#i love the natural landscape of my home state

[k33bsstuff]

Blue Lock Zombie Apocalypse Au

Hiyaaaa!!! I've never actually wrote a story before or whatever. But years of reading fanfics has kinda motivated me I guess.

I've notice a severe lack of blue lock zombie apocalypse AUs which is kinda sad cus I love ZA au's and theyre just too freaking cool.

I don't think I'll write a proper story with chapters and stuff but instead with different characters and oneshot type things ya know?

There's not gonna be much of a description but who cares. Sorry that it is short too. Just trying test my writing ability. If you have any tips or opinions or anything in general please comment!

Reader

Reo

Nagi

Hope you enjoy my first story 🫶🏾🫶🏾

Apocalypse Buddies!

Ft Nagi Seishiro, Reo Mikage and Gn Reader!

2 years. It has been 2 years since you last abandoned your own home to venture out into this rotting landscape that you now unfortunately find yourself in. Miles for miles of rotten corpses is all you see staggering around the desolate earth. Despite the feelings of exhaustion of evading death every single day, you push them aside as you focus on what is infront of you, or perhaps the treasuring site of your two best friends nagging at each other over the last chocolate granola bar.

In this so called office building, You, Nagi and Reo are camping for the night after a few tiresome days of scavenging for resources and avoiding becoming zombie food. Sitting in the middle of the depressing once called printer room are you three. Nagi crosses his legs and slouches as he sits on a small miserable pile of blankets, while Reo who is next to him also sits in discomfort due to the hard floor, the light of the makeshft lamp flickers, illuminating Reos dirtied skin. While you, sitting infront of them chewing on an bet before 5 month old oat bar. The expired groans of the undead are faint in the background, the thick walls of the office building filtering out some of the sound. The contents of your backpack scattered out in the middle of you 3.

"Is this all you could get (name)?

Nagi asked, in his regular boring, slightly raspy tone. His grey tired eyes flicked up to meet your (eye colour) coloured ones, his expression as careless as ever. For some reason the way Nagi asked you that question ticked you off. Maybe it's because of his judgmental emphasis on 'all'...or maybe it's due to his overall lackadaisical nature which bugs you from time to time despite it not being very convenient for the survival of the living dead.

Reo, slightly tired by Nagis insensitive antics sighs and give him a little nudge.

"Cmon Nagi, it's not that bad. They did a pretty good raid in my opinion, you just gotta look at it with a better perspective!"

Reo grinned with his signature smirk as his eyes darted from your tired state to Nagis slumped form.

"What are you on Nagi. Nothings wrong with a few granola bars and a magazine"

You spat back at Nagi. Not taking his stupid ignorant comment despite your exhausted state. You stretch your arms, small popping noises from the joints in your arms echo through the rather silent room, the only other noise emitting from the crackle of the flame from the d.i.y lamp that you spent all your time making to look appealing in contrast to the wrecked world you've sadly found yourself in.

Nagi rubbed his nose with his long, slender index finger and lazily reaches to his disgusting state of a backpack. He carelessly shook out the contents, dropping a couple of torches, batteries, hooks an already used hammer and a small bottle of antiseptic.

"Nagi careful with that stuff. We're lucky to see such supplies like this without it already being wrecked."

You and Reo scan over the loot that came from Nagis bag. You pick a torch and fiddle with it, flicking the ON/OFF switch playfully.

"Atleast I got something that we can actually use"

"We can eat the granola bars and use the magazine. I think I was being pretty smart about this actually."

"None of us own a gun"

"Shut the Fuck up"

":x"

Nagi just looks at you, in sort of an inspecting manner. You notice his eye contact and stop what you're doing. You slowly but cautiously move the torch into Nagis face, your calloused fingers gripping onto the flash light tightly. Reo, still getting a sense of the valuable items that Nagi brought , mumbles to himself about the efficiency or some shit. Your eyes flick from the white-haired man's piercing gaze to the cylinder- shaped flash light in your grasp then to him again. You flick the switch but nothing seems to be happening. You open the back of the torch and replace the useless batteries with the new ones that Reo was inspecting, earning a small "Hey!" Of annoyance from him. You slap the back right on and point the torch at Nagis face.

"Don't point it in my face"

"it's not like it's gonna work anyway. We dont know if these batteries are dead or not,

Seeee."

A bright white light blinds Nagi as he winces and covers his eyes with his roughed up hands.

"My bad"

You mutter under your breath as you shamefully put away the flash light. You unravel the tough wrapper of the 5 month expired granola bar and take small bite out of it, trying to savour the taste of the bland but somehow comforting bar.

Half and hour later

You Reo and Nagi are feasting on the not so tasty granola bars but, it will make do. Reo, eyeing the last manky granola bar speaks up with pieces of the expired snack still being chewed up in his mouth

"Last bars mine"

With a look of pure disgust you speak up, only to be cut off by the white-haired slouching giant hastily swallowing his bar, replying in a stern tone.

"No it isn't. It's mine"

"Says who?"

"Says me."

The young purple haired man side eyes Nagi then lunges for the granola bar. Nagi, knowing his companion for far too long also lunges for the last granola bar. As the two young adults tackle each other over the small gold worth bar of nuts and all sorts you can't help but smile and watch them in awe.

Maybe leaving home wasn't so bad after all.

[feral-aether]

It's such a scam I have to live in this human body. Let me have my wings! Let me fly free where I don't have to worry about keeping up this mask! I don't care my wings might be considered edgy or emo with the black and red and white, let me have my feathers!

[applebutterfemme]

smoky mountains, august 2023

[doctorsilverhead]

Hey there!

This is my very first req on tumblr cause I'm just too shy to ask anything. So yay!

May I request for a Bayverse Optimus with human fem reader? I don't know, just fluffy things. But honestly, I prefer Optimus being an alien dad bot to the reader. So like- fatherly fluffy things, you know?

Then again, I feel like bayverse Optimus need some more love! I'm basically begging you for our ruthless yet gentle leader!

Make it after TLK event please! (Just pretend he didn't go home to the Cybertron yet lol)

Thank you before that!

More Than Meets the Metal: When Optimus Found a Heartbeat (Bayverse Optimus Prime X Human Reader)

In the aftermath of the harrowing events of The Last Knight, the world found itself in a state of flux, grappling with the revelations of an ancient war that had spilled onto Earth's doorstep. Amidst the chaos, a beacon of hope emerged in the form of Optimus Prime, the noble leader of the Autobots, who had once again proven his unwavering commitment to protecting humanity.

For one young woman, the presence of Optimus Prime took on a deeper, more personal significance. She had been drawn into the whirlwind of events, witnessing firsthand the sacrifices made by these extraordinary beings from another world. In the aftermath, she found herself forging an unexpected bond with the towering Autobot commander, one that transcended the boundaries of species and culture.

Optimus Prime, with his ancient wisdom and compassionate spark, recognized the profound impact the events had left on the young woman's psyche. In a gesture that defied his imposing stature, he extended a gentle, fatherly presence, offering solace and guidance in a world that had been forever altered.

Optimus would regale her with tales of Cybertron's golden age, painting vivid pictures of a world teeming with life and wonder.

In turn,Y/N would share her own stories, her hopes, and her dreams, finding solace in the unwavering patience and understanding of her alien father figure. Optimus would listen intently, offering sage advice and encouragement, his words carrying the weight of eons of experience.

Optimus would take her on excursions, introducing her to the wonders of the natural world. They would venture into pristine forests, where he would explain the ecosystem, or gaze up at the stars, as he recounted the vast expanse of the cosmos and the myriad worlds that lay beyond.

He worried like a father hen, constantly reminding you of potential dangers. "Stay within the perimeter, little one," he'd say, his voice a deep baritone that echoed through the yard. You'd roll your eyes, but a smile would always touch your lips. He meant well, always looking out for you.

Sometimes, you'd read to him while he repaired himself, stories of faraway lands and fantastical creatures. He'd listen intently, his blue optics flickering with amusement at the lighter tales and dimming with concern at the darker ones.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, bathing the junkyard in a warm glow, you presented Optimus with a gift – a small, hand-painted firefly encased in resin. "For protection," you said, a little shyly. He carefully took the trinket, his optics softening. "Thank you, little one," he murmured, a hint of wonder in his voice. "It reminds me of you. Small, but with a light that shines bright even in the darkest of times." He attached the firefly to his chest plate, close to his spark chamber. It was a small gesture, but in the desolate landscape, it spoke volumes. It was a symbol of the unexpected family you had found in each other, a testament to the enduring power of hope and love, even in a world determined to extinguish it.

As the world around them continued to heal and rebuild, their bond only grew stronger, a testament to the enduring power of compassion and understanding. Optimus Prime had become more than just a protector of humanity; he had become a father figure, a mentor, and a friend, offering a sense of belonging in a universe that had suddenly become infinitely larger and more wondrous.

[v3nusxsky]

Can you write Morticia x Larissa x Reader where reader (0-3) (also a shapeshifter like Larissa and shifts when she regresses) is their wife/little and when reader regresses they take her to a pumpkin patch and come home and carve the pumpkin and just loads of fluff and cuteness, please?

Pumpkins day out

*authors note~ AND IM BACKKKKKK! hey y’all okay so this is small intro to being back activly posting now I feel my life is in somewhat order and let me tell you I’ve missed you guys sm. I’ve read every comment ask and dm of kind words and I’m so grateful for y’all being so patient with me! Let’s get it started, imma tweak this one ever so slightly but I just wanna say I love when you guys tell me what you want me to write next as it helps keep me focused and insuring you guys are getting content you want :)*

Trigger warnings~ Agere? Little fem shapeshifter r, mommy morticia, momma Larissa (everything that occurs has been spoken about when r is in her age appropriate head space)

Prompt~see ask^^^^^

(Banner to be added)

Distressed muffled whimpers carried themselves into the principals office alongside the pitter patter of tiny feet indicating your presence was imminent. The two occupants being your wives or rather care givers in this head space. It’s not uncommon for the two elder women to wake before you especially after your late night antics that resulted in you slipping off to sleep in sub space. It was almost routine for you to wake up in little space. Being a shifter allowed your body to lean into your headspace meaning they were almost always greeted by a darling little girl ranging from infant to toddler ages.

Like clockwork your little body came barrelling in through the mahogany doorway and straight into your mommy’s awaiting arms. Her long flowy onyx dress providing the perfect sensory input to help calm your little state. Her words dripping in smooth silk as she stood to full height swaying you gently in her arms as Larissa watched on with an adoring smile. Her two loves looking ever so naturally them always brought her a sense of peace she could never recreate no matter how much she tried.

The fall always created a beautiful almost picturesque landscape of the Nevermore grounds at this time of year. The chill of autumn air being a welcomed change from the blazing heat as Augusts final goodbye. Students of Nevermore spending their time acclimatising to dorm life, new schedules and a whole new academic year. Far too busy to notice what wholesome activities were occurring in the office.

“Momma” you sniffed effortlessly breaking the blonde out of her own thoughts. “Yes little pumpkin” she whispered before attacking your cheeks with sweet kisses. Your infectious giggles causing Tish to let a small smile grace her lips as she found the desired outfit for the day. “Mommy momma me go gets jack-o’-lantern from patch” your excitement practically vibrating from your small frame. “Oh is that so little love? It can’t be that time already can it?” She pretended to ponder, searching her very organised calendar for your initials scrawled in a beautiful heart shape.

“Mommy” you whimpered as Larissa still continued to not see what was so clearly labelled causing the raven haired woman to tut in response, “don’t tease my sweet girl Larissa darling” before easily scooping you up and giving the order to get ready for your yearly traditions. “Momma was teasing baby, we are going to find our pumpkins don’t you worry little pumpkin” Tish reassured before loudly whispering about visiting the weathervane without the blonde if she wanted to tease you.

Unsurprisingly, the whole drive you sleepily clung to morticia as Larissa drove you all to the best pumpkin patch around Jericho. Only when the car stopped did your excitement hit you once again full force. All the pretty colours and leaves being scattered all over the ground, all calling out for you to come and jump around in. “Mommy” you whined as you attempted to wriggle out of the seatbelt by yourself with no success. “Momma” you pouted causing Larissa to chuckle and help get you out of the car where you happily held both their hands. Little giggles filled the air as you crunched the leaves under your little boots, eyes gleaming with pure joy. Both women lost count of how many times you’d run, jump and kick the crunchy fall leaves. Each time a squeal of pure joy and excitement left your little body. It almost broke their hearts to have to refocus your adorable self on the task at hand.

Naturally you had managed to burn yourself out of energy after all the running, jumping, kicking and arguing about which pumpkin you all needed to get. The task of selecting the biggest pumpkin the patch had to offer had taken over two hours with more playful arguments and moments where you’d ran after a falling leaf insisting on catching it for Larissa and Mortica . Now you ended up snuggled into Morticia’s chest being carried to the car with tiny fists rubbing at your eyes as larissa hauled your chosen one to the car. By now the chilled air had Larissa wanting to frequent her favourite place besides Jericho. All the way to the weathervane you snoozed and the two women bantered back and forth about how wrong they were years ago. Larissa had never managed to lose the nickname of stately sequoia tree, morticia remaining the lumberjack and you their precious pumpkin. Hot chocolates secured the women had some how managed to succeed in moving you and the pumpkin into Larissa’s office before arranging the supplies you’d need when you awoke.

Your obsession recently had been black cats so it was easy for the women to find a cute yet Halloween appropriate stencil for you to use. Together they helped you carve and gut the pumpkin while laughing and loving on you. Your little heart filled with a type of joy that you never had as a child. The atmosphere and love was not something you’d had the pleasure to experience until them either. “Fanks best day ever momma mommy I wuvs you” you mumbled as all three of you admired the work of art.

[aylacavebear]

Soulmates? Yeah, right, pft. - Ch. 14

When you turn sixteen, and your soulmate's name doesn’t appear anywhere on your body that you can find, you figure you had to be the only person on the planet who didn’t have one. Most of the town shuns you, so you stick close to family. Your Aunt Ellen raised you after your parents died in a car crash when you were two, but what happens when the Winchesters return to town and buried secrets begin to come to light?

Pairing: Mechanic Dean Winchester x OC Reader/You

Word Count: 2214

Warnings: Angst, suspense, emotional situations, Crowley being Crowley.

A/N: This is my non-Supernatural fic I'm attempting. Please let me know what you think, as I always love hearing from my readers.

----------------------------------------- Chapter 14

When the SUVs pulled up to what looked like a heavily guarded wrought iron gate, attached to a thick brick or concrete wall, your heart almost felt like it would beat out of your chest. Dean at least still had his arm over your shoulders, holding you close, but your eyes were focused on the things outside. Outside the gates, all you could make out were the tall hedges and trees that had grown past the top of the wall, which you assumed encompassed the property. There were a few different types of vines, but they looked as though they’d been repeatedly cut back.

You wanted to ask where they’d taken you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to speak at the moment, even after what the judge had said. As the gates began to open, you felt like you were almost holding your breath. The driveway was neatly kept, winding its way through a pedicured landscape of trees, hedges, and flower beds. The mansion of a house where the SUVs stopped took your breath away. It was the most elegant and extravagant home you’d ever seen in person. The agent next to Benny opened the door, stepped out, and then held the door for the three of you. You swore your jaw had hit the pavement as you stepped out, staring up at the mansion before you when that Scottish accent pulled your gaze to the man coming down the steps.

“Oh good, you made it without incident,” Crowley stated, seeming quite pleased.

“What’s going on?” you asked, relieved it was Crowley and not someone from the Vaught family.

“I’ve made arrangements for you to stay here during the course of your case,” he explained. “One of my men will be back with your belongings, and theirs as well. Now, shall we get some brunch?”

You were still fairly confused, but you followed Crowley into his mansion, Dean by your side and Benny bringing up the rear. The interior of Crowley’s mansion was even more impressive than the exterior. As you stepped inside, your eyes were immediately drawn to the high ceilings adorned with intricate moldings and chandeliers that looked like they belonged in a palace. The walls were lined with dark wood paneling and elegant wallpaper, giving the space a sophisticated yet intimidating ambiance.

You walked through a grand foyer with a sweeping staircase that curved up to the second floor. The marble floors gleamed underfoot, and you could see various pieces of antique furniture and art tastefully arranged throughout the space. It was a stark contrast to the cold, sterile environment of the courtroom.

Crowley led the way down a long hallway, the rich scent of polished wood and old books filling the air. You passed several rooms, each one more opulent than the last, until you reached a set of double doors. Crowley pushed them open to reveal a lavish dining room.

The dining room was dominated by a long, mahogany table that could easily seat twenty people. The table was already set for a smaller group, with fine china, crystal glasses, and silver cutlery laid out meticulously. The walls were lined with tall bookshelves filled with leather-bound volumes, and several large windows allowed natural light to pour in, illuminating the room in a warm glow.

A chef and a few servants were bustling around, preparing the final touches for the meal. The aroma of bacon, cooking meat, and something that was perhaps a fine fish dish wafted through the air, making your stomach rumble in anticipation.

“Please, have a seat,” Crowley gestured to the chairs, taking his place at the head of the table. Dean guided you to a seat beside him, and Benny sat across from you, giving you a reassuring nod.

As you settled into the plush chair, Crowley smiled and spoke to the servants, “Begin serving, please.”

The servants moved with practiced efficiency, bringing out a covered plate for each of you, while others had platters with delectable deserts displayed on them. The aromas only made your mouth water further. Another servant set a chilled, open beer on a coaster near your, Dean’s, and even Benny’s plate while another poured Crowley a glass of what looked like fine wine.

Crowley dismissed the servant as he looked at you, his expression more serious now. “You must have many questions,” he said, taking a sip. “Feel free to ask anything you need to understand.”

You wanted to answer him, but the servants set a dish down in front of the three of you, revealing what had smelled so good. Yours and Dean’s contained the most delicious-looking burger you’d ever seen, while Benny got something that was clearly something he hadn’t had in a long time. You were just too focused on your burger at the moment to even ask what it was.

“Figured you lot would prefer something simple,” Crowley told you, seeing you focused on the meal and not his prior statement.

“I’m sorry,” you apologized, looking over at him as Dean squeezed your knee in a reassuring way. “Why are you doing this for us?” you asked finally.

Crowley’s eyes met yours, and for a moment, you saw a flicker of something softer behind his usual confident exterior. “Let’s just say, I have a vested interest in seeing justice served. The Vaughts have been playing games for too long, and it’s about time someone put a stop to it.” Dean leaned in slightly, his voice low. “We appreciate your help, Crowley. But what’s the catch?”

Crowley chuckled, setting his glass down. “No catch, Dean. Just a mutual benefit. You get the support you need for this case, and I get the satisfaction of seeing the Vaughts lose for once.” Benny spoke up, his tone serious. “We’ll do whatever it takes to win this. They’ve messed with the wrong people.” Crowley nodded approvingly. “That’s the spirit, Benny. Now, let’s eat. You’re going to need your strength for what lies ahead.” As the meal progressed, you found yourself relaxing slightly, the initial shock of Crowley’s opulent home giving way to a sense of determination. You had allies in the fight, and together, you were going to bring the Vaughts to justice.

Halfway through the meal, the double doors opened, instantly pulling your attention to what looked like a butler. “They’re here, Sir,” he told Crowley.

“Ah, wonderful,” Crowley replied, delighted as a smile played at his lips. “Show them in.”

The butler nodded, and a few moments later, Sam, Ellen, Jodi, Bobby, Mary, and John came into the dining hall. You instantly stood as Ellen made her way to you, tears in both your eyes as you embraced her in a tight hug.

“Oh, honey,” she told you softly, and you heard the sadness and relief in her tone.

“I’m okay, Auntie,” you replied quietly.

Ellen held you at arm’s length, her eyes scanning your face as if reassuring herself that you were truly alright. “We’ve been worried sick about you,” she said, her voice trembling slightly.

Dean, Sam, and even Benny embraced in hugs before Dean hugged John and Mary. Even Jodi and Bobby hugged the boys, then came over to you, giving you a soft, but relieved smile, embracing you in a hug. 

“We’re here for ya, kid,” John told you with the softest expression you’d ever seen on the man.

Crowley, ever the consummate host, gestured to the empty seats. “Please, join us. There’s plenty of food, and we’ve much to discuss.” As everyone settled around the table, the atmosphere shifted slightly. There was a sense of camaraderie, of a team coming together to face a common enemy. You wished that Jo could be there, as she was more like a sister to you than a cousin. And, oddly enough, even Cas and Garth. Just as you were finally feeling like you were relaxing, your mark began burning, horribly, a pained hiss leaving your lips just as Dean was getting out of his seat.

Crowley snapped his fingers a couple of times while you put your hand over your mark, missing whatever was being said. Moments later, though, Dean was putting cream on your mark. “It’s okay, I’m right here,” he attempted to soothe you as the entire room had gone silent.

“Well, now, this changes things,” Crowley mused from where he sat, leaning back in his chair. “Why wasn’t I informed about that?”

“About what?” you asked, only wincing slightly as you looked at him.

“With that,” he began, gesturing to your mark, “we’ve got a little more leverage.”

You tried to look down at your mark, but with where it was, you couldn’t see it. Frustrated, you looked back at him, “What are you talking about?”

He practically laughed, “Dean, you haven’t told her?” 

All Dean did was glare at him and the others stayed silent, which only annoyed you further. “Tell me what?” you snapped, clenching your hands in your lap.

“I was waiting,” Dean managed through a clenched jaw, clearly annoyed.

“Will someone tell me what the hell you’re talking about? I’m tired of this, of all of you keeping secrets from me,” you snapped at them, looking around the table as your anger finally boiled over. When no one spoke up, you just got up and walked off, practically slamming the dining hall doors. 

Crowley sighed and nodded to one of his servants, who promptly followed you. The servant was a young woman with kind eyes, and she caught up with you just as you were starting to feel lost in the labyrinthine halls of the mansion.

“Miss, please allow me to show you to a room where you can rest. Your bags have already been brought up,” she said softly.

Too tired to argue, you nodded and followed her. She led you up a grand staircase and down a long corridor to a beautifully furnished room. “If you need anything, just ring this bell,” she instructed, indicating a small ornate bell on the bedside table.

“Thank you,” you murmured, sitting on the edge of the bed as she left the room.

Meanwhile, back in the dining hall…

Dean, still fuming, stood up, “We agreed to tell her when her mark came in more.”

Crowley shrugged nonchalantly, although he wasn’t pleased about his secrecy, “It slipped my mind. Besides, she has a right to know.”

Sam sighed, running a hand through his hair. “This isn’t helping. How did she not notice one of the letters came in all the way?”

Dean sighed and sat back down, “She never looked in the mirror at it, and I didn’t have the heart to tell her to.”

“Son, she’s gonna be more hurt if you wait much longer,” John told him sincerely.

“Does she have at least an idea of how you’re connected to all this?” Crowley asked, although clearly frustrated, but needing further information.

“Not completely,” Dean reluctantly answered.

“Benny, did she even pay attention when Dean testified?” Sam asked, fairly puzzled how you wouldn’t have found out.

Benny sighed, “No. I was talkin’ to her. Tryin’ to help er’ relax a little.”

Crowley was usually a calm, collected man, but this frustrated him: "What does she know?”

Dean grabbed his beer, taking a sip before he answered, staring at the label, “I told her I know she’s my soul mate, part of the thing with Lisa, and that she’s an empath.”

“That’s it?” Bobby exclaimed in annoyance and frustration.

“That explains why she knows we’re hiding something,” Mary sighed, looking back at the closed dining hall doors.

“I didn’t want to make it harder on her,” Dean mumbled quietly.

“Dean, she has to be told, before her birthday, or it’s gonna hurt her more, and not just emotionally,” Sam told him, his tone soft but firm. “I know what I told you before, but she’s quickly running out of time.”

Dean’s attention went to the doors, his mind on only you and what you were feeling. He’d hated not telling, not letting himself get closer to you than you’d let him. He’d felt everything from the moment he’d seen you that first day at the bar, and it was tearing him up inside that you still doubted him. Sam had warned him of the risks of waiting too long, but he just hadn’t been able to find the right time and he didn’t want to do it once you two had gotten stuck in that bunker. “Dean, are you even listened?” Crowley asked him, frustrated and now leaning forward in his seat, pulling Dean from his thoughts.

“Yeah, I mean, no. I wasn’t listening,” he grumbled.

An annoyed sound left Crowley’s lips as he leaned back in his seat. “Her birthday is in two days. Either you tell her tomorrow, or I’ll have to make sure the doctor is here.” His tone was of concern for you more than for Dean.

Dean looked down at his beer, “She’s gonna hate me, but… I’ll tell her tomorrow.”

“Son, she’s gonna be mad at all of us, but she’s not going to hate us, especially not you,” John tried to reassure him, feeling bad for what not only his son had to go through, but also what you have had to endure.

----------------------------------------- Chapter 15

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If I missed tagging, please let me know. I had a lot of requests for tags for this one. If you'd like to be tagged, drop me a comment.

[kinardsevan]

30 day fluff challenge: day sixteen

"i want to stay up with you"

Evan yawns as he stretches out on the bed of the truck before snuggling closer to Tommy on the inflatable mattress. 

“You don’t have to stay awake,” Tommy tells him, running his knuckles up and down Evan’s tricep. “The meteor shower isn’t going to start for another hour or so and I know you just came off shift.” 

Evan shakes his head, nuzzling up into Tommy’s neck and biting down gently. They’ve barely seen each other this week after both picked up extra shifts. They’re working towards a down payment on a house, and while they both have savings, neither of them are necessarily interested in dipping into that for the purchase. As they’ve discussed, between medical expenses, the need to have a savings at any given time due to the nature of their work and the injuries it causes, and other future plans, the logic of starting a new savings specifically towards a home makes more sense. Still, that doesn’t mean that being apart doesn’t suck. 

“I’ve missed you,” Evan murmurs to him as he finds the space beneath Tommy’s ear and sucks softly on it. His boyfriend groans softly, presses his hand harder into the space on the center of Evan’s spine. 

“You’re missing the sunset,” Tommy says after a minute, teasing. 

“Missed you more,” Evan mumbles against his skin. He slides a hand underneath Tommy’s hoodie, brushing his fingers over his boyfriend’s toned abs. He’s not in search of anything—just wants to feel the landscape of his muscles beneath his fingers. 

“Should we get a cat,” Tommy muses. Evan huffs softly, knowing his boyfriend is trying to distract him from settling in. He leans back, resting his head on the curve of Tommy’s bicep. 

“Are you seriously asking me about us getting an animal together? Or are you just trying to distract me?” 

Tommy shrugs, but smirks at him. “Both can be true.” 

Evan rolls his eyes, but shifts down so that his head is in the juncture of Tommy’s armpit. 

“What happened to the discussion of a dog,” he asks, fingers still moving lazily over Tommy’s abs. 

“We do not have the availability right now for a dog,” Tommy counters. “But a cat is a step up from something like a bird while also still being able to mostly take care of themselves. I think you’d like a black cat.” 

“Of course, I would,” Evan states, a smirk crossing his face. “I already have one.” 

“Hey,” Tommy retorts. “I don’t complain about living with a venerable golden retriever.” 

“Venerable,” Evan comments. “Meaning respected. Proves my point entirely.” Tommy tilts Evan’s chin up, and when their gazees lock, Tommy is glaring at him, even though there’s a smile on his face. 

“You’re ridiculous,” he states. “Yes, baby, I would love to get a dog, once we actually have a house. But I mean now.” 

Evan shrugs then, looking out at the sunset. “I mean yes, a black cat would be a nice fit in your place until we move.” 

Tommy nods then. “Cool. I was looking at some rescues, and there are some options.” 

Evan looks back up at him, incredulous. “I thought I was the one taking us over hurdles like it’s the olympics.” 

“Just thought I’d match your energy,” Tommy replies, scrunching his nose at Evan before leaning in and pecking him. Evan nuzzles their nose after, and then settles once more on his chest. It’s quiet for a bit then, and Tommy stares at the sunset for a bit before looking down when he swears he hears Evan snore. He lets out a chuckle, which seems to disturb him. 

“Still awake,” Evan murmurs with a voice so laced with sleep that it’s obvious he had nodded off. 

“Sure,” Tommy laughs. 

Evan sighs, lifting his head again to look at Tommy. “I want to stay up with you.” 

Tommy’s expression softens then, staring at Evan with utter adoration. 

“Alright,” he murmurs after a long moment, reaching for his pocket. “You wanna see the cats?” 

Evan just nods in response. 

[ryololart]

Tex Losing Her Legs

Tw: childhood trauma, gore, trauma in general, angst

My head is woozy, I can feel the blood draining from my forehead. It falls like rivers of red making paths down my cheeks to my chin where it drips off like a waterfall. Stars explode in front of my face. They cry and sing out for me, but their words are sharp and prick my ears. The sparks shine, coating my face in ash and dust making my eye itch and water. I try to stretch out my arms but they are limp to my sides. I am a phoenix rising from embers but forever cursed to wallow in her grave. It is sort of  beautiful to be stuck in such a state, unable to do a thing but watch as the world swallows me whole. 

“Up! Up! Texas let’s go,” the star's sorrowful plea is strained and exhausted. My mouth opens to say ‘I can’t’ but I have lost the ability to, instead a groan escapes. The sound does not appear as it has come from me, the pitch not familiar. The normal rasp is not equipped, instead it is wet and desperate. The dark around the stars becomes shaky. The once opaque landscape is translucent, colors shifting and changing behind a curtain. I can see time passing me by as I sit, unable to perceive the change. 

I heard a story once, about a man who lost connection to the International Space Station. He was on shift to repair something on the outside and his tether was not attached correctly. He floated out into space for three hours before someone was able to rescue him. He describes the incident as one of those life changing moments, where you realize everything is finite. One day you are at the top of your physics program, and worried about the upcoming test, the next you are with your family cheering that you got into the NASA Astronaut program, and then you are floating off into space, alone, in silence, where nothing matters. You look back at Earth now, from way above, no one knows that there is a man just floating above the atmosphere. Is that what God feels like? To just watch from above as patterns shift and change? This is what I imagine he felt like, time running away, no way to calculate how long it has been. No way to tell the people in your life how much you love them, no way to look back at all the things you have done in pride, no, you just drift away, empty, watching forever. God must be lonely.

I hoped that death would be like falling asleep after a long car ride and your parents carrying you to bed. You try to hide the smile that shows you did it on purpose to be carried, to feel the love that comes from that unspoken devotion a parent has to their child. The warm hands that could not be mistaken for another embrace your skin, unbuckling you from the seat. The being is so careful to climb up the stairs and to not let your creaky bed door ring out. Those same hands tuck you into bed as the body they belong to whispers a soft good night like a lullaby. 

“Wake up, wake up, wake up,” the stars scream again, this time in the form of people. Their hands grip my shoulders as lights shine in my face. Not like the beautiful show from before, now like bombs going off overhead. The stars explode and shriek, bursts of color here and there. It overloads my senses and I feel myself sinking further into my grave. All the sudden you are not floating in space anymore, you are running with everything you have left to give.

Death is like a march to the finish line, not the gentleness of a parent’s love. Not the soft warmth of being carried home. No. It is the  pop of the gun that goes off before you are ready to run. The heart starts racing, the mind is on overdrive, the fight to survive flowing through your blood in the form of adrenaline. The lungs gasp for air, trying to climb out your throat to reach the oxygen, no amount that you gulp down makes a difference. There is a sitch in the side that is unwelcome telling you time is up, give in. Just give in. Yet the body keeps going, the perfect machine, determined to win against nature. 

“Evangeline,” the glaze that was once over my eyes evaporates into the air and I see the first familiar thing, a pair of dark gray iris’s pouring into mine. “Do not look down.” 

A pair of gloves that appear to be bleeding before me tilts my head up, completely disorienting me once again. I want to close my eyes and go back into the comfort of my dark escape, but my body is running the race, forcing myself to acknowledge the world. I try to let my lungs expand to open to the world but I choke on something thick and boiled. I try to spit, pushing my lips together but the muscles scream at me to stop moving. I give an involuntary cough at the uncomfort in my throat and my body lights up like a christmas tree. Every single nerve explodes into fireworks, expanding and contracting, trying to connect with the sky by reaching up into the atmosphere. Yet they stay trapped in my body, paralyzing me.

There is someone else there, I can feel his movements in the sensory receptors that is making up for my lack of awareness. He keeps my face tilted up towards his and I can hear sounds coming out his mouth but they do not mean anything. The gibberish is not familiar but his voice, so rough and brutal as I am used to,  is instead sorrowful and desperate. Something is wrong, I know this, but I crave the comfort of being unknowing. I choose that it is okay in this moment to accept that I will never see that starry night my brain made for me, I will only ever see the smoke clouding the ceiling like a mirror reminding me of my state. 

The pain fades for a second as I take my first breath and what must have been hours. I can feel the shakiness of my chest as it expands. My skin is hot and wet and I can’t grip onto anything. As my conscience awakens I frantically try to take in my surroundings. Gray cement floors. White walls now painted in abstract red. Black-covered bodies run in the room. As the relief floods the pain returns and I gasp loudly. The cough comes again, harder this time and blood follows out my mouth. It is sticky and warm, coating my chin and the hand holding up my face. 

“How much longer, Roach?” He exclaims, using his thumb to wipe the blood away.

“I need another minute, we gotta set what we can or we may lose half of her.” Roach yells back. That is when I realize I can’t feel below my waist, all the pain that is shooting through me is only from there up. I managed to look as far down as a can, only to be met with Roach’s body crouched over my legs. Or what seemingly remains of them. 

My hand flies up to grip Simon’s vest and he catches it reflexly. I look at him in shock trying to remember how to breathe, my legs, they are just masses of blood. My boot is twisted backwards on the right side, my left is bent at the femur. 

“No, Evan, stay with me. You are in shock, we are going to get out of here.” He holds my hand bringing it to his masked face. All my thoughts scream however, you are stuck, you are stuck, you are stuck. Suddenly I am no longer in the Karoknoze Mountains, I am in Sanderson, Texas.

 My childhood bedroom was characterized by lead paint and mold. The walls were a pale pink that was chosen by my mother. She was so excited to have a daughter, finally, after a boy who caused her so much trouble. Mason got in so much trouble, whether in school with other kids and teachers, or with our father. All my mother wanted was to raise a baby girl, a child that was one of her kind. One that would have her back and be on her side no matter what. The love between a mother and daughter is like no other, they are intertwined from birth. A daughter is the soul captured when it left her mother, the soul that is fighting over and over to remain innocent, however, all souls only exist to be corrupted.  It is the deer in headlights, trying to move, but stuck, in ever revolving hell. The car keeps coming and coming, yet you watch in awe, the lights are so beautiful. Let them come and take me, I’d rather bathe in this unforgiving light than live this light of fight. Women fight every single day to just exist peacefully, and every day it gets harder. Every single mother and daughter suffer the cycle, bending time in hopes that the original sin will be forgiven. However God is considered a Man. Men are not friends of women. The daughter carries her mother’s sins to try to become anew, to only suffer the same fate with the best of intentions. They are doomed. The door knob that has been broken off so many times twists and makes a horrible sound. 

“Mason, you are in the wrong room,” My 14 year old body sits up as I watch from the back of my mind. My thin, thread-bare, white tank top starts to fall off my shoulder as a small hand, worn and torn, pushes it back up. I can smell the drink on him, the alcohol writing over the damp smell that always sits in this room. I call him again as he opens  the door fully.“Mason.”

“Hola, Princessa,” He takes a swig from the bottle that swishes in his hand. His wife beater stained brown from the excess he indulges in. He tries to go for a Spanish accent but fails miserably, I’m not sure if it is the drink or the fundamental lack of ability. It is ultimately impressive that he cannot speak Spanish when he spends more time in Mexico and dealing with the Mexicans than in Texas.

“Mason, go back to your room.” My body sits up against the wall pulling the covers up with me. Fear is stricken in every joint as they creak and groan with the movements. I feel frozen physically, my bones molded together with metal. His heavy footsteps made the floorboards scream as he entered my room, the light from the window forcing a shadow behind him.

“I have missed you sister, you are always gone when I’m home,” His words slur as he approaches the bed. A hand gripping the covers, pulling against my own strength. My face quivers like a doe, his body just one big light. “You owe me little girl.” 

His bottle falls onto my bed as a knee breaches the soft blanket. I swing my legs over the side and my feet touch the floor as his hand lurches out, grabbing me by the face, my mouth covered in its wake. I scream but no one is here as he pulls me back. I am stuck. I am stuck. I am stuck. 

Then the door opens again but this time it is another beast with its own lights, however they are worn and dim. The lights speak to each other as I raise my hooves to his hand and let my teeth bite down as hard a possible. Blood sprays my face and he jumps back. I hit the floor and get to the window, pushing it up, and make my escape. Just as I get outside a bottle hits the window and the glass sprays everywhere. I gasp and hit the hard floor of the desert before limping out into the darkness, not bothering to check behind me.

Before  I can realize I am being pulled across the cement, the gentle hand that is holding my face has left me. Instead I can feel someone else’s reach under my back and pull me up. I try to rip myself away with the little strength I can muster but only a fool tries to run on broken legs. I am a horse to be shot for sure. I am no longer useful. 

Then I see the glint of the sunglasses in an already dark room, the shine of a gun being forced into my hand, a tap on the side of my face that only means one thing. Get home. When Roach realizes I am no longer fighting him he wretches me up and over his shoulder. I lay limply there, just my torso making contact with his strong body. My fingers squeeze my gun as I keep my eyes on the back of his heels. He pats the side of my thigh and he moves quickly and precisely. The hallways zigzagged like a maze. It’s all shaky, hard to perceive. Colors and lights dancing in front of my eyes as we make our escape. 

[sissyisawitch]

You're Losing Me

Relationship: Sebastian Sallow x f!MC

Summary: After seven years of relationship, MC feels neglected by Sebastian when he's been spending too much time at work.

Word Count: ~3k

Author's Note: So Taylor Swift finally released You're Losing Me a few days ago, and in honour of my favourite song of hers, I wanted to write a short story based on it. Also, this is the very first one shot I've ever written, so if anyone ever reads this, I hope it's not too bad and that you'll enjoy it.

Warnings: Angst with no happy ending If you've listened to the song, you know what I'm talking about.

MC was sitting alone in the dimly lit living room of her and Sebastian’s flat in London. She had been waiting in the same place for almost two hours, dressed in a long, elegant lace dress. Sebastian had promised to pick her up on his way home from work to take her to the restaurant to ‘celebrate a special occasion’. But he was almost two hours late.

Just like every day.

Weary of waiting without doing anything, MC stood up and found herself drawn to an old framed photograph resting on top of the mantelpiece.

The faded image depicted Sebastian and her in the early days of their relationship. They had been together for just over a year, recently graduated from Hogwarts, and had just finished moving in together. In the picture, MC was grinning and waving at Anne who was taking the photo, while Sebastian only had eyes for his girlfriend and placed a tender kiss on her cheek, clinging to her waist. Their smiles were genuine, and their eyes sparkled with the innocence of young love. It was a time when laughter flowed effortlessly, and every shared glance held the promise of a bright future.

This picture had been taken in front of the same fireplace, where MC was now standing alone. The slightest noise she made echoed through the empty flat.

As she traced her fingers over the photograph, a wave of nostalgia washed over her, bringing both warmth and sorrow. MC could not help but notice the drastic contrast between the joy reflected in that frozen moment, and the current state of their relationship. Whereas at the very beginning, Sebastian had always been by her side and found it hard to part with her, he now had little time for her, preferring to devote his entire days and weeks to his job as a researcher for the Ministry. The smiles that once came so easily had become strained, and the sparkle in his eyes had dimmed.

The passage of time had woven complexities into the fabric of their connection, and the former carefree happiness seemed like a distant memory. A heavy sigh escaped her lips as she pondered the journey they had taken, acknowledging the inevitable changes that had altered the landscape of their once-unblemished love story. The photograph became a poignant reminder of the bittersweet nature of time and the inevitable evolution of their relationship.

Nothing had gone according to plan.

Their original plan was to get married soon after leaving school, and then start a family together.

But Sebastian had wanted to put off the idea of marriage until they had found a home together. When they did find somewhere to live, he wanted to wait until he had more money to support them both, even though MC had a job of her own. Then, once he had enough money, he wanted to wait for his career to develop, and for him to climb higher up the social ladder.

Long story short, Sebastian always wanted more, and therefore still had not proposed to MC in the seven years of their relationship.

Lately, MC had been coming home to an empty flat, sleeping in a cold bed, and spending her weekends alone, with Sebastian becoming increasingly more obsessed with his work. MC, in her attempt to be the bravest soldier, had not made any remark to Sebastian about it. She had sacrificed pieces of herself, bleeding emotionally in secret to keep their relationship intact. Instead, she spent many evenings sitting in the dark, wondering if it was time, if their relationship had finally come to a dead end.

At this point, the only cure for their couple would be for Sebastian to propose.

MC remembered Poppy's words. When the Hufflepuff had come to visit her earlier in the day, she had told her that this impromptu dinner at the restaurant was suspicious, that he was bound to propose. He had asked her to wear her best dress, after all. Besides, it would explain why he had been even more absent than usual in recent weeks; he had certainly been busy planning the perfect proposal.

Once her friend had sown the seeds of doubt in her mind, MC could not resist the urge to rummage through Sebastian’s belongings. In the drawer of his bedside table, she eventually found a jewellery order form, with a red stamp reading ‘paid and delivered’ across it.

All of MC’s doubts had vanished. He was going to propose to her this evening, and she had put her glad rags on for the occasion.

“MC! I’m home!” She heard Sebastian call from the doorway. “Are you ready to go?”

**********

After a delicious dinner at a fancy restaurant of Diagon Alley, the couple indulged in their dessert. MC’s eyes sparkled with excitement, her mind racing with thoughts of a romantic proposal. She anticipated the moment when he would make a magnificent declaration of everlasting love to her, get down on one knee and take out the beautiful engagement ring he had chosen specifically for her.

As Sebastian poured them both champagne, he cleared his throat, “So, as you know, I've brought you here to celebrate a special occasion.”

“Yes?” She grinned at him, more ready than ever for what was going to happen next.

“Well brace yourself, because I have been promoted! You're looking at the new head of the Ministry’s research department.” He announced with a smile of professional triumph.

An amalgam of surprise and disappointment replaced MC’s initial beaming smile.

“That's wonderful news, honey…” MC managed to reply, trying to mask her unmet expectations with a supportive tone.

She had imagined this evening to be the oh-so-awaited milestone in their relationship, a step towards a shared future. Instead, Sebastian was excitedly explaining to her that he will be dedicating even more time to his career, and be even less present for her.

“It was Alcamene, the department secretary, who helped me get this promotion. Her uncle is in a powerful position at the Ministry, and she spoke to him about me. It was really nice of her, so I bought her a necklace to thank her.”

The champagne lost its sparkle as the weight of his words sank in. MC had not been given the declaration she had so longed to hear. Instead, she had received a proclamation of increasing separation. Added to this heartbreak, was the gut-wrenching betrayal that Sebastian had given a piece of jewellery to another woman, when he had not bought her one for years.

If hell was a place on earth, MC was right in the middle of it.

“Couldn't you have asked Ominis?” She asked bitterly, and Sebastian only shrugged nonchalantly.

“I didn't want to bother him. I'm already asking too much from this bloke.” He chuckled.

“Right.” She took a sip of champagne, but the taste lingered on her tongue with a hint of unfulfilled expectations, and the realisation that the gulf between them was about to widen even further. “So, in practical terms, now that you've been promoted, what more are you gonna do?”

“I'm going to be in charge of planning all the research. For my first project, I wanted to do things on a grand scale, so we're going to go in search of a stone that's rumoured to be able to cure any illness or curse. Me and the team are going on a five-month expedition to Estonia.”

MC nearly spat out her champagne, “I’m sorry, what? You’re going to be away for five months? And in Estonia?”

“I know it seems like a long time, but don't worry, time will fly by in the blink of an eye. I'll be back before you know it.” He flashed her a comforting smile that did nothing to reassure the girl.

“Is this expedition really necessary?” She asked, begging him between the lines not to leave, not to abandon her.

“You know it's a subject that matters a lot to me. This stone could help so many people, especially Anne.”

“But Anne's condition has stabilised thanks to my ancient magic.”

Sebastian let out a heavy sigh, “Maybe, but I’m sick and tired of you having to visit her every week to put her out of her misery. The curse is still present in her body, and your ancient magic is clearly not a long-term solution.”

MC found herself unable to form the response he was waiting for. She was too busy imagining her near future, where she would wake up alone every morning, make coffee for just one person, have no one to kiss or hug, and come home to an empty flat at night to lie in a cold bed. In the end, she realised, it would not be much different from now. There would just be a thousand miles separating them, and it would last longer than usual.

Her glazed over eyes reflected her quiet resignation. Deep down, she understood that convincing him to prioritise their relationship over his career ambitions – and especially a remedy for his twin sister – would be futile. After all the means he had used to try to save Anne – from a Shrivelfig to losing himself to the Dark Arts – it was obvious that he would never stop, not until she was entirely out of danger.

“You could be a bit more enthusiastic for me, MC. I'm finally going to do something that counts, that could make history, and here you are sulking.” Sebastian threw his napkin on the table in annoyance.

“Let’s go home. I’m tired.”

**********

The night air was crisp as MC and Sebastian returned from the restaurant, in complete silence, the remnants of their dinner conversation lingering uncomfortably in the space between them. As they stepped through the front door of their flat, the air became thick with loss and indecision.

As they stood in the living room, near the fireplace, MC took a deep breath and turned to face Sebastian, her eyes searching his familiar chestnut ones for a connection that had eluded them for far too long.

“Sebastian…” She started, her voice steady but tinged with vulnerability. “Did you have another question for me this evening?”

Sebastian frowned in incomprehension, “No… Why?”

“Nothing, forget it.” She glared at Sebastian with storms in her eyes.

But he unfortunately remained oblivious to the dying embers of their love, “No, tell me, because you’ve been acting strange tonight. I don't understand.”

She scoffed bitterly, “I know you don’t.”

“Love… Talk to me, please.” He approached her slowly, as if trying to tame a frightened little animal, and then reached out to cup her face in his hands, gently caressing her cheeks with his thumbs.

For a moment, MC leant into his touch, feeling as if she were in the presence of the old Sebastian, the one who cherished and cared for her, a presence she missed agonisingly now. She lifted her gaze to look at him, believing that the man she absolutely adored had returned, but when she saw that the flame in his eyes was still extinguished, she was quickly brought back to reality, and reluctantly pushed him away.

MC, her heart heavy with the weight of unspoken words, was overcome by a surge of courage, “When are you going to marry me, Sebastian?”

“Soon, baby. I promise.”

“You’ve been saying that for years…” She shook her head in disbelief, as if she were trying to push away the terrifying thoughts that perhaps she simply was not enough for him. “You know… I’d understand if you didn’t want to marry. I wouldn’t either. I’m just some boring people pleaser…”

Sebastian was quick to take her hand in his and reassure her (or at least try), “Hey, you know it’s nothing like that, darling. I told you I wanted my situation to get better before committing myself.”

“But your situation couldn’t be better!” She withdrew her hand from his abruptly, her tone becoming louder and louder as she grew increasingly frustrated. “You’re an honoured researcher, who’s able to afford anything he wants with his salary, but you’re never satisfied! What could you possibly want more?”

“I want to be the best. For you. Because you deserve it.”

MC laughed humourlessly in his face, “And yet, here you are, not even able to give me the worst, because you’re not giving me anything anymore, Sebastian! I barely see you anymore! It… It’s like we’re not a couple anymore! I can’t bear the distance between us any longer.”

“MC, calm down.” Sebastian said in a firmer tone, as if warning her not to take this argument any further. It was palpable that his irritation was growing too. “It’s only a matter of time. You just have to be a bit more patient. It’s not that bad–”

“Not that bad? I’ve waited seven years, Sebastian! I’ve been more than patient! I gave you all my best me's, and my endless empathy, but all you’ve done these past months is ignore me! Anyone else would’ve left you long ago!” At this point, MC was fully screaming at him, no longer having the strength or desire to contain her torrent of emotions any longer.

The intensity of her outburst left Sebastian taken aback, her words cutting him like a sharp dagger straight to the heart. A stunned expression etched itself across his face. He stood there, momentarily at a loss for words.

MC was biting her nails to the quick as she stared at him. She was waiting for him to find the miracle solution to all their problems, like he always did, and for their relationship to be saved. However, he did nothing more than stare right back at her, lips parted as he struggled to find a response that could bridge the growing chasm between them.

The icy silence reminded them that their relationship was nothing more than a ship that was slowly sinking. Its demise was inevitable. This realisation was unbearable for MC, who could not stop herself from snapping at Sebastian.

“Do something, Sebastian. Say something. You’re losing me!”

The echoes of her plea filled the space, and for a moment, the silence spoke volumes. Sebastian, caught off guard by the rawness of her honesty, met her gaze, recognising the urgency in her eyes. It was a pivotal moment, the point of no return where they needed to confront the cracks in their relationship and decide whether to mend or let go.

“I love you, MC.” Sebastian finally said. These were the only words his mind could muster.

MC huffed at how basic and devoid of authenticity his declaration was, “How can you say that you love someone you can’t tell is dying?”

Sebastian stammered, his usual poised demeanour shattered by the force of her cold indifference, “I… I… I don’t know. I don’t know what to say…”

“Then I’ll make it easier for you. It’s either me or your research. You have to choose now.”

“I can’t believe it!” He exclaimed, putting his hands on his hips in exasperation. “You can’t ask that of me, MC. I need to do this research, but you have to understand that it doesn’t mean that I don’t love you. You’ve got to believe me.”

She crossed her arms in front of her chest, “I’ve got nothing to believe unless you’re choosing me.”

Sebastian, confronted with the reality of losing the woman he had taken for granted, faced a choice that could either breathe life back into their love or push it beyond the point of no return. Nevertheless, he did not need to rack his brains for very long, for his choice was already made.

“I’m going on this trip, whether you like it or not. It’s too important.”

MC’s eyes widened at his answer.

“More important than me?” She asked, her facade of indifference cracking in the same way as her voice.

Sebastian looked away without responding, but there was no need to. His silence spoke louder than any words ever could.

And just like that, he had dealt the final blow, carrying away with it the last vestiges of MC’s feelings for him.

Her heart, once resilient like a phoenix, now struggled to find a pulse. Her heart would not start anymore for him. She was tired of always having to mend the gashes he had been inflicting on her heart every day for months. She was done.

“Leave this house.” MC ordered in a weak, strained voice, indicating that her tears were about to flow.

“MC…” Sebastian called her name like a prayer to reconsider her decision.

“LEAVE!” She shouted again, this time firmly to force Sebastian to comply. “I don’t want to ever see you again, Sebastian.”

Sebastian nodded in resigned agreement, and retreated to what is – or rather once was – their shared bedroom. He mechanically began to pack his belongings, the act itself a silent testament of their love being beyond repair. The sound of clothes shuffling and drawers closing punctuated the oppressive silence that did nothing to help forget about the gravity of the situation.

With one last lingering gaze at the space that held memories both beautiful and painful, Sebastian shouldered the weight of his bags and walked towards the door, leaving behind his home, his lover, his best friend, and his life.

The thud of the door closing behind him sounded the death knell of seven years spent together, brutally gone up in smoke.

Her tears began to flow down her cheeks, as abundant as torrential rain. MC was suddenly overwhelmed by a profound sense of loss that instantly made her collapse to the floor of a room that had once been a sanctuary of light and love. She looked around the gloomy room that was adorned with remnants of their shared history, and had now become a silent witness to their break-up. Photos, souvenirs, and gifts of them were everywhere. MC had no idea if she was supposed to throw out everything or keep it.

They had chosen this flat together. They had bought it for its living room, which they both loved because of the light. That same room was now shrouded in the darkness, with MC alone and crumpled to the ground, crying her eyes out.

She could not believe what had just happened. She could not comprehend how everything had gone downhill so rapidly.

Sebastian had lost her.

[queerbrownvegan]

Ecological wealth is the only wealth that will save us. 🌎📗

So much of Los Angeles’s historical ecologies are being lost. These aren’t just landscapes—they’re living histories of joy, love, and the intricate web of social relationships that foster a sense of community and belonging.

I haven’t had the time to fully process everything that has happened (still happening for others) during the wildfires in Los Angeles. My home, my people, my culture, my roots—though I am a visitor to this land—have become my sanctuary. I write this on top of an air mattress in the guest room of my sister's home.

I am safe. My parents are safe. My brother and sister are safe. All of our homes are safe. But mentally, I’m struggling to find the words to express myself. Writing feels like the only way for me to express both my pain and love for the world.

So many of you have reached out to share your pain, loss, anger, grief, sadness, confusion, and checking with me too. Thank you for trusting me with your stories. And I understand how confusing this time can be for everyone. We all want answers, but we are left with more questions.

Environmental scientists can explain how we got here, but the arts, humanities, and philosophy illuminate why this is happening now. These are the tools that have sustained me—storytelling, spirituality, and creativity. Some have told me to separate these elements from my science work, but I believe they are essential. Science (Western) alone doesn’t always reach everyone. Storytelling fosters care, connection, and understanding.

When people have asked me, what can I do? (Other than sharing materialized resources like GoFundMe, Mutual Aid Groups, and other grassroots initiatives) I say, build ecological wealth now, in our lifetime. Ecological wealth is a cultural framework that values the existence of species, local knowledge, and culture, as well as the economic, intrinsic, and spiritual value of natural resources and ecosystem services.

I am giving up on building generational wealth and shifting my focus to creating ecological wealth. This is a wealth that doesn’t materialize in our hands but instead nurtures the mind, spirit, and heart. It’s a blueprint for the continued wellness and existence of multi-species life on Earth.

Growing up in poverty, the fear of not having enough money was ingrained in me. It shaped how I saw the world, how I lived, and how I related to living systems. My survival was rooted in scarcity and individualism, especially as I navigated higher socioeconomic spaces in my career. Like many immigrant families, we were taught to chase the American Dream—a belief that global capitalism would bring security and success. Even when it comes to disasters like this, I have had to adopt the role of the financial caretaker of my family. I fear sometimes what if I get sick one day, what will happen to my family?

But no amount of wealth can truly protect us. The recent wildfires made this painfully clear. Rich, middle-class, and poor communities alike faced the devastation (though let's acknowledge it takes longer for those in lower-income/middle class to rebuild). Generations who worked to ensure safe, healthy, and loving environments for their families are now grappling with a world very different from the one they planned for.

Perhaps resilience lies not in building traditional generational wealth, but in cultivating ecological wealth. In a world where the economy is crumbling, resources are depleting, and the wealth gap continues to grow, the future must prioritize sustainability and community care. Previous generations of families worked hard and diligently to save as much as they could to buy their first home and to ensure their children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren would live in those homes, but today the well-being of society (from humans, fauna, flora, and fungi) are in a destabilized state. And it can only sustain so much pain.

These principles are not new, nor revolutionary. Indigenous communities have always (and still to do) abided by these values. They teach us that wealth is not measured in material accumulation, but in the health of our relationships—with the land, with each other, and with the systems that sustain life.

Yet, many of us who navigate this world as visitors—immigrants, displaced peoples, or those raised in systems of extraction—are pushed toward material success over ecological success. We’ve grown up in societies that value individualism over interdependence.

While it’s important to address systemic corruption, climate change, and arson, I recognize that not everyone is immediately receptive to these truths, especially if they hold different political or cultural views. But what if we could offer a reframe before diving into these discussions? What if we began with something relatable, something foundational?

Reframing wealth as ecological might be a starting point that brings us closer together—a foundation for unity, even when we don’t fully agree. It’s a perspective rooted in care, reciprocity, and shared existence.

More than ever, we need storytellers, artists, and creatives to reframe the narrative and meet people where they are—not with fear, but with care. Working-class people already understand the harm caused by extractive industries and they are trapped. They need material resources, safety, and allies who will build with them, not against them. Which means having more uncomfortable conversations in person. Everyone has a different theory of change, and we need them all since there is no magic bullet.

While we address the immediate financial needs of rebuilding communities, we must also reimagine what wealth looks like. Resilience isn’t just about money; it’s about relationships, community, and reciprocity. It’s found in neighborhoods weaving together their resources, labor, and love to build something collectively stronger.

The question is: How can we show up differently? How can we influence others to rethink wealth—not as money or status, but as the health of the living, breathing systems that sustain us?

Our lives are deeply interwoven with the ecosystems around us. Every tree, every river, every gust of wind—these are the true wealth that make life possible. It’s time to reframe our dominant culture and recognize the value of ecological wealth.

The path forward begins with how we see value. Ecological wealth isn’t just about saving the planet—it’s about saving ourselves.

Important Ref:

Los Angeles is on the traditional territory of the Tongva, Tataviam, Serrano, Kizh, and Chumash peoples.

More of this can be found in a written post I wrote back in 2021 with clear citations and inspirations from other scholars.

[reasonsforhope]

Catherine Borowski has always had an active imagination. As a child, she dreamed that the car park on her north London council estate would be transformed into a garden. The reality was quite different. “No one had a car, so it was empty, grey and depressing,” she says. Now a sculptor and event producer, Borowski has made it her mission to fill unloved urban spaces with flowers – albeit virtual ones. 

She and her partner Lee Baker are the founders of Graphic Rewilding, a project to install huge nature-inspired artworks into the urban landscape. “Where real rewilding isn’t possible, our goal is to inject the colour and diversity of nature into rundown spaces, urging people to notice – and find joy in – the world around them,” says Baker.   

The pair believe that flowers possess serious powers, even when they’re not real. “We know that spending time in nature is good for us, but studies show that even pictures of plants have a positive effect on the mind,” says Baker. He cites research published in The Journal of Alternative and Complementary Medicine, which found that imagery of plants in hospital waiting rooms can help reduce feelings of stress in patients. 

Baker, a painter and music producer, has long understood the benefits of biophilic design. Having suffered a breakdown 10 years ago, he found that drawing flowers was the only way to soothe his buzzy brain. “I would set out to draw dystopian landscapes, representative of my state of mind, but I’d always end up drawing flowers, which uplifted me,” he says.

It was around this time that Baker met Borowski, joining her production company as creative director. The pair have collaborated ever since, launching Graphic Rewilding in 2021. Since then, they’ve installed floral murals at locations including Earl’s Court station, Lewes Castle and Westfield Shopping Centre in Shepherd’s Bush – all hand drawn by Baker. “We love galleries, but we focus on public art,” he says. “This way, our work is out there for everyone to enjoy.”

This year the pair have grand plans to create a series of stained glass pavilions (think greenhouses with colourful floral-themed panels), which they hope might find homes at Kew Gardens and the Eden Project. “The way light shines through the glass is magical,” says Borowski.  

Even so, they concede that art is no match for Mother Nature. “Some people have suggested that our project detracts from real rewilding efforts. But both can co-exist,” says Borowski. “Of course we want more green spaces.” adds Baker. “But we aren’t gardeners. We’re artists. In the absence of nature, we want to create inspiring spaces through art.”

Overall, the response has been hugely positive. “The joy that these artworks bring is palpable,” says Baker, highlighting an early project in Crawley, West Sussex. “Many people in the town were employed by Gatwick airport and Covid had taken its toll,” he recalls. In a bid to spread some joy, the duo painted brick walls, billboards, benches and even bins with their signature floral flair. “Peoples’ reactions were heartwarming. There were so many smiling faces,” he says.

Elsewhere, in Earl’s Court, the pair transformed “a ratty piece of tarmac” into a modern-day pleasure garden, which is now often filled with children dancing and doing cartwheels on the way home from school. “Putting art into a place that previously felt unloved feels like cultivating joy where there was none,” reflects Borowski. “If something like this had been installed on my estate when I was a kid, it would have been a dream come true.”

-via Positive.News, November 6, 2023

[manic-maniac-man]

HUgE April 2011

HEDI SLIMANE

"ANTHOLOGY OF A DECADE"

All Photos by Hedi Slimane

Hedi Slimane.

This genius photographer, who created a frenzy in the men's fashion scene in the 2000s, has produced numerous photographic works to date.

A photobook that brings together all the work he has recorded over the past 10 years will be released.

The world that Hedi captured through his viewfinder is an anthology of his memories that will be passed down to the next decade.

"I have only one style, and will have it, and repeat myself until I'm gone, but this style is my own."

"My style is always the same. And it will never change. So I will probably continue to go back and forth until I die. But at the same time, it's something that only I can do." (Hedi Slimane)

words from Hedi SLIMANE

--- I believe you are currently residing in the United States. Could you please tell me where you are and what you have been up to recently?

"I moved to California in 2010. Not only is the nature and history here amazing, but I also love the free atmosphere that's unique to California that Europe has lost. I'm currently based in LA. No matter where a shoot or project takes place, LA is the base. That's because LA has a somewhat European feel to it, but at the same time, it's a city that has the perfect balance of the rapid development and energy of Asia. I'm not sure if this is simply because Asia is just across the Pacific Ocean, but it's a really fascinating place." --Has anything changed since you started living in America? Please tell us more specifically.

"Nothing has changed about me. For better or worse, I don't think I've changed at all since I was 5 years old... (laughs). But since I was absorbed in fashion, it was necessary for me to distance myself a little. For me (who has drawn the line at fashion), LA is a very comfortable place. It's a place where I feel at home. Also, since 2007 I've been working on a project called "Representation of Americana," and America has always been a place I've been interested in."

--Why did you decide to compile your past photographic works again at this point? "It felt like it was inevitable that I should compile my own work at this point, which is also the first decade of the new century. In 2000, I was doing everything from 1 to 10.

"I felt like I could do anything. But I think that this free and positive attitude, and the willingness to try new things, was the most important foundation in creating this anthology. It was also one of the reasons I wanted to leave a record of my work in fashion and the masculinity I felt at the time. It is important to express the fashion and scene of the era that was born from indie rock, which I was able to reconnect with. Also, we are now in an age where people all over the world can access my work. Around 2000, I became interested in the Internet as a medium, and I published my designs and photos online. In the mid-2000s, blog culture and social networks started to become popular at around the same time, and my homepage naturally spread to the public."

--Your works seem sentimental, but also very emotional. What state of mind are you always in when you look through the viewfinder and capture your subject?

"When I take portraits, I am conscious of protecting the subject from the concept of 'time'. When it comes to this way of thinking, I become as sensitive as a child and create a clear image in my head. Time flies by and disappears in just an instant. I always have this image in my mind when I approach the subject. So I focus all my energy on capturing the unstable fragility and danger that comes with youth, and the fragility of the vitality of life, which can be glimpsed in such a moment."

--Among the works are musicians' kits.

Your photography ranges from portraits of young people to landscapes and still life. What is the subject that interests or fills you with the most passion at the moment?

"I'm most excited by the unexpected encounters I have every day. Just two days ago, I met a skater boy on the streets of LA who was incredibly charming. It wasn't something that anyone planned, it was just a coincidence. But from the moment I saw him, I wanted to use him as a subject for my work. I think it will become a shot film. Such coincidences are one of the reasons why I can remain passionate. I believe that nothing great comes from a rational way of thinking where everything is calculated."

--Your black-and-white photographs have a minimalist, edgy originality that overlaps with the fashion image you previously designed. When completing your black-and-white photographs, especially

What are the points you are particular about?

Do you want it?

"Ever since I was a teenager, I've always had a certain tone and depth of black in my head, so for decades I've been trying to express that in prints myself, and that's been my biggest obsession. I don't go that far with the silver halide photographs I'm currently dealing with. But recently I've often been unsatisfied with my own prints, so I'm thinking about finishing my own prints again and holding a solo exhibition for the first time in a while."

--On the other hand, I'm not interested in color photography these days. If you want to take color photos now, what kind of subject would you like to photograph and how would you like to photograph it?

"Of course I take colour photographs, but I feel more comfortable with black and white.

"There was a time when I only shot in color. But now that I'm only taking black and white photos, I feel like I'm able to approach photography with a much higher awareness of color than I did back then when I was taking color photos. Recently, I've been taking a lot of color portraits for magazine shoots. It's fun, but the more I take them, the more I feel like I'm a black and white person. I feel like the element of 'color' isn't necessary for my work."

-- Many of your works give the strong impression of a certain kind of "music" playing in the viewer's head. Do you have any sound inspiration in mind when you shoot?

"Music has always been my source of inspiration. In fact, it's the only thing that has meaning to me. Music is energy and it's time. It's through music that fashion becomes a vivid memory. I still listen to UK indie. I've been listening to Egyptian hip-hop, The Heartbreakers, and LA's The Waves a lot lately. I also like anything from Gainsbourg to surf music, and old rock like Gene Vincent and Buddy Holly."

-- Recently, I think a lot of photography is done with digital cameras. This is true for the entire photography industry, but do you feel there is a difference between digital and analog film photos?

"I started taking digital photos around 2005. But actually, about half of the photos in the photo books being published today were taken with film. It wasn't until around 2004 that the technology of digital cameras started to improve.

After the techniques improved dramatically, I started to use digital media. As I said before, it was around the same time that social networks became popular and my website became widely known. So, in a way, it was the right time to try new things. I'm not a nostalgic person, so I always try to work with machines and technologies that are on my wavelength. By doing so, I think that the work from that time becomes part of my memory and I can express the relationship with the work of other artists."

--Your photo books seem to be very particular about the quality of the paper and the cover design, but to what extent do you personally direct them? Also, are there any art directors that you trust (or pay attention to)?

"No one in particular. I direct everything myself. What's strange is that there are photographers who aren't obsessed with layout, typography, the paper they're printed on, or the textures. My photography and fashion design are inseparable from graphic design. I've been working on graphic design for as long as I have on photography and clothing design. Everything is my idea. To be honest, I don't want to rely on anyone creatively. I feel more uneasy if the other staff involved in my work don't understand my ideas. In that kind of environment, you can't create a true sense of the moment, or the uniqueness of the creative process and expression."

---As a photographer, how do you view the current men's fashion scene?

"I tried out the 'New New Wave' at Dior Homme, but I don't think there's been much movement since. It seems like the current men's scene is like my last collection from 2007 A/W."

---Please tell us if there are any photographers you personally like or whose works you collect.

"I like reportage photography. August Sander, the iconic work that captures the social dynamics of the time, early Will McBride, Ed van der Elsken, and avant-garde photography from the 1920s like Rodchenko."

--What kind of camera do you normally use?

"I'm not a particularly fetishistic person, but I often use lenses that I've had for a long time. I process them so that they express the nuances I want to capture. But it doesn't matter what kind of camera or lens you use. What's really important is your own eyes and your vision."

--Now that you've been an artist for 10 years, do you want to change your style in any new ways?

"I think that people who can be called truly creative are people who pursue one thing to the fullest. Therefore, I don't think there is any need to change yourself. Even if you try something new and change yourself, you will only be going around in circles and will end up coming back to the same place. My style of photography has not changed at all since 1983.

It's clear if you look at my previous photo books. The photo I used on the first page of my pari photo book this time is one I took in the summer of '88. I put it on the opening page because I wanted to show everything I've been working on since then. There's just one consistency, one emotion, one energy, one feeling, in both fashion and photography. My style is always the same, and it will never change. So I'll probably be going back and forth between the same places until I die. But at the same time, it's something only I can do."

[writingquestionsanswered]

I’m writing a story that takes place in my home city of Atlanta. The main character is a student who is new to the environment as a university freshman from out of state. I want to make her interactions with the landscape feel natural and not “touristy” if that makes sense. I don’t want for her to just be like “oh wow, the traffic here is terrible; it must be because of all the [insert forced info/history dump here]”. How can I avoid this? Thanks for your help.

Out of Town College Student

Unless the character comes from a similarly area/city or has been to Atlanta on previous occasions, you probably want them to be a little touristy, at least at first. I wonder if it's less that you want them to appear "touristy" and more that you don't want to repeat the usual out-of-towner cliches? Which, in that case, I think you can think about some of the less cliche things that might stand out to your character on that level. Some things I noticed on my first visits: it was so green! So many trees! Beautiful parks, too. Quite a lot of diversity and cultural vibrancy. I didn't know until I visited that they had a rapid transit system. The proximity to other places is great, too... an hour and a half to Helen, two hours to Chattanooga, three hours to Asheville, four hours to Savannah and the Golden Isles, five hours to Charleston, six hours to the Florida panhandle... So, that said, I think you can avoid the cringey "tourist" aspect by just having her notice less cliche things.

I hope that helps!

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

♦ Questions that violate my ask policies will be deleted! ♦ Please see my master list of top posts before asking ♦ Learn more about WQA here

[wowcat7]

Should I Write This AU?

Rough plot draft 70s movie AU where 21-year-old Henry Winter becomes the tutor to wealthy Julian Morrow's sickly, frail, daughter, who is the same age as Henry. He becomes a sort of live-in tutor, (if there's a name for that) starting off with helping Evangeline with the classics. Something HORRIBLE happens, however. They both fall in LOVE. MADLY in love. See, Julian cared very deeply about his daughter's health, but things in her life are complicated. she's TERMINALLY ill, and probably won't make it to the end of the year. Her dream was to finish college even if she died right after because things hadn't been looking good for her future for years. Julian, after seeing Henry kiss Evangeline, calls her into his office. he tells her he doesn't want him interacting with Evangeline like that ever again. Henry asks why. Julian confesses that Evangeline is sicker than he first let on, and a romance between the two of them would lead to heartbreak. Henry tells Evangeline they can't be in love. he remains her tutor, keeping his distance emotionally, until one day, Evangeline faints during a lesson. they rush her to the hospital and learn she only has a month maximum to live. Henry runs out and grieves. Julian finds him and admits that Evangeline NEEDS HIM, and tells Henry to hold her close to him and never let go during her last month. Now, I really have to figure out the ending for two reasons.

I don't know how to end it. Should it end with evangeline's death on page, or an implied fade out. which brings me to...

I have an idea for the ending, but i don't know whether it will be plagarizing. I want to pay homage to some 70s movie aesthetics with this one, but i don't want to seem like i'm openly copying the movie Play Misty For Me. See, in the movie, Cint Eastwood and Donna Mills's characters have a romantic scene in nature with the song 'The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face' by Roberta Flack played. My favorite ending idea is right after julian telling henry to be with evangeline in her last days, henry breaks the news to evangeline of what will happen, and that he'll be with her. The ending will be a flash forward set during about the last week of evangeline's life. It will be a small scene of henry guiding her through the garden, holding her hands, and helping her walk, while the Roberta Flack song plays. There will be no words spoken. Henry will pick flowers for Evangeline, and vice versa. The ending shot will be henry laying down against a tree with evangeline pressed against his chest. See, i imagine this sort of the ending of a movie, having the camera focus on evangeline lying in henry's arms, then the camera panning up, like a flyover camera, as the credits also appear, with the camera panning across the mansion and landscape as an instrumental of the song plays.

LOL, this ending literally popped up in my head as I was writing this... How about the camera pause on henry and evangeline under the tree, with white text appearing stating 'Evangeline Morrow died in her home surrounded by loved ones a week later."

I don't know which ending is my favorite yet. I think 1 because it makes it more ambiguous. it never tells you when she died, or anything about her death. I like endings that make you guess. Ending 2, on the other hand, is more direct and confirming.

[nyenvs3000w25]

Nature's Impact on my Life

Younger me always appreciated the outdoors. Spending a lot of time there, nature was a large part of my childhood. Whether at school, at home, with my friends, or traveling, I’ve always wanted to be outside. My hometown in Ontario is blessed with diverse landscapes and almost unlimited access to natural spaces. It's given me the privilege of growing up camping, boating, hiking, and swimming—shaping my connection to the outdoors and who I am today.

Muskoka, 2017

My younger self would be pleased to hear that my affiliation for the outdoors hasn’t faded. If anything, it’s grown with my increased education about the state of the environment. When I started University three years ago, I intended to pursue veterinary medicine—a goal I’d had for as long as I could remember. Over time, my curiosity about environmental issues has grown, and with it, a sense of responsibility to actively contribute to solutions. Learning about the growing impacts humans have on the environment has made me more aware of our obligations to protect the natural world, and I’ve realized that veterinary school may not be my end goal after all. University has allowed my interests to evolve from animal care to broader environmental issues, and my program, One Health, continues to teach me about the interconnections and significance of every living part of our world. In the digital age, nature starts to fade into the background when our focus is swallowed by screens and devices, and technology comes with its own set of environmental costs. While I won’t delve into my frustrations with human-driven climate change and our gross lack of solutions, I will share that this knowledge that I’ve gained through my education has significantly broadened my interest in protecting the natural world.

Sam Ham describes well, that nature interpretation is a process that provokes personal discovery, helping people find their own meanings in the world around them. I like this definition because it ties in the idea of a “sense of place”, and mine is built on the memories and connections I’ve made through nature. My sense of place is shaped by my parents, who always appreciated the outdoors and encouraged me to value it too. It’s grown through my life experiences and people I’ve met—locals with a deep connection to their homes, teachers who always encouraged curiosity and exploration, and professors with contagious passions for conservation and biodiversity. I’ve been around boats and lakes my whole life, teaching me to love the water and everything it sustains. One of my favorite places to be is by water—I think there is great beauty in the way lakes and oceans connect us to something much bigger than ourselves. My development of a sense of place is less about one person or location, and more about the way all these places and people have left their mark on how I see the world.

Jaco Beach, Costa Rica, 2024

I know that my childhood and my education are the greatest contributors to my interest in the environment, and this passion has shaped my goals in life and how I choose to live it. I do my best everyday to be environmentally conscious, and I strongly believe in treating nature with respect—as something to value, protect, and exist alongside.

[lily-alphonse]

I have a lot of rare-pairs but I'll try to only send one at a time. Leah x Emily is one of my favorites, just two nature loving lesbians, I think it's perfect.

THE HIPPIES *nodding as I think* Yes, yes I can work with this

I like their ship name being Lemily because it sounds like Lemony and no other reason lol.

SOME AO3 RESEARCH LATER...

Yeah nature definitely seems to be the thing tying them together. They're hippies. Emily would make all their clothes. They call each other wife and life partner but wouldn't actually get married since their spiritual bond matters more than what the government has to say about their relationship.

But how does it start? (cw recreational drug use)

Actually Leah is relieved to find someone like-minded after moving to Pelican Town.

After meeting people like Lewis and Jodi she was starting to worry moving to a small town was a mistake. But then she spots Emily working the bar and she is a breath of fresh air.

Leah compliments her sweater and Emily proudly states she made it herself with organic wool, and Leah basically has heart eyes over it right away.

Over the course of a night they talk, Emily leaning over the bar with interest between serving other customers. Every time she walks away Leah returns to her sketch book, mapping out the landscape of Emily's face.

Eventually Leah asks if she knows where to get weed around here. Emily just winks and says "I've got you."

When Emily gets off of work they smoke as Leah walks Emily home. Leah wasn't planning to get romantically involved with anyone so soon after breaking things off with her ex, but the chemistry with Emily is undeniable and she feels pulled in to her orbit.

She has such a bright laugh, and soft-looking lips.

Emily reaches to hold her hand as they walk, being a naturally affectionate person. But she asks "Are you seeing anyone, Leah?" and Leah about chokes.

"No, I'm not."

"Can I kiss you?"

And now she does choke, despite how she'd been getting used to how direct Emily was. "I-I, um, yes, absolutely. Please"

And then they sloppily make out on the side of Emily's house until Haley shouts at them from the window lmao

Send me any Stardew Valley rarepair and I will tell you how I would make them work! (Even non-marriage npcs) If youre lucky you may get a mini fic out of it. Check the list below to see if Ive already answered yours

Rarepair Masterlist

@janna-20208