#like just a moment taken by someone and then its been preserved this whole time kind of thing

[hythlodaeus-mynewoldfriend]

My love, do you know that your eyes are like stars brightly beaming? I bring you and sing you a moonlight serenade Let us stray till break of day In love's valley of dreams [....] A love song, my darling, a Moonlight Serenade

-"Moonlight Serenade" comp. by Glenn Miller, lyrics by Mitchell Parish

[nightfall-1409]

like its ok to wish that hunter did more to get crosshair out but i will say PLEASE stop saying that rescuing the literal helpless child from the child murdering fascists was somehow wrong of Hunter.

also like. can we stop undermining the very clear and obvious way that crosshair liked the power that he was given in the empire, especially over others, he was radicalized. he convinced himself that the war crimes were justified in the name of power. that is a far bigger problem and something that is going to haunt him far longer and requires a lot more to undo and forgive (and some people will never and should never do that, and others can't bc they are Dead)

to say it was all the effects of the chips, at this point in the series, its just not true. the events of aftermath specifically are 100% the chip. Everything after that is up for debate. We don't know when it was taken out, but at some point it was, and crosshair's pov is that it doesn't matter when, bc he likes where he's at. Had he not been abandoned by the empire on Kamino for so long, I doubt he would have ever changed, had Cody not deserted after confronting him about what it was the clones were doing, I doubt he would have ever changed. Had he not been forced to see Mayday's struggle and fight to bring him home and still after everything they both gave after everything suffered mayday died not in battle but because someone couldn't be bothered to even try to help him, I don't think he would have changed. I don't think Hunter could talk him out of it, and maybe he didn't try hard enough, or really, at all. Crosshair's version of loyalty, though, is blind, unquestioning, a soldiers loyalty. Obeying what they were doing, things that Hunter couldn't obey, and would have made him a monster to do.

But I can't imagine the disgust I would be forced to contend with if like, my family member came forward like "oh yes we're built to be soldiers, that doesn't mean preserving or protecting innocents, It means power and killing those who get in my way. its my purpose in life and i think you're stupid for not getting over the moral objections" like what do you even say to that. Hunter at that point had SEEN what the empire was doing. They both had, their home planet, (and head canons aside, all clones did in fact, in canon, see it as their home.) orbitally bombarded to secure power. How do you talk someone out of that, if fundamentally what your disagreement is on the value of life. You don't. Hence Hunter's demands in S3E5 to know what changed. What finally made Crosshair realize what he believed, about power and his purpose, was wrong.

Crosshair didn't want out. Crosshair was upset they didn't stay. He saw their purpose as being with the Empire. They escaped and ran and deserted. If they weren't with him, in the Empire, then they should die, like the Jedi, and Crosshair did absolutely believe that.

So this is all to say that. they are not equally responsible for what happened to their squad. Crosshair didn't have a choice at first— but once he did keep running right over that line. And a lot of us hoped that he was lying about the chip, that he wasn't entirely responsible for all that he did. But he was. That's clear at this point.

Even the whole chip matter— it's prolly really hard for Hunter to separate it. logically, he knows it was partially the chip at this point. But at that point in the story he watched someone he was incredibly close to nearly kill them all and at the time he had no idea why. If Hunter'd not grabbed Omega by the leg and tripped her she would be shot dead. If omega hadn't surprised Crosshair by shooting his gun out of his hand he would have killed Hunter. He shot wrecker, to use him as bait against the rest of them? Like, again, we all knew about the chip, but I can understand the emotional toll of such a thing bc he DIDNT at the time. The betrayal in that moment? How do you let it go?

But thats all fine! its interesting its character development and its the story they were determined to tell. But like. we can be honest.

Now if someone thinks that im wrong i'd love to know what exactly hunter needs to be sorry about, and why he's equally responsible that doesn't like either downplay the war crimes and murder and doesn't throw Omega like directly into harms way and under the bus.

[enkvyu]

10:56pm — albedo;

break ups are messy, the lingering feelings of preserving love never ceasing to cling onto day-to-day objects, reminding you of sweet what-ifs. sometimes, you can see its remains piled onto a familiar jacket hanging abandoned in your closet, and amogst the dust, what is that staining its fabric?

you think it would have been better if you just hated him.

maybe then it would have been easier, easier to tolerate, easier to forget. but the reason you love him remains even when his love has long but fizzled out.

“name.” albedo calls, and it takes every fibre of your being to stop yourself from running away. oh, if the ground could open up and swallow you whole right now.

still, perhaps its that damned love that makes you turn with a smile on your face. “albedo, did you need something?”

“you came at the perfect time. sucrose went out moments ago but i needed a participant for my experiment. would you mind helping out?” his voice is as you always remembered and with a bitter thought, you wonder if your separation had affected him like it did you.

you wonder if your love had ever affected him, ever.

“the experiment can’t wait until she comes back?”

“something like that.”

you hum thoughtfully. “sorry, i’m a little busy. i could find someone else to help you though.”

albedo regards you. “it won’t take long.”

“i really don’t think i can.”

“because you’re too busy?”

“right.”

you don’t move. it’s that damned love again, holding you in place because though you hate it, hate how he looks at you like he still loves you, hate how he’s right there, within an arm’s reach and if you tried you could hold out your hand and touch him again, you know you can’t.

“name, listen. is this about what we had?” albedo speaks up again, and against better judgement, you bristle.

“what do you mean?”

“i can’t help but feel you’re uncomfortable around me because of something in the past. please correct me if i’m wrong.”

“you’re wrong.” you lie and your heart shudders at your words. “i don’t care about whatever was in the past. it's in the past for a reason."

“i didn’t mean to hurt you, name.” he takes a step forward, feet crunching in the snow.

you suck in a breath, equally taking a step back. “you know, you’re really bad at comforting people. especially considering the fact that i don't need comforting.”

the way he looks at you, like you're just another broken thing he could fix with enough research, like you're something curious to him, like you're interesting. like you're an anomaly he can't wait to flip inside out and back around. he's always looking at you, never with you.

"name." he says again, like you'd forgotten your name and he was the only one who could tell you who you were. "let's have a talk. i don't like having this distance between us."

but oh, who cares if he'll never treat you like a person, who cares if he's only playing around with you? you'd throw yourself off a cliff if you could guarantee he'd watch you the entire time, that distant, faraway look in his eye like you're only taking up his time until you're no longer special.

"i don't want to talk to you." you choke out. "we don't need to talk. there is nothing between us, no distance, no feelings, nothing. can't you let me go now that you've left me behind?"

"so i was right." albedo nods. "it is indeed because of our past relationship. i understand now."

"you don't get anything!"

"it's okay to get mad."

"oh, shut up albedo! can't you see that you're only making things worse?"

"i just wanted to let you know that your feelings are as expected."

you laugh and hope it covers up the pathetic sob that escapes your throat. instead, it only sounds more disgusting. you hate that you worry what he thinks of you still, maybe that's why you had taken more time than usual leaving your house.

"you really know nothing. despite all the time you spend locked up studying archons know what, you know nothing more than everyone else."

albedo and his stupid gaze, albedo and his know-it-all, it feels all too condescending. "insulting me won't make you feel better."

"but i want it to." your nose runs, and you're not completely certain it is because of the cold snowy air.

"let's continue this inside. it would worry me if you caught a cold." he angles his body to let you in and when you catch a glimpse of the interior, you feel a cold that penetrates to your bones.

the traveller meets your eye and gives you a smile, though their eyes are unsure. "is this the other participant to your experiment?" they ask innocently.

albedo looks away from you to nod, unfreezing you from your spot. without another word, you take a step back, then another and finally turn your back to the place you once call home, running into the nothingness hoping that same nothingness could numb your heart.

you're aware of the fact that he's yelling your name behind you, but those shouts easily die out in the wind. for once, you are thankful for the cold. it hurts, the chilling wind giving you whiplash from the burning sensation in your lungs as you run wherever your feet take you.

oh archons, he's already moved on. he's found someone else, i was that disposable to him. he's find someone else. i'm no longer the only one for him.

the first sob comes out overflowing. it spills everywhere as it's finally released. the next isn't as easy, you're gasping in as much air as you're releasing, but the one after that is less painful. forget him, your brain is screaming, you deserve better, it's saying.

but even as you cry out your poor, withered heart, you're hoping he could see you somehow and take in your pitiful self. still, somehow, you're hoping that he's intrigued with your wild reaction and you're still wishing he was watching you as you drop to the snow, you're still hoping he'll wrap you in his cold embrace.

[animebw]

Short Reflection: Princess Jellyfish

Let's be honest: we're all a little weird. Nobody fits perfectly into the role society expects from them, and pursuing that ideal is often a losing game for a booby prize. As a certified genderfluid Aspergers' gremlin, I've been painfully aware all my life of how impossible "fitting in" can be when society's view of normal is far out of reach. But I've also been aware of how rewarding it can be to find your own version of normal out on the margins, finding a happiness all your own that doesn't need anyone else's approval to be real. And above all else, Princess Jellyfish is a celebration of exactly that kind of next-to-normalcy. It's a love letter to all of us who fell short of the scripts we were given but found something far more worthwhile along the way, all the freaks and weirdos and washouts who came into our own by leaven the beaten trail behind and charting our own quirky course through this wonderfully strange world we call home.

Our setting is Amamizuku, a boarding house for women who've slipped through the cracks of society. Chinese history nuts, train otaku, doll obsessives, women who've "failed" to live up to their expected role of finding a husband and becoming a doting wife. But that suits them all just fine: they've found their own kind of family among each other. A bizarre, constantly broke family prone to fits of geeky infodumping about their preferred hyperfixations, but a family nonetheless. All except for the youngest among them: Tsukimi, a girl still coping with the death of her mother and struggling with crippling self-doubt. Her mother always told her that all girls grow up to be princesses, but every time she sees her geeky, chubby, socially awkward uberdork self in the mirror, she sees the furthest thing from a princess she can imagine. And as happy as she is among her new friends, part of her still feels inadequate for not living up to the ideal of femininity she thinks she's supposed to fulfill.

That all changes when someone who does embody that ideal of femininity waltzes into her life. The only catch? It's actually a guy! Kuranosuke is a politician's son who's taken to cross-dressing as a way of distancing himself from his stifling family and social role, staking his own identity as a glorious drag queen in defiance of what someone like him is expected to be. And when he puts on the makeup and dresses and boob pads, he's a more womanly woman than most actual women around him. A chance encounter brings his life and Tsukimi's crashing together, and when it becomes clear that Amamizuku may be in jeapordy due to an urban development project his father is invested in, he decides to partner with her and all the boarding house girls to find some way to save it, preserving the community they've carved out for themselves in defiance of a world that wants to drag them back into "normal" society. Provided his little secret doesn't get out, of course.

It's a wonderfully quirky little show, bursting with the kind of lived-in detail that shoujo anime so often excel at. Amamizuku is a wonderfully realized community of oddball losers, and while some of the characters walk the line between amusing and annoying at times, you really come to adore all of them for their eccentricities. Tsukimi in particular is absolutely adorable, a perfect bundle of nerves and anxiety brought to life by Kana Hanazawa's stammering brilliance. She takes you through the whole gamut of emotions from quiet sadness to freaking out to hyperfixated intensity without ever missing a beat. And seeing her play off Kuranosuke as they help each other understand their own hang-ups a little better really put a smile on my face. Neither of them fit the image of what a man and woman are supposed to be, and in that mutual defiance (albeit far more purposeful on Kuranosuke's part), they're able to see the best in each other that they're not always able to see themselves.

But its in the moments where the woman of Amamizuku crash up against "normal" society that Princess Jellyfish really shines. This show is deeply interested in the connections between the marginal and the mainstream, what it means to be "normal" and what so-called normalcy takes for granted in trying to impose a universal standard. There's a great moment where Kuranosuke's giving the women glow-ups so they look trendy and fashionable in order to infiltrate a board meeting about the redevelopment, and she says, "I won't tell you to change your personal style or fit yourself into their boxes. But if you want to take on this shallow world, you have to fight on terms that shallow people understand." It's such a great summation of the pointlessness of our image-focused culture, how a little lip gloss and Coco Chanel can transform someone's perception from a layabout spinster to a glamorous socialite without changing the person at their core. And in playing with those expectations, Princess Jellyfish is able to draw out a much deeper, more honest beauty from its characters, a beauty that shines just as brightly in a pearl necklace or ratty tracksuit.

The one sour note throughout the show is a subplot involving Kuranosuke's older brother Shuu, a much more politically-minded and traditionally masculine man who gets involved with the woman in charge of pushing the landscape development. She drugs Shuu and takes pictures to make it look like they had sex when he was drunk, blackmailing him in order to get closer to his father and influence his support of her project. It's a deeply disturbing event, and it's really unclear whether or not Princess Jellyfish realizes how messed up it is. Like, this woman essentially makes Shuu think she assaulted him when he was blackout drunk, and it's clear he walks away from the encounter feeling violated (He even says out loud that he was taken advantage of!). But the show pretty much puts all that messiness aside for the sake of fast-tracking a romantic subplot between them that, I'm sorry, is just the most forced thing in the world even without the not-actually-rape hanging in the background. It feels grossly nonchalant about such a serious subject, and while it far from ruins the show, it makes every scene involving them a chore to sit through.

Perhaps that all comes to a much more satisfying conclusion later in the manga. Sadly, this eleven-episode adaptation comes nowhere near close to an ending for any of the threads it sets up, leaving a distinct sense of anticlimax when all is said and done. But hey, if Kimi ni Todoke can somehow wrangle a sequel over a decade later, perhaps there's still hope for a second season of Princess Jellyfish yet. Until then, though, we'll have to remain content with this unfinished but still incredibly enjoyable taste of life on the wrong (but actually right) side of the tracks. And I give it a score of:

7/10

And now to re-watch Kimi ni Todoke and continue reveling in the joys of 2010-era shoujo anime. See you next time!

[definitelynotshouting]

Hello again! Im so sorry to hear you feeling well when i sent in my ask the other day :( hoping that the life series drop tmrw will provide a much needed distraction for whatever you need it to :)

-☀️

"I know the, um, this morning didn't go… very well… but… if I could—""

"Good, he thinks, but it's a rote sentiment, not half so vicious as it had been only hours earlier."

- oh??? 👀 i am looking

- Im assuming this is the meeting they had about taking grian back to hermitcraft (and the revelation that grian feeds on emotions to survive)?? Very curious

- Now that metaphor about the childhood coat being stained is a lot more painful

-☀️

"even stolen energy can't make up for that."

"everything he'd never had the first time he— well, when Grian, the real Grian— had died."

- "stolen energy" omg i am biting ankles over this.

- And the "real Grian" thing. Yeah

- This is one of those moments where grian's whole situation is so much more potent and vivid. Imagining living as myself, but knowing im occupying someone elses body, and having my very lifeforce sustained by others?? Its not hard to understand why grian internalises and hates himself for being "a parasite". Idk thats probably very obvious to everyone else but this is the first time ive really thought about all of what that entails

-☀️

"Starving hands reach out from the depths of his mind to pull him back, stumbling, under that dark waterline."

- Love how the word "starving" implies that G falling asleep is more of a survival mechanism forcing him under so that his body can feed rather than only exhaustion

-☀️

"he's pressed a knife to every promise he's ever made since the day he emerged,"

- shaking you

-☀️

"His existence lies in the shadows of these distorted fractures, jagged hopes and dented dreams, forever fated to cut his hands on the fragments."

- AHHHHJSLDHSJSVSN

- Man 🧍

- Dont have any words. Just tears.

AAAAAAAAAA SUN ANON I ALWAYS LOVE SEEING YOU IN MY INBOX!!!! Gods im so glad these lines resonated with and interested you, they were a ton of fun to write

I have a brain today so i can actually expand on some of the things youve pointed out instead of just aiming heart eyes at you for the compliments fjsndjsjejke so for the first point, yes!!! Scar and Xisuma returned to the others post chap 6 and were like "Well that sucked!! Wow!!!!" I wouldnt say theyve given all the information to everybody, because they themselves aren't exactly ready to discuss that beyond the immediately required basics, but everyone else was given the gist: convo went badly, Grian is being taken back to Hermitcraft on Scar and Xisuma's insistence. Both Scar and Xisuma feel fucking horrible for how that conversation went down-- nobody had a good time there. So while the plan is to eventually get everyone up to speed, they're sorta taking this time to be miserable about what was essentially a fight that ended in stripping Grian of his autonomy

There's also a little cross-communication happening here in the background, btw: Scar and Xisuma have a pretty big picture now, but Tango, Mumbo, and Pearl have been fed that false info abt the potions being potentially useful. So, yknow :) just smth to keep in mind there haha

Your point about how it almost feels like Grian falling asleep is a survival mechanism is spot on the money. It's essentially him falling into a state of low power mode, where everything but his most basic of functions is shut down for a brief time in favour of preserving energy-- i would honestly consider it more equivalent to a coma than actual sleep. Hence Tango's concern, and subsequent relief when Grian woke up; the entire time he was unconscious, he was fully unresponsive. So, yknow. Real nerve-wracking to see, especially after that prior full week of unresponsiveness as his body struggled to maintain itself.

Tango's role here is indeed deliberate, both on a watsonian and doylist level!! The reason however is the exact same for both: Tango is a little more removed, personally, from this situation. Grian was-- and is-- his friend, ofc, but he's not as close to whats happening. Meanwhile, Xisuma is in 24/7 server babysitting mode, Pearl is not fit to be a caretaker, and Scar and Mumbo were tearing themselves apart by trying to sit and look after him. So Tango got assigned caretaker duties 😂😂😂😂 it was an effective way to divvy up tasks and keep everybody busy, and somewhat hilariously, so far Tango is the only person Grian isnt supremely upset with for one reason or another. And thats why he's continued to stay in caretaker mode lol he is truly just. The only guy who can rn

I also just sorta think of him as a surprisingly emotionally savvy fixer-type, in terms of personality. Like. I think he just gets what people set down in front of him, yknow? Although hell if he knows what to do with it once he's got em. He fumbles a lot, sure, and he defaults to fix-it mode, but he is getting the message when Grian essentially says "i dont wanna talk anymore" without actually saying it

As for Grian and his headspace, rn, theres definitely a complexity at work here where he wants to die and is very genuine in that, but he IS also grateful he's seeing his friends. He cant deny that. As painful as it is, he still loves them very much, and ultimately he's trying to do this for their own good as much as for his own sense of punishment and relief. I think like... now that he's really creeping up on what he has planned, and the pieces are suddenly becoming a reality, theres a bit of dissonance he's fighting against to stay on course. He wants his friends happy; he also wants to die. He's so overwhelmingly tired; he is, as much as he feels he doesnt deserve it, glad to have his friends close. That sort of hopelessness mixed with a warped sense of comfort that he got to see and interact with them one last time. If that makes any sense. Its a bit of complexity i wanted to make sure i added in, because people are so rarely fully decided on any course of action they choose to take, without even a single flicker of doubt (and especially one so final as this). Im glad youve picked up on that, and that you appreciate what i was trying to set down with it!!! :D

This was such a lovely message, as always-- you are very sweet, sun anon, and i appreciate you lots :] i hope you're having an excellent day!!!

[karatekels]

Disorderly Conduct - Chapter 6

I sadly bring you the end to this fic. There's an important author's note at the bottom that I would encourage you all to read after this!

Previous Parts:

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

TW: Violence, gun violence, police brutality, police corruption, character death

---

Chapter 6 - Reinforcements:

---

Cash's POV:

“I’m sorry, Cash; I can’t. You’re going to have to kill me.”

The finality with which you say those words has him reeling.

“Do you think I’m fucking around, Y/N?!” he yells, his voice hoarse and throat dry. You shake your head, looking over at him with a sad smile.

“No, but we both know you’re not going to let yourself be arrested, and I’m not the one with the gun. Even if I was, I… I can’t kill you,” you confess, gripping the steering wheel tightly as though to steady yourself.

Did you have a death wish or something? You’d been relatively calm about your own death this whole time, and he couldn’t figure it out. Surely someone so fundamentally good had to have a sense of self-preservation, right? Especially when it was between themselves and a monster.

“Just drive the car,” he pleads with you in a whisper, his voice breaking.

“They’ll find us eventually, Cash. We don’t have time. Consider it repaying you for saving my ass that day; I’m sorry it messed everything up for you.”

“Stop it!” he snarls at you. “Shut the fuck up and drive the damn car.”

You don’t say anything for a long moment, and he’s starting to get very angry now.

“If I’m gone, there’s no evidence that you did anything. It’s all my word against yours.”

“Why are you talking like this?” he demands, not even pointing the gun at you at this point. “Why don’t you care?”

“I don’t think I can see the world in black and white anymore now, either. And I don’t think I can live with myself, now that I know that your life fell apart because of me.”

You take his free hand in your own, calm as can be, and give it a squeeze.

“Let me give you this second chance at life; you’ll have a better shot of it than I will if you die. It’s the least I can do.”

“The least you can do is drive the truck!”

“You should know better than to try to win out against my stubbornness, Officer Cash,” you tease, and that does it.

“Fine, then get out of here.”

“I told you, I’m not driving.”

“Leave the car. Do what you’re told for once and walk away.”

He looks down at the gun in his hand. One shot, and it would be over, like he had wanted it to be from the moment he knew he couldn’t be with you, a year ago.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“Fine,” he says curtly, throwing the passenger door open and storming off, trying to put as much space between himself and the car as possible. He didn’t want you to see this.

“CASH!” you yell, and the panic in your voice tells him that you have realized his intentions. “Don’t!”

He puts the barrel of the gun under his chin, taking a breath. Perhaps this act of atonement would be enough for salvation. He hopes the afterlife can be a replica of last night, with you, for eternity.

His arm is yanked down as he pulls the trigger, the shot missing its intended target and hitting him right in the foot, sending him to the ground with a howl.

“Fuck, Cash!” you cry out, still with the presence of mind to snatch the gun away from him before he could finish the job. The shot wasn’t lethal, and the bullet had largely blocked the bleeding. Still, he presses down on it with a grimace.

“I’ll be fine,” he hisses through gritted teeth, though he hopes he isn’t. “What the fuck were you thinking?!” You could have been hurt, or killed.

“I’m thinking that just because you don’t want to be taken in alive doesn’t mean that you can’t be. Cash Ewing, you’re under arrest for possession of a Class B substance with intent to distribute.” You’re grinning at him fiercely, turning the safety of the gun on with a click.

“What?”

“Maximum sentence for a first-time offender is ten years; and that’s only if it can be proven. And between you and me, I don’t have very much evidence.”

“Are you insane, Y/N?!”

“You’re getting your second chance, Officer Cash, whether you like it or not!” you inform him cheerily, your hands in the air.

He can hear sirens again in the distance; they must be triangulating where the shot had come from and were closing in. He’d have to talk fast to convince you to shoot to kill before they arrived.

“You think this is going to get me a happily ever after, Y/N?” he snarls at you, fighting against the pain. “Keep dreaming, sweetheart. Glen and Ray will have me silenced in a heartbeat, and then they’ll come after you. And even if by some miracle they have a change of heart and don’t have us taken out, it’s not like you can keep your job as a cop if you want to be with a convicted criminal.” The thought of a hypothetical future together still gives him butterflies, even as he knows it’s an impossibility. Maybe in the next life…

Your smile falters as you consider his words.

“You’d be better off killing me, Y/N; then at least one of us can live a normal life.”

He forces himself to his feet through sheer adrenaline, keeping his weight on his good leg. The pain has him dizzy, but he fights through it. He has to.

“Cash, will you sit down?! You’re going to hurt yourself mo–”

“I’m going to get that gun from you, princess, and finish what you started.”

“Cash, get on the ground before I give you a matching hole in your other foot.” You point the gun at his good leg. Both of you are completely focused on the other, the rest of the world melting away. It had always been that way with the two of you; nothing else mattered.

“Do it,” he coaxes, utterly unbothered. For almost two years now his life had been about keeping you alive, first as your partner and then from a distance; he wasn’t going to stop now. “Do it, and I’ll drag myself to you on my hands and knees, again and again, until I bleed out. This is ending my way, whether you like it or –”

A shot rings out, and his world ends.

--- One Month Later ---

He was able to retrieve the burner phone from the evidence locker a month or so later, the data copied over onto one of the system’s databases. The internal investigation had been completed, and Cash had gotten away scot-free, not even a note on his personnel file.

The story that had been put forward was this: You, Y/N L/N, had stalked Officer Cash Ewing, holding him hostage and taking a shot at him before being ultimately gunned down by an officer before you could kill him.

Your title as Officer had been posthumously taken away. All traces of you had been removed from the department. You would be crushed if you knew.

If he had kept a better eye on you that night, kept you from freeing yourself and calling for backup, you would still be alive right now. The thought keeps him up at night.

The last two outgoing text messages from his phone were to 911: the first a police code, the second the address to the abandoned house. No return message had ever been sent, but there were a couple of missed calls from 911 that had gone unanswered. He supposes that you had been worried about waking him with a phone call. He wishes you had risked it.

Your message had been “11-99,” the police code for an officer in need of help. It would have sent the department into a frenzy.

Unfortunately, someone in the precinct had done a check on the number the text had come from to try to validate it, and it had come back as being registered to one Cash Ewing.

They never suspected that he was the perpetrator. They assumed he was the victim.

So when they had come upon the scene that day, following the sound of the gunshot, all they had seen had been him, wounded and on the ground, with you standing with a gun pointed right at him.

The first officer on the scene didn’t hesitate, taking the clear shot. You were dead within a minute.

Glen had done a lot of smooth-talking then, arriving at the scene shortly afterward. How Cash had been suspicious of you for months, how you had kept hounding him for information about the events leading to his suspension, how you had become unhinged. Cash hadn’t trusted himself to speak at the time, and Glen had helped convince everyone it was from the shock. That was definitely part of it.

At the same time, Cardoza had been taking advantage of the mostly empty precinct to slip incriminating papers into your desk for other officers to find later. Cash wondered if they’d been preparing for this from the moment he had informed them that you’d shown up at the house, getting ready to cover their tracks. He never asked; he didn’t want the answer.

Initially, he had wanted to end it all. Why bother staying alive when you were gone? But fucking Glen, determined to keep his plans on track, had insisted that he needed to be monitored, and had kept him from following after you.

“Don’t let her death be for nothing,” Glen had said, and Cash had nearly knocked him out, slamming him into the wall, seeing red, seeing nothing at all.

“She wouldn’t want you to die,” he had choked out, pinned against the wall.

It had been the only thing that had made him stop. No, he supposed you wouldn’t.

Glen had kept an eye on him ever since, stoking Cash’s resentment for the precinct – the real people responsible for taking you away from him, he argued – until it had burned even brighter than before. He was determined to keep going until something stopped him, his moral compass now non-existent; it had died with you that day.

Somehow, every illegal act felt like a strange, backwards tribute to you, giving him a sense of giddiness the more reckless he became. He knows you wouldn’t approve, and that’s what he relishes in: every bad decision giving him the sensation that you were watching him. It was the closest he could come to feeling that connection with you. It had become an addiction of sorts.

Cash leaves the precinct, on his way to meet Glen and Ray about some cars in the impound lot that they wanted to sell or strip for parts. He starts his truck, popping a piece of gum in his mouth while waiting for the engine to warm up; a habit he had picked since your death. It kept him from grinding his teeth down to dust as he forced himself through another day without you.

He hits the road, heading to the rendezvous point that overlooked the impound lot. As always, the last words you ever spoke to him echo through his mind, though he tries not to think about how you had looked, clutching your chest as you curled up on the ground across from him, staring right into his soul with those gorgeous eyes.

“Be good. For me.”

He had never and would never even try to live up to this last wish of yours. But if it was any consolation, as fate would have it, the path he was on would lead him to join you sooner rather than later in the afterlife.

---

… I have an alternate ending mapped out for this; I had to have them together if only in my head. But her dying was the only way for Cash to become the person he is in the movie, I think. If anyone wants me to upload the happy ending let me know, and maybe I’ll do it after the month is over. Until then, I’m sorry for this.

[arbitrarygreay]

I said in a previous post that for Abigail, family is a source of expectation and trust. To put it in a less nuanced way, the Bellweather way is to take family for granted, for better and for worse. Someone who really exemplifies that is Petra, particularly in her treatment of the Collars. In 1x5, she informs the unit that they are family (this after Raelle's lip to her in 1x4). This could easily be seen as a courtesy, but Petra really means it. Other than Raelle telling her about Scylla, she still doesn't interact with Raelle much for the rest of the season. But in 2x1, she tearfully hugs Raelle coming back from Tarim without hesitation, with the same fervor she greeted Abigail. (And at this point, she doesn't know anything about who saved whom out there.) This shows that not only did Petra mean it when she said that she now considered the unit family, but also what it means for Petra to consider people family. Abigail described her mother in 1x1 as "[caring] about her company more than she does herself". In 1x1, that easily could have been just hype. But 2x1 shows that Petra likely does this kind of family extension not infrequently. It would apply to any members of the units other Bellweathers are in, and so probably to the people Petra works with directly, as well. (Let's not forget that, despite her ambitions and power plays, Petra named her own daughter after Alder's sister.) Raelle did alert Petra about Willa's existence in 1x4, so Petra did have some prep time to research the two of them before 1x5. (And overachiever Head of Intelligence that she is, it's not unlikely that she either had a hand in designing the unit roster or did her research on them once finding out). Nonetheless, when Raelle asked for her time she said "Yes, of course," even while at her own family wedding! And she had that speech on Willa Collar easily ready to go, the moment Raelle asked. It's clear that the writing intended for us to take this moment as a hint that Willa's complaints were not to be taken at face value, but as a foreshadowing of how she had been warped by bitterness into hatred. (No matter how :\ I feel about that decision, but whatever.) We are to take this moment as Petra being honest and sincere in how she sees the troops under her command. This, of course, is sitting next to how Abigail and Petra's (actual closest blood relation) family dynamic evolves over the course of the show, starting from its less than great state in season 1. Expectation and trust, sitting side by side, taken for granted. Just because Petra means it when she considers people family, doesn't mean that the expression of that consideration is fair to them. To be a Bellweather is to live up to the High Atlantic tradition (that was strongly defined by Bellweathers for over 150 years), and living up to those ideals is what makes them trust others. Plus, there is the whole "abandoning Raelle and Tally to war meat" part, showing that S1 Petra's sincere care is not at all mutually exclusive with still living up to Willa's accusations. In 1x3, Abigail recounts how the Bellweather clan is defined by self-sacrifice, starting with Jem, and that expectation and trust is one that they therefore extend to others, too. "Storm and fury" is an "offense is best defense" approach, not one that prioritizes the preservation of assets.

[thestupidhelmet]

If the original writers had stuck around for the eighth season and we'd gotten a Jackie/Hyde endgame possibly ending with their wedding, do you think the writers of the reboot would have destroyed that in favor of pairing Jackie with Kelso the way they broke up Jackie and Fez? Or do you think there's a chance their endgame would have been preserved? For some reason, I feel like J/H shippers would have been screwed no matter what due to real life stuff.

Many of the original writers stayed, and some of them wrote great J/H episodes before season 8. The show runners changed from the J/H-loving Filgos to the J/H hating duo who took the job afterward.

If season 7 hadn't been decided to be last season and originally written as the end of the show, the Filgos likely would've stuck around to finish out the series (if it was just one more season). As far as everyone on T7S was concerned, S7 was it, and people started looking for new gigs, including the Filgos.

The writers take story direction from he showrunners. If the Filgos had stayed for S8, they would've had to deal with Eric's absence and Kelso's mostly absence. I'd like to believe they would've made sure both characters were still part of the show even if offscreen.

Jackie and Hyde would've been engaged (as in the originally-written S7/series finale). A lot of humor could've been derived from that. Red/Kitty and Jackie/Hyde likely would've had a lot of stories together, comparing and contrasting a long-married couple to a newly-engaged one (which isn't the direction taken during E/D's engagement arc).

W.B. would've been utilized more, hopefully with his character (and relationship with Hyde) fleshed out instead of just punchlines.

Fez would grieve over Kelso, a storyline of its own. He and Donna could bond over their mutual losses. At some point, Fez might misinterpret his new friendship-closeness as romantic, and Donna would have to shut him down. She's still in love with Eric, and she's waiting for him. Ez would think about this a moment and say, "And I will wait for Kelso, too."

Donna: But Kelso's not coming back. He's living with Brooke and their baby in Chicago.

Fez: Then I will go to him.

Donna: And do what?

Fez (emotional): Tell him I love him!

Donna: Okay, when you say *love* ...

Fez: Love, woman! Can't one man love another man in this country without everyone else being weird about it?!

Donna: I suppose father and sons, brothers --

Fez: And best friends. Now good day.

Donna: Fez, we're in my house.

Fez: I said good day!

Out of this we get an episode where Fez visits Kelso in Chicago. Unfortunately the actress who played Brooke didn't love being on the show, but maybe she'd do one guest spot like she did in S7.

What I would love is if Fez runs into Rhonda in Chicago, and the second half of season 8 for Fez is about them reconciling.

Jackie and Donna s storylines have a lot of potential, too. Jackie might say she understands what Donna's going through with having a long-distance relationship.

Donna: Oh? Do tell.

Jackie: Steven has to go to Milwaukee every few weeks for work. That's, like, an hour away, and sometimes he's there the whole weekend to spend time with family.

Donna: Jackie, Eric is across the ocean on another continent. I get letters from him twice a week. I haven't heard his voice in months. Hyde going to Milwaukee for a weekend doesn't compare -- and you go with him for a lot of the overnights.

Jackie: Well, fine. If you don't want my sympathy, you don't have to have it.

Donna and Jackie reconcile sooner than later, though, and Jackie helps Donna come up with the best care package for Eric ever, which Kitty gets nosy about. She tries to slip in a few items her own, and Red catches her. This leads to their story in that episode.

We also have Bob, whom might not have planned to move to Florida but started to date another woman, played by a famous actress (as T7S is wont to do). Maybe someone totally inappropriate for him or insane, which gives him a story arc with all the main characters who have to deal with this new presence and her weird effect on Bob. Not a Caroline/Fez rehash, though.

All in all, I hope the Filgos would feel free to let humor and plot rise organically from characterization. No more alcoholism for Kitty and no put-upon cliche TV husband for Red. R/K would get their due with their characters, evolving as the circumstances around them have changed (e.g., no Eric, J/H engaged, an ever-present Fez and Donna, etc.)

[kariachi]

I awoke of a mood. You know how I have an AU where Ben doesn’t transform into Way Big during Malware’s attack on Galvan Prime and Galvan B? I wrote Ben’s pov of the consequences.

It’s not pretty.

~~

Ben is prone to messing up dialing up alien shapes. He’s known to shift his hand as he locks choices in, changing what he’s gone for. Especially when he’s acting on the fly, especially when he has a time limit. But it’s not too much to worry about. The Omnitrix won’t let its wielder die, is programmed to be aware enough of its surroundings to alter and activate a selection itself to preserve the life of its wearer.

The Omnitrix isn’t programmed to worry about other people.

That is the part that jumps unbidden to Ben’s mind about five seconds after Big Chill’s wings flare open and halt his fall. He needs the time to catch his breath, for his heart rate to fall enough to think, and as soon as he does he all but gives himself whiplash searching the sky for Kevin. Kevin, who’s still falling. Who has at least a thousand foot lead on his way to the ground. Ben doesn’t even need a thought then, folding his wings as soon as he sees him and dropping.

The air roars past, filling his ears. His heartrate jumps back up. He’s not gaining. Kevin is falling faster. The ground is coming up-

Ben doesn’t know if he hears the impact, or his mind filled in the blank.

He only barely opens his wings as he approaches the ground, just enough to not splat himself. He’s calling Kevin’s name when he does, brain jolting in a million different directions. Is he alive is he dead how bad is it it must be bad- There’s blood and he’s begging, this can’t happen-

Never has a single nasally, strained, but emphatic “fuck” sounded so sweat to someone’s ears.

Ben wants to hug him, to cry into his shoulder because he was terrified, it still terrified. But there’s so much blood, and he knows Kevin’s shoulder isn’t supposed to be at that angle. Barely he manages to restrain himself, murmuring reassurances to Kevin as he forces his heart rate to calm. Pulls himself back together. He’s a hero, and he has a job to do. Save the day, stop Malware, yes, but most importantly in this moment get help. He transforms back into himself, makes the hard effort to take his time and care as he dials up XLR8. Gently strokes a splayed lock of bloody black hair, swearing on his life that help will be there soon, and is gone.

No bet the first set of Galvan security forces he comes across will be talking for millennia about the encounter. About being told directly where a critically injured person was, ordered to abandon their posts and see him safely to medical care. About the top hero in the galaxy refusing to go forth and save their planet until he’d seen them head out.

It takes all the spare effort Ben can manage to focus on dealing with Malware from there. To keep his worry about his dearest friend, practically family, from doing anything more than hover in the back of his mind. Did they get to him in time? Had he bled out? How long would it take for him to recover? Would he recover? The whole thing was senseless- Far from the sort of thing you want running through your head when you’re fighting for two worlds and reliving old traumas.

But he wins. The day is saved. Malware is defeated. Exhausted, Ben transforms back. And the first thing he does is head for the nearest person who looks like they know what they’re doing and ask after where the injured have been taken.

Kevin is still being worked on when he gets there. Osmosians are difficult, mutants even more so, and they’re having to bring in a specialist from off-world. Until then, they’re doing the best they can. Ben manages to glimpse down the hall as he’s lead to the nearest waiting room, sees Khyber’s hound curled up in front of a door, and spares a moment to wonder if he’s there too. He can’t bring himself to think he’d deserve it, and the thought slips quickly from his mind as he’s lead away. The chairs are far too small for him, so he moves some aside and settles on the floor. Throws a prayer to the heavens- he’s never been religious but if there was ever a time. Considers if he should find and do Jewish and Savaran ones as well, starts searching on his tablet, before deciding not to risk messing it up.

The wait is long, as the others arrive before he gets any news. It’s clear they asked after him, were told he was there, from their relief at seeing him alive and well. From the innocent way they ask if he knows where Kevin is. Ben can’t bring himself to answer, to say it out loud. As if that may break whatever nebulous spell rests over the room. Like if he says something, anything, it’ll draw the wrong attention, someone will come out and say they’ve lost him. Even moreso when Gwen keeps asking, as it sinks in that Kevin is injured, that he’s who Ben is waiting for.

Her questions get more worried, more tense, the longer he sits silent. Before it would have broken him, she was his cousin, he loved her dearly, until that day she’d been his dearest friend. Now the sound of her voice grates in his chest. All he can think is how she did this. They’d joked, they’d laughed, but, she was the one who decided freefall was the answer. She decided Kevin deserved this. Deserved to be in a hospital room, broken and bloody, waiting for somebody who’ll be able to help him to arrive, hoping he’s alright till then.

There’s nothing, he realizes, that he wants to say to her that doesn’t involve cursing and his fists.

Ben isn’t keeping track of time, can’t bring himself to, and so he doesn’t know how long it is before Azmuth finds somebody to explain the situation. Before he pats his leg and goes off to aid in the recovery efforts. Grandpa Max leads Gwen to sit a few feet away, letting her cry into his shoulder. Rook takes the spot beside Ben. Bless him, because he’s the one that realizes somebody needs to let people know what’s going all. Who calls Kevin’s mom. Who calls Argit.

They both manage to get there before the specialist, Grandpa Max trying to joke about Kevin’s mom ‘breaking the laws of physics now’. It lands like a dropped wedding cake, and he avoids their eyes from that point on. The two demand an update from the staff, the only one the lot of them have gotten (he’s stable, they can’t be sure of anything yet, he should have died but he hasn’t-). As soon as she has all the information available, Kevin’s mom sits beside the entrance to the hallway. It’s obvious she’s trying to pretend she’s not crying, unwilling to show weakness in front of the rest of them, and Ben is caught between the desire to go an apologize, to comfort her, and being frozen with guilt. How can he face her, someone who’s already been through so much, when he failed to protect her only living child? When he’s perfectly fine and Kevin’s like that? He can only take comfort in the fact Argit is stood beside her, a hand on her shoulder, staring down the hall like it’ll make any news come quicker.

When the specialist finally arrives- an Osmosian themselves- the first thing they do is pull aside the doctor overseeing Kevin’s care, Kevin’s mom, and Ben himself. They want a rundown of what’s happened and Kevin’s mom is owed the knowledge. Ben doesn’t want to say it, he knows it’s irrational to be scared to but that doesn’t change how he feels. But the specialist- Healer Oeler- promises to do their best, is patient in explaining that it may help with his care, but Ben wants to the best for his friend. Even if the words keep lodging in his throat.

“My cousin shoved us into freefall. I- I couldn’t catch him.”

Kevin’s mom tenses like a bowstring when he says it- he can’t blame her, he’s felt the same way for what feels like half his life but can’t have been more than a few hours- even as Oeler nods. They ask how high they fell from, Ben tells them Rook would know better than him. He’s excused, asked to send Rook over as the doctors try to calm Kevin’s mom, assure her they were and would do everything possible to see him to a full and speedy recovery. Rook goes to the little group, gives his report, pats Kevin’s mom on the shoulder before he returns.

It’s not until the doctors have headed off down the hall that she moves from her spot. Everyone but Rooks tenses when she turns back to them, an expression befitting Kevin at his worst on her face. Grandpa Max rises, tries to intercept her as she storms in he and Gwen’s direction, and gets socked in the gut for his trouble. Gwen is half-up by this point, but that doesn’t stop Kevin’s mom from hauling her to her feet by her hair, tossing her away from the wall before rounding on her.

There’s a lot of screaming then. Screaming, snarling, crying from Gwen, and it’s clear that if it weren’t for constantly having to shake off their grandfather the woman would be proving why all the adults call Kevin ‘Eva’s boy’ rather than Devin’s. Rook tries to stand to intervene at one point, but Ben lays a hand on his arm to keep him in place beside him. He doesn’t blame her. He wants to do the same thing, he just doesn’t have the temper and disconnect from family to do it. Instead it’s Argit who finally calms things down, waiting until she’s gotten a solid blow in on Gwen before coming to talk her down. Ben can’t hear what he says, nothing nice from how Gwen and Grandpa Max glare at him, but it works, and gets her back to her spot by the hall.

If nothing else, they’re all treated well by staff. They’re brought food- weird food, but nobody is in a state to argue. Myaxx comes by to hand out blankets- apparently from her own stash. A nurse checks Grandpa Max, Gwen, and Kevin’s mom’s injuries from the fight. The other people waiting for news on injured loved ones are quick with well wishes and distractions, several making sure to come up to them before they leave and reiterate that they’ll be wishing for the best.

None of their group leave. Even when Azmuth comes out and offers them board, none of them can bear to go. Hours pass. Grandpa Max falls asleep, curled up on the tiling, but the rest of them can’t manage. Even with Rook assuring Ben that he can rest, that he’ll wake him up the second there’s news, and the same conversation happening by the hall, it just won’t happen. Can’t happen. As such Grandpa Max is woken by the clatter of everyone but Argit rushing to their feet when he announces Healer Oeler coming. The lot of them must look a wreck standing there, wide-eyed and mussed, but the doctor has no room to judge when they look just as tired. They scan the room before focusing their attention on Kevin’s mom.

“It will be a long recovery, and we can’t be sure he’ll recover without aftereffects, but he will recover.”

The tension in the room leaves in a flood. Gwen starts crying again, not that Ben can tell easily through his own tears. Kevin’s mom says a prayer in what he assumes is Hebrew, and Argit repeats it as best he can with her. Grandpa Max pulls Gwen back into his arms, squeezing her tight, while Rook gives Ben’s shoulder a companionable squeeze. The sentiment repeats on loop in Ben’s mind. Kevin is going to recover, he’s going to be alright.

He's had a lot of grateful moments, but nothing yet that would beat that one. Like a bomb’s just been disarmed in his heart.

He can’t say what he would have done if they’d lost him.

Healer Oeler informs them all that the decision has been made not to wake Kevin up yet. His injuries are severe (there doesn’t seem to be a limit on what percentage of your bones you can break at one time, or how many organs can be damaged in one incident) and he needs to rest before he can have any visitors. Nobody argues. Nobody leaves either. Instead, they curl up on the floor in pairs- Ben still has no desire to interact with his cousin, and won’t for a long time- trusting in the staff to wake them if anything happens.

Ben doesn’t get woken up when Kevin does. Apparently his mom takes priority, which he supposes makes sense, and she took Argit along, which makes even more sense. It’s only once they’ve made sure he’s okay, and he’s had the chance to rest some more, that anybody comes and gets Ben. He’s tempted to wake Rook, it would make sense for everyone to come in twos, but can’t bring himself to do it. Something in his chest demands he do this alone. A penance, of sorts, for what he couldn’t do, for having to leave him all by himself.

He does a double take when he steps inside, Khyber’s hound lain beside the bed- and it’s obvious they had to dig something out of storage to fit him- like it belongs there. It immediately bolts to attention when he enters, growling.

“Down, girl. Behave.” To Ben’s surprise the hound calms at Kevin’s words, though it continues to watch him warily. Still he manages to pull his gaze away as he approaches and see Kevin for the first time in too long. His heart plummets into his gut at the sight of him. He looks like absolute hell, like- Well, like he’d fallen from the sky. Most everything Ben can see is one big bruise, the rest covered in bandages and casts. When Kevin flashes him a grin, it’s missing teeth. “Hey, man.”

“Hey.” Ben tries to say something, but only manages a watery sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob, tears welling in his eyes again. “I’m sorry.” Kevin frowns at him.

“Don’t-”

“I couldn’t catch you, I tried so hard but I just wasn’t fast enough, I’m so sorry-”

“Benji.” The nickname catches him in his tracks, and he wipes his eyes as he meets Kevin’s. “I know the math. You weren’t gonna catch me. It’s okay. You tried, that’s enough.” Kevin hefts a little laugh, cringing as it jostles his injuries. “Even Mom and Argit don’t blame you, and with Mom’s temper that’s an accomplishment.” Ben manages a little laugh of his own.

“You know she beat up Grandpa and Gwen,” he asks, heart twisting a bit at the mention of his cousin and the broken look that darts across Kevin’s face at her name. He forces himself to give a little smile again.

“I’d heard. Shiners for the ages, apparently.”

“Yeah…” Ben licks his lips, and carefully sits on the edge of the bed, mindful of the hound and the risk of jostling his friend. “Kev… If there’s anything you need, anything I can do, just say the word, okay? I’m here for you, man.”

“I know.” Closing his eyes against the pain of a deep breath, Kevin sighs. “There’s some shit I loaned Gwendolyn- a few books, one of my jackets- think you could grab them for me? I’d really rather not…” The sentence trails of, but Ben knows what he’s talking about. He’s been thinking about it himself, even before the guy’s mom tried to take a chunk of Gwen.

“That’s probably the best move,” he admits, heart twisting again at the tension that drops off Kevin’s face. He can’t possibly have thought he’d take his cousin’s side on this of all things… Forcing a smile, Ben pulls out his tablet and opens the notetaking app his own mom had convinced him to install. “Just let me know what exactly I’m looking for, it’ll be at your mom’s place by the time they let you out of here.” Giving Ben a heartwarming grin, Kevin reaches down to give the barest scritch to the hound.

“You’ll know the jacket, but she’s got my copy of The Passage, if you see anything by Dean Koontz it’s mine, and now I’m thinking of it-”

Ben takes meticulous notes as Kevin goes down a list of the things he’s loaned to Gwen over the years that he wants back, immediately. A list that ends up leading to talk of music, movies, anything and everything. A solid distraction from the horrible situation that lasts until Rook appears at the doorway, knocking on the wall outside before he comes in. Kevin’s in an easier mood now, responding with a smile to his questions and well wishes and Ben makes his way out with a wave and quiet note that the hound doesn’t seem to give two shits about Rook being there.

When he makes it back to the waiting room, he finds Argit and Kevin’s mom blocking Gwen’s path, refusing to allow her to go visit him. He can’t bring himself to feel bad for her- not now and not in future- and while there’s a twinge of pity that she doesn’t seem to have realized just how badly she fucked up, that there’s no coming back from here, it doesn’t stop him from stepping forward and pulling her attention to himself.

“Hey, we’ve gotta head home once Rook’s done in there. I need you to help me find this stuff Kevin wants back.”

After all, no matter what Kevin says, he failed him horribly, and he intends to do everything in his power to make up for it. Family be damned.

[08theverysmallhuman]

Absolutely annoyed whenever ppl ask why Kira got kicked out of blue lock so early when someone like Igaguri didn’t…. Like! The whole point is that yeah, Kira is the better player! But he’s not an egoist and that’s what got him out! Igaguri may not be the best player but he’s an egoist, and embodies those values(frankly as much if not more than anyone there). That’s what’s keeping him in. Blue lock is about skill, yes, but above all its about being a stone cold bitch!

The fact that they don't have any other justification for wanting him back other than Igaguri being "ugly" or "not as talented" is the main reason I don't look at bllktwt outside of spoilers anymore

Because despite Kira being exposed as a two-faced cunt motherfucker whose egoism extends to acting shiny and righteous to preserve the image he uses to put down players he deems lower than him, the face wins overall

Igaguri is not and has never been a player that is going to be showcased as someone to beat, someone who can lead a team, someone you want on your side going up against a tough team but he knows his worth as a great player. Not superhumanly good, not yet on par with the greats of the world that his teammates are slowly surpassing but he Has the talent and the drive to keep going regardless

What ticks me off other than the blatant bias against Igaguri is that they then bring up Isagi's choice to leave him be as a Mistake despite That Singular Choice being a pivotal moment in Isagi's development! It is the first time we see him break away from the pattern hammered into him by his old team and start valuing himself as Someone who could Become the World's Best! It is the Literal Moment that establishes him as the MAIN CHARACTER. AND THEY WANT TO THROW THAT AWAY FOR THE BLONDE PRETTY BOY BECAUSE EW EW WHY THE CHEATING BALD GUY

Not even mentioning Bachira's involvement and consequent development in it! It is the Second we see him really See Isagi as the One he's been waiting all his life to play with It is The Moment That Ties Them Together It is What initially drives him to start having fun playing soccer again It is what SETS ISAGI APART FROM THE REST OF THEM, WHO WOULD'VE LAUNCHED THAT BALL AT THE PLAYER DOWN AND WAITED DOWN THE SECONDS.

I've already written the hypothetical up there but You Know For A Fucking Fact. That even If Isagi HAD taken the easy route.

Bachira would've still taken that ball.

He's still going after the strongest player. He's still going to try and take him out and he'll hit Kira, who at the time was right By Isagi, and there'll be seconds left to score and either he'll blank out in those final seconds again, or he won't, and Isagi would be the one on the floor. And Bachira has no reason to look at him twice.

This isn't even about Igaguri to me anymore it's just blatant disregard for Isagi's choice despite it being a crucial point in the plot that shows off his ego as someone aiming for the Top. They're completely removing the reason he was chosen for blue lock to fit a guy into a team that would absolutely not work with Kira in there.

[rn-zane]

TIMING: recent SETTING: downtown PARTIES: Zane @rn-zane & Ariadne @ariadnewhitlock SUMMARY: ariadne meets an animal she'd rather not be around, zane doesn't really understand why she's so afraid of the little guy.

She’d gotten herself a treat - both because she wanted one (which was of course, a good enough reason itself) and because she’d finished an assignment for one of her classes, and Ariadne saw it fit to reward herself. She’d chosen a turnover - apple - and had opened up the bag and taken out the treat when she heard a rustling in a series of nearby bushes.

She stood still, for a moment - waiting for the cry of whatever animal it was. Except that what emerged didn’t look like anything she’d seen in Maine before. Ariadne  couldn’t remember what it was called, though she was fairly certain she’d seen them either at some zoo or in one of the animal books she’d pored over as a child. Except that it looked right at her, and started moving toward her.

Ariadne could vaguely recall one of the first mare she’d met mentioning something about some animal that ate them. She swallowed, and began walking briskly away, looking back again and again and the creature that had, apparently, chosen to follow her. She kept looking back, positive that her heart would be racing if it could, still not looking where she was going, until she slammed into someone. “I - sorry.” She took in a deep breath, “sorry - I - it - can - excuse me, I’ll be going now.” 

It was nice when the forecast was cloudy like today, giving Zane an opportunity to be somewhere else than at work or at the house after sunrise. It still felt risky, sometimes, wondering if the sun would suddenly appear and just melt him like in a low budget horror movie. He knew that wasn’t exactly how it worked but he wasn’t exactly anxious to find out how it did work. If someone told you that the sun would kill you, there was nothing to do but take that very seriously. He was checking his phone, looking at the forecast for what had to be the fifth time since leaving the house when it clattered to the ground, something sticky smushing up against his chest and a whole person following. 

“Woah, hey,” came the startled response and Zane grabbed her shoulders to steady the clearly panicking girl. A quick glance behind her confirmed that she wasn’t being followed but a second glance found… what? The long snout of whatever stood on the street a few feet away made it look like an anteater but it wasn’t like any anteater Zane had heard about. It was big and furry, seeming to be sniffing at the air before its focus landed on the stranger that had just squished their baked treat into Zane’s shirt. 

“What is that?” he pondered out loud, letting go of the stranger to crouch and take a better look, which proved unnecessary as the creature trotted up to them and paid no attention to Zane. It made a beeline for the stranger who definitely didn’t look too pleased about it. There were no sharp teeth in sight, or deadly claws, and Zane’s self preservation had never been up to standard, granted. So he shucked off his jacket in one move, to at least pretend he was careful in his actions, and wrapped it around the excited creature. It stopped in its tracks, looking grumpy and still trying to pedal its way towards the stranger, but at least it wasn’t trying to bite his arm off. 

“Sorry, sorry,” she practically squeaked. “I - here’s a napkin.” She handed one to him. “I should have looked where I was going, but…” but she didn’t. Which was obvious to the both of them, clearly. There was a certain tightness in her chest that could only be explained by some sort of residual panic response, even if Ariadne wasn’t sure she even had the capability to panic anymore.

“I - don’t know what it is.” She wished she could recall the name of the creature. “It just followed me, aggressively or whatever, and I -” Ariadne winced again, only finally relaxing when the other covered up the creature. “I don’t even have any food on me,” except, she supposed, in this case she sort of was the food. Which was alarming enough to think about, without actually being in the presence of said creature.

“I’m Ariadne,” she began. “If you want to pick that up, I’m sure it would appreciate it.” As would I. “I’m really really sorry about ruining your shirt. That’ll teach me to make sure I look where I’m going more often.”

Even with the newcomer still in a panic, Zane found himself almost amused by the situation. The creature was wriggling in his arms now while she stared at it with barely filtered horror. Maybe she was just generally scared of animals, nothing to judge, but a small smile did play on his lips as he hoisted the surprisingly heavy animal into his arms.

“It’s fine,” he assured her, glancing down at his shirt. It would probably wash out and if not, he was due for some shopping either way. His collection of nondescript T-shirts was getting thin, the thing he wore most after scrubs and running clothes. “Happens to the best of us. You wouldn’t believe the amount of coffee cups I’ve spilled down people’s shirts. I’m Zane.” He would have offered his hands but the sweater wrapped animal was making it hard enough as it is, still stretching out towards Ariadne. 

“This guy really seems to like you, huh? I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“If you say so, ‘cause it is all my fault.” Ariadne side-eyed the creature in the man’s hands. Technically, it was the creature’s fault, but she couldn’t bring herself to blame it, even if it did literally want to eat her. “I hope you didn’t get burned.” She made a small face. 

“Oh. Hi.” She took his hand as best as she could and offered it a small shake. “Nice to meet you, even given well…” her voice trailed off - reminded of times when she and Chance had, as kids, gotten pizza or pasta and somehow ended up with the marinara sauce covering their faces and clothes.

“I - he seems mad. Right?” Ariadne made another face. “It’s got teeth and I don’t know if the fact that it keeps showing them to me is a good thing.”

 Zane chuckled, amused at how distrusting she seemed of the animal. “Hey, I was staring at my phone. Disaster could have easily been avoided on my part, too.” The completely unwarranted worry for his shirt was relatable, the regret in her eyes most likely mirroring his own on the multiple occasions where he’d clumsily messed things up. ‘Just stop, it’s fine,’ was a phrase he was almost too used to hearing, pressing him to make sure this stranger didn’t leave with the same gnawing worry he was often stuck with over the smallest of things. “Besides, the shirt is definitely overworn by now, anyway.”

“Mad?” Eyes turned to the squirming animal, beady eyes still trained on the stranger. “I don’t know, maybe just… hungry? If he were really that mad, I think I’d be a lot more hurt right now. And lots of things have teeth. Most things, actually… Maybe he’s… smiling?” The attempt wasn’t great and the little guy really did seem interested in having a taste of the stranger but carnivorous anteaters weren’t a thing Zane had heard about yet. 

“Right, anyway…” Zane hoisted the animal better into his arms, hoping that the rest of his housemates wouldn’t mind putting up with the little guy for a while until he figured out what to do with it. “Don’t worry about the shirt, I’ll get Mister toothy here out of your face. Have a nice day…” He hinted for getting a name, realizing he didn’t know it or hadn’t caught it at least, in all the hassle. 

“You don’t have to say that, just to be nice, you know.” Ariadne sighed, though the stranger’s apparent kindness was something more than welcome - and, despite the creature in his arms who literally wanted to eat her alive, “but thanks - and I think the shirt looks fine, but I also figure that one can always find an excuse to go shopping, maybe.” Not that she did that all too often, but in theory, at least, it seemed to make sense.

“I don’t want to judge a smile, so maybe…” She would have been thrilled, if that were the case, and she didn’t want to sound entirely silly, so Ariadne offered him a shrug. “I guess most things do have teeth. Do worms? I don’t know if they do or not.” It wasn’t the point of the conversation, not even a little bit, but she was far too set on trying to ignore the fact that an entirely innocent-looking (or at least she figured that was usually its look) creature was apparently one of the worst things that she could come across. 

“I - well, sorry - I’m Ariadne,” she began, “and I’d really like to at least get you a coffee or something, as an apology, or even a shirt, if that’s not too weird. I’m just very appreciative of your kindness.” As well as the fact that he’d prevented her from getting eaten today. “Only if you want. I don’t want to further overstep or anything.”

It was a nice offer, at least the coffee since he definitely didn’t want some stranger going through the trouble of getting him a new shirt. Zane wasn’t exaggerating about how little he cared about the dirtied shirt but no matter the circumstance, a cup of coffee did sound nice. With the weather still behaving, maybe this could end up as a nice chat. “Oh! You’re definitely not overstepping. You really don’t need to make up for anything but I’m-” he jumped as the animal made a new attempt to escape, craning his neck towards Ariadne, “sorry, definitely up for a coffee.” He smiled, turning his body away from the new acquaintance to spare her from the squirming creature. 

“Guess I should get him somewhere where he’ll stop grinning at you, probably change my shirt and… meet you back here?” His eyes moved over the surrounding businesses, landing on Starring Role Pâtisserie just a few houses down. “They look like they have coffee so… get us a table?” Ariadne looked nice, if just a bit nervous, but Zane hazarded a guess that she’d do better without the jacket wrapped animal trying to lunge at her for some reason. 

With a part two to their random meet up decided, Zane hurried back to the house with his new… friend? It definitely calmed down once they were out of Ariadne’s vicinity, which was weird but who knew. Maybe it had liked her perfume or the pattern on her clothes. The facts Zane currently had on the animal were close to zero. It seemed content once placed in his room as he’d barely placed it on the floor before it was flopping down for some shut eye. Good enough for now. 

He’d returned quickly back downtown, trying to quiet the idea that Ariadne would be gone. She didn’t have a reason to hang around other than her offer, most likely just made out of guilt, and Zane wouldn’t have been surprised to find the the patisserie void of his new friend. But it wasn’t. “Hey. So your number one fan is safely stowed away and hopefully he doesn’t have friends out there looking for you now,” he joked, taking a seat with her, smile lighting up his face. It was nice to have someone offer you a coffee and stick around to actually go through with it. 

“I’d like to get a coffee.” He was probably just being far too polite, but Ariande had elected to just believe that he was meant to be there in order to save her. Which made her sound far too much like a damsel-in-distress type, but that was fine. Better that than the monster she really was. That the creature Zane had in his arms was acutely aware of.

“That would be good. You can probably just take him to your house, unless you’ve got roommates who might freak out, but I figure usually people are chill with this.” She looked down. “Obviously not me, but others might be? I’m sorry to have messed it up though.” Ariadne sighed again “I’ll grab a table, yeah, absolutely.” She didn’t know if he’d just decide to not come back, but she figured that if that were the case (and it would be perfectly valid on his part, given how they’d met), she’d still be able to order something delicious and make her way home.

Still, he was nice, and he’d said yes to coffee when she’d given him an easy out, so Ariadne figured he’d come back, and that thought alone was nice. Between this and the girl who’d up and decided to befriend her on the internet without even knowing her, maybe she wasn’t totally failing at this whole thing. There was a part of her that wanted to text Chance, to tell him ‘look, I can be cool’ - but that was something she would’ve done a year ago. Not now - and a year ago she wouldn’t have had to do any of this.

She grabbed a table and had decided that staring at the door was probably not a great idea, and so she’d pulled up her phone, absent-mindedly scrolling through various apps. She heard the door open and spotted Zane walking in and gave him a small wave. “Hi. I appreciate that - thanks. Whenever you’re ready, we can order, and I know I’m craving something sweet, so I’d be happy to get something for you too, in addition to the coffee-or-tea that you want.”

With nothing (hopefully) to scare her, Ariadne seemed much lighter. Zane noticed the way her words seemed to tumble out a bit, wondering if she’d been as nervous about him not showing up as he’d been about returning to an empty table. Taking a seat, he glanced over at the cooler displaying various treats, wishing they made his mouth water. “Feeling adventurous so I’ll just have the same as you.” He felt a bit guilty, letting her pay for a treat that he wouldn’t really appreciate but something told him that Ariadne would feel better about the whole ordeal if he just let her go a bit beyond. Oh… is this what Chance had felt like when Zane had apologized five times for being a dick at the ER? Oops.

Food ordered, Zane settled into the seat and regarded his new companion. Faintly noticing that she didn’t smell as strong as most others he met but it was probably diluted in the strong smell of freshly brewed coffee. “So, uh… I’m Zane. Like I mentioned. Nurse at the ER when I’m not picking weird animals of the street. Lived here for a couple of years now. Unhealthy obsession with Grey’s Anatomy.” He rattled off the facts, hoping that throwing them out there like some weird speed date would get the other’s mind off the reason they were sat here in the first place. 

“Okay. Good. I hope you won’t be disappointed, and if you are, you can just tell me! And then I can get you something else!” Maybe she was trying too hard. She probably was trying too hard. “That sounds good, though. I was thinking of getting a cinnamon roll. Maybe seeing if they’ve got extra frosting - something about the cinnamon and the frosting - or icing, I’m not sure which is which, is just delightful.” Ariadne hopped up and went to place the order, grateful that Zane followed her. Once that was taken care of, she took a seat opposite him and offered him a careful half-smile.

“I’m Ariadne, which you… also knew. Art history and dance double major. Would probably just do dance, if I could, but I like learning about stuff and art’s one of my favorite things, so…” She shrugged. “Your habit of picking up weird animals is appreciated. I’ve lived here… my whole life.” She nodded. “Oh! I’ve seen some of that show. April was my favorite. I think. Either her or Teddy, I think. Though I’m not an expert, so if you’re in the mood to tell me more about it, I’m game.”

It was a relief when Ariadne joined in the random fact chucking, Zane nodding along as she spoke. The tension was slowly seeping from his body, allowing him to relax into the chair. Casual coffee and chatting was still a new commodity for him, at least without something specific to talk about. It was easy with his coworkers where the subject topic was usually work related and weirdly easy with Jonas, who had somehow steered the conversation into dark but relatable territory. Sharing ER stories or family trauma didn’t exactly feel right at this moment but at least Ariadne didn’t seem to mind the small talk. 

“I mean, you probably don’t want to get me started since I pretty much made that show my personality at one point so we’d be here until closing,” he chuckled, getting distracted at the arrival of steaming cinnamon rolls and drinks. “But I will say that Jackson Avery’s eyes had me obsessed for like… yeah, I still don’t think I’m over it.” Zane picked at the cinnamon roll with his fork, mostly out of politeness, but it was warm and chewy and not altogether unpleasant despite the general lack of taste. “So, college? Must keep you busy with the studying and the giant social aspect of it.”

He was nodding at her words, so at the very least, he didn’t think she was totally off, or anything like that. Either that, or he was just incredibly polite. Ariadne found that she’d be more than happy for either option to be true.

“I’d be okay with that.” Saying I don’t really have friends to talk to, or go home to, was probably a poor idea. “But I don’t want to like, keep you - so that’s fine! Well, Jackson’s great. I still think him and April belong together - and this isn’t me hitting on you,” she made a face, “and I think his eyes and charm do wonders.” Ariadne offered Zane a small smile. “Uh…” her voice trailed off, and she took a bite of the cinnamon roll. “Studying, yeah, sometimes,” when she could focus. “Social. Not so much.” She shook her head. “My cousin’s much more of that than I am. But I like it. I like having stuff to do. I bet working in the ER’s much more exciting.”

Zane couldn’t help but chuckle as Ariadne backtracked on her words, knowing fondly that it was the exact thing he himself had done on multiple occasions. Making an excuse in preparation in case whatever rolled out of his mouth unscripted might be taken the wrong way. Being on the other side of this scenario made him feel more confident in a way - like how awkward scenarios weren’t as awkward if you were doing them on behalf of someone else. “It’s fine, definitely didn’t get that vibe so you’re good. And you wouldn’t have much luck, anyway.” He paused. “Jackson’s more my type than April.”

Seemed like they had more in common, Zane realized as she disregarded the social aspect of college. “I get that. I gave one dorm room party a shot when I was in college and that was pretty much it.” He smiled, hoping the message came through that he didn’t find her lack of social standing a bad thing. “Sometimes it’s exciting. Sometimes just stressful but I love it. Are you and your cousin close despite them being… a social butterfly?”

“That’s good - and honestly, good for you. Jackson’s an excellent type to have anyhow.” Ariadne took in a deep breath, offering Zane a small smile. “Maybe I should get back to watching the show - then I’d be able to actually talk about it, rather than in mostly-hypotheticals, hm?”

She couldn’t help but feel more and more relieved, the more he talked. “Yeah, I did a bit my first year, but it wasn’t really my kinda thing.” Ariadne took another bite of her cinnamon roll. “I’m glad that you love it. I figure, that’s sort of what’s most rewarding in the end, yeah? If you like your job, then things’ll hopefully work out?” It was an unusually optimistic tone of voice for her to take on, but right now, maybe the situation demanded it. “We…” she looked down at the table briefly. “Used to be closer. He’s gotten way more social recently, and some of it isn’t stuff that I’m always comfy with.” Which felt like way too much to say to a stranger. Backpedaling, Ariadne commented, “just I guess he’s more extroverted than I am, and college helped him realize that.”

Now that it had been stated pretty clearly that this impromptu coffee date was nothing if not platonic, as well as both of them having had a chance to ramble out some nonsense, Zane finally felt some ease settle over the small table. Talking about jobs, social events, family… that was regular stuff that friends talked about, right? His knowledge was rusty but it felt right. “I’ll send you some of the best episodes since 19 seasons is a lot to get through.”

Nodding at her view on the job, mirroring his own rather well since he couldn’t imagine waking up every day to do something he hated, Zane matched her smile. Ariadne’s faltered for a moment however as she spoke about her cousin, making his heart ache. “Hey, at least you found a fellow introvert. We gotta stick together, right?” he offered, holding up his drink for a cheer. 

“Please do! If there’s other characters I might like, feel free to send me their best episodes, too. I’d like that a lot.” Ariadne brightened. This had to count for some sort of progress on the friend front, didn’t it? Zane was nice and even though a part of her wanted to say that nineteen seasons wasn’t really anything when you didn’t have to sleep, she figured that bringing that strange fact up was probably not for the best.

“That’s true. Fellow introverts unite.” She held up her drink, lightly bumping it against his. “To quiet nights in.” Ariadne offered him another cautious smile. “And new… friends?” She took a quick sip of her drink, as if to seal the deal. 

It was nice to know that she could still meet good and kind people in the world. Especially when they also so happened to save her from dangerous-yet-adorable creatures.

[genienotinabottle]

dear fellow traveler // sage & baz

TIMING: shortly after this dash conversation PARTIES: @loverleaf & @genienotinabottle SUMMARY: baz and sage meet up to 'help' some lost tourists at the train station CONTENT: recreational drug use

The premise was simple: Go to White Crest Central Station and assist confused travelers, all while carrying some warm, tasty baked goods. Sage has done it before. Countless times over the years. This time, however, she made sure to separate the warm, tasty baked goods from the warm, tasty baked goods with a little something special inside. 

Back then, in her favorite decade, no one had any problem consuming the latter pastries. These days, however, she was mindful enough to…appreciate the difference in taste. She heaved a sigh at the thought as they made their way to the station, a little sad and forlorn at the fact, The 60s were truly the best years of my life.

Sage exited the farm’s trademark van, which had the 60s decorated all over it, immediately looking around for “the charming, handsome one in front,” the person she had talked to online about this whole thing, two brown paper bags cradled by her arms against her chest. 

After a few hundred years of life, you found a multitude of creative ways to entertain yourself. Baz was something of an expert at it, able to find joy in the smallest of things. They weren’t sure how much of that came from immortality and how much of it came from being a poet, but they liked to think it was about fifty-fifty. 

Not that it mattered much. No, what mattered was that entertainment, and all the ways they found it. What mattered was whether or not they could convince other people to join the fun. It was always so much better when they could. Baz had always loved people. A little too much, if some were to be believed.

They shifted absently as they waited for their latest friend to arrive, eyes scanning the crowd. When they saw a pretty woman cradling two paper bags that smelled absolutely heavenly, they figured this had to be the person they’d spoken to online… or, at the very least, someone they could charm into giving them whatever it was she was carrying. With a charming smile, they moved forward. “Lovely to meet you in person,” they greeted confidently. “Those smell delightful. Which one is for me?” 

Sage just stared at the charming stranger for a few seconds, a warm smile on her face. It was as if she was trying to preserve the memory of his face in her head. Or maybe she was trying to remember a face she barely could, that of the person she was supposed to meet at this place. The flower nymph wasn’t quite sure which was which at that moment, though she just decided to wing it. After all the years she’s done the same, all the time she’s survived with just her smile and luck. What could go wrong?

“Charming and handsome one in front?” Sage chuckled, her delivery of the question somewhat vague in terms of its intended. Was she asking him? Or was she asking herself? Either way, she was always generous, so a delicious pastry for the stranger it was. She had already taken one out and was about to hand it to him when she remembered it had something else in it, something splendid, though not everyone appreciated the ingredient for what it was. “Oh, by the way, are you allergic to anything?”

“That’s me,” Baz confirmed with a flourish, clearly delighted at the description they’d given themself. They had a habit of… well, of saying anything that might serve to paint them in an attractive light. Seven hundred years earned a fury a hell of an ego, and they had a habit of learning on theirs. 

They reached out as the woman proceeded to hand them a pastry, pausing only when she did. The question wasn’t one they thought of often; as a fury, they hardly considered things like allergies. It wasn’t as if such things could kill them, after all. They thought back, trying to remember if they ever had been allergic to anything, but… Food had changed so much over the centuries, they weren’t even sure if any allergies they’d had in their human life were still applicable now. “I don’t think so, no,” they decided at last, taking the pastry and taking a bite without any further hesitation. The old ‘don’t take food from strangers’ rule probably wasn’t quite as important to someone whose only real weakness was decapitation, after all. “I don’t think I caught your name. Very rude of me, I know. I do apologize.” 

Sage raised a dainty finger in the air in a failed attempt to halt the man for a few more seconds but immediately stopped herself, curling it back down to join her other dainty fingers. With a quick wince, she watched him eagerly, curious as to whether the effects of the, uhm, special ingredient would work right away. Some people didn’t take long to experience the effects of the magical leaf. Others don’t even get affected by its more whimsical benefits. She even knew of a boy who only got into a brief fight with his bowels after consuming the same herb.

“That’s,” Sage feigned a cough, trying to remain as graceful and elegant as possible, even though she was clearly very excited at the results of his consumption. He did seem like he knew what she was implying online, so hopefully he wouldn’t explode into uncontrollable euphoria. “...good to hear.” She gave him a warm smile, intentionally this time, as a gift for their introduction. “I’m Sage Magnolia. What’s your name, charmer?”

Though they didn’t need to eat human food in order to survive, Baz did often indulge in it for the taste. They’d had plenty of gourmet meals throughout the years, dined everywhere from Italy to France to India to Thailand. Having lived through centuries of cuisine, they were pretty good at picking out distinct tastes within the food they were eating. So the woman’s special ingredient didn’t go entirely unnoticed. Baz had been expecting it, to some extent. She’d mentioned it, after all, in their online interactions. It was part of the reason why he’d agreed. Things like this were fun. Moreso when you were armed with the knowledge that nothing short of losing your head could kill you.

“Isn’t it always?” They agreed with a hum, swallowing the last of the pastry. It would be a while before it kicked in, they knew. They couldn’t remember if they’d always boasted a slower metabolism or if it was one of the many things they’d gained along with immortality, but it was certainly undeniable now. “Lovely name, Sage. I’m Sebastian, but I go by Baz.”

“Sebastian, hm?” Sage found her new friend a little too charming that she didn’t even try to weasel out of him his last name. Usually, while the rest of her kind used that to their advantage in less savory ways, to her, it was more of a defensive measure. Sage didn’t really do anything destructive, let alone barely hostile, since she found her people in the 60s. Anything unsavory she might do was usually a last resort, only to keep herself alive and safe and unharmed. “That is a fantastic nickname as well. Baz… I don’t think I’ve met another Baz before, certainly not anyone as charming as you.”

“Do you usually take trips down to the situation to mix and mingle with random travelers?” It wasn’t the worst way to spend some free time, Sage could at least agree with that. If anything, if she did that herself, perhaps she could convince more people to go back to the values of her favored time period, to put love over war once again, to deny all personal conflicts in favor of reaching compromises. It seems like a pipe dream, sure, but a better reality often starts from an innocent dream.

“Oh, they don’t come as charming as me. I’m one of a kind, I’m afraid.” Not entirely true, though not far off, either. Furies were less and less common these days, even in a place like White Crest. It had been decades since Baz met another. It was something they tended to take some pride in, privately. Being a rare specimen certainly felt preferable to being something as dull and common as a vampire or a zombie.

The question drew a thoughtful hum from the erinyes as they chewed on the pastry, their shoulders lifting in a shrug. “When it suits me.” It was their answer to most things, really; Baz tended to do whatever they felt like doing, regardless of anyone else. It was something that had worked for them over the centuries, a habit they had very little intention of changing. “What about you? Do you always offer strangers pastries with a little extra kick to them? I hear that can be dangerous, depending on the state you’re in. I find it difficult to keep up.”

“I can see that,” Sage giggled as she continued to watch him savoring her baked goods. Although she never took great pride in her baking, she knew they always seemed to satiate everyone who took more than just a passing taste. Well, most of them. There were a few who couldn’t take more than just a bite, and that’s always mostly because of the extra ingredient. She could never relate to that, though. Her first time had been very dreamy. Ah, that’s probably why.

“Me? Well, I’m a strong believer in making love, not war, you know?” Sage offered him a shrug, a warm smile still on her face. “Never judging books by their covers, always giving everyone the benefit of the doubt!” It helped that she has never found herself in dangerous situations before. The few times that she came close, something always bailed her out. Like when that warden tried to take her down and ended up going missing a few days later. Or when a creep tried to stalk her and ended up going missing a few days later. The Universe always protects. 

“Oh, well, I hope those dangerous strangers aren’t around here. With everything that’s happened, the townspeople deserve a break,” Sage giggled again but this time took a pastry for herself and sank her teeth into them, delighting in their freshness and fluffiness. Just the way she liked them.

She was charming, too. Baz didn’t often take an interest in people — it was an exhausting thing, after all, growing attached to someone only to outlive them by centuries — but already, they felt a firm fondness towards Sage. Perhaps it was the ‘special ingredient’ in the pastries making them a bit more open to such things, or perhaps Sage was simply easy to like. Both options seemed equally plausible. 

“Oh, making love is one of my favorite pastimes.” They punctuated the sentence with a wink, grinning deviously. They couldn’t quite say the same for not judging books by their covers, of course. The nature of a fury was to pass judgment, wasn’t it? After all, there was no vengeance without it. And as delicious as Sage’s pastries were, they couldn’t sustain Baz. They needed vengeance for that. Judging books by their cover was, as it turned out, a pretty important aspect of keeping Baz alive.

Glancing around as if to catch sight of the ‘dangerous strangers’ the conversation now centered on, Baz shrugged. “It looks like we’re safe here,” they whispered conspicuously. “Though I suppose the best way for the townspeople to get a break, at this point, would be to find a new town. This one doesn’t seem to offer breaks very often.”

“Oh,” Sage felt her cheeks turn red and warm at Baz’s devious wink. She’s made love before, sure, and numerous times at that, with numerous people even, and not just with men, but not recently. Things have been too…interesting for her to focus on that part of her whole lifestyle. Plus, it wasn’t the 60s anymore, so… Let’s just leave it at that. Sage continued to smile from ear to ear despite the initial surprise. “Well, I think you’re probably good at it, too.”

Sage squinted as she looked around, even though she didn’t even have any idea on how to find a ‘dangerous stranger’. Someone brandishing a knife should be very dangerous, but these days, everyone knows how to hide such a weapon, only taking it out when necessary or already close to their target. She reads books. “Hmm, that’s unfortunate but true, and even then, the next break could very well be this town’s last.”

Although Sage wasn’t as long-lived as most others like her, only having been around since the 40s give or take, she’s still seen the town evolve through the decades. Sure, she’s spent some of those decades in another part of the world, but she’s lived through the changes, and for better or for worse, the town has survived a lot. Maybe too much that it was now time for it to go quietly into the night. Or with a bang. Hopefully not with a bang. The town, not her.

“I’m very good at it,” the fury confirmed, still grinning. They’d leave things at that. If Sage wanted proof later of just how good they were, they’d be happy to show her. And if she didn’t, that would be fine, too. Baz had never been the type to take offense to that sort of thing, after all. 

She was right about this, too, of course. Eventually, White Crest would stop getting lucky. Perhaps it would come someday very, very soon, based on the way things had been going. They ought to make the most of things while they could, ought to enjoy their pastries and their lost tourists. Such things didn’t last forever.

“Let’s hope it still has a few good years left in it,” Baz replied with a shrug. “I don’t think I’m ready for the fun to stop yet. Do you?”

“Very?” Sage purred, fueled by the secret ingredient in the pastry she had chowed down on rather elegantly. The vada pav wasn’t just like any other pastry. To some, the glorious deep-fried potato dumpling, slapped in the middle of two bread buns, was called the Bombay burger. To Sage? It was home. “Well, maybe I’ll get to confirm that for myself one day.” Her mantra was, after all, make love, not war. It wasn’t just words sometimes. All definitions tend to apply.

“I don’t think anyone is ever ready for the fun to stop,” Sage heaved a sigh, feeling much more saddened by the mood-dampening nostalgia of her own losses. The decades have passed, but the feeling has never changed. Her longing for the good old days, her few good years, only intensified with each passing decade. Much has changed, except for her. She was still holding down the fort, holding on to values that were scarcer than a good lay. “Even when it’s already here, we still try to trick ourselves into thinking it’s not.” 

Sage heaved a sigh, and after a few seconds, realized she was perhaps souring the mood. “Oh, I’m sorry… That wasn’t very fun of me, was it?”

“Very,” Baz repeated, punctuating the affirmation with another wink. This, above all else, was the sort of thing they thrived at. Plenty of aspects of human interaction had been lost on them over the years, centuries of existing just outside the realm of being human causing a rift that was difficult to overcome, but this was something they were still skilled at. Baz could flirt with just about anyone. Usually, they were pretty good at bringing it home, too. “I’d be happy to show you. Just say the word, darling.” 

They hummed noncommittally at her statement. They weren’t sure it was entirely true. There were certainly some people who wanted the fun to stop. They clung to things like morality and ethics and let that dictate what they could and couldn’t do. It was all painfully boring. Not to mention exhausting. Baz was tired of it, was tired of a lot of things. After seven hundred years, they figured, anyone would be tired. “Don’t worry. We can bring the fun back, I’m sure.”

“Well,” Sage’s eyes widened in amusement while her cheeks grew hot and red. He was easy on the easy and very charming with his words. She couldn’t help but wonder what else he was good at, what specific things, and how good. Sage could only imagine, and although she has great imagination, she could feel her lips become wet with anticipation. Let’s just leave it at that. For now. “Maybe if you still have some energy when we’re done with helping strangers out here? These pastries aren’t going to distribute themselves, after all.”

She began to look around them, at each and every stranger that passed by, came close, wondering if any of them really needed help. Sage remembered when she was a confused traveler from before, though in another country. The first time, she valued the help that came unsolicited from the strangest of places. The final time? It all ended up much differently, and the help she received was more of a curse than a blessing. “Hm? If you say so. Shall we begin then?” Sage handed Baz the bag with the pastries with the secret ingredient, curious as to how he would handle it.

 “I’m full of energy,” Baz assured her with a grin, clearly satisfied with the deal. If she was interested in spending a little more time together when the pastries were all handed out and the people at the train station had all been helped, they would gladly offer her their company to do so. It would almost certainly lead to good times for the pair of them.

Nodding, the fury took the bag of pastries, humming nonchalantly. “I’m not sure the tourists will appreciate your special ingredient as much as I do. Are you sure these are the ones you’d like to hand out, Sage dear?”

“Hmm, you think so?” Sage was a little bit disappointed at Baz’s hesitation. If she was normal, she’d realize he was pretty much just being a decent human being. It was disrespectful to feed people things that weren’t prepared normally. These days, one needs consent before feeding another something with Sage’s special ingredient. But, with a very audible sigh, Sage surrendered without much fight. She wasn’t someone who indulged in force in all its definitions. “I guess boring old pastries, it is.”

Sage swapped their bags, bequeathing the pastries without the secret ingredient to Baz and holding on to the ones with the secret ingredient. She frowned at the thought of how the succeeding generations seemed to be less fun than the 60s to her. Back then, fun things were celebrated, not banned. These days, everyone seems to care more about labels and warnings and money and credit and allergies. Boring things. “Why even be a tourist if you’re not going to be spontaneous and have fun?” 

“It would certainly be a waste to give them to people who wouldn’t appreciate them, wouldn’t it?” For all of Baz’s faults — of which there were many — they did tend to be generally respectful when it came to avoiding putting people into situations outside of their control without warning. It was why they granted wishes with the disclaimer in front that there would be consequences involved. Sure, they might not go into detail on those consequences, but they did allow for that little head’s up. If people chose to follow through with the wish regardless, it was still their choice. Baz made a point of that. 

Taking the bag of ‘boring old pastries,’ Baz flashed Sage a dazzling smile. “Maybe we offer them the choice, hm? Some of them may be interested in fun. Those are the ones we’ll know are worth talking to.” 

“Hmm, that is fair,” Sage heaved a sigh, frowning. People seemed to have become much more complicated through the years that followed the 60s. Back then, things were much simpler, much easier. Now people have all these words and warnings and complaints. Why couldn’t they just remain simple and easy? Why couldn’t they just mellow down and choose to love, make love, and ignore everything else? To Sage, it was all very confusing and unnecessary. It didn’t help that she wasn’t even human, and most times, she wasn’t even a sober human. 

Baz’s alternative, however, piqued her excitement once more. Like a child, Sage began clapping and grinning, eyes wide with delight. “Oooh, oooh, that sounds like fun!” She watched him, nodding, and turned around to look for anyone who could be interesting and fun. There were a few that caught her attention but no one fitting her description of “interest and fun.” There were interesting faces, mysterious people that made her wonder, and there were fun faces, those with strange hair colors or flamboyant clothing, but no one that seemed to her both. Finally, she turned to Baz and shrugged, “You see anyone interesting and fun?”

For a moment, she seemed unhappy. Baz liked her well enough, of course, but they were still a fury, did still find unhappiness better than the alternative. Still, there was something else in their chest, too, an artist’s soul that had always been somewhat at war with the nature of the erinyes. They weren’t exactly relieved when Sage’s unhappy expression morphed into one of delight — it brought a certain level of discomfort with it, as joy always did — but they weren’t displeased, either. There was plenty of misery in the train station to go around, after all.

And chaos to be caused on top of it. Offering people a choice between ‘special’ pastries and mundane ones was sure to cause some fun, given the fact that those who took the former would be uninhibited in a crowded place. Baz grinned, glancing around the station. Settling on a woman texting on a bench, they nodded. “How about her? Worth a shot, isn’t it?”

Sage didn’t spend a lot of time outside the farm. At least not enough as any other normal person would. Not that she was normal. Or a person. But the few times that she did, she’d always find someone glued to their tiny phone, and boy, they’ve all become so tiny, the tiniest, through the years. Sage had a phone herself but it was not as tiny, not as cluttered with applications or features, and thus very outdated. Sort of like her. She sighed at the woman Baz had found, very unimpressed. “She doesn’t seem very interesting, or fun, but she’ll do, I suppose.”

Where was the woman’s tie-dye shirt? The fresh magnolia plucked this morning and nestled carefully in her hair? Interesting women wouldn’t be stuck on a bench fidgeting with a tiny thing. Interesting women, and men, would be playing a guitar, rousing the passersby with a communal song, and of course would not hesitate to try Sage’s baked pastry, secret ingredient and all. “Do you think she’ll even speak to us?”

Of course. At the end of the day, it all circled back to the lack of enthusiasm for a damn good time. Back in her day, everyone would just open their mouths and pop in whatever was offered to them. There was great faith, great trust, and definitely great love for all things unexpected. What a shame. These humans today seem so lost and claustrophobic. Easier for a flower nymph that’s still hung up on the 60s to say. Sage so often lamented what others would not even remember, did not even live through.

It was true, the woman hardly looked different than the rest of the people mulling about, but it was so difficult to tell these days. People had lost their taste for theatrical outfits that made them stand out in a crowd, preferring the same name brands and the same dull colors. It was a shame, really, but it did make things more interesting in one regard: every interaction was like a game of roulette. 

“There’s only one way to find out, isn’t there?” Baz flashed a bright smile, sauntering over to the woman and sliding into the spot next to her on the bench. “Good afternoon, miss,” they greeted, and she lowered her phone to turn towards them. “Are you new to town?”

“I’m lost, actually,” she admitted, a sheepish smile on her face. “I’m texting my sister to see if she can track down a new train ticket for me, or come pick me up.”

“Well, if you’d like a snack while you wait, my lovely friend here has an assortment. Tell her what you’ve got, Sage dear.” 

With a bright smile, the warmest she could muster, complete with eyes shimmering with excitement, Sage offered the woman the brown paper bag of the perfectly normal pastries, all of which baked to perfection and without a hint of any special ingredient. She had taken Baz’s advice to heart, and to be fair, it did make a lot more sense when she thought about it, spending all those few minutes, maybe even seconds, it took to make her way close to their prey thinking about their exchange of ideas. “Here you go! Take one while it’s still warm!”

“Oh, uhm, is this free?” The woman looked a little hesitant at taking the offer, which was pretty smart of her, Sage would at least admit that. With everything that has happened in the past few months, and everything else that was still happening in town at the moment, a modicum of wariness was most useful. Sage nodded at her with glee, trying her best to charm the woman, or perhaps even guilt her, into her purposes. “Yes, of course! My name’s Sage Magnolia. I own the Namas-Tea Happy Farm at the outskirts of town, and these are, well, my little way of welcoming everyone to White Crest!”

In her head, it sounded pretty foolproof: A nice farm lady greeting everyone new to town with a brown paper bag full of warm pastries… What was there to be suspicious about? Then again, the woman was new to town, or at least lost in town, which wasn’t any different really, and that meant her guard was up in more ways than one. The lost girl hesitated for a few more seconds but Sage wouldn’t stop staring at her with that wide smile. Defeated, she awkwardly chuckled to herself and took one of the softer pastries, still warm, and warily bit into it, eventually succumbing to the deliciousness of the treat. “See? What did I tell you? Tasty, right?” 

“It’s a free sample,” Baz added helpfully, because that certainly sounded legitimate, didn’t it? Most people, like this woman, were naturally suspicious of anything ‘free’ in a capitalistic society. But add in the expectation that it was free in order to convince you to buy something later down the road and, suddenly, things made a lot more sense. 

Unsurprisingly, the woman didn’t seem to want to argue with free pastries any more than she had already. Baz watched with some curiosity as she took a pastry and bit into it, glancing over at Sage. After a moment of chewing, the woman smiled. “It’s very good,” she confirmed. “Thank you.”

Wincing a little at the slip, Baz nodded. “Sure, sure.” The woman would learn not to thank people in White Crest soon enough; whatever consequences she got from this display of gratitude were ones she’d earned herself. “Should we move on, Sage? Or was there more you wanted here?” They gave their new friend the chance to offer some of her more ‘exciting’ pastries if she chose to do so.

The woman’s positive feedback and display of gratitude made Sage’s smile grow ever wider. She gave her an excited nod but failed to realize what Baz was getting at with that second question. In her head, she thought he was just urging her to move on and share more of her pastries with more of the tourists and whoever else were around them. Sage was so encouraged by the woman’s reaction to her baked goods that she hyper focused on getting more of the same from the others. “I’m all good! Let’s find more people!”

Sage gave the same woman a final quick nod before doing just that, finding more people. With Baz’s assistance, she shared the remaining normal pastries until the brown paper bag they called home became empty. All that was left were the ones with the special ingredient in them, but at this point, Sage wasn’t quite sure whether it would be safe to share with others. Baz’s words from before, as well as the first woman’s hesitancy, made her realize this might not be the time nor the place for some lovely fun. It was a crossroads, after all, not an actual destination. People were more focused on finding their way out of there than actually staying, and her special bread felt inappropriate in that context. 

“Well, that was fun,” Sage chuckled to herself, shaking her head in a failed attempt to calm herself down and chase the excess adrenaline away. She then turned to Baz, gave him a quick look, before offering the remaining brown paper bag. “Here. This might be better left with you. I can make some more at the farm, and I’m pretty sure you’d appreciate this more than anyone else here. This was fun, Baz. We should do this again some other time.”

They may not have gotten to give out the ‘special’ pastries, but it was sort of fun to hand out the normal ones, too. While Baz might have initially come out with mischief on the mind, they found there was something nice about making people feel good, too. It was like art, but without waiting a few hundred years for your pieces to become relevant. It made them think that, perhaps, there was something in humanity worth keeping around after all.

Offering Sage a grin as she handed them the remainder of the ‘special’ pastries, the fury nodded their head. “I had a blast,” they replied earnestly, happy to find that they meant it. “We’ll certainly have to do it again. Maybe next time, I’ll bring some of my creations along as well. I’m not much of a baker, but I make a lovely soup. It was wonderful to meet you, Sage. I’m sure we’ll see each other again soon.”

[angstfactory]

At least that seemed to have shut her up. For a good few seconds, Jesse absolutely relished the way in which the woman seemingly began to short circuit. All kinds of emotions passed on that expressive face-- disbelief, hurt, anger. But then... things got weird.

A sensation of rumbles came up from under his feet, like there was something -- or maybe several somethings -- clawing their way out of the ground. And, Jesse wasn't even sure how to describe it, but energy... Pure energy, just suddenly pulsating around the two of them like they were in a bubble. Aisley, herself, seemed about ready to.. explode? There was some innate instinct within the human that said he should probably get the hell out of there, since plants and vines were sprouting every which way the eye could see and the woman obviously responsible for this chaos was only a couple feet before him. "What the hell are you--" his confusion morphed into alarm caused by the open-mouth silent scream, that was scary. Something out of a movie almost, this whole experience was damn near unbelievable.

If he wasn't seeing it with his own eyes, if a vine hadn't just crept over his shoe...

Everything happened so fast -- it all reached some crescendo -- Jesse barely having a chance for both arms to come up in an act of self-preservation, to protect his face and head from a sudden burst. The sheer force of it blew in and whipped around the man roughly, causing loose clothing to flap and tug and rip. Those curls he was always joking about going through a wild wind tunnel of a ride. Within seconds, it was over as quickly as it started. And somehow, Jesse still stood there, arms braced over his head, only a tear in his shirt causing the fabric to hang off him and maybe a few insignificant scrapes of flying debris the only damage done to the human.

Eyes tightly shut, the male remained in this position a moment longer, to calm the rapid beating inside his chest and just in case she wasn't done yet. Unaware that the woman's sheer willpower in wishing and hoping that her magic wouldn't harm him, was probably the only thing that had saved him.

It felt like forever -- only seconds, really -- before Jesse lower his arms some and peek out, to survey the damage and wonder if he had been blasted to hell or something. But no, still on earth, still fine... Still at the crappy junkyard, or what used to be his junkyard... The whole damn place looked as if it'd been abandoned for so long, years of overgrowth and vegetation had taken over. Great. Where did Aisley go, though? At first, he didn't see the woman anymore until he took a hesitant step or two forward, and saw her collapsed body in a bed of lush grass where there should have been rocky earth.

"Oh shit," this curse came as Jesse rushed forward and dropped next to the woman's body. "Hey, c'mon now, Shaw," the man encouraged, giving her cheeks several smart slaps -- not enough to hurt, but to jolt -- as he tried to get her to wake up. "Open your eyes, alright, let's not fuck around here.. Aisley -- Aisley." Okay, okay... She wasn't responding. Aware this could be bad, real bad, Jesse moved to scoop the woman up bridal-style, grunting to himself as he struggled back to his feet-- the movies made it look easier than it was carrying someone, especially when said someone was passed out and completely limp, so basically dead weight. Damn it, she'd better not be dead, or he was going to bring her back somehow just to shake her. As quick as he could, he carried Aisley through and over the maze of plants covering the ground, and towards the old rusted 1960's truck he had every intention of restoring to its former glory, once he got around to it. "Ah, fuck me!" Jesse cursed again, this time much louder, as he could already see the truck was victim to the vegetation. Plants were visibly poking out from every crevice, including the hood. "You're paying for that, Shaw, I swear to fuckin' GOD," the man raved, now changing course and heading back towards the trailer. He needed to get the phone, to call for someone to come help him get this damned woman to the hospital or something.

She clung to the last of her control with teeth and nails, all but shaking with her fierce fight to keep her temper and her magic under control. What the hell was it about Jesse Cowen that somehow slid along her nerves like a papercut?

The saddest part about the whole damn thing is that Aisley would have liked to have some kind of . . . hell, cordial relationship with her neighbor. It's not as though she wanted to constantly be at odds with him! That wasn't her nature at all. It didn't have to be friendly, though she'd have preferred it, but was cordial too much to ask? She preferred a peaceful coexistence. It was part of her entire outlook on life, part of her very magical core for that matter. All life matter. All life had value. Everyone deserved their peace, their life, their love. Whatever form that took. Aisley could see the need for predator and prey. She could accept the circle of life in all its forms. Human, witch, vampire, werewolf . . . Plant, animal . . . Herbivore, omnivore, carnivore . . . Everything had a place in the makeup of nature - even Jesse. Though she still maintained he clearly had more brains and abilities than he bothered to use half the time.

So why did everything about him seem to be custom-made to get under her skin?

Trying to hold onto her control kept her from hearing part of his rant - though she'd no doubt heard all of the words before. And yes, some of them had a legitimate foundation - Aisley wasn't the type to lie to herself. She knew she'd gone over a line or two in the past couple of months as discussion didn't seem to factor into any form of communication that he seemed willing to have with her. How had she let it get to this point? Goddess only knew, she usually managed to find some kind of detente with everyone else, but somehow it just didn't work with Jesse. A small wriggle of doubt teased through her mind - why did she find it so hard to talk to this man? What part of chaos did he represent that it sometimes felt like fingernails against glass. Even now, the irritation played merry havoc with her control, and she . . . She really needed to tune back into his words . . . and damned if she didn't pick the worst possible moment. Because she heard his last words loud and clear.

*Oh, finally someone has taken care of that crap? Good.*

At that last cruel dismissal, the absolute disregard for the violent destruction of life, her temper just snapped.

And with it, her control.

Panic and fear swelled like the crescendo of music as Aisley felt her magic burst loose with an almost mischievous shout of glee. She tried to choke out a warning but couldn't manage to do more than a simple - "Get ba-!" - before everything spiraled and she felt the burn of magic slice through her, rushing out to run wild. She slammed her eyes closed and dropped to her knees as she began to try and claw it back under control as it erupted. Swirling and fountaining, it reached for everything living around her to explode in an outburst of joyful, terrifying life. For the moment, all she could do was pray whatever it did, the damage to Jesse himself would be as minor as possible as she poured herself into containing it.

Don't let me kill him. Goddess, please don't let me kill him.

The words raced through her mind on repeat as a wordless scream tore from her throat while she fought the magic. Everyone thought of magic as a tool, but it was more like energy, the energy of a lightning bolt, that barely rested under the witch's control. It wanted to be used. It wanted to be set free to work. Only the control and borders placed by the witch kept it focused and safe. Otherwise, it went wild like a toddler with free rein and an endless supply of fingerpaints. Energy didn't care who used it for what . . . it just wanted to be used, to go from point A to point B. Some witches didn't give a damn, happily tossing magic around like a child's play toy. Others possessed wide pools of magic that had more breadth than depth, and she didn't know how they managed theirs. But people whose magic ran clear, strong, and deep like hers in one focused channel? Oh, that meant a battle and a fight and a constant hold of their control to make sure it didn't go out of control like this.

Now, her magic burned and flared, all but speeding across the entire area like a wildfire.

Aisley had to get control back before it killed both of them. So, still on her knees with her eyes closed tight, Aisley began to drag the magic back to her. It resisted. Oh, Goddess, but did it resist! Seeds resting under the earth began to sprout too early, their roots digging deep even as they shot towards the surface and the light. Who knew what the hell it might be doing to the scrap yard? Who knew what the hell it might do to Jesse or herself?

She . . . had . . . to . . . drag . . .it . . . back . . .

Screaming as she dragged it all back in, crying as she locked it down, Aisley tried to get up, tried to find her feet so she could check on what had happened to Jesse, but she went back down. Hard. The last thought as darkness overtook her . . .

Goddess, don’t let me have killed him.

[ponyam]

Heyyyyyy! I can’t express how much I love your writing honestly and I really want to request something if your still taking them. Could you do a Zhongli x reader? Zhongli takes reader on a date to propose to them and could you include the wedding too if that’s too much to ask? I would really appreciate it :)❤️❤️

thank you so much! and sorry this took so long omg

devout

zhongli x reader [gender neutral]

synopsis: zhongli takes you on a proposal-date and sweeps you of ur mfkn feet <3

cw: slightly suggestive towards the end, mentions of a [food] coma, i'm a sap

The light of the morning sun shone brightly, yet the air was brisk as it nipped at your cheeks. The crisp smell of sea air wafted in from the docks, while the rhythmic chime of ship’s bells echoed off the walls of buildings, indicating that sailors had risen to greet the day and the unruly tide that awaited them.

Your hand was pocketed with his, keeping your grip warm and secure as you walked closely together through the awakening streets of Liyue. At the brink of dawn, your lover began persistently nudging you awake, peppering your face in sweet kisses while promising you with an even sweeter meal as a form of bargain. How lucky he was that it appeared to have worked.

Mornings like this weren’t totally uncommon with Zhongli, however this seemingly newfound fervor for planning a whole day trip like this was a little out of the ordinary. When you asked him what the occasion was— out of slight concern that you might’ve forgotten it— he denied that there ever was one; he simply wanted to express his “love and adoration through a little quality time together.”

Before you could press any further, something had caught your lover’s attention, as you were suddenly being ushered in another direction. He escorted you to sit at one of the tables at the Wanmin Restaurant and, once you were settled, excused himself to order food, planting a quick peck to your cheek in the process. Looking around you noticed that the area wasn’t too crowded at this time of day; there was a certain peacefulness that had settled over the atmosphere that contrasted heavily with the normally bustling streets of the harbor. Perhaps that was what he intended by waking you up so damn early.

Breakfast was delicious, as promised. It also served to ease some of the bitterness you felt towards being jostled awake at the crack of dawn. Zhongli didn’t hold back, either. Anything and everything that you might like was placed on the table in front of you, and you weren’t sure how he was able to afford it, nor if you’d manage to finish it all without going into a coma.

On top of all that, your lover seemed to have brought his own food from home, though it was neatly wrapped and sat underneath the small table. Again, when you asked him about it— not having ever recalled him making it— his reply was as vague as ever; “oh it’s just a little something for later.”

After boxing all the leftovers from the meal that Chef Mao so kindly put together despite the large request, Zhongli offered to take you to visit Dihua Marsh to show you a few of his favorite sights, and maybe even enlighten you with some of the history as well.

There was something so enchanting about the way he spoke; his deep, honeyed voice coating over his words as he recounted tales of his many years of living. He exuded the calm and sophisticated aura of a scholar, which he practically was whether or not he chose to admit it, yet his occasional naivety and silliness were equally charming qualities of his.

You failed to realize how quickly you were drowning in his presence until he directed a question at you, which you had to embarrassingly ask him to repeat. Fortunately, Zhongli wasn’t irritated that you hadn’t been paying attention, in fact he found the dumbfounded expression you wore to be quite endearing.

“I said,” he began as he reached out, gently lifting your chin with his thumb and forefinger while tucking a few stray hairs and a glaze lily that he must’ve picked earlier, gently behind your ear.

He then leaned in, arms snaking around and pulling you towards him by the waist as his breath danced along the side of your neck, lips ghosting over your skin.

“...would you allow me to take you to see a few ruins with me? There is still so much that I wish to show you…”

A sudden tingle shot down your spine as Zhongli’s lips moved to decorate your neck in soft, delicate kisses that seemed to leave a burning imprint in their wake, leaving you slightly flushed. It was truly astonishing how easily he could leave you breathless, even with such little strenuous activity. His affectionate demeanor was slightly peculiar, too, but you were hardly in the position to complain about it.

“Then show me,” you replied, managing to tame the swarm of butterflies that had almost completely consumed you.

Letting out a deep chuckle, Zhongli withdrew his kisses while his hand moved to cup your cheek. He hummed in satisfaction, admiring you with his glowing amber gaze for a moment before speaking.

“Gladly.”

That afternoon was spent with Zhongli as your tour guide as you traversed the various decaying stone structures throughout the Guili Plains, Luhua Pool, and finally, Jueyun Karst, where Zhongli recalled some of his early memories of the adepti with a fond smile adorning his face. You quickly discovered him to be quite the archaeological expert, not that you ever doubted it of course, but he seemed to have quite the knack for uncovering intricate little mechanisms that had been hidden away and preserved in stone over the course of the last few millennia.

He was also very adamant about showing you many of Liyue’s great sights, and was not afraid to express this by taking you to every available vantage point, regardless of how far or out-of-reach it seemed. Even if you claimed to be exhausted, Zhongli would simply carry you the rest of the way because you were going to see this view. And what a view it was. From up high it was easy to take in almost the entirety of Liyue in all of its golden splendor, which was the original intention in bringing you here. This was something that he spent years constructing and cultivating, something he took great pride in and fought hard to protect. It was his world, and you were his crowned jewel.

As the sun was beginning to set, Zhongli escorted you back to the harbor before excusing himself to quickly go and “check something,” sending you off once again with a sweet kiss, and asking you to meet him at the peak of Mt. Tianheng in about twenty or so minutes. You smiled to yourself as you waved goodbye, curious as to what he had in mind and slightly amused by his frantic behavior. You thought back to your earlier denied inquiries regarding what was so special about today.

Perhaps now you would get some answers.

When you arrived at the rendezvous point, well, least to say you were taken aback. Laid out before you was a spread of a variety of your favorite foods, including desserts and a tea set, accompanied by an array of flickering candles that illuminated the small picnic blanket as well as the single glaze lily that grew nearby. Just past it stood the man that you had fallen in love with, his back turned as he watched the sun sink beneath the clouds.

“What’s all this?”

Immediately you caught his attention.

“Ah, there you are, my dear,” he said, turning slightly to face you. “Come here. I have something I’ve been meaning to show you.”

He extended his hand out towards you, a gesture for you to stand beside him. You approached him hesitantly in an attempt to not disturb the lovely display he had assembled for you, while letting his arm gently drape itself across your shoulders.

Your breath caught in your throat. By the Archons, the view was stunning. Sure, you had been sight-seeing all day and this could hardly be any different from the last dozen places you trekked to watch the skyline, but there was something about the way in which the glowing aura of the evening sky reflected off of Liyue and the twinkling sea of its harbor that left you in completely awestruck.

Had you not been quite as transfixed as you were in that moment, perhaps you would’ve caught sight of the distant, far-away look in your lover's eyes. Maybe you would have noticed the way he was fidgeting slightly, or the way his eyes were no longer trained on the view, but on something far more radiant.

“It’s beautiful,” you said, snapping him out of his trance.

Zhongli smiled, enjoying watching the awe and wonder twinkle in your irises.

“Indeed it is.”

You felt his arm lift away from your shoulders.

“But I think I have found something far more precious.”

You felt his hand slip into yours.

“Oh really? And what’s tha—”

When you turned, Zhongli, Rex Lapis, the former Geo Archon, was kneeling before you, regarding you with such an adoring gaze as if you were the deity to be revered, answering your question without needing to utter a single syllable: ‘You’

“(Y/N),” he began, giving your hands a light squeeze. “There is much I’ve been meaning to say to you, but I fear that I have such little time,” he sighed. “When I first gave up my gnosis, I found myself wandering aimlessly, unsure of my place in this world now that I was no longer Rex Lapis. I am now just a mortal man, with no duty to my people. It was a… foreign concept to me, at first. I wasn’t sure how to lead a carefree life, with a clear and resolute heart, until I met you.

“I never anticipated to meet someone quite like yourself, nor did I intend to fall in love as deeply as I have, but I hold no regrets. You have shown me true happiness, and for that I must thank you.”

Zhongli pressed a kiss to your knuckles as you felt your eyes begin to well up with tears.

“Each day spent with you is as valuable as gold to me. Our time together is boundless. I knew not my place in this world before, but I now realize that it has always been right here with you.”

He let out a shaky breath.

“(Y/N), my love, I cannot imagine a world without you in it, and I wish to form a new contract with you from here on out, so please…”

Reaching into his pocket, Zhongli produced a small, black box. Inside was a beautiful jade ring, crested and adorned with gold.

“...will you marry me?”

—

It was a warm summer’s night, and the moon rose full, its light ricocheting off of crystalline streams of water as they cascaded down the high cliffs which surrounded you. The air was humid, but somehow the combination of mist and the gentle night’s breeze made each inhale feel more rejuvenating than the last.

Fireflies were out tonight. They were dancing about you and your fiancé as you stood together side by side adorned in matching hanfu, rapidly beating hearts synchronizing to the same rhythm. It was a relatively quiet ceremony. There weren’t too many guests, and the venue was fairly secluded, making the process feel much more intimate.

After lighting the altar candles and paying respects, a tea ceremony was held, followed by the exchanging of vows. A few adepti were present, as well as some close friends and family members. Seldom did you release each other’s hand, regardless of what you were doing or who was looking. It provided a sense of security for the both of you, a silent reminder to one another that ‘yes, I’m still here, and yes, this is real.’

Although Zhongli is known for being a very composed gentleman, he still found it difficult to restrain himself from sweeping you off your feet and twirling you around while kissing you all over; he was overjoyed, though he was not the easiest person to read.

Instead of performing such an extravagant display of affection, Zhongli opted for a single, chaste kiss once you completed in saying your vows. It was extremely tempting to turn that one kiss into many, much more passionate kisses, but Zhongli was still quite aware of his audience, giving him reason to hold back.

After the wedding reception was held and you had just sent off the very last guest, your husband pulled you aside, albeit a little harsher than intended. You let out a small yelp as you collided with him, surprised by his sudden brazenness.

“You look divine,” he spoke softly, admiring you as you were bathed in moonlight.

A hand then moved to brush some of the hair away from your face, while his other remained gently clasped with yours. Soft lips moved to caress your forehead, and then your temples.

“I have been waiting for this moment for a long time,” he continued.

His lips then moved to your cheek, then jaw, lingering there for a moment while his hand cradled your face.

“Longer than you can imagine,” his voice was deep, sultry, and right in your ear.

He moved to repeat the same process on the other side of your face.

“So forgive me if I’m a little selfish tonight.”

He kissed the tip of your nose before moving his lips to hover over yours, warm breath mingling with your own.

“I must make up for the lost time, after all.”

Zhongli sealed his promise with a kiss that was deep and devouring, conveying all the emotions he had ever felt for you as well as one last, simple message:

'I am utterly and wholly devoted to you.'

[andreafmn]

Collision - Chapter 4

Word Count: 3,821

Characters: Female Reader Uley Character, Sam Uley, Allison Uley, Charlie Swan, Bella Swan, Seth Clearwater, Billy Black, Jacob Black, Emily Young, Paul Lahote, Harry and Sue Clearwater, Leah Clearwater

Story Description: (Y/N) Uley is back home after being away for four years. Her life at its first standstill and she is taking this time to find out who she is without school. But she never thought that coming back to the reservation would turn her whole life around. In the midst of secrets and mystery, a man crashes into (Y/N)’s and her life will never be the same.

*DISCLAIMER* I do not own in any way Twilight, all credits of the pre-established characters, script, and storyline belong to Stephanie Meyer and Summit Entertainment. The only thing I own is Uley Reader insert, any upcoming characters, and her storyline, as well as her effects in the others’ story line.

Chapter: 4/?

A/N: Don’t know if I ever mentioned it, but the story takes place before New Moon but after Twilight. It starts at the end of May after the dance, so it’d be the summer before Bella’s birthday in September. If you enjoy my writing I’ll also be posting them in AO3 and Wattpad along with other stories (I also hope to start taking requests if ya’ll want) Hope you enjoy and all constructive criticism is encouraged.

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Chapter 4

The next time she awoke she was back in sight of the blinding hospital lights. Her head was heavily pounding and the clothes on her body felt alien to her. Her eyes struggled to adjust to the white lights of the sanitized room, but they were suddenly off.

“Back again, Miss Uley?” She recognized the voice, Dr. Cullen. “I’ve already turned the lights off so don’t worry about that.”

Her eyes finally opened to reveal the smooth pale face of the doctor. A wave of calmness rushed over her as soon as her eyes connected with his golden ones.

“What can I say?” She chuckled. “I just couldn’t stay away.”

“Well, it seems you’ve been having a recurring headache, insomnia, memory lapses, and a lack of appetite. It looks like post-concussive syndrome. Your mom told us you were feeling like this for a few days, why didn’t you come back?” Carlisle questioned. He was trying his best to look like he was breathing but if he took even a single breath all his years of self-control would be over in an instant.

“I thought if I could just make it to at least seven days it could clear me from coming back to the hospital, at least as a patient.”

“What do you mean?” This comment had perked the interest of the man. Thoughts raced through his head faster than he could analyze them.

“I was thinking of applying for a medical assistant job here in the hospital. I recently got my degree in biology, and I’ve been thinking of going to medical school after.”

“That sounds like a plan, but let’s work on getting you better first.” It did sound like a good plan to Carlisle. He wanted to be as close as possible to her every single day, but it also meant he would have to work triple as hard to control his thirst. “We’d like to keep you for the next few days and make sure you’re in good health before you can go back to business as usual.”

“How long would a few days be?”

“About four to five days, just to make sure that the symptoms don’t worsen, and we can give you an all-clear.” It would also give him a few days to grow accustomed to her smell. “We can work over that application for medical assistant, make sure it’s something you want to do.”

“Yeah, that’d be great.” She smiled at the man in front of her, her heart fluttering with every breath she took. “Thank you, Dr. Cullen.”

“Please, call me Carlisle,” he smiled. “Now, why don’t you continue resting, and whatever you need just call. My office is right down the hall, I’ll be here in no time.”

The girl stared at the retreating form of his body and covered the heat that was rising to her face with her pillow. The butterflies in her stomach had made her uneasy and had her hands shaking. She didn’t understand why she was feeling this way. It had only been a week since her first encounter with the doctor, but those few seconds were enough to have her drooling over the man like a lovesick schoolgirl.

A few days had come and gone quickly. (Y/N) had grown attached to Carlisle, seeing and talking to him every day had felt like a dream. In his free time, she would go over to his office and pick a book to read, which they talked about the next day. They spent hours talking about nothing and everything.

It had been a long time since Carlisle had felt this way, centuries. Being around her had gotten easier each day that passed. Her smell becoming comforting instead of a trigger to the endless hunger for human blood – he’d never had a simple drop of it, but nothing could explain how much he wanted to have hers. Getting to know her had been a welcomed activity by the young doctor. He could spend days upon days listening to the sweet sound of her voice, admiring her curious-filled face when she started a new book – which she read swiftly, taking only a couple of hours to finish most of them.

“Can’t believe you have so many first editions, and you leave them at work.” She ran her hand across the spine of Dostoyevsky’s Crime and Punishment. “I would keep them in a well-preserved chamber, and no one would be able to even breathe on them.”

Carlisle smiled as the girl gawked once again at his book collection. It wasn’t hard to acquire first edition novels when you were alive when they were published. “If you’re impressed by this collection, you’d be completely astonished by the one I have back home.”

“You have more?!” He nodded. The girl shined like a kid on Christmas, her eyes gleaming at the thought of a big library. “Oh, that sounds like a dream.”

“You’re more than welcome to come over any time. It’s always refreshing to meet a literature aficionado such as myself.”

“Really? That’d be amazing!” She grinned brightly. “I could spend all day reading, forget about work.”

The duo laughed. “Too late to withdraw the application but you’re always welcome to pass your downtime in my office.”

“Sounds like a plan,’’ she smiled. “Now, doctor, what will you ever do now that I’m not going to be here every day?”

“Oh, how will I ever go on?” He chuckled. “But if you ever need help during that time, just come by. My office is always open. And hopefully, you’ll visit from time to time on personal time.”

“I’m sure it’s something that can be arranged.”

If there was still blood rushing through his veins, the capillaries in his face would have widened. He felt like he now understood Edward; how being with her made him feel human again. And there was nothing more that he wanted than to take their friendship to another level, but he wasn’t sure if she would ever feel the same. Carlisle knew that she was unaware of the supernatural since (Y/N) had allowed him to be in her life. But what would happen once she knew everything? How could he ever come between her and her family?

“Miss Uley, your mother is here,” a nurse spoke up, peeking her head through the office door. “Discharge papers have already been filed.”

“Thank you, Nurse Dalen. She’ll be out in a moment.” Carlisle smiled.

“Well, the time has come.” (Y/N) took her phone out of her back pocket and handed it to the doctor. He looked at her with a question-ridden gaze. “I’m gonna need your phone number so we can arrange any future endeavors.”

“Right,” he laughed, typing his number into her directory. “I’ll be waiting for that call.”

“I’ll be making it soon enough,” she grinned. “I’m gonna go now. I’ll see you around, Cullen.”

“I’ll see you, Uley.”

She left the office with a huge smile on her face, holding her phone close to her chest. For the first time, she was experiencing something she had heard of most of her teenage years. Once she had met Carlisle all she wanted to do was get to know him better, spend her time with him, just being near him would suffice. It was the first time she was learning what falling for someone was, and even though it was scary, she was jumping in headfirst.

“Hi, honey. Ready to go home?” Allison hugged her daughter for the first time in five days. (Y/N) nodded, truly ready to finally sleep on her own bed.

“So, how are you liking Dr. Cullen?”

“MOM!” Allison laughed at her daughter’s reaction. It was easy to see that (Y/N) had taken a liking to Carlisle Cullen, and vice versa.

“What, darling? If it looks like a duck and quacks like a duck.”

“It’s not like that, mom.”

“But you’d like it to be like that.”

“I’m not talking about that with my mother.” (Y/N) placed her cold hands on her cheeks, trying to cool down the warm blood that had rushed onto her cheeks. The cool air of the car’s A/C was only helping her so much.

“I just want you to be careful with that, honey. He’s older than you, technically has kids, and rumor has it he is married.”

A breath hitched in her throat. Married? She knew he had adopted five kids, most of them her age, but not that he was married. Had she read the situation wrong? He didn’t wear a ring, he didn’t mention any relationship, he had no pictures of a woman in his office. Then again, they had only spent five days together at the hospital. She didn’t know what he did when he went home at night, who he went home to at night. (Y/N) shouldn’t feel betrayed—they weren’t anything, and they weren’t on track to become anything.

“Don’t worry, mom. I’ve just been picking his brain about working in the hospital, and he’s been helping me with what I’m gonna be doing this summer.”

“Oh, have you decided what you want to do?”

“I’m gonna get my medical assistant certification. It’s a three-month course then I can work at the hospital.”

“That’s great, honey.” Allison smiled at her daughter from the driver’s side. “Is that where you’d see yourself making a career?”

“Not sure. I want to take this time to see if life in a hospital is truly where I’d like to work – see if medical school would be it for me.”

(Y/N) hadn’t taken the time to focus on her future. In her high school career, she spent her time focusing on the present and piling on as much as she could, and now she had no sense of direction. She would take every day as it came, hoping one day she would find her purpose.

Finally, back home, she hopped off the truck and stretched out her limbs, stiff from the days on a hospital bed. Taking a deep breath of fresh air and basking in the afternoon sun. The cold that had seeped into her bones from the hospital melted off, and she smiled feeling the warmth surround her.

“Why don’t you go upstairs, honey?” Allison told her daughter. “There’s a surprise waiting for you in your room.”

(Y/N) smiled and quickly made her way up the stairs to see what her mom meant. Opening the door, tears forming in her eyes. Her room had done a 180-degree turn. The walls had been painted a light beige color, and plants hung from the walls bringing warmth to the room. The bed was adorned with a white cover, and a fluffy duvet to keep her warm at night. A wooden frame sat atop the bed dressed in white linen and ivy vines. A bookcase lived in the corner of her room, filled to the brim with her collection of hardbacks and peppered with potted plants. Opposite the bed was a small desk with a dark green suede chair, her laptop set up in the workspace. Her room finally felt like hers.

“Do you like it, honey?”

“Mom, did you do this?”

“I wish I could take credit, but your brother and your friend Paul came over when I was at work and redecorated. I was actually surprised that they even came over.”

“I’ll have to thank them,” (Y/N) grinned. Even though their relationship was strained at the moment, and she had yet to see Paul since coming back, she was glad that they had taken time out of their days to do this for her. “I’ll go over to Sam’s house for a bit, maybe now he’ll have time to see me.”

“Why don’t you go tomorrow, honey? You should take it easy.”

“I feel a lot better, mom. You don’t have to worry too much.”

“I’m your mother, I’ll always worry. If you’re gonna go out, go see Jacob. He was really worried about you.”

“I will.”

(Y/N) kissed her mother’s cheek and grabbed her bag to head out. Her first stop was to the Black residence. Jacob saw her coming down the street and ran out to wrap her in a hug. When she collapsed last week, he had been very concerned when she collapsed in his garage. Jacob was glad that she had made a full recovery and was now back home, with minimum side effects showing. The visit was short, only a quick hello to ensure the boy that she was okay.

After spending some time with Jacob, she walked towards Sam’s house – she hoped to catch Paul there too since she had heard he now spent his time there alongside Jared Cameron. It hadn’t clicked in her head why Paul would ever hang out with her brother and Jared. Even when they were back in middle school, he never paid them any mind, having a separate friend group. She had only become his friend by spending time with him away from school, and her brother had always disliked them together, claiming he was a bad influence.

Outside of the small house, (Y/N) could hear the low chatter of manly voices, a higher-pitched one joining after. There was no mistaking that Sam was home. She started feeling nervous as she raised her hand to knock on the door. The shaky limb was able to make contact with the blue door twice before it opened wide open, revealing a shirtless Paul Lahote.

“(Y/N)?” He questioned. Paul knew she was back, but Sam had given him clear instructions to stay away from her due to their situation.

“Hey, Paul. Long time no see, huh?” The girl smiled at her friend that now towered over her. A few years ago, they were still of the same stature, but too much time had passed since then. She went in for a hug, and Paul cut it short – worried she might note his burning temperature. “Is Sam home?”

“Uh, yeah.” He scratched the back of his neck, turning towards the kitchen. “Sam! (Y/N)’s here.”

The older male appeared in front of them, a soft smile playing on his lips. “Hey, (Y/N). Good to see you’re doing better. What brings you around?”

“I just wanted to thank you both for what you did in my room. Mom told me you worked on it while we were away. It’s a dream.” Sam smiled at his younger sister and shared a hug with the smaller girl.

“I’m glad you liked it, (Y/N). We wanted to give you a place where you could rest better after the accident. It’s the least we could do.” The alpha could hear the duo that was left in the kitchen had grown curious about who was at the door. “Do you want to come in for a bit?”

“Are you really inviting me in?” (Y/N) was taken aback – the last thing she thought was that she would get that invitation.

“Yeah, there’s someone I want you to meet,” Sam responded, keeping his doubts of the encounter to himself.

(Y/N) walked through the threshold and instantly felt the warm aura that emanated from inside of the house. It was a welcoming environment that she had grown to love from her own mother’s house. She walked behind Sam, Paul following behind them. `There was nothing that could prepare her to the sight she was met with.

In front of her stood a beautiful woman. She had tan skin, long black hair, and a beautiful smile. But there was something that stood out to her, something she was sure stood out to everyone – three long gashes ran through the front of her face. Yet, they didn’t distract from the alluring atmosphere that surrounded her. Sam moved to her side, and (Y/N) quickly connected the dots and figured that was Emily Young. The Uley girl wanted to be indifferent to her presence, knowing how one of her friends had been hurt by the union in front of her, she couldn’t help but note the love that radiated from the pair. It had been a long time since she had seen her brother as happy as he looked as he stared at his fiancé.

“(Y/N), it’s an honor to finally meet you.” Emily stretched out her hand towards the girl, which (Y/N) gladly took. “Sam has told me so much about you.”

“I wish I could say the same,” (Y/N) joked. “Hopefully, we’ll have a chance to get to know each other more. I’d love to get to know the woman my brother is set to marry.”

“I’m sure we’ll have enough time now that you’re back.” Emily smiled and grabbed a basket filled with muffins, offering them to the girl. (Y/N) gladly took the baked good in her hand, picking at it and placing the piece in her mouth – a wonderful taste that quickly melted in her mouth. “You’re welcome over any time. Any family of Sam is family to me.”

“Thank you, Emily. I’ll be sure to take you up on that.”

Not much time passed before Sam had cut the meeting short, claiming there was something important the duo had to do. “We should do this another time, (Y/N). Paul and I have to go.”

“Go where?” (Y/N) questioned. “It’s already night, not much to do.”

“I can’t really tell you, sis. But it’s important.”

“So still guarding secrets?” Sam shrugged. “It’s fine, Sam. I’m growing used to it.”

“(Y/N)…”

“I can take a hint, Sam. I know when I’m not wanted,” (Y/N) smiled. “Thank you for the muffins, Emily. They were divine. I’ll be sure to take you up on that offer and visit sometime soon.”

“Of course, (Y/N). I’m sorry we had to cut this short.”

“It’s okay. I’ll see you guys.” (Y/N) took her bag and exited the house. She was confused on why Sam had welcomed her in only to have her leave soon after – there was something big he was hiding, and she needed to find out what it was.

“(Y/N), wait up!” Paul jogged up to her, turning her around. “Look, I hope you understand that we’re not trying to push you away on purpose. There are things that Sam is protecting you from.”

“Like what, Paul? What danger could possibly be surrounding us that he would stray from his family?”

“I’m sorry, but it’s not my place to tell you, (Y/N). As much as I hate keeping this from you, Sam would not allow it to come from anyone but himself.”

“Are you serious? What kind of power does he have over you?”

“PAUL!” Sam shouted, gaining the attention of his beta. “Let’s go.”

“I’m sorry, (Y/N). I hope one day you’ll forgive us.” Paul kissed her forehead and went to meet up with his alpha.

(Y/N) stood still as she watched their bodies disappear into the woods. She debated whether to follow them for a brief second, but she was exhausted. She left back home with a million questions running through her head. The pair of Sam and Paul was a strange view, and she was determined to get to the bottom of things.

When she got home, (Y/N) noticed her mother asleep on the couch, the tv in front of her still playing. The years that passed were clear on her face, the worry that she carried for both her children plastered in the lines of her face. She could see the exhaustion that she held, years of caring for two kids by herself taking a toll on her. (Y/N) grabbed a blanket and laid it on top of her mother’s body, making sure that she was warm during the night. She left a kiss on her cheek, thankful for everything her mother had sacrificed for her.

After showering the day off, (Y/N) changed into her pajamas and laid in bed staring at her phone’s screen. She thought if she stared at it long enough a message would magically pop up. Minutes passed and her phone kept silent, not a single notification appearing on the screen. She scrolled through her directory until it landed on the newest listing. Carlisle Cullen, it read. Her finger clicked on it and selected new message.

Her fingers danced atop the keyboard of her phone, no words coming to her mind to send to the doctor. Should she even send him a message? What if he truly was married? She would never want to come between a couple. But her fingers did not follow her thought train. Unconsciously, they started typing away a message and before she could analyze her actions, she sent the message.

Hi, Carlisle. It’s (Y/N). I made it home okay and don’t have any symptoms, seems like you fixed me up! Anyways, wanted to know if you possibly had some free time this weekend to join me for some dinner at La Bella Italia. Hope you had a good rest of the day at work!

Her jaw fell when her screen read message sent. There was no way to delete it now. It was out there, and it would make its way to his phone. (Y/N)’s head fell onto her pillow and muffled a scream that escaped from her throat. This feeling was alien to her, and she was learning what steps to take to grow closer to the astonishing man. Minutes felt like an eternity to (Y/N), thinking that she had imploded the friendship she had built with the man over the past week.

Beep.

The sound from her phone caught her attention. She scrambled for her phone and quietly shrieked at the words on her screen.

Hello, (Y/N). I’m glad you’re feeling better, hopefully, no symptoms will arise once more. And I did have a good day at work, although I missed our afternoon book chats. I have a free day on Sunday. Tell me a time and I can meet you in Port Angeles. Hope that day is good for you.

“He said yes. If he were actually married, he wouldn’t have said yes,” she thought.

So, she typed back.

I’m glad you had a good day, and the book chats have an easy fix. I’m just a phone call away. As for Sunday, it’s a perfect day. I think around 5:30 would be a good time for dinner. Let me know if it works.

Sent.

Seconds later, another beep.

I’ll make sure to schedule those calls then. 5:30 sounds perfect. I’ll see you there. Have a good night, (Y/N).

See you then, Carlisle. Good night. 😊

(Y/N) smiled at her phone, joy wanting to burst from her body. She was reveling in this new feeling and the happiness it brought her. If it was Carlisle, it was worth it, she believed.

That night she went to sleep with the biggest smile she had experienced in her life. Unbeknownst to the life-changing moments that were to follow this meeting.

Tag List: @daniallh @catchmeupimgettingoutofhere @imaginetwilight2704 @jessicas-undrground @hey-you-therexo @mauvette268 @mxyee @beefwhobarksandisalilmadalot

[katnissmellarkkk]

Elllow! Today’s bookcomb consists of Peeta being protective of Katniss. Could have been much more implied moments but here’s some explicit ones 🤗

-

But it’s too late to run. I pull a slimy arrow from the sheath and try to position it on the bowstring but instead of one string I see three and the stench from the stings is so repulsive I can’t do it. I can’t do it. I can’t do it.

I’m helpless as the first hunter crashes through the trees, spear lifted, poised to throw. The shock on Peeta’s face makes no sense to me. I wait for the blow. Instead his arm drops to his side.

“What are you still doing here?” he hisses at me. I stare uncomprehendingly as a trickle of water drips off a sting under his ear. His whole body starts sparkling as if he’s been dipped in dew. “Are you mad?” He’s prodding me with the shaft of the spear now. “Get up! Get up!” I rise, but he’s still pushing at me. What? What is going on? He shoves me away from him hard. “Run!” he screams. “Run!”

-

I trip and fall into a small pit lined with tiny orange bubbles that hum like the tracker jacker nest. Tucking my knees up to my chin, I wait for death.

Sick and disoriented, I’m able to form only one thought: Peeta Mellark just saved my life.

-

I jump as Peeta grips my shoulder from behind. “No,” he says. “You’re not risking your life for me.”

“Who said I was?” I say.

“So, you’re not going?” he asks.

“Of course, I’m not going. Give me some credit.”

-

Anger flushes my face. “All right, I am going, and you can’t stop me!”

“I can follow you. At least partway. I may not make it to the Cornucopia, but if I’m yelling your name, I bet someone can find me. And then I’ll be dead for sure,” he says.

“You won’t get a hundred yards from here on that leg,” I say.

“Then I’ll drag myself,” says Peeta. “You go and I’m going, too.”

-

“We’re going!” says Peeta, shoving the Peacekeeper who’s pressing on me. “We get it, all right? Come on, Katniss.” His arm encircles me and guides me back into the Justice Building.

-

Peeta steps up on a crate against the wall of the sweetshop and offers me a hand while he scans the square. I’m halfway up when he suddenly blocks my way. “Get down. Get out of here!” He’s whispering, but his voice is harsh with insistence.

“What?” I say, trying to force my way back up.

“Go home, Katniss! I’ll be there in a minute, I swear!” he says.

-

“He was poaching. What business is it of hers, anyway?” says the man.

“He’s her cousin.” Peeta’s got my other arm now, but gently. “And she’s my fiancée. So if you want to get to him, expect to go through both of us.”

-

When we’re outside, I turn to Peeta. “You go on back. I want to walk by the Hob.”

“I’ll go with you,” he says.

“No. I’ve dragged you into enough trouble,” I tell him.

“And avoiding a stroll by the Hob . . . that’s going to fix things for me?” He smiles and takes my hand. Together we wind through the streets of the Seam until we reach the burning building.

-

“Peeta’s argument is that since I chose you, I now owe him. Anything he wants. And what he wants is the chance to go in again to protect you,” says Haymitch.

I knew it. In this way, Peeta’s not hard to predict. While I was wallowing around on the floor of that cellar, thinking only of myself, he was here, thinking only of me. Shame isn’t a strong enough word for what I feel.

“You could live a hundred lifetimes and not deserve him, you know,” Haymitch says.

“Yeah, yeah,” I say brusquely. “No question, he’s the superior one in this trio. So, what are you going to do?”

“I don’t know.” Haymitch sighs. “Go back in with you maybe, if I can. If my name’s drawn at the reaping, it won’t matter. He’ll just volunteer to take my place.”

-

The reaping takes only a minute. Effie, shining in a wig of metallic gold, lacks her usual verve. She has to claw around the girls’ reaping ball for quite a while to snag the one piece of paper that everyone already knows has my name on it. Then she catches Haymitch’s name. He barely has time to shoot me an unhappy look before Peeta has volunteered to take his place.

-

“And I’m not saying I’m not going to try. To get you home, I mean. But if I’m perfectly honest about it. . .”

“If you’re perfectly honest about it, you think President Snow has probably given them direct orders to make sure we die in the arena anyway,” I say.

“It’s crossed my mind,” says Peeta.

-

I check over my weapons, which I know are in perfect condition, because it makes me seem more in control. “I’ll take the lead,” I announce.

Peeta starts to object but Finnick cuts him off. “No, let her do it.”

-

No one’s thrilled with the idea of me going off alone, but the threat of dehydration hangs over us.

“Don’t worry, I won’t go far,” I promise Peeta.

“I’ll go, too,” he says.

“No, I’m going to do some hunting if I can,” I tell him. I don’t add, “And you can’t come because you’re too loud.” But it’s implied. He would both scare off prey and endanger me with his heavy tread. “I won’t be long.”

-

Nothing. I find nothing. Not so much as a dewdrop. Eventually, because I know Peeta will be worried about me, I head back to the camp, hotter and more frustrated than ever.

-

I know it’s stopped when I feel Peeta’s hands on me, feel myself lifted from the ground and out of the jungle. But I stay eyes squeezed shut, hands over my ears, muscles too rigid to release. Peeta holds me on his lap, speaking soothing words, rocking me gently.

-

While Johanna collects water and my arrows, Beetee fiddles with his wire, and Finnick takes to the water. I need to clean up, too, but I stay in Peeta’s arms, still too shaken to move.

-

This is when Beetee reveals the rest of the plan. Since we move most swiftly through the trees, he wants Johanna and me to take the coil down through the jungle, unwinding the wire as we go. We are to lay it across the twelve o’clock beach and drop the metal spool, with whatever is left, deep into the water, making sure it sinks. Then run for the jungle. If we go now, right now, we should make it to safety.

“I want to go with them as a guard,” Peeta says immediately. After the moment with the pearl, I know he’s less willing than ever to let me out of his sight.

-

I’m so light-headed I’ll black out in a matter of minutes. I’ve got to get away from this tree and —

“Katniss!” I hear his voice though he’s a far distance away. But what is he doing? Peeta must have figured out that everyone is hunting us by now. “Katniss!”

-

Caesar leans in to him a little. “I think it was clear to all of us what your plan was. To sacrifice yourself in the arena so that Katniss Everdeen and your child could survive.”

“That was it. Clear and simple.” Peeta’s fingers trace the upholstered pattern on the arm of the chair.

-

A hush has fallen over the room, and I can feel it spreading across Panem. A nation leaning in toward its screens. Because no one has ever talked about what it’s really like in the arena before.

Peeta goes on. “So you hold on to your wish. And that last night, yes, my wish was to save Katniss.”

-

“When that wire was cut, everything just went insane. I can only remember bits and pieces. Trying to find her. Watching Brutus kill Chaff. Killing Brutus myself. I know she was calling my name. Then the lightning bolt hit the tree, and the force field around the arena . . . blew out.”

“Katniss blew it out, Peeta,” says Caesar. “You’ve seen the footage.”

“She didn’t know what she was doing. None of us could follow Beetee’s plan. You can see her trying to figure out what to do with that wire,” Peeta snaps back.

-

Peeta’s on his feet, leaning in to Caesar’s face, hands locked on the arms of his interviewer’s chair. “Really? And was it part of her plan for Johanna to nearly kill her? For that electric shock to paralyze her? To trigger the bombing?” He’s yelling now. “She didn’t know, Caesar! Neither of us knew anything except that we were trying to keep each other alive!”

Caesar places his hand on Peeta’s chest in a gesture that’s both self-protective and conciliatory. “Okay, Peeta, I believe you.”

-

Gale’s expression darkens. “Peeta might have done a lot of damage tonight. Most of the rebels will dismiss what he said immediately, of course. But there are districts where the resistance is shakier. The cease-fire’s clearly President Snow’s idea. But it seems so reasonable coming out of Peeta’s mouth.”

I’m afraid of Gale’s answer, but I ask anyway. “Why do you think he said it?”

“He might have been tortured. Or persuaded. My guess is he made some kind of deal to protect you. He’d put forth the idea of the cease-fire if Snow let him present you as a confused pregnant girl who had no idea what was going on when she was taken prisoner by the rebels. This way, if the districts lose, there’s still a chance of leniency for you. If you play it right.” I must still look perplexed because Gale delivers the next line very slowly. “Katniss . . . he’s still trying to keep you alive.”

To keep me alive? And then I understand. The Games are still on. We have left the arena, but since Peeta and I weren’t killed, his last wish to preserve my life still stands. His idea is to have me lie low, remain safe and imprisoned, while the war plays out. Then neither side will really have cause to kill me. And Peeta? If the rebels win, it will be disastrous for him. If the Capitol wins, who knows? Maybe we’ll both be allowed to live — if I play it right — to watch the Games go on. . . .

-

Caesar and Peeta have a few empty exchanges before Caesar asks him about rumors that I’m taping propos for the districts.

“They’re using her, obviously,” says Peeta. “To whip up the rebels. I doubt she even really knows what’s going on in the war. What’s at stake.”

-

He asks Peeta if, given tonight’s demonstration, he has any parting thoughts for Katniss Everdeen.

At the mention of my name, Peeta’s face contorts in effort. “Katniss . . . how do you think this will end? What will be left? No one is safe. Not in the Capitol. Not in the districts. And you . . . in Thirteen . . .” He inhales sharply, as if fighting for air; his eyes look insane. “Dead by morning!”

-

“Katniss!” He whips his head toward me but doesn’t seem to notice my bow, the waiting arrow. “Katniss! Get out of here!”

I hesitate. His voice is alarmed, but not insane. “Why? What’s making that sound?”

“I don’t know. Only that it has to kill you,” says Peeta. “Run! Get out! Go!”

-