. although, he seems to have overbooked his plans. jj’s out there; rafe too.

you pause on the last step of the porch. you stand in the shadows, observing from afar. rafe’s hair is touseled and messy, eyes dark and bloodshot with whatever drug he’s snorted. his hat is thrown on the ground—most likely from jj’s antics. jj stands across from him with a smug smirk, sunglasses on even though it’s well past dawn, and arms crossed like he owns the grounds.

“what do you mean?” jj’s voice, light but cautious.

“i mean like,” rafe huffs, running a hand through his hair. “you didn’t kiss her or anything.” rafe’s, flat. no smirk or hint of amusement.

your breath catches. they don’t know you’re here, but blood still rushes to your cheeks. jj snorts. “no.”

rafe nods fast, eyes glued to the ground. “right.”

“absolutely not, no.” jj adds. maybe to egg on rafe or maybe to convince himself he didn’t want to kiss you in the first place. you should leave. you really should. but your feet stay planted, heartbeat thudding like a dare.

“did you want it?” rafe’s voice cuts through the air. he’s staring daggers into poor jj. like no matter what answer, he’s going to react the same way.

jj doesn’t answer right away. and that pause is too long, too telling. then, he chuckles, throws his head back and says, “oh yeah. totally.”

the hit comes fast—rafe was waiting for it. crack. jj stumbles back with a strangled grunt, clutching his jaw. “dude—what the fuck?” both of them are silhouetted by the dock light. jj’s laughing through the pain like an idiot. rafe’s standing like a statue, fists still clenched, breathing uneven. “what the hell is wrong with you?” jj spits, wiping his mouth. “you asked-”

“don’t fucking talk about her like that.” rafe’s voice is thin. he doesn’t want to waste his time with this pogue, but he’s never been too good at controlling his emotions. especially when it came to you.

jj scoffs, still smiling. “jesus, man. she’s not yours.”

“she is.” he growls, lips curled and fists clenched again. he’s ready to punch every tooth out of maybank’s head when they hear a noise.

you flinch hard enough that the porch creaks. they both turn. rafe sees you first. his expression doesn’t change, not really. but something in him tightens. like he’s bracing for you to run. he’s expecting you to look at him like he’s a monster, just like everyone does.

you don’t move or yell. you just stare. “you hit him,” you say, voice barely above the breeze.

“he deserved it.”

jj groans behind him, still hunched, still bleeding. “you’re psycho, dude.”

“and you’re an opportunistic little bitch,” rafe snaps without looking at him. “you think i didn’t see the way you look at her?”

you step forward slowly, like you’re approaching a wild animal. “rafe.” he turns toward you fully. the anger’s still there, but it’s buried now under something worse—something softer, needier. “he’s not your problem,” he says, too quiet. “i handle what’s mine.”

what’s mine.

you should correct him. you should. but the truth is that you’ve always let him talk like that. part of you has always liked it. your silence says more than anything else. rafe watches the way you look at him, blood still on his knuckles, and something in his gaze flickers. it’s ownership, devotion, and something that should scare you. but doesn’t. not nearly enough because instead of tending to jj, you grad ahold of rafe’s hand.

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[rainrot4me]

I Not sure if you’re taking requests right now, but I’d love to see your take on trans Jeff the Killer!”

AHHHHAHAHAHAH YES LET ME SPEAK LET ME SPEAK SIT AND LISTEN. This is long, I have a deep love for raunchy transmascs.

── .✦

Afab tomboy kid to bitter transmasc adult pipeline.™

Jeff was always rowdy. Always scraped knees, dirt under his nails, running with the neighborhood boys, never wanting to wear the pastel dresses his mother picked. He’d have screamed if he had to wear a bow. Every time one of the other kids said “You can’t play with us, girls aren’t allowed.” He’d be getting sat down and scolded by his mother because he had given that kid a bloody nose out of anger.

He was that “problem child” who never sat still, roughhousing and refusing to act “like a girl.” It earned him constant lectures from teachers and endless sighs from his mother—the “why can’t you just behave?” moments that felt like acid on his skin.

He liked toy swords, monster movies, getting his hands dirty—anything that let him feel powerful, even if he couldn’t yet name why it felt right. He would hide bugs and tiny critters in his pockets and bring them home to scare his brother.

The second puberty hit, Jeff’s sense of betrayal was off the charts. His chest came in. Periods started. Suddenly the adults were trying to mold him into a “young lady”—and the body that had always felt mostly neutral in childhood turned into a prison.

He became angry. Bitter. His room went from messy-kid-chaos to total rage den: holes punched in the wall, broken pencils, fists clenched so hard they shook. This is where the mask of apathy starts—Jeff acting like nothing bothers him, but inside, he is rotting with confusion and dysphoria. The worst part? He’s completely lost in it.

He doesn’t know what transitioning is, doesn’t understand that he could change, doesn’t have the resources or the patience or the want to seek help. All he knows is that he’s angry and he wears clothes way too big for him.

By high school, he’s full-blown spiteful. Short hair, baggy clothes, fights every authority figure tooth and nail. When he hears “you’re such a bitch,” it’s a death sentence in his brain. He’d weaponize his rage, becoming known as the scary teenager that you didn’t want to look at in the lunchroom for too long. He’d lean into the violence, because being feared felt better than being pitied.

It’s only when Jeff hears about the first trans person in his school that he stops and thinks, for once. Everyone badmouthed them, preaching how nasty and weird it was. He just stayed silent, slowly clicking every puzzle piece together when he didn’t even know there was a puzzle to begin with. It just all suddenly clicks.

The “killer origin” moment (burning off his face, slicing his smile) is also a transition metaphor. He chose his name, his body, his power. It was a permanent break from being what everyone demanded. Even though it’s bloody and horrifying, there’s a raw beauty to how Jeff reshapes himself—no more being a daughter, no more being a girl, no more being told “you can’t.”

He over-corrects, though, with aggression. A brutal, controlling masculinity that’s almost satirical—picking fights, dominating rooms, refusing to show vulnerability. If you ever see him truly soft, you’re seeing a side only his closest do. His entire life he’s learned that boys are mean, men are brutal, and masculinity in its whole is anger. So that’s what he embodies, because that’s what he’s learned.

THIS IS FOR THAT ONE ASK I GOT, HERE YOU ARE ANGEL: If you headcanon him Latino, mainly Catholic based, that adds such a sting—a family that saw girlhood as “pure” and “holy,” a church that said his feelings were a sin. That made Jeff’s rebellion even more violent. The guilt stays with him, even as an adult. Sometimes after a kill, he’ll wonder if God is sitting there watching him ruin everything. He’ll spit blood on a cross just to feel in control again.

Post transition? He’s proud as hell. He uses the scars from his face as a kind of armor—they distract from what he used to hate about his body, and make him feel permanently, violently other. They gave him ownership over his own flesh. He still deals with dysphoria sometimes—certain clothing, certain angles—but Jeff is the type to overcompensate with bravado and aggression. He’ll joke about “having a bigger dick than anyone here” and absolutely believing it.

He’s DIY’d more things than he should. Ben sometimes jokes about “Frankenstein hormone therapy” because Jeff refused to go through proper channels and took T from thrown away vials or by swiping them in drugstores. He binds, because even after he’s threatened murder on EJ, he still won’t give him top surgery because he doesn’t care, “you smell like a man, isn’t that good enough for you?” while snarling his nose (not in a transphobic way, in a you fucking reek way).

He binds so tight it hurts to breathe, but he likes it that way. It makes him feel secure. Pre-wrap and medical tape that nearly tears his nipples when he takes it off (if he does, he wear that shit for days at a time, only changing it when it begins to fall on its own). Kinda feels badass lounging around with no shirt and covered in bloodied tape.

Gets serious muscle tone and definition from missions and wrestling people to the ground, becomes incredibly lean and strong especially in his biceps and shoulders, which helps a lot with the “man” image.

All in all, don’t fuck around with it. It doesn’t matter who you are, what you are, or how close you two are—one word about any of it and you’re gone. It breaches a sort of delusional sense about his transition, he truly unshakenly believes he has a dick and he’s hormonally a male and that every childhood picture is somebody else. It’s the mental illness, but it’s also a safe-block on his brain to keep him from spiraling into anything messier. He has enough going on, there’s no point in stressing his body and psyche further.

꩜ .ᐟ

[myjjongie]

THREE .ᐟ ── my little tsundere

SYNOPSIS: another casual grueling day at your job lands you to reunite with jake sim—your hallway crush who moved away in high school. not wanting to hope for more from the chance encounter, you end up being paired with jake for a semester-long project. knowing deep down things will never happen, your only goal is to be friends with jake. while on the other hand, you haven't left jake's mind since he moved away.

word count; 611

“hi welcome in!” you chimed hearing the opening of the cafe door.

too busy dealing with something at the register, you didn’t look up to correctly greet the customer. you could faintly hear low mumbling from the customer—sounding as if they didn’t know what to get. finishing up the minor task at hand, you raised your head to truly greet the customer.

yet not the usual “did you need some help” or anything of the sort came out. in truth you were shocked. the person standing at the counter was familiar, like you had seen his face somewhere before.

then it hit you, you know this face. you’ve come to find yourself staring at him in the hallways, across the cafeteria hall, and even in your classroom.

it was jake sim.

but what was he doing here? you haven’t seen or heard of him since your second year of high school. before you could even think, you were already speaking.

“jake?!” your voice came off surprised.

“yeah?” he let out that soft laugh you always adored hearing.

“what are you doing here? haven’t seen you since high school.” you could feel yourself stiffen from awkwardness. unsure of how to go about the convo.

“i just moved back from australia for the new term.”

“oh! so you went to australia! that’s so cool!” as you kept speaking you felt your voice get higher.

jake let out a small laugh, finding your reaction cute as well as amusing. yet too you, you felt like you wanted to die right then and there.

“so what did you wanna get?” letting out a awkward laugh, trembling hands finding its way to the register screen.

“i was trying to see what drink is sweetest. but honestly i might just get my friend whatever, he didn’t specify. you know?”

you awkwardly laughed once more. “no yeah! totally get that! if anything i recommend the strawberry and banana float!” at this point you felt like you were saying whatever. hoping it would end the interaction sooner than later.

“yeah that sounds pretty good. i’ll get that then! and can you add on three iced americanos?” once jake confirmed his order he pulled out his card to pay.

“of course! okay so your total is twenty seventy-five.” retrieving his card to help finish off the payment.

“wait the americanos were four bucks?” jake was surprised by the insane price difference.

“yeah. one of the reasons i like working here. the coffee is so much more affordable.” you let off a quiet laugh turning around to get started on his drinks.

once facing the espresso bar did you truly want to just smack your head against it. through out the whole conversation you felt like one big idiot. did jake even remember you? you never gave him your name, and you sure as hell weren’t going to give it to him now.

you soon finished the four drinks in the span of 3 minutes when it would’ve taken you twice as long, or if not even more. in truth you really wanted jake out of the cafe, feeling far too embarrassed to try and keep up the casual conversation.

“okay here you go!” forcing out a customer service smile.

“wow that was really quick!” jake felt truly impressed by your quick work.

“haha. yeah. well see you around.” you faintly smiled toward jake, hoping he’d let this be it—allowing you to wallow in embarrassment.

“thank you again! i’ll see you around!” jake beamed a smile you oddly seemed to miss.

as jake turned away to leave, you immediately ducked behind the espresso bar. mentally cursing at yourself in the process.

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evie's note: okay some people know. but this shit actually happened to me. like obviously it’s changed A LOT. but a guy i did like in HS pulled up to my job at random. like shout out to him cause we wouldn’t have this smau tbh

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©myjjongie 2025

[girl-lostconnection]

From my brain dumpings to my dear friend Night. Concept of a concept time.

Intensely thinking about childhood friend Kyle "Gaz" Garrick and his bestest friend in the whole world.

Kyle, who's never brave enough to ruin the friendship. Especially not when "you and i, we are so good together, bug". Cause why touch something that already works and risk wreaking havoc and crumbing something fragile in the process?

So, he makes a pact with you when you are teens in order to protect this special connection. So, he takes a promise that you two will always be platonic, that you two will always tell the truth to each other, because he is convinced that's the only way for this friendship to survive.

And he is good at it, you gotta believe him, bug, he is real good at being a good friend and the best mate and whatever else you might need.

Shoulder to cry on, platonic date, sweater when it's cold and drink when its dark and lonely.

Kyle honestly thinks he does good with this whole thing, because you are happy. And if you are happy then so is he.

Kyle just never expects that watching you date his mate would be this hard. Kyle just never expects that his mate wouldn't be as good to you as Kyle knows you deserve it.

Proceeds not to think of the last summer you spent together before he left for army and the little "thing" that happened between you, cause it totally shouldn't be something he still jerks off to.

Because just friends don't kiss like that, don't ask for a hand between their legs, don't whimper "stay, please, bug, stay". And friends don't get their heart broken when you don't.

Because friends don't love like that. Don't think about it at night and don't rut in the fist to the 10-year-old memory.

But here he is.

Kyle is so used to thinking that you and he are a double package -always together and always on each other's side.

You two survive the breakups and fights and puberty and hell with high water. You survive so much together so it's even more priceless, that thing that you two have. 

Kyle jokes about binary stars that are always fated to orbit, kisses the crown of your head affectionately and holds your drink at the parties.

Kyle brings snacks to you and watches movies, your legs tangled with his, curtains moving when the evening breeze passes through.

Kyle is there for every ugly difficult moment and for every golden one. Kyle is the golden moment in on himself, when he comes and makes it all better simply because he can.

Because he wants to.

Because you deserve it.

Kyle hugs you a little tighter than everyone else and doesn't kiss you when you are drunk and holds your hair when you are on your knees in someone's bathroom.

Cause that's what friends do, right? And he isn't just any friend. He isn't even just a friend.

He is the best friend. 

Your best mate, your other half, the goodies in the package of your life – all of it is Kyle.

And he tries so hard, you gotta know, he is trying really hard. Because this thing you two have is one in a million, he hasn't seen anything of the kind even in movies, hell, he isn't sure this sort of thing is supposed to exist. But God help him, he is so glad it does.

He is so glad that you do.

Kyle allows himself these rare moments of cuddling when you need him (need me-need me-need me, pounds in his head when you come to him and bloody sun comes out from behind the cloud), these tender moments during sleepovers when he can spoon you as you doze off and it's not weird and he isn't weird for wanting it.

And he isn't ruining anything.

Kyle let's it all happen.

Your first date and first time (he isn’t admitting he got drunk that night, he isn’t admitting he broke his finger hitting the wall, he isn’t admitting he wanted to break the pact so badly then).

Kyle is never admitting he was silently quietly gloating that he got the kiss, stole the kiss, really, but who is counting, who cares that you were kids, who cares that it was a pretend wedding.

Kyle is letting it all happen, cause he is a good friend, the best friend, your favourite half and he is always there. Not going anywhere, bug, no-no, he is not. 

Every partner receives the same message. 

Kyle isn't going anywhere. Kyle is your forever; Kyle is your best friend and guess what? Kyle survived your breakups before. 

Your perfect priceless friendship survived breakups before, so you can be sure he is staying. 

As long as you want him. At least a little bit. 

At least as a friend. 

So when you start dating one of his mates from the team it's nothing really, more of a natural progression, because oh, you are so lovely, he thinks, how can someone not want you?

Not possible, Kyle grins, everyone wants you, bug, can't trust them a single bit. But you know him, don't you?

Kyle who always tells the truth and never catches feelings for you and never gets jealous and never ever spoons you during sleepovers. Kyle is a good friend, so he just makes sure everything is up to standards when he asks about your relationship with his teammate. 

Not good, that the man still doesn't remember your favourite flowers or which chips you like or that you never drink vanilla flavoured drinks.

That's not good. That's not right.

But it's what it is, he survived worse boyfriends. He will survive this one too.

It's only when he catches his mate eyeing another pretty bird in a pub, that something clicks.

That's not right. That's downright unacceptable.

Kyle doesn't say anything and doesn't call out your boyfriend on having too many drinks and Kyle definitely doesn't order another round. That would be mean of him, that would dig a little deeper than he is willing to go.

And honestly, bug, he can't go that deep cause he is so shallow, don't you know it? Shallowest man you ever met, all long lashes and pretty smiles and evening's moisturizer.

Can't go deeper than that, bug, Kyle laughs, hand draped over your shoulders. Can't dig deeper than 6 feet down with him.

Can't have you seeing this ugly buried side of him, that would mean he ruined it all and ruined your friendship and lost you.

And he can't have that. Not today, not tomorrow, not ever.

Kyle likes to joke that you two are binary stars, always fated to orbit, always together. Kyle never tells you that in your case, two stars can't simply exist just like that.

Kyle never mentions that the bigger one will always pull the other one too close. Gravitational fields and irresistible fate and destiny-destiny-destiny.

(Kyle never tells you that binary stars aren't always meant together, that sometimes they drift away, that sometimes one becomes the black hole while the other becomes supernova)

Fated to orbit, his ass. Fated to be together.

Kyle never ever tells you that if gravitational center was to collapse then the bigger star would eat the weaker star whole.

[alicesluciddreams]

I Don't Gotta Tell Him; I Think He Knows

Summary: You never thought your 'When Harry met Sally' moment would be with a famous hockey player. You meet Cam when you get caught in the rain only to find out he's a Hockey player at a Flyers game. You have a plan on how to make him yours but he may already know. Inspired by 'I Think He Knows' by Taylor Swift.

Author's Note: I wrote this for a friend and repurposed it to flex my writing muscles. I'm not a Cam girly but I've written a lot for him because of my friend so... expect more. Also I wrote this before we knew that Jamie had a GF and I still don't know Tara's day job so I gave her a tiny back story here to fit the character I made up prior. Oops.

Warnings: Language, use of Y/N, mentions of Morgan Frost (I miss you bud), written in 3rd person Photos from Pinterest. Dividers by @uzmacchiato

Y/N never thought her ‘When Harry Met Sally’ moment would be in the rain. 

She had hoped to be wearing a nice dress, maybe even heels, not sweatpants, a cropped tank top, and a cardigan. Maybe they would meet at a fancy dinner, or on a night out with friends, hell, even a PTA meeting would do, anything but the present; soaked to the bone, shivering, with a harness leash wrapped around her wrist under the awning of a bus stop on the east side of Philly. 

Alas, here she was on what was supposed to be a sunny Saturday morning in the park with her dog, Bella, going on a nice walk. Since moving to the big city, she liked taking the forty-pound red heeler to the park five minutes from her shared townhouse to get not only her own steps in, but also her hyper dog’s energy out. But the weather channel lied, and halfway through her walk, the sky had bottomed out, leaving her hair stringy and her dog smelly. 

The only upside to this was the tall red head standing next to her under the bus stop. 

He had obviously been on a run, wearing a white athletic t-shirt and black Nike pants, headphones in his ears as he had dashed under the cover of the glass awning. The black baseball cap was the only reason his red hair hadn’t been totally ruined by the rain, but the shirt and pants most definitely were. Y/N was having a hard time keeping her eyes to the front and not on the way the man’s shirt had become see-through from the water. 

Bella pulled forward on her harness, fidgety from being in one place too long outside. She gave a bark out to the rain. Somehow, she hadn’t gone ballistic on the man standing next to them. Normally, any new face would be subject to the dog screaming at them for at least five minutes, if not for the whole visit. But this guy was getting off easy, as if Bella was just as interested in him as her mother was. 

“Cute dog.” The voice was softer, not as deep as Y/N would have thought it would be. 

She turned her head to him, “Oh, yeah, she’s… a lot.” 

Shit.  

She was being awkward. She wanted to pull out her phone, scroll on Instagram, or text her roommate with an SOS text, anything to get out some of this nervous energy, but Bella pulled again, trying hard to go out into the pouring rain. 

“No, Bella.” 

“A handful I see.” The guy smiled widely at her, stepping over a bit to look at Bella. The dog just turned her head to look at him with her big puppy eyes, ‘save me’ they seemed to say. He leaned down and stuck a hand down to let her sniff, and Y/N watched in awe. However, she felt her jaw give out when Bella sniffed the man’s hand and then began licking it, turning her whole body to face him, tail wagging. 

Y/N felt her heart beat pick up like a hummingbird’s wings in her chest as the man let out a laugh. 

“Ah you’re not that bad are you. Nah you’re a good,” he looked up at her, “girl?” 

“Yeah, Bella.” 

He gave a short, breathy laugh, “Yeah, caught that.” 

Her face heated up, and she picked a bit at her sweater with a grin. He stood back up with a sigh, and Bella whined at the loss of pets. 

“I’m Cam by the way.” 

“Y/N, it’s nice to meet you.” 

“Likewise.” 

“It sucks about the weather,” he continued, “it was such a pretty morning.” 

Y/N blew out a frustrated breath, “Yeah, well, the weather hates us all, I guess.” Cam just laughed. 

Bella butted her nose into Cam’s leg. “Come on now, let me give your mom some attention too, yeah?” 

“Sorry about her, I can pull her off-“ 

“No no its fine. I don’t mind. Just hate that I’m not getting to know you a little better with such a cute distraction here.” He ended his sentence with a cutesy voice obviously saved for pets and babies, getting down to Bella’s level to scratch at her head, which the dog ate up. 

Y/N didn’t know if her face could get any hotter than what it already was, and she just hoped the man didn’t find it too weird, because there was absolutely no way to hide it. 

“Oh, I think the rain’s letting up.” Y/N looked out onto the wet streets and noticed that the rain had finally slowed down to a faint drizzle. 

“Sorry to cut this short, but I, uh, have a thing to do in about an hour.” Cam stood up and gave Y/N a look she couldn’t decipher. 

“Oh yeah of course.” He flashed her a grin and a wave to Bella before jogging off, his footsteps leaving splashes in the rain that she wished she could follow. 

“I’m back,” Y/N called as she walked into the townhouse in downtown Philly. She kicked off her wet shoes and bemoaned the state of her soaking wet socks. 

“Oh, you poor thing! You’re all wet, let me grab you a towel.” Y/N’s roommate, Alice, called from the living room. She heard Alice’s footsteps as she ran back and forth from the bathroom to the front door. 

She slid on her own sock-clad feet, and as Y/N reached for the towel in her hand, a thank you on her lips, Alice sank to her knees and began towel drying Bella off. 

“You poor wet baby, you got all rained on. Your mom and I will have to take the hairdryer to you, won’t we?”

“Hey! What about me? The bestie?” Y/N gestured to her own water logged clothes. 

“The bestie has two legs and hands with opposable thumbs; she’ll be fine.” Alice said before going back to doting on Bella, who, once again, was eating up the attention, waiting for her moment to begin jumping on top of Alice to play ball. 

Y/N grumbled as she squished her way to the bathroom, grabbing a towel for herself and ripping off the wet socks.

“By the way. Tara called me today and asked if we’d be willing to go to the Flyers game with her tomorrow night.” Alice leaned on the bathroom doorframe, messing with her bangs as she looked in the mirror. 

“Flyers? Hockey?” 

“Yeah, Jamie’s playing and she said she doesn’t really know the other girls yet, wants me to go with her and keep her company. You need to get out of the house, and I know you like football, so…” Y/N stopped brushing through her wet hair to look at Alice in the mirror. 

“But what if I want to just sit in bed and rot all day?” 

“You can! The game isn’t until 7, and I mean there is the party after, but it’ll be ok!” 

“A party?!” Y/N turned to Alice then, who was looking off to the side with a guilty smile on her face. 

“Yeah… did I not mention that?” 

“No, you did not. Since when do you like parties?” Y/N asked, crossing her arms. 

“Since never, but Tara really wants me to go, and I won’t feel comfortable if you’re not there, and I don’t want to not go because Tara feels like some of the other girls hate her and-“ 

“Why the hell would the other girls hate Tara? She’s sweet.” Y/N had only met Tara a handful of times, but she had liked her from day one.

Alice and Tara had met and hit it off like crazy, working together at Alice’s first job after moving to Philadelphia. She hadn’t gotten her big girl museum gig yet, but Y/N had managed to find a job as a second-grade teacher rather easily, so to pay her part of the bills, Alice picked up a part-time retail job while she job-hunted around the area. Tara had been the one to help train Alice, and the rest was history. Until Alice got her big girl job and Tara found her big time influencing gig and the two both left that shit hole of a job. 

Alice rolled her eyes, “They can’t, she just thinks they do, and is paranoid. But if we go, I’ll have someone there to keep me company when she finally sees that they do not, in fact, hate her, and they all become wag friends.” 

“And what do I get out of this?” Y/N smirked a little bit, knowing she would go but wanting to see Alice squirm a bit. 

“Girl’s night with free food and drinks?” 

“Deal.” 

This is how Y/N found herself sitting in a section of seats closer to the ice than she ever thought she would be. 

She had only ever been to one singular Nashville Predators game when she lived in Tennessee, and hadn’t really had the time to see a Flyers game since moving to the city. Alice had been dragged to a couple with Tara, but they had been during the week when Y/N couldn’t go.

So here she was now, a woman, sitting a few rows up from the players' bench and watching as the lights went down, an orange glow filling up the space, and the intro started. 

Y/N was intrigued by the whole thing really watching as it went through people and names she had never seen before, a Nick, Tyson, and some guy with the nickname Frosty according to Tara, but when she saw a familiar face pop up on the screen her heart skipped a beat like she was jogging down 16th avenue. 

He looked so boyishly handsome on the screen, even with such a stoic look on his face. His hair curling up and out of the back of his helmet, blue eyes shining like sapphires through the 4k camera lens. He looked so stern up there, but she just couldn’t unsee the childlike gleam in his eyes as he had been petting her dog the day before. 

When the game started, she couldn’t keep her eyes off the number 8 jersey. Watching as he skated along the ice like he had been born on it, as he shoved a guy in a red, white, and blue jersey into the wall and then smirked about it later.

He kept to the puck like a dog to a bone, batting away any opposing player like it was a threat to the lives of everyone around them. But she started planning her strategy to win his heart when she saw his fist fly after some guy (According to Alice, his name was something Fox) went after Bobby (Name courtesy of Tara) after he blocked a goal. 

According to Tara, the 4-2 win against New York was a huge victory for the group. “No one likes the Rags,” Alice said, pulling Y/N by her hand through the crowds towards her car.

Tara had given the girls the address of where to meet and bid them goodbye to go congratulate Jamie, leaving them to fend for themselves in the waves of orange and black filing out of the Wells Fargo Center. 

“If you drink more than me, I’m letting Bella sleep in my room tonight.” Alice threatened as they piled into her car.

Y/N knew the girl was lying, Bella would end up licking her face in the middle of the night like she had before, and Alice wouldn’t want that. So all she gave was a knowing laugh.

The music was quieter than Y/N had thought it would be at an afterparty for a win against a rival team. Some Kendrick Lamar song was playing over the loudspeakers, and she took another long sip of her drink to try and drown it out. 

“Jamie says you look like you’re sulking.” Tara’s head of brown hair bounced as she seemed to skip over to her. 

“Sulking? Me? Never.” 

“Come on, he wants to introduce you and Alice to a few of the guys.” Tara held out her hand for Y/N to take, and she did so with a slight hesitation, dropping her now-empty glass on the table.

Tara pulled her along to a small group of men over by the wall. Alice was already there, standing awkwardly by Jamie and his hat-covered dark hair.  She was looking a bit confused, a tight smile on her lips, she looked around and visibly deflated in relief when she noticed Y/N and Tara. Alice pulled Y/N into the circle as soon as she got close enough. 

“There she is! Guys, this is my best friend Y/N.” Alice introduced. 

Y/N took the time to look around at the small group gathered. She already knew Jamie Drysdale; Tara had brought him around once or twice. Another man in the group was large with a baby face, he introduced himself as Tyson, another Bobby, smaller than the others but with a bright smile, and lastly… him. 

Cam York. 

The Harry to her Sally, or maybe something a bit more stable than that. He was standing tall in a tight-fitting black t-shirt that Y/N couldn’t help but notice was hugging his biceps a little too tightly for her comfort, and black jeans that ended just above his white sneakers. And yes, Y/N had to tear her eyes from his thighs before anyone caught her staring, no shame in that. 

“Hey, you’re the dog mom!” Cam said with a grin. He looked cocky but not mocking. 

Y/N smiled back, “Yeah, good to see you.” 

“Oh so you guys have met?” Tyson’s grin was a knowing one. 

“Just yesterday on my run, both got caught in the rain. How’s Bella?” Y/N was caught off guard by his memory of her dog’s name. 

“She’s good, a crackhead, but good.” Cam laughed at this. 

Y/N felt a jab at her side and looked over to see Alice’s Cheshire grin, now she looked mocking. Y/N gave her a look back that said ‘Keep your damn mouth shut.’ Alice only smirked, bringing her straw to her mouth. 

“You want something to drink?” Cam nodded her way, and Y/N nodded in response, “Come on, I’ll get you something.” He took a couple of steps towards the bars, turning his head to make sure she was following him; when he knew she was, he smiled, a real one, she could tell. 

She pulled herself up onto a barstool and felt Cam as he leaned his large body next to hers against the bar. He was so tall he didn’t need to sit to be comfortable; he could lean just fine on the bar top. 

“What are you thinking? Mojito? Mai Tai?” He looked at her pushing around the beer glass in front of him with twitching fingers. 

“Whiskey Sour, actually.” 

“Oh she’s a whiskey girl?” He grinned. 

“You know it.” She responded. 

He flagged down the bartender, giving Y/N a show of his large biceps up close and personal. “Yeah, I’ll take another Busch Light and my girl here will take a Whiskey Sour.” He said the last part so casually that Y/N had to do a double-take. And then her face began burning.

She both wished that Alice was with her in that moment and also wished for the other redhead to stay as far away as possible. Wished that she was there so that she could have her best friend there to give facial reactions to, but also wanted her nowhere near so that she could have this man and his attention all to herself. Even if she knew that her best friend’s type and her own were almost polar opposites of each other. 

But the words ‘my girl’ sounded a little too good coming from this man’s mouth for her not to want to squeal and kick her feet. Maybe her plan wouldn’t be too hard to go through with after all. 

“So, first a dog owner and now a whiskey drinker. Anything else shocking I should know about?” Cam asked, turning his body to face her. His words had been a bit on the flirty side, but his face showed a genuine interest. 

“I know basically nothing about hockey.” That sentence really caught his attention. 

“Are you kidding? But- You just- You were just at a hockey game. Y/N, you have to be kidding me.” He leaned in closer, any closer, and she would be able to feel his breath on her cheeks. 

“Nope, I went to one game back home, but that’s about it, my family are more football people.” She leaned on the bar top in front of her, head in her hand, as she faced Cam. 

The red head just shook his head, his curls swinging a bit with the movement. “Well, I guess we’re going to have to change that, aren’t we.” It wasn’t a question. 

Y/N smiled at him, “I guess we will.” 

“Here you go.” The bartender interrupted and slid over two glasses of golden liquid their way. Cam took them both and slid one her way, his own already in his hand. 

Y/N watched as she picked up her own drink, as Cam’s hand gripped the glass in front of him. His long fingers reached around the whole thing to meet up with his thumb, exaggerating the large size of his hands. He brought the drink up to his mouth, and her mind went blank as the cold glass dripped water from its side and on to his throat. She watched the crystal bead make its way down his stubbled neck and down to the neck of his shirt, where it then disappeared, but Y/N’s mind filled in the blanks as it fell farther and farther down his chest…

Y/N coughed and took a sip of her own drink, looking away to chase the thoughts from her mind. This was not the time or place to be having these thoughts. She barely knew this man, but God did she want to. She could already see past the cocky attitude he tried to put on for her and those around him. His sweet demeanor with her dog had shown her everything that she needed to know about him. 

He brought the glass down to the counter and brought up the front of his shirt to wipe his face and neck. 

“I’m going to be honest with you,” Cam said after clearing his throat. 

“Please do.” Y/N said messing with her hair. 

“I know you’re too good to wait on me to do this, so I’ll just come out and say it.” 

Y/N’s heart dropped into her stomach. 

“What is it?” She asked. 

He grinned, “Go out with me?” 

“Huh?” 

“I want to go on a date with you, and I’m going to be honest, I can tell you do too.” He avoided her eyes, “I, uh, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about the day we met. You’re hair was all wet but you looked like something out of a movie, its why I ran to that bus stop instead of just going back to my apartment. Sure you’re dog was cute but,” his shoulders shrugged and a sheepish sort of grin replaced the cockier one,

“You just looked too good to be true, and then when you talked to me… You had such a soft voice, it was… nice. I’m around a bunch of guys all day, and it becomes so loud and grating. But you were… soft and I liked that, still do, I, uh, yeah. I just knew that, I wanted to stay with you that day, but I had a stupid practice to go to. But now I know I want you to stick around.” 

She was right, he really was more than just a cocky hockey guy.

“You know, I actually started making this whole plan when I saw you again on that screen at the game. I had wanted to see you again after the park, but after the game… I know you had something I wanted to know more about, but I think you know that. But I knew that I wanted you.” She smiled at him, “So yes, I’ll go out with you.” 

Cam grinned at her, “Great, I know a great place down the street for Pizza, you ready to go?” He placed his hand on her thigh, thick fingers splayed as he gave a slight squeeze to the meat of it, the smile on his lips like something out of a Taylor Swift song. 

“Right now?” 

“Yeah, I’m starving, and you don’t look like you really want to be sticking around this place.” Cam offered. 

“Ok, just let me tell Alice.” Y/N looked around the room for a moment before giving up looking for the shorter girl. She pulled out her phone to see a message from Alice already waiting for her. 

‘Follow the sparks girlie, I’ve already got an Uber home, have fun ;)’ 

“Never mind. I’ll drive.” 

[lore-grandma]

You know I can’t imagine that Nero is stronger than Dante and Vergil. And that can be because he lacks experience, especially when fights Vergil. I like to think that Vergil was going easy on Nero because for once he just wanted to be properly connected to his family. Not carrying a broken legacy, but actually a family.

Listen I’m sure Vergil and Dante will fight over whatever they’re fighting over forever. Honestly I’m sure they’re kinda losing track of why they’re fighting.

But Nero doesn’t have anything to do with the whole family situation. Sure he was raised to praise sparda as a god. But like that’s not the same as living with the spardas. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was, but does Nero know anything about the death of Vergil and Dante’s mother? Sure he may have a vague idea at best. But he was not there when Dante was wondering figuring out what to do with his life. He was not there when Vergil was piecing together his father’s past.

(Side note but in an alternate universe where Vergil was in Nero’s life (we don’t know what happened to Nero’s mom, we can only assume she’s dead), would Mundas have had Trish or some random demon take care of the child, because recently brainwashed Vergil had a child with him? Like I can’t imagine Mundas wouldn’t see value in Nero, but there’s only so much you can do with a baby, and it’s not like he has the fighting experience. I don’t think Mundas is kind enough to take care of the child himself, and if he did he’d totally use Nero as a shield.

And listen I understand the lore reason why V would be taking care of Nero because he’s the one with the humanity. But like imagine urizen with Nero (he’s like 22 now, right?) and being like “I don’t really know why I’m taking care of this thing, I know it’s hypocritical of me, but like… idk.” Anyways I know that would never happen, because I think Nero would still be like “I think I would prefer to have my dad back.” But like when you have like one person constantly pursuing power and that’s the only thing you’ve been taught, I can totally see Nero choosing the demon side. But it’s fun to imagine, plus we already got Nero and V dad moments (even though it’s not really father son vibes)

I do wonder how different of priorities Vergil would have if he was being a single dad with Nero. I also kinda wonder when Vergil would have had Nero. Objectively it makes sense that after the events from Dmc 1, Vergil was freed and continued to learn all he could about sparda. Which is why he would have been in fortuna, (I vaguely remember Vergil being more burley than he was in 3, also the whole hood thing. Also Nero isn’t that old, there’s a fairly large gap in between some of these games) so Vergil would have to change his priorities soon. At least if Vergil was young then he would have been, “well shit I can’t just leave my spawn behind or else I’d be no better than my mom.” And maybe Vergil 4 would have done a similar thing but I would imagine that Vergil would believe that Nero would be safer being an orphan than being around him. I can imagine in the hypothetical scenario where Vergil had Nero earlier and the gaps in between games were shorter, that Vergil wouldn’t have brought Nero with his battle with Dante. Because sure Vergil is likely confident enough to not get hit by a low level demon, but that’s his brother, he is his equal. Anyways fun idea for Vergil to throw Nero to Dante before he falls into hell and loses his battle with Mundas. (I guess I can see Vergil bringing Nero with him during his second fight in 3 because he successfully defeated his brother the first time, he can do it again.) dick move for him to leave his child behind in favor in connecting to his demon half though. “Why are you handing me this? Is- IS THAT A CHILD?! GET BACK HERE ASSHOLE IM NOT RAISING YOUR KID BECAUSE YOU WANT TO BE LIKE DAD.” I can imagine this is how Dante reacted in this hypothetical.)

[namelessgoose]

Travel related headcanons for the papas! ✈️🌴

I started these when I had down time traveling a while back and I just remembered I did that so I finished it up and yeah!! This is my first time writing out something like this to post so … be nice 😅

Nihil:

- He throws a bunch of random things in his bag with no sense of organization and then needs someone else to fix it for him and will complain about how they organize it because “he had a system” (there was no system)

- He takes his sweet time in the TSA line, no sense of urgency at all. If his bag gets stopped he immediately starts arguing.

- On the actual trip, he cannot stick to a schedule, he’s the least punctual person in existence.

Primo:

- He’s very preplanned and organized without having to put in much effort. He’s able to pack right before he leaves and packs pretty minimally.

- His bags get through TSA easily, that’s not to say that he doesn’t have anything illegal on him. He has his ways. Don’t worry about it!

- HATES airports. Too many loud people who can’t figure out how to do simple things.

- He doesn’t do anything on the plane. He just sits there. What’s he thinking about? Who knows.

- His trips are generally for business only, he doesn’t enjoy traveling very much. Though, he will stop to see the nature of the area if there’s some.

Secondo:

- Secondo is absolutely an overpacker, but denies it completely. But not in the “i’m bringing 10 pairs of underwear just in case I shit my pants every single day” way, no. Like he’s bringing 5 different kinds of cologne and way too many outfit choices (thinking about that one picture where he’s in that very eccentrically decorated room that was scrapped from Papaganda i believe) And he is able to give serious rationale for everything he brings.

- Hates airports just as much as Primo. His bag gets stopped at TSA every time without fail for absolutely no reason.

- I don’t think he travels much outside of clergy duties BUT if he has to go on a trip for business, he absolutely makes the most out of it… he might get a bit distracted and not fulfill some of the business duties.

Terzo:

- Terzo is packed and planned WELL in advance. He knows exactly what he’s wearing everyday and has alternate outfits depending on the weather. He has all of his essentials and his bag is well organized. He always makes reservations with timed out schedules, but isn’t afraid to deviate from the plan to do what he feels like at that moment.

- Though, he really doesn’t like planes. Not that he’s scared of them, the elevation just gives him a headache. He brings a book to read to try to distract himself, but it usually doesn’t work very well.

- Even if a trip is technically for business, he’s able to make the absolute best of it. I think he’d like to travel for pleasure as well. Honestly, I think he would be the best to travel with.

Copia:

- Unlike Secondo, he is definitely the “packing 10 pairs of underwear just in case i shit my pants every single day” type of packer. Overpacks because you never know what could happen. And even with his overpacking, he definitely forgets something essential and has to get it overpriced at the airport. He also procrastinates packing until the last minute which doesn’t help either.

- Doesn’t like sleeping at hotels. Hell, he has trouble sleeping at home. The cold and unfamiliar hotel room is definitely not going to help him out in that regard.

- He only travels for clergy business, so it’s all planned for him. He tries so hard to adhere to what he’s supposed to do that he stresses himself out. He’s able to get it all done though, despite the chaos.

- His ghouls make sure he lets himself relax and actually enjoy the trip at some point when there’s time so he’s not just overworking himself.

Perpetua:

ngl i don’t have a great grasp on his character yet, i can’t wait until i see him at my ritual!!!

- He seems like the type who comes off very planned and put together, but is totally just going off vibes.

- I have a feeling that those claws aren’t getting though TSA easily

Wow you made it to the end! I’m not really anticipating anyone really reading this lmao BUT if anyone wants any of these ideas developed some more or if you have any of your own travel related hcs for them, feel free to drop something in my ask box :3

[slimyenemy]

hey it's not just confused it also feels like you'd be upset with me pretty much either way

[buffabby]

i have bad melted soup brain today and i hate it

[therealbeachfox]

Twenty years ago, February 15th, 2004, I got married for the first time.

It was twenty years earlier than I ever expected to.

To celebrate/comemorate the date, I'm sitting down to write out everything I remember as I remember it. No checking all the pictures I took or all the times I've written about this before. I'm not going to turn to my husband (of twenty years, how the f'ing hell) to remember a detail for me.

This is not a 100% accurate recounting of that first wild weekend in San Francisco. But it -is- a 100% accurate recounting of how I remember it today, twenty years after the fact.

Join me below, if you would.

2004 was an election year, and much like conservatives are whipping up anti-trans hysteria and anti-trans bills and propositions to drive out the vote today, in 2004 it was all anti-gay stuff. Specifically, preventing the evil scourge of same-sex marriage from destroying everything good and decent in the world.

Enter Gavin Newstrom. At the time, he was the newly elected mayor of San Francisco. Despite living next door to the city all my life, I hadn’t even heard of the man until Valentines Day 2004 when he announced that gay marriage was legal in San Francisco and started marrying people at city hall.

It was a political stunt. It was very obviously a political stunt. That shit was illegal, after all. But it was a very sweet political stunt. I still remember the front page photo of two ancient women hugging each other forehead to forehead and crying happy tears.

But it was only going to last for as long as it took for the California legal system to come in and make them knock it off.

The next day, we’re on the phone with an acquaintance, and she casually mentions that she’s surprised the two of us aren’t up at San Francisco getting married with everyone else.

“Everyone else?” Goes I, “I thought they would’ve shut that down already?”

“Oh no!” goes she, “The courts aren’t open until Tuesday. Presidents Day on Monday and all. They’re doing them all weekend long!”

We didn’t know because social media wasn’t a thing yet. I only knew as much about it as I’d read on CNN, and most of the blogs I was following were more focused on what bullshit President George W Bush was up to that day.

"Well shit", me and my man go, "do you wanna?" I mean, it’s a political stunt, it wont really mean anything, but we’re not going to get another chance like this for at least 20 years. Why not?

The next day, Sunday, we get up early. We drive north to the southern-most BART station. We load onto Bay Area Rapid Transit, and rattle back and forth all the way to the San Francisco City Hall stop.

We had slightly miscalculated.

Apparently, demand for marriages was far outstripping the staff they had on hand to process them. Who knew. Everyone who’d gotten turned away Saturday had been given tickets with times to show up Sunday to get their marriages done. My babe and I, we could either wait to see if there was a space that opened up, or come back the next day, Monday.

“Isn’t City Hall closed on Monday?” I asked. “It’s a holiday”

“Oh sure,” they reply, “but people are allowed to volunteer their time to come in and work on stuff anyways. And we have a lot of people who want to volunteer their time to have the marriage licensing offices open tomorrow.”

“Oh cool,” we go, “Backup.”

“Make sure you’re here if you do,” they say, “because the California Supreme Court is back in session Tuesday, and will be reviewing the motion that got filed to shut us down.”

And all this shit is super not-legal, so they’ll totally be shutting us down goes unsaid.

00000

We don’t get in Saturday. We wind up hanging out most of the day, though.

It’s… incredible. I can say, without hyperbole, that I have never experienced so much concentrated joy and happiness and celebration of others’ joy and happiness in all my life before or since. My face literally ached from grinning. Every other minute, a new couple was coming out of City Hall, waving their paperwork to the crowd and cheering and leaping and skipping. Two glorious Latina women in full Mariachi band outfits came out, one in the arms of another. A pair of Jewish boys with their families and Rabbi. One couple managed to get a Just Married convertible arranged complete with tin-cans tied to the bumper to drive off in. More than once I was giving some rice to throw at whoever was coming out next.

At some point in the mid-afternoon, there was a sudden wave of extra cheering from the several hundred of us gathered at the steps, even though no one was coming out. There was a group going up the steps to head inside, with some generic black-haired shiny guy at the front. My not-yet-husband nudged me, “That’s Newsom.” He said, because he knew I was hopeless about matching names and people.

Ooooooh, I go. That explains it. Then I joined in the cheers. He waved and ducked inside.

So dusk is starting to fall. It’s February, so it’s only six or so, but it’s getting dark.

“Should we just try getting in line for tomorrow -now-?” we ask.

“Yeah, I’m afraid that’s not going to be possible.” One of the volunteers tells us. “We’re not allowed to have people hang out overnight like this unless there are facilities for them and security. We’d need Porta-Poties for a thousand people and police patrols and the whole lot, and no one had time to get all that organized. Your best bet is to get home, sleep, and then catch the first BART train up at 5am and keep your fingers crossed.

Monday is the last day to do this, after all.

00000

So we go home. We crash out early. We wake up at 4:00. We drive an hour to hit the BART station. We get the first train up. We arrive at City Hall at 6:30AM.

The line stretches around the entirety of San Francisco City Hall. You could toss a can of Coke from the end of the line to the people who’re up to be first through the doors and not have to worry about cracking it open after.

“Uh.” We go. “What the fuck is -this-?”

So.

Remember why they weren’t going to be able to have people hang out overnight?

Turns out, enough SF cops were willing to volunteer unpaid time to do patrols to cover security. And some anonymous person delivered over a dozen Porta-Poties that’d gotten dropped off around 8 the night before.

It’s 6:30 am, there are almost a thousand people in front of us in line to get this literal once in a lifetime marriage, the last chance we expect to have for at least 15 more years (it was 2004, gay rights were getting shoved back on every front. It was not looking good. We were just happy we lived in California were we at least weren’t likely to loose job protections any time soon.).

Then it starts to rain.

We had not dressed for rain.

00000

Here is how the next six hours go.

We’re in line. Once the doors open at 7am, it will creep forward at a slow crawl. It’s around 7 when someone shows up with garbage bags for everyone. Cut holes for the head and arms and you’ve got a makeshift raincoat! So you’ve got hundreds of gays and lesbians decked out in the nicest shit they could get on short notice wearing trashbags over it.

Everyone is so happy.

Everyone is so nervous/scared/frantic that we wont be able to get through the doors before they close for the day.

People online start making delivery orders.

Coffee and bagels are ordered in bulk and delivered to City Hall for whoever needs it. We get pizza. We get roses. Random people come by who just want to give hugs to people in line because they’re just so happy for us. The tour busses make detours to go past the lines. Chinese tourists lean out with their cameras and shout GOOD LUCK while car horns honk.

A single sad man holding a Bible tries to talk people out of doing this, tells us all we’re sinning and to please don’t. He gives up after an hour. A nun replaces him with a small sign about how this is against God’s will. She leaves after it disintegrates in the rain.

The day before, when it was sunny, there had been a lot of protestors. Including a large Muslim group with their signs about how “Not even DOGS do such things!” Which… Yes they do.

A lot of snide words are said (by me) about how the fact that we’re willing to come out in the rain to do this while they’re not willing to come out in the rain to protest it proves who actually gives an actual shit about the topic.

Time passes. I measure it based on which side of City Hall we’re on. The doors face East. We start on Northside. Coffee and trashbags are delivered when we’re on the North Side. Pizza first starts showing up when we’re on Westside, which is also where I see Bible Man and Nun. Roses are delivered on Southside. And so forth.

00000

We have Line Neighbors.

Ahead of us are a gay couple a decade or two older than us. They’ve been together for eight years. The older one is a school teacher. He has his coat collar up and turns away from any news cameras that come near while we reposition ourselves between the lenses and him. He’s worried about the parents of one of his students seeing him on the news and getting him fired. The younger one will step away to get interviewed on his own later on. They drove down for the weekend once they heard what was going on. They’d started around the same time we did, coming from the Northeast, and are parked in a nearby garage.

The most perky energetic joyful woman I’ve ever met shows up right after we turned the corner to Southside to tackle the younger of the two into a hug. She’s their local friend who’d just gotten their message about what they’re doing and she will NOT be missing this. She is -so- happy for them. Her friends cry on her shoulders at her unconditional joy.

Behind us are a lesbian couple who’d been up in San Francisco to celebrate their 12th anniversary together. “We met here Valentines Day weekend! We live down in San Diego, now, but we like to come up for the weekend because it’s our first love city.”

“Then they announced -this-,” the other one says, “and we can’t leave until we get married. I called work Sunday and told them I calling in sick until Wednesday.”

“I told them why,” her partner says, “I don’t care if they want to give me trouble for it. This is worth it. Fuck them.”

My husband-to-be and I look at each other. We’ve been together for not even two years at this point. Less than two years. Is it right for us to be here? We’re potentially taking a spot from another couple that’d been together longer, who needed it more, who deserved it more.”

“Don’t you fucking dare.” Says the 40-something gay couple in front of us.

“This is as much for you as it is for us!” says the lesbian couple who’ve been together for over a decade behind us.

“You kids are too cute together,” says the gay couple’s friend. “you -have- to. Someday -you’re- going to be the old gay couple that’s been together for years and years, and you deserve to have been married by then.”

We stay in line.

It’s while we’re on the Southside of City Hall, just about to turn the corner to Eastside at long last that we pick up our own companions. A white woman who reminds me an awful lot of my aunt with a four year old black boy riding on her shoulders. “Can we say we’re with you? His uncles are already inside and they’re not letting anyone in who isn’t with a couple right there.” “Of course!” we say.

The kid is so very confused about what all the big deal is, but there’s free pizza and the busses keep driving by and honking, so he’s having a great time.

We pass by a statue of Lincoln with ‘Marriage for All!’ and "Gay Rights are Human Rights!" flags tucked in the crooks of his arms and hanging off his hat.

It’s about noon, noon-thirty when we finally make it through the doors and out of the rain.

They’ve promised that anyone who’s inside when the doors shut will get married. We made it. We’re safe.

We still have a -long- way to go.

00000

They’re trying to fit as many people into City Hall as possible. Partially to get people out of the rain, mostly to get as many people indoors as possible. The line now stretches down into the basement and up side stairs and through hallways I’m not entirely sure the public should ever be given access to. We crawl along slowly but surely.

It’s after we’ve gone through the low-ceiling basement hallways past offices and storage and back up another set of staircases and are going through a back hallway of low-ranked functionary offices that someone comes along handing out the paperwork. “It’s an hour or so until you hit the office, but take the time to fill these out so you don’t have to do it there!”

We spend our time filling out the paperwork against walls, against backs, on stone floors, on books.

We enter one of the public areas, filled with displays and photos of City Hall Demonstrations of years past.

I take pictures of the big black and white photo of the Abraham Lincoln statue holding banners and signs against segregation and for civil rights.

The four year old boy we helped get inside runs past us around this time, chased by a blond haired girl about his own age, both perused by an exhausted looking teenager helplessly begging them to stop running.

Everyone is wet and exhausted and vibrating with anticipation and the building-wide aura of happiness that infuses everything.

The line goes into the marriage office. A dozen people are at the desk, shoulder to shoulder, far more than it was built to have working it at once.

A Sister of Perpetual Indulgence is directing people to city officials the moment they open up. She’s done up in her nun getup with all her makeup on and her beard is fluffed and be-glittered and on point. “Oh, I was here yesterday getting married myself, but today I’m acting as your guide. Number 4 sweeties, and -Congradulatiooooons!-“

The guy behind the counter has been there since six. It’s now 1:30. He’s still giddy with joy. He counts our money. He takes our paperwork, reviews it, stamps it, sends off the parts he needs to, and hands the rest back to us. “Alright, go to the Rotunda, they’ll direct you to someone who’ll do the ceremony. Then, if you want the certificate, they’ll direct you to -that- line.” “Can’t you just mail it to us?” “Normally, yeah, but the moment the courts shut us down, we’re not going to be allowed to.”

We take our paperwork and join the line to the Rotunda.

If you’ve seen James Bond: A View to a Kill, you’ve seen the San Francisco City Hall Rotunda. There are literally a dozen spots set up along the balconies that overlook the open area where marriage officials and witnesses are gathered and are just processing people through as fast as they can.

That’s for the people who didn’t bring their own wedding officials.

There’s a Catholic-adjacent couple there who seem to have brought their entire families -and- the priest on the main steps. They’re doing the whole damn thing. There’s at least one more Rabbi at work, I can’t remember what else. Just that there was a -lot-.

We get directed to the second story, northside. The San Francisco City Treasurer is one of our two witnesses. Our marriage officient is some other elected official I cannot remember for the life of me (and I'm only writing down what I can actively remember, so I can't turn to my husband next to me and ask, but he'll have remembered because that's what he does.)

I have a wilting lily flower tucked into my shirt pocket. My pants have water stains up to the knees. My hair is still wet from the rain, I am blubbering, and I can’t get the ring on my husband’s finger. The picture is a treat, I tell you.

There really isn’t a word for the mix of emotions I had at that time. Complete disbelief that this was reality and was happening. Relief that we’d made it. Awe at how many dozens of people had personally cheered for us along the way and the hundreds to thousands who’d cheered for us generally.

Then we're married.

Then we get in line to get our license.

It’s another hour. This time, the line goes through the higher stories. Then snakes around and goes past the doorway to the mayor’s office.

Mayor Newsom is not in today. And will be having trouble getting into his office on Tuesday because of the absolute barricade of letters and flowers and folded up notes and stuffed animals and City Hall maps with black marked “THANK YOU!”s that have been piled up against it.

We make it to the marriage records office.

I take a picture of my now husband standing in front of a case of the marriage records for 1902-1912. Numerous kids are curled up in corners sleeping. My own memory is spotty. I just know we got the papers, and then we’re done with lines. We get out, we head to the front entrance, and we walk out onto the City Hall steps.

It's almost 3PM.

00000

There are cheers, there’s rice thrown at us, there are hundreds of people celebrating us with unconditional love and joy and I had never before felt the goodness that exists in humanity to such an extent. It’s no longer raining, just a light sprinkle, but there are still no protestors. There’s barely even any news vans.

We make our way through the gauntlet, we get hands shaked, people with signs reading ”Congratulations!” jump up and down for us. We hit the sidewalks, and we begin to limp our way back to the BART station.

I’m at the BART station, we’re waiting for our train back south, and I’m sitting on the ground leaning against a pillar and in danger of falling asleep when a nondescript young man stops in front of me and shuffles his feet nervously. “Hey. I just- I saw you guys, down at City Hall, and I just… I’m so happy for you. I’m so proud of what you could do. I’m- I’m just really glad, glad you could get to do this.”

He shakes my hand, clasps it with both of his and shakes it. I thank him and he smiles and then hurries away as fast as he can without running.

Our train arrives and the trip south passes in a semilucid blur.

We get back to our car and climb in.

It’s 4:30 and we are starving.

There’s a Carls Jr near the station that we stop off at and have our first official meal as a married couple. We sit by the window and watch people walking past and pick out others who are returning from San Francisco. We're all easy to pick out, what with the combination of giddiness and water damage.

We get home about 6-7. We take the dog out for a good long walk after being left alone for two days in a row. We shower. We bundle ourselves up. We bury ourselves in blankets and curl up and just sort of sit adrift in the surrealness of what we’d just done.

We wake up the next day, Tuesday, to read that the California State Supreme Court has rejected the petition to shut down the San Francisco weddings because the paperwork had a misplaced comma that made the meaning of one phrase unclear.

The State Supreme Court would proceed to play similar bureaucratic tricks to drag the process out for nearly a full month before they have nothing left and finally shut down Mayor Newsom’s marriages.

My parents had been out of state at the time at a convention. They were flying into SFO about the same moment we were walking out of City Hall. I apologized to them later for not waiting and my mom all but shook me by the shoulders. “No! No one knew that they’d go on for so long! You did what you needed to do! I’ll just be there for the next one!”

00000

It was just a piece of paper. Legally, it didn’t even hold any weight thirty days later. My philosophy at the time was “marriage really isn’t that important, aside from the legal benefits. It’s just confirming what you already have.”

But maybe it’s just societal weight, or ingrained culture, or something, but it was different after. The way I described it at the time, and I’ve never really come up with a better metaphor is, “It’s like we were both holding onto each other in the middle of the ocean in the middle of a storm. We were keeping each other above water, we were each other’s support. But then we got this piece of paper. And it was like the ground rose up to meet our feet. We were still in an ocean, still in the middle of a storm, but there was a solid foundation beneath our feet. We still supported each other, but there was this other thing that was also keeping our heads above the water.

It was different. It was better. It made things more solid and real.

I am forever grateful for all the forces and all the people who came together to make it possible. It’s been twenty years and we’re still together and still married.

We did a domestic partnership a year later to get the legal paperwork. We’d done a private ceremony with proper rings (not just ones grabbed out of the husband’s collection hours before) before then. And in 2008, we did a legal marriage again.

Rushed. In a hurry. Because there was Proposition 13 to be voted on which would make them all illegal again if it passed.

It did, but we were already married at that point, and they couldn’t negate it that time.

Another few years after that, the Supreme Court finally threw up their hands and said "Fine! It's been legal in places and nothing's caught on fire or been devoured by locusts. It's legal everywhere. Shut up about it!"

And that was that.

00000

When I was in highschool, in the late 90s, I didn’t expect to see legal gay marriage until I was in my 50s. I just couldn’t see how the American public as it was would ever be okay with it.

I never expected to be getting married within five years. I never expected it to be legal nationwide before I’d barely started by 30s. I never thought I’d be in my 40s and it’d be such a non-issue that the conservative rabble rousers would’ve had to move onto other wedge issues altogether.

I never thought that I could introduce another man as my husband and absolutely no one involved would so much as blink.

I never thought I’d live in this world.

And it’s twenty years later today. I wonder how our line buddies are doing. Those babies who were running around the wide open rooms playing tag will have graduated college by now. The kids whose parents the one line-buddy was worried would see him are probably married too now. Some of them to others of the same gender.

I don’t have some greater message to make with all this. Other then, culture can shift suddenly in ways you can’t predict. For good or ill. Mainly this is just me remembering the craziest fucking 36 hours of my life twenty years after the fact and sharing them with all of you.

The future we’re resigned to doesn’t have to be the one we live in. Society can shift faster than you think. The unimaginable of twenty years ago is the baseline reality of today.

And always remember that the people who want to get married will show up by the thousands in rain that none of those who’re against it will brave.

[ao3scrapesearch]

This tool is optional. No one is required to use it, but it's here if you want to know which of your AO3 fics were scraped. Locked works were not 100% protected from this scrape. Currently, I don't know of any next steps you should be taking, so this is all informational.

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Thanks to everyone who helped with the cost to host the tool! I appreciate you so so so much. As of this edit, I've received more donations than what I paid to make this tool so you do NOT need to keep sending money. (But I super appreciate everyone who did help fund this! I just wanna make sure we all know it's all paid for now, so if you send any more that's just going to my savings to fix the electrical problems with my house. I don't have any more costs to support for this project right now.)

(Made some edits to the post on 27-May-2025 to update information!)

[ms-demeanor]

Kids, we know how interest works, right? A while back I made a post about how credit card interest can screw you, but we know how interest can be good for you too, right?

I suspect we don't know about this because on one of the posts I made about it someone said something about how it is evil that money can make money, but you know that's not just for the ultrawealthy, right? That is legitimately something that you can and should take advantage of in some kind of retirement/savings/investment account.

Let us say that you are twenty years old, have no money to put into a savings account, but have a job that pays you well enough that you've got twenty dollars to spare from each paycheck.

Let us say that you put that into a normal savings account; normal savings accounts have an average interest rate of .56 APY. Let us say you are going to be working until you are sixty, and that you will add forty dollars to that account every month (twenty bucks from each paycheck) for a total of $480 per year.

At the end of 40 years you would have about $21.5k.

That's a pretty good chunk of change! twenty thousand dollars is a lifechanging amount of money. But look at the total interest. In forty years you would have accrued only $2300 in interest.

Now, instead, let us imagine that you are a member of a credit union that offers you a free, high-yield savings account with a decent APY. Everything else being the same, but putting that money in an account with a 4% return does this:

Your total contributions that you put in stay the same, but the amount of money you have at the end of forty years more than doubles.

Let's say you have a thousand dollars to put in the account at the beginning and run it again.

Low interest account: you add $1000 at the start and have an extra $1200 at the end.

High interest account: you add $1000 at the start and have an extra $4000 at the end.

There are many, many very stable opportunities for savings that will grow your money. Fifty thousand dollars isn't a retirement plan, but it's a hell of a lot better than what you would have if you just stuck cash in a savings account or if you didn't save any money at all.

I know how hard it can be to save. I know it feels impossible to put money aside, but even if you start with no money and can tuck away five dollars a week you can get a LOT out of that five dollars a week.

This certainly isn't "you can't buy a house because you get coffee at the cafe," but it something that can HELP.

Now, let's suppose you're not twenty. Let's suppose you're in my boat, and you're (almost) forty and you're going to be saving for twenty years. You still don't have a lot of cash, but you know it has less time to grow interest, so you double your contribution and you put in forty dollars for each paycheck for a total of $960 a year.

That is extremely very much not the same thing as putting in forty bucks a month for twenty years. Instead of your interest being nearly one and a half times the amount of your contributions, it is around half.

If you are a young person (honestly even if you are not a young person) and it is in any way possible for you to start putting money into any kind of an investment account, you should do so as soon as humanly possible. The earlier you do it, the more interest you will have and the more money you will end up with when you are nearing retirement age.

This is how individual retirement plans work. This is what a 401K does, but sometimes it does that with matching contributions from your employer (so your employer matches whatever you put into the account up to a certain percentage of your pay). 401K accounts also often have higher APYs than high yield savings accounts, though they have more limitations on how and when the money can be pulled out.

If you are broke as fuck and never learned anything about investing or interest from your family because your family was broke as fuck too, now is the time to learn. r/PersonalFinance is a reasonable resource (and if you ever happen to have a windfall that's the first place I would point you for figuring out how to make the most of it) for learning about this stuff.

Thinking about money sucks! Being afraid you'll never be able to retire sucks! Having to figure out how to save sucks! But there are tools out there that even very fucking broke people can use to make that suck less.

[chuluoyi]

✎ all of me

- gojo satoru x reader

you understand that some things in marriage just needs compromise. and he soon understands too, when you're at your most vulnerable and he fails to be by your side when you need him the most

genre: angst, hurt/comfort, established relationship (you're married & have a son!) argument, feral gojo, mentions of injury & blood, fluff

note: if it isn't obvious by now i'm in the mood of angst-hurt/comfort this week HEHE :)) this is longer than the usual love entry, so i hope you'll enjoy it!

a part of gojo's love entries

general masterlist

Bantering with your husband is not uncommon―in fact, it happens on daily basis.

"Satoru― I'm talking to you!"

But having serious arguments with him is another matter entirely.

Your fists tightening at your sides, facing his unamused expression. How insufferable is he? You told him that everyday, but right now, he's truly surpassed previous levels of infuriating behavior.

"And I can hear you, sweetheart," he retorted, casting a glance your way. The term of endearment he used for you sounding almost like a sneer to your ears and you felt offended.

"I don't think you're taking this seriously," you griped, trying to calm your emotions, still balling your hands. "Someone is following our son on his way back from school―how can you be this... flippant?!"

Numerous photograph of your son exiting the school building from different angles had arrived in your mailbox, and if it wasn't a creepy warning from those who placed a target on his back, then you didn't know what it was.

Satoru let out an exasperated grunt. "I'm telling you, I'll pick him up for the rest of the week. No one will lay a hand on him."

You gritted your teeth. "And I'm telling you, they're trying to make you do just that. Even morons know not to mess with you― they're leaving hints, and you're taking the bait!"

Contrary to what you believed, Satoru felt just as worried as you upon knowing that someone might have marked his precious son, who was now six years old and had recently started attending preschool.

But this is where your approaches differ. You are always the cautious one, overanalyzing each detail, while he leans towards being impulsive, often resorting to brute force.

"Who do you think can stand a chance against me?" Satoru challenged with a real sneer this time. "Remember my words, wife, no one is going to hurt me, you or our baby. I'll end them where they stand."

"That's not the point!" you threw your hands in the air, irate. "Satoru, they're going to take advantage of―"

"Look, I don't want to argue with you." Satoru's gaze was hard on you, his tone clipped, and it made you stiffen. "His safety comes first— and you, of all people, should know I'd never let anything happen to him. You need to quit nitpicking and have a little faith in me."

"I know you are more than capable, but you are not―!"

And then he said it, and his words piercing through you like a knife―

"Don't compare me to you," your husband remarked a little too coldly. "I can do things you can't. Just rest your pretty head, I'll take care of the rest."

Nevermind that he blatantly dismissed your skills as a jujutsu sorcerer, nevermind that he totally didn't listen to you at all―he just went and made himself look like some sort unparalleled god, forgetting how much his hubris could actually take him.

And all these thoughts only made you angrier.

"So be it then." You tried desperately to hold yourself from shaking because you'd be damned if you showed it to him. "A word of advice, Satoru: beware of your arrogance."

With those words, you spun around, marching off toward your son's room, because no way in hell was you going to sleep with that obnoxious prick tonight.

But when you caught the sight of your baby scuttling away from the gap in the door, a fragment of your heart crumbled. Oh. He has seen it all.

In Gojo Satoru's mind, he is made of two things: a powerful jujutsu sorcerer and a family man.

With his immense strength, comes a certain responsibility. And with that responsibility, certain habits have formed. If you just took a few seconds to breathe and looked back throughout the past decade he'd spent with you, you'd know that in fact―

It was also his way to shield you. Satoru stands by the principle that you and his little boy must be protected at all cost, and he most certainly would pull all stops to do just that.

But frankly, he couldn't deny that he felt insulted by how defiant you were. Did you really think he would let anyone ever touch your―his―son? He wouldn't, they'd meet his wrath first and you should've known that.

Still, something akin to guilt nudged at his conscience as he lay alone in your shared bed that night. It felt strange not having you cuddling him. He felt empty.

. . .

None of your shampoo-scented pillow, none of your nightdresses, all of it replaced by a single photo hanging in the wall and the urn of ashes—

Abruptly, he jerked his eyes open, shaken from the most dreadful nightmare he had experienced—

Of you no longer by his side.

“Mama.” Your little boy looked up to you with his doe-blue eyes in the next day, his hand gripping yours. “I’ll be fine.”

You were accompanying him to the preschool. While Satoru had requested Ichiji to drive him, you insisted on tagging along to keep a watchful eye as well. You'd leave your husband to pick him up later just as he wanted.

“Huh?” you turned to him, tilting your head.

“I'll stick by Uncle Ichiji's side the entire time,” he replied in a murmur. “And papa will be picking me up too later. If there are bad guys, they'll get him first.”

You bit your lip, feeling a wave of guilt wash over you. Your boy witnessed your outburst last night and hadn't inquired about it until now, and even then, he was trying to reassure you.

“So… don’t fight.” His round, cerulean eyes then darted towards you, blinking hesitantly, causing you to catch your breath.

He looks so much like Satoru. At six years old, he was the spitting image of him, except his personality—he took after you in that area. It was as if your son was a softer, more innocent version of him. And your heart twisted, remembering your argument last night.

Don't compare me to you.

With a sigh, you bent down to be eye-level with him and managed a smile, holding both of his little hands. “I’m sorry… it was just misunderstanding last night, okay? Don’t worry.”

“…really?”

“Really. Mama and papa were just tired,” you tried to reason, a thin smile on your face. "It's going to be okay, just like you said, yeah? Papa will beat the bad guys out there."

“Will he pull through...? If they bring a knife, and he's just there laughing, they can cut him.”

A giggle escaped your lips at your baby's innocent wonderings, easing the ache in your heart as you recalled how Satoru humored him in so many ways.

You gently poked your son in the cheek. "Nah, do you remember what he always goes on about?"

He puffed up his cheeks in response, his expression turning sour as if combing through memories of hundreds of shenanigans Satoru had instigated to recall his words. You let out a hearty chuckle, finding him so adorable.

"He's strong, he's going to win. He always does."

"Oh. Mmm." Your son scrunched up his nose cutely, before looking away and squeezing your hand. A sincerer smile bloomed in your lips, heart melting at the sight of your growing munchkin.

You will protect him. And maybe you could patch things up with Satoru later that night. Maybe yesterday you were just too paranoid.

That was the plan... at least until your son suddenly screamed—someone wrenching him from your grasp. Without a second thought, you reacted, flipping the attacker away from you and him.

. . . and that was the beginning of how everything started to unravel so terribly that day.

"Gojo-san...! There's been an incident!"

He got that call right after he finished some things with Yaga. Satoru teleported to the preschool right away, only to be greeted by a scene of utter chaos.

Several teachers stood outside the building, and police officers were present at the scene. It was all a blur of cursed energy until his eyes caught sight of—

His little boy, red-faced and obviously in fear, was clinging to Ichiji, who was frantically making calls. Some teachers gathered around him were seemingly trying to coax him to speak.

He didn't waste a second to dash towards him, tearing through the crowd.

"Are you okay? Hey, buddy, what happened?" Satoru pulled him away from Ichiji and turned him over, crouching to his level to check for any signs of injury or harm.

And upon seeing him actually here, his son's eyes immediately welled up with tears, and Satoru felt a chill run through his veins as he broke into sobs, which quickly turned into heart-wrenching wails.

"Mama—! F-find mama—!" the little boy choked out through his tears, clutching onto his shirt tightly and crumbling in his embrace, thoroughly inconsolable.

Satoru's sharp gaze quickly swept over the scene, seeking any clues, while he tightened his hold over him. It was then he noticed traces of your cursed energy mingled with blood.

They hurt you.

"Hey, kiddo—listen to me, it's going to be alright, yeah?" Satoru said, gently pulling away to wipe away his tears, holding the boy's face tenderly in his hands. "Go with Ichiji for now, okay? I'm going to bring mama back, I promise."

He didn't need to be told twice. Your son is always obedient when it matters the most. He gave him a small nod, still shaking with tears.

"Don't worry," he flashed a reassuring smile and ruffled his hair. "I'm the strongest, remember? I'll get her back," he vowed once again. "She'll be fine. Wait for me until then, yeah?"

Ichiji was ready to leave as he had called for those in headquarters as backup in case anything were to happen again. Trusting him to keep his son safe, Satoru took off as soon as he could no longer see the sight of his son's tear-streaked face trying to watch him as the car pulled away.

"I won't repeat myself— where is my wife?"

Satoru wasn't playing this time. He skipped past taunts and just plain threats. These little fries, he thought.

The man he held by the throat was in a lot of distress. "Hyaaa! It's him! Please, please, let me go! I'm acting under orders!"

He then flung him across the wall— might have added more cursed energy than necessary.

At the moment, his entire focus was on trying to locate you. He couldn't let his mind wander to anything else; in fact, he didn't permit himself to.

It didn't take him long to piece together the general location of where you were through the residual of your cursed energy. They stationed several hooligans in this abandoned warehouse to stall him, but he got rid of them quickly and he could sense that you were close by.

"It's Gojo Satoru!"

"Run! Ruuuun!"

What a pain. They picked the wrong person to mess with, and Satoru's lips curled into a manic grin as he opened his palm, pulling them in—

"Cursed Technique Lapse: Blue."

Chaos erupted as the building collapsed around him. He hoped you would realize he was here and manage to avoid getting caught in the wreckage. He was sure you'd know though.

And true to his thoughts, soon he found you— blasting your attacker away with a powerful kick.

Satoru thought that you were a sight to behold, really. And he was about to call out to you when he felt it.

It happened almost in an instant. The way his heart dropped to his stomach, and how his body reacted, barely whispering the incantation for Red as he shot it at something lurking behind you—

At that moment, the only thing you were aware of was the foul stench of a curse. Time seemed to stop before the overwhelming force of Red expelled it away from you.

But before then, you experienced a searing, white-hot pain that scorched through your flesh and pierced your abdomen—

"Y/N―fuck―!" The voice that came from Satoru's throat was raw and laden with panic.

He pulled you against him protectively as you collapsed, blinded by pain. He immediately felt warmth spreading across his lower body—your blood was rapidly drenching his shirt, and he felt a shiver down his spine.

You held onto him tightly while suppressing your scream, feeling every bit of your strength drain away along with the dark crimson blood that poured out of you.

"―toru―" you managed to croak amidst the scalding pain, curling and whimpering in his hold.

"Hey― sweetheart, please―" his voice rang in your ears, as he pressed down on your wound. His hands were shaking, and you clawed at him and groaned in agony. "I-I'm taking you back now― You're going to be alright, yeah?"

The wound was beyond anything you had experienced before, causing you to cry out and gasp for air. It was almost as if something fried your insides. It was hard to stay conscious.

"I've got you now. You're going to be okay." His voice was coarse, as he hurriedly carried you out. And he tried not to let the full-blown panic take over him when your body went limp in his arms, your breaths slowing, head lolling in his chest.

"You're going to be alright! You hear me, sweetheart? You're going to make it. Our baby― he's waiting for you. I promise you, you're going to be fine―"

Perhaps he was trying to tell that to himself, because despite the excruciating pain, a wave of reassurance washed over you.

You were in the arms of the strongest sorcerer alive, what more could you possibly afraid of?

A special grade curse. They had actually unleashed a potent curse and likely aimed at him as their final card—until it veered off course and struck you, leaving a searing gash across your abdomen.

Satoru felt numb as he sat in the waiting room in his bloodied uniform. You got hurt so terribly right in front of his eyes, and all he could feel was this profound void that seemed to bore through him and pierced his soul.

He was supposed to protect you. He said it to your face that nothing and no one would touch your son, and it was in his wedding vows that he'd protect you with his life too.

And yet what happened?

If only he was faster. If only he was able to pull you to him and protect you with his infinity—none of this shit would have happened.

Seeing your face twisted in agony and smeared with blood made him feel sick to his stomach. Inside that OR, you hovered on the brink of life and death, and he was here, unable to do anything.

Satoru rested his head against the wall, feeling a sharp pain surge through his chest. He remembered waking up to your face every morning, the way your touches felt, and how you had brightened his world for the past decade. If he lost you now... he wouldn't survive it. He would wreck anything, everything—

"Papa!" and came his voice of reason. Satoru immediately discarded his bloodstained jacket by instinct, throwing it away before his boy could see it, with Ichiji and Megumi closely trailing behind.

His son crashed himself into him and threw his little arms around his torso, crying—and in that very second, the thump of his heart sounded louder in his ears. Somehow it felt like a knife that twisted his insides.

"Hey, kiddo." Satoru repositioned him so that he would sit on his lap and hugged him, patting him in the back. "There, there... it's alright, yeah? Mama is inside, she'll get better soon."

Your little boy pulled away and wiped his eyes, and Satoru chuckled as he helped him blow his nose. His child was incredibly adorable, and his actions mirrored yours to such an extent that it made Satoru's heart soften.

"Mama g-got hurt trying to... tell me to g-go..." the boy suddenly said amidst his quieter sniffles. "And... she s-said... papa— i-is strong and g-going to win..."

You believe in him. Ignoring the ache in his chest, only able to reply him with a "Yeah..."

Not long after, Shoko emerged from the operating room and informed him that the surgery had been successful, though you would likely need to have a one-week stay in the hospital for observation. He intended to move you to the VIP suite and stay the night there, but then he remembered his son, who was holding his hand.

Satoru crouched down and patted him in the head, fixing him a smile. "See? Mama is okay, but she needs to sleep here to get even better. Now you go home first with big brother Megumi, yeah?"

Your son adored Megumi and often begged you to let him stay over at his place, but this time he looked hesitant, fiddling with his little fingers. "Really? Mama will be home... soon?"

"Mm-hmm, the more she sleeps here, the faster she'll go back home, alright?"

And with that, his baby nodded and Satoru turned to Megumi with a nod. "Thank you for this, Megumi."

The boy whose life he had once saved on some sort of a whim, now grown up and shared the same concern he had for you, Fushiguro Megumi had never before witnessed his benefactor expressing such sincere gratitude for anything before.

When you came to, your body felt as heavy as lead.

The discomfort in your abdomen made you flinch, and you almost let out a groan until you turned to your side and saw him.

Satoru was asleep while sitting in the sofa next to your bed, dark circles evident under his eyes. It might have been your imagination, but his cheeks appeared to be slightly red too.

You tried to recall what had happened to you when it came back—you urging your son to run away as you let yourself being taken away, almost escaping from that warehouse, the flash of excruciating pain, and Satoru's stricken voice.

So he must've been here since last night. Any remnants of your disagreement seemed to have vanished, seeing him there with you, barely covering himself with the blanket, with a frown still marking his forehead even in his sleep.

You wanted to reach out to him until the movement sent a sharp jab to your stomach and you cried out a bit.

In that split second, Satoru's eyes jerked open, and realizing you were awake, his gaze locked onto yours. "Y/N—" But your strained whimper and expression told him everything. "Does it hurt? I-I'll get Shoko, wait—"

And then he hit the call button. Throughout it all, he kept a firm grip on your hand for reassurance. A few minutes later, Shoko arrived and examined your wound, subsequently administering painkillers to alleviate your discomfort.

"It's going to leave a scar," she explained grimly, showing the mangled skin where the curse had made its mark on you, and seeing that, Satoru clenched his fists.

Shoko sighed, empathizing with her friend's frustration. "It's going to fade with time, don't worry. You did well, Gojo. You brought her here quickly. Had you been even slightly later, there could have been an irreversible damage to her organs."

But your husband remained quiet, unable to bring himself to look at you. And after she left, you tried to finally voice your question to him.

"O-our—"

"He's fine," Satoru immediately answered, squeezing your hand. "Our boy is fine. I'll tell Megumi to visit later—he's with him."

A sigh of relief came out of you. "Thank... goodness."

But his expression seemed to fall even further after hearing your response. Satoru settled himself on the seat next to you and lowered the rail on your bed, allowing you to be even closer to each other.

"Do you not feel any pain anymore?" he asked then, gently tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. He looked so sad, a stark contrast of how he usually was, and it bugged you.

"No... I feel fine now."

"Then, can I hug you?"

Of course you nodded without a second thought, and carefully, he wrapped his arms around your body, pulling you close and resting his face on the crook of your neck.

You knew what it was. Satoru was still visibly shaken by what had happened to you, and he wasn't great at expressing himself, so he tried to find consolation through this physical closeness instead.

"I'm okay..." you patted his back, trying to convince him. "I'm alright now, yeah?" But to your surprise, suddenly his whole body started to shake. "Satoru...?"

“…’m sorry.” His voice was barely above a whisper as he nuzzled you. “I shouldn't... have let you get this hurt...”

It always amazes you how Satoru always gets this distressed whenever you sustain any injury. You had seen him cry precisely two times now—once after you gave birth to your son and experienced severe bleeding, and now.

"It's not your fault..." you whispered in response. "You... have protected me well."

He held you tighter, his tone faltering. "I didn't."

"You have..." you stroked his hair, trying to convince him. "I'm still here, aren't I?"

Hearing you say that made Satoru's chest ache. The thought of something like this happening to you was unimaginable, and now that it had, he couldn't come to terms with seeing you hurt right in front of him.

"Don't—" he choked on his voice, his breath trembled against your neck. "Don't ever put yourself in danger again. If something happened to you, I wouldn't be able to live with myself..."

You couldn't make that promise. Despite the pleading in his voice, you knew deep down that your son's life—and his—meant more, and given the chance, you would obviously save theirs for yours.

“Satoru... I love you, you know that, right?”

So you simply embraced him close, hoping that in this life, you would live long enough that he would never have to see you like this again.

Epilogue

"Papa, how do I become stronger?"

Satoru blinked when his son asked him that so innocently and curiously, taken aback as he led him to your private room later that afternoon. "Oh? What brought this on?"

His first and only son, a perfect miniature of himself, pursed his lips. "I don't want Mama to get hurt again..."

Satoru's heart warmed at his baby’s sincere words, and despite himself, he chuckled.

"What's funny?" his son leveled a glare at him. "I'm being serious."

"Well, aren't you such a good boy? Don't worry, kiddo, I'll teach you my ways~"

"What ways?"

"Well, no need to rush, pumpkin. First of all, you will have to harness your skills and then you have to be more like me—"

"Do I have to be like you…? Is there no other way?"

"—? What's wrong with being more like me?"

"Everything...?"

[missdynamighttt]

so.. giving bf! katsuki his girlfriend bill and he pays.. WAY too much tax.

it started as a joke.

you sat on the couch, scribbling away at a piece of paper while katsuki was busy scrolling through his phone. when you were done, you slid it across the table to him with a smug grin.

KATSUKI BAKUGO - GIRLFRIEND BILL

• snacks (your girl gotta eat, and no, your portion does not count as mine even if i eat it): 500

• unlimited cuddles package (its like a warm cozy prison): 1,000

• tummy tax (you hog my tummy all the damn time, rent is due.): 3,000

• sex damages (broken furniture, excessive laundry, my LEGS, my BACK, my SANITY): 5,000

• miscellaneous (for anything i want because you love me): 8,000

TOTAL: 17,500

DUE DATE: NOW. PAY UP 💜

you leaned back, arms crossed. “you owe me, boyfie.”

katsuki stared at the paper, then at you. his eyebrow twitched. “the fuck is this?”

“since you love spending money on me, i figured i’d make it official,” you teased. “just the essentials. cuddles, snacks, emotional labor fees, suffering damages—”

he snorted, shaking his head. “suffering damages?”

“i am dating you.”

he clicked his tongue but didn’t argue. instead, he grabbed the paper, pulled out a pen, and started writing.

you blinked. “uh… what are you doing?”

“fixing your shitty math.”

you leaned over to look—only for your jaw to drop when you saw him doubling the charges and adding even more things to the bill.

• snacks (you always say you don’t want any, then eat mine)

• spa days (so you don’t stress out)

• hair and nails (because i know you like getting them done)

• shopping sprees (you never ask, but i see you eyein’ shit)

• being the best damn thing in my life (consider as future investment. i’m keepin’ you forever, dumbass)

your eyes trailed down the list, heart pounding. meanwhile, katsuki was casually typing on his phone.

a notification buzzed on yours. you glanced down—and nearly choked.

Deposit: 50,000 from katsuki bakugo

you gawked at the absurd number. “katsuki—what the hell?”

he grinned, crossing his arms. “what? you think i don’t know what you deserve?”

your face burned, your heart doing somersaults as you stared at him in disbelief, acting like he didn’t just casually triple your joke bill. "katsuki, this was supposed to be a joke.”

he leaned back, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “not to me. i’d pay more if it meant spoilin’ my girl the way she deserves.”

you swallowed hard, heart pounding. “you—you can’t just—”

“too late,” he interrupted, tugging you onto his lap. “the hell kinda cheapskate boyfriend you think i am?”

you stared at the new total, eyes wide. “katsuki—this is, like, a small fortune.”

he just smirked. “yeah? guess you’re worth it.”

your face burned.

"just shut up and take my money, sweets," his lips brushed against your ear. "tell you what—how ‘bout i add another big... tip?"

but before you could react, he was already throwing you over his shoulder, carrying you straight to the bedroom.

you had a feeling he wasn’t talking about money anymore.

‎‧₊˚✧[ it's me, kia ! ]✧˚₊‧ ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ ‎‧₊˚✧[ more of katsuki ! ]✧˚₊‧

⋆˚࿔ kia's note ˚⋆ been feeling burnt out lately lmao😵‍💫 didnt include any money symbols so yall dont have to go through the trouble of converting it😭 thank god my husband is rich >< trying to clear my bazillion drafts, hope you guys enjoy this💜

[itoshiexx]

when you're mad and use their full name

how the blue lock boyfriends react when you're mad and use their full name

pairings: isagi yoichi, nagi seishiro and itoshi sae x gn!reader (separate) | warnings: little arguments, angst if u squint, reader is kinda hot headed? lol, mostly fluff and the boys wanting to be in your good graces.

notes: did i kick depression in the ass to finish this? not really. but it worked, and here i am! this is my nagi seishiro debut omgggg hopefully i did him justice and he's not too ooc. also new design for the scenarios to match my theme. enjoy, lovelies! let me know if you'd like especific scenarios and send me an ask :)

masterlist

ISAGI YOICHI

yoichi hoped he would die. 

really. 

it’s the least he deserved for making you angry — even more so because he didn’t know what made you angry in the first place. he spent the last fifteen minutes excavating his mind to try and remember what could have ticked you off so much that you don’t even wanna look at him.

he hates it. isagi needs your eyes on him, needs to hear your voice and touch your skin. and with the way you’re so silent and distant, he might be just like a man in the desert without water.

“baby,” he looked at you on the other end of the couch, intently watching the tv show in front of you.  just a glimpse would make him breathe again. just a nod would ease his nerves. hell, he would even take a glare, as long as you were looking at him.

but he got nothing. zero. nada.

“baby, please,” he tried again. “i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to make you mad.”

you furrowed your eyebrows, but still didn’t spare him a glance. he sighed.

“i’ll never do it agai—”

“do you even know why you’re apologizing, isagi yoichi?!” you asked, exasperated. your boyfriend froze on the spot when hearing his full name, because of course he didn’t. 

as far as he knew, you were having a great day together. he bought you breakfast from your favorite bakery, you made a delicious lunch and then you two went out shopping. he even gifted you with a beautiful necklace after an enthusiastic shop employee offered to show him some pieces—

oh.

“you got jealous of the saleswoman?”

“blah blah you got jealous of the saleswoman? heck yeah I did!” you impersonated him with a high pitched, sarcastic voice that showed just how mad you were. “she was all over you, yoichi, and you didn’t do anything!” 

he swallowed thickly, daring to approach you on the couch. he hugged your frame, despite the crossed arms in front of your chest making it a little hard.

“i’m sorry, darling. i didn’t even notice she was being inappropriate because you’re the only one i pay attention to. and i always figured people would never dare be so bold if you’re by my side and we’re clearly together.”

his sweet words coated you, making you glance away, knowing that looking at his puppy eyes would end you for good. 

“you should have done something anyway.”

“i know. i totally should, and i’m sorry i didn’t. i never meant to make you feel bad or let people disrespect you.” he rested his chin on your shoulder, breath shuddering right on your ear.

the sincerity in his voice was enough to chip away your anger, and you visibly relaxed in his embrace. yoichi held a breath of relief, knowing he still had to be careful.

“i’m sorry, baby. it won’t happen again. forgive me, please?” he placed a sweet kiss on your cheek, and god, how could you keep being mad like that?

damn isagi yoichi and his genuine blue eyes.

you uncrossed your arms, embracing his instead, and finally looked at him with love again.

“fine. but just because you’re so charming, ‘ichi.”

he chuckled. “you’re the charming one. i’m totally under your spell, darling.”

and when your lips met, yoichi hoped to keep living just to have more of you.

NAGI SEISHIRO

people would often ask him if his detached, nonchalant persona ever got in his way through his life. seishiro would always say no, because everything and everyone he did care about understood his lazy way and inability to do… pretty much everything.

that didn’t mean he never made the effort, though. as much as nagi liked to live like a sloth and just go on with his life playing video games, there were still things in his life that were worth it. like football. his friends. and you, of course. 

ever since you met, seishiro discovered that being with you wasn’t a bother. and after he fell in love and you became a couple, he found himself eager to indulge you, even if it meant going out of his way. his friends congratulated him and expressed genuine happiness to see how much he improved, and that, along with your beautiful smile, filled his heart with joy. 

however, no matter how much he tried, he was still…

“nagi seishiro.” 

a shiver ran down his spine with the sound of your voice, and not the good kind. he had never heard you sound so stern, so angry, so… disappointed, even. enough to leave a sour taste in his mouth. so much so he immediately lifted his eyes from his console, only to find your harsh gaze.

“ehh? wha’ did i do, angel? don’t say my name like that,” he pouted, crawling towards your body splayed on the bed. 

even when you tried to fight his embrace, nagi took advantage of his large frame to engulf you and lay his head on your chest, so you wouldn’t walk away in case you got any angrier.

“babeeeee,” he whined, hugging you tighter.

“let go of me,” you said, and he just shook his head. “you deserve it. you weren’t even listening to what i was saying, were you?”

what a hassle. he really wasn’t listening, but… well, he got way too focused on beating the last boss. could you really blame him? 

he heard you scoff. “oh, my bad, i should have known it was the last boss. it’s more important than me anyway, right, nagi?”

fuck. fuck. fuck. did he say that out loud? he sounded like a dick. you had every right to be mad and call him by his full or last name. 

nagi lifted his head from your chest to look at you, feeling his throat tighten with the sight of your teary eyes. guilt gnawed at his chest when seeing how upset and frustrated you were. 

“eh, ’m sorry, pretty thing. i got too caught up ‘n didn’t notice you were talking t’me.”

“am i that invisible to you?” a tear almost rolled down your cheek. seishiro shook his head, a little more exasperated than usual. 

“huh? ’f course not, angel. y’re never invisible. all i see is you. y’re the most important to me,” he held eye contact, and even though you wanted to tear your gaze away, seishiro’s eyes were more magnetizing than ever, even if your view was a little blurry.

you knew your boyfriend wasn’t the type to lie, since he always claimed it was a hassle. you knew you were important to him, but his lack of consideration still hurt. 

“i’ll apologize as many times as you wish. ‘m sorry for not listening and making you feel bad. i never wan’ you to feel bad, pretty thing.” 

nagi used his strength to roll around and switch your positions, in a way you were on top of him instead. he started caressing your hair in a soothing motion, making your eyelashes flutter. “y’can talk as much as you want. i promise i’ll listen t’you.”

your eyes welled with tears for a different reason, and you hugged the striker as hard as you could. even if he faltered, seishiro never failed to make up to you and make you feel loved.

“promise, sei?”

“promise.”

ITOSHI SAE

although sae wasn’t exactly smart in the emotions field, he always knew when you weren’t happy with something. you scowled, huffed and rolled your eyes, keeping an eerie silence that was only broken when absolutely necessary. 

at that moment, he was sure you weren’t happy with him.

you both kept to yourselves while still at the event, masquerading any problems for the cameras. sae had a hand at the small of your back and he could feel how stiff you were. the midfielder wouldn't admit that seeing you so uncomfortable around him made his heart pang.

at the limo, the path to your shared penthouse was quiet, and you brushed him off when he tried to hold your hand. sae could only stare at his window with furrowed brows, itching to dissipate this awkward atmosphere. he never liked when you were mad, especially at him.

he expected some sort of explosion when you got to your apartment, but you kept your glaze off him, trying to walk to the bedroom for your night routine without even sparing him a word. 

nuh-uh. that wouldn’t do. 

he held your wrist before you could go, and lightly pulled you so that you were facing him. your eyes widened with the sudden movement, but narrowed as soon as landed on his face. 

“why are you mad?”

you scoffed. the audacity of this man. 

“you know exactly why i’m mad, itoshi sae.”

shit, the government name? you were really fucking angry.

“i wouldn’t be asking if i knew,” he answered, immediately regretting it when you glared at him, as if saying that wasn’t the right answer. “i-i mean… i didn’t realize what was wrong, amor.”

you walked closer to your boyfriend, making him release your wrist. despite his typical stoic face, sae was clinging to your every word.

“itoshi sae, you can not talk to your little brother like that!” you nearly growled on his face, surprising him. “you were very rude and condescending, and that’s no way to speak to rin!”

he frowned. you were mad because of rin? the little green monster inside of him threatened to grow, but he forced him to stay put. sae didn’t want to anger you further, so he simply let his hands slither to your hips, pulling you closer to him.

“i don’t think i was rud—” you lifted one eyebrow, and he rolled his eyes. “fine. i might have been kinda harsh.”

“and?” you crossed your arms.

he sighed. “i will apologize.”

“i’m serious about this, itoshi sae. i will ask rin—”

“i’ll tell him i’m sorry, okay? no need to keep talking about rin.” he interrupted, palms traveling to your ass while he nosed your neck. he planted a small kiss under your ear, huffing a minty breath that made you shudder. sae smirked. “and no need to keep calling me by full name, either. what happened to ‘cariño’?”

you held onto his biceps for some grounding, but still didn’t budge. 

“you weren’t very sweet today, so it’s not fitting.” 

he pouted while hiding in your neck, taking full advantage that you couldn’t see him, but was quick to withdraw to face you once again, touching your noses. one of his hands cradled your jaw, and you sighed with the pathetic effect your boyfriend had on you. 

“perdóname, amor?” he whispered against your lips, eyes sincere like you knew he could be. your poor little heart could never resist him when he was like this, rarely vulnerable and eager for you.

you gave a long exhale, arms moving to tangle around his neck. and folded.

“as long as you make it right, mi cariño.”

© 2024 itoshiexx. do not plagarise, translate, or repost any of my work on here or other sites.

if you like my writing and would like to support me, you can 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐚 𝐭𝐢𝐩 𝐨𝐧 𝐤𝐨-𝐟𝐢 ! any amount is welcomed and very appreciated! ♥

[elizzsush]

Beastmen Courting Rituals | TWST

Savanaclaw Dorm X Reader

Leona X Reader, Ruggie X Reader, Jack X Reader,

---- BeastFolk typically have instinctual ways they begin 'courting' or a relationship, some even taught from a young age certain courting rituals. (Non-Human courting rituals part 1/3)

Note: Fun fact, I began making Fae courting first but then I posted the future kid thing and didn't want to post two Diasomnia so close together!

Octavinelle Ver | Diasomnia Ver.

Jack:

It started very small, one day he was there, the next he was there again, and the next he was also there.

He was always there.

Then it got a bit... weird? You noticed that when he would approach you, he was making this grumbling, whining sounds? You don't even think he realized it. You chose to ignore this fact for now, maybe it was just because he was a beast man? You didn't want to be rude by saying anything- or make him feel embarrassed.

After that he began to help you with your hair more as well. Well, your general appearance. He'd help you fix your uniform and brush off any dust or anything you'd may want or need help with. In turn you helped him back, it was only fair after all!

Never mind his flushed face while you did this, moving small hairs back in place and picking any particles off his own uniform.

"There's our dynamic pair! beauty and the beast man." Ace teased, a confident grin on his face while you sat down at the table, Jack not too far behind you.

Jack just rolled his eyes, a small blush on his face as he ignored Ace. Aka, while he did the smart thing to do. You, however, have yet to learn that Despite so many months of friendship and raised an eyebrow at the Card boy. "What are you talking about." You rolled your eyes at the boy.

"You don't know? but it's so obvious!" Ace frowned, Grim nodding beside him in agreement, though you doubted he even knew what the boy was talking about. "His tail is always wagging like a fan when he's talking to ya! He's totally in l-" just as Ace was about to finish speaking Jack piped up, his ears straight on his head in an alert manner and his tail stiff behind him.

"I didn't get anything to drink when we got food." He excused himself, you tried to get a look at his face because he wasn't looking at you but he didn't look back and stood up.

Glancing at his tray, you didn't fail to notice the milk carton on it. Plush, Jack was always the prepared, diligent one. That was so odd... You glanced back at Ace only to find him laughing to himself like the funniest thing just happened. "Whatever, where is Deuce?" You rolled your eyes.

"Why should I know? I'm not his mom."

After that, Ace started calling you dense. Maybe you were because you really didn't know what the hell he was talking about.

After that it was like there was a switch in Jack. He began to be touchier, not that you minded of course! Cuddling with friends is always nice, and you liked to think it was because of his more... animalistic features and instincts he was cuddlier.

But somehow it felt more intimate. He'd nuzzle his face into your neck and hang off of you like he was a coat instead of a large man who was... well jacked.

You'd often wrestle him off of you because he had gotten into the habit of, as you said before, hanging off of you! He'd whine and almost instinctually wrestle you back to stay into his place.

You may not be as strong as him, but you also didn't hate the way he'd run with you at P.E. You knew he could easily run laps around everyone, but instead he stuck with you. Smiling at you exhausted look and cheering you on. "I'm sure Coach Vargas wouldn't mind us taking a break?" He laughs a bit awkwardly after you glared at him for suggesting it when he barely even broke a sweat.

It wasn't till after Leona off Handly mentioned something about you smelling like Jack. Even wrinkling his nose and saying that he "didn't have to lay it on that thick." That you started to think, maybe, just maybe, something else was going on here.

So, you went to the library. Got yourself your very own book (that you had to return in two weeks) on Beastfolk Mating rituals.

Suddenly, it made sense why Ace thought you were dense. Apparently, this was commonish knowledge in this world! And maybe you were ignoring pretty obvious signs now that you thought about it.

So, one afternoon when Jack was hanging off of you, that look in his eyes you hadn't noticed till now. You bit his hand. His ears straightened in surprise and he looked at you for a moment. A thick blush on his face.

"Am I dense or are you courting me?" You finally asked now that you had his attention.

"I have been for a while now..." He sheepishly admitted while not looking you in the eye.

____________

Ruggie:

He avoided you like the plague, at first.

Even now, sometimes when he's approaching you, you noticed that he might backtrack and hesitate.

Now he is a lot more relaxed, often hanging off of your shoulder. Now that he knows you won't bite his head off. His tail would wag behind him slightly while he interacted with you. A stark contrast to the stiff, alert eared boy he was just a little while ago!

You will say though, it did take some of your lunches to get here. You'd equate this process to that of getting a scared cat to approach you with treats. Now, you didn't even need the treats to get him around! He'd approach you first now too. Still with hesitance, but once he did come up to you he did seem to enjoy himself.

"He loved hanging off of you and cuddling up to you. He was very handsy, (Like most beast men, you'd later learned) His face often nuzzled into the nook of your neck. "He loved hanging off of you and cuddling up to you. He was very handsy, (Like most beast men, you'd later learned) His face often nuzzled into the nook of your neck.

"It's so weird to see a Ruggie-Senpai hang out with you so much." Deuce said off handedly one afternoon. You two were studying together when he thought of this.

"What do you mean?" You couldn't help but ask the card solider. Putting your pen down as you looked at him curiously.

The boy just shrugged, a odd look on his face. "I don't know, I just thought Hyena beast men were more... You know." he added a bit awkwardly. You decided to drop it there.

"Yeah... Anyway, I think I remember-"

The interaction stood out in your head, however. What exactly did Deuce even mean? After that interaction, you noticed a couple things as well. Beast students would look at you and nodded at you in recognition? Leona's nose would scrunch up a bit when you spoke to him (though he never made any comments on it), and when you walked into Savanaclaw a beast guy once mistook you for Ruggie before he looked at you?

What did any of that even mean?! When you asked Jack, he just said you smelt like Ruggie.

That small interaction you had with Deuce quickly began to send you down a hill of thinking about everything Ruggie ever did! How he hung off of you, and how you two hung out. It got even weirder when Ruggie offered you some food. Like he had been for a while.

This was very out of character for the Hyena boy! How did you not realize it before? So, you asked him about it. "How come you always offer me something when we eat together?"

He blushed a bit looking at you with wide eyes for a moment before shaking his head, "I do that don't I?" he laughed awkwardly, "I mean I bring food home for the neighborhood kids too. We all got to eat; you know?" He shrugged it off. You wondered what that meant, because he didn't do it with anyone else, but you failed to push him on the subject.

Your sad to say, you never fully realized what was happening till someone explained it to you.

He knocked on Ramshackle door with a handful of pretty dandelions and asked you on a date. "Perfect, would you like to um... go out with me?" he asked hesitantly, a nervous smile on his face while he put his head down. Like he was trying to protect his neck...

You said yes and it was after that Leona explained how annoying it was watching you two and basically inadvertently explained everything to you...

"That would have been helpful to know sooner." You grumbled to yourself after talking with the lion.

"Eh? Ignore him shyhehe!~ Ruggie just snickered with his usual sly smile.

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Leona:

Leona didn't really have time for games. If he liked, you he'd just come out and say it. At least, that's what you had first thought. Yes, he did use your lap as a pillow and you two did cuddle somewhat regularly. That didn't exactly mean anything. Right?

And yeah, Ruggie did scrunch his nose up and complain that you smelt too much like Leona, but that didn't matter. Leona probably didn't mean to do that; he was probably sleeping.

Did Leona roar at you? Yeah, so what? It was like a yawn; it just came out. No, he wasn't blushing! He couldn't be because you were already looking away in embarrassment.

Leona just didn't like you like that. No matter how many Courting book you read on beast men!

The Lion man in question invited you out to a Spelldrive tournament he had been practicing for. Obviously, you went without a second thought. It would be nice to see the lazy lion not lazing around for once! At least that's how you justified it.

You definitely didn't want to just see your crush play a match.

You couldn't help but notice the whole time, how Leona kept looking at you in your seat. Making sure you had just seen him perform. You'd smile and cheer for him and maybe, just maybe, a sense of pride would build up in his chest.

And maybe it was really nice to hear you cheer, and see you jump up from your seat in excitement. And maybe it was really nice to be able to cheer for him.

So you planned to confess to him after this game. "Leona I really liked you! I have for a while now!" And you did.

"Finally." He yawned and rubbed the back of his neck, you two then went to cuddle in the garden.

Did that mean you two were together now...?

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A/N: I know that some dorms aren't like nonhuman, but I can imagine that like Riddle was taught like courting customs in The Queendom of Roses, (Some queen of heart rule) or like the scalding sands have some costumes? Like the world changes because of beastmen/Fae customs and people adapted to that and added it to their own ways of approaching a relationship? Idk lol

Sorry Leona's part was quite short, I was getting tired and just wanted to get this out! But thank you for reading!