#halcyon languages

[ahli-stuff]

Radioapple could be better

Back in the old days radioapple was my fan favorite crack ship . How the times change

Before we got our official depiction of Lucifer as we have now, I imagined him to be condescending, sly, manipulative character who would go on to be Alastor’s foil. Now, the only thing of that remains is that he is Alastor’s foil but the subversion of the sexy and powerful Lucifer of pop culture into sad-awkward dad Lucifer is amazing and I’ve grown really fond of it.

But for how popular it is now, there’s still a big itch that fan content for radioapple (or maybe just Lucifer) fails to scratch for me. This isn’t an issue I have that’s exclusive to Lucifer either, I nearly lost my mind about it in Tv series Lucifer(2016) too.

it’s the fact that there’s barely anyone seems to depict Lucifer’s sheer knowledge. If we are going by the finale, 10,000 years ago is when Lucifer first fell. He is at least 10,000 years old.

10,000 years to learn from the millions of stories (in passing and directly) who have fallen into hell. The wars, the disasters, the movements, the people!!! Age does not equate to wisdom, but you cannot live that long and fail to pick up a certain degree of separation from petty grievances of people who have lived only a fraction of the time you have. That’s doesn’t mean you’re immune to doing irrational things or having childish flaws, but those should coexist with the sheer weight of your knowledge. There should be a certain novelty that an immortal feels in being grounded around very young people who treat them like they are human. Because the knowledge and experience that comes with being immortal can be very dehumanizing, and that is especially so for a figure who has been maybe the most demonized in myth and religion ever.

Give me a Lucifer who knows thousands of different writings, religions, traditions, languages. Give me a Lucifer who contemplates the cruelty of some of the most infamous sinners in real life that have fallen into hell. Give me a Lucifer who becomes lost in ancient levels of nostalgia—his halcyon days with Lilith when humanity began to rear up and he was still hopeful.

Give me an Alastor who, beyond his resentment and ego, is deathly curious how Lucifer works. As a kid who likely went to church every Sunday and listened to pastors caution against the devil so many times his ears may fall off, to meet the guy himself? To meet the entity whom the entirety of the god fearing south wanted to scare him to sleep with? To finally meet the dealmaker of dealmakers?

Give me a late night conversation between the two where they discuss the what alastor has heard about Lucifer topside, Lucifer’s genuine curiosity of Alastor’s morality as a human, and the overall smallness of their existences in the largeness of their myths.

[14dyh]

Sickness | H.Z.

Pairing: Hange Zoë x female reader Summary: Hange takes care of Y/N during a terrible cold. Word count: 1.4k A/N: oh to be taken care of by hange… (btw hange x reader requests are highly encouraged, i love doing them)

The weather changes recently have been a challenge to Y/N's immune system, which may also partly be the reason for her often sickness. Y/N forgot what mornings without a stuffy nose felt like, or a clawing sore throat begging for relief from a distasteful cough syrup. Food barely tasted good, and every night, the dread of running out of tissues at her bedside creeps up on her. Sickness was incredibly mundane after what she had to go through during the war that both ended and began everything. The war demanded her to fight despite bleeding and injury. To think that a soldier trained to withstand any sickness was currently sick in bed was somehow ironic.

Y/N shifted groggily in the sheets, mind still clouded and her breathing quietly desperate for a better airway.

"Hello, love. Good morning," Hange would quietly say every morning accompanied by a tight hug around her chest, snuggling closer as their bodies dipped on the soft mattress.

Y/N would smile but quietly scold Hange for insisting on sleeping beside her despite her sickness.

"Pfft, I won't get sick," Hange would reason, even going as far as proving it with a few kisses. "See? Sickness itself is scared of me."

Hange's humorous attitude alleviated the discomfort within Y/N. The sickness often irritates her because of how much it restricts her actions around the house. After the war, the house she envisioned with Hange gradually became a reality and became where they settled. It has a wonderful view of a riverside and vast greenery. The neighbors are few and everyone has been kind, mostly because of Hange's charm and friendliness.

Hange insisted on tending to the house when Y/N got sick. They learned to clean up and organize the house in functions that would favor them both. It was a scene Y/N always envisioned as she gripped her sword to fight. This is the peace she fought for. A quiet, married life with her most beloved in a serene countryside.

"Hm, awake already? How'd you feel?" Hange approached the bed, carrying a tray of steaming food over the bed.

"Terrible, but not very much," Y/N muttered, sitting up before coughing on a fresh tissue. She would look at the food Hange prepared and smile, knowing that Hange had been exploring more cookbooks on their bookshelf. They have been fascinated by the outside world cuisine, always eager to try something new and pick the best ones for Y/N. Hange would usually sit by the bed as Y/N ate, flipping through the cookbooks and telling her the contents, what looked tasty, or what they would try next. Y/N could not help but give Hange a loving stare as they rambled on, appreciating how Hange used their curiosity as a love language.

Y/N cherished these days despite the sickness as it was nothing compared to their life before the war. She longed for this resolute peace, creating these halcyon memories to remember.

Y/N, consumed by her current happiness, is unaware that she is slowly deteriorating. Darkness slowly spreads underneath her once lively eyes. Her skin appears more sickly than ever, and a strange lack of reflection plagues the mirrorless house. The setting sun never fades into darkness, and the ticking clocks of life have paused.

The morning... or what she thought it was... was nothing like any before. She awoke shaking and panting violently, her fists clenched and unclenched the sheets as if trying to hold to reality and reality itself. She squeezed her eyes shut, pinching her nose as if to compress the horrors of the past. Was it another nightmare of the war? The same recurring dream of losing Hange? It was unbearable to watch like a memory violently forced into the forefront of her mind.

"It's just a dream..." She muttered to herself, holding onto the pillow.

No sooner, Hange entered the room carrying the breakfast they prepared for Y/N. A worried expression passed over their face as they saw the disheveled, panicked state of their sick wife on the bed. Hange sat beside Y/N, wrapping the blankets around her until they were intertwined in each other's arms.

"I dreamed about it again..." Y/N muttered, almost shakily. "I lost you... You died in that war..." Y/N sniffled, leaning closer to the warmth of her lover, letting her ears be filled with the sound of their heartbeat. Hange remained silent, slowly stroking her hair.

Then Hange broke the silence and whispered, "Why do you think so?"

"We can't pretend like this anymore," Hange whispered back in response, a morose sigh passing over their lips as they almost trembled holding her. Y/N felt her heart lodged in her throat, a deep pit in her stomach eating her away.

Y/N shrugged and shook her head lightly, her hand finding a way around Hange's. "I don't know, probably just my head messing with me," she muttered.

A long silence followed and it filled Y/N with discomfort as though there was something lurking beneath her terrible dreams.

"Hange, what do you mean...?" Y/N wanted to take it back, her words almost like a terrible mistake to trigger a ticking bomb.

Y/N was overcome with the gentle shudders from Hange as they sobbed on her shoulder. Their eyes watering with desperation and grief, they finally mustered the courage to face her, tracing a thumb over her cheeks. The lightness of her touch seemed insignificant against the deeper pallor of her face and the dark circles that enveloped her eyes, signs of her deep internal illness.

Y/N sniffled, partly because of the cold and partly because a dreadful truth began clawing on her insides, demanding to be let out. She could not meet the gaze of her spouse this time.

"I'm so sorry..." Hange whispered. "I wish things could be different."

Hange paused and brought their lips to her cold hands.

"That doesn't matter now, though." Hange's tears began to trickle down their lover's hand, a transitory warmth passing over. "You have to wake up now."

"What...?" It was weak, a persistent cry from her throat, wishing that her ears were fooling her this time.

"Wake up now, I'll always be here," Hange held her tight, their actions betraying their words. They don't want to let go. But holding on would only hurt her.

Y/N shook her head furiously, a string of no's spilling from her lips as she held on to Hange with her eyes closed.

"Please, sweetheart," Hange pleaded, their thumb wiping away the tears that fell on their lover's face. "You have to let me go."

"What are you saying...? Please don't leave me..." Y/N gripped Hange's arms, afraid to let them go again. Afraid that she would lose them again the way she did back then.

Was it all a dream? Y/N thought to herself. Then why does the sun feel so warm, why were Hange's heartbeats so real against her ear? Y/N broke into tears as the world began to shift back to reality once again. The warmth. Hange's heartbeats. They felt so strong yet so desperately hollow...

Unreal.

"I love you, I always will." Hange loosened the grip, letting Y/N return to the world they fought for.

-

Y/N woke up crying on the cold sheets of what their room should have been. A heavy storm pounded against the roofs and windows, the sound forming a euphonious symphony to be heard inside. Y/N let the obsidian sky cry with her, the emptiness of the house consuming her bit by bit. The same place Hange promised to build a life with her became nothing but a hungry space, waiting to consume her as well.

Y/N shook her head, refusing for things to end this way. She cried and cried, she showed this place that she wouldn't be consumed... she was meant to live. That's what Hange would have wanted.

Y/N fell asleep crying, peaceful at once as she drifted back to unconsciousness.

That morning, Y/N felt the balmy rays of the sun spilling warmth through her skin. Her eyes fluttered open, still puffy and weak from crying. She cried with the sky so much that night. So hard that her nose cleared up, regaining her airways once again.

She could breathe again, no longer suffocating, no longer a prey to be consumed by her grief... The empty grave of her lover felt so close yet so illusory in the backyard of the house they once dreamt of together.

"Thank you, Hange..." she mumbled as her eyes fluttered close once again. A tell-tale embrace enveloped her in warmth as she drifted back to a peaceful slumber.

[justagalwhowrites]

Halcyon - Prologue: Prom Night

Your best friend, Joel Miller, takes you to prom. The first chapter of Halcyon, a modern no outbreak AU TLOU fic found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Modern No Outbreak AU, No use of Y/N, Slow burn, 18+ only, Minors DNI

Length: 3.7K

AO3

A/N: This fic is a modern no outbreak AU fic. All but this chapter will be set in 2022/2023

Austin, Texas 

May, 2008

“I can’t believe you still have the keys to the press box!” 

“Shhhh!” You hissed at your best friend as you climbed the stairs to the top of the stadium, the bottom of your blue satin prom dress clutched up around your thighs so you wouldn’t trip. “Just announce it so the whole school can hear why don’t you.”

“No one is over here,” you heard him roll his eyes. “Everyone is still at the dance there’s no one here to hear me. I just can’t believe golden girl Goldie didn’t return the keys…” 

“Shove it.” 

“Stealin’ shit,” he teased. 

“Joel…” 

“This is probably breaking and entering, you know,” he said cheerfully. “They can try us both as adults now since you caught up…” 

“Fuck you, Miller.” 

“Awfully adult language comin’ from that smart mouth…” 

You rounded on him, taller than him for a change from your perch a few steps ahead.

“Didn’t you just say they could try us both as adults now that I’m 18, too?” You raised your eyebrows at him. He rolled his eyes. “Pretty sure that means I can swear. And if you’re not careful and I’ll shove you down these stairs…” 

Joel scoffed. 

“They’d try you as an adult for that, too.” 

“Not once I testify about how annoying you are they won’t.”

He scoffed again. You turned back around and kept climbing the stairs. 

“This view had better be worth it is all I’m saying,” he said, sounding short of breath. 

“Oh quit your bitchin’,” you replied, hoping you didn’t sound breathless, too. “Which one of us is in heels?” 

“Yeah, yeah.” 

You made it to the top of the stadium and dropped the hem of your dress before selecting the large, utilitarian key from the keyring in your clutch, letting yourselves in. 

The press box was dark and so was the field below. You gathered your dress again and made your way to the windows, the city lights beyond casting the desk against the glass in a warm glow. 

“Damn,” Joel whispered, coming up alongside you and looking out at the view of the city. 

“Told you,” you said, smug. But you were awed, too.

From here, you could see the Capitol all but glowing in the distance, the skyscrapers lit up along the Colorado River beyond, the UT tower standing tall. 

“Never seen it without the stadium lights on,” you said quietly, looking out at the city. “Wanted to experience it at least once before I left.” 

“See why,” Joel said, serious for a change. You could feel his eyes on you. “Can’t deny that view.” 

You felt your cheeks get hot for a moment and Joel cleared his throat. 

“So,” his teasing tone was back. “Could you even tell it was me playing from up here?” 

“Oh sure,” you smirked, glancing at him for a second before pointing at the sideline. “You always rode the bench right there on the end…” 

“Shut the fuck up,” he elbowed you lightly and you laughed. 

“No, I could tell it was you,” you smiled up at him before looking back out at the field. He’d gotten so much taller since you’d first met him, shooting up half a foot over the span of a few months after you became friends in the first place. “Always head and shoulders taller than all the other jocks out there, spaghetti noodles for arms… Also the fact that you have a number on your shirt helped, you dork.” 

He snorted and you looked back over at him again, the way the light fell on his skin. It was almost like he was glowing, too, like he was made up of everything on the horizon in front of you. He turned to look at you, smirking. 

“Wanna drink?” 

The two of you perched on the desk against the glass, facing out toward the city. You bunched the restrictive skirt around the top your thighs so you could actually move and Joel loosened his tie and unbuttoned the collar of his crisp white dress shirt before reaching into the pocket of his suit coat. He pulled out a flask wrapped in worn leather, the name Miller elegantly stamped into the front of it, and offered it to you. 

“Fancy shit,” you said, taking it from him. You took a swig, cheap rum burning as it went down. You handed it back to him. “Where’d you get it?” 

“It was my dad’s,” he said, looking at it for a second, his eyes tracing over the lettering before taking a drink himself. He flinched as it went down. “So was the rum, actually. Not sure what I’m gonna do once we burn through it all, my mom never buys the shit. Lucky for me that means she never checks it, either…” 

You laughed a little. He held the flask back out. You took it. 

“Yeah, that would not work in my house,” you said, taking a sip. “Even when we were living with my dad, my mom watched that shit like a hawk. Never had a chance. Now it’s just not allowed under her roof. That’ll be one perk to college, I suppose. Don’t have to dodge him and don’t have to hide the beer from her.” 

You passed it back. He took it and took a sip before he wrapped his arms around his knees in front of him and sighed. 

“So you’re really leavin’ huh?” He asked, looking over at you. 

“Yup,” you nodded. “Getting the fuck out of this damn place.” 

“So sorry to be such a let down,” he teased, but there was a hint of hurt in his voice. 

“Hey,” you looked over at him. “You know you’re the only thing I have here that makes life worth living, right?” 

“You’re just sayin’ that because I was willing to be your back up prom date,” he smirked. You rolled your eyes. 

You weren’t joking when you said that. Joel was, easily, the best thing in your life. The only thing you’d really miss when you moved away to go to college. 

When you’d moved across the city just before your sophomore year of high school, you’d expected it to be hell and you’d been right. The school you transferred to was cliquey and close knit. Everyone had known each other all their lives, they had their own groups and ways of doing things and you were an outsider, an interloper. 

Which would have been fine if they’d have just let you keep to yourself, but they weren’t content with that, either. One of the guys at school grabbed your ass as you stood at your locker your second day of class and a friend of his girlfriend saw it. The girlfriend decided it was far better to hate you, the new girl, than actually confront her shit head boyfriend and you were suddenly stuck bearing the brunt of her toxic relationship’s misery. 

That’s how you’d met Joel. This girl - fucking Hannah - had sicced her older brother and his friends on you. They had you pinned down against a stadium wall, your heart in your throat as you clutched your diary to your chest. 

“Like tryin’ to take shit that ain’t yours?” The biggest boy - more man, really - said as he crowded in toward you. “Maybe I should…” 

“Hey!” 

The new voice was surprisingly deep, you half expected a teacher to come running over. Instead it was a boy about your age, baby fat still on his stomach and cheeks, his curls messy. But he didn’t move like a teenaged boy, he moved like a grown man who knew how to bend the world to his will. The others seemed to recognize it, parting like water, giving him a clear path to you. 

“The fuck you doin’, Young?” He demanded. “Threatening some girl?” 

“Fuck off, Miller,” he snapped. “Not you business.” 

“Makin’ it my business,” the newcomer positioned himself in front of you. The first boy had a few inches on him and plenty of muscle but it didn’t seem to bother him. “Happy to make punching your fuckin’ face my business, too.” 

“You think just because…” 

“Think coach’ll let you play Friday if he finds out you were gonna hit a girl?” The boy cut him off. “Heard UT is already scoutin’, don’t think they’ll be interested in some jackass ridin’ the bench.” 

The older boy glowered at him but, eventually, looked over him to you. 

“Keep your hands off my sister’s boyfriend.”

You didn’t bother to fight him on the specifics of what happened. You weren’t sure you were able to speak to do it, anyway. Instead, you just nodded and clutched your diary tight to you. He nodded once, face stern, and stalked off with his posse, leaving just you and the other boy. He waited until he knew they were gone to turn to face you. 

“You OK?” He asked, looking you up and down. You just nodded again. “Good. You really go after Hannah Young’s boyfriend?” 

“No!” You said, your ability to speak almost surprising you. “I’m not going after anyone’s anything, he just grabbed my ass yesterday in the hall and…” 

The boy laughed. 

“I’m fucking with you, Goldie,” he smiled. “No one in their right mind would go after him. Bryce is a jackass and Hannah’s a dumbass. They’re a match made in heaven. I’m Joel.” 

You frowned. 

“Nice to meet you,” you said. “But my name isn’t Goldie…” 

“Be a hell of a coincidence if it was,” he smirked and nodded at your diary, the cover gold glitter with an elastic loop holding a matching pen. “But sure seems like you like the color well enough.” 

You looked down at the diary, your prized possession, the one thing that kept you sane. You wrote in it constantly, everything from your thoughts to what happened to you during the day to ideas for stories to poems. You filled up the notebooks that slipped into the gold cover in a matter of weeks, had stacks and stacks of them sitting in your closet at home. It had been the one thing you’d made sure you packed when leaving your dad’s house. 

You looked back at Joel and gave him your name and he nodded, like he was considering it, trying to figure out if it suited you. 

“You’re new,” Joel said after he’d apparently decided about your name. “Freshman?” 

“Sophomore,” you said. “Just moved.” 

“Me too!” He said, sounding a little excited. “Well, not just, we got here about 2 years ago now but feels like just. Everyone here has known each other since they were fuckin’ born. You get used to it.” 

Joel showed you how to get into the stands even when the main gates were locked and sat with you, telling you the basics about the school, figuring out that you’d moved into an apartment complex that was only about a five minute walk from his house, learning that you both were excited about the new Curtis and Viper movie coming out in a few weeks. 

“Have you watched the director’s commentary for the third one?” You asked. “It’s like that man thought they were making the next Citizen Kane, it’s hilarious…” 

“Miller!” 

Joel’s head snapped around to the field where a bunch of other boys in uniform were flooding out of the locker room and onto the turf. 

“You just itchin’ to go on tour?” 

“No Coach!” Joel said. 

“Then get your ass dressed!” The man yelled. “Move it!” 

Joel jumped up and waited for the coach to turn his back before turning back to you. 

“What’s on tour mean?” You frowned. Joel laughed. 

“He means runnin’ all the stairs in the stadium. His favorite punishment. If you wanna hang out for a bit, I can give you a ride after practice. I technically don’t have my license yet but I’m turning 16 in a few weeks and I already saved up for my truck and my mom’s so busy she’s just happy she doesn’t need to haul my ass around anymore.” 

“Yeah,” you smiled. “Yeah, that would be great. Thank you.” 

“Cool,” he smiled back. 

“Miller!” 

Joel flinched. 

“Yeah, I gotta move my ass or it’s gonna get chewed out. But I’ll see you in a bit, Goldie!” 

You watched him jump the railing at the base of the stands onto the track below, making you gasp and scramble to your feet to see if he was alright. But Joel was already jogging into the locker room when you made it to the end of the bleachers, like what he’d done was nothing at all. 

The two of you had been inseparable ever since. He dropped you off that night and, the next morning, you opened your front door to find him there, playing his steering wheel like a snare drum with his fingers, like the plan had always been to pick you up and drive you to school. Even when you started working at the school paper and Joel made it to the first string of the football team you saw each other every day. You didn’t knock when you came to his house, you just let yourself in, his mom calling you Dorada - golden in Spanish - and telling Joel to listen when you tried to get him to study. Your little sister, Anna, had Joel wrapped around her finger to the point that he had a stash of fun sized candy bars in his locker that he’d raid before coming to your apartment so he had one to present to her. 

Even when you started dating Steven, your now ex-boyfriend, you saw Joel all the time. Steven never seemed to like him much but, to his credit, didn’t seem threatened by Joel. 

Which made sense. You knew better than to think Joel was interested in you that way. You were certain he saw you like a sister, like family. You weren’t someone he could look at and want. He was Joel Miller. He was handsome and funny and scored the winning touchdown in the playoff game that sent your school to the final. Boys like that weren’t interested in the girls who spent all their spare time with their nose in a book and tracked the GPAs of the other top students in the class to know where she fell in the fight for valedictorian. You were lucky he was friends with you at all. It didn’t matter how you felt about him, you weren’t about to press your luck. 

But when Steven dumped you two weeks before prom and you showed up outside Joel’s last class with eyes that were red from tears, he jumped up, grabbed his backpack and just gave his teacher a wave before slinging his arm over your shoulder and guiding you to his truck. 

“You know what’s so stupid?” You sniffed, perched on the gate of his truck as you poked at the Blizzard you’d gotten at Dairy Queen but couldn’t bring yourself to eat much of. “I think I’m more upset about the fact that now I can’t go to prom and I got the best dress for it. I know it’s insane but I was going to actually look kinda hot and I’ve never gone to a dance with a guy and…” 

“Why can’t you go to prom?” Joel frowned, reaching his long, red spoon into your ice cream cup. You rolled your eyes and tilted it his direction. 

“Because you can’t go by yourself,” you said. “That’s pathetic. Especially not when you just got dumped.” 

“I’ll go with you,” Joel shrugged. “My mom keeps sayin’ that she thinks I could wear some of my dad’s old shit now, he had at least one suit.” 

“I’m not about to ask you to cramp your style with the ladies by being my prom date,” you rolled your eyes. Joel had gone out on at least one date with every hot girl in your year and a few of the junior and sophomore girls, too. The longest anyone had lasted was Carly Smith, who held the prestigious title of Joel Miller’s almost girlfriend for 10 days and the three class periods before lunch when he told her he wasn’t interested before asking you if you wanted to run to Whataburger. 

He scoffed. 

“Not interested in any of them,” he said. “Setting my sights a little higher these days.” 

“College girls?” You teased. 

He laughed, reaching his spoon over for your ice cream again. You tilted it in his direction and shook your head a little as you did. 

“Somethin’ like that,” he said. “C’mon. Let me take you. It’ll be fun and you can still wear the fancy dress.” 

You ate another bite of your Blizzard, thinking for a second as you sucked on the spoon, the plastic edges sharp on your tongue. 

“Alright Miller,” you said eventually. “Let’s do this thing. You and me at prom.” 

“Gonna be fun, Goldie,” he said. “Promise.” 

He was right. It had been fun. Really, really fun. Honestly, way more fun than you’d ever have with Steven, anyway. Joel picked you up in his suit that was a little big around the middle but actually fit his broad shoulders and long legs. He’d gotten his truck washed and he’d even vacuumed the inside and he came to your door with a corsage in a box that was still cool from being kept in his fridge until he came to get you. Your mom took pictures of the two of you together and you hoped you didn’t look as stupid as you felt when you posed with your hand on Joel’s chest, tucked against his side like a real date while your heart was beating so fast it felt like it was threatening to burst from your ribs. Your dress was long and sleek and fit you just right, highlighting the womanly curves you’d grown into through your teenaged years. Your mom styled your hair so that it was elegant but still framed your face just so and you spent an hour working on your makeup. 

“Steven is gonna feel like a total fucking dumbass,” Joel said as he drove you to the hotel near campus where prom was being held. “You weren’t kidding about that dress.” 

You laughed. 

“You clean up pretty good yourself,” you said and he winked at you, making your heart flutter. 

The two of you danced and laughed and you took silly pictures next to the over the top decorations with the disposable camera you’d bought just for the occasion. 

But as prom wound down, Joel talked you into slow dancing with him, his hands warm and soft besides the callus he had from playing guitar and football on your exposed back. You had to fight to stay focused on the fact that it was Joel. He was your best friend, not your boyfriend. He was slow dancing with you because that was the nice thing to do when you took someone to prom, not because he was interested in you. Even though his eyes were on yours in a way that didn’t feel like was just to be nice and the way his fingers sank into your skin made it seem like it was more than just being nice. 

“Wanna get out of here?” He asked quietly as the song wound down. 

You tried to think of a place you could go that wouldn’t just be his truck or wouldn’t involve the two of you humoring Anna or his little brother, Tommy. For some reason, you wanted to be with just Joel. 

“Yeah,” you nodded. “Think I know a place.” 

You looked at the Capitol dome in the distance, the soft glow of it, and sighed. 

“You don’t have to leave, you know,” Joel said quietly after a moment. “Could just go to UT. Shit, we could even be roommates, I’ve already got a job lined up…” 

“If I stay I’m just going to get swallowed up by my mom’s needs and Anna’s and my dad is going to keep trying to fuck everything up…” you sighed. “And do you really think you’re going to move out? Or are you going to end up basically living at home so you can help your mom with Tommy?” 

“I’d move out if it was with you,” he said.  

You scoffed. 

“Sure you would,” you said, incredulous. “Joel, I love you, but we both know you’d be right back at home the second Tommy acted out at school again.” 

Joel sighed. 

“He’ll get his shit together eventually,” he said. “It won’t be forever. Stay.” 

“I can’t just be in one place my whole life,” you said softly, looking over at him. “I need to try to be someone somewhere that isn’t here.” 

He sighed heavily.

“I know,” he took another drink. You scooted closer to him and rested your head on his shoulder, taking a deep breath as you just looked out the window a bit longer. 

“I don’t know what I’m going to do without you,” you said softly after a few minutes. 

“You’ll be fine,” he waved you off. “You’re the smart one, the one with the real skills and shit. You were always going to do great things, Goldie. Just liked being close enough to you to see you do it.” 

You tilted your head just enough to see that he was looking at you, watching you, his brown eyes glistening in the hazy light of the city. You realized, suddenly, that you were close to him. Very close, so close that your nose brushed his cheek when you lifted your head from his shoulder, your eyes still on his. Your heart was pounding. 

“Joel…” you breathed. 

Your heart kept pounding as your best friend kissed you. It didn’t stop pounding for a while.

A/N: Welcome to Halcyon! This is a totally different kind of Joel Miller and I'm so excited to share him - and Goldie - with you all.

You can expect weekly updates as we watch these two try to navigate all the curve balls life throws their way.

Thank you thank you thank you for being here! Follow my updates account here and subscribe to get alerts when new chapters are posted.

I can't wait to go on this adventure with you all. Love you!!

[carsthatnevermadeitetc]

Chrysler Halcyon Concept, 2024. A prototype for Chrysler's new electric saloon that reveals the design language for their future electric range. Their first new electric model, a crossover, is due next year but the saloon is further alway.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

A List of "Poetic" Words

to include in your next poem

Ambrosian: Anything particularly delightful to taste or smell.

Amort: Spiritless; lifeless.

Apollonian: Harmonious, measured, ordered or balanced in character.

Ariose: Characterized by melody; songlike.

Aureate: Golden, gilded, brilliant or splendid.

Caliginous: Misty, dim, murky, obscure or dark.

Gossamer: Something extremely light, flimsy, or delicate.

Halcyon: Calm, quiet, peaceful or undisturbed (usually accompanied by ‘days’).

Inveigle: To entice, lure, or ensnare by flattery or artful talk or inducements.

Mawkish: Sentimental in an exaggerated or false way.

Motley: Being of different colors combined.

Nebulous: Cloudy or cloudlike.

Panacea: A remedy for all disease or ills; cure-all.

Pellucid: Allowing the maximum passage of light, as glass; translucent.

Penumbra: A half-shadow, or the edge of a shadow.

Puerile: Of or pertaining to a child or to childhood.

Quiddity: The quality that makes a thing what it is; the essential nature of a thing.

Quintessential: The purest, most typical or refined example of its kind.

Scurrilous: Something coarse or indecent in the language it uses; or, as the early lexicographer Samuel Johnson put it: ‘using such language as only the licence of a buffoon can warrant’.

Seraphic: Blissfully serene; rapt.

Serendipity: When a happy and unexpected discovery occurs by accident.

Slattern: A woman or girl untidy or slovenly in person, habits and surroundings.

Sylphlike: A slender, graceful woman or girl. One of a race of supernatural beings supposed to inhabit the air.

Vellichor: Refers to the appealing mystique of an old bookshop.

Sanguinolency: Something bloody or something related to blood.

If any of these words make it into your next poem/s or stories, please tag me or leave a link in the replies. I would love to read them!

Sources: 1 2 3

More: Word Lists

[follow-the-compass-home]

Halcyon - Chapter 1 [Of Small Gods and Short Prayers AU]

Fandom: Hermitcraft

AU: Gods & Goddesses

Genre: Fantasy

WC: 733 of ~8k total

Relationship: Grian & Gem + many minor relationships, all platonic except for Joel / Lizzie

Language: English

Status: 1 out of 7 chapters

Warnings: Past-main character death, temporary character death, grief, mourning, loss, minor character death, reincarnation.

Author's Note: The warnings related to death are all things that happened before the fic and are only mentioned in conversation or vaguely through flashbacks.

Summary:

Grian is a forgotten patron god of fishermen, who was known for being able to summon favorable winds and calm the waters. As he's fallen into oblivion, he's forgotten all about himself, until Gem, a brave sailor, awakens him and asks for his protection.

This fic was made for the @mcyt-co-create event! Go support everyone there c:

[woneuntonzz]

what's it like to love ? 𓇢𓆸

anton lee x afab!reader (part 5/5)

• part 1

• part 2

• part 3

• part 4

warnings: cussing!

genre: fluff -`♡´- highschool love

word count: 2.8k words!!

[note!!: hiii i'd just like to quickly say that this is my first post ever and i'm still a bit insecure with my writing, and english is not my first language so bare with me now 🙏 open for any forms of feedback

please do take note that i will take longer to update/respond to anything because of school, thank you!!! ]

[Day 99]

It's been a few weeks since your senior year began, though, the path to take after overcoming highschool is still a little unclear to you. Still, you don't rush yourself. 

“Psychology's quite interesting.” you said as your fingers glided through the array of vinyls.

“You wanna be a therapist?” Anton was at the other side of the tall steel shelf that divided the two of you.

Your fingers stopped on a vinyl of your favorite The Smiths song. You walked over to the record player, just in time when Queen had sung the last lines to Don't Stop Me Now.  Anton crept up behind you and laid his hands on your shoulders.

“That song reminds me of the time when I first fell for you.” he would whisper in your ear.

You turned your head and looked up at him with raised brows. “Really?”

“Yeah. I've liked you since freshman year. I can remember very vividly. I felt so tired from training at the time and kinda hated that I still had to go to school the next morning. I was sleeping in the classroom during lunch time, and, like, I had my head down and couldn't see anything, then I suddenly heard you singing 'There's a light, and it never goes out'.” Anton sang the last part right into your ear.

When the record started to play the song, you turned around to face him.

“How'd you know it was me if you couldn't see?” you posed him a question followed by a low chuckle.

“That's the thing. I wanted to know who it was so bad, but I didn't know how. I'm still a total loser at the end of the day.” His words got you shaking your head at a mild pace, laughing. “I guess it took me about 3 weeks to figure it out. You would always sing it randomly. At some point I thought you were doing it on purpose to get to me.”

Disbelief was displayed on your face as you looked at him. “Wow, I can't— why would I even try to 'get to you' when you never even talked to me unless you really needed to.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. It's just that —well, I just thought you were like the other girls back then that snuck love letters underneath my desk and stuff.” your smile grew to a cackle that infected him.

The sweet sound of your harmonious laughter and the music marked another halcyon for the two of you to look back on.

“Okay 'Mr. Chick-magnet'.” you joked as you hugged his waist and buried your face in his chest.

As a response, he wraps an arm around your body, and the other would reach behind your head, caressing your hair as the two of you slowly and subtly swayed to the music. 

You two have been together for almost 3 months now. Not much has changed since then other than being more open and touchy with each other and no longer caring if people gave you piercing looks for being so enamored towards each other.

The record store would end up being a hotspot for you two —though, it would only be when you weren't able to go to your grandfather's flower fields. The record store owner grew fond of seeing you and Anton lost in each other's visage, and the music. He saw the way you would stare into each other's eyes and wondered what kind of film played in them to cause so much immersion from the two of you. 

“I thought it was easy to play the cello.” you mumbled against his chest.

“Yeah. It is, you just don't know how.” you giggled at his light-hearted retort.

You looked up at him with gleaming eyes.

“Am I a bad teacher?” he asked softly.

“No, not at all. I guess I'm just really distracted.” a chuckle escapes his mouth by the end of your answer.

“Distracted by what?” he prodded at you with his words, and his eyes as he pressed his forehead against yours.

You grin knowing both you and him already know the answer to that.

“By you.”

He took you to his house after another one of his swimming matches. Well, it was actually his mom who had asked you to come to their home for dinner and drove you along. Anton wordlessly thanked his mom for inviting you over, he wanted to do so himself, but he got scared you would decline. 

After dinner, he took you to his room and there you finally saw the cello that would always be in the background when you two facetimed, that he sometimes would play to you through call. He played you your favorite ballad and asked you to sing to it. His mind would adrift from the walls of his room and would follow the mist of your dulcet voice. You loved the way he closed his eyes as he played, and how he'd slowly flutter his eyes open to meet yours. His sobriety shattered as he got drunk in your grace and how your head would tilt to peek in his reverie, and it almost slipped out of his mouth —I love you, but something held him back.

After a while, he would go on to teach you. He'd position himself behind you, and guide your hands with his own. His hands would linger on your skin which made you unable to follow his directions or comprehend anything he said clearly.

After everything that went down, he truly never wanted to let go of your hand as you stepped into the gate of your own home. His smile urged you to drag him along with you, but you resisted, and gave him a quick peck on his cheek before saying goodbye.

“You know when you'd always lecture me on the lessons I can't understand?” 

You and Anton were now seated on the little sofa in the store, you laid your head on his shoulder as he played with your hands.

“Hmm~ what about it?” you asked him back.

“At some point I constantly lied about not getting it so you can teach me over and over again.” he says, almost in a laugh, laying his head against yours.

“Are you saying that because I jokingly called you stupid one time…” you felt him frantically shake his head.

“No! I'm being for real.” he laughed.

“Yeah, okay…” you kept your wary tone from which he dragged your hand near his mouth and bit it lightly. “What are you doing?” 

You two were giggling against each other. It was only with each other that you reached true serenity. You were lucky to have the record store all to yourselves. It would always be empty —at least at the times you'd visit— as if it was being reserved for the two of you. 

————— ୨୧ —————

You sat on your desk, typing out an essay given by your English teacher as an assignment to be submitted the next day. You hopped on a call with your friends who were given the same assignment.

“Our essay topic is just 'memories', she just gave us that word, said nothing else about it and left!” Yuna grumbled.

“Tell me about it. Anyways, what topic was given to your class Y/n?” Liz asked.

“Love. Just love.” you replied, continuously typing on your laptop.

“Dang. That's kinda easy.” you couldn't help but grin at the slight frustration in Liz's voice.

“'Memories' is not that bad. You're both school journalists, you can do it!” you gave them words of encouragement in hopes that they'd start to restlessly type too.

“Okay, okay. Game mode on.” 

You couldn't stop your lips from forming a smile as you read through what you had already typed. The only reason this was easy for you was because of the given topic. It gave you the opportunity to give an answer to the life-long question you've had in your head. 

“Finally finished! I feel so tired. I'm gonna head out first, I might bang my head against my desk if I don't go to sleep, bye lovies! See you tomorrow!” Danielle yawned before leaving the call.

“Me too guys hehe.” Yuna spoke. 

“Y/n? you're still not done?” Xen asked.

“Yep. Just doing revisions. I'll be done in a few minutes.” you were in fact not done, not doing revisions just yet, you just had a lot to say.

“Well, let's end the call and get some sleep. Go to sleep as soon as you finish, yeah?” you looked over to your phone screen and gave Xen a dozy nod. “Okay, bye babes!”

“Bye-bye!”

“See y'all tomorrow!”

You turned your attention back to your essay, deep in thought. An idea suddenly crossed your mind. You would finish your essay, but would end up sleeping way later as your head ran with thoughts about tomorrow.

————— ୨୧ —————

[Day 100]

You woke up to your mom assisting you to the kitchen to eat breakfast. Your temperature spiked up and you felt light-headed the whole time. It was still early in the morning, but you were already receiving sought messages from your friends, including Anton. 

You chuckled before getting up from where you sat. You realized it would take you all the strength you had to get to your room to retrieve your laptop, still, you persisted and was back in the kitchen with your laptop within minutes. You hurriedly sent him the file, but then you remembered. You had intended to give it to him after it had been graded by your teacher —as a love letter. It sounds cheesy, but there's more to that. It contains your genuine thoughts and feelings, the big and the small that you languished over, and most importantly, it contains the words both you and him have yet to utter. 

It was really only recently when you'd find yourself thinking about it. Maybe it's too early —was enough to shut down your thoughts. It had only been 2 months, but you happily embraced his affection, his words, his voice, his touch, every moment with him felt enchanting to you. You were certain he felt the same and he would often express it with his eyes and the placement of his hands and indirectly if he was being vocal. The shared passion for one another was undeniable, and it only seems to be growing more and more as time goes by that even after the first heated argument you've had with him a while back, you two were able to recover and came out better than ever. 

“Eat well hun'. It's better if you lay for the rest of the day.” your mom went over to you to caress your hair.

She had decided to call in sick for work to take care of you today, and you couldn't be more thankful.

You did what your mom advised you to and the whole day, you laid on your bed as you listened to the playlist Anton put together for you for your first monthsary to help you sleep or relax yourself. 

————— ୨୧ —————

When you woke up, the sun was already setting. You weren't feeling any better from when you had fallen asleep which frustrated you a bit. You stood up and stayed there for a little bit, feeling dizzy. You suddenly heard a knock at your door. You weren't sure if it was your hazy mind making up the sounds or if it was real, but you still took weak steps to the door to answer it.

“Tonii?” you were engulfed in Anton's arms the moment you opened the door. “Why are you here?”

Anton didn't speak and led you back to your bed. 

He had that look in his eyes again. It was the same eyes you saw that night at the flower fields. 

“I love you too.”

Your heart was throbbing loudly and it was the only thing you could hear right after Anton's voice faded into your soul. 

He didn't wait for you to respond as he knew you were feeling too weak to continuously speak, and so he cupped your cheek with his hand, while the other held your hand as he leaned in for his lips to slowly collide with yours.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

It was Anton's first time going into the student council office without you. He stood by the printer quietly trying to brush off the student council officers eyeing him as if he was eating up all the printing paper. He immediately rushed out once he got your essay printed. 

He still couldn't believe the length of your essay as it was three pages long, even then, he was intrigued and wanted to read what you had put that made it so lengthy. 

He decided to stay back in the classroom a little longer when lunch came around. He sat on his seat with his back against the wall next to him and started to read. 

What's it like to love? an atypical query to have as a child, as you would think most in the age of innocence could only make time and thought for leisure and the attainment of joy, but young minds are always curious. The very first time I caught a glimpse of love was in the form of a field of flowers…

Anton was hooked and mesmerized with your potency.

…It was from it that I realized that if you truly loved, any ounce of pain, blood, or sweat will be overlooked. I failed to completely understand it back then, throughout my years of adolescence, I've had my fair share of misfortunes when it came to love. I was easily convinced that what I was feeling during those times were love despite the lack of sincerity from those who had taken my heart for granted. It took some time to accept that being 'young and stupid' is not just a phrase being thrown around as an excuse, but it's an indication of vulnerability. I had my time to heal and embarked on a journey to self-betterment, and I thought maybe love is waiting for me at some other point in my life, and this thought would later be contradicted…

Anton flipped over to the next page with a vivid mind.

…I am admittedly afraid of what the future holds. This man that had me smitten was one I never even acknowledged fully until much later. I had no idea what took so long for me to see him when he's been around since I've begun recklessly handing my heart out to others. To think back, if I had handed him my heart back then, maybe I would've been spared from all the tears I have shed because I know he would hold it dearly, close to his own…

…feelings I have never felt before, that I never even knew of, are now all I yearn for when the sky's painted black. It was with him that I understood what it was truly like to be appreciated, to be loved with no conditions. It's a pain to think that it could all disappear with a blink of an eye, but when he holds me close and looks into my eyes, I am assured. What's it like to love? to love, is him. It is he, my love, my one and only. I had liked you for 100 days, and today I declare, I love you, Anton Lee.

Your words plunged deep into his heart. Seeing his name after those words made him feel dazed, warm and just so, so in love. He wanted to see you, to feel you. He looked over to your empty desk and could see the specter of your smile against the light of the sun.

It had seemed as though you had written him a love letter with not much intention of receiving a high mark for your sleepless effort. But even if this task was not assigned, you would still plan on expressing everything you had written to him directly, for the 100th day. 

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

You pushed Anton away gently, and very weakly so. You weren't able to actually make him back away, but he got the message and pulled back. 

“You're gonna get sick too.” you faintly voiced out your worry. 

Anton bit his lip and proceeded to make the heat in your body rise even more as he smiled. He gently pulled you closer to him, laying your head on his chest and wrapping you with his warm embrace.

“I love you so much.” he uttered under his breath, burying his face in your hair.

You just remained quiet, and snuggled even closer to him. Your arms would lazily make their way around his neck, and you would look up and express your love with your lips once more.

Anton went home with a sanguine tint on his cheeks, feeling so warm and fuzzy inside. Let's just say the warmth would become more literal than figurative, and you would definitely be the one to visit him the next day.

Fin.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

[dragonomatopoeia]

Air's End-of-Year Youtube Video Rec-List Round-Up

In light of recent events and also because I wanted to, I have put together a rec list of various (mostly longform) videos that I've enjoyed this year. Not all of these videos were released this year, however-- I just happened to see them for the first time in 2023. For readability and quality of life purposes, I have put this list under a readmore and divided the videos up by category, then creator, which means that some youtube channels might appear in multiple categories

I reserve the right to edit this later as I remember more videos, but I feel comfortable publishing it as is, considering it has almost 100 videos on it at this point

Cooking

Get Curried Chili Garlic Rosemary Chicken Recipe | How to Make Chili Garlic Rosemary Chicken at Home | Prateek Anardana Chicken Recipe | Delicious Himachal Style Anardana Chicken Recipe at Home | Chef Prateek Old Delhi Style Tangdi Kebab | How to Make Indian Starter Tangdi Kebab Recipe | Chef Prateek Dhawan

How to Cook That The $10 Million dollar lie (Betty Crocker) Debunking the Pink Sauce Controversy | How To Cook That Ann Reardon Top 7 Best Easy Lemon Recipes 🍋 | How To Cook That Ann Reardon Toxic Foods promoted on TikTok! | How To Cook That Ann Reardon Why is Pyrex exploding? | How To Cook That Ann Reardon

Library of Congress' Youtube Channel El Camino del Mole a New Orleans El Camino del Pan a Baltimore

Immaculate Bites LEMON BUNDT CAKE FIRECRACKER SHRIMP

Simply Mamá Cooks 3 EASY Beef Pot Roast Recipes perfect for the cold weather EASY Chicken Tamales Recipe | How To Make Tamales Easy NO-KNEAD Soft Dinner Rolls + FLUFFY From Scratch Milk Rolls Recipe Zuppa Toscana Recipe EASY | Olive Garden Potato Sausage Soup Recipe

Fraud, Grifts, and Scams

FoldingIdeas Contrepreneurs: The Mikkelsen Twins The Future is a Dead Mall - Decentraland and the Metaverse In Search Of A Flat Earth This is Financial Advice

Maggie Mae Fish Is the "Off-Grid" Lifestyle a Lie??

Münecat I Debunked Every "Body Language Expert" on Youtube The Problem with Tony Robbins (Deep-Dive - Pt.1) The Problem with Tony Robbins (Deep-Dive - Pt. 2)

Super Eyepatch Wolf The Bizarre World of Fake Martial Arts The Bizarre World of Fake Psychics, Faith Healers, and Mediums Influencer Courses are Garbage: The Dark Side of Content Creation Tom Nicholas Griftonomics: Why Scams are Everywhere Now

We're In Hell A History of Spam on the Internet Hustling America: I Can't Believe This Show Is Real The Problem with Voluntourism WE Charity & the Nonprofit Industrial Complex

Gaming

Hbomberguy Halcyon Dreams: The Legacy of Dragon's Lair

Jacob Geller Games that Aren't Games How Can We Bear to Throw Anything Away?

Li Speaks An Exploration of the Avata Star Sue-niverse It's Time For You To Play Flash Games Again The Strange Case of Kissing and Flirting Games Untangling the Lore of Devilish Hairdresser

Mandaloregaming The Mystery of the Druids: A Bizarre Adventure Game

People Make Games The Games Industry Must Not Stay Silent on Palestine Investigation: Who’s Telling the Truth about Disco Elysium? Working at Valve: 'A Fearless Adventure' or 'Lord of the Flies'?

PowerPak Dead Space 3 Is Worse Than I Thought King's Quest - The First Adventure Game King's Quest 2 - A Bridge Too Far... MyHouse.WAD - Inside Doom's Most Terrifying Mod Squirrel Stapler is Absolutely Nuts Tunic is Deceptively Brilliant

Super Bunnyhop Perusing Pentiment's Boisterous Bibliography

History

BobbyBroccoli The image you can't submit to journals anymore

Cambrian Chronicles Wikipedia's King who Doesn't Exist

Defunctland Journey to EPCOT Center: A Symphonic History

Elliot Sang How Tea Became European McMindfulness: When Capitalism Goes Buddhist

Intelexual Media Creating The Conservative New Right In The 1970s A Buffet of Black Food History

Kaz Rowe A Deep Dive into the Deadly World of Victorian Patent Medicine Why Have So Many People Seen Ghost Ships? Why the Myth of the Library of Alexandria Is Wrong

Kendra Gaylord 500 years of dollhouses and what it meant to teach girls Alice Austen, the 1880s photographer: her house, her photos, her love life What happened to cheap food? Diners, Automats, and affordable eating

Nerdsync Bonkers origins of superhero memes The Scandalous REAL Origin of Superman's Lois Lane Superman's Uncomfortable History with Nuclear Weapons

Premodernist Advice for time traveling to medieval Europe

Stepback History How The Vietnam War Birthed a Generation of White Terrorists OK Fine I’ll Talk About Ancient Apocalypse

Tantacrul Notation Must Die: The Battle For How We Read Music

Film and Television

Be Kind Rewind How Breakfast at Tiffany's Turned into a Totally Different Movie | Adapting a Classic Casting the Women of Valley of the Dolls | PT 1 The Making of Valley of the Dolls | PT 2 How the "Old Ladies N' Hijinks" Subgenre Became a Thing How a "Sacrilegious" Film Changed Hollywood Forever... So I watched BLONDE... Why Tallulah Bankhead Never Became a Movie Star

Big Joel The Song That Broke West Side Story

Cherrybepsi Can We Kill the Final Girl Trope Already?

Hazel weird & kinda scary tokusatsu girls

Jane Mulcahy The Lunacy of Teen Wolf (Part 1) What is the 'psycho biddy' genre?

Maggie Mae Fish BLACK CHRISTMAS Before & After "Me Too" The War on "Woke" Hollywood: A History of Blacklists and Strikes Why is Clint Eastwood

Princess Weekes Black Trauma vs. Black Horror Why Are There So Many Confederate Vampires? Why Don't Worry Darling Doesn't Work ...

Shanspeare EUPHORIA: Sam Levinson’s Unfulfilled Fantasy The Girlboss-ification of the Horror Genre TikTok Femininity Coaching and Aestheticizing Racism

Science and Technology

BobbyBroccoli The $21,000,000,000 hole in Texas The man who faked human cloning How to catch a criminal cloner

Eastman Museum's Youtube Channel Photographic Processes Series

Technology Connections What's the deal with the popcorn button?

Practical Engineering How Flood Tunnels Work What's the Difference Between Paint and Coatings? Why Is Desalination So Difficult? Why Railroads Don't Need Expansion Joints

[cordelia-noir]

Operation Give Edwin A Super Birthday was officially a success.

Edwin liked the pins. He liked the socks. He had a cool parcel from home, including a book in Punjabi because apparently Edwin showed affection by picking up languages like they were stray cats.

Dessert tonight was going to be cake after much sweet-talking of the kitchen staff. Everything was aces. Until his second class that was, when he was pulled out of Phys Ed with an urgent summons to see the headmaster.

[worldsetfree]

Stardust Crusaders × F!Reader: Halcyon and On and On

(+ a bonus character card in this booster pack!)

Around the World in Eighty Days is what Joseph Joestar compared this trip to, and hooh boy, you are really feeling that right now. It's been a non-stop bizarre whirlwind trek across the globe, and yet somehow you've found a few minutes to breathe. Maybe the next train isn't for a few hours, or the group needed to split up to get supplies for the next leg of the journey, but regardless you've decided to spend this precious downtime with the person closest to your heart.

(Feedback is welcome. This is my first time posting this type of content, and I'm still playing with the formatting.)

I. THE MAGICIAN

There's something about a good street market that excites Muhammad Avdol so much. He loves experiencing the culture of the places you're traveling through, and for him, the markets are the best way to do that.

Doubly so if it's with you. Link arms, hold hands, whatever you want. Avdol is happy to bask in your presence.

He wants to impress you with his knowledge! He'll be your tour guide through these busy streets. He makes it look effortless.

He really likes books! If you find a bookstore or a stall selling old tomes, the flame in his heart will burn just a bit brighter for you.

V. THE HIEROPHANT

He is a bit shy, but my God is Kakyoin Noriaki happy to spend time with you.

Really wants to do something very specific to the area with you. Visit a famous landmark, try the local cuisine. He read about it in a travel book once. This boy really values sharing these experiences with you.

Kakyoin will do anything to see your smile. He's the type to buy you pretty things that he spots in the street. Jewelry, mementos... he's really sweet. Notices your style, tries to work with that. Will spend irresponsibly, bless his heart.

Find him something in return and he'll be a mess. Nobody's ever treated him quite like you. He doesn't know how to handle it, but it makes his heart melt.

VII. THE CHARIOT

Jean Pierre Polnareff will talk your ear off in two languages. Mostly showering you with compliments. And complaining, as is par for the course.

Wander the streets together in search of food, some shade, or a good bathroom. He has needs, you know? He's thankful for your company on this little quest of his. Makes him feel important to you.

He'll find some way to spoil you, of course. Flowers, a salon. Let him treat you right, belle! He's always looking for excuses to pamper you. And always hoping you'll reward him with a kiss!

I'm so sorry, but you're running into a Stand User. It's Polnareff, what did you expect? At least he'll keep you safe. Il est vraiment désolé, chérie!

IX. THE HERMIT

Watch this silver fox try to barter like he thinks he knows what he's doing. Joseph Joestar has travelled the world, he's got this! (He doesn't)

OH MY GOD! Is that American cuisine? He is either excited by it or absolutely furious (see: hot cola in Hong Kong). Has a lot of good trivia and insight about whatever he's discovered.

Rambles about this kind of thing specifically to make these strange and far-off places feel a little bit more familiar for you. He knows it's been a stressful trip.

But you've noticed the stress wearing him down too, so you tell the boys to handle the usual errands and take the time to get a bite to eat with Joseph. He's very grateful for the impromptu date.

XVII. THE STAR

On the outside, Kujo Jotaro is perpetually cool and mildly disinterested. Of the group, he is the most likely to want to stay put. But you want to explore? Good grief. He'd better come with you so you don't get into trouble.

Inside, his heart is hammering like he's about to beat down a Stand User. This is all so new and exciting, it's making him nervous. What does he even say??? Fuck, he's out of his element here!

You'll complete an errand and wander aimlessly, silently enjoying each other's company. Maybe you'll end up by the beach. You're looking out at the sunlight shimmering on the water and he's... watching you.

He might not understand what he's feeling in that moment, but someday he will. Love hits a Joestar particularly hard, his grandpa told him once. He'll never forget how beautiful you looked.

0. THE FOOL

(Platonic, he is a dog. I shouldn't have to explain this.)

Fuck you, Iggy goes where he pleases.

You're gonna be cleaning up the mess he leaves in his wake, or chasing after him.

He stole kebab from a child. You're mortified.

You're just gonna wait at the hotel next time.

Bonus Card:

XXI. THE WORLD (uh oh)

Hopefully you caught him in a good mood. Ah, but your presence is almost always enough to lift DIO's spirits.

Do you believe in gravity? (I'm only half-kidding.) He loves to talk philosophy like this with you. Your perspective is both intriguing and amusing to him.

He's surprisingly chatty with you. He's missed what, the past 100 years? He has so many questions for you. Civilization changed so much, and you are one of the lucky few he can trust with his idle curiousities.

Just don't bore him, or else.

[sarsaparillaart]

“The 12-made-10 and the broken dance. The Accelerando. The Change of Ladies. The Metronome and the Song. The Dance-Architect and Rhythm-Draw. The Body. The Chassé. The Rèvèrence. The Unheard Objection.”

Swordtember 7 - Moon

Longer lore piece below. Rendering nacre is harder than I thought btw.

10 Invocations for 10 Moons

O Milkmoon! Life and growth and rot and unloving lust. All things that spread because they must, and all things that take because they can. You the ancient forest and the stinking city, the corn in the field and the smut upon it. You, language and terrible ideas that spread through furtive whispers, poisoning the dwelling minds. You, the disgusting undying evergrowing! The beautiful cancer inside all things! O Halcyon! Grow!

O Coalmoon! The everflowing torrent of change. The violent storm of light and fire and lightning and smoke! You, the forge that melts the world and mixes and ruins and fixes and starts again! You, the white-hot flame that makes glass from deserts and brick from clay and ash from men! You, the violent storm that changes them again to something new! O Labile! Change!

O Saltmoon! The long-held breath; existence without resolution! You yourself the fear of death. You, salted fish and mummified kings! You, the unmarred monument-stone and the author's name on a page! History now and never-past. The unbroken line and unmoving sky! You, still water and rock-hard bread. You who cannot stop, for you cannot move! O Sterile! Continue!

O Winemoon! The impossible dance, shattered legs, and blooded throat! The thirst for drink that already pumps through veins! You, the song that never ends! The silent  verses that flow in a torrents from the lungs of all. The melody in birdsong and the rhythm in the beating of hearts! You the first, last, and million dances unending! The scurrying of rats and the procession of pilgrims! The flowing of water and the whirling of atoms! O Blithe! Revel!

O Nacremoon! The beauty in numbers; the constant ticking up and down and ceaselessness of a spiraling fractal. You the tides of gain and loss. You the lies of luck! You, outlier in an infinite range! The meaningless profundity between digits! You who live in the clink of coins and the arc of arrows. You which breathes probability and bleeds geometric form!  You, the one perfect thing! O Mnemonic! Reckon!

O Silkmoon! The billion lines in a billion webs. You, the strands connecting me to you and you to them and them to me! The lines that connect our eyes to these words and these words to their meanings in a million doomed languages! You, the threads of love and hatred and fealty. The connections between the disconnected! The net of staggering complexity that ties everything that does and does not exist! You, worm-spider in the shape of a moon, spinning and knitting and cutting and shaping! O Sibling! Tether!

O Bilemoon! Flesh and beautiful body. The face perfect, all sharp curves and smooth edges! The glow of sickened health. You, the muscular fat rippling across wide tracts of flesh! You, fast-strength! You skin radiant! You eyes clear! The cutless and malleable form radiating death and sex! You the beautiful parts of existing! You incarnation incarnate! The singular point of body! O Chassis! Live!

O Sugarmoon. You the sky and sea! The wanderer and a researcher. The seer and a thinker! You, the answerless question; the sweet smell on the wind and far-off shore from whence it came! You, the prow of every ship. The boots of every wanderer. The wind in sails! You, promise of discovery! Onward. Onward. Onward! The acidic desire for discovery. The thousand miles within a step and the step  of one thousand miles. You, the hidden name! The reason to search. The lie that gives discovery stronger meaning. You, the push- pull freeing us from stagnation! The sky and sea and the vast stretches of land. The roads and paths and meadows and monuments and wonders on the page and in the minds of explorers. O Peregrine! Seek!

O Venommoon! The vengeance for a broken thing. The well-undeserved punishment. You, the thing that knows sins and castigation! Rejected fate. The death of the young and the continuation of the old. You, the steel-flash of retribution. You, implacable justice. The death of the killer. You, impatience. You, rash action! Destiny taken into unworthy hands. The failed severing of cause and effect, and the successful bending of rules. You, the rebel-judge! O Bellicose! Try!

O Oilmoon! The wretched and unfair hive of golden finery and silver-wealth. You, power manifest! You, monarch in wing-flesh! The servitude of slaves; golden light on the crown; silver light on the usurper's sword. You, the right to rule and the power to enforce! You, every-kenning. The scurrying ants underfoot and the marching steps of soldiers above. You who force the bent knee. Command. You the law and the tax and the splendor and wealth of vast nations. You, the honeycombed tracts of land, the spread and focused will. You, the draw of fealty, the protection of leaders,the fear of tyrants. O Primate! Domineer!

[akirakirxaa]

FFXIVWrite Prompt 6: Halcyon

Rating: G

Word Count: 506

Summary: G'raha checks in on a recovering Akira and finds she already has a visitor. [A rough draft of a scene from the OT4 AU.]

[Master Post]

G’raha headed towards the room in the Baldesion Annex where Akira had been meant to be resting, intending to check on her and perhaps provide her some company as she’d been growing increasingly restless, limited as she was in what she was allowed to do. (Her healers insisted she have help even with just walking the few steps to the dining table within her room, which Akira had been incredibly stubborn about doing on her own.) But he stopped dead in the doorway when he saw her bedside was already occupied.

Akira was indeed resting in bed, pillows and blankets tucked around her in a comfortable nest. At her side, Hades had pulled over one of the dining chairs and was…reading to her, which felt so dissonant to G’raha in contrast to what he had known of Emet-Selch. Glancing at the book, he found the language was wholly unfamiliar to him and wondered if it was something that had been preserved in The Watcher’s tower. As Hades read, every once in a while he slipped from the common tongue into the musical, almost lyrical language spoken by the shades in Amaurot and The Watcher. Akira showed no sign of noting this change — perhaps the Echo providing the words’ meanings to her — eyes closed as she listened, reclined comfortably against the massive pile of pillows at her back. He might have thought her asleep had she not chosen that moment to blink open her eyes and favor G’raha with a tiny smile.

“Are you listening, Hero?” Hades’ voice was irritated, and as he started to look over his shoulder to see what she was looking at, she reached out and took his hand.

“I’m sorry, I think I dozed off for a moment there,” Akira’s voice was certainly an attempt at an apology. “Could you reread those last couple of sentences?” For a moment, Hades was quiet, and G’raha wondered if he was actually upset, if he would—

“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather rest?” he said in a softer voice, low enough that G’raha had to swivel his ears forward to catch it. “It’ll be here later.”

“I’m sure,” she adjusted her nest of bedding around her. “And if I do fall asleep just leave me where I lie.” Hades, clearly still unaware of their audience, lifted her hand to his lips briefly before continuing with the book. Akira shot G’raha a quick, reassuring glance before turning her attention back to Hades.

The halcyon scene stirred something in G’raha’s heart. He was so concerned about Hades, about the temper he had proven he had plenty of times on the First, the manipulation that served him well over so many years perhaps being on display once more. But…it was too easy to believe the softness was real. Clearly Akira believed it. Indeed trusted him enough to be completely at ease around him. Maybe it was real after all.

For now, G’raha decided to make his quiet retreat, leaving them to the book and the quiet.

[istherewifiinhell]

IS FLYING GENDERED?

On the masculine default, typifying gender in genre, and women as the other in the transformers cartoons.

question for the ages

once again i said back in the halcyon days of watching g1 (aka 5 months ago) i was like. Nooooo, decepticon is NOT a gender that's Silly. It's funny, but as a Read Of The Text, I thought it largely unneeded. (The concept came about, as a joke, involving dismissing the bad guys using the same language you would abt women (sexistly) that they're emotional [heh, flighty], vain, and shrill) after all. If in the 80s era there are 5 whole named/speaking woman tfs, its only ever gonna get better from here right? (<- booboo the fool)

anyway

Let's consider the axiom that the assumed default gender is male, that maleness is often seen as LACK of gender, and femaleness and gender variance are the PRESENCE of gender. In certain reasoning and worldviews, of course (See Androcentrism). Then add that, for transformers, the assumed default thing a transformer turns into, is car. (Autocentrism, if you will)

(The most general term for what a tf turns into is "Alt mode" as some of them are not vehicles at all. The other mode is "Robot Mode", whether its humanoid or not)

So I will be laying out why I believe the cartoon iterations support: non standard alt modes = non standard genders. This is in spite of the fact that FIRST lady tfs were all cars. Sleek cyber cars, but still. For whatever reason, (possibly, the reason for everything in tf, toys) they might as well not exist for how woman tf characters presence in the cartoons progressed over time.

And, to be clear, this is a reading of how these works of fiction are created, not a new unified bioessentialism but for robots aliens I'm proposing for like. In universe lore reasons. I hate that idea.

That said, alt modes in order of most to least gender: Spider, motorcycle, flying (in general, with rotors, jets), tank, and then FINALLY, car. (water and space crafts are already too marginal to rank, but they too can be assumed in relation to default maleness, AND that in making one a woman, would still qualify as othering her).

The NUMBER one reason for this is the bizarre need to have an ESTABLISHED woman tf character before making new ones. AS YOU MIGHT IMAGINE. With a g1 gender ratio something like.... (counting even the most marginal cases for the ladies) 9:120? (That's a rough count from a quick scanning of the tf wiki g1 char list) Shits dire out here.

The second is, ofc, character design based. cis people [stand in phrase for the hegemonic world view] are not okay, and their opinions about how tf gender must need be depicted visually is. uh? Im not a fan. Size and shape dimorphism in general is a given, and specifically having women tfs as far more humanoid and curvy in specific. Also general cartoon lady face syndrome but, whatever. I think there's exactly one character here who doesn't have "lips" or "lipstick" as a distinguishing factor. I'm so tired.

Third is generally, the idea of The Girl Of the Team. When there's The Girl, she often isn't JUST a normal character, who happens to be a girl. See, of course, the Smurtfette Principle. But in my view there's also a trend to give The Girl "special traits" on top of "Girl", maybe even to directly combat the idea that the Girl Character has no other traits? To stop this from being a General Primer on Woman in Media, my explanatory focus is things specific to the tf franchise.

(A phrase I use for thinking about normative modes [in general, not just the Alt ones] in within the tf universe is "unique transformerdom" or, even more clunkily, "A transformer of unique transformerdom". The excessive verbosity is amusing to me personally. All I mean by it is to have an umbrella term for any of the ways tfs can be made unique from their peers in the non allegorical realities of the fiction).

I could, and do, and greatly want to, speak about this AT LENGTH. But it keeps spiraling away from me. So I'll say for now were looking at ways a character is being depicted different from her peers, not because she is the only woman (which she likely is), but cause she's a different kind of transformer, AND if she's othered for it.

(IN SOME forms of the lore. Being a transformer woman, IS A UNIQUE KIND of transformer unto itself. Let's just say I hate it and move on)

Fourth, is the gender of villainy. There is much to be said about gender presentation of villains, the ways they are allowed to be aberrant. We will get to it. There is also all the tropes specific TO evil women, and the modes of villainy open TO female characters. But a general thing I think impacting the gender ratios of the factions is the how "Good" and "Evil" female characters are written. I'll generalize and call this the "Damsel vs Temptress" dichotomy. (See concepts like the Madonna-whore complex). Transformers, is by and large, an action franchise. Unless special reasons are made, characters who can impact the action– have more screen time, and likely more memorable, and iconic presences. A villainous woman can be unchaste, violent, aggressive. While a heroic woman, even if not a literal damsel are more likely to be in a support role. The secretaries of the action genre: medics and techs.

(Another factor is that tfs are giant robots, and the good guys are often friends with tiny squishy little humans. These make very good damsel fodder, and can be taking up the spots on the roster that might, in a different franchise, go to women. Additionally, while woman characters in transformers overall is an interesting topic. When I say tf women, I'm referring to ones that are in fictionally, transformers.)

SO, now understanding our points of attack/obstacles for getting woman into transformers. (Getting established, gendering the designed, uniqueness of existence, and general villainy). Lets go over those alt modes, and the characters that have em, in more detail.

Spiders

The "Beast Era" (1996) intro-ed the spider ofc. And what don't we have with this one. She's a villain, but shes also misunderstood, the era and design style let to these more organic shapes. And they used them to make sure she was very sexy. She's genre aware, she's quippy, she's an absolute icon. So naturally. She gets ported to other later shows. Which means we just have sexy spider ladies running around when everyone else is a fucking truck and shit.

Her own origin is, well think of her as a "Bride of Frankenstein" to the resident evil scientist, also a spider. She was designed for, and manipulated by him in multiple ways. Her protoform (A blank robot base), was supposed to be one of the good guys (a Maximal), but was reprogrammed into a bad guy (Predacon). Even then, she eventually joins them, for her own reasons. She's not even the first predacon to do so, the difference? Well the characters are a lot more NORMAL about his autonomy. Both of these characters stress that being a predacon is an identity they still see as important. But only the woman is told that really, she is was was always MEANT to be a maximal. And while that's true in a sense. There's also a plot were she's forced (by plot contrivance, not the other maximals) to get corrective robot surgery for it. And when they think she died from, everyone's more sad for her boyfriend than for her. Ouch.

The second spider, in the 2007 show, is now one in a world where she is the only "techno-organic" transformer, hence, she is spider, everyone else is a vehicle. Similar to the first, her narrative is very gendered, but less in the way were, like, I do literally think the first was was experiencing in universe sexism from other characters. Here, they really focus on the "techno vs organic" narrative, and the tragic circumstances on how that happened. In this case its just real world sexist writing.

THIRD SPIDER, (2010), instead of misunderstood and tragic evil, this ones just super mega likes to cause pain evil. She also occupies a strange place between the typic vehicular tfs, and the insecticons. This is because she has a helicopter alt mode, and her robot mode is just, a lady with spider characteristics. And, more than just a passing bug like similarity, she has the power to control the insecticons (you know, cause evil woman mind control). However, she doesn't fit in with them either, as the insecticons are at the most insect like they've ever been, in look, living in hives and that most don't even speak.

They may vary in exact character, relationship to the story's moral conflict, and design. But they stay comfortably established, dimorphised, flirty and flirting with villainy. And bonus points, always, for black widow spider trope.

SO. SPIDERS. Established: ✅️ Gendered designs: ✅️ (Extremely!) Unique: ✅️ Othered: ✅️ Villainy: ✅️

Motorcycles

Tooooo my knowledge the first bike lady was in 2004, and fairly minor, in the actual plot, but rest assured, they did go the previously established woman route, by being pink, though, which one shes named after varies by language. But neither were previously motorcycles. (And yes, there is also this problem of mixing together or swapping out one woman tf for another. As if we have the ladies to spare). Even though motorcycle men also exist, this one just stuck for a bit. Maybe something to do with Those Movies. I think the Gendered Existence of a motorcycle is pretty evident though, general sex appeal, being smaller, the mode of riding a motorcycle is different, more physical and intimate. Mainly this ranks so high for the level of grossness they can pack in. Just how objectifying it can be, particularly with two instances where the human rider is an annoying teen boy. Naturally, I've also never seen a male and female motorcycle in the same room, but the approach to design tends to be different. And yeah most of em are Arcee, who's first alt mode was cyber car, but it's not just her.

Established: ✅️ Gendered designs: ✅️ Unique: ✅️ Othered: Depends on iteration, I do NOT like the way one gets called "tough, for a two wheeler". Villainy: ❌(they wouldn't need to be motorcycles if they weren't making them the Special Girl Autobot, after all)

Flying

General: It just tends to stick out when your one girl is only flyer in the group, even she's otherwise tactfully done. Only flyer of the Maximals, a falcon, only flyer of the dinobots, a Pteranodon.

Rotors

I can barely even figure this one. Maybe it's just a general, aesthetics and use case of the actually vehicles, the associations? None of these ladies (and special case) are very connected otherwise. As previously mentioned, the spider helicopter. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

A big one for this is the preschool demo shows, which are rescue team focused. In the first one the only woman on the human response worker team pairs with the helicopter, they mention she does medical at times. The helicopter is male, like the other tfs. But also he's afraid of flying, and while not the first case of a flyer with a fear of heights, their personalities are, pretty different. As he's both fearful AND effeminate, fine as character traits go but, with the tone of humour used, marks him as Other.

In the second, Whirl (pointing to icon) becomes a girl for the first time, now with standard humanized face. I assume as move to keep with the previous show of having a girl one, as there's no human team mates. She's also the only one who really likes rescue school. Aaaand that's all know of her. What more do you want from me.

Helicopters: Unique: ✅️ Othered: ✅️ (milder than some)

But why'd I call this section rotors instead of helicopters? That would be because one of the latest Sole Female TF we just put in everything™ is a VTOL jet with rotors. She'll tend to be the only jet of her type, which is also smaller than the type of jet used for the villains.

And, of course, aside from alt mode, the thing that makes her stand out most in the cartoons? That she's very clearly a comics character. (I find the emphasize that she's "fan created" over done, as it only controlled minor aspects, and irrelevant cause tfs get completely overhauled in new versions all the time). From her design, which is a bit busier than most characters she stars with. And also uses Japanese aesthetic signifiers in ways that I think are a bit misappropriated and untactful. (VERY USamerican comics). Also, when she stars next to a guy, also from comics employing Japanese aesthetic, you can tell its not deployed in the same manner. (E.I she has hair and makeup, he has armor). Either way, her depictions have her either as badass sword lady on mission from god who's constantly getting hit on by an annoying guy. Or have her be from a different planet and has special telepathy.

Do we see how both her gender AND the cultural signifiers are having affects here? That the main woman tf in a series can be a literal alien even among our alien robots, with cultural signifiers they don't have?

Ratings Established: ✅️ (made the comics to cartoon jump) Gendered designs: ✅️ Unique: ✅️ Othered: ✅️ (SO SO EXTREMELY, using methods in fiction and real life)

Jets

I think my association of jets with tf gender is stronger, than some of the above examples, even if there's less reason to it. And why is that? Well, lets get socratic. Here's another question.

Is This All Starscream's Fault?

No. He's not real, he can't do things. But. His legacy as THE main stay transformers character that gets to subvert gender? Yeah. (Sure, the G1 autobots have their own effete, but he's not in every single cartoon they ever made now is he? Plus now that I think about it, he is a FLYING car...)

From the get, he's not a Man's man. He's shrill, he's manipulative and duplicitous, petty and emotional, cowardly and wheedling. He is, of course, the Perfect character. Now naturally, the 80s cartoon was not concerned with your paltry logics. Starscream and his ilk are the jets, but every decepticon can fly. The gun, the cassette player, the camera, the cassettes.

And each to a last, more masculine than he is. Vocally or behaviorally, physically. Every one of them fit the gender expectations more than he does. Even being a small time grunt, is a masculine trait, after all, more so than unchecked ambition. So its not femininity from flying, from jets. But direct relationship, reference, and descendancy from Starscream that makes it. I've yet to see female versions of Jet fire and or the aerialbots, for example.

So what to do when an effeminate male villain was less maltese falcon and more that man has effeminate hips? Well. We had to start getting his ass for being effeminate, explicitly. They made the female clone of him, which yeah, is an offensive joke stemming from the various The Gender Anxieties. (Transmisogyny, homophobia and sexism. General relation toxic masculinity. A heady mix of all and more).

But I mean. It's free girl tf... Once given a name in extra canon materials, she start's showing up in other things. Once you're in books, video games, comics, and most importantly, toys, you're real. And then eventually, her first non clone appearance in a cartoon, and how her presence shaped it.

That being, Cyberverse. Which is a cgi show, you need to know this for reasons of production. Making new models is expensive. This has always been the reason you just make recolours of Starscream and name them different things. Chicken or egg on this one, I don't know, But because CV has Slipstream, and the only difference between her and the generic "male" decepticon jet, is a more feminine face; Suddenly, any random decepticon goon can be a woman.

An absolutely revolutionary take for striving to populate a fictional world with gender parity. By at large it also means they're way more lady villains, and specifically flying model of villain. The show has other woman, but none who get the same androgynous body mold treatment.

Established: ✅️ Gendered designs: Mildly to NO. Unique: By design, no. Othered: Yes for the clone, and Screamer himself, I suppose. No, otherwise. Villainy: ✅️(That's, the whole idea)

Tanks

It needs to be said. Sometimes, when doing things that transgress a norm, anteing up is less subversive. This is another reason why gender variance, female agency and overt sexuality are more common traits of villains. When already defying strictures of society. What's one more.

That's Right. TANKS ARE THE BUTCH WOMAN OF TRANSFORMERS.

Alright. Let me back up. Strika is the stone cold knock out undefeated champ of lady tf designs that, actually has a reoccurring cartoon presence. She is, admittedly, only a reoccurring to minor character.

Her introduction is in another show with techno-organics, this one involved in the struggle between well, the techno and the organic. Strika as we see her, and as the design that will go on to be iterated, is not in her normal transformer body. She has been transferred into a 'vehicon' body. Without a preexisting essence contained in one, vehicons are not considered alive, in the way a transformer is. Visually, they lack the more human body plan, a standard face, feet and hand like appendages.

To further contrast Strika against the two techno-organic woman. Both of them are tall, and slender. Their softer organic shapes designed towards elegance or beauty, whatever your subjective opinion of that result might be. They both have romance subplots too. By the way. Or honestly one subplot and one main plot. Strika. In contrast. Is built like a brick shit house. Her face is. Minimal. And her goal: protecting her planet... by terminating the heroes.

Now, existing as a character that can be referenced for other media, and given the detail that she was a "Famous general", it's off to the races. She makes a wonderful big tank menace that can fill out a background shot, too.

Without her I hardly think we could have Clobber, also from CV. Who is. The true goat. The finest thing, the achievements of all we could ever hope for. A big fuck off woman, gender swapped from a previous male design with minimal faff, with now even more personality and show presence. Friends, wants, desires. Emotions. Thank God for Clobber, Thank Clobber for Clobber. Thank Randolph Heard and Mae Catt for Clobber.

Established: Depends if you want to count that Strika had so much swag they kept drawing/modeling her Gendered designs: FUCK NO Unique: ✅️ Othered: only originally Villainy: ✅️

Cars

So now you have the final piece of the puzzle. In transformers, Autobots are Cars. Yes, there are plenty of autobots that are NOT cars, and there are cars that are not Autobots. But they're exceptions, they're aberrances. They're unique. And Autobots are the norm. They oppose the Decepticons. Decepticons are Villains. And Decepticons can fly. Modal simplified binaries and false dichotomy abound!

And the thing about those original Autobot woman, the one's who largely did not influence all of this? They were cars, it's true, but not like how the men where cars. They've not been designed from transforming car toys, with a shellac of humanoid gender over top. Their designed in the way of human gender. With the car on top.

When the preexisting clause leads to the original designs to be revisited, which, has largely only happened in more recent years. They aren't car woman robots. The cars are literally not part of their bodies, they are additional. Instead of a unifying identity of a robot who is a car, its Arcee and her backpack. Parts of cars get grafted onto their petite lady bodies, and placed anywhere out of the way.

In order to make a transformer a woman, they have to give her a gender, not understanding that that's always been the case. And to give her a woman's gender, she's got to LOOK like a woman, not a transformer. And to look like a woman, she's got to act like a woman. She must be heroic but reactive instead of active, or else, villainous, conniving and or self centered. To be a woman, we must have some other previous woman to explain her presence, or else explain it anew with her unique, strange, or exotic origin. How could she ever be a woman if she simply, existed, looked average, talked average. How could she be a woman if her body is hunks of ungendered car. How can she be a woman if she's everything we expect a transformer to be.

A woman is transgressive, a woman is not normal. Autobots are normal. Autobots are heros. Autobots are men. And Autobots do not fly.

[justagalwhowrites]

Halcyon - Ch. 7: It'll Be Nice to Feel Wanted for a Change

You and Joel decide your next steps. A continuation of Halcyon from the prologue through Ch. 6, a modern no outbreak AU TLOU fic found on Tumblr here.

^I keep using Pedro gifs instead of Joel gifs because Joel is such a baby in this fic I'm sorry 😭

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Diet culture type language. Modern No Outbreak AU, No use of Y/N, Slow burn, 18+ only, Minors DNI

Length: 7.3K

AO3 | Main Master List | Prologue | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

“Told you, I have connections.” 

Joel rolled his eyes and took a sip of his coffee, watching as the kids on the soccer field changed directions. 

“Still feel like business school is overkill,” he said, putting the travel mug in the cupholder of his folding chair. “Especially at this point… GET ‘EM BABY GIRL!” 

Sarah stole the ball from a girl on the other team and dodged another girl before starting to charge up field, a serious look on her face.

“GO SARAH!” You jumped up and screamed, cupping your hands around your mouth. Sarah got pinned down and looked around before passing the ball, sending the it between two defenders to another player. Her teammate got the ball and sent it careening toward the goal before the other team could change direction. It sailed in and Joel leapt to his feet, the two of you jumping and clapping. “HECK YEAH!” 

Sarah beamed at the two of you before she went to hug the girl who scored. You and Joel sat back down as play started back up. The coffee had spilled some in his excitement, the fabric arm of the chair wet. 

“Now is the time to do the business school thing,” you said as you leaned forward on your thighs, watching the game intently, your hands clasped together and tucked between your knees. “And besides, it’s not actual business school. It’s… business school light. Enough to help you draw up a business plan and that kind of shi…stuff. The kind of stuff that you’ll need if you need to take out money from the bank to get started.” 

Joel sighed. He knew you were right, he just wasn’t crazy about the idea. 

After you’d had dinner - and nearly devolved into an argument that, in hindsight, Joel really was not ready to have no matter how hard he was pushing for it - the two of you had gone back and forth about what to do next. 

Your call shouldn’t have surprised him. You’d always been an academic sort of person, the fact that you’d gotten into some fancy college had come as no surprise to Joel. Of course your first idea involved formal education. 

You reached out to a friend of a friend at the business school and got some of his recorded lectures from the era of virtual classes during COVID. He was happy to share them once you explained it, compiling some lectures, notes and guides for Joel to use. 

Joel felt bad about putting some stranger out like that but you said he was happy to do it in exchange for an autographed copy of your book. 

“I know, it’s crazy,” you’d teased when he looked at you in disbelief. “Should have let me draw on your face that one time, think of how valuable it’d be now…” 

Joel just snorted and shook his head. 

“Get in there!” 

You were on your feet again, watching as Sarah tackled the ball away from another girl. You screamed and jumped when she succeeded and Sarah smiled as she clambered back to her feet. 

“Good job, kiddo!” Joel called, still seated but smiling. You got really into Sarah’s games, Joel had quickly learned. He wasn’t about to admit it to you, but he loved it. It reminded him of when you were both in high school, when you’d watch from the front row of the stands during football games, screaming so loud that he could hear you over everyone else at the game. You drew his number on your cheek and bleached it onto a t-shirt. You’d even made Tommy a matching one, something the 10-year-old had taken as a profession of undying love and devotion back then. 

The next time you were at the house after giving him the shirt, Tommy sauntered through the kitchen where you and Joel were having a snack, topless, drenched in cologne and hair slicked back. Joel watched you try not to laugh as Tommy leaned on the table in front of you, giving you a cocky smile. 

“Hey Goldie,” he said, his voice artificially deep. Joel choked on his Coke and covered it with a cough. “Didn’t expect to see you here.” 

“Really?” You asked, brows raised. “Even though I’m here every Saturday afternoon?” 

His smile faltered. 

“Well… uh…” his eyes darted to Joel, like he was looking for help. Joel just held up his hands. “Just… didn’t expect you to be here looking so good.” 

“Oh,” Joel could see the edges of your lips pulling up. “So I don’t normally look good? Darn…” 

“No, wait…” he stood up from the table, eyes darting to Joel again. “I don’t… you…” 

“Don’t you have a matchbox car to crash or something?” Joel asked. “Stop tryin’ to pick up my girl, little man.” 

“Fuck off,” Tommy muttered before stomping back off toward his room. 

“I’ll tell mom you said that,” Joel leaned forward and watched his little brother go. 

“So I’m your girl now?” You teased once he was out of ear shot. “News to me. And be nice to him, he’s just a kid and he’s a sweetheart.” 

“He thinks he’s Don Juanito is what he is,” Joel muttered, sitting back in his seat and taking a sip of his Coke. “You being my girl might be the only way he leaves you alone.” 

You rolled your eyes but smiled a little anyway. 

“All this trouble because I wanted to support my best friend as he fucked up in the red zone…” 

“I’ll tell my mom on your language, too,” he said. “Don’t think she won’t smack you upside your head just because she didn’t birth you. You’re her favorite kid, but don’t push it.” 

Tommy had, thankfully, gotten over his crush on you. A fact that Joel was endlessly thankful for now that his part in helping you complete your list included finding you a fucking date. 

There was a guy on his team at work he thought would at least be something besides a total waste of time. Blake was a decent man, one of the few on the site who didn’t say disgusting shit about women the second they believed they were among other assholes who thought the same way. Joel had caught him reading once on his lunch break, something that he was sure would be important to you. You’d want someone who read. Joel should read more. 

Blake, Joel thought, would be a decent enough guy to set you up with. Not good enough for you - no one was good enough for you - but at least a damn improvement over fucking Brad. 

He just hoped it wouldn’t stick. 

Not that he wanted you to be alone. He didn’t. He wanted you to be happy. More than almost anything else he wanted you to be happy. He wanted you to have whatever it took to make that happen. But he wasn’t sure how he’d get past working with someone he knew got to kiss you, touch you, fuck you. He’d hear about dates with you and things you enjoyed with a boyfriend and not just your friend. He’d have to hear all about what someone else was doing for you because he couldn’t. 

Which was fine. Should be fine. You were his friend, you’d always been his friend. He could love you as a friend, he did love you as a friend, he could get past the other shit. He could. 

And if Blake ever decided to try to talk about you the way some of the other assholes they worked with talked about their girlfriends then, well, at least Joel could fucking deck him for it. 

“She’s killing it out there,” you settled back into your folding chair and glanced over at Joel. 

“She always does,” Joel nodded. “She’s got skills, that girl.” 

“She seems to really like it, too,” you said, eyes back on Sarah. “Which is the important thing. If she’s good enough, she could get scholarships and shit. But that really only matters if she also likes it, there’s no use in her being miserable because of the demands of being a student athlete because she happens to be good a sport she doesn’t enjoy…” 

“She loves it,” Joel said. “And, honestly, I’m hopin’ that sticks and that she can get a scholarship, lord knows I can’t afford to shell out for college…” 

“You can’t now,” you corrected him good naturedly. “But once you become Joel Miller: Entrepreneur and man about town, that’s another story.” 

Joel scoffed. 

“What?” You asked. 

“You’ve just got a lot more faith in me than I do.” 

“Aren’t I supposed to?” You asked, looking at him again. “You’re my person so that’s part of my my job. Recognizing your potential.” 

“See, just the fact that you think I have potential to recognize…” 

“Oh shut up,” you swatted his arm and he laughed a little, watching you watch his daughter run back up the field. 

No, Blake didn’t deserve you. No one did. Least of all Joel. 

Sarah’s team won the game and she was beaming when she ran over to you and Joel after the post-game huddle. 

“Did you see that one steal I did?” She asked, leaning between the front seats of the truck. “It was so cool, I almost missed it but then I got it to Sophie and she was able to score and it was so COOL!” 

“Seatbelt,” Joel said. Sarah rolled her eyes but flopped back into her seat and buckled up, anyway. “Thank you. And yes, we saw, Baby Girl! You kicked ass out there.” 

“Can ass kickers pick lunch?” She asked. 

“Ass kickers can pick lunch,” Joel said. “But ass kickers can’t say ass until they’re at least 13, sorry kiddo.” 

“Aw man,” she huffed but then smiled. “I’m gonna swear so much on my 13th birthday…” 

“Yeah I bet you are,” he shook is head and caught you trying not to laugh out of the corner of his eye. “Alright, kiddo, where for lunch?” 

Joel watched her in the rearview mirror, a serious look on her face as she considered her options. 

“Dairy Queen,” she said eventually, nodding seriously. “Because then I can get a Blizzard.” 

“Whatever the ass kicker demands,” Joel said. 

Sarah ordered a burger with her blizzard before going to find a table. Joel got the steak fingers and a shake and you just stood there, staring up at the menu board with a slight frown on your face. 

“What?” Joel asked. “C’mon, it’s a limited menu, can’t be that hard.” 

“It’s just been forever since I’ve been to a DQ,” you said absently. “Not sure what to really get…” 

“Goldie,” he said, voice serious. You looked at him, frowning. “We both know what you get at Dairy Queen.” 

“Yeah, when I was a teenager,” you looked back up at the menu. “Little different now…” 

“Not gonna find a salad up there,” he said. 

“Yeah, but…” 

“Remember how the number one thing on your list was finalize your divorce?” He asked. You looked at him again, brows raised. “Well, this is one part of that you can control. You can ditch all the stupid shit that asshole put in your head, starting with the idea that you can’t get chicken fingers every once in a while.” 

He didn’t give you a chance to reply, instead looking to the cashier. 

“She’ll do the chicken fingers basket,” Joel said. “With fries. And a medium Reese’s Blizzard.” 

“Small,” you corrected him. 

“Medium,” he said, looking over at you. “Because we both know I want to eat half of it.” 

You laughed a little. 

“Medium,” you said. 

“Alright,” he said, going to pay. 

When the food came out, he took one of your chicken fingers and your eyes went wide. 

“Hey!” 

“Oh sit tight,” he rolled his eyes and dropped one of his steak fingers in your basket. 

“What makes you think I want one of your steak fingers?” You asked, incredulous. 

“You always want one of my steak fingers,” he said. “Every time.” 

You glared at him for a second. 

“Shut up.” 

Joel laughed before dropping an onion ring in your basket and swiping a few fries. 

“So you guys really hung out all the time before, huh?” Sarah said, eating a fry and watching the two of you from across the table. 

“We did,” you smiled at Joel before looking back at Sarah. “We basically lived together, probably drove our moms crazy…” 

“Your mom, maybe,” Joel teased. “Mine loved havin’ you around all the time. Said you were a good influence.” 

“Because I was,” you teased back. 

“So,” Sarah watched you both closely. “Why didn’t I meet you until now? I mean, I met other friends of my dad’s. Did you guys have a fight or something?” 

The two of you looked at each other for a second. How the fuck was Joel supposed to explain this to his kid? Yeah, we were friends, and then the two of us decided to have sex and then just stop talking for a decade and a half? Not quite age appropriate. 

“Well,” you said, dipping one of your fries in your Blizzard before popping it in your mouth. 

“You’re so gross,” Joel said and you rolled your eyes and elbowed him in the side. 

“Shove it,” you smiled a little and looked back to Sarah. “We finished high school and I had to move for college and we just kind of stopped talking quite as much, we didn’t do a great job of keeping in touch. We were busy, it just kind of happens when you’re a grown up.” 

Sarah crinkled her nose. 

“That’s dumb,” she said. 

“You’re right,” you smiled a little, looking at Joel. “But adults do dumb things sometimes.” 

Sarah nodded slowly, taking a fry and dipping it in her Oreo Blizzard before taking a hesitant bite and chewing thoughtfully. She frowned for a moment before her eyes lit up and she dipped the fry again. 

Joel groaned. 

“Not you, too…” 

“Just gotta get on the French fries in ice cream train, Miller,” you smiled smugly. “Sweet, savory? It’s the best.” 

“She’s right, Dad,” Sarah said, dipping another fry. “This is better than ketchup.” 

“I’m surrounded by weirdos,” Joel muttered but he couldn’t help smiling a little to himself, watching you and his daughter together, a strange pull at the base of his chest at the sight. This, he thought, was how it was supposed to be. You were meant to be with the two of them, it was obvious. It was almost strange, how clearly he fit with you. He hadn’t felt like there was something distinctly missing over the last decade. He’d gone about his life, raising his daughter, trying to get ahead at work. He bought a house, kept his brother’s nose clean, buried his mother. There had been no distinct sense of absence. He thought of you often - every day, really - and it hurt but it was a dulled pain, a longing for what he had before. He hadn’t known what he’d really been missing, the way things would be with you at the stage of life you were both in now. 

But now that he had you here, he wondered how he hadn’t noticed this gaping hole at the center of his reality before. There would be no excising you from him now, it wouldn’t work, the ragged edges of your absence would be too clear in everything he did. 

He’d just have to do whatever it took to keep you in his life. Even if that meant setting you up with some guy from work. 

“So Sarah,” you said, ripping your chicken finger in half and reaching over to dip it in the gravy in Joel’s basket. 

“Hey!” 

You ignored him. 

“Do you think you can do me a favor?” You continued, eating the chicken tender. 

“Sure,” she shrugged. “What do you need?” 

“Well,” you said, brushing your hands free of crumbs before taking a sip of your drink. “I was thinking about getting a cat but I have no idea how to pick a cat. Do you think you could come with me to the shelter and help me look? Just make sure I’m finding the right one?” 

Her eyes lit up and she looked at Joel. 

“Can I Dad?” She begged. “Please? I love cats, they’re so cute, and…” 

Joel laughed, draping his arm over the bench behind you. You’d already talked with him about this, seeing if Sarah wanted to go to the animal shelter this afternoon. He knew she’d love it.

“Well,” he sighed, pretending to consider it. “If you promise to behave this week…” 

“I will!” 

“And do all your homework the first time I ask,” he said. 

“Deal!” 

“Then alright,” he conceded. “We can go with Aunt Goldie to pick a cat.” 

“Yes!” She punched the air in victory and Joel smiled and shook his head, settling back in the booth with his shake in his hand. 

The three of you went back to Joel’s and gave Sarah a chance to get cleaned up before heading to the shelter to look at cats. Sarah took over the radio in the car and insisted on playing Taylor Swift and you learned the chorus to one of the songs she was belting in the back seat, singing along the last time through, windows rolled down, your hand tapping out the rhythm of the song on the outside of the door. 

“So what kind of cat do you want?” Sarah asked, turning to face you and Joel as she walked backwards down the row of cages. 

“I don’t really know,” you shrugged. “Never really had a pet. One that wants to sit on my lap and purr?” 

“See what not having a pet as a kid does to you, Dad?” Sarah said, looking at Joel with wide eyes. “Leaves you totally unprepared for picking a pet later in life. I should get a cat, too, while we’re here.” 

“No,” he said. “Watch where you’re walkin’.” 

She rolled her eyes and sighed dramatically but obeyed, leading the way through the cages. 

“Oh, look at this one!” She stopped in front of a cage and laced her fingers through the bars, a black and white cat on the other side of it watching her from the back corner. “She’s so pretty!” 

Joel stood at your back as you paused, looking at the cat for a moment. 

“She is pretty,” you said. “But I want to see all of them first before I see if there are any we want to really meet.” 

Sarah stopped outside of a gray and white tabby’s cage, the cat rubbing its face over the bars. 

“Aw!” She reached a finger out and brushed along its cheek. “She’s so cute! And she seems so sweet!” 

“She does,” you agreed, reaching around Sarah to give the cat a haphazard pet. 

“Dad!” Sarah looked back over her shoulder at him. “Her name is Swiftie! She’s perfect!” 

“We’re not here for us, Baby Girl,” Joel said. “C’mon, more cats to see, don’t get attached.” 

“Well we have to meet that one now,” you said, looking at Joel and very clearly trying not to smile. “It’s required.” 

“It’s really not,” he replied. “God, you’re such a bad influence…” 

“Nah,” you replied. “I’m just always right, you should get used to it.” 

You found another cat you really wanted to meet, an orange striped one who stood on his hind legs in his cage and reached a paw through the bars while meowing loudly for attention. 

“Alright, Baby Girl,” Joel sighed, hands in his pockets. “Why don’t you go find someone who works here, see if we can meet some of these guys…” 

She squealed before running out to find someone, Joel watching her go before turning his attention back to you.

“You’re never gonna have another moment’s peace with that thing in your house,” he said, watching as you reached your fingers through the bars and scratched its head as it purred loudly, arching into your touch. 

“That’s alright,” you smiled, watching the cat. “It’ll be nice to feel wanted for a change. Totally worth it.” 

Joel just looked at you for a moment, an odd twinge in him. Maybe you were lonelier than he realized. Maybe things had been worse with your fucking ex than he’d known. Maybe you didn’t understand that he wanted you. In so many fucking ways, he wanted you. 

He just had no idea how to say that to you, not without fucking up everything else.

“Hi there,” a woman with a name tag walked up, Sarah at her side, before Joel had a chance to say anything at all. “I hear you want to see some cats?” 

You told her the ones you wanted to see and the woman led you to a small room with a bench and some cat toys before going to get the first cat. 

Joel should really have known what was going to happen after that. The three of you settled on the floor, you and Joel sitting beside each other, backs against the cinderblock wall, letting cats climb over your legs and throwing little bell-filled balls for them to chase as Sarah pulled a feather on a string across the floor. You were already attached to the orange cat but Sarah was obviously in love with the gray one. Joel sighed, leaning his head back against the wall, watching as his daughter held the little cat on her lap, talking to it all soft and gentle. 

“I really should’ve known better than to do this,” he muttered and you laughed a little, leaning your head on his shoulder and watching Sarah, too. “Jesus…” 

“At least it’s a cat and not a dog,” you patted his thigh twice before letting your hand rest there near his knee. His heart beat faster. “Could be worse.” 

“So,” the woman came back in, carefully closing the door before the cat on Sarah’s lap could escape. But it didn’t look like there was any risk of it, the little thing seemingly content to stay there for the rest of time. “What are we thinking?” 

“Please, Dad?” Sarah looked at him, her eyes so wide. “I’ll do all the work, I promise. I’ll clean the litter box every day and I’ll feed her and play with her and…” 

Joel sighed. 

“You’d gotta actually do it, Baby Girl,” he said. “I mean it.” 

“I will!” She said, holding the cat close. “I promise!” 

He sighed again. 

“Alright, we’ll take that one…” 

“Fantastic,” the woman smiled. “I’ll start the paperwork…” 

“Oh, and I’m going to get Garfield, the orange one,” you said as she turned to leave. “But I’ll be changing his name…” 

“That’s great,” she said. “But we will have to check and make sure the cats are compatible before we send you home with two…” 

“No,” you laughed. “No, sorry, no, we don’t live together. He’ll be coming with me and this one will be going with them.” 

“Oh!” She laughed back. “I’m so sorry, I just thought you two were married. I’ll get started on the paperwork for both, I’ll be right back.” 

Joel watched the woman go and glanced at Sarah to make sure she was still totally absorbed with the cat on her lap before lowering his voice. 

“Could have denied that a little harder, I think…” 

He practically heard you roll your eyes. 

“What, did you want to see if we could save on adoption fees by filling out one set of paperwork?” You asked. 

“Always said we’d make good roommates,” he replied. “Seems a good a reason as any.”

You scoffed. 

“Yeah, sure,” you said.

“What?” He said, turning his head just enough to see you, still leaning against him. “I’m serious. You really tellin’ me that the idea of living with me is that terrifying?” 

“The inevitable fallout is terrifying, yeah,” you said. 

“Here we go,” the woman came back in with two clipboards and you lifted your head from Joel’s shoulder. “Once you fill this out and pay your deposit, we can run a few checks and you can come back in a few days for your new best friends!” 

“Ah, the truth comes out,” Joel smirked a little as he started completing the paperwork. “You were looking to replace me the whole time…” 

“Well clearly yes,” you said absently, working on your own documents. “Furry, loud, opinionated… You’re basically twins, why do I need you to keep coming over when I’ll have Puck?” 

“Puck?” Joel frowned. “Like hockey puck?” 

“Puck like the fairy from Midsummer,” you replied. Joel must have still looked confused because when you looked over at him, you rolled your eyes. “The mischievous one from Midsummer Night’s Dream? The Shakespeare play? I know you read it, we had to read it sophomore year…” 

“C’mon Dad,” Sarah looked up from the cat in her lap. “Even I know that one.” 

“Alright, well,” Joel said. “You two are the smartest people I know, not fair to judge me by that standard…” 

Joel caught a glimpse of you smiling out of the corner of his eye as he finished the paperwork. 

*** 

“I have a question for you.” 

You opened your eyes to see Joel looking down to you, your head in his lap, his thumb brushing your temple in a soothing rhythm. It was late. Sarah had gone to bed hours before, worn out after her game and suckering her dad into adopting a cat and going to Target to pick out every toy under the sun for her new pet and yours. You were pretty sure you weren’t going home that night, too comfortable in your position against Joel.

“No,” you said, closing your eyes and settling into him and the couch again. “I can’t convince Sarah to give up the cat. My position as the cool aunt is too tenuous, I’m going to side exclusively with Sarah in all conflicts for the foreseeable future…” 

“I could just refuse to pick it up in a few days,” Joel mused. “Tell her the shelter denied our application because of my history as a cold hearted killer with no mercy.” 

“Ah yes,” you smiled a little. “I forgot, Joel Miller, heartless killing machine.” 

“Cold hearted,” he corrected. “Get it right.” 

“Oh, I’m so sorry…” 

“But no,” he continued. “Not what I was going to ask.”

You opened one eye, looking up at him, trying not to think about how soft his eyes were. 

“Shoot,” you said, closing your eye again. 

“Was thinking about the lists…” he trailed off. 

“That wasn’t a question, Miller,” you said after a moment. 

“I’m gettin’ there, don’t rush me, woman.” 

You opened your eyes just enough to see him over you. His hand slipped around to cup the crown of your head. He was so handsome. There should be rules about that, there should be rules about men who are that beautiful. They should need licensing or something, they shouldn’t just be allowed to freely exist, endangering women everywhere. 

You closed your eyes again. 

“Take your time, Miller,” you said. “Not going anywhere.” 

“Anyway,” he said and you could hear his eye roll. His thumb stroked your hair. “Both our lists have relationship shit on ‘em…” 

His voice trailed off and your heart beat a little faster. 

“Yes?” You said when he didn’t continue. 

“Well, you were sayin’ you didn’t know how to do the whole… app thing.” 

“Right…” 

“What if…” he took a deep breath. “We tried going out together. You bring someone for me, I bring someone for you…” 

Your breath hitched. You couldn’t help it. You knew the kind of relationship you had with Joel, the kind of relationship you’d always had with Joel. He’d made it perfectly clear that anything beyond that was totally out of the question for him and you’d accepted that. It had taken a long time - and a failed marriage - but you accepted it. 

That didn’t make the concept of picking out a girlfriend for him sting any less. 

“Just… then you don’t have to fuck around on apps,” he said quickly when you didn’t reply. “And I don’t have to waste my time on someone who wouldn’t work in a million years because you’re doing my thinking for me…” 

“Instead of your dick?” You asked, opening your eyes. He smiled a little. Goddammit, him and his fucking dimple. 

“Exactly,” he said, cocking his head so it was more in line with yours. He looked a little uncertain, his eyes searching yours. “So… what do you think?” 

“Well,” you sighed. “Makes as much sense as anything else, I suppose…. When were you thinking?” 

“I did say we should move ‘get laid’ to the top of your list,” he smirked a little. “So maybe next weekend?” 

“Next weekend?” You sat up so fast that you almost smacked into his nose, your head spinning for a moment. Joel grabbed you to steady you as you twisted haphazardly to face him again, legs crossed in front of you. “Doesn’t that seem fast?” 

He looked at you, puzzled, as he turned to face you, too. 

“Goldie, you and fuckin’ Brad…” 

“Gale.” 

“…Split up a year ago. You gotta get back out there, it’s not fast.” 

“No, I mean,” you closed your eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath before looking at him again. “Isn’t that a little fast to find someone for each other? I wouldn’t even know where to start…” 

There was something about the sheepish look on his face that made your eyes narrow. 

“What.” 

“I… might have someone in mind for you already,” he flinched as he said it. 

“Seriously?” 

“Look, I just don’t want you dating some random asshole, alright?” He said. “He’s a good guy, think you’d have at least some shit in common, feels like I could trust him with you…” 

“Gee, thanks,” you rolled your eyes. 

“I’m being serious!” He looked down at his lap for a moment, absently picking at a seam on his couch. “I worry about you. I know shit’s dangerous for women, alright? Much rather you be out with someone who I know isn’t gonna hurt you than some guy I don’t know that I can trust…” 

“Careful Miller,” you said wryly. “Someone might think you care about me or something.” 

“Well, can’t have that now can we,” he looked up to meet your eyes again, small smile on his face. “I’m already worrying about this shit with Sarah and she’s years off from dating. Outside of her, you’re the most important person in the world to me. Want to know you’re OK out there when I’m not with you. And I’m assuming that you wouldn’t want me to tag along on every damn date you have…” 

“Bold assumption.” 

He glared at you. 

“And this way I can know,” he said. “So yeah, alright, it’s crossed my mind.” 

“Have you talked to this guy?” You asked. “He might want nothing to do with me.” 

“I ain’t worried about that part,” he waved you off. “You’re you and he’s a smart guy, he’ll see what’s on the table. Much more worried about you conning someone into goin’ out with me…” 

“Oh ha ha,” you rolled your eyes. “Because you’ve ever had a problem landing women…” 

“The kind that stick?” He raised his brows. “Yeah, I have.” 

“Fair enough,” you sighed, thinking about the few people you knew in Austin. There was an adjunct professor in your department who you thought might be Joel’s type that you wouldn’t vomit at the thought of seeing him with. “I think I have someone who will go for it. Next weekend?” 

“Next weekend,” he confirmed and then laughed a little. “C’mon, don’t look so miserable about it. Whoever you end up with it’ll be better than fuckin’ Brad.” 

“Gale,” you corrected again and then slumped forward until your forehead was pressed into Joel’s shoulder. He hesitated for a moment before wrapping his arms gently around you. “This sucks. I got married so I wouldn’t have to date anymore. This is bullshit, I want a refund.” 

He laughed once. 

“Don’t think that’s how it works, Goldie,” he said, giving you a little squeeze. “Refund part, I mean.” 

“Yeah,” you sighed. “I’d just like the best years of my life back.” 

Joel was quiet for a moment, one hand finding a gentle, easy path over your back. 

“Come on,” he said eventually. “You feel tired. Let’s get some sleep.” 

“Yeah,” you sighed. “Assuming you mean here at this point?” 

He scoffed. 

“Ship sailed on you goin’ home hours ago,” he said. “I know who I’m dealing with.” 

“Yeah yeah.” 

You pulled away from him slowly and followed him up to his room. He loaned you a t-shirt and you got changed in his bathroom, taking your makeup off as best you could with the world’s most basic facial scrub and water before going to find him in bed. He was sitting up, his back against the headboard, scrolling through his phone. He glanced up at you for a moment when you came in and looked back at his phone for a fraction of a second before looking back at you again, his mouth open slightly. 

You frowned. 

“What?” 

“Nothin’,” he said quickly, plugging his phone in and putting it face down on his nightstand. “Just forgot what shirt I gave you.” 

You looked down at it, a faded shirt from the Houston Space Center. You frowned for a moment.

“Was this from when we went when we were kids?” You laughed. “On a field trip?” 

“It is,” he said. “I wanted something that would fit as I was bulking up. Might have been a bit ambitious on the size…” 

“You’ll have to model it for me sometime,” you said, climbing into bed next to him. He turned out the lamp and you heard him lay down. You gave him a second to adjust before you slipped against his side, his arm gong around you. You could feel the warmth of his breath on your forehead as your cheek found its place on his chest. 

“You’re sure about this dating thing?” You asked quietly into the dark. He was so warm next to you. Warm and big and firm and safe. You tried not to think about how desperately you wanted him to say no, in fact, he wasn’t sure. That all he was sure of was that he wanted you. 

He sighed instead. 

“Think so,” he said.”You really that worried about it?” 

You shrugged against him. 

“Goldie.” 

“Just…” you sighed. “I fucked up one marriage already. Why should I think I’ll get it right next time?” 

“You realize that shit isn’t all on you, right?” He asked. “I don’t even know what happened but… I can just about promise that it’s not all on you. Be surprised if any of it is. You gotta stop letting that asshole determine your whole life, Goldie. He’s not worth it.” 

“Yeah,” you said, moving closer to him. “You’re probably right.” 

Joel made sure both of you were up before Sarah in the morning, sparing you both from any of her prying questions, and you spent the morning with them before going home again and trying to write but getting nowhere. You wasted hours on an outline this time before hating the story so much that it made your stomach clench to even look at it. It was so pathetic, a lost woman clinging to a past lover so hard that she couldn’t chart a path forward, and you couldn’t seem to chart a way toward a satisfying end. You started a fire in your fireplace for the first time just so you could burn the paper you’d wasted on this one. You had a glass of wine as you watched the flames devour it, ash floating to the hearth like snow, white and dead. 

Part of it, you were sure, was the fact that you were dreading the idea of talking with Natalie, the adjunct you were going to try to set up with Joel. She’d like him. Of course she’d like him. It was Joel, everyone liked Joel, that was the problem. She’d like him and you’d have to sit there and watch him like her. Love her, eventually. If not her then someone else. You hadn’t been able to handle that when you were 18 and the fact that you were in your 30s now didn’t seem to have changed much. That’s part of why you’d done what you’d done after prom. A small part, perhaps, but a part. 

But you were a grown up now, no longer a girl trying to find her way through the maze of the adult reality you found yourself thrust into. Things were going to be different this time. 

They had to be. 

May 2008, the Tuesday after prom 

“Honey?” 

You could hear the frown in your mom’s voice as you stumbled to your bedroom. 

“That you?” 

You caught yourself on the door frame. Your head was still spinning, why was it still spinning? It felt like you were going to throw up. 

“Yeah,” you managed. “Just me.” 

“You’re home early,” she said, her voice closer. “No Joel today?” 

“No,” you said, hoping you sounded normal. “No Joel today.” 

“Oh,” she sounded surprised. “Hungry? I can make you something…” 

“I’m fine,” you said. “Just… tired. Going to lie down, I think.” 

You didn’t wait for a response, just going in your room and closing the door behind you. Your walls were covered in movie posters, the faces of strangers you felt like you knew through their films an odd comfort as you sat on the edge of your bed. 

It’s Goldie. I wish it were anyone else. It’d be better if it were anyone else.

That’s what he’d said. Anyone else. Anyone but you.

You weren’t sure how long you stared into space. How were you supposed to face him now? How were you supposed to go back to your life now? 

You’d never been a particularly social person - writing all the time didn’t lend itself to vibrant friendships - but Joel had been your person for almost three years. He was who you had, who you told everything to, who you wanted to do everything with. Leaving him behind was going to be the hardest part of going away to school - so hard that part of you was still in denial that it would work that way at all. Part of you thought that he’d find some way to come with you over the summer and it’d be the two of you against the world the way it seemed like it always had been. 

But he wouldn’t. He didn’t want to. He didn’t want you. 

I wish it were anyone else. 

“Fuck,” you whispered to yourself, your voice wet. 

Graduation was soon but it was still three weeks out. Three torturous weeks of being next to the person you loved most in the world when they didn’t love you, not really, not at all. 

You weren’t sure how long you stared at the wall when it occurred to you. 

You forced your body to move, joints stiff, and went to your computer, scrolling back through your email history to one from Dr. Gale Newton. An invitation to a summer creative writing workshop, one you’d decided to pass on because it meant leaving Joel months earlier. You hadn’t been ready for that before. You’d gone about checking with your counselor at school to see if it was even possible before deciding you weren’t ready for it. 

You were ready now. 

You called the number in his email signature and the phone rang twice before a woman answered. 

“Dr. Newton’s office,” she said. “This is Florence.” 

“Hi Florence,” you said, sniffing a bit, hoping it didn’t sound like you’d been crying. “Is… um… Is Dr. Newton available?” 

“I can check,” she said. “It’s a bit late in the day… Can I ask who’s calling and what this is about?” 

You gave her your name and told her that you were a candidate for the summer program. 

“Ah, right,” she said. “You were the one denial. Can’t say I remember that happening before! Let me see… yes, one moment, I’ll transfer you back.” 

It didn’t take long. Dr. Newton answered on the first ring, saying your name before you had a chance to say anything at all. 

“I was wondering if I’d get to speak with you directly,” he said. “I’ve never had a student turn down the intensive before.” 

“Yes, I’m sorry about that,” you said, voice trembling a little. “I thought I had some things I needed to finish up here before I moved but, as it turns out, I can come up sooner. I was wondering if my spot would still be available?” 

“Well,” he sighed. You could hear the rustle of pages on his end. “The program did already start and you are the only incoming freshman I invited - your online portfolio was quite impressive - I wouldn’t want you to fall behind. How soon could you be here?” 

“I could be there for the start of next week’s sessions,” you said. “And I can try to keep up with some work in the mean time if you want to email me some prompts or assignments…” 

“No, no need for that,” he said. You heard the click of a mouse. “I’m going back over some of your work now, I think this will work fine for what we’re doing next week. There’s a short story here, Golden Boy, that we can workshop alongside the fresh pieces for the coming sessions.” 

You quickly clicked over to the simple blog you’d made to showcase your writing for college applications. You scrolled past one of your senior portraits and bio at the top down to the work and found the story. You couldn’t remember if you’d put the whole piece up or just parts but it was the whole piece, one you’d written about Joel. 

It’d be better if it were anyone else.

Your chest got tight. 

“Perfect,” you said. “That’s great, thank you so, so much…” 

“I hope to see some more dedication out of you when you arrive here,” he said, voice a little more stern now. “I reviewed your portfolio personally and you show a lot of promise but so does every student who comes through this program. If you’re not willing to make sacrifices and work for it, I can’t help you hone that raw skill into what it has the potential to become.” 

“I understand,” you said quickly. “I’ll do whatever you want, whatever you think I need…” 

“I’m willing to work with you one on one,” he said. “Get you caught up over the next few weeks, both because you missed some of the intensive but because you haven’t had any classes here yet. It’s going to be a lot of time and a lot of effort but I’m happy to put in the work if you’re willing to do the same. I expect you to be devoted to this program, do you think you can do that?” 

“Yes sir,” you said. “Absolutely.” 

“Good girl,” he said. “I’ll email you my personal cell phone number, call me there when you get to town. I’ll make sure you get set up in your dorm and we can get to work. Sound good?” 

“Yes,” you said, your eyes falling on a picture of you and Joel laughing on his couch that glared at you from its place next to your computer monitor. You turned it to face the wall. “Yes it does.” 

Next Chapter

A/N: So we now know at least SOME of Bambi's side of the story. Not the whole of it yet but some!

What do you think? Teenaged overreaction? Totally makes sense? Neither? Both?

Also... I hope you caught that Gale had a picture of her before he met her and picked up on how much he'd selected her to be a pupil of particular interest from the get go. He's so slimy. Or, I hope he comes off that way, anyway. He's slimy in my head, at least!

Thank you, as always, for reading. I hope you're enjoying the ride as Joel and Goldie navigate their tangled friendship!

Love you!!!

[heavy-swing]

FFXIV Write 2024 - Prompt #6 - Halcyon

Content Warnings: None

Spoiler Warnings: None

Summary: A young Aelita Tirasch jumps at the chance to spend some time with the coolest person on Etheirys (her mom, Lunya), and her mom jumps at the chance to share a bit of what she left behind in Bozja. Small note: I've started lightly borrowing words from Slovak or Czech as a stand-in for a "Bozjan" language, so in this story, "milacik" translates to "sweetheart". Check it out below or on Ao3:

“So you're telling me you got everything done already?”

“Yep,” Aelita replied, ticking each item off on her fingers as she said it. “Made my bed, swept the kitchen, watered the plants outside and added the fertilizer, too.” She hoped the extra emphasis didn't go unnoticed.

“And it's just a coincidence that it got done right before your mother is due to go into town, I bet,” Jaromir replied, seeing right through his daughter's plan. Aelita avoided making eye contact, hoping that her choice of when to do her chores wouldn't override the fact that she had still done them.

“Well, if all your chores are finished, then there's no reason to keep you around here.” Aelita just about exploded with joy. 

“Thank you, papa!” she exclaimed, throwing her arms around his waist in a big hug. She came up to about his chest now, and every passing year meant she gained a little bit more ground. Jaromir knew they'd be seeing eye to eye sooner rather than later, and he wasn’t sure he was ready for it. 

“You're welcome, my star. I've got one condition for you, though–”

“Always listen to mama,” Aelita finished, interrupting him. “Of course I will!”

“I still have to say it, even if you already know.”

Aelita rolled her eyes, playing up her annoyance. “Do you? I'm twelve summers now, I'm not a kid!” 

“True, true. But just because you're not a kid doesn't mean you're not my little star!” It was Jaromir’s turn to squeeze his daughter in a most embarrassing hug. Aelita was just thankful they were inside, away from anyone who might witness this indignity.

Just as Jaromir released his hold, Lunya walked in through the door, tool bag slung over shoulder and her hair tied back with a bandana. “One more for Limsa, then?” “Mama!” Aelita exclaimed, running over to her bed to grab the bag she’d packed for the journey, full of her own tools and a couple snacks for the road (it was mostly snacks). She dashed back over to her mother’s side at the door. “Ready when you are!” “No time like the present, then!” Lunya turned her focus to her husband. “I’ll be back in time for supper, and if I see any half-decent fish in the markets, I’ll bring them with.” Jaromir crossed the room to give her a quick kiss. “Okay, I’ll see you then, milacik.”

“Love you too,” she replied, noticing Aelita standing impatiently just outside the front door, staring at her. “All right, all right, it’s time to go, my little star!” She took Aelita’s hand in her own and they started down the road that would eventually lead to Limsa Lominsa and the forge of Naldiq & Vymelli’s. — “Excited to see the city today, are we?” Lunya asked. They were a good ways from home, but Limsa was still small in the distance.

“Mhm! I’m excited to see where you go to work. Everything you talk about when we’re practicing at home sounds so cool… well besides the metal, I guess!” Aelita replied, her face hardly big enough to contain her grin. “That’s true, it does get very hot! This workshop is… well, it’s a lot better than anything near the house, but…” Lunya trailed off, falling back into old memories. “But?” “...I know it might be boastful to say, so I need you to keep this between you and me. Think you can do that?” Aelita mimed zipping up her lips and throwing away an invisible key. “Okay, well… the workshop in Limsa is nice, but… the one I had in the old city was better, no question.” They stopped and moved off the side of the road to a boulder with room for both of them to sit on. “The furnaces were always the right temperature, I had every tool you could think of, and I got to spend day after day doing what I loved with people I cared about. And it was mine. My own little place where I got to set the rules.” Lunya looked wistfully towards the ocean, an unspoken longing to return to those better days in her eyes, and that expression had Aelita transfixed. “All yours? You mean you were the boss, all by yourself?” “That’s right, all me.” “Not even papa could boss you around?” “Not even papa.” Aelita’s face was pure awe. “I want to be the boss someday. Have a huuuuuuge shop, all to myself, and everyone in it has to do what I say!” “You will, my star, I know it.” Lunya smiled warmly at her daughter, trying to ignore the beginnings of tears forming in her eyes. “You might even get to see that old shop, someday. If…” she trailed off, gathering her resolve. “...Not if, but when we all make it back to Bozja. To the old city.” 

She shook herself out of the melancholy stroll down memory lane she’d unintentionally stumbled into. “But first things first: you can’t have your own shop if you don’t practice, so let’s get going, okay? Then I can show you what a real forgemaster looks like!” Lunya made sure to do her best bicep flexing pose for Aelita, who was unsurprisingly over the moon. My mama’s the best! Aelita thought to herself as Lunya took her hand and they got back on the road together, forging a path straight to Limsa.

[sw33tsnow]

Enchanted by the aching wounds

- (I) / (III)

Mercenary!Simon "Ghost" Riley x Harpy!F!Reader

Summary: In a world filled with chaos, mankind and mythical creatures refuse to maintain a harmonious interaction. But it seemed not all would comply the exact same.

Warning: NOT FOR MINORS, size gap, mentions of violence, mentions of death, blood, vocabs, timeline ("once upon a time") Wordcount: 2k7

NOTE(s):

I've been working on The UK history for my field and came up with this blog's idea. I'll try my best to bring the vibe (might appear some grammar errs)

Inspired by: Maleficent (Angelina Jolie's role) and the incredible mini-serie Songs that sound like sea-foam - @halcyone-of-the-sea

THE SECOND PART || THE THIRD PART

Mother Nature - Nak created everything. She shaped mountains with scarce ores for the Dragons to guard, blew the wind and guided the Elves and Centaurus to bring seeds to the arid steppes. Whenever a precious life passed away, Nak would shed Her tears of sorrow and they would flow into vast oceans, becoming a great home for Sirens and Mermaids. Oases and islands, the same as floating land on the water surface, surrounded by sand and deep inside where the trees were so dense, there are jungles guarded by the Harpies. That's your kind, being called by an intimate name - the Aborigines, given by Nak and friends from other species. The reason was because jungles were the combination of nearly all the quintessence that Mother Nature has ever formed. Harpies' deep knowledge of flora and fauna impressed the meadow fairies to come back to learn, your kind's mastery in predicting the taste and temperature of liquid attracted the water fairies, and the respectful manners toward the mountains always pleased the Dragons.

Then the Sky came. He called Mother Nature his muse, allured Her and succeeded in making Her give birth to a short-lived, disgusting species called human. They're stupid, always curious and impatient. Nak wanted you - her beautiful children to treat them like family, just like the Sky treated Her. Yet unexpectedly, the Sky abandoned Her along with these brainless mortals for his new interest - the Moon. When He was still by Nak’s side, their passionate love resulted in endless harvest and warm sunlight illuminated the entire land but when He left, Mother Nature was drowned in inconsolable grief and forgot Her duty, causing what we called The ice age today. Those weak mankind rebelled because they couldn't stand the harshness which nature has given them. They sharpened their own weapons and started to hunt food, they exploited the mountains to take away the essence, and then started dividing territories and killing their own kind to assert their power.

Mother Nature's fury has risen, Her tantrum was beyond imagination. The mountains roared and spewed boiling melted rocks that burned fields dared to cross their path, the calm coastline was replaced by angrily tsunamis, the vast pastures turned to lifeless soil, and the forests became somber and dreadful. Mother Nature was unable to dissuade. She was your mother, their mother, but the mortals didn't know better. Instead of reconciled and coordinated, foolish humans with vague knowledge began to imitate your kind. They formed classes as you have your clans, their patriarch preferred to be called king, and your warriors were called guards in their language. They robbed your ores and molded the gold into cramped shapes entitled crowns, wearing them on their heads as if to represent their power. With endless greed, the mortals yearned for exotic garments and accessories so they did not hesitate to slaughter your brothers and sisters only for feathers and claws as the materials.

Faith vanished when the whines from families who lost their members and the desperate prayers couldn't reach Nak, She has banished you all, Her own blood. The survivors from all remaining species have gathered in the far-off island, separated and protected from the ugly world which mankind has conquered.

Afraid of being hanged for failing to track the left traces of you fairies, the vassals forged stories to delude their majesty. Spreading rumors about your kinds’ extinction and turning you fairies into mythical creatures that they chose to tell their later generations as bedtime tales. 

_-_-_-_-_-_-_

Reckless and brutal

The stories that you heard from the elders as a child told you all. Mankind is truly bloodthirsty. Time flies like an arrow, the war raged non-stop, the deafening explosions of the weapons they called 'guns' and the mournful screams of all things did not subside for decades. The mortals did not give up easily as they silently seeked for you creatures with the excuse that you fairies would take revenge. They massacred villages, shed no mercy on newborn infants to harmless old ones, women were captured to satisfy their animalistic desires and men who defied orders were killed unhesitatingly. However, not only you fairies had to shed blood, humanity also refused to spare their own people. 

Foolish

Well, you aren’t on the same page. Humans are indeed ugly and cruel, but they have superior intelligence, which was clearly unfair. They learned from their previous mistakes in order to correct and improve themselves. Without special-given abilities, mortals built their own boats to help them travel on the sea, put up their own huts called houses to live in and start a family, they also learned how to herd animals and grow crops. 

That's also why you're here, chained below the sodden hold of an enormous royal cruise.

Your naked body was covered in wounds and coagulated blood stains from the whip, your hair disheveled and your legs were shaking from the loss of strength from being knelt for too long. The surrounding dark space limited your vision, there were some collision sounds that came from some valuable objects, the whimpers of animals and the jingling sound of the chains on your neck and your wrists as they bump into each other. On the main deck, the nobles were eating, drinking and dancing to the melodious music of the violin, guests all wearing masks as requested in the invitation. This ship's indeed well-known as a venue for clandestine auctions. Alcohol, jewelry, paintings, drugs or any other illegal items would be converged here for the wealthy to throw their money around. Attendees were way more crowded than usual thanks to the rumors about a special creature on display waiting to be owned here - you, to be more specific.

During the final purge on the island where you fairies were hiding, your parents sacrificed themselves to protect you from impending death. All by yourself, you had to hunt for your starvation, had to learn how to fly and use the gift you were given - mankind called it magic, without receiving any guidance. You came to realize that you were the last Harpy, the last child of Mother Nature - Nak while eavesdropping on a conversation between pirates. Couldn’t hide forever, you disguise yourself as a human-being and blend in the human society. Years of working like a dog, you have earned enough money, which the mortals used to trade for goods, and opened a pub of your own. You have learned their language to communicate and lived in peace for such a long period until a group of strangers ambushed and brought you to this cruise. Even though the time serving for pirates and monarchs' forces has whetted your battling skills, you’re outnumbered and were forced to surrender. 

They brutally tortured you, stimulating your wild's instinct to rise and revealing your true self before their eyes. They treated you like an animal, feeding you filthy stuff that even the most foolish creature wouldn't put in their mouth just to keep you from dying. If you dared to resist or went on hunger-strike, they would avoid damaging the valuables of your body and force you to submit by slicing your flesh. Devastated, you no longer have the strength to find a way to escape but accept your fate, being locked up and sold like an actual commodity.

In the hidden corners of the ballroom, four men with sturdy built frames were quietly observing every movement with hawk eyes. All four of them were dressed in late Victorian formal attire, after all it’s considered a formal event with plenty of royalties appearing. Standard plain white shirts with detachable white collars tucked inside the waistcoats, ascot or ties by choice. Their trousers and frock coats were not the same shade, perhaps to avoid unwanted attention. From head to toe, the costumes were meticulously tailored based on each individuals’ measurements because the job they undertook required quite a lot of manual work.

Beneath the giant painting hanging between the two paths leading to the balcony, a brunet with a black mask was staring at the end of the hall. That’s where the door leading down to the lower deck was, where his team had to reach as claimed by the instruction. The term of the contract was short and simple - his team’s party wanted the most valuable 'thing' in this auction.

Normally bland businesses like these would never be accepted, but they’d be fools if refused such huge sum. What’s more?  Free of charge handmade pieces of clothing and the chance to sneak those expensive liquor wouldn’t be unpleasant after all. 

The gentleman had begun to move. He lightly tapped on the bench where two charming men were sipping wine as if commanding, they immediately finished the booze before standing up and followed him. The brunet gave an oblivious glance as if observing the surroundings, a tall figure appeared out of nowhere and joined them as all four men quietly disappeared behind the door, not being seen by anyone.

Carefully removing the masks and cumbersome collars, the men gently pulled out the small arms attached to shoulder holsters hidden beneath their long coats. Checking the magazine again, a masculine face and neatly trimmed beard, seemed to be the Captain, motioned the other three to stick with him as they entered the hallway.

"What exactly are we looking for, sir?" The pretty boy with dark skin whispered in curiosity.

"We shall find out soon, son" The Captain replied 

Their eyes never left the dark path ahead. Gently approaching the hold, there were two guards positioned by the stairs armed with rifles absentmindedly chatting with each other. With his index and middle fingers pointing forward, in the back, the tallest man moved like a ghost behind the guards as he pulled out a knife grabbed around his thigh to stab one’s neck before raising the gun to shoot right between the other’s eyebrows. The cheers along with music and the guests' lack of alertness successfully masked the loud gunshots just well. They gathered up and began to hide dead bodies into the nearest wine barrels. Bounty hunters and petty thieves would leave evidence and traces behind but these men were professionals, could possibly tell by their swift movements.

All sorts of illegal services are offered in the black market in order to complete dirty jobs which customers didn't want to get involved with. And The One-Four-One, one of the most well-known mercenary teams, utilized by both the government and merchants, they're qualified plus always ensured to complete deals in their agreement. As long as they’re paid properly. 

_-_-_-_-_-_-_

Your dizziness was gone by the loud noise coming from outside, gunfire, you confirmed. Pulling yourself together, you dragged your sore body deeper into the darkness of the hold as your pointed ears perked up due to the sound of expensive leather heels on the wooden steps. Adjusted your breath and narrowed your eyes, you peaked up to the direction where the noise came from while purposely clacking the chain to entice those humans. As soon as two bulky men carefully approached and stood in front of you, using one leg to knock one of them down, you snatched the gun from his hand and aimed straight at his forehead. Your right knee firmly pressed on his chest and your left foot pinned his wrist down, not allowing him to sit up.

"Steamin' bloody...."

"Shut yer trap or ‘ll crush ye barnacles" You gritted your teeth and forced the gun harder against his head. Your gift could not be used if your mind were unclear, so there’s no other way but to improvise under this circumstance.

Opposite of the silky feathers image, the primaries of your wing were like sharp blades pointing at the adam's apple of the man behind you as goosebumps exploded on your entire body. The man was quiet, so quiet that you almost couldn’t realize his present when you attacked the human below you. He calmly pierced down at you, only his beautiful chocolate brown eyes and messy blonde hair were visible because the man wore a tubular cloth around his neck. His high nose bridge and lips were hardly seen beneath the stretchy material as it pulled up to cover more than half of his face. 

"Savvy?" You asked with an unemotional face and voice.

"Easy, ma lady.....easy" The dark-skinned boy knelt on the floor, one hand raised in the air to show that he had no intention of harming you, the other hand gently placing the gun on the wooden steps.

You didn't let down your guard, only turned your eyes to the boy, his wine-red cutaway spread out on the wet floor so delicately.

The blond didn't step back, he put his gun back in the holster and slowly took off his coat. You followed his every move as you retracted your wing, bringing it to block the front of your body while crawling down from the man lying on the floor. The faint scent of gunpowder and burnt orange peel tickled your nose as the blond man draped his large coat over your smaller shoulders, his calloused hands grazing your shoulders, leaving an indescribable itchiness on your skin. After helping the shorter man on the ground to his feet, they all backed away so as not to tower over you.

"Ye're one of them, eh, ma lady?" Your pupils shone brightly in the darkness as you focused on analyzing the older man in front of you.

"....Are ye mercenaries?" Sounded more like a statement.

"Aye ma'am" The man you have just pinned down to the floor was now brushing his suits while answering you with a grin on his face.

"Apologize for my previous acts" You glanced, "Am I yer negotiation?"

Your voice hoarse and your lips chapped due to dehydration, but still managed to deliver your words clearly. You retracted your wings and horns back inside. Couldn't stop peeking at mountain of a man leaning against the pillar, your claws which have been replaced by mankind’s fingers dug into the thick garment he handed you. 

"No" the blond grunted, "The requirement was the thing, they'll get the thing."

Word for word. You silently thanked him when he finally opened his mouth and spoke, his voice low and seductive, better than you expected. The gentleman was always silent but his expressionless eyes never left you. His decisive words and gentle gestures made you drunk, years of going through your heat by yourself, controlling desires has never been this difficult to you. 

"Simon" Simon, you mumbled, your lips thinned to a line as if just his name was enough for you to smile like an idiot.

"Blimey, Cap, ye saw how she held me down"

You understand why the Captain hesitated. Mercenaries’ jobs were neither easy nor safe, would’ve to pay with your life if you’re negligent. But the ridiculous hair man got his point, not only your other self could never be a burden, you alone were completely qualified for their team.

"Miss, ye ever been on battlefields?" The Captain sighed before asked you

"If the Tudors And Stuarts count" You answered bluntly, "Also an old salt on Sir Francis Drake and Anne Bonny's ships". Tilting your head, you slightly smiled as their eyes widened.

An impressed whistle was blown, the boy with the red cutaway walked over and patted the Captain's shoulder, whose face looked down and shook his head in defeat. The blond gentleman walked over to where you sat to unchain you as the oldest man cocked his head like a command, careful not to hurt you.

"Thank you" You said with sincerity, rubbing the scratched and bruised skin on your throat and wrists.

"Can ye stand, ma lady?" You nodded in response, "I still can walk, they spared my legs out", but seemed to receive disagreement from the rest.

" ‘ll carry ye" The blond spoke softly, "Allow me" 

Lifting you up effortlessly, he placed you on his bulky arm and the other held the gun. Nodding to the other three, you all quietly disappeared from the dark hold.