#did you know that ephraim

[shiranaia]

Keep out. 🐅

[algae-tm]

KILL BILL P.6

Charles Leclerc x famous singer! reader

Warnings : morally grey reader, toxic exes

Author’s note : There are so many x readers where the reader doesn’t do anything wrong, which I love don’t get me wrong but I wanted to write one where she’s a bit flawed. And obvs I cannot hate her cause she’s just in love and this is lossely (very loosely) based around real life events y’all so I get it! And also I love Alex 😭 I was gunna make her the villain but I literally can’t! So this is going a bit of a diff direction, in terms of ending. - Algae 🌱

•••••

INSTAGRAM

y/bff/n

liked by lewishamilton, oscarpiastri and 678,798 others

y/bff/n : talking about boys over brunch? (tagged : yourusername)

yourusername : feels like I’m 18 again

— user3 : holdup when did y/n and Charles get together?

— user4 : she was 18 and he was 19/20…

— user5 : lmao that’s why he’s got her wrapped round his finger… poor baby hasn’t known any better

— user7 : not you guys acting like Charles groomed her be so serious! they have a 1 and a half year age gap touch grass.

— user9 : you can’t argue with people like this, they’re so chronically online!

— user4 : so how did they meet?

— user19 : google is free!

— user6 : her and Lewis did a fashion campaign when she was 16, and he sort of took her under his wing, cause I think her parents were a bit... I believe she then met Charles when she came to watch a race and watched the f2 race as well.

user1 : y/n telling you about how she’s a slut?

— y/bff/n : only ever having been with 1 man equals slut?

— user1 : going after a man with a girlfriend surely does.

lewishamilton : we love to see it

— y/bff/n : we sure do 😍

— yourusername : not you guys acting like I was dead in a ditch…

— y/bff/n : you were in man purgatory, it’s basically the same thing.

user11 : does Oscar know y/bff/n?

— user12 : No why?

— user11 : cause bros lurking in the comments

— user1 : lmao you think the skank’s gunna go for him next? (user1 has been blocked)

— user13 : @oscarpiatri trust you do not know how to handle @yourusename

— user11: poor baby she’d eat him alive

user13 : oh to be a fly on the wall for the Charles convo

user14 : trust it was hours long

INSTAGRAM

yourusername

liked by lewishamilton, danielricciardo, carlossainz55 and 10,987,843 others

yourusername : boys are awful and grotesque. i had to decompress on an island to get the crazy out of my brain. it’s a good thing mics are portable. Thank you Ephraim! My concierge for finding me a keyboard so I could get you guys this song that entered my brain almost two weeks ago and refused to leave. It’s a good teaser for my album, which is out in TWO days. so without further ado hope y’all like The Weekend!! if you don’t like it I’ll cry.

lewishamilton : oh this gives context to the unhinged messages you sent me at 1 am

— yourusername : I’m an artist, it’s my creative process

— lewishamilton : well this is way more constructive than turning up in Monaco

— user5 : oop- not you clocked by Lewis Hamilton of all people

— user7 : well I’m happy that Lewis doesn’t condone the behaviour of a slag

— user8 : lmao even her friends are getting tired of her

— user9 I think y’all are forgetting that they were together for six years, it was y/n’s first relationship, he dumps her out of the blue gets a new girlfriend within months. I for one would also go a bit crazy and need to be secluded on an island! Too bad I don’t have island money lmao

lewishamilton : I’ve been listening non stop! You truly out did yourself kid 🖤

y/bff/n : thank god you are not in Canada rn

y/bff/n : i was having a heart attack!

y/bff/n : you need to tell me before you travel across the world! We cannot have a repeat of last time.

— yourusername : have I really traumatised you that badly?

——y/bff/name : yes

—— lewishamilton : yes

—— yoursiblinguser : yes

—— friend1 : yes

—— danielricciardo: yes

—— oscarpiastri : yes

——yourusername : now hang on @oscarpiatri I don’t even know you!

— — oscarpiastri : wanna change that?

——- user11 : not you going after your dad’s ex

——-user14 : about to be a messy family reunion

——-danielricciardo : check that Aussie charm 🇦🇺

user7 : okay someone please talk about the lyrics????? Right off the bat it’s unhinged?? “WHY YOU WANT ME WHEN YOUVE GOT A GIRL??!” No cause that is so true like @charles_leclerc why are you still contacting her when Alex is right there?? (Liked by yourusername)

— user8 : ‘knowing it’s selfish, knowing I’m desperate’ oh she’s DOWN BAD!!

— user7 : you get it… cause DESPERATE, you’re describing yourself as desperate?? Bad bitch down in aisle 4 I fear!

user9 : lmao no cause you’ve outdone yourself! What do you mean ‘my man is my man, is your man. Heard that’s her man too’

— user21 : no cause she really is not a serious individual 😂

— user10 : the song is a bop don’t get me wrong but am I the only one who’s thinking about Alex in all this??

— user11 : poor girl hasn’t done anything apart from like a serial monogamist…

— user12 : I mean after this release Alex just needs to count her losses and leave him (liked by alexandrasaintmleux)

— user13 : oop- not her liking… clock it! But at this point I think this is just a messy situation where everyone’s gunna lose. Especially Alex poor girl never stood a chance

user22 : I just keep him satisfied through the weekend!

— user23 : you’re like 9 to 5 I’m the weekend!!!!

— user24 : make him lose his mind every weekend!!!!

sza : please god never let me be this down bad over a man 🙏🏾

— yourusername : now I know you’re not the one talking 🤨

badgalriri : 🖤

donatella_versace : DONATELLA VERSACE 💜

user17 : release the album NOW!

user18 : I’m sorry but weren’t we just mad at her? Releasing a song doesn’t make you automatically in the right? In fact even the song paints her as a bit of a villain :( I can’t imagine poor Alex listening to it.

— user19 : right? She’s practically begging him to cheat with her

— user15 : i really don’t know how to feel about the whole situation but it’s definitely not a good feeling…

••

TAGLIST

@forevercaffeinated-lee @callsignwidow

[copperbadge]

The Adventures Of Joe Superfly

I haven't been able to work on Chicken Salad War much recently -- it's less writer's block and more a confluence of issues that mean when I have the time I'm too tired for something novel-sized. It's temporary, but when I don't get to write I do start to get restless.

So the other night as I was doing dishes I circled around to a small issue that keeps nipping at me, which is Ephraim. He's got the most normal name of any of the Ramblers, which is uncharacteristic of Ceece and Tully. Well, I thought, maybe they let Eddie name him, but why would they let Eddie, the oldest, name the youngest, and not the THREE OTHERS inbetween? And why would Eddie pick Ephraim?

I decided to do up a little story about Eph, how he came by his name and what his life experiences have been. Much of it's a spoiler that needs a content warning but I figured I'd share a brief fun scene. Also it's good practice for writing Eph's somewhat elliptical style of speech; he is a man who gives no unnecessary context, and sometimes no necessary context. (All the context you all need to know is that Ephraim's parents wanted to name him Cherry Windward and instead Eddie named him Ephraim Prunus.)

Noah was on dishes duty with Joan, Ed's newly adopted eldest daughter, the evening that Ephraim found Ed on the porch of the royal fishing lodge. He sat next to him companionably, rocking on the porch swing and looking out at the lake.

"How many different names do you think you'll have in your life?" he asked without preamble. Ed laughed.

"I don't know. I think once you become a king the name locks in place," he said. "I've been Theophile and Ted and Ed and Eddie, and now back around to Theophile, at least in public. And then there's 'Dad' too. Why do you ask?"

Ephraim shrugged. "Monday was telling Jes about you naming me. Got to thinking about it."

"Well, you did return the favor eventually," Ed said. "Ed has suited me. Thinking of changing your name?"

"I was thinking of going by Prunus," Ephraim said, with such a deadpan expression that Ed hesitated, then burst out laughing when Eph smiled.

"Punk," he said, shoving Ephraim gently. "I only gave you that one to make mom and dad feel better about you having a normal-ass name. Man, you could see Dad's gears turning. We can always call him Pru."

Ephraim cackled. "Pru! Funny. I guess just…thanks."

"For what, big guy?" Ed asked.

"I didn't think I'd ever see Europe. Didn't think anyone outside Santa Luna would understand," Ephraim said. "But you went all over the world and found somewhere just like home. And I get to be here too. Which means maybe…I can be other places as well."

"There will always be a place for you, anywhere I am," Ed said seriously.

"Yes but also. They get it." Ephraim put on a lilting Shivadh accent. "That's Ephraim, he's King Theophile's brother, he doesn't say much but he's a good lad. No, you let Mr. Rambler alone, he's just shy. Hello young Ephraim, point out what you want to order when you're ready." He looked back out at the lake. "They're kind. I could thrive here."

"But not just yet, huh?" Ed asked. "Not with Noah leaving soon. He's going to Aotearoa and then coming to California, where you'll be."

"Yes."

"And after he graduates?" Ed asked delicately. "Maybe both of you back here?"

Ephraim turned to him. "I don't have a five year plan," he said witheringly, and this time Ed knew he was teasing.

"You son of a -- how dare you accuse me of asking you for a five year plan! Like I'm some kind of responsible adult? Roasted by my own blood!"

"You need it, Your Majesty," Ephraim said, then sobered. "I don't know yet. We'll figure it out."

"I'm sure you will."

"If you were going to name me again, what would you pick?"

Ed tousled his hair. "Buddy, you are now and forever Ephraim to me unless someday you tell me otherwise. I can't name you again. I don't think you need it, you're only just growing into that one. But if you did want a new name, I think you'd have to come up with it yourself -- or ask Noah."

Ephraim nodded thoughtfully. "I'm okay. Just curious."

"I think if you do you should move even more towards the extremes, though. From Cherry Windward to Ephraim Prunus to, I dunno, Joe Superfly."

"Joe Superfly!" Ephraim crowed. "Joe Superfly Rambler!"

"The twins should be glad we named them Edward and Miranda," Ed mused.

"Edward Superfly," Ephraim gasped.

"It's a great movie!"

"Miranda Shaft!" Ephraim blurted, and both brothers laughed until they cried.

[bright-side20]

HOFAS SPOILER (concerning the Cauldron)

_First let's go back to Rhys's explanation of the mating bonds:

“What decides it? Who decides it?” Rhys straightened his lapels before plucking an invisible piece of lint from them. “Fate, the Mother, the Cauldron’s swirling eddies …”

It is clearly stated that the bond can be decided by fate, the mother, or the cauldron.

“There is choice. And sometimes, yes—the bond picks poorly. Sometimes, the bond is nothing more than some … preordained guesswork at who will provide the strongest offspring. At its basest level, it’s perhaps only that. Some natural function, not an indication of true, paired souls.” A smile at me—at the rareness, perhaps, of what we had'.…' Many mated pairs will try to make it work, believing the Cauldron selected them for a reason. Only years later will they realize that perhaps the pairing was not ideal in spirit.”

There are bonds only to provide the strongest offspring, like Rhys's parents or Tamlin's parents bond and there are rare bonds of true paired souls like Feysand and Nessian bond.

HOFAS:

The Cauldron was of our world, our heritage. But upon arriving here, the daglan captured it and used their power to twist it. To turn it into something more lethal. No longer a tool of creation, but of destruction.

An explanation by a Daglan:

We gathered our power and imbued these gifts in the Cauldron, so that it would work our will. With this, the treasures were made. And then we connected the essence of the Cauldron to the soul of this world. Destroy the Cauldron and you destroy this world. One cannot exists without another.

The Cauldron was turned by the Daglan to serve their agenda, and they connected it to Prythian in a way that if anyone tries to destroy it, Prythian will be destroyed as well.

_Now, let's get an idea about the Asteri's aka Daglan breeding system:

Celestina only said, “He departs tomorrow. I shall visit his keep next month if there is not … a change in my situation by then.”If she hadn’t gotten pregnant.

Hunt nodded, even as disgust and rage curled through him. The Asteri had ordered this, done this. They’d make Celestina keep going to Ephraim until she was pregnant with the child they wanted her to bear. Another little Archangel for them to mold into a monster.

Doesn't it sound like 'producing strong' offspring, 'natural function'?

What if the Asteri back in Prythian manipulated the cauldron to create mating bonds, knowing the importance of it for the Fae, so they could benefit from their children and manipulate them?

I don't know why antis kept accusing Elriels of spreading misinformation, considering our conclusions are based on what's written in the books.

The Cauldron literally operates under Daglan's system, so it can't be trusted; indeed, it is not a perfect matching system.

_Let's get back to these important scenes:

"If anyone can sense if something is amiss, it’s a mate.”.... “The mating bond. It is a bridge between souls.”

Madja here is clearly addressing the real meeting bond—the one of paired souls.

Lucien:

“There’s a bond—it’s a real thread,” he said, more to himself than us. .... “And I got to Elain’s end of it when she ran off.” “Did you sense anything?” “No—I didn’t have time. I felt her, but …” A blush stained his cheek. Whatever he’d felt, it wasn’t what we were looking for. Even if we had no idea what, precisely, that was.

Lucien murmured to me, eye still fixed on Elain, “Should we—does she need …?”

Azriel :

“She doesn’t need anything,” Azriel answered without so much as looking at Lucien. Elain was staring at the spymaster now—unblinkingly. “We’re the ones who need …” Azriel trailed off. “A seer,” he said, more to himself than us. “The Cauldron made you a seer.”

I think this was foreshadowing. Even though a bond exists between them, Lucien wasn't able to sense the change in Elain, while Azriel managed to discern it.

What if the Cauldron's bond between Lucien and Elain, described as 'a thread tied to a rib,' is what was considered a 'natural function'? Yet, there exists another bond between her and Azriel, 'a bridge between souls,' and they are the true paired souls by the mother or the fate . What if the Cauldron was wrong?

I know the antis argument of that means Lucien is stronger than Az, which is why the Cauldron chose him for Elain. When the bond snapped between them, Azriel was out of power, literally dying. It's another reason the Cauldron might be wrong.

Also, the argument: if the Cauldron is corrupted and loves Elain, then she's a villain.

Duh? Why not consider that even though it's corrupted, it recognized Elain's pure heart and her power, the different kind of strength concentrated in her kindness? If she influenced it, maybe she has the ability to fix the Cauldron, turning it back to its original purpose, a tool of creation, not destruction.

[panlight]

. . . and how did you mispronounce it, if you're willing to share in the tags?

*friend of mine was like 'been calling her Leia this whole time'

[nerdygaymormon]

Addendum to Jacob Sorensen’s Patriarchal Blessing

I don’t know, Jake, why Dad asked me to drive you there, but I did hear every word Brother Allen said, and here’s a few he skipped:

Our Heavenly Father is pleased with your social media presence— the Instagram pics, the YouTube skits, and that new app with the name I can’t remember.

God saw your TikToks, Jake, you doing the Dolphin Dance with the drama crew— how you shook your butt and laughed. And God laughed, too.

Jake, there are some things the patriarch promised that will never come to pass: no mission, no bride kneeling across the altar, no children born under the covenant, and it will be exactly as God intended it.

For you, Jake, not slacks but tights, not prayers but yoga, not the Book of Mormon but a Sondheim score.

And even though the patriarch said “Ephraim,” the Spirit moves me, Jake, to declare your true tribe: the one that, when Charlton Heston climbed Mount Sinai, was hired to choreograph the dance.

They say that when God closes a door a window is opened, but I’m telling you, brother, with my gift of prophecy: For you, a limo, a red carpet, a golden gate waiting, and no gatekeeper.

[andreafmn]

Bound | Chapter 8

Word Count: 3.4K Warnings: queer slurs

Summary: Rosalie always carried the resentment of not being able to fulfill the image of the perfect family she had in her head. But the universe had set out to grant her everything she could’ve hoped for in the most unconventional way and in the form of a witch. Can their love withstand the promise of forever or will Rosalie and (Y/N) succumb to the grapples of time?

A/N: I cannot believe how long I've neglected this story. I am ashamed 🫣😭

<- Previous

Forks, Washington was everything Rosalie had thought she would hate from a town as a human. It was quiet, secluded, and a place where things seemed to stay stuck in time. There was no novelty or grandeur. A small town, after all. 

The girl didn’t have much interest in the town. Then again, she hadn’t had much interest in any town since she had left Rochester. Sure, Tennessee had gifted her with Emmett, but the town was never what interested her. Once she had left her home, there was nothing that could pique her interest quite like the life she had left behind. 

Still, she didn’t mind a small town anymore. Especially for the being she was now and the opulent grandeur the Cullens seemed to always live in. Surrounded by trees and winding down a lonely road, their new home came into view. Gravel crackled under their cars, announcing their arrival to whatever was out there. 

The house was a beautiful Victorian build, with a wrap-around porch and high ceilings. It was an architectural marvel and the perfect place for the family to hide out in. They were surely not going to encounter any problems. 

Surely. 

However, only a month into living in the new town, they encountered neighbors they had never expected to meet. Much less while they fed on a herd of deer. 

“We’re not alone,” Edward called out, his gaze set deep into the woods. “There’s someone there.”

“Other vampires, perhaps?” Carlisle questioned. “I heard there were a few nomads canvassing the area.” 

“No. Not vampires,” he grimaced. “Something else. Much different.” 

The family rushed cautiously deeper into the forest, Edward taking the lead as he followed the intruders’ thoughts. 

Their smell hit them first—a mixture of wet dog, fresh-turned dirt, and soot. It made them all turn their noses, wishing their halted breath stopped their scent from traveling through their nostrils. 

Then, three massive wolves broke through the woods. Their teeth were bared, and their claws dug into the dirt in preparation for a fight. But their presence wasn’t as intimidating as much as it was surprising. From what Carlisle had told the family, the Volturi had killed all of the Children of the Moon. Yet, right before them stood what appeared to be three of them.  

“We mean you no harm,” Carlisle said as he stepped in front of the family protectively. “My family and I have recently bought a house a few miles off the town of Forks. We didn’t know there were Children of the Moon here.” 

The dark brown wolf that stood in front growled in response, its mouth slobbering with rage. On any other occasion, the vampires would have fought the animals and more than likely come out victorious. But their coven had an advantage that none other did. And it came in the form of a six-two egotistical mind-reading vampire.

 “They say they’re not children of the moon,” Edward recited. “And that our kind is not welcome in their land. No dead walkers have survived them.” 

“I assure you we are like no other vampires you may have encountered before,” Carlisle continued. “We mean no harm to humans, for we do not need of their blood to survive. We exclusively feed off animal blood.” 

“They say they can’t trust you simply off your word. Especially when they don’t even know your name.” 

“My apologies,” the older vampire smiled. “I am Carlisle. The boy translating for us is Edward. This is my wife, Esme, and the newest additions to the family, Rosalie and Emmett.” 

“From left to right, Levi Uley, Ephraim Black, and Quil Ateara II,” Edward said. “They say they are shapeshifters tasked with protecting the land from any and all enemies. Like us.” 

“I assure you, we do not mean to cause you any harm,” the patriarch affirmed. “In fact, I propose we make a treaty. A mutually beneficial agreement that shall extend to all of your descendants for the rest of time. What do you say?”  

The three wolves looked at each other, lost in thought, as they deliberated silently on the vampire’s offer. Given the position they were in, there was only one answer they could give, and it was the one they had all been expecting. 

“They agree that given our claimed diet, a treaty is the best decision,” Edward said. “They want to meet three miles west of this location at midnight over a bonfire to discuss the terms of the agreement.” 

“I don’t see why not,” Carlisle agreed. “We shall see you then.”    

The wolves waited until the family was a safe distance away before turning back to where they had come from. The vampires found their very existence befuddling. They looked exactly like the werewolves that had once been—men who turned into wolves and looked at vampires as their natural enemies. Yet, these ones could shift in the light of the morning. They seemed in control of their actions, and they ran in a pack. More than that, they had faced them, and they were still alive. Children of the Moon, they definitely were not. 

The Cullens headed back to their home to await nightfall, still unsure of who exactly they had just encountered but certain they’d end up with a good enough deal in their new town. 

“That was awfully easy, wasn’t it?” Esme said as they settled around their living room. “I thought we were sure to get a bigger fight.” 

 “Those mutts knew they were outnumbered and outpowered,” Edward chuckled as he slumped into the couch. “They would never put up a fight with us.” 

“Do you actively wake up in the morning and decide you’re gonna be a giant prick?” Rosalie scoffed. “Or is that just an awful character flaw you were born with?” 

She couldn’t help the smirk that stretched across her mouth as Emmett snickered beside her, a sense of accomplishment surging deep within her. 

Emmett had quickly become the blonde’s closest friend and confidante. While she helped him with his dietary struggles, he kept her company. And for the first time in the couple of years of her turning, she didn’t feel alone. 

He’d kept her secret as he had promised. He said every time he felt the thought sprouting in his head and Edward was around, he would scream as loudly as he could in his mind. And he’d known it worked when the older vampire flinched for no reason at all. It had become a sort of challenge to the boy. He had gravitated from screaming to picking a jingle or a phrase a day that he would repeat over and over until Edward either left them or tuned him out. And he had done it all for the friendship he had built with Rosalie. 

“What? You’re gonna defend them?” Edward countered with disgust. “As if you hadn’t thought the same thing. As a matter of fact, we all did. So, don’t go around thinking you’re better than me.”  

“At least none of us said it out loud, Eddie-boy,”  Emmettt interjected.  “That’s the difference here. Don’t get angry because other people have some shred of dignity.”  

“Oh, please, you’re only saying that because you always take Rosalie’s side,” the boy grumbled. “If it weren’t for her, you would be saying the same thing.” 

“Is that right?” the bigger vampire challenged. “You think you know me, Edward? Do you really think you know a single thing about me?”

“I know enough. There’s only so much you can hide from a mind reader, Emmett.” 

“You’d be surprised,” he smirked. “Just because you can read my mind doesn’t mean you’re getting anything of substance.”

“Well, I normally do when my subject’s lights are on upstairs,” Edward jabbed. “But I can’t ask a lot from a guy who thought they had a chance at winning against a bear.” 

“Maybe not then, but I’ve taken one on now,” Emmet spat, standing in front of Edward and towering over the boy as he stood. “And I can most definitely take you on as well if you want to question what’s going on in my head. And we both know who is going to win between us.” 

“Alright, boys, that’s enough,” Esme interrupted, ever the mother she was. “It does us no good to fight within the family.”  

“No, I think it’s healthy to air out our grievances from time to time,” Emmett continued, his eyes trained firmly on Edward’s. “Sometimes people need to be knocked down a peg or two. Works wonders for the ego.”

“I don’t know why you’re being so protective over Rosalie,” Edward said, suddenly snapping his eyes toward the girl. “You shouldn’t be so protective of this fairy lady.”

If Rosalie had been able to breathe, she was sure those words would have knocked the wind out of her lungs. How could he have known? She’d guarded her thoughts well, and she knew Emmett had as well. “What did you just call me?” 

“Come on, Rosalie. Let’s not play games here,” he smirked. “We both know what I’m talking about.”

“That’s enough, Edward,” Carlisle tried to interject, but the boy continued. 

“If you wanted to hide your true self so much, maybe you shouldn’t leave your journal where anyone can see it,” he said. “It doesn’t take a genius to know that you’re a dyke.”

The sound of a slap echoed through the room as Rosalie’s hand smacked Edward’s cheek, the suddenness enough to have him stumbling back. He stared at her in shock, surprised at her break in composure. 

“Take a walk, Edward!” Esme finally exclaimed. “You’ve gone far enough.”

But the girl didn’t stay long enough to see if he would stay or leave. She sped out the front doors and didn’t stop until she felt she was far enough away. 

Anger bubbled deep in her chest, and she had no other method of release than violence. She pounded her fists into a tree, over and over and over until she had almost made it through the other side. She punched through her sadness, punched through her ire, punched through her fear. She punched until the tree could not hold itself upright anymore, tumbling to the ground with a deafening thud. 

She had been so careful. Handpicked every single thought she had, kept her distance, and hid her personal things. And yet, Edward had been able to figure out her secret because of one careless day. One measly careless second, and he’d been able to see the one thing she kept closest to her heart. 

“Do you mind if I sit with you?” she heard Carlisle ask from behind her. 

She had sat on the tree she had broken, listening to the quiet of the forest before he arrived. It made her feel… well, alone. “Sure,” she sighed, brushing away the dirt that had stained her knuckles. “Can’t really stop you.”

“I wouldn’t if you didn’t want me to,” he said with a smile. They sat in silence for a moment as he tried to find the right words. “I’m sorry about Edward. He’s a good kid most times. Just… emotionally challenged.” 

“Nice way to say he’s an asshole,” she scoffed. “I’m guessing you’re here to say I should start looking for a new coven.”

“Why would you think that?” 

“Come on, Carlisle. I’m surely not what you expected me to be when you turned me,” she said, her eyes trained on her feet, too embarrassed to look him in the eyes. “I’m definitely not someone that aligns with your moral values.” 

Carlisle could only chuckle softly at the girl and her misconceptions. She’d been with the family for three years, and yet, she barely knew them at all. “When I was still a human, I used to judge everyone I met,” he said. “I was raised by a pastor, and I became a vampire hunter. Although, at the time, I didn’t know I was passing judgment. All I had known was that different meant bad, even when I strived to be better than my father. “But life quickly showed me that nothing is simply black and white,” he explained. “I’ve lived too long now to keep those misconstrued thoughts alive in my head and my heart. I mean, I became what I was raised to hate most in my life. And I learned that just because you’re different, it doesn’t mean you are bad.”

“This is different from being a vampire, Carlisle. Even your bible says people like me are sinners and vile,” she said, her voice trembling under the weight of her words. “I am condemned and doomed just for who I love.”

“How is it any different? Well, I guess you weren’t born a vampire,” he chuckled softly. “But, it is still something you cannot change about yourself. In my eyes, loving someone could never be a sin. Even the good book says so. You’re not damned, Rosalie, and you certainly are not doomed.”

The last thing she had expected was Carlisle to be one of the most accepting people she could have met, other than Emmett, of course. She knew of his religious path and the beliefs he still held close to his heart. Those had her fearing the repercussions of him knowing her true self. Her sexuality was the only thing she could keep for herself. Guard it close to her heart so no one could use it against her—not that it had worked with Edward. She had gone two decades of her life hidden in the shadows, trusting only two people with her secret, but it had all been for naught. The people who truly cared for her wouldn’t mind who she loved as long as she was happy. 

“I promise I will reprimand Edward for the words he said and for infringing on your privacy,” Carlisle smiled. “And I give you my word that he will never, ever use that hateful rhetoric in our house ever again.” 

“Thank you, Carlisle,” Rosalie beamed. “You can’t know how much this means to me. Truly.” 

“We’re on your side,” he said. “Whether you feel it or not, Rosalie, you are part of this family. And we’ll stand beside you through it all.”

The girl couldn’t help but wrap her arms around the man. All words escaped her as she tried to pick the right ones, but a hug seemed like the right response. Carlisle had brought her into this new world out of pity, but he’d gently guided her to people who loved her unconditionally—except for the one exception. Even if she detested the life she had to live as a vampire, she was grateful to have at least that. 

“Well, we should head back and get things sorted before tonight,” Carlisle said. “We need to go into this as a united front. Or at least appear like we are.”

“As long as Edward stays as far away from me as possible, I don’t see why we won’t.”

“You won’t have to worry about that,” he assured. “And just so you know, Esme gave him quite the talking to before I left. I bet we could catch the end of it if we hurry back.”

Rosalie reciprocated Carlisle’s playful grin before they took off in a sprint back to the house. Lo and behold, Esme was still yelling at Edward when they arrived, his face solemn like that of an ashamed child. Meanwhile, Emmett stood not too far back, snickering to himself and, more likely than not, giving the mind reader hell inside his head. 

It took everything in the girl not to boast as she walked past him, her head held high and a grin adorning her pink lips. He wouldn’t meet her gaze, his eyes trained on the tips of his fingers. She rather preferred it that way. Edward had no right to look her in the eyes, and she was glad he finally knew his place. 

For the first time in the three years she had been with the Cullens, she had finally felt part of the family. She hadn’t expected them all to rally behind her against Edward, but her heart warmed as they did. They had all seen past her cold exterior and inhuman beauty. They had seen her soul and learned her worth. They cared for her, and they weren’t ashamed to show it. 

At that moment, she wondered what would have happened if Vera had also become a vampire. They could have both joined the Cullen family and finally have the life they had dreamed of—at least the mirage of it. They would have been able to love each other and live freely amongst the immortals, sure that they’d be loved and protected. She thought they’d have love stories written about them, poets and singers would cry at the mention of their love. They would’ve had eternity and a day to bask in the warmth of the other, and no matter what anyone thought, they could simply be. 

But then, there’s a reason why dreams only appear when we’re asleep. At some point, they end, and you wake up. 

There would never be a perfect ending for them whether they lived for eternity or just a day more. Their love was meant to end at one moment or another. There had been a semicolon placed on the story the moment Vera got married and had Henry. And a period ended their sentence the second blood stopped rushing through Rosalie’s veins. 

Vera had always been a dream for Rosalie, and turning into a vampire simply woke her up.

Hours passed, and finally, the moon had reached its highest point in the sky. The clock on the living room wall confirmed that midnight had arrived, and it was time to face the wolves once more. In the distance, a string of smoke signaled their destination, and they rushed toward it. 

The smell of fire filtered through their noses soon enough, mixing with the scent of the wolves and the forest. The wind murmured a quiet warning to everyone and everything around; what was about to occur that night was nothing short of history in the making. 

When the Cullens arrived, three men wearing wooden wolf helmets were waiting for them. Behind them, a large bonfire crackled and danced, filling the darkness with a bright and warm hue. It would have been a beautiful sight to behold had it not been for the menacing stares the three men were gifting the vampires. 

“I take it you’re Ephraim Black,” Carlisle said, breaking the silence and extending a courteous hand toward the other man. “As I said before, my name is Carlisle Cullen, and this is my family…” 

“We can skip the niceties, cold one,” Ephraim interrupted. “We are here to settle business and go our own ways.” 

“Alright, if that is what you choose,” the vampire smiled. “Shall we begin then?” 

That night, a treaty was formed between two unlikely kinds. Between maps and discussions, an agreement over land and behavior was reached, pertinent to their current lives. Mutual discreteness over their supernatural status, explicit boundaries in regions of the town, and, most importantly, no harm could ever come to a human, whether by hunting or transforming them into a vampire. If any of these terms were broken, it would mean the start of a war between the Quileute tribe shapeshifters and the Cullens. And a war would mean an inevitable end to one of the races. 

Rosalie understood the need for a treaty. Being at odds with someone so close by could only lead to pain and discomfort, and she already knew what it was like to live with that. 

But seeing the shifters’ ability to put everything aside for the common greater good—regardless of whether or not they had felt outnumbered—gave her the best solution to her Edward-shaped dilemma. After that night, he would never treat her like he had, and she’d behave amicably toward the boy, pretending he was nothing more than a thorn in her side—a tiresome nuisance, if you will.

At the end of the day, it was only eternity. 

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[nightingale2004]

@simsim54 you've just inspired me

OK, Twilight fans, first off for the people who are homophobes, haters, and racists please leave and ignore this post if you don't like it.

Secondly, fans. Like all of you, i love twilight, but I feel like Stephanie Meyer had very poor execution on the story. Bella and Edward LITERALLY had little to no chemistry, and they cringy af, and everything felt rushed, especially if you looked at the timeline of events that was happening from twilight to Breaking dawn.

But one of my old posts got me thinking.

What if Stephanie had made Jacob female, and she was Jacqueline black (I know Jacob's fem name is Julie, but I feel like Jacqueline suits them better)

What if Stephanie Meyer, instead of making a girl with little to no personality and giving awkward introverts a bad name. She made this Bad@$$ Indigenous she-wolf mechanic shape-shifter who was loyal to her tribe, proud of her culture and freaking tough as nails but the most motherly person you'll ever meet and alpha female materials, then paired this woman to our awkward introverted gentleman vampire artist who could read her thoughts and they started out as enemies and then it became a slow burn to lovers.

I personally feel like if this story was written write then this would've made a waaaaayyyyyy better movie and way less cringe.

I will be first to say that sterek ate the child of the sheriff of a small town falling in love with a supernatural hottie. But Bella and Edward were cringe and very funny, and I couldn't take their love story seriously for more than two seconds. Sterek did it better, and even the fanfics ate.

But Edward Cullen, who is a vampire and a part of the Cullen clan, fell in love with Jacqueline Black. Daughter of Billy Black and great-granddaughter of Ephraim Black. A descendant of an alpha and a chief! Who also has issues with her older sisters. She is also part of Quileute tribe.

THIS REEKS OF SLOW BURN ENEMIES TO FORBIDDEN LOVERS!!!!!

And their children being hybrids will also be interesting.

I'm serious when I say that this story has potential, and if done correctly, it would have me reading on repeat.

Jacqueline and Edward hate each other at first sight because of who they are, then Jacky imprints on him, tries to hide it, but then sparks a relationship between her and Edward (with Seth's help of course), some of the cullens being extremely supportive of their relationship (apart from Rosalie who took some getting used to but slowly accepting Jacky), Jacqueline's pack finding out and the pack drama happens, Jacky's sisters making an appearance

Plus, the beautiful Romance between these two with the forbidden love. Plus, we can add in a cameo of Bella here and there. But Charlie would definitely be involved, and his relationship with Sue should be slow and not SUE LITERALLY GOING AFTER CHARLIE WHEN HER HUSBAND'S BODY IS NOT EVEN COLD YET!!!!

Seriously dudes, this has SO MUCH POTENTIAL!

CAN SOMEONE POINT ME IN THE DIRECTION OF THIS FANFIC OR WRITE IT PLEASE?!?!?!

[hiseyeisonthesparrow]

Okay apologies for the slight sacrilege here! I'd like to know how these things relate. Try not to vote that you don't know about your heritage unless you REALLY don't know -- everyone's got at least a little bit, but I'm asking if it's a significant portion of your heritage!

Joseph's sons: Ephraim or Manasseh Not Joseph's sons: Asher, Benjamin, Dan, Gad, Issachar, Judah, Levi, Naphtali, Reuben, Simeon, or Zebulun.

[palmofafreezinghand]

Aww, I miss you, lovely! I've been gone for a minute myself. Give me something sweet with Edward and Esme, or maybe Esme's pov of the Ephraim confrontation 💕

Thank you for the prompt! I miss you too, I hope you're doing well 💖

2007. 

After months of chaos, dozens of strangers in her house, and the ever constant threat of death looming over her family’s head Esme was savoring the first quiet moments back in her studio. No sooner had she laid a rough underpainting when a familiar footfall made its way down the hall and eventually stopped in front of her door. 

He did not knock, he never did, but instead walked into the room as if it was his own. He slumped into the loveseat — too big for the room but a requirement of him and his father —  slinging his legs over the armrest. 

“I’ve missed you,” Edward sighed. 

She raised her brow, eyes focused on her canvas.  ‘I do not believe I went anywhere.’ 

“I can not hear you,” he said, tapping his temple. “Bella,” he smiled like a fool whenever he said her name, “is practicing her restraint, she wanted to test blocking the voice I know the best.” 

“Is that not Carlisle?” She asked, noting how the shuffling of papers downstairs halted when she mentioned his name. Nosy or besotted, she was unsure which. 

“It appears I know what he is going to think before he does.” 

Her eyes rolled before she could think better of it. The two were too similar for their own good. 

“So I am second fiddle,” she said, attempting to feign annoyance. She knew better than to tease him, but he made it far too easy. 

“Think of it as you’re the person I know better than almost anyone else in the world.” 

“Mhm.” 

They fell into comfortable silence. Edward began leafing through a decade old copy of Architect Digest. Esme began mixing her color palette, something light and peaceful, a slow introduction back to painting. She would not let her art get tainted by the turbulence, the fear, the anger… 

“You truly can’t hear my thoughts?” 

“No.” 

‘You can not hear this?’ 

“If you are asking me if I can hear you the answer is no.” 

‘How did you know what I was asking?’ 

“I know you, Esme,” he grinned, that knowing smile he had worn since the day they met eighty years prior. 

She set down her palette and turned on her stool to look at him fully. ‘I enjoy jazz.’ His face did not change. She narrowed her eyes. ‘I think that sleeveless shirt you wear is ridiculous.’ Nothing. ‘Carlisle and I were the ones who broke your baby grand in 1948, we let Emmett take the blame.’ That clinched it. This revelation would have caused a civil war in their house, and yet nothing. Besides a slightly amused smile. 

“You can’t hear me,” she breathed. 

“You are too stubborn for your own good.” 

She scoffed, he beamed. “I am the stubborn one!” 

“Your husband is close behind.” 

“This is rich,” she laughed to herself. 

It was an odd feeling, being completely alone in her own brain while he was sitting across from her. The only time her brain had ever belonged to her alone were years she wished to never relive. She could think of anything at all. 

The latest bodice ripper she was reading. 

Their fight of 1927. 

The whispered sweet nothings Carlisle said in the privacy of their bedroom. Or his office. Or most recently the garden shed. 

“Please, stop thinking of Carlisle in the nude,” Edward groaned lightheartedly. 

“You said you couldn’t hear me!” 

“I can see your face,” he grimaced. 

“You are such a prude for a man who’s had a child,” she laughed, unable to deny his accusation. 

She returned her attention back to her paints, letting her thoughts roam, now with a few restrictions. 

“That’s the first time you’ve called me a man,” Edward said quietly after a minute or two. 

“No it isn’t.” The palette knife cut a dollop of prussian blue, then crimson, mixing the two in a pool of titanium white, mix. 

“Yes,” he nodded, “it is.” 

The three colors were now a well blended lavender. “I… it is not the… I feel as if… I must have thought it before…if not…” 

As she tried to formulate her thoughts, it dawned on her that in eighty six years she had never had to tell him how she felt, about anything. He had always known, was constantly piecing together her thoughts before she did. How was the first time she was expected to verbalize her feelings now? Was she supposed to tell him how much fatherhood had changed him, had fundamentally changed their relationship, how she could never view him as she once did?

Crimson, cadmium yellow slapped onto the palette with a smidgen too much force, six parts titanium white. 

“I know, Esme. We don’t have to do this, I know.” 

‘Thank you,’ she thought. She knew he couldn’t hear her. Yet something by the way he smiled and nodded, turning his attention back to the article he had read dozens of times before, told her maybe he just knew.

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

trypanonbore

A/N: this is an old fic, originally posted back in June 2022.

warnings: Spencer Reid x reader, hospital au, established relationship, making out in an elevator, sexual references, major greys anatomy vibes, medical history (this is basically just me infodumping about a random subject I know freakishly much about)

word count: 1137

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

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You felt like there was lightning coursing through your veins. Your face was starting to hurt from how intense your smile was. Hell, you were practically skipping down the hallway! You felt like you could do anything right now.

Stopping in front of the elevator, you leaned forward and pressed the button with the small arrow on it. Swinging your arms wildly, as a child would, you glanced up at the red numbers that were slowly coming closer to the one that matched the floor you were currently on. Once it glowed 5, you heard a low ding and the metallic doors slid open to revile a man that did not help eliminate your smile.

“Good afternoon, Dr Reid,” you said, sounding as professional as you could. Gliding into the elevator, you turned around and waited for the doors to close.

“Dr Y/l/n, hello,” he smiled, not taking his eyes off you for one second. 

As soon as the doors shut, you felt his hands on you, swiftly turning you to meet his gaze. That little ball of excitement still darted throughout your body, and since the two of you now were completely alone you grabbed a hold of his lab coat, raised yourself up onto your tiptoes and planted one on him. 

Not protesting, he simply reached out to press the button that stopped the elevator. The short ringing sound didn’t alarm you, as this wasn’t exactly the first time the two of you had found yourselves in this very situation and it probably wouldn’t be the last. 

“Hi,” he pulled away, “you seem happy today.”

“Well, there was this guy who came into the ER with a subdural hematoma and Dr Collins let me do burr holes all by myself,” you beamed, snaking your arms around his neck.

Pulling back, he exclaimed, smile only growing wider, “seriously?”

“Yeah,” you couldn’t help but giggle.

Rushing down to kiss you again he mumbled in between the kisses, “of course he did,” moving from your lips onto your flushed cheek, “because youare an incredible doctor.”

Giggling, you rolled your head to the side, letting his mouth travel down towards your neck.

“You know,” he began, walking you back slowly until your rear hit the wall of the elevator, “the term trepanation derives from the ancient Greek word trypanonbore,” he pressed his hips forward to meet yours. 

“Yeah, I bet you’re just dying to bore something into me right now,” you weaved your fingers through the roots of his hair, scratching lightly at the nape of his neck. 

Chuckling at your comment, he couldn’t help but continue his infodumping in between his lips dance across your skin, “back in 1865, Ephraim George Squier was in Peru and stayed with this lady called Señora Zentino, who had one of the best collections of art and those kinds of things, but she also had this skull with an unusual hole in it that Squier somehow convinced her to give to him. Now, it’s not like this was the first time a skull like this was discovered, but it was the first time that people didn’t just brush over it and actually tried to find the cause.”

Shutting your eyes, you let yourself enjoy the warm rush his voice shot throughout your body. Let's be honest, the kisses also helped amplify the feeling.

“So, he then travelled up to present it to the New York Academy of Medicine, but they were just a group of men who were convinced that it couldn’t possibly have been done intentionally, or at least not when the person still was alive. They didn’t think that those primitive people were capable of such advanced medical procedures. Now Squier didn’t buy a word of what they said, so he went all the way over to Paris to show it to Paul Broca, and he could quickly tell that the hole was not only done intentionally but also when the patient was still alive.”

“Well, of course, he could see that,” you couldn’t help but interject, “it’s Paul fucking Broca!”

“And after that,” he slipped his fingertips under your shirt and ventured up to meet your lips once more, “it didn’t take long for trepanation to be accepted in the medical community.”

Crashing his lips onto yours, you couldn’t help but let out a tiny moan. 

Coming up for air you smirked, running your hands down his body, “speaking of Paul Broca, you make my Broca’s area go all dumb, all of the time… especially when you do that thing with your tongue…”

“Baby, if you don’t already know how much I love that fact about you, I will just have to keep showing you,” he glided his palms down to meet your ass, pulling you even closer to him. Giving you a quick kiss, he then pulled back just enough for him to breathe out, “what are you doing tonight?”

Sticking your tongue out and teasingly giving his lips a quick lick, you answered, “you, hopefully.”

Capturing your lips hungrily one last time, you drew it out as long as you could, but also kept in mind that this was not really the best time or place to bite off more than you could chew. 

Nuzzling his nose against yours, he hummed, “fuck, I wish I could just pull you into an on-call room right now and bury my head between your thighs, but I have a surgery in a bit,” pressing his hips against yours one last time, just in case you hadn’t noticed before how much he wanted you. 

“Go, save a life, I’ll still be here when you get back.”

With a sharp inhale of breath, he took a step back, admiring the slightly dishevelled state you were in, still flush against the wall. 

Tugging your shirt back into your trousers, you slowly regained your breath. Keeping your eyes locked with his, you tightened your ponytail, making sure your hair was all gathered and neat. 

“You ready?” he asked, reaching out to press the stop button again in order to make the elevator move once more.

“I am if you are.”

And with that, he pushed the button and you parted ways with the wall. Standing beside one another, you felt his pinky finger brush against yours, but before you could grab a hold of his hand, the doors slid open and his warm presence slipped away. 

“Good luck on your surgery Dr Reid,” you called out after him.

Just before the doors could close again, he turned around and smiled, “thank you, Dr Y/l/n, and just to circle back to that thing you told me about? I’m proud of you.”

A smile once again spread across your face as he reminded you of the incredible achievement you made today.

© 2022 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[soulcluster]

@armatization / xx.

Eirika was not prone to fits of violence. It was not her nature. She valued peace and diplomacy above all else.

However, she sometimes felt like making an exception for Innes.

"Do not forget who holds my brother's confidence more than any other. I may not be in line to sit upon the throne, but I have a very good idea of the pressures it entails. As I support Ephraim, I hope to support you as well." No matter how she wished to wrap her hands around his neck sometimes, Innes was still her friend. She had known him since childhood.

She was almost willing to accept the sentiment of his words. As he meant a great deal to her, so she did to him. The drive to protect someone close to you could overshadow all sense.

“I will not allow that to happen, because I love you, Eirika.”

Was this his idea of a confession?! Confusion, then rage, and then exasperation ran through her.

It was no secret to Eirika — though it was one to both Innes and Ephraim — that Innes held feelings for her brother. Eirika could be blind and she would see it. At some point, his feelings had become misplaced on her, and if she had to listen to him again insinuate that she was the one who held her brother in such lofty standards, she might very well break her own morals and strangle him.

Ephraim, of course, had no idea of Innes's affections. Her brother thought the Frelian prince hated him.

The other issue she took with his so-called confession was that what if she did love him? His thoughtlessly spoken words would give only false hope. Yet he had no idea.

"Innes," she started slowly, knowing she needed to be tactful in how she spoke. "I care for you a great deal as well. However, I caution you to not use such words so casually unless you really mean them."

[i-only-ever-asked-questions]

Bilton and Scaggs

Back when I was working in the map of Soho, I got to Bilton and Scaggs Hats and Caps. There is so much to say about this shop and its history, and it is so interesting that it warrants its own post, so here we are

Bilton and Scaggs Publishers was a London publishing firm in the 1600's, we don't really know when it was established though. They were not one of the eight great publishers of London, but they were doing well enough, after all, it was able to survive its three major publishing disasters (which occurred in rapid succession). Alas, it looks like Bilton and Scaggs, publishers went out of business somewhere in the 1890's and the milliner who set up shop there, kept the name. Nowadays, only Aziraphale knows the full story. What follows are details of their disasters. They are quite funny, unless you are Master Bilton or Master Scaggs of course :P

The first one was in 1651; when they accidentally printed the so called Buggre Alle This Bible. This very rare misprinted Bible had a few verses added to Genesis and a variation in Ezekiel. Of course our angel owns one copy. Genesis chapter 3 normally has 24 verses where the last one goes like this: "24. So he drove out the man; and he placed at the east of the garden of Eden Cherubims, and a flaming sword which turned every way, to keep the way of the tree of life." The three additional ones go like this:

25. And the Lord spake unto the Angel that guarded the eastern gate, saying Where is the flaming sword which was given unto thee? 26. And the Angel said, I had it here only a moment ago, I must have put it down some where, forget my own head next. 27. And the Lord did not ask him again.

"It appears that these verses were inserted during the proof stage. In those days it was common practice for printers to hang proof sheets to the wooden beams outside their shops, for the edification of the populace and some free proofreading, and since the whole print run was subsequently burned anyway, no one bothered to take up this matter with the nice Mr. A. Ziraphale, who ran the bookshop two doors along and was always so helpful with the translations, and whose handwriting was instantly recognizable." The other issue with this Bible was a little change in Ezekiel 48:5 and it is the change that gives the Bible its name:

2. And bye the border of Dan, fromme the east side to the west side, a portion for Afher. 3. And bye the border of Afher, fromme the east side even untoe the west side, a portion for Naphtali. 4. And bye the border of Naphtali, from the east side untoe the west side, a portion for Manaffeh. 5. Buggre Alle this for a Larke. I amme sick to mye Hart of typefettinge. Master Biltonn if no Gentelmann, and Master Scagges noe more than a tighte fisted Southwarke Knobbefticke. I telle you, onne a daye laike thif Ennywone with half an oz. of Sense shoulde bee oute in the Sunneshain, ane nott Stucke here alle the liuelong daie inn thif mowldey olde By-Our-Lady Workefhoppe. @ “Æ@;! 6. And bye the border of Ephraim, from the east fide even untoe the west fide, a portion for Reuben.

What we can conclude from here is that Aziraphale owned a bookshop in the 1650's that was in the same block as Bilton and Scaggs Publishers. From the deleted scenes in the script book we know he opened A. Z. Fell & Co. in 1800. But there is nothing saying he couldn't have owned a bookshop with a different name decades or centuries before. The bookshop tour special feature from the S1 DVD says he's had it for 350 years. Counting from 2020, that would put it at around 1670. But if we generalize to around 2000, that means the shop could have been there in the 1650's. This more or less matches this ask where it is explained that Aziraphale bought the land in 1630 and over the next 60 years (1690ish) he expanded and built the current bookshop.

Sorry for the tangent, back to Bilton and Scaggs.

The second publishing disaster occurred in 1653 when somehow they obtained one of the famed Shakespeare's "Lost Quartos" and subsequently lost it (the three Shakespeare plays never reissued in folio edition and now are totally lost to scholars and playgoers. Their names are "The Comedie of Robin Hoode, or, The Forest of Sherwoode", "The Trapping of the Mouse", and finally "Golde Diggers of 1589." In S2 Episode 6 we see all three folios inside the box Gabriel brought with him. I am sure if asked directly, Aziraphale will assure you that he has no idea how those pamphlets got into that box. It was completely empty only four days ago!

The third and final disaster happened in 1655 and involved a prophecy book that didn't sell a single copy and ended up being the first book remaindered in England: "The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, witch." Not even the sign "Locale Author" attached to the book helped sell it in the author's home town in Lancashire. At the end the publisher destroyed all the unsold copies. Aziraphale, however, seems to have found the 1655 catalog from Bilton and Scaggs that contained only the 1972 prophecy "Do not buy Betamax."

I do find interesting that although evidently Aziraphale had a close relationship with Master Bilton and Master Scaggs, he still failed to secure a copy of the prophecies. It was printed right there! Next to you! How did that happen? Where were you, Aziraphale??!!

[copperbadge]

Apologies if you have answered this before, but I can't seem to find it — how old are all the Ramblers?

Also, I won't bother you about detailed descriptions because I know you don't usually picture them, but about how tall is Georgie, and what color is her hair? The style is described as "short and ruffled" in a previous book, but that's all I could find.

The age thing is one of the biggest notes I have for the rewrite of the book, actually, because so many people have asked, but I wouldn't expect you to be able to find it in the mess that my comments currently are. :D

At the start of Royals/Ramblers, Eddie is 32, Monday is 28, the twins are 25, and Ephraim is 19. I know there have been concerns about Ephraim and Noah's friendship; Noah is sixteen by the start of Royals/Ramblers, and I may age him up to seventeen since his birthday is never established and it's plausible he would be. Between Noah having grown up fast and Ephraim being slightly sheltered, they're essentially on par with one another maturity-wise. It's not a huge deal since I don't currently intend a romance for them and if I did it would be years down the line -- right now their established relationship is basically queerplatonic soulmates -- but I can understand peoples' concern at someone I describe as a man (through Noah's eyes) inviting Noah to a sleepover.

I also need to include a description of Georgie, that's another note I have. Georgie and Monday are both rather tall women, I think Georgie is just shy of six feet, but I'm currently going through LATT to make sure I didn't give a height for her there anywhere and I need to check which one of them I said was taller in the Boardwalk chapter. She has deep olive skin and dark eyes, thick but short black hair, and gives off pretty butch vibes, although she dresses in rather loose flowy clothing a lot of the time simply because it's easiest to fight in if she has to (think early X-Files Dana Scully). It's one reason Monday laughed at "Barbie's dream jeep", because she expected Georgie to drive a sports car or a pickup truck. She definitely has a collection of Doc Martens and Chucks for every occasion. :D

[seth-shitposts]

Random defectors bits that have crossed our mind the past few days:

---

Ezra [17]: Ally, would you still love me if I were a worm??

Kallus: yes. My answer has not changed in eight years.

Ezra: just checking :]

---

Ezra, 7 y/o and just opening up to Kallus: how old are you????

Kallus, internally: [I could tell him what my forged papers say. But I don't want to start this off with lies. He's just starting to trust me.]

Kallus: I am 23.

Ezra: *immediately brings his palms up/looks down at his hands to count*

Kallus: ???

Ezra: you were 16 when I was born!

Kallus, thinking that this is the most adorable thing he's ever seen: I was.

Ezra: I thought that Tua said you were closer to her age?

Kallus: because that's what my file says. It's a secret.

Ezra: a secret? Why?

Kallus: because I had to lie to be allowed to enlist on the academy on coruscant.

Ezra: so everyone thinks you're older than you actually are?

Kallus: most of them. It was harder to keep a secret when I was younger, but as the years go on its less noticeable.

---

Kallus consistently reassuring Ezra, encouraging him. He tells him how great he's doing at something, how quick he learns, how clever he is, highlights his strengths, and soothes his insecurities.

It all encourages Ezra to do more, to be more confident and comfortable. Ezra looks forward to showing Kallus all the things he does, telling him about what he did.

Sometimes it's Ezra seeking Kallus out when he's unsure or feeling dread. Kallus is always so gentle with him and kind. Warm and soft; safe.

---

Morad, near the beginning of getting to know Kallus and trying to figure out how much he can trust him: I've noticed a few things and was wondering if I could ask you a question?

Kallus, finishing up a case before putting the tablet away to continue watching Ezra run and play in the Sumar fields: most certainly, Mr. Sumar.

Morad: you aren't the most patient person and I've heard how you temper can grow shorter.

Kallus: something I'm working on yes, but I assure you, at no point will Ezra be receiving such from me.

Morad: that's what I wanted to ask about. I've also seen how you put much more effort and intention into keeping calm and level headed with Ezra. And I know for quite a few months he wasn't making that easy.

Kallus: Ezra’s entire world as he knew it got turned around and he is only seven. Angry outbursts are the least of what's to be expected.

Morad: even still, some of the best people I know don't always have that type of control over their anger or patience.

Kallus: When I was around Ezra's age, i... *pauses to gage how much he's going to share* was a very difficult child in a difficult situation. I didn't trust anyone and most people had no sympathy for me.

Morad: so you're trying to be who you didn't have?

Kallus: I'm trying to be the one person I did have. There was this miralukan chef from a few levels up. They made consistent efforts to try and gain my trust.

-Morad realizes that Kallus was most probably from the lower levels of coruscant rather than the upper crust.

Kallus: I can't tell you how many times I lashed out at them and fled. I thought they were going to hurt me. But. They kept trying.

-Morad pieces together that Kallus grew up on the streets, but unlike Ephraim, most people weren't kind to him.

Kallus: and eventually, I did trust them enough to accept the food and clothing they brought me. I would follow them sometimes to see where they were going, where they came from. I sought them out and they would help me.

Kallus: it didn't take long after that, they took me in but I was still so temperamental. I still lashed out. But they always kept patient. They never lashed back at me.

Kallus: in fact, it stuck out to me that they never turned their anger to me, their impatience. I've seen them get angry at other people. Yell at them, scream at them, even have physical altercations. But...

Morad: they made it a point to be patient and gentle with you.

Kallus: Yeah. And for the longest time I thought they were just being the kindest person in the universe. But when I met Ezra, it struck me just how young I had been when I was in such a position.

Morad: kids have a way of realigning how you perceive things.

Kallus: that they do.

---

[heyclickadee]

The more I think about it, the more I think Ephraim and Mira Bridger knew their son was different in a way that would make him a target if anyone noticed. They probably would have stood up to speak out against the Empire anyway, but imagine them just just going about their business, watching what’s happening, maybe listening to whatever state mandated message is playing non the radio, thinking that someone has got to do something; and then one of them turns around and sees that their three year old is levitating a jar of cookies across the room, and their heart sinks.

Because it’s not as though force sensitive people stopped being born after Order 66. They kept popping up, kept being born, but they had to be hidden, they were hunted down and killed, or hunted down and taken. And if they were hidden well enough, they’d grow up with no framework to understand that part of themselves, even if they were born into a culture with a force tradition separate from that of the Jedi, like the Nightsisters or the Lasat, because they were wiped out, too.

And most people probably knew very little about the inquisitors, if they knew anything at all, but people still talk. There had to be rumors, even early on in the imperial era. And the genocide of the Jedi was a public event; everyone knew about it. So there had to be a general sense of knowing that the force was a very, very dangerous thing to have, and those force sensitive kids who just kept being born would have suffered for it. There would absolutely be abusive parents trying to beat it out of them, absolute monsters abandoning their kids or handing them over the second their kid showed any signs to avoid being targets themselves; even well meaning parents begging their children to please, please hide it, you can’t do things like that, otherwise they’ll come and take you away. Who? And those parents don’t know, but they do hear that nothing good happens to children like theirs. So they hide, or pick up the entire family and run, find a new life, and hope that no one ever finds them. Or they just don’t acknowledge it, and hope it dies out quickly and that no one notices. Or they fight back, because they want the galaxy to be safe for children like theirs as much as the parents who hide their kids do, and they get themselves taken instead.

I sort of wonder if that’s part of why the Bridgers were so adamant about pushing back. Not the entire reason, of course, because the little we see of them really does imply that they’re just the kind of people to stand up for people who can’t. But knowing their son would always have a proverbial ax hanging over his head for being what he was probably made the fight a little more personal, assuming that they knew.

And I also wonder if that’s part of why no one took Ezra in after the Empire took Mira and Ephraim. If they knew, Tseebo probably knew, or at least suspected, and their neighbors might have, too. Because…I mean…when we meet Ezra in Rebels, he’s very obviously force sensitive. He has no training and he’s very casually using the force without knowing it. And, yes, a lot of that was probably brought out because he was basically a second grader who was going to starve to death if he didn’t start fending for himself and survival instinct kicked in, but there might have been reasons for the people around him to be suspicious before that. Because if they were, then he wasn’t just dangerous to take in because his parents were un-personed political prisoners of whom the Empire chose to make an example, he’d also potentially be that weird kid who might have the same thing the Jedi did, and everyone knew what happened to them, and the empire may very well come for him, too, if he is and if they notice. There would be people who’d see adopting little seven-year-old Ezra as too much of a risk. And most everyone in Ezra’s life did see taking him in as too much of a risk, because he was on his own until the ghost crew showed up.

Aaaannd this is getting away from me, but, tl;dr: I want to know if Mira and Ephraim knew their son was force sensitive, because I suspect they did.