#i was rooting for this a couple years back and gutted we never got it

[podiumackles]

the moments that stay (they turn out all wrong)

In which the man she could never forget suddenly turns up at her cell, but he has no remembrance of the woman in front of him. And the moments that stayed with her for decades, turn out to be her memories only.

series masterlist

CHAPTER 4

A/N: This one took me a while, but I'm back! I've been to two comic cons in a row, and I've just been so busy with work as well, so my writing motivation was little to none. But here's part 4! English isn't my first language!! apologies in advance.

Outlines: After being his sidekick in Payback for years, you-better known as your supename Fury-ended up on the same end of Soldier Boy's violence as every other person. What you didn't realise, however, was that your old team had set you both up for betrayal, right when you thought you were helping them in getting him. After decades of being stuck in Vought's testing lab, you heard Soldier Boy got out. But the man who appeared in front of your cell wasn't the man you knew.

Warnings: swearing, descriptions of gore, mentions of blood, mentions of death, soldier boy (yes, this man should be considered a warning), and possibly wrong storytelling in lines of the canon events. I'm not that good at remembering, guys. and the boys was just kinda complicated. forgive me.

Present

It was only a couple of minutes later when Butcher finally broke the dreading silence, but your mind had raced through a timespan of hours. “We need to get out. Get up, love.”

A tight grip fastened around your right upper arm, lifting you urgently but with slight care. Your eyes barely left the horror scene of several guts splashed against the walls in the hallway, body parts scattered around the floor, and in the back of your mind, you remembered the two decapitated bodies Ben had been the cause of.

The air felt electric, the smell of smoke burning through your nostrils and finding the dreaded way towards your throat. You could barely believe it was your doing, but there was no denying the destruction that lay in your wake.

Ben stood rooted to the spot near the door, his shield lowered but still gripped tightly. His eyes flicked toward you, and for the first time, the cold indifference you had become accustomed now labelled as fear. And it frightened you because, for a second, you got the feeling he would lash out like he did all those years ago.

But you didn’t have time to dwell on it.

“No,” you whispered, more to yourself than anyone else. “I need you to tell me what happened.”

You could barely recall the moment you lost control, the power that had surged through you. But the aftermath was all too real. You stared at your trembling hands, electricity still sparking between your fingers, the residual energy crackling like a distant storm.

Ben didn’t respond. The tension between the men hung in the air like a ticking time bomb.

“Like I said, we need to move,” Butcher said, his voice gruff as he pushed away from the terminal. “We’re locked down for now, but Vought’ll be on our arses soon enough. Let’s get the fuck outta ‘ere.”

You took a shaky breath, trying to steady yourself. The adrenaline from the fight was fading fast, replaced by a gnawing fear—of yourself, of the power you’d just unleashed. You could feel it, the wild storm inside of you. You had no idea what had triggered it or if you could control it again. And judging by the way Ben was looking at you, he wasn’t too sure either.

As the three of you moved out of the control room and into the hallway, the facility felt strangely empty, the echoes of your destruction trailing behind you like a shadow. But you knew better. Vought wouldn’t give up that easily.

Ben walked ahead, his broad frame cutting a path through the blood-splattered hallway, but his movements were more cautious now. The confidence and rage that usually simmered beneath his surface were subdued as if he was watching you closely, waiting for you to lose control again.

You didn’t blame him.

Everything was silent. Too silent.

You just wanted either of the men to scream at you- put you back in that cell as a result of their fears.

But none of it came.

Butcher, ever the pragmatist, kept his focus on the exit, but even he glanced at you from time to time, something unspoken in his gaze. He had seen supes use their powers before—hell, he’d fought against them—and while he wasn’t afraid, he certainly wasn’t going to let his guard down around you. Not anymore.

“Oi,” Butcher muttered as you approached the final set of doors that led to the outside. “You good? That little light show back there—gonna happen again?”

You swallowed hard, trying to suppress the trembling in your hands. “I don’t know.” you admitted, hating how uncertain your voice sounded. You didn’t want to make yourself weak.

But with the way you lashed out, you didn’t think either of the two would think you were weak.

Except maybe Ben.

Because he thought you were a lab rat.

Butcher raised an eyebrow. “Well, now’s not the time to go rogue on us, love. We still gotta make it outta ‘ere in one piece.”

You bit back a retort, knowing he was right. But his words only fuelled the fear already building inside you. You weren’t sure what this would mean for you.

Ben stopped at the door, glancing back at the two of you. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes lingered on you for just a second longer than necessary. “You sure you aren’t going to fucking kill us?” he asked, his voice gruff and unkind.

And you knew then. He didn’t think you were weak.

He thought you were a monster.

You met his gaze, feeling the weight of his words. “Fuck if I know.”

For a moment, the three of you stood in silence, the distant wail of sirens and alarms a constant reminder that your time was running out. Then Ben nodded, accepting your answer without further comment. He shoved the door open, leading the way into the cold night air outside the facility.

The wind hit your face like a slap, fresh air filling your lungs like the first glass of burning whiskey on a night out. You felt exhausted, nearly falling to your knees at the spot. You glanced up at the night sky, stars barely visible through the haze of city lights, and took a deep breath. For the first time in decades, you were free.

But freedom came with a cost.

And you weren’t sure you could pay it.

Ben and Butcher kept a steady pace as they made their way through the fallen snow, the white burning into your eyes like you’d just stared at the sun, and you couldn’t shake the feeling of unease that gnawed at you.

The facility was behind you, but Vought’s reach extended far beyond those walls. And as much as you wanted to believe the worst was over, you knew better.

This was only the beginning.

As the three of you approached the extraction point, the sound of distant helicopters filled the air, and you could already see the headlights of Vought’s vehicles in the distance, closing in fast. There would be no rest, no time to process what had happened. Not yet.

A black van stood in the dim light of the moon, right behind the final passage of your imprisonment. The two men ran towards it, making you realise this was their transport. You tried to bite through your exhaustion, your pain, but it was to no avail.

Right as you saw a figure leave the vehicle, you fell to your knees on the ice-cold ground- the joined snowflakes burning your knees through your pants.

But you could barely pay it any mind.

The figure from the van moved quickly, their boots crunching through the snow as they approached you. It soon took the shape of a scrawny-looking man, but he couldn’t have been much older than thirty. A slight stubble caressed the lower half of his face, and a few fluffed pieces of hair came from under his beanie.

You struggled to keep your eyes open, feeling the last of your adrenaline slipping away, the cold seeping into your bones. You could barely make out Butcher’s voice, barking orders at the newcomer, but it all sounded distant, muffled by the ringing in your ears, the sounds of the helicopters. Even the weather couldn’t give you strength this time.

But amongst the sounds you could vaguely hear, Soldier Boy’s voice was not one of them.

“Stay with us,” the newest person said, their voice unsurprisingly gentle as they knelt beside you. A hand gripped your arm, steadying you. You tried to focus on them, but the edges of your vision blurred, darkness creeping in at the corners.

About two more people left the van, but you didn’t have any energy to analyse them.

A face appeared above yours, concern etched into their face. “You’re not dying on us,” they growled, and their care confused you. You didn’t even know them. “We need you to hold it together.”

And you tried. God, did you try.

You weren’t weak.

You weren’t pathetic.

And most of all, you weren’t going to make a fool of yourselves.

So, instead of succumbing to the darkness that had crept into your mind, you looked up at the broad figure and focused on his kind, but demanding eyes. Three men held you up, and you could vaguely make out the figure of your former companion getting into the back of the van without a word.

You were helped up into the vehicle, and for a moment you felt like the fool you were afraid to become. You were a supe. A soldier. There shouldn’t have been any need to get lifted into a van by three men.

Taking your place near the backdoor, you lifted up your legs and wrapped your arms around them to keep yourself warm. You tried to summon the power of the sun, the warmth of fire. But all you got was electricity. Cold, prickling electricity.

Looking out the back window, you tried everything not to make any eye contact with the people around you, as the last person stepped inside and closed the side door.

The air was thick with tension and a strange, almost hesitant feeling of understanding. You slumped further against the cold metal side, feeling the slight vibrations as the van roared to life and sped away from the facility. Every bump on the road sent jolts of pain through your body, but you bit down the groans that threatened to escape.

The scrawny man from earlier sat beside you, his gaze flitting between you and Soldier Boy, who sat in the far corner on the other side of the vehicle, keeping his eyes trained out the window as well. He didn’t acknowledge you, but his silence spoke volumes.

Butcher, sitting directly across from you, watched you carefully, his gaze flicking between the sparks still dancing faintly along your hands and your exhausted expression. He was assessing, weighing whether you were still a threat.

“Listen,” Butcher’s voice cut through the quiet, “I don’t give a rat’s arse if you’re feelin’ sorry for yourself. We need you sharp if we’re gonna get through this alive. That means no more ‘accidents,’ got it?”

His tone was harsh, but beneath it was a sliver of something else—almost like concern. Or at least, as close to concern as Butcher could ever muster.

You managed a nod, barely meeting his eyes.

Part of you was angry.

Angry at yourself, angry at Butcher.

But most of all, angry at Ben.

Because how the fuck could he walk around, swinging that shield like it’s nothing, without a single memory of you lingering inside his mind?

You bore your memories. You were burdened with them.

But now, you bore his, too.

“I didn’t mean for it to happen.” You decided to speak up, deciding to no longer make a fool of yourself. Truth was, you had no idea if you could keep the outburst from happening again. The power felt wild inside you, like a caged animal ready to break free the moment you lost your grip.

You turned away, focusing instead on the faint vibration of the van as it rumbled along a rough road. The cold had settled deep into your muscles, making you shiver uncontrollably. It felt like you’d never be warm again.

Butcher, noticing your discomfort, threw a blanket your way, which you caught with clumsy hands. “Don’t say I never do nothin’ for ya.” he muttered. There was no softness in his tone, but it wasn’t entirely unfriendly either. Maybe he didn’t hate you—yet.

He was the one who wanted to get you out of there, anyway.

For his own damn purposes, that is.

You wrapped the blanket around yourself, trying to gather your thoughts. “What is this about?” you asked, not sure if the only thing they’ve done was lie to your face. “The truth, this time.”

Ben switched his gaze towards you instantly, sending you a look that was close to a death glare. And you were the stupid one who locked eyes with him at that moment.

And at that point, you missed his caring gaze. His words that only you had gotten in the past. The person he cared enough for to catch a bullet to the head.

Until he didn’t.

Butcher tilted his head, sending Ben a daring glare, which caused him to look away.

“Butcher’s got a thing for picking up strays.” Soldier boy spoke sternly, absently averting his gaze back outside, his eyes trembling as they followed their surroundings.

You broke your stare towards Ben, and you could sense the weight of his words passing towards you. You were just another stray to them. And you weren’t sure what that meant.

Butcher still didn’t answer. Either he didn’t have one, or he didn’t want you to know about it.

The silence inside the van thickened, each unspoken word a weight pressing down on you. Ben's brief outburst still echoed in your mind, the sharpness of it reminding you just how far you'd fallen from the fragile trust you thought you’d shared with him. He wouldn’t even look at you now, the distance between you as icy as the snow you’d collapsed into earlier.

Butcher leaned back, his eyes narrowing as he studied you. It was like he was weighing whether to trust you with more—or if it was safer to keep you in the dark.

Finally, he spoke up, his voice low. “We’ve got a little operation. Some resources, a few people who ain’t fond of being Vought’s lapdogs,” you noticed a slight tremble in his voice. One a regular person wouldn’t have noticed. “We just needed one more backup- someone who knows all about the company. You.”

You clearly felt like it was a lie.

A straight-up, fully thought-out lie.

Butcher’s words grated against your nerves, the blatant half-truth curling like smoke in the air between you. It was too clean, too practised. You could see the calculation behind his eyes—what he was willing to share and what he wasn't.

You raised an eyebrow, letting the silence stretch out uncomfortably as you locked eyes with him. “Just needed backup, huh?” you echoed, your voice cutting through the tension in the van like a blade. “And it just so happened that your ‘backup’ was locked in one of Vought’s prisons?”

Butcher’s jaw tightened, a flicker of annoyance crossing his face. He didn’t like being called out, but he didn’t deny it, either. “Look, it’s more complicated than that,” he muttered, rubbing a hand over his bearded chin. “Vought’s got their hands in everything. Any chance to screw with ‘em, we take it. You were there, we got you out. Simple as.”

Ben scoffed, turning his head toward you. His gaze was sharp, scrutinizing. “Yeah, and it’s not like you’ve got anywhere better to be, do you?” His voice was harsher than you remembered as if all the warmth you once thought you saw in him had been stripped away, leaving only the bitterness behind. “Or would you rather be back in that cell?”

You clenched your hands into fists beneath the blanket, feeling the sparks crackle faintly against your skin. It was a good reminder that you were far from powerless, even if you felt lost. But you held the charge back, not wanting to give them any more reason to doubt you—or fear you. “I don’t know what I want,” you admitted quietly, and the honesty of the words stung. “But I know I don’t trust any of you. Not yet.”

Butcher gave a rough chuckle, but it lacked humour. “Yeah, well, join the club. We’re not here to make friends, love. Just keep your head down, and don’t fuckin’ lose it in the process.”

You looked away, your mind racing with the implications of this uneasy alliance. The cold seeped through the metal walls of the van, biting at your skin, but it was nothing compared to the chill in Ben’s gaze. He had been your ally once, your only friend in the darkness. Now, you couldn’t tell if he’d ever been on your side at all.

As the van bumped along the dark road, the tension between all of you settled into a heavy, uncomfortable silence. But despite everything, one thought gnawed at you, refusing to be silenced.

Whatever Butcher’s real reason was for pulling you from that cell, it was more than just needing an extra set of hands. And you would find out what it was—one way or another.

A/N: as always, feedback is appreciated! let me know if you want to be added to the taglist.

thanks for reading! <3

taglist: @demodemo909 @deangirl96 @mostlymarvelgirl @n-o-p-e-never @daisydark @mxltifxnd0m @lamentationsofalonelypotato

[racewinnerlandonorris]

like look my papaya boy is sopping wet, whimpering in agony in the rain, but he still hasn't sold his dignity to the devil to combine the worst of gen z culture (tiktok) and the worst of millennial culture (ugg boots) while helmut marko salvates over the good pr he is delivering or whatever. and i am proud of that.

ngl i would love to see lando doing some tiktok dances

[bodegacowboy]

The fragments of this blip of a story came to me two days ago and it just happened to remind me of NaruSaku day. So after many years  away from tumblr and the fanfic game, here is my meager contribution to you NaruSaku fans on NaruSaku day. Hopefully you will enjoy it.

Sakura read the last page for the last time and with a soft shake of her head she slammed the book shut. A long pensive sigh escaped her lips as she tapped her fingers along the book cover. She drew in a deep breath and frowned. She brought the the book up to her face and her frowned deepened . She flipped the book, back and forth from the front cover to the back, once and then twice, before quietly hurling it across the room.

The book's flight from Sakura's hand consisted of a quick bounce against the wall and a noisy crash onto the floor. It settled on the floor with a new crack in it's spine to match the crack on the wall.

"I'm guessing you won't be recommending this one."

The voice startled Sakura out of her frustration. She looked over to see her husband grinning at her from the entrance of their kitchen. 

"Huh?" She replied, blinking back at him.

Naruto pointed at the book. "I can't say for sure but my gut is telling me that you did not like that book.”

Reality returned to Sakura. She was sitting by the window in their living room. This was her spot to lounge and read, a sacred space of relaxation. She  sank into the arm chair with a groan, embarrassment overcoming her.

"You know it's funny I thought I'd seen all the forms of your angry face. But while watching you read that last page over and over I might have discovered at least five new forms."

Blushing, Sakura sent her gaze up to the ceiling. “Ha, ha ha.”

"Feels really good knowing that I've never made you that mad."

"How long have you been standing there watching me read?"

"Maybe around eight minutes, ten minutes at most” Naruto answered. 

Sakura turned her attention to Naruto. "What's weirder me rereading the same page for ten minutes or you watching me reading the same page for ten minutes."

Naruto held up his hands, framing Sakura between his fingertips. "I am not embarrassed to say I watch you read. You get so peaceful and still. It's not that different from looking at a painting."

Sakura nodded. "So you're saying I'm a work art."

"Is that what I'm saying?"

"That's what I am hearing”

"That’s an it's an interesting interpretation, I won’t fight against it."  

Sitting up in the arm chair Sakura sighed. "I wasn’t so peaceful just then."

Naruto glanced back at the book on the ground. "Usually, you are very peaceful."

"I've been betrayed Naruto.”

Naruto ran his fingers across his whiskered cheeks. "Ah, well if you feel you’ve been wronged, present your case to me and perhaps I the Hokage of Konohagakure will be able to execute justice on your behalf."

She smirked. “Absolute justice?”

“The most absolute type of justice.”

Sakura glanced at the ground feeling, her face tinged with red again. "Ok listen I am biased. I am a sucker for a happy ending. I love a happy ending."

"And that's not want you got."

"That...” Sakura pointed at the book. “That was a terrible ending.”

Naruto began to speak but she put up a hand to stop him. Sparks of passion flickered in her eyes. .

"Hold on, let me say this first. I get that art is subjective. I understand that. This is not my first book, I read Naruto..."

 "I can vouch that you do read. I’ve seen you do it.”

"I'm not new to storytelling, or archetypes and literary themes and motifs.."

"You are a professional reader, no a veteran, no a reading sage."

Sakura continued, "The people who think that book is great, I know what they're going to say. The ending is great because it goes against the expectations of the audience. There's no conventional "happily ever after" with the main leads getting together. Despite them having excellent romantic chemistry-

Naruto nodded "I'm sure there were fireworks."

"- and despite the fact they were a couple we as the audience could easily root for and we did root for them. We rooted throughout the entire book-"

"Of course we wanted to see them win."

"Exactly!” Sakura exclaimed. “But I get it, right, the idea is that keeping the couple apart-in theory-at the end is a “fresh” and innovative decision. The heartbreaking ending, the leads going their separate ways, it has a more realistic ring to it.”

"I see." Naruto said while vainly attempting to conceal his amusement. 

"I know what you are going to say Naruto, I know--

"Well I don't know so please go on."

"You’re going to say that the story is not a romance per se, the heart of the story is about two people following their dreams. Yes, it’s a story about people hoping to find success in a harsh world, it's about two people following their dreams. See, I get it, y'know. You can't have it all. In the end they're not together but they do, bitter-sweetly, achieve their dreams. I really know what you're going to say Naruto, you're going to say Sakura it's realistic, and it's about the journey y'know, the fascinating journey they embark on during the course the book.”

Naruto nodded in affirmation. "Sakura....it's realistic and it's about the journey y'know, the fascinating journey they embark on during the course the book."

"I disagree!" She snapped back.

Naruto took a step back in mock surprise. "You do?”

Throwing her hands up in the air Sakura snorted. "Alright you can argue it's realistic, maybe, again art is subjective for the most part. Whether it's realistic or not, that’s up to how you interpret the psychology of the characters."

"Of course, absolutely. I couldn’t agree more” Naruto said.

Sakura looked away from her husband and stared daggers at the book. “All that said, I totally disagree. I DISAGREE.”

Stifling his laughter, Naruto turned away from his wife. He looked back at her when he finally regained his composure.

"So its safe to say, the ending didn’t work for you."

"That ending Naruto, honestly the last few chapters of that book were so uncalled for, it could have ended in so many other ways then the way it did. Yes I'm biased, I understand that. I am not here to tell you that all books should supposedly have a happy ending or that all main characters should get together. But the author--taking the audience through a journey of hope and optimism and then to go ahead and betray your themes, to ignore your own clues-I'm just saying the story deserved better.”

Drawing in a breath Naruto stepped into the living room. He then walked over to the book and picked it up off the ground.

“It was that bad huh?” He asked.

“The end made the journey pointless, subjectively, to me” She answered. “I know people will say the story is not about their love specifically, but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t a critical part of their story, I mean again, I'm not one who thinks that every story needs a happy or romantic ending. But their arc was there from the beginning, it was always there, they were pursuing their dreams together and supporting each other during their struggles. They supported each other more than anyone else.They could have overcome it all if they were just given the chance.”

Sakura stopped, taking a moment to catch her breath. Naruto considered the book and then his wife. He offered her a warm smile.

"Naruto it's not a smart clever subversion of the audience expectations, it's not literary, it’s not a realistic refreshing take. It's a cynical dull ending that leaves it's audience with at best apathy at worse a deep lingering sadness.”

Naruto met her gaze. Her eyes glittering with fiery passion. Twin tears escaped the flames running quickly down her cheeks.

Sakura swiped at both cheeks with both hands. "OK, maybe soft-hearted saps like me should stick to nonfiction."

Naruto shrugged. "I don’t know what soft hearted saps should read. I just know, I like soft hearted saps like you. I think they’re kind of sweet, and they’re passionate and usually they are really cute.”

Smothering a smile, Sakura rolled her eyes. "That can't be true. What type of person likes saps who cry over books?"

Naruto raised his hand. "I am that type of person."

"No, be serious"

"I swear. I married the exact type of person we are talking about."

Losing the battle against her smile Sakura asked, "How's that been working out for you?"

"It's been real-real interesting."

She laughed. "I'm sure it has."

Running his free hand through his hair Naruto feigned a heavy sigh. "There is no way to get around it, love will take you to interesting places."

Sakura tsked, "You know Naruto I'm sitting here doing my best to be depressed over a terrible book and here you are trying to invalidate all that hard work by cheering me up."  

"You're right,” Naruto said walking towards her. He handed her the book. “I should really let you stew in peace."

"Well” she said taking the book from him. “Since, you're already here interfering with my mood, you might as well stay."

"Oh, you sure?"

She grinned. "To be perfectly honest Naruto, I don't mind looking at you.”

Naruto put his hands up, “Hold on we’ve already been through this. I’m more than just a pretty face Sakura.”

 “I didn’t imply otherwise” Sakura said. “I’m just acknowledging, that looking at you makes me feel better.”

"Wait let me get this straight, I like watching you read and you like watching me cheer you up."

"It makes perfect sense."

"I'm starting to see why we got married."

Their eyes met again and they laughed. Somehow in perfect unison, somehow in sync, their laughter filled the entire household, warming it like the rays from a summer sun. When the laughter finally subsided, after it had taken up most of their energy Sakura held the book up and scrutinized it once again.

"This was almost my favorite book."

Naruto reached down to caress her cheek. "There will be better books."

"Yeah” she agreed. “Maybe, I'll even write one."

Pleasantly surprised Naruto asked, “Sounds great. You got any ideas?"

"Yeah, a stubborn boisterous brat who grows up to become a virtuous hero. Here's the hook, on his way to becoming a hero he falls in love with a slightly neurotic but brilliant beauty. Hold on, a slightly neurotic but brilliant beauty who happens to cry over books."

Naruto grinned. "I like it so far. So is it an action adventure or a mystery?"

"I was thinking a comedy. Literary people will call it a surreal fantasy because of how absurd and intellectual it is."

"I feel smarter just by hearing you describe it."

Sakura paused for dramatic effect. “You know what, maybe it will have have some romantic elements to it."

"Would that make it a romantic comedy?" Naruto inquired.

"Hmmm, I guess you could say that. If you had to put a label on it. I expect there will be some cute moments here and there.”

"I can't wait to read it."

"I can't wait to write it. Shouldn't be that hard I already know how how it's going to end."

Naruto leaned down and planted a small peck on Sakura’s forehead. "Now I don't want you to give too much away, but I have to know, should I expect a happy ending?"

Sakura smiled. "Of course, I already told you Naruto. I am a sucker for a happy ending."

[bitbybitwrites]

It's been FOREVER since I've done one of these - I really am grateful to everyone who's been tagging me, even though I've been letting it slide doing this on time ( which is kind of well, my thing, isn't it 😂)

Its been a while - just time, inspiration and utter exhaustion have gotten in the way from really writing. I was finally able to finish one Klaine fic recently (yay!) - so I'm slowly plugging away at everything else I've got on the back burner.

Under the cut will be bits from If I Can Make Your Heart My Home - my Klaine fic that is approaching a year😳 since I started writing it! (Where the heck did the time go? 25 chapters and 102, 599 words later and I'm still plugging away at it!) Also an excerpt of the next chapter of Puppy Love - my sweet RWRB kid!fic. Can't wait to write more of this adorable story also!

Thanks for being patient with me folks and for reading my stuff and just tagging me in these things . . .💖💖💖

*****

If I Can Make Your Heart My Home (Klaine fic - Klaine Prompt Reverse Bang 2023) cc @datshitrandom

Kurt shook his head.  “I know.  You’re right, Maggie."  He took a deep breath.  “I guess I feel like an idiot.  I messed up something great and there’s nothing I can do to fix it.” “Nonsense,” Maggie huffed as she slid the box in her hand into the shopping cart.  “Let me tell you no couple is perfect together all of the time.  It’s hard.  It's hard work to get two people who can be so different to share a life together. And let me tell you Ralph and I were like oil and water on many occasions.” “She’s not wrong, “ Clara confirmed.  “Ma and Pop had some really big blowouts when I was a kid. Remember the cracked bowling ball argument?” Maggie snorted.  “Oh god and one about the fishing weekend he took with your Uncle Al and never thought to let me and your Auntie Anna know. Thought they were dead in a ditch somewhere.” Clara laughed along with her mother.  “And the hat - the one about your new hat that he thought . .” “Looked like a bird had died on my head.” Maggie cackled.  “Oh I was so insulted.  I loved that hat!” Clara wiped away a few tears that had welled up in the corners of her eyes.  “At the time, it seemed like the end of the world. But it wasn't, not really.” “We never stayed mad for long.  And we worked it all out.” Maggie admitted, a wistful look in her eyes as she recalled all those moments. “I don’t know if he wants to talk to me anymore, Maggie.  That’s the problem.  I think I might have missed my chance.” Maggie took Kurt’s hand in hers and squeezed it firmly.  “You’re never going to know if you don’t try, Pillsbury.” “Talk to him, Kurt," Clara added.  “You owe yourself that, don’t you think?  Let him know how you really feel.  Talk about everything that's been bothering you . . and then, see what happens.” “I’m rooting for you, Pillsbury,”  Maggie told him softly.  “I’ve got a good feeling about you and Monty.” “We both do.” Clara chimed in.

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Puppy Love (FirstPrince fic - RWRB NYE Gift Exchange 2023) - cc @omgbarbiegurl

Alex mostly operated on a “full-steam-ahead” way of living life.  He jumped off of cliffs - made big decisions and went with them, often with very little mulling over or introspection, basically throwing himself wholeheartedly into life.  Some of his family thought it was too reckless, too thoughtless, too rash. He preferred believing he was going with his gut instincts. Alex did that when decided to drop his law studies and go to vet school.  He did that when moved in with his last partner.  He went with his gut when he decided to adopt Raf,  and also when he made the decision to move to NYC to start a new chapter in his life and to start the animal rescue with June. So far, Alex couldn’t say he was disappointed with any of his impulsive life choices.  Well, he slightly wished that Jessica and him had ended on better terms. But he couldn’t dwell on it. She was the one who didn’t want to be a parent and that was a deal breaker for Alex. He refused to give Raf up and change his mind like she had after the fact. Alex loved his son with all that he had. It was him and Raf together till the end.  Alex was determined to make their new life in New York the best that it could be.  Having June and Nora alongside him for this adventure was comforting, and Alex couldn’t deny that they were keeping him grounded most of the time.  They knew his tendency to hyper focus and prodded him enough to keep him from doing it too much to the detriment of his family time with Raf.  But getting the rescue up off the ground was harder than they had expected. Even now after they had been established for quite some time, there were days whenthe siblings would wonder what they had gotten themselves into. Creating a business from scratch, juggling to manage everything and taking care of the animals as well was overwhelming and chaotic on most days. Spencer and Liam coming aboard last month was not only a pleasant surprise,  but a nice shot of relief for June and Alex. Certainly once the holidays were over it would be even easier. They could start to mange more realistic shifts at the rescue and begin to maintain some sort of normalcy with the extra help. Alex would be the first to admit that whenever prioritizing his life, even with his chaotic schedule, Raf came first, then his work and then . . well his personal needs and wants last.   After he and Jessica had parted, Alex pushed any thoughts of dating - or even random hook ups out of his mind. There really was no time for that.  And in no way was there anyone who even piqued his interest enough for him to come surfacing out of his self-imposed exile from the dating world. Or rather, that was true until an abandoned beagle and the gorgeous man who rescued him waltzed into his life.

****

OK . . so many thanks to the following lovely folks who have tagged me in the past few weeks for Six Sentence Sunday/ WIP Wednesday :

@porcelainmortal, @wordsofhoneydew, @duchessdepolignaca03, @forabeatofadrum, @littlemisskittentoes,

@agostobuwan, @nocoastposts, @sheepywritesfics @taste-thewaste @shame-is-a-wasted-emotion

@iboatedhere, @itsmaybitheway, @onthewaytosomewhere, @myheartalivewrites, @magicandarchery

@fallevs. @daisyishedwig. @welcometololaland and if I forgot anyone, I so apologize! ( I really tried keeping a list every time I missed one!)

So going to open tag anyone who might want to share what they're working on . . but I'll also tag for the hell of it, if they want to jump in:

@kirakiwiwrites, @madas-ahatters-world, @coffeegleek, @gleefulpoppet, @little-escapist

@spaceorphan18 @yadivagirl

[blazregaliadream]

Entry No. BRD~ASW: Conflicted Identity

... I’ve wanted to talk about this for a while. I talked about a part of it on Twitter a few months back, but I really need to get it all off my chest here, whatever shit I get be damned. In 2013-2014, my freshman year of highschool, I got introuced to Arc System Works through junior/senior pals introducin’ me to BlazBlue, a franchise that didn’t take long to take root in my heart. I would end up usin’ it as part of my online handle, “BlazRegaliaDream”, and I have stuck with it as the name I use when I sign my art. I’m not the biggest fan, but BlazBlue was a hyperfixation for 4 years since I discovered it. After a serious burnout in 2018, I tried movin’ my sights onto other franchises, but the love held on as a tiny ember that I’d occassionally stoke from just playin’ BBTAG and eventually findin’ a couple of close friends to talk about the franchise and keep tabs on it. Also throughout this time, I also would eye Guilty Gear, seen it around between XX and Xrd, and while it didn’t become a hyperfixation, I thought it was pretty cool. (and I still do lol) Fast forward to 2021. StrIVe has been out, haven’t played it yet. Friends are deep into the JP exclusive mobile BlazBlue Alternative: Dark War, which started at the beginnin’ of the same year. I was eyein’ it, but didn’t wanna sink into another mobile since I already had FEH and FGO (with a few others I fell in and out of). October, I revisit my old BB OC project and then on a whim, I decided to try BBDW. Wouldn’t you know it, I fell in love with BlazBlue all over again and even if I was stuck with a mobile game for new content, I was ready for the future of the franchise post-C-series. And then a month in, BBDW was announced to shutdown in January due to morale issues for the team. “Well shit, I mean, maybe there’s still a shot later, right?” 2022, creator of BlazBlue, Mori, leaves ASW for reasons we may never know. ASW insists that they still want to keep BB alive, but later, an interview reveals they’re supposedly lettin’ GG hog the spotlight because they don’t want the two franchises competin’ Between this and the awful, awful disaster that was Bridget’s return to StrIVe, everythin’ begins lookin’ all too dire... I hate the current state of ArcSystemWorks. I’m so conflicted, so angry with this company, and I just don’t know how to articulate it all so smoothly. My favorite franchise may as well be dead, 6 feet buried, as the creator has left and started his own company and who knows if they’d bother to get him for a new entry, and with the shit surroundin’ StrIVe, I don’t think I can trust this company to revive BlazBlue proper. Is Team Blue even still a thing? It feels like after everythin’, I’ve been gut punched and spitted in the face.

... *sigh* Dammit, there's much I wanted to say, but as I'm typin' this, the words have fled.

I'm just lost. Where do I go from here? The company I once admired just fills me with nothin' but fury, and GG ain't even the first franchise I've seen to pull the shit it has and for what!?

I've thought about rebrandin' before, but I'm too attached to the handle even after everythin', yet still... I just wanted people to see how cool BlazBlue is, and the monkey's paw curled...

(I'll be fine, in case anyone's worried. This shit just sucks too much...)

[scribblertown]

Fates of the Fateless Ch. 6: New Faces New Places and a Horse

The gang grows a little bigger and you get to know others a little more.

ao3

wattpad

“The life at sea is a grand and hard. Harder than anything we’ve faced here on land.” Pearson was going off on one of his sailor tangents again. Every time he did you couldn’t help thinking of an old man desperate to relive his glory years. “The fear in your gut wondering if you’ll have enough to last you till next port is beyond imagining.” You’ve heard this story before, more than once actually. Next, he’s going to bring up eating seal meat. “The waters up north are absolutely teaming with seals.” Yep, here we go. “Their meat is real’ greasy you know, has a certain flavor to it. Like a mix of duck and veal.” As he reminisced on his voyages you were stuck cutting and peeling vegetables, nothing you haven’t done before. But the amount to be prepped today was more than usual. Like, an exceptionally larger amount. “I still get cravings for the stuff, can’t find it anywhere ‘round here.”

 His droning tales began to fade away as your mind wondered. Your eyes drifting back and forth to the Juniper tree that sat just behind your tent. The fixation of your attention for the past couple of weeks.

 Peel, peel, peel. A glance at the tree. Chop, chop, chop. A glance at the tree. Peel, peel. A glance. Chop, chop. A glance. It had become an obsession at this point. Every time someone would drift a little too close to the tree, you’d feel yourself tense up, unable to look away until they finally move onto another part of camp. You weren’t sure what would happen if anyone stumbled upon your little secret hidden away in the winding tangled roots of the grand and old juniper. But after witnessing Arthur’s more than adequate show of putting down a man three times your size, you couldn’t help but snatch up that precious pistol. It almost seemed like life had deliberately sent it in your direction, right there at your feet for the taking. At least, if it really came down to it, you had a chance at defending yourself.

 “Once you’re done with those potatoes, throw them in that pot of water. Give the skins to the chickens.” Pearson had swung around with his freshly skinned and cleaved rabbits, the choice meat around these parts apparently. He then does a quick count on his fingers muttering softly under his breath. A gradual scowl crosses his face as his brow furrows, his mustache consumes his mouth in a frown. “Hmm… we’re not gonna have enough for the next week at this rate.” That didn’t seem right.

 “This seems like a lot of food for just us.” Sure, you may be new to the ways of life in the 1800’s, but your pretty sure meal prepping wasn’t a concept of the time beyond canning.

 “It ain’t, Dutch made some connections with some of the mining men up in Bingham. Should be here by nightfall.” Oh great, more strange men. “Rigorous work like that, tends to give one quite the appetite.” He’s quick to grab what carrots and onions you have done before tossing them into the cast iron with a big glob of some sort of animal fat. The smell of it was always a little gamey. “I’m hoping this means more money. More money means better eatin’.” Pearson was nice enough; he had a sweet face and a nice singing voice. You got the impression he was desperate to socialize. Which might work to your advantage.

 “What kind of work does Dutch do?” Maybe you’d get a different piece to the puzzle. “I hear he does dangerous work.”

 “All work is dangerous in this day and age.” Damn it.

 “Have you been traveling long? No place to call home?”

 “Dutch and couple of the others have been out on the road a lot longer than me. I only just joined up maybe… four years ago.”

 “Four years?!” You gaped at him flabbergasted. Four years of this same boring routine of grueling work, of never having a roof over their head, and rarely socializing outside of the camp circle. Is that what your future would be with these people? “And you never left?”

 “No, and I’m not sure I ever want to.” He collects another batch of vegetables from you. “I had made some desperate money decisions, borrowed from a few fellers thinking I’d manage to make up what I owed and some extra to get back on my feet. I didn’t, not even close and some real mean-spirited men were sent after me. Forced me to marry a woman and took everything I had to my name. I’m sure they would’ve taken my life as well had Dutch and Hosea not stepped in.” A smile began to slowly build on his lips, and his eyes became misty and soft. “They paid my debts. Some lowly, good for nothing-nobody they knew shit about. But they saved me anyway.” His eyes then drifted to yours, his brow was tightly furrowed and his gaze suddenly bold and serious. “Everyone here has a similar story, many of them worse than mine.” His voice is deep and breathy. “This world is a cruel and unforgivable place, one that don’t want folk like us. People will do what they have to for survival, but folk like Dutch. Like Hosea. They do what they have to for more than just themselves. They do what they have to for us.” He didn’t say much after that. Leaving you with a new worry in your gut.

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 When the sun had begun to paint the sky a plethora of warm colors, the men came. Talking loudly and cheerfully. Lead by Dutch, Arthur, and William on horseback. Five new dark silhouettes grew closer before they dismounted their horses just outside of the camps main grounds. You tried to keep yourself from staring, pretending to be all too focused on redoing the seams on a jacket arm. Settled just a few feet from the cooking pot accompanied by Tilly with her own sewing project. The smell of the rabbit and vegetable stew you’d prepped drifting from its large confines of black iron as the two of you observed in silence.

 “Mmmm! Something smells damn good!” The voice that cried out was an unfamiliar one, a bit shrill. His voice sounded quite young.

 “It’s been so long since I’ve had a decent meal…” An older man, rough and worn.

 “Gentlemen, as the first day of our partnership, I would ask you eat to your hearts content knowing that your lives are now you’re own.” Dutch led the line of men towards the large pot, striking a match on his boot. The quick flicker of flame illuminating his face for a quick second before fluttering into a soft glow as he lit a pipe. The group hooping and hollering as they swarmed the area. Two straggled behind a bit. A man and a woman.

 “I’ll getchu a bowl Agatha, you just take a seat and rest a spell.” The man donned bright red hair, swept to the side and styled with some sort of hair grease. His face was angular and skinny, with a decoration of freckles that covered his pale face. He cradled the woman in a gentle and intimate manner.  

 “Alright, but I want you to get yourself a bowl first.” The woman spoke in a broken and course voice. A dark bruise around her left eye, barely hidden behind her dark locks that draped freely down her back and shoulders. They bickered softly for a moment before she finally took a seat on a spare crate near the chicken coop as he joined the rest of the men. A deep sigh fell from her lips as she practically melted into her seat.

 “I certainly hope that bruise isn’t from one of these boys…” Tilly commented under her breath, watching the new group like a hawk with critical eyes scanning every little exchange and movement. You replied with a hum. Out of the corner of your eye Arthur could be seen slipping away into the shadows with a fat saddle bag hefted over his shoulder with a rambunctious William at his tail. Your eyes curiously trailed them as they ventured towards the camps outskirts before your view was cut off by a large figure.  

 “Well well, I wasn’t expectin’ lovely ladies in your band of gunslingers Mr. Van der Linde.” This man was the tallest of the lot, taller than even Arthur or Dutch. Stocky in build with an equally round and stocky face, short salt and pepper hair without a single strand out of place parted down the middle, a thin pencil mustache sat upon his upper lip and sunken light brown eyes that had that familiar predatory stare. An all too happy smirk on his face as his eyes openly wandered your bodies. You unconsciously leaned towards Tilly to block her from his view, before sending him a death glare from under your lashes. “Oooo… Now you don’t wanna go ruinin’ that pretty little face of yours with such an ugly scowl hm?” He chuckled teasingly before bringing another scoop of stew to his mouth full of rotten and crooked teeth. You could just smell the infection on his breath. “Not very lady like.” Bits of food flung out as he spoke.

 “Can’t you be a dumb hunk of shit somewhere else?” Tilly snapped at him brandishing an equally fiery scowl. The rest of the men let out an explosion of laughter. The man’s face quickly became red and tense. Gripping his spoon with enough force to almost bend it in his meaty sausage fingers.

 “Stupid bitch I oughta-” He begins to swing his arm back preparing to strike, you tense spreading your body around Tilly as much as you can awaiting the blow but before he can get enough momentum Dutch is quick to slip between you and dickhead.

 “Wow now Mr. Samson!” His hands are up and his posture relaxed in a mock surrender, “I’ve got rules in my camp, and that includes causin’ trouble for the girls.” His hand drifts to his hip, sweeping aside his jacket flaps exposing his lavish pistol. “You don’t wanna go ruinin’ a beautiful friendship before it even starts.” Samson stares at the pistol a moment before returning to Dutch’s face. “Do you, Mr. Samson?” His face twists before he let out an angry huff, marching off to no doubt sulk in the shadows.

 Hosea then emerges seemingly out of nowhere with John, Arthur, Grimshaw, and William in tow. The saddle bag nowhere to be seen.

 “Been awhile since we’ve had this many people.” Hosea’s eyes wonder over the group of newcomers, rubbing his chin with a small smile. “Guess I better go say hello.” In a matter of seconds of him entering the circle, the men fall under the sweet old man’s charming spell.

 “Just more mouths to feed, and smaller shares for us.” John sulks with a scowl on his face, clearly not happy with the change in guard.

 William has a similar distasteful look, “More like sheep dan men if ya ask me.”

 Dutch comes up behind the two, his hands coming down onto their shoulders with a fierce grip, his pipe nestled between his teeth. “Ooh you boys were just like those poor souls once upon a time.” He spoke through his teeth with a smile. “In fact, I recall you two being a lot more pathetic.”  

 Grimshaw then steps forward, “Dutch I take it you still want us to be packing up to move soon?”

 “Mmhm, after tonight’s haul I imagine word will get out sooner than later. Rather not be so close to town.”

 “What? We’re moving already?” You were just beginning to settle in. “Why?”

 The look of surprise on Dutch’s face made you wonder if he hadn’t realized you were still lingering. “Miss (y/n)! I almost forgot you could talk!”

 “No kiddin’, she’s a real bore.” William shrugs Dutch off his shoulder. “All work ‘nd no play.” That puts a frown on your face knowing full well William’s idea of fun is hassling anyone and everyone he can. “Don’t even know how ta ride a horse. Can ya believe dat?” He’s still going on about that?!

 “At least I don’t smell like one…” you mutter.

 “Dat’s another ting! I know ya go down to the creek for your precious baths princess. Every day!” Your face immediately goes flush and hot. “No one should bathe dat much.”

 “Have you been spying on me?!” You’re standing now, hands clenched in tight fists glaring him in his good eye. He just grins. Which is quickly wiped off his face as Grimshaw swoops in to tug at his ear with a harsh pull.

 “Ooowowowow!” He cries out as she twists him downwards, casually turning to you.

 “Why don’t you girls get yerself something to eat and call it a night. I’m going to have a word with Mr. O’brien.” She gives another hard tug, leading herself and William away. “Goodnight gentlemen.”

 “Ow! What’re ya doin’ ya crazy old hag!” William’s cries of protest fading with each step. Dutch and the other boys simply laugh at his expense.

 “C’mon (y/n) let’s grab some stew and sit by the fire.” Tilly tosses her fabric to the side, quick to jump on her feet and excitedly veer towards the pot.

 Thankfully there was still a decent amount of stew left sticking to the bottom of the cast iron pot, bubbling on the brink of being caramelized and burnt. The two of you quickly found a spot around the main fire where the other men had collected, Uncle balancing a banjo on his knee as he laughs and plays a familiar tune. Out of the corner of your eye you spot John awkwardly standing a decent distance away from you before finally deciding to sit down in the spot to your right.

 “Hi John.”

 “Hi…” He’s not looking at you as he watches his spoon lazily push around a hunk of rabbit. Soon Arthur appears to take up the spot next to him with a hunk of bread in his mouth. “I-I could teach you.”

 “Huh?” John was still staring down at his food, his eyes darting back and forth from his bowl to you, his mouth opening and closing like a fish as he struggled to speak his next words.

 “To ride a horse.” He turns his head to make brief eye contact before they divert to anything but you. “I could teach you how.” You’ve only ever gotten a hello out of the guy and now he’s suddenly offering you free riding lessons.

 “I don’t have a horse.”

 “You can ride mine, or… one of the spare work horses.” He clears his throat before shoveling a large spoonful into his mouth. Just past him you can see Arthur giving him a strange side eye. “Y-yeah, I think… I think you should learn how to ride is all.” He takes another huge mouthful.

 “Alright. That would be very helpful actually.” You sit up a little straighter, turning your body towards him with a small hint of a smile. He visibly freezes hunched over; eyes downcast before he quickly shovels the rest of his food down as fast as he can. He then bolts from his seat, walking almost fast enough to have to break out into a slight jog shouting over his shoulder.

 “Alright I’ll see you later then!”

 “Ok…” a bit baffled at the blunt and brief conversation.

 Arthur scoffs out a slight chuckle, “I would find a different teacher if I were you.”

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 You were grateful for the early bedtime rest as it seemed Grimshaw felt the need to wake you up earlier than usual.  

 “Up up up! It’s time we start packin’!” another swift, sharp kick to your shins only increasing your rising annoyance to such a rude awakening.

 “Alright alright!” you take a second to rub the lingering sleep from your eyes. Blinking slowly to find it was still relatively dark out. Grimshaw who was somehow fully dressed, hair done, and with a pep in her step marched off to wake her next victim. “What time is it?”

 “Is it gonna make you get up faster if I tell you?” Tilly is somehow already on her feet and messing with her hair pins. “I’d get going now if I were you, don’t want that pig from last night getting a glimpse at us in our undergarments.” She moves like lighting twisting and readjusting the pins in her hair before she’s rummaging in your shared chest for her skirt, she grabs yours as well and throws it in your face. “Well? Hurry up!”

 “Hold on, I gotta wash my face first.” You crumble the bunch of clothes in your arms and unhappily get to your feet. Nights in the desert were surprisingly cold, only made getting up all the more difficult. It left any and all the water ice cold, a splash to the face was enough to finally bring you out of your groggy state. Shaking your hands to rid yourself of the lingering drops of chilled water you spotted the woman from last night timidly approaching you. “Good morning.” Your sleepy voice coming out deep and low.

 “Good morning.” She gave a small smile, reaching for the ladle that hung off the lip of the barrels opening and taking a gracious drink. You stood there a little awkwardly unsure if it would be more rude to just leave or start some sort of petty small talk.

 “I’m (y/n).” You seemed to have made the right decision as her eyes lit up with a smile.

 “My name is Agatha.” She gave a brief pause, hands tucked neatly in front of her, “I’m happy to see there are other women here.”

 “Oh, believe me, I thought the same thing when I first joined up.”

 “Have you been here long?”

 “Well…. Not really, only about 3ish months.” I think… “I wasn’t expecting a woman to come from Bingham mine. I figured we’d just be getting men.”

 “Oh, I’d follow Joseph to the ends of the earth. But I’m happy to be away from that place. They were working him to death.” You couldn’t help but stare at the bruise on her eye, she seemed to notice. “This was a parting gift from my previous employer.” She touched the purpling skin delicately. “Joseph was sure to give him twice the beating.”

 “Sounds like you picked a good one.” Just past Agatha you could see Grimshaw prowling about. You’ve been taking up too much time. “Uh, I gotta get to work but let’s chat some more later, ok?” You start to walk backwards as you spoke.

 “Of course! It was nice to meet you.”

 “Nice to meet you too!” You shouted over your shoulder before bolting back to your tent. Tilly had already rolled up your sleeping pads, thankfully leaving the chest and tent up for you. You glance around to find no one else was nearby. You quickly slipped to the Juniper tree crouching down and delving into the roots, fiddling around blindly until the cold steel met your fingertips. Swiftly wrapping the pistol in the change of clothes you had engulfed in your arms. Acting nonchalant as you pretended you were simply packing away your belongings. Careful to bury it at the bottom of the chest where only your belongings laid. Quick to actually get dressed and begin the grueling process of carefully taking down the tent, folding it properly and playing a game of tetris fitting it all into the wagon. Next came everything else that wasn’t absolutely needed. Tables, clothes, personal belongings, most of Pearson’s dry goods and cooking ware. If it wasn’t nailed down or on a horse, it goes in the wagons.

 “Careful vith my equipment! It’s very fragile!”

 “Relax Strauss, I know how glass works.” The camp was bare and empty now with only remnants of footprints and the old campfire among the red sand. The sun was now only just starting to come up as you hefted the last bit of supplies into its rightful spot. “You want me to take your bag too?” you reached out a hand, eyeing his medical bag that he carried around. He cradled it close to his chest with a distasteful look.

 “No, it stays vith me.”

 “Alright well… I guess pick your ride and we can get out of here.” You keep yourself from rolling your eyes and dropped your hand, he hadn’t lifted a finger to help out, didn’t even take down his own tent. “And William calls me princess…” you mutter under your breath as you settle onto a pile of fabric tightly rolled together just outside of the wagon opening. Strauss hesitates a moment before also climbing aboard, sitting adjacent to you, cradling his bag in his lap. Your eyes wandered to find most everyone else has loaded up and found their respective spots to travel. The wagon just in front of you holds Agatha and the red head you now know as Joseph, feet dangling off the edge, their horse tied just in front of them with their personal belongings on its back. You gave her a wave; she gave one back. Thankfully it seemed Samson wasn’t around, along with the regular bread winners. Arthur wasn’t around, nor were John or William. You took some comfort in that.

“Good morning!” Pearson’s chipper chubby face appears as he hops up onto the coach, scooching over as a young man takes the spot next to him.

 “Hello.” His voice was hushed and smooth. Kind dark brown eyes, clean shaven with long silky black hair tied in a braid down his back and donning a simple looking leather hat to keep the sun out of his deep tan face.

 “Ah Guten Morgen Mr. Pearson.”

 “Have you met Jay yet?” Pearson glances over his shoulder at the two of you, the reins resting limply in his hands as you all await the caravan to move along.

 “It’s Jie, Mr. Pearson.” The man corrects him with a smile, he meets your eyes again, “Jie Liu. It’s nice to meet you.” His face carved deep lines up from his jaw and into his cheeks when he smiled.

 “Hallo, Jee-eh, I am Doctor Leopold Strauss.” The poor man’s names get butchered again mixed with Strauss’ heavy European accent, it makes you cringe a little. But Jie just smiles and nods at him seemingly unbothered. Turning to you next.

 “And I already know who you are. Your little confrontation with Mr. O’brien was enough for us to quickly learn your name.” He has a slight accent, it’s very subtle, though it’s noticeable with certain words. “What’s the saying? Cleanliness is close to Godliness!” He laughs. You feel a little embarrassed to remember you had an audience watching your little fight last night.

 “You know I’m pretty sure that’s the most emotion I’ve seen you show since you’ve gotten here.” Pearson has a sly glint in his eye. “Seems some of Grimshaw’s charm is rubbing off on you.”

 You roll your eyes. He just laughs. The wagon in front of you starts to move. You all jolt forward slightly as Pearson snaps the reins.

 “Jee-eh, I take it you’re an immigrant, yes?” Strauss is holding a book in his hands now jotting something down as he speaks.

 “Yes, I am originally from Hong Kong. I take it you are also an immigrant Mr. Strauss?”

 “Austrian. But like everything about this country, I’ve been consumed into the American masses.”

 Jie gives a chipper response. “It is quite the country.”

 “Hong Kong huh? That’s so far away, how and why did you come here?” You ask.

 “My home, the little neighborhood I grew up in wasn’t exactly a good one. Big cities like that tend to attract a lot of… bad people.” He pauses a moment before picking back up again. “I lived their most of my adolescent life but… there’s nothing left for me there.” There’s a sadness in his voice, and the implications of what that might mean makes you wish you didn’t ask.

 “I’m sorry to hear that…” You spoke softly, awaiting his next words with reverence. The other two remain silent.

 He lets out a long sigh, “So, I ended up leaving the country to come here. I was swept up into the work most migrants end up doing. I met a friend who got me into the mining business at Bingham, lost him in the cave ins and now I’m here.”

 “Agatha mentioned something about the mine almost working Joseph to death.”

 “It’s definitely work I hope to never have to fall into again. It paid decently but when you take into account how much goes into food, housing, and medicine, you lose it just as quickly as you gained it.”

 “I haven’t had the chance to talk to the other new recruits. I take it they left under similar circumstances?” Pearson asks curiously.

 “To be honest, I am not very familiar with the others beyond their names. But yes, considering the recent cave in and other issues arising from poor work conditions, I’m actually surprised we didn’t have more men take up Mr. Van der Linde’s offer.”

 “They vere fools not to.”

 “Oh, Strauss you can be a very cold man sometimes you know that?” Pearson lets out a holler, “We got a lot of miles to cover and so much to talk about. You know I was a sailor on the seas once upon a time. Back when I was far younger and had a little more on my head and a little less on my stomach, AHAHA!”

 Dear God no… Not again…

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 This was by far the farthest and longest you’ve traveled so far. It was a shift in driving wagons, sleeping when night fell, and getting back on the road before the sun even came up. Swapping places here and there so you weren’t stuck with some of the more miserable members of your mysterious caravan. Encountering the two other men you hadn’t had a chance to talk to. The oldest of the bunch was an aged and worn man by the name of Crisoforo Abadiano. His skin was dark and sun damaged, deep lines in his face from years of wear and tear. He was the older than even Hosea it seemed. His dark eyes framed by heavy lashes and a sad distant look to them. Hair short and combed back with slivers of silver amongst his jet-black hair, covered by a large brimmed hat. He never really talked much and when he did it was usually single word responses. While very quiet he was the type you could be comfortable in silence with.

 “You have any hobbies Mr. Abadiano?”

 “No.”

 “Really, nothing at all?”

 “Cards.” He was fantastic at ending conversations before they really began.

  And of course, Joseph with Agatha practically attached at his hip. He was quite young, younger than you at least. Both ambitious and optimistic, excited to exchange stories and meet new people.

 “How did you two meet anyway?”

 “Well, I was working at the mining town’s saloon as a waitress and card dealer, you get good commission when all the men want to do after work is drink and gamble all they’re earnings away, sometimes they’d forget I’d already been paid.” Agatha gives a giggle. “Well one night, I was having particular trouble with a tenet who’d pulled a knife on me, accusing me of cheating him out of his winnin’s. I thought I was ‘bout to be gutted when a strapping,” Agatha breathes in a hushed voice as if just the memory of this incident left her breathless, looking dreamily at Joseph, “strong, young, and handsome hero stepped in to save me.” She lets out a long sigh as her lashes flutter in a half-lidded look. “I knew he was the one for me.”

 “Oh Agatha, you’ll never know what joy your words bring to my foolish heart.” Joseph, whose face was red as a tomato and clearly flustered was now cradling Agatha in his arms with a similar look of intense love in his eyes. “I love you, Agatha.”

 “I love you too, Joseph.” The two then shared a chaste kiss leading to another and another until they were holding each other long and tender. Leaving you to uncomfortably look around at anything but the spontaneous make out session you had the misfortune of being an audience for. They were cute and easy to talk to but… they were just too… lovey dovey.

 Other than the small talk, watching the scenery slooowly pass by and napping were your pastimes. (That and avoiding Mr. Samson like the plague personified). It was so incredibly boring to be traveling at a snail’s pace with nothing to occupy yourself. You started to pick up on some of the mannerisms of many of the others.

 Uncle at any point you were caught in his presence was buzzed 9 times out of 10. Bessie had impeccable posture seemingly always sitting straight as a plank. Hosea never seemed hot, even on the hottest of days, you’ve never seen him break a sweat. In more ways than one. Dutch and Annabelle were usually resting against each other, shoulder to shoulder, whispering and giggling to each other. You even managed to catch some poetry from Dutch. It actually wasn’t half bad.

 The bread winners had returned during the night on one of your rest stops, suddenly just there one morning around the coffee pot after having been missing for so long, it had caught you off guard. John was as awkward as ever giving a small hello without looking you in the eyes, Arthur was a bit grumpy and just grunted, and William had that distinct sneer he’d always give you, not saying a word. The stupid bastard.

 They led the rest of the way to a secluded canyon, the jagged red and pink sand rocks speckled with an assortment of desert trees and shrubbery, towering on both sides of a large level bed of rock with two openings that split off into two different directions and a third that you all entered through. It was shaded and cool, quiet and untouched.

 Dutch and Annabelle were excitedly taking in the view of the grand open space, as the rest of you began to unpack. “Quiet, secluded, no nosey neighbors. This place is perfect Arthur!”

 “Thought you’d like it.” Arthur gave a smirk, pulling up a match to light a cigarette perched on his lips. You assisted Pearson with unloading, watching Tilly curiously survey the campsite before boldly stomping up a cloud of dust.

 “I’m claiming this spot for the women!” She announces with wide smile. The area just to the right of the opening to the north.

 “Oh? And where will you be sleeping?” Uncle teases her, he had a box in his arms seemingly pitching in with the labor before realizing it was full of liquor.

Back and forth, back and forth. The camp slowly came to life. Dutch’s tent went up first, next was Bessie’s and Hosea’s, and then Arthur’s and so on and so forth until only yours was left.

 Only problem is it was smothered under an unfamiliar large wooden chest. Sun bleached in places and chipped in others. Barred by rusted iron hinges and simple looking. Only issue was how unexpectedly heavy it was. Even with both hands you barely managed to scoot it an inch.

 “Hmpphh!” You give a harsh pull, causing whatever’s inside to slide and tumble.  

 “Wow, there miss.” Arthur slides into view, hands quick to find the handles, his calloused fingers grazing yours slightly, tickling the little hairs on the back of your hands. His hat shrouds his face from you. “Let me get this out of your way.” He picks it up like it weighs nothing, and heads off towards Dutch’s tent. You watch as Dutch’s eyes light up at the sight of him. Quick to swoop him into his tent and draw back the canvas curtains, shrouding them from view.

 Odd. Very odd.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  You could feel eyes on your back as you awkwardly finish ramming the final stake into the ground. Giving the twine a good tug before making yourself recognize the presence.

 “Hi John,” you toss the hammer back into the wooden tool box, wiping sand from your hands. “You uh… need something?”

 “Let’s go riding.”

 “Oh, you wanna do the lessons now?” your eyes wander around looking for Grimshaw, you’d rather not wander off without her approval. Not worth the scolding you think.

 “Yes.” He’s quick to start a march towards the horses looking back at you, still unmoved from your spot. “Come on then!” He yells in haste. You stand there hesitantly shifting your weight from one foot to the other. Taking a moment to consider if John is someone you want to be alone with. I mean he’s just a kid, but…

 “But Grimshaw won’t like it if I ditch work!”

 “Your chores will still be here when you get back.” He lets out a huff, clearly anxious to get going, “Now come on!”

 “Can Tilly come?”

 “Huh?” Tilly juggling an arm full of pots and pans shoots you a look of absolute confusion. “I got stuff to do around here!”

 “But I don’t-“ You step a foot closer to her, voice low enough only she can hear. “I don’t want to be alone with a strange man er-boy!”

 “John ain’t gonna do nothin’. He’s as dumb as a bag of dirt but he ain’t bad.” Her hand jumps to catch a cast iron pan that was slipping from underneath her elbow, snagging painfully on her finger. You relieve her of the heavy pan and find it a more convenient place in her jumbled arms. “You’ll be fine. Although I’m not sure you’ll actually learn anything.”

 You can see his horse patiently awaiting its rider, a big and burly warm brown stallion already harnessed. Next to it was one of the driving horses, even bigger than John’s horse and rippling with muscle. Black and white like a cow, towering over everything and everyone else.

 “Uum, isn’t he a little big?” Your eyes scan the big beast, just how in the hell are you even supposed to get on this giant?

 “Horses are for riding. He’s a horse, so ride him.” A blanket is tossed onto the curved slope of the horse’s back before a saddle follows. He’s quick and efficient as he pulls and ties the various leather straps into place, clearly very familiar with his way around a horse. “Alright, hop on up.” You’re a bit hesitant as you nervously approach.

 Please don’t kick me, Mr. Horse.

 Your first instinct is to grab the saddle horn, which is barely within your reach. Next you pick up your foot to awkwardly sit in the stirrup leaving you hanging off of the side like a monkey.

 “You’re doing it wrong.”

 “Huh?” you peek over at John, fidgeting with his suspenders. “How?”

 “Well, uh, you’re just getting on wrong.” You look down at your right foot twisted in the stirrup at an angle, then at your hands tangled together before looking at him quizzically. “You hafta swing your leg over… so you gotta…” He’s at a loss of words, mind clearly working overtime, his face beginning to redden. “Just watch me! Ok?” He places his left foot into the horse’s left stirrup before swinging his right over and finding his perfect perch atop his horse. “Like that.”

 “Ooh.” You readjust yourself to place the correct foot in the stirrup before hopping once, twice, and thrice heaving yourself up and your leg over the seat of the saddle. “Oomph!” your leg only hooks itself at the knee, leaving you to depend on your arms to pull the rest of your body upwards, hands barely having enough room to hold onto the tiny saddle horn before finally getting into your seat. Already looking like an idiot. You scoop the reins into your hands gingerly, actively making sure they are lax in your grip afraid you might cause the horse to move before you’re ready. “Now what?” you ask.

 “Now, we get a move on.” He clicks his tongue and turns his horse out toward the open desert. He gets a ways out before realizing you’re not following. “Are you coming!?” He yells.

 You’re digging your heels into the horse’s sides, clicking your tongue, pulling on the reins trying to get the thing to move, but he remains still. “How do I get him to move!?” you call back.

 “Squeeze his chest!”

 “Squeeze his chest?” pondering for a second, you almost give the big guy a hug before it clicked in your brain to use your legs, he moves almost immediately. “He’s doing it!” Your smiling, excited with your small little accomplishment. “Good boy.” Caressing his long wispy mane as you slowly make your way toward John.

 “There we go, now try and keep up with me.” John goes from a simple walk into a trot. You give his chest another squeeze with your legs, your pace remains the same, you then give a go at digging your heels in. That gets him going a little faster. John goes from a trot to a sort of jog, so you follow suit. Your lower back and bottom bouncing up and down on the saddle uncomfortably.

 “Aren’t we going a little fast?” You cry out. John peeks over his shoulder with a blank confused look.

 “Uh, no? We can go way faster.” His eyes drift off before looking back at you, “Did you wanna go faster?”

 “No, I think that would be a bad idea. I don’t even know how to stop this thing.” Oh my lord, Tilly wasn’t exaggerating. John pulls to the side and slows down, keeping pace on your right. His horse was a considerable amount shorter than yours, causing his head to only reach as high as your shoulder. He sits up a little taller.  

 “You know, I’m the one who found the spot.”

 “Hm? The campsite?”

 “Yeah, I’m the one who found it. Not Arthur.” He spits out Arthur’s name with some disdain.

 “It’s nice.” A pocket of silence fills the air.

 “The foods been better, and I noticed my shirts are not so full of holes.” He clears his throat. “You do good work.”

 “Why are your shirts so fond of holes anyhow?” Your mind drifts to that notorious green shirt. “I swear some of the clothes have had blood on them too.” You watch him carefully from the corner of your eye. Trying to keep a casual, calm air about yourself. “You ought to be more careful.”

 “We uh- get into fights sometimes.” His response isn’t very confident. “But! I mean- we don’t start ‘em.” He steers his horse into yours, “Lets take a left up here.”

 Just what kind of fights are you getting into?

 “Arthur’s good in a fight. I got to see that first hand.” John gets quiet.  You dared a peek to see his face was in a scowl. “Where we goin’ anyway?”

 “There’s another spot I found, thought you’d like it.”

 “So that’s where you boys went? Sight-seeing?”

 “It ain’t like that, someone’s gotta make sure the way ahead is safe.”

 Safe from what?

 “Can’t say I’m not jealous. A break from camp would be nice every once in a while.”

 “Well, we can go riding anytime you want.”

 “I’m sure Grimshaw would not be too keen on the idea.” Another round of silence. The area around you is beginning to become much greener, blooming cactus, flourishing sage brush and a particular earthy smell permeates the air like a delicate perfume. Each step forward becomes an oasis of thriving plant life, and just as your about to ask how, you see it.

 A great pool of water extends the majority of the horizon, reflecting the bright light of the sun and creating a perfect mirror image of the surrounding environment. A small group of Big Horned Sheep could be seen taking a gracious drink off the tranquil water’s surface. Various kinds of birds nesting in the blooms of the Joshua trees providing a sweet melody. Everything was flourishing.

 John’s horse maneuvers itself in front of yours, bringing you to a stop and putting said riders face right in your line of view. “I figured you could come here when you need to… ya know.” His face flushes red. “Bathe.”

 You let out a huff of a laugh and a smirk. “You know, bathing isn’t my whole personality. But I appreciate it.” You both sit in silence as you take it all in. It actually began to make you emotional, tears brimming to the surface of your eyes. You attempt to keep composure but it’s in vain as John clearly notices.

 “A-are you ok?” He sounds almost frightened. No doubt caught off guard by your sudden decent into sadness.

 “I-I’m sorry.” You turn away from him, dabbing away at your eyes. Face scrunched painfully as you try your hardest to hold back the sob desperately trying to come up your throat. “I-I don’t know what’s come over me.” Your voice cracks as you speak. It’s an awkward silence as you fail to keep your feelings at bay. You almost don’t feel the couple soft taps on your shoulder.

 “It’ll be okay…” John attempts say comfortingly, though it comes out sounding more like a question. It was… very sweet of him.

 Your horse seems to dislike the change in mood as he winnies in agitation, swaying side to side before moving suddenly.

 “WHoawhoa-WHOA!!” You shriek in surprise as your horse bolts forward with vigor, your hands yanking on the reins causing him to simply jerk his head and rip them from your grip. “Ah!” your hands desperately grab for his neck, looping around the large and taught muscle before you feel your legs turn cold. Your horse had felt the sudden need to plunge himself directly into the water taking you with him. Your wide eyes meet John’s still in shock.

 “Guess he was hot.” John remarks. The horse let’s out a long grunty sigh that vibrates from underneath you. You’re up to your shoulders in water, soaking you from your socks to your underwear.

 And you laugh.

 A long joyous slip of bliss from your lips, the first in a long time. And it goes on and on and on. Leaving you breathless as you pitter down to little giggles, only to rev back into a fit. Slapping the horse gently on his side.

 “You-hoohoo silly horse- ahahaha!” You can hear John letting loose a few laughs as well.

 “Well, lookie here!” A new voice arises from the shoreline. It’s Arthur. Basking down at you from atop his trusty mare, leaning forward and a twinkle in his eye.

 “What’re you doin’ here?” John doesn’t look happy, eyeing Arthur up with a challenging look in his eyes.

 “Lookin’ for you two.” He attempts to smack John, who swerves harshly out the way nearly falling off his saddle. “You’ve got night watch.”

 “So do you!” John retorts in annoyance.

 “Yeah, and you better not fall asleep on me!” Arthur goes for another swing, this time landing upside John’s head with a smack.

 “Ow!” John’s face scrunches up into a scowl, he retaliates with a smack of his own that causes Arthur’s hat to fall forward into his face. You let out a soft giggle at the sight.

 Like a couple of toddlers.

 Arthur adjusts his hat back into place, clearing his throat before speaking to you in a much more tender tone.

 “You need some help there, ma’am?”

 “uhh…” you grab for the reins floating just on the water’s surface, giving them a pull upwards, backwards and to the side. But the horse simply remains submerged and relaxed. You swing yourself off it’s back, now soaking every inch of you completely. Wading towards the bank as both young men dismount to meet you. Arthur has his hands extended before John practically shoves him out of the way causing Arthur to exclaim an irritated “Hey!”. You’re assisted up and out of the pond, John’s hand lingering in yours long after your clearly on dry solid land.

 “Thanks.”

 John nods with an eager smile. “Course!”

 “You can let go of my hand now…”  

 “Oh uh! Yeah…” He stammers a bit, looking at your intwined hands before finally releasing you from his grip.

 “What about him?” You motion to the large horse still sitting unmoved.

 Arthur looks to John and nods his head towards the water. “You get him.”

 “What!? No way, you do it!”

 “I know you chose the horse. So, you get to pull him out.” Arthur corrals you to follow him back to Boadicea, throwing in one last remark to John before placing you just behind him.  “Maybe you’ll finally learn to swim!”

 John flips him off leaving Arthur to laugh as the two of you ride away.

 “He can’t swim?” You ask genuinely worried.

 “Yeah, so don’t go askin’ for lessons.”

 “Is he gonna be ok?” I mean you did just leave him all alone surrounded by a large body of water.

 “Little John knows how to take care of himself. Drowning won’t be what kills him.” You look back to see John hollering and waving a carrot around trying to get the horse’s attention.

 You only give an uncertain hum, falling quiet. You try not to get too close, for both personal space and to not soak his entire back with your still sopping wet clothes.

 You’d be lying if you said Arthur didn’t scare you. Out of everyone in camp, you knew the least about him. And with his clearly appropriate label as the muscle of camp, it worried you to think if and when he’d use that muscle on you.

 “We haven’t really had a chance to talk much, you and I.” Arthur speaks.

 “Well-“ You exhale, “-it’s been a strange couple of months. Not like I’ve been in the mood to talk anyway.”

 He responds with a hum. “How ya holdin’ up?”

 “I don’t know… I’ll feel ok for a while and then out of nowhere I’m having a mental breakdown.” You fidget with the sleeve of your blouse. “I’m not sure holding on is something I can do for too much longer.”

 “Well… it hasn’t been that long ago since… ya know. But things will get better miss. These things just take time.” He perks up a bit, “And hey, being able to laugh in your situation, I’d say you’re well on your way to healin’.”

 Your lips twitch into an almost small smile. “I sure hope so, it’s a lot to adjust to… And I can’t say how much I appreciate you all taking me in and giving me so much.”

 “What happened to you? If you don’t mind me askin’?”

 “I…I got lost…”

 “Lost?” He sounds confused.

 “But I can never go back home. I can never…” Your throat constricts with the thought of people you once knew flash across your mind. “I-I don’t want to talk about it…”  

 “Sorry, I shouldn’t have brought it up.” And you both fall back into the awkward silence. The only sound being the muffled trotting of Boadicea’s hooves on soft sand.

 Arthur suddenly pulls Boadicea to a stop, causing you to squeeze his waist extra hard and smooshing your face against his broad back. Catching a whiff of cigarettes and… Oh god he needs a bath.

 “What? What’s wrong? Why are we stopping?” you quickly slip your arms away as he dismounts, grabbing a rifle from the saddle. You freeze up in fear as he meets your eyes and puts his finger to his lips.

 “Sshh…” he shushes softly. He lowers himself to the ground. Soft careful steps in the direction of a large cluster of brush. Your eyes scan the area finding nothing, fixing back to Arthur confused as to what in the world he’s doing.  

 He stops, stock still. Lifting the rifle to his shoulder before BANG and then another BANG. Making you jump each time. He proceeds to jog over to whatever he decided needed to die. His face is a light with a smile, rifle over one shoulder and two rabbits dangling from his hand held up with triumph.

 “Dinner!” he calls out. Swinging the carcasses over his shoulder. Making his way back to you, you spot dark splotches beginning to form on his shirt.

 Oh my god. It’s animal blood!

 A wave of relief falls over you, hand at your chest as you let go of so much stress and anxiety over that damned bloody shirt.

 “I was wondering where that blood came from.”  He looks at his now red stained shoulder as he ties a rabbit to each side of the saddle.

 “Oh yeah… sorry about that.” He attempts to wipe the blood off his hands before remounting, his hands now a bright pink. “I’ll wash this one, don’t worry about it.”

 “Oh? You know how to do your own laundry?”

 He laughs, “Yes, I know how to do laundry. Susan made sure of that.”

 “And you’re on a first name basis with her too it seems.” You notice the damp imprint you made on his back and can’t help but distance yourself from him a little more.

 “We’ve known each other a long time. I mean she practically raised me.”

 Raised him, so he was a kid when he joined up. My god that’s a long time.

 “Did you know your parents?”

 “I don’t remember much of my Mama, but my Daddy… I wish I didn’t remember much of him.” A bad father figure, not much of a surprise.

 “Must have been hard…”

 “Hard for everyone isn’t it?”

 “Yeah but… doesn’t mean it hurts any less.”

 He stays quiet for a moment before he speaks again, softly this time. “Your right… it don’t.” The conversation dies down after that. You make no effort to change that.

 You start to descend where the camp lies, completely hidden from view until you were basically walking in the front door. Once on the ground you utter a small “thank you” to Arthur. Turning to his horse

 “Thank you, girl.” You stroke her side gently; she eyes you with curiosity as if waiting for something. “Sorry I don’t have a treat for you.”

 “Here, give her this.” Arthur fishes around his bag before pulling out a round pale thing. You take it in your hand, inspecting it a moment. It was light and delicate. A rice cake without the rice. You offer it to Boadicea, palm open as she plucks it up with her big whiskery lips. And you let out an air of a laugh through your nose as she tickles your hand.

 “It was nice talking to you miss.” Arthur speaks with a smile, eyes shrouded by his hat, but you can still see the bright glint of his eyes. The two rabbits hanging over his shoulder.

 “It was nice talking to you too. I hope you sleep well.” You both awkwardly nod a goodbye as he departs.

   The second Arthur leaves your side, a new body takes his place. Samson towers over you and far too close for your liking. Taking two steps back, only for him to take two steps forward.

 “I’ve been meaning to talk to you.” He utters with a far too innocent look.

 “What do you want?” you blurt out your question with no effort in sounding in the least bit interested in what he has to say.

 “I want to apologize for the terrible first impression I left on you that first night.” He waits for a response from you, you don’t give him one. “I don’t want us to start off on bad terms, I’m really not a bad fella.” You roll your eyes, it’s the stupid nice guy bullshit even in this era. Turning to leave before you feel his disgusting giant meaty paw clamp onto your forearm like a vice. “Wow wow! I’m not done talking!” He barks angrily, yanking you back to your spot right in front of him causing you to yelp. “I think we could be real good friends. But it takes two my dear.”

 “I don’t want to be your friend!” You spit out at him, yanking your arm only causing him to grip it even tighter. He smiles wide.

 “Good. Neither do I.” Your stomach twists at the way his eyes linger in intimate places as they rave up your body before they fall behind you. Smile dropping and hand quick to release, causing you to stumble back. Gentle hands find themselves cradling your shoulder, pushing you behind a body.

 “What the hell do you think you’re doin’?!” Arthur’s voice comes out deep and low. Eyes staring daggers into Samson as your hidden from view. His shoulders taught and raised like the hackles of a cat. In the moment Arthur seemed to tower over Samson.

 “Nothing, just a friendly chat.” Samson feigns ignorance. “Not like it’s your business anyhow.”

 “When it comes to the safety of the women, it’s my business.” Arthur barks loud and gruff. Samson seems to notice the little exchange is drawing attention, eyes from others peeking around corners and watching. He fidgets.

 “She’s fine, ain’t no hair out of place or bruise on her.” He dares to meet your eyes again, but his view is blocked by Arthur’s body once more. “Like I said, it was just a friendly chat.” And with his final statement he finally leaves.

 Only once he’s out of sight does Arthur relax. “You alright?” His voice no longer holding the animosity he had only seconds ago. Now soft and hushed. You cradle the arm, no marks or bruising. But the feeling of that dirty hand lingers like a burn.

 “Yeah… I’m ok.” Your eyes remain fixated on your hand now rubbing your forearm. “Thank you for stepping in…” Despite the tense situation, you didn’t feel uncomfortable. You felt safe, secure, calm. You can see him fidget in your peripheral. Shifting from foot to foot.

 “If he gives you trouble, you come to me, Alright?” You finally look up into his eyes, kind and concerned. Nothing like the way Samson was looking at you. You nod slowly.

 “I’ll come to you…” His eyes drift from each of your eyes a moment more, before he nods his head.

 “Ok… You be well Ma’am.” You watch as he leaves, hands twitching and shoulders adjusting themselves. He approaches Dutch and Hosea who were sitting and chatting away with cups of coffee. There smiles dissipate as Arthur speaks. Their gaze looking off in the direction of Samson and then they turn to you. Your eyes meet there’s for a split second before you turn away quickly. Wondering off to find a nice sunny spot to dry off and lie low for a while.

[stormingchaosheartcontrol]

More Than The Emerald

Knuckles stood guard of the Master Emerald on Emerald Isle; looking up toward the sky above him, it was quiet and though he usually enjoyed uneventful nights, the red echidna had his suspicion and a gut feeling that tonight wasn’t going to remain uneventful for long.

“Oh, Knuxie!” A sing song voice greeted.

He was right.

That name. That pet name there was only one person who called him that, and the Master Guardian knew exactly who it was.

“Well, Well, if it isn’t, Rouge the Bat.”

“Uh-uh. That name’s off-limits slugger.” The jewel thief corrected, “Because last time I checked, my new name is, Rouge the Rat.” Wiggling a scolding finger.

He recalled that memory vividly, “You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”

Mischievousness radiated off her. From the very top of her head, down to the very bottoms of her white and pink heart shaped high heeled steel toed boots.

“I would, but what fun would that be?”

Violet eyes shot her a look, “Let me guess, you’re for the Master Emerald?”

She waved her hands defensively, “Don’t get all excited sweetie. While old habits do die hard, and I mean that for the both of us; you’ll be happy to know that that’s not why I’m here.” Squashing his assumption in the process.

Knuckles raised an intriguing brow which Rouge instantly caught.

A smile plastered itself on her features, “The reason for my visit is personal.”

“Personal?”

The ivory bat nodded affirmatively.

“Listen hun, I know we don’t always see things eye to eye-”

“-That’s an understatement.” Knuckles interjected.

“And while it’s true, I’ve tried stealing and have stolen the Master Emerald as well as all seven Chaos Emeralds from you more than once.” The ivory bat confessed, motioning towards the massive green emerald that sat behind them.

“More times than not.” He said, adding to the fact.

“Believe me when I say, that’s not why I decided to drop in unannounced.”

‘Or the other times for that matter.’

There was no questioning nor denying that the red echidna enjoyed his and Rouge’s playful banters -that usually turned into a heated argument between the two- and sure, he’d much rather have a conversation with the sass filled treasure hunter without having to dish out an insult every two seconds. Deep down he knew, both knew in fact, that that’s how they showed they cared for along with demonstrated their deeply rooted and unspoken love for one another. Yes. Despite the pairs countless quarrels -that mad them sound like an old married couple- name calling, disagreements, unexpected run ins, constant bickering as to who The Master Emerald truly belonged to -which was one thing the former G.U.N. agent and Guardian of the Master Emerald still, to this day couldn’t agree upon- and rapid fire insults. Knuckles knew his life would be dull and boring if he didn’t have the sassy bat in it. The same thing could be said about, Rouge and how she felt about her hot-headed knucklehead of an echidna.

‘You’re just a jewel thief, you wouldn’t know!’ She scoffed, mocking him, red dreadlocks appearing atop her head and ears.

‘Long time no see treasure hunter, are you ready to give me back my emerald?’

Her emerald? No way that was happening; how many times was he, the Master Guardian, going to have explain that to this bullheaded jewel obsessed bat until she got it through her head? His answer – 24/7.

Though it’d been years Knuckles knew that day at Meteor Herd, marked the beginning of what would eventually become a significant point and important detail in their relationship.

‘Oh, Knuxie.’ Her voice greeted.

Unamused eyes peered up at the ginormous Blue Typhoon video monitor, ‘Well, well, if it isn’t Rouge the Rat.’

Little did he know that that particular insult would later come back to haunt him.

Successfully swiping the gigantic and unexpectedly heavy emerald green jewel from its perch, the ivory treasure hunter was about halfway through the forest before being stopped and confronted by a fuming Knuckles the Echidna.

‘That’s the Master Emerald, and you’re going to help me take it back!’

‘First you’ll have to catch me!’ She expressed before dashing off.

Memory upon memory came flooding in Knuckles’s mind and while neither could read one another’s mind; both knew they had similar memories, but with different perspectives flying around in their minds.

“It wasn’t about the emeralds, was it?”

Rouge raised a perplexed brow, wanting to hear the rest of his sentence.

“Ancient Pyramids, Meteor Herd, Mobius, Blue Typhoon.” He said listing examples, “All those times you claimed to be there for the emeralds, was nothing more than a cover up wasn’t it?”

He’d asked her this before, to which she quickly denied his accusation and responded in true Rouge fashion with a sassy one-liner insult; meaning tonight, should not have been any different, but instead of falling back on her usual instincts the ivory female allowed herself to be honest him as well as herself and let bottled-up vulnerableness -that’d been pushed down for years- to finally be released and take its place on her features.

“Given the circumstances in place at that time.” She admitted.

Knuckles inquired, “Then your comment about pieces of the Master Emerald stinking like echidna’s was merely a front.”   

Rouge heard the smugness in his voice, “Oh, I meant what I said, hun.” The former agent quipped, “But seeing how you treated me, after our battle at Meteor Herd changed my opinion of you, for the better.”

Violet eyes met teal ones.

“How’s your wing?” The red echidna asked, referring to their most recent encounter.

“Not completely healed, but it’s come a long way since the injury.” She informed fully aware of where their conversation was going.

*Flashback*

If the hospital room conveyed an image of fullness how come a mixture of loneliness, emptiness, fear and uncertainty seemed to consume her? Loneliness taking up the majority of space in her heart; speaking of love, the ivory knew she had friends -if she could even call them that, considering all that transpired on earth and in space- always felt something in her life was missing. And no matter how hard, Rouge convinced herself it wasn’t true, the former G.U.N. agent had to face facts that she didn’t have a place- no. A person to rely on when difficult times, like the one she found herself in, reared its ugly head. Well, almost nobody, there was-  

A series of knocks brought her back to reality.

‘It’s open.’

Waiting for who the jewel thief thought was the doctor to speak quickly turned sour.

‘Don’t you know it’d rude to keep a lady waiting?!’ She refuted; her voice filled with sass.

‘Is that anyway to treat your guests?’

Receiving a quick witted comeback under normal circumstances was nothing and didn’t bother her in the slightest. However, it was an entirely different scenario to be served a rapid-fire insult while being badly injured and that one little detail wasn’t going to prevent, Rouge from unleashing her wrath on her unruly visitor.

‘Listen here mister!’ Huffed the ivory bat, ‘I don’t know who you are, or why you’re even here, but don’t think I won’t hesitate in having you removed from the premise!’

A smug smirk appeared on his face.

‘I see you’re as batty as ever.’

She paused before dishing out the next set of insults. More specifically the female treasure paused because she knew there was only one individual -or echidna in this case- who could evenly match her rapid-fire quips.

‘You’re still a knucklehead.’ Coined the ivory colored female, “But that doesn’t explain why you’re here, hun.’

Knuckles stepped forward a bit before being at her bedside, ‘Isn’t obvious,’

Puzzlement plastered on her face, quickly turned to one of intriguement.

‘To see you.’

Teal eyes widened for a few seconds before realizing what he meant; that’s when a fresh batch of emotions along with old locked up memories came flooding in, like a huge wave crashing up and into the shoreline. This was her opportunity to have a much needed discussion with the red Master Guardian about past events that happened between them.

‘Have a seat, sweetie. It’s time we have a heart-to-heart.’

*End of Flashback*

Silence settled around the echidna and bat, who now sat beside one another on the mini staircase that resided in front of the Master Emerald.

“Even if I hadn’t of known right away, I still would’ve come regardless.”

“I know.” Rouge said, her head resting on Knuckles’s shoulder, “And I wouldn’t have wanted anyone else.”

He smiled mischievously, “Gee, never thought I’d hear those words leave your mouth.”

The jewel thief mimicked his demeanor, “Hm, never thought I’d see the day, where you’d go more than five minutes not being a hot head.”

Knuckles put his arm over her free shoulder, resulting in the female bat to be pulled closer to him, causing a light tint to appear across their features. If two people fight, they really care about each other. A saying both have heard on more than one occasion and though they’d scoffed at such a thought at first; reminiscing about past adventures, memories, run ins -old and new- here at Emerald Isle, made two the treasure hunters come to terms of how it accurately depicted their relationship, and how there’d always been a deeper underlying reason when it came to searching for the Chaos Emeralds and Master Emerald and then some.

[bluesforblue]

This year started off the absolute worst, but I’m ending it on such a high note.

Really coming into myself sexually. I had always felt stunted in my sex life because not having consistent partners didn’t give me the opportunity to grow and learn and explore in ways that felt safe to me. There is a thrill in knowing that I can reduce my partner to gibberish with ease because I know what he likes. There is so much joy in knowing that I am getting mine, regularly, and how eager he is to please, to tease, to push me to take what I want and need. I was always so hesitant to name what I yearned for, but now I know that it was this. Consistency. Security. Safety. It gives me room to practice and experiment and improve. It gives me room to play in ways I’ve never played before. Sex was mostly enjoyable for me in the past, but now it’s actually fun. I can lose myself in it and know that my man is going to bring me back down to earth. I know that he’s going to care for me, hold me, stay with me after. I know that we are going to do it again and again and again and. I know that we’re going to keep talking about what we like, keep trying different things…

Learning what it is to be a partner. I had no idea before the work that it takes. The communication, the effort you have to put in to make sure that things are going well and to fix things before they get too bad. The different types of intimacy. The way I know just by what sounds he makes that he likes something or he has a thought he wants to share. The way I know when a touch means he wants to go home, go to bed, get past me. Getting to be affectionate. I never thought I was affectionate before because I wasn’t allowed to be. Now I get to hold hands. Now I get to kiss at red lights. Now someone knows my nonverbal cues for when I’m tired or mad or sad. I love to be held, but I also love to do the holding. I still do a lot of things alone, but now I know the joy of knowing I don’t have to do it all alone if I don’t want to. He can change my lightbulb. He can clean my car off if it snows. He’s a constant in a way I haven’t had constancy in almost a decade.

And there’s this peace in the final closure of that other door. One of my friends told me to leave it closed for real this time and to appreciate what I have because it is a good thing, and that other person was never a good thing. I never felt any of that anxiety with my now boyfriend. He never kept me guessing about his feelings for me. He was straightforward. He was open and honest in his pursuit. He wanted me and I knew it. The draw of that other person was rooted in the toxic cycles I was used to. The uncertainty. The push and pull. All of the worry, all of the obsessing, all of the overthinking…it was my gut trying to warn me but I didn’t see it. I was so used to that kind of treatment that I didn’t even realize it was a trigger for me until I met my boyfriend and realized that dating doesn’t have to be stressful. The spark doesn’t have to be immediate. In fact, the spark was likely because I was often recognizing a familiar pattern and my body was gearing up for an emotional rollercoaster I didn’t actually want to be on. I like to think me and my guy had a bit of a slow burn those first couple of months, but when we finally got there, the kindling was set ablaze. I have never had to be nonchalant with him or pretend I didn’t care, because he matched and often exceeded my level of interest. He still does. The way he gets so excited to see me. When he asks within hours of parting when he can see me again. I am so grateful to have that. I never had to guess whether he wanted me or not, because he had his cap set from after the very first date. And now, he’s mine because I wanted him too. All I have to do is not mess it up. All I have to do is hope he doesn’t either. I don’t know if I have it in me to do this again, so we’ll see.

I’m not perfect and he loves me in spite of. I cannot be sure that he’s my forever, because I don’t think I’ll ever be sure of that because I have issues, but he’s my right now. He’s my tomorrow, my next week, my next month at the very least. One day at a time, one foot in front of the other.

[watchmegetobsessed]

INTIMATE AND PUBLIC

A/N: i had this little concept in my mind all day yesterday and wrote it on the train quickly hehe. it could easily be a part 2 to the feeling is mutual, but it can be a standalone fic as well!

WORD COUNT: 1.2k

SUMMARY: Being on your honeymoon in Italy, you make some realizations about your marriage.

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

It’s past eleven in the evening, but all the floor-to-ceiling windows in the master bedroom of your rental villa are wide open, the soft, white curtains are dancing in the gentle evening breeze and you can hear the waves crashing against the coast at the private beach you’ve been enjoying this past few days. Your honeymoon started off right after your intimate, but definitely fairytale-like wedding in England. Everyone thought you’d get married in Italy, and you discussed it too, but you wanted to be close to your roots, your life, your home is in England with Harry, though you tend to travel a lot, that’s where you go home to.

However, there was no question you’d come to Italy on your month-long honeymoon. An entire month, that’s right. Harry cleared out his whole schedule for the two weeks before the wedding and the month afterwards, so the two of you can go on your first adventure as a married couple. One week in Italy, one week in France, then a week on the Caribbean Sea on a massive yacht and you’ll finish it all off in Thailand. No work, no tour, no concerts, no nothing, just the two of you, enjoying the first month of your marriage.

You stretch lazily, the soft sheets all wrinkled around you from barely leaving the bed all day. Your hunger was the only thing that could get you out of the bedroom, so you went out to a nearby restaurant just to come back to the villa and do absolutely nothing.

The water stops running in the bathroom and you know Harry will appear any moment in just his boxers, damp curls bouncing around on top of his head, his delicious, slightly sunburnt skin glimmering from the steam in the shower. You can’t push a sigh down even just thinking about the sight you’ve been enjoying these past few days.

Looking down at your own hand you spot the dazzling diamond ring he engaged you with, which is now paired with your wedding band, a simple, not too flashy ring he gave you on your wedding after your vows that left no eyes dry at the ceremony.

Harry Styles is now your husband. Millions of women wish to be in your place, but you’re the only one who can say that you’re Harry’s and he is yours. Even though you were engaged for an entire year and the world knew that you were planning to get married, it’s still such a strange feeling that you’re officially bound together, and everyone will know about it soon.

The bathroom door opens and Harry walks out, looking just the way you were expecting him to, and he catches you staring at your rings as he climbs to the bed.

“Having second guesses?” he teases as he takes your hand and kisses the rings gently. Smiling to yourself you spot his own wedding band, the sight of it making your heart pitter-patter.

“Never,” you smirk at him before leaning closer to steal a kiss. The two of you settle in bed, lying on your side, facing each other as Harry plays with your fingers, lacing them together with his, so your rings are next to each other, and he seems just as mesmerized by the sight of them as you are.

“Don’t you think it’s weird?” you ask, eyes focused on the rings.

“That we got married?” he asks chuckling, though he knows too it’s not what you meant.

“That everyone will know we got married.”

“Why would it be weird?”

“I don’t know,” you shrug with a smile. “They will know that we chose each other. That we love each other.”

You can’t really grasp what’s this feeling that’s been lingering in your gut since the wedding, but Harry knows exactly what you mean even without the right words.

“It’s intimate and public at the same time, innit?” he hums, bringing your hand to his mouth to kiss your knuckles again.

“Exactly,” you nod into the pillow. “It’s such a deep and intimate decision to get married with someone, yet it’s out there for everyone to know from just looking at our fingers.”

“I like it that everyone will know you chose me,” he says and though his smile has a hint of cheekiness, you see the emotions behind the words, how seriously he meant it.

“People will definitely know now,” you grin at him and freeing your hand from his hold you move it to cup his face, he melts into your touch.

“You know what else they will know?” he asks, turning his head to kiss the palm of your head. You shake your head no. “That we are having sex!” He gasps dramatically as you start laughing.

“Oh no, you’re right!” you gape at him, playing along. “They will know you probably fuck me to oblivion every other night!”

Harry’s laughter ripples through the room as he winds your waist and pulls you closer against him.

“Just every other?”

“The rest, you’re soft. That’s not fucking,” you say, keeping a straight face as Harry nods in agreement.

“You’re right.” He holds up his hand and takes a look at his ring. “This is screaming that we are having mind-blowing sex all the time. How scandalous from us!” He shakes his head as you just laugh at his act. “I think people will know that you blew me on the beach the other day and that I made you cum with—”

“Enough!” you laugh, covering his mouth with your hands. “Don’t list every nasty things we did!”

“Oh Love, I couldn’t list everything, I wouldn’t finish before the end of our honeymoon,” he smirks at you, so pleased with himself as his hand wanders lower on your body until he can give your ass a squeeze, pulling you flush against him and you hook a leg over his hips.

“Maybe we shouldn’t wear our rings, so people won’t think of our sex life,” you say, knowing well this will get him rioting even though you were just joking.

As expected, he furrows his eyebrows at you, looking at you as if you just lost your mind.

“Already trying to get out of our marriage? We’ve been official for less than a week!”

“I was just joking, babe. I will never take my ring off,” you grin, cupping his face in your hands to pull him closer for a kiss.

“You better not, woman. I want everyone to know that I’m the only man you’re having sex with!”

“So you only married me for the sex? Nothing else?” you tease him smirking.

“Of course not,” he smiles softly.

“Then what else for? Let me hear the list!”

“My love, that list is even longer than the one about the dirty things!” His smirk widens before he presses his lips against mine, his hands already peeling off my shorts.

“Yeah? Sounds like you married a catch,” you hum against his lips, letting him slowly move on top of you, the weight of his hips welcomed between your legs.

“An absolute goddess,” he clarifies, his mouth already dipping to nib on your jawline and neck. “And goddesses need to be worshipped.”

You can only hum and moan as he peels you out of your night clothes you put on every night, but it’s useless, because they always end up on the floor anyway. Any Harry shows you just how much he worships you, as a goddess, the love of his life, his wife.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

[dailytomlinson]

Louis Tomlinson on ‘fully embracing’ his Britpop roots for new album and chipping away at past perceptions.

Louis Tomlinson unleashes his second album, Faith in the Future, on the world today and admits he had ‘a lot more clarity’ making this record in comparison to his long-gestating debut, 2020’s Walls.

The 30-year-old has already announced dates for the accompanying 2023 world tour, as well as special live in concert shows of the album this week and next in New York and London.

All of this comes despite the fact he only just finished his rescheduled 2020 tour dates in support of Walls in September, so keen is the singer to keep performing live for his fans now he’s finally had the chance to connect with them in that way again.

‘It was a very deliberate choice to go back out on the road as soon as possible,’ he tells Metro.co.uk.

‘That’s always the way I felt, they were always my favourite moments in the band [One Direction]. But it had been a long time coming, this first tour. I’ve been working towards this moment for a long time, four, five, six years even, so to get there and to finish it like we did, I just want to keep momentum rolling.’

He also says he’s ‘very aware’ of the expense of gig tickets during the current cost-of-living crisis, so if focused on putting on a ‘great show’ that will leave fans with a positive memory.

Louis reckons he’s managed to avoid the second album stigma after his music making with One Direction.

The chart-topper is proud of Faith in the Future, teasing the musical decisions he’s made with the album and how it differs from Walls as he learned to ‘fully embrace’ his own taste in songs.

‘There’s obviously that stigma that the second record can often be challenging, but I think for me it was different. I almost felt that more on my first record because I’d had the experience of making music with One Direction and at such a high level. There was a lot of… not necessarily treading water, but definitely trial and error on that first album.

‘It was almost like my development phase, but done in the public eye, and it had been a couple years since I’d released Walls so I had enough time to work out what I liked about the album, what I thought I could have done better.

‘So I had a lot more clarity making this record. I knew what it was I wanted to get out of it. And there was an element on my first record where I kind of alluded to my taste musically but never really fully embraced it. I don’t think I was quite brave enough on that first record, so I kind of ran with that idea.’ 

He adds: ‘I just wanted to kind of trust my gut on this record and also lean on the incredible artists that I worked with on it. And I’m really proud of what we’ve got.’

Diving into the tracks on the album a bit, Louis says there’s nothing he’s apprehensive about fans listening to as ‘in terms of my songwriting and my lyrics, my bread and butter is honesty really, so I’m used to people kind of getting an insight to me through my lyrics and through my music’. 

The 30-year-old says he’s been ‘braver’ with incorporating his musical taste in Faith in the Future.

‘Out Of My System is one of my favourite songs – I just think it’s going to be really fun to do live. And Silver Tongues, that’s something I am excited for the fans to hear because where we start with Bigger Than Me and then where we went to with Out Of My System, I feel like it kind of sits in the middle of those two songs.’

Discussing his Britpop rebrand post-One Direction, which he leans into more on Faith in the Future, Louis explains the role it had in shaping him as a youngster and his musical development.

‘That’s the sound that I would say defined growing up for me. That kind of music is big in the North of England full stop and especially in working class town-forward-slash-just-been-made-a-city Doncaster. I spent a lot of my time as a young lad in this indie bar called Priory, and that’s how I discovered a lot about music that I’ve grown up to love.

‘And those kind of associations for me are important because that kind of perception – coming from a band like One Direction, you have to chip away at that perception. But that indie/Britpop/alternative/whatever words you want to use to describe it sound, that’s who I am as a listener, and I think that’s the way I am as an artist as well.’ 

Faith in the Future saw Louis write with talent from Hurts and Courteneers among others.

Now seems a prudent time to bring up the name of one of his new songs, Common People, and the inevitable link people will make with Pulp’s 1995 signature song. Surely that’s a deliberate homage?

Louis smiles, sharing: ‘I love that tune, so it was one of them [sic] where it was like, once we finished the song, “Do we change the title?” But it was, again, a little moment for me – when I think of that song – the original – it takes me right back to Priory, so because the song is about nostalgia and about Doncaster and about growing up anyway, it felt actually appropriate to have the same title.’

Let’s hope Jarvis Cocker agrees.

Discussing the songwriting process that went into the new album, Louis reveals that it was a ‘conscious decision’ to write more with other artists, to provide ‘a better duty of care on every single song’.

He did a multi-day writing camp with Theo Hutchcraft from Hurts, Courteeners’ Joe Cross and David Sneddon (winner of 2002’s Fame Academy), which produced songs Saturdays, Silver Tongues and She is Beauty We are World Class.

To break the ice, Louis took them all to the pub, where he came to a significant realisation.

A proud son of Doncaster, his musical education was shaped by the town.

‘We sat there and we’re talking and something that really had a profound effect over me was I don’t find myself in these circles loads, and they were talking about music like I talk about football with my mates, which is live and breathe it.

‘I think to be around these artists that a) have great experience and b) have great passion for what they’re doing, I think that shows in the record. Every song has its own importance and I think that’s the benefit of having these artists on board.’

In a recent interview, the former One Directioner, who was in the chart-topping band alongside Niall Horan, Liam Payne and Harry Styles until 2016, and former member Zayn Malik until 2015, hit headlines for confessing that he thought their hiatus would only last a year or two, that it took him ‘a long time to get over’ it and that it stalled the start of his solo career.

Reflecting on it now, he shares that his first post-One Direction song, Just Hold On with DJ Steve Aoki, which was released in December 2016 and seemed to come reasonably soon after their split, was all he had to offer.

‘When I released the Steve song, it’s not as if I had five singles to choose from, that was the only thing that I had that I thought was good at the time, really.’

He also admits to feeling ‘petulant’ and a bit angry in the wake of the band’s break as he started trying to figure out his own path to a solo career.

‘There was an element of my personal life giving me a little push as well and saying, “You know, now’s the time to start.” It felt relevant at the time but yeah, don’t get me wrong, there was an element of coming out the band at first, it was just kind of… And I think that comes from petulance, you know. 

‘It’s not that I that anyone kind of made me feel that it was going to be back in a year or two years. I think that was me just putting my wall of security up and going, well, hopefully, it’ll be a year or two’s time, because I wasn’t ready for that. I wasn’t ready for the break.’

However, he’s now grateful for it as it led to him figuring out his identity as an artist.

‘I will say now, hindsight is a powerful thing. I really do enjoy having the ability to express myself, musically, and sometimes that’s challenging in a band – especially now that I really feel like I’m finding my feet, musically, I’m actually thankful that I’ve got this time. But as soon as I left the band, I was a little bit angry’. 

He may be hitting his stride with his second solo record, but Louis did struggle in the transition.

‘It’s not as if I was sat in One Direction, speculating what a solo career might look like or feel like, it kind of just happened to me one day and I’m like, “Are you gonna do this?” And I’m like, “Alright, I’ll give it a go”, but I didn’t really get that mental prep to realise what I was going in for – so especially in that first year, first two years even, of my solo career, there was a lot of worry, a lot of unknown. I didn’t really know what was going to happen in future.’ 

When asked what he thinks the biggest misconception people have about him is, he brings it back to the type of music he’s making now in comparison to the days of One Direction’s What Makes You Beautiful and Story of My Life.

‘It’s almost an obvious one, it’s because I come from One Direction and there is obviously a major pop element in the band like that, that people have these preconceived ideas that I can only make music that’s straight down the middle pop, but that’s not what I grew up around.’

Smiling sheepishly, he adds: ‘The irony about that misconception is, if I still lived in Doncaster, I could see myself having the same opinion about myself! I’m very aware that you have to chip away at those perceptions, it’s not an overnight thing. So that’s why when I’m thinking about me really establishing myself in this genre, it’s a five-year, seven-year, 10-year project.’

Faith in the Future is out now.

[cjsinkythoughts]

In Need of a Breath

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader

Word Count: 4007

Warnings: !FATWS SPOILERS!, Cursing, Zemo, Feelings, Another PTSD Flashback

A/N: So…Part 4 is going to have a couple parts to it. Maybe even three. I didn’t even make it half way through the episode on this one, mainly because I really wanted to fit in the Reader’s backstory and I wanted her and Sam to have a heart-to-heart again. I’m suuuuper tired, so I probably won’t be posting the next part for another few hours (it’s 5 am right now and I haven’t slept), BUT it’s my day off work and I won’t be doing anything I planned because my grandmother had a stroke a couple days ago so plans have changed and I’m staying in to help her, meaning I’ll mostly be writing all day. 

This Part is kind of a mix between off-screen and shot-by-shots, but it’s mostly off screen/what’s going on inside Reader’s head.

I’m really excited about future parts and the characters that are being introduced! I will say that after these parts, I will be doing one shots of previous MCU movies with the Reader, due to the information that is being given about the Reader now. You kind of see more of how she was affected/how she affected the previous MCU movies and what she was doing during that time.

Like always, this hasn’t been beta’d, again it’s SUPER early in the morning, and I’m really tired, so please excuse any mistakes! I hope you guys enjoy this part! Stay tuned for more to come later today!

FATWS MASTERLIST

cjsinkythoughts MASTERLIST

!SPOILERS UNDER CUT!

“You know…I’m really starting to regret saying yes to this.” You huffed out, craning your neck and squinting your eyes against the sun as you stare at the facility in front of you, hating the skin-crawling feeling of being back.

“Would you relax? Whenever you’re nervous, I get nervous, and I don’t wanna be nervous about this.” Sam shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

“Do either of you have a better plan?” Bucky grumbled, crossing his arms.

Gnawing on your lips, you finally take the lead and breathe out, “alright. Let’s go then.” You could feel the hesitance from your - what were they? Partners? Coworkers? Teammates? - the fellas before they started after you.

There was a sick twist in your gut as you entered the building, going through the lobby and security.

You had been there.

You had been there when Zemo impersonated Bucky. You had been there when Zemo unleashed the Winter Soldier at the Joint Counter Terrorist Centre Building in Berlin. You had been there during the battle at the airport. You had been there when Zemo turned Tony and Steve against each other in Siberia. You had been there when Zemo tore the Avengers from the inside out. Your family. The only family you’d ever known.

But you’d always been good about pushing your personal feelings aside for the sake of the mission. It’s what you’d been born to do. All you ever knew.

“Hey. Doll. You hear me?”

“Hmm. What?” You looked up from the ground to look into those enchanting blue oceans Bucky had for eyes, staring worriedly down at you, eyebrows pinched and forehead creased.

“I’m going in alone.” You frowned, opening your mouth to argue, but he shook his head. “Sam already agreed-”

“I didn’t necessarily agree-”

“You’re an Avenger, sweetheart.” Bucky tilted his head, speaking softly, those eyes of his worried. Worried for you. It made your stomach flip. “And you were there in Siberia, and that almost makes it worse. Especially considering you went after him. Just…just let me do this, okay?”

You cracked your knuckles nervously as you thought. It was a terrible idea. But it was an idea. And it was all they had. “Okay.” You finally relented, shrugging as your hands hit your thighs and slid up to your hips. “But don’t do anything stupid.”

“Steve took all that with him.”

Knowing about their little inside joke, you scoffed. “Sure he did. Go before I change my mind.”

You watched him walk down the hallway, hands fidgeting with excess nerves. “I think you’re the only one he actually seeks approval from.”

“Good thing I’m so lenient then, huh?” You joked, turning to Sam with a strained smile. Your smile slipped at the curious expression on Sam’s face, his eyes darting to each of your features. “What?”

“Are you doing okay?”

You groaned, throwing your head back. You thought you got out of talking about your feelings back in Baltimore. “Oh my God, Sam-”

“I’m serious. You…you just don’t seem like yourself.”

You shook your head, looking down the hall to where Bucky disappeared before turning back to him. It was weird to have a self that people recognized. Your whole life you’d been searching for it and when you finally found it…everything went to shit. “Honestly, Sammy, the only time I’ve ever felt like myself was with the team. Zemo took that away from me and now we’re here, practically begging him for help.”

Sam hummed, leaning against the wall. “Have you thought of taking a break?”

“What?”

“A break.” At your bewildered look, he rolled his eyes. “Cher, this time last year most of us were dead. This time a few months ago you found out about Wanda. This time last week you were out looking for her. Maybe you should just stop and take a breather.”

Shoving your hands in your pocket and looking at the floor, you couldn’t help but snort at his advice. “I haven’t taken a breather since I was eighteen.”

He clicked his tongue. “That’s my point. FBI academy as soon as you graduated. SHIELD recruit by 21, undercover operations leader by 24? Slow down. You’re in your thirties. Next thing you know, you’re gonna be ninety something, lying on your deathbed, wishing you had stopped to smell the roses.”

“If I live to be ninety, shoot me.” He chuckled in amusement. “I’m so fucking serious, Sam. I will not be put in an old folks home to play Bingo and be pushed around in a wheelchair. It ain’t happening.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” There was that infectious smile, which you unconsciously grinned back at. “Y/N…I’m serious. You’ve been in and out of missions since you were a teenager. What’s the shortest undercover operation you’ve done?”

“I dunno.”

He gave you an unimpressed look. “Yeah you do.”

Licking your lips, you turned away and shrugged. “A couple months. Seven weeks and three days, to be precise. September to October in 2012.”

“And the longest?”

“August 2007 to May 2009. Twenty one months.” 

Letting out a puff of air through his nose, Sam pushed himself off the wall and caught your chin between his fingers to make you look at him. “That’s nearly two years under cover. And I’m sure you went right back under after-”

“I was sitting at a desk for four months doing paperwork on it.” You defended yourself.

He shook his head, brows knitting together, lips drawn down. “You say that as if four months is enough time.”

“It doesn’t matter anymore, Sammy. I’m out. I’ve been out since Ultron and Sokovia. I haven’t been under in almost a decade-”

“A decade half the world was dead for half of-”

“I wasn’t!”

“I never said you were.” Sam sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. You were always amazed at his ability to keep his emotions in check. To stay cool under pressure. Sometimes you forgot how experienced he was with dealing with other people’s trauma. It was no wonder why Steve thought he’d be good for Bucky. “Listen. All I’m saying is once this is done…don’t go diving back into searching for Wanda. Don’t go running to the kid every time he calls - and I know you’ve been doing that-”

“It’s just been homework and stuff-”

“Y/N.” You stopped, biting your lip at the stern look he gave you. “Go home. Order take out. Binge watch TV. Go for a jog through the park. Actually meet your neighbors. Go grocery shopping. Just…live. If only for a couple weeks. Don’t worry about anyone else. Don’t pick up the phone, don’t drop everything because someone needs you. You need you.”

“I-I…” You shook your head, looking at him, sincerely apologetic. “I can’t. I wish I could. But I can’t. I’ve never had one normal day in my life. I’ve never had someone to care for, never had someone to care for me. I can’t let people I’ve come to…I can’t let them think I don’t care. I don’t even know where I’d go.”

“Whaddya mean?”

You winced, not thrilled for his reaction to your next statement. “I, uh, I sold my apartment in D.C.”

He gaped at you in complete disbelief. “You got it in December!”

“I know, I know. I liked it. I really did, but…I dunno. Nomadic life has always suited me better. It’s what I grew up with.”

He took a breath, making you cringe again. You don’t think you’ve ever legitimately gotten on his nerves like this before. “Have you ever thought that, instead of going with the flow and jumping place to place, putting down roots might actually help?” He cut you off before you could say anything, holding up a finger to stop you from talking. “I can’t imagine going from foster home to foster home like you did. I can’t imagine not having a home for as long as you can remember. Louisiana’s my home. Always has, always will be. But I understand your life has been anything but stable. And maybe, just maybe, that’s why you need some stability.”

You clenched your jaw, crossing your arms. “The Avengers were my stability. Steve was my stability.”

“Because you loved him.”

“I’m not doing this with you again.” You turned to walk down to the lobby to wait for Bucky there, but Sam caught your arm.

“You were in love with him! It’s okay! You two were super close! No one would blame you! Why won’t you just admit it? I’m trying to understand! Why won’t you-”

You tugged your arm away, finally snapping at him. “Because he could never be mine, Wilson! Is that what you wanna hear?!” Sam took a step back at your exclamation. You closed your eyes, swallowing the lump in your throat and pushing down the tears. “He could preach all he wanted about moving forwards, Sammy, but we all knew he was stuck in the past. He visited the museum every Thursday because her interview showed in his exhibit on Thursdays. He carried around that broken compass because her picture was in it.” You looked back up at him sadly, shrugging. “And I get it; it’s hard to move past your first love. I get it because…that’s what he was to me.”

There was a silence that blanketed the hallway, before he spoke up hesitantly. “What about Bucky?”

“I thought - I thought I was projecting my feelings for Steve onto him because I knew Steve couldn’t ever…”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “You thought? What do you think now?”

You cleared your throat. “I’m still figuring that one out.”

“If you ever need to talk, I’ll be here.”

You chuckled, nodding slightly towards him. “Back atcha. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you not being yourself lately, either.”

“It’s…a tough topic.”

You nodded in understanding. “Just know that I’ll support every decision you make as long as you think it’s the right one. Because I trust you. Steve trusted you. It’s all we can do to try to do what’s right. That’s what makes you a good man, Sammy. He gave you that shield for a reason, and if you think what you did was right…I’ll stand by it.”

The two of you stared at each other for a moment, calming down in each other’s presences and taking comfort knowing you’d be there for each other through thick and thin. “Thank you, cher.”

“Of course, Sammy. Now let’s go see what’s taking the old grump so long.”

He laughed at that, nodding in agreement, taking your offered hand and squeezing it as you made your way down the hall.

****************

“What?”

Bucky eyed you as you spluttered, coughing on the water you were drinking. “Please don’t choke, doll.”

“Break him out of jail?!” You repeated his words and blinked at him, absolutely baffled by his plan. “Oh my God.” You groaned as Bucky and Sam started arguing, moving your flashlight around the room. “Where the hell are we?” There was no response as they kept going back and forth.

“Zemo’s gonna mess with our minds! Especially yours! No offense.”

“Heelllloooo!” You tried again. “Where the hell are we?!”

Bucky turned on the lights, giving Sam a look. “Offense.” Glancing at you he quirked an eyebrow. “Stop worrying your pretty lil’ head, sweetheart. You trust me, dontcha?” Your breath hitched at his words. You quickly recovered, huffing and pouting - although you’d deny ever pouting - and crossing your arms. You stood between the guys like that, eyes darting to whoever was speaking, waiting for them to stop so you could actually think.

“Look. Let me just walk you through a hypothetical. Can I walk you through a hypothetical?”

You and Sam exchanged glances. “What did you do?”

“I…didn’t do…anything.” Bucky shrugged.

“How is it that you, one of the most deadliest assassins basically ever, are one of the worst liars I know.” You tilted your head at him, an eyebrow quirking up in confusion.

“Shush it you. Just, okay. The weakest point in any system isn’t the software, the hardware, it’s the meatware. The human element.”

The more you listened to Bucky’s “hypothetical”, the stronger the gut feeling telling you this was a terrible terrible idea got. You brought your hands up to your head, eyes wide as he spoke.

“I don’t like how casual you’re bein’ about this. This is unnatural.”

You couldn’t help but agree with Sam’s words, your head falling back and your eyes closing. “Sweet Jesus. Listen, God, I know we don’t talk much these days, but please, please don’t let this not be a hypothetical. I’m fucking begging you.”

A noise to your right made your head snap over. “Oh hell to the fucking no!” You shook your head as Zemo himself walked in, wearing a prison guards uniform. “Uh-uh! No way! Bucky, this was not part of the plan!”

“What did you do?!”

“We need him!”

“You’re going back to prison.”

“If I may-”

All three of you faced him, simultaneously shouting, “no!”

You held your face in your hands as your head dropped, shaking back and forth, your eyes squeezing shut, tuning them out for just a minute to think. Bucky had a point. The enemy of my enemy is my friend and all that, and the Avengers were technically disbanded, which was Zemo’s whole objective in the first place, but…God. You were good at compartmentalizing, but not that much. You were willing to put your feelings aside for the mission so Bucky could talk to him. Not for you to work with him. But he had connections, you knew he did, and he had information…

“Doll?” You looked up, Bucky anxiously licking his lips as he met your gaze. “I need you to say something.”

You looked to Sam, who shrugged, gesturing to Zemo. “What do you think?”

What did you think? What did you think?! You thought that it was the worst idea in the history of ideas and you should turn back and find another way! But…you knew this was the fastest, probably most reliable way to get information that you needed.

Dammit, since when were you the deciding factor?

You sucked in a breath, looking over Sam’s shoulder at Zemo, who lifted his hand in greeting. You raised your eyes to the ceiling, pointing your finger accusingly. “This is why we stopped talking.” Gaze dropping to the still waiting fellas, you gnawed on your lip, before hissing out, “ffffine…” Running a hand through your hair, you threw your hands up as you shrugged. “Fine. Okay. Fine.”

“Okay.” Sam nodded, taking charge again.

You couldn’t believe this was happening. Except, that was a lie. You could. You’d seen weirder. You’d experienced the impossible. Lived through the unbelievable. This…this was completely imaginable.

Which is why, with a lot of hesitation and very little confidence in this plan, you followed Zemo through the auto shop you were in until you reached a large room with a ton of different old cars.

Bucky’s hand found yours as Zemo explained what the plan was, rather vaguely, in your opinion, but at least he was explaining. Point for him. Not that it would make up for the level of distrust you held for him, but it was something.

You looked up at him, giving him a puzzling frown. He usually only grabbed your hand in front of other people when he was feeling anxious. Which, yeah, he had a right to be anxious right now, but it wasn’t the right kind. The type of anxiety caused by large crowds and loud noises, ones that startled him and threw him into a defensive mode.

But the look on his face made you squeeze his hand in reassurance. He was pouting, staring at you although he did something wrong - a puppy that tore up a pillow - and all you wanted to do was give him a hug.

“You’re mad at me.” He mumbled as the four of you headed out with Zemo in the lead.

“No I’m not.”

“Yeah you are. 

“Bucky, I’m not mad.”

“Listen, if I had a better idea I wouldn’t-”

You brought your linked hands up to your lips, pressing a gentle kiss to his gloved knuckles. “I’m not mad.” You repeated more firmly. “It’s just…a lot for me, right now.”

“Why? What’s going on?”

“Nothing’s going on, Buck, I-I just…” You thought about your and Sam’s earlier conversation and suddenly understood what he meant. “I need to breathe for a second.”

His features twisted into ones of uncertainty, eyes squinting as you stepped outside. “Do you…do you wanna leave?”

You shook your head, tugging his arm to stop him and grabbing the sunglasses on his collar, slipping them over his eyes. “No. I just need some time to think. Hopefully the plane ride to wherever the hell we’re going will give me that.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, James. I’m sure.”

He lowered the glasses on his nose to scan you over the frames, before nodding and sliding them back up. “Okay. You ready for this, then?”

“No.” You breathed, turning back to where Zemo and Sam were still walking. “Let’s do this.”

*****************

Climbing onto the private jet, you raised an eyebrow at Sam, who shrugged, giving you a bemused expression. A Baron…huh…who knew? You feel like you should’ve, yet there you were.

You sat besides Bucky, across from Zemo, crossing your legs and leaning back while staring at him through narrowed eyes.

His butler seemed nice, which made you even more suspicious. You obviously didn’t know as much about Zemo as you wanted to. It was a habit you picked up after years of undercover work; once the mission was complete, that was that. There was no looking back on it. No sitting on it. It was over and you moved onto the next one. It was a bad habit in cases like this.

The moment you spotted the notebook over Zemo’s book you knew something was going to happen, yet you still flinched when Bucky lunged at him, grabbing his throat. You leaned back in your seat again, steadying your now racing heartbeat. You decided you were too tense, trying to relax your muscles as Bucky sat back down in his seat.

“I’ve seen that book. It was Steve’s when he came out of the ice. I told him about Trouble Man. He wrote it in that book.” Sam seemed so proud of himself that something he recommended was written in Steve’s little book and it made you smile.

You remembered that; Steve and you were supposed to meet up for coffee after his run, but Fury called him in so you rescheduled it for when he got back. He asked you about Marvin Gaye. For your opinion. You told him to check it out and make his own.

You remembered asking him about that little notebook of his, and he just shrugged you off telling you about his list. He would read items off to you, but he never let you read the book yourself. You never found out why, and you supposed you never would now. The thought made an ache behind your ribs that you’d come to familiarize yourself with appear.

You smiled a little more as Zemo and Sam told Bucky how awesome Marvin Gaye was. “C’mon, baby. Back me up.”

Chuckling, you looked at Bucky. “They’re not wrong. But,” you quickly added before Bucky could whine at you, facing Sam again. “Neither is Buck. I mean, c’mon. You can’t find music like the 40’s anymore. Ella Fitzgerald, Louis Armstrong, Benny Goodman, Fred Astaire. Ol’ Blue Eyes himself.”

“Thank you.” Bucky grinned at Sam, who rolled his eyes.

“Okay, okay. But, I mean, c’mon! Everybody loves Marvin Gaye.”

“I like Marvin Gaye.”

“Steve adored Marvin Gaye.”

Your face fell as Zemo started talking about Steve and icons and Red Skull, your mind once again slipping away from reality.

~

“Kids love you.” You giggled as you finally made it out of his exhibit. You’d wanted to show it to him since he moved to D.C., and you’d finally got an opportunity after coming back from being undercover for ten weeks. “You’re their hero, you know.”

“Yeah, well, I’m just trying to do what’s right.”

You nudged him, scoffing at his answer. “You’re too humble. You’re a national icon, you know.”

Steve shrugged, looking around the museum at the planes surrounding them. “I never wanted to be.”

“Why not? Everyone loves you.”

“I’m sure not everyone loves me.” He rolled his eyes. “And…I just wanted to help. To fight. Protect my country and the people I cared about. I-I didn’t ask for…all that.” He waved behind his shoulder where his exhibit was getting smaller with each step they took away. “People were dying. Bullies were winning.”

You shook your head, spinning and walking backwards besides him to face him. “Sure, but you did that. And you became someone people could look up to in the process.”

He narrowed his eyes at you before asking, “why do you do what you do?”

“...because I’m good at it?”

“Honey.” He gave you a look. “Answer the question.”

You hummed in thought. “Because I couldn’t stand by, knowing there would be orphaned kids if I didn’t help any way I could.”

“Alright. Why do you do it in the dark?”

“Whaddya mean?”

He shrugged. “Why don’t you come out and take credit for all the lives you’ve saved?”

“Because that’s not why I do it. I don’t want that attention. I just want to know I’ve helped people. I’ve kept them safe.”

He gave you a soft smile. “I just wanted to beat the bully. I never wanted to be a dancing monkey, too.” You looked at him in a new light then, understanding where he was coming from. “Watch out, honey!” He grabbed you and pulled you aside before you could crash into a wall, arms wrapped firmly around your waist. He gave you that charming smile of his. “Wouldn’t want you hurting that pretty lil’ head of yours, now would we?”

~

“Y/N!”

You snapped back into the conversation, moving your eyes from the window to Bucky, who tilted his head, eyebrows pinched and eyes narrowed. “Sorry. So, Madripoor. That’s a fun place.”

You ignored the side eyed glances Bucky and Sam exchanged, Sam turning to you curiously. “You’ve been?”

“Once. Back in 2010 for a few months”

Zemo raised his eyebrows. “You’re lucky to have gotten out.”

You shrugged nonchalantly. “Lucky, maybe. Skills were a part of it, too, though.”

“Good.” Zemo nodded. “Because we’re going undercover…and if we blow it. We’re dead.”

You breathed out, shaking your memory away and getting your head back into the game. Because like the man you were severely wary of in front of you said, if you blew this, you were dead. And, sure, you didn’t want to live until ninety, but you weren’t even half way there yet. So dammit if you were going to die soon.

“Hey.” You looked over at Bucky’s murmur, his head tilting as he grabbed your hand and pulled you from your seat closer to him. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I’m fine. Are you okay? You know you’re going to have to be-”

“I know.” He nodded. You watched his Adam’s Apple bob as he swallowed thickly. “I’ll be fine. Just…tell me right now if you need to step out for this one.”

You gave him a smile that you knew he didn’t buy, just by the slight narrowing of his eye, his lips pressing together. “No. No, I’m good for this. If you think I’m gonna let you two idiots go into Madripoor with him - alone - oil that cyborg brain of yours, because there’s no way.”

He squeezed your hand, eyes still filled with uncertainty. “Are you sure?”

“If there’s even a slight possibility that I can protect you, then yeah. I’m sure, Buckaroo.”

[scandalsavagefanfic]

Hello! I am a huge fan of ur writing. I've loved everything I've read of yours. I've read alot of what you've posted, except for a couple of the tags that are squicky for me (so I'm very thankful you tag very thoroughly). No judgement for the squick, it's just not for me. & when I'm having a bad day, I usually just go thru ur ao3 and find something to reread. I think about Therapy's Bruce & Jason every damn day. While I obvs appreciate ur darker more "problematic" content (I really vibe with some of the themes you write about bc of my own trauma, & so it's very cathartic to read about in a fictional setting), I am truly a sucker for ur more happy content. The Happily Ever After verse also lives in my head rent free. Idk more wholesome stuff just seems more special when you write it. Anyways. I would die for you. But the point of this ask is cause I'm curious as to why you don't like Urban Legends? I'm sorry if you already talked about it here or on twitter and I missed it. I was just wondering because I really enjoy your take on things and would love to hear why you dislike it. I've been enjoying it so far personally, but I am always open to DC comics criticism.

Aw thank you so much! I'm so flattered by everything you just said. You're so sweet ❤❤❤❤❤

I haven't talked about Urban Legends here or twitter (I haven't been very active in either place lately. Just a lot going on and no energy 😔) but I'm happy to do it here.

Before I start though, I just want to add a standard disclaimer and make it clear that if you like it, there's nothing wrong with that and you don't have to let me ruin it for you lol. Like what you like.

That said, since you asked...

I said this when I was talking about it on discord, that there is a difference between hope and expectation. I always hope that a new story centered on Jason (or anyone really, but things have been especially egregious for Jay for 15 years) will be good or at least treat the character with a minimal level of respect (to be honest, the bar is super fucking low). But my expectations always temper my hope, to keep it from getting unrealistic. Because my expectations are based on experience.

The long history of Jason Todd, since even before his resurrection, has been one of retroactively trying to make him "a bad seed" in order to absolve Bruce of any responsibility in his death.

I don't even expect DC or their writers to start honoring the fact that Jason was not an angry, reckless Robin (and less of the later than Dick or Tim and definitely Damian). There plenty of ways that retcon can be folded into his history and be compelling and sympathetic. And if they're going to stick with that retcon, I'm only asking that they do it in one of those compelling and sympathetic ways because Jason was 15 when he died, heroically, in one of the most selfless acts in comics, to save a woman who literally handed him over to be brutally murdered. He was 12 when Bruce plucked him off the streets, he'd been homeless and fending for himself for at least two years. I personally think that Jason's story hits harder for him and Bruce if their original, canon relationship, of Jason as starry-eyed and eager to learn and absolutely devoted to Bruce and Bruce to Jason, is preserved. But Jason's origins does leave room for a meaningful interpretation of him as angry and frustrated at the lack of meaningful results of Bruce's methods.

And that's really where my irritation at stories like Batman: Urban Legends, Cheer and Batman The Adventure Continues has it's roots.

Every time one of these stories comes out, I think (or hope, rather) that this will be the one that remembers and respects the origins of the Jason and the Red Hood, that takes into account the changed sensibilities of comics readers in the 30 years since Jason's death and the subtle, 20 year, retroactive campaign to make him the "bad Robin". The "born bad" trope is played out and literally no one likes the message it implies. That some kids are just bad eggs and there's nothing parents or the adults around them can do. Especially when it's played as the kid's fault. If Jason's time as Robin is going to be characterized by anger, then it should be rooted in anger at the social injustices he witnessed as he grew up in an impoverished, crime-ridden, area and the horrors he faced raising himself when every day was a battle for survival. There are topical, meaningful, stories to tell with that backdrop.

But those are never the stories we get.

⚠⚠ Spoilers for Batman: Urban Legends, Cheer ⚠⚠

I'm particularly disappointed in Urban Legends because for the first issue, it looked like that was the kind of story we were going to get. I was put off by the first flashback of Jason being mesmerized by Bruce's guns, and I got that feeling in my gut that it was a bad sign. Jason depicted as impatient and overconfident and the scene with the guns is heavy-handed foreshadowing that got my spidey-sense tingling. I had a inkling then (in the first three pages) of how this story was going to play out, but it was early and I could still see many narrative paths that could lead to a satisfying story. My concerns were soothed somewhat and the little flame of my hope fanned, with the flashback of Alfred scolding Bruce, with Barbara's concern for Jason. A bit of worry returned with the way Jason ruthlessly pursued an addict who didn't appear to be a dealer and with the ending of the issue. The stuff with the addict sat wrong with me but the ending was tempered some by how despicable Tyler's dad was written. The scene was clearly set so that the reader could sympathize with Jason's decision and the scene with the addict could be brushed aside as a side-effect of comics over-the-top need for constant action, so I still held hope.

Issue 2 made me uncomfortable and it's where my hope starts to take a backseat to my expectations. I can dismiss Jason's self-deprecating internal monologue as unreliable narration, except that the flashback reinforces his thought process to explicitly show that it's not unreliable narration, and should be taken at face value. Jason faces physical abuse at the hands of his mother's drug dealer and when the flashback continues later, Jason kills the drug dealer. To be clear, this is a pre-Bruce Jason. His mom is still alive. He's like... 10. He kills this guy for shoving his head into a wall and implying Jason's mother paid for her drugs with sex. This is a scene that serves a single purpose. To show that Jason has always been prone to violence.

In the spirit of full disclosure, there is the small chance the drug dealer might not be dead. But the story obviously wants the reader to think he is, and it hasn't done anything to change that yet.

Starlin already did this story with The Diplomat’s Son in 1988 and he did it infinitely better. AND that’s still technically canon. So now I’m supposed to believe that Jason lost his cool bad enough to kill two douche bags before his sweet 16? Like it’s totally normal for abused kids raised in poverty, who’ve led hard and heartbreaking lives to just... haul off and kill people? That’s bullshit, and when taken with the Jason in the third issue, who is little more than an idiot thug, this story is really doubling down on some fucked up stereotypes.

Which brings us to the most recent issue. I went into this installment with very low expectations. I thought this story was going to be about Jason, through this experience with Tyler, a young boy with a similar background to Jason's, coming to the realization that Bruce's way is the best way and that Bruce did his best by Jason.

That would be annoying (in no small part because it takes increasingly absurd levels of plot armor to keep Bruce's no kill rule relevant, let alone irrefutably right). But I can probably live with that, if only because maybe if Jason officially falls back into line with the Bats crusade, maybe I'll get stories that treat him with respect, stories that don't relegate him to comic relief, dumb brute, or a background body with no lines in a story about the Joker burning Gotham (like Jason would just fucking stand there quietly for that).

And that may still be where the story is going, Jason realizing Bruce is right.

But holy shit do I not have the right words to describe how fucking insulting and gross issue three is.

From start to finish--including the flashback--Jason is written as cruel and fucking stupid. Like straight up dumb.

The entire issue is Bruce explaining the fucking basics to Jason like it's his first day. And Jason flies off the fucking handle and terrorizes a doctor he knows isn't a part of making the Cheerdrops, beats the shit out of some random addicts, and finally, when he can't accomplish anything on his own because he's a dumb brute he calls Barbara for help and rushes in with no information where he's promptly incapacitated and must now wait to be rescued by Batman.

This panel is the least of the issues sins but I can’t screenshot the entire story but it’s representative of the tone for the whole issue (and retroactively tainted the prior two issues).

This is beyond insulting. The only conclusions Jason comes to in this issue are the ones Bruce leads him to by talking to him like he can’t make the simplest connections. And like... in this story Jason can’t make the simplest connections.

This (and the Jason throughout the entirety of this issue) is a far cry from the Jason we fell in love with in Under the Red Hood, who was competent and strategic and intelligent enough to seize control of Gotham’s underworld from Black Mask (who’s no fucking slouch, he’s the first and only person to unify organized crime in Gotham) AND elude and manipulate Bruce until the time and place of his choosing.

This is a far cry from even the Red Hood and the Outlaws Jason who is competent enough to fight the League of Shadows and Ra’s al Ghul (among very dangerous and skilled others) and smart enough to create antidotes for mind control nanotech viruses.

As he should be, by the way. Jason Todd is one of the best, most comprehensively trained fighters in DC’s stable of non powered vigilantes. He’s not irrational or hot headed. He’s pragmatic, tactically minded, and patient. He’s a detective. Right now. Has been since he was 12. Bruce doesn’t have to make him one because he already is. 

Jason is not a stupid thug who uses his fists because his brain doesn’t work. And I can’t tell you how so very exhausted I am by this narrative. 

This is actually the most egregious example of Jason’s skills and intelligence being not just undermined but dismissed entirely. Even Morrison’s Jason had some degree of competency. 

The one, single redeeming factor of this story is the art. It’s beautiful. And Marcus To is a godsend he seems to be one of only a couple of artists who remember that Jason was a child when he was Robin and I’m literally only buying this book because of him. 

Anyway, I’m sorry. I didn’t want that to come out so... um... passionately lol. I’m just very very tired. My intention with this isn’t to ruin it for you, if you like it, that’s fine. 

But this issue shot this story to the top of my "Vehemently Despise” list. 1) Batman: Urban Legends (Cheer), 2) Battle for the Cowl/Morrison’s Batman and Robin, 3) Batman The Adventure Continues.

I hope the next issues somehow salvage this dumpster fire. But I’m not expecting it.

(Damnit. That sounded harsh again. To reiterate, I’m not trying to judge anyone who enjoys it, I just personally hate it and you asked me why lol 😅)

[hopelesshunny]

the love languages part ii: physical touch (f.w.)

pairing: fred weasley x fem!reader

summary: fred has always felt the need to touch y/n and after a drunken night he realizes he can't sleep without her.

warnings: very, very light profanity, drinking/underage drinking, kissing, bed sharing.

word count: 2.4k

a/n: my second instalment is here - i did in fact say i would wait until monday but i was really excited to write this one!! i am so grateful for all the love i have received on this series so far, i cannot thank you guys enough. i still feel like i have a ways to go in improving my writing - but as always my ask is open if you have comments, questions, concerns, luv or just wanna chat:)

*all photos are from pinterest*

series masterlist // part i // part iii // part iv

For as long as Y/N had known Fred he had always been touchy. Fred’s need to constantly touch her was never unwelcomed, she relished in the way he’d wrap an arm around her shoulders when he’d walk her to class or how he’d lean into her when he laughed uncontrollably. However, she had always assumed that he was like this with everyone he was friends with, that he just needed to touch people in some way in order to feel close to them. This was very true but Y/N never knew that it was her touch that he craved the most, that as soon as he saw her, he longed to feel the soft skin of her cheek, the way her shoulders shook when she laughed or the rise and fall of her chest while he laid on her stomach in the common room, gentle sighs leaving her mouth every so often.

Fred couldn’t count on two hands the amount of times he almost told Y/N his feelings for her, the words sat on his tongue so often that he was starting to believe that they felt more comfortable in his mouth which is why they never launched themselves into the air. He didn’t know why he couldn’t force the confession out, there was always just a cloud of doubt and fear that swarmed his mind whenever the thought presented itself. But alas, here he was sitting across from her watching her flip her hair over her shoulder and let out a light laugh as she found whatever George was saying quite amusing.

“Y/N! You have to come, you literally can’t miss a party like this!” George practically shouted, a shocked look on his face.

“I’m so behind on my studies.” Y/N started, resting her chin on her hands. “I’ll be practically chained to the library all weekend as is, I can’t go to a party.”

“Y-You’re not coming tonight?” Fred questioned, his eyes hopeful as if he had heard the conversation wrong.

“Sorry Freddie.” She pouted. “You can tell me all about it at breakfast tomorrow.” At that Fred reached across the table to run his finger across her knuckles, relishing in the way her skin felt under his calloused fingertip, he couldn’t help but let his mind wander to how they would feel against his lips. However, he was pulled out of his daydream by the sound of George making gagging noises to the side of him as Y/N giggled.

“In that case I’ll have to drink a little extra.” He threw a wink her way. “To make sure I don’t bore you back to sleep tomorrow morning.”

“You never bore me, Trouble.” She smiled before saying her goodbyes to the rest of the table and making her way to the library. The nickname brought a gentle smile to his face, it was the first thing she’d ever called him. During her first year Y/N had been studying in the common room when the twins busteled in, laughing and hollering about another successful prank. When she asked what they were so excited about, the two boys were more than happy to explain, Fred wildly acting out the look on Snape’s face before George asked her name and introduced himself in response. Before Fred even had the chance to open his mouth to follow suit she stopped him.

“You sound like trouble, that’s what I’ll call you.”

George laughed at his twins new-found nickname but it made Fred’s heart swell - the fact that she had specifically given him a special name, the smile on her face when she said it and the way she never left their side since that day, produced a swarm of butterflies in his stomach. Now, here he was, years later, with the same girl, same nickname, same smile and the same butterflies.

Fred kept his promise to Y/N, he was drunk, very, very drunk. He stumbled through the Gryffindor common room, his feet feeling like they were trying to carry him off in different directions until he finally found an armchair to ground himself with. Plopping himself down into the chair he looked out into the crowd of people, some laughing others whispering, couples hanging off each other, it made him miss Y/N. If she was here she’d be sitting next to him, his arm slung around her shoulder as she giggled over the way he slurred his words and she’d always made sure he got to bed safely before finding her way to her own room. Fred groaned as George sat in the chair across from him, pushing a glass of water towards him, causing his twin to chuckle at his annoyed state.

“At least you’ll have something funny to tell Y/N in the morning.” He laughed. “Tell her all about how your drunk ass could barely walk straight.” Fred leaned his head back on his neck.

“I should go see her.” He spoke quietly, just loud enough to convince himself of the idea but hopefully not loud enough for George to hear. He knew that his drunken state failed him however, when his brother quirked an eyebrow at him.

“And do what? Spill your guts?” George chuckled. “Either by finally telling her you’re bloody in love with her or literally?” This earned another groan from Fred as he shot daggers at him.

“That’s it.” Fred started, chugging the glass of water that was placed in front of him. “I’m going.”

“Best of luck mate.” George spoke as he watched Fred stumble his way through the crowd.

“Where’s he going?” Ron asked, suddenly appearing by his brother's side.

“On a death mission.” George responded.

Fred let out a sigh of relief when he finally made his way out of the common room and began the trek towards her dorm room. But his mind was running rampant, what if George was right? What if he was just better off going to bed? Maybe she wouldn’t want to see him, she was probably tired from studying all night and the last thing she wanted was him keeping her up. But despite his doubts his feet still carried him towards her, the walk was sobering, which he would need if he planned on getting a coherent sentence out when he finally made his way to her.

“Y/N?” He called softly when he opened her room door, trying his very best to keep quiet to not wake her roommates. He recognized her frame immediately, bundled under bed sheets, her hair messy and lips slightly parted. He stood over her, watching the way her chest rose and fell as soft breathes left her mouth. “Y/N.” He spoke again, shoving his hands in his pockets, fearing her reaction to his sudden visit. Her eyes shot open but when they found his, her face softened, a small smile forming.

“You scared me, Trouble.” She laughed lightly. “Are you okay?” She asked, the concern that laced her voice made him have to restrain from kissing every square inch of her face.

“I’m okay, just a little drunk.” He hiccuped, his response earning a bright smile from her as she scooted to the side and patted the bed, signially for him to sit next to her. He graciously accepted her offer, his hand immediately finding her knee, needing to touch her. She leaned into his touch as he slurred on about how Ron tried to flirt with Hermione but failed miserably and how red Harry turned when George dared him to kiss Ginny. Neither of them could remember falling asleep, they were too caught up in each other's whispered stories and soft giggles.

When Fred woke the next morning, his head pounding, his legs feeling as if they had carried him across the entire country, he looked down to find his best friend fast asleep on his chest. Y/N’s arms were wrapped tightly around his middle with his hand tangled in her hair as she shifted slightly on top of him. He felt like he should panic and apologize for last night’s antics but she looked so peaceful and he was so close to her that he couldn’t bring himself to worry about barging into her room at who knows what time.

“Mornin’ Trouble.” She spoke, her voice groggy and flooded with sleep. “How are you feeling?” She asked genuinely, pulling herself from his embrace to stretch her arms above her head, making him curse himself for ever moving and waking her.

“I’ve been much better.” He groaned, sliding his hands down his face. “Guess I don’t have to fill you in on last night's events at breakfast anymore.”

“No, you did a sufficient job of that last night.” She giggled. “But we can still go to breakfast, you need to eat something.” Y/N pulled him out of her bed, still fully clothed in what he was wearing the night before.

He grumbled his way through breakfast as George and Ron cracked jokes about how drunk and lovesick he was, Fred throwing warning looks their way as Y/N laughed seeming unbothered by the way they were pulling her into they’re jokes, taking it all as a way to poke fun at Fred. But his head was still swimming, the feeling of her weight on top of him and her hands pressed against his chest, all he wanted was to be back in that position again. He couldn’t get it out of his head for the rest of the day and no matter how many times he attempted to distract himself from her that night as he lied in bed his mind kept travelling back to Y/N. He lay awake staring at the ceiling thinking about how empty his arms felt without her in them - she was addicting, he had always known that, since the moment he met her he had not been able to pull himself away from her. But now he was in too deep, he needed to be there with her.

So, here he was, in his pyjamas, on his way to her dorm room once again, all shame and guilt left long behind, just needing to be near her. Fred padded into her room, his hands rooted in his pockets once again, fully expecting to have to wake her just as he did the night before. But she was wide awake, sitting on her bed, a novel clasped in her fingers, a smile forming on her face when he came into her line of vision.

“Did you miss me?” She teased, as he ran a hand through his hair, rocking on his heels.

“Can’t sleep.” He mumbled. “Was wondering if you were still up.” He said, offering her a grin.

“Well then Trouble, you’re in luck.” She smirked, moving to allow space for him to lie next to her. Fred laid his head in her lap as she turned her attention back to the book in her hand while the other snaked its way into his hair. All the trouble sleeping that had been previously plaguing him melted away with her nails lightly scratching his scalp.

Over the course of the next week Fred and Y/N fell into this routine, he would lay away in his bed before eventually giving into the knowledge that he could not sleep without her any longer before he would make his way to her room, crawl into bed beside her and fall into the soundest sleep that has ever graced him. In the beginning, he was apprehensive, worried that she would reject him at some point and tell him that she wanted to sleep alone. But she never did, every night she shot him a warm smile and opened her arms to him. As the week went on his worries morphed themselves into something new however, he was no longer concerned about her rejecting his company but that she would instead reject his feelings for her. That she would eventually realize that he was in love with her and tell him that she never felt that way about him and was just trying to be a good friend.

“I don’t think I can sleep without you anymore.” Fred spoke into the darkness of the room, his voice audibly shaking, the silence that filled the space causing his stomach to turn.

“Mhmm.” Y/N started, tightening her grasp on him. “I can’t complain, you’re a great pillow.” He let out a light laugh, rubbing small circles in her back.

“It’s true.” He spoke, more seriously. “I haven’t been able to sleep at all lately, but as soon as I get into your bed, I’m out.” She sighed. “They must have better beds in the girls dorms.” He added, which earned a giggle from her.

“I don’t know about the quality of the beds, maybe it’s who's in it.” She spoke, her voice quiet as she bit her lip now regretting her sudden burst of confidence. Fred was silent for a moment before he spoke, a deep breath filling his lungs before he had the nerve to confess to her.

“I always thought that the reason I always had to touch you was because I liked to feel close to people. But it’s different with you.” He shifted to look at her. “I need to touch you, need to feel your skin. Fuck Y/N, I just want to hold your hand in front of everybody and kiss you in between classes and fall asleep next to you every night.” He searched her face looking for any sense of emotion but all he could find was her typical soft smile. “It’s just that I-I-” He started.

“I love you too Fred.” She cut him off, placing her palm against his cheek, he turned into her touch despite the shock that was lacing his features.

“You what?” He said, a giggle falling from her mouth as she clasped her hand over her mouth in an attempt to save him some pride.

“The first night you came to my room, after you left the party, you kept saying you loved me in your sleep.” He groaned at her confession. “I was worried it was just drunk babbles but-”

“But I do love you.” He finished. “I’ve loved you for years.”

“I love you too, Trouble.” She giggled, placing a long awaited kiss to his lips.

taglist (join here!!)

@onlyfreds @fandomhideout @lilypad-55449 @youngblood199456 @thanxxskz

[maxwell-grant]

You have done an (excelent) post on how to reinvent Batman as a Pulp Hero. Do you think you could do one to Superman as well? Or do you think it is impossible to do this with the progenitor of the Super Hero genre without transforming him in a totaly diferent character?

Well, you saying it as impossible only makes it seem ever more tempting of a challenge, but yes, it is a bit harder. I'm gonna link my Batman post here as a reference point.

Partially because Batman's a franchise I've thought extensively about for a long time in regards to what I like about it or how I'd like to approach if given the opportunity, which is not something I can really say for Superman until more recently the Big Blue to start orbiting my brain. I don't have years worth of redesigns or fan concepts saved on my galleries and files to comb through to pick and choose here, and my experience with Superman as a character is considerably different, in some aspects more deeply personal, and not really something I'd like to go into in this blog, at least not now.

Part of the reason why it's harder is also because Batman and Superman have very different relationships with their pulp inspirations. Batman was, ostensibly, a pulp character adapted to comics, a dime-a-dozen Shadow knock-off who picked up and played up diverging traits from other characters and gradually ran with them to gradually forge a unique identity. Superman right from the start was rooted in a much stronger conceptual underpinning: the Sci-Fi Superman and Alien Menace who, instead of being a tragic monster or a tyrannical villain, becomes a costumed adventurer and social crusader. Even the name Super-Man was taken from an early story of Siegel and Shuster about a telepathic villain who ends the story lamenting that he should have used his powers for the good of mankind instead of selfishness. I hesitate to call what Siegel and Shuster were doing “subversive” because that term's picked up a real negative connotation, and it's not like Siegel and Shuster were out to upend their influences (they were pulp aficionados themselves), but rather putting a more positive, new spin on them.

Which is why it also becomes a bit harder to do what I did with Batman and align Superman with some of his pulp-esque inspirations, like John Carter, Flash Gordon or Hugo Danner, without just making it "Superman but he's John Carter", "Superman but it's Flash Gordon", and "Iron Munro / Superman but everything sucks" respectively. It's harder to create a character that wouldn't feel reduntant and derivative at best, and actively contradictory to Superman at worst.

I guess if I had to come up with a "Pulp Hero Superman" take I liked, well first of all I'd have to take steps to distance it from the likes of Tom Strong or Al Ewing's Doc Thunder, those two are as good as it gets in regards to Pulp Supermen. I stipulated for Batman a "No Guns, No Murder, No Service" policy partially to distance my takes on Batman from all the "Pulp Batmen" that just add guns and murder and take Batman back to the barest of basics. Likewise, I'm adding a "No Depowered Science Hero" rule here, which means it's a take that's likely going to veer off a lot more into fantasy and probably enough tampering with Clark's character that it does risk becoming a different character.

Frankly I don't think I'm gonna succeed at doing these without just making it a new character entirely, because with Batman you can get away with just upending the character's aesthetic and setting and even origin and still keep it recognizably Bruce Wayne (in fact Batman does that all the time), which isn't really the case with Superman, who needs those to remain recognizably Superman as he goes through internal changes and character shifts. I guess what I'm gonna do here is more taking the building blocks of Superman/Clark Kent and see a couple new ways I can rearrange them to create a Pulp Superman

Perhaps something we can do is to scale back or recontextualize the "superhero" parts without diminishing Superman's role as a superpowered fantasy character.

One way we can start is by picking on that connection between Superman and the sci-fi supermen/alien monsters of pulps I mentioned earlier and play it up further, to create a Superman who's deeply, deeply alien in a way that no mild-mannered disguise or colorful outfit can really disguise, something so dramatically powerful and alien, that instead you could get tales about the kinds of ensuing changes and ripple effects this has on the world upon the The Super-Man's arrival. And for that I'm gonna have to quote @davidmann95's concept for Joshua Viers' absolutely stunning Superman redesign on the left side of the image above

The red, the goldish-orange and white, the alienness, the angelic, sculpted feeling, the halo, that innocently curious expression: it’s genuinely beautiful. Superman as a redeeming science-angel from beyond our understanding, as much past the uncanny valley of limited human comprehension as a Lovecraftian monster but tuned to the opposite key - you could spend an endless procession of human lifetimes trying and failing to understand this being, but all you’ll ever know for sure is that it is beyond you, and it knows you, and it loves you.

Superdoomsday from Earth 45, healed and transformed into the savior it was originally envisioned as? Some descendant of his, or a future of the man himself? An alien who picked up on a broadcast of Superman from Earth, and so inspired reshaped itself in his image to spread his ‘gospel’ to the stars?

Alternatively, to come back to Earth a little, many, many pulp characters and series were built off the antics and personalities of real people, celebrities getting their own magazines or serials or fictionalized takes on them, so perhaps one way to make a "pulp" take on Superman would be to emphasize a bit more of Superman's real-world roots, trends that inspired his creation directly or indirectly at the time. The Jewish strongman Sigmund Breibart and Shuster's interest in fitness culture, Harold Lloyd's comic persona, the rising "strongman" film genre in the early 20th century, actors Clark Gable and Kent Taylor that supposedly named his secret identity, Clark Kent being a socially-awkward journalist based of Siegel's own school experiences.

Maybe one start to an authentic Pulp Superman, who would still be Superman, would be to just ask the question "What if Superman was a real person and/or a celebrity, and they started making pulp magazines and serials dedicated to him? What would those look like?". You wouldn't even have to restrict it to just a story set in the 1930s, in fact you could even play around with the rise of new mediums over the decades.

This third one is a little closer to some plans I have for my own take on a Superman character, not necessarily what I would do with Superman proper but one of my ideas for a Superman analogue. Superman's a character I'll always associate strongly with childhood and childhood fantasy, and to tap into that I would emphasize the other end of the fiction that influenced Siegel and Shuster: comic strips, in their case specifically Little Nemo and Popeye.

In my case I would bring additional influences from some of the comic strips I personally grew up reading like Monica's Gang and Calvin and Hobbes, and I already talked a bit about Captain Fray in terms of how he’s a Superman character despite being a villain. I guess you could call this one "What if Superman was a public domain comic strip character, stripped of the importance of being the founding figure of a super popular genre or extended universe, and also was kind of ugly?".

He's not "Sloth from the Goonies" ugly, I swear I didn't actually have Sloth in mind when typing out this idea, I've never watched that film nor did I know until now that he actually spends the film in a Superman shirt. That's not really what I'm going for. Visually I was thinking of modeling my take on Superman heavily after Hugo from Street Fighter and his inspiration Andre the Giant, to really emphasize the “circus strongman / freak wrestler” aspect of Superman’s inspiration, particularly in regards to how Hugo’s SFIII version strikes a really great balance in making Hugo ugly and both comedic and fearsome in battle, as well as lovable and even a little dopey (without being outright stupid, like his IV self) in his victory animations and endings.

He's still Superman, he still goes on fantastical adventures to help people, he's still a deeply loving and compassionate soul whose face beams with joy and affection and who's got wonderful eyes and a great smile. It's just that this smile has a couple of mismatched stick-out teeth or some missing ones, and he's got a crooked smile some people take as smug or malicious, he’s got a strongman’s gut instead of a bodybuilder’s abs, his nose is a little busted (maybe he’s had too many crash landings), and his hair is a little wild or greasy, and he doesn't exactly have very good people skills because of how others usually react to him and, y'know, he doesn't get the kind of publicity Superman would get despite doing ostensibly the same things. He’s not deformed, he’s incredibly intelligent and capable, but in comparison to how superheroes are usually allowed to look, he might as well be Bizarro in the public eye.

It becomes a running gag that people tend to assume some nearby fireman or cop was the one who rescued the hundred orphans out of a burning building single-handedly, meanwhile he's getting accosted off-panel by police officers who think he set the building on fire, or think they can bully this weird man dressed funny. He goes to rescue old people in peril and occasionally they yell at him that they don't have any money. He doesn't get asked to lead superhero meetings or teams even though many in the community advocate for just how much he does for the world, he gets censored out of tv broadcasts or group shots (even his face is sometimes pixelated when they do show him), people invite him on talk shows and don't really let him talk or assume they got the wrong guy. He goes to rescue a woman dangling off a building, and then he gets attacked by like three different superhero teams who assume he must have kidnapped the poor damsel. He was the first superhero, he is the strongest of them all still, but he never really gets credit for it, it nor does he even want to. None of this at all stops him or deters him, except for some occasionally funny reactions.

This never really changes for him, he doesn't really earn people's approval nor does he have to, instead the stories, outside of the gags and adventures you’d expect from a comic strip, veer more towards others learning to be less judgmental and him learning ways to better approach people. He isn't any lesser than Superman just because he doesn't look like most people would want him to look and he doesn't have to look like Superman. Really I think we could use more superheroes that don’t look all so uniformly pretty.

Again, probably not a take that would work for Clark proper, but it’s one way I would take a shot at doing Superman with my own

I have other stuff in the works for this character but I'd like to keep them to better work on them for now, but yeah, these are three of my shots at developing a Pulp Superman.

Alternatively here's a fourth idea that's more pulp than all of these: Join up Nicholas Cage with Panos Cosmatos again, or whatever weird indie director he decides to pair up with next, and let them do whatever the hell they want with Superman. Give us Mandy Superman. Superman vs The Color Out of Space. Superman vs Five Nights at Freddy's. Superman’s quest to find THE LAST PIG OF KRYPTON. Anything goes.

[angelguk]

Omg pleaseee write the jock jk playboy bunny costume idea u had 🙌🏼🙌🏼🙌🏼😩😩💗💗

lemme do a quick little thing 4 u :)

featuring: oc and jk being dumb lovers, chayoung  (the female lead from vincenzo) as seed of doubt, anniversaries and a playboy bunny costume. somewhat mature towards the end but only because jk see's sexy gf and cannot help himself.

This is a stupid idea, so incredibly stupid that you're considering jumping out of the bathroom window right now. A four-storey jump may result in various injuries (or potentially death) but it would be a far more welcomed out come than leaving Jeongguk's bathroom in this stupid costume.

You don't know why you bothered to listen to Chayoung's drunken blabbering. The moment you'd mentioned your upcoming one-year anniversary she's launched into a spiel about how young love never lasts, or how the roots for future foreboding break-ups were planted during the first anniversary. Her words sowed a dangerous seed in your head, one that was nurtured by Jeongguk's sudden distance. You could tell he was stressed, weighed down by the daunting options before him. Coach wanted to push him to try for the national leagues, his parents wanted him to take a step back and focus on his degree, and Jeongguk, after one quiet evening at yours, had confessed he didn't know what he wanted at all. It hurt to see him like this, usually such a sure and confident soul suddenly staggering and lost. But what could you do apart from hold his hand as he walked forward and help him up when he fell? There was nothing else you could offer, you knew his parents and their concerns were sensible but those same concerns made Jeongguk wonder if they ever believed in him in the first place.

So maybe that's why you're doing this, in hopes of rekindling a spark you feel dying and taking Jeongguk's mind away from everything that burdened him – just for one night.

It's oddly quiet in his room. You'd scuttled right into the bathroom the moment you'd picked him up from practise, complaining that you needed to shower before you commenced your usual shared evenings. Jeongguk had just nodded, quiet and mulling, his eyes absent. It had made something twist in your gut. The whole entire day, from the moment you woke up to right now Jeongguk had not mentioned one thing about your anniversary – not even a text or a bouquet no matter how subtly you hinted. It hurt, but it was proof Chayoung was right. And perhaps the only think that could fix this ship before it sunk was her stupid, stupid idea.

You can only stare at yourself in brief swift glances, grimacing every time you catch the reflection of those white ears standing at attention on top of your head. The fluffy tail attached to the back of the costume was making your butt itch too. Even with those criticisms you knew deep down that you looked good... Surprisingly so. The body of the costume was black satin, shimmering under the luminescence of the bathroom lights. It fit perfect over each curve and roll, hugging your waist just right. Coupled with a pair of fishnets and the fact that your boobs looked exceptionally great today (perks of ovulating) you were a sight to behold.

So even if Chayoung is irritating as hell you had to give some props to her.

"Y/N?" The knock that follows it startles you, sending you lurching forward hard enough that your hip bangs against the counter-top.

"Y-yes?"

"Are you okay?" He sounds tired through the wood, weathered away despite his concerns.

"Hmm? Yes, I'm good–I'm good. Just give me a sec."

A pause, you hope you locked the door because normally Jeongguk would have barged in not bothering to knock.

"Okay. Hurry up though I'm hungry and I ordered food. It's here and if you don't come out I'll eat it all."

"Already? It's here?" God, how are you going to disrupt Jeongguk's chicken nights with a playboy bunny costume?

He makes a noncommittal noise. "Yep. So hurry, I'll really eat all of this if you don't come out soon."

The handle burns your palm when you finally grip it, tummy swimming like you've chugged a series of vodka shots. Jeongguk should like this, right? He calls you bunny all the time, even Chayoung had noticed it (hence the horrifying costume you were currently donning). So wouldn’t he like it? And it was a cute little anniversary surprise, at least you were doing something unlike Jeongguk.

You take in one deep last breath, heart pounding in your head, before you twist and handle and swing the door open, a forced sneaky smile slipping onto your lips.

It falls right off the moment your eyes land on Jeongguk's bedroom.

Either he's the fucking Flash or you've been camped in the bathroom for too long because somehow he's managed to turn his messy room into a perfect romantic dinner spot. He's got the lights turned on to a low rouge, lit candles scattered around the place (which is a fire hazard but the warmth blossoming in your heart is ignoring that), a couple cushions on the floor flanking a heart shaped picnic basket where you dinner presumably resides. And then you glance down, something bright bursting in your chest when you see the red petals lining your path from the bathroom right to the picnic set up.

His back is turned to you, his phone in hand which he abruptly presses on. A melody fills the room a moment later, the song low and familiar. You know that song, that's your song.

Jeon Jeongguk will be the death of you.

"Now if–fucking hell." Jeongguk turns before you can stop him, the grin on his lips evaporating when his gaze lands on you

Oh. Oh. You wilt in a second, floundering against the bathroom door frame in a attempt to hide you bare (and bunny costume covered) body.

The silence that follows is unbearable, sinking deep into your gut as guilt rises to the surface. Jeongguk planned all of this and all you did was wear a stupid sexy costume.

"I–" You start, but his brain must of started working at the same time as yours because he catches that sentence with his own statement.

"You–" It's coated with disbelief, and your tongue gets caught in your throat when he exhales heavily, head falling into his hand. You watch with a sore heart as his fingers comb through the loose chestnut curls, tugging and yanking at his scalp as if his brain was falling to pieces.

"Jeongguk," you finally murmur, meekly padding forward, the shame you feel eating you inside out. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to ruin this. I'll change just give me a second."

His head snaps up when you say that, gaze sharp, almost terrifying as he surveys. "Why should you change?"

"W-what?"

"I said," he rises then, slowly moving forward as if not to startle you, his eyes never straying from your body. "Why should you change?"

"Because I look dumb," you return. "And I ruined your great anniversary surprise with my stupid one."

You only notice it then, how his jaw ticks, his head tilting to the side slow. Like he's holding himself back.

"You think you look dumb?" The question itself is innocent but the tone Jeongguk delivers it in is not. You can feel the words in your throat clumping together the longer he looks at you like that, his doe eyes different – dark and spilling with something that has you quivering, your eyes shifting away.

"Answer my question." A firm but gentle hand on your chin, guiding your gaze back to his.

"Yes." It's silent in his room, the low hum of the song bleeding into the thumping of your heart against your ribs.

"Why would my baby look dumb wearing a bunny costume? Huh? It's fitting actually, since you are my bunny."

"Yeah," you try and lighten it was a small laugh, noting the way Jeongguk is staring at your lips. "But this was dumb anniversary surprise. Yours is much better."

You see it click in his head then, like he wasn't hearing a single word you were saying before.

"You did this for me?" Jeongguk questions, eyes dipping to your chest.

"Obviously, who else would I do this for."

"No–I meant, this, this is for me? This was meant to be a surprise for me?"

"Yes," you repeat. "I'd do anything for you. Now let me take this silly thing off so we can have dinner first." You twist away then, but Jeongguk snatches you right back, your frame colliding with his solid chest, firm massive arms holding you in place. The squeak that erupts from your lips lands into tight air, a sudden tension thrumming in your veins. Jeongguk's hard against your ass, erection grazing the downy tail attached to the base of the costume. There's a palm placed steady around your neck, trapping you against his while his other hand idly explores, sparking little fires along your skin as it journeys from your chest down to your stomach before settling right between your thighs.

There's nothing in your head except how massive he feels behind you, wandering hand gentle but eager a certain roughness appearing when his lithe fingers press through the fabric, toying with your clothed clit. It's a promise for what's to come, judging by the quiet groan that melts into your skin from his throat as his hips buck into you.

"You don't know what you do to me do you?" It's whispered softly, mimicking the ginger kiss he places on your hollow of your throat.

If you could think sensible words you would speak but right now everything is loud and roaring and words feel to heavy for your tongue. So you hum instead, whimpering when his fingertips circle your clit.

You can feel the smile on his lips. Hear it in what he says next.

"I should show you then, shouldn't I?"

[wild-karrde]

Reunion - Part 26

Master List | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

A/N: ALRIGHT, IT'S TIME. Extra special shoutout to @teletraan-meets-jarvis for beta-reading this and helping me make sure I stuck the landing on this chapter here. Never could have done it without you! ONE MORE CHAPTER TO GO!

Rex breathed a sigh of relief as the emerald orb that was Yavin 4 became larger in the viewport as he and Gregor made their approach to the moon. It had been an arduous week, but he felt that he and Gregor had at least been able to come up with a plan.

We’ll start in the mountains on Fest and go from there. If we need to move, we’ve got plenty of other options. Lah’mu, Seelos, Maridun, Quell. There are plenty of places to hide.

He’d spent every night comming Senna, whether it was just a message or taking a walk to speak with her for a few moments. It was the part of the day Rex most looked forward to, and as much as he missed her at times, he couldn’t deny it was better than the time he’d been without her.

To Rex, it almost felt as though taking the next step would bring him closer to the day he and Senna would be reunited. He knew Wolffe would require patience, but with the doubling of his remaining lifespan, he suddenly felt as though patience would be an easy ask. He knew Wolffe. His brother would recover, and when he did, Rex and Senna would start their life together, whatever that looked like.

We have a plan. We can do this. She’s right, it will be better than it was. We can do this.

He wasn’t so disillusioned as to think that there wouldn’t be times that would be difficult, nights where he’d miss her so bad his heart would ache. But he’d taken time to consider where he’d been a year ago, lying awake and wondering if she was alright, if she was safe, if she ever thought of him. Now, they’d be counting the hours together, comming frequently, seeing each other as much as they could.

A marked improvement.

In a way, Rex found he was grateful for the time he and Senna had spent apart. It gave him a perspective on their current plan that made it easier when compared to what they’d already endured.

Just one last thing to take care of though.

He’d had Gregor make a stop on the way back at a metal worker’s shop on Naboo, and he hoped Senna would like the idea he’d come up with. Now, as Gregor piloted their ship into the upper atmosphere, he ran his thumb over the identical metal bands he’d had made that were resting in his pocket, smiling to himself.

Senna was waiting for him on the tarmac as Gregor set the ship down, and he couldn’t help but grin as she jogged towards him, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her lips to his before settling back on her heels and gazing up at him.

“Good trip?” she asked.

“Yeah. Yeah, I think so. We’ve got a place and a few back-ups scouted just in case.”

“Whereabouts?”

“Fest.”

He could see her smile falter for just a second, as if hearing the name of the place that he’d be made it more real to her, but her smile was back in place before he could really register the flicker of emotion, almost so quickly that he could have fooled himself into thinking he imagined it.

“Cold there, isn’t it?” she asked.

“It is, but that makes it fairly uninhabited. Plenty of places up in the mountains for us to hide out and stay out of the way.”

“A great place to brew spotchka,” Gregor cackled from behind them. “There’s a root that grows in those mountains that I’ve heard makes it even more potent.” He winked as Senna rolled her eyes, giving her shoulder an affectionate squeeze before stepping past the couple and heading towards the base entrance, his rucksack slung over his shoulder.

“Good luck with that,” Senna joked. “You and Wolffe will undoubtedly be his test subjects.”

“We’ll see about that,” Rex replied. “Don’t think my gut can take too many trials.”

Senna hummed thoughtfully, slipping her hand into his as the two of them started walking back towards the base, following after Gregor. Rex noted a flurry of activity, people carrying crates towards one of the main temples. He turned to Senna, raising an eyebrow inquisitively.

“And what exactly have you been up to in my absence?”

She flushed slightly, grinning. “Well, you know how we talked about making things official before you leave?”

Rex returned her smile. “I do recall that conversation.”

“Well, I may have said something to Omega about it, and well, she and Sabé kind of took the idea of wedding planning and ran with it. I’ve been consulted for some input, but for the most part, have somewhat left the judgment up to them. There’s a few things we’re still figuring out, but uh, if you’re still interested in getting married, we’re a few rotations away from having a good place to do it.”

Rex halted, reaching into his pocket and pulling out the metal bands he’d had made. “I’d say my thinking is along the same lines as yours.”

Senna inhaled sharply at the sight of the bands before she reached out and took the smaller of the two, examining the ring in the sunlight. “Where did you have these made?”

“Had Gregor stop over on Naboo. I…I know that hasn’t been your home since you were a toddler, but I thought it would be a good place to have these forged. The artisan was very accommodating.”

“Where did you get the metal?” she asked, holding the band up to the light. “It…it looks like…some kind of alloy? You’ve clearly got some duralium in there for the bluish color, but at least one other thing.”

Rex smirked. “Do you remember that piece of scrap you left on my pillow on Alderaan that I hung on to?”

Senna’s eyes widened before they misted over slightly. “You…you had it forged into these?”

“I did. I was assured that the duralium would make very durable jewelry. Something even you can’t scratch or bend.”

Senna chuckled, wiping at her eyes with her thumb quickly. “It…that’s perfect, Rex.”

“I also have a chain I purchased. I know you may not want to wear it on your finger since…well since that hand is metal, but if you want to, you can wear it around your neck that way.”

Senna huffed and sniffled. “You’ve really thought of everything, haven’t you?”

Rex slipped his hand under her chin, tilting her face up to meet his. “Not everything, but I assume you’ve got the rest handled.” Leaning down, he kissed her gently, and he felt her melt into it. They separated after a few moments, Senna resting her forehead against his as she glanced down at the ring in her hand again.

“We’re really doing this, huh?” she said quietly.

“No one I’d rather do it with.”

She grinned, her blue eyes meeting his amber ones.

“Me either.”

---

A few rotations later, Rex stood outside of the base, leaning against the wall and waiting for Senna. Most of the other rebels had already made their way down to the large temple pyramid and were now just waiting for the bride and groom. Rex tugged at the hem of his shirt again, re-tucking it into his slacks for what felt like the hundredth time. He’d never really pictured his own wedding, always operating under the assumption that he wasn’t likely to have one, but he certainly had never thought he’d be in just a clean shirt and trousers, his boots somewhat cleaner than they had been that morning, but far from what he considered acceptable. He wished he’d managed to keep his dress uniform from the war, but Order 66 hadn’t exactly left time for saving sentimental items.

He was glad he’d at least had a few mementos tucked into his utility belt when he and Ahsoka had managed to escape the Venator that day, and he carried some of those items in his pocket now: a smooth stone Tup had collected from one of their campaigns, this one a deep blue that had reminded him of their armor’s paint, the lucky tooka foot Jesse had pressed into his hand after he’d been promoted to commander for the Mandalore campaign, the credit chip he had carried after a promise to Cody. The 212th’s commander had carried one as well with the plan to buy each other an ale at the end of the war, but that time had never come. All items tied to memories of brothers long gone, but never far from his thoughts. He silently wished Gregor could have stayed, but his brother had insisted on taking Wolffe to their new home not too long after they’d returned and he’d received Tech’s treatment. It had taken him a rotation or two to recover from the side effects, but as soon as he’d felt more himself, he’d packed up one of the smaller freighters with Wolffe and headed out.

“Don’t want to keep him on ice too long,” Gregor had joked before resting his hand on Rex’s shoulder. “Take your time meeting us. I mean it.”

They’d taken Wolffe out of the medpod shortly before they left, keeping him subdued in a room. He’d refused the treatment, and no amount of convincing from any of his brothers had changed his mind. It had broken Rex’s heart, but Senna had tried to reassure him he may come around in time.

“He’s carrying a heavy burden right now, and he’s tired. Once you and Gregor have helped him work past that, he may be more amenable to sticking around longer, but no matter what, it’s his choice, and we have to honor that,” she’d whispered, stroking his head gently as they’d laid together on his ship that night. He knew she was right, but it still pained him greatly.

A shuffling sound and a deep sigh behind Rex drew him from his thoughts, and when he turned, he felt his heart leap into his throat, his mouth dropping open slightly.

Senna strode forward, her long, brown hair hanging in loose waves around her shoulders. She was wearing a stunning lace gown with loose sleeves that hung from her shoulders, belling out at her elbows. The lace pattern itself swirled and twisted down the length of the dress in a light gold color that sparkled in the late afternoon sun, giving way to a small train. It was beautiful, and he felt his face warm self-consciously at the realization of what he was wearing.

“You...you look beautiful,” he breathed.

She ducked her head, shrugging slightly. “It’s quite the dress, isn’t it? Sabé apparently had kept it, and um, figured it should get at least one more use.”

Rex swallowed hard. “It was Padmé’s?”

Senna nodded. “It was. Had to make some adjustments, make it longer, take the under sleeve off to accommodate my cybernetic, but not half bad, I don’t think.” She chuckled. “Wasn’t gonna wear the veil though. That thing was heavier than your helmet and kept getting tangled in my hair. Not worth the trouble.” Instead, Senna wore a flower crown Omega had made from blue and white flowers she’d found near the base interspersed with fern fronds. Sabé had managed to dig up a little bit of makeup, shading Senna’s eyelids with a brown color and rouging her cheeks slightly, although it was far from needed when she met Rex’s eyes and flushed brighter.

“You’re beautiful,” he repeated, stepping towards her. Something about knowing the dress was the one the senator had worn tugged at his heart strings, but above all, he was overwhelmed with the way Senna was looking at him.

The woman I’m about to marry. My wife.

“You don’t clean up so bad yourself,” Senna teased, leaning in to place a kiss on his cheek.

“I’m clearly underdressed,” he joked.

“Should I change?” she asked, raising a mischievous eyebrow.

“Absolutely not.”

“Good. It took me forever to wiggle into this thing. I’d hate to tell Sabé I need to get back out of it.” Running her fingers along the fabric, she smiled gently. “She really outdid herself with this.”

Rex couldn’t take his eyes off of her as she met his gaze. “She did.” He extended his elbow, and she tucked her hand into its crook. “Shall we?” he asked.

“We shall,” she returned, smiling up at him. The two of them made their way across the tarmac, walking through the temple’s main entrance, and moving quietly through the dark for a few meters until they stood behind a curtain of vines and foliage. Omega was waiting for them with Echo and Fives, practically dancing with excitement.

“Are you ready?” she asked.

“No turning back now,” Senna teased, giving her padawan a wink.

“I’ll go tell them,” Omega replied, turning to go, but before she disappeared around the corner, she paused. She turned, walking back towards them and wrapped her arms around the two of them, giving them a quick hug. Senna laughed before slipping her hand into Omega’s hair and giving it a playful ruffle.

“Thanks, kid,” Rex said quietly, and Omega gave him a nod before jogging away into the dark.

“Gentlemen,” Senna said, giving Echo and Fives a nod as they waited.

“You look beautiful,” Echo smiled at her.

“And Senna you look nice too,” Fives teased, and Echo gave his shoulder a nudge in response.

Soft flute music began playing from behind the screen of greenery, and Echo and Fives stepped back to frame the door. “That’s your cue, Cap,” Fives said quietly, winking at the two of them.

“Ready?” Rex asked, placing his hand atop Senna’s where it rested in the crook of his elbow.

“Absolutely,” she replied, leaning against him.

“Alright, don’t trip,” Fives joked as he and Echo both reached forward, pulling their half of the greenery aside to reveal the inside of the temple. Rex heard Senna gasp next to him.

The interior of the temple was illuminated by afternoon sunlight pouring in through the roof. Greenery hung from the walls, blooming with the same flowers that Omega had woven into Senna’s crown. A soft bed of fronds and flower petals had been laid down the center aisle for them to walk on. The entire base had turned out for the occasion, and all eyes turned towards the couple as they made their way towards the front of the room. The captain’s heart thundered in his chest with anticipation and emotion, his palms growing sweaty as he glanced at Senna again out of the corner of his eye. It was the most confident he’d ever seen her, as if every step she’d taken had led her to this moment, and right now, she was the most sure she’d ever been. It made his heart soar.

Rex carefully helped Senna climb the stone steps at the end, coming to a stop in front of the young woman that had volunteered to officiate. She smiled at the two of them as they turned and faced each other, clasping hands, and the room fell silent. Rex let out a light huff of a laugh as he realized Senna’s hand was as sweaty as his, and he tickled her palm slightly, making her squeeze his hand tighter. There was a warning in her gaze, but also a light that he hoped his memory would never forget. He wanted to forever remember how he felt in this moment and how she was looking at him.

As if I’m the only other person in the universe. As if I’m hers.

The officiant moistened her lips before she began, projecting her voice so that it would carry across those assembled. “These two people, Rex and Senna, have come here today to bond their lives to one another. Who among you will support them in this journey on which they are about to embark?”

Everyone stood, but a lump rose in Rex’s throat as Ahsoka, Omega, Hunter, Tech, Wrecker, Echo, and Fives all stepped forward to the base of the stairs. The young Togruta had come rushing back to the base when he’d told her of his and Senna’s plans, and now, taking her place next to his brothers, he fought the lump rising in his throat. Our family. He treasured their presence, but the absence of those he’d lost was stark as well. There were many who he’d hoped to be here on a day like this, but he was grateful for those he did have, standing by him and Senna. He felt a gentle squeeze on his fingers, returning his gaze to Senna as she smiled at him with tears in her eyes.

The officiant nodded, continuing. “Not all families are bonds of blood, and in times like these, the families that we find and hold are more precious than dying stars. It is one thing to be born into a family, but to choose to make one with another person is the greatest pledge one can give. Today, we celebrate the formation of a new family, one that shall go by the chosen name Atiniir.”

Senna huffed a laugh, but the tears that had been threatening finally spilled down her cheeks. It was Rex’s turn to squeeze her hands in comfort despite the emotion threatening to overwhelm him. It felt as though it had been so long since they’d chosen that name together, and here, finally, it was truly theirs.

I love you, he thought.

And I love you. So much. Her presence had never felt warmer in his mind, sending goosebumps breaking out across his arms as she reached out to him. Senna wiped her cheeks with her hand quickly before slipping it back into Rex’s as the officiant looked at Echo.

“Do you have the rings?”

Echo stepped forward, pulling the two small metal bands from his pocket and handing them to the officiant. Rex smiled at the mismatched metals.

Senna had hardly put her ring down in the rotations since he’d shown it to her. He’d encouraged her to try it on, but she’d turned him down every time.

“The first time I’m wearing this, I want it to be because youput it on my finger,” she teased. He knew she planned to wear it around her neck after today, using the chain he’d purchased for her. Rex however, intended to wear that ring on his left finger every day until he drew his last breath. The officiant took the rings from Echo, extending the first one out to Senna.

“A ring symbolizes the unbreaking bond between two people, the promise that you’re making to live and breathe as one, even when apart, to honor one another in the sunlight and hold onto each other in the dark. Do you, Senna, promise to love Rex unconditionally, to bond yourself to him and stand by him at his best times and his worst?”

Senna’s blue eyes met his, and she smiled as she gently took his hand and slipped the ring over his knuckles. “I promise.” Her fingers lingered against his, her thumb rubbing over the new band before giving his hand a slight squeeze.

He winked at her as the officiant handed him the other ring, repeating the vow for him.

“I promise,” he said, sliding the ring onto her finger over the Jaig eyes. It fit perfectly, and he felt a slight note of relief. He’d been certain he got the sizing right after tying twine around her finger while she slept next to him in the bunk on Kashyyyk, carrying the loop with him since then. He’d known then he couldn’t let her go again, that he was going to place a band on her finger if it was the last thing he’d do. He was glad to see it was the correct fit.

The officiant grinned. “Well, that’s that then. Short and sweet,” she said under her breath before straightening and projecting her voice loudly to carry to the audience once more. “I now present to you, this new family, formed in front of all of these witnesses on this day. Celebrate with them as they take the first steps on their new journey.”

Applause and cheers broke out as Rex slipped his arms around Senna’s waist and dipped her slightly, kissing her. She giggled against his lips as Fives whooped loudly and Omega shouted with excitement. As much as he wanted to keep kissing her, Rex showed some restraint, pulling her back up and slipping his hand into hers as they made their way back up the aisle, receiving congratulations and well-wishes as they went. She was holding his hand so tightly he was certain her knuckles must be white, but he didn’t want to let her go either. My wife. Her husband. The words continued to repeat in his mind as they made their way out of the temple. His brothers, Ahsoka, and Omega followed them, and he had to stifle a smile at Wrecker, who was blubbering loudly while Hunter tried to console him.

Stepping back out of the main entrance, Rex’s breath caught in his throat, and he heard Senna gasp next to him. Night had fallen outside, but the tarmac was lit up with strings of lights that had been strung between the ships, giving the entire area a soft glow. People were jogging back and forth to set out food and grab instruments, and as they stepped onto the duracrete, everyone circled around them as a soft tune began to play. Fives and Echo gave the couple a gentle nudge forward, and Rex glanced at Senna, holding out his hand, which she took, and the two of them began dancing with each other in the moonlight.

“I hate having this many people watching us,” she whispered against his cheek, and he chuckled softly.

“It’s fine. They’ll join in soon enough.” He glanced around before a thought struck him. “Do you remember the last time we danced together like this?”

Senna chewed her lip for a moment before her eyes lit up. “The festival on Lothal.”

“Yeah. I knew I was in love with you then,” he said quietly. “Knew I was in the most trouble I’d ever been in, and that I’d follow you to the end of the galaxy.” He kissed her temple. “I knew that there was nothing I wouldn’t do to feel like I felt in that moment forever.”

He felt her tremble in his arms, and he glanced down at her, finding her eyes glossy as she tucked her face against his chest. “I’m alright,” she promised. “We just…there was so much that got in the way, myself included, and now we’re here, and it’s so much better than I imagined.” She sighed, smiling through her tears. “You know, I didn’t know I loved you then, but the first night we kissed, pretending to be a married couple, I couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to do it for real. To have you kiss me and mean it. And when you did, I was so afraid, because then, I did know I loved you. I knew I was going to fight it because I thought it was a terrible idea, but Maker alive, I was never going to win.” Her eyes met his. “I’ve never been so happy to lose.”

Rex smirked, leaning down and pressing his lips to hers as the song ended. “And I’ve never been so happy to be a consolation prize.”

She playfully swatted his chest, and he tipped his head back and laughed as the onlookers poured onto the dance floor. “You’re far from a consolation prize, Rex Atiniir, and you know it.”

He pulled her closer, the world around them falling away as his lips brushed her ear.

“Say it again.”

He felt her melt into him. “I love you, Rex Atiniir.”

The sound of his new name, one that he’d chosen for himself and one that they’d chosen together, sent warmth shooting to his extremities, and for a moment, he had to bury his face in her hair to hide the tears that stung his eyes. She wrapped her arms around him tightly, stroking the back of his neck as they swayed against each other.

“I love you, Senna Atiniir. My wife.”

She chuckled, but when he looked down, her eyes were shining as well. “I’m going to have to get used to being called that,” she said softly.

“I can help with that.”

She kissed him hard. “I know you can.” They laughed, resting their foreheads against each other.

The band struck up a more jaunty tune, and suddenly, Rex was whipping Senna around as he had on Lothal, dipping her as she squealed with laughter and spinning her wildly enough to send a few of the petals from the blossoms in her hair fluttering in the breeze. Looking to his left, he couldn’t help but smile as Wrecker picked Omega up and twirled her while Echo and Sabé spun together. He also noted Hunter and Gregar Typho standing off to the side, seemingly growing closer with every passing moment, their fingers finally grazing one another at their sides. Rex smiled.

If only for a moment, it’s all as it should be. It’s perfect.

The song came to an end, and Senna cackled, pressing her crown of flowers back into place as Fives approached, grinning.

“Alright if I cut in, Captain?”

Rex sighed with mock annoyance. “If you must.”

Fives chuckled before bowing dramatically, extending his hand to Senna, who accepted with a flourish before he twirled her, sending her into another fit of giggles. Rex watched the two of them with a smile before feeling a tap on his shoulder. He turned to find Ahsoka standing there.

“I think I’d like a dance, if you don’t mind.”

“And who would I be to refuse my commanding officer?”

Ahsoka rolled her eyes playfully before placing her hands on Rex’s shoulders, and he rested his hands at her waist. In that moment, he was struck by how much she’d grown from the youngling that had stepped off of that shuttle all those years before. The padawan that he’d come to view with respect and also as a younger sibling now stood before him, having survived unthinkable trials and never straying from her values or her path. He was in awe of her.

“What?” she asked, wrinkling her nose. “Do I have something on my face?”

He laughed gently. “I just…I never thought we’d be here. I rarely considered what life might be like after the war, mainly because I wasn’t sure I’d survive with you and Anakin as my commanding officers.” The joke rolled off his tongue easily, but he still felt a twist in his gut at Anakin’s name, and he was careful to school his expression before continuing. “I certainly never thought I would find someone to spend my life with, and now that it’s going to be longer than anticipated, I just…I’m overwhelmed. With all of the turmoil in the galaxy, I almost feel guilty for the happiness that I feel right now.”

Ahsoka smiled, her hand resting against his cheek affectionately. “Rex, it’s that joy that’s going to sustain us in our darkest hours, and that will be what ensures we win in the end. And of all of the people I’ve ever known in my life, you are the one most deserving to feel that.” Her eyes drifted over his shoulder to where Fives and Senna were dancing together, both of them in a fit of giggles. “I never knew Senna as well as I knew you and Anakin. I just wasn’t around her enough. But from everything Anakin told me and everything I know of you, I couldn’t be more pleased that you found each other, against all odds. And if there’s anyone that can weather what’s ahead of you, it’s the two of you.” She huffed a laugh. “She’s too stubborn to fail, and you wouldn’t know how to give up if I wrote out step-by-step instructions. You’ll have your time together, and when it comes, treasure it. Tonight especially.” She hugged him, and Rex cradled the back of her head gently.

“You were my captain, but you’re also my family. My brother. The reason I survived.” She stepped back, her eyes glossy as she smiled at him. “And there’s nothing I want more for you than the happiness I see when you and Senna are together.”

Rex hugged her again, harder this time as he rested his chin on the top of her head. “You know, you kept me alive too. And I’ll never be able to repay you enough for that. You could have left me on that Venator with Jesse and the others, and-“ his voice cracked. In all the time since Order 66 had happened, they’d never discussed it once, but now, on this night, he felt a desperation to get the words out. He cleared his throat, steeling himself against his emotions. “And if you had, I would never have blamed you. But because you didn’t leave me, I get to have this moment, Ahsoka. And for that, I’m eternally grateful.”

He felt her fingers dig into the back of his shirt slightly as they hugged one another. “You repay me by living a long and happy life, Rex Atiniir.” She smiled up at him and he placed a kiss on her forehead.

“Deal.”

A/N: It may be cheesy, but you know what? All weddings are cheesy. I stand by it. :)

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