#make sure to give this a read at least once :)

[irinochka25]

PINKERTON'S FAVORITE WHORE

He Paid to Be Betrayed

I can’t stop thinking about that girl. That shot from the credits — where the Pinkertons approach her with a casual smile, while she’s servicing another client. I’m absolutely sure Charles had been with her more than once, not just during that mission in the Valentine saloon. We’re not shown everything, right? We don’t see how the gang members spend their downtime, when they go into town, who they spend it with.

I’m almost certain Charles wasn’t the only one. Half the guys in the gang clearly had a thing for whores. And that woman — that prostitute — I’m sure she was one of the people who gave information to the Pinkertons. Maybe even about Charles himself, though he managed to leave Beecher’s Hope. In the end, she definitely helped lead them to John.

Working girls don’t care what they get paid for — whether it’s to spread their legs or spill someone’s secrets. Especially if they get paid twice as much. And her clients — even Charles — couldn’t really hide their identity from her. Sure, he’s the quiet type, but if you watch that saloon scene before the cutscene triggers, you can clearly see him talking nonstop to the girls — his mouth never stops moving. We don’t hear any of it, but his lips are constantly moving, like he’s deep in conversation. Javier, by comparison, barely moves his mouth.

Prostitutes aren’t stupid. They take mental notes on their clients — who they are, how much they’re worth, and whether there’s more to gain than just cash. So here’s what I’m thinking… I once read this crackpot theory that Charles was the real rat in the gang. Probably a joke, because the arguments were like: “He drinks coffee. Dutch drinks coffee. Boom — traitor.” Seriously.

But my theory? The girls — the prostitutes — were the real rats. Or at least, they played a way bigger role than anyone realizes. Maybe that sounds even more insane, because I’ve got no hard evidence — except for that one frame in the credits, where she’s clearly giving information to the agents. Maybe not directly about John, but about Charles and Javier? Very likely. And if so, all she did was pass along what the guys themselves told her — in drunken confidence, far too trusting of their smugly satisfied, rented companion for the night.

Where the Gang Fell Apart

We only see things through Arthur’s eyes, but we have no idea what the others are doing. Dutch told them to blend in, act like civilized workers, and find ways to make an honest living. But he didn’t tell them to get black-out drunk, hire whores, and start bar fights. And yet that’s exactly what they did — so recklessly it borders on stupidity. When you’re that drunk, you don’t care who’s listening or what you’re saying.

There’s even a line in a conversation between O’Driscoll members, where they say Colm ordered them not to mess with whores until their job was done. And honestly? He was right. A drunk man whose dick is doing the thinking is no friend to his own brain. And yes — scientific studies confirm that sexual hormones impair both cognitive and physical performance. Aroused men are less rational, more impulsive, and their coordination drops. (This is a bit of a tangent, but it fits.)

So, is it possible that one of the biggest reasons behind the gang’s constant failures wasn’t just Dutch’s madness or Micah’s betrayal — but the reckless, indulgent lifestyle of its men? I’m not blaming them for wanting to satisfy basic urges. But, seriously — showing up as a group of four (Arthur, Javier, Charles, Bill) at the saloon, all of them among the most wanted criminals in the country, openly using their real names, and then starting a fight?

That’s not just carelessness. That’s self-destruction.

[jonquilandlace]

I just want to pop in to say: the first thing I was taught in my master's programme was how to read early modern handwriting. And we had to do it twice, technically! I'm not looking at my notes and my memory is a bit foggy so pardon me if I use the wrong words, but they had both an italic and a secretary hand. Now, italic is probably the style you recognize in name. But that said, you are going to hate me for what I'm about to reveal about how it looked (all images I'm about to use are straight off google images, sorry for mediocre sourcing):

Look me in the eye and tell me you could read this without having to stop to think about it. I mean, it's definitely in Latin (and russian I think?), so I don't blame you for not knowing what I means, but if you give it a chance, other than a few bits and pieces, you could parse some of the letters, at least. If I told you the "uncrossed-f" shape meant "s" (which it does), you can pretty clearly make out the phrase "platonem scripsere quod plotum dixit" in the first line, for instance.

This is an admittedly bit unfriendly of an example, but you see what I mean—it's clearly similar to how our handwriting is shaped today, but even then, it's tricky. I will admit I was surprised by italic hand—largely because, once we started learning it, I discovered a lot of the little "I write this letter 'wrong' but it feels better to me" things I've done since learning handwriting actually were common in italic hand, but that's neither here nor there for this commentary, just a fun fact about me.

Now secretary hand, on the other hand—

She is the It Girl of early modern handwriting. She is mean to read, fun to write, absolutely gorgeous on paper—and looks quite a bit like cursive.

Secretary hand died out in favor of italic by the end of the period, and you can admittedly kind of see why—the letter forms of some of these letters were far too similar for easy reading; people literally had to be trained to write in this handwriting style, where italic looked more like the printed text people tended to learn to read off of with the increasing popularity of the printing press, and—like modern manuscript—was quicker to write.

In other words: secretary hand is the equivalent of our modern cursive.

So why am I saying this all? Good question! I'm not 100% sure myself; just following a gut instinct! But I think there's two main points to be seen here:

First: sometimes ways of writing are devalued and die out. Sometimes it's a slow thing—like how the "uncrossed-f = s" I was talking about has just been straight up replaced by the normal "s" shape. Other times, it is institutional. There were no need for scribes with the printing press, so the scribal profession died out, and the secretary hand with it. There's no need for cursive with the computer, so cursive dies out. It's a tragedy, sure; a whole art form is lost in the pursuit of efficiency—but it's cyclical. It has happened before. It's probably going to happen again. On that note, however— Second: Even if it dies from common usage, and this is the important part: people will still figure out how to read them, and there will always be people who want to learn. The knowledge becomes more precious, more scarce, sure. There are still pieces of early modern literature no one has translated; none of my professors or peers know what it's supposed to say. But the physical media has outlived the mechanism itself, the people who wrote it! It still exists, and it can still be discovered again! On this note, I want to talk about something I don't have enough authority not to cite—the marui-ji handwriting of Japanese girls in the 1970s.

I wouldn't be terribly surprised if you've seen this picture before, actually. This has gone viral before, in a post about how that handwriting style got "so excessively cute that schools had to ban it" (that's not a direct quote but to that point).

But that's exactly the point I want to make here—handwriting trends will always change, and it will always be possible to have fun with your writing.

As Zui in the article linked above describes, this is "[a]n example of cute handwriting in 1985, documented by Yamane Kazuma. Note the heavily stylised characters and exaggerated rounding of some strokes, and the abnormal placement of the dakuten for the character で in the bottom-right corner."

Some link the advent of this writing style to the advent of mechanical pencils, allowing for thinner lines. Others (my own opinion among them) link it to Japan's "kawaii" movement, or the reclamation of "cute" culture by young girls seeking freedom from traditional patriarchal roles in the same way the West embraced punk culture. But the point remains: from a standard beginning point, an entire new paeleographical style was born.

So on the topic of cursive again, and coming back to my second point: change is inevitable, but it doesn't have to be permanent. It may die out now, sure, only to be rediscovered like secretary hand before it.

But just like art itself won't die, even if techniques change, art in handwriting won't be gone forever, either.

So keep a record, for the historians who want to read cursive. Tutorial the hell out of it, even. But even if cursive dies—keep having fun when you write. Make your handwriting your own, and just enjoy yourself. Losing access to one thing doesn't mean you can't make something else in its place. Also writing in secretary hand is fun, too, send tweet, okay byeeee

On one hand I understand not teaching cursive in school anymore, because it actually is slower than regular handwriting and almost everything is typed on a keyboard now anyways.

On the other hand, so much of our (even recent!) history was written in cursive, and having a whole generation of kids who can't read letters written by their grandparents, momentos saved by their great-grandparents, or even photo albums from theur immediate family seems like a dangerously quick way to detach us from previous generations.

And on the third, related but slightly malformed hand, I feel bad that yet another form of small, everyday art that brings joy in the middle of mundane tasks, which celebrates personality and individual style and self-expression, is about to fade into obscurity because it wasn't efficient enough for today's world to put up with.

Like... if we continue to whittle away the small arts out of every day life, what's going to be left except stark, ruthless pragmatism?

Maybe writing a grocery list is less mundane when you get to feel elegant for a moment. Maybe you're a little more proud of what you write when you see it flow together like a painting

[daycourtofficial]

Let’s play restaurant

Pairing: Eris x Rhysand’s sister!reader | WC: 850 | warnings: none

Summary: your son’s version of playing is confusing, but Eris is surprisingly good at any games he wants to play

A/N: gingerfucker??? In this economy??? this is part of my gingerfucker series but can be read on its own. Happy ‘heirs’ day for @sjmxreaderweek !!

“Will anyone be joining you today?” Eris hums at the question, putting down the empty cup and lowering his paper to look at the source of the voice.

“My wife will be joining me shortly.”

“Sir,” the little boy stresses, huffing lightly, “will she be here soon? We are busy today.”

The little boy sweeps his arms out, and Eris surveys the ‘restaurant’. Tiny tables were set up all around, each one having a plushie or wooden toy sitting at them, empty tea cups set in front of them. A few have tiny books sitting on the table with them.

“My apologies, good sir. My wife is just a bit slow, we have a new baby-“

“I don’t have time, I have a restaurant to run!” He tsks, clearly in distress over Eris’s response. Eris holds his hands up in surrender, as Atlas huffs and turns away, running interference with his other tables. The bundle of papers in his hands are crumbled as he moves to take an order from the blue elephant stuffed animal.

Red hair flops into his son’s eyes as he nods, holding a short stick onto the paper to jot down the order. He grips the stick with his fist, pretending to write down some unheard order.

Atlas moves to another table, his beloved dog Pumpkin sitting in a bed beneath it, tumbling slightly before her. His little brows knit together, his tongue poking out in concentration as he listens to the silence.

“Excuse me?” Atlas sighs loudly at his father’s question, a small “excuse me” coming from him before turning to face his father.

“Can I order before she gets here?”

Atlas’s eyebrows furrow, a tiny wrinkle trying to make itself known on his small face, “no, mommy needs to be here.”

“Not even if I know what she would order?”

“You’re wrong?”

The question is choppy, but Eris knows what he means. A few days ago he had mixed up his morning drinks, giving his mate his black coffee instead of her usual. She had made a face and laughed it off, telling him he got it wrong.

“I won’t be wrong.” Atlas’s nose crinkles, surely about to start an argument. It is a bit unsettling seeing so much of your own face reflected back to oneself, especially in moments of distress or annoyance.

“I can give you food. Mommy can wait.”

Eris sighs, turning back to the paper in his hands, scrutinizing over his decision. At least Atlas relented for once.

“I’ll take your finest apple, please.”

Atlas teeters off, short legs making him run more than walk. Small hands presented Eris with an apple. The male hadn’t expected a real apple, anticipating his son handing him some random toy he would pretend was an apple. Questions filled his head: where did he get it from and how long had he had the apple? How had no one noticed? And, perhaps most importantly, how clean was it?

“It’s our rarest apple, worth lots of gold dollars.”

Eris accepted the apple, rotating it in his hands before taking a loud bite out of it. His son bellowed a shriek, clambering up his father’s legs, trying to reach the apple. Eris would let him climb nearly up his entire lap before straightening his legs, causing the toddler to slide back down.

“You’re not supposed to eat it!”

“What am I supposed to do then?”

“It’s special!” Atlas’s response did not answer Eris’s question, the young boy even more upset with each second. His face started turning red, big fat tears threatening to spill over his cheeks. Before it could turn into a full blown tantrum, the door opened, diverting Atlas’s attention.

Atlas pushed off his dad’s chest, nearly falling face first on the floor in his scramble to see his mom. Eris grabs the back of his shirt, holding him back. His legs kicked out from beneath, trying to wiggle out of his dad’s grasp.

Eris let go once he started whining. Grabby hands reach out until he’s able to touch the swollen belly he wants, rubbing a greedy hand across the front.

“Morning!” He yells, causing you to wince slightly. You rub his head, unruly red curls tangling in your fingers. Atlas pulls back, remembering the game he was playing.

“You can sit with dada.” He points you in his direction, as if you could confuse him for the stuffed animals or Pumpkin. You follow him, taking the seat next to Eris, slowly falling into the chair Eris pulled out for you.

“Thank you both for waiting.” Atlas shrugs, already off to check on the other tables again.

“You play so well with him, why can’t you play like this with Nyx?”

“Nyx’s rules when playing don’t make any sense.”

“He just gave you an apple for the cost of a carriage.”

To further your point, he took a big bite out of the apple, relishing in the fresh taste of it.

“He’s a good salesman.”

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[moesthoughts]

my aching bones | the pilot ( photo 01 )

chapter summary : you finally sign up for the stupid photography gig to take pictures for the yellow jackets girls’ soccer team, if taking action shots at their first practice was already awkward enough, being forced to introduce yourself to the team was worse.

warnings : bullying, topics of loneliness, drug use, homophobia, mental health issues, addiction

You curse at yourself as you practically sign away your life in Mr. Martinez’s office.

You can’t believe your parents convinced you to do something with your hobby you aren’t even that good at, Photography. You enjoy your free will with your shots, but now that you have to take action shots and team photos for the Yellow Jackets girl’s soccer team, you can kiss that creative freedom goodbye. You place the pen you were given down onto the desk, not caring to read the contract you just signed. Probably not the smartest decision you’ve made. The man in front of you smiles at you, before taking the clipboard and pen away from you.

“We appreciate your help, miss. We’ve been in need of a photographer.”

He chuckles, tapping the pen onto the wood. You can only muster up a small smile, awkwardly shuffling between your feet. Little did he know you were doing this completely against your will. Your eyes wander towards the family photos littered across his office, Travis and Javi Martinez. Pretty weird kids, if you could even judge. Travis was a complete asshole, but Javi was a sweet little kid. You mentally prepare yourself, knowing you’ll have to deal with them both somewhere down the line.

“No need to thank me, sir. I just wanted to expand on my hobby.”

You realize you didn’t reply to him earlier, you try to sound professional. You kick the carpet on the floor as he laughs again. He always seems so serious on the field, why is he so carefree now? Probably because he wants to love bomb you into staying for the rest of senior year, you still can’t believe you’re wasting your supposedly chill year on a soccer team. You haven’t done an extracurricular for your entire high school career, why does that have to change this year? You enjoy your alone time, at least you think you do.

“It’s Coach to you now. The girls have practice tomorrow, why don’t you stay after and test the waters?”

Coach Martinez smiles, and you press your lips together. Tomorrow is when you officially start taking pictures for the school paper, that everyone looked at.. You pick up your bag from the chair beside you and bottle up your worries. You mutter a ‘see you tomorrow’ and leave the room. You shuffle awkwardly across the locker room which was thankfully empty for today, you’re already dreading tomorrow.

It’s the last class of the day, and you’ve about had it with the constant comments from Randy. You bury your face into your hands after the third remark about how you dress, you’d yell at him if you weren’t already worrying about the event after this class. All you want is a moment to think before you have to take pictures of girls like a creep, it’s enough that people throw insults at you for being ‘gay’. You never want to confirm or deny.

“I mean, you dress like a butch—“

“Randy, just fuck off already.”

Your head turns in the direction of the new voice, it’s Taissa Turner. You’re shocked, to say the least. She’s never once stood up for you when Randy picked on you, you’re not sure what sparked this change suddenly. To be honest, you believed she was even meaner than Randy. The boy scoffs and leaves you alone, you stare at her dumbfounded. She looks back at you, equally confused.

“You’re welcome?”

Taissa speaks up, a smile pulling on her lips. You snap out of your confused daze and give her one back, going back to the worksheet on your desk. Today is going to be so weird. You grip your camera that’s been in your lap the whole class. Instead of paying attention to calculus, you were busy making sure you had enough film, that your lens wasn’t smudged, and that it still functioned correctly. All the boxes have been checked, it was time to prepare yourself for after school. To brave the overwhelming social anxiety that plagues your body every day. You squeeze your eyes shut once the bell rings, and the thing you’ve been trying to forget about for the whole day is finally here.

The tips of your shoes dig into the ground as you stand next to Coach Martinez, who is watching Coach Scott make some kind of welcome speech. You notice some girls aren’t taking it very seriously, you assume it’s because it’s not their first year. Among the girls whispering to each other, one catches your eye the most. The prettiest bleach blonde hair, eyeliner so dark around her eyes, red-tinted lips with the cutest smile. You tear your eyes away from her once you dive too deep into your thoughts. You put your camera up to your eye and wink, taking a picture of the group sitting around the Coach. It was an aesthetic shot, you know you did well when Coach Martinez praises you for your good eye.

Some of the girls look over to the sound of your camera shutter, exchanging confused looks. You slowly start to understand that this idea wasn’t disclosed to the team, at least not yet. Your nerves get the best of you, your fight-or-flight response screaming at you to just bolt away. You don’t, instead braving the odd stares you’re getting, you notice Taissa Turner is among them. You curse yourself under your breath. The bleach blonde’s eyes linger on you the longest, her tongue pressing on her cheek while she looks you up and down. You quickly avert your eyes back to the man making the speech, a pink color kissing your cheeks.

You’re not sure if she meant to stare at you that long, but it’s on your mind for the whole practice, while you’re taking pictures, your camera pans to her. Your eyes linger on her longer than the other girls, who knew one look could completely make you crumble? You take a deep breath and finally focus on getting shots of the other girls on the team, not just that blonde beauty. You kiss your new roll of film goodbye with all the pictures you've taken; you finally put your camera down. You feel satisfied with your first photoshoot; you absolutely were not counting, but you had enough photos so the team could pick which ones they liked and disliked. Coach Scott snaps you out of your daze. He taps your shoulder and motions you to come with him. You bite the inside of your cheek, trailing behind him nervously. You finally notice you're heading towards the circle of girls, and your stomach sinks down into the pits of your body.

You stand in front of the team who surrounds you in a semi-circle, you gulp as your head turns around to see all of their eyes trained on you. Your ripped Converse dug into the turf under you anxiously, and your fingers wrap around the cloth of your sweater. Your head turns to Coach Scott expectantly, and he stares at you for a moment before sighing.

"So, as you might not know. This year, a photographer will be at our practices taking pictures for the school paper."

Introductions have never been your strong suit. In fact, it might be the thing you're worst at. You take a deep breath, thinking about what you could possibly say. You don't want to overcomplicate it either, you finally speak, your name being the first thing to come out of your mouth.

"—and I am a.. senior this year. yep. Um, and I'll be taking pictures of you guys, I guess."

You internally face-palm once you finish. Hearing the girls giggle around you softly is the thing that pushes you to your breaking point. You shift onto both your feet before flashing everyone a smile and then running away. As you're grabbing your bag, you hear one of the coaches calling out for you. You're too embarrassed to turn back now.

You lie on your back, the cold of the hood on your car stinging your exposed skin. You can only think about how badly you fucked up back at the soccer field as you take a drag of your cigarette. The awkwardness surrounding your introduction, you couldn't even prepare yourself for. You picture their eyes practically staring into your soul. What else were you supposed to say? That your life sucks, and that you don't even want to do this stupid photography thing? Of course not!

"Hey."

You gasp and hide your cigarette, stupidly coughing out smoke and waving it away frantically. Your eyes rest on the source of the voice, that gorgeous fake blonde. She laughs as you look around the area, wondering if she was actually speaking to you or not. You feel like you’re in some cheesy romantic 80s’ movie, something you haven’t felt in a while. You scoot over so she can sit next to you.

“You don’t seem like the smoking type.”

She smirks, her eyes not leaving yours. You let out a nervous giggle and lift up the cigarette from behind your legs, there’s no point in hiding it anyway. You hope that your problem won’t drive her away, you only do it when you’re stressed.. which is almost everyday. You take another puff, offering it to her. You aren’t surprised when she takes up your offer, taking a long drag.

“A lot of people say that.”

An over exaggeration, only about two people have said that to your face, including the girl beside you. She hands your cigarette back to you, blowing out the smoke that previously filled her mouth. She seems like she’s thinking carefully, that only makes you even more antsy. It’s obvious, from the way you’re bouncing your leg, looking at everything but her, like it’s the first time you’ve seen the shitty school parking lot. She nudges you with a smile, making you put your attention back on her.

“My name is Nat.“

She starts, a faint accent coating her voice. You’re practically drinking in every word that falls out of her pretty mouth, addicted to the sound. You hum in response, putting the cigarette back up to your lips. Another thing you’re horrible at, continuing conversation. You’re shocked that she hasn’t gotten frustrated and left you alone at your car yet, like everyone else you’ve tried getting to know. She stays, the short amount of silence not being awkward, but nice.

“Uh— Ignore the assholes that laughed at you, most of them are nice when they want to be.”

You’re reminded of the events that took place recently, smoke blowing out of your lips. You don’t blame them for laughing, your bones were practically rattling from how much you were shaking. You shrug, you don’t want to think about it too much. You always overthink anyway, you don’t want to waste anymore of your time.

“It’s fine, I’m only going to be taking photos of you guys anyways, I don’t know why he had me introduce myself.”

You reply, looking at Nat. It’s a cute name, you assume it’s short for Natalie. She smiles again once you make eye contact with her brown eyes, you can drown in the sight. You shrink under her gaze, so understanding. You wonder if she’s in the same boat as you. She didn’t dress like other girls in the school, her eyeliner harsher than others. You still think she’s so much cooler than you.

“Maybe it’s so we don’t think you’re a fucking creep.”

That sentence causes you both to break into laughter, you wave the smoke away from your face as you cough it out. Her laugh is heavy, it’s such a nice sound. You realize you’re already down bad for this girl, how willing she was to cuss, the dimples that show up on her face every time she smiles, and the tone she uses when speaking with you. It’s enchanting. Your artistic eye takes in all of her features, desperate to learn more about her.

You both snap out of your trance as you hear a girl call out Nat’s name, your eyes landing on a tall woman with curly brunette hair that falls past her shoulders, you recognize her as Lottie Matthews. The known rich girl of the school, she’s not as stuck up as her reputation makes her. Your attention goes to Nat as she groans, disappointment evident on her face. She picks up her bag and faces you with a smile.

“That’s my ride, I’ll see you at our next practice?”

You agree a bit too quickly, causing her to snort. She leaves your car and head over to Lottie, who looks like a deer in headlights. You take a drag out of your cigarette again, wanting to finish it before you start driving home. As the quiet settles in, you feel sad again. You didn’t even get Nat’s number, not that you’d be confident enough to ask her for it. You sigh, feeling that same emptiness takes place in your body. You want more of her, her laugh, her words. You’re desperate to learn more about her other than her name. Your bones ache with need, and your mind is heavy with curiosity.

It all started with one look.

synopsis ʚɞ your parents want you out of the house more, do something other than rot in your room while doing homework. You decide to use your photography talent for the school paper, taking pictures of the yellow jackets girl’s soccer team. Throughout your photoshoots of their various games, one girl piques your interest the most. Natalie Scatorccio.

a/n : AHH OKAY HII FINALLY FINISHED WITH THE FIRST PART.. I hope you guys like it so far, i’ve had this idea ever since i finished season one UGHHHHH

a/n : taglist is still open! lmk if you want to be added onto it 🤍

taglist — @mlovesunicorns @t-wylia @bisexual-stalin @theoreticalfreak @flurpe @girlie955 @firefl1ghts @lilliesandrosiess @princessleprechaunnn @joaniscruzing @wtfisthisnoclueman @sleepyjackets @stupendousbananasharkcop

[kissmezero]

𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄. ⭑.ᐟ - 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄.

ᴅᴇꜱᴄʀɪᴘᴛɪᴏɴ: There simply weren't enough slow burn dbf!joel fics. This one is for all my readers who yearn for the tension & are in it for the long run. Multipart! MDNI!

ᴡᴄ: 1.7k

. . . . . . . . . . .╰──╮╭──╯ . . . . . . . . . . .

Your dad was a working man. The get-your-hands-dirty & come-home-covered-in-oil, kind of working man. And despite you being his daughter, he expected the same out of you, although it was clearly not your calling, as you were the least handy person you knew. But regardless, it made him happy to see you try & so every summer between college semesters, there you were, either in his garage or his best friend, Joel Miller’s, trying your best to look busy. For the most part, all you did was hold a wrench or pass one of them a funnel, standing awkwardly in your baby doll top & flip flops. Every once in a while, you'd grown familiar enough with the lingo to insert an opinion or two, but those moments were few and far between. Still, the men appreciated your company, and regardless, you were praised & typically bought dinner afterwards, so it was a win-win situation. At least enough of one that this little arrangement had become something you looked forward to when you came back home.

You’d just finished your last semester of college & officially had a bachelor's degree, which meant there was no more retreating from your childhood home once August rolled around. As much as you loved your father, he could get suffocating and times, and you weren’t sure how long you were going to last before you went apartment hunting. You said goodbye to all the friends you made & it was tough, but you all kept in touch with a text here & there. You especially missed your best friend, who somehow ended up in all the same classes as you, but lived on the opposite side of Texas. Mostly though, you just enjoyed the familiarity of being back in Austin, standing inside of Joel Miller’s sweltering hot garage & listening to some kind of 80’s classic you didn’t recognize. In the four years you'd grown, it seemed nobody else had changed. Your dad was there too, half his body submerged under Joel’s truck, which was steadily leaking black oil. You assumed that wasn’t supposed to be happening from the sound of Joel’s frustrated grumbling & pacing. Last time you saw him, you could have sworn he was less grey. Why you remembered that detail, you weren’t sure. It made him look gentler, more approachable somehow.

“Yeah, it’s completely busted.” Your dad commented, wiggling his lanky body out from under the car. His knees cracked as he stood, clearly not made for getting down on the ground anymore. He was a stubborn man and would probably work until he croaked. Like father, like daughter, at least on the stubborn front.

“Just my luck.” Joel huffed, tossing a dirt-stained rag over his flannel. His arms flexed beneath the cloth. You had no idea what was going on, just that they both seemed to be done & you’d be gifted some takeout soon. Your stomach growled. “Was supposedt’ be hauling some lumber to a contractor in the mornin’.” He ran a hand through his hair. 

“Ah.” Your dad waved him off with a huff. “You can use my daughters, she ain’t got anywhere better to be.” And just like that, you were being thrown into something you had absolutely no interest in. You didn’t really have anywhere better to be; all your friends were long gone by now, but still, you took slight offense to the comment. “She could get some of them smaller planks in the back, I’m sure.” He continued. You shot him a look that read something like ‘please shut the fuck up’ but you knew what was done was done. Like you observed, stubborn.

“I don’t wanna be puttin' nobody out, I can just make a couple calls.” You felt hopeful watching Joel reach into his back pocket, & then your dad opened his mouth again. Your shoulders slumped.

“Nonsense, I’ll give her the gas money for it.” You huffed, eyes bouncing between the two, trying to gauge if you’d suddenly become a ghost. You normally didn’t mind being the helping hand, but asking for your opinion first would have been nice.

“I’m right here, y'all are aware of that, right?” There was obviously some annoyance mixed with the sarcasm. The last thing you wanted to do was wake up at the ass crack of dawn & help load some dingy old wood that was probably much heavier than you could carry onto your truck.

“I’ll buy ya breakfast.” Joel offered, that sweet southern drawl making the offer harder to resist than it normally would have been. You’d never turn down free anything, especially not food. So you nodded, finalizing the conversation & the three of you headed inside. 

. . . . . . . . . . .╰──╮╭──╯ . . . . . . . . . . .

The night came & went much quicker than you would have liked. Summer was supposed to be for sleeping in & by the looks of it, the sun was barely even up. You tossed a pillow over your face, muffling a loud groan. Despite how much you wanted to scream at your dad for putting you up to this, you didn’t want to wake him. Your comforter smelled freshly washed, so soft and warm that dragging your feet over the bed took genuine convincing. 

You couldn’t be bothered to make yourself look presentable, especially not this early in the morning. It was just Joel & you suspected you wouldn’t even be getting out of the truck anyway. So after you threw on a hoodie that reached your knees & a pair of shorts, you were out the door, hissing against the chilly morning. Joel, like the working man he was, already had multiple 6 foot wooden boards pinned under his arm, walking across the street towards your driveway. He looked just as tired, his eyes still glazed over from sleep. Your eyes flickered over to the bed of your vehicle, which was already half full of the boards. Your stomach turned, feeling a little guilty. At least that's why you assumed it turned. Maybe you were craving that free breakfast you were promised, it was too early to decide.

“Mornin’.” He greeted in his polite southern fashion. It felt too formal. Your eyebrows furrowed. 

“Morning.” You responded, your accent much less heavy, but still there. You stood awkwardly with your hands tucked into your hoodie pocket, playing around with the truck keys that sat in there. “You could have shot me a text or something, would have woken up a little bit earlier.” Which was the truth. You didn’t appreciate the interrupted sleep, but you liked being the good neighborly girl.

“That's all right, couldn’t sleep.” You wondered why. He’d never tell you, had never been much of a feelings kind of man. “There’s only a couple more in my garage.” He groaned, tossing the ones he already held into the back with a loud thwack. The sound rattled you a little, and you wondered how that had not woken you up earlier. 

“I’ll go grab em’.” You began feeling a little helpless, but he waved you off, already turning on the heels of his boots. You thought the whole point of you helping was so the old man didn’t have to carry all of it by himself. Clearly, he was stubborn as ever. 

You decided to make yourself semi-useful & go ahead & get the truck warmed up. A light layer of dew and frost still lay against the windshield & the black paint, which would pose as a problem. Texas was just annoying enough that, despite the day being in the nineties, the morning air was often quite cold. Once the sun decided to peak, it would go right back to record-breaking temperatures. You grabbed the bar at the top of the truck door & heaved yourself into the driver's seat, huffing as you did so. That never got easier. With a quick crank, it let out a loud purr, the type that sounded less like a sports car & more like an engine that was about to give out. You winced. At least your heat still worked; it felt nice against your already numbing fingertips. A knock sounded on the window & before you could even turn your head, Joel was opening the driver's door with a scowl. 

“The fuck you doin?” He asked, as if the answer were so obvious. You stared at him, dumbfounded, mouth open as if about to say something, but not quite sure what. He took the hint & continued. “Get your ass in the passenger seat.” It clicked, still you didn’t like it. 

“This is my car!” You protested, throwing your hands up in the air, unsure of why, because all attempts to argue with him would be fruitless. 

“I’m not gonna let you drive me around, I’m a grown ass man.” He paused, nudging his head to the side. “Get moving.” 

“You clearly fucked up your truck, how do you know I want you behind the wheel of mine.” You continued to argue just for the sake of arguing. You didn’t even want to drive, not really. You'd much prefer to nap on the way.

“I didn’t, smartass, it has an oil leak.” He huffed, looking at you expectantly and unmoving. His hand rested on the roof of the car with a thud.

“Sounds like a personal problem,” you retorted with a shrug, trying your best to bite back a laugh. If there was one thing you loved about Joel Miller, it was pushing his buttons. Nobody else was ever brave enough, and somebody had to keep the man humble. 

“Ya’ got five seconds.” His gaze didn’t tear away from yours, the man just continued to linger as stone-cold as a statue. Curiosity got the best of you, dared you to stay put. That was until he started counting down.

You rolled your eyes & shimmied towards the edge of the seat so you could hop down. Instead, you found Joel’s hand on your waist, helping guide you gently to the ground before he jumped into the seat himself. You were thankful the transition was fast, or else he would have seen the weird hitch in your throat that threatened to spill into a loud choke. Pollen, you blamed hoisting yourself up in the same manner, except this time on the passenger side. He looked over to make sure you’d buckled before reaching around against the back of your headrest, looking out of the windshield, & backing out of the driveway. The whole truck smelled of black coffee, pine, and Joel’s shampoo. You thought you might start choking again. Jesus, this was going to be a long drive.

next part.

. . . . . . . . . . .╰──╮╭──╯ . . . . . . . . . . .

[seitmai]

Another fifteen minutes later and Bucky pulls the van into a dirt road leading away from any civilization. Ava and Yelena look out the rear window as the main road is getting further and further away. The two women glance at each other in concern of where they're heading and how Bucky isn't telling them anything about it. "This seems more like a kidnapping than staying under the radar" Ava finally says when Bucky continues driving deeper into the forest.

Not the only two women (who both extremely skilled and can definitely defend themselves!) being sus and on high alert about this situationwhy the men are just chilling and maybe curious, that is male privilege 🥲

So, you immediately turn the light off in the living room and grab your gun from the holster on your thigh. Yes, you may be alone out here, but it doesn't mean danger can't find you. Plus, this is what you were trained for.

Fair

"What is this place?" Yelena asks when Bucky turns off the ignition and pulls the keys out. Instead of answering, Bucky just gets out of the car and puts his hands up after closing the door.

Oh he knows her and her training too well to not put up his hands

"I know you're there. It's me." He calls out to, appearance wise, no one. This makes everyone still in the van look at each other with confused gazes before unbuckling their seatbelts and getting out of the mini van as well. Except for Yelena right away, she stays to wake Bob up. He had nodded off an hour ago in the drive, his head rested against the small window to his left.

Oh Bob 🥹

Paying no mind to the other people coming out of the car, you holster your gun and go over to him. Bucky quickly wraps his arms around you and holds you close to him. He rests his head on your shoulder as he breathes in the light scent of your shampoo that's still lingering from the shower you took this morning.

🥰🥰🥰

As Yelena and Bob emerge from the beat up mini van, you and bucky pull apart from one another to face the group of them who are now acting as though they weren't just watching what happened.

Haha it's giving age of ultron 😂

You scan over everyone and the last person, your face twists in something someone can only call as disgust. John Walker. "Hey, Y/n, long time no see?" The man at least has the decency to be weary and nervous, scratching the back of his neck. "Could be longer" You say sharply before taking your eyes off him, and just stare at the group as a whole instead.

Could be longer 😂😂😂😂

"Wait, who is this?" Yelena is the one to speak up. "This is Y/n. My wife." Bucky smiles softly, the most genuine look on his face they've seen on him as he looks at you.

He is so smitten and in love with his wife even in that situation 😍🥹

You get multiple nods and 'yeah's from the group. "Wonderful. Well, next time you plan to see her, bring me with. I have a thing or two to say...or do" the ex spy in you is coming out.

Valid

"Does he usually fall asleep like that" you're attention is drawn to Bob who is asleep with his head resting on the back couch cushioning. "Uh, he's been through a lot." Ava says.

Oh baby, he sure has🥺

"You're very authoritative. It's good, they actually listened to you" he says once you guys get to your shared room.

Of course she can, if she keeps Bucky in line she can with this ragtag group 😅🤷🏻‍♀️

"That's cause I'm such an amazing person" you smirk. But a moment later, you smack your husband upside the head. "What was that for?" He asks, surprised at the action, not like it hurt that much anyways. "For worrying me. And for the stupid shit you did" you say before kissing him softly.

He deserved that and he knows it haha

I loved this and would love to read more of them if you ever feel up to it!

Hideout

Wife reader x Bucky Barnes

Summary: your husband and a bunch of strangers show up at your house in the middle of the night.

Warnings: John walker, swearing

A/n: The car they have is a mini van instead of the van they had in the movie, so with actual seats and that stuff - so minor change, that's all.

^the car seating plan

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Where are we going?" Ava asks, being the third person in the last ten minutes to ask Bucky this. "We'll be there shortly" He grounds out, the same response he's given the last two times.

John is about to say something but is quickly stopped by the glare wielded his way from Yelena. From the past three days of knowing him, she's gotten used to knowing that whenever he opens his mouth, something stupid comes out. Every. Time. And every time, it looks like Bucky is that much closer to pummeling him.

Another fifteen minutes later and Bucky pulls the van into a dirt road leading away from any civilization. Ava and Yelena look out the rear window as the main road is getting further and further away.

The two women glance at each other in concern of where they're heading and how Bucky isn't telling them anything about it. "This seems more like a kidnapping than staying under the radar" Ava finally says when Bucky continues driving deeper into the forest.

"I'm sure the winter soldier knows where we're going and what he's doing. We're fine." Alexei says with a hefty laugh as he's watching from the window beside him.

Bucky meanwhile lets out an aggravated sigh to himself, but he doesn't say anything since in just mere minutes, they'll arrive at the location. The location of which feels like he hasn't been to in way too long for his liking.

And that location is a cabin. A cabin that Tony had set up for his wife during the blip so she wouldn't have to put on any kind of act by being around others all the time. That woman just so happened yo be you, Y/n Barnes.

You're an ex. shield agent that helped Steve with finding Bucky after the events of Pierce and Hydra still being active, as well as the whole project insight fail. Bucky and you caught feelings for each other after some time of finding him again and through the events of the team splitting up and fighting against Thanos, both times. After the second time and all the tragedy, you guys decided to get married. Not that it didn't come with hardships, like the whole therapy thing and having to forgive himself and make amends, and the flagsmashers. But all in all, you love each other.

Which is how you find your eyebrows furrowing as you hear a rusty sound of a car driving along the path towards the cabin. That wasn't normal. Your husband always comes home on his bike, only a car a few times, but those times he alerted you. This time though, you got no communication from him that says not to worry.

So, you immediately turn the light off in the living room and grab your gun from the holster on your thigh. Yes, you may be alone out here, but it doesn't mean danger can't find you. Plus, this is what you were trained for.

You silently move through the pitch black house, the only light coming from the headlights of the car illuminating the halls from through the windows. Sticking to the shadows, you make your way outside through a hidden door at the side of the house.

The gun with your finger on the trigger is held firmly down to your right side as you trek silently to the corner to get a glimpse at who's in the car.

"What is this place?" Yelena asks when Bucky turns off the ignition and pulls the keys out. Instead of answering, Bucky just gets out of the car and puts his hands up after closing the door.

"I know you're there. It's me." He calls out to, appearance wise, no one. This makes everyone still in the van look at each other with confused gazes before unbuckling their seatbelts and getting out of the mini van as well. Except for Yelena right away, she stays to wake Bob up. He had nodded off an hour ago in the drive, his head rested against the small window to his left.

You come out of your hiding spot behind the corner of the house with your gun held in front of you, your legs spread in a fighting stance. That is until it's confirmed that it's in fact your husband and no trick.

Paying no mind to the other people coming out of the car, you holster your gun and go over to him. Bucky quickly wraps his arms around you and holds you close to him. He rests his head on your shoulder as he breathes in the light scent of your shampoo that's still lingering from the shower you took this morning.

As Yelena and Bob emerge from the beat up mini van, you and bucky pull apart from one another to face the group of them who are now acting as though they weren't just watching what happened.

You scan over everyone and the last person, your face twists in something someone can only call as disgust. John Walker. "Hey, Y/n, long time no see?" The man at least has the decency to be weary and nervous, scratching the back of his neck. "Could be longer" You say sharply before taking your eyes off him, and just stare at the group as a whole instead.

"Wait, who is this?" Yelena is the one to speak up. "This is Y/n. My wife." Bucky smiles softly, the most genuine look on his face they've seen on him as he looks at you.

"You have a wife?" Several versions of this questions rise from the group, but get off from a glare he sends their way.

"Hey. Nice to meet you guys, I guess" You look back up at your husband before to them again. "Who are you exactly and why do you look like you just went ten rounds with a tornado?" You ask with a raised eyebrow as you take in how disheveled they all look.

"It's best we explain inside." Bucky says. You let out a puff of air before nodding after a moment and taking a key out of your boot. You head to the front door and unlock it, your husband by your side as the rest of them follow inside.

You turn the lights on as Bucky closes and locks the door and enacts the security system that runs through the house and property. "This way" You say and lead them to the living room. As they take a seat, all basically bursting with confusion still, you go over to your husband.

"Why the hell didn't you tell me you were coming, Buck!?" You exclaim in a hushed whisper. "I didn't have any way of communicating you. And I was a little pre-occupied" He glances at the people in the next room over. "I was worried about you" you finally say. "I didn't know what was happening. All I knew was how you bailed on your congressman meetings and had apparently gone rogue."

"I know, and I'm so sorry, darling. But I promise, I'm alright, and we'll tell you everything that happened" Bucky says and presses a kiss to your lips. You melt into it for a second before remembering about the occupants in the next room over.

"Come on, mind as well get this over with." He says quietly into your ear and wraps your hand in his. He leads you to the living room and to in front of the fireplace to face everyone.

"Alright, this is Alexei, Ava, Yelena, and Bob." Bucky introduces them to you. "And him as well," he quickly nods over to John, not wanting to draw too much of your attention to the man that you loath. And boy, does Bucky understand, but nows not the time.

Yelena does a little awkward wave. "Alright. Would someone like to inform me what the hell exactly happened?" You cross your arms and lean against the fireplace mantle.

They all glance at each other before Yelena sighs and sits up straighter, starting to summarize everything that happened to them up to when Bucky met them and blew up Alexie's limo. At that you look at your husband with a raised brow before Yelena continues, the others popping in at times as well.

Once everyone was finished explaining the events leading up to them arriving here, you pinch the bridge of your nose and quietly groan. "Valentina? As in the same woman from three years ago, is behind this whole thing?"

You get multiple nods and 'yeah's from the group. "Wonderful. Well, next time you plan to see her, bring me with. I have a thing or two to say...or do" the ex spy in you is coming out.

"Does he usually fall asleep like that" you're attention is drawn to Bob who is asleep with his head resting on the back couch cushioning. "Uh, he's been through a lot." Ava says.

"Okay, yeah," you sigh, "Well, down the hall are some bedrooms. You guys look like you need to clean up and some sleep yourselves." You point down the hall to your right.

"Thank you" Yelena nods, the rest of them saying thanks as well before standing and going down the hall. Though John goes over to lift Bob. "Don't bother, he can stay in the couch, he seems peaceful" you tell him, trying to fight off the growl even though technically the man was doing something sweet (ish).

He relents and nods, not wanting to get into a fight with you at this time, knowing he won't win. You go over to the younger man and have him lay down more comfortably on the couch with a pillow, as well as draping one of the throw blankets over him.

"Though if you break anything, I will personally come after you" you call down the hallway before going upstairs to your bedroom with Bucky.

"You're very authoritative. It's good, they actually listened to you" he says once you guys get to your shared room.

"That's cause I'm such an amazing person" you smirk. But a moment later, you smack your husband upside the head. "What was that for?" He asks, surprised at the action, not like it hurt that much anyways.

"For worrying me. And for the stupid shit you did" you say before kissing him softly.

[chigsprincess]

HAIIX, I just read both parts of your "my girlfriend is an icon" works, and I love them. So much!! , they got me thinking how bllk boys would be with a cutesy Lolita reader!! Can I request that from you? If that's not too much work, any characters of your pick but I'd also push Otoya eita to be there (he's so fine I swear) thank you for your time!

My girlfriend is an icon pt.3

fem! lolita reader ft- e.otoya, m.kaiser, i.niko, s.barou

a/n: fr tho otoya is definitely my guilty pleasure, this man has no business being this silly and hot while he is a cheater. thank you so much for your request and i hope you’ll enjoy it!

Otoya Eita

He is flirtatious by nature, but completely smitten with you.

He loves showing you off and brags about your frilly outfits to his teammates.

Posts funny TikToks of him trying to walk in your platform shoes or letting you paint his nails.

You are always in full glam, but somehow you always stay pristine even when you attend his games on a rainy day. He is honestly so impressed.

You look sweet and adorable, but you absolutely whack him in the head when he turns around to look at another girl.

Tries to give you fashion advice, but you always shut him off with something like: “Someone who has green hair by choice should not be talking.” He is very offended.

Took you to a soccer date once, but you showed him up in three layers of skirt, so he quickly ended it.

Kaiser Michael

Thought you were an actual doll at first. You were standing in front of a convenience store, and he found you so pretty he wanted to check you out from up close.

Nearly had a heart attack when you asked him why the hell he is all up in your face.

Started calling you ‘princess fluff’ ironically, but it stuck.

You did his makeup once while he was asleep and posted it on your story. He wasn’t pleased.

He tries to take unflattering photos of you as revenge, but no matter how hard he tries, you are serving face. He is so done.

He’ll glare down anyone who stares at you for too long, no matter what their intentions are.

Niko Ikki

Squeals internally whenever you show him a new outfit.

“You look like you just stepped out of Madoka Magica.”

Adores you so much. Constantly wonders what he did in his previous life to score you in this one.

Best at taking photos of you. Instagram trained boyfriend.

Called you his ‘waifu’ as a joke once, but you both cringed so hard you almost cried instead.

You two definitely hold anime nights, where you cry to slice-of-life together.

He opened up to you about his bullying, and you make sure to compliment him every chance you get.

Barou Shoei

He is all glares, an intimidating presence and a sharp tongue, but the moment you show up? He melts instantly.

His teammates are baffled when they first see you. ‘That’s Barou’s girlfriend?! But she is so… she is so cute?!’ They call you Beauty and the Beast.

Not embarrassed to hold your ruffly bag out in public, walks around with it proudly.

You two always get started at in public. One time, someone almost called the cops because they thought he was trying to kidnap you.

You stand up to him without any problems. People assume that because you dress like a cutie pie, you won’t bark his head off. Wrong.

Buys you plushies all the time. You have at least 15 he bought you.

word count: 512

[dark-elf-writes]

You should assign Scum Villian characters godly parents

I’ve never actually read it but from what I’ve seen, Shang Qinghua gives Apollo vibes, but exclusively Greek Apollo vibes

And Luo Binghe would be Zeus or Jupiter bc of his protag energy

And Shen Yuan is either the dumbest child of Athena ever or the son of some nature god

Hear me out hear me out

The funniest option for Shen Yuan is a child of Aphrodite and that’s where he gets the wifebeam from. Just a natural pull that makes nearly every man he meets fall in love with him. This has the double hilarity of everyone claiming Aphrodite kids can’t fight up to the exact moment Shen Yuan realizes the bane of his existence Airplane Shooting Towards The Sky is actually in camp with him and he proceeds to beat the ever living fuck out of him until they are separated.

I do really like Shang Qinghua as a child of Apollo because you know Apollo would be the most cringe over supportive dad about his son’s terrible porn novel. He also fits in with my interpretation of Greek Apollo of playing the idiot but actually being incredibly intelligent what with the whole spy thing.

Binghe is definitely a big three kid I just don’t know which big three to assign him to. Torn between Zeus and Hades tbh mostly because demon translates very well to Hades’ power but Zeus is like the ultimate Stallion Protagonist (derogatory). Probably Zeus but he shows his dad exactly zero respect. All Binghe cares about is the pretty Aphrodite boy that helps with training and catches him when he throws himself into Shen Yuan’s arms trips over his own feet because he just can’t figure out the footwork.

Liu Qingge is a child of Ares but his younger sister Mingyan (who comes to camp later like right before the giant war along with the rest of the younger generation) is another child of Aphrodite blessed with a gift of beauty so strong she chose to wear the veil. Both of them choose to ignore what this says about their mortal parents. Shen Yuan saved Liu Qingge in the first war with the titans and won his eternal gratitude/one of several wifebeam victims ever since.

Shen Jiu I really want as another child of Aphrodite but I think him and Shen Yuan are once more siblings that got the Liu treatment of two different godly parent. Besides Child of Athena Shen Jiu is terrifying and I love him. He would have found a way to become one of Artemis’ few male hunters if he didn’t have to look out for his younger brother who he would rather gnaw an arm of than abandon. He refuses to claim any male children of Athena as his siblings, though he will claim sisters.

Yue Qingyuan I’m not sure on. Something that would help with diplomacy or his general OP power levels. Definitely Roman though which adds into the whole Shen Jiu mess because he met up with the Shen brothers after they had to run from their home due to a monster attack that injured Shen Yuan. Yue Qingyuan ran for help and ended up in the Roman camp. Shen Jiu waited as long as he could before he needed to get Shen Yuan help and had never forgiven Yue Qingyuan since so the meeting after the giant war is T E N S E to say the least

Wei Qingwei is a child of Hephaestus who, after Luke’s betrayal, literally foraged a full magical sword on his own that could detect possession among other things. He is upset when it doesn’t react to Luke. He is more upset once it finally does.

Ming Fan and Ning Yingying are definitely around CHB I just don’t know where exactly to put them. Both younger Athena Campers that see Shen Jiu as the coolest person ever and imprinted on him maybe?

I’m unsure where to stick the other demons but they are definitely around. Though it would be funnier if Demons still were just demons making Binghe double OP but I’m not fully sold on that idea yet.

[spooder-damn]

Mandalorian x f!reader

"Keep it movin', hot stuff," you grunt at the Quarren as you struggle to lead him back through the forest path to your ship. You'd decided it would be easier to transport him alive rather than killing him. Now you're beginning to regret this as he continues to run his mouth.

"Shaak'tor loht kaan!" he shouts, once again trying in earnest to escape your grip.

Maybe he can read your mind!

The movement, however, aggravates an injury you recently received from another bounty. Your anger flares to mask the pain, and you sharply yank his arms higher behind him, hoping to silence him through discomfort.

It works a little too well—you feel his shoulder pop, and he stops dead in his tracks, howling in pain.

"What's the holdup! Surely a big man like you can handle a little pain." Your growl drowns out the sound of a safety being clicked off, and you're caught by surprise when a red blast hurtles towards you, hitting a tree a couple yards from your head. The guy is either a terrible shot or it's a warning. Maker, let's hope he doesn't have friends. You're due to meet what's-his-face tomorrow.

You look past your prisoner to see the figure who shot at you, and a chill runs down your spine as you instantly recognize them. It was definitely a warning shot.

You can't hide your gasp of surprise when he suddenly shoots your target, the weight of him collapsing onto you catching you off guard.

"What's your deal, Mandalorian?" you call out, keeping your body hidden behind the Quarren, which isn't too hard considering he's substantially wider.

He just shot your cargo?

Oh, he is dead—after he helps you carry this lump back to your ship.

You see red as you struggle to maintain your footing, having to lose your aim on him as you use your blaster hand for extra support.

"What in the Maker do you think you're doing!" you yell out, your voice lower as the effort to stay standing weighs down on you, literally.

"Give him to me," the modulated voice offers with calculated calm.

"No." You couldn't stop the answer before it fell from your lips. You've heard of Mandalorians, obviously. You should try your best not to get into a fight with one, you know that.

But.

He shot your maker-damned quarry, and your temper wasn't budging for fear anytime soon.

You subtly shift your blaster arm between the now-dead quarry's armpit, grimacing a little at the dampness you find.

You realize you're still waiting for an answer from the silent Mandalorian and glance up again to see his head slightly tilted to the side, looking rather quizzical.

"Not gonna answer me?" You jibe him, keeping him distracted from your ministrations as you get yourself in position. "What, you gone shy on me? Don't know how to handle a lady?" A grin catches your face as you see his fists clench at his sides. He may have a helmet shielding his facial expressions from you, but if you know where to look, anybody can be read.

Before he can reply, you finally free your blaster hand enough to find your aim and fire at him. The red blast sails towards him and grazes his arm, bouncing off the damned beskar covering his body.

You shoot again after quickly correcting your aim and are surprised to see he hasn't dodged out of the way yet, instead swiping out his arm to the side and taking the blast head-on. The crack it makes explodes through the forest and surprises you enough that you lose your footing, quickly stepping back and letting the quarry fall to the floor to avoid being trapped.

Your head whips up as you realize you're now open to attack, finding the Mandalorian still in front of you, 20 paces away. A white egg-like shape has now appeared a couple yards to the side of him and catches your eye as you wonder what it is.

Until, at least, you see a blaster being raised in your peripheral, causing you to huff and drop to the ground. You roll as close to the quarry as possible as a blast sails overhead. You know he's going to be a perfect shot, so your best chance is shielding your body, even if that means slamming it painfully into unforgiving and sharp tree roots.

Maker help you, you're screwed. He doesn't even bother firing his weapon again; instead, you hear the ground crunch under foot as he makes his way toward you.

Did he think he'd hit you? No, don't be stupid. A Mandalorian knows if he hits his target.

Thinking as fast as your brain lets you, you make your move. Having the element of surprise as he doesn't know what to expect from you, a gas explodes from a canister at your ankle once he's near enough.

Scurrying to your feet, you're already behind the Mandalorian with your knife trained at the back of his throat before he recovers.

"Move and get cut," you ground out, your perfectly mediocre day ruined.

"Alright," he responds, hands going up by his helmet. "Let's not make any rash decisions."

"What, like killing my bounty without explanation?" You allow your other knife to join the first at the front of this throat—surrounded, watching him tense up further. "Trying to kill me with—"

"Your bounty?" He cuts you off. The bastard actually cuts you off while you have two knives pressed against his neck.

"Yes, my bounty. Now you're gonna help—" Before you can react, the Mandalorian twists quick as an adder and has instantly got your own knife pressed to your throat. The fucking audacity.

"That's my bounty. Now you are going to answer my questions." Each word is clipped, the only clue to his frustration, but you also can feel the smugness wafting from him from the change in position.

"You sure you're in any position to make demands?" You smirk back at him; he's about to learn his own lesson. He hesitates, his helmet tilting to the side subtly showing his confusion. It's then when you decide to make the knife pointing to his unprotected groin all the more obvious. He stiffens, what seems to be a snarl hissing through the filter in his helmet. "That's what I thought."

A beat passes as you maintain intense eye contact, or what you hope is where his eyes are, as you hold your positions poised to strike.

"It seems we're in a bit of a bind here, Mandalorian," you grit out, the knife he holds to your throat making itself all too known. "How about we discuss this like adults, without the standoff we have going here."

The blade subtly eases from your throat, and you take this as your cue to do the same, the space between you increasing when you simultaneously step away.

You hadn't realized how closed in the space felt until the air that had been missing filled your lungs. Maker, that was intense.

"So, you think that," you motion over to the Quarren still motionless where you fell, "is your bounty?"

"Yes."

"How do you go about getting to that conclusion?" You cross your arms, brows raising. What a freaking idiot. You had the bounty in your hand, your bounty.

He doesn't respond, instead holding a blinking puck up to your eyeline. You stop for a second, watching as he tilts it towards the dead bounty, indicating it is indeed his bounty.

You quickly pat down where your puck should be and feel its hard outline in your pocket. Pulling it out to confirm to him it was your bounty… as well.

"I believe there has been a mistake." His response is far more neutral than you expected. You expected him to threaten you to a duel or kill you outright.

"You think? Right, we're gonna get this quarry to my ship and go find out who gets the reward."

He doesn't move, but you feel how unimpressed he is at your idea.

You instead try and reason, "I'm not getting in a random ship with a stranger."

He doesn't move still.

A beat.

Two beats.

Three beats pass, and you realize he isn't gonna budge.

Rolling your eyes at his behaviour, you decide to bargain, "We take my ship and I won’t ask what's in the egg." You point to the white object off to the side of him.

You've got him.

"Fine." His voice is gruff as you see his tense form move towards the Quarren forgotten a few feet away.

"So how are we gonna do—" Your breath hitches as you see him toss the quarry over his shoulder, moving on towards the ship bay—the quarry you wouldn’t have been able to drag, let alone pick up and move with.

"At least tell me your ship isn't a piece of crap," his head subtly tilts towards you as you hurry to catch up with him.

"You little—" You can't even finish your sentence at the audacity of his insinuation.

The walk back to your ship is silently charged as you run through your interactions with this Mandalorian so far— like interrupting you when you had a literal knife to his throat. Who does that?

"I know how to handle one." He mutters, the abruptness of his confession startling you from your thoughts, making you realize how long you two had been walking in silence.

"Handle what?"

"A lady." His helmet remains focused on what's ahead of you, as if he believes that by ignoring this conversation ever took place, he can act as if it never happened.

He's defending himself. Seriously? How fragile does your ego have to be to do that?

"Could've fooled me," you huff out, now focusing your attention back on the, now pavement, ahead of you.

"Well, I didn't see a lady."

You gasp in outrage, whipping your head to him. Was that a joke? You snap your eyes towards him to find him studiously ignoring you, still.

He even seems to have gotten a pep to his step.

Someone's mighty proud of themselves for that one.

[thejakeformerlyknownasprince]

@gher-bear

Can it be depressing? Yes. Is it thought-provoking? I certainly thought so.

@intentionalsprinkles

I literally just re-read it last week. Mind, I'm a big ol' history dork, but I love it. So many good character moments.

@eomund42

Personally, it's my least favourite of the Megamorphs/Chronicles books, but all Animorphs is worth reading at least once (with the possible exception of the choose your own adventure books).

@csolarstorm

The alternate timeline fascist version of the Animorphs and all the character deaths really disturbed me as a kid. So I suppose they did their job! It was jarring to start the book in the fascist alternate timeline where they casually talk about slaves and reeducation camps before we even know why. This might be the most unique Animorphs book because it's mostly them navigating the horrors of human history rather than fighting the Yeerks. I bet Michael Grant had fun with this one. It is definitely worth reading, but if you're sensitive like I was, it'll be hard to handle some scenes, especially when the breakneck pace doesn't give you time to process them. They keep jumping time periods and getting caught in ongoing battles, and even whe there's a break the whole book is just one long mission.

@nerd-of-kittendom

Depends what you are expecting out of it. The character interaction and development isn't bad, Cassie is done pretty well here, team dynamics excellent. The story is the absolute worst of all the Megamorphs/Chronicles books, and grandfather paradoxes don't work in anything.

@miniaturecatmentality

I liked it better than Megamorphs 1. It's pretty classic later-series animorphs imo. Sure it's dark- the best part is when Ax sees D-day. But it's not worse than like, 33.

@suzanami

it's def worth reading if you really enjoy the series. at least once. wild stuff happens and there are some really good scenes. I haven't read it on my rereads in recent years, but this post makes me want to do so next time! :)

is megamorphs 3 worth reading? just seems kinda depressing but idk

To the polls!

[saveahorserideaneddie]

fair warning: this is going to be a kinda negative/pessimistic post about the state if buddie in my mind, and is no way meant to cause any kind of anger in anyone who disagrees with me- you have every right to your opinion just like i have every right to mine- but i wanted to get my thoughts on the episode out into my echo chamber, so if you don’t want to read this please scroll now (those who would like to read please read under the cut, but do not come into my inbox or replies trying to start anything if you disagree bc you have been warned)🙏💕

the thing is i can’t even be mad at the episode because it was so reminiscent of the episodes that make me love this show as a show

but the buddie of it all was so disappointing…. like it felt like i was just watching any old episode with a buddie moment that will no doubt spark 50,000 edits and fanfics, but it wasn’t giving “these two are being set up for something more.”

it was literally just the same old buddie- like we got more close-to-going-canon energy in 8a than we did here, it was quite literally just the same dynamic they’ve had for seasons at this point, and while yeah they already act like a married couple, that’s what the GA is used to so if they were actually setting it up, wouldn’t they try to at least make a slight pivot into leaning more into the energy they have?

i’m tired so idk if i’m really articulating my thoughts as clearly as i’d like, but i hope y’all get what i’m trying to say here- like it definitely doesn’t feel like buck and eddie are being set up to like hate each other forever or that they are going to turn into sworn enemies or anything like that, but this ep very much was the same kind of “this is what the writers think best friends act like” energy that we’ve had since s2

i just wish we could have gotten something: a look, a moment, a glimpse of something that could be like “hey- this is different. this is new. you haven’t seen them like this before and that’s important.” but we got nothing like that.

i mean sure- the conversation with pepa was nice (after the random ass bombshell that she had a stroke which… ???? why was that not mentioned before OR taken into account when eddie was moving????) but it didn’t establish anything new for them; she just said “change is good” but like…. show us a hint of how things are going to change, y’know? it can’t be foreshadowing if there’s nothing of substance to support the foreshadowing (and at this point, we have one more episode of the season- are they seriously going to use all of this ryliver bait and all this “buddie” talk outside and not do anything in the show??)

bc like- until they confess and actually act on their feelings, they are not canon; because until there’s and actual action made, the writers have room to change their mind on things again, and suddenly the idea of buddie is getting pushed back to the end of season nine.

it’s been eight years. eight. years. and we’re no closer to buddie canon than we were at the start of s8. one of them may have a “feelings realization” next episode, but what will that be? just a prolonged glance? a face? something that can easily be explained away once ratings and viewership is up again and they don’t have to drag us along anymore? (until engagement inevitably drops again)

people keep talking about “we need pining” or “we need a slowburn” and im like, at this point anything hindering them from acting on their feelings is just delaying them actually going canon, and we run the risk of the writers just completely giving up (bc again- after eight years, the running in circles has to he exhausting for that writer’s room; it certainly is for me who has been here since day one)

if buddie have not confessed/acted on their feelings in any way after the next episode, then we need to accept that they are just blatantly attempting to queerbait us. because let’s be for real: if nothing happens next ep, what realistically could ryliver talk about pertaining to buddie’s future in these interviews? they won’t know anything, bc nothing has been developed or written. it would just be a whole bunch of “oh i guess we have to wait and see” shit.

which is why i still believe we are still being dragged along by the production to keep engagement going after it started tanking post-episode 15/16; because they have set up nothing for buddie in the finale (aside from individual moments maybe that don’t pertain to each other) and with a building collapse/explosion taking up an entire episode of screentime, we have no room for anything to be setup before credits roll.

overall- i didn’t hate the episode in terms of quality; it was well paced, written (aside from a couple nitpicks in character moments but nothing too drastic) and directed- and ofc the acting was amazing as usual- but from a buddie standpoint, it was not giving what all the buzz around buddie/eddie lately implied otherwise would be giving, and it looks like we’re just going to continue being baited throughout hiatus until they inevitably give one of them a new LI to “stir up drama” and then get stuck in the s6 situation where the show gets canceled and we’re stuck with nothing.

[theenemiestoloversclub]

𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 [ 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐚𝐧 𝐱 𝐣𝐮𝐝𝐞 ]

summary: the high queen and king of elfhame engange in a roleplay of cardan's fantasy: jude's surrender to him at hollow hall (inspired by ch. 21 of qon)

☾ warnings: smut, mndi! cardan's tail ;)

☾ wc: 2.9k. | read on ao3

18+ ☾ warnings: light bondage, naked female! clothed male, p!v sex

The sun had not yet risen from her slumber when Jude arrived on the threshold of their marriage chamber, barefoot and clad in only a silk cherry robe that barely hit her mid-thigh.

Her cheeks had flushed slightly as she had padded past the royal guard, but they had paid her no mind. Despite her experience as a spy in the Court of Shadows, it was no easy task to maneuver around the halls once she had been crowned High Queen, and even less so whilst dressed for a rather conspicuous attempt at seducing her husband. Much to Jude’s chagrin and Cardan’s unbridled amusement, the guard were by now well used to the King and Queen’s fervent revelries and midnight trysts and were not in the least surprised by the Queen’s state of undress as she passed by.

In the year since their first time, their sex had grown ever more passionate and varied. Sometimes it came in the form of tender, languorous lovemaking, others it seemed they could hardly restrain themselves long enough to undress before they were upon one another, locked in a fierce battle, each of them straining to gain the upper hand in a never-ending fight for power.

The past week had been one such power struggle. Cardan had teased her relentlessly nearly each day, silently curling his tail up her thighs under the table at council meetings and feasts, stroking over her underwear until her thighs were slick and she thought she would be set on fire from wanting him.  

Each time she had tried to steal him away afterwards, she had found him cornered by courtiers, councilmembers, and revelers, all who sought a precious word with the King. She would look at him pleadingly and he would merely shrug and wink, leaving her flustered and aching, forced to attend to her own supplicants all whilst unable to ignore the dampness between her thighs caused by her merciless husband. Cardan did it all to force her hand, this much she knew. This was a game to him, teasing and torturing her like this. He would not give her reprieve until she came to him, wanton and begging.

Tonight, Jude came to do just that -- to offer her husband what he had once revealed to her as his darkest fantasy: her unconditional surrender.

***

She opened the heavy oak door cautiously to find her husband hunched over the writing desk, jewel-encrusted goblet in his left hand, and a quill in his right, no doubt giving answer to the various letters and petitions that seemed to have never-endingly plagued them since their coronations.

Cardan swirled gracefully in his chair to greet her, movements languid and unhurried, goblet still in hand, his sly grin illuminated in the roaring fire of the hearth. It was no secret what she wanted from him. Jude only hoped that he would play along.

“My queen,” he drawled, with a mock dip of his head towards her, eyes grazing down her scantily clad form.

“My king,” she returned, with a mock curtsy of her own.

He was sprawled lazily, legs spread casually before him, treating the chair as if it was the throne. He wore a dark blue waistcoat embroidered with iridescent silver swirls, buttoned high to the neck, exposing the billows of a black silk scarf. Kohl lined the undersides of his dark eyes, no doubt leftover from the day’s revelry, and his lips were flushed like wine. He looked every bit the feckless prince she had fallen in love with and the sight of it left her aching.

“To what is it I owe the great pleasure of this meeting, my darling Jude?”

“I have come to make my surrender,” Jude responded, stepping closer towards his makeshift dais.

Cardan raised an eyebrow in curiosity, lip ticking upwards. “A surrender, you say? Surely you cannot mean these words, my love. For I have seen many strange things come to pass, but the Jude I have come to know, and love would give up so easily--”

He paused, mockingly, head cocked, “--unless, that is, that she has grown so desperate for her King’s touch that she has been left with no choice but to throw herself before her his mercy. Have no doubt, your king is merciful indeed to those who supplicate before him, but he does have his doubts about your earnestness. After all, you come to me with the offer of surrender. But you, my sweet villain, are capable of deceit. What is it then that you would offer me as proof of your fealty?”

Jude shivered at his words, core already throbbing with anticipation.

“I would offer you myself,” she said softly, eyes dropping to the floor in silent acquiescence.

Cardan’s eyes darkened, but he maintained his relaxed composure. “And whatever should a King do with such an offer?” he mused, swirling his wine before taking another sip. From the fire burning in his eyes and the way his words strung together, Jude was certain that this was not the first glass he had consumed that night.

“You may do with me whatever you would like.”

“Anything?” He quirked an eyebrow and Jude could see his cheeks had grown even more flushed.

He paused to mull over her offer before speaking slowly, as if each word had been chosen with careful consideration. “As a test of the sincerity of your offer, should I wish to see you naked, would you indulge me?”

She disrobed in slow motions, untying the strings carefully and letting the garment drop to the floor, leaving her bare before him. She heard his breath hitch and caught a glimpse of Cardan’s eyes that betrayed that he had not expected her to be naked underneath.

He put the goblet down on the desk behind him and leaned towards her, hands resting on his knees. “And would you allow me to bind you?”

“Of course, my King,” she drawled sweetly, extending her wrists in front of her.

Cardan removed his scarf and rose from the chair in one swift motion. He sauntered towards her until his chest nearly touched her outstretched hands, towering above her, eyes dark and greedy with lust.  

He shook his head, tsking quietly. “No, not like that.” With that, he grabbed her wrists roughly and brought them behind her back, tying them together swiftly with the black silk scarf.

Jude gasped in surprise at the sudden movement and the unfamiliar sensation of the restraints digging lightly into her wrists. She hadn’t expected this, to find herself bound in this manner with nearly no range of movement, completely at Cardan’s mercy. The thought of it alone sent a wave of heat down her core and she rubbed her thighs together for a semblance of relief. She just needed to feel him. She couldn’t think past wanting him. She didn’t even care how he took her. Just that he would be fill her and the ache that had been building in between her legs for days and days would finally be relieved.

Cardan’s voice interrupted her thoughts. “Oh no, Jude. That won’t do…”

He moved until their chests were pressed tightly together and wedged his knee between her thighs, pushing them apart. She groaned at the sensation, at the friction. 

“You are not to touch yourself tonight, not even with your own thighs. Only I will touch you, Jude. You are at my mercy now and I will have you only as it pleases me.”

She could feel his length against her, brushing her thigh. “Please, Cardan,” she moaned, head tilting back slightly.

He was upon her then, licking and biting the exposed column of her neck, her collarbones, her jaw. Cardan lifted his face to take hers in both in his hands and pressed their mouths together. It was electric, lips on lips and tongues on teeth and tongues. His hips bucked into her, and she squirmed to get leverage. Cardan moaned into her mouth, and she swallowed it down with a maddening fervor. Aching to touch him, to run her hands through his hair, to unbutton his shirt until his chest was exposed, she tugged against the restraints to no avail.

His arms swept behind her, grabbing at the nape of her neck, pulling on her unbound hair, caressing her naked back. Then they were moving, stumbling backwards, not stopping to break the kiss. Jude’s bound hands steadied her from behind as she hit the bedframe. Cardan lifted her onto the bed, and he followed afterwards, until they were kneeling in a mess of silk sheets facing each other, knees touching. They stared in silence for a moment, both panting, chests heaving, faces flushed crimson and lips swollen from kissing.

Cardan, Jude realized, was still completely dressed, a few buttons of his shirt undone and missing his scarf, but clothed, nonetheless. He didn’t seem to notice, and if he did, he made no move to change it, but rather continued to look upon her with a hunger in his eyes that made her shiver with anticipation. By now her thighs were slick with want and she ached to rub them together, to relieve herself of raging tension that pulsed between her legs – but she heeded Cardan’s warning and remain still, lest her now deny her release when it was so close before her.

“Turn around,” he said, finally. His voice was deep and heady, not the Cardan she was used to, her friend and lover. This was the voice of a king, powerful and commanding.

She obliged, turning around and resting on her elbows, head lowered to the mattress.

Her cheeks flared when she realized Cardan was stilled behind her. She looked back to find him still kneeling, eyes transfixed upon her, drinking in the sight of her naked, gleaming sex. There is no feast too great for a starving man.

“You are beautiful,” he purred, one hand moving between her thighs, fingers skimming over her center, causing her to jolt slightly at the contact. “So beautiful. I cannot believe that you are mine.”

She knew this weakness as well as one might even come to know a friend -- that in his darkest hours, he still believed he didn’t deserve her. That he didn’t deserve love.

“I am yours, Cardan. Yours for eternity.”

With these words, with the reminder of her unconditional love and surrender, Cardan’s semblance of self-control snapped. He groaned, a deep and guttural sound that went straight to her core and nearly had her begging right then and there.

Jude saw him unbutton his pants and before she knew it, he had knocked her knees apart with his legs and his cock was pressing hard and insistent between her thighs, grazing her clit with torturous, languid strokes. His tail wrapped around her sternum, tickling her nipples with the tuft, causing her to stifle a moan. She could feel the rough texture of his pants against her thighs, and she realized that he was still clothed, and she, naked. It was a heady image, and the thought of it made her burn with desire, him taking her like this with only his cock out while she lay wanton, bound and naked before him.

Jude couldn’t take the torture any further. She was damp with sweat by now, miserable and writhing under his touch.

“Please Cardan, please---”, she begged.

At her behest, he thrust to the hilt inside her in one swift motion. She gasped at the fullness, at the first semblance of relief that washed over her upon feeling him inside her, stretching and filling her. He worked her hard and relentlessly, with deep, methodic strokes that went straight to her core. Jude pressed her face into the mattress to stifle her cries as Cardan’s hand circled around her waist to stroke her clit. His tail continued to flit playfully between her breasts, the tuft on her nipples, and she thought her heart might burst from the amalgamation of sensations, from the pure pleasure he brought her.  

Cardan was moaning too now, one wrapped around the nape of her neck, buried in her unbound, wild hair as he pressed her further into the mattress. He groaned and cursed and whispered sweet nothings into her ear as he moved inside of her, pace quickening. My queen. You’re mine. God how I want you. Do you see what you’re doing to me, my darling? There aren’t enough nights in eternity for everything I want to do to you. Do you know how perfect you look when you are at my mercy? Don’t be quiet Jude. Let the whole kingdom hear how I fuck you. You feel so good. Jude. Jude. Jude. Jude-----

Release took root inside her like a flame to crumpled letters and once the first sparks were lit, she couldn’t stop herself from being set on fire. Her whole body shook with pleasure, and colors danced behind her eyes as she screwed them shut, gasping, hands fisting into the silk ties that bound her. Cardan’s movements hastened, deep strokes turning faster and more desperate, his breathing labored and curses plentiful. His hips bucked wildly as he came, spilling himself inside her before falling on top of her, spent, steadying himself with one arm. 

At first, neither of them moved. They lay there, joined, until at last, Cardan pulled out, his seed trickling down her thigh. He reached out and brushed whips of her hair to reveal her face as he unbound her with heartbreaking gentleness before pulling her tightly into his arms and whispering into her ear, “I accept your surrender, oh Queen of Elfhame.”*

*if you enjoyed, please like/reblog/comment! i haven't written fanfic in forever, so the feedback means a lot to me <3*

[cluescorner]

I cannot imagine being a Damian stan right now. You've got both Zdarsky's bullshit (where he clearly doesn't give a shit about your boy) and The Boy Wonder (where Juni Ba clearly gives so many shits about your boy) coming out on the same day. The whiplash must be insane. I hope y'all get some nice warm soup for your efforts jfc

[jull-reblogs]

Thanks :D I had a wonderful week and lots of time to recharge ^^

I'm glad you like my sketches!! The ancient Hylians are the ones who carved these murals after coming back to the Surface. SS Impa was the only witness to the ending of Skyward Sword so she told what she saw to other surviving Sheikah and then the Hylians learnt of what happened once they started to return. All of this in the context of my alternate timeline of course.

Also I can't remember if I told you already but I'm giving Link an instrument since I miss seeing him playing music. It's a lute and I've been trying to come up with a design these past few days!

I think I really like where this is going! I'm sure you can see what I'm trying to do with the shape and colors of the neck ^^

I'm going to say Link received musical training as part of his knight education, so he learnt to play the lute and regained his memories of it after BotW. Let's just ignore how hard playing has to be with a prosthetic hand...

So is it the choreography of the fight itself you're struggling with or other things such as dialogue as well? I fear I'm not the best at fight scenes either so I don't really know how to help, besides offering to beta read once you'll be done ^^ Or of course you could search for other works with fight scenes with the vibe you're looking for, but the hard part here is to not reproduce the same scene.

I'm sure Link would still eat the bun even knowing it's a frog 😆 Haha yes, when you think about it that way it's really funny. Just like all of the silly tasks the NPCs make their Hero go through.

I read the bestiary you posted a couple days ago so I've seen this about Sand Seals! I love the idea that the Gerudo would trade their tusks or carve them/make weapons out of them.

(Btw in French Sand Seals are accurately named "Morses des Sables", which means Sand Walruses instead of Sand Seals. "Phoques des Sables" would sound a bit ridiculous anyway haha, and it would be harder for Link to make puns in French).

An AI falling in love with me sounds like some kind of nightmare haha. Of course I would hate just letting an AI work in my stead and just using what it says, it would definitely just be for inspiration or testing ideas ^^

Yes I think that Zelda's sealing power is different from Sheikah magic, I'm not saying it would have awakened her power. But they could have thought that learning any kind of magic might help anyway instead of just focusing on prayers and meditation. And at the very least Zelda would have been able to defend herself against the Yiga.

That's why I prefered the one with Hearth as well!

We would say "Lumière du Sceau" instead of "de Sceau" ^^ I'd say this title doesn't work as well in French as it does in English and I wouldn't put "de/du" twice in a title. Maybe then I'd just get rid of Chroniques and go with Hyrule Warriors : La Lumière du Sceau or something like that.

I think "Notre petit paradis en bord de mer..." works really well for what you're trying to convey! The suspension points add just enough reminiscence and bittersweetness.

It could also be "Notre petit coin de paradis en bord de mer...", "un coin de paradis" being the French equivalent to "a little piece of heaven". But I think I prefer it without "coin"? It's shorter so more efficient and maybe more emotional.

It might also be better if the wine was called Le Petit Bordemer since "bord de mer" is masculine. But since it's a name you can make it feminine if you prefer, it just might not sound as natural to us French speakers ^^

@aikoiya The post was getting long again so here's a new one!

I knew you were going to answer that saying "this is unfair" isn't real life logic haha (and I agree that life hasn't been fair to Sky and Sun anyway). It's just that such an ending would probably leave me feeling unsatisfied and even a bit robbed, and I think it would require a lot of other changes to be made to the story in order for it to work properly. But anyway you're right, as things are now this would just be happening behind the scenes so what I'm saying doesn't really make sense. But just thinking about it changes my perception of SS in a way I don't really enjoy, so it's not a theory I favor.

Yes in that setting I'm pretty sure that the other Sun would not make herself known to Link and Zelda and would let them have their happy ending. But I think Zelda would likely suspect her existence and know that something is wrong. I guess even Link could notice that the Temple's doors are suddenly open and would ask Impa a few questions.

I had no idea Tingle called Farore the Goddess of Wind in WW, so I went on a little quest to see if I could find the same quote in the French version of the game. Apparently it's in Tingle's description of Outset Island and I never had the chance to play with the Tingle Tuner mode. I can't find the same quote in French anywhere and I don't even know if this was included in the HD remake (I guess I'll have to wait for a Switch version to find out… if they ever release one). This has me wondering if this quote isn't something exclusive to the English version, but I can't be sure and I'd like to know what the original Japanese text says. The French wikis mention that Farore is the Goddess of Wind in WW but don't provide any quote, it just looks like the pages were translated from English but that they couldn't find the same quote in French. It's really frustrating!!

Anyway that's a bit weird because WW already establishes Zephos as the God of Wind, and he seems to be a minor deity compared to Farore. The way I see it, wind is just the element that Farore tends to be associated with, and since a lot of myths might have been lost with Hyrule in WW this could just be a mistake on Tingle's part. I mean this is the game that gave us the Golden Triumph Forks haha.

I'm not limiting Nayru/the Golden Goddesses to a singular domain, quite the opposite ^^ To me Nayru being the Goddess of Wisdom includes different concepts such as order, law, science, magic, etc., and even time (since she's introduced as the creator of the world's fondamental laws), while calling her the Goddess of Time doesn't include all of that. That's why I wrote that I found it a bit restrictive. But sure she could have both titles, the same way Farore could be known most commonly as the Goddess of Courage and also called the Goddess of Wind in some situations.

Oh I didn't think of the blocks from OoT! I would say though that they don't really use any time powers, they're just random blocks that appear or disappear for some reason when Link plays the Song of Time (it's just as absurd as playing the Song of Storms to open holes in the ground haha). But yes they were blue and associated with time, and of course Nayru is too. The difference with Hylia in my theory is that Nayru created the rules of time (if that makes sense) among other fundamental laws, while Hylia's power specifically allows her to manipulate time and foresee the future. In a way I see Hylia as Nayru's spiritual daughter who inherited some of her powers over time (and that's why the color purple she's represented with is very close to blue).

The Master Sword has also been depicted as either blue or purple though, so that asks the question of the true color of all of these things! Nayru is definitely linked to time so it makes sense that the timeshift stones are in Lanayru (and Hylia also doesn't have a province named after her).

"From the edge of time" could definitely just be a poetic way to say that Hylia kind of recorded a message for Link before dying haha. But I find it interesting that she would phrase it like that, I like to see it as a clue.

Well if Zelda simply sent Link to a point further back in time, wouldn't there be two Links existing at the same time in the Child Timeline? But sure Zelda creating a brand new timeline also raises a few questions that kind of... make my head hurt. I'm not sure what happens exactly, I've always wondered! All we know is that Link finds himself in the Master Sword's chamber with the Door of Time already open, which hints at things happening in a different way this time (because he definitely doesn't have the three spiritual stones and the Ocarina of Time yet since this is before Ganon's coup, and the ending seems to imply that this timeline's Zelda doesn't know him yet). That's why I believe Zelda might have done something a bit more complex than sending him to a point further back in time, but there's no way to be sure. The Triforce of Courage is also visible on Link's hand during the ending, and we also know thanks to TP that the Triforce is still separated in the Child Timeline despite Link and Zelda preventing Ganon from entering the Sacred Realm this time. So maybe Zelda isn't able to change everything? It's complicated haha.

Anyway, whether OoT Zelda creates a new timeline or just sends Link further back in time, that's still huge time powers and that's not something Link is able to do by playing Zelda's Lullaby.

I also believe it is more likely that Talon inherited the ranch. True, Talon might not always have been so lazy, but maybe if that was the case the game could have hinted at hit. All we know is that he leaves his daughter alone with Ingo and only comes back after Link deals with the situation, which does not make him look so great. And he only promises to work harder after that.

I'm kind of bad with names so I'm impressed you're going through all of that trouble to rename the settlements!!

I haven't gotten to developping the technology that much yet, but I'm really interested in seeing what the different races could do with it! I love the idea of using the Sheikah to infiltrate the Yiga bases. I wish TotK had done something like that and shown the Sheikah helping Link that way.

Same, I was so excited when I heard about these pirates… and then so disappointed to find nothing more than a bunch of bokos with no backstory.

Vignoble is not related to noble (though I kind of make the association in my mind, especially since vignobles are sometimes called châteaux).

Yes I thought you could maybe use clos! Aquaticlos is funny, it can work! Though maybe you could use the same logic as for the raisins (I love this Raisins de Terre idea by the way, it makes sense!) and say that what the Zoras call a clos already refers to something that's underwater, since that's probably the case for most of what they cultivate.

I don't mind helping you with French, I'm glad to do so! You put so much effort and thought into this, it's really interesting.

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

What's your opinion on malewife/house husband Adrien posts? I asked this to another blog, and like I said to them, I find them a guilty pleasure: The concept is cute, but I know that would be the last thing Adrien would ever wanna be after all his dad put him through.

I don't think that it would be the last thing that Adrien would ever want. I actually think it suits his character in a lot of ways, you just have to handle the topic with care.

First let's talk about why it suits him.

Miraculous has totally failed to give Adrien any sort of career-based passion and - if we ignore the senti complication - I honestly love that for him! I want more characters with no major life ambitions to balance out the Marinettes of the world!

I think that society places way too much pressure and value on finding the perfect career that fulfills us in every way while also allowing us to put food on the table. Most people will never find that and that's okay. It doesn't mean that you've failed or that you're lesser. For most people, the goal is to find a career that pays the bills and that you enjoy enough that you don't hate doing it 40hrs/week. Along similar lines, for most people, your passion will be something that doesn't make money. It will be something like a hobby or spending time with those you love or analyzing badly written French TV shows.

This brings us back to Adrien.

Adrien seems to get a great deal of joy from being around his loved ones and making them happy, so I can absolutely picture him finding a lot of joy in running a home. This is extra true because Marinette is pretty clearly career driven and she's planning to go into a creative field, so she'll probably have a pretty crazy schedule and struggle to stay on top of it all. Having a loving husband to take things like cooking and cleaning off of her plate would be a blessing and a gift that she'd greatly appreciate, but that would feel unbalanced if Adrien was working, too. (Yes, they could hire staff, but that risks the secret identity thing, so I don't see them doing that.)

If they both have power careers, then they'd barely see each other and I hate that for them. I think that it would make Adrien incredibly sad and depressed. Plus, while Marinette thrives off of competition and staying busy, only needing occasional breaks before diving right back in, Adrien seems to hate busy schedules and heavy work loads.

Given all of that, I think that there's a lot to be said for Adrien stepping away from the working world. Especially since he's been in it for years and being a child celebrity is no joke! I think it would be nice for him to escape from strict schedules and expectations. Dinner fails? Order takeout!

While we're on the topic of food, I really like the idea of Adrien falling in love with cooking. Dude needs a creative outlet and that's honestly a great one (I hate it when people write characters as unable to figure out cooking like it's some cute quirk. While an initial struggle is believable, it's not a mystical art that takes years of practice. Between YouTube, the wider Internet, and maybe some classes if he wants to get fancy, I think that he'll be fine.) There's so much variety with what you can do in the kitchen and the end result gets to be shared and appreciated by those you love. It just seems like a perfect fit for him, but I would never make him a professional chef because the hours are insane and the pressure to be perfect is high. I only see him loving it as a hobby where he can go at his own pace, take days off, and make lazy meals when he's not feeling like being a show off.

The big concerns that come with making him a homemaker are a lack of financial independence and a lack of socialization. I don't see the first thing as an issue for Adrien since he comes from a wealthy family, so that one doesn't phase me.

The isolation could very easily be an issue, but it could just as easily be a problem if he started working, too. It's not as if a job is a sure way to have friends or even just consistent positive social interactions, which is another reason why I don't really see a need to give him a traditional job. You can get a vibrant social life in lots of other ways.

Here are the two big things that I keep in mind when writing an Adrien-as-a-homemaker or similar setup as it is where I tend to have Adrien land for all of the above reasons:

Adrien needs to be active in some organization or project. Volunteer work is a good fit as is being an active stay-at-home parent or some combination of the two. Voice acting is also on my radar, but my default is to have him act as the head of team miraculous' out-of-battle activities. Scheduling meet and greets. Going to see sick kids. Jetting around the world for humanitarian aid missions. Basically let Chat Noir be his "career" which gives him a lot of much needed flexibility for making his own schedule, especially if he's a stay-at-home parent to any eventual kids. I also like the poetic nature of Adrien finally being proud to be the face of a "brand" via his hero side while his civilian side becomes just some guy that people kind of remember from old ads.

Consider having a non-traditional living arrangement. I am a big fan of hero teams living together, so my default is to take the Agreste mansion and remodel it into a secret HQ for the team. Adrien and Marinette would have their own apartment/wing/whatever, but they'd still be surrounded by their found family on a near-daily basis, so that social isolation is the last thing on Adrien's mind. There's almost always someone to hang out with! You could also just have Alya and Nino or other friends live in the same apartment building so that they're over a lot/Adrien has a place to hang when Marinette is working late because you know that she'd do that.

Basically, Adrien's rich, so he doesn't need to make money and he doesn't seem to have any interest in a normal job, so I really like letting him having a unique life where he doesn't have a traditional job. He is a superhero, after all. Unique career paths are pretty par for the course. You just have to be careful to make sure that all of this feels like his fully informed and carefully considered choice and not like you forced it on him to make Marinette's life perfect (I only brought her up earlier because this is a story and it makes sense to design characters around each other). I usually do this by sending Adrien to therapy in his late teens or by giving him some other parth of self discovery.

Do note that all of the above is inspired by my read of Adrien which may be totally different from your read of him and that's fine! I just can't picture him as someone who thrives in a traditional career path based on knowing people who strike me as similar to him and from whom I draw my understanding of how to write that part of Adrien's character. I think that he'd be perfectly able to have a traditional career path, but I also think that he'd be pretty miserable for a lot of reasons.

I'll also note that I'm not sure what posts spawned this ask, so there may be elements of those that I'd have criticisms of. This post was about the general concept of Adrien being a homemaker. I tend to avoid the broader fandom for my own sanity and the use of the term "malewife" has me concerned that I'm implying support of something I wouldn't actually support because that's a new one for me and it sounds incredibly sexist.

I'm not a fan of implying that the default definition of "wife" is "submissive homemaker" so a man taking on a homemaking role is clearly submissive and acting like a woman does while his aggressive, domineering wife is acting like a man, which is the definition of this word that I'm finding online and yikes! Wife and husband are legal/social status in my book. They are not clearly defined jobs/roles/personality types, so I'm not a fan of using gendered terms to refer to stuff like this especially since I do actively try to use gender neutral words in my own writing whenever I can, though I'm certainly far from perfect on that front.

I also don't see homemaking as a submissive act. It certainly can be, but that's not how I picture Adrien at all! I picture him as relaxed and plesent, but 100% in charge of the home and all choices about how it's run. I also see him being in charge of their finances like homemakers often were in the "old days" since they were the ones in charge of things like scheduling cleaners, buying food, and other things that needed strong budgeting skills while the person who worked wasn't actually spending money or managing the home since they were at work. I like to think that Nathalie would prep Adrien to be a wealthy man and so he'd have strong skills in finance management.

[puppppppppy]

ive made myself more wet and pathetic