#basically when i had scraped enough money together

[exsqueezememacaroni]

When I tell you that these boots have seen some shit....

[nadvs]

rafe x reader meeting eachother’s family ?? love the series !!🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

thank you!! i got a few requests for this one, i hope y’all like it 🥰

based on this fic

» au masterlist

they decided it’s best to meet each other’s families right before he moves away to start training and playing basketball professionally. the timing works out well, considering they’ve been together for five months now and things are slowly getting more serious.

when rafe met her family, she could not believe he was even capable of being so polite. he shook hands. he asked questions. he even fake-laughed at jokes. he was charming as hell. and she teased him mercilessly for it.

“didn’t expect you to call my dad sir,” she mumbled with a small smile as he drove them out onto the street.

“i can’t afford to fuck up,” he replied with a shrug. the fact that he cared so much made her heart flutter.

now, a week later, they’re driving to rafe’s family house and she can’t believe how big the homes in his neighborhood are.

he had told her about how his dad owned a successful business. she knew he was well off based on how carelessly he throws money around, the opposite of most of their friends, who fit the cliche of poor students scraping by. but this? this is ridiculous.

“could’ve told me that you live in a mansion,” she says as the gate at the end of his driveway opens.

“okay. i live in a mansion.”

she nudges his shoulder and huffs a laugh.

when they step through the front door, she can tell rafe didn’t mince his words when he told her about his familial relationships. the way everyone greets him makes it clear he was telling the truth about everything.

his youngest sister, who he said he always had a soft spot for, throws her arms around him. his other sister only offers a nod of her head. apparently all they do is bicker.

his step-mom’s side hug is impersonal but polite. and rafe visibly stiffens when his dad approaches him, pulling him into a hug, patting his son’s back hard.

he told her all about how much he’s always tried to get his dad’s approval. that his sister usually got it without having to try, while rafe always struggled for it. she can tell her boyfriend is tense.

“congratulations are in order,” ward says, diving into conversation about draft night. then, because he just seems to love making his son feel less than, he mentions how the team he was drafted to hasn’t won a championship in a few years.

“but hey, maybe things will change this year,” his father adds.

she can’t hold herself back from interjecting.

“they will. they have a new team of coaches now. they’re making all kinds of improvements, including the rookies they signed,” she says. she forces a smile and offers a handshake, introducing herself.

rafe watches her with a smirk he can’t stifle. he was just about to introduce her, but she couldn’t help herself from butting in to bat for him. they have a lot in common, including how protective she is.

sure enough, after dinner, wheezie quietly mentions to rafe that she’s basically a girl version of him.

“you think so?” he mumbles.

“no kidding,” sarah says, overhearing. “except i actually like her.”

rafe watches his girlfriend drift towards a wall of photos, cocking her head as she looks at the images of him in different stages of his life.

“wow,” she mumbles when he comes up next to her.

“what?”

“you’re playing basketball in like, all of these,” she says with a soft chuckle. “it was meant to be.”

he looks down at her. he know he’s grinning like an idiot because he notices rose close by, smiling at him like a proud parent.

afterwards, she goes to the restroom before they head out, and his step-mom turns to look at rafe the second she’s out of earshot.

“we like her,” rose says, her arm at the crook of ward’s elbow. “you seem happy.”

“i am,” rafe admits. he didn’t need their approval, but it feels really good to have it. it’s not a surprise to him, though. she was talkative and fun. she was likeable. she was herself.

“make good choices when you’re out there, son,” his dad says. “let us know if you need anything for the move.”

rafe nods. it’s bizarre how he’s taking such a big step, moving states away for an nba contract, yet he still feels like a kid when he’s here.

but then she comes back into the room and he feels like the self-assured man he knows he is.

they say their goodbyes and she breathes a breath of relief when she shuts the passenger door of his car.

“you good?” he laughs.

“that was so nerve-racking,” she admits.

“what?” she seemed totally cool and collected the whole time.

“the first thing i did was snap at your dad,” she says nervously. “i thought i blew it.”

“nah, everyone liked you,” rafe says. he turns the car on. “my sisters said that we’re the same person.”

the sentiment warms her heart.

“you’re really sweet with wheezie, by the way,” she says. “the guys would never believe it.”

“and they don’t have to,” he mumbles, feigning irritation. she laughs. he puts up a tough, intimidating front with his teammates. she sees right past it.

she leans over to kiss his cheek. she’s glad it went well. she sees a future with him. he sees one with her, too.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA if I raised my brother's "rent"?

Longer version: I (30ish) might be losing my current paycheck in the next couple months with no idea when I'd be able to get another job, and am contemplating asking my brother (30ish) for a bit more than he currently pays me so I can manage to pay the mortgage with less worries.

6 years ago I managed to scrape together enough to buy the apartment we were renting at the time- my brother had no job, credit, or savings really at the time so everything is fully in my name and he just pays me what his half of the rent was when we were renting. Since the monthly mortgage + HOA dues is less than what we were paying for rent, with both of us contributing the same amount as we did then it covers the payments great and I am able to put a bit extra towards it each month.

But now 6 years later- due to health problems I took 3 months off end of last year (unpaid- which cut into my savings) and even though I am back at work now, I'm guessing due to continuing health issues I will have to fully quit in the next few months. Plus, I have several thousand in medical bills (after the hospital finishes fighting with insurance) coming my way soon. On the other side, my brother now has a full time job which while the pay isn't anything fantastic is enough for him to live comfortably on. While I have enough savings to live on for a bit and keep paying what I was towards the mortgage, just in case things go on longer I'm planning on dropping down to the minimum mortgage payment to try and stretch my money as much as possible. This leads to my dilemma- minimum payment wouldn't fully be covered by my brother's informal "rent", and I would still be paying towards it either way, but an extra $50 a month from him would make a significant impact.

Why I might be the asshole- raising my brother's expenses (when I leave my job) for basically personal reasons, when technically I could still get by on savings for several months.

Why I might not be the asshole- in 6 years his payment (and mine) has gone up once a very small amount due to increased HOA dues, other than that this would be the first time it goes up which is unusual for the area. Plus, even with the increase it is still roughly $250 cheaper than he would be able to find housing anywhere else in town right now.

What are these acronyms?

[dekusdarling]

Happy Birthday

“Shotoooooooo” was the voice that rang out, the voice that brought a grin to Shoto Todoroki’s face as he was poked and prodded in the cheek, an instrumental version of “Happy Birthday” playing in the background.

He almost didn’t want to open his eyes; this was perfect enough as is.

But eventually he did.

“Does IcyHot just never wake up?” The voice of a certain blond grumbled from what sounded like the doorframe, causing Shoto’s eyes to flutter open like a motherfucking Disney Prince.

What he opened his eyes to was basically straight out of a Disney movie in his own mind anyways.

Y/n was there, right in front of him, smiling like the angel they were as they pressed gentle kisses to his face.

“Morning, birthday boy,” they mumbled against his cheek, peppering him with kisses until he couldn’t help but laugh, sitting up in his bed. “Good morning, Y/n. Everyone.” He said with a nod, barely acknowledging the other people in the doorway, of which there were quite a lot. But his eyes were focused on the person in front of him, sitting on his bed and grinning like it was their own birthday.

It was refreshing, the clear excitement, all for him. All from the person he adored most, his partner, his friend, his crazy, wild, sweet, utterly wonderful lover.

He was in a perfect state of bliss the whole morning, where he was dragged to the table and fed numerous amounts of food, all tasty in their own ways, but much better when he had a certain someone on his lap, cradling his face while they fed him strawberries and eggs and toast. He was promised soba for lunch, just how he liked it. He was happy.

Really, truly happy, a happy he hadn’t felt in… ever.

He didn’t even have time to change, clad in his pajamas all day, hair tousled and teeth unbrushed, to which no one complained, and yet he felt anxious. He tried to ignore it, he knew why it was there. All he could think about was what would my old man say?

That wasn’t a thought he wished to have at the moment. It was his birthday, after all, he didn’t need to worry about things like hair and showers. He was 17 now.

It wasn’t until lunch was being made, by Bakugo, who had been nominated best cook a week ago (and was secretly proud of it), when Y/n wrapped their arms around his neck from behind, pressing kisses to his cheek and temple and whispered “Would you like to get dressed, my dearest heart?” to which he nodded and stood up, his mind hazy as he was led back to his dorm and into his bathroom, his hair being brushed for him, and his clothes being picked out.

He deserved it, it was his special day, being doted on came with that. Package deal.

But clearly his mind was elsewhere, something he didn’t realize until Y/n’s hand was on his, which was halfway through pulling off his shirt. A rare blush formed on his cheeks as he yanked his shirt back onto his abdomen, mumbling half thought out apologies.

“Something on your mind, Shoto?” They asked quietly, worriedly, their hands still on his as he nodded solemnly.

He didn’t know what he wanted, he had everything he needed. His partner, his friends, food, gifts, cake (ok, the cake wasn’t quite ready, but he knew it was coming), his famil- oh.

Oh.

He looked back up at them, a sense of true and utter embarrassment on his face as he whispered, “I miss my family.”

Words he didn’t think he would say today.

Birthdays at the Todoroki household were not celebrated in a very… traditional way.

Shoto often got a pat on the back from his old man, and a gift from Natsuo and Fuyumi, often something they’d bought with money they’d scraped together (they were too virtuous, i.e. prideful, to use Enji’s credit card). It wasn’t a whole lot, but it was normal.

He hadn’t spent a birthday away from the house yet. It was an upsetting thought, the mixed emotions whirling around his pretty little head and bringing tears to his two toned eyes, which he wiped away with confusion.

It was a heartbreaking sight, he looked so confused and upset, and on his birthday. Y/n wouldn’t stand for that. Not their baby.

Shoto was led out of the room so fast he almost got whiplash, tripping over his own feet and protesting quietly (“Y/n, I never got changed-”) as she dragged him to the common room and sat him on the couch, nodding to Momo, who brought out a computer, already dialing Fuyumi.

Fuyumi picked up immediately, a smile on her face as she set her own computer down, revealing herself with Natsuo and Enji, all wearing party hats, some of them (ahem, Endeavor) trying to pull the cardboard triangles off. Fuyumi elbowed Natsuo, and they all broke out into the “Happy Birthday” song, pushing and nudging like the perfect, imperfect family they were.

All for Shoto.

He could barely keep it together, tears dripping down his face as he talked, conversed normally with his family, his soba being handed to him quietly.

It really was the best birthday he ever had.

The cake, the song, the kisses Y/n gave him, all the way to the last hour, where Y/n was cuddled up with him, hoping to watch his birthday come to its end.

They fell asleep before it ended.

Shoto Todoroki ended his birthday with a smile on his face, truly happy.

Happy Birthday, Shoto.

[halfamask]

Soft gentle life between dark signers and Grand Prix headcannons of the garage apartment boys who absolutely do not know how to live a soft, normal life. (Inspired by that one filler episode of jack trying to a get a job)

- Yusei does most of the cooking because while the other two can scrape together a meal they either put together the bare minimum for nutrition (chicken and rice with a veggie smoothie style) or go absolutely ham with sweets and expensive products and he cannot live with that. Plus he enjoys cooking because once you figure out the basics you can get creative and trial and error and It’s kind of like working on his bike.

- They really lean into the bachelor pad lifestyle thing. The most expensive things in the apartment are their duel runners and their video game console for the tv. They have a shabby beat up couch but sit on the floor half the time anyways. Jack insists on having one spot he likes on the couch be “his” spot and Crow and sometimes Yusei will run, like literally haul ass, to the couch to sit in that spot and piss him off.

- They have had physical altercations over this spot.

- They don’t bother with bed frames and just toss mattresses on the floor of their one bedroom. They tend to have their fair share of nightmares, especially Yusei dreaming about his duels with Kalin, but when one of them wakes up in a cold sweat one of the other two will undoubtedly be up out of bed making them their favorite tea (akiza put them onto tea it’s doing wonders but only jack will admit to liking it). Sometimes yusei’s nightmares will get so bad that jack and crow wil say fuck it, move their mattresses to his, and use the warmth of their bodies and the weight of their arms around his to get him to feel secure enough that he’ll finally rest, physically knowing that his friends are ok and alive and literally on him. When they wake up no one mentions that they’ve been three way spooning the whole night basically.

- Jack is such a coffee snob and will treat the boys to the best beans and a nice espresso machine which crow thinks is the hugest waste of money ever but uses more than he does (because he is perpetually tired from work)

- It takes a second for Jack and Crow to get used to Leo, Luna, and Akiza just coming over to talk to Yusei or hang out. Leo immediately closes the gap by gushing to Jack, well, about himself, and Jack’s soon regaling him with tales of his best duels and Crow’s competing by telling him about his run ins with sector security (only the PG stuff) and teaching him to build things. Jack eventually forms a connection with Luna and Akiza because he gets what it’s like to be more reserved but still be dramatic and have a rich life and eventually they’re talking about dueling or books (for some reason I headcannon jack as the biggest reader of the three but also that Luna loves to read) or things to do in new domino.

- They also have chill table top duels with Leo, Luna, and Akiza and Jack and Crow are surprised when Luna and Akiza give them a run for their money. (Sorry Leo but Luna’s the dueling prodigy).

- The three boys will have their own three way duel game nights. These inevitably end in them physically tussling around the living room.

- Yusei and Crow have to make a chore chart bc Jack never wants to do household chores (living with Goodwin’s funding made him mad spoiled) Jack will do the chores when put up to it but by god will he complain and trash talk then the whole time.

- They don’t talk about Kalin a lot. Or about those years when he was locked up and the three were living separately. It’s still obviously in the air, noticeable when Crow and Yusei go visit different groups of people in the Satellite and Jack stays with Martha basically the whole time. The days they go to visit though, they finish off with a meal at Martha’s so filling their stomachs hurt and a ride back to new domino city that’s slower than they usually ride, like they’re savoring the existence of the bridge and prolonging their time on it for as long as possible.

[kivaember]

there's a startling lack of allmind/iguazu fics out there... anyway this is the start of an allmind/iguazu oneshot im writing, so... enjoy!

It started with an innocuous mission request.

"Rb19 Iguazu: as per your standing search query, one job meets your parametres. Location, Grid 086. Client, Junker Coyotes. Target, RaD. Payment: 100'000 COAM. Do you wish to accept this job as an independent contractor?"

It didn't stand out as anything unusual. Iguazu abused the 'independent contractor services' that ALLMIND offered to all mercenaries on Rubicon - be they corporate or independent - trying his best to build up some personal scratch that wasn't directly tied to the Redgun's operational budget.

Every single sortie he did under the Balam banner he basically did for free. After deducting ammunition, repairs, fuel and a bunch of other bullshit auxiliary costs, Iguazu was left with barely two coins to rub together. The Reguns existed in perpetual poverty, indentured servants despite most of them being in denial over it, and Iguazu refused to let himself be content with that.

So he accepted ALLMIND's offered missions on the sly, pocketing a considerable chunk of the pay after she deducted a 5% 'facilitation cost'. ALLMIND even paid for the ammunition and repairs! It was suspiciously generous, but no matter how much Iguazu wracked his brains, he didn't know what ALLMIND was getting out of this. She was an AI, she didn't really have ambitions. It was likely she was just programmed by a complete dumbass.

Well, her deficiencies were his gain. After a few more months, Iguazu might actually have enough money to negotiate for an early release from his Redgun contract, and finally leave this whole life behind him. So, when that innocuous mission request rolled round, no different to any other job he'd taken before through ALLMIND, he'd accepted it without question and departed.

It ended up being the biggest mistake of his life.

-

"DAMN IT!"

Iguazu slammed his fists against the arms of his cockpit seat, his vision half-dazzled by the blinking red emergency lights. There was a faint stench of burning, but he didn't move to evacuate his wreck of an AC, stewing quietly as EN ANAMOLY flashed across his mostly inert console.

Fucker had somehow hit his generator after they got jumped by those random mechs... and just left him here?! Through HEAD BRINGER's thick chassis he could hear the sounds of combat, muffled staccato fire and the telltale 'pff-THWMP' of a piledriver engaging and driving its spike into solid, military grade steel. It galled him to know that Raven didn't need back up at all, that Iguazu had been viewed as an annoyance to be swept aside quickly to focus on the real threat.

How dare he... how dare he...?!

"Rb19 Iguazu."

He froze at the familiar voice, ALLMIND's detachedly polite voice crackly through his fucked console. The emergency power only really focused on powering the important things: life support and comms.

"I see that HEAD BRINGER has suffered from a catastrophic failure. Do you require extraction and repairs?"

Iguazu didn't immediately answer. His chest felt tight and his stomach churned, as he abruptly realised the predicament he was in. Iguazu never told the other Redguns about him taking sly jobs through ALLMIND, because he'd always finished them with only a few dents and scratches on HEAD BRINGER's paintjob, and ALLMIND usually buffed those out. He'd never full on wrecked before. Michigan might get pissed...

...which was whatever! Guy was always riding Iguazu's ass! This would just be one another thing he'd nag him about, and Nile will complain about the fact that this was done off company time so Iguazu would-

Oh.

Oh shit.

He'd have to... pay for repairs out of pocket.

His savings... all that COAM he'd managed to scrape together and save by taking these jobs, that'll be consumed and thensome to fix up HEAD BRINGER. Generators weren't cheap! Not at all! He would've preferred Raven shooting off a leg at this rate! Oh fucking shit cunt asshole fuck-

"Rb19 Iguazu."

"Will you fuck off!?" he half-shrieked. "I'm busy- fucking- argh, I'm so screwed! Why did you give me this job?! Why didn't you tell me the fucking freelancer was here?! I got caught totally off guard because of you!"

"I was unaware that Rb23 Raven was contracted by RaD at this time. His handler had submitted a stay in mission requests for the next two days."

What? Wait, Iguazu didn't give a shit about that.

"Well he's here! Kicking ass and being a fucking cunt as usual!" Iguazu seethed, and flung himself back in his cockpit chair, grunting when it jarred his Cerebral Control Spite. Irritably, he reached up, easing out the cerebral spike with an experienced and gentle care, closing his eyes against the brief moment of vertigo the disconnect brought him.

ALLMIND obliviously kept talking.

"I've initiated emergency extraction protocols. Please hold your position for the next ten minutes. You will be brought to an ALLMIND sponsored foundry for repair and recuperation. Do you wish to send a message to Rb09 Michigan-"

"NO!" Iguazu snapped. "No, don't tell that old man anything. He can't know I was out here!"

"I understand. Then I assume you wish for your bill of repairs to be discretionary?"

Bill of...? "You're gonna bill me?!"

"Yes. If you recall, part of the policy for the Independent Contractors System is that upon mission success, all repair and ammunition costs are absorbed by ALLMIND. Upon failure, the pilot takes full responsibility-"

Iguazu did not recall reading that at all, but... well, he just skimmed all the legal jargon and fine print when ALLMIND had first introduced this system to him, so it was likey he'd missed it. Crap. Well, there was the fish hook he had been marvelling the absence of.

"...how much will it cost," he asked stonily.

"If you don't wish to pay using COAM, an alternative means of payment can be arranged," ALLMIND said, and though she was an AI and thus lacking in emotion or human ambition, there was something... unnervingly sly in her tone. Smug, almost.

That fish hook now had a hundred cruel barbs on it. Iguazu swallowed, viscerally remembering the last time he heard those words - if you can't pay with money, then there's an alternative means of payment... - and how it ended up with him here: augmented against his will and fighting on a backwater planet for a company he despised from the very bottom of his soul.

"Depends on what those 'alternative means' are," Iguazu said warily.

"In pursuit of offering better services to the mercenaries I serve, and gaining better understanding of their wants and needs, it would be beneficial to have several mercenary subjects on hand to gather vital data from."

What? "You want me to be some guinea pig?"

"There will be nothing invasive. Not to the extent of your augmentation surgery. All data shall be harvested via simulations or logs you willingly submit from live combat. You will not be harmed or physically discomforted in any way."

This sounded way too lenient.

"That's it...?" Iguazu probed. "You just want... some fucking data from me? You can get that whenever you want as is! You definitely want something else."

"Of course. The data I automatically obtain is superficial at most. What I require is your biometrics."

"What, like my... fingerprints?"

"The biological performance of your body in combat, both real and simulated, its responses to actions taken by your AC whilst you are under high-levels of stress and synchronisation, its default state post-combat. Gathering this data will allow me to develop AC hardware that encourages perfect synergy between pilot and machine, the likes which Arquebus and Balam have not yet achieved."

Okay... okay, this was... Iguazu could not put his finger on it, but having grown up in the slums of Earth, where he'd met almost every single degenerate under the sun, an instinctive part of him was screaming this is a fetish thing the AI is making you participate in a fetish thing THIS IS TOTALLY A FETISH THING.

"..."

But even if it was a fetish thing, it was still a good deal. Iguazu's used to being horrifically violated, and this was the most gentle way of having it done. He could record this data and send it, and exist in blissful denial over whatever ALLMIND would do with it. She's an AI, she didn't have a physical body to masturbate with. She'd do... whatever it was AI did to get off. Have a power surge? Bluescreen? Whatever. Not his problem. Not thinking about it. Biometric data for possibly fetishtic purposes in exchange for HEAD BRINGER getting repaired and Michigan not knowing about his illegal moonlighting? Brilliant deal if you had no pride, and boy, Iguazu was used to tossing his aside when it was convenient.

"Fine. It's a deal," Iguazu gritted out. "I'll send you all the data you want after you repair HEAD BRINGER."

"Understood. Thank you for your cooperation, Rb19 Iguazu. This will serve to benefit ALLMIND, and in turn, benefit all mercenaries."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever..."

-

Actually, accepting that mission hadn't been the biggest mistake of his life.

Agreeing to ALLMIND's deal had been.

[all-about-kyu]

Summary: The universe has a funny way of working; maybe you should let it do what it plans. Pairing: ragdoll kitty!Taeyong x fem!reader x dutch rabbit!Doyoung Tropes: hybrid au, uni au Genre: fluff, angst, suggestive Rating: PG 13 Warnings: hybrids, mentions of prejudice, language, anxiety, breakups, implied sex, nudity, kissing, pregnancy scare, polyamory, mxm involvement Part 2 Word Count: 4,323 Note: thank you to @kthpurplesyou​ @raibebe​ and @daesukiii​ for beta/proofreading this for me!!

Neo Hybridverse Masterlist || Dotae Masterlist

University: Fall Semester of Sophomore Year

You toss your keys into the small dish in the entryway of your apartment. It’s been a while since you’ve been able to come home and relax a little before diving into your assignments. You’re planning to take full advantage of the opportunity, of course. Doyoung is home, too. You can hear him scuffling about in the kitchen.

��Hey, I’m back,” you call.

“How was your Scientific Thinking class?” he calls back.

“Stupid as fuck. I feel like I’m retaking basic middle school science,” you groan, “I don’t have any major assignments to work on immediately, though! You down for a movie?”

“Always.”

You and Doyoung decided to move into an apartment near your university after you found out you both got accepted to the same one. At first, you were worried about the potential fallout of living with your best friend, but living with Doyoung wasn’t as hard as his brother had made it seem. Being in the same major at the same university was the perfect arrangement for you. You had shared a dorm room your first year while you scraped enough money together to get a small apartment together. Neither of you loved living on campus; the dorm room was small, you had almost no privacy (not that it mattered too much), and the walls were thin. Overall, the apartment was a much better option.

You make your way into the living room again, grabbing a throw blanket on your way. Doyoung follows behind with his favorite snack. He often yells at you for eating it all, but you both know he’s eating most of it. You ignore what he’s putting on. Every time you decide to watch a movie together, it ends up being a movie you’ve both seen a million and one times. Doyoung tugs at the blanket lightly about halfway through the film. Without sparing him a glance, you toss a bit of the blanket toward him. Ultimately, you end up tucked under his arm, stealing his snacks.

“You fucking idiot.” you sigh at the main character.

“You act like you don’t know how it ends.” he teases.

“Shut up; I’ll make fun of the characters all I want,” you respond with a dirty look.

“Whatever you say,” he says with the same teasing lilt.

You sit up a bit more and scoff at him. He raises an eyebrow at you. He’s challenging you to say something. There’s a strange tension between you that hasn’t been there before. Maybe it’s always been there. You just now feel it, though. Suddenly, you’re aware of the bunny hybrid’s eyes flitting between your eyes and lips. A weird heat rushes through your chest, but you don’t hate it. You haven’t been with anyone since Taeyong just over two years ago now. You’re touch starved, to say the very least. You hardly hear the tv playing in the background. Everything seems like it’s underwater besides yourself and Doyoung.

“Doyoung?” you ask, now looking at his lips occasionally too.

“Yeah?” he responds quietly.

You both notice yourselves leaning in, but again, you aren’t stopping yourself. Before you know it, your lips are on his. His hand comes up to cup your cheek. And what starts as an innocent kiss becomes much more. When you come down from cloud nine, you realize you’re in your bunny friend’s lap and have slightly swollen lips. That’s when the panic sets in. You see the same thing in his eyes as well. He studies your face momentarily to see if he can miraculously tell what you’re thinking. You try to do the same but desperately want to lean in and kiss him again. That’s precisely what you do. You push your body against Doyoung’s more and pull him into a fiery kiss. His ears are angled down slightly, making for the perfect opportunity for you to run your fingers through the beige fur.

“Hey,” he sighs between kisses, “we should probably talk about this.”

“Maybe,” you respond, “in a few minutes.”

You try to lean in and recapture his lips again. Instead, he tightens his grip on your hip and gives you a stern look. You nod and pull away, still staying in his lap. One of his thumbs gently strokes against your hip in a calming sort of way.

“What do you want this to mean for us?” he asks bluntly, “I know it could get really messy, considering we’re both still rather close with Taeyong. You said-”

“I know what I said, and he said. He also hasn’t made an effort to show me he wants to be with me after he comes home, though. You’re right. This could get messy, fast.”

“So?” he questions, his ears now perfectly upright and attentive.

“So, let’s say this is casual. No labels mean that no one gets hurt, right?” you offer.

“Right,” he confirms, “No labels.”

“Ya know, I thought about something for the first time in a while the other night.” you muse, drawing random shapes across Doyoung’s bare chest.

“Yeah? What about?”

“When I first met Taeyong, he told me you and I would click well. You ever think that if Taeyong hadn’t made a move on me first, you would’ve?”

Doyoung shifts and sits up a bit more. You still keep your head resting on his shoulder, eyes fixated on him, waiting for a response. He nibbles on his lower lip as he thinks. It’s a habit he’s had as long as you’ve known him.

“Actually, yeah.” he admits, “Of course, reality is a bit different, but we’ve always clicked well, so I’d imagine if you hadn’t been dating Taeyong, we would’ve ended up together.”

“It’s a little crazy when you think about it.”

“What is?” he asks, running his fingers through your hair.

“We’ve known each other for six years now. We went through a whole stage of life together, and now we’re figuring this one out, too.” you think out loud.

“Yeah, what about it?”

“I don’t know. It’s just crazy that we’re already halfway done with university when it feels like I only met you yesterday. But it also feels like I’ve known you my whole life.”

“Both are incorrect answers.” he teases.

You pout at him, “I know that dipshit.”

He giggles lightly before suddenly tugging you closer to him in a tight hug. You let out a slight noise of surprise that quickly morphs into a laugh. Doyoung speckles small kisses all over your face and head, wherever he can reach. Finally, you try to grab ahold of his face to kiss him properly. After a few moments, you manage to, and you see the brightest smile on his face. You kiss him and feel that familiar rush of emotion that you still wish not to address. Being here and having these domestic, sweet moments with Doyoung feels right. More right than most things you’ve felt before.

University: Late Spring after Junior Year

It’s beyond hot out today. Even with the air conditioning system blasting, you feel like you may melt at any given moment. You’re wandering around your shared apartment in nothing but a sports bra and tiny athletic shorts that don’t leave very much to the imagination. Doyoung is in no better shape. He’s in a loose lowcut tanktop and a random pair of shorts he found. Nothing seems to help with the nearly unbearable weather, regardless of what you try to do.

“Come here real quick.” Doyoung calls from the living room.

You shuffle your way from the small kitchen to where Doyoung is. He’s spread across the couch; his bunny ear twitches toward you as you approach him. When he turns his head, a slight smirk rests on his lips. You know that look all too well. It’s far too hot for that right now, and you both know it. Still, you find yourself standing beside the couch, waiting for his request.

“What’s up?” you ask.

“Come sit with me.” he requests.

“Where? You’re taking over the whole couch, idiot.” you tug the tip of his beige ear as you tease him.

“My lap is somewhere to sit.” he responds with a suggestive lilt.

You roll your eyes but start climbing into his lap, “You do know it’s 35 degrees out, right?”

He doesn’t respond. Instead, he lets his hand fall onto your waist as if it’s second nature to him. You give him a look that might not be obvious to everyone, but it’s easy for Doyoung to decipher. Finally, he shifts slightly under you and moves his hips so you tip forward over him. You giggle lightly before letting your lips lock with his.

It’s not hard to get lost in kissing Doyoung. You learned that very quickly. You still feel lost in him two years later when you share these moments. You almost entirely forget about the brutal heat of the day. Doyoung’s hands wander up and down your sides, as you continue to make out. Eventually, his hands find their way to your chest. You gasp into the kiss but almost immediately kiss him harder and hungrier than before.

“D-doyoung, can we-”

“Hmm?” he hums into the kiss.

“Bed. Now.”

“Why do that when I can-”

“Damn, I’m gone for four years, and I come back to see you fucking around with our best friend.” you hear someone say with a half-teasing tone.

Your heart practically drops through your ass. When did Taeyong even get home from university? You knew he graduated this past spring, but still. You practically launch yourself out of Doyoung’s lap and look at the older kitty hybrid in the doorway. His hair is a dusty blue color now. It looks stunning on him. You stand up and walk toward him. Doyoung opts just to sit up and pull a pillow into his lap, avoiding eye contact with his best friend as long as possible.

“It’s not what it looks like, Taeyong.” you try to defend yourself.

“You were just in his lap, but continue,” he responds with a slight bite.

“Um, uh,” you stutter, “Doyoung, some help, please?”

Doyoung shakes his head at you. But, of course, now, of all times, he chooses to be no help at all.

“Okay, it’s exactly what it looks like,” you admit.

“We said once I was done with my degree and came home-” he can’t seem to finish his sentence.

“How about we go out and chat about this? This atmosphere isn’t great right now.”

He nods. You walk back over to the couch and find your forgotten phone. Just as you’re about to put on your shoes, Doyoung grabs your wrist and pulls you down into a quick kiss. You’re not sure where the territorial behavior comes from, but you’ll have to talk to him about that later. He gives you a concerned look, and you give him a sympathetic, gentle one in return.

“It’ll be okay.” you mouth to him. Doyoung nods back at you.

You walk to the door where Taeyong is waiting for you and offer him a soft smile. He returns it and allows you to step out before him. An odd tension between you wasn’t there a few years ago. The two of you walk to the park across the street from your apartment building. It’s not too busy despite the warm weather and clear skies. Taeyong guides you to a bench under a tree and sits down.

“How did you even get into the apartment?” you question.

“I wanted to surprise you guys, so Doyoung’s mom told me where you guys hide your spare key.” he explains, “Turns out I surprised you at the wrong time.”

“Taeyong,” you sigh, “I don’t know whether to apologize or-”

“Don’t apologize. Just explain what’s going on.”

You nod, pursing your lips, “Well, we aren’t dating. I guess we started hooking up about two years ago.”

“Seems like a whole lot more than just hooking up,” Taeyong interjects, “I know you can’t smell his scent, but-” he interrupts himself with a sigh, “he was definitely saying you’re with him based on how he smelled. He was trying to get me to submit.”

“Oh,” you quip, “It’s not like that between us. I don’t know what he’s thinking, but we haven’t said we’re dating.”

Taeyong nods, “I missed you.”

“I- I missed you too.”

“I was serious when I said I wasn’t going to leave you behind.” he tells you, reaching to hold your hand, “I want us to be us again.”

You’re screwed. You aren’t sure how to respond. You’re active with Doyoung, and you know there are romantic feelings even though you choose not to address them. In the same breath, though, you missed Taeyong. He feels just as much like home as Doyoug does. You look at your ex wide-eyed and hope he’s not expecting an answer immediately. There’s hope in his big sparkly eyes, and his bushy grey tail swishes behind him in anticipation. He wants you to say yes right now and live happily ever after. Your subconscious thinks about Doyoung; you don’t want to hurt him. You love him too. The last thing you want to do is cause a rift between the three of you because of this.

“What about…”

“I know. I shouldn’t have sprung this on you,” he says sympathetically, his ear twitching as he hears you.

“It’s just. I don’t want to hurt you or Doyoung. And I don’t want to cause any tension between our friendships with each other either.”

“You go home and think about it and give me a call when you make your decision. I’m home for good now.”

You both stand up, and Taeyong envelops you in a hug. You didn’t realize how much you missed this. You hug him back tightly. You both end up going your separate ways, and on your short walk back to your apartment, you realize you have much to think about.

A few days later, you’re panicking as you pace back and forth through your small bathroom. There was no way; you can’t be. Doyoung is still passed out in his room. You’re hoping he doesn’t wake up before you’re done in here. You’re nearly two weeks late for your period. You hadn’t even realized until your friend had asked for a product, and you didn’t have any on you. But, of course, luck isn’t on your side today. You hear your bunny roommate shuffling down the hall toward the bathroom. There’s a gentle knock on the door, followed by his voice.

“Y/n, are you okay in there?”

“Y-yeah! Just fine!” you call through the door, “I’m coming out now.”

You speed past him and lock yourself away in your bedroom. There are footsteps behind you, and that’s when you realize you left the test on the counter. Then, again, Doyoung knocks on the door between you.

“Please, let me in.” he asks quietly.

You gulp and pull your door open slowly. When you make eye contact with the bunny hybrid, he’s giving you a concerned look. Your eyes flit down to his hand. He’s holding the still-developing test. He steps in and waits for you to talk. When you just keep your eyes on the piece of plastic, he speaks instead.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want to worry you if there’s nothing to worry about.”

Doyoung places the test on your desk and moves closer to you. He cups your cheeks in his hands. Then, he leans forward and presses a soft kiss to your forehead.

“How late are you?”

“Two weeks,” you admit.

“Well, if you are, I’ll do everything in my power to take care of you and the baby. If not, then we can continue what we’re doing. Just a little safer. Okay?”

“We aren’t dating.” you state, “Why are you going to all this effort to make sure I’m okay?”

“Well, for one, you’re still my best friend. I’ll always take care of you. Second, maybe- know what, that’s not something to talk about right now.”

“What’s not something to talk about?” you ask, slightly annoyed.

“Fine.” he grunts, “I fucking love you. I know Taeyong came home, and he wants to pick up where you left off, but I fucking love you. I have since we first kissed two years ago, maybe even earlier.”

“Doyoung,”

“No. Let me say this. You’ll probably run back to Taeyong and have a beautiful life together, but I love you so much. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t help falling in love with you.”

You go to respond, but you hear the door open again. Neither of you needs to question who it is. You and Doyoung agreed that giving Taeyong his copy of your key was in your best interest since he’ll be hanging out a lot now. Doyoung’s jaw is clenched tight, and you search his face for what move to make. You do the first thing you can think of and kiss him. You instantly feel him melt in your arms and relax.

“Why do I always catch you two like-” he cuts himself short, “Who’s negative pregnancy test is this?”

You pull away from the bunny hybrid and let out a sigh of relief, “Oh, thank fuck it’s negative.”

“Rude, what if-”

“Not now, Doyoung.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Taeyong starts, “You mean to tell me-”

You sigh again, “I don’t want to go into that right now. What brings you by?”

Taeyong shifts awkwardly, and his tail swishes behind him, only exemplifying his feelings. Doyoung scrunches his nose up and shakes his head slightly, showing distaste for something. You assume that Taeyong’s typically sweet strawberry scent soured. Taeyong’s eyes jump back and forth between you, Doyoung, and his own feet. Finally, you remove yourself from Doyoung’s rather tight hold on you and take a step toward the older hybrid.

“You can tell me, tell us, anything,” you say sincerely.

“It’s just- I guess I did some thinking,” Taeyong admits.

“Thinking about what?” Doyoung asks suspiciously, “Your scent smells weird. I can’t really figure it out right now…”

Again, Taeyong’s gaze shifts back and forth between you and the rabbit hybrid. He takes a long deep breath before reaching behind him to grab his tail. Taeyong wrings the end of the fluffy grey appendage while his right kitty ear twitches once every few moments. This time, instead of you moving to comfort him, Doyoung does so. The younger rabbit hybrid walks right up to him and takes the kitty’s hands in his. You guess that Doyoung starts emitting some sort of calming pheromones based on how quickly Taeyong’s tense state relaxes. A soft purr escapes the kitty’s throat. It’s a sound you haven’t heard in years. Hearing it makes your heart flutter.

What you didn’t expect was for Taeyong to step forward again and nuzzle into the crook of Doyoung’s neck. Based on how Doyoung reacts, he wasn’t expecting it either. You know enough about hybrid anatomy to know that Taeyong’s face is hidden in the scent gland in Doyoung’s neck. Doyoung lets him relax in his rosey scent for a moment before lightly pushing his shoulder. The omega detaches himself from the beige rabbit hybrid, and you notice the light dust of a blush across his face.

“W-well,” Taeyong stutters, training his eyes on you, “I knew that you really cared about Doyoung and how he feels. What I told you last week was definitely not expected, and clearly,” he pauses to gesture to the pregnancy test on your desk, “There was more under the surface too.”

“I didn’t know that was happening when we talked,” you explain.

“I didn’t know until today either if it makes you feel better, Yongie,” Doyoung adds.

“You guys definitely didn’t know I was coming, but… I heard everything you just said, Doyoung. As much as I think your assumption would happen had y/n and I never broke up, we did, and life took a few turns.”

Doyoung gives him another suspicious look, “What are you on about, Taeyong?”

“What I’m saying is. I love her a lot, a hell of a lot. But I love you too. I guess I never let it on how much I do love you. I always assumed it was platonic.”

You’re in shock, to say the least. Taeyong had mentioned in passing a few times that he found some men attractive, but he never outright told you that he was bisexual. You’re not upset at all; honestly, it makes sense in a way. When your eyes fall onto Doyoung to gauge his reaction, you also notice a slight blush taking over his face. He doesn’t look uncomfortable with the confession, though. Taeyong takes one step further into your bedroom, again invading Doyoung’s personal space. You watch as Doyoung resumes eye contact with the older. They’re hardly a foot apart. Doyoung leans in slightly but then pauses.

“If you don’t want me to kiss you, I’ll back off right now. Let me know what you want.” he nearly whispers.

Taeyong lets out a noise similar to a trill with a slight undertone of annoyance before surging forward to kiss the younger rabbit hybrid. Suddenly, you feel as if you’re intruding on a private moment. The kiss doesn’t last long. It was nothing more than a long peck. Doyoung clears his throat and lets a quiet clucking noise escape his throat. It’s a noise you know well. He only lets it out when he’s failing to hide how happy he is internally. Taeyong knows it, too. In return, he lets out a purr again and starts to rub his kitty ear against Doyoung’s cheek.

“I guess we should work out what this is then.” Doyoung comments, still trying to compose himself.

“It doesn’t have to be that complicated.” you comment with a chuckle, “I love him. I love you. You both love each other and me. Then, boom! Everything’s figured out.”

“You- you what?” Doyoung gasps, trying to push Taeyong away with playful annoyance.

“Oh, don’t play dumb, Doyoung.” Taeyong muses, trying to attach himself to the rabbit again, “She wouldn’t be this calm if she didn’t love both of us. We both know that.”

You chuckle and walk up to the pair of hybrids. Taeyong grabs you and wraps you up between them. It feels right in a way you can’t describe. A laugh bubbles up inside you, and you smile at them as your eyes move between them. You lean over to kiss Taeyong, then lean in the other direction to kiss Doyoung as well. It seems as though Doyoung is still either processing the information or in shock. You jab his side lightly with your finger making him jump slightly and growl at you. You know he doesn’t genuinely mean the growl he lets out, so you chuckle at him and press another kiss to his cheek. Taeyong decides to follow suit and kiss the beige bunny’s cheek. Doyoung gives him a disgusted look. But, again, it’s very much a joke.

“So,” the bunny boy states, “Are we calling this casual friends with benefits all around or?”

“Oh my god,” you groan, throwing your head forward to be pressed against Taeyong’s shoulder, “If we all just fucking confessed we love each other romantically, why would this be casual fucking?”

“Ya know, for being such a smart guy, you’re being really stupid right now, Doyoung.” Taeyong teases.

“And how did you still remain the same dipshit you’ve always been after four years of studying in a foreign country.” Doyoung bites back.

“Am I going to always have to keep you two from killing each other?” you interject.

“He’ll submit to me one day, watch.” Doyoung adds.

You feel Taeyong buckle beside you slightly. Doyoung’s looking at the older omega with a specific look. This is not the time for this, though. You reach up and flick Doyoung’s ear. He breaks the eye contact with Taeyong and narrows his eyes at you.

“That doesn’t work on me. Now, can we just say we’re dating and live happily ever after all together?” you question the two men.

Taeyong nods and trills, his tail brushing against your leg as it swishes happily, “I like the sound of that.”

“Does that mean?” Doyoung asks.

“Does it mean what?” you bounce the question back.

“If you’re asking if we’re also dating each other, then I would say yes. I’d like to be a partner to both of you if you’ll have me.”

“I-” Doyoung lets out a slight bunny hum, “I’d like that too. Just don’t annoy the shit out of me all the time, okay, Taeyong?”

“If I didn’t, you’d think I was mad at you.” the older chuckles and makes kissy noises at him.

“Gross.” Doyoung rolls his eyes at him.

You stand there between them, watching their playful bickering. The universe has weird, backward ways of working, but it always has a plan. You wouldn’t have thought this was its plan when you first met Taeyong or dated Taeyong. You really should thank your silver fox friend for jump-starting all of that. You wouldn’t have thought it was even possible a few months ago before Taeyong came home from California. Through the peaks and valleys of your relationships with both these men, you don’t think you could ever live without them. Now, you’ll never have to worry about that. The universe planned for you to have them both in your life. That red string of fate connects you to both of them, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. You must’ve gotten lost in your thoughts because you jump nearly a mile high when you feel very obnoxious wet kisses on each of your cheeks. Yeah, this is right where you’re meant to be.

COPYRIGHT STARLITMARK 2023© ALL RIGHTS RESERVED — reposting/modifying any fic or piece of original writing posted on this blog is not allowed. Translations are not permitted.

Networks: @kwritersworld​ @k-vanity​

Tag List: @raibebe​ @jaehunnyy​ @umbralhelwolf​

[bardicfrustration]

Screening Process

"We need shirts." The DnD club had finally come to an agreement during lunch, and as leader, Eddie had to agree. The yearbook had started taking club photos and he knew from yearbooks past that to finally be taken seriously as a club, they would need shirts. 

"We need shirts." He echoed, nodding his head. "How do we get shirts then?" 

They’d tried the copier store before, but the prices were a bit too high. Seemingly because the owner was not well inclined to printing ‘satanic propaganda.’ Eddie had tried to be nice and explain that it was basically a book club for nerds who liked math and maps, but that only hiked the price five dollars extra. 

Normally, they could’ve pooled together enough money to scrape by against the bitter bigotry, but Eddie knew the entire club was going through a monetary dry spell. Himself included. 

In a moment of revelation, his black sheep prodigy piped up from the end of the table, "The AV Club."

Eddie cocked his head in confusion, and Jeff asked, “The AV club makes shirts?”

"No," Dustin's smug grin lit up his face, "But because no one really thought it would survive, the school wouldn't hand over the money to get shirts made. So our AV teacher had someone else make them." 

"Homemade? Henderson, we want to look good, not like we’re modeling mommy's craft of the week."

"No! These are good quality!" He pointed to the infamous ‘thinking cap’ adorning his head, “Where do you think I got this?” 

“Geeks ‘R Us.” Gareth replied without a second thought. 

But Dustin continued, “Seriously  guys, they look legit. The other clubs started asking where we gottem because they looked waaaay better than the iron on crap from the copiers. It’s top secret though; nerds, rejects, and losers only.” 

Eddie squinted, “So, where do we find this elusive vendor?” 

Dustin promised to lead Eddie there, as long as he promises not to snitch. Eddie scoffs, “You think I would snitch? Really, dude, and I thought you respected me.” 

After lunch

Dustin only shared away from the cafeteria (‘away from prying ears!’) and after Eddie promised not to snitch (‘you think I, of all fucking people, would snitch?’). 

Once lunch was over, and most of the afternoon classes had settled into routine, Eddie entered the dark, empty art class gingerly, trying to be discreet. This is why he liked his picnic table, no one there but trees. 

It was quiet save for the soft hum of a radio playing somewhere nearby and the gentle scratching of pen on paper. With a second take, he looked around the dim room still to find no one. The only light he could see was streaming under a closet door. So, he knocked. 

The scratching stops and the door cracked open a sliver, just enough for a face to pop through and ask, “Waddya want Dustin-oh.” 

Your hair was pulled away from your face, but it still had managed to fall awry from the motion of art making. Eddie couldn’t see much in this surprisingly well used closet, but he could see the angled desk behind you covered in ink and paper and tape and other wayward materials. 

“Uh, Dustin sent me. Sorry.” He holds up a plastic bag of baseball tees he was able to afford. “We require your assistance.” 

Your face dropped from curious to bereaved. “I told that little snotrag I’m not making him any more personalized crap unless he pays me. I’m not gonna do it just because he sent a pretty face with them.”

Eddie looked behind him, expecting a pretty face to have appeared out of nowhere, which allowed you to slam the closet door when he turned back. 

“WAIT!” He hears you turn up the radio through the door, “It’s not just for Henderson! And I’ll pay you back in time, promise.” 

He’s hanging in anticipation for a response. The pen doesn’t start scratching, but the door doesn’t open. He could practically hear the wheels turning in your head from beyond the barrier between you. 

The door opened wide like a tiger's maw and you snatched the bag of shirts out of his hand before he could even react. 

“Promise?” You held out a hand covered in ink. Eddie shook it without a second thought.

“Promise.” 

“Fine, enter the studio.” You pushed your chair back into the corner so Eddie could have room to step in. 

It wasn’t much of a studio in terms of size, but the walls were covered in shelves of supplies; paints, glues, inks, papers, brushes, knives, anything an artist would crave while wandering the aisles of an art supply store. His own fingers itches to reach out and test things out, but he was there on a mission, for the club. 

He dug through his pockets for a carefully folded piece of notebook paper. He unfolded it and started to explain his design in mind. “We were thinking something devilish, to match with the Hellfire theme, and maybe a cool flaming sword, oh and some dice, like a d4 and a d20. Uh. I can bring those for reference if you need.” 

You waved the thought away. “I know what nerd dice look like, dude.” You took the paper from him, not unkind or rough, but to take a closer look, “Did you draw this?” 

He scratched the back of his neck, “Yeah, I mean. It’s just a doodle. Ideas, brainstorming, whatever.” 

“Hm.” You looked him over, more thoughtful than before, “I can get it done by the end of the week. I take cash and cookies.��� 

“Cookies?”

“An artist requires sustenance.” You pointed to the tin of sugar cookies on a short table in the corner. “And my preferred method is sugar. Are you good for that?” 

Eddie nodded, “Aye aye cap’n.” 

You smirked at him, but turned back to your work table, “I need to start now if I’m going to get this done soon. Come back with cookies.” And you shut the closet door in his face once more. 

He stood there for a moment, grinning to himself, before heading off to find someone who was willing to bake. 

[goldeneyedgirl]

TwiFicmas23 Day 10: Hybrid AU

Good evening! I had my first drink in a hot minute tonight and it has hit me like a battering ram, so we're doing this fast because I am definitely feeling the effects.

Tonight's is some old Hybrid; it'll be pretty obvious why this ended up being archived (and I honestly don't know if this counts as Hybrid or Hybrid baby-verse).

Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy it!

tw: mention of miscarriage

After the Cullens left, I was kind of at a loss. I know they hoped Bella and I would stick together, but that didn’t happen. 

Simon and Dad were sympathetic and let me mope around the house a bit. But I was exhausted. I was sleeping sixteen hours a day when I had the opportunity and still felt like I had pulled an all-nighter. My schoolwork was fairly average but enough that no one called Dad. I managed to scrape enough energy together to help plan Cynthia’s fifteenth birthday party, and then Thanksgiving. 

It was Christmas Day when I figured out what was wrong with me. I was exhausted all the time, and eating ridiculous amounts of food but still looked like a prisoner of war. I got out of bed and went into the bathroom, getting on the scales to find out that I’d lost another two pounds. Simon would notice soon, and I had no idea what to tell him. 

And then I spied Cynthia’s box of tampons on the shelf, and I had to brace myself on the counter for a moment. My period was a rare and unwelcome visitor, and hardly a trustworthy indicator of anything but... it made sense.

//

“Oh, Alice, honey, this arrived for you a couple of days ago,” Simon said, plucking a small box from under the tree. It was still in its mailing box, with my name and address typed on the label but no return address or indication of who it was from.

Inside was a small black jewelry box, and for a second, I thought perhaps Jasper had sent me something. I hoped he’d sent me something.  Even just a letter would have fixed everything.

I ripped into it, and the contents spilled into my lap, and it took me a moment to understand what I was looking at. It was a silver sun charm on a black ribbon, with smaller stars dotted along the band, though one was missing. 

It had been my mother’s. I remembered her wearing it; she'd never taken it off. I could see the stain of blood on the ribbon, the frayed edge where the knife bit into her, and for a moment, the room swam.

“Who is it from?” Dad asked curiously. 

I put the necklace down with shaking hands, trying hard to act normal, and plucked the card up. It was black too, with a white crest – the shield, candle, and compass of the Benoits, the Latin motto running along the bottom – Ex Deus Veritas. Truth in God, coined by the Order. 

On the back of the card, the message was short. 

Our best wishes of the season to you and your family, Mary-Alice. 

Meaning: we know where you and your family are. 

//

The bag I packed was like so many others. Basic, warm clothing; my first aid kit, a new phone I had bought in Port Angeles, money. I had ordered a ton of gift cards over the internet, since they weren’t traceable. Nothing sentimental was meant to come with me, but in the end, I saved a photograph of Jasper and I to my new phone.

And then I left Forks. 

//

it sounds all fun and luxurious to say I ran off to Hawaii. 

The truth was, Mexico would have been way better but with the vampire and Order problem down there, I chose the one place in America you are least likely to get cornered by a vampire: Hawaii. 

Specifically Paukaa, which was home to less than 600 people. I was nothing more than another post-high school traveler who decided to stay. I rented a tiny one-room place from a family and got a job at a café. It was quiet and safe and I settled into a mind-numbing existence. 

I hadn’t contacted anyone back in Forks or even checked my email. As far as everyone was concerned, Mary-Alice Brandon had disappeared for the last time – I half-hoped they’d declare me dead.

I was Mary Hale here. 

It was a little embarrassing, yes, taking Jasper’s fake surname, but it kept me hidden because I doubted anyone would think to run a search on that name. And none of the Cullens called me ‘Mary’ anyway. 

It had been a few months. The hardest. When the test came back positive, I had tried to find the Denali clan in Alaska, to pass on a message to the Cullens. To find help. 

I got close - so close. I made it to Anchorage after almost two weeks of traveling; I didn't have a lot of money, I didn't want my fake I.D. questioned too much, and I was terrified I was being followed and kept double-backing and waiting to throw any stalkers off my trail. I was pretty sick by then, but I was certain I would make it. Hell, I'd broken into the Cullens' before I'd left and found a map in Carlisle's study that had helped me narrow down the Denali home a lot. 

Then I woke up in the Anchorage ER with the news I’d collapsed on the street and miscarried. 

I didn’t know what to do with that information.

I probably should have gone home to Forks and my Dad and pretended it had never happened. Or actually tracked down the Denali clan and demanded they get me in contact with the Cullens anyway. But the Benoits knew where my family was, and I just couldn’t. I didn’t want to see anyone I knew before ever again. I didn’t want to look them in the eyes and have to explain everything. I didn’t want to be Alice Brandon anymore. 

So I didn’t. As soon as they released me from the hospital, I bought the first plane ticket to Hawaii. Actually, it was the next scheduled flight. They could have flown me to the moon, and I didn’t care. 

That had been in January. It was now August, and it seemed surreal to me now. It felt like a movie I’d watched. Sad, but distant. It was easier to pretend it had happened to someone else, and just focus on each day. I had enough problems to deal with - I still hadn't managed to gain back any weight, probably because I was a shitty cook living on a diet of orange juice and minute-ramen; I barely made enough to cover my cost of living and had no particular way of getting a better job; and I barely slept, plagued with nightmares.

And now I was dreaming again, the truth had slammed into my head. Bella was in so much danger. Victoria was coming for her with a newborn army, and the Cullens were long gone.

I couldn't stay away and let Bella die - let that newborn army descend upon Forks without warning.

If nothing else, I had to protect Bella. And my family. Worst-case scenario, I could trade myself for the safety of others. I could try and take Victoria, though she would most likely win, especially when I was so weak and out of shape. Death sounded very peaceful.

Maybe I’d see my baby there. And Mom. 

I didn’t tell anyone I was coming home. I told the café I had a ‘sick family member’, and I didn’t know if I’d be back. I gave the same story to the family I rented my place from. And then I packed up, bought the cheapest airline ticket I could get, and went home again. 

When I slept on the plane, I realized the Cullens had come back to Forks. Bella was better protected than I anticipated, but they still didn’t know what was coming for them. Not to mention the danger that Simon, Dad, and Cynthia were in.

//

I didn’t look like much. My hair was shorter than I had ever worn it, and I was the thinnest I had ever been - that was including the years I spent in the hospital and on the street. Dark circles had set up residence underneath my eyes.  I was wearing the only pair of jeans that I fitted me, and they were wearing thin. My sweater had shrunk, leaving a bare panel of skin between my waistband and the frayed hemline. And my sneakers were held together with hope and super glue. 

Rather than go home and deal with Simon and Dad, I went straight to the Cullens. 

It was Esme who opened the door, blinked and gasped, pulling me into a hug I couldn’t return. 

“Oh, Alice, where have you been?” Esme pulled away, smoothing my hair back from my face. “We’ve all be so worried! Come in, Jasper is going to be over the moon to see you.”

I managed a quivering smile as Esme drew me into the house, into the living room where everyone was gathered, everyone’s eyes on me.

“Alice…” Jasper went from standing in the corner to at my side, pulling me into his arms, my body stiff as I reluctantly curled against him, breathing in his scent of forest and books and something indistinguishably him. “Darlin’, where have you been?”

I just shook my head. If I spoke, I’d start crying and I’d never stop. When Jasper pulled away, he must have seen that in my face and reached up to cradle my cheek. “Are you alright?” he murmured and I let out a shuddering breath.

“You’re in danger,” I managed, pulling away from Jasper reluctantly. “Victoria is returning, she’s in the area and she has her eye on Bella. And the Benoits are coming – to destroy you, the Quiluetes, and my family.”

An hour later, Esme had put a plate of food in front of me, looking worried. I was eating, my stomach twisting at the invasion of food that wasn't bought at a convenience store.

The pasta was good, but I couldn’t enjoy it. 

//

Dad and Simon had been so grateful that I was home, there were no questions or accusations. Just more food, a shower, and bed. Simon had checked on me half a dozen times, looking so worried. 

I slept badly, shallowly, my dreams twisted around the baby, the hospital. Terror and pain that I didn’t know were memories or imagined suffering. I dreamt of blood and misery, and woke up screaming twice – the first time, I wasn’t even awake when Dad came in to try and sooth me; I woke up with him half-rocking me, smoothing my hair back and trying to calm my sobs and screams. 

“It’s going to be okay, sweetheart,” he murmured. 

“I wish I had died,” I sobbed, half-asleep.

“Oh, honey, don’t ever say that,” Dad said. 

He managed to get me back to sleep, my hair sticking to my clammy face, before I woke up screaming again, and Simon managed to get me to take something, leaving me in a soupy state that at least kept me quiet so everyone else could sleep. 

I didn’t stir again til nearly dawn, my dreams blood-splattered and full of desperation. The drugs left me boneless and vulnerable, and when I finally opened my eyes, I couldn’t scream or call for help or do anything but lie there, staring at the ceiling. My hand lay on the pillow beside me, but I stared at it as if it wasn’t even mine. 

I ended up dozing a little; clearly enough that my visions kicked in – I could see Carlisle, Esme, and Jasper arriving at the house, Dad and Simon looking grim. Well, Dad looked miserable and old. Simon had this professional nurse ‘this is bad’ face on. 

“How is she?” Carlisle asked, after they were invited in.

“Broken,” Dad murmured, looking worn out and distressed. 

“Screaming night terrors,” Simon clarified, putting his arms around my father’s shoulders. “I ended up giving her some Valium – we’d get her back to sleep, and minutes later, the screaming would start again.”

“You drugged her?” Jasper demanded, a dangerous look in his eyes. 

“We didn’t have a choice. It was Valium or I called 911,” Simon said gently. “I couldn’t treat someone for trauma in my own house at midnight. Hell, I couldn’t treat someone for trauma without a doctor present. The Valium prescription was one of Alice’s when she arrived. And she needed sleep.”

“She kept telling us she wished she had died,” Dad added. “Over and over again. It’s all she would say.”

Esme and Carlisle looked shaken, but Jasper had just shut down entirely. 

//

I managed to drag myself out of bed, and into the shower, but eschewed clothing for a clean pair of pajama bottoms and tee, running my fingers through my hair. It needed to be washed.

My chest felt tight as I sat down in front of the food Simon had made for me. Simon was still cooking, with Dad, Carlisle, Esme, and Jasper gathered around the island with me.

I felt hollow and exhausted as I considered the plate of fruit and yogurt, along with two slices of toast. I managed a small bite and felt the cool cloud of Jasper’s gift seeping into myself, not bothering to resist. 

“Where have you been, Alice?” Dad asked gently.

I flinched, and then rearranged my expression again, poking some melon with my fork. “Away,” I said softly. “Somewhere safe.”

“You weren’t safe here?” Simon asked. 

I brought another bite of food to my mouth to avoid answering the question; I didn’t want to say it, but they were all watching me. 

“Not anymore. Not after Christmas,” I mumbled into my fruit. 

Finally, I gave up. I got up and left the table, padding up to my bedroom, where my backpack was. The folded piece of paper was filthy and crumpled, but still legible, thankfully. 

No one was expecting me to return to the kitchen, clearly. I slid the folded paper across to Simon and Carlisle. 

Jasper would be disgusted with me. That I’d only gotten sick because he’d left me and I had been trying to find them when they didn’t want to be found. I always knew I was twisted up and ruined inside, thanks to Mommy Dearest, but this was the proof. I had had an opportunity to give Jasper the one impossible thing, and I had fucking failed. 

I missed him, I needed him. He was my other half, the lost fragment. And in two short steps, I was curled in his rather startled arms, my face half-buried in his shirt.

It took Simon and Carlisle only a moment to decipher the medical shorthand, and Simon looked up at me in horror. Carlisle just looked so sad. I let out a shuddering breath, breathing in Jasper’s scent, and waited. 

“Oh, kiddo,” Simon said, looking heartbroken. “Alice, why didn’t you tell us?”

“What?” Dad said, squinting at the paper. 

“Alice, have you seen a doctor since?” Carlisle asked kindly. I shook my head. 

“Okay, you need to be checked out, as soon as possible,” he said.

//

I didn’t have any energy left, and went back upstairs. It felt like cheating, to have Carlisle and Simon to tell everyone, to do my dirty work. But the idea of voicing those thoughts, those words, made my stomach twist tightly. 

My bed was cool and smelt like home. It was good to be here, to be back. That was what I was telling myself.

[sidewayspeace444]

Sooo…..

I’m not sure how to word this and hopefully it’s not long, but I’ll begin by saying, Chris Evans’ fandom just needs to ignore EVERYTHING from his side, that includes his friends, family, the “wife” and her friends, etc.

I do believe there may be more than meets the eye with this mess behind the scenes, but I also recognize that as much as this entire “shitshow” as its now been deemed, seems phony and fake…. At this point, let’s just say it’s what it is. Chris is a married man and he married a woman that I don’t believe he truly knows, but that’s on him. 🤷🏻‍♀️

See, looking back at everything, even if this started as PR, which I’m partial to believe…..Chris still sat his ass on stage last week and said he…. Married a woman from Portugal. 😂

But, I remember his likes on IG years ago, he liked and followed some big booty fitness influencer and no, not that Sara chick. I think he and 🐟 might’ve had a PR thing that started professionally and then he liked whatever, but when it was time to “debut” this mess….. his dumbass never expected the backlash. If this has always been real or pr turned real or just pr, etc he never expected fans to deep dive into the problematic woman who keeps trolling his fandom? See, people stated her IG cleaned up of over 100 posts so he or someone knew enough. He is not permanently attached to racist scum.

Look Chris is a very privileged white male, like….DUH!

But look how he talks about project roles, so many deserving actors and actresses are out here scraping for decent roles and then there’s Chris….Mr. “I turn down lead roles”, “I only want to make one movie a year”, “I don’t understand my privilege so I take advantage of it”.

Chris has been in a Marvel/Disney protection bubble for over a decade. It prevented him from growing as an actor and person. He had people at the ready to clean his mess and wipe his ass. He’s no longer in that bubble and ironically you can go back and see how he’s been cascading down ever since. He started decent with Knives Out and Defending Jacob, but then the pandemic happened and he like many…. Lost their minds and sanity.

First it was Lily James PR mess and then I guess money was decent that he chose to do another stunt and it’s led to all of this. Chris wants to seem like he’s smarter than he comes off, but I do believe he’s the type to go…. You like Eckart Tolle?!…..omg me too, yep we’re destined to be together. Boston has a huge population from PT, and racist history so 🐟 should enjoy her time there. 🙄

Anyway Chris has ALWAYS had problematic individuals in his circle both personally and professionally, again….privileged white man who loves to act holier than thou. He did some basic ass tweets during trump era and people started stanning him because everyone hated trump and Chris was basically the conduit of their thoughts.

He pandered to black women, even reprimanded one during an interview, after again…pandering …pretending to flirt over her white boots, knowing he’s being recorded …..then got pissy with her…all because she used the word “brand”. But look at his “brand” now. 😒

This man left social media because he couldn’t withstand the pressure of people not kissing his ass and his choice in life partner. He keeps saying the internet is bad, no sweetie, the internet isn’t the problem it’s YOU!

Ugh, I’m done, mainly because I too wanted this to turn out to be 100% PR, he acted like he didn’t like her publicly only to put a ring on it, yet that could have been to have people wondering and staying engaged with this mess.

I think she’ll be his karma for however long they last.

There is 0.1% in me that would LOVE for this mess to be revealed as shitty PR, fake marriage and all, but I’m tired of trying to force feed things. Chris has a ring… fake or not, it would be stupid to acknowledge himself as married only to come back with….. I’m not married, still single.

So for those believing this is PR, I stand with you, but I’m tired of holding out hope that he was ever truly decent. Decent people don’t have multiple problematic friends and coworkers, Emily Blunt is a fat shamed too, her and Justin should get along very well. Decent people don’t take their career and fans for granted EVER!

This IS who Chris Evans is and it’s time everyone drops the projection and fantasy. If I’m wrong…… I’d like to see Chris himself prove me wrong, but that’s not going to happen…..is it?

This fandom use to be a source of fun and relief from personal shit, but now it’s aided in more gaslighting and emotional hurt about a guy I never knew.

You all have been so cool and I wish Chris turned out to be the man we all thought he actually was, but his own actions have proven, he’s not.

Everyone take care! ✌️

Let’s stop defending this man like we are getting paid. Let’s drag him! He wants to blame everyone but himself for his flop era

[lyricailove]

Gallagher Siblings: Who's A Picky Eater?

I haven't written meta in a good minute. Let's ramble about characters for a little bit.

I think Fiona was happy with whatever food Frank and Monica remembered to give her. As soon as she was old enough to reach the counter, she knew that she'd basically be on her own so she learned to be grateful for whatever was in the house or what she could manage to scrape together for her, Lip, and Ian. Eventually, as she got older and was able to bring in some money she had her favorites and would be ecstatic when she could have them. Fiona strikes me as a fried rice gal. Like when she could afford takeout it'd be the boost she needed to hang in there for the rest of the week.

Lip, I feel, is a picky eater but when he was younger he would try not to complain unless it was something he really hated. When Fiona would place a veggie he didn't like on his plate he'd huff but would still eat. Now he'll just forego eating foods he doesn't like but will still thank whoever cooked.

Ian being the sweetheart he is never wanted to make Fiona upset or come off like he doesn't appreciate her cooking. So if Ian didn't like what was on his plate he'd eat it anyway and confess to Lip that he didn't like it later. He knew Lip wouldn't tell on him. I feel like Ian would also tell Debbie and Carl not to complain when they don't like something. As a devoted husband, if Micky makes Ian dinner and Ian happens to not like it, he'll break the news but still tell Mickey that he loves the gesture.

Debbie is seen as Fiona's helper in the early seasons and even later on. I think Debbie was picky and might even say that she doesn't like something out loud, but she would also explain why and how Fiona could make it better. Debbie is a problem solver by nature, she's not going to make a comment if she doesn't have something constructive to add. But once she learned how to cook, you better believe she wouldn't stand for anyone not being 100% grateful for her cooking. You don't like her spaghetti? Make it yourself next time!

Carl is one of those boys who was happy to eat anything. He just wanted to finish so he could go outside and play. Yes sometimes he'd be a little carnivore and try to sneakily leave his veggies untouched but he has too many older siblings to get away with that. And Ian and Lip weren't above picking him up and putting him right back in his chair until he finished.

Liam isn't picky per se, just particular when it comes to textures. Trim the fat off his meat, no secret crunchy bits, likes his carrots a little firm and not squishy. He's open about his preferences but he won't throw a fit if things aren't perfect. Just a little withdrawn about his food that night.

[sezja]

Gone

Everything aches - Thaffe feels like he ought to have gotten used to this by now, after his first week in the mines, but every muscle protests at day's end... and all the more when he wakes up again in the morning, stiff after a night's fitful rest. He trails behind his fellow miners, enduring their jeers and teasing with a weary smile; he's the newest and youngest fellow on the team. A little ribbing's only to be expected.

"You'll get used to it, lad." Guthjon, his mentor, claps a friendly hand on Thaffe's shoulder. "You're young and strong, and fit to grow stronger still."

"I just wish it'd happen faster." Still, Thaffe's grateful for Guthjon's rare compassion and patience; gods know the other Ronso miners won't cut him any slack. They all say he's got no business in the mines - a sentiment he hasn't argued against. It's not work he enjoys... but it's the only work left in Twine, even if it's not much, and Thaffe's done living off the charity of Jeryk's family, who hardly have enough for themselves. He's old enough at fifteen summers to start working for a living, and Guthjon's a good teacher - even if it does make Jeryk's mother fret.

They'll likely have to close up their inn and leave town soon, Thaffe thinks, not for the first time. Just like everyone else. Twine's been dying a slow death since the Stoneworks finally packed up and left - people either giving up and heading for greener pastures, or being forced to do so when they were unable to scrape together the money for basic necessities.

For now, Jeryk's family's scraping along, but barely. His mother takes in laundry; his father handles odd repair jobs - it's not enough, though, and soon...

Thaffe tries to imagine Twine without Jeryk, and can't. It makes his heart twist. All the friends they've said farewell to over the past few years... at least they've always had each other; that's the important thing. Another year or two, and maybe it won't matter anymore; long enough for Jeryk to be old enough to stay behind when his parents leave... but that's praying they stay that long, when things are running dry now. They should move on, Thaffe knows; they deserve a better life than this, and Jeryk too.

There are no trolleys, not even defunct ones, anywhere else in Norvrandt, though, and Jeryk will be miserable - like trying to make a flower bloom in the Empty.

"Don't get so lost in thought you fall off the rails," Guthjon teases, startling Thaffe from his brooding. They walk along the old trolley tracks, a relatively safe route back to Twine - if one doesn't trip over a spar and go tumbling down fo break their neck, anyway. Thaffe shakes his head.

"I wasn't-"

"Hold," Guthjon says, pausing. Frowning. "Something's..."

Something tugs at the edge of Thaffe's hearing. Screaming. A woman's voice, raised in a wordless wailing shriek of grief.

It's then that Thaffe really looks at Twine, near enough now to make out evidence of some struggle - tremendous gouging scrapes on the walls, buildings damaged or collapsing...

And the bodies of sin eaters, slowly dissolving into glowing aether.

While they'd been safe in the mines, Twine had been attacked.

"Wicked white," Guthjon breathes, his voice unsteady. "Come on, Thaffe; they'll need help-"

Thaffe doesn't need encouragement. He runs, all his weariness forgotten; the woman is still screaming, her keening driving a spike of fear deep into his heart. Raw and anguished as it is, he's recognized her voice.

Jeryk's mother.

In town, things are worse. The damage is done; the eaters have moved on, but the carnage is enough to steal Thaffe's breath away. Twine's not safe, exactly - no town cowering at the foot of the Flood could be - but they rarely see more than one or two stray eaters, easily avoided until some hunter drifts through. This, though... there must have been a swarm. Healers are already hard at work; someone must've already gotten word to Mord Souq - they hurry from person to person, tending what wounds can yet be tended... and checking, always, for signs that the aether of their patients has been tainted with Light.

Five bodies lie in the shade beneath the trolley scaffolding, covered by clean sheets. Those the healers couldn't save. Thaffe tries not to wonder who they might be; tries not to look too closely; he hears Guthjon murmur a prayer for the departed. The other miners have all scattered, looking for friends and loved ones among the survivors, trying to tally their losses - Guthjon, with no family left of his own, follows Thaffe, as though he knows the boy will have need of a shoulder to lean on.

He recognizes the wailing woman's voice, as well.

By now she's wept herself hoarse, but her cries still carry far enough to lead Thaffe right to her. She appears unharmed - thank the gods for small favors, Thaffe thinks - for all she's distraught, sitting in the dirt with her arms wrapped tight around herself, pouring out her misery. Esmena Motplowe is a tiny woman, seemingly too delicate for life in rough-and-ready Twine at the best of times, but never before has Thaffe thought she more resembled a heartbroken child: a pain too big for words, too vast for comprehension, and all she can do is scream and cry until it runs its course.

"Thaffe. Guthjon." Esmena's husband, Ardin, raises hollow, reddened eyes to greet them. He sits on the ground beside his inconsolable wife, his arm in a hastily-made cast: the only injury Thaffe sees, another small miracle. But his wife's grief is etched deep on the man's face - he looks as though he's aged ten years since Thaffe saw him just last night.

Fear roots Thaffe to the spot.

Guthjon steps forward, gently patting Esmena's shoulder. "There now, lass, what's happened?" He need not have wasted his breath; the woman doesn't even so much as stop for breath.

No. Gods, no.

Thaffe makes himself stumble forward, kneeling before her. "Ma," he says, as gently as he can, around a throat grown too tight. He draws her hands into his, squeezing. "Ma, where's Jeryk?"

Hiccuping between sobs, she stares through him, her green eyes (So like her son's. Always glittering with some private joy. Always bright with curiosity; with eagerness.) red and raw. "Thaffe," she manages, a whisper... and then a pained groan, as though she's been stabbed through the heart-

Or as though her heart's been torn out.

"We were on the tavern roof," Ardin says, his quiet voice steady. Too steady. Numb. "Jeryk and I. Patching it up. When the eaters came, I... I sent him down first - told him to find his mother, to stay with her..." He drags his good hand down his face, shaking. "When I went to follow him down, I slipped. Fell. Knocked myself senseless, broke my arm." His eyes close. "When I came to, it was over, and Jeryk was gone."

Gone. Gone?

Guthjon lets out a long, slow breath. "Gods. The poor lad. There was no...?"

No body.

Ardin shakes his head, eyes closed. "I looked. Asked everyone. Looked at all the dead, just in case..."

But it would've been easy to recognize one small body among the dead. No body meant a fate far worse than death, and agony every moment of the change. Thaffe watches Esmena's face twist in grief again, and his hands slide away from hers, falling limp. She buries her face in her hands, muffling her cries, but to Thaffe, they sound a thousand malms away - as though he's gazing out at the world from a long, dark tunnel.

Jeryk.

He'd seen his friend just that morning as he left the house - Jeryk still sound asleep where he'd climbed into Thaffe's bed, as usual. They'd stayed up far too late talking about... gods, what had they even talked about? Silly things. Jeryk had gone on about wanting to restore the old trolley cars, as if they knew the first thing about such things, and Thaffe had drowsily humored him - knowing all the while that he had to wake up absurdly early to get to the mine, but not quite being willing to kick Jeryk out...

He'd ruffled Jeryk's tousled blond hair as he left.

He stares at his hands, remembering with strange sharpness the way Jeryk's hair felt against his fingers. The sound of his voice, half-hushed, cracking with all his fourteen-summers' eagerness as he talked about restoring the trolley and tracks. The living warmth of him in the bed at Thaffe's side.

Gone.

Not like this, he thinks, thoughts colliding and tumbling over one another. Not like this. I knew I'd need to lose him soon, but never this, not this, not...

He'll spend the rest of his life peering at every sin eater, wondering. If the gods are merciful, it'll be a short life.

He's dimly aware of Guthjon speaking to him, but the words slide off. The tone is comforting, commiserating. The miner pats his back, speaks once more to the grieving parents, and leaves. There are others he can help. Others who can yet be helped. This... this, Thaffe supposes, only time can heal.

He tries to imagine Twine without Jeryk, and can't.

Closing his eyes, he tortures himself with thoughts of how it must have happened. He'd been safe in the mines, hammering blithely away, complaining about his shoulders and back aching, and all the while...

Jeryk, realizing his father had fallen; wasn't moving. Jeryk would've panicked. Where would his mother have been? The other side of town? It would've seemed like the other side of Norvrandt. Jeryk never thought clearly when he was spooked; he wouldn't have thought to find somewhere to hide. No, faced with danger, Jeryk would've run...

Jeryk would've run.

The idea fills his mind like a diamond unearthed in an old seam. His breath catches. It's an impossible hope; wild and desperate, but if he's right -

He gets to his feet and runs at a dead sprint, heedless of the shouts that follow him.

Thaffe runs along the tracks as fast as his feet will carry him, just as he's told Jeryk not to do a thousand times. He tries not to think about how much open sky there is above him, or how tempting a target one scrawny, terrified teenage hume would've been; hope is all he has left, and he'll need it to carry him to the end. If he's wrong, he fears it might just kill him.

The empty railyard at Mount Biran's abandoned mines, littered with the ruins of long-abandoned trolleys left to bake beneath the Amh Araeng sun and the blistering Light.

Thaffe's not even certain what compelled him to come here, what made him think this might be where Jeryk ran, only... only that this is where they've been spending their days, lately; looking out over the rotting tracks and thinking about what used to be. Jeryk chattering on about the trolleys and their heyday as if he'd lived them, going on and on... Thaffe's not sure he hasn't come to take an interest in trolleys by force, at this rate.

"Jeryk!" His voice echoes over the yard, cracking with desperation. "Jeryk! Where are you!?"

Silence. Stillness.

Doubt gnaws at his gut, making his breathing ragged.

If he's wrong... if he's wrong...

He calls again, eyes darting around as though he might catch any hint of-

There.

He's moving before he even recognizes what he's seen: the slightest twitch of a shadow beneath one of the intact trolleys. It's a small space, narrow... but not too small for one scared boy.

"Jeryk," he says, all but throwing himself to the ground, peering into the shadows.

Relief so strong it leaves him breathless washes over him: there, huddled between the tracks, still trembling with fear and adrenaline both...

"Jeryk," he manages again, choking on emotion. "It's safe now, you can come out. Let's go on home-"

But Jeryk shakes his head, inching further back; in the darkness, his eyes are wide and dark with terror. "No, no-"

He's always so skittish when he's frightened. Thaffe supposes he could wait here until the boy is ready to come out on his own; barring the occasional stray coyote, there's not much to fear here. Were it not for the memory of Esmena weeping herself into hysterics in her grief...

And his own need to be sure he's not looking at some phantom dreamed up by his own grief. That, too.

"Jeryk," he says, a third time. Gentle. He reaches out a hand. "It's me; it's Thaffe. I'd never hurt you. You know I'd never hurt you."

A whimper. A shiver. And something human resurfaces in Jeryk's eyes.

"Thaffe..." The boy drags himself forward, seizing Thaffe's hand, and letting himself be pulled back out into the Light.

Thaffe didn't mean to pull Jeryk into his arms, but he finds he's done it anyway, clinging and weeping like a child. Jeryk clings back, though, burying his face against Thaffe's shoulder, sobbing, blubbering about sin eaters. They sit together in the dirt beside the tracks, too overwrought to stand - Thaffe finds he can't string two thoughts together; only an endless rush of disbelief and gratitude, and the fear that if he lets go, even if only for a moment, Jeryk will simply evaporate: an illusion brought on by grief.

So he holds on, so tight he's certain he must be hurting Jeryk after all.

"Gods," he says, after what feels like hours. Jeryk's parents must be certain he's gone off and gotten himself killed in a fit of grief-fueled madness. The best apology he can make is to restore their son to them. "We... we should get home-"

Jeryk stirs, lifting his head from Thaffe's shoulder for the first time since he'd emerged from under the trolley. His face is smudged with tears and dust; his eyes are red and raw, so like his mother's. "Did... did you see my dad?"

"He's-" Wicked white, I should've said something sooner. "He's fine. Busted his arm, that's all. He's worried sick about you." He leaves out the fact that Jeryk's parents had been convinced he was dead or worse; that'll only distress him further.

Jeryk squirms guiltily in his arms. "I just-"

"I know." He gets back to his feet, pulling Jeryk up along with him. Reluctantly - and feeling foolish for it - he releases the boy, who doesn't vanish on the spot. "Let's get home, shall we?" He ruffles Jeryk's hair, already mussed from scrambling under the trolley, and tries not to think about how certain he'd been that he'd never do so again.

I can't imagine Twine without you.

He tries not to think about it.

Jeryk smiles - a little wobbly at the corners, a little more sniffly than usual, but it'll do. They begin the familiar walk back to Twine, their feet falling steadily on the old tracks, watching for loose boards beneath their feet.

"Hey, Thaffe?"

"Hm?"

Jeryk smiles again, and Thaffe knows what he's in for. "Do you suppose there might be some way to use the trolley to protect Twine from sin eaters?"

Gods, what would I ever even do if I lost you? "Well-"

But Jeryk's already in a world of his own, spinning a tale of trolleys opposing the Light.

Thaffe shakes his head, smiling.

Thank the gods.

[trunswicked]

As per your twitter I am here to ask about your modern!lyon

OH MY GOODNESS. Okay, so, I PROMISE I haven't been ignoring this ask..... I just had to put together something a little special for it!! I said I've thought about modern!Lyon a LOT, and after reading this list... you can be the judge of that.

First of all, artwork of the boy!!

Next...... everything else. This one is for you, Lyon fans (warning for a wall of text; I normally don't talk this much on this blog, but this is ABSOLUTELY a special occasion. You asked, and I deliver!!)

Firstly, our boy is – and I cannot stress this enough – a TOTAL fashion buff. His wardrobe is huge and he has an outfit for basically any occasion ever.

He wears a lot of loose-fitting stuff that kinda gives hipster/tumblr user, especially with the tattoos and glasses (lmao) but he can pull off any style if he tries hard enough. you can ALWAYS tell that he knows how to dress no matter what he’s wearing.

I don’t really have anything specific in mind that his tattoos represent – it’s a random collection of things that tapers off around the end of his forearm. There’s like, roses and thorns and swords and maybe even a dragon in there somewhere. He also has one separate tattoo on the back of his hand.

Dude’s got the round glasses, too! I’m 50/50 on whether he actually needs them to see, but I think it’d be cute if he did. Makes him seem a bit more nerdy hehe

He collects pins as well (most of which are pinned to his schoolbag). An ongoing list of them would be:

Mogall: a monster from his favorite video game (that happens to be on the GBA, perhaps).

Rose: a reminder of the twins, Eirika in particular because she gave it to him.

Sword: specifically the FE logo from Smash.

Bi heart: You Know.

Wolf: reference to Garm (Grado lore)!!

He’s also got total rich kid & city boy energy. He lives an extremely lavish life (I’m talking, like, chilling in an expensive bathrobe after a rose-petal bath, while sipping on a glass of red wine) because he’s dramatic like that.

And THAT’S because single-father!Vigarde makes some massive amount of money doing whatever business he does. He supports his son like the cool (if a little distant, because he works so much) dad he is. Lyon’s not completely reliant on his dad’s money, but he’s never had to scrape by, if you know what I mean lmao

Vigarde also contributes to his son’s college fund (we’ll come back to what Lyon is studying later) and helped him finance his own solo apartment.

Speaking of the apartment, it’s pretty spacious and has a modern look, w/ red brick walls and big windows overlooking the city (exactly the kind of interior you’d expect an art student from some crowded urban area to live in). He also manages to keep the whole place surprisingly tidy despite being kind of a shut-in lol.

The most important thing about his living space, though, is the indoor plants. you can barely even SEE through all of the plants he owns in certain places. It’s like a jungle in there.

And he dotes on every single one of them!! Instead of becoming a crazy cat person, he just became a plant parent instead…….. He is visited by a moody black cat (named after Fomortiis) sometimes, tho.

His place also has a good amount of art displayed around. Photos he took of the twins throughout the years are pinned on the wall next to his bed…. he likes to keep them close while he sleeps :)

And about the photos – he’s great with a camera, and I like to think he’s got a job in photography (it’s maybe also what he’s studying in college)! And not just that, but I also think the twins work with him regularly – it’s related to what they do for a living.

Eirika & Eph are his childhood best friends who temporarily moved out-of-country when they were all teens, btw. They later reunite with him in their 20s and it’s super sweet!!

True to character, he’s always had gigantic crushes on both of them; as an adult he’s still too shy to ask either of them out though lol. Especially because they work together. As it stands, all he does is admire them from behind his camera.

Eirika adores all of his plants – and cat!Fomortiis too 🥰 she visits Lyon as much as she can, and they bond over their fashion knowledge (Eirika is a cosplayer for SURE) and love for the same music/books/movies.

Lyon has a dozen of her books laying around his house (her recommendations). She leaves little notes in them sometimes, and it REALLY doesn’t help him think about her less.

He & Eph don’t share nearly as many interests, but they also hang out constantly. Eph is the one who drags Lyon out of his house to go do stuff together, which he appreciates (in hindsight).

Lyon’s always wanted to be athletic, charming & comfortable in his body like him, and regularly mistakes Eph’s attempts at flirting for him just being an asshole (affectionate).

But anyhow, everything else related to his character is basically straight from canon. He's a complete bookworm, knows a bit more about first aid than the average person, has a pretty weak immune system, struggles a LOT with his self-esteem, is introverted like his dad but likes making friends, and so on and so forth.

The "knows how to dress" part is probably the most important thing to emphasize here. He's one of the best-dressed guys in Magvel, I PROMISE that's true (but dw, Joshua is up there on the list as well).

So that's all I have to share!! I think more and more about him as time goes on, and will probably come up with more stuff, but this is just about every headcanon I've been rotating in my brain thus far. Hope you enjoyed this - and I hope I've convinced you into some of these concepts (like photographer!Lyon...... I want to believe 😳). He's pretty fun to imagine as a modern guy doing his silly modern stuff, but I'm sure you already knew that. This boy deserves all the love. <3

[the-real-zhora-salome]

MILWAUKEE — As recently as 2021, the newly announced Republican candidate for vice president, Sen. J.D. Vance, R-Ohio, had harsh words for Americans who divorce, including those who did so to leave abusive marriages. Divorcees, Vance argued, are quitters who ruin their children's lives. 

"This is one of the great tricks that I think the sexual revolution pulled on the American populace, which is the idea that like, 'Well, OK, these marriages were fundamentally, you know, they were maybe even violent, but certainly they were unhappy. And so getting rid of them and making it easier for people to shift spouses like they change their underwear, that's going to make people happier in the long term," Vance told the audience at Pacifica Christian High School in Southern California. 

The 39-year-old Vance went on to argue that kids "who grew up in my generation" ended up with "family dysfunction" because couples are no longer "doggedly determined to stick it out." The "Hillbilly Elegy" author held up his grandparents as role models, because they "were together to the end," despite "an incredibly chaotic marriage."

But while Vance may sneer at women who prefer safety rather than "’til death do us part," he conveniently has no quarrel with Donald Trump, who has been divorced twice, has children with three women and a lengthy history of chronic adultery. Vance glowed with excitement at the Republican National Convention in Milwaukee Monday evening as delegates chanted his name. The freshman senator's months of bowing and scraping had paid off, when the thrice-married Trump, famous for bragging about sexual assault, named Vance his running mate. 

In 2021, Vance lamented the supposed loss of the "recognition that marriage was sacred." In 2024, when Trump received 34 felony convictions for paying hush money to one of the many women he's committed adultery with, Vance whined, "it’s a disgrace to our judicial system." It appears that the holy nature of marriage couldn't compete with the opportunity to spend another four years of his life kissing the feet of a man he once said he "can't stomach." 

On a surface level, this pairing of Trump's open disregard for basic marital morality with Vance's sanctimony is just an extension of the larger incoherence that characterizes this year's Republican National Convention. It's certainly whiplash-inducing to be here, where attendees swing wildly between showy displays of Christian piety and vulgar and even threatening language toward fellow Americans who disagree with them politically. The shame that usually accompanies hypocrisy was abandoned years ago by this crowd. 

But perhaps that's because it's not really hypocrisy that drives the MAGA movement. It's an attachment to traditional hierarchies that allow such appalling double standards to flourish. Violence from Republicans, such as on January 6, is acceptable because it's enforcing the social order they support. But the attempted murder of Trump is beyond the pale because it's an assault on the only leader they accept as legitimate. 

In that light, it's not hard to see what holds Vance's seemingly disparate views together. It's not a faith in marriage, but an allegiance to male domination.

While he was carefully gender-neutral in his 2021 comments, the larger context suggests Vance's grievance is with women. No-fault divorce is the result of years of feminist organizing. Women initiate 70% of divorces. And while there are certainly male victims of domestic abuse, the vast majority of people who need to escape violent marriages are women. Vance can play all the word games he likes, but when he's deriding "people" for not having good enough reasons for ending marriages, there's little doubt it's women he's mostly thinking of. It's usually women who are being chastised in these right-wing laments about divorce. Women have always been the ones expected to suffer adultery, abuse, or just plain unhappiness to hold a marriage together. Divorced men like Trump don't get rebuked, especially by the Christian right, even when it's their adulteries and abuses that caused the divorce. Ultimately, the blame is placed on the wives for not working harder to save the marriage. 

This sexist double standard explains why Trump's biggest base of support is divorced men, as pollster Daniel Cox demonstrated last week. 

In his slightly jokey response to this report, Jonathan Last of The Bulwark wrote, "There is a particular type of mental break," which he calls "Divorced Dude Energy," which he feels explains "the way some middle-aged men went cuckoo for Trump." Many, even most divorced men are not like this, he hastens to add. Still, we've all seen these cases where "a seemingly normal guy’s marriage breaks up and suddenly he’s a different person. Angry. Resentful. Superior. Kind of agro."

Cox tries to bothsides the issue, writing, "Men and women who have ever been hurt or mistreated by the opposite sex more readily make their pain public, and their personal grievances become politicized." But this explanation makes no sense, as divorced women are more likely to make sensible political choices. It's mostly men lining up behind a violent fascist who brags about sexual assault. Divorced women aren't voting to take away men's rights. The majority of divorced men are backing a man who successfully ended abortion rights, and whose new running mate wants to force all pregnant women to give birth. 

The appeal of Trumpism to men with Divorced Dude Energy isn't that mysterious: They like the Christian right worldview that Vance is peddling, where a woman is expected to hold a marriage together, no matter how great the cost to her. The phenomenon Last describes makes sense if one assumes, correctly, that sexist societies like ours produce men who have an easily bruised sense of entitlement. For a man who is bitter over a divorce, there's a sense of validation in joining forces with other men who are also angry at women. 

Divorced Dudes of the sort Last describes will not hear Vance's lament about divorce and feel insulted. They will take it in the spirit intended: As an attack on their ex-wives for leaving them. That's also why Trump likely doesn't care. He knows that when Vance criticizes divorced people, he means divorced women. 

[secretgamergirl]

I hate this, but it's kinda telethon time.

We are closing in on the end of the month, which means it's going to be the first of a new month, which means that A- I must write a check to my landlord for $1100, and B- That patreon page I keep forgetting to link at the end of posts is going to lock in donations for the month... and then probably take a week or two to forward me the money. For quite some time now, the amount I'm getting out of Patreon has been significantly less than that magic $1100, and that's not even the total amount of money I need to have every month to continue to be alive. There's also food and electricity and a frankly unreasonable ISP bill and all. Specifically, just putting the cards on the table here, the current expected cash ball coming in is... "$762.4" and yes it is super weird that Patreon will list 40 cents as ".4" like that.

So, this month is not The Month. Scraping stuff together, calling in favors, having a nice windfall from putting that little RPG in a bundle, I in fact have enough cash en route to my bank that I can cover rent for September BEFORE Patreon gives me that $762.40, and still have a couple hundred bucks to cover having power and eating enough to stay alive. But when October 1st gets here, yeah, I'm just going to have what Patreon is gearing up to send me here, and if I manage to convince my landlord to give me an extension and wait for that month's payment, I can... MAYBE live through that month? Don't think buying Halloween candy to hand out is in that budget though, and based on current projections, yeah, by November there is going to be A Problem.

I'm trying every angle I can to scrape cash up, but my primary source of income at the moment is still... put entertaining/interesting/informative things up on the internet and hope people enjoy those enough to want to throw some money my way. And this blog here has kinda been the only platform I've had for sharing stuff, so basically what I'm asking is...

WHAT DO YOU PEOPLE WANT FROM ME!?

But no, for real. I have a lot of different irons in the fire right now, and haven't been sharing much on most of them, but if there's a particular sort of thing you'd like to see from me, and particularly if seeing that would leave you predisposed to throw a little money my way, please just flag me down via message here on tumblr or discord if you know how or... some e-mail I'll maybe remember to check, and let me know? I know people still love that Ranma thing I wrote up years ago, I could maybe find more things to do trans readings on? Did people like that FF14 plot summary? Want more like that? Movie reviews maybe? Updates on games I'm working on? I've been spending a ton of time on this really ambitious electronics project. I could talk about that more? Explain how computers work in great detail? Shove everything aside and get back to Twitch streaming? I'm desperate over here.

[palialaina]

Boy.

It has been...

I may have lost my temper with Kenli, finally. He's not a bad person, he's just a damn doormat, and I can't fix his problems for him. I get Eshe's frustration absolutely, though I still think she goes a bit overboard in how rigid she is...

So, the deed I dug up for the Daiya farm a few weeks ago was apparently scrutinized heavily by Kenyara and she decided it wasn't good enough. Kenli asked me to get together a tax for the farm so that they wouldn't have to worry, and you know, I have the veggies to spare, so I did it. (I need to buy more wheat. I forgot to do that and ran out of seeds...)

And then he told me that it didn't matter because she'd decided that she was going to kick them out anyways and move in some new people. And he didn't know what to do, but could I maybe go tell them about it?

I.

Blew.

UP.

I'm a water person too, according to basically everyone I talk to, but the thing about water is that it is just as dangerous as any other element. Earth crushes, fire burns, air suffocates, water drowns.

I told him to stop being a little tiny creek, and be a damn tidal wave of no already.

...I think I scared him a bit, honestly. But for fuck's sake... at least he managed to scrape together the backbone to tell his sister no.

The irony-cherry on top being that the people Kenyara had selected to replace the best farming family in Kilima were scammers. They'd planned on taking Kenyara's advance money (what the fuck, lady??) and bolting.

So, yanno, my rare show of temper actually worked out pretty damn well for all involved.

....Jel gave me tea and macarons and made me go upstairs to rest for a bit when I stomped into the store. He's a darling and I adore him.

Also, apparently Lark also found one of Reth's fail-eggs. That was fun to walk in on. He was so purple~ Poor Reth. Maybe next time he'll actually keep track of where he buries those yikes things.

My next source of stress? I was tag-teamed by Hassian and Sifuu.

So, Sifuu's book is... sort of out. Caleri stuck it in the fiction section because of the intense amount of liberties Sifuu took when writing her own memoirs.

Seriously, when you piss off your own son with your embellishments, that's definitely a sign you went too far.

Sifuu's version was.. dramatic. Love at first sight. According to Hassian, that's all a lie, and Sifuu was childhood friends with Taylin before they got married.

So, already I was feeling kind of cranky on Hassian's behalf, because why lie about that, Sifuu? And then he goes on to tell me that there was kind of a mess about them being thrown out of their original village because...

Okay.

So, Sifuu and Taylin worked as bounty hunters. And Taylin was supposed to kill a creature, but that creature came back and decimated a village. So her village thought she lied to get paid. Taylin swore that the thing must have regenerated, and honestly, I think I'm on Taylin's side. We have magical trees that heal their own axe cuts ffs, regenerating beasties is not exactly out there in terms of things this place could produce.

Well, they got thrown out of their village, and word was spread that Taylin was a liar, so no one else would take them in. Taylin went to try and clear her name, but never came back.

And yeah, I'm definitely on Hassian's side for this one. He was so upset. He doesn't usually let me touch him, let alone hug him, but I was able to give cuddles until he was calm again.

Then he got embarrassed, but yanno, it was cute.

After that, I went to tell Sifuu she was an idiot (because she was), and Sifuu id very clearly where Hassian gets his inability to communicate, if nothing else. She asked me to help fix things, and in this case it literally meant fixing a thing from his childhood, and old bow Taylin had made him. Wasn't hard, I have a stockpile of stuff at this point, so, ran home, ran back, gave her the stuff.

I really wish it ended there.

She did give me this tho. I had Einar over to help me put it up high because I don't know what else to do with it, but it's too nice to just... shove into storage.

Also, I know I will cut myself on that thing if I do that, and Hassian would throw a fit.

Hassian did come around and gave me a lovely heartdrop lily. I'm going to keep it special for when I make him a pin. I just need to figure out what I can use to represent him... And maybe also see if he actually likes me that way, or if I'm reading too much into it.

(I did talk to Jel about it. Again. He repeated that as long as Hassian made me happy, he was more than able to share. He got kisses for that.)

So, okay, it does not end there, and I don't know if I wish it did, or if I'm glad it kept going, but like...

Sifuu asked me to come see her, because she really really suck at talking to Hassian in a way that gets him to... you know. Share. And I'm better at it, so she asked me to figure out why he was still upset.

Turns out, they'd started going through Taylin's things, and he found an old book of star charts. Apparently he's an avid star gazer! I wish I'd know that before, that's half the reason I love being out at night. The stars here are amazing...

So, anyways, I got together the stuff for making him a small telescope, and he seemed to cheer up. Said he was going to put it in his grove, so maybe I'll drop by in a couple nights and see if he'll let me look through it.

For now though, I'm going to take Jel's advice, have a hot bath and then we're going to play a few games of chezzu in the slumber party room so I can finally unwind.