#The customs are gone. The people are gone. The university is gone. The food is gone. The culture is gone.

[iamthepulta]

*emerges from the document dazed and hungry*

Well, I did find what I was looking for, and a whole lot of shit that I wasn't looking for.

[thedensworld]

Sweet Macaroons | C.Sc

Pairing: Gangster!Seungcheol x Baker!Reader

Genre: fluff, established relationship

Words Count: ±600

Summary: Seungcheol was far from pleased when a food critic posted a negative review that started to impact your sales. He couldn't stand to see you upset.

In the midst of a picturesque five months, Seungcheol, with an air of exclusivity, tenderly asked you to be his girlfriend. Everything seemed to move in slow motion around you, as if the universe itself was savoring the moment. His crew, astounded, couldn't fathom that a humble bakery owner just down the block from their bar had captured their boss's heart. He had transformed into something they never imagined: a unabashedly cheesy boy. Even Jeonghan, Seungcheol's right-hand man, remained baffled by the depth of his friend's infatuation with you. He couldn't quite grasp what had caused Seungcheol to fall so hard until he witnessed how Seungcheol would gladly stop the world at your command.

As an example of Seungcheol's devotion, he had gone as far as hiring a bodyguard to watch over you and ensure your safety. Seungcheol, ever mysterious about his business, would simply say, "I do business in Seoul and Busan," which, in its own way, was true. He owned nearly a hundred bars and nightclubs, not to mention his own association—a realm of details you didn't need to delve into.

Your bodyguard, Jun, who currently disguised as a barista in your bakery, would dutifully relay every detail to Seungcheol. This included mundane activities like your trips to the grocery store, visits from friends at the bakery, or even encounters with rude customers. Despite being in the know about your daily affairs through Jun, Seungcheol cherished hearing you recount your day, especially when it involved a customer that cussed on you. He'd teasingly inquire, "Should I track him down and make him pay?" A promise he would have swiftly fulfilled if you had not said, "No, you don't have to. I'll give him a piece mind when I'm a billionaire."

At times, Seungcheol really wants to say, "Marry me, and you can cuss him back in an instant." He was acutely aware of the influence he held.

However, he received an extremely irritating message from Jun, stating that a popular food critic had left a scathing review on their social media, claiming to have found a fly and cockroach legs in your sweets. This review had a detrimental impact on your sales and the overall image of the bakery, as people began leaving unpleasant comments on your social media platforms.

"Jeonghan, do you know this person?" Seungcheol inquired, displaying a video of the food critic.

Jeonghan confirmed, "Yeah, they're a very influential food critic."

Seungcheol nodded thoughtfully and hummed, "Do you know how to contact them?" he pressed further.

"I think we just need to get in touch with their management. They'll provide you with the pricing for their content," Jeonghan explained, prompting another question from Seungcheol.

"Then we can have them review our food however we want?" Jeonghan nodded, "Why? Are you thinking about having them promote our new foodbar?" he inquired.

Seungcheol shook his head, simultaneously signaling to Jeonghan that he wanted to be dropped off at your bakery.

Jun had informed Seungcheol that you had closed the bakery early today due to the lack of customers following the internet sensation. When Seungcheol arrived, only Jun was present in the bakery. He mentioned that you had gone to the convenience store for a few minutes. As Seungcheol patiently waited at one of the tables, you returned with a plastic bag in hand. Lost in your thoughts, you didn't immediately notice him. Instead, you went straight to Jun, telling him he could go home. Jun subtly gestured towards Seungcheol, indicating that he was waiting for you.

"Hi..." Your voice, though soft as always, carries a subtle shade of sadness. Seungcheol swears he can hear it, a touch of blue in your tone.

He smiles, approaching you and subtly signaling for Jun to leave the shop.

"Are you okay? I saw it online," Seungcheol asks gently once Jun has vanished from view.

You smile back at him, but tears well up in your eyes, trickling down your cheeks. You turn away, hiding your face from him as you wipe away the tears. Seungcheol's heart aches at the sight, a feeling he's never experienced before, like someone's squeezing his heart, causing a deep ache.

"Hey, it's okay," he murmurs softly, turning you to face him and pulling you into an embrace. He can feel the tightness in his chest intensify when he hears you sob.

This is the first time he's seen you cry in the five months you've been dating. He swears he'd never want to be the cause of your tears, let alone someone else.

"It's okay, baby. Bad things happen sometimes. It's not your fault," he reassures you as you try to explain how diligently you maintain your bakery's hygiene and ensure the freshness of ingredients. There's no way the accusations the food critic made could be true.

Seungcheol noticed the contents of the plastic bag you had been holding earlier: cleaning soap and equipment. His heart breaks once again, this time tinged with anger.

"Let's go home and rest, okay? I'll hire someone to clean the shop. I don't want to see you laboring with a heavy heart like this," he insists.

Seungcheol calls Jeonghan and swiftly arranges for his people to clean your shop. He drives you home, ensuring you have a proper dinner before settling down for some much-needed rest. Once you're peacefully asleep, he quietly slips away, reaching out to Jun and Jeonghan.

"Get them for me before midnight. Alive," he instructs.

Seungcheol doesn't concern himself with the specifics of how they carried out his request. But when his people successfully bring them to his office, he finally confronts the face that caused his girl to cry.

"What's your name?" Seungcheol asks, rising from his seat and approaching them.

"Who put you up to this?" Seungcheol presents their damning post about your bakery to their face. Poor soul, Seungcheol thinks. This food critic probably never imagined they'd be dragged in by a gangster and subjected to an interrogation like this.

Once Seungcheol acquires the name, he signals his people to reveal the extent of their capabilities. Images of their family and significant other are displayed, and they immediately plead for an apology, expressing regret for their actions.

"You should've thought about that before you posted that garbage," Seungcheol states, fixing them with a steely gaze.

"Upload a clarification video about your previous review. Go to that bakery tomorrow and apologize to the owner. Post both of those things before lunch if you want to spare them," Seungcheol directs, referring to the individuals in the photos as he delivers his unwavering ultimatum.

*

"It was a very wrong act of me to accept the offer to give a bad review to another bakery. I deeply apologize to the owner and my followers for doing such a wrong thing."

Seungcheol smiled at you as you showed him the video from the same account that had claimed they found a cockroach leg on your macaroon.

"See! I knew that my bakery and kitchen have passed the hygiene standards," you said, placing your phone down. There was a visible pout on your face, prompting Seungcheol to let out a chuckle.

"You're too cute," Seungcheol teased, pinching your cheek. He was relieved to see no trace of tears like the previous night.

You gently pulled his hand from your cheek as you stood up to restock the macaroon stall, which was nearly empty. Seungcheol couldn't help but smile as he watched you, his girl, his love, engrossed in the work you adored.

"Before you go, want a macaroon and your favorite latte?" you offered. He swore he would nod to anything you said.

"Here! I've packed some for your staff as well," you added, handing him boxes filled with sweets and a bundle of coffees for Seungcheol and Jeonghan.

He wouldn't let anyone steal your smile, even if he had to stop the world.

[gucciwins]

harry brings his girlfriend home to meet his family but it does not go as planned

word count: 5896

a/n: enjoy this story inspired by a lovely anon. happy reading, my sweet friends 💜

+

Y/N was nervous. 

She squeezed Harry’s hand, trying to ground herself, but it seemed to transport her to the first time they met at the diner down the street from her apartment. 

Going to university in Los Angeles wasn’t glamorous, not when she had endless bills to pay to keep a roof over her head. She had gone to Martha’s Cakes, a small diner ten minutes from her apartment that served the best hot chocolate. The food was good too but the hot chocolate is what she ordered each visit without fail. It’s a place she’d eat when Y/N had a bit of extra to spend on herself. Instead of buying herself new shoes, or another jelly cat bag charm (Otto, the sausage dog, went everywhere with her) she decided on eating a good meal that didn’t consist of ramen or buttered noodles. She came here when she needed a pick me up or simply wanted to have a nice conversation. It was a late Tuesday in the Spring. Where the sun took longer to come down, allowing her extra time at the bar to do assignments and chat with Antonio about the best produce sales. Y/N had her head down working on an essay due two weeks from now. It was based on one of Los Angeles buildings; it could be based on the oldest church to the Dodger Stadium. Y/N decided on the Avila Adobe residence. Known as the oldest standing residence in the City of Los Angeles. Olvera St. was a famous street and was filled with history. It was one of her favorite places to walk through. 

As she was looking through photos, taking notes of significant dates, a patron sat next to her. Y/N didn’t bother seeing who it was, simply scooting her scattered papers closer to her, tucking a few under her laptop. 

“It’s not bothering me.” A man spoke. 

It startled Y/N only because he had a deep British voice. It felt odd to be hearing in such an unknown area. 

“Darla would throw coffee on it if she saw I was bothering a customer.” 

“I said it’s okay.” 

Y/N laughs. “She would say it wasn’t.” 

It seems the man lets it drop as he has nothing to reply. Y/N keeps up with updating her notes as she hears the man order a stack of the lemon poppy pancakes. Those were her favorite, Y/N would get them when she was having a bad day because it would without a fail make her smile. Y/N worked in silence over the next half hour when she felt the need to step to the restroom. Y/N did not want to pack up. Usually she asks a staff member to watch her items, but the diner seemed to be a bit busier. She looked around and her eyes landed on the pancake guy who had his headphones on. She hated bothering people, but he looked kind enough. 

Y/N tapped next to his plate to get his attention. It worked because in seconds he slipped off his headphones and had turned his whole body to look at her. It gave her the chance to look at him fully for the first time. He had a buzz cut, and it looked really good. He had slight stubble, but what captured her attention were his bright jade eyes. It felt like he was staring deep into her soul.

“Do–uh–Would you please watch my stuff? I have to use the ladies’ room.”

“Course. Guard it with my life.” 

Y/N thanked him and hurried away. When she came back, the man had slightly shifted over, his eyes staring intently at the dark screen of her laptop. 

“Thank you,” she shot him a smile. Waking up her screen and getting back to her assignment, except she couldn’t get the man out of her head. 

The dimples were something she focused on when he smiled, telling her it was no problem. Then his green eyes were so beautiful she felt she had seen them before. Though she could swear she had never met him before. She did have a weird feeling she had seen him before. Once it hit eight o’clock, Y/N knew it was time to call it. Y/N had her rough draft ready and could continue tomorrow. For now, she’d walk home and take a bath to wash away today’s day. 

Y/N was packing up and could see the green-eyed gentleman was too. She would hate herself if she didn’t ask him where she knew him from, if she knew him. Y/N had her bag strapped on her shoulder and turned to him for the last time. 

“Excuse me, sir?”

He turned, as if he was waiting to hear from her. “Yes?” 

“How do I know you?” 

The man’s smile dropped. He looked confused, so she didn’t know him. 

“Don’t think we’ve met, until today, Y/N.”

Y/N’s frown deepens. “I didn’t tell you my name.”

He pointed to her bag. She looks down at the red stitching displaying her name. Well, now she looked dumb. Of course, he could read. “You look familiar to me. Sorry if that’s weird.”

The guy clears his throat, shaking his head. “I get that a lot.” 

That’s odd, Y/N thought. 

“I feel like I know you,” she tried one last time. 

“Promise we don’t know each other. I would remember someone as beautiful as you.” 

Y/N’s jaw dropped (not literally), but her face felt warm. Fuck, she was not expecting this turn of event. “Ha, uh. I want to say me too, but uh, there’s something familiar about you.” 

Harry chuckles as if he knows something she doesn’t. 

“Can I walk you out?” He asks. 

She nods. He leaves a large tip and follows her to the exit. Y/N ways to Sonia, who shoots her thumbs up, but Y/N has no idea why. Y/N and the man linger outside the door, waiting to see who makes the first move. 

“Well, uh, can I have your Instagram?” Y/N asks, not knowing if asking for his number was too forward. At least this way she could stalk him for a bit. 

“Oh, I don’t use that. I can give you my number,” he counters. 

Y/N perks up. “That works.” She hands him her phone where she watches his hands type in his phone number into her contacts. He hands her back her phone, and she looks at the newly added contact. 

Harry S. 

It seemed that’s all she needed for her to connect the dots. She lifts her head up and Harry has a flushed face. He didn’t look away from her, almost waiting to see what she’d say. 

Y/N not sure how to break the silence. “Harry Sanchez?” 

Harry laughs, and it’s all the confirmation Y/N needs. “More like Styles.” 

“Oh.” 

Did she fuck up her chances? She feels like she didn’t. She got his number. 

“What can I use your number for?” She asks, wanting to double check. He still wants her to have it.

“Hopefully for us to plan a date.” 

“Even after this,” she points between them as if to explain what they know just happened. 

“I’d like to see where it could go.” 

“Shit, uh. Well–I’m free Thursday.” Harry smirks, making her want to crawl in a hole because now she feels desperate. “I’m going to leave.”

Harry stops her by grabbing her hand. “I think Thursday is perfect. Are you up for a sunset dinner by the beach?” 

“Sounds perfect,” she promised him. 

“Good. Thursday it is.”

Now she is standing in front of his childhood home, about to meet his mother and older sister. Y/N had spoken to his mother, Anne, on the phone a few times, but his sister was always busy when Harry tried to pass her the phone. Harry promised her it would go well, but she feared the worst. Their story was genuine but to others could sound fabricated but come on, no one knows Martha’s cakes, it’s not even on Yelp. It’s a place once stumbled upon and then shares the magic with people in their life. 

Harry said he felt like coffee and walked for a while until he saw people walk out. The smell of coffee is what drew him in, but the pretty girl he sat next to had him stay for hours. It’s something he shared months down the line. Y/N and Harry had now been together for nine months. Because of her Master’s Y/N had no time to travel. Harry visited home often, but Y/N couldn’t drop everything she was doing to go with him. He understood, but she felt his family wouldn’t. Harry met her dad and twin brothers six months into dating because they lived down in San Diego, only a two-hour drive from them. While Harry’s family lived an ocean away and she refused for him to pay for her flight to London. On top of that, she had classes and exams to worry about that did not allow her to hop on a flight for a week. Thankfully, she made it through the winter semester and had a few weeks off from her internship before going back for her last semester. Y/N knew graduation was just around the corner, and thankfully, had little debt to pay off.

Harry held her tight as he led her up the steps. Y/N was walking slower, trying to prolong the introduction. In her mind, she hoped she was simply psyching herself out and that things actually went well with Harry’s family. That they accepted her because they could see how much she loved him. 

“You ready, Lovie?” Harry flashed her a dimpled grin.

Truthfully, she wanted to say no, but Y/N couldn’t do that to him. Not when he was bouncing with excitement. “Ready.” She confirmed. 

Harry gave two loud knocks and then opened the front door. Y/N stood behind him as he rushed to embrace his mother. Anne was a sweet woman, much shorter than Harry, but by the tight embrace she held Harry, Y/N could tell she was strong. 

Anne gave Harry two big kisses, one on each cheek, before turning her attention to Y/N. 

“Y/N!” Anne cheered. She said it with so much delight, it surprised Y/N. 

In a matter of seconds, someone tightly wrapped Y/N in a hug, which she quickly reciprocated. “It’s lovely to meet you, Mrs. Twist.” 

Anne waved her off. “Call me Anne, my dear.” 

“Anne,” Y/N repeated.

“Now come in and tell me all about the trip. Did he trick you into going to that fancy lounge where you get free food?” Y/N giggled because Harry indeed took her to a fancy lounge when he said he was taking her to get a smoothie. 

Y/N spared a smile at Harry, but it was quick to fall when Y/N met another pair of eyes in the kitchen, looking at her with an intense stare. It dropped quickly because her attention shifted to Harry. Y/N focused back on Anne, trying to brush off the moment as something she imagined. 

Y/N tried her best to ignore the pit forming in her stomach. There was no need to worry. Harry talked about wonderful things about his family. She was in safe hands. At least that’s what she kept reminding herself.

+

Y/N didn’t feel welcome. Anne was a gem, but Gemma was cold and looked bored whenever Y/N said a word. Y/N wondered if Harry picked up on it. He hadn’t said a word. Harry was home and had no time to deal with Y/N’s insecurities. She had to be reading into Gemma, not liking her. Harry spoke the world of his older sister. He said she was his best friend, someone whose opinion he valued. Fear struck her. If Gemma didn’t like her after this visit, she knew that as soon as she got on that plane to go home, Harry would be breaking up with her. At least she’d had several hours to cry about on the plane pathetically.  

“There’s no way she didn’t know who you were,” Gemma scoffed, unbelieving of their story. 

Harry brushed off her comment as if she said nothing. “Gem, I was bald.” 

“Your face didn’t change.”

Harry sighs, “no, but you did a double take when I showed up to your doorstep to show you.” 

Gemma frowns, knowing he was right. “Whatever, you were all over twitter.” 

Harry is beginning to pick up on his sister’s defense and knows to drop it but will be picking it up with her later. “Anyway. Sitting next to each other, she asked me to watch her stuff when she had to use the restroom.”

“To look you up,” Gemma coughs.

Y/N fidgets in her chair, wanting to be anywhere but here. Harry continues with his story. “She thanked me and went back to her work. Before she left, Y/N asked if we knew each other, but I told her we didn’t. I wouldn’t forget someone as beautiful as her.” 

“Charming,” Anne gloats. “My charming boy.” 

Harry finished the story, stating it was meant to be. He had loved spending the time in Los Angeles getting to see the city through Y/N’s eyes. It’s a city she’s been living in for a couple of years. There was a lot for her to share with him. Harry had taken a liking to her favorite coffee shop. It had a design resembling a greenhouse and filled with plants, mainly featuring dried lavender. Truthfully, he spent a lot of time there because it was Y/N’s preferred place to study because it never got busy. Y/N called it her hidden gem. 

“I’ve never been happier,” Harry shares. Y/N beams at his words but can’t help glancing at Gemma, who can’t help but look sick to her stomach at hearing this news.

Dinner passed dreadfully slowly. Y/N comments when she needs to but honestly hopes to disappear for the night soon, no longer wanting to burden Gemma with her presence. While Anne showed Y/N where she could freshen up, Harry stayed downstairs to share a nightcap with his sister. 

Anne comes back to join them, but Gemma bites her tongue until their mother bids them goodnight. Harry gives his mother a tight embrace, commenting on how much he missed her. Gemma was happy her younger brother was home. 

“Are you happy, Harry?” Gemma breaks the silence that had fallen between them.

Harry sighs, “never been happier.” 

Gemma frowns, because she believes him. “I-I-nevermind.” 

Harry frowns because Gemma is never someone to stop herself from saying what’s on her mind. “Hey,” he places his hand on top of hers. “It’s me. Your annoying younger brother, you can tell me anything.” 

She removes her hand from under his and places them on her lap. “I don’t think she’s right for you.”

Harry sits back, surprised. “Sorry?”

“It’s clear she’s after something.” 

He’s having a hard time believing his sister. “Like what?”

“Your money.” 

“Is that all I’m good for?” He asks, baffled. 

“No. That’s why I’m telling you. She’s after one thing.” 

“How would you know?”

“Come on,” Gemma scoffs. “She goes to a prestigious school with a cost that no one could afford. It’s clear she wants you to pay for it.” 

“Gemma, I met her during her last year.”

“Debt doesn’t go away overnight,” she fights back. “She’ll get you to pay off her loans and leave you.”

Harry’s anger is overwhelming him. 

“You don’t even know her. Yet you say bad things about her.” It shuts Gemma up, and he uses that to his advantage and walks away.

“We saw the donation you made,” Gemma comments before he can make it up the stairs. 

He turns back, trying his best to swallow down his anger. “If you would have asked me, you would know it’s for the music program. I did that for several universities if you would have taken the time to do a bit more research. It grants them a scholarship, plus pays for room and board.” 

Gemma has no response. Harry is now standing in front of her and Gemma is nervous. She had never seen her brother this upset. 

“What I do with my money is my problem. If she wanted me to send her money for a new car, I would. If she wanted me to buy her a piece of land, I would do it in a blink of an eye. If Y/N asked me to give her every last dime in my account, I would do it without a second thought because I love her. I love her and she loves me. You know, five minutes is not enough to judge her. I do not have to tell you of her financial issues, but I will so you can go home tonight and sleep knowing how upset I am with you. Y/N received the presidential scholarship covering her tuition for the three years she was there. Y/N has applied to hundreds of scholarships to cover her book fees, and has to take on an unpaid internship while working 40 hours a week to cover her rent. Y/N has not accepted a single dime from me for her school because she has gotten this far without me. Y/N only lets me pay for her seven dollar coffee every other day. Y/N would rather give every last dollar to me if I needed it instead of keeping it for herself. Y/N still sends money to her twin brothers for new shoes, or new backpacks, because she loves her family.” 

Harry is near tears but keeps going. “I love Y/N. You might not, maybe you never will, but that girl has been the best thing to happen to me. I’ve never been more cared for and loved since she entered my life. So please, don’t bother coming back tomorrow or the rest of the week unless you have an apology for her.”

Y/N is grateful Harry’s room connects to the bathroom because, while she finished getting ready, she thought she would ask Harry for a cup of water and instead stumbled upon a conversation she shouldn’t have. Y/N tries her best to swallow her tears, but it’s no use. They’re more powerful than her. They stream down and Y/N decides to lie in bed, hoping by the time Harry comes in, she’s fast asleep. Y/N isn’t sure how much time has passed, but her tears have dried up and she’s as still as a rock when she hears Harry come in. She wants to tell him that she’s not worth defending if it means he’s messing up his relationship with his sister.

She hears him get ready for bed. Y/N knows he’s folding his clothes and placing them on the chair. He’s meticulous about his night-time routine. He crawls into bed next to her. Y/N tries her best to steal her breathing to make it seem like she’s sleeping, but Harry knows her too well. He scoots right behind her, his hand sliding over her hips and settling on her stomach, right by the scar she got on her eight birthday when she fell off her bike. Harry rubs the lifted skin, where she got four stitches. 

Y/N lets out a deep breath, working up the courage to say something, but her throat is closed. She relaxes against him. All her tears dried up. She is beginning to feel better now that she’s with him. A kiss to her temple has her heart slowing down. This is what it is to be protected. 

“I’m sorry,” Y/N croaks out when she feels like enough time has passed. 

Harry pulls her tight against him. It fills her with ease. “How much did you hear?”

Y/N shakes her head. “I don’t want you to argue with your family.” 

“It’s only my sister,” he defends.

“She’s an important person in your life. You’ve always specified that.” 

Harry sighs. He leaves a kiss behind Y/N’s ear. “You are important to me, too.”

“You don’t need to be fighting. It’s not necessary.” 

“It is when she needs a wack to her head.” 

“Harry,” Y/N drags out. “I don’t want you burning bridges.”

Harry understood where she was coming from, but Y/N was not seeing how it affected him as well. “We’ll be fine. She’s my sister. We’ll talk in a few days. All this will be in the past.”

Y/N freezes, feeling as if someone dropped a cold bucket of water on her. If Harry believes everything will be alright with his sister, that means he sees himself forgiving her for what she said but also means he would be getting rid of the problem. Her. 

Harry was going to be breaking up with her. This started her tears to fall again, only this time she couldn’t keep quiet. They were pouring out of her at a quick rate. He was quick to sit up bringing Y/N with him.

“Hey, hey,” Harry cooed. “What happened? What did I do?”

“Y-y-you,” she stuttered. Nothing was coming out. 

He would not rush her. Instead, he shifted her to straddle his lap. Y/N tucked her head into his neck. Hary felt his neck dampen with tears. He pressed soft kisses to her hair, whispering “I love you,” hoping it would be enough to calm her. He snaked a hand under her night shirt softly running his nails up and down her back. Y/N curled in closer at the action. His sweet girl was feeling overwhelmed, and he felt awful because he wasn’t being helpful. 

Y/N pulled away. Her eyes were puffy and tears streaming down her cheeks. Harry still thought she was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. Her hands moved from her side up to his neck, she settled them on his cheek. She caressed his face, calming him down. He hadn’t realized how overwhelmed he was, but it’s clear Y/N could see what he needed even in her moments of sadness. 

“I don’t want to lose you,” Y/N voiced. “I love you. I love you so much.”

Harry frowned. No one had said anything about him leaving. He would never dream of walking away from her. “I’m not going anywhere.” 

“But Gemma–”

He cuts her off. “Gemma doesn’t know you like I do. She is looking out for me and I know she meant no harm, but she went about all this wrong. She decided to judge us, judge you before getting to know you.”

Y/N did no wrong. She was nothing Gemma accused her of. Y/N knew that, of course she did, but Y/N hoped to impress his family, not make them upset. 

“I know you, Lovie. My mum knows you. Mostly, you know yourself. Your character speaks for you and it has never been anything but kind and loving.”

Harry’s words slowly begin to mend her heart.

“I love you, Harry.” 

He connects his lips with hers in a loving kiss. “I love you so much.” 

Y/N falls asleep to Harry’s voice as he sings her to sleep. It’s a lullaby he says his mum would sing when he had a nightmare. While Y/N didn’t know how tomorrow would go, she was happy to have Harry at her side.

+

The morning passed slowly between the three of them. They shared stories with Anne, Harry, catching her up on his upcoming plans. Y/N talked about her looming graduation and told Anne about her thesis project. Anne promised to make the trip for her graduation, something Harry couldn’t stop gloating about how she was top of her class on her way to graduate summa cum laude. Y/N had stepped outside wanting to enjoy all the open land Anne had. The cats happily roamed around Y/N as she settled in the grass. Y/N thought of her dad at home and what he’d have to say about the situation. He’d probably tell her to run while she could, but Y/N knew Harry was her person. Y/N laid down, closed her eyes and took in all the surrounding noise. She heard birds chirping, a purring in the distance and the rush of the wind hitting the wind chimes. It was perfect. 

There was a loud band that had Y/N sitting up in a hurry. She looked back and realized it was the back door. Anne had stepped out, Y/N could see Harry in the kitchen, hands moving rapidly, and she knew he wasn’t alone. Anne sat not to Y/N, neither of them saying a word. 

“My daughter owes you an apology.” 

“Anne–” 

She stops Y/N. “No, I raised her better than that. I’m not sure when she got so protective, but it’s clearly not for the best. Harry is nearing 30 he doesn’t need his sister looking out for him. While I’m glad they have each other, this was unnecessary. It caused a lot of hurt that should have never existed.” 

“Thank you.”

“You don’t have to talk to her if you’re not comfortable.”

Y/N didn’t know how to feel. She dreaded talking to Gemma, but Y/N knew she’d feel worse if she went home and never talked this out with her. “I’m willing. I-I might need time to forgive her.” 

Anne squeezed Y/N’s hand. “That’s perfectly alright. Now tell me about these brothers of yours.” 

Y/N spent the rest of the evening with Anne, forgetting about her problems. It isn’t until Harry called them both in for dinner that they realized they spent hours outside. 

Harry greeted her with a kiss.

Dinner went off without a hitch, the three of them sharing all kinds of stories. Mostly Harry interrupting Anne to tell her a new story about Y/N he remembered. Harry that night promised he was alright with Gemma. He was feeling hurt. Assured her he loved her, but needed time to move past it. 

Y/N woke up early the next morning and decided to go on a walk along the river. Harry told her it felt never ending. They had walked it once every day, but today she went alone, letting Harry sleep in but also have that extra time with Anne. As Y/N walked, she thought of her brothers and how they would love to be throwing rocks in the river. Y/N was sure one of them would even fall in on accident. The weather would pique her dad’s interest. He was a sunshine man. She was sure the gloomy weather would be too much for him to handle. 

Two hours later, Y/N came back and was taken aback by Gemma’s presence on the front steps of the house, holding a thermal mug. 

“Hi,” Y/N greeted. 

“Morning, nice walk?” Gemma asked. 

Small talk. It was safe. “Mhm, Harry showed me the trail he liked to walk on.” 

“Mmm…coffee?” Gemma offered.

“Uh, I’m okay,” Y/N rejected.

Gemma looked dejected, but continued on. “Do-Is it okay if we talk?”

Y/N nodded. “Sure.” 

Y/N approached Gemma sitting on the opposite end of the same step. She wouldn’t be the first to talk, but it looked like Gemma was figuring out her words. 

“I’m sorry” are Gemma’s first words. “I’m sorry talking about you behind your back, even more sorry that you overheard.” Gemma looks sincere, and Y/N nods for her to continue. “I love Harry. He’s the best brother, and a person in general. He cares so much that I fear he’s gotten screwed over so much in life because he trusts with his heart and not his head.”

Y/N frowns, because that’s one of the things she loves most about Harry. How welcoming he is with his kind nature and how much love he spreads every day whether it’s through his music or holding the door open for a stranger. It all adds up to show that he’s a person full of love.

“Those are his mistakes to make. His own hurt to go through. Life isn’t all sunshine.” Y/N tells her. 

Gemma sighs heavily. “I know. Sometimes I feel like he’s still the same kid who cried when I would go out without him.”

“That hasn’t been him for a long time.” 

“I know.”

It’s clear Gemma has something deeper than she has to figure out and talk with Harry about, but it seems that’s a bridge she’ll cross when she is ready. 

“I love Harry. I think we have a wonderful relationship.” Y/N knows Gemma might not want to hear this, but it is important he does. “Harry loves communication. I swear we’ve never had an argument that didn’t end in us making up. He gives me my space but makes sure to be near. I’m reminded of his love every second of every day, whether he’s with me or not. I’m not sure if I make him feel loved every minute, but I do my best to remind him in my actions and words. I’m big on writing notes. He’s received a few love letters. I’m sure he’d show you if you asked.” Gemma tries her best to hide her surprise, but it’s written all over her face. “I’ve only heard wonderful stories about you, Gemma. I’m sure they’re all true, but I know Harry thought we might become friends.” Y/N pauses. “Even if that doesn’t happen, I do want you to know I respect you. For however long I’m around, I know that I respect you, even if it might take some time for me to trust you.” 

Gemma has tears running down her face. “I’m sorry. I never provided you with an opportunity. I’m not sure why I didn’t. I am really sorry. Meeting the family is always hard, and I fucking ruined it.” 

“It’s not okay, but we’ll give it time. Time heals.” 

“Thank you for hearing me out.” Gemma tells her gratefully. 

Y/N smiles. “Are you joining us for breakfast? Harry promised to make lemon ricotta pancakes.” 

“I’d like that. I’ll head in soon. I want to finish my coffee.” 

Y/N heads inside, where she finds Harry at the stove wearing an apron. She wraps her arms around his waist, resting her head between his shoulder blades. 

“Morning, pretty girl.” 

Gemma looked dejected, but continued on. “Do-Is it okay if we talk?”

Y/N nodded. “Sure.” 

Y/N approached Gemma sitting on the opposite end of the same step. She wouldn’t be the first to talk, but it looked like Gemma was figuring out her words. 

“I’m sorry” are Gemma’s first words. “I’m sorry talking about you behind your back, even more sorry that you overheard.” Gemma looks sincere, and Y/N nods for her to continue. “I love Harry. He’s the best brother, and a person in general. He cares so much that I fear he’s gotten screwed over so much in life because he trusts with his heart and not his head.”

Y/N frowns, because that’s one of the things she loves most about Harry. How welcoming he is with his kind nature and how much love he spreads every day whether it’s through his music or holding the door open for a stranger. It all adds up to show that he’s a person full of love.

“Those are his mistakes to make. His own hurt to go through. Life isn’t all sunshine.” Y/N tells her. 

Gemma sighs heavily. “I know. Sometimes I feel like he’s still the same kid who cried when I would go out without him.”

“That hasn’t been him for a long time.” 

“I know.”

It’s clear Gemma has something deeper than she has to figure out and talk with Harry about, but it seems that’s a bridge she’ll cross when she is ready. 

“I love Harry. I think we have a wonderful relationship.” Y/N knows Gemma might not want to hear this, but it is important he does. “Harry loves communication. I swear we’ve never had an argument that didn’t end in us making up. He gives me my space but makes sure to be near. I’m reminded of his love every second of every day, whether he’s with me or not. I’m not sure if I make him feel loved every minute, but I do my best to remind him in my actions and words. I’m big on writing notes. He’s received a few love letters. I’m sure he’d show you if you asked.” Gemma tries her best to hide her surprise, but it’s written all over her face. “I’ve only heard wonderful stories about you, Gemma. I’m sure they’re all true, but I know Harry thought we might become friends.” Y/N pauses. “Even if that doesn’t happen, I do want you to know I respect you. For however long I’m around, I know that I respect you, even if it might take some time for me to trust you.” 

Gemma has tears running down her face. “I’m sorry. I never provided you with an opportunity. I’m not sure why I didn’t. I am really sorry. Meeting the family is always hard, and I fucking ruined it.” 

“It’s not okay, but we’ll give it time. Time heals.” 

“Thank you for hearing me out.” Gemma tells her gratefully. 

Y/N smiles. “Are you joining us for breakfast? Harry promised to make lemon ricotta pancakes.” 

“I’d like that. I’ll head in soon. I want to finish my coffee.” 

Y/N heads inside, where she finds Harry at the stove wearing an apron. She wraps her arms around his waist, resting her head between his shoulder blades. 

“Morning, pretty girl.” 

“Hi, Harry. I love you.” 

Y/N knows he’s grinning. “I love you too. Even if you left me alone this morning.” 

“I couldn’t sleep,” she defends. “You always told me a morning walk here cleared your head.” 

“And did it?” 

“Mmm…like magic.” 

“Are you okay, Lovie?” Harry turns off the stove. He turns around, setting his hands on Y/N’s waist. His hair makes her laugh as she sees it sticking in different directions. 

“We talked. She apologized. Promise I’m okay. It still hurts, but I’ll try my best to forgive her for you.” 

Harry tuts his tongue. “No, honey.” Y/N tilts her head, confused. “You don’t have to do this for me.” 

“But she’s your–”

“She’s my sister, but that doesn’t mean you have to change how you feel about me. I promise I am with you. She made a mistake, and I’ll forgive her but at my own time. You take your time as well.”

Y/N feels overwhelmed all over again because she really did get lucky with Harry. “I love you so much.”

“I love you more, my love. So much more.” 

Harry gives her a kiss. A promise that everything will be alright.

+

thank you for reading my beautiful friends! let me know your favorite parts

[pinksugarscrub]

Hi, pinkie!! This may be weird but happy birthday :D wishing you all the best things and wishes 🫶🏻

(Silly Hobie wishes you happy birthday as well)

(Look at him being silly)

Like The Movies

Hobie Brown x fem! reader (college au)

Hi my love! 🤍 Thank you so much for the well wishes. It isn't weird!! 😠 Who told you that?? As promised, "loser" Hobie to celebrate. (I love my silly little guy. I'm putting him in my pocket).

I just want to say, to everyone who asked what would happen if I didn't win ( @hyperfix-wip )- I guess we'll never know 🤷‍♀️

word count: 1,7k+

cw: dorks, the lot of them

~

The smell of butter soaked popcorn has been stuck to Hobie’s clothes for hours now. Along with a straining headache. Rubbing his temples he tries to focus on the ugly red carpet instead of the screen at the cash register.

Ten more minutes then he was home free. Excluding the quick stop he was going to make to the video game store across the mall. The missing piece for his game cube was finally in stock.

He was debating grabbing pizza from the food court too but with his roommate gone for the weekend what was the point? Hobie really wishes Ned well but he’s disappointed that he’ll be spending his time off without his best friend.

It’s times like these that he wishes he was closer to his family. Deciding and then being accepted to attend university here in New York is a mixed blessing.

He’s learning incredible things, meeting new people, and living on his own. On the other hand, he’s still new to the US and its customs.

It’s exhausting after a while and he can’t even be comforted by anything other than the things he brought with him from Camden.

A beep from his watch alerts him that his shift is over and Hobie doesn’t waste a second in clocking out and discarding the thing he calls a uniform. He’s still polite of course. Says his goodbyes and wishes everyone a happy holiday despite not celebrating Thanksgiving himself.

He must look tired because most shoppers steer clear of him. At the most he’ll receive two or three compliments on his outfit. Or maybe they’re just preoccupied with the sales and discounts going on in various stores.

He mutters an apology as he brushes past a group to step inside the brightly colored store with posters and ads for the newest game. Hobie has learned Christmas lights in November is normal. He cringes as he hears a popular pop song play through the speakers. It’s maybe the twentieth time today he’s listened to it.

“Hobie, hey! Give me a sec.” Ganke pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. Gesturing to the box Hobie presumes holds his order. “I’ll ring you up as soon as I can.”

“Course, no rush.”

And Hobie means that sincerely. There’s more than four customers in line with a dozen more circling figures and t-shirts. He may be tired but he knows well enough how demanding customer service can be.

To add a little more reassurance to Ganke’s mind, Hobie points to a random section of games. “I wanted to take a look around anyway.”

Ganke nods with a grin that never seems to fall from his face.

Hobie would consider this store his second home. He is on a first name basis with Ganke and he was even invited out by the younger boy to a flea market. They both shared a love for retro and vintage. Hobie met a friend of his too, Miles. It was the most fun he’s had since his arrival in August.

A sigh leaves his lips as the section he had planned to browse is blocked by a group of teenagers and yes, he himself is a teenager but something about American air made people lose their common courtesy.

He spins, planning to give up and just wait by the counter when something smacks into his chest. Not hard but definitely strong enough that the person who walked into him is sent stumbling back.

An apology spills from his lips and he’s met with one himself. The air from his lungs leaves his chest as he comes face to face with a girl. He knows you.

He knows because he shares a music composition class with you. He remembers because he embarrassed himself in front of the class. Hobie’s only ever written baselines so orchestral music has been a struggle for him.

“Why are you sorry?” You laugh softly. Fixing the bag on your shoulder full of pins and charms. “I bumped into you.”

“Are you ok?” You ask and Hobie isn’t sure what to do next.

He’s mortified that the only interactions he’s had with you (which are far and few) are so embarrassing.

Hobie may or may not think you’re cute. It would be stupid of him not to notice you.

It’s not like he has a chance with such a pretty girl but he can at least not look like a fool in front of you every chance he gets.

“Uh yeah,” he falters, “I’m fine. Are you…ok?”

“Me?” You point to yourself in confusion.

“Yeah,” he repeats. “Did I nick you or something?”

“Oh.” You laugh again as you take in the patches and safety pins on his vest. “I think we’re good.”

When you stand on the tips of your toes Hobie understands what you mean and his ears grow hot with embarrassment.

Hobie is aware he’s tall enough to be a basketball player but compared to you he’s never realized quite how tall he is.

You smile and think about how cute his reaction is. Hobie isn’t shy, not by any means. You’ve seen him with his friends around campus. But you can understand how being out of your element can leave you walking on eggshells.

Classical music is the soul of your being. Movie scores to be more specific, not to mention game sources. You haven’t quite decided what route to take but for now you’re content with going back to the basics and writing Bach inspired pieces.

“Hey, I really liked your presentation. Did you get a good score?”

“I did, yeah.”

Hobie thinks you must be lying to avoid making him feel bad. The professor too because he earned almost full marks.

He doesn’t understand why when his piece was so…awful. Nothing like yours or Flash Thompson’s.

“That’s great! I liked the third movement. It reminded me of um…” You snapped your fingers. “Bowser’s theme. You know, from the first Mario game?”

Hobie doesn’t mean to, he really doesn’t, but he laughs.

“What? I’m serious!” You grin as you reach for your phone. Insistent to make your point and be proven right.

“You can’t be.” Hobie almost guffaws. “It was a dumpster fire!”

“Was not!” You argue. Bringing your phone up to his ear after furiously typing.

Hobie looks at you in surprise. Stuck between your outstretched hand and your determined face. After a supportive nod from you and a smile he slowly leans down to listen.

You pause on certain points of the video. Rambling on about concepts the two of you have learned but obviously you know better.

The video takes exactly three minutes and fifty three seconds but you managed to lengthen the amount of time it would normally take to finish and soon enough he realizes you’re not just cute. You’re cute and you like games.

You weren’t trying to make him feel better you were making honest and valid points.

Now he feels like an ass for laughing so he’s quick to wave his white flag in surrender.

“Alright, alright. You win love. Has anyone ever told you you’re a bold little thing?”

“I have been called that on occasion, yes.”

Hobie hums. His lips tugging into a smile. “Don’t ever change.”

Butterflies erupt in your stomach as you return his smile. “I won’t, promise.”

“What are you in here for if you don’t mind me asking? Aside from analyzing my music.”

“I don’t mind at all,” you answer. Feeling giddy. “There’s a poster I’ve been looking for and- tada.”

Hobie chuckles at the glee on your face as you hold up your prize.

“Is that right? Congratulations.”

“Thank you kind sir,” you giggle. “I was just heading over to pay when I bumped into you.”

“Guess it was a good thing I kept you occupied,” Hobie replies. “Line is gone now.”

You turn your head. Peeking over his shoulder to see the register is indeed free now.

“It appears so.” You tap his shoulder with the end of the rolled up poster. “Thank you again. You’ve done me a great honor sir.”

You relish in how much you’ve made Hobie laugh in the last few minutes you’ve talked. You’re disappointed this all has to end now.

Hobie snickers before bowing mockingly. “After you.”

You curtsey in return before walking over to Ganke. You’ve seen him a few times. Normally you come to the mall on weekends not weekdays but with the holidays coming up you had a few days off. Best to take advantage right?

Declining a bag you wait patiently for Ganke to finish the transaction but then he interrupts you from paying.

“Wait hold on, you have a birthday reward today.”

“Do I? Huh, I didn’t know the store had one.”

“Well, now your total comes down to less than ten dollars.”

“Sweet! Thank you.”

You step aside, thankful for Ganke’s chatty behavior because it give you an excuse to stay though Hobie’s own purchase. Both boys including you in their conversation about Hobie’s soon to be fully functioning game cube. Then you’re both walking out the door.

“So…” Hobie clicks his tongue. Anxious as the plastic bag he carries weighs down his hand. “Where are you off to now? Friends waiting at that nice restaurant?”

You shake your head, pointing to the direction of the movie theater. “Nope, there’s a screening for one of my favorite movies. It starts in about…ten minutes.”

Hobie’s eyebrows raise. “By yourself?”

“Mhm, was just killing some time.”

Hobie is at a loss for words. Spending your birthday alone sounds cruel. You deserve to have cake and gifts—the whole package. However it’s then that Hobie realizes he isn’t the only one who could be away from home.

“Mind if I come with you?” He blurts out.

Your eyes widen and in your stunned silence you feel the excitement build.

“Yes- I would love that!”

Gingerly clasping your hands together you happily tug him along. Explaining what movie you had bought a ticket for. Outwardly wondering if there were still seats available.

Hobie doesn’t feel dread walking back to the theater. He isn’t even upset when he smells popcorn again. With a soft smile he keeps his eyes on you. Only getting annoyed when his co-workers whistle behind his back and make exaggerated faces.

[itstheval]

Memory of a Quest

A @livesworthlivingau Side Story

Isabeau didn't know what to do with his hands. He'd never been in this situation before.

Siffrin had invited him out to visit a shop, on a 'secret mission'. He was confused, of course - this was something he did with Odile, not with Isabeau! But it had snapped into sense when he mentioned that he'd promised it during the loops. It was his therapist's idea…Get closure on the things he'd said to do during the loops, and it should help him put them to rest.

Why he'd promised to take Isabeau out antiquing was beyond him, but anything for Sif, right?

So there he was, standing in an antique store and trying to figure out how much he was allowed to touch. Not that there was too much interesting…A few familytales, some knick-knacks from people who'd moved on or passed on, things like that. It seemed important to Sif, though, and that's what Isabeau decided to focus on.

Siffrin didn't…have much of a past, he'd come to realize. He'd thought that it was just that he'd Changed! People do that, leaving their pasts behind, trying to pretend they don't exist, and Isa was nothing if not considerate. The truth was way more troublesome…There wasn't just a bad past behind Sif, or a past that belonged to someone he wasn't anymore, but nothing at all. Like if he let down his walls, instead of a bustling city, there was dry desert.

Well, the group had decided (but Isabeau especially), if there was nothing there, he'd water the crops and build the city with his own hands. He'd erect a town as great as the bustling Jouvente he left. Bigger even! With a nice number of bakeries full of memories of good food, and maybe a few Houses of Change…This metaphor was getting away from him.

So there Isabeau stood, surrounded by history that meant nothing to him, watching the love of his life go through each thing, turning it over in fascination.

"What're ya looking for, anyway?" Isa finally decided to ask, startling Siffrin from holding a small glass frog. "If I knew, maybe I could help?"

Sif turned to look at him, and the look of uncertainty hit him hard, despite his best efforts. "I…Don't know." Sif admitted, and Isa put the pieces together just a moment before Sif continued. "Something I remember, I guess. Something from back home."

Isabeau nodded, keeping his smile broad and warm, and ruffling Sif's hair. Thankfully, Mira had managed to teach him how to take care of it, so it wasn't as greasy as it once was…The first few times he'd done that, shortly after leaving Dormont, had not been a great feeling! Luckily, Isabeau knew how to keep things like that hidden (never show them let them think you're fine and dumb and-).

"So, stuff with stars? Or…The Universe?" Isabeau tried to think of anything else that could be a clue, that he could home in on. "Or…It was an island, maybe stuff with boats?" He asked it innocently, but the way Sif was looking at him made him pause.

"You…Remember all that? Now?" Siffrin had gone from curious to shocked, to almost crying, in seconds. Oh Change, what did that mean?!

"Well of course I do!" Isabeau tried. "They're important to you, aren't they?"

OOF!

A small, Sif-shaped missile impacted his chest, and Sif was hugging him and sniffling, looking up. This was important to the little rogue, huh? He tried reaching a hand around, to rub his back through the smooth cloak Sif always wore.

"Of course I remember. Why wouldn't I? They're things you care about. It'd be like not remembering Odile likes books, or Bon likes pineapple." You give a small laugh, your words quiet in the store whose customers all had their eyes turned to you now.

"I…I just, you never remembered before. Not when I didn't…"

"Do it perfectly?" Isabeau gave a sigh. Not for the first time, he wished he could've explained himself sooner. "Sif, just because that's when you learned that I knew, doesn't mean it's the only time I knew. I've cared about you for…For so very long. And if you can't remember it, I'll do my best to remember it for you."

Isabeau wasn't sure that was the right thing to say. Sif buried his head again, but the squeezing of arms around him made him oof, and he rubbed all the harder in return. "All of us will, Sif. Now…Shouldn't we be looking around?" Change, save him from the stares of random passersby…

Change was listening, or at least Siffrin decided to return to his search. He wiped his eyes, and Isa patted his back as he watched the puffiness of them, the darker shades that were a sure sign he'd been crying. "Right…" Sif managed, his voice wavering. "The Quest."

Isa allowed himself a little laugh at that description. The quest? That's really how they were thinking about this, still? Well…Nothing wrong in helping him. "Yes, we must quest forth for the mighty secrets of old." He allowed a nod, as though it wasn't the most ridiculous thing he'd said in quite some time.

Siffrin felt like an idiot. This was nothing new, but it'd been happening less recently? So it didn't feel great.

Of course Isabeau wouldn't know what to look for out on a secret quest! Of course this would make the whole thing awkward! And of course he'd wound up having to be comforted, again, when everything went wrong, again.

Thankfully, as Doctor Jinn had put it, he's got the same chance as everyone else to make it right. And Isabeau had remembered! He'd actually remembered, even though they hadn't gone stargazing! Or anything!

…Why hadn't they gone stargazing yet? They needed to remember to fix that later.

For now, though, they managed to focus on other things. Like the antiques around them. They had to admit, this had always fascinated them. Every single one of them, every item in the shop, with a history longer than Siffrin could imagine. He picked up a notebook with a hand symbol on it, and took a moment to try to imagine just how many other generations had held the same thing they're holding. Who wrote you? They thought it to themself as they stared, not really taking in the book in front of them. How many people read from you, how many lives did you change? What story were they holding in their hands right now, without knowing any of it?

They put it down with significantly more reverence than they'd picked it up, then jumped at Isabeau's voice. Stars, they'd gotten so lost in their own head again!

"Hey Sif, Stars are a thing from…Your country, right?" A part of them curled up at the way that Isa had to talk around the name of their home, but a much more interested part perked up.

"Yeah, why? What did you find?" They started towards the aisle that Isabeau was down, and then paused dead in their tracks.

"Well, this hat has all kinds of stars on the inside, see?"

It couldn't be.

That hat.

That. Hat.

That hat that saved them. That hat they'd last seen in the House. That hat that blew away on the wind. That hat that was their only upgrade, their only proof of getting somewhere for themself, their only proof of-!

"Woah! Okay, maybe stars aren't so good on hats? What, is it like, it's making a fake sky or something and that's not supposed to happen?" Isa went to put the hat back down, and they all but lunged forward. "NO!"

"No no no, I'm sorry, it's just, it's important, it's a big thing, I'm sorry, please let me have it, I'll pay you back, any amount you want, anything, please!"

They were babbling, but they couldn't seem to stop. That Hat. The memory of an orrery, of a tale they could only remember in their blankest moments, the memory of how they'd fought their way through. Of their darkest hours, too. But…It had been there.

"Woah woah woah! That's…Okay, star hats are good, got it! I'll tell you what…You tell me what's so important about this hat, and I'll pay for it entirely. Otherwise, it's a loan, you get it?"

Isa's voice had a laugh in it that Siffrin clung to as a lifeline. They slowly pulled themself back into place, like a sailor climbing back aboard after falling off their ship. They were here, not there. They didn't have it. They barely had their dagger. They didn't…need something, that armoured them, that saved them like it did. But at the same time…

"Alright, but it's…Loop stuff, not Island stuff. So…After we get out of here, okay?"

"Alright!" A heavy hand deposited it onto Siffrin's head, and they had the decency to blush about it, even if they did press up into the hand (not at all like a cat don't ask questions) and smile. "And if that's a Loop thing, you don't have to even tell me about it. I've never seen loop stuff make you that happy. Or…I guess, make you smile, a little? Either way, it's nice to know they weren't all bad! Even when you weren't trying your hardest."

Siffrin paused at that phrasing, and then gave a nod. The hat was theirs. It reminded them, the way it cut off their vision. It kept their eyes forward, and down. Above was only the same stars they always knew…They wondered if that was how everyone else saw the world all the time? But, Isabeau was turning, and starting to look around.

"Rusted garden shears…" Siffrin's wince was missed, thankfully. "A weird needle-pointed sword, some shades, I wonder what all this is about?" The thought made you step up, and look at what Isabeau had found. That was right…It looked like all the equipment you never found, in that last fateful loop, had somehow wound up here. Minus the fish book…Itchy-ology? Icky-ology? Something like that. The fish book, the earrings, and it looked like Bonbon's 'weapons' weren't there either. But the rest of it, all gathered up in one place, like someone'd put it there on purpose.

The world tilted under you.

It wasn't the first time you'd felt that, and you gripped your hands into fists. You were here. You were now. Gravity still worked. Breathing still worked. Don't get lost, Siffrin! Don't lose it, Siffrin! Bob your knees, feel the way the world feels under your feet. Close your eyes, then open them again, and look at things fresh, without the tilt your brain put on it. The tilt wasn't real.

It felt real.

It felt more real than the world around you. You reached out, and touched the sword's hilt, before jerking your hand back like you were burned. Was it going to vanish, now that you've seen it? Would…could…the universe still reset itself? Did you still have its eye? No. The sword was still there, just like the rest, just like the hat on your head, just like all of it.

Isa said something. You couldn't hear what. The words pulsed in your ears, your head throbbing at the tempo of the sounds, but you didn't understand them. Sorry, Siffrin's not here right now, can I take a message? You laughed, and even in your own throbbing ears it sounded like half a sob.

You were hugged! You were held! Hands were around you!

You jumped at the feeling, but it did ground you. The feeling pushed you back into your body like a puzzle piece slotted into place, and whoever held you turned you away from those…items. Dishware, it turned out, was on the other side. Dishes and cups, ancient and cracked, dusty even here.

"You back, Sif?" Isabeau. Isa. He's here. He's holding you. He's…Holding you. You could feel the way every little shift of your breath made sensation flare over your body, the slightest motion pulling and pushing your skin in ways you aren't anticipating, and you shiver. You can't pull away…You can't. You can't tell him this isn't what you want. You have to stay here. You aren't sure why that's what your mind latched onto, but it was true. You wanted to stay there in his arms, even if the back of your brain was screaming about the way it felt.

Stay there. Breathe. Worry later. Breathe. Respond.

"I'm back. But…I think we need to go." You managed, at your breathiest.

"Okay…Do you want to go alone, or should I stay with you?"

Considerate Isabeau. Always at your side, as long as you'll let him be.

"Stay. I'll follow you…we still need to pay for the hat. And, I'm sorry, Isa. About…"

"Don't worry about it!" He cut you off, which was good because you didn't have the words to continue that thought. "I wasn't sure what we were looking for, but it sure wasn't that! We can finish up our secret quest some other day."

You smiled. You'd have to explain yourself later, but…For now, Isabeau was there. Your rock. Your personal Savior.

You were glad to have him.

+++

"Just a collection of…items?" Odile asked, and all you could do was nod.

"Some shears, a hat, a sword, a bow…Just things you'd find in any store. You're sure you don't know?"

"Not at all. He's never done that before."

Siffrin had vanished off to your shared room when you returned, clutching the hat tight to his chest. You promised you'd give him space, and you'd ask before you came in, but in the meantime you felt like you had to solve this mystery. If it hurt Siffrin, you want to know about it, and stop it! Whether he believed it or not!

But this…

"It hit him hard. Almost as hard as that time Mira woke him up from his nap." You didn't think anything would compare to that day. "And he was alright when he wasn't looking at them, like Jinn said. I'm glad I didn't let him go alone."

"You said he found a hat? That he thought he should wear? A sword, like Mirabelle has…and a bow, like she wears. Glasses like mine…" Odile took a moment to adjust her glasses. "I believe I'll be going shopping, Isabeau. If you think you can help him alone?"

You gave a nod, trying not to think about what Odile was saying. You didn't see any gloves there, and with a clench of your hands you felt your crystal knuckles at the ready. Whatever was happening, you couldn't help but wonder how you were excluded from it. As much as you tried not to.

Instead of dwelling on that, you walked upstairs and knocked on the door to your shared room, waiting for the faint sound of 'come in'. Thank Change, it wasn't too long in coming.

Siffrin was staring at his hat when you came in, curled with his knees up near his chin on the bed and facing towards the door. One finger had been tracing the lines on the inside of it, and rested there as you walked in and gently shut the door.

"Want to talk about it?" You asked, hoping against hope.

"No."

"That's a shame." You walked over to the bed, and sat down, watching them. It was a practiced motion, and you both knew what it meant. You saw Siffrin set the hat down, saw him order his words, and saw him decide to speak - and made sure he saw the thankful smile that came from that decision.

"They were from the House. Each one of them was…a piece of the story that never happened. Something else that I left behind." Left behind was good! You liked left behind! It was a lot better than 'crabbed up' or 'completely blinded' or anything else they'd called it! "When I saw them, I…I just remembered. Everything I'd been forgetting. Everything I didn't get to do. Everything I tried to go back and do." You liked that less, but…the phrasing wasn't bad, at least. "I don't know how they got here, but it was like they were tracking me down, to find me again."

"Would you…like new memories with them?" Another one of the doctor's suggestions. "Or do you want to put those behind you? We don't have to go back, but now that you remember…wouldn't it be nice to prove this time was better than anything you left behind?"

"Yeah…Thanks, Isa." They reached a hand out, and you smiled brightly. Another concession, another suggestion, and you took his hand and used your thumb to slide the glove up the back of it, before planting a gentle kiss on the back of it.

Not! That you did that every time! But, every time he opened up, you wanted to give him something. And showing him how you loved him? You'd do that whenever he let you. This was a good chance.

From the smile in their eyes, they agreed.

[starlight-eclipsed]

Rockets Pointed Up at the Stars (Pt 2/2)

Part I

Despite what Phantom had implied, tracking down Batman wasn’t done in an instant.

Sure, they’d be back seconds after when they left. But with time travel in the mix, that could be hours or days apart. They’d already followed him back to his initial landing time, when Neanderthals were still around (and wow, was there a difference between factually knowing some people had been around since the dawn of humanity and physically seeing Vandal Savage in the flesh as a caveman). According to the trail left by Clockwork, the ghostly guardian of the timestream, they were getting close.

Apparently Bruce couldn’t make things easy and was also making jumps through time, which if left unchecked would cause the timeline collapse that Clockwork had recruited Phantom for. Specifically Phantom, as it turns out the thief that liked messing with him on weekends was also the Master of Space and the King of everything.

(Phantom insisted it was just a title, and he was only king of the Ghost Zone. It just so happened that the Ghost Zone was also known as the Infinite Realms, which contained every reality of every universe in existence.

And he’d won that title by defeating the previous ruler in single combat.

The High King had to scramble to catch Tim when his knees gave out at the realization that he had unknowingly gone toe to toe with someone who made Darkseid look like a toddler in a sandbox. What the fuck, Phantom.) 

As of now, they were waiting for the actual Blackbeard’s ship to dock to investigate the fabled Black Pirate he supposedly fought a week ago, whose description matched Bruce’s. Phantom had gone to grab them something to eat while they waited in a tavern, leaving Tim to save his seat. If someone told him even a week ago that this was where he’d be, Tim would’ve interrogated them for hours to try to figure out what it meant.

But no, he was just sitting at a table in the 18th century, a medallion from the Master of Time hung around his neck, waiting for his hero-turned-king-gone-rogue to return with food while they waited for Blackbeard the legendary pirate to show up. Jason would probably kill to be here in his place.

Tim was broken out of his thoughts when Phantom returned, two bowls of soup in hand and balancing an additional plate of tough-looking bread on his forearm.

They’d been forced to ditch their masks when Puritans tried to have them hanged a century ago, now dressing in more accurate clothing to better blend in. Phantom had apologized for discovering Tim’s real name, going as far as to reveal his own secret identity: a black haired blue-eyed teen named Danny.

“Heads up, it’s gonna be either too salty or bland as wood. I’m pretty sure the cook wanted to strangle me for asking too many questions about the ingredients.”

Tim snorted, accepting his bowl, “Is that why we don’t get spoons?”

“Nah, the owner doesn’t trust customers to return the utensils. Drink from the bowl, though you might want to soak your bread if you don’t wanna pull a muscle chewing it.”

“Noted.” Tim dared to take a sip, mulling over the taste. It wasn’t anywhere near Alfred’s level, but a step above his own adventures in the kitchen before getting a hard ban post-pancake incident. It tasted closer to brine than soup, but it went surprisingly well with the bread.

Phantom hummed in pleasure, proving yet again that his standards for food consisted of ‘isn’t actively resisting consumption’. Tim could hardly judge him for it, seeing as his own bar wasn't much higher.

“So, I’d say we have an hour or two until our man arrives. Want to go over the plan again?”

Tim shrugged. “Unless it’s changed from ‘confirm Bruce was already here before following the nearest skip in time’, I think we’re good.”

Phantom nodded, silence falling over them as they ate their way through dinner. Tim kept an ear out for trouble, but the tavern was quite peaceful this time in the evening. It was likely to change once the Queen Anne's Revenge finished docking, but for now he’d savor the ambiance.

“Wanna play twenty questions?”

He blinked, refocusing on Phantom sitting across from him. “Huh?”

“I just figured it might pass the time. Twenty questions, no lies, though you can reject them if you don’t want to answer.”

Tim considered it before nodding, “Sure. How old are you?”

Phantom grinned, “Seventeen, same as you. Why Robin?”

“I wanted to help Batman after the previous one died. Nobody else would intervene, so I stepped in. Why Phantom?”

“Okay, hear me out…it’s a pun.”

Tim paused, gesturing for him to elaborate.

“Before I was half-ghost, my last name was Fenton. So as a ghost, Danny Fenton became—”

“Danny Phantom,” Tim groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I can’t believe I ever thought you were subtle.”

“Hey, nobody expects the dead guy to moonlight as a living person. Sunlight? Whatever. Favorite hobbies?”

“Photography and skateboarding. Favorite power?”

“Ooh, that’s a hard one. I’d have to say flight. Nothing beats flying at night. Sexuality?”

Tim spluttered, making Phantom laugh as he blushed. “What the heck?!”

“Hey, you can always skip,” the asshole offered.

“No, it just caught me off guard. I’m bi. You?”

“Pan. And trans, while we’re at it. Ghosts can shapeshift, so I got a perfect transition at the low cost of death.”

Tim snorted, “Death is an ally.”

“Absolutely, it comes for us all,” he winked. “If you had a single power, what would it be?”

“Something so I wouldn’t need to sleep. I can manage otherwise. What determines the things you take?”

Phantom grinned, “Once a detective. But seriously, I just aim for things that look cool and won’t be missed too much. Some people will kick up a fuss over their trash if they think it’s worth stealing. Thoughts on soulmates?”

He stopped, some part of him catching on how serious the otherwise silly sounding question was phrased. As if the way he answered this could mean life or death. “You mean, a couple acting like they’re made for each other?”

“Ah, I wasn’t sure whether you had them in your universe. On my Earth, everyone is born with some kind of connection to at least one other person. Shared thoughts, a timer countdown to the time they first meet, stuff like that. Platonic or romantic, they were called soulmates.”

“So…someone you’re destined to meet and get along with? Is it magic based?”

A nod. “Humanity’s done research but they haven’t concluded on that yet. I asked an Ancient whose domain was centered around it, and they said it was determined by a soul’s resonance. I don’t know the specifics, but something about how all souls that resonate a certain way are born with soulmarks, so that they have an easier time finding each other. There are studies about how soulmates tend to understand each other easier, but other than that there’s no empirical proof that they’re different from any other relationship.”

Tim considered it. What it might’ve been like, to be told the second he met Dick that fateful night at the circus, ‘this boy will permanently alter the course of your life’. To have been able to approach Batman that first time, point to his wrist, and automatically be listened to instead of resorting to blackmail. How much easier it would have been to avoid the misunderstandings that defined their whole family.

Then again, it would be just his luck to have been born in that world and not have any soul connections to the Wayne family, making him work twice as hard for the same level of trust. Or to be born without resonance at all, and be left knowing that he was truly beyond reach. What would that do to him, in a society where people could point at the worst criminals and say ‘even that monster has someone they love’? To be soulmates with a genuinely terrible person?

“It sounds like a mixed blessing,” Tim said, meeting Danny’s gaze directly. “I would love to have someone like that by my side, and I’d be terrified of being defined by it.”

Danny leaned back, wearing a self-deprecating smile that Tim was quickly learning to recognize. “Yeah, that’s fair. Your turn.”

“What…what is your personal experience with soulmates? If I’m allowed to ask.”

He hissed out a breath through his teeth. “Yeah, that’s exactly what I thought you’d say.”

“I can ask something else?”

Danny waved a hand in dismissal. “I’ll answer, just lemme figure out how to put it.”

“I’ll return our dishes while you think through what you want to say.” Tim stood with his empty bowl, easily accepting the other bowl and plate as they were handed to him.

Walking back, Tim cataloged the people hanging around the tavern. A group of friends huddled around a dozen plates, decked out in gear that made it look like they just finished having some grand adventure. The bartender, a sly smile on her face as a drunken man clumsily flirted with his own wife. The cook instructing a boy to retrieve the dishes from Tim, sending a calculating glance in Danny’s direction before nodding at Tim and turning back to the fire.

Tim didn’t spend a lot of time in public anymore. His fame attracted far too much attention now that the press could consistently recognize him. But maybe once things settled back down again, he’d try civilian life again. There was something different about living alongside the people he worked to save, instead of far above looking down.

By the time he returned to his seat, Danny looked ready to talk.

“My soulmate rejected me when we were little.”

Tim blinked. “You can do that?”

“Ah…sorta? Depending on the connection, one side can choose to shut it down. Mine let us exchange messages. I was a dumb kid, and sent out a ton every day to try and get any kind of response that they were out there. They got sick of it and blocked me.” Danny laughed, but it wasn't very funny.

“I’m sorry. That sounds awful.”

“Don’t be. I annoy everyone—it was only a matter of time before I did something to chase them away.”

“Would you stop doing that?”

Danny blinked, tilting his head in silent question.

“Look, I get that you went through a lot of shit before coming to Gotham. But you keep acting like it’s a given that everyone you meet will be awful to you, and it sucks to hear you talk like that when I’m having fun with you. It wasn't your fault, so stop claiming credit for it. If I can’t justify losing Robin, you can’t justify being abandoned.”

“...alright then.” Danny huffed, folding his arms and pouting. “Neither of us can talk shit about ourselves.”

The twinkle in his eyes was enough for Tim to know he got through to him.

— - —

Tim leaned up against a fence in the Wild West, shifting uncomfortably in his dust coated clothes. Danny was perched beside him, smugly radiating a cool breeze that may very well have been the only thing keeping Tim upright in the summer sun.

“There’s too much sunlight here, it’s unnatural.”

“That’s just your Gothamite showing, city-boy.”

“Fuck off.”

Danny’s laughter had become a staple of the past few days spent traveling through history. In turn, Tim found himself happier than he’d been in ages, making sarcastic comments about anything that caught his eye in an attempt to get Danny to laugh more.

So far, he’d yet to fail to bring at least a smile to the other’s face.

Right now they were in the late 19th century, following rumors that Bruce had somehow crossed paths with Vandal Savage again. It was bordering on ridiculous, and a part of Tim wondered if this was why the legendary criminal stayed well away from Gotham waters. He was going to have to ask Bruce what was up with that after this whole mess was over.

“So,” Danny started, leaning closer to him. “Have any plans for when we’re back in modern day?”

Tim shrugged, “I see a lengthy report to Batman, hours spent explaining everything he missed while he was gone. I swear I’ll be up all week helping him catch up.”

A snort. “I meant about Robin. No offense, but you looked miserable in your new costume.”

He paused. He hadn’t quite processed the knowledge that bringing Bruce back wouldn’t also bring back his role as Robin. It was obvious whenever he actually thought about it, but to him Bruce coming home was still synonymous to going back to how things were before he was lost in time.

“I don’t know…Red Robin was just supposed to be temporary. It was one of Red Hood’s old aliases, not really mine.”

Danny turned to him. “Do you want a new one? If you decide now, we can lay the basis for some local legend to act as future inspiration for the new title.”

Tim elbowed him, “We aren’t messing with the timeline to establish lore for my new identity.”

“C��mon, it’ll be fun! I did it back in my original world, there’s ancient frescos of me winning chariot races and everything.”

“How are you and Clockwork still on speaking terms?”

“Oh, he totally finds it as funny as I do. He just has to pretend to be serious all the time so the Observants don’t crack down on him for shirking his duties.”

“You’re a bad influence on the embodiment of time,” Tim concluded with wide eyes.

A wide grin stretched across Danny’s face as he lied through his teeth. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“How did you even—he’s millennia older than you!”

“Counterparts, remember? It’s not a soul bond, but it’s easy to see ourselves in each other. Besides, time is relative; he's like a weird grandpa-uncle-cousin.”

Tim shook his head, but couldn’t quite force down the laughter in his lungs.

“Hey, I know for a fact I’m not the only bad influence here. No matter how much you claim that sleep is for the dead, I’m physical proof against that.”

“Whatever. You know when the next jump is?”

Danny tilted his head, as if listening for something only meant for his ears. “If Bats already came through here, there’s only two big timesinks left he could be in. Either sometime in the 20th century, or in a designated Vanishing Point.”

“Vanishing Point?”

“Yeah, it’s something of a collaboration between the Observants, Clockwork, and Ghost Writer. Each universe has an archive set right around its eventual heat death. It’s like an empty room in a video game with props the devs left in to keep the system running after inadvertently designing the whole code in reference to a lemon.”

“I…never mind. Why would Batman be there?”

“Oh, ‘cause he’s traveling through time without one of these,” Danny tapped Tim’s chest, right where his Time Medallion lay under his shirt. “They’re designed to safely disperse the energy gained each time we make a jump, among other things. Otherwise we’d just be building up enough to wipe the timeline from existence. Or something like that, I wasn’t really paying attention.”

Tim suddenly realized that this was what his former teammates meant when they complained about him executing strategies without explaining his thought process first. He still stood by his stance that it was more effective to explain things as they happened, but he was developing a new sense of empathy for them.

“Okay. Batman is a time-charged universe level bomb threat, and is getting funneled into the Backrooms so he blows up with everything else in existence. What can we do to stop that?”

Danny blinked. “Sorry, I thought it was obvious. I already carry a medallion with me wherever I go, so I was just gonna have you put the spare Clocky gave me on him to filter it out.”

Yep. This was karma for never giving people the full story behind any of his plans.

“I’m going to need you to go over everything we need to do when we get to this Vanishing Point. Twice.”

“Okie doke! So I’m gonna leave you with my spare medallion to help Bats while I throw down with Darkseid’s hyper-dimensional mind slave he sent after him to ensure his demise—”

Gift baskets. Tim owed so many people gift baskets for putting up with his bullshit.

— - —

When Tim found him, Danny was perched on the same apartment building they’d last met on.

His hood was down, freeing his flaming white hair to burn without heat in the night. His face was turned towards the sky, looking for all like he was somehow stargazing in spite of the thick smog that blanketed the city. It would’ve made for a stunning picture, if not for how soul crushingly lonely the scene felt.

Danny startled when Tim’s grappling hook latched onto the rooftop beside him. The halfa was quick to brighten upon seeing Tim down below, scooting over to make room for him as he reeled in the line and pulled himself up.

“Fancy meeting you here, Detective.”

Tim huffed, readjusting his utility belt. “The others won’t stop pestering me about how Batman was brought back when I shouldn’t have access to any time travel devices. It’s a miracle I was even able to get out of the Batcave without getting smothered.”

“You didn’t tell them about me?”

“You didn’t want them to know.”

Danny looked stunned. He physically shook himself out of it, a glowing green blush rising to his cheeks as he turned away. “Thanks.”

Tim absentmindedly nodded as he smoothly slipped a black marker from his belt while Danny was distracted. This had the potential to either go very smoothly or backfire completely, but it had to be done to sate his curiosity. Now that Bruce was home and he’d gotten the time to think over their conversations, pieces had started to align in his head. It was just a matter of taking the leap and confirming it for himself.

Reaching up to his own cheek, Tim wrote in practiced motions, focusing on the thought of sending it through to whoever was on the other side.

Danny jumped, hand slapping to his own cheek as he whipped his head around to stare at Tim in open shock. He shrugged sheepishly.

“Your description of soulmates was familiar. Between that and the cloak, I really should’ve put it together sooner.”

“You’re…not mad?”

Tim shifted, stashing the marker back in its rightful place. “I wish I knew sooner. I never meant to hurt you—Batman was getting on my case about the writing on my arms being recognizable in costume, and I never thought to wonder why it was happening in the first place.”

Danny shook his head, a wet chuckle escaping his lips. “You couldn’t have known. It would’ve freaked anyone out, getting messages from a different universe on their skin.”

“Neither did you. Know, I mean. Me blocking the connection was never on you.”

“Well…”

“I mean it.”

“Fine, fine. So…does that mean…?”

Tim carefully reached out his hands to grasp onto his soulmate’s, intertwining their fingers. It was remarkable how easily they fit together. “I don’t know if it’s romantic or not, but I’m willing to give it a try if you are.”

Danny collapsed forward into Tim’s arms. He could hardly make out the muffled affirmative, but the message was crystal clear. Leaning down to set his chin on the top of Danny’s head, he let himself savor this moment.

Tomorrow, he could beg Danny to experiment with the extent of their bond. They could talk about new ideas for his hero name, and Danny could get another shot at convincing him to go on a worldwide anti-multi-billionaire tour. The two of them had potentially forever to work out this newfound aspect of their relationship.

For the time being, Tim relaxed back against a chain link fence with his soulmate in his arms, the word ‘BOO’ scribbled in black marker across both their faces.

— - —

And that's a wrap! There's definitely room for more, but these were the all the scenes I wanted to cover ^-^

I think in this universe, Danny and Tim end up working as a slightly morally grey hero duo. They go global for a bit, Tim wanting to train under more people to better keep up with Danny (who follows along invisibly as backup). This eventually gets the attention of Ra's, and you can imagine how that goes XD

They're a bit overly attached; neither of them really have a healthy sense of boundaries, which causes a bit of conflict here and there. Tim is the one that insists on taking breaks to avoid becoming too codependent, which only really results in them deepening the soul bond to a ridiculous degree. Ironically it's during this that Tim discovers how he can send pressure marks through to Danny, who immediately converts it to morse code (oops).

Thanks for reading!

Tag list:

@skulld3mort-1fan @profoundsoulsong @daemonlogical @bobred18 @ashoutinthedarkness @hilariousseagoat @undead-essence @ekatkit @wolfjackle @awkwardmaiden @vehan-tikkun-olam-and-stuff

[cometcrystal]

having arfid is truly so fucking isolating. as i was making myself a pb&j just now, i had just opened my small jar of peanut butter. i usually get the biggest jar they offer because pb&j is one of my current safe foods. but they were out of those, so i got a few of the small ones instead.

and it reminded me of how people usually default to buying the small jar of peanut butter when i request it on trips. my mom bought the small one. my coworkers bought the small one when we went to the beach. and it runs out very quickly and theyre always surprised.

my mom just bought me some more but my coworkers ribbed me for it. like my manager went to go make herself a sandwich with it and was like "there's almost none left goddamn" and its like....yeah because i ate it. it was for me.

when you live with something like arfid, most people don't really think about how you eat the same thing every day. like, they KNOW, my coworkers know i bring two hotpockets to work every single day. they're aware of this. but when THEY have to provide my food, it never occurs to them that it's MY food? if that makes sense?

like why was she shocked that the peanut butter was almost gone? she knows i'm a samefooder, and she bought me one of my safe foods because she asked me what i needed.

but the assumption was that they would ALSO be able to use it as their own food. and it sounds mean but if you ALSO want the option of making a pb&j, you need to get extra supplies. because it's for me. it's my food. that's what i can eat. you have the option of eating something else, but for the most part, i only have the option of my safe food. i won't have any food if you eat this.

and it sucks on that level but it ALSO sucks because food is such a communal activity. it's universal. every culture has food as a staple. almost every culture has gathering to eat food as a custom. it's something that connects many living things, not just humans, but it's ubiquitous between humans, no matter who you are.

and yes, it is VERY appreciated to be included and accommodated in these gatherings. i really appreciate that, in most cases, i'm able to eat my safe foods instead of what everyone else is eating, and still be invited and included in the event.

but our food usually isn't the same. i'm there with them, but i'm not eating the same thing. we aren't sharing the same sensory experience. and no matter how much i'm included, i will never love how fresh that salad is, i will never be able to crack open crab legs with you, etc etc. it's an overlooked aspect in terms of the gathering itself, but the actual taste and texture of the food is something i'll never be able to enjoy. i can take some wendy's into the moe's while my mom visits her friend, but i'm going to stick out like a sore thumb.

My Food is never just going to be My Food. i'll have to share it when i want to keep it to myself (the peanut butter, being questioned in restaurants when i order off the kids menu) and i'll have to keep it to myself when i want to share it (gatherings)

[imaginedreamwrite]

Like No One Does

Part 1: An Empty Line

The block of text had made you take a pause when you stepped back into the back room for a moment, the name across the top of the screen was one you’d never really texted before. You were aware that Danah had given Ari Levinson your number, she’d admitted to it a few years ago; however, you’d never received or read any of the texts he attempted to send.

Before today.

Now, the text message was staring up at you while you were running off your feet dragging around bottles of champagne for rich and snobby councillors in the city. It was short, it was to the point, but there was an adage of flirtatiousness that seemed to hang under the initial message.

'I need an assistant. Hear me out before you turn me down, sweetheart.’

You had wanted to ignore the message, you wanted to delete the text and act like you’d never received it in the first place. It would’ve been easy enough to act like there was a glitch, and you’d never gotten the text in the first place. It would’ve been easy to act like you weren’t being poached by your childhood best friend’s older brother, a notorious flirt.

You and Danah were opposites, in many societal ways.

Danah Levinson was born wealthy to parents who made themselves a healthy living by opening and running four different bakeries and cafés in the city. Each of them was inspired by Jewish food with stark reviews that had led the businesses to have a thriving following and loyal customers.

You were born to a low-income family with parents who had struggled to get pregnant in the first place. While you were loved and cared for to the best of your parents' abilities, their health issues had always seemed to overshadow most of your life, leaving you struggling at the best of times.

You had met Danah when you were 8, after your mother had visited in the hospital during a sick spell by Danah’s mother as a community outreach volunteer. Her mother was one of the kindest people you’d ever met, a bleeding heart who had expelled as much help upon your family as possible.

It was her mother who had helped you get into a better school through sponsorship, and it was Danah’s parents who had helped take you in when both of your parents had grown too sick and needed to be in hospital for weeks. Regardless of the societal standings that were different for yourself and Danah, you had become best friends.

You were thick as thieves, and throughout your years of being best friends with Danah Levinson, you’d gained a lifelong friend and sister.

When you were accepted into university under a scholarship, Danah and yourself had become roommates, and you’d often be sent care packages from her mother as if you were her daughter as well.

Through Danah, you had known Ari Levinson. Her brother was well known to be a notorious flirt, someone who rarely showed up to Sunday night dinners without someone on his arm. There always seemed to be a date or a fling on his arm, no matter the occasion, and it was a sight you’d gotten used to over the years.

It had pissed Danah off to no end, seeing these girls hang around her brother, who were quick flings. She had never approved of a single date her brother had, though both of them knew that the dates he chose to be with were temporary and nothing had gone past a few weeks.

When you were 19, you had experienced Ari Levinson’s flirtations for the first time. You’d spent the summer with Danah after your first year of university at her parents' place, and that was when it had begun. You’d been blissfully unaware of whatever attraction Ari might have had for you until Danah had scolded him for flirting, considering that you’d had a boyfriend.

Once you were aware of it, it was almost hard to miss the way he would let little comments slip. During the fast Hanukkah you’d spent with Danah and her family, when you were 19, Ari had deliberately gotten you different gifts than he had given his sister.

With the last night of Hanukkah being the time when he had given you the nickname ‘Princess’ along with a charm that was meant to bring you good luck. It was nothing you’d looked too far into, since you were on the rocks with your boyfriend, and you were missing your parents, who had died a year and half prior.

The next year of university, the last year before you dropped the program, Ari had offered a few internships through his company that was skyrocketing in value and power in the business world. During these trips to the school, he would take Danah out to dinner, and offer the chance for you to go with them, though you had sparsely joined in.

After you had dropped out of university to dive into work to pay down your parents' medical bills, Danah and you had continued to have that inseparable friendship and sisterhood. Nothing had changed with the Levinson’s, you were still invited to Sunday dinners, you had still watched movies on Thursday nights with Danah.

And every Hanukkah, Ari had gifted you a little charm that had correlated with the one from the year prior.

You never allowed yourself to look too far into the gifts, you never allowed yourself to think of everything you’d been given as anything more than him taking some kind of pity on you. You wouldn’t allow yourself to imagine the possibility of this infamous playboy and flirt, who had always seemed to have someone new on his arm.

Likewise, you had too much chaos in your life as it was, too many other things to focus on, and your best friend’s older brother was not one of them. Danah had, to her credit, told Ari to fuck off on more than one occasion on your behalf, though you wondered if her reasoning was because of his past with exes.

She didn’t want to lose you as a friend if you happened to go out with Ari and things hadn’t worked out, nor did she want things to be uncomfortable with her brother.

'Don’t leave me on read, give me an answer.’ His next message had re-centred your focus, and you’d looked at the message before you hastily sent a reply and shoved your phone into the deep depths of your bag.

'I’m busy at work. I can’t talk.’ You set your phone away and stepped out of the back room. You were heading through the walkway behind the front of the high-end restaurant, stopping at a table with a fake smile plastered on your face.

Every part of your body ached when you started the climb to your apartment. The seemingly endless day of catering to people who wouldn’t have cared about you if you hadn’t been the one bringing their food, was grating on your every nerve. That fake plastered smile and the unseemly way you had to tamp down your true feelings about being verbally or physically accosted by people who didn’t give you a shit, was all becoming too much.

Unfortunately, with you dropping out of university halfway through your degree, it had left you with student loans that were piled on top of your parents' medical bills. Between the three avenues for loans, you were left desperate for work and would have taken anything you possibly could. As it was, you were working two jobs already to pay down the debt that was saddled to you, and you were drawing your energy down to dismal levels.

You dropped your things by the front door of your apartment and slammed the door behind you, with more force than necessary, and walked into your bedroom. You stripped out of your work clothes and kicked them to the side in favour of a pair of sweats, and one of your old campus tees. You yanked both of them on, and secured your hair off your shoulders before you left your bedroom.

You moved across your small apartment and walked into the kitchen, barefoot and tired. You had no drive to spend more energy making something, and your instinctual desire was to grab a package of ramen and rip the top open. After drumming the flavour into the bag and shaking it up, you moved toward your couch and crashed onto the left side.

You turned the tv on and put whatever your remote first settled on, using it more for background noise than anything. As the series started, you picked at your dry ramen noodles and ate what you could, your attention drifting toward your phone. You unlocked your screen and first went to instagram.

The first post you’d seen when the app loaded was one of Danah’s, the first few pictures were of herself and her on again-off again boyfriend, the one that Ari really didn’t like. The next three were pictures of the Sunday night dinner they had together, the tags linked to how she felt annoyed by her older brother.

You scrolled down to the other few posts in your feed before you came upon an ad for some clothes, something you’d never buy for yourself, but it was targeted to your age group. Without watching the whole ad, you continued to scroll, and your thumb had hovered above one of your high school friends that you’d followed, when another message from Ari had come through.

Messages that you had missed, or ones that had come through later than they should have.

'You busy, sweetheart? Danah said you were working all night. Come out with me, I wanna talk to you.’

'I know you’re ignoring me, princess.’

'You’re not giving me a choice, baby. I’m coming to talk to you.’

You were already halfway through texting back when three solid knocks on your apartment door had interrupted you. You tossed your phone to the side and stood from where you had been sitting on the couch, Netflix still playing in the background.

As you slowly opened the door, your heart both plummeted and stopped beating with a single look at the man on the other side. Ari was waiting for you on the other side of the door, not wearing his usual tailored Armani or Tom Ford suit. He was wearing a pair of dark wash jeans, making him look even taller than he was, and the shirt he was wearing a Patriots shirt that he’d had for years.

“What are you doing here? I mean…why are you here?” He had smiled down at you, one foot crossed over the other, and his shoulder was resting against the doorframe.

“I don’t like being ignored, princess. You going to let me in, so we can talk?” His smile was charming, and that playboy personality that so many women had fallen for was clearly flourishing.

You’d heard of some of his exes in the past, and Danah had not been shy about talking about the women she had met, had given you the impression that Ari was almost entirely insatiable. Though you personally had never met any of his exes or his hookups, you couldn’t have avoided them entirely. It was impossible for you not to have knowledge of his vivacious love life, even if you hadn’t been a visual witness.

“You show up to my place unannounced and just think I’m going to let you in because you don’t like being ignored?” You crossed your arms over your chest, your eyes zeroing in on the takeout bags in his hands.

“I hope you weren’t going to eat that shit, baby.” Ari scoffs at the idea of you eating dried uncooked noodles, the bag that’s still in your hand. “I bought your favourite.”

“You don’t know my favourite.” You step aside and let him in anyway, closing the door behind him with a soft click.

As he moves further into your apartment, small as it is, he sets the takeout bags on the secondhand coffee table you have, and then he looks back at you. Regardless of you being best friends with Danah since you were children, and the obvious societal differences between you and the Levinson’s, their entire family treated you like you were their own.

“Give me some credit, sweetheart.” His grin, and his eyes, had become more pronounced and brighter respectively. “I know more about you than you think.”

“Why are you here anyway? You have any idea how late it is?” You keep yourself at a distance, watching Ari with thinly veiled interest as he unpacks the food he brought for you, his smirk still present.

“You ignored me.”

“I was working.” You argued your case, and crossed your arms over your chest as he sat down on your couch. Your random Netflix show was still playing in the background, and Ari had moved your iPhone to the coffee table, effortlessly making himself at home.

“You work too hard, princess.” You swore he used pet names more than your birth given name, the affectionate little quips had been something you were accustomed to. “We should talk.”

“About the job you want me to take? Or about the fact that you broke into my apartment—“
“Babe,” Ari’s grin widened, and he laughed huskily, “you let me in. I didn’t break in, besides we’re hardly strangers.”

You were at odds with yourself, knowing that he was right, and you had let him in. And you were irritated with your body’s natural reaction to the smell of the spices that radiated from the takeout container. Ari likely had gotten your favourite, it smelled the same, and it was from the same restaurant that was a favourite with yourself and Danah.

“So you bring food to coerce me?” You inched forward, sitting down on the edge of the couch as tension, both sexual and physical, bubbled between you two.

“You’re not that easy, darling.” Ari had spoken with admiration, and slid a container toward you. “But I thought we could talk in person. After you eat.”

“I was eating—“

“That shit?” Ari scoffed and reached out toward you, pulling the sleeve of your old campus t-shirt up your shoulder. “That’s not food, that’s…”

“Food that needs to be cooked.” You mumbled under your breath and sat cross-legged on the couch, popping the lid off the container, your stomach growling. “Ramen is delicious, by the way.”

Ari handed you a fork, without saying a word to you after your latest protest, and slowly sank back onto the couch cushion. He grabbed his container, setting it on his thick thigh, and then looked at you out the corner of his eyes. His blue irises were breathtaking, another feature of his that had stolen hearts left right and centre, and you’d often been intimated by the colour.

“You look tired.” It was an observation made while he watched you eat, almost like he was proud of himself for taking care of you, albeit momentarily. “You’re going to kill yourself working this hard, love. And then what?”

“Then you’ll have to find someone else to annoy.” You rolled your eyes, barely retaining your ignorance of the way he was looking at you, and the way he was speaking to you.

Danah hated when Ari flirted with you because she was afraid of losing someone who was like her sister, and she was scared that Ari would break your heart.

And you were just stubborn enough to keep yourself emotionally distant from anyone wanting to potentially ask you out or date you. You had to keep yourself focused and pay off the debts that you incurred from student loads, and the debts that fell to you from your parents' medical history.

“I’m serious, sweetheart. I’m not leaving until you hear me out, at least.” Ari had popped the lid off his own takeout container and started eating with you, almost like you were a normal couple.

Almost as if he weren’t your best friends’ older brother, and you weren’t a single emergency away from being broke entirely.

“It’s triple what you would make working both your jobs, you’d get benefits and damn good ones. Medical insurance, three weeks vacation…” Ari reached out toward you, his hand cupping your chin as he turned your head and made you look at him.

“I travel a lot, you would come with me. You could get the hell out of this shit-hole.”

“I like my shit-hole.” You felt your heart fluttering, tension was thickening as a figurative electrical storm was brewing between you. “But if it suits his majesty, I’ll think about it.”

“Good,” his smile, and eyes, softened, “good girl. Finish eating your dinner. I have rugelach for you.”

“From your mother?” You smiled to yourself, halfway done the food he brought for you. “She makes the best rugelach I’ve ever had.”

Ari dropped his hand from your chin, to pull your shirt back up your shoulder. His fingers had lingered for a minute, before he pulled away and reached for your remote. He looked back toward your cheap television and ended the show you had been watching, speaking softly to you.

“I’m putting something else on.”

[residentialsinyomakai]

Obligatory refs + Info of my Yokai Watch Ocs (*＾▽＾*)

Under a cut because there's gonna be a lot of yapping and art stuffs....explodes +□+

Caspian Hernandez || Any Prns || Watcholder

Basics:

The 15 year old 'basically Nate replacement' of this universe!

Lives in Blossom Heights mostly alone, parents are gone pretty often for one reason or another.

In addition, she lives with Baddinyan who is the only reason they're always out of Chocobars

Can see yokai through their glasses (ability can't be deactivated, but he has to focus on yokai for a few seconds in order to actually see/identify them)

Summons them w/ the Yopple-Brand summon band :'] (Customizable! That's why it looks like a disc attached to a Brute Bracer; because it basically is.) Insert disc into a slot in the side!! Whoopie!!!

Not very socially aware due to doing online school up until the age of like 12 (EVIL CAT interactions early on are constantly like 'lol that thing they said actually meant this you dork ahah you fool' 'hush weirdo I'm trying to focus')

((^ i mean in addition to that hes also based on me so like. Neurodivergent canon?? Maybe?? Idk i unintentionslly write characters like me sometimes

A bit goofy and switches moods easily. Some days can be pretty apathetic if she's in a slump.

Gameverse Friend Team of 6: Baddinyan (duh), Badude, Casanuva, Babblong, Tut'n'K'mon, and Rawry

VC: Unbearaboy! from the 'Yo-Kai Watch!' Sub (the blue one in this scene) ((yes I know it's goofy but it's the only clip I could find, skip past the beginning flashback 😭));

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Kerosque || He/Him || Formerly-Alive Yokai

Basics:

Water-Attributed Rank-B yokai of the Tough Tribe

Phrog is about in his upper 40's.

Inspirit; is kinda like when people tend to be kinda cold/curt in the mornings for seemingly no reason.

Runs a ramen stand someplace on the outskirts of Yo-kailafornia. (He's a pretty good chef too)

((He also has little custom pins you can get for free depending on who you are ^u^ a few of his customers/friends tend to.))

Uses his ladle (however you spell it) as a bit of a weapon thing. Comically large goofy ahh 😭

Doesnt go to the human world more often than he needs to. Too much everything

This man HATES stepping foot in downtown he does NOT wanna be there ever-

Kinda perpetually grumpy, resting mildly angry face. He tries to be polite but isn't very talkative at all lol

He does in fact croak. I love frog

Not pictured cause I forgot but like. Has a little swirly stomach pattern

Reoccurring yokai at his stand tend to be: Roughraff, Sick-Kun, Quinn, Ebi, Caspian, Master Oden, and occasionally Bruff.

VC: No clue yet, something along the lines of a higher version of Walrus Captain from A hat In Time, or a less enthusiastic Captain Caviar from Cookie Run? (If you got ideas, feel free!)

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Dread || He/They/Xe || Human-Born Yokai

Basics:

Drain-Attributed Rank-S yokai of the Shady Tribe

Inspirit; kinda similar to intrusive thoughs. Worse case scenario stuff, things that make you think you're an awful person, dreading situations or overthinking anything, etc etc

Is sighted quite a bit around high-schools. Hormones+anxiety+prime place for embarassment? Makes his job too easy

He has low empathy, but isn't completely incapable. Doesn't make a lot of friends and honestly he could care less either way.

Rather flippant, dry humor kinda guy, kinda similar to Jax from tadc for reference

He does have hair under there (i thought thatd be obvious but then again you'd probably also expect him to have skin and a chest/stomach under his hoodie so aifkwod), but it's usually kinda greasy.

Heart is a weak point in battle. If he ever let's it be exposed in the first place, that is

Cannot be seen by Caspian earlier in the story. Around the point I'd expect him to be in most of my drawings, he's at 'watch' Rank-B

Likes to taunt people, the easier to provoke the better. He feeds off of negative reactions and emotions for both entertainment and soul food nom nom

Usually a sad reaction is better than an angry one for him. If he finds someone's emotional weakness he most likely Will Exploit it XnX

While he doesn't care for anyone, he tends to harass Fuwhirl and Negatibuzz the least.

VC: Dont kill me but Raggedy Andy from Raggedy Anne's Musical Adventure

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Swiss || He/Him || Human-Born Yokai

Basics:

Electic-Attributed Rank-C yokai of the Eerie Tribe

Inspirit; is why people (usually kids) are picky eaters. This can look like randomly losing an appetite/ just finding several things repulsive/I'm bald/nuance/ref

Wanders around wherever. Lives in one of the Tranquility Apartments officially tho.

(Fuwhirl lives w him after they reunite <333 long story short they know him)

Has pretty poor eating habits himself tbh

Is edible!! Technically!!! He would not reccomend it (he's cake roll flavored :'])

The swirl in his hair can be dyed different colors.)

Going off of that, he can regenerate. Useful, but kiiiinda painful

He's a bit of an a-hole, and absolutely doesn't know when to shut up. He doesn't like to fight tho surprisingly (°>°)

Sarcastic and quick to snap back at someone =u=

(There's a strange old man he helps with experiments concerning his odd biology....he hasn't been posted yet but he belongs to my friend @sketchdeath22)

VC: lol idk

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Fuwhirl || They/Them || Object-Born Yokai

Basics:

Wind-Attributed Rank-D yokai of the Mysterious Tribe

Inspirit; Makes people dizzy either randomly or after standing up ×□×

Lived at a circus for a while, but eventually it moved out of town. After a bit of aimless wandering they found their way to Blossom Heights 🌸!!!

Kinda stumbles when they walk, it's worse when they're distressed but a bit more easy to navigate when they're happier &u&

Naive, likes to think anyone's nice under the surface +▽+

Is kinda like Tattletell's in the way he had to be latched on to you to be effective. Typically via a backpack

Has one of those build-a-bear hearts inside him!!! Whoopie :)

VC: Uhhh I forgot atm but I will come back and edit lol

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Anyways, that's not including my like 'ocified versions of pre-existing characters' agsgydirofor I love yapping about ocs!!! Wahoo :)

[demon-shark]

Percy got Lost Part 9

12-year-old Percy Jackson tries to leave Camp Half-blood before Mr. D decides whether or not to kill him. Only Percy gets so lost he ends up in a completely different universe where a man in green finds him.

Warning: Graphic Depictions of Violence

[previous] [next]

Everywhere they looked there were statues. Qingqiu could recognize some as monsters from legends he read during his time as a disciple, others he didn’t have a clue, but most of them were people. All were in different poses, different outfits, and with different expressions, but every last one of them was clearly made by a skilled sculptor. A sculptor who was capable of capturing even the tiniest of details. It was actually unnerving how life-like they looked, the itch to grab his sword getting worse. As they walked deeper into the dimly lit warehouse the smell of what had been called food got stronger. Whatever it was it had to be meat based. When Qingqiu looked down at Percy he could tell that his head was completely gone, consumed by his hunger. 

Grover was the only preteen not taken up by the promise of food, his nervous whimpers clear as day in the echoey warehouse. They eventually found a counter with grills, two strange machines, and a clear box with shaped and salted bread hanging inside behind it. In front the counter were a couple iron tables with backless chairs attached to them. As Qingqiu continued to observe this strange room, Aunty Em entered, “Please, sit down,”. Percy didn’t hesitate, a quick, “awesome,” leaving his lips as he ran over to the counter. Grover then reluctantly spoke up, “Um, we don’t have any money, ma’am.” Aunty Em simply looked down at him as she said, “No, no, children. No money. This is a special case, yes? It is my treat.” Qingqiu squinted his eyes in suspicion at that, nothing in life is ever free. 

Annabeth looked up at her and gave a polite “Thank you, ma’am,” which caused Aunty Em to stiffen. She quickly relaxes again and says, “Quite alright, Annabeth. You have such beautiful gray eyes, child,” unknowingly sealing her fate as Qingqiu knew for a fact that, in a rather smart move by the children, no one had given her their names. As he looked over at the hungry kids in his care though he decided to bide his time until after they had eaten. He watched Aunty Em prepare the food carefully, keeping an eye out for anything that might be poisonous. When she carried the food out however he was unable to act as poison tester before Percy started to wolf it down like he had been starved, nearly forgetting to breathe in the process. 

It was when Aunty Em passed behind him however that Qingqiu heard it, the hissing of snakes. He wasn’t the only one either as Grover perked up next to him, “What’s that hissing sound?” Annabeth and Percy however only gave him a look of confusion as Aunty Em asked, “Hissing?” She then gave a slight perk as if coming up with something before saying, “Perhaps you hear the deep-fryer oil. You have keen ears, Grover.” She’s lying. Qingqiu’s hand twitched for his blade, to question the woman about what she was and how she knew their names. To cover up his own non-human status Grover said, “I take vitamins. For my ears.” Qingqiu could hear the fake smile the woman put on as she said, “That’s admirable. But please, relax.” The cultivator couldn’t help but roll his eyes, that was no longer possible with the monster before him and the eyes at his back. 

It wasn’t helped when Aunty Em sat at the other end of the table from him, her fingers laced together as she watched them eat. As a silence fell upon the group and the children ate themselves into being tired, Percy tried to start up small talk, “So, you sell gnomes.” The woman slowly turned to Percy, something that nearly caused Qingqiu to lash out though he wasn’t certain why, “Oh, yes. And animals. And people. Anything for the garden. Custom orders. Statuary is very popular, you know,”. Something about the way she talked about her work set him off, Qingqiu stepping in to remove her gaze from Percy, “You must be rather skilled. Would it be possible for me to see you in action?” The woman twitched ever so slightly, “I’m afraid I prefer to keep it private. Can’t have rivals learning my secrets, now.” Qingqiu’s eyes sharpened, his fan brought up to his face, slowly fanning him, purely out of habit as pushed, “I doubt anyone would be able to capture such skill by watching.” The woman became strained as she said, “You’d be surprised.” 

Sensing the rising tension, Annabeth shook Percy who was about to fall asleep in his seat, “Maybe we should go. I mean, the ringmaster will be waiting”. The action unfortunately got the attention of Aunty Em, “Such beautiful gray eyes. You know, I used to know a woman with such eyes. A bad woman. My, yes, it has been a long time since I’ve seen gray eyes like those.” As she said that, Annabeth’s face dropped and urgency seemed to fill her. She stood up suddenly, dragging a startled Percy along. “We really should go.” Grover quickly stood up as well, but as Qingqiu stared at Percy he noticed something was off. He shouldn’t have let them eat the food. “Please, dears, I so rarely get guests. Before you go, won’t you at least sit for a pose?” The woman pleaded, causing Annabeth to raise an eyebrow, “A pose?” 

“A photograph. I will use it to model a new statue set. Children are so popular you see. Everyone loves children.” Annabeth shifted awkwardly as she tried to politely decline only for Percy to disagree, “It’s just a photo, Annabeth. What’s the harm?” The woman then purred, “Yes, Annabeth, no harm.” Qingqiu then put an end to it, “I’m afraid we have wasted too much time already.” When Percy looked to disagree with him, he gave a sharp look causing the boy to shut his mouth. “That is a shame. Afterall, the faces are the hardest part.” The woman then reached for her face covering, removing it as Annabeth yelled, “Look away from her!” Not trusting Percy to understand in his hypnotized state, Qingqiu blocked the boy’s view, tucking him away as he shut his own eyes. He could hear Annabeth pulling out her hat and putting it on as Grover scurried away blindly running into things as he yelled, “Run!”. 

Grover clicked his heels, which suspiciously sounded like hooves, as he yelled, “Maia!”. Flapping sounds filled the air and Qingqiu could only assume he was in the air as he could no longer hear his footsteps. With his eyes closed and Percy tucked into him, Qingqiu drew Xiu Ya, having to trust his other senses to defeat whatever Aunty Em was. “Such a pity to destroy a handsome young face. Stay with me, Percy. All you have to do is look.” He could feel Percy stiffen beside him causing him to hold the boy tighter to make sure he couldn’t. “The Gray-Eyed One did this to me, Percy. Annabeth’s mother, the cursed Athena, turned me from a beautiful woman into this.” It was then Annabeth’s voice echoed through the warehouse, “Don’t listen to her!” The woman snarled, “Silence!” But as quickly as it had turned monstrous the woman’s voice returned to a comforting purr, “You see why I must destroy the girl, Percy. She is my enemy’s daughter. I shall crush her statue to dust. But you, dear Percy, you need not suffer.” 

Percy gave out a shaky, “No,” clearly trying to fight off the monster’s hypnosis. Qingqiu listened as the woman slowly approached, waiting for her to get into striking range. He couldn’t afford to miss. “Do you really want to help the gods? Do you understand what awaits you on this foolish quest? Do not be a pawn of the Olympians, my dear. You would be better off a statue. Less pain. Less pain.” It was then he heard it, hissing. Qingqiu took a single step forward and in a fluid motion cut off her head. He was about to open his eyes when Annabeth yelled, “Wait! We need to cover her head!” Qingqiu cursed at that; whatever this woman was, she was clearly dangerous if her ability lasted after death. He heard some rustling and was eventually given the all clear from Annabeth.

 “Man, I wish we found you sooner,” Grover grinned as he looked at Qingqiu. Annabeth gave an affirming nod as she adjusted the monster’s head, now safely tucked away in the black cloth she had worn in life. Qingqiu felt strange, good, but strange. People usually hated his presence, especially kids. But here he was with three kids who were happy he was here, happy that he was the one protecting them. He could only hope that their opinions wouldn’t change. Annabeth then turned to Percy, her voice trembling as she asked, “Are you okay?” Percy breathed for a moment before answering, “Yeah.” He then focused on the head tucked under her arm, “Why didn’t… why didn’t the head evaporate?”. Qingqiu focused on the head as well, his thoughts returning to the furies. Monsters were supposed to turn to golden dust here, but the head remained. “Once you sever it, it becomes spoils of war. Same as the minotaur horn you’ve been carrying. But don’t unwrap the head, it can still petrify you.” After she said that Qingqiu sheathed his sword. 

Spoils of war… What a dark thought.

[notedchampagne]

🚨 abdallah aleashi 'aeish fi shamal qitae ghazat🚨

'ana waeayilati nueani waeayilati min aljue waleatash walnuzuh almustamiri

laqad 'ansha'at hadha alhisab litalab musaeadatikum fi hadhih almihnat alsaebat bialtabarue litalbiat alaihtiajat aldaruriati, hayth kunaa naetamid ealaa almusaeadat alaijtimaeiat qabl alharba.

hadafi hu musaeadat eayilati ealaa aleaysh bi'aman watawfir aldaruriaat allaazimat lileaysh hayth 'ana hunak ghala' almaeishat wasueubat alhusul ealaa aldaruriaat natlub musaeadatakum fi mughadarat qitae ghazat li'iinqadh hayaat eayilati

laqad marat sanat mundh 'an qalabat alharb hayaatana rasaan ealaa eaqaba. walyawm najid 'anfusana eajizin fi manzil hayil lisuqut la tuafir lana maljaan min albard alqaris 'aw almatar aladhi la yahda'a. 'atfalana aladhin yanbaghi 'an yaerifuu aldif' wal'aman yarqudun ealaa 'ard baridat waratbatin, waqulubina muthqalatan bialkhawf ealaa salamitihim.

raja' tabaraeuu limusaeadat eayilati lilkhuruj min ghazat 🙏🙏https://www.gofundme.com/f/help-me-and-my-family-during-the-gaza-war-crisis?utm_source=copy_link&utm_medium=customer&utm_campaign=man_sharesheet_dash&attribution_id=sl%3Ac3b04ea3-6729-416c-961c-54f72c82dc1a

not vetted yet but here is the translation:

My name is Abdul Ashi, since October 7, 2023, we have been suffering from a brutal war that has destroyed our dreams and hopes, and has gone beyond the limits of human comprehension. During this brutal war, we have endured hardships that mountains cannot bear. We are facing severe water shortages and severe food and nutrition shortages due to the blockade in northern Gaza for a year, which has prevented basic supplies such as meat, vegetables and fruits from entering. This situation has forced us to eat animal feed, which has led to weight loss, various diseases and a significant weakening of our immune systems. We are also suffering from severe water shortages, often walking for about a kilometer to get one gallon of water, which is about 16 liters, barely enough for seven members of the family. We have also suffered from repeated displacement and moving from one place to another and from one area to another due to the horrific and brutal bombing. In addition, we have been deprived of education and the opportunity to build a future. I was studying to become a doctor to help people, but fate did not allow it as my university, which I dreamed of studying in, was destroyed. During this war, thoughts overwhelmed me - how will I build my future? How will I continue my studies? We also suffer from fear and terror due to the bombing, fire belts and explosives. Hospitals, which are the lifeline for every patient and needy person, have been destroyed. We face a shortage of medicines and vaccines while diseases increase and destroy us, with no solution in sight as there are no hospitals or medical supplies available here in Gaza. We live in constant fear for my younger siblings because they have not received their general vaccinations, especially after the widespread spread of polio due to the lack of cleaning materials and the large accumulation of waste in the streets. Sewage also floods the streets, posing a great danger to our children. I suffered from severe illness, and I fought it for about two weeks with fatigue, dizziness and other symptoms. It is a deadly disease, and as I mentioned before, there is no cure for it due to the destruction of hospitals and health centers. We also suffer from a lack of cooking gas, which forces us to use wood and plastic to light fires, which can lead to poisoning. We have been without electricity since October 7th, spending days in the dark, which is very frightening for my younger siblings. This has made it very difficult to charge our phones and batteries for lighting at night. We had to travel kilometers from our home to find places with electricity, which resulted in high costs to charge our phones and batteries. In addition, we have not had a steady income since the beginning of the war. I am asking you to help my family so that we can live a better life.

donate here

[dee-in-the-box]

i keep thinking about my Dsaf and Fnaf crossover. specifically, in regards to Charlotte Emily and how she’d react to the Dsaf cast.

like, my version of her has been through some shit. a Lot of shit.

she was murdered on her twelfth birthday by a man she considered her uncle. she was left in an alley, dying alone. she was forced to watch her friends die and not be able to do Anything to save them. she spent decades just trying to find a way to free them all and put them to rest.

she's gone through so much.

and i think that'd make her interactions with the Dsaf Cast very interesting:

i feel like she'd try and comfort Dee to the best of her ability. she knows, from experience, how horrible of a job that it is to basically be the guardian of the souls. mix that in with the fact that Dee is basically half her age...it saddens her, makes her concerned for what this poor child has been forced to witness. add onto to that, the fact that Charlie's only had to do that for eleven children, while Dee's been forced to do this for dozens upon dozens...what on Earth has this six-year-old witnessed?

she sees Jack doing what she's also been tasked with: save the souls, put them to rest. she sees a man with a tired look in his eyes, reminding her of Michael, and she can't help but feel sympathy for him. from what she saw with Dee...it seems the universe they came from was rather hectic. maybe she'd give him encouragement. she's seen an older brother, desperate to fix his mistakes and free his siblings, even if it would cost him his own life in the end. this is hard work, after all. she would know.

i feel like she'd get along with Dave. she sees a version of Uncle Will who was willing to fix his mistakes, like, legitimately trying. she's always sensed William's regret, but he'd never admit it. he'd rather have Cassidy kill him over and over than admit that he'd done anything wrong. it's almost...refreshing, in a sense, to see some version of him willing to fix things. she'd be a bit wary, obviously...but he's got...okay-ish vibes.

Henry, however, she despises with a passion. a man who shares her father's name, who's committed utter atrocities, slaughtering more people than William could've ever dreamed to. she'd either flat out refuse to even speak to him, or she'd attempt to kill him where he stands. because, fuck, even William had his restraints! he knew when to stop. he, at some point, knew that he had to stop killing kids. sure, after becoming Springtrap, he had much fewer Murder Restraints, but even then he could hold himself back. Henry Miller?

her main question is, if he even had restraints to begin with, when did he lose them? 'cause they clearly vanished at some point.

Peter, i think, she'd let him vent. she understands.

she understands what it's like to beat yourself up over not being able to save your loved ones.

everyone else, i'm not too sure of. i think she'd see some of Cassidy in Blackjack. she'd hear about Blackjack dragging Henry to the Void and immediately think about Cassidy. given. y'know. They Dragged William Into Ultimate Custom Night Hell™.

i just like thinking about how (my versions of) the Fnaf Main Cast would react to the Dsaf Main Cast.

Charlie My Beloved <3

(another fun fact that's gonna be angsty as hell: Marionn, my version of the Fnaf Puppet, was basically built to be Charlie's Robot. she had a Big hand in their creation. she loved it. Dee's Puppet, however, as we know, was built to contain her soul, because henry didn't want to deal with the Consequences Of His Actions (Dee causing chaos because of her murder). do you think she'd be jealous? that Charlie's robot vessel was originally built with love in mind, while hers was built only to trap her further? just some fun food for thought for y'all :))

[milfstalin]

@chexcastro just wanted to add my thoughts to that ask on assimilated ethnic groups in turkey and their potential wellbeing under a dotp:

we can examine an example of that actually in practice with a ethnic minority that was highly assimilated into the majority (though, the history is obviously not 1 to 1 with turkey's, especially considering the role that the qing dynasty played in china's history + the japanese imperialist manchukuo puppet state)

12ft unpaywalled link

this was published in 2013. ignoring like, the typical anti-communist tropes, monarchist RETVRNism and other weird shit in the article

A few universities have revived the study of the nearly extinct Manchu language, which is more like Mongolian than Chinese. There are culture seminars to study the dance, food and music of Manchuria, even Internet forums. Many people have also begun using their Manchu family names, even if few are legally registered like little Yehenala Yiyi.

Not all Manchus can trace their lineage to emperors, but many have ties to the former imperial bureaucracy. (In fact, a large number of descendants found jobs in the civil service or in state-owned companies, many joining the Communist Party.) In far western China, near the Kazakhstan border, descendants of a garrison of Qing soldiers still speak a dialect of Manchu, among the few native speakers left in China.

Unlike some other Chinese minorities, Manchus are not exempt from China’s limits on family size, although they do get preferential treatment on college entrance exams as part of an affirmative action program for minorities.

actually one of my parents had the option to fill in that ethnic classification and boost their score on the gaokao, but they chose not to bc they didnt identify with it

Courses in the Manchu language are now offered at Ethnic Minorities University in Beijing and at other schools around China. Because the Manchus have no separatist aspirations, they are considered a model minority by the Communist Party, and the government has encouraged some elementary schools in northeastern China, the heartland of old Manchuria, to offer the language so it doesn’t die out.

lmao

Nowadays, fewer than 100 people are believed to be native speakers of Manchu, the largest cluster of them in a single isolated village, Sanjiazi, in northeastern China.

“Only the old people can really speak the language,” said Shi Junguang, a part-time Manchu-language teacher who learned from his grandmother and has about 70 students.

So few people can read Manchu that many Qing Dynasty documents have gone untranslated, scholars say.

Despite their enthusiasm for Manchu culture, little Yiyi’s family has not gone so far as to study the language.

“It is not very useful,” grandfather Ye Longpei said sadly. “Without language there is no ethnicity … which is why our ethnicity will probably die.”

weird thing to say tbh. the cpc doesn't categorize ethnic groups just based off of language alone, that's just one data point of many it used to make those decisions for recognition- they also consider lifeways & location & customs/traditions

+ from wikipedia:

In 1952, after the failure of both Manchukuo and the Nationalist Government (KMT), the newborn People's Republic of China officially recognized the Manchu as one of the ethnic minorities as Mao Zedong had criticized the Han chauvinism that dominated the KMT.[128]: 277  In the 1953 census, 2.5 million people identified themselves as Manchu.[128]: 276  The Communist government also attempted to improve the treatment of Manchu people; some Manchu people who had hidden their ancestry during the period of KMT rule became willing to reveal their ancestry, such as the writer Lao She, who began to include Manchu characters in his fictional works in the 1950s.[128]: 280  Between 1982 and 1990, the official count of Manchu people more than doubled from 4,299,159 to 9,821,180, making them China's fastest-growing ethnic minority,[128]: 282  but this growth was only on paper, as this was due to people formerly registered as Han applying for official recognition as Manchu.[128]: 283  Since the 1980s, thirteen Manchu autonomous counties have been created in Liaoning, Jilin, Hebei, and Heilongjiang.[137]

Since the 1980s, the reform after Cultural Revolution, there has been a renaissance of Manchu culture and language among the government, scholars and social activities with remarkable achievements.[11]: 209, 215, 218–228  It was also reported that the resurgence of interest also spread among Han Chinese.[141] In modern China, Manchu culture and language preservation is promoted by the Chinese Communist Party, and Manchus once again form one of the most socioeconomically advanced minorities within China.[142] Manchus generally face little to no discrimination in their daily lives, there is however, a remaining anti-Manchu sentiment amongst Han nationalist conspiracy theorists. It is particularly common with participants of the Hanfu movement who subscribe to conspiracy theories about Manchu people, such as the Chinese Communist Party being occupied by Manchu elites hence the better treatment Manchus receive under the People's Republic of China in contrast to their persecution under the KMT's Republic of China rule.[143]

if i may theorize: the general uplifting of people from poverty as well as the campaigns to raise literacy and improve peoples' health and keep them fed as well as actively attacking majority chauvinism, on both the base and superstructural level and encouraging ethnic cultural development, coupled as one whole, may indeed lead to de-assimilation or a revival of ethnically cleansed or assimilated minority groups

[wheretheharekissesthefox]

The hand that feeds is the hand that's loved

Chapter 1: Snack-A-Doodle

Astarion's an aspiring lawyer, who's running from his past and suffers from a long list of food allergies. Gale's a former culinary prodigy, who's going through a nasty divorce and suffers from cooking fatigue. They meet in the snack aisle.

Trigger Waring (18+): Alternate Universe: Modern Setting, No Magic, No Vampire, No Wizard, Lawyer Astarion, Cook Gale, Astarion Has Food Allergies, Gale Is Depressed, Astarion Everything Is A Transaction Ancunin, Tara Is Not A Cat, Morena Dekarios Supremacy, Old Women Yuri, Elminster Is The Weird Uncle, Mystra Is Faerûn's Gordon Ramsay But A Proper Bitch, Cazador Is A Piece Of Shit, Cheesy Food Puns, Unnecessary Cooking And Food Details, This Is Basically A Culinary Show, Author Constantly Thinks About Food, Food As A Love Language, POV Astarion, POV Gale, Angst, Emotional Rollercoaster, Feelings, Overthinking, PTSD, Dissociation, Past Domestic Abuse, Past Non-Con/Rape, Attempted Murder, Satanic Cult, Slow Burn (but not too slow), Eventual Smut, Unsafe Sex, Unhealthy Coping Mechanism, Anal Sex, Blow Job/Fellatio, Fingering, Hand Job, Rimming

Read on AO3

The GlutMart was as uncomfortable as ever. Its linoleum covered floor was squeaky and sticky, the fluorescent lights hurt the eyes, and the weird ambience music sounded like straight out of a bad mushroom trip.

Gale pushed the shopping cart along. He knew he looked exactly like the mess he felt; greasy hair in a messy bun, beard unkempt, dressed in the same shirt and sweatpants he'd worn for the past three days. Over the past five months, he'd let himself go, but, for the first time in a long time, he didn't care what people thought about his appearance. He'd fallen from grace anyway. Gale sighed again, staring at the snack section. His wife – well, ex-wife to be precise – had always berated him whenever he'd opened a bag of chips, reminding him of the empty calories and that he had an image to uphold. Gale snorted at the thought. Gale Dekarios, the culinary prodigy of Faerûn. Gale Dekarios, the youngest chef at WEAVE, the fancy, luxurious restaurant chain owned by none other than his mentor, boss, and wife (ex-wife) Mystra Weave. A promising, aspiring star cook indeed – until his folly had fucked up everything. With another sigh, Gale rubbed his chest, wincing as he felt the still tender scars beneath his shirt. He'd been so stupid. So cocky. He hated himself.

"Oh, bloody hell! You fuckers, how dare you? I'll sue your arses!" cursed another customer, slamming down the bag of wasabi-flavoured pea snacks he'd been holding. When Gale turned, his breath caught in his throat. The other man was the most beautiful person he'd ever seen. All sharp angles, long limbs, silver curls, and grey eyes. That angry stare was fixed on him now.

"Are you done gloating?" the stranger snapped at him.

"Apologies. I wasn't gloating though, merely wondering what those poor, rather delicate chips did to deserve your wrath," Gale replied truthfully. For some reason, the other man seemed taken aback, blinking at him wordlessly. Gale waited patiently for an answer.

"Well, if you must know, darling, they changed the ingredients of my favourite snack. Now, it contains milk powder and I can't it them anymore." The man sighed, running a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated. "Another thing gone from my dwindling list of foods that won't kill me."

That caught the cook's attention.

"You have food allergies?"

"Mhm. An entire cornucopia full, actually."

The stranger had clearly tried to crack a joke, shooting a small, bitter smile in Gale's direction. The latter's heart sped up in excitement.

"I can cook! I mean, I know a fair bit about allergies and can work around them." Oh, God, he was babbling. Gale's cheeks burned with embarrassment, but he couldn't shut up. "If you tell me your allergies, I could come up with some meal ideas for you."

"Is that so?" The stranger raised an eyebrow, more amused than annoyed by Gale's definite breach of privacy. "Well..." He leaned closer, conspiratorially. "You'd be my first."

Gale shuddered as the other man's hot breath caressed the shell of his ear, and his senses were filled with the smell of bergamot, rosemary, and brandy. Lovely combination. As a reduced sauce, it would go well with a steak, lamb chop, or braised chicken...

"You're rather cute, you know?" the stranger purred, gently tucking a loose, greasy strand of hair behind Gale's ear. "You don't seem like a crazy, satanic murderer."

"I'm certainly not! I'm a chef," Gale blurted out, and immediately felt the desire to slap himself across the face. That damnable mouth of his! Why couldn't he just shut up like normal people? God, hopefully, the stranger didn't recognised him from the Mycoid Kitchen Show, the other TV appearances, or the many newspaper articles. Gale prayed that the new beard helped conceal his identity.

"Really? So, why does a grand chef like you do his shopping in such an undignified place?" the stranger asked.

"I'm unemployed and broke."

Smooth, Dekarios. Very smooth.

"And a honest man, it seems," chuckled the stranger, and Gale sighed.

"Yeah, well... What am I to do when my ex-wife's hell-bent on destroying my life during the divorce?"

"She sounds like a nasty piece of shit."

"She - she is. I guess."

They stood there in uncomfortable silence for a moment. Then, the stranger pulled a business card from his wallet and held it out towards Gale.

"Here. If you'd like to return your ex-wife's favour regarding destroying your life, I'd volunteer to help. After all, it's my specialty."

"Th-thank you," stammered Gale, accepting the business card with clammy fingers.

"You're welcome, darling," grinned the stranger. "I live for petty drama." With an elegant little twirl, he turned around. "Don't be shy, darling, and call me."

Gale stared as the most beautiful man in Faerûn sauntered away. In disbelief, he looked down at the business card.

Astarion Ancunín, Lawyer at ‘11 Attorneys LLP’.

Licking his dry lips, Gale stowed it away safely for later. Maybe, it wasn't a bad idea to call, he thought. At least, he'd see the other man again.

Gale Dekarios: What do you think?

Wyll Ravengard: I say go for it! I told you you need a better lawyer. Wulbren Bongle's nice and all, but he seems to have no backbone. The cheapest isn't always the best option.

Gale Dekarios: I'm aware, but I'm worried about the payment. Astarion seems so posh, I fear hiring him will be more expensive than I can afford.

Wyll Ravengard: Haven't Rena & Tara offered to help you out financially?

Gale Dekarios: Of course, they have, but I can't ask my mothers for money! They already do so much for me! I don't want to burden them even more and worry them unnecessarily.

Wyll Ravengard: Gale, mate, they're your mums, they always worry. Just swallow your pride and ask them, tell them about that beautiful stranger you met in the snack aisle ;)

Gale Dekarios: Very funny, Wyll.

Wyll Ravengard: I'm a born comedian.

Gale Dekarios: XD

Gale Dekarios: I guess you'll be home tomorrow too?

Wyll Ravengard: Of course! I'll never pass up Rena's cooking and Tara's home-brewed wine. Plus, there's no better place than home, am I right?

Gale Dekarios: Truer words have never been spoken. Will Karlach join too?

Wyll Ravengard: No, she has to work at the club. Bouncers are especially busy on Friday nights, you know?

Gale Dekarios: Right. Sorry I asked. See you tomorrow <3

Wyll Ravengard: Yup. See you <3

Gale's childhood home was located at the edge of town, right next to the forest. The little red brick house was covered in climbing roses and vine tendrils, the garden lush with herbs, vegetables, berries, and fruit trees. A little patch of heaven on earth. Gale couldn't help but smile when he walked across the front yard and rang the doorbell. It was immediately opened by a tall woman with a wild mane of orange, brown, black, and grey hair and sharp, amber eyes.

"Gale!" she chirped, pulling him into a passionate hug. "Hello, little love!"

"Hello, Tara," muttered the addressed and buried his face in her knitted cardigan. She smelled like patchouli and orange.

"How are you? Ugh, what a stupid question. Oh, you look awful! So tired and sad and that beard, ugh! Come in, little love, we missed you. Let us take care of you."

"Thanks. I missed you too," mumbled Gale, suddenly scarily close to tears. He truly had missed his mothers. A sudden wave of shame crashed over him. After returning from the hospital, he'd made himself scarce and barely spoken to his family. Instead, he'd wallowed in self-pity and lived off instant cup noodles and ice cream. It was equally a blessing and a curse that both his mothers were forces of nature and had bullied their ways into Gale's self-inflicted solitude to talk some sense into him and bring him home-cooked meals. He felt like he hadn't appreciated it enough.

"Gale!" Morena – a short, curvy, greyed woman, with a shocking resemblance to her son – speed-walked over from the kitchen to throw herself around his neck. She smelled of lavender and water lilies. "Oh, I missed you, my dear."

"I missed you too, mum," whispered Gale, kissing her cheek. She smiled at him, gently scratching his beard.

"Come on, the risotto's almost done."

With a nod, Gale followed her, crossing the living room.

"Hello, my boy!"

Gale's head whipped around at the sound of the familiar, raspy voice. His uncle, Elminster, was dressed in nothing but a dark red silk robe and plush black slippers in the shape of cat heads. His long, grey hair and beard were braided and decorated with little star-shaped silver beads that jingled with every movement. Now, the seventy-year-old got up from the ugly, orange wing chair to pull his nephew into a crushing hug. The all-too-familiar smell of cheese and the herbal odour of antirheumatic ointment hit the cook's nose.

"It's good to see you," he exclaimed, patting Gale's back.

"Likewise," wheezed Gale, wincing at the intensity of the hug.

Elminster Aumar was an unusual man, well-known for his eccentric, but homely cooking. Before its bankruptcy, his fast food chain Elminster's Tower had been famous in North Faerûn and praised for its surprisingly high-quality menu. His rosemary French fries, double-crispy, air-fried chicken drumsticks, and mulled apple juice had been legendary. Unfortunately, the extra costs of said food quality had led to the ruin, forcing Elminster to sell his beloved restaurants to – you guessed it – rising VIP chef Mystra Weave. In his financial despair – and thanks to Mystra's charm – Elminster had made the biggest mistake of his life: he'd sold the rights to his recipes to her. Now, neither he nor anyone else was allowed to cook and/or sell his creations anymore without being sued into oblivion. Elminster had realised his mistake too late and was still beating himself up over the fact that he'd given the rights to Mystra instead of his nephew. The follies of desperate men... Gale was too familiar with it now, and didn't hold a grudge against his uncle anymore.

Lost in thought, Gale set the table while Morena was stirring the asparagus risotto one last time, and Elminster sneakily tried to steal some of it. Morena hissed at her older brother like scolding a pet and whacked his fingers with the wooden spoon.

"Ouch! Feisty witch!" Chuckling, Elminster massaged his rheumatic hand.

"Let our witch cook, El. You can show off your wizardry next time," teased Tara as she handed him the preheated plates.

"Alright, alright," huffed the man, still visibly amused.

The three of them obviously had the time of their lives. Gale envied them a bit. How these 60+ seniors had kept their eccentric sparks and childlike joy was a mystery to him. He already felt drained and tired at thirty-five. His mothers would probably blame it on Mystra - and they were probably right. She had taken so much from him without giving him anything in return except heartbreak and grief.

Thankfully, Wyll chose exactly this moment to let himself in with his spare key and greet everyone in his jovial way. The son of politician Ulder Ravengard was a childhood friend of Gale's. He and his mother, Francesca, had moved in next door after the divorce, and the boys had become fast friends. In their teens, they'd fooled around with each other, exploring their queerness together, but they'd realised that their relationship worked better when it was platonic instead of romantic, so, that was that. When Wyll's mother had died of breast cancer when he'd been eighteen, Morena and Tara had basically adopted him, and he'd lived with them until moving in with his girlfriend, Karlach, a few years ago.

"It's good to see you," Wyll smiled as he hugged Gale.

They sat down at the cosy, round wooden table and dined while making light conversation. Gale had missed this: the cosiness, the care, the love.

"Did Gale tell you already about the attractive lawyer he met at the grocery store?" Wyll smirked, knowing full well that Gale hadn't. The brunet glared at him across the table. Wyll had the audacity to wink.

"Now, that's a story worth telling," proclaimed Tara, leaning forward nosily. Gale wriggled about on his chair.

"We accidentally ran into each other in the snack aisle at GlutMart, and we started a conversation because of his food allergies. I let slip about the divorce and he offered his help. I'm still not sure about it though."

"Do you have his contacts?" Morena asked and Gale nodded.

"Yes. He works for 11 Attorneys LLP."

Elminster whistled impressed.

"Isn't that Jaheira Harper's law firm?" he chimed in. "That woman's a legend. I still regret not asking her for help back when – Ah, you know."

Gale nodded.

"Sounds properly posh. Maybe, that's exactly what you need," Wyll remarked, helpful as ever. "Expensive though…"

Morena and Tara immediately got the point.

"You know we'll help you out, right, dear?" Morena told Gale. "We'll help you through this mess, and if that lawyer can make Mystra sweat, then, I gladly pay him extra."

"Exactly." Tara's eyes glinted. "I want to see that snake burn in purgatory. Nobody treats my little love like dirt!"

With an affirmative hum, Morena patted her partner's hand.

"I - Would you really not mind?" asked Gale, abashed. "I don't want to be a burden. You already did so much for me."

"Oh, stop it! You’re not a burden, you're our son!" his mother interrupted him briskly. "What else is family for, hm?"

Gale sighed a breath of relief and he felt much lighter than before.

"Thank you," he muttered. "I already owe you so much, mum. Thank you for not giving up on me despite my many, many failures. I know I'm a disappointment."

"Stop it!" hissed Morena, riled up.

"None of that," tut-tutted Tara.

"Don't be so harsh on yourself, my boy," said Elminster.

And Gale burst into tears. Everyone cooed at him, covering him in kisses and wrapping him into loving hugs until he could stop crying. Then, Morena vanished into the kitchen and presented them with her infamous strawberry shortcake. After two thick slices, Gale finally felt like himself again. With a satisfied sigh, he leaned back in the chair, unzipping his trousers to give his full belly some room.

"I missed home-cooked meals."

Oops! Inner voice, Dekarios, inner voice.

"Gale..." Tara squinted at him.

Oh-oh. Abort, abort!

"When was the last time you actually cooked?"

Gale squirmed under her stern look.

"The night of the accident."

"Selûne, have mercy on me!" sighed his quasi mother, pinching the bridge of her nose. "That backstabber better never cross my path again, or I'll commit a felony."

"Now, now, no irrational actions, deary," Morena told her, patting her wife's shoulder. "If you commit a murder, at least let me be your partner in crime."

That had Tara snorting in amusement, and she turned to give Morena a quick kiss.

"You're still as crazy as ever, love."

"Runs in the family," replied Morena cheekily and booped Tara's nose. Gale couldn't help but smile. They were so in love – for twenty-five years now. Gale wished for a love like this in his life. But, until then, he had to settle for the love of his family.

They spent all night chatting and drinking until they fell into bed at three in the morning. Tipsy, Gale crashed onto the guest bed, spooning up on Wyll, who complained drunkenly about Gale's excessive body heat, but didn't move an inch. Giggling, the brunet fumbled for his phone and typed out a message before passing out.

Hello Astarion, it's Gale from the snack aisle at GlutMart. I thought about your offer and I came to the conclusion that your help's exactly what I need. You're like a beautiful guardian angel. Please help me not lose all the rights to my culinary creations to my wife. I'm so tired of being her punching bag. Call me any time. Sincerely, Gale Dekarios

[fictionkinfessions]

🚨 abdallah aleashi 'aeish fi shamal qitae ghazat🚨

'ana waeayilati nueani waeayilati min aljue waleatash walnuzuh almustamiri

laqad 'ansha'at hadha alhisab litalab musaeadatikum fi hadhih almihnat alsaebat bialtabarue litalbiat alaihtiajat aldaruriati, hayth kunaa naetamid ealaa almusaeadat alaijtimaeiat qabl alharba.

hadafi hu musaeadat eayilati ealaa aleaysh bi'aman watawfir aldaruriaat allaazimat lileaysh hayth 'ana hunak ghala' almaeishat wasueubat alhusul ealaa aldaruriaat natlub musaeadatakum fi mughadarat qitae ghazat li'iinqadh hayaat eayilati

laqad marat sanat mundh 'an qalabat alharb hayaatana rasaan ealaa eaqaba. walyawm najid 'anfusana eajizin fi manzil hayil lisuqut la tuafir lana maljaan min albard alqaris 'aw almatar aladhi la yahda'a. 'atfalana aladhin yanbaghi 'an yaerifuu aldif' wal'aman yarqudun ealaa 'ard baridat waratbatin, waqulubina muthqalatan bialkhawf ealaa salamitihim.

raja' tabaraeuu limusaeadat eayilati lilkhuruj min ghazat 🙏🙏https://www.gofundme.com/f/help-me-and-my-family-during-the-gaza-war-crisis?utm_source=copy_link&utm_medium=customer&utm_campaign=man_sharesheet_dash&attribution_id=sl%3Ac3b04ea3-6729-416c-961c-54f72c82dc1a

My name is Abdul Ashi, since October 7, 2023, we have been suffering from a brutal war that has destroyed our dreams and hopes, and has gone beyond the limits of human comprehension. During this brutal war, we have endured hardships that mountains cannot bear. We are facing severe water shortages and severe food and nutrition shortages due to the blockade in northern Gaza for a year, which has prevented basic supplies such as meat, vegetables and fruits from entering. This situation has forced us to eat animal feed, which has led to weight loss, various diseases and a significant weakening of our immune systems.

We are also suffering from severe water shortages, often walking for about a kilometer to get one gallon of water, which is about 16 liters, barely enough for seven members of the family. We have also suffered from repeated displacement and moving from one place to another and from one area to another due to the horrific and brutal bombing.

In addition, we have been deprived of education and the opportunity to build a future. I was studying to become a doctor to help people, but fate did not allow it as my university, which I dreamed of studying in, was destroyed. During this war, thoughts overwhelmed me - how will I build my future? How will I continue my studies?

We also suffer from fear and terror due to the bombing, fire belts and explosives. Hospitals, which are the lifeline for every patient and needy person, have been destroyed. We face a shortage of medicines and vaccines while diseases increase and destroy us, with no solution in sight as there are no hospitals or medical supplies available here in Gaza. We live in constant fear for my younger siblings because they have not received their general vaccinations, especially after the widespread spread of polio due to the lack of cleaning materials and the large accumulation of waste in the streets. Sewage also floods the streets, posing a great danger to our children. I suffered from severe illness, and I fought it for about two weeks with fatigue, dizziness and other symptoms. It is a deadly disease, and as I mentioned before, there is no cure for it due to the destruction of hospitals and health centers.

We also suffer from a lack of cooking gas, which forces us to use wood and plastic to light fires, which can lead to poisoning. We have been without electricity since October 7th, spending days in the dark, which is very frightening for my younger siblings. This has made it very difficult to charge our phones and batteries for lighting at night. We had to travel kilometers from our home to find places with electricity, which resulted in high costs to charge our phones and batteries.

In addition, we have not had a steady income since the beginning of the war.

I am asking you to help my family so that we can live a better life.

x https://gofund.me/3b1c7753

[theambivalentagender]

Okay with that whole "Never had a sleepover" thing in VECU (Valley Echos Cinematic Universe) I have also never had a sleepover where I wasn't just totally miserable so I want you to know that I'm living vicariously through Shane and Zeke.

Also, I feel like we know almost nothing about Zeke. Like, what's their favorite color? Favorite animal? Favorite food? Least favorite food? I'm invested now and I want to know everything.

I'm practically begging you to infodump.

Oh! Well, some of this stuff I've gone over, some of this stuff I've hinted to, and some I'll see if I can say without too many spoilers:

- Zeke's favorite color is green. They like viridian/teal colors for themselves but always found themselves particularly drawn to a certain eye shade...

- Zeke's favorite animal is pigs. They just haven't been able to afford them yet.

- Favorite foods include strawberries and honey. Least favorite include the damn pepper poppers Shane sent them in the mail that nearly killed them. They have a stupidly low spice tolerance.

- Their father's name was Finn Kelley. Their grandfather was Phelan Kelley, the one who founded the farm. They also have/had an uncle named Collin Kelley who went missing not long after their father died. Collin was a legendary marketing genius for Joja Corp - think like how some corporate people used to talk about Steve Jobs.

- Zeke's grandfather knew Shane's.

- Zeke was raised in an extremely strict abusive household after their father died. After escaping it at 17 they got a bit wild with doing questionable legal things. Their first attempt at getting on some kind of track in their life was using their uncle's name to get a job at Joja Corp.

- Zeke was a web content and SEO specialist at Joja Corp. They also handled customer service chats because Joja Corp decided literally anyone who was lower ranked than a senior manager at the company also had to do customer service/sales "so the customers could truly get to know Joja as a family" aka to squeeze sales in as many parts of the pipeline as possible. No I'm not putting this in their background from my own bitter personal experience why do you as-

- Zeke was the kind of kid who made dirt potions and ate random plants. Even at a young age they were already trying to explore different names because of Gender Feelings they wouldn't understand for a few years yet.

- Zeke's favorite movie, Chrono Pirates, is based on Time Bandits.

- Zeke has adhd and takes medication for it. Zeke takes their medication with energy drinks. Don't be like Zeke.

- Zeke has had more relationship experience with women than men, and by that I mean they've had two semi long term girlfriends and one very casual boyfriend who lasted a month before Zeke ghosted him to go live in Pelican Town. I'm not sure if I'm gonna have that ever come up as a thing in the comic.

- Zeke never was the type to sleep around, not because they didn't want to, but they have a very hard time approaching people and picking up on flirtation

- Zeke is 5'11" to Shane's 5'7" (eh, let's be real, 5'6.7ish)

- While Zeke has 0 spice tolerance they can and do eat raw lemons