#either way. it's here and marginally better

[spacerangersam]

absolutely devastating news delivered on the Garfield telephone there

the old version for comparison's sake

[saturngalore]

afrofuturism🪐

☆ one ~ solange hair by darknightt (tsr warning) ☆ two ~ loretta hair by @simtric ☆ three ~ bahati braids by @sheabuttyr ☆ four ~ isonoe hair by octetsica ☆ five ~ binah braids by @sheabuttyr ☆ six ~ cornrows & curls hair by @leeleesims1 ☆ seven ~ indie hair by @sashima ☆ eight ~ loc petals by @shespeakssimlish ☆ nine ~ mnemosyne hair by octetsica ☆

mini dedication essay to black simmers and ts4 creators below! pls read if you have the chance! <3

this edit is a small homage to afrofuturism and the various unique black hairstyles (and especially the black creators of most of these hairs) that i have downloaded and admired over the years! some of these are old and some of these are new.

to me, afrofuturism means constantly honoring/reclaiming/challenging the past while constantly creating/dreaming of a better society/world/future. a society/world/future that embraces and empowers all of our differences, ingenuity, aspirations, and unique lived/cultural experiences. a society/world/future that does not limit us through the various systems of marginalization and oppression (racism, homophobia, transphobia, fatphobia, sexism, xenophobia, ableism, classism, colorism, etc.) that often affects how we, as black people, live today.

blackness is so diverse and intricate yet it's always been a struggle to find my culture within a game that's known for being so limiting, bland, and extremely eurocentric when it comes to hairstyles, clothing, food traditions/events, etc. black simmers have always had to figure out how to make this game more inclusive and make it resemble either more like how our ancestors lived, how our current lives are, or how we would want our lives (and even our children's lives) to look like in the future no matter how dystopian the real world look and feel now. fortunately, these hairs and their uniqueness bring a huge sense of culture and style to this game. they have always inspired me and made me feel extremely proud to a part of the lovely african diaspora (and the ever-growing black simmer community).

in a way, being a black simmer and cc creator usually means that we are often digitally creating our own worlds as afrofuturists to varying degrees (whether we know it or not) every time we open our game, make our sims, make houses, and/or make black cultural cc. also, now i know that cc making is not easy to do and is extremely time-consuming so this post is also just me giving all black cc creators especially those who create for free their well-deserved flowers! here are some other black cc creators who created cc that have greatly impacted my game since i first started playing sims 4: @/leeleesims1 @/simtric @/hi-land @/yuyulie @/sims4bradshaw @/ebonixsims @/xmiramira @/sheabuttyr @/qwertysims @/oplerims @/sleepingsims @/shespeakssimlish and so many more im forgetting probably (im too shy rn to tag ppl but i greatly appreciate y’all fr i hope y’all telepathically get this message somehow 😭).

last but not least, i am hoping that this inspires somebody to keep creating or start creating regardless of what they think their skill level is! somebody will absolutely fall in love with your work and/or your art/work will 100% change someone's game forever <333

[hihomeghere]

Dreams | Arthur Morgan/Reader

Word Count : 1.1k Summary : Arthur starts having dreams of starting a family with you Warnings/tags : Cursing, fluff, mention of infidelity, just Arthur being a sweet guy <3

He knows he shouldn’t feel like this. Shouldn’t be having these thoughts, because all they are just dreams. They’re never going to become a reality. Not when they’re constantly on the move, running from place to place. He sees the way it affects Jack, poor kid, not knowing what the hell is going on. And his daddy doesn’t exactly help him understand. 

He can’t even say he would be a better father, he wasn’t before. 

Hell you two ain’t even married yet, and he’s not that much of a fool. Not anymore. His regret for not marrying Eliza weighs heavily on him most days, even if he didn’t love her in that way. Now you on the other hand, he loves you more than anything. More than this stupid gang, more than life itself. He would happily lay down his life if he knew you would be happy, safe. 

When these thoughts enter his head, he can’t say. His days sort of blend together, making it hard to pinpoint. Although seeing you interact with Jack doesn’t help. 

You are so sweet, so motherly, hell you even mother the younger folks in the gang. Soft touches, kind words, but internally strong. You have all the qualities he finds attractive in a woman. Somehow you fell for him just as hard as he fell for you. 

But he ain’t a fool, he knows this ain’t the right time or place. So instead he writes down all these dreams in his journal, his safe place. The place where he can say anything without being judged. He dreams of little girls, he didn’t know how to interact with Isaac. Too afraid of being his own father. Girls seem less daunting, and a little you would be perfect. He already has one angel, what’s one more?

He comes up with the name while north of Brandywine Drop. The bright purple flowers caught his eye just off the trail.

Violet.

Violet Beatrice Morgan.

His heart sings, scribbling the name down in the margins of his journal. He finds himself writing VM in his journal, smiling foolishly to himself. It’s beautiful, his precious flower. 

It’s not like you meant to snoop. You were looking for Arthur, since he was nowhere to be found. You entered his tent, which in reality wasn’t much of a tent at all, finding his journal open. You walked over to it, looking over the worn page. There were the normal doodles he drew, along with his flowing hand writing. But one thing stood out to you, a pair of initials circled by hearts. VM.

You furrowed your brows, you couldn’t think of anyone you knew with the initials VM. Those definitely weren’t your initials either. 

With your curiosity peaked you flipped through a couple more pages. VM was written everywhere, along with those damn little hearts. 

You felt that little green monster grow inside you the further you looked into his journal. Biting your cheek so hard you could taste blood. It did nothing to quench the fire inside of you. 

“Darlin?” Arthur called walking into the so-called tent. You dropped the journal back onto the table, turning to face him. “There you are.” He grinned walking towards you.

“Here I am.” You said forcing a smile.

“Hosea said you were looking for me.” He said softly, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, "Anything you need?”

“Must have forgot.” You said with a noncommittal shrug, “I ought to get back to work.” You nod walking past him. Arthur furrowed his brow at your attitude. Did he say something to offend you?

Then his eyes fall onto his open journal. His stomach drops at the sight. Jesus, you saw. You saw all of it. You were probably thinking the worst, seeing the initial surrounded by hearts. How was he gonna fix this?

You stomped off to the edge of camp, trying to wrack your brain as to who this VM could be. And why was Arthur drawing hearts beside the initials? Maybe you had this all wrong, Arthur would never do anything to hurt you. He was a good man, a man you could trust. Wasn't he?

“Y/n!” He called trailing behind you, a crestfallen expression on his face. You stopped at the tree lining, biting your lip as you turned to face him. “I can explain.”

“I’m sure you can.” You scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest.

“I-“ He sighed looking down, pinching the bridge of his nose as he let out a low curse. 

“Who is she?” You asked clenching your jaw. He furrowed his brows looking up at you.

“What?” He asked, his hands settling on his hips.

“VM, the girl you keep drawing hearts around. Who is she?” You were blunt, something he loved so much. Always telling it like it is, never leaving him to guess your feelings. A small smile spread on his face, which only made you more mad. “Seriously, you think this is funny?” You hissed, taking a step towards him. Arthur only had one choice, to tell you the truth. 

“Violet.” He said softly, reaching for you. “Violet Morgan.” You let him wrap his hand around your forearm, pulling you close to his chest.

“Who is Violet Morgan?” You asked, swallowing thickly. He sighed, looking off to the side, wetting his lips.

“She’s uh-“ He shook his head, a nervous smile on his lips. “She’s not exactly real, not yet at least.” He said. 

You shook your head, brows knitted together, “Not real? The hell you mean, not real?”

“I-“ He rubbed the back of his neck looking down, “It’s uh- shit.”

“Spit it out Morgan.” You huff throwing your arms up. 

“I thought of a name,” He explained, “A name for a girl if we- if we have one some day.” He said with a shrug, his cheeks flushed, almost as though he had been in a scuffle. 

Oh.

If we have one some day. 

“Oh Arthur.” You said softly, a smile spreading across your face. Feeling suddenly very foolish for doubting your man. “That's so sweet.” You took a step forward, tilting his face up to look at you. 

“Yeah?” He asked, looping his fingers in his gun belt. 

“Yeah.” You repeated, nodding. “Jesus you had me scared you were gonna tell me you found someone else.” You chuckled, shaking your head.

“Never. There ain’t no one else in this goddamn world that could replace you.” He said his hand reached up to cup your face. “You’re uh- you’re it for me darlin.” His bright blue eyes peered into yours, love and affection pouring out in his expression. 

“When we have our girl.” You said brushing away a stray strand of honey brown hair, “Violet will be a perfect name.” He grinned, wrapping a hand around your waist.

“Guess it’s settled then.” He said as he leaned down to press his lips against yours.

[229zmi]

MY HEART, IT BEATS FOR YOU

Nagi Seishirō/Reader | 1.0k words, fluff, jealous nagi

Nagi, generally, is an apathetic person.

Yet somehow, there’s a taut feeling that twists its way through the gaps of his ribcage, stretching around his heart as his eyes linger on the fabric that hangs around your shoulders. Seeing you on the couch, casually scrolling on your phone while wearing a jacket he can’t recognise as yours or, even better, his as much as he wants to — the sight elicits something that’s not quite a painful feeling, but it isn’t exactly pleasant either, he thinks.

The wheels are still turning in his head when you finally acknowledge his presence with a smile, oblivious to the way he’s not even looking at you when you tell him, “Hey, Sei.”

Instead, he trudges over to you with the same passion as that of a sloth, and his voice comes out small, almost as if that same feeling in his chest has crawled past his shoulder to constrict his throat.

“That jacket— it’s not yours, is it?” It’s plain and simple, the way he states the observation, yet laced with the most marginal hint of spite.

“No, it’s Reo’s,” you confirm without missing a beat, and he narrows his eyes, so subtly that you don’t even catch it. You continue on about how you bumped into Reo by pure coincidence on your way to run an errand and how the weather’s been so volatile lately, oscillating between warm and sunny one day and freezing cold during the next. But Nagi—

Well—

Here’s the thing: as impassive as he is most of the time, Nagi is a great listener when it comes to you.

You’ve always been a priority to him and even more so in that facet. To relish in the fleeting moments of winning a game on his phone, or to know what happens in the latest chapter of his favourite manga as soon as possible — the rush of satisfaction he gets out of those is nice, he supposes, but not worth missing a word of what you say, be it something miscellaneous about your day or the biggest news he’s ever heard in his life.

And certainly, nothing is worth missing the small habits that make themselves known in your conversation, that make up the you he first swore love to near the bench outside the convenience store, holding your favourite snack in one hand and offering his jacket to you with his other because the harshness of springtime winds had swept away any warmth your flimsy sweater could contain.

It’s your facial expressions, your gestures, the way you look toward him at the end of each rambling, as if to ask, Are you listening? So then, he’ll answer— a nod, as if to say, Yes. Of course. Please say more. Because for you, it’s all ears and eyes wide open on his end.

But Nagi, admittedly, isn’t perfect, and this is not a matter of opinion. Even you can see the way he can’t stop staring hard at your jacket as though he’s trying to telepathically morph it into something that looks like it came from his closet instead.

Midway through an elaborate plan to sell the jacket for an outrageously high price on some sketchy website (you’re only half-joking… maybe), you finally notice his distant expression. “…Sei?”

His lack of response is all the confirmation you need for your suspicions. A grin then crosses your face, while your eyes sport a gleam that Nagi recognises as smugness once he eventually tears his focus away from the offending item of clothing.

You say his name again, this time teasingly. Then, “Are you jeal—?”

Your question cuts off unceremoniously when his hands reach over to latch onto the zipper of the jacket, pulling it down before tugging on the fabric near your shoulders. Despite the boldness of his actions, you don’t make any move to stop him as he flings Reo’s jacket across the room, hearing it land on the floor with a satisfying sound.

Moments later, he shrugs his jacket off in one smooth motion and then drapes it over your body. With his large palms smoothing over the fabric against your upper arms, it’s such a sweet gesture that you can’t find it in yourself to complain, although the opportunity to poke fun at him is hard to let slip.

“Woah, there.” Cheekily, you brush that one abnormally long part of his bangs away from his face and poke the tip of his nose, to which he responds with his signature pout before burying his face into the crook of your neck. As your back hits the cushion of the arm rest behind you and your hands come up to comb through his hair, you feel a bout of warmth surge through your collarbone area, accompanied by the sound of his voice muffled by your skin.

“I’m not jealous.”

A smile dances around the corners of your mouth despite your efforts to conceal it. “Really?” you say. “I think you are.”

“Nuh-uh,” he grumbles. “You can’t prove it.”

“I mean. You’re kinda all over me right now.”

He huffs at the flurry of giggles that tumble from your mouth boundlessly, like clothes spilling out of an overpacked suitcase. Though, when your laughter finally simmers down and humour seems to have come to a standstill in your conversation, sentimentality weaves its way into your voice, in between mixed undertones of reassurance and leftover amusement.

(Because what you’re about to say is nothing but the truth itself: ardent and vulnerable, despite the sheer casualness in the way you present it.)

“You’re the only one my heart beats for, Seishirō.”

Lazily, he peers up at you. “Promise?”

“I promise. Besides,” you add, snuggling deeper into the collar of his jacket, “your jacket’s way warmer, anyway.”

That could be attributed to the fact that he has practically become your personal heater by sprawling his body over yours on the couch. Nevertheless, the envious fangs surrounding Nagi’s heart slacken, and with your fingers brushing through his hair once again, he can’t help himself from murmuring into your skin, sounding more relieved than he has ever sounded, “Good.”

[twogyuu]

not really magic

Pairing: Vernon x fem!reader

Synopsis: In which Jeonghan runs out of babysitter options, so he drops Nina off with Vernon and his girlfriend. Little do either of them know, just maybe the little girl is more capable of making them confront the questions of their future than most adults.

Genre: Fluff, mild angst, good helping of crack, established relationship, featuring ex!JJK

Warnings: Profanity, McDonald's PlayPlace

WC: ~6.3k

A/N: It's Nina from Wonwoo's Tasty Milk (and Cereal) causing chaos again! This has been in the works for a hot minute! Unedited and VERY cringe-y, cheesy, READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!! I'm kind of embarrassed to be publishing it tbh, but it's the most I've written in forever so I'm just publishing it and then running/hiding💀🤡 The thought that two people are mature enough to talk about these mundane things just makes me feel some type of way T^T

This wasn't inspired by any particular song, but kyungsoo's 'somebody' and sundial's 'rollercoaster' are quite fitting for this fic. Happy reading :)

. . . .

It was a well-known fact that Vernon was not very good with children. 

He was not unkind or inconsiderate towards them by any means, but he simply didn’t know how to interact or communicate with them.

And to be frank, though you were a little better than him, it was only by a margin because you had younger siblings at some point (they’re now grown) and kid cousins. It has been a while since you’ve been around children in general – he’d imagine you were rusty to some end. 

Consequently, it took him by surprise when Jeonghan called and you agreed to watch his four-year old daughter on Saturday while Jeonghan and his wife were at yet another wedding of their in-laws.

To be fair, however, Wonwoo and Leah were also attending, so their usual babysitter was already not an option. The backup, Mingyu and his best friend (cough, cough – situationship), were out of town attending a music festival. Seungkwan, the backup to the backup, was hosting someone’s bachelor party. The only other father of the group, Minghao, had his hands full with growing and surprisingly, wild twins. Seungcheol was an expecting parent – his wife could go into labor at any moment. The rest of the crew was only slightly less reliable than Vernon and you. 

He guessed that extra one percent must count for something. 

There was no doubt Jeonghan and his wife were still nervous about leaving Nina with the two of you – and rightfully so. 

Vernon and you were relatively young – in age, spirit, and well, your relationship. At least from what Jeonghan could observe, the two of you were clearly not ready for kids, whether they be your own or Jeonghan’s.

Vernon was terrified and he had a feeling Mr. and Mrs. Yoon were too. 

They perhaps trusted Vernon a little less than they did you because while Vernon was standing and staring down at Nina by the front door of your apartment, Jeonghan’s wife was going through a laminated sheet of instructions and tips with you in regards to caring for Nina in the next six hours. Hands on hips, Jeonghan was standing over his wife’s shoulder, offering supportive nods and stern, unhelpful ‘mhm’s’ to back her up. 

“Hello,” Nina finally squeaked, peering up at Vernon. 

She was definitely Jeonghan’s kid – it was in the eyes: brown, round, and innocent, but with a hint of mischief glaring in the corner of her irises. 

“Hey,” Vernon greeted back casually. 

“Where’s Uncle Wonwoo?” she asked. Her eyes wandered from the tall man and glossed over the unfamiliar apartment. 

“Uh,” Vernon panicked and stalled in his reply. 

Why the heck was she asking about Wonwoo? Vernon can’t remember already knowing his babysitter by name when he was four.  

“Uncle Wonwoo has a giant teddy bear in his house!” she marveled. Her tone was quick to dip into disappointment. “But I don’t see him here.”

Vernon felt his breath grow more shallow. By the power of Boo Seungkwan, he hoped this kid wouldn’t already start crying on him. 

He had to make her feel better. How do people make kids happy?

Games? They like games, right?

“Do you wanna play rock, paper, scissors?” Vernon blurted. 

Nina peered up at him again, face twisting as she processed the situation and her emotions – confused, curious, and amused. 

He would take it. 

Vernon silently held out his fist to the girl, waiting for her to take the bait. 

“What are you guys doing?” your voice floated into the vicinity, breaking the silence and awkwardness. 

Nina and Vernon looked over to find you standing with Jeonghan and his wife on either side of you. Vernon noted how the way his wife was dressed in a light blue and him in a dark suit, was eerily reminiscent of an angel and devil on your shoulders. 

“He asked if I wanted to play block, paper, scissors,” Nina explained quietly. She looked back nervously at Vernon. 

Granted Nina had not been around Vernon and his girlfriend a lot, her uneasy behavior around Vernon did not go unnoticed by Jeonghan. Nina was smart: wary of strangers, but never shy like this. Perhaps shy wasn’t the right word, but there definitely something going on in that little head of hers. As if she was calculating and observing, trying to decipher Vernon. 

You raised a curious eyebrow in the direction of your boyfriend.

“It’s rock, paper, scissors, Nini,” Jeonghan corrected his daughter softly. He skirted around you to come pick her up, a quiet grunt leaving his lips when he heaped her up into his arms. Nina curled into her dad’s chest. 

“We’ll be back in a little while, baby,” Mrs. Yoon walked over to the father-daughter duo. She rubbed the little’s cheeks with the back of her finger to soothe her. 

Nina lifted her head from her dad’s shoulder and whispered a little too loudly. “What if they’re not fun like Uncle Wonwoo?” 

“Nina,” her mom chided. 

“Dang, little girl,” you said under your breath. 

Vernon bit the inside of his cheek, holding back the urge to laugh. You were blunt for better or for worse. 

Jeonghan, her father a little more understanding knowing Vernon for longer, rubbed the little girl’s back. “They’ll be . . . just fine.”

. . . .

Vernon was not sure what Nina did exactly when she went over to Wonwoo’s place, but it must’ve been comparably better than what she was doing here. 

Shortly after Jeonghan left, the little girl dumped out the contents of her bag and began to busy herself with the rather few activities she brought along: a coloring book and a set of markers, a hard-covered picture book with a dog on the cover, a doll, and five pieces of those giant Legos. She burned through each item pretty fast – Vernon figured you could only stack the different colored blocks in various order so many times before you got bored. 

It was fortunate that Nina already had lunch before coming over and her mother had packed a simple snack of apples and peanut butter to bridge her to dinner. However, as the clock ticked closer to 6PM and the little girl was growing bored, you could also tell she was getting hangry. 

Vernon had tasked you with entertaining and playing with Nina. It wasn’t fair, but he figured Nina would like you better than him. He would just observe from afar and take some notes for next time. 

“Can I ask you something, Miss Y/N?” Nina wondered aloud. She brushed her doll’s hair with a small purple plastic brush. 

Sitting criss-crossed across from her, you hummed and nodded. “Sure, squirt – what is it?”

You didn’t think much of it. A four-year-old’s questions can’t be that deep. 

“Are you and Uncle Vernon like my mommy and daddy?” she looked up at you innocently. “And like Uncle Wonwoo and Auntie Leah? Why did mommy tell me to call you ‘miss’ instead of auntie?”

You choked, feeling your cheeks grow warm as you glanced over your shoulder at Vernon. Sure enough, his eyes were lifted from his phone and boring holes through your back – not without the slightest smirk and quirk of an eyebrow. He waited patiently for your answer. The question was honest and innocent – he wasn’t sure what was so funny about it to him or embarrassing to you, but it was. 

“Um, kind of,” you replied slowly. 

“Huh?” she crinkled her nose. 

“Uncle Vernon is, err . . . my boyfriend,” you explained, wondering if she understood the concept of stages in relationships. 

“Boyfriend?” Nina repeated. “Like . . . a friend boy?”

“N-no! No, no!” you exclaimed. Now, you didn’t want to give Jeonghan’s kid the wrong idea about being friends with boys meant a romantic relationship. “N-not . . . really.”

“Then you’re like mommy and daddy?” she said more certainly this time. 

“No,” you sighed, “Your mommy and daddy are married. Wonwoo and Leah are engaged – they’re going to get married. Uncle Vernon and I . . . like each other a lot but we. . . aren’t there yet.”

“Will you get married?” Nina asked innocently. 

“Um,” your voice trailed off, feeling your heart race at her bluntness. That decision wasn’t entirely up to you, but how did you explain that to a four-year-old? Gosh, why did she ask such hard questions in the first place?

The fortunate thing about being four was that your attention span wasn’t very long. 

Nina huffed, setting her doll onto the floor. “Miss Y/N, I’m hungry,” she rubbed her tummy. “Can we eat?”

You let out a small sigh of relief. Classic Yoon: puts you in your doom, but somehow also saves you from it. 

“Sure baby,” you reply, you threw Vernon a quick look over your shoulder. “Let’s see what’s in the fridge.”

“Um wait–” Vernon rose from his chair.

“Yay!” Nina cheered. She stood up excitedly and grabbed your hand. Despite her immense effort, not surprisingly, you don’t move much. “Does Uncle Vernon cook well? Uncle Wonwoo doesn’t, but Auntie Leah does.”

“Y/N, hold on,” Vernon jogged over and grabbed your other hand. 

You paused in your stride and peered at him through your lashes. You waited patiently for him to continue. Nina looked up the same and impatiently swung your linked hands around. 

“Um,” he played with your fingers quietly. His cheeks felt warm as he confessed, “We . . . I-I, um, haven’t gone grocery shopping yet.”

“Oh,” you said softly, putting the pieces together slowly. “So . . . what you’re saying is you don’t have food?”

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled. 

“Vernon,” you started. There was a scolding tone to it. “I told you to grab a few things before Nina came over.”

“I know, I know! I just got carried away with work and stuff,” he explained. 

You pulled your hand away from him, pressing your lips into a thin line. You can’t believe he didn’t do it! You had reminded him three days in advance and all the days to follow after. Per usual, your mind spun to the future. If he could pull through for this, what did it mean for when the two of you live together?

Just as you opened your mouth to say something, Nina suddenly let out a high-pitch shrill. “Yay!” 

You both startled and looked down at the little girl, confused. 

“Let’s have McDonald’s for dinner,” she stated firmly. 

Nina grinned wide. There was a mischievous glint in her dark brown eyes, one that was all too reminiscent of her father’s. 

She was a Yoon through and through, alright. 

. . . .

A quarter pounder, double cheeseburger, large fries, twenty pieces of McNuggets with one of each of the special sauces, Fanta, topped with a chocolate milk that Nina was sipping on was spread out on the two square tables you pushed together to hold all your food. This looked like it could feed a family of six, yet you were only three people. Originally, the plan was just to get Nina a Happy Meal, you and Vernon with your own individuals, but the little girl insisted on additional McNuggets and fries too – when you were in the bathroom. 

You were quick to learn that Vernon had little to no immunity to the little girl. It was understandable, but you hated playing the “bad cop” and disciplining her. 

“Wanna see a magic trick, Nina?” Vernon asked with his mouth full. 

She grinned at him, excitedly. 

Vernon’s expression mirrored her own and held up a McNugget in front of his palm. “Watch carefully.”

Nina nodded while stuffing a fry into her mouth. 

There was a dramatic pause, his free hand covering then uncovering the McNugget like he was casting some sort of spell on it. You too found yourself curiously watching from the opposite end of the table, your chewing slowing. 

His hand blocking the view of the McNugget, though you could clearly see his face from where you were sitting, he quickly stuffs the piece in his mouth. Vernon smiled brightly, with his mouth closed as he chewed, clapping his hands together as if he just puffed it into Dragon Land instead of his mouth. 

Nonetheless, Nina being a kid and equally fond of your boyfriend, marveled excitedly. 

You scoffed, shaking your head, mumbling a quiet ‘seriously’ under your breath. Vernon must have heard it though – his eyes flickered up at you momentarily while taking Nina’s hand in his own. 

You reached over and adjusted Nina’s tray. “C’mon Nina, finish your apple dippers – we gotta go.”

She turns her attention away from Vernon and back to you. She stared at you with wide-eyes, mildly creepily – you knew this look. It was reminiscent of when Jeonghan knew he just pissed off his wife, but she doesn’t know yet, and he was trying to butter her up before then (it never works though). 

Nina’s chubby little fingers clung tightly onto your forearm, nails digging into your skin as she jumped and whined. 

“Miss Y/N, do we have to go so soon?” she asked cautiously. She craned her neck towards the PlayPlace to one side of you. “Can we stay a bit longer? If I finish my Apple Dippers?”

Now you finally understood why Nina wanted to not only eat from McDonald’s, but also in it. 

“Nina,” you grabbed her wrist in an attempt to calm her down, “There’s a reason why your mommy doesn’t let you go inside the playground.”

“PlayPlace!” she was quick to correct you.

You huffed and repeated after her, “PlayPlace. Nina – we’re not going to disobey your mommy.”

“Why?! Daddy does it all the time,” she protested. 

You heard Vernon snort from the other side of the linoleum table. He was halfway through another Mcnugget, doing his best to suppress the grin forming on his face. 

“Your daddy and I are not the same,” you told her. “Besides,” you wrinkle your nose, “It’s disgusting in there – feet and all.”

“Miss Y/N!” she threw her head back in a howl. 

She gave you her best puppy eyes, but you didn’t budge.

As if a light bulb went off in her mind, she perked up and let go of you. Timidly, Nina circles around and approaches the other side of the table. Hands clasped behind her back, her fingers tangling with the strings that pulled her dress back, she peered up innocently at Vernon and offered him a friendly smile. 

“Uncle Vernon?” she asked. Her tone was completely changed from when she was begging you just seconds earlier. 

“Hm?” he hummed, oblivious as day to the little girl’s advances. 

“Will you play with me?” Nina continued. 

“Uh,” Vernon’s eyes flickered up to you and you simply leaned back in your seat, getting comfortable as you crossed your arms over your chest. 

To be frank, taking care of Nina with Vernon did not feel like it was with Vernon. From home to here, you were the little girl’s main companion on top of making sure she was safe, hydrated, and well-fed. Vernon trailed the two of you like a lost shadow. You were annoyed at his lack of contribution, to say the least. It’s not that you didn’t like Nina and you were trying to be understanding of Vernon, but taking care of a child (and low-key him) was difficult – your sanity mattered to! You weren’t Wonowoo – you could only say and take so much about Pokemon! 

Perhaps it was already too soon to be thinking about this, but it was difficult to ignore the voice at the back of your head, nagging about what this meant for you and Vernon in the future. Granted you both have only been dating for a little over a year, the question of marriage and kids were far and few. When they did arrive, it usually was in the form of a loose tease from Seungkwan about how the two of you were hopeless as parents. Vernon would just shake his head and laugh it off. 

He never seemed to take this topic quite seriously. Your passing comments about cute kids at the zoo or how the Penguins of Madagascar showing was filled with children and their parents, were taken lightly, when perhaps you didn’t really want them to be. 

You knew you wanted at least one kid, but did Vernon?

You needed to ask and you were aware, but you thought it was probably pretty ridiculous to bring this up already. I mean, this might not be forever, right? 

A lot has already changed in this year. 

A lot can change in a year. 

Your internal struggles aside, you were interested to see how Vernon handled Nina on his own. 

“Uncle Vernon?” Nina asked again, “Pretty please? I’ll eat all my apple dippers!”

“But your mom and Y/N . . .” his voice trailed off as he echoed your concern. 

“It’s okay! Mommy’s not here and I have you and Miss Y/N! And there are nets and mats,” she pointed out to him. 

Vernon hesitated – why was it so difficult for him to turn her down? He was an adult after all. 

 “I mean,” he rubbed the back of his head and looked up at you again. “I guess?”

You smirked, cocking an eyebrow at him. Maybe, out of spite, you’ll let this one go for once. Vernon can explain to Mrs. Yoon why her daughter reeks of feet and grease when they come to pick her up later tonight. 

“Whoo!” Nina cheered as she ran back to her seat next to you. She started shoving the last of her apple slices in her mouth in a haste, not even caring for the caramel dip. 

“Slow down, Nina,” you warned. 

“Uncle Vernon is the coolest!” she shouted instead. She grinned happily with pieces of apple stuck in her teeth, “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

. . . .

It was an instant regret for Vernon. 

Currently, he was trapped in one of the blue plastic cube bridge pieces at the very top. He was far too grown for the PlayPlace and could not bulldoze through it like Nina. While the little girl easily maneuvered her way around the maze, Vernon could hardly crawl through it. He tried to curl into a small ball and waddle through, but that wasn’t helpful either. The extra creaking with each step was also not very reassuring. The only nice thing was that there weren’t other children in the PlayPlace right now; no douchey eight-year-old to hurry the fuck up. 

“Uncle Vernon, come on!” 

But, there was Nina. 

Her head popped into view, the netting separating him and her. “You’re so slow! We have to climb through all of this before Miss Y/N tells us to go!”

Vernon shifted uncomfortably, feeling his neck tighten from the cramped position he was in. “Maybe we should go,” he tried. 

“Nope, nope!” Nina shook her head furiously. “We’re already inside! There’s a slide at the end.” She curled her fingers through the netting and jumped excitedly. “We can go down and run back in before she sees us.” 

Vernon followed her nervous gaze towards you down on the floor. You’re seated at the same table the three of you were just eating at, scrolling through your phone. Despite your calm expression, Vernon could definitely tell, something wasn’t sitting right with you. 

“Let’s go!” Nina shouted.

“Nina, wait–”

However, the little girl was already crawling down the narrow corridor at the speed of a lab mouse trained to recognize a maze. 

Vernon sighed, sparing you one last glance before he continued. You’re watching him this time though. It was comical the way the contraption creaked again and the corner of your lips tweaked up as if to mock him. 

He looked away and followed in the general direction Nina had headed. He really shouldn’t be in here – what if one of the screws were loose and all just collapsed with one misstep?

Vernon felt guilty for thinking such thoughts knowing Jeonghan’s daughter was in here with him right now. He had to keep her safe! He can’t be manifesting these disasters. Turning the corner towards a light, Vernon decided that the goal would to slide out of here with Nina and not go in. Maybe, he could say it was because he would get in trouble with you or something. 

“Boo!” 

“Agh! What the fuck!” Vernon shouted. He tumbled towards an opening, hand resting on his chest. Searching his surroundings, he found Nina beside him, giggling. 

“Language!” he heard you shout in the distance. 

“Fuck!” Nina repeated. She hid a chuckle behind her hand.

“Don’t say that, Nina,” Vernon scolds her breathlessly. 

“But why?” she asked. “You did – do people say it when they’re scared? Fuck!” 

“Oh my god – Nina, stop,” he shook his head anxiously. “Th-that’s only a word, adults are allowed to say, okay? If you say it in front of Miss Y/N or your parents, you’re going to be in big trouble.”

“I can say it with you though, right, Uncle Vernon?” she whispered. “Fuck!”

“No, you cannot,” Vernon stated sternly. He looked at the opening. This must be the slide. He pointed to it and told the little girl, “Let’s go down, okay? I’ve had enough fun for tonight.”

“Aw,” Nina whined, “Already?”

There was another groan from the equipment – louder this time. He cannot stay here much longer.

“Yes,” Vernon nudged her towards the opening. “You first, I’ll be right behind you.”

“Fine,” she pouted. Her short arms hang onto the top rim, swinging back and forth to build momentum before launching herself down. “Whee!”

When Vernon heard her land on the other side, he stuck his legs, one by one, into the tube and tried to push himself down. 

Key word – tried.

He got stuck after sliding probably two feet. Vernon groaned and threw his head back. “Seriously?”

“Uncle Vernon?” Nina’s voice echoed through the slide. “Are you coming?”

“Y-yeah,” he used the heel of his Converse to nudge himself a little further. “Just stuck.”

“Oh no!” Nina cried. He heard her step into the slide again. “Should I come help you?”

“No, no, no!” Vernon exclaimed desperately, “Go back to Y/N – I’ll be out soon. Promise.”

The last thing he wanted to happen was for Nina to be crawling up and he suddenly crashed into her. 

“Okay.”

He let out a small breath of relief when he heard a soft landing of her shoes on the foam carpeting. Vernon inches down slowly, finally gaining some traction. He started to speed up with the combination of pushing with his hand, pulling himself forward, and static. When he saw the clearing, relief washed over him. 

However, as luck would have it, of course, he’s too damn tall for the opening. Vernon was cramped at the opening, knees tucked and arms squeezed between his body and the plastic. His neck was craned to the right – he could hardly look up at you and Nina who were hand-in-hand watching him. 

“Um,” he smiled sheepishly, “Help?”

Nina was a little faster than you, rushing over to his aid. Her added weight as she climbed onto the landing must’ve been the straw that broke the camel’s back because Vernon heard a sickening crack and his arm suddenly felt a little looser and freer. 

Well, fuck. 

. . . .

“Y/N!” 

You were bent over, hastily adjusting Nina’s sweater before the three of you left McDonald’s. You were irritable after quite literally breaking Vernon free from the PlayPlace slide. It was embarrassing to have to explain to the teen McDonald’s employee that your boyfriend created a crack in the slide, when there was a sign that quite literally said no one older than eight years-old was allowed to enter the contraption. 

When you look up, your eyes immediately widen as you’re greeted with the sight of your ex, Jungkook. 

His hair was a little longer now, and permed, the tips of his bangs hanging over his bright doe eyes. His fashion didn’t seem to change – still sporting the simple jeans and baggy t-shirts; a plaid flannel was tied to waist. What took you aback, when perhaps it shouldn’t have, was the petite girl in a white sundress who wrapped her hand tightly around Jungkook’s arm when she saw you. 

All thoughts of Nina, who was standing between you and Vernon, fled your mind. You stiffened, unsure of how to respond and what to say, other than a strained ‘hi.’ 

It wasn’t that Jungkook has a sore spot in your memory – in fact, your breakup was mutual and as good as anyone could ask it to be. After four years of dating since high school, you realized you both grew into different people, and therefore, apart in college. It was a mutual loss of feelings for one another, a mutual agreement that you should go your separate ways. Of course, you were sad for a short bit, but nothing of a heartache. 

Nonetheless, there was a part of you that wished he didn’t see you when you were upset with your current partner. Jungkook probably did not have those sort of malicious thoughts, like ‘didn’t know how good she had it with me,’ and it was most certainly all in your head. 

Or perhaps it was you? You wanted to show him you were doing well, but you couldn’t fake it at this moment. 

All in all, the reappearance of your ex, only made you feel more insecure for some reason. Maybe Vernon wasn’t the right person for you even if deep down you wanted him to be. You knew your break up with Vernon would be much worse than the one with Jungkook. 

“Nice to see you again,” Jungkook tried. His eyes flickered to Vernon – they weren’t close, but they knew each other peripherally from mutual friends. Jungkook quickly added, “The both of you.”

“Likewise,” Vernon piped up in a neutral tone. 

“Um,” Jungkook rubbed the back of his neck, looking from Vernon to you and back. Momentarily, he glossed over Nina, an idea of the situation clearly forming in his head. “Are the two of you . . .?” his voice trailed off. 

It must’ve come as a surprise to see you and Vernon together like this for neither of you were close in university. This relationship was almost a surprise to you and Vernon, yourselves. You couldn’t blame Jungkook for being puzzled.

At this, Vernon reached for your hand and cleared his throat. He gave you a firm squeeze, resting his free hand on Nina’s shoulder. To be frank, Vernon didn't care what idea exactly Jungkook was getting – the point was, you were together. Boyfriend-girlfriend, husband-wife, father-mother. Jungkook could think Nina was somehow your kid and he wouldn’t mind. 

“We are," Vernon finally answered firmly.

You turned to your boyfriend with wide eyes. 

“Oh,” Jungkook said softly. “I’m happy for you guys.”

“Thanks, I am too,” he looked back at you nonchalantly before nodding in Jungkook’s direction. “On that note, we should be on our way.” He ushered Nina towards the door. “Enjoy your meal.”

. . . .

When the three of you returned to your apartment, you started preparing Nina for bed. It was clear to Vernon that something was bothering you – you were quiet for the rest of the evening, diving head first in taking care of Nina. And to be honest, something bothered Vernon too since encountering Jungkook. 

Vernon did not envy others, nor did he claim to be perfect. It wasn’t that he was jealous of Jungkook and the unknown, presumably happy past that you had with him. What happened, happened and you were with Vernon now. He’d like to think you were satisfied with this relationship just as much as him. Nothing would change that. Vernon was content with who he was, who he had become, and who he was next to you. Nonetheless, Vernon was only human – insecurities were inevitable despite his best efforts. 

He knew this turbulence making him solemn was irrational. You had not given him a reason to doubt you and he never did to begin with. Despite knowing this, it didn’t make this feeling any less real. 

Did you regret breaking up with Jungkook? Was Jungkook a better boyfriend than Vernon? 

From what Vernon has heard through the grapevine, Jungkook happened to be every girl’s dream in university. Good-looking and adventurous, yet still respectful and caring. 

Vernon thought he looked alright, but his style was unconventional. He liked to take the city bus around at night if that counts as being adventurous?

For fucks sake, Vernon was no Jeon Jungkook. Vernon was in fact just stuck in a slide today. 

Though he knew it was unproductive to ponder these things, it was what kept him preoccupied as he put Nina to bed. 

“You should kiss Miss Y/N,” Nina stated randomly. 

Vernon furrowed his brows at the little girl. 

“She looks sad and you do too,” Nina explained. She laid her small hand over Vernon’s. “That’s what daddy does when mommy is sad.”

“I think it’s time for you to go to sleep,” Vernon sighed, pulling the blanket up to cover her chest. 

“Do you love Miss Y/N, Uncle Vernon?” Nina asked. 

God, the gall of kids – always asking the hardest, but most important questions obliviously. 

“Miss Y/N said earlier that you’re her boyfriend,” Nina continued. She kicked her feet under the covers. “Do you have to love each other to be boyfriends? Kind of like mommy and daddy are mommy and daddy because they love each other? Or Uncle Wonwoo and Auntie Leah? Miss Y/N didn’t tell me earlier when I asked about getting married.”

Did he love you? Did he want to marry you?

Vernon hesitated to answer and to be frank, he hated that he was. However, it wasn’t because he didn’t – these questions of the future were just overwhelming and he enjoyed what you had now. Alas, if things were to progress, he’d have to have answers to them soon. 

“If I’m being honest, I don’t know, kid,” Vernon mumbled. He planted a soft kiss on her forehead. “Good night, Nina.”

He didn’t wait for her to reply, turning and making his way to the door. 

“You should still kiss her, Uncle Vernon!” Nina whispered in the dark. “Good night!”

. . . .

When Vernon exited your bedroom where Nina was residing for the rest of the evening, he found you sitting on the kitchen counter. Your head is hung, eyes swarmed with questions like his own. Your legs swing back and forth, gently knocking against the cupboards. There’s an open bag of Cheeze-Its sitting next to you. 

Vernon walked over, quietly and cautiously. He knew you knew he was present, but didn’t acknowledge him. Tenderly, Vernon reached for your hand, loosely weaving his fingers in between your own. Eyes slowly rising to look at you, he mindlessly ran thumb along the side of your hand. He offered you a wistful smile as he tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear with his other hand. His touch lingered across your cheek.

“Wanna talk about it?” he asked softly. 

You paused for a moment, eyes flickering up to the ceiling before falling to your lap again. You let out a heavy breath. Your heart swelled, appreciating how he always made these kinds of moments feel a little easier.

“I’m sorry,” you muttered. 

“For what?” Vernon asked despite having a pretty good idea of what you were referring to.  

“What happened at McDonald’s, running into Jungkook,” you explained, “Today.”

He hummed in understanding. “What about today, exactly?”

It was hard to hold your gaze – it was scary, but he knew he had to. He tried his best to put on an encouraging expression, knowing that this conversation, and further, this relationship would not go anywhere if neither of you were present, physically and mentally, and trying to avoid it. 

Only the ticking of the wall clock filled the room, deafeningly so. It was slowly drowned out by the sound of blood starting to rush in his ears, tension growing thick with each passing second. 

Your voice barely above a whisper, you took a shaky breath and confessed, “I like you a lot, Chwe . . . and,” you inhaled sharply, squeezing his hand. “That terrifies me.” You swallowed harshly, “Because what if you don’t feel the same? Or we want different things? I think I’d be . . .heartbroken.” A melancholic chuckle left your lips and you shook your head. “That's why sometimes, I feel like I treat you like such - we get too close and I push you away.”

The fear in losing him was evident in the terror that etched its way in between the space of your brows. Vernon was sympathetic; simultaneously, his heart swelled like a balloon rapidly being filled with water to the rim, threatening to burst at one final drop. The adrenaline that rushed through his veins felt like that of being confessed to by a middle school crush behind the bleachers of the soccer field, except, well, you and him were already together.

“I was worried there for a second,” Vernon stated truthfully. 

Your eyes whipped up. 

He played with your fingers. “I thought you were regretting dating me for a sec.”

“Oh?” you said softly. 

“I was kind of not the best boyfriend today either and then we saw Jungkook and I thought maybe you felt differently about me,” he explained. 

“Vernon, no!” your hands reached up to cup his face.

“I mean, can you blame me?” he chuckled half-heartedly, “I got stuck in a slide when you told us not to go.”

“I think today,” started slowly, “Made the both of us think a lot about us and what the future holds.”

“So, it wasn’t just me,” Vernon acknowledged quietly. He thought to himself momentarily before continuing. “What do you want?” You stared at him owlishly, your desires on the tip of your tongue, but fearful to share them with him. “We can’t move past this if we don’t talk about it.”

When you still didn't reply, Vernon offered, “I can tell you what I want?” 

You nodded once. 

“I think dating you for a few more years sounds okay,” he started, staring off to the side. He nodded, better affirming his words. 

He paused, making you grow anxious – does that mean he planning on breaking up with you?

“And then, maybe . . . being married sounds nice too – nice is an understatement,” the words felt unfamiliar as they fell from his lips, but he kind of liked it. “It seems far away, but I’d really love that.” 

This was something he hadn’t told anyone before because he never felt quite the same with them as he did with you. It wasn’t just easy and comfortable being with you – it was something more. It was in hard moments like this, where these conversations were difficult, but you both still managed. It was in lighter moments, where he could enjoy your company and feel relaxed. It was everything in between. 

Call him corny, but maybe the word ‘love’ can’t encompass it all that he felt for you. 

His face stretched into a grin when you chortle and shake your head. Playfully, you push him away, but Vernon was quick to catch onto your wrists. “You did really well with Nina today.”

“I think she liked you more than me,” you mumbled. 

“What do you think of Nina?” he asked. 

“She’s Jeonghan’s daughter, alright,” you joked. 

“She did suggest I kiss you tonight,” Vernon remarked, remembering his chat with the little girl before this. 

“Well,” you wrap your arms around his neck, “Do you . . . want to?”

Vernon answered by leaning in, lightly pressing his lips against yours. It’s fleeting, but still filled with the same sincerity as every other passionate kiss you’ve shared before. 

“If you want kids though, I’m not sure I’m ready for them yet,” Vernon said when you pulled away. 

“Oh with how you broke that slide, that’s certain,” you joked. 

“Does that mean you do?” 

“A family? With you?” you wrinkled your nose playfully. “Nonsense.”

He knew that look – when you don’t really mean what you say, but rather the opposite. Despite all the angst prior, this conversation was surprisingly easy to have. Maybe that was the lesson to be learned: not perfection, but just doing. 

Vernon chuckled, about to lean for another kiss when suddenly Nina’s familiar shrill shattered the moment. He jumped away from you as if you were delinquents caught by your mothers making out in the kitchen. 

“Mommy said we shouldn’t sit there like that!” she squealed, her fingers pointing at you on the counter. 

"Nina, you're supposed to be sleeping," you scold.

“We shouldn’t sit there like that though,” Vernon acknowledged. He walked over and helped you down, not without pulling you into his side though. You’re a little stunned with him being so affectionate suddenly – not that he never was, but he usually showed it in other ways, smaller gestures like the kiss he’s pressing into your temple now. 

Nina eyes the both of you curiously, the situation being pieced together slowly in her tiny head. It was visible when she put it all together, her eyes lit up. 

“Are guys getting married now!?”

Or not. 

. . . .

Epilogue

“Hey dad,” Nina tapped Jeonghan’s forearm. Pushing a piece of kimchi between his lips, he hummed softly and glanced over at his daughter. “Do you want to see a magic trick? Uncle Vernon taught me.”

When did Vernon start learning magic tricks?

“Sure,” he nodded, curious to see what his friend taught his daughter. 

With her training chopsticks with Ryan Bear on one end, she holds up a slice of pork in front of her hand. Shielding it with her other hand, she stuffed the piece of meat quickly in her mouth and shouted, “Ta-da!”

Jeonghan swallowed his food harshly and narrowed his eyes at his daughter. “Squirt – what?”

“Did you like it?” she grinned happily, returning to her food. 

“You j-just . . . ate your pork though?” Jeonghan stated. 

“Mhm! Magic!” Nina chirped. She giggled happily and took Jeonghan by surprise by shouting, "Fuck!"

Jeonghan nearly spat his water out, the profanity ringing in his ears. "Who taught you that word!?"

"Uncle Vernon too!" she kicked her feet happily.

Jeonghan ran a hand over his face and mumbled under his breath, “Oh dear - Yoon Nina, in this household, we do not use that kind of language do you hear?"

Nina's joy simmered down and she shrank back, nodding understandably. She knew when her dad used that voice, she shouldn't push her boundaries further.

His wife popped her head into the room upon hearing his brewing. 

Jeonghan sighed exasperatedly and turned to his wife, "I think we should stop hiring my friend’s as Nina’s babysitters.”

[matan4il]

Update post:

It's exactly six months since the start of the war. Six months since the worst massacre of Jews post WWII. Six months since the worst tragedy in Israeli history, for Jewish and non-Jewish citizens, and for non-citizens who happened to be here. Six months of still not understanding how it could happen. Six months of looking for a way to comprehend that the age of defenceless Jews being mass tortured, raped and murdered isn't behind us. Six months of watching people deny the murders, the rapes, the intentionality of these crimes, the identity of the perpetrators, the pain that we feel, the fact that on October 7 we were the victims, all of which denies our very humanity. Six months of even more Israelis getting killed, soldiers and civilians, in Israel and in Gaza. Six months of wanting my people back. All of them. Alive. The kidnapped and the massacred. Like having an adult's brain, which understands the finality of death, and a child's heart, which doesn't. Six months of trying to process images and realities I will never forget, and never understand. Six months of watching with horror as my Jewish brothers and sisters abroad are being targeted as well, of searching for ways to stand with them even from afar. Six months of hearing some non-Jews (and a minority of Jewish people) acting as if Israelis' right to live is dependent on how many Gazans the antisemitic, genocidal terrorists of Hamas manage to get killed, in order to turn the world against us. Six months of having to realize those terrorists, who never made it a secret that their intents for every Jew in the world are genocidal, might succeed. Six months of wondering how the Holocaust, the genocide perpetrated against the Jews for being Jewish, is being hijacked, distorted, and All Lives Matter'ed, by the same people who would have screamed against how wrong that is, if it were done to any other marginalized group. Six months of finding comfort in the compassion, strength and solidarity of the Jewish People, of the Israelis, and of our true allies. Six months of working to allow joy in again, even as the pain doesn't let go for a second. Six months of having to face the devastating fact, that the family scars, born out of millennia of antisemitism, are not going to stop with this generation, either. Six months of experiencing the betrayal of people who were supposed to be friends, and to listen, and to know better. Six months of discovering that there is no limit to the human heart's ability to break. Six months of grieving every day like it's the first one, because October 7 never ended here. Six months of knowing I will never be the same, right from the start, from the very first horror video I happened to come across online. Six months of never being more Jewish in my life, or closer to what my Holocaust survivor grandparents had gone through, or more broken, or stronger, or prouder, or braver, or more full of love, for my people, for my friends, for my heritage as a Jew that teaches choosing to hold up even one little light, because in a world so full of darkness, so willing to embrace it, nothing matters more than the light we choose.

<- -> <- -> <- ->

Yet another Palestinian terrorist attack happened today. Two people were shot by the terrorist attacking vehicles driving by, and one of the vistims, a 19 years old female soldier, is said to be in serious condition. The other victim is a 50 years old man. The army is in pursuit of the terrorist.

We learned that yesterday, four more Israeli soldiers were killed during the fighting in Gaza, bringing the totaly number of fatalities in the ground operation to 260, and in the war and Hamas massacre combined to 604. May their memory be a blessing.

A 17 years old Palestinian was detained, searched and then arrested yesterday at the Damascus Gate in Jerusalem, when they found a concealed knife taped to his body, stopping him before he was able to carry out a terrorist attack. In a Facebook post, he talked about martyrdom and the road to heaven, a message typical of Jihadists.

Liri Albag is one of the four young Israeli female hostages, who were featured on the cover of the Daily Mail, showing them before the kidnapping, and just several hours after. Her family was sent a funeral laurel wreath, and security forces believe this was done by Iran, as part of its psychological warfare against Israeli civilians.

Here's another reminder that Hamas operates outside of Israel, and is a danger to all Jews, not just to all Israelis. This week, German and Dutch police jointly arrested four Hamas terrorists. While investigating their intent to launch attacks during Christmas, these forces ended up uncovering a Hamas weapons cache in southern Bulgaria, meant to be used against Jewish targets in Europe.

This is 47 years old Elad Katzir.

He was a farmer, and a passionate soccer fan. On Oct 7, his dad Rami was murdered in their community of kibbutz Nir Oz. His mother Chana was abducted, then released during the hostage deal, at the end of November 2023. The Palestinian Islamic Jihad (PIJ) claimed she was murdered, but it turned out they lied. Yesterday, we got the news that Elad, who was also kidnapped with his mom by the PIJ, was murdered in captivity, likely back in January. Intel that the IDF had collected led soldiers in a risky operation to the spot where Elad's body was buried. They brought him back home. As he volunteered so much, in so many domains, with so many people, his friends described him as, "a bachelor with many children."

May his memory be a blessing.

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

[hangmanbrainrot]

more than this

a/n: HI. Me again! After talking with @rosiahills22, I simply HAD to give this idea a whirl. I hope y’all enjoy! Reader’s callsign is Van Gogh (to be explained) and I don’t use Y/N. :) special thanks to @bradshawsbitch​ for the encouragement. :’)

warnings: so much mutual pining, dash of angst toward the end. Generally, all my posts are 18+ because I don’t want minors interacting with my page! Probably naval inaccuracies.

word count: 3975

summary: You and Jake have been best friends for years now… Why mess with a good thing?

pairing: Jake Seresin x Reader, Jake Seresin x Aviator!Reader — callsign: Van Gogh

“Vee, you aren’t seriously wearing that to Family Day.”

You glanced down at your striped sleep pants and faded Navy t-shirt, then whirled around to look up at the oh so familiar source of the question. Lieutenant Jake Seresin, in the flesh. He was wearing a navy blue t-shirt, jeans, and black leather-banded watch on his wrist. His signature toothpick was missing from its usual post between his lips. 

“You clean up nice,” you retorted, ignoring his initial remark. “And I thought we agreed, no call signs today.”

You ‘tsk’ed at him and turned back toward your laundry basket, then bending to pick it up and hold it at your hip. 

“You have one of the coolest callsigns, besides mine, of course. What’s wrong with Van Gogh?”

“I got it because I dropped my books and everyone saw all the doodles in the margins of my notes. And it doesn’t even make sense, because Van Gogh was a painter. At least yours has a cool story, I mean—”

He said your name, low and sweet, to cut you off. The two of you weren’t about to rehash that story again. 

“Better.” This earned you a smile. “I told you, I’m not going this year. I’m just gonna hang out here, take advantage of the empty lounge, and chill.” 

“And I told you, my mother demanded to see you. In fact, I’d dare say she’s more excited to see you than she is to see me.”

“Can you blame Mrs. Seresin for having taste?” you replied easily, the teasing lilt to your voice unmistakable as you flashed Jake a megawatt smile. 

“I’m absolutely telling on you, when I see her. ‘Mrs. Seresin’ instead of Sandy, as requested.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” you shot back, mock horror covering your features.

“Can, could, and would. Get dressed, Vee. Families will be here before you know it!”

The way that Jake departed after speaking let you know it wasn’t up for debate.

——————————————————————��————————————

You heard Jamie and Courtney before you saw them, their familiar, slightly shrill voices carrying over the crowd of people all waiting for their own aviator to make an appearance. Jake’s older and younger sisters had always treated you like the additional sibling they’d never had, but on a day like today, it made your heart ache. You knew, of course, not everyone was lucky enough to find a kind family to adopt them the way the Seresins had adopted you. Even Robert Seresin himself — gruff as he was, he had a you-sized soft spot, much like his son. Though good luck getting either of the Seresin men to admit it. 

You smiled as you spun on your heel, ready to retreat. Content to revel in the knowledge that you were loved, but too heavy-hearted to witness it today. You’d beat Jake here, somehow, so maybe you could slip out without his notice, either. Come up with some feeble story about suddenly coming down with a migraine, and nurse your ache alone, with your mounds of freshly laundered clothing, once you were sure he and his family had departed for the day.

But instead of proceeding forward, you collided with navy cotton and ginger and leather and… Jake. Had he always smelled this good?

“Hi, I was just,” you pushed out, before being interrupted. Why were you so nervous, all of a sudden? It was just Jake. 

“Trying to ditch me. Darlin’, my feelings are hurt.” The tips of your ears burned red with embarrassment, even as your stomach did backflips over the way his accent thickened on the word ‘darlin’.’ 

“Sorry, Jake.” You didn’t even have the wherewithal to hide the giggle leaking into your words. But you were smart enough to play it off. “I was just going to get a jacket.”

“Vee, it’s July.”

“Yes, I do have a calendar and I can read!” Your eye roll was practically involuntary. “I just get cold sometimes in the AC.”

A lopsided grin slid onto his features while he aimed a pointer finger at himself. “Human furnace. Let’s go!”

Before you could protest, he was slinging an arm around your shoulders and all but crushing you into his side. “I think this outfit is much more appropriate for a trip off base.” It sounded like he was testing the compliment. And, truthfully, you liked this particular combination of white cap-sleeve blouse and jeans quite a bit yourself, too. But it was nice of him to notice. Then again, you couldn’t recall a time when Jake hadn’t noticed you, not since the beginning of your friendship. He was just always so checked in with you. Always so present. If you squinted, you could call it attentiveness. 

“Jacob Michael Seresin, it is rude to keep your mother waiting! And where is — there she is, there’s my girl.” 

Before either of you could inhale, a head of blond hair identical to Jake’s came bounding toward you, Sandra Seresin bundling you up in her arms like she hadn’t seen you in years, rather than the months it had been since the last time she had seen you via FaceTime.

You hugged Sandy a little tighter, as if you were afraid you would disappear if you let go. If it weren't for this woman and her family, holding onto you — in more ways than one — you often feared no one would remember you at all. No one to be on the receiving end of a phone call or a folded flag, if you didn't make it home one day. You would just… cease to exist. Quietly. Perhaps that was fitting, considering that was exactly how you lived your life.

You were your parents' only child, and they were gone. Well, your father was, anyway. Your mother never recovered after his sudden death, and had taken to self-medicating to ease the pain of his loss. Which, sure, you got, once you were old enough, but you were still small and new to the world, when the light that was your father went out. No one is ready to lose a parent they're close to, but certainly not when they're five. And it felt like you'd lost her, too, by the time you were 10. Moved out by the time you were 16. So, she wasn't gone, but there was no relationship to be had. You knew, of course, that if something did happen to you, they'd find her. But who would she be mourning? You had lived a whole life she knew nothing about; you had become an entirely new person. Someone she knew nothing about, but that the Seresins knew like the backs of their hands. Courtney was filling your hands with your favorite candy on the walk to the parking lot, and Jamie's kids were telling you about how they were doing in school. 

Maybe someone, maybe a few someones would remember you. And fondly, you hoped.

At the height of the day, the sun was relentless, but as you walked beside Jake in the parking lot, you couldn't help noticing it made his hair the perfect shade of blond, and rendered his eyes the color of sea-glass.

"You know they just missed you," he chirped, misreading your expression and mistaking your melancholy for annoyance.

"No, no," you said softly. "It's nice to be missed. I just.."

"Today is hard," he finished your sentence matter-of-factly, and without any sort of air of pity. You heard, in its place, respect. He had no idea how you felt, but he'd always left space in your friendship for you to feel it. And, in true Jake fashion, he'd tried to fix it, by introducing you to his family, all those years ago, now. You'd only known each other a few months, then. But he didn't want you to be alone. And, the truth was, you hadn't been. Not since the moment you met him. All you ever felt when you were with Jake was ease. Comfort. 

Your hand found Jake’s without thinking, eyes burning with unshed tears. “You’re my best friend, Jake. And I will not hesitate to kick your ass if you tell anyone how soft I got.”

You glanced over at Jake just in time to watch an unreadable emotion cloud his expression. Before you had time to think it over, he was squeezing your hand. “I’ll always keep all your secrets, Vee. Including that you prefer green Jolly Ranchers, even though blue are clearly superior.” 

—————

The Seresins took you and Jake to a small diner off base, and it was today that you learned it was Jake’s favorite. You all sat in a booth toward the back, bunched up together in the cushioned semi-circle bench. Jake’s warm thigh brushed against yours, and you’d be lying if you didn’t notice the jolt that went through you, every time those thick cords of muscle pressed against you when he laughed, or when he reached forward to grasp one of the menus wedged between the matching salt and pepper shakers on the table. 

With an arm lazily draped on the booth behind you, fingers loosely grazing your shoulder every so soften, Jake opened a menu for you to share. 

“Well, what do you think, darlin’?”

“How did I not know this was your favorite place?” You asked, ignoring the question he was obviously asking you.

But he indulged you. “This was the first year I actually convinced you to come with us.”

“Convinced? I felt slightly bullied, Seresin.” You grinned, in spite of yourself. 

“Forgive me for wanting to spend a little time with you, darlin’.” He sounded almost coy. You glanced up at him, at the same time he looked over at you, and found that ‘butterflies’ were an understatement for what that look was currently doing to your insides. It felt like a cross between adoration and desire, but what was even wilder was that Jake’s expression seemed to mirror your own — which was absurd because it was Jake. Jake, who always made sure you never got left behind; Jake, who sometimes pulled his punches with you when he was ragging on you over the comms. Yeah, that Jake, your Jake was looking at you like… that?

But then you heard Jake’s dad clear his throat from across the table and you and Jake glanced up like you’d been caught doing something far less innocuous. Your mind worked overtime trying to decipher what just happened here but the moment flickered and burnt out before you, and the conversation moved on like a film unpaused.

Despite the fact that his entire family was here, it felt like Jake couldn’t bear to take his eyes off you for a moment, not that you were complaining. And it was something his mother noticed, too.

“So, between the two of you, who do you think is the better pilot?” Courtney teased, a mischievous glint visible in the hazel of her irises. 

But then Jake said your name at the same time you said his, causing you both to turn to each other in surprise, mouths agape. 

“Stop being modest,” he accused, almost immediately. Part of you wanted to make special note of this moment, record it somehow. So that the next time Jake decided to have a pissing contest with some other pilot, you could chime in and remind him it didn’t matter, since he thought you were the best anyway. You went to shove at his chest, but your hand — and your heart — stuttered with you made contact. He was so solid. Just firm muscle and warm skin. When your gaze dared drift upward, he was blushing. Your comment, voicing the observation, would die on your lips, as your server returned to the table with a tray full of milkshakes. Leave it to Jamie to secure dessert when you weren’t looking.

—————

When the meal had run its course and everyone was preparing for the trip back to base, you couldn’t help but hang back a little bit, just to take it all in. Jake was indulging Courtney in one of those rare, long bear hugs, while Jamie and his mother ran off to the bathroom, and his dad made small talk with another patron seated at the diner’s counter. In spite of your resistance, this family had yanked you, kicking and screaming, into their lives. Whether you’d found them or they’d found you didn’t matter, what mattered was the moment unfolding before you. You wished you could wrap it around you and let it warm you from the inside out. 

You weren’t sure when Jake had released Courtney to return to your side, or when the rest of his family had filtered out the diner’s front doors, so you jumped when you heard his voice from beside you. 

“You okay, sugar?” He was close enough that you could smell the tang of his cologne — softer than before, but still present — and feel the body heat rolling off of him in waves. You practically ached with the desire to move, to be touching him in some way, and the ferocious way this feeling roared to life within you startled you. Instead of giving in to that yearning to touch, you spun around and put some distance between you, eyes trained on him. You were desperate to find out what had changed, but when you gazed into Jake’s eyes. You just saw him, you just felt him. Nothing else had changed. But maybe nothing had needed to. High stakes situations meant you were constantly filtering out your emotions: keep, alter, discard; keep, alter, discard. You rifled through feelings often before you took a breath. It felt silly to question whether or not you’d simply overlooked or ignored your feelings for your best friend all along, but what else could be true? It wasn’t the way you felt about him that was new; no, it was the sudden impulse to do something about it that felt like an unscratchable itch.

You took a nearly imperceptible step closer, and Jake mirrored your actions. He said your name softly, cautiously. 

But then, from behind: “Hey, is everybody else outside?” 

Jamie’s voice was like cold water to the face. Still, you nodded, regaining the distance between yourself and Jake. You blinked a few times, as if you were hitting some sort of invisible reset button in your mind.

Keep, alter, discard.

You were silent, the entire ride back to base. You went through the motions of ‘see-you-next-time’’s and ‘take-care’’s, and stood in the parking lot until Robert’s truck was completely out of view.

“Thanks for today,” you mumbled, without looking up at Jake, then spinning on your heels to head back inside.  There was still enough of the day that you could get your laundry done if you headed straight in and got to work, you just had to —

Jake’s hand on your wrist stopped you in your tracks. Your skin was tingling where his fingers were wrapped around you. Jaw set, you clenched, mouth forming a straight line. You were back on base now; you were back to being naval aviators. There wasn’t any room for these silly little schoolgirl feelings Jake inspired in you. You didn’t get to twirl your hair and bat your eyelashes and fall head over heels for your best friend. Instead, you got to linger somewhere painfully between ‘duty bound’ and ‘already in over your head.’

“What is it, Jake?” You hadn’t yet turned to face him, and that was an offense he didn’t take lightly to; though instead of waiting for you to rectify the situation, he does so himself. It was so very like him. 

“Look at me, please.” The raw edge to his voice startled you into compliance. 

You turned and regretted it immediately.

“What did I do?” His eyes were so soft, so entirely unguarded. A fear you didn’t recognize was plain on his face. “How can I fix it?”

“It’s nothing, Jake.”

But he was not convinced by your sighed syllables. “That’s bullshit.” Even the way he spoke was gentle, like he was afraid you’d evaporate from the sheer force of his words if he spoke too loudly.

“Something changed, after lunch, something… Something happened,” he continued. “Did Jamie say something to you? Court?” 

A short burst of laughter punched out of you, but it sounded colder than you imagined, and Jake stepped back like you’d slapped him. Fear was replaced by irritation. You recognized that particular crease in his brow, but you resolved that this was good. Maybe he needed to hate you a little, so you could get over whatever was most definitely not happening here.

“What?” You laughed again, though this time it sounded more forced than before. “Did you expect me to go all weak-kneed because you saved me, Jake? Showed me what a real family was like? Would you like me to grovel with gratitude now, or can I save that for later?”

And you regretted the words the moment you said them, instantly spiraling. It was vicious and careless, but a low enough blow that it would end things — it would fix things, once and for all. But then that feeling from earlier returned, that burning at the back of your throat and the sting in your eyes. You understood now that what you were feeling was loss; you were preparing for the loss of your best friend. Prematurely, perhaps, but if you knew Jake at all, you knew it wasn’t that premature. He let the others think he was a jerk and a blowhard but, to you, he admitted to the real softness of his heart. The purity of it. It was you he sat beside, shaking with worry after Phoenix and Bob went down after a bird strike. You, he called when his niece got a case of the flu so bad she was hospitalized and he couldn’t see her. You, he pleaded with for help when he’d mouthed off too much in class and was pretty sure everyone hated him now. You knew everything he did was so startlingly fucking earnest. To question how genuine he was, to question his integrity, was the kind of wound that could only be delivered intimately. And you had done it so very well. A real stab and twist.

You mumbled an apology, just desperate to escape Jake and that angry, but somehow still pleading look in his eyes. It was when your back was turned that Jake finally spoke.

“God, I have to be so fucking stupid.” 

“Jake, don’t,” you said, stilled but not turning back around. Your pride wouldn’t let him see you cry.

“No, I must be. I must be a complete fucking idiot to have misread all the signs that you… That we want the same thing.”

You didn’t dare speak at first; you couldn’t. And then, when you did, the ragged nature of your breathing startled even you. “And what is it that you think we both want?”

“More than this, Vee!” He sounded exasperated, and you didn’t need to face him to know that Jake had run a frustrated hand through his hair. “More than tiptoeing around each other and how we feel about each other, and trying to pretend like, like…” 

“Trying to pretend like what?” The words ripped out of you like a sob and you couldn’t will yourself to be still anymore. Your body angled toward his like you were fucking magnetized. 

“Trying to pretend like I am not in love with you.” 

The words landed like lead around you, and you had to bite back a sob. When that wasn’t enough to muffle the sound, you slapped a palm to your mouth. 

He had done it. He had taken that big thing, wrestled it into submission, and then laid it bare in front of you. But, more than that, he’d laid himself bare in front of you. He was more naked now than he’d ever been in any locker room. This was Jake at his most honest.

And you could feel yourself teetering so dangerously on the edge of giving in. Your breaths heaved in and out of you with great effort. 

What if you ruined this? What if he left you? What if, what if, what if…

God, but what if you didn’t? What if, for once, something just fucking worked out, and someone just stayed? If there was anyone in your life who was capable of staying, wouldn’t it be Jake? Who else could it be? 

Your resolve was so thin, so fragile; when you finally spoke, it was: “Jake, I’m scared.” 

He took a step toward you. He could’ve closed the gap between your bodies in a singular stride, but he was giving you an out. One last chance to walk away. You remained anchored to your spot on the pavement. When he took the final step toward you, he had a palm raised to frame your face — he was shaking, but he rested his forehead against yours, too. And that was Jake, in a nutshell. Scared, but pushing forward. It was one of the things you admired, one of the things you loved most about him. 

“Don’t be scared, Vee.” The plea was soft, softer than a prayer. “Don’t be scared. Whatever there is to figure out, we’ll figure it out together. We can make this work.”

“And if we can’t?”

“We’ll figure that out together, too.” 

Even as your every survival instinct was telling you not to, even as all you wanted to do was run, you leaned in. The kiss was a little clumsy — he hadn’t been ready, you were too nervous. But then your hand found purchase against his chest, and one of his at your hip. And then you were practically tugging each other closer; your lips fitting together more seamlessly. How had you held out this long? How had you deprived yourself of this? 

Jake retracted, eyes wild and bright when he looked at you. As his lips sloped into a grin, you knew something was coming. 

“Ma’am, I’m not sure if you heard me, but…”

“Oh, you mean your little love confession?” you reveled in the flush that crept up his neck and the laugh that fled your now kiss-swollen lips as a result.

Though realization seemed to darken his expression, and his eyes left yours. The loss was one you felt immediately. 

“What?”

Jake must have felt the tension begin to seep into your body, because his thumb began to press slow, soothing circles against your hip. 

“Vee, I know you don’t need me to save you. You have never needed to be saved by anyone.” His brow furrowed a moment, and the hand still cradling your face dropped to meet the other at your hips. “But if you want to be… If you want someone else to help you carry all that weight on your shoulders. Well, that would be okay, too, alright?”

You weren’t certain, but when Jake met your gaze once again, you were almost positive there were tears welling in his eyes. The sight of his vulnerability rendered you speechless, so you nodded mutely, then managed a small ‘okay.’ It was instinctive for you to rest your forehead against Jake’s chest and allow his arms to envelope you in his embrace. More so than ever before.

You weren’t sure how long the two of you had been standing there when you finally spoke up again. “Hey, Jake?”

“Yeah, darlin’?”

“I love you.”

He didn’t say anything, and he didn’t need to. Instead, he dropped a kiss on the top of your head, and tightened his arms around you. And maybe, just maybe, you thought… this wouldn’t be so bad. Whether it was 20 minutes or 20 years, you wanted as much of Jake as he was willing and able to give. 

Keep, alter, discard? You were definitely keeping this feeling.

[scoobysnakz]

part 2 of dbf miguel. so sorry this took so long, accidentally deleted the draft like twenty times.

The TV hums softly as a random sitcom you've not gotten the chance to see yet flickers across the screen. You know you should turn it off, it's distracting you from completing your essay, one you've been procrastinating about finishing, but the background noise is comforting enough to let you keep it on, even if you'll have to rewatch it all later.

“Need help with that?”

You jump at the sudden noise, pen now clattering on the floor and rolling dangerously close to the sofa. You look up at where the voice came from, only to be met with a freshly shaven Miguel.

Embarrassment burns the back of your neck as you shift on the plush cushion of the sofa. The only thing covering the crinkled page of your otherwise barren notebook is an array of flowers around the margin and random notes scribbled out in heavy, blotchy lines.

“Am fine,” you smile, fingers spreading out to hide your work, or lack of.

Miguel just scoffs at you before pushing your hand away. “Such detailed notes,” he chides.

“It's meant to be an essay, but thanks anyway.”

You hear him stifle a laugh that you pray is sympathetic and not as amused as it sounds. It's shameful how far behind you are on your schoolwork when you have someone peering over your shoulder.

You aren't quite sure why you're so pent up on impressing Miguel, a man who is staying at his friend's house for some unbeknownst reason.

He sits down on the sofa next to you, a respectful distance but you can still smell his overbearing cologne and hair gel fusion. The sofa sinks slightly at his weight, a low creak eminating through the room.

He laughs, “let me help.”

Irritation bubbles deep in your stomach but you try to push it away, ignore it and keep going with the conversation. But when he acts so casual, even though he's stolen your bedroom, your only haven in this monstrosity of a household, you can’t help but feel annoyed with him.

“I doubt it,” you quip with an air of ignorance, fingers drumming erratically on the inky pages, “this is biology, aren't you like a chemist or something?”

A smirk curls at the corner of his lips at your sudden attitude, but he doesn't comment on it, leaving your opinion of him more distasteful than ever. “Well my degree says organic chemistry and molecular biology, so you're both wrong and right.”

“Mmm, so either, you're loaded, or up to your neck in debt.” you don't even try to hide the snark in your voice, “considering the fact that you’re staying here, I'm guessing student loan got the better of you.”

He scoffs at you, hand clasped to his chest in feigned hurt. “I'll have you know, I have a well-paying job, thank you very much.”

You flip your notebook shut, a small sense of relief washing over you now that disgrace of an essay is hidden, and shift to face him. “Then why are you here?”

He swallows, hard, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down. His gaze flickers between your face and the wall behind you, discomfort colouring his expression. The atmosphere of the room shifts entirely, and suddenly you feel guilty for hating him. Maybe he didn't mean to take your room, not on purpose anyway.

“I lost my house, not… not because of money or anything,” he pauses, plush lips pursed into a tight grimace before he continues, “didn't get a very good divorce lawyer.”

“I'm… sorry?” you've never been good at sympathy, always pushed the hard topic of emotions onto someone else so you can focus on something you're actually good at. But now, some weird part of you wants to comfort him.

“Hmm?” he looks back at your eyes, your breath catching in your throat, “Not your fault, querida, I was a silly man who did silly things. I made a mistake and lost the love of my life.”

“Don't say that.” you hate the way your voice softens. You want to keep this burning resentment for Miguel, loathe him for all eternity, it might seem petty but he deserves it. Yet, you want to pull him close, tell him to stop being so hard on himself and run your fingers through his hair until his jaw unclenches.

He shakes his head, casually, as if it was never that important.

“I couldn't stay faithful and I paid the price, she has everything she deserves leaving me with… nothing.”

An awkward silence fills the room. You don't know what to say to that other than, I take back my kindness and spit in your face for cheating on your wife.

“She was amazing, so full of life, and then one day… we just stopped clicking,” he leans back against the sofa, head craning back so that he's forced to stare at the yellowing ceiling, “it wasn't a spur of the moment, because I got bored thing. We had stopped loving each other, she had anyway.”

You reach out, your fingers brushing against his much more calloused, harsh ones causing the hairs on the back of his neck to stand on end. You give his hand a gentle squeeze that lasts a little longer than intended, but the sweetness of the action doesn't go unnoticed.

The upbeat theme tune from the TV suddenly blares out from the speakers causing the two of you to startle. Your fingers tighten around his on instinct but you immediately pull your hand away.

Miguel chuckles a low, mellow sound that makes your ears perk up. “Sat on the remote,” he says, pulling it from under his thigh.

“Scared the shit out of me, Migs- Miguel,” you breathe heavily.

He nods, smiling uneasily, praying that the hammering of his heart is from the sudden shock and not from the kindness you displayed. But deep down, he knows the truth.

prev <

[luimagines]

You Give Him A Massage Part 2

Masterlist

Part 1

Part 2 will include Time, Warrior and Wind.

Content under the cut!

Time

You hadn’t meant for it to this to happen- but in your defense, you were here first. 

Wild had somehow convinced the group to stop by the Eldin hot springs for a few hours so that they could properly unwind and heal for a moment despite the chaos of their journey. You happily agreed. Not because you thought that hot springs are a healing experience (you’re not entirely sure what he meant by that) but you’ve never been to a hot spring before. It sounded absolutely lovely.

You meandered a little ways away from the group behind a rock outcropping and made yourself comfortable in the little pool of water. It was deeper than you thought it would be and pleasantly hot. If you bent your knees a little bit you could have dunked your entire head in the water- but you weren’t aiming for that at the moment.

You closed your eyes and relaxed as much as you felt like you could have- which to say, completely.

Suddenly the water splashed a little ways away from you- but it’s not like the pool you had chosen was particularly big. You’re eyes widened in shock before you sunk a little further into the pool. “Uh- hello?”

 “Oh goodness, I’m sorry.” Time calls out. “I didn’t anyone was here.”

“Yeah... it’s a nice spot, isn’t it?” You kick yourself mentally. How awkward can you get? “It’s... a little far away from everyone else so-”

“Yeah... It’s why I came here.” He says quietly. “I didn’t mean to intrude on your time though- I apologize. I’ll go elsewhere.”

“You don’t-” You start and bite your tongue. You did want t be alone. But it almost feels like you’re kicking him out and it’s not like you own the spring. Are you overthinking this? You try a that again. “You don’t have to leave.”

That seems to Time food for thought. “Would you mind if I stayed then? For a little bit?”

Honestly? “No. I don’t.”

Time seems to sigh of relief and sinks further into the springs, keeping his distance away from you. “Thank you.”

“No problem.”

You settle for ignoring him for the time being. It’s easier this way. About an hour passes and you think you might have stayed in longer than you should have. Although you do feel a lot better than before.

You turn to Time who’s still relaxing with his eyes closed. Unless he’s fallen asleep. That wouldn’t be good. Not about to take the risk, you try to not pay attention to the fact that he’s shirtless and put a hand on his shoulder. 

It’s about as solid as rock.

“Yes?” He asks you.

“Time-” No, no one else is around. You can say it. “Link, what the hell did you to yourself?”

“Nothing.” He grumbles.

“Lies.” You spit and try to work the spot. Time grunts a little but doesn’t stop you.

“It’s not going to work.” He says quietly.

Well, you’re not about to leave him like that. “It’s just means we’ll be here for longer then.”

You keep kneading his shoulder for a while before turning him around so that you would have better access. It’s longer than either of you are willing to admit and you’re hand hurt by the end of it, but Time feels significantly better at the end.

He falls asleep almost instantly when they set up camp later in the day. You’ve never seen that happen before.

Warrior

You all had finally settled down for the night at last. The battle today wasn’t anything strenuous by any means but that was purely from your point of view.

You looked around and saw that many of the boys had taken a bit of a beating. Nothing to take concern to, but you worried that some of the bruises would last a while. Or at least your group got more potions to pass around for the time being.

Warrior in particular looked as if he was paying for something that he may or may not have done during the fight. He took his armor and layer off with a groan and a sigh of marginal relief before he tried to stretch his back with very little success.

You could see when it went the wrong way for him, since his face contorted and flinch before he snapped back to his previous position. You hissed in his behalf.

“Ouch.” You make your way over to him. “Pull something, Captain?”

He winces and reaches behind him to rub the spot between his shoulder blades. “You could say that.”

You shook your head and sat down next to him. You lean back to get a look and poke the spot. Warrior instant sits a little straighter to alleviate the pressure you’ve put there. “Hey- don’t.”

“Hold on.” You cut him off instead and turn him around so you wouldn’t have to pull your own muscle in the process.

You press your thumbs into the spot and slowly begin to move in small circles, slowly loosening up the area before you start to move the muscles back into place. 

Warrior was tense at first but within seconds he relaxed to your touch and slumped enough to make it easier on you. “That.... feels a lot better thank you.”

“You’re not one to usually injure yourself, Captain.” You say under your breath. Unlike most of the guys here, you don’t intend to broadcast your scolding. “How did you manage this?”

Warrior stays silent but one small look forward tells you that he’s actually think about what to say. He genuinely has to think back to what he did that might have caused this. It feels like it should annoy you but you know better. Anyone else would have probably assumed that it meant that he had so many instances that he would have to go through each one to pin point the cause for this effect.

But in reality, Warrior took great pride in not getting so often on the battle field. He’s probably just trying to think about how he actually to hard on himself even if it was split second decision that he’s currently paying for.

“I threw my sword.”

You stop entirely. “I beg your pardon?”

“I threw my sword.” Warrior cups the back of his neck sheepishly. “Hyrule was going to be overtaken by the amount of monsters around him. I wouldn’t have been able to run that fast... but my sword could make it in time if I-”

“I can’t believe you.” You message the spot once more with a little less empathy than before. 

Right. He’s still a Link. How could you forget?”

“...Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize to me.” You say a little louder. “You’re the one that took yourself out at the end of the day.”

“...I think I looked cool though.”

Hyrule laughs on the other side of the growing fire. “Yeah. He looked pretty cool when he came in to save my hide. He jumped in like a bat out of hell.”

You deadpan. “Good grief.”

Wind

It was a long day of walking. 

You were used to it at this point. You loved to go on walks and hikes up the mountains by your home, so this was nothing- but others... weren’t as well prepared for the travel as you thought they would be,

“Ah!” Wind cried out falling beside you.

You didn’t hesitate to fall down next to him, trying to catching him before he would have hit his face on the sharp rocks on the trail. “Wind? What happened?”

He whines and tries to push himself up but instead he just rolls over. “I have a cramp in my leg.”

You move to give him room as he props himself up his elbows. “It hurts.”

You sit softly on your knees and begin to poke around. “Where?”

He takes a deep breath. “Left leg, above my shoe.”

“Your calf then.” You hop over him and sit down on that side. You take your leg and start to move your hand down the length of the muscle. Wind grits his teeth, choking on the sound that threatened to leave his mouth.

“Hold on, this won’t take too long.” You pat his knee and continue putting the muscle back into place. “Remind me to yell at Time for pushing you this far. You’re not used to this much walking.”

“I can keep up just as well as the other guys.” He spits. There’s no small amount of venom to his voice, but you ignore it. You’ve had cramps before. You’re about to go off on him about his tone just because he’s hurting.

You keep at it, massaging the muscle. It fights you and poor Wind has to pay for it. Eventually, your “disappearance” garners the attention of the rest of the group. You can hear Sky and Wild calling for the both of you.

You sigh and call back to them. “We’re here! Give us a minute!”

They don’t seem to trust your words because they right next to you not even thirty seconds later. Sky’s jaw drops as he rushes next to Wind. “What happened?”

“Wind’s leg cramped up. He fell over.” You don’t look at the other hero, simply focusing on helping the boy feel better and get back on his own two feet.

Wind looks away from Sky in shame, blushing at being caught. Sky frowns and glares. “We’re done for today.”

Wind’s eyes widen, he goes to reach for him but Sky leaves his reach too quickly. “Sky-!”

“This isn’t ok.” He snaps back. “I’m telling the others to call it. We all need a break.”

“Here.” Wild hands Wind a small vial. “This’ll help.”

Wind takes it begrudgingly, pouting as he sips on it. “Thanks.”

You snort, running your hands down his leg one more time. “That should do it. Do you think you can stand?”

You stand up and hold out your hand. Wind takes it and with your help, gets back onto his feet. He wobbles for a second before he starts to walk again. It’s clear he doesn’t trust his own feet before be can limp back to the others. Wind drinks the rest of the potion.

You frown. He’s still not where you would like him to be. “Come on. Break time.”

Part 3

[sunshine-jesse]

Ashley Graves Did Something Wrong

TCOAL plays a lot of fun games with the ways it makes you perceive events. From the title screen itself, to various pieces of official art, it primes you to accept certain narratives surrounding the game. Namely, the one that Ashley is very not good. She is, in fact, very bad! And it's pretty easy to see why- many of her actions fit neatly into the mold of an abuser. She's controlling, she tries to deflect blame, gaslights Andrew into making him take the blame for things she pushed him to do to begin with, and harasses other women to ruin his relationships with them.

It's all so easy, and makes so much sense. Case closed.

Right? Well, no. But actually yes! But actually, it's not that simple.

Y'see, as I said, the game establishes this framing from the get-go. It introduces us to our, uh, heroes and tells us in no uncertain terms that Ashley is bad and Andrew is a non-entity. It sets this framing intentionally so that many players will engage in a little quirk of human psychology called…

Confirmation bias!

I'm sure we all know what that is, right? Well, for those who don't, it's when we start with a bias towards something- or an idea of how things SHOULD be- and view every piece of evidence as confirmation that said bias is correct. The game, very blatantly, does this with Ashley's actions by priming us to see them as part of an abuse dynamic, with her as the primary abuser. And, indeed, it's not too hard to dig into Andrew's behavior and figure out that he, too, is fucked up and awful and come to the conclusion that their relationship was mutually fucked up and abusive. I did that in my last two essays, so I won't cover that ground again here. With this, it's easy to think that they bring out the worst in each other and that any relationship they have would be toxic, fucked up, dark, and every other word or phrase that describes the same idea, whether it makes them happy or not.

… But what if I told you that this, too, was an intentional misdirection?

So. Let us, for a moment, completely remove the framing that their relationship is toxic. Let us remove the framing that their relationship is abnormal or aberrant. Let's even remove the framing that either one of them is responsible for the harm of the other. I'm not arguing that any of this is not the case. Please, for the love of god, do not think that I am, if only so you can take the rest of what I have to say seriously. What I'm doing is trying to examine the two of them free of as many preconceptions as I can, using nothing but textual evidence and inference to figure out why Andrew and Ashley treat each other the way they do.

I will later examine why they MIStreat each other too, but first comes the reasons they treat each other well.

I'm going to start with Andrew, because, despite being the more complex of the two, it's actually pretty easy to figure out why he treats Ashley the way he does based on what he says. Let's go all the way back to the earliest known incident between the two in the story, where the two of them were at their most, uh, "pure," for lack of a better word: The cupcake scene.

Leyley was supposedly a problem child. She was neglected by her parents, disliked by her friends, and had nobody else but Andrew to rely on. She got nothing- absolutely nothing- from anyone else. And so, Andrew decided to celebrate her birthday, by buying her the cupcakes she wanted, by giving her what she lacked from others. By providing for her, and taking care of her. All he wanted was to make her happy, more than anything else. And, as Nina learned the hard way, at the expense of everyone else.

He doesn't lack empathy, per se. Andy just loves Leyley more than he loves anyone else by such a wide margin that his desire to provide for her overrides his fear of consequences… until those consequences threaten to separate the two of them.

That is a very Gender Roles thing to do. More on that later.

So. Ashley. Everyone's favorite disaster. Why does she treat Andrew the way she does? What does she provide for him? Well, isn't it obvious? She, too, wants to provide for him. Remember, she wanted the lemon cupcake because she thought it's what HE wanted. She also does most of the chores around the house. She prepares food, cleans the house, and does their laundry. She also provides for his non-sexual physical needs by offering him comfort whenever he needs it. It makes her feel useful. Wanted. Needed.

Ah, another very Gender Roles thing to do. See where I'm going with this?

The two neatly fit into a standard husband/wife relationship in a lot of ways. It's THE platonic ideal of such a relationship, actually! They make each other happy and provide WHAT THEY THINK the other really wants. It's really cute and perfect! As long as you ignore all the bad.

ignore all the bad …ignore all the bad… But we obviously shouldn't ignore all the bad. That would be ridiculous.

What I want to do is, instead, examine where the bad comes from, and why it's there. With the abuser/abused dynamic in mind, it's pretty easy to come to the conclusion that a mutual desire for control and power over the other is the sole determining factor. It's arguably the Central Theme of the game, and maybe a big part of what Nemlei is trying to convey. But, like, why should it end there? Why should that be where the analysis ends? There's a reason for everything.

They don't want to control each other for its own sake. They don't want to control each other solely to cover their own insecurities.

So why?

Ashley, first. She's obviously an insecure little monster, having never received the validation that she needs to really come into her own as a person. She keeps seeking it. Keeps trying to provide for Andrew. Keeps trying to make herself useful. Now, let's look at her calls towards Julia:

"DO YOU THINK YOU'RE BETTER THAN ME!? Just because you can fuck him and I can't?"

Ah, wait, hold on a minute.

"You think that's love?! Are you fucking delusional?? Cumdumpsters like you are just that."

Where does that wording come from?

"He will never love you. Not like he loves me. I am the only one. I am everything."

She doesn't need validation just for the sake of her insecurities. She needs it because she needs Andrew to be happy, and in her mind, she's the only one who can provide it. She knows him better than anyone else. She can see how happy she seems to make him, and that nobody else can do what she does. She knows, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that she makes Andrew more comfortable than anyone. She knows how important physical affection is to him. She can feel it. She doesn't lack empathy towards his plight or feelings; she has more of it than anyone, actually!

But Andrew, crucially, never seems to provide her any validation for this, even though she knows better. That's why she's so insecure.

"But wait," you might say, "didn't he, literally, fucking kill for her?"

Yes. But he always tries to place the blame on Ashley or use her as a scapegoat, when he was the one who pulled the trigger. He never accepts even the smallest amount of responsibility. And if a man can't even take responsibility for the violence he inflicts on others, what does that say about him? What does it say about how much he actually cares? oh. more gender roles. huh.

In Ashley's mind, that validation isn't validation because he didn't do it to prove he cared about her. He did it to shut her up. And… he never says anything to the contrary. He refuses to. All his validation is depressingly, overbearingly conditional.

His words always come with a caveat. They're always said in spite of something. They lack warmth. They lack kindness. They lack affection. She is never, ever given a key to lock the door to her insecurities…

…even though Andrew obviously has that key. He just refuses to give it to her.

But why?

Society! :D

There is something so fundamentally, obviously wrong with the way Andrew feels towards Ashley. She is a tar soul. A pariah. So horrid that her parents don't want her, so obviously bad that even demons don't want her. And yet Andrew, in spite of everything, still wants her. He wants to take care of her, when society tells him not to bother. He wants to protect her from other men, and even from herself. It manifests as jealousy because…

He, too, thinks the only one qualified to provide for Ashley is himself, because he was the only one who ever had. Violence comes so naturally to him that he takes it for granted. He kills for her, threatens to physically assault her when he thinks she's putting herself in danger.

It's so second nature to him that he thinks it should obviously be enough. But it isn't. His violence is so second nature as to be passive. It's non-committal. And what Ashley wants is committment.

But because of how society views Ashley, and how the world would view a romantic relationship between them, he can't truly commit to her. He can't give her the validation she really needs, because everything and everyone has told him that it's wrong. That she's wrong. And all his parents ever taught him is to be afraid of how others will react to that wrongness.

hey look, a man fearing the commitment a woman wants from him! more gender stereotypes!! I wonder what this game is trying to say!!!

Maybe I'm crazy or something. Maybe I'm just looking into it too deep. But I don't really care. I don't care if this is the intended reading, and neither should you. The fact of the matter is that most of the things that define them as toxic are not their fault. Most of the reasons they mistreat each other come from without, rather than within. The only reason they can't love each other is because the world tells them not to. Because it expects them to fill certain roles, to be certain people.

But Ashley can only ever be herself.

Maybe someone who's an actual expert on this subject matter could weigh in and give a true feminist reading. But me? I'm just here to point out patterns. I'm just here to point out facts. And one of those facts is that, to the world around her, Ashley did something wrong: She was born.

The Steam reviews of this game are fucking funny, but a lot of them say one thing that couldn't be further from the truth:

"I can fix her!"

No, you can't. She's only 'broken' in the context of her environment.

But in the words of another analyst:

It's madness to expect tar to behave like water.

So cut them some slack! They might finally succeed in a world that wanted nothing more than for them to fail. It's not our right to take that away from them.

[upsidedownwithsteve]

Alright my friend, what about a smutty blurb with Steve that is totally not related to your writer's block at all? 👀

You're frustrated with work. Something not going the way you want it to. You're huffy. You're at your desk, the kitchen counter, heck you're outside by the pool trying to work on it.

Steve's tried the sweet, baby come relax, he's tried making you drinks. Feeding you snacks. You're like nah, Steve, I'm going to sit here and huff, nothing is going to work.

His penis. His penis is gonna work. Take it out on Stevie, he doesn't mind. In fact, he'd love it if you got a little mean, a little more vocal for a change.

- @superblysubpar 💛

TAYLOR WHAT THE FUCK IM FINE

18+

You’d been sitting in front of your paperwork for hours. Books surrounded you, mostly unopened, sheets of paper showing nothing more than scored out sentences and scribbles in the margins, hearts and clouds that turned into frowny faces and raindrops.

There was a coffee cup, still full, untouched as was your flask of water, the bowl of strawberries Steve had placed on your desk after you’d turned down his offer of lunch. And the last three times he’d asked you about dinner, about settling down for the night, you’d grunted and grumbled your disagreement, gaze never straying from your work.

“Honey, c’mon,” Steve tried again, the clock on the wall above you ticking towards eleven o’clock. You’d been at it for almost nine hours. “You need to eat. There’s pasta waiting for you. How ‘bout you eat and I’ll run you a bath—”

“Steve,” you didn’t quite snap, but it was awfully close. Your voice was clipped and your boyfriends name didn’t come out nearly as half as sweet as you normally said it. “I need to finish this.”

“You’re not gonna get anything done when you’re in that mood,” Steve shot back, eyebrows raised when you huffed at him, barely turning away from your desk to look at him.

“I’m not in a mood.”

The boy laughed at that, a breathy noise that sounded more mean than amused. He walked into the room, abandoning his position against the doorframe that he’d been leaning on. You felt him before you heard him, nose brushing behind your ear before his hands came to rest on the desk in front on you, arms either side, caging you in.

“Yes, you are,” Steve replied calmly. His tone would’ve riled you if it hadn’t been for his lips on your neck, ghosting across the nape of it, his nose pushing your hair out of the way for himself. “Can’t lie, babe, you’re gettin’ a little bitchy—”

“Steve—”

“And I know you’re stressed, honey, but you’re not gonna get much done when you’re locking yourself away in here all day.” Another kiss, this time on your jaw, softened his words. “Take a break. It’ll be here tomorrow. Eat. Shower. Sleep.”

You groaned, pouting at the boy’s words. You knew he was right, you did. But the empty lines on your notebook mocked you. “I can’t,” you grunted, slipping back into your bad mood. Grey clouds seemed to gather in front of your vision. “I can’t do any of that until this is finished.”

Steve straightened back up then, his mouth leaving your skin. You weren’t sure if you were disappointed or pleased he was listening. But then his hand came back into your line of view and your book was snapped shut.

“Hey! Steve, I told you—“

Your chair was spun, Steve’s pretty face in front of yours as he leaned into your space, one hand take your cheeks between his fingers and thumb, squeezing a little. A warning.

“Do me instead.”

You blinked, jaw slackening, even in his grip. “What?”

The boy grinned. “You heard me, honey. Do me. Use me. C’mon, let me get you out of that pretty head of yours, huh? Make yourself feel better.”

That’s how you ended up bent over your desk, sleep shorts on the floor and your vest top pulled down so your tits could spill out, hard nipples grazing the tabletop. Your papers were spilled in every corner of the room, pens rolling to the carpet as Steve kept you pressed down with one large hand on the small of your back.

The other held your knee, hitching it up and pinning it to the desktop, keeping you spread open for him as he fucked himself into you, hips rolling slow until you cried out in frustration.

“What’s that?” He cooed, brow furrowed as he tried to hold himself back, his eyes dark and trained on your cunt, the way it glistened in the glow of the lamp, the way it stretched over the girth of his cock. “You gettin’ all quiet on me? C’mon, honey, you’ve been runnin’ that bitchy little mouth all day, you wanna ask for something?”

Steve reared back, a hand leaving your back to deliver a swift slap to your ass, a groan rumbling in his chest as he watched it jiggle for him. You whined, eyes fluttering closed as you tried to arch your back, doing your best to take more of his cock.

“Try asking a little sweeter, baby,” Steve smiled, panting as he kept himself snug inside of you. You were tight around him, teetering on the edge, just where he wanted you. “Ask me real sweet and I’ll give it to you, yeah?”

You gave in then, gasping, fingers curling around the edge of the table. “Harder! Jesus, Steve, fuck me harder, please… please baby.”

Steve grinned as he pulled almost all the way out of you, the tip of his cock nudging at your folds, revelling in the way your cunt tried to suck him back in, desperate.

“Shit, honey, see?” Steve slammed back into you before you had a chance to reply, groaning when you moaned high and loud, cheek pressed to the table. “Gonna give you whatever you want, just gotta be nice about it. You’re out of your bad mood now, aren’t you?”

You didn’t have it in you to argue back.

[edgeray]

Arlecchino is a selfish person.

(Arlecchino x Reader)

Living in a world like Teyvat inherently makes one selfish. For Arlecchino, her life has developed and progressed up to this point only by sheer selfishness. Survival is only gained through selfishness, a fact that she had to pick up quickly when she was first placed in the House of the Hearth. There, the very process of rising up to the ranks required stomping over others for more favor from the former Father of the orphanage. Children brutally betrayed their own sisters and brothers for just the most marginal amount of praise and grace from the Matron. Arlecchino knows now, that even after the murder and deaths of many, she could not entirely blame them. She cannot admonish inhibiting selfishness either, it is simply the way that is life. Because she knows that very selfishness runs through her veins as well.

Arlecchino discarded the notion of romance or friendship in her future when she was a child. Neither of the two can occur, not when the only person her world can afford to revolve around is herself. Trusting others was the demise of many. It was a foolish and naive dream that the youth of the House of the Heart had, one that she intended to remove it from the depths of her mind.

That was until she opened her eyes, and became sick of what the House of the Hearth had become: simply a machine to produce children that would surely die of their own aimless loyalty to their archon. When she eliminated the Matron and sat upon her chair to take her place as the Father, she intended to get rid of this impractical system. There was no need for this continuous cycle of death anymore, and so with that, she enrooted in each child that selfishness was misplaced here and that all the children here were one another's family.

Regardless of the change to the House of the Hearth, it doesn't change Arlecchino's nature. She knows that, in theory, forming friendships and relationships is ultimately beneficial for the children, but the belief cannot dismantle the injected value inside of her. She had always been seeking for her own benefit, even her current position is in that manner. Serving as the Tsaritsa's loyal dog has provided her with many advantages that she will continue to take, so long as the Tsaritsa proves to be beneficial.

Even with you, she is selfish. She is a taker--she reaps as much as she can from another with as little to give from herself as possible. And that is what she does with you: she takes from you whatever you're willing to give. Reciprocating is a difficult task for her and it is here that she doubts her relationship with you. Still, you are persistent and unfaltering, the bits and pieces that she does share you drink in greedily, whether that be her touch or the small acts of service she does.

She kisses you because your taste is sweet. She touches you because you are soft and warm in contrast to her harsh and cold exterior. She enjoys your presence because you are a distraction from the depraved and monochrome life she leads.

She does not know how she fell in love with you. Not because there are no traits of you that aren't loveable but you are opposite to her. She knows that love is selflessness. Maybe it is because you are the embodiment of selflessness that she starts learning how to be better for you. A relationship is more or less a balance of taking and giving, and when you give her so much, she wonders if she were to do the same, would it garner the rewards that you seem to get?

When you give her your tears, and she cups your face and wipes them away from your beautiful eyes, would you do the same for her? When you hold her so tenderly in your arms, she wonders how is that you enjoy her presence outside of just her body warmth. When you bring her a homecooked dish or a purchased pastry with that radiant smile on her face, she suppresses the inquiry on how spending the effort and time on her can possibly make you this pleased with yourself.

She does ask you one day. Why you're so adamant about doing these things for her? You answer that it's because you get to see the small quirk of her lips and the soft flare of her red crosses. She doesn't understand how her expression could make you self-fulfilled. How can you love someone so selfish?

The response that comes from you baffles her.

If she was so selfish then she wouldn't have considered it in the first place, would she? The kisses that she gives is enough to make your heart race. An embrace from her is like an embrace from heaven, and every night within her arms feels as ethereal as the night prior's. Her firm and crass reminders to treat yourself more gently are comforting and heartwarming. Her protectiveness over you tells you that you are loved, worthy of her protection and consideration despite the numerous children and duties she has to attend to. When she pauses her work, without any care to how much or how little she has left incomplete, to greet you properly every time you come home, you're sure that you will always go back home to her. And when she whispers 'I love you' when she thinks you're asleep, you know that those are genuine.

She gives you plenty, you reassure her with your usual grin.

Arlecchino is a selfish person. Or so she thought.

[howtofightwrite]

So in my fantasy setting, magic not only doesn't work on iron, but applying it immediately nullifies any spell upon contact. This means that iron, in a setting with a lot of beings made of magic, is the one universal weakness that can easily kill them. Naturally, considering the fact that we're talking about a world overrun with them that are not afraid to eat people, this means societies tend to form around veins of iron ore (that's the right word, vein, right?) and are naturally going to be much more inclined to crafting iron weapons to deal with the magical beings wanting to eat people.

However, it was in thinking through that only pure iron weapons are what give iron its power that I run into issues. Considering that means steel is effectively blocked off when it comes to weapon making and magical enchantments don't work on iron here (though they do work on other kinds of metal), how exactly might that impact the tech tree on weapons in my setting? As well as anything else I might not have thought of when writing this? Thank you!

I poked at a similar thought process awhile back, and there's some problems I never fully worked around.

The problem with, “iron, but not steel,” is that, when you really get down to it, steel is just purer iron.

Let me put this another way, you're wandering around in a fantasy world that is geologically similar to our own, with similar metallurgy to 12thcentury Europe. An iron weapon you find will be mostly iron with some trace amounts of other metals such as nickle, copper, and whatever else didn't get filtered out.

In contrast, if you get your hands on a steel weapon, that's going to be almost exclusively iron, with a little carbon, maybe some phosphorus or sulfur. (There's a fairly long list of elements you can find in trace quantities, but this is also true of normal iron weapons.) The important thing to understand is, iron weapons are made from iron, steel weapons are made from better iron.

Even as far back as the first millennium, some smiths were intentionally purifying their iron to produce higher quality weapons (including the first super alloys, such as Damascus steel.) But, it was still iron.

Really, the one kind of iron you're likely to find in that world that isn'talmost exclusively iron would be meteoric iron. This is, as the name implies, iron that came from a meteor strike. In these cases, you're actually looking at a significant amount of nickle (usually 5-10%), along with a bit of cobalt and traces of a mix of other elements.This stuff was used in weapon making, but was extraordinarily rare. As a weapon, meteoric iron isn't incredibly useful, it's still inferior to steel weapons, but it will resist corrosion, and can make for a very showy weapon. This, in turn, can result in a weapon that appears to be somewhat magical, and may be while, “starmetal,” “starsteel,” or meteoric iron is a semi-popular material for magical weapons.

So, if the issue is iron itself, then there's no chemical reason steel shouldn't also function. Of course, that does nothing to eliminate potential mystical or supernatural explanations, but if this is a magical vulnerability, you're not going to find an answer in chemistry.

This leads to two possibilities. I'm going to use orichalcum as an arbitrary example, if you're unfamiliar, this was a metal Plato claimed was mined on the isle of Atlantis, and was the foundation for their economy, but you'll frequently find this brought up in fantasy without any connection to that original context.

So, either your world is one where human on human violence is conducted with something other than (and superior to) iron and steel, for example: Orichalcum, and that creates a situation where using steel weapons could actually put fighters at a disadvantage against properly equipped troops.

Alternatively, it's possible that, while iron and steel are marginally effective against monsters, there are other, much rarer, possibly irreplaceable, materials that are far more effective. In this example, it's possible that there are no sources of raw orichalcum remaining in the world, and the artifacts that have been mined and forged are all that is left. To make matters worse, it's possible that no living smiths have the knowledge to forge (or reforge) these weapons, meaning that any damage to these items is irreparable.

For an amusing twist on this, if titanium was the metal needed to harm monsters, that would create serious issues. The problem is, you cannot mine titanium. It's impossible (at least on Earth.) This is because titanium does not naturally occur as a metal, and only as an oxide (a white powder), and it wasn't until 1910 that the first metallic titanium was produced in a lab. It would be over 20 years before  a process was discovered to produce it on an industrial grade. If your setting is built off of a distant apocalypse, it's possible there would be weapons produced from this material, but there would be absolutely no way to get more, while still having a veneer of chemical plausibility. (Alternately, it's possible some alchemist in the past developed a method to produce titanium in your setting... and they may or may not still be around, with the weapons being extremely difficult to produce, or signs of a lost technology.)

Actually, a fun side note, chemistry comes from the same root as alchemy, and it's a case where a pseudo-mystical field transitioned into a hard science over time.

Now, don't consider this part an indictment, but, a couple years back, I remember watching someone's, how-to: world-building on YouTube, and they blasted the concept of the, “trade city,” as semi-nonsensical. The issue is that basically any city will get its start based on trade, and really, cities live and die based on their economies. So, when you say, “this city started as a trade city,” yeah, that's how you get a city. It's the rare cities that are founded for some other reasons (like a massive fortress that gradually accumulated a civilian population of people fleeing from beyond its walls, and adventurers or crusaders using it as a last stop before moving on into the wastes, with the city, and its trade economy growing due to factors unrelated to its usefulness as a trade port.)

Now, if you're wondering how this is relevant to your question, this is about the distribution of iron. There's some discrepancies between the largest iron deposits in the real world and the distribution of people, but access to iron was a critical consideration in the development of Western Europe. Or, put another way, if you have iron mines in the hills, but farmland and a river in the lowlands, you'll probably build your city in the lowlands, on the banks of the river, and then export whatever iron and food you don't need in exchange for other goods that you do find useful. It doesn't, really, matter much if there are ravenous hellbeasts wandering the foothills, if you can dispatch them with iron weapons. All that really means is you'll have slightly less iron to export. This creates a situation where settlements may range pretty far the iron mines, if there are other economic resources worth extracting. Trade would more heavily favor access to iron than in real world history, but it's not a completely alien scenario. In some ways, this isn't that different from a continent in a permanent state of total war, the only difference is that the monsters don't need their own iron supply lines. Settlements would need to be guarded, mines, farms, and other resources would also need protection. Trade lines would need guards. The overall level of fortification may be higher than in real history (though, this isn't a certainty), but a lot of the same considerations wouldn't be affected.

Now, on a grand scale, persistent hunting by supernatural monsters would amount to a greater economic drain than witnessed in real world history. This would slow some technological, and economic growth. I'd say that cities would, likely, be more fortified, but when looking at medieval cities, I'm not sure that would be the case. I'm also not certain this would meaningfully shift the balance of power (assuming an alternate history), simply because those monsters would hit everyone roughly equally. (Though, if the monsters do play favorites, that could heavily skew the balance of power.) While access to iron would be critical, access to other trade goods such as salt, clay, grains, and other things would still be useful. The best iron mine in the world won't keep your troops fed on its own.

I doubt you'd see a situation where iron became the dominant currency metal, and too valuable to waste on coinage. You would probably still see gold and silver as the dominant metal coinage, and that would also result in some geographical skewing, as there would be some settlements built around mining gold or silver, and then selling those materials to others in exchange for iron. It's also worth remembering that for a large part of the middle ages, most coin based transactions took place at the upper echelons of society. The barter economy would still be going strong in most fantasy settings. When talking about roleplaying game settings, that does get a bit warped, as players tend to swing around extraordinary amounts of wealth.

The biggest changes I'd expect would be slightly more terra nullius. If the plains between two mountains have no mineral wealth, and the mines on either side are already well supplied, there wouldn't be much reason to settle there. You might also see a move away from river travel. Historically, this was an extremely efficient way to move large amounts of resources, but if there are monsters in the water that pose a real threat to brown water shipping, that could cause some significant changes. Settlements might be more isolated from one another initially, until technological development got to the point where overland shipping (by cart) became more viable. It might also reduce the scope of trade overall, meaning situations like the gold mining settlement above, wouldn't be able to import enough food and iron to be viable. This might also inflate the value of other, secondary, goods. For example, access to limestone deposits large enough to effectively quarry, might become a defining factor on where fortified settlements can be built. If there isn't enough limestone on site, there simply might not be a way to effectively transport more. Even if it was only 20 miles from the settlement.

At the end, how much would it change the world? I don't know. There's a lot of factors which could heavily skew how the world shakes out. It could be almost non-existent, or it could be an entirely alien world. It depends on how much pressure your monsters apply to the world.

-Starke

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[katelynnwrites]

When You Know (You Know) | Felicitas Rauch

warnings: some pain, insecurities and a tad of angst

word count: 1964

summary: your girlfriend needs you after wolfsburg’s loss, even if she doesn’t know it yet

a/n: requested, original idea here

Feli knows that she is an optimistic person. She’s always been one.

But she is finding it difficult to see anything positive in this. Her club’s exit from the Champions’ League is startling and nothing short of humiliating.

As far as she can remember, this is the first time that Wolfsburg has been eliminated before they even reached the group stages.

Losing again, so soon after that devastating blow is too much.

Felicitas hates that she was a part of it. She can’t help but feel responsible, wondering if there was a way she could have prevented it. She knows she could have played better, defended better against both Paris FC and Bayern Munich.

Last season they made it to the final and this season they won’t even get to play in the European competition.

At the rate her club is going in the league, they won’t be doing well either. Certainly not finishing in first place.

The defender doesn’t know how to reconcile that knowledge with the high hopes and expectations she had started the season with.

In the back of her mind, an anything but quiet voice asks over and over again if she could have made a difference. She is well aware that she has not been at the top of her game recently and that adds to her guilt.

Those thoughts keep her company for the whole trip back home, from Munich back to Wolfsburg.

Several hours of being tormented by her own mind has her at her breaking point and Feli has nothing left to give by the time she reaches the door of her apartment.

She unlocks it and the first thing she notices is that her apartment, while dark, doesn’t feel as empty as it should.

The German woman flicks on the light and jumps when something warm touches her leg.

She is barely able to stop herself from screaming and her heart pounds in her chest.

A familiar bark pulls her out of it and Feli opens her tightly squeezed eyes with a sigh of relief.

‘Oh thank god it’s just you.’ She exhales, bending down to pet her dog.

Cinnamon licks her hand eagerly and Feli relaxes marginally, more than she has since Linda Dallmann scored Bayern’s first goal.

The brunette is so exhausted that it takes a moment for it to occur to her that Cinny shouldn’t even be there.

When it does, Feli straightens up in alarm immediately.

‘Hey.’ You greet, leaning against the frame of your girlfriend’s bedroom door.

The brunette blinks once, twice and then a third time before she is crossing the room as rapidly as she can, practically throwing herself into your arms.

She gasps, clinging tightly on to your shirt.

‘I’m here. I got you.’ You murmur, slipping one of your hands under her hoodie to rub her back while the other supports her.

You know that your girl’s love language is physical touch and you want nothing more to comfort her. Especially right now when she is clearly hurting.

Felicitas sobs, salty tears bleeding into the fabric of your top.

‘How can I help? What do you need from me?’ You offer.

As a fellow professional athlete, you know that’s the best thing you can do for her right now.

Words like ‘I’m sorry.’ or ‘You’ll do better next season.’ don’t help.

Not when the pain and disappointment is so raw and overwhelming.

‘Just hold me. Please just hold me and don’t let go.’ She chokes out.

‘Of course liebling. I won’t let go till you’re ready.’ You promise.

Feli cries harder at that, her slim frame trembling with the force of it.

Gently, you guide her over to her bed and settle yourself beside her. You spoon her close, tucking her head under your chin and wrapping your arms around her waist.

The sheets are still warm, from when you had been sleeping in them earlier, before Cinny’s barks had woken you up.

You guess you should have told your girlfriend that you were coming over but really you hadn’t planned to.

You’d just known that she would need you and yet be too worried of being too much to ask.

As soon as the full time whistle for her game was blown, you had switched off your television and hurriedly packed an overnight bag before making the drive from Frankfurt to Wolfsburg.

Feli doesn’t dare to ask you for many things, constantly feeling like it would make you get tired of her more quickly.

That couldn’t be further from the truth and you have been trying to work on it with her but the fullback’s insecurities are deeply rooted and aren’t so easily overcome.

Gently, you stroke Feli’s hair and press slow kisses against her back.

Your girlfriend whimpers and you hold her a little tighter.

‘Sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up.’ You promise.

The Wolfsburg defender stifles her sobs, breathing out a barely audible, ‘Really?’

‘Really. I swear.’

Felicitas finally relaxes and you keep running your fingers through the strands of her hair.

Eventually her heartbroken sobs slow and her breathing evens out.

It’s only then that you allow yourself to fall asleep, making sure that you are still holding Feli tightly as you do so.

******

Hours later and your girlfriend still hasn’t stirred. It’s a testament to how exhausted she is that she only begins to wake when the sun is high in the sky.

Felicitas mumbles something indistinctly, pushing her face into the side of your neck.

Her legs are tangled with yours and you put away your phone as soon as you feel her moving around.

The brunette’s eyelashes flutter and then she finally opens her pretty eyes.

‘Good morning.’

‘Morning.’ Feli mumbles, her voice hoarse from lack of use and her extensive crying last night.

‘I love you.’ You quietly say.

Your girlfriend gives you a tiny smile, softly replying, ‘I love you too.’

The Wolfsburg defender stares at you for a moment before she wraps her arms around her own stomach, turning in your grasp so that her back is facing you.

You hate the distance she is attempting to put between you.

‘Thank you but you didn’t have to come. Or fetch Cinny from her dog sitter. I would have been okay.’

Your girlfriend’s voice trembles but she steadfastly keeps staring at the wall.

‘Felicitas…’

‘Really. You don’t need to trouble yourself with me.’

Her flat words hit you like a punch to the stomach. You knew she would be thinking something along these lines but it still hurts. It physically pains you to hear those sentences out loud.

You take a few minutes, trying to come up with the right words to say. It’s not easy and eventually you decide on being blunt.

‘Feli? Do you love me?’

The German woman flinches and turns back around to face you immediately, ‘What? What kind of a question is that? Did I do something to make you doubt me? Because I do. I love you. I love you.’

Her red and swollen eyes search yours rapidly and she draws your arms away from her waist so that her hands can lightly wrap around your wrists.

‘I told you I love you earlier. Don’t you believe me?’

Felicitas seems desperate and you feel bad for the shock you’ve sprung on her.

‘I believe you. I know you love me. Incredibly so if you ask me.’ You whisper.

Your girl lets out an audible breath of relief, her hands cradling your face for a long moment before she drops them.

‘Then why liebling?’ She asks tentatively.

‘Because if it were me in pain? Would you have come? Even if I hadn’t asked?’ You answer, reaching for her hands and intertwining her long fingers with yours.

‘Of course.’ The brunette promises in an instant.

She’s still not sure what you are getting at but you hope that your next few sentences help her understand.

‘Would you have thought of me as a bother?’

The fullback blinks in surprise, ‘Definitely not. I would want to be there for you. Liebling, I’ll do anything for you.’

There’s a moment before her own words sink in.

Her mouth forms an ‘o’ shape and she flushes, looking away from you.

Gently, you elaborate, ‘That is exactly it. Feli I want to be here for you. You are the woman I am completely in love with, my everything. Caring for you comes as naturally as breathing to me. It isn’t possible for you to trouble me, especially if you are hurting.’

Your girlfriend’s breathing is so shallow that you wonder if she is even breathing at all.

Giving her the time to process, you lift her hand up to your lips and press tiny affectionate kisses onto each of her fingertips.

Felicitas watches you, shivering slightly every time your lips touch her because of the tingles that ensue.

You give her the warmest of feelings inside and she knows you are right.

‘Let me in.’ You prompt tenderly and the brunette slowly nods.

‘I can’t promise you that I instinctively will but I’ll try my best.’

‘That’s good enough for me, liebling.’

You give her a smile before closing your eyes and carefully drawing her close so that your forehead rests against hers.

‘You got me. You never let go.’ Feli mumbles, somewhat in awe and disbelief.

Her fingers run briefly over your arms which have gone back to encircling her waist.

‘I won’t. I told you I’m not letting go till you tell me to.’ You answer simply.

The defender presses her lips onto yours in response.

‘Love you. Thank you for being here.’ She murmurs.

You open your eyes again, leaning back fractionally just so you can take her in.

Your girlfriend still looks tired but not as shattered as she was last night.

‘Always. I love you too Felicitas, we can talk whenever you’re ready.’

‘I’d like that. Let me just have a few more minutes of cuddles first though? It’s helping me feel better and I have missed you so.’

‘Whatever you need.’ You promise wholeheartedly, your heart easing as you see your girlfriend smile.

Then a thought occurs to you, one that you’re sure will make Feli’s smile wider if you share it with her.

So you do, your mouth curving upwards into a grin as you say, ‘Did you know that I had to show Cinny’s dog sitter a photo of us kissing just so I could pick her up?’

‘What?’ The German woman chuckles loudly, her eyebrow rising in question.

‘She doesn’t know me and I didn’t tell you I was coming so she definitely wasn’t expecting me. I think she was worried that I was trying to dognap Cinnamon.’

Your girlfriend laughs, the sound causing the entire room to brighten.

‘You could have just called me to call her.’ Felicitas says, in between her giggles.

‘I know but I wanted to surprise you.’

‘Well you nearly gave me a heart attack. You know how I am.’ She accuses lightheartedly, giving you a little poke in the ribs.

‘Sorry.’ You apologise with a smile, getting what Feli is referring to.

The brunette is far too easy to scare and it provides her teammates and yourself an endless amount of entertainment.

‘It’s okay. I’m so happy you are here and you’re welcome to surprise me whenever you like. Just please, at least leave a light on next time okay?’

‘Okay.’ You agree and then Feli is pressing herself impossibly closer to you, the usual sparkle in her eyes returning as the weight on her heart and mind lifts.

She knows now, knows that you love her and nothing she could want or do will ever be trouble to you.

German Translation:

liebling - love

[decolonize-the-left]

Hey this might be a weird question but you seem to know a lot about the strategies TERFs use and what they're hiding, so I just wanted to ask and you don't have to answer.

Why do so many TERFs have this weird hostility towards bi and ace people? I don't think either of those identities have anything to do with being trans but I've seen so many TERFs who are also biphobic and/or aphobic. My gut instinct was that there was some large overlap between bi/ace people and trans people, but then I've found TERFs give shit to cis bis and aces so I'm not sure if it's that or some other reason. I'm not trans myself but I want to be able to recognize TERF rhetoric to be a better ally to trans people.

A couple reasons.

First one is that hating bis/aces is at the entrance of the TERF pipeline; they utilize this 'soft bigotry' to radicalize LGBTs and it usually looks like this:

To recruit queer ppl first they try to get us to stop considering aces as Oppressed. That's how it starts. They're aren't Doing anything so how can they be oppressed? They don't know what it's like to marginalized....how could they? They're just stealing the spotlight of Actually oppressed ppl

And once you accept that they turn to bisexuals. Who are only half gay, you know? And most of them date men anyway or end up marrying men so like? How the hell would they know what it's like to literally Live oppression 24/7? Do we we really want them to have a voice and speak for those of us that don't have an escape from our oppression?

This works because on the surface TERFS/Radfems appear to care about women and gender equality, which a lot of queer people obviously support. But they exploit those of us that don't know enough about feminism's intersectional (and very gay) history to identify them as bad actors.

From here the person they've targeted will either a- accept this and likewise will eventually also accept that trans oppression isnt real either (fulfilling the TERF's actual goal of recruitment) OR b- they'll realize they've been manipulated and try to deconstruct.

Secondly:

TERFs are white supremacist and their beliefs are founded white supremacist ideology and outdated scientific theories that Support white supremacist rhetoric.

It's called gender-essentialism which is a branch of bio-essentialism which is the belief that the biological body you have has inherent skills and abilities. Racists have used this to deny Black humanity just as TERFs use it to deny the existence of gender diversity.

But nobody is inherently weaker because of a uterus, nor are they bad drivers just because they have a uterus. All women are not good mothers just because they are women. Men are not all abusers just because they are men.

TERFs would have you swallow these beliefs; they're vital to maintaining the Core TERF Value that that trans people aren't Real and people with uteri are always helpless victims to be defended against evil men.

And as white supremacists their goal is to disrupt and destroy minority communities so that we are too divided to unify against legal attacks. TERFs do this from the inside out by putting bis/aces in a different category from the other queers while disguising their bigotry as feminist. They get us to voluntarily undermine and destroy our own movement this way by causing intercommunity "bi/ace discourse" that makes bis/aces out to be an enemy of "real" oppressed people (like transphobic lesbians for example)

Thirdly:

Lots of queer people are feminists which makes us easy targets and that's why they focus on the queer community. Additionally, the queer community has a history of being a threat to the white supremacist establishment so dividing us is vital to their goal of eventually wiping out anyone who isnt cis, straight, white, neurotypical, and able bodied

[chaoxfix]

Hello! For the hurt/comfort dialogue prompts: #29. "Do you know how to use a first aid kit?" + Tails

here u go!!! this was a lot of fun to write, i decided to go with classic!sonic and modern/older!tails <3

///

Tails is halfway through an errand – dropping off seed packets to Vanilla to repay her for the flowers she donated for Amy’s birthday – when a portal appears out of the sky. 

A blue hedgehog drops out, which is just par for the course. When Tails was younger, he probably would’ve been worried and called out for him. But seeing as this has happened at least once a month for the last several years, Tails no longer wastes the adrenaline. 

Instead, Tails simply reacts. He flies a little faster than usual, and as always, hopes to catch Sonic before he hits the ground. 

(Not that he’s all that worried even if he doesn’t get there in time. Sonic has a tendency to break falls with his face, and it’s never done serious damage before, even falls from space. Tails doubts it’ll start hurting him now.) 

Still, as Sonic falls, Tails can’t help but think it’s odd timing. He wasn’t really expecting Sonic back yet, seeing as he was visiting the Wisps. It doesn’t take that long to travel to and from Planet Wisp, but Sonic was planning on spending at least a few days there. For once, they really weren’t expecting any trouble from Eggman. Though of course, that’s always what Eggman wants them to think, so maybe Tails should’ve known better. 

Either way, Tails will probably get an explanation once his brother has safely touched down. 

…It’s not until Tails actually catches Sonic that he realizes his mistake. 

This, it would appear, isn’t Sonic. Or at least, not his Sonic. 

Tails probably should’ve guessed it, seeing as he came through a portal. Speaking of, he glances up at the portal just in time to see it close, long before Tails ever would’ve been able to fly him back through. 

Then, he glances at the little hedgehog in his arms, and does some basic deductive reasoning to find that there’s no way this version of Sonic is the free spirited nineteen-year-old he knows and loves. 

For one, this Sonic is less than half the size he’s supposed to be – probably closer to a third. If that didn’t give it away, the short quills and round belly do. Even though Tails has seen Sonic’s younger form a few times, he never stops being surprised at just how small he is. Er, was. Seeing him up close, it’s always hard to believe Sonic was fighting Eggman at this age. 

This age being nine, at most. Give or take a few years – Tails was never great at identifying hedgehog growth patterns.  

Deductions made, Tails gently deposits Sonic on the ground in front of him. Thanks to Tails’s latest growth spurt, even at his full height, Sonic could stack three of himself and only just barely make it to Tails’s chin. Sonic doesn’t even seem to realize it’s out of the ordinary. Instead, he just squints up at him, hands on his hips. 

Right. Shorter Mobians hate it when bigger ones don’t respect their stature. Not wanting to be rude, Tails takes a seat in front of him and waves. “Hey there.” 

Sonic – Mini-Sonic, he decides – doesn’t answer. He only looks marginally less suspicious now that Tails is sitting. 

“Don’t worry, we’ll get you home again in no time,” Tails says, trying to sound friendly, remembering just how out-of-sorts Mini-Sonic had been last time he’d been flung into an alternate timeline. “It’s nice to see you again, though! What tossed you through a portal this time?”

Mini-Sonic just frowns at him – like he’s the suspicious one. 

“It’s okay if you’re upset,” Tails says. “I would be too, if I was in your shoes. But you can trust me. As soon as you’re ready, I’ll take you back to my lab and we’ll start working on a portal to get you back home.” 

Somehow, that’s the wrong thing to say. Mini-Sonic���s quills raise defensively, and he takes a pronounced step back. Almost, Tails realizes a beat too late, like he’s about to run off. 

“Wait!” 

On reflex, Tails reaches out and takes his hand. It’s only because Mini-Sonic is so tiny that Tails manages it. Mini-Sonic, try as he might, is just not fast enough to escape Tails’s grasp. Tails counts his lucky stars. He definitely wouldn’t have been up for chasing down a miniature version of his big brother today. 

However… When Tails actually grabs him, Mini-Sonic does not seem thrilled. He doesn’t look scared, exactly – but there’s an annoyance, a wariness, that Tails isn’t used to. He pulls against Tails’s grip to no avail. It’s almost funny how little a difference it makes, how hard Mini-Sonic seems to be pulling and how easy it is to keep him in tow. 

“Just tell me what’s going on, okay?” Tails says, not yet letting go. “I promise I’ll help.”

That’s when Tails remembers – embarrassingly late – that Sonic is years away from being able to talk. And he’s not entirely sure that this Sonic is fluent enough in sign to hold a conversation even if he did have both hands free. 

Not how Tails saw his Monday going, that’s for sure. 

He sighs. It’s bad enough that his Sonic’s somewhere out in space again, nowhere to be seen. 

But the fact that Sonic’s younger self is here probably doesn’t bode well. No offense to the little guy, but he never shows up unless Sonic’s in an awful lot of trouble. 

Still, it’s impossible to be mad at him. Especially since this version might actually be even younger than usual. Sonic’s usual younger self is usually still a couple of years older than Tails – but now that Tails has grown up a little, this one almost seems to have shrunk, even taking into account Tails’s own greater height. Sonic was definitely a bit of a late bloomer as far as hedgehog species go, but this one barely makes it up to Tails’s knees. 

It takes Tails a moment, but he finally realizes that just because he’s met a younger Sonic… doesn’t mean that this younger Sonic has met him. 

It’s entirely possible that this one is from even earlier in the time-stream than the ones he’s met.

Meaning Mini-Sonic probably has no idea who Tails is.  

Tails stares at the little hedgehog in front of him, and realizes he’s way, way out of his depth. 

That’s also when he notices the tiny red spots on Sonic’s socks. Tails frowns, and follows the red up to his spindly little legs, where there’s a purple patch of sticky fur just above his knee. 

“You’re hurt,” Tails says, feeling even guiltier for grabbing him now. “How bad is it?” 

Of course Sonic didn’t want to be manhandled. He never did anyways, but especially not if he was hurt and didn’t recognize Tails. He barely handled manhandling now, as an adult. 

Mini-Sonic still couldn’t talk though, and still showed no sign of recognizing Tails. And as much as Tails would’ve liked to let him go, Mini-Sonic just kept glancing between Tails’s hand and his easiest escape route, meaning that if he gave him even an inch, Mini-Sonic would shoot off, never to be seen again. 

Tails sighs. Time to do this the old fashioned way. 

“Chili dogs first,” he decides, and easily scoops up mini-Sonic – quills digging into his arms and all – “Then a first aid kit. We’ll patch up your leg, and hopefully by then you’ll realize I’m not trying to hurt you, Sonic.” 

Finally, Sonic’s ears prick up. Tails realizes it’s the first time he’s called him by his name. Duh – no wonder Sonic had reacted so poorly. 

“I know your name because I know you,” Tails says, and watches Sonic’s face turn doubtful. “...In the future,” Tails corrects, “Which is where you are. The future.”

(Under his breath, he mutters, “Chaos, how does Silver deal with this?”) 

Sonic’s doubtful frown doesn’t budge. 

Tails wishes he knew how to convince him. 

Still… even if it’s not good that Mini-Sonic doesn’t trust him, Tails can’t help but chuckle at the way distrust looks on his big brother’s tiny face, chubby cheeks and all. 

It helps Tails stay coolheaded, too, as he flies in the direction of the nearest city, hoping he’s got enough cash for some chili dogs. He’s flying a bit higher than he needs – hopefully the height will be enough of a deterrent to keep Mini-Sonic from biting and clawing him until he wriggles away. Truthfully, Tails is just surprised that Sonic hasn’t done so already. He always imagined Sonic would’ve been a bit more of a gremlin as a kid.

It’s weird that he’s so calm. Tails decides maybe it has something to do with the portal he went through, or the fact that he’s injured. 

“Don’t you worry,” Tails says, unable to resist the urge to rub between Sonic’s ears. Huge, shiny black eyes look up at him, clearly unused to the affection, despite how basic it is. “We’re getting you something to eat first, then I’ll fix up your leg. Or – you’ll fix yourself up, if you don’t want me to. Sonic never says much about his early years, but I figure you probably already know how to do it, right? I mean, clearly you have to, no way you got older without ever figuring out how to wash out an injury and patch it up, and…” 

Mini-Sonic tilts his head at him. 

“You know – patching up injuries,” Tails says, and taps the uninjured skin near Sonic’s knee. 

Mini-Sonic, for all that he seems to mostly understand him, just blinks. 

“...Do you know how to use a first aid kit?” 

Mini-Sonic just scrunches his brows at him, and Tails realizes that his Monday has just gotten even longer. Once the normal-age Sonic gets back, he’s going to need to answer a lot of questions… 

But first, he reminds himself with a deep breath, chili dogs. He might know nothing about raising kids, but at least he knows Sonic well enough to have a cheat sheet. Tails has a feeling he’ll need it.