#no they were not being silly on purpose it was supposed to be totally straight

[sharpe-teeth]

creepypastas really will be like

mid

mid

best story you've ever read

insane trash founded on the stupidest premise

something that speaks to your personal hangups and kinks directly

[collectivecloseness]

Oh wait bratty Steve sounds so cute :( he's never a hardcore brat, he doesn't seriously challenge you, but sometimes when he's feeling playful he'll misbehave a bit on purpose and let out the cutest lil giggle and you can't bring yourself to be mad at him and his puppy dog eyes.

Ohhhh he really does! (18+ below cut)

You’ll be moving your hands down his chest, to press him into the bed, and then he’ll suddenly push your hands away, a big smile on his face, as he raises his fingers to his mouth, giggling and looking up at you with such excitement in his brown eyes. You can’t help but smile back, tilting your head as you say “Well that wasn’t very good was it?” Teasing him, but Steve pushes your hands away again with a “No!” Laughing as in yeah, he was in the right. He’s still good! Playfully fighting against you.

He’ll sometimes ‘act out’ just to make you laugh. Or because he’s feeling playful. Mischievous, happy, safe with you. Running off the bed, then around the house so you have to ‘catch him’, even if he’s totally butt ass naked. He feels so free being able to just be silly and playful with you as well. Sometimes doing the opposite of what you said, just to see your jaw dropped look of shock (that’s actually such a wide smile) because he totally tricked you. Saying “No.” when you ask him something, or say what you’re about to do, and when you ask him to repeat that, he pretends he has no idea what you’re talking about! Sometimes when being told he’s not allowed to touch, reaching up to your hips and tickling you as he asks “Yeah?” Not retreating his hands until you’re pinning his wrists down to the bed/his chest, but his eyes still bright and playful, as he licks his tongue looking up at you.

One time you leaned down after he did that, pinning his wrists to his chest, slowly leaning closer, still smiling, as you told him how he was gonna start to behave now, only to be caught off guard because you’d leant far enough, Steve could lean up and steal a kiss from your lips. Totally throwing you off getting into dom mode! But you had to give him a few kisses simply because now you couldn’t resist, you really did love Steve so much, before trying to get back into that mode again. Having to place your hand over Steve’s mouth, still being able to see his smile, when he kept teasingly trying to throw you off track again by acting bratty as you retried your ‘speech’, even though he kept happily talking into your hand the entire time you spoke.

Once when he was being mischievous, he bucked his hips when he wasn’t supposed to be moving as you were riding him, so hard to surprise you in fact, that he bucked you right off the bed. He felt bad, running to the floor to make sure you were okay (even though he was aching and still rock hard, more worried he’d bruised you unintentionally) but you were laughing your ass off. Even though yeah he technically broke the rules to be a brat, it was funny. Steve made it up to you though. You had to really pull on his hair to drag him away from your cunt two hours later. He still keeps his arm wrapped all around your thighs though. Whining and throwing a poor pity party for Stevie because he’s not allowed to have his mouth on you anymore :’(. Still gripping your thighs, and resting his head on them though!

He also knows you can’t deny the puppy eyes. Unless he was really being naughty on purpose, which is rare. He’s just gotta whip those bad boys out, and he knows you’re wrapped around his finger. But he’s also a puddle under you too, so it works. He’ll use them, giggling as he watches you, hidden slightly behind his hands, but as soon as you give into him, Steve just wants to be your ‘Stevie’, so he’s your good little puppy anyways. All the pet names as you give into him, letting him get a bit of what he wants while you sweet talk, you know go straight to his head. As he’s full of glee from playing around with you, to now being your good Stevie, your puppy, your sweetheart, your pillow princess, your himbo, your big strong boy, your love, anything and everything, as long as you’re saying it in that sweet, or dom, tone, it’s all going to his head and he loves it, just flushing happily under you.

But sometimes he’ll realllly be begging you, and act out a little. But when you’re looking up at his face as if to say ‘Really?’ After he’s acted out, he has such a puppy dog look in his eyes, like you said, that you can’t help but melt. Soothing him with soft strokes to his chest, saying “Okay. Okay” letting him know you’re easing up, so he can stop looking at you like you ran over his puppy. Telling him gently that he can’t be naughty, while you start to give him what he wants, with a raised eyebrow so Steve knows he can’t just start acting bratty all the time. But he always nods eagerly, promising you. Repeating that he’s a good boy, to which you respond “Yes you are. Always my good boy Stevie.”

The fact, like I said, he can be silly, and himself, but he can also act out, and you never seriously punish him or make him feel unloved for it, that you let him test his limits because you said that’s just natural, makes Steve feel so happy with you :’)

And Steve loooooves testing his limits. Always finding it so funny, especially when you humour him afterwards. But as soon as he starts to get to the line, Steve is very dedicated to being your good boy. So he knows what’s okay to giggle at, and stick his tongue out at you. What needs him to bring out the puppy eyes, and wobbling his thick bottom lip, to get. And what’s naughty boy behaviour, and what might get him punished if he doesn’t apologise for it and start acting properly.

Of course sometimes Steve does just act out. But he’ll normally apologise and beg to not be punished and have things go back to normal after. Because Steve hates thinking he’s not your good boy. If you call him a bad boy, and you’re not teasing, you might start the waterworks. But you promise Steve that he’s always your good boy, so he never worries too much, which is good.

The only time he’s really ‘bratty’ is when he’s fighting just giving in and being subby, and you never want to push him into that situation when he’s not asked you to, but it’s more so when he’s fighting back against being allowed to be taken care of, rather than having to do so much himself, when you can tell what he really needs. That’s when you have to become a little less of a soft dom, and a tad more authoritative, which really gets Steve to sink into sub space, listening to you. He always wants to be good for you. And he does like that side of you. And he always does feel much better, sometimes the worry about being vulnerable, or the want to be completely taking care of others instead of himself, is just harder to fight against.

He’s glad you’re always nice to him when sometimes he’ll break a little as he falls into that space. Kissing any small tears away as he lets himself let go, promising he’s so good, he’s your Stevie, and promising you love taking care of him, you want to so much. Giving him all the touch, and love, and kind truthful words, and promises, and affection he needs. Because you always know what Steve needs, even if it’s not always what he says he wants.

[aminiatureworld]

Shadowed Rationale

Characters: Albedo, Childe, Diluc, gn!reader

Word Count: 3,597

Warnings: Swearing

Premise: Some things aren’t terribly rational. And some responses are even less so. But what other option is there? Revealing yourself can be a terribly embarrassing thing, isn’t it better to hide it?

In which the reader is afraid of the dark.

Author’s Note: I’ve decided to write based off my own prompt every two weeks. Mostly because I realized I can no longer think of ideas, and also cause I’m a bit writer’s blocked and I’d feel bad writing requests right now. This premise is pretty cheesy, but sometimes simple starting points are the best to build upon! Besides it was a really a chance to work on my atmosphere, sometimes putting an image in your mind on paper is quite difficult, especially when it comes with an unsettling sort of mood.

All the characters I chose are characters I saw at least some point in the 1.4 teaser stream (Kaeya, Xiao, and Zhongli are tomorrow). I’m so excited! Although I have to apologize to Venti, sorry I have no idea how to write you so I chose not to.

I realize I idealize some of these characters (ie: Childe) quite a bit. I hope that they still keep their individuality, that they still stay in character. That being said I’m quite happy with how this turned out to be, so I hope you like it.

Albedo

It’s not that you didn’t trust Albedo. Indeed Albedo sometimes felt like the only person in the world you could trust.

It was simply that, though you two had been in a relationship for the past four months or so, you still wanted to impress him in some way. Or at least not seem like a total idiot. And to you the most idiotic thing you could think of was your fear of the dark.

It wasn’t that it was a totally irrational fear, of course humans were afraid of the dark, how else could they have survived this long? It was more that the fear felt irrational now. And besides, you had a vision. Your partner had a vision. You two were more than equipped for anything that might be lurking in the shadows. Besides it’s not as if your fear had a tangible image in your mind. It was more like a cloud, a miasma, which filled you with anxiety.

You knew you should tell him, knew he’d be nothing less than a perfect gentleman about the matter. But your pride was too great, or perhaps it was your embarrassment. Either you said nothing. And here you were now, in Wolvendom, in the middle of the night, desperately trying not to jump at every shadow you passed.

Albedo wasn’t paying the slightest bit of attention to your nervous disposition; once he’d found something to experiment with he developed the slightly unhelpful habit of blocking the rest of the world out completely. Not that that was terrible for you in current circumstances. Maybe you’d make it out of here with your dignity intact.

That optimism however was drowned out by the oppressive anxiety you felt. Though Albedo had assured you that his connections had managed to get Razor’s promise that no wolves would bother the two of you it was still difficult to contain the shiver up your spine every time you heard their distant howling. The landscape didn’t help, comprised of sharp drops and trees which seemed as if they’d never been alive in the first place. The long cavern in which you two walked seemed too vulnerable, too low to the ground with no way to protect yourself either from behind or above. The valleys were crawling with hilichurls, and you’d occasionally see the silhouette of a wolf or two. You could make out the old Monstadt as well, if you gazed westward, and the solitary, crumbling turret cut an eerie figure against the inky sky.

As Albedo studied the lamp grass that was the reason for your expedition – as he’d developed a curiosity in regards to their luminescence, how it was created and how it might be extracted and experimented upon – you looked around you. Though there was nothing in sight to be afraid of you still found yourself going to draw your weapon, though you were loath to actually do so, not wanting to look silly. After all, only a fool would attack the dark.

Luck, however, wasn’t on your side. You seemed to be spotting a figure, appearing at the other side of the valley in which you’d found yourselves in, walking straight towards you. You blinked rapidly, brain desperately trying to choose between whether or not it was a figment of your imagination. Surely it must be? What sort of cloaked figure would be wandering around in the dark? And yet the other half of your mind whispered that it must be something, something or someone, and that something or someone was fast approaching you. Was it? Or were you just imagining it? You truly couldn’t decide. Another howl echoed on the wind. Your senses were becoming too overwhelmed, too confused. Oh why were you there? Why oh why oh why?

You backed up slightly, brain now determined to see the shadow on the horizon as a human. Your hand clutched your weapon and you tried to remember if there was something, anything behind you. A ridge perhaps, so you might not have to worry about what was behind you, might be able in some ways to ground yourself.

Unfortunately luck wasn’t on your side, and instead of finding some point of security you found yourself tripping over your partner.

“Shit.” Albedo let out a curse as you fell backwards, hitting the ground with a loud thud. “My love are you alright?”

You said nothing, instead glancing back towards the other end of the valley. The figure seemed much skinnier from the ground, and for a moment you felt your brain cloud over in confusion. Then, as if all of a sudden your mind had put the pieces together, you felt a rush of relief, swiftly followed by embarrassment. A trunk. It was a tree trunk. Covering your face with your hands you groaned.

“Beloved?” Albedo asked once again. You looked up at him, a feeling of sheepishness and fondness washing over you as you saw the worried expression on his face.

“It’s nothing Albedo, I’m perfectly fine. It’s just… ah,” you let out a sigh, steeling yourself for the interaction you’d specifically hoped wouldn’t happen, “I’m, I’m afraid of the dark. My eyes were playing tricks on me just now, I thought I saw someone walking towards us. But it was just a tree.” You let out an embarrassed sort of sound, once more burying your face in your hands. Damn it. Now what were you going to do?

The feeling of fabric around your shoulders was a surprising one, and you quickly looked up. Albedo was crouching down beside you, having wrapped his coat around you. There was no sense of shame or embarrassment in his eyes, only love and a sense of caring.

“You should’ve told me.” He said, voice soft and warm. “I’m sorry I brought you along when it makes you so uncomfortable.”

“I’m sorry I’m being such a pain,” you replied, “it’s such a stupid fear of mine. That’s why I didn’t tell you. I felt like, like you’d think I was being irrational. Like I was being silly.”

“There’s nothing irrational about being afraid of the dark my love. It can be frightening after all, not being able to use all your senses to their full capacity. And even if it were an irrational fear, I wouldn’t look down on you for it. Alchemists, those who study the world, they cannot expect to always interact with what is perfect, what is always rational or what always makes sense. Neither are they infallible themselves. Besides,” he continued, brushing your hair out of your face, “I’d rather you be cautious over nothing than see you hurt.”

You found yourself unable to say anything, overcome by his words. It wasn’t that he’d said anything you hadn’t told yourself, you knew after all that being afraid of the dark wasn’t without a purpose, that it wasn’t utterly irrational in itself. But it felt different when Albedo said it. When you said it there was always your anxiety to counter it, when Albedo said it you accepted it as true. For it was Albedo who said it, and he’d never lie to you.

“Thank you.” You mumbled, hugging the coat closer around you, happy to be enveloped in something so familiar and comforting.

“Of course,” Albedo smiled, kissing you on your forehead, “I love you. So very dearly.”

The rest of the night you kept his coat wrapped around you. Although Albedo had quickly reverted to his informative sort of state he hadn’t forgotten what had passed, and every once in a while he’d give you a quick hug, or squeeze your hand in reassurance.

Overall it wasn’t such a terrible night.

  Childe

There was no hiding your fears from Childe.

The man was the nosiest – or perhaps most observant – person you’d ever met, and he’d quickly put two and two together as soon as you’d started living together.

Unfortunately for you Childe also had the kind of work schedule that would make a surgeon’s job feel envious. And a part of that schedule entailed you staying up at all hours of the night, trying desperately not to jump at every sound.

You knew that it was going to be one of those nights, and as of such you’d decided to take a nap in the afternoon, so the lack of sleep wouldn’t weigh on you too much. The afternoon sun had been strong, and though you’d decided not to close the curtains you also didn’t bother to keep any of the lights on. After all it wasn’t supposed to be more than an hour long nap or so, and keeping the lights on felt like a bit of waste.

Your regret came the moment you opened your eyes to the pitch black of your room.

How did something change so drastically from daytime to nighttime? All the familiar figures around you seemed to have disappeared, or perhaps it was more accurate to say they’d been transformed. Now even your closet door seemed to have taken on a life of its own, wriggling within its frame as if possessed. The unobstructed window cut harsh lines along your floor, but it was a cloudy sort of night, and every once in a while even the moon would be snuffed out, sending your heart rate skyrocketing once more.

You were utterly and totally paralyzed. At first you’d drawn the covers over your head, hoping to block it all out, but it was a warm evening and quickly you found yourself throwing your blankets off, needing some unobstructed air, met once more with the terror of the dark.

Childe, you wished Childe were here. He always knew how to chase away the dark, how to make the books and the lamps and the dressers go back to their usual selves. His teasing annoyed you sometimes, but now you longed for the distraction. If only he weren’t so late. If only you’d paid better attention to the time, if only.

Your eyes darted around your room, as if seeking out something you knew wasn’t there. You knew that whatever you saw was an illusion, the result of your brain trying to piece something together, something to keep it from getting bored. You knew perfectly well that it was an explainable phenomenon. And yet fear is so very difficult to fight, so though you continued scolding yourself for your nonsensical actions, you also continued to look around, sure that you’d find something if only you paid enough attention.

Time had frozen along with you, and you were so preoccupied with your fear that the door opening came as a terrible shock. You jumped, adrenaline racing through your veins, but the muffled “I’m home” was what you’d been waiting for. You just needed to go greet him. The moment you got out of your room and to the light of the kitchen it’d be alright. But you were still frozen, and though your mind screamed at your limbs to move you found there was no escaping the sort of spell that had been cast by your fear.

The sliver of light from the hallway finally began to eat away at your trance. The door opening to reveal Childe was what completely broke it.

“Darling, what’s wrong?” Childe asked, a look of concerned plastered on his face. You let out a strangled sort of cry as an answer, fumbling off the bed before catapulting straight into his arms, burying your face in his chest. Childe immediately reciprocated the hug, stroking your hair in a soft, soothing motion. It hadn’t taken much to put the pieces together. What else after all could it be.

“It was the dark, wasn’t it?” He asked, whispering a faint “ah” in response to you nodding your head. “It’s okay my darling, I’m here. You don’t have to be afraid anymore, alright? It’s okay, it’s alright. It must’ve been very frightening to be alone.” His voice was almost melodic, the sotto tone slowly coaxing you back to yourself.

How confused would people be, you thought to yourself, how confused they’d be if they realized how kind Childe truly is. But you were grateful for that kindness. Right now it was what you needed. There’d be teasing tomorrow, teasing and bantering, and everything that was the usual Childe. But right now there was only comfort and softness, and you thanked Childe and the archons for it.

The rest of the night was a sedate one. You were both tired, Childe from his work, you from not only yours but the terrible fright you’d had. The two of you had eaten a late dinner, chairs pulled up next to each other, hands intertwining intermittently. There wasn’t much talking, instead you two enjoyed being in each other’s presence; the familiarity and comfort it brought.

Though the night was still warm you found yourself cuddling, arms wrapped around one another, legs tangled together. The beating of Childe’s heart steadied you, his breathing reminded you that he was there, that you were safe now. You didn’t have to fear the demons that your mind imagined. He’d scare them away for you.

It was difficult to keep secrets from Childe, and in the beginning the urge had been there. Who would want a significant other who jumped at shadows and was always spinning tales of the dark in their head? Especially someone like Childe who was so confident, so self-possessed. It was shameful, a part of you told yourself, how could he bear it?

But you were glad he’d figured it out, that you couldn’t keep secrets from him. Because at the end of the day Childe knew you best, knew how to keep the fear and the anxiety at bay, knew that being afraid of the dark, although worth a little teasing, didn’t make you any less of a mature and intelligent human being. And for that you loved him.

You loved him so much.

  Diluc

“I know this might be sudden, but I want you to move into the Winery.”

That simple sentence had the adverse effect of completely messing up your life.

Your initial reaction had essentially been to buffer. Living together with Diluc, living with the person you loved above all others, it really seemed like a dream come true. Like something you’d wish to happen without any hope of said wish being realized. And yet it wasn’t a dream. He’d actually asked you. Diluc had actually asked you to live with him.

Once you’d gotten over your initial euphoria however a problem seemed instantly to present itself. That problem being that you were absolutely terrified of the Winery after dark.

I mean, who wouldn’t be? It was an old building, old enough for servants to whisper about lights that turned on without prompting, about footsteps coming down the empty halls, about people of old stepping out of their portraits and dancing the night away. It was absolutely terrifying to you, who already looked upon the dark with no little suspicion. And although the occasional night with Diluc was fine, you weren’t sure if you could deal with waiting in such a vast, creaking space alone.

But you didn’t want to tell Diluc that. Because though you were indeed a bit terrified, living with him did sound heavenly. It was something you dreamed of, and you didn’t want Diluc to come away with the wrong impression, the idea that you somehow thought he was being too familiar or going too fast. The thought of telling Diluc about your predicament never crossed your mind in the span of the conversation. After all it wasn’t as if he could do anything about it, he couldn’t very well redo the entire winery. Besides, it was such a silly fear, telling him about it would feel like you were making a mountain out of a molehill.

Eventually your mind settled on an answer: dragging the matter out. Professing your happiness at the idea you told him that it would require some mulling over, not to mention the paperwork in regards to the apartment you were currently living in. Diluc took it all with perfect understanding, assuring you that he could wait. “Besides,” he’d said, “what’s a little while when compared to the rest of our lives?” You’d blushed profusely at that, burying your face in Diluc’s neck. Yes, it would be alright in the end. And with that you pushed it out of your mind.

For the time being.

Although Diluc had many virtues patience was – perhaps surprisingly – not among them. Not more than three days had passed before he mentioned it again. Not that you were unhappy about it, no it wasn’t that. Nor did you feel pressured by him, you certainly didn’t. It was just the question of the Winery itself, and the fear that hung over your head like a sword. Just some time, a little more time.

The days turned into weeks, then almost a whole month, the whole time being wrapped up in your little song and dance. Diluc was evidently feeling dejected, but though you felt more than a little guilty about the whole matter, you still continued stalling.

Finally though things came to a head.

“My dear I understand if you don’t want to move in, but please just tell me!” Diluc burst out, voice dripping with frustration. “I understand if this is going too fast, I understand if you’re overwhelmed, I understand if you realize you’re not ready. But you must tell me, you must tell me what you’re thinking or else I’ll never be able to put this at rest.”

“It’s not that.” You assured him, shaking your head violently.

“Then what is it?” Your reply stuck in your mouth at his question. Why had it come to this? Conflicting emotions rose inside you, but all of them pointed towards one thing. You needed to tell him the truth. You needed to, or else this was going to turn into one of the stupidest rows you’d ever participated in.

“I… I’m afraid of the dark.” You replied softly, voice petering out to be no more than a whisper. Immediately the look of exasperation on Diluc’s face was replaced by one of concern.

“My dear?”

“I’m afraid of the dark,” you replied, this time with more force, “I’m afraid of the dark and I’m really afraid of the Winery after dark. So that’s why I’ve been putting it off. Not because I don’t want to move in, not because I think this is going too fast, but because the Winery makes me uncomfortable after dark. It’s so creaky and open and old and while that might be charming in the daytime, at night I feel like someone’s watching me.” You hugged yourself slightly, the image placed vividly in your mind. Yes, you did feel like you were being watched. Everywhere you turned you were surrounded by the eyes of those who were long gone, and it frightened you, how terribly it frightened you.

Diluc closed the distance between the two of you, wrapping you in his embrace. You reciprocated immediately, inhaling deeply, comforted by his presence.

“I’m sorry my dear, I didn’t know. If I had I’d have never proposed it.”

“You couldn’t’ve known,” your voice was slightly muffled by his jacket, “besides, I didn’t want to tell you. Because I knew you couldn’t do anything about it.” Lifting your head up you gazed at Diluc, who cupped your face with his hand.

“You don’t have to move in my dear.” Diluc’s voice was soft but firm, there was nothing but sympathy and encouragement in it. You smiled softly, leaning into the palm of his hand.

“But I want to. That’s the problem Diluc, I desperately want to move in. And yet I don’t know what to do. I can’t have you hanging around me each night. You’re the Darknight Hero. I cannot expect you to give that up for me. Even if you said you would I wouldn’t let you. I know how much it matters to you.”

There was a pause before Diluc spoke again. “Then let me suggest this. We see ways that we might accommodate. Perhaps a night lamp or some such thing. Or perhaps I need to pay more attention to the structure of the Winery. We’ll see what we can do together, and if nothing can be solved then we’ll find another way. Is that alright, my dear?”

“That sounds lovely.” You replied, finally smiling in earnest. What did you do to deserve such a human in your life? It felt like too much sometimes. You were experiencing such happiness as you seldom had before, not to such a degree. And you cherished it with all your heart.

It was the evening. You two were getting ready for the night, you preparing to go home, Diluc preparing for the task ahead of him.

“You spoil me terribly, you know.” You said, planting a quick kiss on Diluc’s cheek. Diluc smiled slightly mischievously, leaning down to give you a proper kiss.

“I don’t spoil you.” He finally replied, expression softening to one of fondness. “And if there was anyone in the world worth spoiling it’s you. I love you my dear, I’d do anything for you.”

“And I for you.” Your reply was soft, you yourself overcome by the love you felt.

It’d be alright in the end. If you knew anything, you knew that. It’d be alright. Because you’d have the one you loved most in the world with you every step.

[mimssides]

Life on Crow Avenue: Part 34

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___

TW: Transphobic slurs, homophobic slurs, the F-slur, transphobic sibling, misgendering (on purpose), threatening behaviour, mention of neglectful parents. Deadnaming but the deadname is redacted.

___

In a crowd, she wouldn’t be noticed. Agile and swiftly she crossed by the pedestrians. Her skin not dark enough to immediately make her a target of the racists. She wasn’t tall, more on the shorter side, but not short enough that she would need help to get to things in most spaces.

She wasn’t ugly, so no one ever had reason to bully her. But she also wasn’t pretty enough to stand out and get too much attention just by her looks alone.

With the outfits, she usually chose that was a totally different story. The cleavage was revealing, the tops short and the hotpants or miniskirts shorter. She could get by like that. Most of her life she had gotten by like that.

Lately, it had become harder. The men she had deemed as safe to flirt with, weren’t satisfied with her anymore. They didn’t believe her when she lied about being younger, or when she argued that she was still spry enough to have fun with. She wasn’t even in her mid-thirties yet, but already too old to use.

Through the store window, she could see her. Between silly books and behind the counter she sat reading. Naturally. Their hair was the dark brown of their mother’s. It was the one feature both sisters had always shared. Hers was straight, she noted.

This bitch still straightened her hair. She herself had stopped the moment when she had left home and didn’t have their mother breath up their necks about it looking unruly and unprofessional. That they needed to look pristine and perfect if they wanted to get far in life.

Which of course didn’t count for her sister. Of course, that little bitch who apparently cross-dressed constantly now had to have different rules than her. She remembered the night when their mother went and had her stay back after dinner. Instead of going to her room like it had been expected of her, she stayed close by and listened in as their mother gave her favourite daughter advice. Told her that she wouldn’t need a man to pay for her. Told her that she was smart enough to own a business, to pull through and take agency over her life. If she behaved correctly. If she stayed in her place until the right moment aligned and she could take advantage of the situation. If she tricked the men into believing her to be a little more stupid, a little more complacent than she actually was. She was supposed to fool them until it was too late and she could strike.

She had never gotten that talk from their mother. She had been told to suck it up. To look pretty and to conform. To make reasonable choices and not try to get herself in trouble.

Their mother’s advice sucked. So neither sister had followed it apparently. For the little bitch it had obviously paid off. On her business Instagram and Twitter accounts she had just announced that she partnered up with the café in the neighbourhood and they would offer price reductions for people who purchased from both stores.

Of course, that little bitch had somehow managed to build a functioning and thriving business. Of course, she had been able to enamour some French coffee shop guy to work with her. Of course, she was the one to have inherited the business savyness of their father.

She didn’t know what she had expected. The navy polo shirt and the pine striped tie she could have seen coming. The glasses were new; No longer the big rectangles with rounded edges but smaller rectangular ones. She couldn’t see the lower half of her, but she doubted that she was wearing skirts anymore.

It didn’t change though who she was. No matter what she had told the people around her, she knew who she really was and it was time that she got a reminder and quietly she walked up to the storefront.

She’d get her to cave and give her what she wanted.

___

Wednesday afternoons usually went slow. There was only Mr Miller, an elder man, and Judith, a middle-aged woman, in the store. Both were regulars and would come to get Logan if they needed some help. Thus Logan took his time and read the newest science fiction novel which had come in and didn’t worry too much about anything else.

The door was pushed open and the bell went off to inform him of a new customer in case he had missed them. Swiftly Logan finished the sentence, put his bookmark between his current pages and simultaneously said: “Salutations. How may I assist you today in Logan’s Bookberries?”

Just as he finished he met the gaze of the new customer.

Dark brown curls, falling wildly over the shoulders. Piercing green-brown eyes which flickered animously. Round, hot pink lips curled up in a displeased grin. A curvy figure. Pastel pink blouse, not buttoned-up to the top. Black leather miniskirt. Beige heels.

Logan stood. The chair scratched over the floor due to his fast movement. Delilah smirked at him.

“I see you’re doing well enough for yourself [redacted],” she said easily.

Logan’s heart hammered in his chest. She came closer and closer to the counter and Logan didn’t know where to go. He couldn’t get away. He was trapped. He could never properly flee. Not with her reminding him. Not with her-

“Remember how I smuggled some comics and wine home to you? Remember how I never told them about this silly delusion, Logan?” she continued and started moving behind the counter.

Logan’s lungs were burning and between gritted teeth and panic he stuttered: “Leave. D-delilah. Leave!”

Delilah laughed and Judith, as well as Mr Miller, were looking at them. Neither could say a thing as Delilah stalked closer to Logan and cornered him between the wall and his own counter.

“What was that? After ten fucking years of you just fucking off and leaving me alone with those pricks, the first thing you say to me is Leave? I see you’re still a fucking spoiled brat, [redacted]!”

Logan didn’t know how to breathe. He didn’t know what to do now. Delilah wouldn’t go. Delilah would stay. She would do whatever it took to get what she wanted from him and he didn’t want to give her anything. He didn’t want to see her ever again. He didn’t think he would ever see her again.

“But now you’ll learn what it means to not always get what you want, princess,” Delilah drawled and Logan pressed his back against the wall. “I’m here and since I’m your closest family, you need me.”

“Stop,” Logan begged but she didn’t listen.

“They didn’t even come to look for you in college when you changed your name. They didn’t send anybody, didn’t call or try to find your number once you changed it all out after that stunt you pulled. But as you see, I cared enough to find you. Unlike them, I care and I think that deserves some payback. You owe me [redacted]. And you know it.”

Mr Miller was by the counter now but Delilah swatted his arm away forcefully. Judith had pulled out her phone and said that she will film her and call the police. Logan didn’t note any of this.

Logan’s chest was simply so tight, so compressed and in pain that he couldn’t do anything but let it out. And he screamed.

“PATTON! PATTON HELP!”

___

Roman almost dropped his broom while swiping the fallen leaves in front of the shop. Rémy stopped mid-sentence in the conversation with a regular sitting in the outdoor area in front of his shop. Patton sat up straight as a nail with the tattoo needle in his hand.

The all had heard him.

“I - I’m so sorry,” Patton said to the man on his lounger. “I think that’s my friend. I - I uh.”

“Go for fucks sake, that sounded like someone is getting murdered. My ribs could need a time-out anyway,” his customer said and Patton was already setting down his utensils. Profoundly apologizing Patton gave him a blanket to cover up and then ran down the stairs as if there had been a fire.

Roman hurried back inside the store and looked for Remus. He saw him serving a customer and quickly approached them.

Rémy finished his sentence and excused himself. He stood back by the door and kept a close eye on the shop. He hadn’t decided yet what to do.

Patton stormed out of the side entrance of the building and ran right inside of the book store. He immediately saw Logan being cornered by a woman. An older man he had seen before was calling for her to stop and a very suburban-looking mother filmed everything that was going on and agreed vocally with the man. Patton ran by either of them, jumped over the counter and muscled his way between Logan and the woman, who hadn’t seen him coming.

“I’m sorry to interrupt for a moment,” Roman said to the customer and then directed his attention to Remus. He didn’t speak out loudly and just signed: “Logan has been screaming for Patton. I’m going over. Come and check on us as soon as you're done. Get a phone just in case.”

Rémy saw Patton sprint out of the door. He took out his phone and texted Emile. Calmly he walked back inside and informed his server that he would be at the bookstore for a moment. If he wasn’t back in fifteen minutes they were supposed to call Emile.

Decisively Patton pushed the woman away from Logan, away from behind the counter and towards the entrance. The woman was cursing, insulting him. Now that he looked at her he reorganized the face and suddenly registered the name she had been calling Logan. Behind him, the door to the backroom opened and was shut close with a panicked “thud”.

Roman left Flores Encantadas and jogged over to the bookstore. The door opened and Patton came out while pushing a woman away in front of him. She was shouting: “-one of the bastards who feed into her delusion. [redacted] is a woman! A wealthy, good for nothing woman! You’re doing her no good by babying her!”

Rémy was about to cross the road when he saw Roman run out of the flower shop. Just then Patton came out with a woman screaming and cursing like a banshee who was in dire need of a cup of coffee. He hastily looked down both sides of the road and crossed it in a power walk.

“Ms Fojtík, please calm down. This isn’t getting you anywhere,” Patton said with a hollow voice.

Delilah agitatedly rushed against him but before she could push him back was caught by another pair of arms. Roman pulled her away from Patton. He was much less careful with her and glared her down incredulously.

“What do you think you’re doing here?” Roman glowered. “Apologize to Patton at once! Your behaviour is unacceptable!”

She spits in front of his feet. Without a sign of remorse or respect, she hissed at him with a wicked grin: “You’re one of her fucking guard dogs too? A pathetic little homo? Wait no, if you like her, you’re a bisexual, excuse me.”

Her words hit Roman like a plank in the face. For a second his whole agitation began to turn into fear, into that little ball that made his stomach churn and pressured him to run away. But then the words replayed and he realized what she had said and the anxiety was fought off by confusion.

“Her guard dogs?”

Delilah’s eyes went still. Then she began to hysterically, humourlessly laugh. In the corner of his eyes, Roman noted how Patton and Rémy had slowly cornered Delilah from both sides so she had only one way to get away from them and felt himself relax a little. He wasn’t alone in this.

Wheezing she stared at Roman and said: “How stupid can you be? Do you really believe that Logan” - she spoke the name as if it was a curse word - “is a man of all things? She? That sweet little porcelain doll? Perfect little daughter? A guy?”

She burst out laughing again. The realization dawned in Roman’s mind and his rage returned tenfold. He was seething within seconds and almost charged at her only to be held back by Patton and Rémy.

“You, you-” he growled but she cut him off again.

“I can’t believe how low [redacted] has sunken have such an idiot do her bidding. But what else was to expect from a fat, ugly faggot?”

Rémy immediately let go of Roman. In shock, Patton gasped and let his grip on Roman slip who charged right at her. Full speed, much faster than any of the present people ever had seen Roman go, he got up to her, startling her finally out of her arrogance. Suddenly silent she stumbled a step back, seeing Roman’s hand go towards her chest, the collar of her blouse. Everything slowed and her eyes darted up to Roman’s face.

Fire, rage. Unchecked, feral, primal rage. Face pulled in a grimace of wrath. Pupils small and focused. Intent unmistakable.

And then Roman stopped. His hand never made contact with her. But his look locked her in place and she watched his expression change. Watched it go from seething to freezing. She could feel the ice burn her.

“A fat, ugly fag, huh?” Roman challenged.

His voice was sweetly cutting.

“A fat, ugly fag. That is what I am?”

Sweat dripped down her face and Roman took one more step towards her so she could feel his breath as he next spoke.

“You're right. That is what I am. But you know what? If there’s something like hell, I won’t go to there for gluttony, ugliness or the guys I slept and sleep with. I will go there because I missed the opportunity to get rid of you piss-poor excuse of a sister.”

Nothing of Delilah’s cocky attitude was left. Scared but still too stubborn to back down she remained in front of Roman who was glaring her down rigorously. She couldn’t win this fight anymore, but she was unwilling to let herself lose like this and spewed her hateful words once more.

“You don’t even know her! You-”

“Him. This is not something to be discussed. As long as you think it is, you are not going to get anywhere near Logan,” Roman stopped her.

Foolishly she said: “Says who?”

“Says I. You will leave now and not come back for any other reason than apologize to him. So, I ask you to use that thing that fills the space between your ears and leave.”

A little crowd had gathered around the three men and Delilah. Remus had come outside as well, with the customer he had been serving. It hadn’t taken two sentences from Delilah and Patton for him to understand what was going on and he was deeply concerned for Logan who was nowhere to be seen.

On the other side of the road Virgil had gotten out and had been watching the spectacle for a few moments until he had realized that one of the screaming people was Roman and panicked. Quickly he had gotten Janus who was now crossing the street with his phone pulled up and filming everything that was happening.

“Are you threatening me?! Who do you think you are?! This is harassment! I just went to visit my own sister! This treatment is unacceptable!” Delilah screamed.

Once more Roman was about to speak up and give Delilah a solid piece of his mind when Patton stepped in and came between the both of them.

“Ms Fojtík, may I remind you that you have been filmed by several individuals. Also, the camera in the bookstore will show that you have forcefully made your way behind the counter without Mr Fojtík’s approval and cornered him to the point that he had to call for help. After you had been repeatedly told by him and others to move back you didn’t do so. All of this can be confirmed by several eye-witnesses,” he said evenly and in a tone that sounded like it came from a mirror version of his. “So, I would recommend you would stand down and peacefully leave the scene so no legal actions have to be taken.”

Delilah was breathing quickly. She noted the people who had appeared around them. She saw another man with a phone, looking her dead in the eye as if he dared her to speak up and fuck it up completely.

“What fucking lawyer will take your case? Who’s going to stand up for her? You can’t prove anything!”

Patton folded his hands behind his back and let out a long breath. Not many people had ever worn down his patience this thin.

“I will stand up for him. And I have friends back from law school who will help me do so gladly,” Patton said at last and the last bit of defiance left Delilah’s body.

Delilah was starting to hyperventilate and turned on the spot, running down the street. As she fled the scene Rémy immediately began to shoo the bystanders away and Patton turned towards Roman. His hands had been balled in fists and it looked like Roman’s veins would soon pop from the pressure.

Just one look from Patton was enough for Roman to unclench his hands and stepped away from the others, just barely missing Remus who had been standing close behind him. Wordless he shook his head and waved Patton’s approaches away. Slowly he squatted down, touched the asphalt of the sidewalk and took a moment to collect himself as Patton quickly informed Janus and Remus what had happened. Right when Patton had finished, and Rémy had gotten all the bystanders to leave, Roman felt good enough again to join the conversation as well.

Janus was watching him dismayed but Roman didn’t focus on that. Now was the time for damage control. All eyes settled on him in an instant. For a moment he closed his eyes to mentally go through the list of what had to be done next.

Opening his eyes he turned to Patton and asked: “Is Logan safe?”

“I hope so. The moment I got her away from him, he fled into the backroom but I didn’t get the chance to check on him yet,” Patton said quickly.

Roman nodded and his brain was slowly formulating the next steps. Another moment, a nod and he had a final version of his plan.

“Alright,” he said and looked at all of them. “Someone go look if any customers of Logan’s need to check out still. Who’ll do that?”

Rémy raised his arm and left at once for the book shop as Roman thanked him.

“Good. Patton, can you make sure that Logan is okay? You might be the best fit for that task.”

Patton was about to agree as he slapped his hand against his forehead and yelped: “I still have a client upstairs! I can’t -”

“That’s okay,” Roman stopped Patton in his panic. “Then you go up to your client and Remus takes care of Logan.”

“What? Why me?!”

Coolly Roman looked at his brother. His gaze was steely and he could see in Remus’s eyes that he didn’t like that expression on him. But he wasn’t going to falter and his expression wouldn’t shift. He would plough through this no matter what Remus wanted or didn’t want.

“Janus and Logan don’t mix well. Rémy will need to be back at the café. Virgil doesn’t even know what’s going on. I am still furious and our store needs to be cared for too. You are the one to do this. He likes you well enough and you are able to just sit and listen to him for a bit. So get your ass moving and go to Logan. I don’t think leaving him alone after his sister pulled up to just misgender him, is a good idea.”

There was no sense in talking back to Roman. He knew the tone, he saw his anger. More than any other person around here he was aware of what Roman’s wrath could look like. Right now was not the time to test it though. Right now Remus had to yield and turned away from the others to walk into the bookstore.

There were faint voices behind him, but they tuned out quickly as the heavy door to Logan’s Bookberries fell close. Rémy stood behind the counter. An old man was waiting for him to give back some change and a middle-aged woman was talking to Rémy in a worried tone. They looked at him but Remus only acknowledged Rémy who eyed him and bowed his head discretely as he walked towards the backroom.

He opened the door and closed it behind himself carefully. For a moment he just stood still. He could see into the break area since the door was open right now, and there was no sight of Logan. So he had to be somewhere else. But from here he couldn’t get anywhere else, at least not since all the windows were closed which meant that Logan hadn’t climbed out to the backyard and tried to flee the country that way. His gaze fell to the floor and he mused if maybe there was some sewer or air conditioning he hadn’t seen and climbed in? Or maybe there were some secret doors or something? This was a bookstore and all bookstores were a little mystical at least, Remus thought and just then he noted a tiny noise.

The breath stuck in Remus’s throat. It came from the broom closet to his right. He stared at the closed door and his mind began to fill the gaps. Logan on the other side of it. Startled and flustered by his sister’s cruel words. From her disregard for his identity. From a past, he had most likely tried to leave behind.

He didn’t like how much he could relate to it.

His feet carried Remus to the door. He laid his hand on the door handle and concentrated on the sounds. There was movement behind the door, but he couldn’t really make out what kind of movement from the sound alone. He damned his ears and settled on asking what was going on.

With a slight crack in his voice he spoke up: “Logan? You in there?”

A muffled response. Remus asked him to repeat himself. The response came again and it was clearer and louder. Not clear enough for Remus but he guessed from the tone of voice and the few vowels he could kind of identify that it was supposed to be “Go away!”.

“I’m sorry, Lo.”

He responded to it but it was too quick and muffled through the wall for him to understand what was said at all. He tried to decipher the tone, catch some of the words he said but to no avail. So Remus settled with just waiting and listening for when Logan would pause.

Moments of upset muffling grew into a few minutes and Remus leaned his back against the wall next to the door. He stared at the ceiling and tried to hold his own frustration at bay. One more time he wished his inner ear hadn’t been fucked up as Logan’s voice grew quiet.

Remus inhaled once and then said softly: “Yeah. That’s understandable. I’ll sit down here now. So you can keep talking and have someone to help you just in case, okay? You don’t have to ask for my help of course but it’s there in case you need it.”

“I ____ ____ a babysitter. ____ is point____.”

Remus furrowed his brows. He wasn’t quite sure what that meant. He hoped that he could guess it right.

“I’m not a babysitter. I’m worried. We weren’t meant to find out about you like this. You should have gotten agency over your coming out if you ever wanted to come out to us at all. And because we care about you, I don’t think worrying and making sure you have access to help is anything but pointless. I think it’s really fucking important in fact”

It took a while until Remus heard anything else. Maybe some more crying he guessed. He really hoped that he hadn’t made everything much worse. He really hoped that Roman was right and that he had been able to support Logan at least a tiny bit. After all, he deserved the world.

“You know,” Remus said softly sitting down next to the closet door, “I respected you a lot already when you told that homophobic lady off back on that first day in our store, but then you gave me that list from your therapist. And everything got turned up like a hundred times. First of all you trusted me with the knowledge that you went to therapy yourself and then you even gave me the number of your therapist. A therapist I could google and find out that she specialized also in gender therapy. And you gave that information to me. And since you are very smart, I knew you weren’t careless or just forgot about it, I knew you were bold and trusted me with that. And I didn’t understand why, and I still don’t really understand why but this trust moved me. It made me want to figure out why you believed I was worth all that risk.”

Remus closed his eyes. Swooshing in his ears drowned all the sounds around him.

“I - I don’t know how hard it is to stealth around your whole life long. I don’t understand how you could do that for so long. I admire it and I’m - I don’t know. You’re impressive. You’re really fucking impressive. And I’m sorry that your sister tries to tell you you’re not. She’s wrong and you’re amazing.”

And lovely. And hot. And kind. And the subject of Remus’s dreams. And wonderful. And someone he wasn’t going to make a move on.

Taking a shaking breath Remus pressed his hands over his eyes and let out a long sigh. He didn’t know what the was doing. He wasn’t even sure if Logan was listening. He didn’t mean to make it worse. But maybe he already had.

“I’m sorry if this does nothing to soothe your nerves. I’m sorry that I can’t make her unsay the things she said. What she said was wrong, but once words are spoken they are able to linger and they shouldn’t do that to you. They shouldn’t linger in your brain. They’re not supposed to hurt you. You’re not supposed to hurt at all. It should never have hurt at all.”

No words managed to leave Remus’s mouth anymore. His throat was clogged up and there was this huge weight sitting on his lap. His legs were unable to move, his arms and torso stiff and crumpled together. This drowning feeling of the helplessness of a bystander. The moments he could see his loved ones fight for their dignity, fight for their life. The doomed fate of the spectator on the other side of cage bars as the other fought in the arena.

And yet he wasn’t even the one to suffer here. It was Logan who was fighting this time. He must be suffering and Remus couldn’t do anything to make it go away. He could just be there to prevail with him. Just like he had done for Patton and it was the worst thing he had ever done in his life. He had let them suffer while he was there and hadn’t distracted from the situation and just let things happen while being with them. This waiting was worse than death and Remus had (foolishly) hoped that he wouldn’t have to do it ever again.

Remus didn’t notice that he hadn’t spoken for several minutes. He didn’t hear how Logan asked if he was still here. He didn’t see how the closet door was opened a tiny bit and a red-eyed Logan looked out to see him sitting stiffly on the floor with his hands pressed over his eyes.

Unknown to him Logan at once had three realisations himself. One was that Remus hadn’t heard anything he said properly. The next one was that maybe Logan’s situation right now reminded him a little more of his past than he was comfortable with. And lastly that seeing Remus sitting here on the floor for him, made him feel much calmer than sitting alone in the closet.

So, Logan closed the door behind him and slowly sat down next to Remus in his badly lit hallway. Uncertain of himself he pressed his knees against his chest and slung his arms around his own legs as he stared at the floor. His glasses were fogged up and dirty from his previous tears. He couldn’t bring himself to care though and closed his eyes. Softly he began to count a familiar pattern in his head.

In for one, two, three, four. Hold for one, two, three, four, five, six, seven. Out for one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight.

Repeat.

As he had predicted, his body relaxed and he let himself slowly skid a little closer to Remus until their arms touched. Remus flinched as if a wasp had stung him, ripped his hands away from his face and gaped at Logan.

“Just breathe with me. Just for a bit, please.”

In a low voice, Logan kept counting and rested his head against Remus’s shoulder. What else was Remus to do but comply? He let his own head lean against the top of Logan’s and slowly matched Logan’s pattern. He could feel Logan’s head bob softly with each word and feel the air of his breath tickle his arm.

Somehow Roman had been right. Somehow he apparently had been able to make sure that Logan was doing alright all things considered.

___

@vexelore

@exhaustedfander

@alexisrealgay

@wolfs-feder

@just-a-neoclassical-painting

@winter-jay-official

@a-ghostlight-for-roman

@mychemically-imbalanced-romance

@whattheremus

@regalredrose

@spellingwillbethedeathofme

@sarenicide

@warcats-cat

LoCA

@arodynamic-enby

@espepspes

@bullet-tothefeels

@fukindork

@shadeofadye

@magic-but-its-green

@simonekkt

@tlhrfanfic

[blueprint-han]

☆⌒ hilltop — bang chan | fluff, boyfriend au | 1394 words | slight kissing

“Hey, you mint-head!”

Chan stops in his path halfway through, turning around to squint through the lush green trees and bushes when he spots your ruined and debilitated form trying to catch up with her overly-active boyfriend. He chuckles when you hesitantly place a hand on a tall tree’s bark, crouching down on the moist, wet floor to catch your breath.

“I’m not as fit as you are, did you forget?” You heave out, shifting from one foot to the other because the trekking shoes Chan had given you were one-size-too-small, and now your feet felt like they were enclosed with molten-hot-lava. Yikes, not cool. 

“Did you just call me mint-head?” Your boyfriend raises an eyebrow, sauntering towards you before taking a seat on the random wooden bench that’s littered here and there on the pat to the top of the hill.

“Well,” You take a deep breath, uncapping the water bottle — thank god you’d brought one — before taking a nice gulp of the liquid. It feels cool and refreshing when it runs down your throat. Once you cap the bottle back, you speak again. “You deserve it, for dragging my ass to this —” A clapping sound echoes throughout the space and you separate your hands, pushing off the dead mosquito on your hand. “— wild forest, even though I told you we could’ve just taken the photos on the apartment’s terrace.”

“Oh come on,” Chan laughs heartily, slinging an arm over your shoulder before dabbing his handkerchief over your sweaty forehead. “It’s just a fucking hill, stop being such a drama llama. It’s literally just a straight walk up.”

“But we’ve been walking for hours!”

“Actually, we’ve only been walking for five minutes.”

“Sorry, you’re the one who literally carried me against my will from my comfortable bed and into this weird ass place, and all for dumb —” you swat at another mosquito. “Photos. Yeah, I think I have to right to be mad.”

“Hey, now let’s not get too angry there.” Chan runs his hand through his mint green hair. “The view from the top is magnificent, just give it a chance, babe. You do remember what I promised you once we’ve successfully reached the top, right?”

You scowl and then that gradually morphs into a pout as you shove your water bottle back into your backpack, slinging it over your shoulder. “It doesn’t even seem worthy anymore — all this climbing for one kiss?”

“Oh please,” Chan smirks, crossing his arms against his chest. “You’ve always told me I’m a good kisser, so you can’t tell me that you aren’t the slightest bit excited for this.”

“Yeesh, stop being so cocky—” A slap at his chest and you get up, ignoring the fiery feeling in the apples of your cheeks as you walk further up the hill. “You better catch up or no kiss for you!”

“Hey that was my deal!”

Once you and Chan both reach the top of the hill — albeit with a lot of groaning and complaining — the first thing you do is kick off your damn shoes and revel in the feeling of the cold grass under your feet, and finally, finally, some circulation to let your feet breathe! You feel as free as a bird, as calm as a swan in a lake —

“Why are you standing over there like you’re in the Titanic movie?” Chan asks, biting his lip to muffle out his giggles while you scowl at him once again.

“Because someone —” You smile, pointing at your boyfriend who’s trying hilariously hard to not laugh at how silly you look right now. “Decided to bring me here when I was totally—”

“Oh shut it, don’t start again.” Honestly, Chan isn’t even offended over how dramatic you’re being. You’re overly loud, chaotic, and look at the fun sides in life (expect for now, surprisingly) and Chan is calm, patient and more diplomatic in his approach. You two are opposites, but that’s what attracts both of you.

Plus, he finds it absolutely adorable, and all he wants to do is throw his camera away and cradle you into his arms and shower you in praise. Your dorkiness only brings out his affectionate side more — and Chan’s an affectionate person already.

“Ugh, fineeee...” You whine. “What am I supposed to do now?”

“Okay, so — stand there.” He points to the railing that surrounds the hill and you nod, moving to take your position. The cold grass and the air feels oddly nice, so you feel energetic. Maybe this photoshoot will go well after all.

The next two hours is spent with you and Chan taking pictures of each other, the scenery, and you also throw in a couple photos of Chan stuffing his cheeks with the sushi you’d picked up on the way — those were private and confidential though, because your boyfriend looked so cute when his cheeks were filled with food, and you were selfish and wanted all that serotonin for yourself.

Honestly Chan doesn’t even care about the photos — neither do you, but you’ve made it clear since the beginning — he just wants to spend quality time with his girlfriend, and college’s been an absolute pain in the ass — he misses going on silly yet nice dates with you.

Even Chan manages to catch a few portrait photos of you when you aren’t looking, and for all intents and purposes he will be keeping it to himself — because your beauty deserves to be admired, and just like you, Chan is selfish to share it.

Seems like you both fit together perfectly.

When the photoshoot is done, you decide to separate from the cameras a bit and gaze at the sun that’s going down bit by but, bestowing it’s existence with a magnificent view. The sky is tinted the slightest orange, mixed with a hint of pink and blue, and the scenery itself is picture-worthy.

“So...” You say, having calmed down from your burst of energy from before. “Today was nice.”

“What —” Chan says with sarcastic intent, gasping and clutching at his heart like he’s in grave shock. Now he’s the one who’s being dramatic. “— Didn’t you say it wasn’t worth my kiss?”

“Shut up.” You roll your eyes playfully, quirking your brow before gazing off into the afternoon-evening sky.

“Pfft, I’ll shut up after we finish the one more picture we have to take.”

“What picture, didn’t we have all of them already?”

“Nope, stand here.”

Chan runs to fix his tripod stand a few feet away from where you’re standing, setting the timer before rushing back to his place.

“This one’s special, so please get rid of the grouchy face.” You frown, but nonetheless smile at his excitement.

“Okay so, close your eyes.” 

A raised eyebrow is thrown in his direction, but you still comply, extremely curious to know what your boyfriend was up to.

“I swear to god, if you pull that thing you did to me last time when you put a bug in my hand I will —” Hey, you were just being proactive! The bug incident had freaked the fuck out of you, so much that you didn’t go near Chan for a whole two days until he’d apologized and bought you McDonalds.

But oh god, what you felt was so, so much better than that prank. 

Soft lips press against your own and efficiently shut you up, leave be for the muffled nose that rolls off your tongue in surprise. His lips move with synchrony, and you barely notice the camera flash behind you when Chan cups your cheeks and you wrap your hands around his waist, delving deeper and deeper and deeper until you ran out of breath. Not that you didn’t feel breathless when Chan got like this, and you loved every bit of it.

When you pull away, you gasp for air, panting as you rest your forehead against Chan’s.

“So,” He says, rubbing his thumb against your cheek and kissing the tip of your nose. “Was it worth it?” He cocks an eyebrow, and you giggly softly, pulling him into a hug.

“You know it always will be.”

And the framed picture of you and Chan kissing under the medium-orange toned sunset looks ever-the-pretty on your room’s wall.

*:･ﾟ✧ find the other fics here !

[mc-critical]

I really don’t understand the amount of people who apparently dislike Mihrimah for not giving Rüstem a chance/not having Rüstem grow on her. I don’t know entirely how I feel about Mihrimah as a character but I feel like if you were to dislike her that’d be a silly reason. It was a opportunistic marriage, one she never wanted and to a man she never loved. Not to mention he was also borderline pedophilic (when he said to her on her wedding night that he had been “waiting for this moment for years” when she was 17..okay) and then coercing her into consumating the marriage through the threat of suicide. Sure, the circumstances of Rüstem’s life were sad, but I don’t understand how that entails him being *entitled* to Mihrimah’s love or affection. And if anything I found Rüstem to be misogynistic and possibly even abusive, which likely made marriage to him all the worse. Mihrimah’s definitely not perfect or above criticism, but that doesn’t mean she owed any man love, sex or affection, royal borne woman or not.

I don't understand them, either. Because this is the last thing Mihrimah should be disliked for.

Rüstem is a very odious character with minimal redeeming qualities. His supposed love for Mihrimah is established disturbingly early on and while that may have fled over the audience's heads (it sure did fly over my head when I first watched the show!) because their marriage is a historical fact and as such, is automatically considered the normal course of things - the questionable pedophilic implications are definitely there and send off the alarming signs of utterly problematic behavior. Sure, he's done his duty by saving her after she fell off a horse and (little!) Mihrimah thanked him for it, but it is clearly seen in his eyes by the second episode he's on-screen that there's something more and something baffling when the girl is so young. And it only escalated from there.

Obviously, most of his fanbase ignores or flat out misses this aspect of his character, but I also find people that think that his attitude to Mihrimah is the only bad thing about Rüstem when I find most of his negative traits to be present outside of Mihrimah, but with her witnessing them. I feel the connection to Iskender Çelebi and the way he bacame the stable-man of the castle are his most important character establishing moments: they shine a light into his sneakiness and ability to play dirty, but also reveal his immediate prejudice against Ibrahim. The ambition, similar to Hürrem's, but not for the same reasons, is set up from the get-go. He's seemingly following Iskender, just like he comes to seemigly follow Hürrem, but he always forges his own path for his own gain. His alleged "loyalty" is the thing that Rüstem usually gets the most credit for, but while he begins to look like Hürrem's loyal companion that shall fulfill her every order, this whole facade is deconstructed and ultimately, totally broken apart in S04. His character establishing moments recontextualize all the decisions he makes in that season and show the true nature of his ambition: he followed Hürrem when she prevailed over everyone, he followed her when she seemingly gave him the world and all the desired power and when she and the one she wanted for the throne were put into a disadvantaged position and Selim got the upper hand, he ran straight for the opportunity, despite of him making an oath in front of the Quran not to do that. He turns out to be simply an opportunist hyena who works only for his own gain. Nothing more. Just like he saw the opportunity to get rid of the stable-man before him in the past, now he sees the opportunity to be on the winning side again with Selim. He doesn't care who is he in front of and who he promised what, as long as they're of no use to him, he bails. His "loyalty" immediately disappears from his positive traits, because it turns out he never had it in the first place. People praise him for his loyalty for Mihrimah, but that "loyalty" also lasted so long - when he found out that she wouldn't ever come to love him, he began to bang with Gracia Mendez, in conjunction with the betrayal of what Hürrem stood up for. Now, tell me, how can Mihrimah love such a guy? That was one of the only reasons she tolerated him and when even that was lost, how can she still keep her ties with him?

[His backstory is sad indeed, but the only thing it does is put his actions into perspective, not justify them or make him likeable somehow. Especially when what that "character lore dump" specifically explains is his refusal to tell Nigar where her daughter is - the backstory makes that action logical for his character, but it's still framed as nothing short of spiteful. That said, he still does have some soft sides and the arc with his brother is where I found him the most sympathetic - this is the time Rüstem actually showed vulnerability without false alarms or disguise and his brother was probably the only thing that was precious to him and stayed precious after all these years, consistently throughout his screentime. What helps even more, is the brother's role as a moral compass and the last bridge between the past/his loyalties and the future/the victories he would achieve through opportunism. That was the last gasp of what was left of his possible humanity and after his brother was killed, he let it go almost instantly, because... well, after he willingly chose his own life in the saray, he might as well continue to live it, right? Him saving a boy in S03 without any hesitation whatsoever, was also respectable. But these demonstrations of a softer side of his being are also taking place outside of Mihrimah, but with her not witnessing them altogether. And they do little in changing the general impression of Rüstem's character and his relationship with Mihrimah.]

We have to keep in mind that Mihrimah's whole S03 arc was finding purpose in her life and finding true love. She had many love stories throughout the series with different people, different personalities and different motives to try to make it work with them. No matter what they've went through together and despite of them all having the same outcomes due to different outside (and inside) factors, there is a reason she fell for these people in the first place. Okay, while for Bali Bey it was a bizarre, puppy, immature, childish love, for Taşlicalı something truly genuine began to flourish with all the glances, poems, dedication (Mahidevran succeeded to break them up, but it's not to be denied that Taşlicalı was very hard to convince and he was still thinking of her afterwards) and sweet words. She got a call for a new adventure with him. Bali Bey, on the other hand, was adored by her mostly for his handsomeness, I feel, but even when he tore all her dreams apart, he showed tact and respect. What I mean to say is, if Rüstem has qualities that are "worthy of Mihrimah", wouldn't she see them? Wouldn't she see all these virtues? Because all she sees before the marriage are his words that she will marry him, that she will be his and that's it. The best she sees of him is his good manners when he asks her whether she wants something or stuff, but he could do that with everyone else, knowing his post, and the previous implications make even that alone head scratching. Why would she want a man like that? I agree with all your points. Are you, people, denying Mihrimah her feelings? She realized the potential advantages of this marriage and agreed to do it regardless, why does she have to come to love him when he truly gives her no real reasons to, even before she married him?

I believe Rüstem cares about Mihrimah, albeit in his own distorted, toxic way, but in reality, he didn't do her any good. His relationship with Mihrimah revels in manipulation and facades for her to keep, because she has to "protect" her brothers. Rüstem never actually took account of her own feelings or opinions on matters, especially when what she proposed wasn't an opportunistic enough option for him to afford. Their interactions are mostly focused on the survival of the game and the actions that have to be taken to achieve that. He often puts an unbelievable amount of pressure on her, which while given because of the system they live in, hurt more than it helped. Their relationship was never allowed to flourish in a healthy manner and Mihrimah could never be truly herself in it, not even for a moment. The castle she lived in, her home, was merely full of tension every day, not a source of comfort. His stoic, serious cunning contrasts with her own spirit. Not to mention that it always seemed he considered his marriage to Mihrimah as a price, a goal he had finally achieved and I doubt that she wasn't aware of it to some extent. The root of the marriage is only political opportunism and no matter how hard you try, you simply cannot force a person to love someone they're with only out of sheer necessity, only for a purpose for "the greater good". Rüstem never did anything to earn Mihrimah's love and she shouldn't be hated for not loving him. This is what MC Rüstem is as a character, whether we like it or not, and he isn't a healthy person for Mihrimah. If she couldn't warm up to him when she fully got to know him in their alone time, that means something is missing. That means he just isn't for her and. that's. OKAY.

But there may be reasons why some people could dislike Mihrimah because of it. I offer my experience with cases I've encountered in forums: these people are usually very invested in Hürrem's character to the point they view everything she does as excusable, at the least, so of course they would want to justify Hürrem marrying Mihrimah to Rüstem. But plainly selfish political gain is no justification and that may leave cracks in their view of Hürrem and it all may disturb them to a great amount. That's why they channel this ire on Mihrimah and perhaps demand for her to warm up to Rüstem, so they get the justification Hürrem supposedly deserves, especially paralleled with Valide and Mahidevran's previous attempt to marry Aybige and Mustafa, who.. surprise, surprise (but not really), didn't love each other. There's another facet to this, with people seeing or wanting to see Mihri only as "her mother's daughter" and not wanting to marry, not loving Rüstem destroys that picture, because there's a "crack in the system", she doesn't listen to her mother, who obviously knows better and that could be disappointing or demotivating, given the expectations she has set when she defended her in E84. Or maybe they dislike Mihrimah for not loving Rüstem, because they do find something in him. They love "bad boys" and genuinely don't know why Mihrimah doesn't, either and that could make them see her as an annoyance. Or maybe they just anticipate more juicy scenes between her and Rüstem because of the probable chemistry between the two actors and if they watch it only for the spectacle (believe me, such people really exist!), they may insist that Mihrimah is only spoiled and ruined everything for them. Or maybe, again, people may find this insulting to the historical facts or whatnot and if Mihrimah didn't not stand him, this "mess" of writing could be fixed a little. The writers have ruined her character along with the history, according to them. It's absurd, I know and I don't get it, either, but the reasons are there, as far as I'm concerned. That still doesn't take away from the fact that this is the weirdest accusation you could throw at Mihrimah, with how Rüstem himself is.

You're right that Mihrimah has many other, vastly more offputting traits that she could be disliked for. Little Mihrimah is very brash and spoiled and entitled, to the point she gave her own mother a run for her money. That was gone when she grew up, but it would be understandable if some didn't actually believe the change, especially when she shows this side of hers again every now and then. She could be perceptive, but could also be prone to influence at the same time, sometimes to an annoying degree. There have been times where she has let her own bias lead her and that clouded her judgement in several occasions. She came to idealize her mother too much sometimes, as well. She was terribly insistent on her infatuation with Bali Bey and letting go of it took her very long. She didn't want to listen much to the enemies of her own mother. Her huge love for Bayezid prevented her from viewing Selim as objectively. She could be vengeful. She could be bossy. She couldn't fully face someone calling her out on her mistakes. (the confrontation with Selim in E139) She became so engrained to her castle life that when she was offered a way out, she didn't follow it. All these are very interesting character flaws for me, but I get why they might be a dealbreaker. But disliking or hating her for not loving Rüstem? Heck, hating her for her contribution to Mustafa's death alone is more valid than that! Disliking her for all these flaws piling up together is perfectly reasonable. But for this? It's strange.

[nomoregoldfish]

I Promised You The Moon rant

Just binged it and this was from the episode by episode reaction/discussion with my partner in crime @glossyboy.

First of all, Oab stole the show, singlehandedly, which he's not supposed to. I don't think anyone expected it including himself. In the very top post when I searched his name on tumblr, he said this lol

But the truth is he played one hell of "villain" that required a very nuanced performance and he delivered it in a believable and graceful manner. Jai became the catalyst of the entire season and his rather complicated relationship with Teh was the highlight of part 2.

EP 1

From the very beginning it's clear that part 2 is very much a Teh's story rather than a balanced story about two young people's journey as a couple in the next chapter of their lives. It makes me uncomfortable they made Oh-aew clingy and pessimistic without giving him any character development.

The best part is probably the opening scene where they went paper-rock-scissors to decide who's gonna buy condoms. It felt authentic, the expectation, the hesitation, the mischievous act, all fits their characters well. Other times ep 1 was more like two adult kids playing house, literally in an empty giant ass upper middle class apartment.

EP 2

It's great that they poked the femininity vs. masculinity issue through Oh-aew, but stopped right there at the surface. Missed a perfect opportunity to go head-to-head with the controversial topic, start a debate, crush the stigma of femininity, bring something new, be a real game changer of the BL genre, and most importantly give Oh-aew some concrete character development. Part 1 showed us a gay character that's very comfortable with his sexuality and femininity, that's almost revolutionary in Asia, not as a comic relief but a leading role. Oh-aew questioned his own sexual identity once in that bra wearing scene, it's straight out of comfort zone, BOLD, and transgressive. So I expected more from part 2.

That's it? And they're already sophomores? Can't believe Oh-aew's character has been marginalized like this. It's pathetic.

But I love the brutally honest conversation at the end where Teh vented his rage and despair regarding his frustration of acting. He was acting like a dick because he's disappointed, and scared. Teh again was not afraid of showing vulnerability, making the reconciliation very realistic and touching.

EP 3

Dare I say I freaking love ep 3! The unresolved (partially sexual, but not entirely) tension between Teh and Jai was over the roof! And the built-up to their kiss was very authentic, which paled Teh and Oh-aew's much sidelined storyline, including the long anticipated sex scene (still can't believe it happened right after Jai explicitly instructed Teh to do it after the two spent a whole night bonding, like wow! Totally TRANSGRESSIVE and to some extent, kinky.) Teh looked up to the senior, idolized him, wanted to be good for him and make him proud, thirsted for the validation from him, which was mixed with affections. The workshop diary was a brilliant idea to let them open up to each other and eventually bring them close. This was what a meaningful arc of a story looked like. By contrast, there isn't a single moment between Oh-aew and Teh in part 2 that made me go "Damn it's soooooo hot!"

I know Jai/Teh wasn't the endgame but I appreciate the storyline so much. It's a very bold move considering it broke the over-glorified "one true love in one's life" fantasy of its target audience, mostly young cis women. The popular narrative of "you can only love one person through your life/one true love" in romance fictions/chick flicks was totally smashed. And it wasn't written just to stir up things between Teh and Oh-aew, it wasn't a silly fling. Instead, it's meaningful, complicated, natural, and realistic, delivered by nuanced and excellent acting from two young actors. It's hilarious that fans hate Jai with a passion and call him names.

And big news, Jai is bi?! Bravo! He's radiating bi vibes since his first appearance.

I kind of gave up at this point, the season wouldn't do Oh-aew any justice. Like my partner in crime pointed out, the costume design literally threw some "incongruous female fashion pieces" on Oh-aew, made him dye his hair red, without...making any actual point of his personality or his character development. Wardrobe was supposed to make a point in storytelling. Yes, PP wearing pink is cute, and? There's nothing else for Oh-aew. Unfortunately he's reduced to this sulky, crying, and wronged partner in a failing relationship.

EP 4

Oab again was killing it. The tension between Jai and Teh...from the rehearsal in front of Oh-aew to the dressing room pep talk, was incredibly intense and hot AF.

Was it a manipulative relationship after all? Oab was so good at conveying a character with many faces. Jai's a mentor to Teh, also a good friend, their relationship was genuine. He's also ambitious with his own goals, he used, challenged, provoked Teh in a way that benefited them both. It made sense the title of part 2, I Promised You The Moon, was from Jai's script. He promised Teh what the junior wanted the most, a bright future in acting. Teh's unconventional and unspoken feelings for Jai was the best part of the entire season in terms of creative writing, it's complicated, fragile, delicate and completely heartbreaking.

The after talk in the hallway was so well-written. It's funny (Teh joking about playwrights always write about their EXs is gold), intimate yet meticulously controlled, no one lashed out or wept. Both knew what they signed up for and Jai particularly made it clear about his motive and the purpose of the "special workshop" beforehand (or right away.) Yet it's no one's fault that Teh got carried away. He's younger, he's immature, he's more into it, it's totally natural. It's so romantic when Teh's singing karaoke in the bar with Oh-aew, yet he couldn't help but desperately staring at Jai on the floor, knowing he and the man who just turned him down were never gonna happen, they were done, but he's still madly attracted to him and his talent. He fancied Jai, at least the idea of Jai, a playwright, a director, someone knew him better than himself. That hurt beautifully.

EP 5

Teh/Oh-aew endgame at this point was pretty meaningless. Oh-aew as a leading character never got any solid character development over a span of four years. What happened between Jai and Teh wasn't just "cheating", though they surely made it look that way, like Teh's empty promise of "I won't see him again after the show ends". No matter how Oh-aew and Teh eventually reconciled, there's no emotional connection, no sparkle anymore between the couple.

But I knew for a fact they had to. Otherwise it's too much of a risk financially for the series. The creators had to take the easy way out like most traditional romances—one of the most contrived and formulaic trope where the male leading character made a mistake (usually cheating) and realized he's wrong, he deeply hurt the female leading character (Oh-aew was merely a girl substitute in part 2), then he completely changed for hell knew what reasons, started doing every nicest thing in the world to try to "win" the female character back. It has been feeding the emotionally-deprived cis female readers/audience who are frustrated with heterosexual relationship irl for decades. The formula that made romance outsell other genres of fictions combined in the 60s and 70s still sells today, under the name of boys' love. It's pathetic to see Oh-aew confess to Bas that he always "lost" to Teh. Love shouldn't be some kind of game or competition, there isn't winner or loser in love. Love is spontaneous. Oh-aew didn't lose because Teh developed feelings for someone else, and he didn't win when Teh begged him for reconciliation. People change, people move on.

And as predicted, they went for it. The ending was so absurd and tedious.

Overall, Jai's probably the hardest villain to play, he needed to be REALLY GOOD to be "the bad guy", to make his role conceivable. Oab absolutely nailed it with his talent and experience. He's not even my type or extremely good looking yet I'm 100% SOLD. I immediately re-watched the scene of him kissing Teh back hungrily at the end of ep 3 like I used to re-watch Teh/Oh-aew's steamy make out session at the end of episode 3 part 1. Coincidence?

I like some parts of both seasons for the same reason, each challenged and tried to break some outdated/contrived narratives in the BL genre. Part 1 took on the sexuality taboo by showing two same sex characters sexually attracted to each other, no more "I'm not into boys, I just happened to fall for someone of the same gender" or "pure love" bullshit. By staying true to the characters' sexuality and actually showing it with explicit, intense (and beautifully shot) scenes, the gay characters were normalized. They weren't just pure and innocent, no one was. And it created two of most unconventional gay characters in Asian pop culture, Oh-aew, a beautiful boy who's very comfortable with his own sexuality and femininity, not passive at all, taking initiative to pursue what he wanted; and Teh, a sensitive, caring and vulnerable boy who cried a lot, he's confused but also sweet and brave.

Part 2 tackled the "You can only love one person through your life" trope with a very nuanced story of "cheating". Yet neither carried out what they started. Part 1 fell short of a revolutionary piece that stayed true to "adolescent sexual turmoil", dismissing bisexuality and becoming a typical unrealistic BL fantasy in the end. And Part 2, ugh, forced a "happy ending" that almost no one digs. I understand it's extremely difficult and risky to disrupt the established norms of a genre. But sometimes being transgressive and progressive could be the same thing. A story, an artwork, has to challenge something in order to create something new and compelling.

[sevensided]

how did you get into writing fic? i'd love to start but idk even where to begin! I loved adats so I was wondering do you have any advice?

Oh my goodness! I am so flattered you’ve asked me this. Yes, I can absolutely help. I’ll throw a bunch of rambling under the cut.

I started writing fic probably when I was... sixteen years old? A lot of my early works were oneshots. I couldn’t figure out how to do anything plot heavy for the life of me, so I just stuck to AUs or whatever I felt like. I wasn’t in any particular fandom -- I really wrote whatever I had ideas for. I remember I tried once to do a plot-heavy story and I received a review absolutely ripping it to shreds. Like, it was so cruel I cried lol. I ended up deleting the fic. Years later, I get what they were trying to say (basically, more substance, less style), but at the time it cut to the quick. Really, it was only when I was in my twenties that I started writing work that was longer and/or better.

The fandom that helped me actually write plot heavy work was a historical-based fandom. As I’m a historian, it was perfect. I got to use my research skills and knowledge to create works that, above all, aimed to feel authentic. I mainly read historical fiction, so I was familiar with how that genre worked. Miraculously, people loved my work. I think I wrote about ~200k in the period of a year? These were several short stories (20-40k) and a few oneshot filler fics. While I was part of this fandom I also helped organise a Big Bang which was a lot of hard work but was extremely rewarding. Along with that, I interacted mainly with other fic writers, so I spent a lot of time chatting to people about ideas and encouraging other writers, and it just created a lovely medley where no concept was impossible or any line of dialogue too difficult. We supported each other and it was truly like a little commune. I gradually stepped away from the fandom mainly because it was just a part of my life at a very specific time, and almost as soon as that time was over, my love for that story/ship faded, but I firmly believe I figured out a lot of how/what I do now purely through that experience.

Regarding ADATS

With ADATS, it stemmed entirely from wanting to “explain” three months in canon (at the end of season three). I was interested in the idea of season four setting up Will/Mike in canon, and I wanted to test the source material to see if I could draw from what already existed to create something authentic. I began with that simple idea: what happened from July to October in 1985? Then I thought about the major themes I wanted to hit -- family, friendship, coming of age, sexuality -- and I nested them around the bigger concept: how do I get Mike from being ostensibly straight to realising he is gay? That meant thinking of two steps: Mike discovering his attraction to guys; Mike discovering his attraction to Will. Those two concepts were separate “arcs” that needed addressing in different ways. Balance was key to weaving them together and making the reader feel like they knew what was coming (and that they felt smart for putting the pieces together) without just rushing through and going “now kiss!” That’s partly why ADATS needs a sequel, lol: because it’s not finished!

Writing process

The first thing I do when I start to get an idea is I write it down. Sounds obvious. But when you have a killer line of dialogue come to you in the shower and you think “I’ll remember that” -- reader, you will not remember it. You gotta get it down ASAP! I do that the whole way through, as generally I’ll be thinking of scenes I’m stuck on and then it’ll just come to me and I’ll quickly jot it down.

The next thing -- or what I do in the meantime -- is start structuring. I plan. I try to plan a lot. Sometimes it’s okay to write “and something happens here to get them here”, because you’ll figure it out later, but for the most part I’ve discovered that planning is like gold and you can’t get enough of it. I break my work up into generally 3-4 parts/sections, and I treat each section like a mini story. So each part needs a conflict and resolution, and it needs to flow into the next section. You need to have a feeling of things evolving and maturing. Once I’ve planned those little bits, I start thinking about the bigger plot arc and how I can drop in hints along the way. I’m probably not a subtle or skilled enough writer to yet pull off that sort of gasping twist you get in really excellent books, but I’m trying to get there. It’s hard, is what I’m trying to say, but that’s okay, because we’re all learning.

Then I generally do aesthetic stuff. Sounds stupid, probably. But nothing helps me get more into a mood than doing a Pinterest board or -- most of all -- making a Spotify mix. I start thinking about the vibe and the general atmosphere, and then I almost exclusively listen to that mix when I’m working. Sort of like muscle memory? Just to get the creative juices associated with that particular selection of songs.

Another thing I’ll do along with plot structure is character structure. This is a biggie. I mean, a story is nothing without characters. So I’ll just jot down a bunch of bullet points of characters and particular aspects that I want to highlight or remember. I hate continuity errors in fiction. Like, if someone says they work on Maple Street but later in the fic they’re working on Pine Street. I hate that. So I keep note of specific things that my main character might notice at repeated points in the story (colours, places, smells, names, sounds -- so they’re all consistent even as the narrative evolves). That’s another thing -- your characters’ motivations. Not everyone is going to be a huge player, but they all do serve a purpose. The most important character is obviously your main character. I personally think it’s important to let your M.C. be an arse at times. They’re going to be mean, they’re going to misinterpret things or fly off the handle... just let ‘em. Let them be wretched humans, and then bring them back and make them realise what they’ve done. Let them learn! I love consequences in fiction, lol.

At the same time, I’ll probably start writing. We’ve already written down some snippets of neat dialogue or descriptions, but now we should start the actual process. For me, I used to start at the beginning. Usually this was the most fleshed out anyway: I’ll have a clear idea of the beginning and the end, but nothing in the middle. These days, if I have a scene in mind that I can’t forget, I’ll just write it. It will possibly get scrapped or rewritten, but that’s okay, because at least you’ve got it down and now you can devote your brain power to something useful (like figuring out what the middle is supposed to be). I’ll have half a dozen of totally out of context scenes just littered in my Word document that I’ll add to as I go along. Eventually, though, you’re going to start writing properly, and that’s when you write your opening scene.

Opening scenes: super important. Every time I write a scene I think: what is the point of this? What do I want the reader to learn or takeaway? Sometimes you do have filler scenes, but they also serve a different purpose (perhaps to establish a group dynamic or to explore/describe a character’s surroundings). Mainly, though, every scene should push something forward in some way, whether it’s character development or a plot point. So, with an opening scene, I always think you have to establish: where you are; who you are; what they are doing; where they’ve come from (in a philosophical and practical sense); and where they’re going (ditto). That doesn’t have to happen in the first paragraph -- that would be silly. But if you sprinkle that information in over time it’ll gradually build up a picture of your character and that way the reader can get an idea of who they are. You basically need to give a snapshot of what your story is about. This also goes back to the character creator stuff: where they are at the start should be different to where they end up. How that happens is, of course, because of plot, and because you’ve structured everything to the nth degree, we’ve got a very clear progression of that character’s growth (/s easier said than done lol).

General advice

Write down everything: every idea, a bit of dialogue, a description, whatever. Write it down. Doesn’t have to be neat. Just has to be on paper. You can’t remember everything, so if you’re spending time trying to hold those things in your head, it’s taking up space for new ideas to come along.

Structure, plan, structure, plan. Sometimes it’s boring and I hate it. Other times, when I’ve not written in a few days and I open the Word doc and think wtf is this supposed to be, I am very grateful for Past Me for leaving such detailed notes. Seriously, it helps so much. Oneshots don’t really need planning, in my experience. You just get those out there. But multi-chaptered stories really do, even ones that “just” focus on a relationship.

Whatever you want to write, commit to it. Space goblins invade Hawkins? Do it. Eleven and Max find themselves in a cult akin to Midsommar (2019) and must escape? Yes. Just... whatever you want to do, remember that you’re writing it for you. Write what most interests you, what makes you when you reread it go AHHHHH I LOVE THIS!! Because that makes it a thousand times easier to actually get on with the writing when you enjoy what you’re doing.

Write a lot. Every day, if you can, or at least at designated times. Occasionally I have a very specific headspace/vibe I have to be in, but sometimes it just hits me and I’ll say to my partner “I need to write now” and just disappear, lol. The more you write the more you write. It’s so, so, so true. Cannot emphasise this enough. When I wrote that ~200k in twelve months? It was because I literally wrote every. day. Or near enough. Remember that some days you’ll write 200 words, and other days you’ll write 20k (this happened to me with ADATS -- part of the reason I finished it so quickly was because I had sprints of writing 10k+ at a time that only happened because I was in the rhythm of it). Write, write, write. Who cares if it’s crap! No one will see it until you are ready. In the meantime, just write!

Probably last of all (although I could go on and on) is connect with other writers. If you’re struggling to start, sometimes just talking about it can help a huge amount. I hope it goes without saying that you can message me whenever you want, anon or not, and I will talk to you. We can talk about ideas or I can beta stuff, whatever you want! Find like-minded people and talk to them about what you want to do. Another thing this helps is in advertising your work when you do publish. I see a lot of first time fic writers get super down because they publish their magnum opus on AO3 but no one comments. Honestly, it’s because no one knows you’ve published! You don’t have to be tooting your own horn every which way, but just actively talking about your work and even collaborating with other content creators with get you hyped and other people too (and the input and encouragement other fandom members give is just... out of this world. Anon messages helped me finish ADATS when I was really worried I wouldn’t [that’s the truth]. Seriously, support is everything). When you have people excited about your work, you get excited. It’s really as simple as that.

I could go on but this is already horrendously long. I hope even a bit of this helps! If you want to chat or have any more questions, just hit me up any time.

[vs-redemption]

Not sure if you doing soft sundays but here you go...this one more self indulgent

When your frustrated because you are having creative block. You're not feeling anything that you paint, write, sing etc...how they help you get back in your groove.

Semi who understands that kind of block the most. Takes you outside to do something fun, maybe road trip where y'all sing songs loudly in the car. Just having fun.

Sakusa who decides to give you a spa day in the comfort of your home. Face masks, back rubs, wine and listens to let out your frustrations. Proceeds to give you kisses and tell you how proud he is of you, how much you inspire him in your personality, your talents, your beauty. You are a masterpiece.

Mattsun decides that you and him should fingerpaint on one of your empty canvases. He doesn't care if his skills aren't at your level. Long as he sees you having fun without the pressure to be perfect. He brings out your inner child and you are grateful for that.

Atsumu drags you into volleyball practice out in the backyard, by blowing up a balloon and you two are making digs to keep the balloon from touching the ground. Its fun and silly competitive game for the two of you. Seeing him laugh and smile with you like two kids. Gets you out of your head and reconnected to your own inner child.

Osamu I believe he would take you out somewhere fun. Y'all go on foodie crawl. Daring to eat the weirdest thing. Then return home to try to recreate one of the dishes you guys ate. Do you have fun yes. Does it get you out of your head. Yes.

Kuroo the man takes you star gazing and makes up stuff to explain why things work in the universe. Like kids you both laugh at the ridiculous explanation you have for why comets have tails. Kuroo says something cheesy, but his own silliness brings out yours.

Yes! I'm doing Soft Sunday today! Thank you so much for sending in some ideas. I really loved these ♥ I hate 'creative block' so much. It can be so frustrating and stressful, so these ideas are just so lovely!!!

I love driving and singing in the car so I'm all about this. Being on the move and taking in the new scenery is bound to get the creative juices flowing. At least, that's what works for me. I bet Semi could also just look at whatever you were writing or making and give some ideas about how to get past the part you're stuck on. You might end up going in a totally new direction from your original idea but that's not always a bad thing!

I know spa days are supposed to be relaxing, but it always makes me so jittery and anxious to think about being in the direct spotlight of someone's attention. Sakusa has an intense presence as well which could be intimidating. He's probably softer once you get to know him though. He is also a masterpiece so if he told me that, I'd probably cry a little haha.

I'm trying so hard to imagine what the end result of Mattsun finger painting would be. Would he take it seriously and somehow make something really good? Would he smile sheepishly when all he could manage was a few simple stick figures? Or would you end up with something unfit for young eyes since he can't help try to fluster you with everything he does?

Balloon volleyball with Atsumu?! This honestly sounds so fun! I actually used to play this with my students when I lived in Japan and they loved it. Maybe sometimes you just skip the volleyball part though and just fill the balloons up with water and have a water balloon fight. Yeah, you end up soaked but the two of you end up all laughs and smiles with all your stress and pressure completely out of mind.

Another fun idea with Osamu would be a "guess the food" challenge. Take turns trying foods with a blindfold on to guess what they are. The person who guesses the most right gets to decide what's for dinner. Then, of course, you get to end the day cooking and enjoying that meal together.

Kuroo purposely giving the most ridiculous, off the wall, and incorrect explanations for the inner workings of the universe is hilarious to me. Somehow he'd be able to keep a straight face the whole time too and you'd have to hold your sides from laughing so hard. Eventually he'd crack a smile too because he just loves seeing you happy and knowing that he could help you escape your stress for a while.

Send in some Soft Sunday headcanons!

[thequibblah]

⭐️ would love some commentary on that dancing scene (or really any commentary on the various parties thrown by the marauders) from the party happening next to the Potions Club party ⭐️

WELL WELL WELL

"This is...a lot of trouble to go to." "It's the Marauders. They love trouble."

i love writing party scenes (as i'm sure you all know lol) and one of the best/worst things w the marauders parties is striking a balance between their, uh, audacious plans, and what's realistically possible at hogwarts without getting caught. (aka literally why i made up the dodgy lodgings). i went back and forth so long on whether or not they could plausibly have managed that with slughorn's dinner next door, but then was like ah whatever the party has to happen for plot reasons so.... plot ex machina??

anyway, i love using parties to establish character — what a brilliant stage of teenage performance they provide. i love contrasting the hogwarts parties to, say, evan wronecki's — for instance, how lily and co. are more at ease in the former, as seventh years, with their classmates hosting, than they were at evan's nye bash

i also love that it gives me space to establish who is and isn't popular, so to speak, but also who acts or doesn't act the way we presume popular kids will act

doe, for instance, who is by all accounts a level-headed and non-wild person, has a more exciting time on net at marauders' parties than mary (drinking game, kissing remus), though she's not a big drinker and isn't really into parties. but she's comfortable in her own little social circle at a bigger event (like with michael at evan's) and so isn't bothered at all by the marauders' do, because...

She did, in fact, trust the Marauders. Her general belief in the inherent goodness of people notwithstanding, she didn't think they would do anything to harm their friends. Intentionally.

this bit always makes me laugh

as with many things, i feel very saddened that i didn't get to make more out of the fools' olympics (although one could argue that The Dance was a pro) — as in, i wish i'd been able to squeeze more of it into the story itself. i could probably come up with a list of tasks and who completed them LOL

WAIT OH MY GOD I TOTALLY FORGOT ABOUT THIS it just might be my favourite part of this chapter

"How did you do that?" Gillian said, glancing between the other two girls. "Just — drink it without a second thought?" "Practice," said Mary. "Scottish — constitution," David said hoarsely. "I once drank some of Mrs. Skower's All-Purpose Magical Mass Remover," said Priya.

priya is all i aspire to be

can i say, too, it's hilarious to me how many people worried niamh would be a james love interest? i feel like you will not rest easy on that count until he and lily are together... but that is not where the danger lies babes

circling back to popularity/unpopularity, another fun outlier. gillian is first established, in 33, as someone with friends (we see her around sara and in the seventh-year ravenclaws' compartment) but she's not exactly at ease at the party either — recall how she hesitates when mary invites her. only later, in 38, do we realise that our opinion of her has been skewed by the narration (from doe, who naturally assumes any friendly, nice person must have a wealth of friends and be floating through life; and mary, who naturally assumes anyone she isn't bored by must have the social skills of a medieval noblewoman at court), and she's a bit of a pariah in her own house

david, on the other hand, is just flat-out not in his element. and not because of the drinking or the, er, general revelry (see: summer with mary!), even though he doesn't partake much in either. unlike doe, the company breaks rather than makes his enjoyment — he's acutely aware, the whole time, that his cooler, more liked brother is around:

"Not your scene?" "What gave it away?" said David drily. As one they looked at Chris...

...and mary has intuited as much too, even though she has a lot more in common, superficially speaking, with chris than david

so, i think while i was writing this chapter i made a post complaining about how, as much as i love juggling the constraints of historical fiction, i hate that music from the 70s limits me in terms of tracklists. i.e., when i say a certain record is playing i can't just hit shuffle and go somewhere entirely different to set the mood shortly thereafter

this problem was because i wanted, NAY, NEEDED, to have "martha my dear" playing in the aftermath of that mary and david interaction. of course, time passes in that section break, but since "come and get it," which they talk about it, is a sirius song (though it could be a mary song), and i feel too strongly about needle drops to let that conversation go without a soundtrack. germaine even correctly guesses the white album is on because of mary:

Apparently Mary got fonder of the White Album the drunker she was.

...and of course the song itself makes me squeal with how very mary it is — not that it is something she would listen to, necessarily, or identify with (it would hold up too close of a mirror, ha), but it sounds like it could've been written about her ("hold your head up, you silly girl/look what you've done/when you find yourself in the thick of it/help yourself to a bit of what is all around you," which really sums up the entirety of her portree holiday, lol)

BUT! if "martha my dear" is to play here, then i have some Serious Chronology Concerns. i knew germeline had to kiss and jily had to dance and ideally in that order. but what would those scenes be soundtracked by!!!! i was limited to side two of the white album!!!

so i did the healthy thing and panic-listened to the white album. "don't pass me by" was, right away, an easy lock for the dance, because it's danceable, but not in a way that would've scared lily off. lyrically, it feels GREAT for jily in this moment, on the cusp of lily's realisation ("waiting for your knock, dear [...] i don't hear it, does it mean you don't love me anymore?" vs OF COURSE "don't pass me by [...] 'cause you know darling, i love only you"). i feel about "don't pass me by" the same way as NYT critic nik cohn: it's "straight ahead and clumsy and greatly enjoyable, backed by a beautiful hurdy-gurdy organ," which, if that isn't everything i wanted to evoke with the dance itself!!!!!!

ok we'll circle back to this, but onward with the musical discussion

thus i had four songs to choose from, between "martha my dear" and "don't pass me by," for the germeline scene — "piggies," "blackbird," "i'm so tired," and "rocky raccoon." the latter is on my sirius playlist, so auto-no; "piggies" is, well, like that, so also a no. "blackbird" is a certified germaine classic that was written personally by paul mccartney for germaine, but it seemed too introspective for the moment. i don't think i'd ever listened to "i'm so tired" before this panicked searching, and honestly it must be some wild luck that it is. just SO RIGHT!!!! it's so lethargic and tortured and angsty and, well, a bit of a stoner song, so.... it's THERE

AND NOW for the dance! true story, i initially wanted jily to have a real conversation, after the party. i had the dance in there and then james would catch up with lily after to be like, "hey i was wrong actually, you should write to petunia." but then i realised i wanted james and sirius to have a conversation about the bike/money, and i wanted it to strike a different chord, tonally, than the jily conversation. then i realised it would be too much to have both and i'd need to condense that conversation into the dance. VERY nearly cut the dance in favour of the conversation but wow i am glad i didn't

The tinkling piano signalled the start of the next song; she extended a hand, very matter-of-factly, to James, "Come on, this is a good one."

not pictured: james having a fucking breakdown

obviously, i could have gone the route of a genuine dramatic dance, but as previously mentioned lily would have chickened out, and i wanted to have this be an experience she could look back on and pine about because of how fun it was and james totally doesn't like her back

Loath as she was to admit it, this most indelicate of waltzes suited the plodding chords of "Don't Pass Me By." And worst of all, once they had stopped stepping on each other's feet James started to sing, in the poorest possible Ringo imitation she had ever heard in her life.

by the way, attentive readers of blink three times will recall:

He finally starts to lead — thank goodness, because she’s not the one who was forced into formal dance lessons as a child...

so in 36, this is james being drunk, but it is also james being silly on purpose because not only is he JAMES and so he must take the mick, he also knows it will put lily at ease

okay, and this bit:

"Don't pass me by, don't make me cry, don't make me blue," they both shouted rather than sang, "'Cause you know darling—" Lily broke off, laughing, dimly aware that she had done so to avoid saying I love only you while staring right at him.

from the FIRST MOMENT i picked out "don't pass me by," i knew i knew I KNEW that lily would have thoughts about this line. at this point in the story if someone questioned her about it she would probably have a full-scale breakdown about her male friends vs her female friends ("but no... i suppose i wouldn't mind saying it to remus.... but that's different!" how is it different, lily? "it's different!")

anyway, the bottom line is she could NOT abide saying it. i enjoyed writing that because 1. same girl and 2. it felt like a nice bit of close foreshadowing for her realisation, which i knew was coming soon. so that's a really circular way of saying, i knew what it meant but ideally to readers it was just oh this will mean something far-off in the future!!! which is usually true for me but SURPRISE babey it was just two chapters away!!!

note btw that lily "falls for james"

Lily spun faster than she’d intended to. The room was a brief, kaleidoscope blur. Then there was James. “Jesus, Evans,” he said, steadying her as the next track began.

>:)

and after i thought tracklists would fuck me up, i turned them into my WEAPON!!

Huffing, she stepped out of his arms. (There were some songs you could sing along to with your mates, and “Why Don’t We Do It In The Road?” was not one of them.)

(so, you know, keep in mind that for the rest of this conversation, paul is in the background howling "no one will be watching us/why don't we do it in the road?")

also:

"...I’m not drinking tonight, but I’d better get the royal treatment after we win on Saturday."

and then what happened <3

wait jesus oh my god i really went hard on this huh

She only saw its result: the easy grin had given way to an expression so serious it was almost sweet.

LILY??????

and hey, remember when:

...because in chapter 26:

Dex’s measured opinions about the wizarding world seemed more the result of upbringing and inexperience than ill will, but Lily had not expected a radical change of heart.

...but then in 36:

He was right, damn it. And a part of her had known all along, had sought him out expressly so that he would say the opposite thing to her. He’d gone and proven her wrong. She broke the staring match first [...] “What brought on the change of heart?” “It’s a long story, and I expect it’ll have an unsatisfying end if I told it to you.” Lily scoffed, but James had on that maddening grin that meant he would not budge. “Oh, all right.” Softer, she added, “Thank you.” He began to back away, towards the bar. “It’s give and take, Evans.”

in conclusion, i never forget, besties

[darth-schism]

Evidence to Suggest that Luke was NOT all that he seemed in TLJ

Luke Skywalker may have isolated himself because of his guilt/depression. But I also believe he did it for practical reasons, and that his “totally given up” act, was just that, an act. Evidence for this Head-cannon/interpretive take:

1. He made a map to his location

Not only that, but it was so specific, it was literally called “The Map to Skywalker.” The only way it would have gotten a name as tailored as that is if someone else had found him before Rey, or, if he told people about it himself. In any event, to whatever varying degree, Luke wanted to be found and/or influence the galaxy around him.

One piece of the map was  tossed around to all sorts of corners of the galaxy, while the rest of it was entrusted to R2D2. 

2. This was a deliberate combo to serve two different purposes

          - Keep Snoke distracted: The entirety of TFA was Kylo and Snoke obsessing over Luke’s location. Their preoccupation with it was evident and, instead of letting them focus on relentlessly attacking the New Republic, Luke gave them a reason to go on wild goose chases. Consider that Snoke doesn’t go ‘all in’ on trying to destroy the Resistance until after he realizes he lost the race to get to Skywalker. Which shows just how much stock he had put into that singular Jedi. What’s more, even if they had succeeded, they’d only have a useless fraction with no reference as to where in the galaxy Luke’s secret location actually was.      

          - Meanwhile, R2D2 would also play the role of a “given up/powered down” hero: But we see that, soon as the coast is clear, and some plot heroes arrive with the map, he assessed the situation, turned on, and sent them right to Skywalker. I think it’s safe to say that R2D2 was merely in ‘sleep mode,’ as opposed to ‘shut down.’ However, despite all this, the element of being powered down/unassuming was still crucial because... 

3. Snoke made it abundantly clear that when he found Skywalker, he’d blow up the entire landmass he was found, or even theorized to be, on

Luke would never put a population of innocents at risk of complete annihilation just because someone might to recognize him at a local market. So it’s no wonder he chose a place as isolated as he did (On top of that, considering his critical stance towards the Jedi Order by 28ish ABY, it wouldn’t necessarily be a heartbreak to him if the island did end up getting destroyed, or one to anyone else really, because of how obscure/unknown it was...or so he convinced himself).

4. He was picking his battles

If Luke Skywalker wanted to be found. Then why was he so dismissive of Rey? There’s no solid evidence here (aside from the whole existence of the map scheme), but I think there’s good reason to believe that Luke’s instant stand-offish behavior is one of caution and assessment not dissimilar how how Yoda and Kenobi put up an initial façade when they were discovered in exile (but more on that later). In any event, this approach would give him the means to offer personalized help to those who ended up on his doorstep. It honestly didn’t take Luke long to go from tossing his father’s lightsaber, to offering Rey the three lessons she needed to understand the force better. Although I believe Rey’s visit to Luke was far different than what others had probably been but (again) more on that later.

5. He was able leave anytime he wanted

The very clear image of Luke’s submerged X-Wing in the ocean painted a picture of cut ties, and a “no going back” stance. However, it wasn’t the first time that starfighter had been at the bottom of a water bed, and clearly it wasn’t the last. I’m inclined to believe that this is another part of Luke’s deliberate presentation of a hero who had lost all hope. But all speculation aside, there was nothing to physically stop Luke from leaving that island whenever he wanted. There’s nothing to say that he didn’t break form/character operate to find a way to undermine Snoke further.

6. He was actively protecting others close to him

There was a reason Luke getting Grogu at the end of Season 2 of The Mandalorian caused such a stir in Disney, and caused Kennedy to go for Faverau’s throat. All “who’s idea was who’s” arguments aside. At the end of the day it created two possible outcomes for this element of the Star Wars franchise: Either Grogu died in Kylo’s attack. Or there were survivors. Since killing the money making Baby Yoda isn’t necessarily on Disney’s to do list, it’s a reasonable bet that he survives the slaughter (unless he’s returned to Din’s side before Kylo goes ballistic, in which case he avoids it all together). But even if that does happen, this theory still holds a little water). Luke lying low, and operating in secret may have been the only way he was keeping himself, the galaxies citizens, and his few remaining students from getting hit with an orbital strike. 

7. He was never fully disconnected from the force.

Perhaps, somewhat disconnected, but it’s clear that Luke hasn’t cut himself off from the force as much as he, perhaps, wanted to admit. Luke is still able to effortlessly summon a weapon, keep control of the duel between himself and Rey, and gently lower his body to the ground when he loses his footing. Despite his stance on using/taking ownership of the force in TLJ, it seems as though Luke kept just enough around so that he could still fight. This theory is more optimistically minded than some of the others, but I still can’t help but think that Luke kept these reserves of power ready, because he already had to use them more than once during his supposed isolation.

8. Rey’s visit was different than the others who had come before.

“You went straight into the Dark. It offered you something you needed, and you didn’t even try to stop yourself.” 

“I've seen this raw strength only once before, in Ben Solo. It didn't scare me enough then. It does now.”

Other plot heroes/adventurers may have come, gone, or even convinced Luke to help them in secret. So assuming all, or even some, of the above is true, then that means Luke wasn’t just pushing to dismiss Rey, but also disillusion her. I think this is because Rey wasn’t there to get help with a specific mission, rescue, etc, but there to have Luke become the public symbol of hope again. And we’ve already listed the reasons why this couldn’t happen. On top of that, this push was done in a way that directly conflicted with all the “none theorized” reasons Luke had isolated himself. Luke knew he couldn’t accommodate this. He sensed the darkness in Rey. He sensed her connection to Kylo. In many ways his lessons also doubled as a means to properly evaluate Rey, and confirm his suspicions. In any event, all of this brought up an element of his isolation that no one else knew. He already had the, half truth, story as to what happened to his temple well rehearsed. But it was Rey’s visit that dragged out his greatest regret, which was his near attempt to take Ben’s life, due to both the mind bending fear Snoke had manipulated into palce, and the hypocritical, and self destructive Jedi philosophies that had been drilled in to his head. This was the final straw that made him want to destroy the Jedi texts. But it was also the push he needed to find inner peace, and think of the means to make one last public appearance, without endangering anyone.  

9. In no interpretation is Luke an attempt child killer 

This is more of a bonus point in nature. I think so many people were caught off guard by the narrative choice Luke undertook in this part of the film, that it painted the whole ordeal in a far more unfavorable light than it actually was. For starters: Ben was no child. He was 23 years old when he fell to the darkside. Luke was saw the images of planetary destruction, and the deaths of friends and family alike at the hands of an adult. But even at that, Luke’s ligthsaber had already lowered, and his face expressing that of shame and sadness, when Ben glances over, and decides to take up his lightsaber, and make the first strike. Luke doesn’t even ignite his lightsaber in response until after Ben swings it. The influence Snoke had over Ben, and the mental attack he lured Luke into suffering, to make this moment come to pass cannot be understated.   

 - This also means that Luke’s isolation lasted only 7 years. Not twenty, not even 10. Just 7. Which is less than half the time both Yoda and Obi Wan imposed on themselves.

10. He was following in the footsteps of his masters

I think Luke’s response to trauma is a little unfair in some ways. Obi Wan and Yoda witnessed genocide, and imposed exile on themselves for twenty years. Now, in film, we know that Obi Wan, while playing the part of a delusional hermit, worked to protect Luke as he grew up on Tatooine, and that Yoda, playing the part of a silly swamp kook, did...something...on Dagobah (?), waited for Luke to grow up so he could train him for a few weeks at most (?). 

Those are two pretty limited things, and yet they don’t catch near as much flack for “abandoning the galaxy to the Empire” as TLJ Luke does, after he also witnessed slaughter, and went into isolation for only 7 years. But, of course, we know Obi Wan did more during his time in the desert, and that Yoda did more during his time in the swamp. So why can’t Luke have also done more while on his island? Everything about the parallels here point to Luke, despite his own misgivings, applying what he learned from his master. All three Jedi isolated themselves because of their personal tragedies. All three greatly reduced their presence in the galaxy. But all three had no choice, and all three still did what they could despite their circumstances.    

11. Luke may have been overcome with grief. But he hadn’t truly changed

Now, I fully admit that this is a very optimistic way of looking at things. But some of these points also have more weight to them than others. I also cannot stress enough that even though I think some of what Luke was doing was an act, I also know it was equally proportional to the very real, emotional reasons, and struggles he faced. I also definitely do NOT think Kennedy/Johnson meant for any of these possible theories to have any validity to them. But with how they are presented, they also can’t be disproven. 

If Favreau doesn’t formally put the sequels in it’s own little pocket universe, then I really hope he takes the opportunity to make something like ^the above^ happen. It could easily be established in one to two episodes in a live action show. Lots of things could be done to make the sequels a more bearable set of movies to watch. And as much as I’m worried that hoping for this is simply too optimistic, at least now there is a justifiable interpretive take that has both in film evidence to support, and a lack of otherwise to refute.  

At the end of the day (and as usual) the important part here is to see that Luke hadn’t given up. Struggling, disillusioned, forced into a tough spot, willingly keeping himself scarce, etc. All bearable. But knowing he hadn’t given up is super important to the character and fanbase, so hopefully we get something that makes that cannon. In any facet really.  

AND IT WOULD GET MARK HAMILL BACK ON SET GODAMNIT! XD

*Reblogged with new gifs and information

[sarcastic-space-gal]

Dark Past (Part 1)

Summary: Black shirts are supposed to be the most trained and deadly members of the Starfleet. However, they are considered just stories or legends, because no one has ever saw one before. But after John Harrison attacks the London’s Archive, the Enterprise may acquire a new crew member.

Part 2 

Pairing: ?

Word Count: 2k

Warning: Fighting (?)

A/N: Hi everyone! It was a long time since I wrote for Star Trek and I thought this was the time for another story. The pairing is voluntarily mysterious, if you want to guess who will be, send me a message or comment!  Hope you will like it, feedback is always appreciated. Love you all xoxo

The only one or the last one? Everyone who ever looked at you wondered about that every time, whether it was out loud or in their mind, and even he didn’t want to admit it, Kirk did ask to himself the same thing. I mean, seeing a black shirt was rather rare in the Starfleet, many of the crew members around the ships always thought about them as legends or as made up stories used to intimidate the enemies. As the Captain thought, they were probably rumors, just some odd, silly stories told by students in the Academia. Turned out, it was totally untrue.

When Admiral Pike convened all the Captains in order to decide what to do about John Harrison, Kirk couldn’t help but find in Pike’s expression a slight hint of concern: John Harrison was probably more than just a terrorist, what was his real purpose?

Admiral Marcus entered the meeting room “Be seated”

“By now some of you know what happened in London. The target was a Starfleet data archive. Now it’s a damned hole in the ground, 42 men and women are dead”

Silence filled the room.

“One hour ago, I received a message from a Starfleet officer, who confessed to carrying out this attack, that he was being forced to do it by this man, Commander John Harrison. He’s one of our own. And he is the man responsible for this act of savagery.”

“A single man against all Starfleet?”

“That’s what it seems” Marcus responded simply.

“I think we must introduce the black shirt”

After Admiral Pike had spoken everyone in the room started murmuring to each others both in surprise and amusement.

Marcus looked down at the table, hesitant “Are you sure about this?” he asked at Pike.

“Sir, what are you talking about? I thought that black shirts were just a story” a rather young captain said suddenly.

Marcus sighed and looked even more serious “Those stories are true” he said.

Kirk shared a confused look with Spock, who was on the opposite side of the table.

“But we have no time for a campfire story now. Kirk” he glared at him, making the captain’s eyes dart to him “the black shirt will go with you and your crew on the Enterprise, you will track him down and kill him.”

The Enterprise was his again. But something in all the situation just didn’t sound right. An archive? Why bombing an archive? What was his real purpose?

Soon after, Marcus invited him to talk about the matter, seeing him and Pike murmuring frantically.

What happened next was completely unexpected. As soon as Jim explained his concerns about the matter, the room shined in a deep red light as John Harrison appeared in a jumpship and attacked Starfleet Headquarters. It was a bloodshed. Many members of the Senior Council died along with Admiral Pike.

Kirk almost couldn’t believe it when he saw Pike’s limp body on the couch.

After that night Kirk was wracked, emotionally and physically. He knew he had to regain his composure, for him, for his crew, and for Pike: he had to complete the mission.

Admiral Alexander Marcus reinstated Kirk and Spock to Enterprise with orders to kill Harrison using a new long range stealth photon torpedo.

“Jim, I know you are here c’mon!” Kirk heard a far-to-well known voice coming from outside his cabin.

“Bones I told you already, I’m fine!” he said opening the door and quickly heading to the shuttle. The doctor was right after him with medical equipment steady in his hand ready to check on Jim.

“The hell you are” he said but the Captain could see his concern behind the snarky response.

With a heavy sigh he gave his friend a small smile “I’m fine”

Bones didn’t insist this time.

“Everything is ready Spock?”

“Yes Captain, we are ready to reach the Enterprise”

Suddenly a sound of quick footsteps echoed in the hangar as everyone’s attention was brought to Scotty. “Jim a black shirt? Aboard? I heard the others talking about it but I wanted to hear it from you sir” Spock and Kirk shared a look.

“It’s true” Jim said with a small smile. He wasn’t sure what to say, because the pieces of information he had were quite limited, even if he was the captain.

“Well, that’s a surprise” responded Bones folding his arms. The doctor was really curious and even if he would never admit it, he was rather excited. He wasn’t the only one: by the time they were talking, a small group of crew members formed around the Captain, probably out of curiosity. Word travels fast.

“We will all talk about the mission and the new uhm, member of the crew on the Enterprise, for now let’s just get there and gather everything we need”

With a shared sigh of delusion all the crew members who gathered around the captain quickly went to take their seats on the shuttle.

The Enterprise was ready to fly, all the check ups were done. Bones was gathering medical supplies in his studio when the sound of Jim’s voice echoed through the ship’s speakers. A meeting. And everyone knew what was the matter.

“C’mon let’s go and see this mythical creature” he said.

The CMO reached the bridge after few minutes and walked up to Jim and Spock who were talking to Sulu. Jim looked a lot better than few hours ago, as Spock kept his usual quite demeanor, with his hands behind his straight back, but Sulu was hiding a small smile, probably out of excitement.

“So? Where is the legendary black shirt?” the doctor said sarcastically.

“Trust me Bones, I was surprised too”

Sulu nodded “I think we all are, sir”

Suddenly the elevator’s doors opened to reveal a figure who steadily entered the bridge. The room went silent, all the chattering muted almost instantly as if their breaths were caught in their throats.

Adjusting the fabric of your uniform, you entered in the elevator and pushed the button. Your hands went behind your back as you used to do when meeting the Captain or the person in charge. Your eyes closed as you moved your shoulder softly inward and outward a few times, trying to relieve some of the nervousness. The elevator took just few seconds to reach the bridge but they were enough for your mind to drift away. So much time had passed since you joined a normal ship, with normal crew members, but it was quite refreshing you had to admit it. You opened your eyes again and saw your reflection on the glass doors of the elevator. The black fabric of your suit still fitted perfectly, even if you probably didn’t want it to be. This mission was very important and you had to handle it in the best way you could, as a black shirt should do.

With a soft sound the elevator reached its destination and you entered the bridge, feeling all the crew’s eyes on you. Even if you were aware of the fact that black shirts were considered nothing more than stories and jokes, that was probably why everyone’s mouth went shout the moment you entered.

Walking steadily with you arms still behind your back and a severe but calm expression, you approached the captain, who was now watching you attentively as you could attack someone at any moment. The men close to them looked the same way, only the Vulcanian First Officer remained calm, even if you noticed the slight movement of his weird-shaped eyebrow going up in slight surprise.

“Captain Kirk” you said, standing right in front of him “I’m the black shirt assigned to your mission, I’m really glad to be part of the Enterprise’s crew. My name is Y/n”

He looked at you hesitantly “We are happy to have you here, welcome to the crew Y/n” he then said with a small smile.

“Let me introduce you our First Officer, Spock”

“Welcome aboard Lieutenant” he respectfully said with a smile.

“Lieutenant Hikaru Sulu, the Chief Medical Officer, Doctor McCoy with his ‘legendary hands’”

The doctor turned his face towards Kirk and muttered “Unbelievable” 

“and Lieutenant Uhura”

You listened carefully and shook their hands, but all the time you felt two pair of eyes  on you, which you didn’t mind it at all. But now you had a mission, you had to keep yourself focused.

“So you exist” a male voice with a thick Russian accent caught your ears. The yellow shirt was a very young man who was looking at you in awe.

“Well,” you started, but Kirk quickly replied.

“I must say, as Mr Chekov has already introduced, that is very surprising, for all of us, to see a black shirt around”

“I understand that, we’re not so popular around”

Everyone had to admit it, your presence was quite intimidating, maybe for the deep color of your suit, but instead your voice was so calm and gentle, and at the same time steady and strong. They all probably expected a massive muscular mountain-looking man with a neutral face probably drooling in rage. Instead here you were, with the calmest voice in the universe and a killer look that rose in your face every time your smile faded. If possible, everyone was even more intrigued and they were all waiting to see you in action.

“Definitely not enough” Mr Chekov said with a small smile on his face.

“Mr Chekov, I think you should get back to the warp core”

“U- yes sir” he said before sprinting out.

You couldn’t hold back a small laugh.

“Well, Y/n, let me explain the mission”

Apparently John Harrison was now on Kronos. Perfect. Klingons. you thought. It didn’t matter what creature you would face, your had to complete this mission. You began gathering all thing you needed, eyes darting around your supplies with determination. When you were finally ready you headed towards the bridge.

Walking around the corridors was amusing: everyone looked at you like they saw a dragon let loose, but you were far too used to it. A long time ago this was normality...

Ten minutes had passed since the ship entered the planet’s atmosphere and even if the area was supposed to be uninhabited, a Klingon ship suddenly appeared in the sky. The captain had tried few quick maneuvers to avoid them but ultimately you found yourselves surrounded and forced to land.

Lieutenant Uhura offered herself to go out and try to talk to them, leaving you, Kirk, Spock and two others crew members aboard ready to take action.

“We should help her”

Spock looked at the captain “I would not recommend that”

Kirk sighed and then turned his head towards you “When was the last time you went on a mission Lieutenant?”

“Surprisingly not so much time ago Captain” you said as your eyes kept staring forward.

Some Klingon soldiers approached Uhura as she started talking to them in their language. Kirk’s hand tightened around the blaster.

Few seconds went by when suddenly the soldier talking to the lieutenant grabbed her neck ferociously, lifting her up.

“NOW” you shouted while exiting the ship as you started shooting at the Klingons. Uhura took advantage of the moment and stabbed the Klingon, who released the grip on her neck with a horrible scream.

Kirk and Spock, along with the others red shirts, followed you out the ship and started shooting too. The captain’s eyes searched for you in the battlefield but you were nowhere to be seen. Furrowing his eyebrows, he had no time to think about that and kept fighting.

All of a sudden, from an unknown position, someone started shooting at the Klingons.

“Where is Y/n? And who is it?” Kirk shouted while leaning on his back as Spock and Uhura approached him. That’s when he saw you, when they all saw you. With extreme agility you were fighting against the soldiers, swinging your legs and shooting, you never missed a shot. You were so skilled that all your movement almost seemed staged, as your eyes darted in every direction, fully focused. When all the Klingons around you were finally down, you looked up and saw a figure, your features darkened in rage. Kirk and the others looked up too and saw the mysterious figure pull off his mask to reveal John Harrison himself.

“John Harrison! You are-” Kirk started, but he couldn’t finish what he was saying because it all happened so fast.

Harrison jumped down from his high position without even flinching and started aiming his weapons, but, much to Kirk’s surprise, he was aiming them at you.

“You” he said in a deep and steady voice. He then dropped the blasters as you did.

Only few meters separated you both, as everything around you went silent for an instant: you stood steadily in front of him with an intense and undefined look on your face.

Kirk, Spock and Uhura shared a quick glance as they all thought the same thing. He knows her? What is happening?

“Khan”

As soon as you responded, you ran to him and started fighting with all your strength, punching, kicking as he did the same. Khan grabbed you neck but with a rapid movement you moved his hand away, pushing his elbow down and then swinging back your leg making him fall to the ground. You had no time to punch him because he had already stood up and punched you in the face. As nothing even had touched you responded striking a hard blow to his chest.

“So you work with them now?”

“Always had, always will” you responded seriously. He then took a gun from his belt and fired at you, hitting you on your shoulder.

“NO!” your crew members shouted, but they were all soon surprised.

You turned again towards Khan, your suit now had a big hole where the shot pierced but you weren’t bleeding, your skin was red but instead the wound was rapidly healing, leaving no trace of the hit.

Kirk watched in utter confusion as Spock and Uhura kept their weapons aimed to Harrison or… Khan.

He saw your skin healing and scoffed a little.

“Like I thought” his low voice pierced you ears. Analyzing the situation he asked one last question “How many torpedoes do you have on the ship?”

“72” Spock said.

You looked at him, your face contorted in rage.

He then looked back at Kirk “I surrender”

[thatsamericano]

Temptation Is Not An Island (But Alfred Wouldn’t Be Tempted Anyway)

Pairing/Characters/Genre: America/Romano that is probably one-sided at this point, with an appearance from Canada. Cankraine and Romano/an OMC are mentioned. This is a human AU.

Rating/Warnings: Rated Teen. Warnings for discussion of infidelity and briefly depicted unhealthy alcohol use.

Word Count: 2003

Summary: The day before Valentine’s Day, Alfred is hanging out with his brother and watching reality TV to distract himself the fact that Savino is probably doing something romantic with his boyfriend. But when his best friend suddenly shows up at his apartment out of the blue, Alfred’s February 13th plans change.

Notes: Written for @hetaliancupid-hetaliaevent‘s Day 6 prompt, Hug.

Alfred was not looking forward to Valentine’s Day this year. Part of it was that he was single as hell. He’d accepted that he was on the aromantic and asexual spectrums a while ago, but Valentine’s Day always made him feel weird, like he was supposed to have a romantic partner because that’s what society expected of him. This year he was particularly lonely because his best friend Savino, the only person he’d ever had romantic feelings for, would be spending the day with his stupid boyfriend Nathaniel. Nathaniel had always rubbed Alfred the wrong way, and not just because he was jealous of his relationship with Vinny (though that was admittedly part of the problem). Alfred had tried to be friendly to the guy, but he could tell Nathaniel was only bothering to acknowledge Alfred’s existence because Vinny was around. He wouldn’t even let Alfred give him a nickname and insisted on being called Nathaniel in full. Alfred thought Savino could do loads better. If he didn’t want to be with Alfred, he could at least be with someone who wasn’t such a complete tool.

Matthew knew that Alfred would be having a hard time this year, so he came over on February 13th to spend some quality time with his brother. He would obviously be spending the next day with his girlfriend Kateryna, and Alfred didn’t begrudge him that. It was really nice of Mattie to come over so close to Valentine’s Day and try to cheer him up. Watching reruns of Temptation Island wasn’t normally Matthew’s idea of a good time, but he put up with it because Alfred wanted to watch a silly reality show instead of thinking about whatever Savino was doing with his boyfriend.

They were in the middle of an episode when, out of nowhere, they suddenly heard a strange noise at the front door of the apartment. It sounded like someone was trying to get in, but that didn’t make sense. Alfred had never bothered to change the locks after Vinny moved out to live with his boyfriend, but there was no way he should be here right now.

Vinny shoved open the door, dropped a duffle bag by the entrance, and then slammed the door shut behind him. “You know I kept reminding you to change the fucking locks, but I guess it’s a good thing you were too lazy to do that. Where the hell do you keep your wine?”

Alfred was baffled, to say the least. “I, uhh… don’t think I even have wine anymore? I’m pretty sure you took it all when you moved out, and I’m not much of a drinker. But there’s some beer in the fridge. Gil left it when he came over a few days ago.”

“Fine. I’ll have the albino bastard’s beer.” He stomped over to the kitchen, obviously in a foul mood, and Matthew put the TV on mute and leaned over to whisper to his brother.

“Didn’t you say he’d be with his boyfriend right now?”

Alfred nodded. “I thought he would be.”

Matthew frowned thoughtfully. “I think something bad must’ve happened with him and Nathaniel. Savino is acting a lot more pissed off than normal.”

Alfred sighed. “I think you’re right, Mattie. I’ll go talk to him and see what it is.”

When he got to the kitchen, Savino was slugging down a bottle of Gilbert’s expensive, imported German beer like it was water and he’d just gone on a five-mile run in the August heat.

Alfred cautiously approached him. “Wow, I… uh, didn’t know you liked beer so much, dude.”

“I don’t,” Savino snapped. “I just needed something to wash out the taste of my boyfriend fucking cheating on me like the lowlife sack of shit he is.”

Alfred’s face fell. “Vinny—”

Savino set the beer down on the counter so he could use both hands to gesture as he ranted. “You saw us together, Alfredo. Tell me, did I strike you as a bad boyfriend? Did I mistreat or neglect Nathaniel in any way?”

“No, no you didn’t.” Savino had been affectionate and loving towards Nathaniel, so much so that it could turn Alfred’s stomach at times. The envy he’d felt, and that hopeless wish to be in Nathaniel’s place, was what had clued Alfred in to the fact he didn’t just see Vinny as a friend. But by the time he had figured that out, Alfred couldn’t say anything because Savino was happy and he and Nathaniel were in a serious, committed relationship. He couldn’t say anything then, and he definitely couldn’t say anything now after Savino had just had his heart broken.

Mostly, he felt immense sympathy towards Savino, which is the emotion one should feel when a friend’s boyfriend turns out to be a disloyal asshole. But there was a tiny piece of Alfred’s heart that found Savino’s complicated hand gesturing cute, even though that was a completely inappropriate thing to notice in this situation.

“Then tell me why the fuck that testa di minchia decided to start sexting another guy!” Savino shouted. “And then he had the nerve to get angry at me for ‘snooping’ through his phone! I only checked because I happened to see a suspicious message pop up on the screen while he was out of the room! Can you believe that bullshit?!”

“It was totally normal for you to check his phone if you saw something weird,” Alfred said. “He shouldn’t have been sexting with someone else anyway.” Seriously, what the hell was wrong with Nathaniel? Couldn’t he keep it in his pants for five goddamn minutes, especially when he had someone like Savino to come home to? Alfred would give anything to have the relationship with Savino that Nathaniel had so carelessly disregarded, and he would never even think of cheating. He had never really understood why people would feel tempted to cheat, because Vinny was the only person he’d ever been attracted to that way. That’s why he had decided to watch Temptation Island, because a bunch of horny, straight allosexuals who couldn’t keep it in their pants was weirdly amusing to him.

But he was far from amused when someone he cared about got cheated on. He could tell that Savino was deeply hurt by his boyfriend’s betrayal, even if he was trying to conceal it by pretending he only felt outrage.

“I just… I can’t figure out why he’d do that to me. If he was unhappy, he should’ve said something or just dumped me! That would have been so much better than this.” Savino looked away, but not before Alfred noticed tears forming in his beautiful hazel eyes. “I hate him. I hate him so goddamn much.”

Alfred stepped in closer and opened up his arms in invitation. “C’mere, Savi.”

Savino hugged him, burying his head in Alfred’s shoulder and squeezing his arms around him tightly. Alfred returned the embrace and started to rub gentle circles over Savino’s trembling shoulder blades, and that made him break down into heartbroken sobs.

“That fucker knew! He knew the issues I have with my self-esteem, and then he went and fucked somebody else! I loved him, and he made me feel like a pile of stinking garbage!”

Alfred glared past Savino at the kitchen cabinets, but in his mind, he was glaring at the shithead who dared to make his best friend cry. “Want me to kill him for you?”

Savino laughed, even though Alfred hadn’t been entirely joking. (Murder was pretty extreme, but he wouldn’t mind beating the shit out of Nathaniel to teach him a lesson.) “That’s okay. I broke his phone while I was screaming at him. Not on purpose, but when he tried to defend himself, I was so goddamn furious I threw it to the ground and stomped on it. He seemed pretty scared of me after that. I don’t think he’ll be bothering me again.”

Alfred smirked a little at how badass Savi had been. Woe to anyone who betrayed his trust the way Nathaniel had.

“In that case, I’m just gonna keep holding you until you’re ready for me to let go.” Honestly, if the circumstances were better, Alfred wouldn’t mind holding Savino like this for the rest of his life. His body ran a little warmer than average, he smelled like an Italian herb garden mixed with expensive cologne, and the size difference made him fit perfectly into Alfred’s arms. Alfred liked hugging anyone he was reasonably close to, but he’d never enjoyed hugging anyone else as much as he did Savino.

“I’m not done yet. I’m feeling pretty worthless, and I’m not ready to face the world yet.” But his heavy sobs had already softened into gentle weeping, so he would probably let go soon. “I think I got snot on your shirt. Sorry about that.”

“Eh, that’s okay. I got it from Walmart, so it’s not like you have to worry about ruining something that cost a lot of money.”

Savino chuckled, and then he lifted his head away from Alfred’s shoulder with a hint of a smile. “Good thing you’re such a cheapskate then.”

“Guess so.” Alfred just didn’t care much about clothing. He had a few more expensive things in his closet that he wore if he had to be somewhere fancy, but when he was at home, he preferred t-shirts and jeans. He prioritized comfort over fashion.

Savino started to pull away, and Alfred dropped his arms, ignoring the pang of regret that accompanied his absence. “Is it okay if I spend the night here? I don’t exactly have a place to stay right now since I obviously won’t be living with my ex anymore.”

“You can move back in,” Alfred told him. “I didn’t get another roommate, so your room’s still available. And to be honest, I kind of missed having you around.” More like pined pathetically for the days they used to live together, but Savino didn’t need to know that right now.

“I kind of missed living with you too, idiota.” He sighed and glanced in the direction of the living room. “We probably need to go out there and let Matthew know what’s going on, huh?”

“I think he might have overheard everything. You were yelling pretty loud.”

“I did,” Matthew confirmed from the other room. “I’m sorry your boyfriend cheated on you, Savino. It wasn’t right.”

“Thanks,” Savino replied. He picked up his beer and started to walk out to the living room, and Alfred followed him.

Matthew had gotten off the couch, which would be too small to fit three people, and sat down in a nearby armchair. He shot Savino a sympathetic look as they entered the room, and Savino sat down on the couch. Alfred took a seat right next to him, and Savino sipped at his beer, but a more normal, less concerning rate.

“Do you want to watch something on TV? It might help you get your mind off things.”

Savino shrugged. “I don’t have enough energy to focus on a complex plotline. You can watch whatever the fuck you want.”

Alfred picked up the remote, turned the sound back on, and quickly switched to a news channel. Savi had said he could watch whatever he wanted, but a reality show about people “testing” their relationships and frequently hooking up with attractive strangers would be incredibly insensitive after what Savi had just gone through.

After a bit of browsing, he settled on one of those cooking competition shows he knew Savino enjoyed. Thirty minutes into the program, Savino had gotten invested enough to start pointing out the mistakes the contestants were making and talking to the television as if it could respond to his commands. Alfred exchanged an amused, fond glance with Mattie, who grinned at him. He knew Savino wasn’t all better and that he would need time to get over Nathaniel, but Alfred was glad to see Savino acting a little more like his normal self.

[killherfreakout]

i’ve got the touch placebo

elu au / 5.2k words

“You don’t remember a lot of things.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Lucas’ voice cracks slightly when he asks, those oceans looking like high tide. Eliott’s heart drops to his stomach at the question. Does he tell him, or does he keep that kiss locked away as the secret they didn’t know they were keeping?

or: Lucas kissed Eliott after a few too many one night; three times Eliott almost brings it up, and the one time he does.

:readmore:

It all started by accident, really. Eliott falling for Lucas, that is. He’s always had a little crush on his best friend, but one night changed everything. 

It all started when Lucas kissed him. But, you see, that’s the problem - that was months ago. Lucas kissed him, and absolutely nothing was different between them. Eliott doesn’t know if Lucas just regrets it and pretends it didn’t happen, or if he’s waiting for Eliott to bring it up, or worse: he doesn’t remember.

Sure, Lucas may have had a few too many that night, but was it really enough to make him forget? Enough to have absolutely no memory of something that completely turned Eliott’s world upside down?

If a drunken kiss was all it really was, Eliott doesn’t know what to do. But if it was more, he wouldn’t know the first thing either.  

Sometimes Eliott thinks he’s got enough love for the both of them, and perhaps that is enough. Or at least he’s trying to convince himself that it is.

*

Eliott is perched on the edge of Emma’s balcony where he slipped out of the party going on inside, opting for some fresh air and a smoke. The gang and the girls are celebrating the end of terminale and Eliott comes to join the fun even though he has another uni exam before he’s finally free. It’s a warm summer night and a slight breeze offers some relief from the muggy air and crowded apartment. The moon keeps him company until he’s joined by another warm body in search of his.

Lucas nearly trips over the lip of the balcony door and giggles at his own misstep. Eliott tries his best not to laugh, but a small chuckle escapes, earning him a retort from the other boy.

“Hey! Are you laughing at me?” Lucas asks after he tips back the rest of the bottle of vodka he’s holding, his voice higher than normal and cracking towards the end. It’s way too endearing for Eliott that he smiles around the rolled paper between his lips.

He doesn’t respond, and next thing he knows, Lucas lunges forward and snatches the joint right out of his hand in retaliation. Eliott looks at him in disbelief and Lucas has a devilish grin on his face, again way too endearing to be taken seriously. 

Lucas tilts his chin and chest out with pride and brings the joint to his lips. He takes a long hit, breathing in deep and feeling the strength of the weed. He coughs and hands the joint back to its owner as he recovers.

“That is good shit, fuck,” Lucas adds when he regains his breath. “And expensive, I bet.”

Eliott does one of his signature shrugs. “I know a guy” is all he says to that.

Lucas scoffs at his smug reply and comes to join him on the edge of the balcony. He sits on the ledge with his back against the wall and hugs his legs close to his chest. Eliott’s heart skips a beat at how small he looks.

Lucas unwraps his arms and reaches one out to Eliott, a gap between his first and second fingers in a silent plea for the joint again. Eliott obliges and transfers it to him, hands touching for a fleeting moment - the weed is nothing in comparison to the high he gets from moments like this.

There’s a wrinkle in Lucas’ brow when he notices something. The joint in his hand points to Eliott’s, specifically a faint smudge of black on his right hand. 

“Otteli strikes again?” Lucas is amused at himself and Eliott tries not to indulge him. “I’m best friends with a famous urbex artist, I might have to use that as a pick up line someday.”

The words cut deep coming from him. Sometimes Eliott forgets about his enormous crush on his best friend because everything is so easy with them, but other times - like this - it’s hard to forget. Eliott hides behind the smoke, hoping his face doesn’t give him away.

“I‘m not sure how effective that will be, but...” he raises his hands in acquiescence. 

“Of course it will work!” Lucas’ voice is wet and nasaly and still fucking adorable. “I mean, you’re basically the French Banksy.”

“I wish,” Eliott laughs. “They’re rich and not just tagging places with their spirit animal.” He picks at his cuticles and stares at the remnants of spray paint on his skin, suddenly insecure and words sounding more bitter than he planned.

Something changes on Lucas’ face. “Your tag is fucking cool!” His face goes back to before, features softened by the weed and alcohol aglow in the city lights and embers of the joint. 

Eliott’s heart keeps skipping a beat at every compliment, but especially at the adorable declaration of the love of his silly signature raccoon tag.

“And need I remind you that you’re rich? I mean,” Lucas pinches the joint between his thumb and forefinger, raising it to prove his point.

Lucas hops down from the ledge and stumbles a bit; he finds the vodka bottle again and frowns when he realizes he already emptied it. 

“I may need to marry rich, what with the way my bac went, to be honest.” Lucas is walking across the balcony, bringing the heel of one shoe in front of the toes of the other, wobbling with each step.

He looks extremely focused even though his movements are lazy and slow. And suddenly he gasps as a lightbulb goes off in his head, face lighting up -  both Lucas and Eliott’s. “I know! I’ll just marry you if it doesn’t work out. There, problem solved.”

And no amount of warning could prepare Eliott for a sentence like that coming out of Lucas’ mouth. This time his heart drops straight down to the street two stories below.

Lucas nearly faceplants when he steps on his own shoelace, but Eliott slides off the ledge in time to catch him before he falls. They lock eyes for what feels like the first and only time ever; Lucas’ intense, big, blue doe eyes meeting his and quite literally steal his breath away.

Lucas retreats from their embrace for another hit, the joint burning shorter and shorter.

Eliott sputters, trying to think of a way to change the subject before he melts into a puddle. “We won’t be getting married if you keep smoking all of my weed,” he tries as a comeback. 

Lucas looks up at him like a deer in headlights or a kid caught with a hand in the cookie jar. He looks down at the joint that has about one hit left in it, then that devilish look grows on his face once again.

Eliott swears that time stops just for them as he watches every move Lucas makes like it’s at half speed. The joint is closed between Lucas’ bitten lips, and suddenly Eliott feels the smoke in his lungs when the other boy leans forward and presses their lips together.

It’s so sudden and unexpected that it makes Eliott’s mouth open wider in a gasp, and Lucas takes it as an invitation to test the waters. He slips a tongue into Eliott’s open mouth, and Eliott thinks he is in both heaven and hell. 

Eliott instinctively reciprocates the kiss until he gets a grip and tastes the alcohol on Lucas’ tongue, reminding him of the fact that Lucas is not sober enough to warrant this. He pulls back, cheeks flushed, but Lucas looks unaffected - like nothing earth-shattering just happened.

Eliott’s phone rings in his pocket; turns out Idriss left his keys at the apartment and needs Eliott to let him in.

Lucas notices the interruption and, with a gravelly voice, says, “Sorry about the weed,” before stepping inside, tripping on the threshold again.

Eliott stares at the moon high in the sky who was witness to his entire world being flipped upside down. He takes a deep breath and walks down the stairs to retrieve his heart from the ground. 

1. 

Eliott is sitting on the dock of the lake with his feet dipping into the crystal blue water below, weight held up by his arms outstretched behind him. The remaining droplets on his tanning skin quickly evaporate into the warm summer air, leaving a cool sensation in their wake. 

There’s some shouting and splashing from the far side of the lake where Basile, Arthur, and Yann are jumping off the neighbor’s dock and trampoline. Eliott had his fun with them earlier and went for a cooldown on his own while he watched the guys perform backflip after backflip.

The usual suspects have all traveled to Arthur’s beach house to kick off the gang’s last summer before they go separate ways for university. The girls are here too; they went inside to fix dinner for everyone while the boys spent the sun’s dying hours out on the water.

Lucas is swimming his way back over to Arthur’s dock and Eliott sits up in anticipation of his return. 

It’s been a total of 72 hours since the night of the party. The night that the love of Eliott’s life and best friend of over 10 years had kissed him. Not so accidentally, but also not quite on purpose.

He hadn’t even had a full conversation with Lucas since that night - the day after the other boy had the world’s worst hangover, the next Eliott was taking his last final exam of the semester, and then they were at the lake. Lucas had fallen asleep against the window for most of the car ride and every other waking moment was full of Basile’s ill-timed jokes and Emma’s ramblings over her recent Tinder dates. 

In other words, there was no appropriate time or place to bring up the situation. No opportunity to ask, hey, remember when you kissed me haha? And Eliott didn’t want to say it like that, so nonchalant and in sing-song with a poke to the ribs. Because it meant something to him, more than he ever thought a drunken kiss could, and because it would kill him to make Lucas think that it meant anything less. 

It’s like that night Lucas gave him this enormous heavy feeling but in a physical form - held it in his hands and said here, hold this and left, but not without Eliott’s heart. And Eliott was left holding on to it, this thing he couldn’t quite find the word or feeling for, and a hole where his heart should be. And it’s softened now, melted, turned to liquid and still losing shape. And with every glance and hidden smile more and more slips from his hands. 

Eliott is violently brought back to his senses when everything in his vision is darkened by the shadow of Lucas climbing up the ladder of the dock and blocking the setting sun. Eliott’s eyes involuntarily rake down the boy before him, all sun-soaked skin and water dripping from every pore. He catches himself after a second too long, obvious even under the sunglasses he has on. He tilts his head back up to Lucas standing at the edge of the dock - taller than him for once - and the sight makes Eliott’s insides shift. 

Eliott’s eyes adjust to the lack of direct sunlight, squinting up at him. He watches as Lucas brings both of his hands through his wet locks, putting his skin on display as the water that Eliott swam in returns to the air, reflecting what’s left of the day’s rays as they go. Eliott feels a shiver run down his spine - be it at the sight in front of him or the now dry surface of his own skin.

“You coming?”

Before he realizes, there’s a hand being offered to him. Eliott’s brain is a few steps behind and he takes the hand when it catches up. Lucas pulls him up and he’s back to being the taller one, although he still feels at Lucas’ mercy. 

Lucas leads the way back to the house, leaving wet footprints on the dock and concrete of the patio. Eliott follows and uses the prints as relief from the scorching surface. Lucas grabs the towel hanging on the patio chair, rubs it into his wet hair, then lets the damp material hang around his neck. 

And there it is, finally: a moment where he could bring it up. A chance to give back the heavy, shifting feeling he’s been holding since. Ask him if he remembers, if he meant it, if he regrets it. The shapeless thing he carries starts to move again, starts to form into something akin to the shape he was given. He can give it back. 

Eliott stands there looking at Lucas, eyes flicking down to the lips he can’t stop thinking about on his own. They’re red and chapped now, a product of sun and salt. He holds in a breath and forces his eyes up to Lucas’, which are darting around the patio looking for something. 

The moment is there and then it’s gone - and the thing starts to slip yet again, just as the water had off of Lucas’ back. 

“Hey, did you bring any chapstick, by chance?” Lucas asks when he can’t find what he’s looking for.

That’s another thing that happens sometimes: Eliott thinks about something and the next minute Lucas brings it up, or vise versa. Like noticing his chapped lips conjured Lucas to search for relief. 

“Uh, yeah.” Eliott walks over to the bedroom he and Lucas and Arthur share through the back door and returns with it. 

He hands it over to Lucas; the gesture feels strangely intimate given the context of Eliott’s feelings toward him, the context that their lips have touched now. It feels coded with something more than a favor for a friend, and hurts more than it should. 

“Thanks,” Lucas says before removing the cap and pushing the balm onto the split skin. 

Eliott can imagine the minty balm stinging the cracks in the other boy’s lips and swears he can feel the same tingly sensation on his own, even without having used it all day. 

It’s entirely innocent, but it gets Eliott’s heartbeat to quicken at the thought of using the chapstick after him. It doesn’t have to mean anything - Lucas borrowing his chapstick - but it does. It’s as if the tube of balm is a placebo for the real thing - having his lips pressed to Lucas’ again - but still just as effective. 

And technically another moment presents itself: the topic of lips, specifically both of theirs, sharing something like the lip balm. 

Think, Eliott, think. He could casually comment on the party, ask how bad the hangover was, anything to get the ball rolling. But the second Lucas returns his gaze and places the tube in his hands again, all rational thought leaves his mind at once. 

The silence is starting to grow uncomfortable until Lucas breaks it.

“How was your exam, by the way?” He shoves some hair behind his ear and rubs his lips together to spread the product.

“Uh, it was fine,” Eliott answers, watching the movement. Something blooms in his chest at Lucas asking about it, the genuine curiosity present on his golden face.

Say something, anything about the party. 

He gets an idea. 

“You know—” He stops when Lucas puts the towel back on the chair to dry. The remaining sunlight hits just right, the balm on his lips shiny and intoxicating. Eliott swallows and starts again. “You know, if college doesn’t work out I could always marr—” 

“Lucas, there you are!” Arthur shouts as the trio come walking through the patio to get inside.

The look on the younger boy’s face turns bright at the sight of his friends, high points of his cheeks dusted pink with sun and stars sprinkled on his nose in the form of freckles. Yann shoves his shoulder and the skin turns white before returning to the pinkish tan. The skin is soon covered in cotton when Lucas shrugs his shirt on. 

Lucas bites the corner of his bottom lip and gives Eliott a glance over his shoulder when he follows the guys inside - a glance that could be saying something, but Eliott’s not sure what.

Eliott makes his way to the kitchen and pours some drinks and thanks the girls for preparing the meal. Everyone sits around the counter and some at the table nearby; Lucas takes the seat across from him. 

There’s chatter between the girls and the gang that Eliott feels slightly disconnected from, but he focuses on filling his empty stomach with food. 

“Eli, what were you going to say, outside?” Lucas inquires, not in a whisper but not loud enough to draw attention towards them.

And there’s another moment, right there for the taking. Lucas literally asks about it - possibly without even intending to. 

Lucas looks at him while taking another bite then puts his fork down to take his napkin and wipe the pasta sauce - and chapstick - off his mouth. 

Eliott’s chest feels tight again, the heavy feeling still there but no longer physically. No way he can hold it and give it back now. The moment is gone like the sun for the day, only leaving what it has touched behind.

The placebo burns a hole in the pocket of his boardshorts. “It was nothing.”

2.

Eliott hates drinking. He’s not a fan of the taste of beer, wine is okay only if it’s expensive, and liquor is gross unless mixed with so much sugar that makes the hangover even worse than straight alcohol.

He finds himself in a gay bar with Lucas celebrating Mika’s half-birthday because Mika decided that ‘6 months is too long’ to celebrate.

It has now been two months since the kiss and neither of them have said a word about it. The unnamed thing Lucas dropped into his hands has vanished, no way of returning it to its owner. Every day is harder to pretend and even harder to speak up. 

The birthday boy is already on his way to being wasted living it up on the dance floor and Eliott sits next to Lucas at the bar. Lucas is on his second beer and Eliott has a melting vodka tonic in front of him. The DJ takes a short break and the music changes to quieter radio jams through the house speakers instead of the mixing table.

“So?” Lucas asks behind his beer bottle, tilting his chin in the direction of a handsome guy across the bar. “Aren’t you gonna go over there and talk to him?”

Eliott looks at the sweaty glass on the countertop and quickly glances over to the him Lucas refers. He picks up the glass and raises it in the guy’s direction as a thank you and sips the thin black straw. It’s strong but watery and makes his lips pucker.

“Isn’t he the one who’s supposed to make the move?” Eliott answers Lucas’ question with one of his own and flags the bartender for water instead.

Lucas points to the drink. “Well, technically, he already did.” Eliott huffs. 

The music picks up again as the DJ puts on another mix, volume even louder than before, or perhaps it’s just loud in comparison to the radio.

Eliott raises his voice and leans into Lucas’ ear. “What if I’m not interested?”

When he pulls back, they share a look similar to the one at Arthur’s lakehouse with the same indescribable meaning. There’s also something different this time in the way Lucas intentionally keeps his gaze. 

It’s dark on this side of the club but when the flashing lights hit the side of Lucas’ face he notices the contrast of his crystal eyes and his blown pupils. Eliott thinks if he stares any longer he’ll drown in their oceans.

To stay afloat, Eliott turns back toward the mirrored wall behind the bar and grabs his water to sip. The second the liquid touches his tongue he realizes it’s not the water he reached for, but the vodka soda. He winces in reaction and shoves the glass toward the lip of the counter out of his reach.

He can feel Lucas’ eyes on him and then in the direction of the sender of the drink. Eliott gathers the courage to look again, but he shouldn’t have - the determined scowl of his brow hurts more than the back of his throat when he puts together what Lucas plans to do.

Lucas reaches for the drink at the edge of the bar and brings it to his lips, tongue darting out to catch the thin black straw he closes his lips around, downing as much of the concoction as he can stomach. 

Still looking at the guy across the bar, Lucas says, “Then I’ll tell him you say thanks for the drink.” 

Eliott’s soul is soaked when he sees the blue of Lucas' glance as he makes his way over to the other end of the bar.

Over the next two hours Eliott nurses his glass of water from his seat and tortures himself by watching Lucas dance dangerously close to the stranger that hit on him with a new drink in hand.

Eliott directs his attention to the glass Lucas emptied when it gets too much to bear. The black straw sits in the glass of ice staring him down and he gets a new urge to drink the remnants of alcohol from it. Perhaps it’s a new prescription of placebo that would work better than the drink itself.

Eliott steps out for a cigarette later, in need of the fresh air more than the smoke in his lungs, but it gives him something to do instead of sulking in a room of dancing strangers. 

Lucas comes to find him minutes after, no handsome stranger on his arm. 

“Okay. My head hurts so bad I can’t stay a second longer,” he says instead of a greeting, words slurred and movements wobbly. 

“Where’s Mika?” Eliott asks, helping him stand up straighter.

Lucas giggles. “He went home with a guy like two hours ago.”

“Oh,” he hadn’t even noticed. “What about the guy and the drink?” Eliott clenches his jaw and looks around expecting him to show up.

Lucas giggles again, and the sound makes Eliott’s heart flutter - it flutters then stops at what he says next.

“Don’t worry, Demaury, no one is coming between our eventual marriage.”

Eliott trips on a bump in the sidewalk and Lucas falls into his side. 

And just like that, he’s back at the lake again – the sting of a moment there and gone – and he’s sinking deeper and deeper.

3.

Everything seems to happen by accident ever since the night on the balcony. 

Eliott hadn’t even planned on going back to Lucas’ flat, but after the party was shut down prematurely, Lucas asked if he wanted to come inside for another beer. And it’s not like Eliott had the heart to say no. He definitely didn’t plan to stay this late, but he also doesn’t want to leave.

“I thought you said you were going to lay off the weed now that you’re ‘taking your studies seriously.’” Eliott grins as he watches Lucas light the joint hanging from his lips. 

“I don’t remember saying that,” says Lucas, leaning his head back on the couch and releasing smoke from his lips. 

His pursed lips carve out the hollows of his cheekbones and plants a rather dirty image in Eliott’s mind. The movement also makes his hair bounce a little; it’s messy and fluffy from when he shrugged his hoodie off when they came inside. Eliott has to busy his hands with the frayed edge of his jeans so as to not reach out and touch.

Eliott pivots from his stare and instead laughs at Lucas’ nonchalance and the irony that he said that while high.

Lucas’ eyes stay closed for a moment before slowly blinking them back open. His long lashes fan over his cheeks like that of a renaissance painting as he’s bathed in a muted golden light from the kitchen. The eyes underneath them look tired, probably due to the lack of sleep that comes with the first year of university Eliott knows too well. The oceans of blue aren’t any less breathtaking, though; Eliott has to look away before he drowns in them once again.

Eliott takes a sip from the plastic cup he filled with water once it was empty of beer. He feels his heart shift and twists in his chest like it does when he looks at Lucas too long, performing a somersault when he feels the ghost of those lips on his. 

Eliott’s words just slip out, his mumbling echoes in the plastic pressed to his lips. “Yeah, you don’t remember a lot of things.” 

It’s almost quiet enough that he could have gotten away with it, but not quite. He can tell he’s been caught by the furrow of Lucas’ brow and the confused tilt of his head - which is way more endearing than it should be.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Lucas’ voice cracks slightly when he asks, those oceans looking like high tide. Eliott’s heart drops to his stomach at the question. Does he tell him, or does he keep that kiss locked away as the secret they didn’t know they were keeping?

Lucas slowly wets his lips and worries one between his teeth in anticipation. It’s like a knife to Eliott’s gut, piercing through his heart where it rests there. 

Eliott scrambles for an answer, panicking and lacking the courage to tell the truth. “I mean maybe this is all going to your head.” He makes a vague gesture to the smoke wafting the air between them. Not like he meant anything else.

Lucas takes a page out of his book and gives him a one-shouldered shrug before sitting up and putting out the joint in the ashtray on the coffee table. He takes a moment like he’s trying to decide his next move, then gets up and runs a hand through his hair. God, that hair.

He goes to the kitchen and cleans up, leaving Eliott to sit in the awkward space he left. Eliott takes his phone out of his pocket and checks his notifications, noticing it’s already almost 4am. As in, no buses back to his place at this hour.

“Maybe you’re right. I’m super tired so,” Lucas turns his body in the direction of his bedroom indicating he’s going to turn in.

“Yeah, um,” is all Eliott can find in response, shifting on the couch to settle into a position for sleep.

“Come on, Eliott, I’m not letting you sleep on the couch.”

“No, it’s fine—”

“You’re literally too tall and don’t even fit on that couch. Come on,” Lucas insists, cracking a smile.

And what is he supposed to do, deny him? 

So they fall asleep in Lucas’ bed — without bringing up the kiss. Eliott doesn’t know how much longer he can breathe under the pressure. 

+1

Eliott startles awake with Lucas too close for comfort; they’re facing each other in the middle of the bed even though there’s plenty of room on either side.

Lucas is wearing an expression he’s never seen before, although he never seems to be able to read him these days. Eliott wants to ask about it, but gets lost in those eyes again, looking tired but somehow refreshed like he’s been awake for a while.

And Lucas does that thing again, bringing up what he’s thinking without fail.

“We’re okay, right?” Lucas asks softly, like the words burn on his tongue as he says them.

Eliott studies his face again, an openness to it that wasn’t there before – like he wants to talk about it seriously this time, no more dancing around.

“Yeah, of course,” he takes a breath and lowers his tone, matching the sincerity of Lucas’, “Why wouldn’t we be?”

 Lucas twists his mouth and answers, “I just, I feel like things have been weird between us since Mika’s half-birthday. Is there— did I do something?”

And do something he did - he brought up their wedding talk on the way home and basically confirmed he remembers that night at Emma’s, and maybe the kiss. But Eliott can’t find it in him to ask, but can’t stand not asking any longer.

Lucas looks expectant now, an adorable wrinkle forms on his forehead and those eyes are crystal clear. If it’s his eyes that pull him in, it’s his lips that pull him under.

Eliott removes his hand from under his pillow and slowly raises it near Lucas’ face resting in front of him. Eliott’s gaze is drawn to those lips again, the ones he can’t ever seem to stop thinking about in the phantom touch from months ago. Lucas’ tongue peeks out to wet them followed by teeth trapping one, which makes Eliott sink further. 

His hand tenderly brushes Lucas’ rosy cheek and thumb rests near the corner of his mouth, the touch causing Lucas’ breath to hitch and release the pillowy flesh from his teeth.

Eliott quickly looks up at Lucas again, only to find the other boy’s eyes trained on Eliott’s lips now. It’s enough confirmation Eliott needs to do what he’s been wanting to since the day at the lake. And he doesn’t want to swim around it anymore, it’s finally time to reveal the truth.

He delicately strokes his thumb over Lucas’ red bitten bottom lip. “You really don’t remember?” 

He doesn’t think he’s ever seen Lucas speechless before, at least not like this. Perhaps absentmindedly Eliott strokes his lips again, and it’s the closest thing to a kiss he’s had since the one on the balcony. It’s too much and not enough, and also the closest placebo to the real thing.

Eliott suddenly gets nervous that Lucas has no idea what he’s talking about, and that the breath caught in the other boy’s throat is not a sign of remembrance but of surprise to the incredibly intimate touch without the context of that night.

He hopes he hasn’t misread Lucas’ mind, for that would be the first time they’ve been on different wavelengths in years. Sure this whole fiasco was push and pull of avoiding the truth, but there was always some unspoken understanding present even so. Eliott feels he’s in too deep and Lucas is just floating, too much darkness and pressure between them. 

Eliott retracts his hand like he’s caught flame, silently begging for forgiveness as he meets Lucas’ eyes again. 

And this time it’s Eliott who can’t breathe. Lucas inches even closer, eyes flicking back down to Eliott’s lips once more. He whispers hotly in the limited space between their lips. “Make me remember.”

After days and weeks and months of waiting, dying, drowning, Eliott gets his fix as Lucas presses his sinful lips in a kiss – a completely and intentionally purposeful kiss. A kiss that pulls Eliott up so quickly he gets the bends, muscles and bones aching from the speed of his ascent, head and heart feeling lighter than ever.

“Lucas—” Eliott sighs, everything this means dawning on him.

“I know. Me too,” Lucas interrupts before locking Eliott’s lips again.

They indulge in the taste of each other with nothing to hold them down, eager and wanting like all kisses should be. He’ll never have to refill the script for placebo ever again, too busy getting high on the real thing.

[renegadepisces]

Bright Imagine: Kandomere accidentally meeting your family Pt. 2

You weren’t sure if Kandomere was flirting. You also weren’t sure if he’d meant what he said about coffee on Monday. 

Thankfully, an all points bulletin for a centaur brandishing swords in both hands as he galloped through the Natural History Museum prevented you from finding out. Of course, you were less thrilled at the prospect of missing lunch and lingering at the office well after dark. 

A notification from your phone tore your attention away from the mound of paperwork in front of you. You’d disarmed the centaur, but not without injury. The stitches you received at the hospital were not enough to get you sent home though. You’d put the cuffs on the centaur, so you had to deal with the paperwork. 

That meant forms for booking his swords into evidence, forms for cataloging damage to the museum, forms for turning him over to the hospital for drug screening - and you were certain he was on something - and more forms for processing him in jail. And then there were injury reports and the statements from your colleagues. The centaur would likely face an additional charge of assaulting an officer, which meant you could look forward to wasting an entire day testifying against him in court sometime in the future. 

You expected a text from Kandomere asking where your report was. He was usually the only other soul at the office this late. But it wasn’t Kandomere or anyone else in your unit. The notification was from your in-law, and your jaw clenched as you read it.

Heads up, the kids said they saw you on the nightly news while we were washing dishes. Are you ok?

Being on the news and the unwelcome attention that would bring wasn’t the purpose of their warning. You knew what they were really preparing you for. Any second now -

Your phone buzzed sharply against the wooden surface of your desk, only somewhat muffled by the piles of paper surrounding it. The caller ID image showed your sibling smiling broadly and grasping all three of their children tightly in a hug. It was one of your favorite pictures, but you were sure its subjects weren’t smiling now. 

Sighing, you accepted the call. Your sibling wouldn’t stop calling until they heard your voice. Maybe not even then. You did the same thing whenever they experienced a close call at work.

“Before you start, I am 100% totally fine. There’s nothing to worry about.” You told them, enunciating each syllable slowly and calmly in the hopes it would rub off on them.

It didn’t. 

“You went full Xena Warrior Princess on the 7 o’clock news, and that’s what you tell me?” Your sibling screeched, causing you to grimace and pull your phone away from your ear. 

“That’s a bit of an overreaction, don’t you think?”

That was clearly the wrong answer because you couldn’t manage to get a word in for 10 minutes while your older sibling ran through a laundry list of questions. 

No, you didn’t need to make a doctor appointment. No, you didn’t need to stay the night with them either. Yes, you were sure that you were perfectly well enough to drive yourself home from work. No, you didn’t have a concussion. You suspected that last one wasn’t quite true, but that was a problem for later. 

Finally, your sibling seemed pacified.You’d put him on speakerphone about 5 minutes into the conversation so that you could keep doing paperwork.

“Okay, fine. But turn on your camera. I want to see your face. The kids want to see you.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” you warned. “I caught a hoof in the face at some point. I’m sure it looks worse than it feels but it might not reassure them.”

You heard the anxious intake of breath from the other end of the line and cut your sibling off before they could wind themselves up again. 

“What if I show you my face and you tell them I’ll come over for dinner on Friday? The bruises will have faded by then. In the meantime, I can read them a bedtime story to distract them and you all can get to sleep.”

Your sibling paused, considering your plan. It was late and getting close to the boys’ bedtime. Your niece was hopefully already sleeping soundly in her crib at this point. But seeing news footage of your scuffle with the centaur had no doubt whipped them into a frenzy. You doubted they would sleep well tonight, and a pang of guilt echoed through you at the thought of them worrying about you. 

Your sibling agreed and did their best to stifle a wince when you flipped your camera on. You didn’t blame him. You gotten up from your desk since Ward and Jakoby brought you back to the station, which had allowed you to actively avoid all reflective surfaces. You didn’t need to see it to know it was bad. It felt awful. But you couldn’t let your nephews know that. 

The boys hadn’t quite learned to compromise yet, so you had to read two stories - one picked by each of them. Your sibling steered them toward mercifully short tales, and you channeled every ounce of effort you could muster into bringing them to life. At the conclusion of the second story, your sibling switched their camera away from the book and panned over the boys. 

Their tiny bodies were nearly still except for the steady rise and fall of their chests. Deftly and soundlessly, your sibling put the books away. You heard the soft click of them flicking the lights off as they crept out of your nephews’ shared bedroom. 

“Good job y/n,” they yawned. “Are you sure you don’t need anything?”

“Yes! You’re such an older sibling!” You hissed exasperatedly. “I have one more page to fill out, and then I’m going home.”

“No, don’t go home. You’ll go straight to bed and wake up starving at 3 am. Grab some food first,” urged your sibling’s spouse in a voice made husky from drowsiness. Your sibling must have taken the phone with them into their bedroom.

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure y/n gets home alright,” Kandomere said from a few feet to your left. You hadn’t heard him approach, or even seen him since you left the scene of the incident. You wondered when he’d gotten back. Had you really been so out of that you didn’t notice?

“We’d appreciate that Agent Kandomere,” your sibling paused, and you could hear the smile in their voice before they continued. What they said next nearly made you fall out of your chair. 

“And you’re welcome to come with y/n on Friday if you’re available. They’ll give you the details.”

A stream of expletives flitted through your mind as you processed what your sibling had just done. You’d only narrowly avoided embarrassing yourself on a (maybe?) coffee date at the expense of your ability to move any part of your face and upper body without being in pain. How the hell were you supposed to get out of a family dinner? Your sibling had already told the kids, so you couldn’t cancel without gravely disappointing them. You couldn’t stand the thought of upsetting them like that when they were so worried about you. 

But you didn’t find the thought of Kandomere sitting down to dinner with your family much more tolerable. What if your sibling tried to talk cop shop with Kandomere over dinner? What if your nephews asked you to sleepover, which they usually did if you came over for dinner on a Friday night? What if they pulled up those silly selfies you’d taken with them? Or that ridiculous video of you slow dancing with them at your cousin’s wedding last spring?

Kandomere thanked them for the invitation and your sibling hung up, leaving you sitting in the suffocating silence of the MTF’s bullpen with nothing but your feverish embarrassment and Kandomere for company. You’d been avoiding eye contact with him since he made his presence known, so you were surprised when he pushed a steaming hot cup of coffee into your hand. You hadn’t noticed he’d been holding a cup in each hand. 

The comforting, sharp aroma of espresso wafted up from the cup. Your mouth started watering as the smell reminded you just how little you’d eaten or drank that day. 

“You remembered,” you whispered, and felt very stupid as soon as the words left your mouth. 

Of course he had. You always ordered espresso when buying coffee. He could probably smell it all over you. And it had been less than 48 hours since he ran into you with a cup of espresso gelato in your hand. The fact that he remembered you liked espresso was less impressive to you than the fact that he’d actually bought you coffee. 

He’d been serious. 

“Thank you,” you added hastily, eager to recover some sense of control over the situation, “You didn’t need to.”

“I keep my word.” He said, and you caught the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth as he continued, “And you’ve earned it, going ‘full Xena Warrior Princess’ this afternoon.”

You groaned. You should have guessed he’d heard that with his superior sense of hearing.

“Xena would have looked cooler and not gotten kicked in the face doing it.” you laughed. 

“You looked good enough to me,” he insisted. 

You realized at that moment that both of you still had your hands on your coffee cup. The heat of the liquid inside seeped through the styrofoam cup and its cardboard sleeve, but you also felt the warmth of his fingertips brushing yours. 

“When I first tried Aikido, I made a smart-mouthed comment about the rarity of being attacked by a sword-wielding lunatic. It seems that I owe my teacher an apology, given what happened today,” you deflected, trying to smother the mounting unease his comment sparked with humor. 

He chuckled and withdrew his hand from your coffee cup. His fingertips ghosted over yours as he did. In the dim after-hours lighting of the MTF bullpen, he looked much less severe than in the bright light of day. There was more than enough light even for your human eyes to catch the faint trace of a smile in his features though.

“Clearly there’s no need for me to ask your sibling if your impertinence is a lifelong trait over dinner on Friday.”

[kyogre-blue]

OK, very belatedly, Labyrinth part 3. (This takes me so long because I don’t have the energy to screenshot so much most days lol. I wouldn’t bother since this event is extremely lackluster, but... Childe...) 

As a recap of what I remember, we left off last time with Childe and Shiki Taishou getting stuck in the Labyrinth again as it takes a few days to rearrange itself. We are determined to solve the mystery of what and why about the labyrinth and to regain Shiki Taishou’s memories because He Is Our Friend, but we’re worried that the shogunate troops will just storm the place destroy everything if we take too long. 

You can see how silly this is, given that the troops were utterly decimated by a few escaped monsters. They’re totally useless, and Sara is also not exactly a great combatant from what we’ve seen of her. She also pawned off this job on us because she doesn’t trust any of her family members (including the interim Commissioner vetted by Ei herself) to manage admin matters without her personal presence. 

Genius setup, 10/10, extreme sense of emotional investment and tension. 

And it’s about to get STUPIDER. Holy Shit. 

WELP 

As a reminder, this nonsense has been dragging for a week already. 

Childe and Shiki Taishou are waiting for us as soon as we enter. It’s... getting annoyingly obvious that this whole “Childe is trapped inside while the mansion rearranges itself for days” is just purely padding nonsense brought about by the need to explain why the content is timegatted Genshin’s usual completely nonsensical degree (normal games release a new thing every day, not every three days) and the fact that they didn’t want to deal with Childe outside the mansion. I’m okay with some choices being driven by outside limitations, but like... please put in some effort, you know? 

And Childe and Shiki Taishou have hit it off entirely offscreen. Effort? That does not exist. 

They really can’t write character interaction at all, huh? 

Or plot. 

Or intrigue. 

Or continuity. 

Hm. 

Childe did like 3/5 of the work. 

Did you expect some complexity? Lol nope

Harunosuke went to Liyue in search of POWERRR after the Saiguu was killed. We already knew all this. 

Screenshotting this just for “art of transcension” which is a term I haven’t seen before, in... anything. I suppose this is what the fox envoys practice? 

It’s a training domain. But Harunosuke closed the place down. 

This also means that Shiki Taishou, whose purpose was to serve as an administrator to the Domain, has become a discarded weapon. 

outer heaven

The tree whose roots once spread across the world... 

I skipped some dialogue here because it was pointless. Childe’s way of talking is SO ridiculous and overwrought. It’s straight up purple prose. This chuuni.... 

I just can’t take this seriously. It really can’t match up to Thunderbolt Fantasy S1 finale. Mr Snowcrow ruined all “I seek martial prowess” characters for me. 

Xinyan says that Shiki Taishou does not need to abandon anything to let go of his confusion. He needs to find what matters most to him. For her, it’s rock and roll, and who cares if others don’t like it? So she’s agreeing that Childe should go on considering himself a weapon and striving for nothing more than greater battles, as long as that’s what he cares about the most. Amazing. 

But then she drags in having company on the road of solitude. It’s nonsense. 

(At this point, I discovered that this overly dragging event DOES have a map, but they stuck it behind the tiniest possible icon in the most hard to see place.) 

Once we reach the end of this stage, there is a completely pointless and poorly put together video. 

I really, really hate Genshin’s absurd love for sticking in auto-play videos. Why do you do this instead of just using your normal engine? What is the POINT? I hate everything that auto-plays and also can’t be skipped through, and Genshin’s videos aren’t even good from the perspective of something pretty to watch. They’re littered with pointless camera angles and effects, and they’re badly paced too, and nothing in them means anything. 

(This one is especially bad, as I realized afterwards.) 

We see Shiki Taishou’s memories of Harunosuke. To no one’s surprise, he was a perfectly wonderful person and there is no emotional drama (or any other kind of tension to speak of). 

We start in one scene where some samurai are reporting that everyone is wounded and lots of shikigami have been destroyed. The situation outside has stabilized somewhat, so maybe they can stop here? Shiki Taishou speaks up before Harunosuke can actually refuse (as you’d expect per basic, BASIC writing). Harunosuke is such a swell and reasonable guy that he never even had any emotional hangups about chasing the Saiguu’s shadow. He just wanted to help her descendants. 

We magically switch to a different scene behind a paper door where it’s just two of them. There’s no transition. It’s just a different scene now. Harunosuke makes a bunch of shikigami swirl around the Saiguu’s pipe and it vanishes into light. What is the significance? Who knows! 

Then Harunosuke dissolves into light. Why? Irrelevant! 

Did we ever see Harunosuke be wrong so that him seeing the light has meaning? Nope. Did we ever see Harunosuke and Shiki Taishou interact, building their relationship so it has weight? Nope. 

Does this have any relevance in regard to the Childe parallels? None at all. 

Harunosuke never sought strength for the sake of strength. He just wanted to help stabilize Inazuma and help the Saiguu’s successor. Once that goal was reached, he peaced out with only the simplest of comments from a friend. (Thereby abandoning said friend who cannot exist outside this domain or pursue another purpose. A swell guy all around.) 

And just to make this all funnier, the whole thing was meaningless because Raiden handled it anyway: 

What does this contribute to the story of this event? 

If your answer is nothing, you are correct! 

This isn’t even what the video shows! This event literally can’t keep a consistent throughline between two consecutive scenes. 

Despite what you’d expect from the scene of Harunosuke vanishing into light, he’s not dead. This video keeps getting stupider. 

Did... did they check the story AT ALL before making it??

To summarize quickly, Shiki Taishou decides that he can’t just wait for Harunosuke to come back. He has learned due to meeting us that he should seek a purpose outside his creator. 

The purpose he chooses for himself? To do his job :)

Surely there will be other people who want to train too! 

That stuff about injuries being too heavy, this training method clearly being too much for normal humans to handle? Irrelevant! As long as they’re crazy enough to want it, it’s fiiiiine. 

How does this resolution come from meeting us, when we were sent to stop the monsters escaping out and don’t care about getting stronger? It doesn’t! Does this have anything to do with Childe, who does want to become stronger? It doesn’t! He doesn’t speak in this scene, until the emotional resolution is all done for. 

Why did the monsters escape? Not confirmed! 

He’s going to train the Commission, I guess. Why? So they can better crush all resistance next time the Shogun goes off the rails and goes back to being a dictator in pursuit of meaningless eternity, I suppose. 

Childe returns only to drop some 4shadowing. 

What past experiences? What does this even mean. 

What does this MEAN

Childe, you stupid fuck, what do you think we’ll do? We’ll beat him up and take the thing. We hate Fatui and hate all their plans. This isn’t a choice, it’s a foregone conclusion!

And what does “your final destination” even matter?? Stop trying to be cool, you brainless chuuni. If you could read, you’d have read the damn missing person posters! You know exactly what the Traveler’s final goal is! 

This loser isn’t even like the ancient assholes who can claim to know something or other about Celestia and the greater scheme of things. Childe is a pawn at best, he doesn’t know shit. 

Based on what.

We didn’t do ANYTHING, omfg.