#home network rack

[virtualizationhowto]

Top Home Server Rack Tips in 2023

Top Home Server Rack Tips in 2023 @vexpert #vmwarecommunities #homelab #HomeServerRackGuide #RackUnitsExplained #BesthomeServerRack2023 #WallMountVsDesktopRacks #ServerRackFeatures #NetworkingEquipmentSetup #MountingSolutionsForServers #homeserverrack

Home labs have exploded in popularity as enthusiasts and IT professionals who also like to tinker take their day job into their passion at home with a home lab. Other than choosing a server and networking gear to cable everything up in your lab, as the home lab grows, so does the need to house everything efficiently. Once you get more than a server or two and maybe a couple of network switches…

[safination]

Partners in Death…and Life

Part 2: Radio Will be Dead if He Doesn’t Explain Himself

| Part 1: Radio's Not Dead |Part 3: Not Everything You Hear From The Radio Should be Trusted| Masterlist | ao3 Parings: Alastor x wife!reader Tags: fem!reader, established relationship, hopefully not but just in case ooc!alastor (I'm still trying my best to keep him as canon as possible) Reader is in hell for a reason.

Summary: After a seven-year absence, you find the man you were married to in life, not only back in town, but also helping... *checks notes*... the Princess of Hell run a hotel aimed at rehabilitating sinners who were sent to the bad place for a reason. Hello, I’m back :D This was supposed to be published yesterday, but I got busy. Anyway, thank you for all the likes so far. It motivated me to really finish this chapter. Also once again, I have everything planned out, it really is just a matter of writing it down. *Updated 28/02/2024 Just added some stuff that I thought made sense*

Flick…

Flick…

Flick…

Lights flicker above you with a slight buzz. You drape an arm over your eyes when the gleam of the bulb blind you.

The hardwood floors chill your skin, but it’s the sensation of casual loose clothing on your back that warrants your exhale in peace. Just a second. You just need a moment on these hard and chilling floors to ground you… just… one … single … moment to…

Inhale

Exhale

Inhale

Exhale

A stray feather pricks into your arm. The vane tickles, but the barb digs your skin. You’ve called this body ‘yours’ far longer than your human one, yet the feathers that grow on your skin still astound you. You twirl it around your fingers, and wave it in the air like a wand—it’s a proper animalistic feather.

Your nose scrunches into a hard scowl, and you jump up, stomping into the kitchen toward that untouched coffee mug on your counter. Grabbing it, you splash the contents down the sink, letting it flush down the drain.

The sponge is rough against your hands as you scrub and you scrub and you scrub and you scrub and you scrub and you scrub a̵̯͒n̴̤͝d̶̫͌ ̶͚̇y̶̤̎o̷͔̓u̶̢͐ ̸̓͜s̵̪͗c̸͎͂r̷̀ͅṳ̴̎b̸͖̀ ầ̷̩̯͍̙̳̍͗͘ń̵̰̞̰̕d̴͇̻̮̫̝̓̎̈́ ̶̡̬̬̮̺͗͒́̌͑y̴̙̘̻͇̿̉̐͆ǫ̷͉̟̍̅̑̏ŭ̸̖͓ͅ ̴̛̝͇̭̥̌́́̂s̸̠̑̽̏́c̷̥̺̃̾̊r̶̲̯̈́̈̄͆͊u̵̼̝͕̼̇̍̈́͘b̶͍͖͖̐̾͝.

Inhale

Exhale

Inhale

Exhale

You rinse the mug, slamming the cupboard door shut when you drop it next to your own clean one. Fingers run through your feather-hair…hair-feather, or your ‘whatever that grows on your scalp’. Some questions you’ve stopped asking.

An audible grumble… well, uhhhhh…. grumbles from where your stomach is placed in this body, and you munch on your lips to keep the inhumane screech from erupting into the kitchen and breaking all kinds of glassware and little knickknacks that Alastor filled your home with.

(These days, the old trinkets collect dust on your shelves. There haven’t been any new ones in years.)

Chopping Hell’s equivalent of carrots calms you. (It’s honestly the use of some type of razor-sharp object that calms you. You’d prefer a different razor-sharp object, but a sharp knife is a sharp knife, no matter the size.) You chop until there’s enough food to make a proper and decent meal that your stomach will accept.

You crash on the couch, dinner secured on a plate, and flip the television switch. Light flashes into the room when you do.

Ad about some impish business—Not interested.

‘Yeah, I fucked your sister, So what?’ — Boring.

Cooking Venison with Vox— Lame.

Settling on the lifestyle network, you munch on your food. Some poor slimy creature flashes across the screen, and it's her home that will be remodeled because of…something. You’re not sure what that something was. You don’t care enough to find out.

The sounds from the television swap with the silence of your living-room as you take each bite. It’s one of the sadder habits you’ve picked up since purchasing this noisy picture box.

Your eyes wander to that half-filled coat rack, while your ears listen in on the show and that woman did not just say that pink would go with brown. Only your singular coat drapes on the hinge, when this particular design was made to hold two.

A commercial plays for some-thing called the Hazbin Hotel.

Your eyes are stitched to the screen until the final note of the song plays, and a different advertisement takes its spot. You take a sip of your drink.  Just ą̷̖̯͈͂ ̷̡̧͚̤̩͎̙͇̞͓��͈̤̝͉͉͉̘̉͐̓́̆́̇̍̐̿̈̄͜͜͜͝͝s̶̨̢̛̥̣̻̱̰̬̩̹̥̞̟̳̝͔͓͙̗̗͕̟͇̆̉̿į̴̡̢̠͇̱̤͔̙͎͕͛̑̓̒̀̔͆̓͂̃̚͘͘͠ṗ̶̡̢̨̳͙̦̮͍͓̻͎̲̪̲͕͛̔̐́̐̈́̒̒̉̎͛̆̈́̈́̉̔̑̃̕ͅ.

Inhale

Exhale

Inhale

Exhale

Inhale

Exhale

Inhale

Exhale

You blink, and you find your keys locking your front door.  Already, your legs are trekking down the garden stones. A flower snarls at you as the gate locks with a click.

Another blink.

 Huh…you’re on the bus.

The sign says it’s headed into the city. Living on the outskirts has always been beneficial for you. Not today, though. Today, the one-hour commute makes your feathers bristle.

You read the barely eligible address scribbled on the note, and pat your hair, smoothing the flared feathers sticking out. It seems…

Hmmmmm.

It seems you did not think this through. H-how…How are you going to get to the hotel?

Tagatha calls you a fossil for using one of those flippy telephones. You considered purchasing those fancy telephones with the lights and screens, and loud robotic voices telling you where to turn left, but learning to use a flip-phone brought enough stress for two lifetimes. You’ll happily stay a fossil.

Turns out, you don’t even need the address.

The Hazbin Hotel sticks out. It’s a humongous building with its name written across what you call the sky in blinding neon lights. Your vision zooms in, and you see that the hotel rests on a giant hill at the other edge of the city. Three large neon-lit arrows point to a crudely attached radio tower. Below it, a wooden ship hangs to the side. Circus light bulbs flicker with electricity.

The Hazbin Hotel is an eyesore – it’s exactly what Alastor prefers.

You reach the dinged-up metal gate on the bottom of the hill and reset your hand on the rusted latch. Trekking through the city took a lot, and you were already here. So, why are your legs frozen to the cement? Why does your heartbeat thump in your ears?

“Excuuussseeeee me.”

A snake towers over you. It’s your first time seeing such a slithery specimen as large as him. His hat rests on his hold, and it blinks at you. His hair … or was that skin … puffs out with two red sets of red eyes.

“Can I help you?” you say, warily. Sinners are in hell for a reason.

“Yessssh,” he says, his tongue slithering out. His flaps stick out, all four eyes staring right into your own. “I’d like to be a guessst at this hotel!”

You glance at the eye-sore that’s called a hotel. “I don’t work here.”

His flaps droop. The snake takes a deep breath, and slides the gate open, slithering in with determination in his … er… snake body.

You follow in silence.

The snake matches your pace. “Will you be a guest at this establishment as well?” he asks you. “Or were you given the same sssssuper secret mission?” Just like before, his tongue slithers out—what a funny little odd man.

Bangs grab your attention. When you focus your vision, you see an inky shadow servant striking a nail into broken wood. “Not at all,” you say slowly. “I’m just here to visit someone.”

His flaps open, and three pairs of eyes and a hat meet yours. “I am the great Sir Pentious!” he says with a proud hand on his puffed-up chest. “Inventor. Architect of destruction. Villain extraordinaire!”

You give him your name “….Doctor.”

“It is only the coward who attacks a battler of health.” His flaps droop as he sinks into himself. “You cannot be my rival, I’m afraid.”

“I guess that makes you brave,” you say, humming. The decorations for the hotel are rather dull. Drawn on the middle of the hill, a giant pentagram is etched on the ground. The flowers dwindle on the cliff edge, and do little to combat the grayness surrounding you. “What a shame to hear—I rather love good rivalries.”

The eyes on Sir Pentious’ hat brighten at the same time his own do as well. “Ssssso do I!”

One of the inky shadow servants waves at you.

You wave back.

Light streams from the glass doors. You blink a few times, adjusting to the sudden change of brightness. Circus-themed stained glass decorate the front entrance. One of the less tacky – but still tacky – designs of this hotel.

Sir Pentious taps the glass with the tips of his finger, clinking with each tap, and his eyes water in excitement. His nose crinkles when he takes a deep breath. You weren’t aware he even owned a nose. Sir Pentious fiddles with the flap of his hat, and bangs on the door.

Your smile strains after a minute of banging.

A young lady with long, white hair creaks the door open. You recognize her from the commercial.

Sir Pentious’ flap open and close with each word as he says, “Why, hello, my dear –”

A punch to the face is his reply.

“Oh dear!” you screech. Sir Pentious drops to the ground, and you kneel next to him, a steady hand on his slimy shoulders. “Have you no manners?”

This insolent girl points her spear and stomps a foot on Sir Pentious. She snarls, and her glare hardens.

“Wait, wait, wait!” Sir Pentious’ tongue slithers out as he holds a peace-sign. “I come in peacccccceeeee”

“What are you doing here?” Her spear inches closer.

“Vaggies,” another voice calls out. A blonde with a red pantsuit and a bowtie pokes her head, eyes in a squint. O-oh! You know this lady from the commercial. The Princess of Hell … Cady … Char …Charlie Morningstar! “What’s the problem?” Charlie’s eyes widen when she spots you and Sir Pentious, an honest smile drawn on her face. “Oh, hello again! And hello to you as well!”

“Can you please tell this insolent girl to get her food off this gentleman,” you spit, tilting your nose into the air. Your feathers sharpen when you bristle. “And your weapon away from my face.”

Vaggie takes her foot off Sir Pentious. She holds the spear close, but it’s away from your face.

Sir Pentious straightens into a stand, and the group prattles on.

No one bothers to help you. A huff escapes, and you brush the dirt off your skirt. Absolutely no manners. Insolent and ill-mannered.  Would Alastor stay in such a place?

You’ve never laid an eye on someone as unique as this Vaggie. Her hair patterns are similar to wings. It’s almost unheard of to see such a prominent ‘x’. Her flared eyelashes resemble a bird. It strikes you silly. Almost everyone in hell resembles a human body with animal characteristics hidden somewhere. This insolent girl doesn’t appear to have any of that – only miniscule feathers made to appear native to Hell.

“Absolutely!” Charlie exclaims to who you think is Angel Dust. (The porn-star, not the drug. Obviously.) Sir Pentious nods with the sweetest smile on his face. There’s a squeak every time he bobs his head. That hat of his looks nervous.  “This place is about second chances and who deserves one more than this…slithery…slippery…special little man.” Charlie takes a peek at you. “Oh, and this feathery…sheddy… and round-eyed woman.”

You do not shed.

You smile at Charlie, and give her your name, “…and I expect it to be used.”

Angel Dust whips to Vaggie. “Aren’t you supposed to protect this place?” he says and turns to you. “How are we even sure we can trust this lady – no offense, toots.”

“None taken,” you say, dryly.

Charlie’s eyes water when she turns to Vaggie, who easily relents with a sigh.

You’re thrust through the apple and circus-themed doors, squinting at the chandelier. It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust to the design—it reminds you of those old rolled films. Charlie leads you and Sir Pentious further down the hall, all but pushing you in. Vaggie and Angel Dust lag a few steps behind.

Charlie waves her arms to go into an enthusiastic point. “So…this is our bar,” she says. Husk drops his drink, a scowl on his face, “and the bartender. This is the curtain, and this is the new wall after Sir Pentious broke the last one. And this is—”

Vaggie calms her down.

The bar clashes with the red wallpaper of the hotel. It’s almost as if someone just dropped it there, and etched it to the very wall. The wood is firm underneath your touch and feels exactly like what wood should feel.

You turn towards the bar and take your seat. Husk focuses on his drink. “Hello,” you say with a gentle voice that should not be mistaken for kindness. “It’s good to see you, old friend.”

Husk chokes and splatter out his drink, but you only smile at him. He coughs and his ears droop low. “Uh…yes,” he starts. “Good to see you as well.”

“There’s no need to be nervous.”

“I’m not.”

 “Good.”

You run your finger across the skeleton wrapped around the bar post. A memory tickles your brain. This is one of the many specimens you owned. It took one whole month to strip the muscle off its tight hold on the bones, and another month just to clean, bleach, and wire together. The heads above the bar sign were a gift to you, and the skeletons were your gift back.

The neural spine pokes your finger as you tap each one. “I see you’ve set up shop here.”

Husk scowls, taking another swig of his drink. “Not much of a choice.”

“And tell me,” you start, “how long have you been here?”

Husk doesn’t answer you.

Charlie calls your name, and waves you over. “Over here,” she says pointing to where Niffty plays with some kind of one-eyes cat, “we have our maid—Niffty!”

Niffty hops on Sir Pentious. “The bad boy is back!” she exclaims, pulling him closer, eyes wide and shaking. A bead of sweat drops from Sir Pentious’ hat. “Never leave me again.”

“We’re about 80% sure she’s harmless….” Charlie prattles on.

“Hello, Niffty.” You smile at her.

She jumps off Sir Pentious, landing with a small ‘humph’, and strides to you with her pointy short legs. She calls out your name.

You squat, meeting her eye. “It’s great to see you again—Is Alastor forcing you here?”

Her eyes shine with an innocent type of glee. “Yes! Yes! Yes!” She claps her hands. “I get to chase all the bugs here.” Nifftly leans closer to you, giggling. “Can I be strapped to your table again? I love it when you slice me open.”

 “Maybe next ti—”

Charlie grabs your arm, hauling you forward. “Oh! Uh, Alastor! Our gracious facility manager! You've met our newest guest Sir Pentious…hehe…,” she tells him. Charlie keeps pulling you, only stopping when you stand before a grand staircase. “These two will be our special wonderful guests!”

Alastor does little to show you what he feels, there’s just that same empty grin.

He bought a new coat, you note. This new one has white streaks on the new collar and less stripes. Guess some things were more important than others.

You slip out of Charlie’s tight grasp. “I think you’re mistaken, my dear,” you say. “I’m not a guest— just a visitor.”

You hold your husband’s gaze and greet him.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

“It’s good to see you,” you say, a smile drawn on your lips. “How are you doing on this wonderful morning?”

Alastor turns to you, drops an item into his grocery basket, and blinks. “I am amazing!” he says. He grabs your hand with his gloved ones and shakes it. His hands are warmer than you expect them to be. “Alastor. Pleasure to be meeting you. Quite the pleasure.”

You chuckle at him. “Yes, I’m aware of who you are.”

“Oh, how lovely!” He waves his fingers. “ are you on of my many fans?” His smile strains, and there, you see it, on the corner of his cheek. His nose flares and his smile takes the appearance of a snarl. Maybe it was the other way around.

“A bit,” you admit, adjusting your hold on the basket. “How are your stitches, Sir?”

His eyes widen—brown eyes, you note. “The good doctor!”

“I think you mean the good nurse.”

“Oh yes, yes,” he hums and inches the basket away from your gaze. “I’ve been taking my medicine, and replacing my dressing every three days, just like you said.”

“Good—that’s great to hear. No more accidents?”

“None!” He laughs. “And if one does happen, I’ll be sure to present you with an injury that is only hours old.”

A giggle slips through your lips. “That’s even better to hear,” you say. You clear your throat, tightening the hold on your basket. “I’d hate to take even more of your time. I’ll let you go on with your day.”

A firm grip on the basket handles keeps your feet planted on the glossy floor of the general store. “Not so fast, my dear. I think you still owe me,” he says. Your teeth bare into what you hope is a polite smile. “You promised to show me your marvelous embroidery the next time we meet! You’re not the type of lady to go back on your word now, are you?

“You sure do know how to put such ladies into a tight spot.”

Alastor laughs, breathy and light. “I assure you; I don’t mean to. I tend to get very excited about art

“Well, with you holding my integrity hostage, and the addition of such lovely enthusiasm, I find myself having trouble refusing.” You reach into your purse and pull out a clean handkerchief. “Sadly, I wasn’t expecting the general storm to be an art gallery, so this will have to do.”

And there it is again, that same breathy and light laughter. “They really do have everything in here

Alastor takes your handkerchief with steady enthusiasm, studying each stitch carefully. It’s one of your simpler designs—tiny flower bouquets scattered across the fabric. Your eyes are drawn to the contents of his basket: rope, strong acids, latex gloves, rolls of plastic wrap, and other such interesting items.

“You have such beautiful handiwork.”

“You can keep it if you wish,” you tell him. “I have thousands back home, and I’m always weak to such flattering compliments— a real boost to my ego.”

“Splendid!” Alastor slips the handkerchief into his coat. “I love receiving gifts from fans.”

You smile at him to hide your frown. You are not some fan-girl. “Of course.”

Alastor is following you.

The conversation ended several beats of silence ago, but he trails behind your every step. You skip the aisle where they sell produce, stop to grab some eggs, ask the butcher for 50g of chicken liver, and smile back when he smiles back. You sigh and lead Alastor to the end of the general store, and into an aisle.

You snatch a glass bottle of chemicals off the shelf—they really do have everything here. “Going for a hunt soon?” you ask, and read the label.

His smile brightens as he says, “Why yes! There was this wonderful prey that I spotted the other day, and I’m just dying to have his head hanging on my wall.”

You offer him the bottle. “You have a lovely coat. It would be a shame for it to be ruined by stains,” you say. “This always does the trick when dealing with the redder parts of my job.”

He takes the bottle from you.

“Take this as well,” you say and reach into your basket. “It’s the last bottle of 12% hydrogen peroxide in this store, but you need it more than I do. A ratio of fifty-fifty of this and a bit of hair developer in a bucket of water should brighten up your bones. Just let it soak for a day. Oh…and just in case, those two chemicals are safe to mix. You should avoid doing so, but an accident wouldn’t hurt you.”

Alastor offers his basket, and you drop the bottle along with the other hazardous substances. “You sound certain.”

“That is because I am.”

Fate has granted you a humorous shopping companion, and you decide to stop fighting it. Alastor follows you to the bread aisle.

You point to the top shelf. “Can you…?”

He drops the bread into your basket, and stares at you with what you think is curious tenacity.

“My father works as a butcher,” you say, sighing. “He prides himself on catching the venison he sells. We don’t believe in wasting a precious body, so we use it until there is nothing left to give. He came back from his own hunt and wanted to add another antler to his display

Alastor hums. “Won’t you need these then?”

“There’s still a bit leftover sitting in his workshop. I just came to get an extra bottle.”

Alastor continues to follow.  “Do you often aid your father in his work?”

“Not as frequent as when I was a teen, but I still aid him when I have the time to do so,” you say. “It’s how I got to be so normal around a knife —the sharp ones are the best, they cut right through the skin, and with enough force, the bones as well. I keep a little collection of bones at home.”

“Such interesting hobbies you have.”

You pick up two coffee bags and hum. “Thank you.”

His bowtie is crooked. You point to inform him and reach out to straighten it. Alastor jerks away and spins to reach into the shelf behind you. “I rather detest owing favors, and you have done me two,” he says, offering you an entirely different brand of coffee beans. “I suggest you try this one. It’s flavors are far richer.”

You offer your basket and Alastor drops it right in.

You eye his basket once more. “Will that be all you’re purchasing?”

He nods, smiling at you.

You smile back.

Well, isn’t this just lovely? Well-dressed gentlemen really are your favorite.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Charlie whips her head, mouth wide as she stares at you and then at Alastor. Angel Dust has an arm on his hips, his brows furrowed and mouth quirked to the side an awkward but rather cute frown. Sir Pentious’ hat squints at you with what you assume is confusion—you can’t really tell. Sir Pentious’s tongue sticks out of his bewildered and crooked frown. “Oh! How nice,” Charlie says after a beat. “So, you two know each other?”

“Partners,” you say

“Friends,” Alastor says

Your smile strains as you say, “To be called a friend by the Radio Demon is quite the honor.” Alastor wipes his monocle with a proud puff.

Angel Dust whistles, leaning on the railing with the first set of arms crossed, and the second propped on his hip. “Didn’t think Freak would be the type to have friends.”

“Neither did I!” You say with a loud laugh. “Well, that’s what I am – a f̵̼̎r̴͔̃i̶̦̍e̶͕͠ṋ̸̀d̶͚̋.” You smoothen your puffed-up feathers. “Apologies.”

More introductions are done. Charlie insists on giving Sir Pentious his first lesson on apology. It goes about as well as you think.

Charlie winces a bit “….Ooooookay,” she says and inhales to plaster a huge smile. “Why don’t we… uh… take a look at the kitchen!”

Angel Dust takes one look at Charlie’s enthusiasm, winces, and says he’s getting a drink.

Charlie’s death grip on Sir Pentious stays firm as you trudge to the kitchen. She stalls at every painting to explain its history, and introduces every crack on the wall, showing it off with an enthusiastic glee. Even the water-stained wallpaper gets its own special moment during the tour. (Where is that ill-mannered girl when you need her?)

You lag a few steps behind. “Alastor…”, you say as a greeting.

Alastor matches your pace, using his microphone as a cane. With the very tip of his fingers, he plucks a stray feather off your hair with a coy smile that reaches from ear to ear. “I’m sure you’ve been wondering how I’ve been fairing these last few years,” he says, spinning that microphone of his and waving his hand like some kind of street performer.

“Has it really been that long?”

“Yes, I know I’ve been absent for some time,” he starts. “It’s nothing serious; I assure you. It’s nothing I cannot handle as well.”

 “My goodness, and here I thought you were occupied at work.” Your teeth flash when you smile. “But in any case, it’s quite… kind… of you to soothe what little worry this friend might have for you.” Alastor and his microphone laugh at you, but you hum with satisfaction when his eyes narrow into a glare.

Charlie and Sir Pentious wave their hands, calling you from across the hall, and you hasten your steps.

The kitchen intimidates you. So many large and metallic machines. You’re sure it would be a living hell should you ever need to operate such an unorthodox set of appliances.

Copper-red tables fill the space, and similar colored cabinets stick to the wall. Such peculiar stoves they have in this establishment. There seems to be no space for the gas tank, nor a gas burner, just some flat glass with weird markings. You prefer the appliances stashed at your home.

“This…,” Charlie starts, winding her arms to a point, “…is the kitchen!”

Sir Pentious’ flaps extend, his arms rocking with excitement. “Such lovely metallic inventions.” He slithers to counter with a dip that appears to mimic some kind of skin. There’s some type of yellow liquid. “This bubbly torture deviccceeee is my favorite.”

“Uhhhhhh…I love that you love the kitchen appliance,” she says with an honestly gentle smile. “But that’s actually an oil fryer.” Charlie crosses her arm into a big ‘x’. “But no torturing is done here, no siree.”

“What a peculiar shape for an oil fryer to be,” you say, taking a look. Alastor glances over your shoulder to take a peek as well. “And there’s so much metal around—did you run out of paint, perhaps?”

Charlie frowns, her shoulder dropping low. “I’d love to add different colors to the machine, but Vaggie says it would take up too much money and time.”

Her frown lasts a second before she’s smiling again.

 “Oh oh oh! You should take a look around. See if there’s anything you might want to add.” Charlie drags you towards one of the cabinets at the back. “We each have a shelf dedicated to our own snacks, but I always love to leave cookies on the communal snack pantry.”

Charlie prattles on, introducing each section of the cabinet. You watch Alastor warily when he shows his teeth. He wiggles his fingers across the air, reaching towards the shelf where Charlie just mentioned Vaggie storing her personal snacks. You slam the cabinet door before he reaches them.

Soft static fills the kitchen air.

“Go on,” Charlie urges. “Take a look around – I know some species of Sinners have specific dietary needs.” She props a hand on her chin. “Like Angel! He can’t seem to be able to have any milk—I wonder why? But he just keeps drinking it anyway for some reason.”

Does the Princess of Hell not know what Lactose Intolerance is? Maybe because she’s never lived as a human. It’s quite humorous, you suppose. A hell-born trying to guide a human, with little to no insight about humanity. Could this be the reason why she’s so naively optimistic?

Sir Pentious’ smile widens, and so does his flap. “You’re… giving…me permission to poke around?”

“Er…yes?”

You open a random cabinet door, and huh…

On the shelf, towards the back, you have the same set of spices in your own kitchen. One of the bottles here has its label stained and fraying at the edges. Another bottle is nearing empty, and the corner of the cap has been chipped off. There was a time, when your own set of spices was stained with oil, and its label frayed because of the constant picking to the edges.

Yesterday, you threw out a set of unopened bottles of spices, its seal still clinging to the caps and brimming with unused flavor, and replaced it with the same set of sealed spices. It’s a waste of your money to keep throwing out something that you never use, but…but…you find it in your grocery basket every single time.

Alastor closes the cabinet with a gentle click.

Your smile fades, and he holds your gaze.

“You are shedding all over my kitchen floors.” Alastor presents you with a bundle of your feathers bunched up on his palm. His grin mocks you.

You turn away, heading where Charlie and Sir Pentious converse. You do not shed.

Alastor pops out of your shadow, towering over you as he inches closer. “Long day?” he says with a hum, that smile still on his face. “You don’t usually start molting until the mid-summer.”

“Oh yes,” you say with a hum, that frown still on your face. “This day has been quite long. How very generous of you to check up on this friend of yours.”

He holds the feathers he’s collected, examining them with a careful eye. “With this rate, you’ll be able to gift a whole pillow.”

Your frown deepens. “Lovely,” you murmur. “I’ll make sure to do so.”

Alastor twirls his microphone and lands it with a soft thunk. He studies you for a second. “Rosie’s last husband got eaten by a shark,” he says. “Not even a loan shark—just a proper dead shark. She swore vengeance on the creature for taking a bite before she had a chance to.”

“What?” you say, and you can’t help but chuckle. “Is that what happened to him? She would be so vague about it when I ask.”

Alastor draws a line along his face, mimicking a smile with his fingers. “Much better, indeed.”

Charlie insists on showing the view from the top of the Hotel. Her arms cross around your own as she chatters about everyone and everything. It’s refreshing to meet a soul as honest as hers.

The elevator ride is painfully slow. The music strains your ears, and this battered metal death box jerks with every floor.

Sir Pentious and his hat scowl at the ‘absolutely inferior ssssmmelting of this handle, Charlie’ and ‘this piss poor wiring. The endsss are not aligned to the proper sssssafety guidelineeeesss’ or something.

Charlie listens in on every word, nodding to indicate that she hears each and everyone. It makes you smile. Alastor picks at your stray feathers with the tip of his fingers, preening the areas you have difficulty reaching.

Moments too late, the elevator doors open with that heavenly ding.

“The view up here is helltastically a-mazing!” Charlie informs the group. “Alastor, you often hide up here or inside the radio tower. It’s really good, right?”

Alastor switches his hold on the microphone, swinging to catch it. “Quite helltastic indeed!” he says. “ I get to see the whole city underneath my very feet.”

Sir Pentious nods. “I, too, would love to sssseee the city underneath me!”

Alastor swings a door open, gesturing for the group to enter like a gentleman.  Charlie whispers an audible ‘awww’ at the sight and saunters right in. Sir Pentious follows along, slithering behind her.

He shuts the door when you take a step forward, separating you from Charlie and Sir Pentious.

There’s still that never ending smile on his lips as Alastor strides to the other end of the hallway, playing with his microphone. You follow behind in silence. Alastor opens a different door, and this time, you step through.

Alastor closes the door, leaving you and him together, alone, on this flimsy balcony. He beams at you, taking a step forward—

You slap him.

Radio static glitches from his microphone. There, on the corner of his cheek, you see the strain in his smile. His eyes harden into a glare, his nostrils flare, and his smile takes on the appearance of a snarl.

The air around you starts to gray with static. Symbols carve themselves into the space.

You slap him again, staring down at him.

“Is that all you came to do?” Alastor says to you with a low snarl, but the symbols dissolve and his antlers shrink.

You turn towards the view, propping a hand on your chin. “Such harsh words for a friend,” you say with a sarcastic smile. “It’s a wonder why you don’t have more with such a dazzling personality. At any rate, it’ll be impossible to find yourself a wife.”

His eyes twitch, and Alastor strikes the ground with his microphone. “Well, consider it an honor,” he says, inching closer, mimicking your smile. “Not many can say such words to me, much less be able to strike my flesh

“Maybe they should—someone certainly has to.”

Alastor still has a smile—he always has a smile. You watch as his eyes morph into radio dials, and the absolute audacity of that man to look at you like that.

Your feathers sharpen and crack at the sight. “D̷̝̈́o̷̞͊n̷̟̂'̷̗̏ť̵͔ ̴̱̀f̷̳̓u̴͍̓c̷̛͕ḳ̵͝ ̴̲̽w̸̞̑í̵̞t̴̼̐ḥ̷͝ ̵̫͌m̸̻̔e̸̡͘!— you never have, so don’t start. Don’t test me—not today, my deerest,” you say, hissing at him. 

“What is it that you want, exactly?” he says, glancing down at you. “Unless you are a child, I expect you to use your words.”

“You know I’m not just some friend — you do not allow yourself to make such connections. We’re partners,” you tell him, and you don’t know why you remind him when he should already know. Was it in fear that he forgot? “But you left without as much as a word.”

“Was it that I left? Or was it that I left you?” Alastor says with casualty as if to show you such dismissal, and oh…yes, your husband can be a cruel man, indeed. Time and sweet smiles made you forget.

You rub your hands on your face, taking one deep breath. “I want what I deserve—an explanation,” you say. “That’s all I need as your wife.”

It’s his silence that makes you turn away. 

“I see…” Your face falls. “Perhaps, it was a mistake to seek you out. A fool’s errand.”

You study the sinners below. The whole city really can be seen from underneath your very feet. (You ignore the trembling of your fists. You’re a doctor, for fucks sake. Your hands don’t tremble…at least, they never have before.) 

Hesitant, but gentle touches pick at your feathers. Alastor preens you with warm hands. “You are not a fool, my love,” he says. “I would not be yours if such were the case.”

You harden your heart for you cannot let this man see the cracks. “This is not what I wish to hear,” you say, voice steady.

Alastor does not answer you.

“Will you just stay silent every time?”

“Yes.”

Finally, you meet his gaze. You hold it as much as he holds yours. “ There is not a thing in this world that you do not do without reason,” you say slowly. “However,  I’m not sure if your silence is because you cannot or if it’s because you will not explain yourself to me. Which is it?”

There is nothing on his face that you can read, just a small steady smile that tells you nothing. “I will not.”

“I know you, my deerest, and I know that you’ve never once led me astray.” Your grip on the railing tightens painfully. This day has been long. “Then all I need is your word that you will return to me with that smile of yours when you’ve accomplished what you need to do.”

Alastor smiles at you, twirling his microphone. “We can even shake on it.”

You shake your head. “This is not a deal,” you say. “This is your wife demanding that you do so.”

“Then it shall be done,” Alastor says, inching close enough for his warmth to spread.  He turns to you and pokes his cheeks to indicate a smile. "You look much more radiant with one."

You bare your teeth at him, giving a dry smile. “Much better?”

“Indeed.”

You study the sinners below once more, but this time your hands stay steady next to Alastor’s own. Well, Charlie was correct, the view is helltastic. The entertainment district blinds you, but only for a second. And when you sharpen your vision, you can faintly make out acid clouds forming on the outskirts of the city. You should have grabbed an umbrella on your way out.

“I heard you on the radio today,” you say.

He glances at you, his smile widening ever so slightly with smugness. “And you came all this way for me?”

“Well, that is what good friends do for each other.”

Alastor points his nose to the air with a huff.

“I only jest, my deerest,” you say, chuckling at him. “ I came all the way here to see if I’ve been widowed a second time, or just dumped like a common rag.”

“Is that so?”Alastor hums with dissatisfaction. “I’m sure you mentioned something about not noticing such a long disappearance.”

You hold his gaze, inching your hand to cup his cheek. You stop inches above his skin, and your palm hovers enough for Alastor to feel the warmness you hold on your hands. “Don’t pout, my deer,” you tell him, softly, oh so very soft as you caress the air. “Of course, I noticed your absence.” 

You clap your hands together with the brightest and most innocent smile you can muster.

“But if I told you that, my deerest,” you start, “I feared that big head of yours would implode if I fed your ego.”

Alastor laughs, and his real voice bleeds in as he does. “That humor of yours has been my most wonderful companion all these years.”

You smile with satisfaction. “My, my, you make such fine compliments.”

His smile relaxes. “I do, indeed!”

“Just as you say that my humor makes a fine companion,” you say as you laugh, bright and heavy, “that smile of yours has been mine.”

A knock breaks the moment.

The door swings open, slow and hesitant. Charlie pokes her head, and her hair droops to the sideways. Behind her, Sir Pentious waves at you. You wave back.

“Oooooooohhhh….yikes,” Charlie says, shrinking deeper into the door. “Am I interrupting? I could just go an—”

“Not at all my dear,” you say. “Come right in. You have such a lovely view, and things like this are better when shared.”

Charlie swings the door wider, sauntering right in, and grabs your hand, squeezing it. “You could live here as well!” she says. Behind her, Sir Pentious nods with the sweetest smile you’ve ever seen. “We accept everyone.”

You flicker your gaze to Alastor. “I already have a home,” you find yourself saying. “And this place is far too close to the city. So much honking and blasting aren’t good for my ears.”

Charlie pouts, but she doesn’t press you.

The view is better when shared. Charlie points at every detail and explains everything you see. The sky darkens to a red, and too soon, it’s time to leave.

There’s a warm, but firm, hand resting on your back when you walk out the door, down the hall, and into the elevator. Alastor keeps his hands steady, even when you reach the common room.

Vaggie is the first to greet your group—well, it’s more appropriate to say she greets Charlie, and you just happen to be there. There’s a bag by her feet. “I was able to find the costumes you need for the exercise,” she says. “Even the giant lollipop is here.”

Charlie squeals. “Thank you thank you thank you!” Her excited gaze filters to you. “I have this wonderful game in mind, and then we could fo a bit of some of that good ol’ roleplay.” Angel Dust quirks a smile from the couch. “You should totally sta—”

“I’m afraid not,” Alastor says, drumming his fingers on his microphone. “I think it’s time for our visitor to head home. She’s had quite a long day.”

“Oh, of course. No worries!” Charlie says, giving you a bright smile—a real genuine and honest smile. “Feel free to come by anytime. The Hazbin Hotel’s doors will always be open should you change your mind.”

Vaggie scratches her face. “Before you go, I want to apologize for this afternoon,” she says. “It wasn’t right of me to be so hostile—I’m sorry.”

“Thank you, my dear. I understand,” you say quickly, ignoring the static behind you. “You were protecting something you cared about. I find great value in those who do.”

Vaggie smiles, and maybe she’s not too bad after all. “Thank you.”

From the couch, Angel Dust props his legs and waves at you. “And you’re welcome to open these doors any day.”

Alastor leads you to the door. You wave back at Niffty and Sir Pentious, whose eyes water as he frowns. Alastor’s hand stays firm as you trudge down the hill, past the rusted gate, into the city, and to the correct bust stop.

“You sure know how to find the most interesting groups of people, my deer,” you say. “Charlie and that hotel of hers are wonderful.”

Alastor adjusts his monocle. “Well, you know me. I see potential, and I follow it wherever it leads.”

“Should I be worried?” you say, chuckling. “The last time you saw potential, it ended with us married.”

“Not at all, my love.”

“You should continue to stay at the hotel,” you find yourself saying. “There’s just something about it—I think you’ll pick up quite a lot from your time there.”

His bowtie is crooked. You point to inform him, and reach out to straighten it. Alastor inches closer. The fabric is smooth underneath your touch. There’s stray lint on the shoulder of his coat, and you brush that away. You grab the lapes and adjust its fit, smoothing the fabric beneath your fingers.

“Much better?” he asks.

“Indeed,” you say, softly.

“I will see you soon,” he says, and you hear the unspoken promise and question hidden beneath his words.

“Good.”

Alastor tilts your chin with the tips of fingers. (And oh…oh. His gloves are off, and his hands are warmer than ever) He presses his lips on your cheek.

That blasted bus arrives too soon. You step inside, but turn to your husband and say, “Next time, when you disappear for several years, I expect to be informed and not just left with a vague note,” you say with a huff. “And when you return, I also expect to be the first to be informed.”

“Of course.”

“See to it that you keep your word.”

The bus door closes, and you take your seat. You smile to yourself and lean back on the crusty bus fabric. Patting your pocket, you take out a single gold band, slipping it on your finger.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

That habit of recklessness in moments of excitement was something your father hoped you’d grow out of. Thinking things through never really was one of your many strengths when such an exhilarating opportunity presents itself.

You scold yourself for not double-checking for gloves. Measure twice, cut one, and all that. But no matter, you’ll push through as always, clawing and digging to unearth the treasure left behind.

Your scalpel fits into your palms. Throughout this Earth, no… not just Earth, but Heaven and Hell as well, nothing will ever be as perfect.

You sigh, breathy and exhilarated, and begin.

‘First, do no harm’

But this…this does not harm a single living being.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Next Part: |Not Everything You Hear From The Radio Should Be Trusted| If you guys know who Octavia and Stolas are, that's what I imagine when I think about the reader's hair. Also, maybe some of you noticed, but I'm very relaxed when it comes to formatting my writing. Its why I use quite a lot of ellipses and em dashes and utilize italics and spaces. But the one thing I was very strict about was not to use the word, "miss". So there are no "You miss..." and "I miss..." But the words are there and spoken beneath actions and thoughts, hidden and unspoken, but known. My inbox is always open because I'd like to know what your favorite unspoken "I miss you" is/are. I have my own favorite ones as well.

[greatbigbellies]

I feel like there are some really fun/hot/cute things you can go with pregnant trans women and while this is far from an exhaustive list, I'm always campaigning for more tfpreg so allow me to share some ideas.

Trans lady who hasn't seen her friends in a while... like the better part of a year, finally getting the reunite with them after some effective rounds of HRT. Everyone's excited to see her after some time transitioning... but they didn't anticipate her waddling in with a full term belly. Her confidence has grown as much as her tummy, and the previously very reserved egg they knew has turned into a beautiful, proud trans woman who isn't afraid to turn heads or take up some space... and with such an impressive belly, she does both quite well. She revels in having her tummy rubbed by her friends, and is very open to answering questions about her pregnancy. Turns out she's not full term, just 7 months with twins.

Trans lady whos still working out the whole "dressing nicely in femme clothes" thing... it doesn't come naturally to everyone, and she's still figuring out her look. Getting pregnant only applied more pressure. Her anime graphic tees now don't even reach her navel. The jeans that she's had for YEARS now don't even pull up past her baby-weight-expanded butt, let alone button. She keeps underestimating the size of her belly, so the maternity shirts she brings home to try to remedy the issue are still too tight to really fit. Perhaps both most excitingly and jarringly, her breasts have expanded enough between the HRT and pregnancy that she went from being fairly flat chested to having a capital R Rack. Thankfully, she has a good support network who are going to intervene to fix her wardrobe. Just in time for the third trimester.

Trans lady who is full term and struggling with her size. She's not one of the stereotypical lanky, tall trans girls who can leverage some extra height to keep the belly from getting too in the way. She's 5'4", 41 weeks with a 10 pound baby, and she's had enough. She loves painting her nails but bending over to do her toes is basically impossible, and while she tries to keep her legs shaved, the third trimester has been rough. Thankfully, she has a very supportive partner who goes the extra mile to help her feel comfortable and pretty while she's carrying their kid. Boxes of chocolates, pedicures, gentile help applying lotion to her body... she's pampered and feminine, as she should be.

[fanta2y]

The Little Things

a little drabble inspired by @rrairey and her post on sukuna peeling an orange so THANK HER FOR THIS CUTE LITTLE THING

@archive-network (ooo you wanna click it so bad)

cw: none

word count: 697 (very short)

The door of your shared apartment swung open as you walked in, practically dead on your feet from the long and tiring hours of work today. You wanted nothing more than to curl into bed, cuddle with your personal furnace of a boyfriend and sleep for the next week. 

But you knew Ryomen was probably having an equally, if not worse day than you. And being disgustingly in love with him, you would push aside the tired ache that felt bone deep, for him to come home with a hot meal. 

You were stopped in your tracks when you realized that his shoes were already propped by the front door, his nice suit jacket hung up on the rack. 

“Ryo?!” You called out, your voice echoing along the walls. You walked through the apartment, making your way into the kitchen. When your eyes landed on a plate, wrapped in plastic wrap with your name written on it. 

The food looked delicious, the steam getting trapped inside the wrap. It brought a smile to your face as you grabbed the plate and made your way to the bedroom. Where you assumed he would be. 

“Ryo?” You called to him again, opening the door of your shared bedroom. The plate still in hand, you found him laying blissfully on the bed. His shirt no where to be found, his pajama pants hanging lowly on his hips as he flipped through a book. 

He hummed, his eyes flicking up from his book to meet yours. 

“Welcome home.” He said, his voice gravely and soft. The tone only you got to hear from him, the smile never left your lips as you made your way over to where he was laying. Placing the still warm plate on the bedside table, you leaned forward to kiss him. 

“Did you make me dinner?” A teasing lilt to your voice as you whispered the question against his lips. 

“No.” His signature smirk adorning his face, as you giggled. 

“No?” You shook your head at his antics, kissing him once more in a silent thank you. 

This is the way Ryomen functioned. He could never admit that he had done something for you. Either flat out denying it or coming up with some excuse as to why it was easier for him to do it, or why he had to do it instead of you. 

No matter what he said, the warmth that it left in your heart never dimmed. Knowing that the way he showed his love and care for you was not through sweet words or gifts, but through silent acts. Making dinner for you when you come home, folding your laundry for you after hearing you complain about it, making you coffee in the morning before you wake up. 

Its the little things that make you fall so much more in love with him. The silly excuses you both knew were false could never falter the love you shared with him. 

“It was the coffee fairy.” He would say, barely being able to hide the smirk with his book. 

“I don’t even know where your clothes go.” He would argue, both of you knowing that he was the one who helped you organize your closet when he first moved in. Being a stickler for organization and him knowing exactly where everything goes. 

You teased him often by calling him a control freak and he just scoffed and rolled his eyes at you while you giggled away at his antics. 

“Well thank you, whoever it was.” You said, moving away from his side of the bed. Grabbing your plate before getting yourself comfortable. 

Enjoying the homemade dinner thoroughly, and knowing to bring two forks because if you knew Ryomen, you knew he would try and sneakily steal your food whenever you ate infront of him. He said he was simply collecting his taxes from you, like some king of a medivial kingdom. 

It never failed to make you smile. These calm, soft moments with him. Knowing him more intimately than anyone else, filled your heart with sweet joy and satisfaction. Which made your dinner taste all the more delicious. 

authors note: EEEKKK this one is really cute, i love the way it turned out !! i love me some soft sukuna :))) hehehehe i hope you guys enjoyeddd !! and thank you for readinggg <3

[ladybyakuya]

| INTO MY KALIEDISCOPES ( part three ) + SUGISHITA KYOTARO !

+cw. — fem!reader, fluff, comfort, domesticity,pinning.

+wc. — 1k 

+syn.—  Sugishita Kyotaro was always the first target for every impromptu plan that Umemiya made while you were Kotoha's. Naturally, when they both made plans you and Sugishita had to face each other again.

+notes. — this is for the flufftober ‘fond moments’ collab event for prompt: date night hosted by @spookuna. m\dni cuz me iz eighteen plus blog. this is part of a mini drabble series that can be read as stand alone. |  redirect to blog navigation. 

The shop that was suggested by both Haji-kun and Koto-chan is the same shop that popped up in Google Maps when you searched for “grocery stores near me.” but now that you are finally here you can tell why it was so hard to locate the shop, even for google. The town guide, Sugishita, who is accompanying you was not much of a help. Besides, talking with him is still a boat you had yet to set foot on let alone sail on it. Never in the worst nightmares you had expected to run into him, again, after that embarrassing date night. 

The shop is almost empty except for the staff at the cash counter who is practically dozing off. It is already quite late at night so you do not see a reason to blame him especially because Makochi is a forlorn town. No shop is ever too crowded to come back home empty-handed. Haji-kun wanted to have a barbeque night; naturally, Hiragi was busy helping him, more like cleaning the mess he left behind after he was done with something, as always. Kotoha, Sakura, Nirei, and Suo are helping with the setup while Kaji and Tsubaki have gone to invite others, especially the members of Shishitoren and the people at show pub Ougi bar. As a result of these patiently concocted coincidences You and Sugishita were the only two people left with nothing to do but one of the most important responsibilities: “grocery shopping.”

A heavy sigh escapes from your chest as you lay your eyes on the entire display of products while standing in front of the fridge. Vibrant in color compared to the other parts of this dull silent shop, it piqued your interest first even though it is the utmost corner. The ground shelf of the fridge, which extends from one end of the shop to the nook of the staircase which would possibly lead to the second floor, is filled with dairy products. The shelf above it is filled with frozen foods and various types of treats with different tastes like salty, spicy, sweets, and alcoholic; the last, the uppermost shelf is filled with a wide variety of chocolates. Your concern is the middle section but the level above it is the most tempting. You pick a bunch of packets from the frozen foods section and look by your right side. 

Oh god! Where did this boy run off to now? He was following you like a stray puppy just a while ago. With the shopping cart in between the two of you, it felt like he was light years apart every time you turned back to keep anything inside it. You look around unable to spot him, slowly sinking into a rabbit hole of distraught since without him you would be lost in Makochi. You would not be able to go back without him. Relying on the phone? That’s pretty useless here. The network is bad besides you do not have anyone’s number except Kotoha and even if you did make a call she would be busy in the preparations of barbeque mostly probably unable to take the call . . . Oh God! Why did Haji-kun have to send you in the middle of nowhere. . . ?

A metallic screech sucks you out of your puddle of thoughts. You look in the direction of the source and a nonchalant Sugishita appears emerging from another section of the rack that has a lot of mangas, magazines, and books, by standing on the bar of the shopping cart while hunching his upper body to balance his weight, skidding it till he comes to a halt in front of you. His head turns up towards you, eyes blinking: one, twice, thrice before he straightens himself up to stand properly. He stands looking at the fridge, the cart in between you two as you inspect him for a few seconds. He is not hunching like he usually does around Umme! The inner flesh of your bottom lip faces a rough distortion against your teeth while you empty your hands into the cart. It already had drinks, soda cans, and different types of sauces neatly kept. It felt illegal to dump those packets messily into that apple pie setup but when there was a slow appearance of a visible crease along his eyebrows the pit guilt was now filled with surprise and  . . . joy perhaps.

“Alright fine,” You chime with an ear-to-ear smile jocking down to keep those packets of frozen foods in a well-ordered manner. The dull buzz of the air conditioner, the sharp ‘clicks’ when the rotating fans switch its direction, the crinkle of plastic packets inside the cart as you organize it, the low even syncing breaths of you two; then a gruff unfiltered voice turns up in a weak whisper, “This almost feels like a date night, wouldn’t you agree? ” and then, his hand on yours.  Don’t panic. Don’t panic. Don’t panic. You knew this was coming. You were . . . supposed to be prepared for this. It was you who avoided him at first. It was you who created an awkward situation like this. The fact that you saw him under those dim yellow lights in such an intimate manner does not help either. Those moments so unadulterated keep coming back to you in situations like this in flashes. It makes you close your eyes, and blink rashly to be back in all sorts of coherence. 

You look up slowly. His face is close, too close not to do anything—kiss or touch— your forehead against his, rub your cheeks against his. By now your fingers have found a home in between his fingers. He shoves his right hand into his pocket pulling out a half-eaten chocolate out of it and keeping it inside the cart. You feel a strong urge to smile but instead, wet your bottom lip rubbing the back of his palm with your lonely thumb that was not interlaced with his yet.

“Would you like to start over?”

[fandomtrumpshate]

Where we stand with donations, March 16

If we hadn't had all the Google troubles, today would be the deadline to get your high bidder donation in - we've bumped that back to Tuesday the 19th, so you have a couple more days if you haven't donated yet!

We are very excited about the totals we're racking up for MECA and Sherlock's Homes, our top two nonprofits this year, but we do hope all our groups get enough donations to make a real difference.

Some people wait to see which orgs are getting fewer donations before submitting their own; if that's you, here are the five nonprofits on our list with the smallest share of donations so far:

Wildlands Restoration Volunteers 0.5% Deploy/Us 0.6% Together Bay Area 1.2% Life After Hate 1.7% Violence Policy Center 1.8%

All five of these still have yet to reach $1000 each in donations, which we really hope all our groups will be able to hit during a record-breaking year like this!

The full list of which nonprofits are getting what share of donations is under the cut!

Middle East Children's Alliance 36.7% Sherlock's Homes Foundation 13.2% Pollinator Partnership 7.4% In Our Own Voice 6.6% National Network to End Domestic Violence 4.6% Razom 4.5% Coral Restoration Foundation 4.0% VoteRiders 3.9% Spread the Vote 3.6% Civil Rights Education and Enforcement Center 2.8% Bellingcat 2.1% Never Again Action 1.9% Violence Policy Center 1.9% Life After Hate 1.7% Other (non env.) 1.5% Other (env.) 1.3% Together Bay Area 1.2% Deploy/Us 0.6% Wildlands Restoration Volunteers 0.5%

[theblue6ook]

Shit Interview PT 2

Summary: Interestingly, Y/N meets Alfred Pennyworth, and he offers her a new interview for a different assistant position? She's hesitant but decides to take the opportunity. Little did she know who she'd be working for. [B (23) & Y/N (21)] [Eventual slow burn with Bruce]

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x fem!reader

a/n: Well hello there. If you liked this story, it’s a part of my “Out of My League” series. There will be more to come ;)

John and Alfred chattered along, making pleasant conversation. Y/N had politely said hello when introduced, but since then, she firmly planted her feet in front of the petunias. When Alfred arrived... well, it was embarrassing to say the least. There was a silence after his greeting with John, and Alfred seemed like a smart man; he clearly noticed the tense energy between them. It made her want to crawl out of the flower shop on her hands and knees.

She drew in a deep breath, it was time to escape. Moving down the back end of the aisle she was in, Y/N tried to wander towards the front of the store… nonchalantly. She stepped around the cracked tile and drains carefully. This shouldn't be hard. She knew this store like the back of her hand. Scooting around the bags of soil in the corner, Y/N was in the last aisle near the front of the store. She felt guilty she had nothing to bring to Carrie, but flowers die anyway. She shrugs to herself, I’ll grab some Chinese food on the way home, and she’ll be just as happy-

Her heel snagged on a hose. A hose that is not normally lying on the floor, so much for a stealthy exit. She tried to gather her balance, but her foot literally flew out of her stationary heel and sent her flying forward. “Shit.”

“Y/N!” John watched, bewildered, as Y/N disappeared behind the back of the potting corner. “What are you doing-”

“Yeah, that hose should really be up on the rack, John,” she quipped. Frustration tore through her, and her palms dug into the tile floor. I might actually have to crawl out of the store on my hands and knees. She felt a tug on her shoulder. 

“Stop playing on the floor,” he smiled down at her. “You okay?”

She sighed and pulled herself off the ground, “That’s a safety hazard. I should report you.”

“Okay, tough girl, let me get you that arrangement for Carrie, and then I’ll get out of your hair,” he teased, pulling her towards the register. She stood by Alfred as John passed the oak door behind the counter. “Let me just add some finishing touches. I’ll be quick. Don’t let her leave without it, Alfred.” 

Alfred chuckled and turned to her, “It’s nice to finally meet you, Ms.Y/N. I’ve heard quite a bit about you from John. Good and bad.”

“Oh, you can just call me Y/N,” She chuckled politely and wrung her hands together. There was a pleasant but awkward silence between them. It was… a little uncomfortable, to say the least. “Are you here to get an arrangement?”

“Nah, I just wanted to pop in and see how John was doing.” Alfred looked toward her like he wanted to say something but refrained. Where is John? “I hear you had quite a busy day today. Job interview and all.”

“Oh yeah,” she sighed. “You know… jobs. It’s kind of a work in progress.”

“Well, I did want to let you know if you ever need anything,” he started. “-well, any friend of John’s is a friend of mine.” 

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to take advantage-”

“It’s called networking,” John appeared in the doorway, bouquet in hand.

“How long have you been standing there?” she asked bewildered, but John only waved her off. 

“Long enough to hear you pass up a great opportunity,” he turned to Alfred unimpressed, “as per usual.” 

“Don’t be cheeky,” Alfred lowly warned him, shifting his weight. He turned, looking back toward Y/N, “There is actually a position open that I know of. It’s an assistant's position, but trust me, it will pay well.”

He dug through his sweater pockets and presented her with a thin business card.

“I hope to hear from you soon, Y/N. John, it’s always a pleasure.” He tipped his head toward the tall, thin man and made his way out of the flower shop, a slight skip in his step. She turned to John.

“Meddling, John. Really?”

“What?”

-

It’s always terrifying when Carrie's appointments take extra long. She was only supposed to have her session of chemo today, but Dr.Miller had suggested a follow-up appointment. Y/N sat slumped in the waiting room, her bouquet for Carrie tucked in her elbow. John had put it together sweetly and added the lilies, pink roses, and baby’s breath, all of Carrie's favorites. When Y/N went to pay, he refused the money, telling her this one was a gift for Carrie. She didn’t have the heart to argue with him about it.

Digging in her pocket, she pulled out Alfred's business card and flipped it around her fingertips. For some reason, it felt heavy in her hands. John had taken so much time to encourage her, and she needed the money desperately, if not for her, for Carrie. 

“I cannot fuck this up,” she whispered to herself.

“Hey!” Carrie yelled from down the hall. Y/N quickly shoved the card into her pocket and stood.

Dr.Miller smiled at her and clapped a hand on her shoulder, “It’s good to see you again, Y/N. Make sure this one gets home safe and into bed.” 

“Trust me,” Y/N laughed, “I’ll strap her in if I have to.”

“Well, I’ll be seeing you in two weeks, Carrie. Let me know if you have any issues before then.” Dr. Miller looked down at her watch and started moving further into the hospital. “You know how it is girls. Gotham never sleeps. I’ll be seeing you!”

They both yelled out goodbye and watched her disappear into the hallway.

“Y/N!” Carrie smacked her shoulder. “You did not have to grab flowers.”

“Well, you know I had to see John, and he had a whole bouquet planned for you, so how could I say no?”

They laughed, moving out of the hospital. Y/N told her about her van and how they’d, unfortunately, have to walk home, and Carrie quipped back that it would probably be faster than Gotham traffic anyway. They made their way block to block. Then, onto the bus and down several blocks after that.

After Y/N's dad had quite literally kicked her out of the house at seventeen, she moved in with Carrie. Carrie had just moved out of her mom's house with barely enough money for a one-bedroom and had joked that she didn’t have any money for living room furniture anyway. So they threw up curtains to separate the living room and kitchen. Y/N bought a rug and a mattress, and her makeshift room was made.

Walking into the apartment was pretty much like walking straight into the kitchen. Y/N sat her bag down and opened her curtains, throwing herself onto her bed. Carrie threw herself down next to her. 

“Bad day?” Carrie asked.

“Meh,” Y/N muttered. “Probably not as hard as yours, but still sucky.”

Carrie bonked her on the head. “Stop it. I bet your day was just as sucky as mine. How’d the interview go?”

Y/N really didn’t want to explain for the third time today how she had been late. She couldn’t even get past the receptionist, and she felt like a failure. She thought for a moment, pulling the business card out of her pocket and looking up at it. “I uh… got an opportunity for a different position actually.”

“What the hell!” Carrie tugged at Y/N's arm. “That doesn’t sound so sucky to me; we need to celebrate! I’ll call for some Chinese delivery.”

Y/N was left alone on her bed, staring up at the business card. She flipped it in her fingers for the last time before she pulled out her phone.

-

Alfred was standing in front of the stove making dinner, and he watched out the window. The sun was getting lower and lower in the sky. I need to finish this quickly before Bruce leaves tonight, he thought. He stirred an assortment of vegetables in the pan before popping the lid back on as his phone rang. Alfred didn’t recognize the number, but he answered anyway. 

“This is Alfred Pennyworth.” He rubbed his hands on his apron, waiting for the response.

“Hey, this is Y/F/N Y/L/N,” she spoke softly. “Um, we met earlier at Dorthie’s Flowers. I was with John.”

“Ah, yes!” he responded. “Thank you for calling back, Miss.Y/N. Have you thought about what I said earlier?”

“Yeah, actually, I have,” she thought for a moment. “I really wanted to thank you for the opportunity, and I’d love to have an interview… If the position is still available, of course.”

“Of course,” he smiled. “Are you available tomorrow at noon?”

“Yeah, absolutely. Where should I meet you?”

“Excellent! Don't worry about meeting me anywhere. John told me about your car issues earlier. I’ll have one of our drivers pick you up. I would pick you up myself, but I have some business to attend to in the morning.” The business is getting Bruce out of the house before he can stop me, he smiled to himself.

“You really don’t have to do that-”

“It’s my pleasure, Miss.Y/N,” he said. “Go ahead and send me your address for the driver, and I will see you then.”

[starillusion13]

Like We Just Met!

Alien AU ( Intro )

“MY MBTI is ISTJ.”

“No your MBTI is OURS.”

Pairing: nct dream(ot7) x reader

Genre: Alien au, Fluff

W.C: 5.7k

Warnings: This chapter contains just some emotions and some confusing meetings with the members.

Note: please I want to thanks to people for reading and reblogging. Reviews are always appreciated 😭. Applause to the ones who come up to me to interact and they know how friendly I am. Okay enough!

Network: @k-vanity @cultofdionysusnet

Girl let me explain (I will let NCT DREAM explain to me anything, Honestly.) I just love them so much!!!

“I don’t know them.”

“Girl. You are literally giving me so many details on them since yesterday and now you are telling me that you don’t know them.”

“Trust me, I really don’t know them.”

It’s just like you are ranting about your sudden encounters with seven boys. Well, who are these boys? Your friend was out of town for one month and your life has new stories like it has come past one decade. Living in this new town with your friend is okay but you being all alone in this place seems very uncomfortable when you are literally an introvert and approaching someone or to go out often for every need is becoming unbearable. As an ISTJ, you are very independent girl, enjoy maintaining your responsibilities and duties to have a decent life than others. Your life was pretty much going usual until these random boys came across your path. You haven’t seen them before but the way they approached to you, smiling at you and helping you seems like they have known you for so long. If you have encountered them before then maybe you would have remembered them somehow but NO.

Your friend has cut the video call when she finds out how you are zoning out and her being overseas is not really possible to be on the call for too long because of the differ in time zone. You haven’t notice yet the blank screen before you as the screen turned black under being no use for more than thirty seconds. You turn to look outside the window, the wind blowing slowly but enough to wave your curtains and your locks dancing to the breeze. You inhaled sharply before drifting to the flashbacks of encountering the boys in different places.

‘Skateboard’

The evening was pretty nice and so you thought to have some time for yourself, the activities you like to do on your spare time. Being in your room all alone was eating you of boredom so grabbing your skateboard from the rack, you made your way towards the skating zone of the park. You waited in a corner and kept yourself busy on the phone to kill some time before the place become a bit less populated and then you could have your skating time. Your skateboard kept leaning against the wall and you be watching some music videos of your favorite artist with your headphones on. Head bopping to the beats and feet tapping on the pitch, not taking in the surrounding how people were going back home with the passing of time. An add appeared on your screen and you took your eyes off of the screen to finally notice that you were out for so long. Locking the phone and fishing it inside your pocket, you grabbed your board and went towards your desired spot to ride your skateboard.

You just preferred it that way, away from all people and enjoying by yourself. Hairs flowing beside your face, hands spread wide and eyes focusing on the way in front and body keeping the balance on the board. A sweet smile adorning your face and you heard a ‘click’ sound with a flash from a side, you quickly looked towards the direction but didn’t see anyone. Getting distracted, you didn’t notice a tiny rock and you fell down.

“Ahhh!”

Rubbing your elbows, you investigate your hands and legs for injuries and well, there were some scratches due to the fall and it’s stinging. Your butt is paining as you fell on it and you didn’t think you could walk anymore like this but its not like someone would carry you to your house so you have to do everything on your own. You tried to get up but it was all in vain when you saw an extended hand in front of you. Eyes followed the hand to his face and damn, the boy was so cute but he didn’t look like any common guy from the colony, he looks different than usual, maybe he is not from anywhere around. Also, when did he approach you? You didn’t hear any footsteps and did he see you fall down? Thinking this you felt shy in front of him. The boy suddenly gave you a smile and honestly you thought that you have never seen such a cute boy ever in your life. He gestured to hold his hand and when you hesitantly accepted the offer, he quickly pulled you up. Before you could say anything, he started to brush off your hands and legs and your shorts but keeping himself decent from maintaining not to touch anywhere private. You shyly tugged your hairs behind and thanked him. He laughed, shook his head and patted your head like you are his pet.

“Come on, dude its okay. I feel like you needed my help. Its pretty late and why are you out in this hour?”

“Uh, it’s fine as I live down the streets and I like being alone here.”

“You skate so good. Can you teach me someday?”

“Yeah sure. If only we meet again then I will teach you promise.”

“We will meet again fore sure, myself Mark.”

He extended his hand for a handshake and you just stared at it. Biting your lips, you were deciding whether you should accept it or not and with a final smile, you shook his hand.

“Y/N. Nice to meet you.”

“Such a pretty name. I hope we will meet again.”

He gave you a printed band-aid from his pocket and when you rejected it, he bent down to put it on your knees.

“Thanks Mark.”

“Just be careful on skateboard next time.”

With that you both parted your ways but somewhere you hoped to see him again. He helped you to reach your house because you were limping and he insisted. Turning your back to him, a smile appeared on your face again and you ran inside. Since that day, you met often near the park and deep inside, without any reason you felt like to go there even just to get a glimpse of him playing basketball with his friends. Well, skateboarding is not your hobby but you are addicted to it for him.

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‘Blue waves’

Another day of your life and you feeling down for missing your parents. The memories of your happy moments all spent together running through your mind and tears running down your cheeks. You knew that if you spend some more time inside the house alone, you might think of all worst possibilities and so you made your way towards the bus stop. It was a calm afternoon with a pleasant weather and you made your mind to relieve yourself near a seaside. You took a bus to the nearest beach and meanwhile you noticed a child playing with her mother beside your seat. You sadly smiled at them and a tear fell from your eyes. Reaching to the desired location, you stood at the entrance of the path leading to the beach. Staring at the sea from afar somewhat felt like nostalgic. It reminded you of your father who used to wait with some candies or flowers for you and your mother near the shore and waving at both of you. Then, both of you used to run to him to give a tight hug to each other. Those bright happy days are just fading memories now.

Wiping your eyes, with slow footsteps, you walked towards the shore. Hands clutching your flowy knee length skirt. Pressing your teeth tightly and gulping the lump in your throat so that not a single sob could escape your lips. On reaching the shore, ears picked up the loud growling of the blue waves of the sea hitting the shore. You let your eyes closed to only listen to the sounds of the nature and how the breeze hitting your body as if it could take away all your problems away. The breeze caressing your cheeks as if your mother giving you some love after a stressful day.

“Mom...Dad…I miss you…” You whispered. It’s not like anyone could hear you as every other sound was getting lost due the loud waves.

“They miss you too, you know.”

Your eyes shot open on hearing the voice. Looking at the side, you could see a boy staring at you with a pitiful expression. His voice was so melodious as if a siren suddenly appeared from the sea to accompany you. You wanted to be alone but somehow you were appreciating his presence on your side. He had that calmness which can ease your racing mind and his voice was as if could just silence the loud waves. Well, when he spoke, the only sound you could hear was his and the shore was strangely silent.

“Huh?”

Giving you a soft smile, he gave you a paper. Taking the paper from his hand, you could see how beautifully painted was the view with a girl facing the sea under the sun in an afternoon. Just like you. The difference was only you were in a gloomy mood and the girl in the painting was somewhat happy.

“Do you like it?”

“Hm. This is so nice. Have you painted it?”

“Yes. Just now when you were lost in your thoughts.”

“Uh y-yeah. The girl in this picture seems so lively unlike me.”

“Nothing is there to be sad you know. We should leave behind the past and stay happy with the ones you are currently with. Like these blue waves always washing the shore and keeping it look so refreshing so let your sad thoughts flow away with these waves and lock your memories safe.”

He came closer to your form, palm resting on your cheek, fingers brushing the dried-up tears.

“Let someone guide you to the right path when you are needed. Blue represents hope and let these blue waves give you some hope to be cheerful always.”

With a last glance, he went away leaving the piece of paper with you. Glancing to the corner of the paper, there was a signature with a name ‘Renjun.’

You have a new memory and interest to come to seaside often. Well, surprisingly everyday you would find that the boy be painting there as if he waiting for your arrival. The blue waves must have some magic with hopes.

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‘pretzel’ and ‘yoghurt shake’

Craving for snacks is a daily part of your life. Glancing at the clock you found out its already late night but it didn’t matter when the convenience store would be open whenever you would go there. So, just picking up your phone and wallet, you made up your mind to head out. Locking the door, you walked down the streets towards the store. The night was chilly unlike other days and you hugged yourself, also your heart suddenly racing for how unusually the place was quiet and dark a bit. Calming yourself, you hurriedly made your way when the neo signboard of the store was in your sight.

Quickly getting inside the store, the bell ringing alarming the person at counter of your arrival. She frowned while getting up as why you were breathing heavily. Asking you if you needed any help, you shook your head and waved your hands in front, laughing awkwardly and told that how everything was fine. You were well aware of the place that how it was so safe to roam around in late hours but still you felt that someone was following you and you couldn’t ignore how your heart was racing. Was it due to the fear or it was signalling something else? Shaking your doubts, you went towards your usual snack centre.

Eyes taking in all the products available and you could see how some things were out of stock and many were newly arrived. Some things were very new to you as you haven’t seen them before so you squinted your eyes to read the names as it was on a top shelf and the way light was falling on it, making it difficult to read.

“Dream Pretzel.”

You got startled when a husky and dark voice spoke behind you. Your back hit his chest and you quickly turned around hoping he would move away a bit before you could reply him. But no. He remained on his place and now you were looking up to his height and him towering you with a dark expression. You looked around you to see if anyone was watching you or not but thankfully you were alone with him. Thankfully? Alone? No, I should tell him to move.

“Can you please move back a bit? Thank you.”

His eyes scanning your face and you could feel he was not having any intention to move. Gulping you tried to push him, hands on his chest over his black t-shirt. He quickly took a hold of your wrist and gripped it tighter, you winced under his strong hold.

“I have to take the item from that shelf so its you who is blocking my way.”

Releasing a heavy breath, you made your attempt to move to the side but before you could, he raised his hands and pressed his body in front to grab a packet from the top shelf. You panicked and your eyes went wide due to his actions. Getting the item in his hold, he scooted backwards, giving you some space to breathe finally. You were frozen and mentally screaming what just happened right now. He stared at you intensely and under his gaze, you were feeling so exposed even when you were fully covered in hoodie and trouser. You avert your eyes away from him and with slow steps, you went to the other shelf.

Deciding on the item you wanted to pick for your craving, your view got blocked when suddenly a snack was placed in front of your eyes. Annoyedly, you craned to look who was the person. And. that boy again, but he was gesturing you to grab the item from his hand. You hesitantly held it and without speaking a word, he turned around. You looked down to the item and it was the pretzel.

“Thank you……”

“Jeno…..it’s nice….you will like the taste.”

A smile appeared on your face and with that you went towards the drink section. Oblivion to you, he was smiling all the way out of the store. Arriving to the drink section, to your disappointment, your favorite drink was not available so you decided to leave the drink for that day and just go back with hot sauce snack or maybe some other snacks. Satisfied with your decision, you grabbed some other things in your way to the counter, the cashier smiled at you. Scanning the items, you noticed how she kept the pretzel packet on the other side with a yoghurt shake. A frown appeared on your face and the cashier told you about the total cost.

“That pretzel?”

“Oh sure. Its yours but the boy came here before has already paid for it and another boy who was with him paid for the shake and asked me to give it you.”

“Another boy?”

“Hm. They were together and they bought these for themselves too. You must be close to them that they bought these for you and they come here often but I haven’t seen you with them anytime. Are you, their girlfriend?”

“What? No no. I- I don’t know them. We just met few minutes back….”

“Oh. Here is your item ma’am. Have a safe night ahead.”

After greeting each other goodbye, you made your way back on the same road which seems more-lonely than before. You felt that creepy feeling rising up your spines and goosebumps appearing on your skin when you felt eyes on you. Someone might be watching from the dark. But who? And why? Isn’t this place safe for the people but that feeling of being watched could not be ignored. Your attempt to run was interrupted when you felt a hand resting on your shoulder from behind.

“AAAAAAAHHH.”

“Shhh. Wow. You scream so loud.”

“W-who are you?”

A ghost? A kidnapper? A murderer? No no no. please why me?  You just wanted to have some time for yourself with snacks and binge watch dramas but you didn’t think of getting yourself in such situation anyhow.

“I am not a ghost.” In a weird accent, the voice spoke up and you somehow hoped the person to be ghost.

“Please…let me go…I want to go home.”

“I wont hurt you. I just want to say you something.”

You slowly turned around to meet the voice. You stared to the smiling face and his shining eyes under the streetlight, he looking so cute with that smile. You nodded to tell him to proceed whatever he wants to tell you. He glanced at your hand which was holding the items you bought previously.

“Drink that shake. It is a rare one and I know that you will like it.”

You glanced at the plastic bag in your hand and in confusion, you look towards him. You were still thinking how he knew about the shake as it was not visible from outside then it’s only possible if he was stalking you. The eyes watching you all these times must be him. Oh wait. This shake was given by someone then maybe he is that person but why he is approaching you like a creep. He could have offered you in that store in person and not mentioning about it here in the lonely streets. Well, lonely…his presence was no more making you feel alone rather you were at ease and feeling…safe. I should not feel this right now.

“Are you the person who bought me this?”

His smile widened and he was grinning towards you like a little boy who got his candy after whining for too long. He nodded and pinched your nose.

“That’s a gift for you. We are neighbours and I thought I should start our friendship like this.”

“Oh thanks.” You offered a kind smile to him. “But you could have given me before then we would have been friends then and there.”

“well, I was scared of the rejection and I’m kind of shy and also my friend was in hurry for something.”

“Okay.”

You nodded on his words. Suddenly, he came closer to you than before and you became cautious of the situation and scooted back. He noticed your action and a hurt expression appeared on his face but quickly he showed you his sweet smile. You awkwardly mimicked the smile when he offered his hand for a shake. Your mind recalled the situation with mark and a thought came across your mind that after that event how you are meeting so many new people in your life. Maybe, without your friend in the town, you are finally socializing with people. Unlike before, you gladly accepted his hand and shook with a shy and awkward smile.

“We are friends now. Myself Jaemin.”

“Nice to meet you Jaemin. This is Y/N.”

His grip tightened and he closed his eyes with a sly smile resting on his face. He was memorizing how you sweet voice voiced out his name and he could never be happier than hearing his name from you. Opening his eyes, he brought your hands up to his lips to press a soft kiss on your knuckles. You were lost in admiring his features that you didn’t notice his actions until you felt his cold lips against your skin. Shy? He is a damn flirt.

“Let’s head back home. Its pretty late. Even if the place is safe, you don’t know what mysteries are hiding behind the dark.”

Agreeing with him, you both went back to your way. Then, you noticed how he really was your neighbour but you didn’t come across with each other’s path before.

After that day, you somehow felt an eagerness to pass through the convenience store everyday after having the skating lesson with Mark in the park. On arriving everyday to the store, you could see Jaemin drinking a yoghurt milk and grinningly waiting for you and also, Jeno stealing glances from the side while being busy playing games on his phone. The must be very close with each other that they always being together.

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‘Poison’

Waiting. That’s what you were literally doing for past fifteen minutes but still not seeing any sight of the person. It’s quite a late afternoon and you were so happy today. Why? Just because you nowadays feel happy after coming from your daily tour from the seaside. And today, you spent a bit more time with that blue wave guy. You chuckled on your own thought as what a silly nickname you have given him. With a little pout, you shrink in your seat. He usually comes running to you when he would see you sitting there. You casted a glance to your skateboard and well you could see the teddy bear sticker on it and that was what Mark had sticked on it last day.

“So, who is that lucky person you are thinking about?”

Craning your neck, you could see a guy chewing a gum and giving you a teasing smirk and shielding his eyes with a sunglass. With striking a pose, he brushed his hairs backward and when he felt your eyes on him, his smirk became wide. With a striking walk, he came beside you and sat on the empty place.

“Who are you?”

“You don’t know me? That’s so bad.”

He asked you and fake gasped when you shook your head. He was reacting as if it’s your fault in not being aware of his status. A frown appeared on your face and your expressions were totally how you were judging his over dramatic self.

“Why is it important to know?”

Clearing his throat, he turned his body towards your direction, placing a hand on head of the seat and placing the leg over another, striking a sassy pose. You pressed your lips just to prevent yourself showing your annoyance to him and being rude on your first meeting.

“Everyone in this colony knows about me and I’m honestly surprised that you don’t know me.”

“Okay?”

“Yah! Why are you so casual about it? Don’t I stand out among all the boys here.”

Honestly, he stands out. It was because you haven’t encountered any other boy with such a unique personality who acts like this on their first meeting even with a girl. Every guy tries to be formal or shy when interacting but this boy was totally over confident about himself and somewhere deep inside you were enjoying his company while waiting for Mark. You laughed lightly at his annoyed expression but quickly regained your composure when you saw him taking off his sunglasses and glaring at you.

“So how was your little ride from seaside?”

“What?”

How does he know about you? You were literally scared when he asked it and you thought that he might be some kind of stalker who was acting dumb in front of you.

“I’m not a stalker. That’s a very cheap name for me. Haechan is my name. I’m friends with Renjun and Mark so I know you.”

“oh.” So, they have talked about me among themselves. Why? They haven’t mentioned about being known to each other. Oh wait. You haven’t told them about each other then why they will tell you. But this boy is telling that they have talked about you then they must know now.

“Take this, you are overthinking too much. It looks like you don’t interact with people that much and that’s how you think about all the worst possibilities of everything.”

You watched how he took out a gum strip from a small pocket sized box and offered you to take it. You stared at that.

“What if it’s poison and then you might kidnap me?”

“That’s true. But to your luck, I don’t carry those cheap and useless stuffs in my precious and luxury jacket’s pocket. You are the poison to my mind you know. When they talk about you, after that you are stuck in my head and it’s so relaxing to see the angel in person.”

Again, that damn smirk reappeared on his face.

“Also, I would not attempt to pull out such a stunt in front of these much of people, right my Y/N?”

Gesturing with his open palm to all the people spread across the park. He pointed with his chin to take the gum and you accepted it. Satisfied with you, he gave you a teasing grin and eyes scanned your form.

“Haechan. What are you doing here? And.... oh Y/N?”

“I was waiting for you Mark.” you smiled.

“And me being a gentleman was accompanying her unlike you who kept her waiting here for so long.”

“Oh me. I’m sorry. I was just stuck in an important work and couldn’t make it on time.”

Haechan made a ‘tsk’ sound and stared at him to which the latter glared at him and it was of no effect on him because he smiled back to him.

“it’s okay Mark. I was….enjoying his company.”

Damn. His smug face was mocking his friend whose coming late was up to his satisfaction that he got to spend time with you.

“I’m sorry Y/N but I cant spend time with you today as I have to go somewhere and I thought you must be here so I came running here to tell you.” He awkwardly smiled to you and shuffled his hairs and honestly you found it too attractive.

“it’s okay. I can understand.”

Hanging his arm around Haechan’s neck, he bid you goodbye and your eyes followed how they were fighting and bickering jokingly while making their way out of the park. Looking down to the gum in your hand, your eyes widen when a paper folded into tiny folds was attached to it. On unfolding it, you found out the scribbles on it and you giggled.

‘This is my number below. If he makes you wait again, call me and I will tell you about his whereabout. Save the number, ~Haechan.’

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‘Broken Melodies’

Suddenly today you are feeling to go through the confession page of your office. One might wonder as if why you were suddenly wanting to go through that site when you are never really interested in those stuffs. Well, the real matter was that you heard a rumor that one of your mangers has proposed his employee and everyone was fangirling over the fact. Surprisingly, even you. You were not expecting something like that for you but was really curious on the fact that how does that page look like. How people actually confess there? As far as You heard, the manager was an anonymous character there then how come everyone knows about it? Did that girl inform them?

You took your laptop and sat comfortably leaning to the headboard with it on your lap. You remembered the name of the page and typed in your Instagram account. The account popped up and you quickly clicked on it. You opened the first post and read the confession. You giggled on the cute message. Eyes reading all the posts when suddenly a particular post made you stop. The person had mentioned his name, well only his account name on Instagram ‘Broken melodies’.

I fell in love again, with her...again. I tried everyday to teach me how to unlove someone. Looking up to the sky, I have told myself countable times that I am capable of leaving her there. But… I cant get her out of my mind even if I hate her. I hate when I see those eyes staring back at me as if I am a stranger and we never knew each other. Whenever she comes near to me, those memories come across my mind along with her presence. Huh! Then only I can realize how I have treasured every moment spend together. Maybe we have made some mistakes back then and I should keep in mind not to repeat them again when she is close to me again. Again, in my life. I want to keep her with me. She is my everything but I’m just a stranger to her. I want to spend my every seven days of a week with you. Can we turn it back again?

I want to sing to her and see her smile again. Those admiration for me in her eyes, I miss them. My songs were the most melodious tunes with her but they are just the broken melodies without her.

“Oh damn. Who is this? I want her to get back to him. I don’t want him to sing alone, she should see this. But I haven’t heard any break up story in our work place.”

Thinking on the gossips you heard all in the past and recently, you tried to remember any story like this. Oh wait. Then this person has a lover from outside the work place.

Smiling, you like the post and commented.

‘You will get her soon.’

Within two minutes, you got a notification from Instagram and it was of someone liked your comment and when you opened the banner, it was from ‘Broken Melodies’.

Somewhere in a cold room, a smiling boy smiling and staring at his phone in his hand on reading a comment. He quickly liked it and sent a follow request to the account. Found it. He shook his head when he realised how he was smiling like a fool, maybe a fool in love.

“Chenle…Why are you smiling at the screen? What’s there so interesting that you couldn’t hear me calling out your name?”

“I have found her profile.”

“Whose?”

“Y/N.”

The latter boy just shook his head but not because he thought his friend was silly but he was going to ask him for the profile and the owner of that account later that night.

“Are you coming?”

“YES. HAECHAN!”

“You didn’t have to scream so loud. Aish, my ears will bleed soon.”

Chenle started laughing on seeing his friend’s dramatic attempt to press his palms over his ears and fake crying that he couldn’t hear anything anymore.

You accepted the profile when you thought he must be another worker from your office as all other employees you know were already friends with him. This is how the story begins with the pages being turned over to the initial.

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‘Starry night’

“Have you ever wondered if anybody is looking back to from up there?”

You turned to your supposed to be high school classmate. He was already staring at the sky and was attempting to count the stars. Your thoughtful expression glanced at him and avert your eyes back to the sky.

Is there?

“I don’t know….”

“There is someone or should say some people.”

His eyes taking in the view, how the moonlight falling over you and you were still managing to glow. To some other eyes, you might be a common person standing to the side leaning against the pillar on the bridge with your boyfriend but to him you were the most shining star under the night sky at that moment. He met you at the bus stand few days back when you were returning from your work and he was so happy to meet you after so many years. You were confused when he first introduced himself but you then realised that he was the quiet and nerdy boy in your class.

It was Sunday evening when you both decided to have a meet up to chat and relive those old school memories. He was still a shy boy but you saw how he has gained so much confidence unlike before because of which he could approach you that day.

“You are telling it the way as if you are sure and can prove it if possible.”

“I can.”

“huh?’

“There are many things you still don’t know, Y/N.”

“And you know?”

“Perhaps yes.”

“Jisung?”

“Hm…”

“Have you lost someone to up there?”

Silence. That's what you got in return after you asked the question to him. You casted a worried glance towards him to see if you have crossed your boundaries and asked any question that might be too sensitive to him in some ways. When you were about to apologize to him, he turned around and cupped your face and you watched how a tear fell sliding through his cheeks, the end of tear line reflecting the moonlight.

“Yes. A very precious one.”

“Can’t you………get back them again?”

“I have got her back again. Very close to my heart and the person will be there with me all night long under this starry blanket of the night sky.”

“That’s really nice.”

……………………..

Your hands went up to touch your cheeks and felt tears falling, similarly the way you had seen on Jisung’s face. Why are you crying? It was not you who lost someone except your parents but the way he was saying those words while staring directly to your eyes felt so real like as if he was directing the words to you.

You glanced at the clock and it was already so late and you looked at the snacks kept on the table which you bought from the store before calling your friend. When the clock shows how late you were and the nest day you need to wake up early for your work, you realised you were zoning out for too long, thinking about the encounters with these seven boys. The encounters were like a dream occurring in the reality.

Arranging everything as per your routine before bed, you went on to have a sleep to rest your mind and body after having your little trips to different places.

You have to arrange the pieces to the puzzle of your life. These boys seem like the missing puzzle pieces and are to fix your life into a final piece.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Taglist: @mymoodwriting @justhere4kpop @vvshere @anyamaris @yeoobin @icchyi @jwnghyuns @piratequeen-queenofgames @dinonuguaegi @oreharuuu @eriny123 @jaehunnyy @is4b3ll3s @she-is-dreaming

(Open! Send ask/reply/dm)

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[bbybearcubbs]

Cute!

╭──────────────────── ༺♡༻ ────────────────────╮

〖Warnings〗➤ None, proof read like 6 times but there's probably still mistakes.

〖Genre〗⥤ Fluff

〖Pairing〗⥤ Bf!Jisung x Gn!Reader

〖Word Count〗⥤ 986(probably)

〖Networks〗⥤ @kflixnet @k-films @k-labels

╰──────────────────── ༺♡༻ ────────────────────╯

A sigh leaves your lips as you step inside. Work was extra exhausting today, leaving you yearning for the comfort of your bed and your beloved boyfriend. “Sungie I'm home!” you call into the apartment, setting your coat onto the racks on the wall and slipping your shoes off. 

Not long after, you hear the sound of rushing footsteps against the tiled floors and a head of fluffy dark brown hair pokes out from the other end of the hallway. “Jagiya! Welcome back!” Jisung exclaims with a smile.

You give him a small smile in return, too exhausted to mirror his enthusiasm. Jisung notices your lack of energy and fully unsheathes himself from behind the wall. “Are you okay jagi?” He asks, his concern evident in his furrowed brows as he walks towards you.

The small pout on his lips makes your heart flutter and your smile widens just slightly. 

“I'm okay baby,” you reassure him, meeting him halfway in the corridor. “I'm just tired.” you explain wrapping your arms around his torso and pulling him into a hug. You press your face into his shirt, inhaling the fading scent of his cologne. Your body relaxes at the familiar smell, the smell of home.

Jisung wraps his arms around your middle, squeezing you softly. “Do you want to go lay down?” He asks quietly. “Yes please,” you sigh, making Jisung chuckle. Jisung gently lifts your head by your chin and for a second he stares, his eyes locked with yours, mesmerized before he connects both of your lips in a soft kiss.

You love when he kisses you like this. Soft and comforting, allowing you to fully relax into his arms, your legs almost giving out under you. 

Gently, Jisung begins to move backwards, guiding you to the bedroom. Once you two are inside Jisung breaks the kiss so he can lay down on the bed. Gently, he tugs you along to lay on top of him. You let him pull your body along and you lay on top of him, resting your head on his chest.

Your hand drops lazily over his torso and you absentmindedly begin drawing small shapes along his clothes stomach. 

“Do you want to talk about today?” Jisung asks, playing with your hair. “Think of any normal day at work,” you start, “but double the amount of rude people and irritable bosses.” you finish, rolling your eyes even though Jisung couldn't see your face.

“Ouch, that sounds rough.” Jisung winces, understanding how bad things must've been today. “I'm sorry jagi” he tries to comfort you. He cranes his head down and leaves a soft peck on your forehead. The butterflies in your stomach come alive at the gesture. Something as simple as a peck still manages to makes your heart flutter.

“Don't apologize, it's not your fault,” you reassure him, “I'm just happy to finally be home with my baby.” You say softly. “And I'm glad you're home too.” Jisung says, stroking your hair affectionately. 

You two lay there in comfortable silence for a while, simply enjoying each other's presence and the comforting warmth your bodies bring to each other. You were almost drifting off to sleep when your finger grazes Jisung's bare skin, the contact seemingly sparking your senses awake again.

His shirt had ridden up a bit under your languid touches, exposing a bit of his belly. 

You like Jisung's belly…

“You like my belly?” Jisung asks with a soft chuckle. Oh, you said that out loud. “Mhm, I do,” you hum, now making shapes along his bare skin. “Why?” Jisung giggles, your fingers tickling him. He was genuinely curious to know why you liked his belly.

Suddenly you push your hand underneath his shirt, pushing up his shirt in the process and exposing his entire stomach. “H-hey! Jagi that t-tickles!” Jisung giggles, squirming under the drag of your palm. “I like it because it's soft and squishy.” You say, giving his stomach a few gentle squeezes.

“It's only soft because I haven't been working out.” Jisung laughs. He's really ticklish. “I like it when it's firm from you working out too,” you look up at Jisung with a smile, “it's sexy.” You grin, wiggling your eyebrows playfully.  

"Oh really?" Jisung wiggles his eyebrows at you as well, mirroring the smirk on your face before you both burst into a fit of laughter.

“Whenever I see your cute, squishy belly,” you begin, sitting up and shuffling down the bed until you're face to face with Jisung's stomach. “I just want to squeeze it,” you continue, squeezing his belly a little, “and kiss it.” you admit, leaving a soft peck right above his belly button. 

Jisung's laughter fills the room as you begin peppering his entire stomach in kisses. “J-jagi stop! T-that tickles!” Jisung whines, squirming under you but you don't stop. You keep leaving kisses across his stomach, squeezing his sides until they're squished between the spaces of your fingers. 

“Jagi!! C-c-ahh-come on! Stop!” Jisung pleads through strained laughter, trying to pry your hands away. Finally you raise your head, relieving his sensitive stomach of your attacks. It takes a second for Jisung to catch his breath again.

Once he does he pushes himself up on his elbows so he can look at you. “Thank yo- ah!” Jisung yelps when you bite into his side. Your teeth barely scraping his skin but you keep the soft flesh in your mouth, nibbling on it.

Jisung deadpans, fighting the urge to laugh at the ticklish feeling creeping up his side. “Jagi.” You hum, acknowledging him. “What are you doing?” He asks. You detach your lips from his plush side and look up at your boyfriend, a small red mark left behind on his honey skin.

“You looked biteable.” You shrug. “You're weird Jagiya.” Jisung says, gently placing his hand on your head. “You like weird.” you smile. “I do.” Jisung replies

╭──────────────────── ༺♥︎༻ ────────────────────╮

Taglist [Open]: @rikislady @stayconnecteed @starlostastronaut @dreamofbona @harufluff @nwjws @afelia-123 @rikilove4

╰──────────────────── ༺♥︎༻ ────────────────────╯

Note: I needed to express my love for Jisung's tummy. Its so fucking cute I just can't not yap about it

Edit: I wrote this back in March

Edit #2: I edited this again while fixing the format on here so words were added & subtracted so it's not exactly 986 words but it's somewhere around there🫠

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© bbybearcubbs 2022 | Do not copy, repost, or translate any of my works onto other platforms without my permission.

[liyawritesss]

Could you do another chapter installation for Vander x Pregnant reader?

ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ ᴡ/ ɴᴇᴡᴍᴏᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

Pairing: Modern!Vander x Black!Fem!Reader

Type: Headcanons

Synopsis: A continuation of the headcanons of Arcane characters with a pregnant!reader; this is specifically for Vander and how he’d react to being a father figure once again!

Warnings: pregnancy, mentions of labor, brief allusion to post-labor pains and fatigue, also a brief allusion to Vander 'handling things if a baby daddy pops up

A/N: Lord I lowkey forgot I did these headcanons, it was so long ago…back when I had my first ever case of baby fever lol. Not gonna lie it took me a while to actually sit with this one bc I don’t have the same drive as I did when I first made these headcanons, so I hope they sound alright. Also, this can be taken as romantic or platonic, I left it ambiguous on purpose for that reason.

Tags: @writingintheshadowsforever @mbakuetshurisprincess @verachii @cafehyunji @lulu-network @babyboiboyega @badass-dora-milaje @conretewings @vander-affectionate

Sign Up For My Taglist Here!

Vander takes special care in learning how to aid you during your pregnancy. His kids are his by bond; adopted from old friends and off the streets. He’s not familiar with the whole pregnancy process, so he tries to prepare himself. He is, in fact, not prepared.

You would commonly find him sitting at the kitchen table while waddling down the stairs for a class of water, sitting on his phone or at his laptop, looking at articles on how to prepare for being a newborn’s dad, or on amazon for things to buy for the baby’s arrival. He’s a very dedicated man!

You wanted to have an at-home delivery, of which Vander was originally against because he would much rather have had the professionals handle the delivery. Not that he didn't trust your judgment, that’s far from doubt…he just doesn’t trust himself. He’s about thirty years of rough edges and has only known harshness. He doesn’t know the first thing about infants, and the fragility of them scares the living shit out of him.

When the child is born he is absolutely mesmerized by them. How something so tiny can release the shrillest of cries, how they practically fit in the palms of his hand. This may not be his kid, but he knows for sure that the connection he feels to this tiny human in his hand is just as strong as any biological connection could be.

Being a mother is exhausting, Vander learns. The exhaustion that racks through you day in and day out from taking care of your newborn does a number to you, and he sees it. He tries to ease the burden by taking over night shifts so that you can sleep. He was hesitant at first, not wanting to overstep any boundaries but he gets the hang of it after a couple of weeks.

He becomes super dad very quickly - as if he wasn’t one already. He keeps the baby very entertained while you’re healing and getting yourself back together after the labor. 

In spending more time with the kid he also becomes protective, as one would suggest. So you better hope no baby daddy drama comes around…cuz Vander not having it at all. He will do some serious damage to that dude if he tries anything funny…and we don’t wanna see Vander get angry now.

But overall he’d ve a very loving and supportive person throughout the pregnancy and the first stages of your child's life in whatever capacity you want him to be in, whether it be platonic or romantic. Nevertheless, he does view your kid as one of his own and will always treat him as such.

If you enjoyed, please leave a like, comment, and reblog for others to see! And don’t be shy to send in a request!

[rackmount-official-my-ass]

my dad is saying we wouldn't be able to have a 2u server in our home because it would be too noisy. how do i show him he is wrong to value peace and quiet over compute.

Yay an ask!! TL;DR: it’s basically just a tower computer that yawns when it wakes up.

A single server is barely noticeable at all: it’s honestly not much different from a tower PC. Based on a random reference I found, I’d say a single server is about 30-40 dB at low load, like, acceptable in a library. It’s generally much quieter than an air conditioner, a stovetop vent, or a fridge or microwave while it’s running. It’ll only be “loud” for a few seconds during boot, and if you drive it up to high load. I’ve been running a 2U and at least one 1U at home since I moved to this apartment, and unless you’re standing next to the rack, you just can’t tell.

Rackmount gear gets a bad rap for being super loud, because it’s seldom deployed as just one unit (hence the rack), companies usually don’t want to buy more machines than they need (so they run at high loads), and there’s forced air conditioning through the whole space, which is also loud. Some equipment is genuinely pretty loud, but in my experience those are usually network appliances, and probably 10G or up. Heck, even the C7000 blade chassis that I was warned would be way too loud for an apartment was quite tolerable (well, while empty anyways).

I’m not sure how you could demonstrate this to someone without actually having a machine in front of you, but knowing what I know now, sound would not be a concern at all. Power will probably be the next area of questioning; a 2U might draw about 180-240 W. Over a month, at 12¢/kWh, that’s about $15-20 (you can find your local rates on your power company’s web site in a big ugly PDF, it might use the word “schedule” in the title).

I hope this helps somehow! Having your own server at home is a very educational experience. (Obligatory don’t waste your time on HPE!)

[rrlexchange]

Ralph Lauren Takes His Line on the Road

By Stephanie Strom Sept. 23, 1993 (Originally published in the NYT)

While other retailers are taking their acts to television's home shopping networks, Ralph Lauren is taking his new line of jeans and rugged clothing on the road in an 18-wheeler.

A team of nine young salespeople yesterday started selling the designer's RRL, or Double RL collection out of a Peterbilt semitractor trailer truck parked on the campus of New York University in Manhattan. The trailer, painted with mustangs running across one side and pulled by a cherry red cab, plans to visit college campuses across the country cultivating customers who might otherwise miss the company's more traditional marketing efforts.

"It's a traveling billboard," Mr. Lauren, who looked as if he had just stepped out of one of the on-board dressing rooms in full RRL attire, said in a truckside interview at N.Y.U.

But it goes beyond that. The truck gives the designer, who is as much a savvy marketer as he is a fashion maven, and his retail empire reach beyond the fashion magazines and department store shops that feature RRL clothes. College students do not necessarily look to the ads in Esquire and Vogue for wardrobe ideas, Mr. Lauren reasons, or spend money in department and specialty stores.

Ralph had challenged us to come up with a new way of reaching young people because they don't read magazines as much," said Mary Randolph Carter, vice president of advertising for the Polo Ralph Lauren Corporation.

Peter Strom, the company's to-the-point President, explained that the traveling store was not about making a profit but, rather, about making a statement. The truck is scheduled to stop on college campuses through the first week of December, but Mr. Strom said he would be willing to finance a spring tour if the one this fall won the company exposure.

That sales are a secondary goal is not surprising, since $68 blue jeans and $78 flannel shirts may not fit into the average college student's budget. But Mr. Lauren is not worried about prices. "All the prices are very competitive," he said. "My products are really good products, high quality, and people will pay for that." Thrift-Shop Ambience.

The shop inside the truck, which has a sort of a Salvation-Army-thrift-shop-meets-general-store atmosphere, opens onto a tented area where clothes are stacked on battered industrial work tables, tossed into baskets or hung on mobile pipe racks. The collection is heavy on items like roomy barn jackets, tooled belts, faded flannel shirts and worn jeans

To handle logistics and campus politics, the company teams up at each campus it plans to visit with a student group, which then makes arrangements for the truck's arrival. In exchange, the traveling RRL shop donates 10 percent of its profits to the sponsoring organization.

Ads in campus newspapers and an "800" telephone number help herald the arrival of the truck, which stays two days at each campus. After leaving N.Y.U. it will head for the University of Connecticut at Storrs and then the University of Massachusetts at Lowell.

Said Sam Hamilton, the 29-year-old road manager who is leading the team, "I figure I can write a memoir when it's all over."

[radioactivepeasant]

Fic Prompts: Free Day Friday

It's a little follow-up to Mistaken Identity au, as per the poll results!

The first week "home" had been...stifling. The man purporting to be Jak's father wouldn't leave him alone, always checking in on him, making sure he wasn't pulling at the IV, asking him questions he just didn't have the answers to. The one upside was that Damas had finally brought Daxter to see him. Of course, it had been right in the middle of Jak's fourth escape attempt, which may have been calculated. But considering Jak was pretty sure he was going to lose his mind without Daxter, he'd decided to let it go for now.

For the first hour, neither of them had even spoken. They'd just clung to each other in silence, taking solace in the knowledge that they were both alive, and here. Damas had stood to the side, watching, like he always did. He really hadn't given up on this "I think you're my kid" business. And without blurting out everything he knew about time-travel, Jak couldn't exactly prove him wrong. Frankly, even if he did tell Damas exactly why he was wrong -- namely, that Jak had technically only been born five-ish years ago -- Jak didn't think even that would convince him. He'd probably think it was some near-death hallucination Jak had in the desert.

Daxter wanted Jak to play along; let this new city think they were long lost children returning home. Anything was better than rejection and exile! But Jak just...couldn't. First of all, he was a terrible liar. Tess often told him he couldn't bluff his way out of a paper bag. But even more pressing, it just didn't feel right, repaying an act of kindness with one of deception. Besides, what would they do when they found out it was all a mistake? Better not to get comfortable at the outset.

It was, all in all, a difficult position to be in.

"So tell me why your friend there looks like a river-cat, but has human blood," Damas finally interrupted after close to two hours of watching them sign to each other.

"He has wha-"

"I HAVE WHAT?!"

Daxter bristled and leaped down onto the cot. "Whaddya mean my blood is still human?! How did you even figure that out?!"

Damas was entirely too cheerful when he answered, "Oh, nobody knew what you were when we found you, so we did a blood test. Using the wrong medicine could've killed you, after all. The vet called it a day and went home with a migraine once she figured out all your internal organs are identical to a human's. That's probably why you can talk, I suppose."

Sputtered explanations of Daxter's plight -- talking over each other and around each other, one blaming himself and the other refusing to accept it -- took up the next seven minutes while Damas just listened with a stupid grin. Maybe because it was the most Jak had willingly spoken to him since regaining consciousness.

On the bright side, after learning that Daxter was medically still human, Phobos had brought a pair of pants for him. Maybe they were an infant's button-snap trousers, but the buttons made room for his tail and both boys were grateful for it.

After four days of tortuous boredom and the hated IV, they finally let Jak out. No one had returned his clothes -- it figured, couldn't let him have gear that would help him escape -- so he'd had to shuffle out after Phobos in slightly undersized sandals that pinched his toes. Even with Daxter's enthusiastic and highly colorful commentary on the world outside the clinic, Jak hadn't been prepared for the size of the city around them.

He'd expected something like the Slums of Haven. Ramshackle buildings of sheet metal and broken roads surrounding a few locations of importance. The market district outside of the clinic alone could have fit all of Dead Town quite comfortably, and according to Daxter that was only a quarter of Spargus's true size! Asymmetrical sandstone houses and apartments lined city walls and a network of well-kept walking paths in a variety of levels, many with baskets of colorful fruits, or racks of laundry drying on landings high above the street.

Jak had immediately wandered away from Damas and Phobos, just trying to take it all in. The air was clear -- hot, but clean and free of smog -- and tasted of salt. A child collided with him, bounced off, and continued running as other children gave chase with shrieks of laughter. Jak had never seen kids playing in the street before. Where were the guards? The soldiers? Everyone outside walked with heads held high, calling out greetings, haggling over prices. The marketplace thrummed with life and color and sound, almost overwhelming in its intensity. Haven seemed like a ghost town by comparison!

Jak strayed between vendors' stalls, trailing his fingers along split-rail counters and sturdy awning poles. Daxter leaned eagerly over his shoulder, pointing out all the ammunition and daggers and armor being made. There were piles of metal gems being weighed on scales, traded back and forth, even being set into weapons! City of the hunter indeed. It looked like everyone had gems of their own to pay with. Daxter even swore up and down he'd seen an eight year old with a handful of metalbug gems buying a satchel of seeds!

"Oye! Don't wander off like that, kid!"

Phobos caught him two streets over, peering at a rack of creepy gas masks. She sounded more amused the annoyed, at least.

"See something you like?"

"This place is so crowded." Jak shaded his eyes and tried to guess how many of the people around him were warriors.

Phobos snorted and jostled his arm with a friendly elbow. "This is nothing. You should see the Arena!"

Arena? Like a stadium? The possibility of racing piqued Jak's interest, and he and Daxter exchanged eager glances.

"What's the Arena?" Daxter asked.

It was fairly hard to miss, as it turned out. Phobos pointed them towards a structure built into what looked like a caldera, just north of the market.

"There, that's the Arena: gathering place, courtroom, race track, stage and morgue, all in one!"

Daxter blanched. "What was that about a morgue?!"

Phobos shrugged. "It's built over lava, kid. Citizen candidates have to prove they can survive volcanic activity -- and Marauders, and- well, most desert life, really -- before we let them leave the city. If they don't take it seriously enough: whoosh! Crematorium."

"....ah." Daxter cringed and slid down Jak's back until only his ears were visible over Jak's shoulder. "Hence the age restrictions."

"Hence the age restrictions," Phobos agreed. She gave Jak a little shove. "Hey, if you want to get a look at it, one of our veteran hunters managed to trap a couple metaljackets recently. The Warriors' Guild is giving a demonstration for civ candidates and younger rookies this afternoon. Kind of a "here's what you can be if you don't slack off" thing."

"Ugh. Metaljackets." Jak rolled his eyes. "Not as annoying as Stingerheads, but they're up there."

He paused.

"Do you even have Stingerheads out here? Those stupid things drive me crazy."

"Well..." with a slightly chagrined look, Phobos tiptoed to wave down a slightly dismayed looking Damas, who was apparently questioning some baffled shopkeepers as to their whereabouts.

"I mean. We used to. But then we found out that Leapers really will eat anything they can fit in their mouth. We don't have a Stingerhead problem anymore."

Phobos shooed Jak over to the now relieved Damas. "Go on, I've got work to do. You guys, I dunno, bond or something. Take Jak to see the metaljacket exhibition."

Of course, in the clarity of hindsight, she would regret the suggestion.

There were still a few hours before the event was scheduled to take place, but there were already some people camped out to get front row seats. Damas didn't seem to think that this was a particularly wise strategy, commenting as he led the boys past the stands that the campers would likely run through most of the water they had on-hand while waiting. He paused when he noticed that one of the "campers" was an old man, stretched out on the benches and snoring softly.

"Well. Peat excluded. That guy just kind of does what he wants and manages to survive anyway." Damas tugged at his lip. "Honestly, nobody's really sure how. I mean, the man ate a cobra once because he said if it bites you, biting it back cancels out the venom."

"Does it?" asked Jak.

Damas’s head whipped around to fix wide eyes on Jak. "No! No, absolutely not! He was in the healing ward for days! But he managed not to need the foot amputated and ate the rest of the snake anyway."

Daxter gagged and Jak laughed. "I wanna meet that guy."

Rightly, Damas had a bad feeling about that.

When the exhibition did begin, Jak was a little disappointed. Sure, the long gunstaffs used to keep the metalheads back were cool, but he couldn't see the weapons' details well from the box where Damas usually sat. He leaned over the rail, squinting as one woman used her staff to vault into the air and slash a metaljacket back down to the ground. Daxter, long since grown bored, was scanning the rest of the stadium. Abruptly, he sat up and smacked Jak's arm.

"Hey lookit! It's a Precursor orb!" He pointed to a familiar shape lying on an awning halfway down the Arena walls. "Somebody must've dropped it! I bet we could get that later, huh Jak?"

Daxter looked around.

"...Jak?"

All Jak had heard was "Precursor orb" and the old childhood habits came flooding back. Without a second thought, he slipped over the railing the moment Damas’s back was turned. The metal was almost blisteringly hot, but he ignored it as he climbed down footholds that should have been too small for a human. Getting the orb without falling into the Arena would be tricky, but not impossible. He just had to watch his balance.

Up in the observation balcony, Damas was a little more focused on catching up on some paperwork than on the exhibition below. He tuned out the ottsel-boy muttering in alarm about...something...in order to review a new infrastructure proposal. The faster he got this done, the more time he would have to get to know Jak.

He heard some cries of alarm down below, but ignored them. The rookies would realize soon enough that the Guild had everything under control.

"Hey boss?"

"What, Kleiver?" Damas didn't even spare a glance at his talk-box.

"Er...ain't that your brat, climbing into the Arena?"

"What are you talking about? Jak's right-"

Damas finally looked up.

"...here?"

He dropped the datapad and leapt to his feet. "Oh don't tell me-"

A quick scan of the ring confirmed his suspicions and before he could stop himself he burst out, "JAK! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!"

Jak paused and looked up at him from where he was leaning over the awning, orb in hand. He looked down at the orb, frowned, and looked back up at Damas.

"Is...that a trick question?"

"Get back up here before you fall and break your neck!" Damas yelled, gripping the balcony edge with white knuckles.

Behind him, Daxter sighed and shook his head. "Welcome to my world, Spikes," he said sympathetically, "welcome to my world."

[letsquestjess]

It Never Rains - Chapter 2: Shot in the Dark (Crosshair x OC)

Story summary: What was supposed to be a straightforward assassination turns into one of the most challenging bounties Crosshair has ever faced. Upon discovering that his target, Eudora Avani, was given an Andeladite stone by a fallen brother, he becomes determined to protect her and safeguard the treasure from falling into greedy syndicate hands. With a secret of its own, the stone becomes a race against time for Crosshair and Eudora as they set out to uncover its hidden knowledge and stay ahead of the bounty hunters pursuing them.

Word count: 2.9K | Warnings: Violence. Mention of blood.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 3

-- -- -- -- --

The door slammed shut with such force that the ornaments on the sideboard swayed, delicate porcelain rattling and clinking. Eudora almost motioned for them to be silent, as though the slightest sound would alert the attacker lurking outside. Closing the nets, she typed in a sequence of digits on the keypad to activate the explosives in the field and double-checked the locks. 

The house hushed. It had been years since she last used the security system, and it troubled her how effortlessly she fell back into the familiar routine. Leaning on the sturdy brick of the home her ancestors had laboriously built, she silently implored them to protect her. 

Her fingers rested on the gun fastened to her thigh, poised to react at the faintest noise as she waited and listened. Silence surrounded her like a swarm of a thousand ghosts bringing their muted realm to her as they squeezed their ears against the door. 

What had she done to provoke a targeted attack? There was no war raging, and she had managed to avoid open defiance of the Empire by politely pretending to consider their countless offers. If it were the Imperials, she knew they would have deployed a full team instead of a solitary assassin to eliminate her. They would have made a grand spectacle out of it. 

She racked her mind trying to think of who might be behind the assault, and mentally retraced her steps, analysing every encounter and interaction, but she couldn’t pinpoint anyone who would have a motive to harm her. 

Could be an opportunist, she pondered. Or one of the local organisations looking for a score on an old house.

If they were expecting money, they were sure to be disappointed. The household functioned primarily through diligent labour and commitment, with repairs being done by manual means and little credits spent on maintenance. Her family never had extra funds to spare. 

All too late, Eudora heard the protesting creak, the floorboards betraying the presence upstairs. The window, she thought. Shit, I left it open. 

She scrambled, staying low to the tarnished floor and seeking shelter in the corner between the kitchen worktop and the preparation table. The sides pinched at her shoulders and compelled her to hunch. 

With every step, the stairs groaned as booted feet trod on their tired planks. A pair of tight trousers came into view. Eudora leaned in closer to glimpse the grey-haired head and irritable scowl that searched for her. His eyes scanned, one encircled by a crosshair tattoo. Gloved hands cradling his sniper rifle, he tapped at the grip. 

If she could make it to the dining room, there was a hidden hatch. A network of ancient tunnels ran beneath the healer farm and the outskirts of town, offering her a promising route out. All she needed to do was-

She let out a screech as she was yanked by her hair out of the gap and flung onto the hard ground. She braced her palms, anticipating the impact. Executing a well-timed leg swipe, she connected with the towering assailant and sent him sprawling. After a chaotic brawl and numerous failed attempts to land hits, she summoned her remaining energy to shove him aside and retreated, the gun grazing her thigh as she swiftly raised it into position. 

Unfortunately for her, the attacker matched her response. The taste of blood persisting on his tongue, he mustered the strength to stand up, keeping the rifle barrel trained on her. There was no fear in her as she faced him, just a fierce glower that seemed to taunt him into squeezing the trigger. In his line of work, he rarely encountered bounties who pleaded for mercy. Most were unaware of his presence until it was too late, but on the rare occasions it happened, they would tremble, shielding themselves with lifted hands, avoiding the impending darkness that awaited them. Seemingly, not this one. 

“You fight like a brawler,” the assassin drawled. 

“I learned from the best,” Eudora retorted, tightening the firm hand on her weapon. “You can either get out or get shot. Frankly speaking, I don’t care which.”

The sniper rifle clicked as he altered the firing mode and inched it closer to her face. “Not if I shoot you first. I came here for something specific.”

“Whatever it is, you’re not getting it.”

As Eudora distanced herself from the barrel, her loose-fitting cardigan slumped further down her shoulder, exposing the pendant nestled below her collarbone. In a single moment, Crosshair’s eyes locked onto it, figuring out in an instant what it was and why he had been sent to retrieve it. It was certainly going to complicate matters, there was no doubt about that. 

“That is an Andeladite stone,” he stated, sliding the end of his sniper underneath the dark twine that grazed her throat to lift the polished rock. “Clones used to find them in the ocean on Kamino and carve them. Many were lost, so they are quite the rarity now. That could fetch you thousands of credits with the right collector.”

While studying his face, Eudora noted the subtle creases surrounding his intense, amber gaze, and couldn’t shake the striking resemblance that she had encountered countless times before. “You’re a clone?” 

“You got that quicker than most,” Crosshair snarled. Due to the nature of his job, he was well acquainted with derogatory comments, particularly about his creation or his previous work with the Republic, but the way she posed the question seemed more surprised than degrading. “Here is how things are going to go: You will hand over the Andeladite stone, and then I’ll leave you in peace. If you lie low and stay quiet, you might have a chance at remaining alive.”

In truth, once Crosshair learned his target was an Imperial, their identity became irrelevant to him; they were as good as dead. But there was something different about Eudora that set her apart from the typical Imperials he hunted. If anything, in his observation of the dilapidated house, all he saw was a lonely woman struggling to survive. The Andeladite stone was what his client desired. Was it necessary for him to take her life, especially when she didn’t appear to have any ties or sympathies towards the Empire?

“You’re not taking the stone,” she asserted, clutching it close. 

“What does it matter to you?”

“More than you will ever know.” 

“Worth losing your life over?”

Despite the tears clinging to her bottom lashes, Eudora gritted her teeth. “Yes. It was given to me.”

“By the clone who carved it,” Crosshair guessed, as he lowered his rifle and tested the waters before moving closer and crouching down to his target. Her leafy eyes fixed onto him like the laser from his scope, and he admired her fierce tenacity in the face of a bounty hunter and a trained soldier. 

“You do a good job of masking the fact that you’re one of them, but you share many features that are impossible to conceal,” Eudora remarked, almost in an observant mutter to herself. “If your intention is to kill me, shoot me and be done with it.” 

Nothing tempted Crosshair more than a challenge. What he didn’t expect was the passionless kiss of her gun as she grazed it over his stubble covered chin. “I’m quick,” he warned. 

“Prove it.” Sustaining the slightest pressure on the trigger, Eudora remained steady as the sniper begrudgingly raised his hands and dragged on his heels to support himself to his feet. 

“I won’t harm you, and I won’t take that stone if one of my brothers gave it to you,” Crosshair assured her. “But others will come after you for it. When the syndicate collector who employed me discovers my failure, they will hire someone else. They are not going to offer the same level of mercy as me.”

With her weapon and her glower still pointed at him, she got herself up. “Why?” she demanded, her resolve weakening as the gun started to shake. Bounty hunters were ruthless murderers. They didn’t ask identity or nature, just where and how much. “Why spare me if others are going to come after me, anyway?” 

“Because I know who gave you that stone,” Crosshair replied. “If he handed it over to you, there must be a purpose behind it. I’d advise you not to stay here. It’s no longer safe for you.”

“What am I supposed to do? This is my home. There is no other place for me to go.”

Hobbled by the injuries sustained during their scuffle, Crosshair gingerly moved across the kitchen. He swung the door open, giving the wind free rein to rustle the linen decorations and tease the loose ornaments. He peered back at Eudora, hair tousled, knuckles white, ready to fight if need be. “That is a problem for you to solve,” he said, stepping out into the night to blend into the darkness, wishing the mission had been the Imperial target he was promised. The uncomplicated life he had attempted to create fell apart the instant he set eyes on that stone. Now, his conscience had something else to latch onto other than his siblings. Now, he would have to come up with a convincing explanation for his failure and hope it would be enough. 

* * *

Eudora’s shoes squeaked on the kitchen tiles as she paced the peeled squares. Despite the dips in the flooring trying to trip her, she honed in on the sensation of the smooth pendant between her thumb and forefinger, as if the answer would materialise with enough manipulation. With each concentrated twist, the engraved symbols on the stone spun faster, blurring into the surface, barely given a moment to rest before swiftly darting in the opposite direction.

She couldn’t leave. She was resolute about that. 

This was her home. Every aspect of her life was contained within those walls, from the mismatched brick to the deteriorating beams. In her childhood, she toddled across that floor, played on those carpets and drenched them in rain when seeking refuge from a storm. She had scribbled her imagination on the wallpaper before she’d even taken her first steps after snatching an overhanging pen, and dusted and cared for the ornaments her grandmother collected once those years were behind her. This house was not just her, it was her family. 

She couldn’t leave. 

But her home was no longer safe. There was a target on her chest and criminal organisations willing to snatch her life away for a stone they coveted for rarity’s sake. The bounty hunter grasped the importance, but solely because he was a clone. The next person who came after her would not show any regard for her or the precious treasure they were assigned to retrieve. 

Her eyes wandered over the motionless faces in their frames observing every anxious pace. She stopped as she reached her aunt, beloved, gone, and beaming as though granting her approval to leave. “I don’t want to,” she whispered to her through the tears. “I belong here in my rightful home. This is wrong, this is all wrong.”

In a state of panic, she held onto her head, desperately hoping that this was all just a terrible dream and that the blare of her alarm would hand her back over to to the waking world.

As her situation weighed on her, the gravity of reality began to sink in. Droplets trickled down her shaking hands, pursuing a trail down her arms until they spent themselves near her elbows. 

Eudora’s tear-stained face lifted from hiding, and she mopped up the mess of tears with the hem of her shirt. She steadied the rapid rise and fall of her chest, drawing in the scent of her neglected dinner and the metallic tinge of blood. She couldn’t afford to panic, not in this crucial juncture when her life was still on the line. Although the bounty hunter would not have confessed his failure to his guild yet, they would soon learn of it. Fortune offered her some time, but only a little. 

Resolved and steadfast, she removed her scarf from the coat rack and draped it around her shoulders. Her mother’s handiwork hugged her close, frayed, grey threads sticking out and stitches becoming slack after years of use. It kept her warm during the toughest winters, and now it provided a comforting sense of security. Her family would keep a vigilant watch over her. If someone didn’t, she feared she would soon join them in their eternal rest.

The moment she stepped outside, the brisk night air bit at her, painting her cheeks a rosy pink and whipping at her jacket. Invisible hands reached into her, stirring at her nerves, but she refused to let them prevail, no matter how strongly she felt it. The world had made her lonely. She would not permit it to instil fear in her too. 

Streets that usually grappled to hold the bustle during the day lay deserted and bare, storefronts shuttered and weathered market stalls packed away. Where once the quiet contained her laughter as she staggered out of a club with her brothers in the early hours of the morning, it now carried unspeakable horrors. Each shadow resembled a silhouette observing her, and every noise sounded like another bounty hunter locking in and taking aim. 

She felt the patter of the Andeladite stone on her chest as she walked, tracking time with its rhythmic beats. The clone who presented it to her had placed it into her hands so delicately that she might have easily forgotten he was a soldier. She would forever remember the glint of hope as he made a vow to return someday, when peace replaced the chaos of conflict. He’d given his word that they would reunite, that he would traverse the grounds of Cressina with reverence, as though embarking on a long-awaited journey to retrieve the stone and see her again. 

And like a fool, she waited, listening to news about the end of the war and a new Empire, all the while waiting for a man who never appeared. She regretted her optimism in expecting his return and week by week grew more worried at his inability to fulfil his promise to her. 

Upon entering the bar, she was met with the overwhelming aroma of disinfectant and potent liquor, locked in a battle for dominance. After years of exposure to strong medicinal odours, she hardly noticed them anymore, but whatever substance had been used certainly endeavoured to catch her attention.  

She descended the stairs and found a seat at the bar, resting her forearms on the unblemished counter. The lean bartender groaned as he straightened up from the pile of boxes to welcome his patron. 

“Edie,” he greeted, plastering on a friendly grin and massaging his lower back. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you. Want your usual?” 

“Not tonight, Res,” Eudora said, low and quiet. “Do you have any ships heading out soon?” 

Res scratched at his bristled moustache and slung the damp cloth onto his shoulder. “Give me a second. I’ll have a look.” From beneath the bar surface, he withdrew an outdated holo-pad, sucking audibly on his teeth as he scrolled through the logs. “Got nothing for a few weeks. I can book you on one of those if you want.”

With a shake of her head, Eudora cautiously surveyed the other customers, her focus darting to the corners as if anticipating a deadly attack from people she had known all her life. “I need it for tonight,” she insisted. “Are there any ships that I might buy?” 

“Yeah, but they’re way out of your budget.”

“I…” Urgency rose in her, and she angled herself away from the groups of customers drinking and quietly conversing. “Best I can offer is my aunt’s antique speeder and any additional credits. I know you’ve had your eye on it for a while.”

That seemed to grab his interest. His long fingers drummed on the bar top as he contemplated the transaction, broad lenses reflecting his intrigue. “Look, I will see what I can do, but first, I want to understand why you are in such a hurry. If you’re in some sort of trouble, I’m here to help. Heck, most here would considering everything you’ve done for us.”

In that moment, Eudora wanted to pour her heart out to him. To place faith in the man she had trusted since childhood, who had been a family friend for as far back as she could recall.

After losing their stock in an accident, he selflessly offered them his own inventory, free of charge, to use in their cleaning medicines. She still saw that same kindness in him now. At that time, she had been a child, unable to grasp the value of his generosity, but over the years, it stayed with her. Despite all the challenges and turmoil in her family, he remained loyal to them. 

Cressina had plenty of people like him who were ready to lend a hand at any second. The war had brought them together in most respects, and they were always willing to share resources whenever someone needed help. But this was different. Every person she roped into her troubles she exposed to the same danger she was in. Bounty hunters showed no hesitation in causing harm to anyone who interfered with the pursuit of their target. 

“Eudora, has something happened?” Res asked, the wrinkles in his forehead burrowing deeper as his worry extended across his narrow features. 

“No,” she lied. “Not yet.” 

If you would like to be added to the taglist, feel free to send me a message or leave a comment (18+ only for later chapters. I can’t add you to the list if your bio doesn’t indicate your age).

[valtionrautatiet-official]

An introduction to VR multiple units, part 3: Sm4

Sm4, aka the Bunny (Pupu), the trusted working girls on our commuter train network in southern Finland. I really like these girls.

An Sm4 unit in the original livery departing Kannelmäki station, 2010. My photo.

The Sm4 units were conceived in the late 1990s to provide additional capacity for the Helsinki commuter train system. Alstom in France provided a bespoke design for us, with step-free access from platform to the train, space for wheelchairs and a disabled-friendly toilet. As with the older Sm1 and Sm2, bicycle racks are also provided. The first batch of 10 two-carriage units were built by CAF is Spain rather than Alstom themselves, delivered in 1999.

Interior of an Sm4 with original violet upholstery of the seats and curtains for the windows. Photo Scorpion87, Wikimedia commons

The bunnies were designed for use on the longer commuter routes with fewer stops, Helsinki to Riihimäki and Kirkkonummi, with a service speed of 160 km/h. However, as they were our only commuter train units with step-free access, they were also used on the shorter routes around Helsinki to provide at least occasional low-floor service. Passenger experience with the bunnies was hugely positive; I remember one relative speaking enviously of lines with more Sm4's on them than their home route (or so they perceived anyway - bear in mind there were only 10 bunnies and a total of 100 units of the older types).

With the upcoming opening of the Kerava-Lahti rail line (in 2006) and the corresponding expansion of the Helsinki commuter system, we ordered 20 additional Sm4 units in 2002. This second batch of bunnies was built by Alstom themselves and delivered in 2004-2005.

An Sm4 in the current livery passes an Sm3 Pendolino shortly after leaving Helsinki central station, 2012. My photo.

With the arrival of the new Sm5 units (owned by the municipal Pääkaupunkiseudun Junakalusto Oy but operated by us) for the Helsinki commuter rail network starting 2008, we could finally start moving the bunnies to the long commuter services they were designed for. Today, the Helsinki-Riihimäki-Tampere and Helsinki-Lahti(-Kouvola) routes are operated almost exclusively by the Sm4s, and you can also spot them on the Riihimäki-Lahti-Kouvola-Kotka routes and on the commuter service around Tampere.

The bunnies lost their original bespoke livery with the introduction of our current green image from 2010 onwards - luckily the cuties look good in both liveries! Starting 2013, they also received a thorough technical upgrade, as well as a freshing up of the passenger spaces.

Sm4 interior in current form, with seats upholstered in green to match the new corporate identity, and no more curtains on the windows. Photo Mico Hautaluoma, Wikimedia Commons.

The Sm4 will lose its status as the flagship of our local services with the delivery of the new Sm7 electric multiple units starting 2026. They will likely replace the bunnies on their current primary routes, which will mean the bunnies will migrate to different services - there are no plans to retire the well-liked and reliable cuties.

[techav]

If It's a Hack and It Works, Is It Really a Hack?

I have a couple servers at home — one running Proxmox VE and one running Proxmox Backup. I use the VM server when I need to spin up a development environment, for running the odd game server, serving files locally, running Home Assistant, etc. I also like to donate spare cycles to Folding@Home. The backup server of course is in case I do something stupid on the VM server.

There's just one problem with that. My second-hand 8-year-old dual-Xeon server runs hot.

It was too much to keep running in my home office. Between the two servers, my desktop, and my work laptop, I was regularly seeing ambient temperatures around 26°C. It was just too warm for comfort.

Last summer I moved my network gear and the two servers into the front coat closet. This was great for me working in my home office, but not so great for my servers. Despite adding a passthrough vent to the closet door and a vent fan to the ceiling, the closet was still consistently in the 26°-30°C range.

The ideal solution would probably be to use an enclosed server rack and run an exhaust vent up from the top. Unfortunately, rack-mount server cases are expensive, enclosed racks are very expensive, and my closet is too small for that anyway.

So I hacked together a solution.

I built a frame out of some cheap 1x2 lumber and wrapped a piece of thin sheet steel around the sides to make a crude plenum. On top, I added a 10x6 register box with a semirigid vent hose coming out of it. This gives me a guide for drawing air out of the servers and guiding it up to the vent fan in the ceiling.

To help things along, I added a 120mm fan inside the register box. But not some whisper-quiet Noctua. This is (if the Amazon listing is to be believed) a 5000 RPM, 210 CFM monster of a fan. It's loud, but moves a lot of air.

Too loud in fact. Its droning could not be silenced by any mere closet door. I had to add a PWM fan speed controller to calm it down. It's a cheap unit from Amazon, but it came with a temperature probe and it has a configurable operating range.

The result? Where previously the entire closet was consistently above 26°C, now it's staying around 23°. There is a difference of 5°C between ambient in the closet and the air inside the exhaust duct, so it is doing its job of redirecting the hot air from the servers.

I call that a successful hack.