#or at least with the option to view somewhere else

[maxellminidisc]

Idk I'm at a point where I can understand why people share very graphic images of Palestinians being victim to the occupation and the dehumanization they are subject to; I understand the importance of documentation in a genocide! But I also feel like if you've been aware of this on going genocide since before Oct 7 or if you've followed and gained an awareness of it since, it frustrates one to think that this documented violence is not enough for some people.

And sometimes it starts feeling exploitive of the very humanity Palestinians themselves are trying to get us all to value with this footage, especially when people start taking the wrong message from it. Mainly hopelessness, defeatism that's not theirs to feel, even a strange sort of clout chasing for being able to handle that kind of violence in the worst people online, etc. It becomes more about the feelings of people not facing this genocide than to compell one to do something to stop it for the ones who are facing it.

I just cant grasp why so much of what we already know, what has been documented for decades by Palestinians themselves and organizations people value as "valid" or "reliable", is not enough for so many people. Like I KNOW why but I can't understand allowing yourself to get to a place where you NEED to essentially see someone crushed, shot point blank, all manner of dispicibale violence to believe them. Part of you is genuinely dead if you are at that point, and you're beyond it if you still find it in you to question the "validity" of the documentation of this settler violence.

[usodeshou]

tumblr's music player somehow isn't working for me anymore and i'm so sad 🥺

i wanna listen to the songs that people put on my dash and it doesn't let me and i'm just sadly tapping the player with zero reaction 😔

why am i being music-blocked? why does tumblr not want me to know my mutuals?? 🥺

[mimblizzy]

DP x DC story idea y'all:

So the JL has some big ass problem, like really big, like dimension-destroying-big.

And as a last resort they want to find some entity powerful enough to save them and strike a deal (John Constantine-idea tm)

But where do they find something like that?

The infinite realms. John regrets his idea already. That is a fucking suicide mission. But what other option is there?

The whole JLD works really hard to find a way to the infinite realms and after searching every and all books about death magic they manage to find a portal.

It is decided that the Trinity plus Constantine should go in, try to find a powerful being and strike a deal at any costs. 

So they go in. And land somewhere in the middle of nowhere, floating in the Ghost Zone. 

They meet a random ghost and ask if they know of a being powerful enough to save a whole ass dimension from destruction. The ghost says the most powerful being is the ghost king who reigns over everything dead, then gestures vaguely in some direction and leaves. 

So the the group moves in that direction and on the way encounter all kinds of bizarre beings (demons, ghosts, jinns, alpe and the like) getting in all sorts of trouble (walker's prison, some demon with shares of John's soul etc) and only escaping by a hair's width every time, getting new directions and very concerning and sometimes contradicting information on the ghost king from more amicable beings in between (not every ghost knows of the new king yet). The whole journey to the king's castle is very the wizard of oz like.

And then finally. The castle comes into view. All the heroes (and Constantine) are exhausted and desperate. As they come near the tension is rising. Hopefully the king is merciful like that one ghost said and not a ruthless tyrant like the other said. They've almost reached the castle when -are those disco lights coming from the windows?!?! And can anyone else hear Caramelldansen??

There's a big ass houseparty at the ghost king's fortress. 

They can just walk into the courtyard unbothered. There's also a ton of beings partying hard and almost nobody even spares the JL ensemble a glance. 

They, once again, ask some random drunk? beings for the Ghost king and, once again, get directed on a wild goose chase across the courtyard several times, to no avail. Finally, they find someone who at least looks human and alive. 

It's Jazz. She's just finished with her mid-terms and for once not being the responsible one. She earned this. But now there's a group of weirdly dressed humans? asking for her brother. Yeah, she hasn't seen him in a while, she'll go looking with them. Last she's seen him he was near one of the snack bars. 

Together they make their way over. But he isn't there. The Leaugers could fucking scream! They went through hell just for the tiny chance to save their world and now they can't even find the Ghost king!

But then the young red haired woman with them looks around. narrows her eyes. pulls up the table cloth. 

And finally there he is! The ghost king! In full regalia! With a flaming crown hovering over his head, a mantle made out of galaxies draped over his shoulders and the ring of rage on his left hand ... and it's a teenager. Passed out drunk.

"""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""

Idk i just thought: what would a normal teenager do if they had a gigantic castle in another dimension and no parents to reign them in? Houseparty.

"I mean what's the worst that could happen? Death of alcohol poisoning? Not fucking likely" -Danny

[writeonwhiskey]

the skz house: ch 17

a/n: thank you to @bahablastplz for editing. check out her writing if you haven't already! she's amazing.

Summary: Welcome to Sigma Kappa Zeta, the most popular fraternity on campus. When you, down on your luck and looking for a place to live, see their ad for ‘IN-HOUSE STAY’. You're one of the four girls chosen and find that your duties for the rest of the school year will be cooking, cleaning, and pleasing your assigned house members: Hyunjin & Chan.

[ read chapter sixteen here ]

Chapter Seventeen: Of Futures & Flights

Lee Know was right—your least favorite string of words in the English language. Hyunjin will be going to Korea for winter break and now your only option is to see what Chan has planned. You knock on the door to his room before entering. He’s sitting at his desk, laptop in front of him. He turns to face you as you enter. A hint of a smile tugs at his lips when he sees you and you immediately feel your face flush. 

“Hey,” you say meekly. 

Lately with just one look from him you’re overcome with flashbacks of being handcuffed to his bed. And he knows it. It hadn’t been awkward or uncomfortable in the days that followed, but he certainly was finding a lot of joy in catching your eye from across the room and winking or smirking. He always got a kick out of your reaction. 

“Hey,” he replies smoothly.

You walk over to your bed and sit on the edge, facing him.

“I wanted to ask about your plan for winter break,” you cut straight to the chase. “Are you going to visit your family?”

“Maybe. Why?” he asks, crossing his hands in front of his chest as he leans back in the chair. “Got a more tempting suggestion?”

Of course, he must already have some idea why you’re here. Lee Know or Hyunjin could have mentioned it. But he wants to hear you ask anyways.

“I want to use the trip I won around that time and Hyunjin is going home, so…”

“So…I’m your backup?”

“N-No,” you stutter. Though you can’t deny how it must come off from his point of view. 

“Hmmm,” he hums, not taking his eyes off you. “Where you planning to go?”

“I was thinking somewhere warm, like Miami. I’ve never been.”

“And you actually want me to go with you?” he asks, arching an eyebrow. “You could take one of the other members.” 

Is he suggesting that you should choose someone else? That he doesn’t want to go with you? He does so damn well at playing serious when he’s messing with you, you can never tell.

“I’d prefer to spend it with you…”

“Since Hyunjin isn’t available?”

“Chan.” you sigh. 

He chuckles at your exasperation and gives up. 

“I’ll go.”

You wish you had something nearby on the bed to hit him with. Internally you’re jumping for joy. 

The next day, you’re in the kitchen with plastic gloves on your hands. Hyunjin’s long body is laying on the marble countertop, feet hanging off the edge, head over the sink with a folded towel under his neck for support. He has hands clasped in the center of his chest. A bottle of black hair dye sits next to the faucet as you work your fingers through his newly darkened locs to rinse it out.

You keep turning your head to the side as you work, trying to fully picture him with dark hair as you’ve only ever seen him as a bleached blonde. The darker strands definitely look more natural on him and enhance his features.

It’s finals week and you’ve decided to take a break from reading to help Hyunjin out. The house has been relatively calm lately as everyone cracks down on studying. Some go at it alone, others pair up to quiz each other. 

“Would your parents really lose their shit if you came home with blonde hair?” you ask, turning the water off when the black dye has finally stopped dripping.

“Yeah ,” he replies. “And that’s an understatement. My dad would behead me, then drag my headless body around before letting me show up at company events like that. It’s ‘unprofessional’,” he says, using air quotes.

He jokes about it so casually, but it makes you wonder what their parents are like. It’s so different to the supportive upbringing you had. Well, it is supportive in a way—their parents are doing what they believe is best for their child’s future. It just seems like it doesn’t leave room for them to be themselves once they return home.

You know, from talking to Han, the general idea of what’s expected of them after graduation. You previously assumed, though, that just meant a continued sexual relationship was off the table. After what Lee Know said, you now understand that you are forbidden to have contact with them at all.

As you’ve grown more curious about it, Hyunjin has been rather receptive of your prying questions. When you asked why he was so open, he mentioned the NDA in that cursed contract you skim read through in desperation all those weeks ago.

“So do you immediately start working after you graduate?” you ask, taking off the plastic gloves and setting them aside.

“Not straight away. There will be a few months spent doing whatever I want…traveling, probably. Then I’ll work directly under my father. Essentially until he’s ready to retire or trusts that I won’t fuck up the family business.”

This feels like such a heavy topic, but Hyunjin grazes over it with ease. Like it’s not a big deal. From his perspective, maybe it isn’t. He’s known the path his life would take since he was very young. They all do. There isn’t much to guess or worry about like most of us. Hell, it doesn’t seem like they get to choose much of anything for themselves. Your thoughts drift to Chan for a second as you wring the water out from Hyunjin’s hair. 

You take the towel from under his head and guide him to sit up so you can dry it.

“And when it comes to love and marriage and children and all that…what sort of freedom do you have?”

Hyunjin makes a face like he’s going to throw up at your words. You roll your eyes and throw one end of the towel at him, so it covers his dramatic face.

“Come upstairs,” you say as you walk out of the kitchen.

When you’re both back in his room, after he stopped to grab his blow dryer, you have him sit in his desk chair. You stand behind him, combing your fingers through his hair.

“So…marriage, love? What’s that look like for you guys?” you ask again.

“At some point I’ll be encouraged to date, then marry. Exclusively from a list of women vetted by my parents,” he tells you.

You chew on your bottom lip; thankful he’s not looking directly at you. From your perspective, it all sounds concerning the more you learn, but you know it’s not your place to speak on it. What is there for you to even say? They’ve probably all already come to terms with it. Would your opinion even matter? In the grand scheme of things, you living with them this year is just a blip on their radar.

“Like an arranged marriage?”

“Kinda,” he says nonchalantly. “I will have some say in it, though.”

You turn on the blow dryer, using it as a distraction to sort through the thoughts arising from the information he provided.

Hyunjin previously mentioned the main function of the SKZ house was to provide them the ability to focus on their studies without allowing love and romance to distract them. Having a dedicated girl each year to meet their needs…to take care of them in more ways than one. It’s almost like this is a trial run for their futures. Though, from the sounds of it, the women vetted by their parents will probably also come from wealthy families and possess the feminine qualities they desire in a daughter-in-law. Certainly no one like you.

You grew up fairly well–your mom and dad played active roles in your upbringing. They were able to dote on you as an only child and you don’t recall ever wanting for much. You weren’t poor, but nowhere near the level of wealth their families have amassed. They supported you with all they had and there was never much fuss or drama. You’ve always been a good kid with your head on straight–focused on your own dreams and goals.

Having gotten to know Hyunjin the past couple of months, you know one day he will make an amazing husband. He’s gentle when needed, thoughtful, caring and extremely empathetic, while still maintaining his masculinity. Which makes him even more attractive. Chan, on the other hand…

You feel a sharp pain in your chest–maybe Chan is holding back with you because he’s saving himself or really only willing to open up to his future wife. That hurts to think about. 

You turn the blow dryer off and sit it on the desk. Hyunjin reaches out for your hand and pulls you around the front of the chair. You sit on his lap, straddling him and cupping his face with your hands.

You take in his new appearance. His blow-dried hair looks full and fluffy, and it’s grown a lot in length, reaching beneath his collar bones. The dark hair looks good on him—it gives meaning to the ‘tall, dark and handsome’ trope.

“What happens if you don’t like anyone on the list?”

“They’ll compile another one,” he shrugs.

“That seems unfair,” you reply. “What if you meet someone organically and fall in love?”

“I could date them,” he says, hands sliding up your thighs to rest on your hips. “But nothing would come of it.”

“And that doesn’t bother you?”

He considers the question for a beat.

“Not in the way you might think,” he replies.

“Well, I think anyone would be right to be bothered at having so little say in the outcome of their life…”

“I don’t mind that aspect of it. Being on this path ensures I will live a good life,” he says matter-of-factly. 

“What’s your take on it, then?” you ask, making note that he said good life and not happy.

“I’ve never been fond of the ‘forever partner’ idea.”

You lean back a little, sliding your hands down to his shoulders. You’re a little surprised at his words. The kind, caring and doting Hyunjin? Does not believe in soulmates? 

“I have no problem being committed and dedicated to one woman at a time, but…forever?” he asks rhetorically. “I think we’re meant to connect on a deep level with a lot of people at different times in our lives. Do you know how many people there are on this planet? And I’m supposed to find a lifelong match from a list? To meet all my needs, even as they change over time?”

You can completely understand, and have experienced, his commitment and loyalty in the way he immediately opened up to you and was there for you. But maybe this experience has made him grow accustomed to having a new woman in his life every year. 

“New people make things exciting and fresh,” he continues as he slips his thumbs beneath the hem of your shirt, rubbing circles against your skin, “…how you meet, learning about them, being intimate with them.”

You had never taken him for the playboy type. Though the way he’s explaining it doesn’t sound like he will be running around trying to fuck anything that walks. Just that he’d prefer to entertain the idea of a woman without any real commitment for certain stretches of time, for the rest of his life. 

“So you worry you’ll become bored?” you ask. 

“Maybe,” he answers honestly, as always. “I don’t doubt my ability to remain faithful—to be a good dad and husband when the time comes. But I do want to take my time getting there. I’m in no rush. Maybe in 30 years or so.”

You roll your eyes at that.

“I cannot with you,” you say, reaching your hands up to run them through his newly darkened locs. You tug on the strands, and he tilts his head back, shutting his eyes. 

His hands fall from your hips to cup your ass. In one swift move he stands, holding you to him as he walks towards the bed. You rest your forehead against his, and nuzzle his nose.

“Well. I certainly can with you.” He gives your lips a peck with his before tossing you onto the bed. 

You squeal as you land, then start moving backwards on the bed. You can’t help but smile and giggle as he crawls towards you. His dark, fluffy hair falls in front of his eyes and he looks so fucking sexy as he looks down at you.

“Where you going, jagiya?” He asks, straightening his back but still on his knees. He reaches for your leg. “Two weeks without you? We have to make up for the time we’re losing.”

You let out another squeal as he grabs your leg and pulls you towards him. He places his arms on either side of you, caging you in, in the best way possible. You hook your arms around his neck and pull him down towards you. 

After finals are done, it feels like there’s less tension in the house. Everyone’s interacting again versus being huddled up in a corner studying. The house steadily becomes empty as those who are going away for break take their leave. You drop Hyunjin at the airport and try not to think of what it will be like when you have to say goodbye to him for good.

Soon enough, it’s your turn to get dropped off at the airport. Jeongin and Charlotte wave goodbye to you and Chan. They’ll both have the house alone until Jeongin leaves for Korea and you can only imagine what they’ll get up to. You make a mental note to sanitize every communal surface when you get back. 

In the airport, you and Chan barely speak. He has his headphones on and keeps a blank expression plastered to his face. The last couple days his mood seemed to turn sour, and you have no idea what caused it. You have an uneasy feeling in the pit of your stomach–this is exactly how you did not want to spend the trip.

You busy yourself with checking the destination on your ticket multiple times. With Lee Know in charge of organizing this trip, you couldn’t be sure enough that he hadn’t booked you a flight to Miami, Oklahoma instead of Miami, Florida. 

A few hours later, you and Chan are settled into your business class seats. A few minutes after takeoff, you finally release his hand you’d been clutching for dear life. 

“Sorry,” you apologize, watching him stretch his fingers out. 

He reclines his seat a bit and shifts around to get comfortable. He leans back in the seat and closes his eyes. You lift the window shade and look out at the clouds as you fly through them, trying your best to tame your annoyance. 

You don’t know how long passes, but being an overthinker you’ve gone through several scenarios and outcomes about how this trip could crash and burn if you don’t say something now. You can’t just let his silence go unchecked. You refuse to spend your vacation, that he agreed to come on, this way. You reach over to move his headphones from his right ear. 

“Chan,” you begin, “I haven’t had a real vacation, alone and not with my parents, in almost two years so I’m really looking forward to this, but…”

He’s absentmindedly chewing on his bottom lip as he listens. 

“You’ve been in a shitty mood the last couple days. I want this to be a good trip, I want us to have fun…if you were planning to be miserable, you really didn’t have to come.”

“Planning to be miserable?” He repeats. 

“Your sudden change in attitude?” You shrug. “I would have rather rescheduled the trip, if you were going to be like this. And don’t say like what—you know how you’re treating me.” 

He becomes quiet at your words. You feel proud of yourself for getting them out. There’s no way he doesn’t realize when he’s shutting you out. You look away from him, seeing the stewardess start coming down the aisle with her cart. 

“I’m sorry,” he finally says. “I wanna take this trip with you, y/n, I just have a lot on my mind right now.”

“You always say that,” you shake your head. 

“That doesn’t mean it’s not true,” he replies. 

You let out a soft sigh. 

“Well, isn’t that what vacations are for?” you ask. “You can travel somewhere far away and leave all the bullshit behind. Forget about school…the future,” you look away from him at that, “you can be someone entirely different when you get to your destination. For a little while, anyway.”

He mulls your words over. 

“Is that what we’re doing?” He pulls his headphones down, so they hang around his neck. 

It certainly hadn’t been your intention, but you spot the sudden playful glint in his eyes and nod your head. You want to smack him. Or yourself. You cannot figure out if it’s him and his bad mood that causes the tension, or you allowing him to sulk in it instead of confronting him about it. 

“And who are we pretending to be?” 

You shrug, “Hadn’t thought that far ahead.”

The stewardess stops next to him with her cart, smiling as she opens the cabinet and produces two champagne flutes. She then fills them up with wine. She hasn’t even asked your drink choice, so you assume she’s preparing it for the pair across the aisle. When she politely reaches over Chan to pull out your tray and sits the drink down, you throw a confused look at him. 

Maybe it’s complimentary…but still, wouldn’t she ask if you wanted it?

“I’m sorry,” you finally speak up. “We didn’t ordered this…could I just get a Sprite?”

“Oh, of course, dear,” she says, but still proceeds to pull out Chan’s tray and sits a drink in front of him too. “These drinks are free to you, on behalf of the flight crew. Congratulations on your engagement–future Mr. and Mrs. Bang.”

You stare and blink, dumbfounded. 

Chan clicks his tongue and mutters something in Korean under his breath. 

“Thank you,” he says with a tight-lipped smile. 

“My pleasure,” she replies. “What else can I get you, sir?”

“Water, please,” he tells her. 

She provides you both a cup filled with ice, and your requested Sprite and water before turning to assist the pair on the other side of the aisle. 

“I’m gonna fucking strangle Lee Know,” you say through gritted teeth. 

“Oh, he’s the first call I’m making when we land,” he concurs. 

The man can’t even be trusted to book flight tickets without some kind of shenanigans attached to it. 

Chan picks up his wine glass and sighs, but there’s a hint of a smile on his face. 

“I guess we have our roles,” he says, tilting the rim of his glass towards you. 

You grab your own, but don’t cheers his yet. 

“I don’t know…I was thinking more along the lines of coworkers on a business trip or annoying vloggers or something like that,” you tell him. 

“So you wanna call off the engagement already?” He asks, feigning a hurt look. 

It never ceases to baffle you–how quickly he can go from cold and distant to warm and teasing you. And vice versa. 

“You’re okay with pretending to be my fiancé?” 

He shrugs, “It could be fun. It’ll help take my mind off some things.”

“Really?”

“I’m a committed actor. Very convincing…don’t you remember?”

Of course you remember his stint as Professor Bang. You wouldn’t mind taking a class with him again. But this? Chan pretending to be your fiancé? After your talk with Hyunjin, you know you won’t ever know what it’s like to actually even date him. Let alone fathom marrying him. 

“Okay,” you reply, choosing to indulge. You tap your glass against his before taking a drink. 

You’re so happy that the dark cloud looming over him seems to have dissipated, that it doesn’t even cross your mind how much you might regret this later. Having a sample of this version of Chan? It’s like you’re setting yourself up to get hurt. But you’ll keep telling yourself you’re strong enough to remember it’s not real. That when the time comes to say goodbye to this man, you won’t think about these moments and what could have been. You’ll keep lying to yourself this entire trip.

[ read chapter 18 here ]

a/n: the chan we've been dying to experience is almost here. thank you all so much for your continued support. your feedback, comments, asks, reblogs, etc., ALL your interactions fill my heart with happiness. it encourages me to write more because i don't want to leave you all hanging for too long lol but seriously, tysm!

taglist: i have no idea why it's not letting me tag everyone. i know there's a limit of tags per post but even if i type less than the limit, it's not working :( tagging on hiatus til I can figure it out, i'm sorry.

[vodika-vibes]

Hello Vod'ika, congrats for your followers!!

If possible (in advance sorry for my English) I wanted to ask you a Crosshair x Jedi!Reader (angst with happy ending from Cross view?) in a soulmate au (you can't hurt your soulmate kind of au) where chipped!Crosshair supposelly killed reader (then much much later he founds her again, maybe fallen-scarred or something but not heartshoted dead) (they where crushing each other but tightliped/proud/nothing officially stated)

Noble Maiden Fair

Summary: She was his. And He was hers. They were both just too proud to admit it, even to each other. When the order came out, Crosshair shot her. A blaster blot between her eyes. She fell. She died. Crosshair handled the guilt by staying on the move, by not thinking about it, about her. And then he murders an Imperial Officer and his only option is to run, not to his brothers, who abandoned him, but somewhere else.

Pairing: TBB Crosshair x Reader

Word Count: 1849

Prompt: Soulmate AU - Soulmates can't hurt each other

Warnings: Some angst

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: Thanks! And thank you for your request! I've been bouncing between ideas on this one, and I finally had one that I liked, so I hope you like it too!

“Welcome!” Crosshair frowns at the large Trandoshan man standing just off the landing bay, “It’s been quite some time since we’ve gotten a visitor! Are you the person bringing the seed delivery?”

“Aa, that’s me,” Crosshair replies as he straightens from where he’s checking that his cargo is still in one piece. Honestly, the demotion from soldier to delivery boy annoys him to no end, but it’s better than the alternative. “You’d be the mayor then?”

“Oh, no. Not me.” The Trandoshan says with a laugh, “We’re a bit too small of a community for someone like that. I’m Grrog.”

“I…see.” He doesn’t, not really. But NatBorns have always been weird, “Anyway, where do you want the stuff?”

Grrog gestures to a flat cart near the door, “We’re going to have to make a couple of trips! I hope you’re not on a time crunch.”

Crosshair sighs, “You don’t have any droids?”

“Oh no! Awful things, droids.”

“Of course.” He rips off his work gloves and throws them inside the ship, “I guess we’d better get to work then.”

The Trandoshan looks thrilled and almost bounces over one of the massive pallets of seeds. “Look at it all! Ooh, the farmers will be thrilled!”

“I don’t just have crop seeds. There are also some seedlings for fruit trees. They’re still inside since they’re a bit more delicate.” Crosshair replies as he walks over to the cart and moves it closer to the pallet.

“Perfect! There’s always room for more seedlings!”

“You really are all about this life, aren’t you?” He asks. 

“Oh, yeah. Most of my people are hunters, but, well,” Grrog gestures to himself, and his wide girth, “I’m not made for hunting.” He jokes, “Fruits and Veggies don’t run away at least.”

“Well, there is that.”

“We have a population of a couple hundred people, from all walks of life. We don’t get many new people, though.” 

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. People don’t want to be farmers, y’know.” Grrog hoists a couple of bags over to the cart, and then straightens with a groan, “The AgriCorps used to run everything here, but they were wiped out to the last.”

“That right?”

“They were Jedi, you know.” He shakes his head, “Could work miracles with dying planets. Such a shame.”

Crosshair doesn’t say anything. There’s nothing to say. 

But, for half a second, he sees her. He sees her smile and the way her eyes crinkle when she’s happy. He hears her laugh; loud and bright and unashamed. 

His jaw clenches, and he roughly shoves the memory of her away. He doesn’t want to remember her…or the look of confused disbelief when he shot her. Or the way his name fell from her lips as she fell into the ravine.

Still, even though he doesn’t want to remember, it doesn’t make the ache in his chest go away. Or the guilt that threatens to strangle him. 

“You alright?”

Crosshair is ripped from his guilt at the concern in Grrog’s voice, “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.”

He nods, “Sometimes when I think about the Jedi, the grief threatens to overwhelm me too.” He confides, “You’re not alone there, friend.”

“I’m fine.” Crosshair repeats, “Where am I taking this cart?”

Grrog gazes at him thoughtfully, “It took me a long time to come to terms with the fact that it’s okay to not be okay, friend.”

Crosshair sighs, “You are incredibly nosy.”

“My wife says that it’s my best feature.”

“I don’t like talking about it. Where am I bringing the cart?” Crosshair bites out.

“Alright, alright. There’s a general store. It’s called General Store.” Grrog says, “The employees there know what to do when you deliver it.”

Crosshair stares at him blankly.

“Ah, right! You’ll go through the spaceport, follow the road until you reach the fountain, and then turn left. The General Store is the first shop on the right. If you see the greenhouses, you’ve gone too far.”

“Alright.” Crosshair pushes the cart through the spaceport, easily side-stepping people. Not that there are many people for him to side-step. Honestly, he’s surprised that this place is big enough to have a spaceport. 

But, then again, they probably sell the excess fruit and vegetables to other planets. 

He pushes the carts through the open doors and stops.

The planet is very green. He should have expected it, it is a farming planet after all. But, for some reason, he wasn’t expecting it to be this green.

For a moment, time slips, and he can hear his kitten’s voice.

“I think, after the war, I’d like to retire.” His kitten says as she absently braids a strand of her hair, her voice soft and thoughtful, little more than a murmur to not wake his brothers.

“Retire?” Crosshair asks, his voice just as quiet, “And what does a Jedi do when they retire?”

She laughs, dropping her braid and resting her chin on the palm of her hand, her eyes glitter with an emotion that Crosshair doesn’t dare name, because naming it would mean that he has to acknowledge it.

“Maybe I’ll become a farmer, move someplace green and alive.”

“You’ll be bored in a week.”

“I think we deserve a little boredom, don’t you?” Her smile is warm and soft, and Crosshair thinks, for a moment, that he would burn the galaxy if it meant that she’d never stop looking at him like that.

With great difficulty, he pushes the memory away.

As much as he’d give anything to go back to that night, with her smiling at him like he hung the stars in the sky for her and her alone. He can’t. 

His kitten is dead.

He killed her.

And the Galaxy is a much darker, and lonelier, place for her absence. 

Crosshair heaves out a sigh and grabs the cart again. He’s not going to stay here. He can’t stay here. All he has to do is deliver the seeds and seedlings, and then he can go somewhere else.

Maybe he’ll move to a desert planet. No green at all.

Not that it’ll help. After all, it won’t change anything. 

He still killed his soulmate.

There’s no coming back from that.

Several hours later, all of the seeds and seedlings are off of his ship, and Crosshair is filling out the last of the paperwork with Grrog. Not to mention, adding some additional fees since he had to unload the ship on his own.

“You sure you don’t want to stay? This place is a lot more welcoming than the rest of the Galaxy.” Grrog offers with a grin.

“I’m sure.”

“You might like farming.”

“I can just about promise you that I won’t.” Crosshair fills the last bit of information on the datapad and then hands it to Grrog, “This looks right?”

“Hm…yep. All of the information is here.” Grrog replies as he scrolls down the information, “Though some of the counts are off, I think. Let me get a count.”

Crosshair rolls his eyes and leans back in the chair, “As you like.”

There’s the sound of a bell behind him as the door to the General Store opens. Grrog beams at the person who just entered, “There you are! We go the seedling shipment in!”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

A voice, soft and female, and so achingly familiar that Crosshair drops the toothpick he’s about to put in his mouth. His head snaps around and he stares, stunned, at the woman standing in the door.

It’s her.

Her hair is longer, braided over her shoulder, and she’s wearing more casual clothes than he’s ever seen her wearing before. 

But it’s still her, his Kitten.

She turns her head slightly and catches sight of him. Her eyes widen, likely just as surprised as he is. Though she doesn’t look afraid, she mostly just looks confused to see him there.

With seeds.

Which, okay, that’s valid.

Grrog vanishes into the back of the shop, and she hesitates, before she turns and walks over to him. 

“Crosshair,” Her voice is soft, and her eyes scan his face. “This is new,” Her fingers, still slightly calloused from years of lightsaber use, brush against the scar on his temple.

He stands and he lightly grips her chin to tilt her head back, “I shot you.” He breathes out.

She meets his gaze evenly, “Yes.”

“You don’t even have a scar.”

She hesitates for a moment, “I figured out what our soul bond is.” She finally says.

Crosshair is silent for a moment, “We can’t hurt each other.”

“No, we can’t.”

He releases her chin, “That’s convenient for us, I suppose.”

“I…” She pauses and then reaches up and presses both of her hands against his cheeks, “We didn’t talk about it. About us. And I know it’s because you were ashamed or—”

“Proud. Not ashamed.” Crosshair corrects, “I was too proud to admit what everyone else already knew. Proud and…a little afraid.”

“Why would you be afraid, Cross?”

“Because. You were so good, Kitten.” He brings his hands to cup her face, “You’re so good and I know you deserve better than me. You always have. Someone as good as you are.”

“I don’t think that’s your choice to make.” She says slowly, thoughtfully. “Not when I’ve been choosing you since the first time we met.”

Crosshair sighs, “You should hate me. I tried to kill you.”

“You didn’t, though.”

Slowly he leans in and bumps his forehead against hers. Crosshair can feel her breath against his face, warm and alive in a way that he never thought that he would feel again.

“I’m sorry.” He says, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Please—”

“There is nothing to forgive.” Her voice is soft, yet there’s steel underlying her words, “You did nothing wrong. You and your brothers are as much victims of this war as we were.”

“They made us as weapons,” Crosshair says, his voice thick with grief that he’s never had the chance to put into words, “They made us to be weapons against the Jedi.”

“That’s not your fault.” She whispers, “It’s not your fault, and I can’t think of a single Jedi who would blame you for it. Not when they learned the truth.”

Crosshair shudders, and his forehead falls to her shoulder. 

Gentle arms slide around him and brush through his hair. “Come home with me, Crosshair.” Her offer is soft and warm and so, very, tempting. 

Nothing would make him happier than following her home and making her home. But he can’t put her in danger. He can’t.

“The Empire—”

“—will hunt me whether you’re here or not.” She interrupts, “Don’t leave me again, Crosshair. Please?”

Crosshair melts on the spot, “You don’t play fair, Kitten.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

He doesn’t reply. There’s nothing for him to say. So, instead, he pulls her into a kiss. A kiss that’s been a long time coming. It feels like a missing piece of his soul snaps into place, and his arms slide protectively around her.

He’s never going to let her go again. Ever.

[leggerefiore]

How about some wedding/honeymoon headcannons for Cyrus, Larry, and whoever else you want? 💚

SO. I did Submas stuff for weddings already. So they're out, but you can read it here.

I tossed in some assorted person headcanons too... I hope that's alright lol

cw: sort of long?, fluff, weddings, proposals,

characters: Cyrus, Larry, Nanu, Grimsley

🌌Cyrus🛰

☄️ Marriage is admittedly something that he tries to avoid. Inherently, he sees nothing wrong with it. More so, he views it logically as a legal union between two people to make asset inheritance and division easier. The issue comes up due to his past with it. His parents had tried to force him into multiple arranged marriages. For people of his social standing, it was normal. Expected, even, but the thought of being legally tied to someone his parents had decided for him left him sleepless for many nights. Yet… when it came to you, his current partner, the idea was growing to bother him less and less. After his plans… went awry, he found himself even more comfortable with the idea. His plan had always been to propose the idea anyway. Which is what he did. Quite bluntly, he held his hand out to you and spoke, “Beloved, marry me and hold this hand.” It was not posed as a question – No, it was simply a statement. You had no intention of saying no, anyway.

☄️ A wedding was not at all on his mind. He saw no use in a decorative ceremony for what could just as easily be done within legal parameters in a more quiet and easy manner. You will just be added to his family registry. Simple as that. Nothing flashy or traditional – Legality only. Granted, he would allow a smaller party if that was what you wanted. It is more tame than a wedding and is composed of a few select friends and family members. Cyrus's side is lacking, to say the least, but his commanders show up, as does his grandfather, unexpectedly. The event is likely held somewhere at the Galactic building on a day off and makes the event almost feel like a weird office party. It is all a bit odd, but Cyrus was not exactly known for his normal proclivities. It is overall a good time, and you even awkwardly get to feed him cake while he tries to remain collected.

☄️ Cyrus struggles to comprehend why he should take a while off from work to enjoy his marriage. To him, it is illogical. Being married to you does not change your situation. You have lived with him for a while leading up to everything, so there is no adjustment period. Still, you clearly wanted it, so he would relent and take off work. It was to say no as well when Mars seemed to glare at him until he did. Her investment in his love life bewildered him. Even Jupiter seemed to get in on it. He almost felt forced out of the office and onto a vacation with you. His choice in location was originally going to be somewhere else in Sinnoh, but it changed when Mars and Jupiter suggested something more grand. Jubilife was not grand – It was a day trip.

☄️ Instead, you both went to Johto. Something about the traditional charm drew him in. It seemed like a quieter and more peaceful place as opposed to other options. He opts to stay in Ecruteak to allow you both to fully absorb the area's unique scenery. You both spend a lot of time in the inn that he somehow booked despite it apparently usually requiring months prior reservation. The old building's charm intrigued him. Yet, you both visited many of the different offerings of Johto. Goldenrod caught his attention quite thoroughly, but he seemed to enjoy the peace that both Ecruteak and Violet held. You both opted against Cianwood and Olivine for a few reasons.

☄️ The most memorable part was… climbing Mt. Silver. Cyrus's previous training paid off, and it was a fun bonding activity. It also made soaking in a hot bath at the inn all the better. A few day trips over to Kanto made the trip all the better, too. Ultimately, Cyrus felt glad he took the experience and deeply enjoyed the precious moments spent with you. Though, it was less of a honeymoon and more of a general vacation.

💼Larry🏢

🍙 Marriage crossed Larry's mind a few times over the years. It was something that he wanted aspired for at one point, but that had gone away as his work quickly became overwhelming and made meeting people outside of it difficult. His age was also a concern. Being middle-aged did not make marriage any easier to achieve. Yet, here he was, readying himself to propose exactly that. The stress swirled in his mind as his hands tied his tie from muscle memory alone. Rika had suggested something simple. A nice date out and then pulling out a ring in a quiet, isolated location.

🍙 He naturally asked you out to one of the nicer restaurants in Medali and planned to walk with you into a quieter part of the city to ask you. Dinner had gone well. Sharing a meal truly was one of the best ways to bond with another person… His confidence felt oddly higher as he brought you to the amphitheatre. The location was almost entirely deserted when he turned to you and fumbled down to one knee. The ring was brought out with all the stiffness expected of carrying a stack of papers. He made uncomfortable eye contact and cleared his throat, “… Marry me?” Despite everything, you were more than eager to take the ring and agree to his simple request.

🍙 He does not really care for anything wedding related. Truthfully, he was panicking thinking about how he could schedule it in to his itinerary. He expected Geeta to hear that he was engaged and dump extra work on him instantly in reply. Instead, she gave one of her polite smiles and a quiet applause for him. He was given a few days off, stating that it was about time for him to settle down. He still is not sure that he wants the stress of a ceremony. Though, he does relent if his partner asks specifically for one. He would only ask that it be a smaller one. For him, the part and parcel that matters most is simply signing the paperwork and having it notarised under the letter of the law. He would also be fine with a reception party afterwards. His fellow league members would likely pop in and happily chat about how they cannot believe the ageing man finally did it. He is just eating the food provided in the background. His favourite memory is you feeding him a slice of the wedding cake, at least.

🍙 Larry almost wants to beg to just take your honeymoon at home. He is exhausted, and having so much time off almost makes him want to sleep for the entirety of it. After all, it was not like your situation was heavily changed from anything. Legally, you were married, but he would not deny that he had basically begun to treat you like his spouse even before he thought about proposing. Though, for whatever reason, Poppy seemed to gush to Rika about how lucky it was for Larry, and you get to go on a romantic trip together. Rika then turned around and asked where he was going. The green-haired woman was shocked with his reply and essentially insisted on doing something – Even just getting out of Medali! He did relent, especially if you had previously asked about taking a trip for it.

🍙 Somehow, Alola becomes the settled location. Larry felt nervous about putting everything together but became intrigued when finally both landed in the tropical paradise. Hau'oli city was definitely a tourist area filled with the hustle and bustle of people. Yet, he felt the slow pace of the region began to sink into him as you both took a boat ride across to Akala island. The Tide Song Hotel was very accommodating and pleasant. He could almost sleep an entire day away in the bed, yet you absolutely made it clear that you desired his attention. The two of you ventured around to see the natural beauty provided by the islands and even found Larry a friend in a Drampa by accident. He felt as if Hassel was standing before him in pokemon form. There are even a few romantic moments spent together watching the ocean together from your hotel room's balcony or sitting together on the beach. Larry, however, would admit the food was the most memorable thing for him. He recalled some older look at him in shock as he ordered seconds at the Sushi High Roller. Ultimately, the honeymoon ends up more as a nice getaway than anything overly romantic, but it does have its moments.

🐈‍⬛️Nanu❤️‍🩹

🌑 Marriage… He does not think it ever really crossed his mind. It was not like he did not want it, but more so that his path in life did not exactly align with it. Marriage was far from his mind while he was an International Police officer, and then by the time he found himself back in Alola, he had the role of Kahuna forced on him. Love was not something he actively sought out, yet it found him. Marriage had not been something he considered until his heart had been captured by you. It felt strange to be considering a proposal at his age.

🌑 A ring was easy enough to get, but how did he do this? Hala said to just ask while Olivia suggested something grand. He felt exhausted while thinking about it. Yet, he did not want you to feel like he did not care. He found himself inviting you out to Route 14 just as the sun was beginning to set. His hand grasped the ring box in his pocket as he gazed at the water. Eventually, he found himself holding the ring box out to you while scratching the back of his head. “You can say no,” Nanu felt almost like you would. He worried that you were going to break a bone with how tightly you held him.

🌑 He dreaded the idea of a wedding ceremony. Alolan ones were often overly romanticised, but the idea stressed him out. The Tapu might even decides to make an appearance and make everything all the more exhausting. It almost felt like an obligation as a Kahuna, and you might even have your heart set on it. If you do, he will warn you clearly that the ceremony will have some odd moments. Despite that, if you still insist, he will obligate. It almost feels a bit like a festival with how all the other Kahunas and a few captains show up. Acerola was beyond excited to fill in as a flower girl. The officiant got scared by Tapu Bulu's loud cry when he allowed you to come together for an interesting ending. Nanu pressed his forehead to yours – not for a kiss – but for a shared breath. Apparently, it was a tradition. The Tapu seemed proud to see its choice of a Kahuna finally settling down. Nanu would admit that he enjoyed it despite the hassle in the end. The end of the wedding was followed by a feast, in which everyone seemed more than ready to congratulate the old man on his accomplishment. Hala gave a full laugh after saying his piece. The day was truly something joyous on Ula'Ula

🌑 Nanu did not understand the need for a honeymoon… First, he would have to get the Tapu's permission, which might get rejected, and then he would have to leave someone else in charge. He just wanted to accept the change in the comfort of your shared home. Besides, Alola was already considered the location for honeymooners. Most people paid insane amounts of money to spend time here. You lived here with him… Is that not enough? Olivia actually agreed with that one unexpectedly, too, but Acerola seemed to demand that you two take an actual trip. He struggled to even think of anywhere to go. Sure, his job used to take him all over, but now all he wanted was to stay and relax. Olivia suggests Unova. Tapu Bulu accepted his request. He could not escape this fate.

🌑 Unova ended up being the destination. Nanu was not unfamiliar with the region, but he would not say that he was overly familiar either. The region was busy, yet full of entertainment. Nimbasa was where you both found your honeymoon anchored. The city was vibrant and exciting. Nanu felt like he was in an entirely different world than the one that he had grown accustomed to in Alola. Yet, you both quickly took to exploring the sights. The amusement park was a thrilling and allowed for a romantic moment between you both on the Ferris wheel. The musicals showed a strange form of entertainment that had not quite made its way to Alola... You both even tried out the Battle Subway but found yourselves defeated the two odd fellows that ran it. There were even trips to Castelia, Virbank, Black City and anywhere else that a friend of Nanu's seemed to recommend. The trip became a nice change up. Undella and Humilau almost had you both feeing as if you were back home. Though, Nanu definitely preferred the comfort of your hotel to anything else. Relaxing in with you was nicer than any offerings of this region. Ultimately, Nanu is glad he took the trip and you both had a fun experience together.

♠️Grimsley❤️

♤ Marriage… Grimsley loathed the idea a bit. Perhaps it was the nature of his collapsing family that he grew up in that turned him away, or how badly it meshed with his lifestyle. He was not afraid to say that he slept around with little interest in proper relationships. Marriage seemed like a thing that would never intercept his path. Besides, that gamble of being in the fifty-seven percent of people that did not divorce… He felt his luck might run out there. Well, he had felt that way. Grimsley had been quite certain of that for a long while. But, he went broke. His thrill seeking behaviour had finally done something that he could not recover from easily. Then, you showed up. For once in his entire life, marriage had entered his mind as a desired thing. The scariest gamble of his life. Grimsley truly felt strange.

♡ Shauntal had come to him as he sat in deep thought within his Elite Four chamber. She had started laughing at how plain it was. Stop thinking of it as gambling… The advice led him to finding himself on one knee across from you in an isolated area of a casino. A brilliant ring was held out to you. “… Will you marry a guy like me?” he asked, feeling the hesitance eat at him. Your reply was to eagerly put on the ring and embrace him. A smug feeling filled the gaps left by his uncertainty.

◇ A wedding ceremony was fine to him, or you both could just go through the legal channels. Though, a ceremony will likely be held in a far too expensive venue within Black City. The other Elite Four members attend alongside Alder. A strange older man also shows up and seems bewildered to see Grimsley as a groom. The event has a classy, high air feeling to it somehow, yet there is some strange undertone. The ceremony is admittedly quick – The dark-type specialist was not one for lingering on traditions. The kiss between you both left you breathless. His piercing eyes gazed at you, much like his Liepard when she was ready to pounce. The reception consisted of multiple people amazed that he actually got married, and many congratulations. The older man scratched the back of his head and tried to figure out what had changed in Grimsley. You could not help but feel flustered when he said one word. Your name. The day quickly became one of his favourites. Marriage did not seem so awful now.

♧ Taking time off for a honeymoon felt next to impossible, and he struggled to think of where to go. Being married honestly had changed little in your lives but legal things, yet he felt strange when he thought about you being his spouse. The racing feeling in his chest could only be compared when he was a card away from twenty-one in blackjack. A getaway… But to where? Unova was already quite a tourist spot. He considered Alola but felt it too relaxed for his tastes. Caitlin had suggested Sinnoh, but he wondered what was there of intrigue. Shauntal recommended Kalos, and he felt more inclined. Marshal said that he should just keep focusing on his training. Grimsley opted for Kalos. It was a romantic region, after all.

♤ Lumiose was an exciting city that Grimsley could only think to compare to Castelia... Though, the metro in Kalos left much to be desired when compared to Unova's system. The city did have a romantic allure, and the gambler certainly enjoyed all the time spent with you inside the hotel room. The room was big enough to count as an apartment in some areas of Castelia. Yet, you both wandered the streets of the city, enjoying the many things offered. Food was delicious, and he certainly enjoyed the battle system in place. You could only watch as he got his thrills filled in there. The clothing was beautiful and much to his style. Though, you found yourself being gifted a nice outfit. At some point, you both had ventured out of the city and into Parfum Palace. Grimsley felt engaged by the beauty. Yet, even as he enjoyed everything with you, part of him craved the certain seediness found within areas of Unova. Ultimately, the trip really is a honeymoon with most of the time spent in your hotel room with Grimsely, but there are some vacation moments mixed in.

[writingquestionsanswered]

I’ve been reading some craft books and online posts about the world building because my story is an urban fantasy set in present day US, in a fictional town, and theres not a secondary world where the fantasy happens, it’s all in the real world, except the magic is a secret that only certain people know about, but all of the resources I find about world building only talk about fantastical worlds that exist by themselves and not the kind of more subtle world building that I’d have to do. Do you have any tips?

Guide: Creating a Fictional Town in the Real World

Step 1 - Choose Your Location - There are two ways to go about choosing a location for your fictional town. One is to go the "Springfield U.S.A." route, ala The Simpsons, and be vague about the specific location (borough, parish, district, county, region, state, or province) and instead give a broader geographic region... "the East Coast," "the Pacific Northwest," "Central Canada," Northern Scotland," etc. The other option is to go ahead and put your fictional town in a specific location. Just figure out where (for example, somewhere outside of Des Moines, Iowa) and go to Google Maps, click on satellite view, then start zooming in on big empty areas. Choose a place big enough to fit a town. Yes, in reality it's probably farm fields, pasture, or someone's property, but that doesn't matter. You don't have to actually show it on a map. It's just a plausible spot to build your town. Now you can measure how far it is to other places, you know what highways to take to get to it. You can even do street view to get the lay of the land, see what the landscape looks like and try to envision the buildings there. You can also use what's there to create parks, popular recreational areas, and anything else your town needs.

Step 2 - Choose Your Inspiration - Even when you're creating a fictional town, it's still a good idea to use a real town (or two, or three) from that general area as inspiration for your town. For a fictional town in Des Moines, I would zoom in on the map to find a nearby town of similar size... like Elkhart, then I can take a look around to see what it's like. Just looking at the map, I can see they have a couple of churches, a couple baseball fields, a very small main street/downtown area with a couple shops and restaurants, a post office, a few different neighborhoods, and a cemetery. This would be a great model for a small fictional town outside of Des Moines. And, as I said, you could look at a couple other sand combine them. Once you have your inspiration town/s, you can walk around on Google Maps street view, go to the town's web site, watch a tour on YouTube (if one exists), or look up pictures in Google Image search.

Step 3 - Start Planning - This is the really fun part! First, you might want to draw a basic map of your fictional town using your inspiration town/s as a guide. This doesn't have to be a pretty map... just a basic line drawing to help you envision where everything is. Think about some of the basic things this town might have, like the ones I listed in step two, and any other things you might want your town to have, like maybe a library, a hospital, a city hall, school, and maybe a movie theater. It might even be helpful and fun to put together a collage of pictures to represent your town so you've got something in mind as you write about it. You can even choose representatives for specific locations in your story, like your MC's house, school, and their favorite hangout.

Step 4 - Naming Your Town - Start by looking at the kinds of town names that surround your town. Look for common naming conventions... suffixes like -ton, -ville, -dale, -burg, -wood, -field, etc. Words in a particular language, like a lot of French-inspired town names, or towns with geographical terms (lake, hill, valley, river, canyon, gap, etc.) My guide to Naming Locations has additional tips.

Step 5 - Populate Your Town and Give it a History - Last but not least, make up a little history for your town, again, using surrounding towns as inspiration. Who founded it? When was it founded? What's the town's main industry? What are the people like in this town? What jobs do they have? What do they do for fun?

Here are some other posts that might help:

Five Things to Help You Describe Fictional Locations Setting Your Story in an Unfamiliar Place WQA’s Guide to Internet Research Happy writing!

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

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[typecastwritesssss]

okay but like the wind waker man. that intro. so many questions. we all know ocarina is dark but man wind waker just straight up said "and then they all drowned and the gods never came to help" hello??? how many years. how many decades. how much time did the adult hero of time buy for them? which child of zelda’s was daphnes? her son? grandchild? great-grandchild? when he stared at the rising waters and realized nothing was going to save them, his kingdom, did he think it was retribution for all the war? 

has it really been all that long? yes and also no. the lines are so blurred. the zora are birds and the kokiri are koroks and they had time to Get That Way but everywhere you look the old Hyrule, the Hero of Time himself, they're both all over the place. the deku tree is implied to be the sprout from the adult timeline but honestly who knows. the golden goddesses are statues on islands somewhere and there was a tower built to test who came after but…who and how and why? what was the tower of the gods even for? how did they know they’d need it? at what point did they accept the hero of time was never coming back so they’d probably need to train a new one? 

and oh my god, that outset island tradition. “dress your kids in green and give ‘em a sword and pray to the gods they’ll have the courage to cast down evil.” link rolls his eyes at it but he wears them to appease grandma. the revered clothes of the hero have had time to pass into “stupid traditional getup” territory. how many “failed Links” were there before Aryll’s brother? what evil could those children have possibly stricken down? the monsters in the woods?

“what became of that kingdom? none remain who know” like goddamn. say what you want about the hero’s shade in twilight princess. but at least the traumatized ghost got to meet one of his descendants and pass on his songs and his knowledge, even if that knowledge was only of war and death and combat. in the wind waker he’s a statue. an element of a legend mentioned once or twice by the last remaining holdouts of the past—holdouts who so badly want him to return, view him as the solution over all else, that they never pause to consider any other option. there are stained glass windows of the seven sages in the master sword’s chamber that are never mentioned. there is so much that is never mentioned.

nobody knows what the fuck anybody is talking about. link doesn’t know old hylian. tetra is running around the high seas (as a pirate. she and her retainers are now pirates. how did things get that way) with a piece of the damn triforce around her neck and she doesn’t know who ‘princess zelda’ even is. the juxtaposition between ganondorf, older and tired and wiser but still hell-bent on ruling hyrule even if it is a dead land full of nothing and no one, and tetra, a zelda that knows nothing, asking why he’s laughing and calling him insane. because hyrule’s dead. she has no frame of reference for his longing, or what he found so great about this sunken kingdom.

and this is framed as a good thing. the king of red lions thinks it’s better not to let either of the kids in on the loop until tetra nearly dies for lack of knowledge. daphnes nolhansen hyrule brought “the hero” back just to end ganon, and hyrule with him. was the plan always to let the sea fall in on him? maybe. i don’t know. but he rejects zelda’s plea with him to take him with them to the land that will be the new hyrule, because “it will not be hyrule. it will be your land” and that still gets me. he thinks the best thing to do with his kingdom, Hyrule, the kingdom of a whole hell of a lot of irl people’s childhoods, is for it to wash away. he wants the kids to live for the future and they do and they will and they name it hyrule anyway in his honor but he never gets to see it.

anyways i’m still mad everybody got butthurt over “trains in a zelda game” like come on now

[runningfrom2am]

michigan cherry // part eight

summary: walking into a saloon in a nowhere town, billy meets a singer who he just can't get off his mind after she slips through his fingers; onto another town, another show- following nothing but the stars in her path. until he sees her again. another nowhere town and equally dusty saloon, but this time, the band of kids who made up her family is nowhere to be found. he's running away from something, and she is storming full speed toward something else, and tangling into each other's lives may just get both of them exactly where they want to be.

pairing: william h. bonney x fem!reader

wc: 2.3k

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: singer!reader (she’s giving very much lucy gray), probably a little bit ooc billy but hey i tried- anyway he’s a sweetheart, use of guns and violence, murder and violence but i try to keep it non-descript, oh also she’s an orphan sorry (once again, lucy gray vibes), strangers to friends to lovers trope eee. also not thoroughly proofread oops

the songs in this chapter are: "The Old Therebefore (Acapella)" by Rachel Zegler, and "Suneater" by Leanna Firestone !!

a/n: its been soo long ah! i'm sorry! i've been BOOKED (what's new) anyways hopefully i can sort my shit out bc i love this story sm. also i didn't edit this bc at least i wrote it yk.

my asks are also open to talk about this series! (i do have emoji anons open now too!)

send me any and all of your thoughts! here!

series masterlist // pinterest board // playlist

The chill from the sheer stress of staring down the barrel of a gun makes the transition back into the howling winds that much easier. Staring back at the barn with the doors now being forced closed from the inside, you let Billy drag you away, and you're not even meaning to make it difficult by nearly stumbling with every step. He seems empathetic to your cause, not letting it affect the process of trying to get you somewhere safe.

Options were limited, more so now than before. Part of him wants to break down the front door of the house your little brother occupies and shove you and your precious guitar under a bed and hope it's enough, but with the way the walls are rocking in the wind as it was with the twister still a ways off, surviving long enough to have to claw you out from under the debris of a collapsed house certainly sounds like a daunting task.

Okay, new plan. Away from the house. Far away.

Behind the house, there's a series of rolling hills that expand in nearly every direction. Billy doesn't know much about surviving a tornado, but if he could just get you far enough out into this open field, the odds of it passing by so close to cause any harm were slimmer, right? It's not like cyclones could track or follow body heat- as far as he knew anyway, but right now it sure felt like it did. It was probably still miles away, but he couldn't hear past the racing winds.

You don't even say anything. You can't, even has the house and it's barn where Harvey is hopefully safe and sound disappear quickly from your view; thanks to the gray cloak of rain soaking your show dress and the notebook in your hand.

There's a flash in the cool darkness that the late afternoon turned into, a bright light tinted almost blue that you don't process even happened until it was gone. It's the following bout of thunder that startles you after, jolting you closer to Billy's side.

On what must be gut instinct alone he drops your hand to throw his arm around your back, more so pushing you now rather than pulling.

There's no viable destination, surrounded only by long grass whipping in the wind in a similar way to your hair, and rolling hills.

That'll have to do, Billy thinks, pushing you as gently as he can down into the little valley and shouting over the wind with his hand firmly on your back. "Lay down!"

"Huh?!" You snap out of your daze, through the storm to look at him.

"Lay down!" He repeats himself, pulling you down onto the ground with him and you tumble into the wet grass. He lands on top of you, legs tangled together and weighed down by your guitar case on his back which you're damn sure just knocked him hard in the back of the head.

His elbows are braced on either side of your head, and for a moment you get a chance to breathe without being drowned by the heavy rainfall. Nose to nose, you could feel Billy's warm breaths on your face, and you can tell he's feeling as relieved as you are even though he's the one being poured on right now- his eyes closed tight and chest heaving against yours.

God have mercy.

You have to close your eyes again to try and keep it together. You were upset with him, you know you were- but the reason is a long lost mystery right now with him laying on top of you in a ditch, trying possibly in vain to protect you from this dreadful storm.

You don't know how long your eyes are pinched shut before you feel his cold hand on your face, pushing your wet hair away from where it was clinging to your skin. "Are you okay?" He asks, and you can certainly hear him being so close.

You nod, leaning your cheek into his palm as he rests it against your cheek, brows furrowed in concentration and worry as he strokes your face with his thumb. "Fine." You answer, finding it hard still to catch your breath.

Unsure what else to do, you wrap your arms around his waist and hold on while he keeps the wind out of your face.

"We just gotta wait it out." He huffs, lifting his head slightly to look around, but it's impossible to see a damn single thing.

Having him so close erases any fear of being sucked away and thrown off miles high by this tornado, and your heart is beating fast- indiscernable from adrenaline or just... him.

With your eyes squeezed shut again, he can't tell if you really are okay, if you're panicking, and the raindrops soaking your skin make it hard to tell if you're crying.

"You're headed for heaven, sweet old hereafter..."

You open your eyes again when you hear him singing one of your own songs, your eyes coloured thoroughly with misunderstanding. It doesn't last long when he keeps going, the low tones of his voice bringing in recognition and even the beginnings of a smile that makes him feel comfortable with his decision to try and cheer you up.

"And I've got one foot in the door..."

Billy nudges your cheek gently with his knuckle, the playful smile on his lips prompting you to join in.

"But before I can fly up, I've loose ends to tie up, right here in the old therebefore."

You sing along with him this time, and gradually, line by line, you're getting louder and smiling ear to ear. Somewhere along the line you'd lost him, but that had never mattered to you. He didn't know all the words but he knew enough.

"When I'm pure like a dove, when I've learned how to love-"

He cuts you off abruptly, and you're surrounded by an unreal warmth laying on the cold ground as he kisses you like his life depended on it. Like he had been waiting his entire life for this, and right now, he's sure he was. If he was swept away by this tornado in a matter of seconds his only regret would be that he didn't get to kiss you more.

Your lips are cold, cheeks wet as his skin slides over yours and you can feel him breathing you in, heart and soul in their entirety. You were terrified before of losing another good thing, even though you had known from the moment you laid your eyes on him that this is what you had wanted.

"For someone who sings like an angel," He murmurs into your lips, pulling away just enough to get the words out and you can feel the slight curve of a smile there to match your own, "You sure do taste sweet as sin."

You had spent another week rolling around the hills of Crystal City, holding onto each other as tight as you had during the storm that blew you back together in the first place. The outside world, as far as the two of you were concerned, ceased to exist after you helped with a few repairs here and there, steering clear of the Booker's and their home.

"So," Billy grins, arms snaking around your waist from behind in the chilly water, pulling you back and close to his chest. "You write that song about me, sunshine?"

You're nearly shivering, but your cheeks still heat up as you drop your head back against his shoulder. "What song?" You ask, trying to fight the smile on your face as you scrub the water over your bare arms in some attempt to get clean.

He nudges his nose into your temple. "Any of 'em."

"One or two." You admit. "But to get this straight, you're confessing to reading my journal?"

"My mistake, I thought it was public art I was appreciating." You can feel him smirk against the damp skin of your cheek.

"So public you waited until it was unattended to read it without asking, huh?"

He shrugs, thumbing the incredibly soft skin on either side of your stomach. "I needed to really... soak it in, y'know? That depth of beauty needs its solitude to be loved correctly." He mumbles into your hair. "Like you."

You roll your eyes, turning and slipping out of his grip only to splash him, your free hand coming up to cover your chest under the summer sun. It's a beautiful day, a perfect day, even. "I'll sing you a new one tomorrow." You tell him, but he's quickly distracted.

"Hey, none of that!" He laughs, lifting his hand up to block the spray of creek water from his face.

He takes a swift step closer, the minor wave helping you back up faster away and Billy believes he's never seen anything brighter than that precious smile of yours.

"None of what?" You giggle, and with another quick movement he's grabbing your arms to free you up to his gaze again. Instead of fighting him on it though, you grab onto his wrists and fall limp backwards, dragging him into the shallow water with you which he wouldn't dare to resist.

The next night, the saloon was up and running again and oh, how it was a good night for a show. The air was buzzing with everyone being eager to forget their troubles- both perpetual or caused by the storm.

It's crowded, and your guitar case is to be the vessel of many a tip tossed from the hands of drunk men who were feeling particularly lucky in poker.

You could smell it in the air, tonight would be good.

You step up onto the stage after downing a warm shot of honey, grabbing your guitar and picking at it mindlessly to grab the attention of anyone who intended to listen. That number has greatly increased over the last few months, your name was being passed around like a bottle of strong whiskey in a friendly crowd. So, Billy watches as people quiet down, his eyes returning to you from his seat at a poker table where he was attempting to win something decent to contribute to your savings.

"Hope everyone's havin' a good night so far." You grin, forcing your gaze to scan the crowd instead of remaining anchored to Billy in the corner. "I figure it's likely everyone needs some cheerin' up, that was one hell of a tempest, wasn't it?"

There's some shouts of agreement, some confused mumbles at the term. Your smile splits your face and you nod. "Hey, but we're all here, ain't we? We should count that a blessing. And the sun is back, bigger and brighter than ever."

Your eyes meet Billy's again and you can just see the slight curve of his lips in one corner- he simply couldn't not smile like an idiot in your presence.

"That being said, this song is called Suneater."

The introduction earns you some laughs as you begin the first few chords, glancing down at the journal on the floor next to you to refresh your memory before you started singing.

"Angels danced the day that you were born, Oh, I'm so sure they celebrated when you arrived. You're so bright, I swear, you swallowed the sun And I am so in awe, just basking in your light."

The way you were looking at Billy every couple seconds is the only viable indicator that you wrote this about him, because surely, he was the farthest thing from a bask-able light. On top of that, he hadn't read it in your journal a few weeks earlier when he was feeling forgivably nosey. But you had written it this week, and it was possibly the fastest any song had ever come together from the very forefront of your mind.

"But I am just the one who swallowed the moon The only light that I have's just a reflection of you. You're the sea of tranquillity, You're all of my stars, You're Neptune and Saturn, You're Venus and Mars, And I see the whole galaxy in your eyes."

Billy sits back and crosses his arms, his cards clutched tight to his chest as he shakes his head a little at you and your horrible misinterpretation of who is who in this unofficial and heavenly relationship. You can still see him smiling though, knowing he couldn't flip this on you while you were performing.

"And I long to tell you But I think it'll only make you shy. You got the heart of a Leo. But you're sweet like a Pisces, And the only thing I know is I think I might be falling for The boy who swallowed the sun."

He draws a few eyes followed by your own loving gaze, and he shrinks back a little in his seat, lowering his hat just a bit. For reasons obvious to him, he didn't love having eyes on him.

Your smile just grows, assuming you had been right about your assumption mentioned in the song that it would make him shy. To be fair, you are too. As much as you openly cared for one another, you both were yet in the week after your kiss to share a single word and genuine as these. A confession. A real I love you.

"I will keep the tides in tune if you will make the flowers bloom And gravity will do the rest and pull me back to you. Just like Hades and Persephone, The boy who ate the sun and me, You have brought sunshine to the dark side of the moon."

As the bar continued to be mostly entranced by your melodious serenade, you're slightly distracted. You had looked away from Billy for no more than a few seconds to maintain a better stage presence, when you see him stand out of the corner of your eye. Stand, head down and walk between chairs and tables, past the bar, and out the back door, your eyes following the whole way as your smile steadily faded which each step he took away during your love song.

You feel your heart crack in your chest, but the show must go on.

no taglist this time around!! my fics usually get over a hundred requests to be added to the taglist so instead i made a library! follow me over on @runningfrom2am-library and turn on notifs to get updates when i post new parts!!

[lost-in-fandoms]

from this for @91finewalls94. this grew a life of its own, i don't know what happened!

to steal my heart tonight

"It is fucking itchy!"

"Stop complaining and get on with it, Max."

GP's voice is tinny through the earpiece Max is wearing, carefully disguised as an earring, but there's no mistaking his stern tone. Max has heard it enough times to probably be able to dream about it. She probably has already.

"I still don't know why Alex couldn't do this!" she complains, one last time, just for show. She's already walking towards the doors of the mansion, smiling at the disinterested bodyguard at the door hoping nobody can see the way she's gritting her teeth at the uncomfortable feeling of having to walk on heels.

She doesn't get an answer, but she knows what it would be. Apparently, she's exactly the millionaire's daughter's type. Lucky her. Can't wait to spend a couple hours flirting with someone just to be able to get her fingerprints for the access to the vault!

At least the food looks great. She's not allowed to drink, even if she does accept some champagne for show, but she ignores GP's pointed huff and eats two canapes. Perfectly flaky and butter, better than whatever sandwiches they will be eating in the van. Take that, Alex!

She still contemplating the option of licking her fingers in a ballroom full of fancy rich people, when her eyes lock in on the figure of the woman she's supposed to be charming tonight, entering the room in a gorgeous red dress.

And yeah, Max can admit Daniel is beautiful. She has perfect curls and a perfect smile and wide brown eyes, and if this was an anonymous club somewhere in the city, Max would probably try to hit on her out of her own free will. But she doesn't like being stuffed in a dress, with way too much cleavage, and being told to flirt. She used to be paid to hit people, not to charm them! Where has society ended up to?

She catches the movement of Daniel's head just in time to turn around, letting her eyes glide over her back, hearing the crackle of the earpiece just a second before GP start talking.

"Okay, she has seen you and she's walking your way. Please, Max, try to act properly this time."

"If you don't know what to say, just bend over and show her your boo..." Alex's comment gets cut off, as GP probably shoves him away from the radio. Max burns with the repressed desire to talk back.

She follows Daniel's movements through the room from the corner of her eye, always pretending to be looking somewhere else, so she's not surprised when a hand lands gently on her arm, but she still pretends to be.

"Sorry, didn't mean to startle you!" Daniel's voice is bright, carrying a smile in every syllable, and suddenly Max's task feels a little easier.

--

Talking to Daniel is easy. Dancing with her, even if it's a stupid waltz, both of them giggling and stumbling along, is even easier. Getting her fingerprints is a child's play. Leaving her, though.

If Max wasn't working, she would be asking Daniel to go home with her. Or well, for Daniel to take her upstairs in one of the many bedrooms this big ass house has, and let Max eat her out until she cries.

But she's working, and she's damn good at her job, so when Daniel is being whisked away by someone else, she discreetly makes her way towards one of the garden doors and slips away.

As soon as she's out of view, she slips her heels off, stuffing them in a bush. Better being barefoot and risking to impale herself on a rusty nail than taking one more step in those things. And why the hell did she have to wear a fucking thong? Never again.

"Next job, Alex is wearing the thong," she mutters as she slinks through the shadows, taking the long way around to the other side of the house.

"And I'll look great in it!"

Max can almost hear GP rubbing his forehead in frustration.

"Can you spot the right window?" he asks, as if Max is a rookie or something.

"Yeah, GP, I can spot the right window," she grumbles, as she tries to make her dress stay in a position that won't make her fall to the ground while she's climbing the pergola.

Well, if anyone comes around, she will have bigger problems than someone seeing her ass in a thong.

She's sweating a little when she finally reaches the window Alex had left unlocked earlier in the day, when he had been in the house under the guise of a catering person, but she hauls herself in without a sound, landing on plush carpet.

Now, she only has to walk through the hallway and get to the vault, get the documents they need and get out of there.

And never see Daniel again.

She refuses to think about the tug in her chest at the thought.

"Hallway is clear," GP's voice is quiet but sure, and Max doesn't question it, opening the room's door and walking into the hallway. The vault's room is just three doors down, and she makes her way there quickly, knowing she won't have much time to pick the lock and then work the vault before security makes the rounds.

She's already taking pins out of her air and getting them into the lock when her earpiece crackles again.

"Max? What are you waiting for?"

"I am at the door, what do you mean?" she asks, still working away, willing her hands to stay steady even as her nerves pick up.

"I don't see you." Ice runs in her veins, her instinct flaring even before her brain can catch up with the implications of GP's words. "We don't have cameras! Max get out."

The lock gives exactly as GP finishes speaking and Max swings the door open.

A second later, there's a gun pointed at her forehead.

"Hello, Maxy," Daniel smiles. Her red dress looks bloody in the shadowy room. "And here I was, thinking we had something."

Max stands very very still. Her earpiece crackles again, but no words come through. She doesn't know if it's because GP thought better than to speak in this moment or if Daniel has taken control of that too.

Max knows she's fucked. She doesn't know why Daniel is standing here with a gun instead of calling for security, but she knows it won't be long before she's either shot or taken down in some other way. Her heart is a terrified bird in her chest. Her hands don't shake.

"What are you doing, Daniel?" she asks, as if they were still downstairs eating canapes, instead of in a dark office, a loaded gun between them.

Daniel is still smiling. There's something hungry about her that she had been concealing before.

"Max," GP's voice is very quiet and very steady, "we think she's trying to steal them too. Either for herself or someone else. You can still work this."

Max takes a step forward.

The gun is now a cold touch against her forehead, but she ignores it, reaching forward to brush her hands against Daniel's clothed hips, feeling herself smile.

"I really like this dress," she says, voice low, letting her rasp come through. She can see Daniel's confusion clear as day, but the gun stays steady.

"Are you going to say it would look better on the floor?" Daniel raises one perfect eyebrow, but her smile changes, a different kind of hunger in it.

"You can keep it on if you'd like, I can work around it."

This makes Daniel laugh, the usual big, loud sound tamped down.

"What are you doing, Maxy?" she asks.

The gun is on Max's left temple now, shifted with Daniel's curiosity, as her arm bends and she lets herself be pulled closer.

"Hopefully, kissing you."

"Guns to your head turn you on? Naughty."

The gun is now to the side of her head, Daniel's arm bent awkwardly as their chests brush.

For a wild moment, Max considers kissing Daniel for real. Considers discarding the gun, forgetting about the documents and finding a free bedroom. For a wild moment, she considers giving in and letting her heart be soft, just this once.

Then she twists her body, knocks Daniel's hand away, takes hold of the gun and points it back at her in the span of one soundless breath.

Daniel blinks back at her, fear flickering for a moment through her surprise, followed by what Max would read as hurt if she was more foolish.

"I'm sorry," she still finds herself saying, softer than she probably should, "I would have loved making you come."

Daniel's mouth opens again, but Max can see her muscles coiling and she's not giving her the chance to be the first person to make her fail at her job.

"I hope I don't give you brain damage," she says, still way too apologetic. And then she hits her over the head with her own gun, catching her before she can crumple on the ground.

[mymoonagedaydream]

Summary: You thought that dying of exposure was the worst thing that could happen to you out in the desert. You were wrong.

Pairing: Mechanic!Bucky x y/n

Word Count: 6k

Warnings: Language, some very PG 13 smut

Author’s Note: Yes this oneshot was partially inspired by Before He Cheats by Carrie Underwood and yes, I'm British so I had to Google what a slugger was. Everyday's a school day folks. It was also partially inspired by that one photo from a movie I've never seen that I used in the banner okthanksbye.

There was nothing coming. Not a single other vehicle had passed since you broke down over two hours ago. The roof of your car was getting pretty unbearably hot now, even through the layers of clothes you were using as a makeshift picnic blanket you could feel it starting to burn your legs. You considered trying to sit inside for a while again, but you had to give up last time because it became like a fucking sauna, and at least up here you were clearly visible to anyone passing.

---

This isn’t how you thought you were going to die. Granted, you’d never actually spent a great deal of time considering it before, but there wasn’t much else to occupy your mind while you slowly baked underneath the midday sun. You looked up and down the road once more, still only able to see a few feet clearly before the rising hot air started to blur and obscure the view. The brown, cracked landscape stretched on and on before bending over the horizon and disappearing out of sight.

You checked your phone once more but, unsurprisingly, service had not magically descended upon you. Glancing over your shoulder at the bonnet, propped open and somehow still smoking, you wondered whether it was a bad idea to be this close to an engine that could probably explode at any second. At least a quick death would be less painful than slowly being cooked alive.

Leaning your head back and squeezing your eyes closed, a new sound caught your attention. Something whirring in the distance. Your head snapped towards it, eyes straining at the horizon, heart jumping when it came into view. A pickup truck.

A sudden burst of energy hit and you scrambled onto your feet, balancing precariously and frantically waving your arms above your head. As it moved closer you started to smile to yourself, overjoyed thinking that you’d soon be somewhere with shade and cold water, somewhere with air conditioning.

Your face dropped, however, when you realised that it wasn’t slowing down. You waved your arms faster. Nothing. You started to jump up and down, shouting as loud as you could.

“Hey! Stop, I need help!”

Your voice cracked as it drew closer. Your arms dropped and you watched, helplessly, as it sped past, too fast for you to even make out the face of the driver. Jumping down to the ground and running into the middle of the road, you screamed after it.

“Fuck you, motherfucker! ”

Bursting with anger, you pathetically kicked a rock, barely managing to muster the energy to move it more than a few feet. That was it, your one chance at rescue, gone. You squatted down, needing to rest but knowing the asphalt would be hot enough to fry an egg. You could feel the sunburn starting to prickle on your arms.

There was nothing else for it now, you’d have to walk. Either you’d come across civilization eventually or you’d just die, both were better options than being found out here as a sun-bleached skeleton in three weeks' time. You grabbed your backpack and all of your remaining water from the car, setting off in the direction you’d been heading before the breakdown. You knew there was nothing for miles in the direction you’d come from, so this was your best bet.

You’d been walking for over an hour when the vague shape of a building appeared on the horizon. You were half-convinced it was a mirage but, once you picked up your pace, the blurred outline started becoming clearer. The rusty old roadside sign eventually came into view and you saw that it was a baseball themed diner called The Slugger’s Dugout . You looked around, there wasn’t a blade of grass in sight. Strange place to play baseball.

You practically ran the final stretch towards it, the taste of dry baked earth caking your throat and tongue as you kicked up clouds of dust. You stopped dead, however, when you reached the edge of the parking lot and noticed that there was just one car sitting outside. The fucking pickup truck. This would be interesting.

You burst through the door and threw yourself at the counter, making the elderly server jump out of her skin and almost drop a pot of steaming coffee.

“Are you alright, dear?”

“I broke down,” your throat was so dry that your words were coming out horse and sticky, “do you have a phone? And water?”

She kicked into gear a lot faster than you’d expected after hearing that. She filled a tall glass with tap water and placed it in front of you, patiently waiting for you to gulp it down before reaching three quarters out of the tip jar and pointing out the payphone on the far wall.

“There’s a card over there for a towing company, they should be able to help you out.”

You thanked her profusely, returning the glass and sliding the change into your palm.

You only then realised that, in all the excitement around finally quenching your thirst, you’d briefly forgotten that the person you now hated most in the world was somewhere inside this building. Was it the elderly server who’d abandoned you on the side of the road? Well, the door said they opened at 8am and she was the only employee here, so either she’d been very late for her shift or there was someone else skulking around.

You gave her a suspicious side-eye while you wandered towards the phone but you instantly felt bad about it. The coins clinked as you dropped them into the slot, the dial tone sounding through the receiver. You pressed in the number from the faded business card taped up on the wall. A lady with a thick accent answered the call and, as you were explaining your situation to her, you spotted someone walk out of the bathroom and take a seat in one of the booths.

He looked like a fucking pickup truck driver. Flannel shirt rolled up to his elbows, old blue jeans, dirty brown hair slicked back. You could feel anger rising in your stomach as you watched him begin to eat. You were so distracted giving him daggers that you almost missed the lady on the other end of the phone telling you that they wouldn’t be with you until 7pm.

That was the final straw.

You slammed down the receiver, making the poor server jump once again, and marched over to his table, bracing yourself against the seat opposite him.

“Thanks for the help back there, asshole.”

He looked up from his plate and eyed you calmly, staying silent. That just riled you up even more.

“Seriously? I could’ve fucking died out there, you couldn’t have stopped for just a few minutes? What, were you in a rush to get to the bacon pancakes before they sold out? Were you late for the ignorant cunt convention?”

“No.” There was a clatter as he dropped his fork on the table.

“There was another incredibly good reason then, was there?”

“Yeah, actually, cause the last time I picked up a hitchhiker she started smoking crack in the passenger seat then robbed me.”

“I'm not a fucking hitchhiker. My car broke down, did you not see the tower of smoke?”

“No.”

He was lying, the piece of shit was definitely lying.

“Fuck you.”

“Hey, it’s not my fault you got yourself into a situation you weren’t prepared for, sweetheart. Play with fire, get burned.”

You sucked your teeth in frustration and began to storm out, but got distracted by something just beside the door. It was a little area designed for kids to take pictures in, with a backdrop of a baseball field and a wooden bat propped up against the wall. The sign above it read:

Take a swing and make a memory at The Slugger’s Dugout!

Well, if they insisted.

You casually picked up the bat and pushed the door open, waltzing over to the lovely shiny pickup truck glinting under the sun.

Batter up.

With one swift movement, you connected the end of the weapon with one of the tail lights, shattering the glass and watching it splinter onto the floor. It was gloriously fucking satisfying. You heard the sound of the door swinging open behind you almost immediately.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

You twisted around, pointed the baseball bat at him with a smile and winked. “Play with fire, get burned asshole.”

He started yelling wildly but you tuned out, dragging the bat across the floor as you walked away, preparing yourself for the hour-long trek back to the car.

At least you’d be in a better mood for this one.

---

You could only have been walking for ten minutes when you heard a sputtering engine approaching from behind. You didn’t turn to look, you knew exactly who it would be. Your hand tightened around the weapon you were still holding.

The truck pulled up beside you and the passenger window slid down, but you didn’t break stride, walking straight past it without so much as a sideways glance. Out the corner of your eye you saw it begin to slowly roll forwards, eventually matching your pace and cruising beside you

“Hey, Babe Ruth.” You ignored him. “Look, I’m sorry, alright? I should’a helped. Can I give you a ride?”

Well, that wasn’t what you were expecting. You stopped abruptly and turned towards the window, prompting him to slam on the brakes.

“You really shouldn't be driving with a tail light out, y’know. It’s dangerous.”

“You shouldn't be messing with strange men out in the desert.”

“Is that a threat?”

“No,” a hint of a smirk crept over his mouth, “but there's bigger assholes than me out here.”

“Doubt it.”

You considered for a second. On the one hand, you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of accepting his help but, on the other, it’d be pretty fucking stupid to decline when there was still a slim chance you could die out here. The sun was searing hot now, sweat rolling down your forehead and aches starting in all your joints.

With the bat still gripped firmly in your hand, you reluctantly swung the door open and climbed in. The blasting air-con was annoyingly refreshing. A candy wrapper crunched under your foot as you got comfortable, the faint smell of stale cigarettes mixed with cheap aftershave seeping out of the seat beside you. He offered you a bottle of water, which you eagerly accepted, finishing off half of it without taking a breath.

As the truck rolled away, he turned towards you.

“I’m Bucky, by the way.” You nodded. “So where you headed?”

“Let's not small talk.”

“Suit yourself.”

He reached over to the centre console and switched on the radio, turning the volume up offensively loud when he heard whatever generic, god-awful country song was playing. You lost it when he started tapping along on the steering wheel.

“This is worse.”

“You just keep gettin’ burned today, don’t you?”

You rolled your eyes. You had to sit through three whole banjo-plucking, pickup-trucking, cousin-fucking slow jams before you saw your poor little car approaching in the distance. It had stopped smoking, at least, but you had no idea if that was a good sign.

Your driver pulled off the road and parked up directly in front of the wreckage, giving it a dubious frown.

“How long did they say for a tow truck?”

“Six hours.”

He burst out laughing and opened his door, climbing out of the car. You sat for a few seconds and watched him approaching the open bonnet, very confused, before following suit and exiting the truck.

“Can I help you?”

“No,” he flashed you a smile, “but I can help you.”

After properly securing the hood, he leaned over the front of the car and started tinkering with god knows what, tutting occasionally. You loitered behind him and watched suspiciously. It looked like he knew what he was doing but you didn’t trust him at all.

"You wanna back off a little? I can feel you breathing down my neck."

“What are you doing?”

“Look, I can stand here and try to explain it or I can try to fix it, your choice.”

"Fine," you slinked backwards, "but if this is some kind of eye for an eye, car for a car revenge plan you've hatched, I will fucking come for you."

"That a promise?"

His unexpectedly flirty tone caught you off guard for a second. You tried to think of a witty retort, but all attempts just seemed to die on your tongue. That had never happened before.

It only occurred to you then that, in your new position standing a few feet behind him, you'd gained a pretty impressive view. You tilted your head slightly. Those blue jeans were really working overtime.

"Everything alright back there?"

You snapped out of your daze. "Yeah, what, why?"

"You haven't insulted me in over a minute, thought you might've fainted or somethin'." He stood up and turned towards you with a smile, wiping his hands down the front of his shirt. "You wanna make yourself useful and try to start her up?"

With a brief scowl in his direction, you climbed into the driver's seat and tried the ignition. A slightly smug smile settled on your face when it sputtered for a few seconds and died.

"Try again."

"Might be time to admit defeat my guy." You turned the key once more, it worked. "Holy shit."

"Not bad, huh?"

You were actually incredibly impressed, but there was no way in hell he was going to find that out.

"That depends, will it last?"

He strolled over and leaned over the open driver's side door, shrugging. "Would help if I knew how far you were going."

"About two hundred more miles."

He laughed. "Not a chance."

"Brilliant."

You didn't care. As long as he'd done enough to get you off this godforsaken stretch of road, that was enough. You jumped out and retrieved your backpack and weapon from his truck, pleased that you’d taken a gamble and accepted his help, but even more pleased that you could now drive away and never have to see him again.

Why did god have to give such great asses to such awful people? What a waste.

"Here," he stopped you before you got back into your car and pulled out his wallet, grabbing a slip of paper and holding it towards you, "stop at this workshop. They'll help you out."

"I don’t have any money."

"Well, maybe just tell 'em that after they’ve fixed it up."

"Alright."

You plucked it from his fingers, climbed in behind the steering wheel and slammed the door, so ready for this shit chapter to be behind you. Asshole only moved out of the way after you revved at him a few times, holding his arms out in annoyance and shouting.

"You're welcome!"

You ignored him and drove off. He'd helped you out but, after the shit he'd pulled earlier, you figured this just made you even. No need for thanks.

---

You pulled into The Slugger's Dugout on your way past, intending to apologise, return the bat and pick up the broken glass you'd left scattered in the parking lot. When you got out of the car, however, you couldn't seem to find a single piece of it. He must’ve beat you to it. That explains why it took him ten fucking minutes to come pick you up.

A car horn blared from the road and you looked up to see the hick truck whiz past, probably too fast to clock the middle finger you stuck up at it.

You pulled the stolen baseball bat out of your car and timidly wandered inside, unsurprised at the hostile look that the poor old dear behind the counter greeted you with.

"Just… returning this."

You placed it back where you found it and gave her an awkward smile. Before you could escape, however, she leaned over the counter looking like she was ready to unleash a verbal thrashing.

"Now you look here, miss. I understand that you were upset, I would be too, but he is a good man and he didn't deserve that."

You winced slightly, trying not to come across too argumentative. "A good man who left me on the side of the road to die?"

"I'm sure he had his reasons."

You nodded, too intimidated by her strict demeanour to argue back anymore. Why was she so much scarier than the broad-chested tower of a man you just spent the last hour laying into?

"Do you know him?"

"Not very well, but he used to come in here every single Sunday with his father. Every week I watched him help that old man out of the car and to a table, watched them talk and laugh together for hours. I don't think I've ever seen someone of his age look so happy," her expression changed, "but I haven't seen the two of them for months now. That was the first time he's ever been here alone, I didn’t like to ask what happened."

You nodded again, figuring both of you could guess exactly what happened. If she was trying to make you feel like a guilty piece of shit then she was doing a cracking job.

Personal tragedy aside, however, he still acted like an ass.

After thanking her again for her help earlier, you headed out. There wasn't much more you needed to know about a guy you were probably never going to see again.  

---

The garage you’d been recommended was just over an hour away, there was weak service outside the diner so you managed to scope it out on maps. To your great relief, as you drove, the stretching desert started to gradually give way to actual civilization, a small, dilapidated town springing up around you. It seemed like the kind of place where people were born, lived and died without ever leaving. You dreaded how they’d react to a broke stranger turning up and begging for free help.

Eventually reaching your destination, you pulled up into the forecourt, cringing at the sound your engine made as it powered down. There was no way in hell that any self-respecting mechanic would come near this thing without a hefty down payment. Still, all you could do was try.

You left the rustbucket and wandered through the open shutter, looking around for any signs of life, preferably someone in coveralls who looked easily manipulated. There was only one person inside. You couldn’t believe it.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

He spun round, a clang sounding when he dropped whatever complicated tool he was holding onto a nearby table. “Hey, firecracker. I thought you’d ignored some great advice there for a second.”

“And I thought I’d finally got rid of you,” you scanned your eyes around desperately for anyone else who looked vaguely useful, “but hey, at least one of us is happy.”

“It’s just me here, darlin’. The other guys are on lunch.”

“Fantastic.”

He met your unimpressed scowl with a wink as he strolled past. “The shitbox out front?”

“Mhmm.”

You weren’t too sure what was happening here. He already knew you couldn’t pay, and he knew how much work that fucking thing needed, so what was his plan? There was very little you could do to repay any kind of debt to him, and even less that you were actually willing to do. You wondered how easy it would be to just do a runner with the car once it was back in working order.

He opened up the bonnet again but barely even glanced over it before turning back towards you.

“It’s gonna be a few hours at least. There’s a bar just around the corner,” he pointed down the street, “if you wait there I’ll come find you when it’s done.”

“Look, when I said I had no money, I wasn’t exaggerating. Apart from a little gas money I think I’ve got about fifteen dollars to my name right now. A beer would cost me over a third of my net worth.”

You were half-expecting him to slam the hood down and tell you to get lost after that, but he didn’t. He just chuckled and shook his head.

“Start a tab, give ‘em my name. They know I’m good for it.”

“That’s a risky offer.”

“Nah,” he pulled a dirty rag from his back pocket and used it to wipe down his hands, “surely the crazy broad who called me a cunt and busted my tail light can’t also have a drinking problem, right?”

You shrugged.

---

The door to the bar was unexpectedly heavy, almost tugging your shoulder out of its socket when you tried to yank it open. You felt a little embarrassed when you noticed a couple heads turning in the direction of the pathetic stranger wrestling with the slab of wood. Once inside, you apprehensively looked around, forcing down a dry gulp. This place was seedy as hell, maybe Bucky really did want you dead.

His idea worked, though, and you managed to set up a tab without any qualms. He must send ladies in here with that line all the time.

You decided to settle yourself on a stool at the end of the bar, reasoning that it might be marginally safer to stick as close as you could to the only staff member in the building. The hours passed slowly. It was almost five thirty when Bucky eventually trudged through the door and planted himself on the stool beside you.

He pointed to your glass. “What’re you drinking?”

“Just soda water, got a long drive tonight.”

“No you don't,” he hailed the bartender, “two double scotches, no ice.”

“What?”

“That thing ain’t gonna be ready ‘till at least tomorrow, midday.”

“You’re fucking with me.”

“Nope. Your suspension is more rust than metal.”

“Where the fuck am I supposed to sleep, then?”

He shrugged, picking up one of the glasses that the bartender had deposited in front of you and taking a quick nip. You leaned forward and let your head collapse onto the bar as a wave of hopelessness passed over you.

“Bucky, I am so exhausted. I’ve slept in my car for over a week and I haven’t had a proper shower in twice that.” Your words started to crack as tears welled in your eyes. “I don’t think I can handle this.”

“Woah, hey, don’t cry. It’ll be alright.”

“How? In what fucking world is it going to be alright?”

“Look, you can stay at my place tonight.”

You lifted your head to shoot daggers at him, in disbelief at how he was trying to engineer this situation. “You can’t be serious.”

“I didn’t mean it like that. I’ll sleep on the couch, you can take the bed.”

“Why would you do that?”

“Cause then we’d be even, right? Surely a smashed tail light, a fixed-up car and a place to stay balances out leaving you to die in the desert?” You raised an eyebrow in faint agreement. “Plus I can’t handle it when women cry, if this’ll make you stop then it’s worth it.”

You smiled at him, which was a new experience. Grabbing your glass of golden liquid from the bar, you drank it all down in one, immediately regretting your decision when it kicked you in the back of the throat like a pissed off mule. Bucky laughed at you before standing up gesturing for you to follow him out.

The two of you walked in silence for a few minutes before he hesitantly piped up.

“So, you gonna tell me why the hell you’re driving through the desert on your own, or am I still in the doghouse?”

“You’re still in the doghouse.” A prompting look in your direction somehow swayed you a little, you were getting too soft. “It’s really not exciting, I just got kicked out of my apartment. I used to have some family out here but we lost touch, now tracking them down is my only shot at avoiding living in my car full-time.”

“I wondered why there was so much crap piled in the back of that thing.”

“Mhmm, everything I own in the world is in that car. Had to sell most of my stuff for gas money, though.”

“That sucks.”

“Yep.” You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye, for some reason now experiencing some pangs of curiosity about your host. “How about you?”

“Me? What d’you mean?”

“Well, the lady at that diner said she used to see you with your dad a lot, but that you hadn’t been in for a while.”

“You two were talking about me?”

“She was talking at me, trying to convince me that I was the asshole.”

“I always liked her.” He smirked slightly, but it faded as he carried on. “My dad died a few months back. It was pretty hard, he was a good guy, helped me out a lot. More than I deserved, anyway."

“Go on.”

“Well, I was kind of an idiot a few years back. I let some shitty friends talk me into some stupid ideas and wound up inside for a few months.”

“Shit.”

“It was, I pretty much lost everything. When I got out I was pretty depressed, so all I wanted to do was get high and sleep, but he didn’t let me. He got me the job at the garage and gave me enough money for a couple month’s rent, to be honest I’d probably be dead now without him.”

“He sounds great.” The two of you exchanged warm glances for a second, but you didn’t want to give him any untoward ideas about the evening, so you continued. “It’s nice when people don’t leave others to die.”

“You have to let that go at some point.”

“I really don’t.”

When the two of you reached his apartment, you jumped straight into the shower, triple checking that the ensuite door was firmly locked before doing so. The place wasn’t nearly as dirty or bachelor pad-esque as you’d expected. Yeah, it was half-empty and hardly decorated, but that was to be expected of any man living on his own. At least it didn’t smell like ass.

Bucky was already knocked out on the couch when you came out of the bathroom, his neck folded in half and his feet dangling over the edge. It was his own fault for only buying a two-seater.

You changed into the t-shirt and gym shorts he’d left out for you, just hoping to god they were clean, and jumped into bed. It was far from perfect but, compared to the backseat of your car, it could’ve been a five star hotel. You drifted off almost instantly.

---

You were woken by a few loud raps on the bedroom door. It took you a few seconds of panic to remember where the hell you were, your head falling back into the pillow once you did so.

“What?”

“Are you all covered and stuff?” The low voice came through the wood. “I really need to pee.”

You let out a groggy laugh. “Go ahead.”

Bucky burst into the room and sprinted over to the bathroom, holding onto his junk like a child about to pee their pants. You would’ve laughed even harder at that sight, but you found yourself a little distracted by the fact that he was also shirtless. You only got a brief glance but, fucking hell, he was build like a brick wall. Suddenly you were wide awake.

You could hear him pissing like a firehose through the bathroom door and sighing audibly when he was finished. He wandered back through after a minute and paused at the foot of the bed.

“How’d you sleep?”

You were trying your very best to stay composed under the circumstances. “Mhmm, good, thanks.”

“Were the clothes I left out okay?”

“Yeah, yep, all good.”

“You alright?”

“Fine. Why?”

“You’re acting weird. Did something happen?” He grabbed a fistful of the duvet and tried to yank it out of your grip. “Did you piss the bed?”

“No I didn’t piss the fucking bed, Jesus.”

“What’s up then?”

You sat up, looking from his face, down to his chest, then back up to his face with a confused expression. He quickly cottoned on to what you were getting at.

“Oh, yeah, sorry. I made myself a coffee but spilled it down my shirt, and all my clothes are in here.”

He gestured over to the chest of drawers. You weren’t super convinced by that explanation, it sounded like he was making it up on the spot, but you nodded anyway.

“It’s fine.”

“It is?”

“Mhmm.”

“Good.”

His expression changed. Your heart started thudding, the look he was giving you making you start to break out in a sweat, your toes curling under the covers.

Reaching down, he grabbed hold of the duvet again but, this time, he tore it away and dropped it onto the floor with one swift movement. Moving slowly, cautiously, he climbed onto the bed on his knees, making his way forwards and carefully lowering himself down over you.

Well, you certainly hadn’t expected this. Just a few minutes later the two of you were tangled together so closely that you didn’t know where his body stopped and yours began. The skin on his face and hands felt rough as it grazed over yours, the sensation making you gasp each time you felt it, the deep chuckle that sounded right beside your ear in response making your stomach flutter wildly. As he panted, his warm breath spread over the side of your neck, sending an electric tingle all the way down your spine. This felt good, really fucking good. This might’ve been exactly what you needed.

What felt like hours later, he rolled over and landed with a thud on the mattress beside you, both of your chests rapidly rising and falling in unison. Lulling his head in your direction, he gave you a smile.

“Y’know,” he pushed his words out between deep breaths, “you could stay here for a while, if you wanted to. While you figure things out.”

“Was it that good?”

“Hell yeah it was.”

You laughed at his corny ass. “So, what you’re saying is that you’d be willing to give me a place to stay in exchange for sex? Sounds dangerously close to prostitution.”

“That’s not what I meant.” He rolled onto his side, resting his head on his hand so he could look you in the face. “You can stay with or without sex, I just like your company. No point sleeping in a crappy car when there’s a perfectly good bed right here.”

You gave him a smile. “I’ll think about it.”

---

After breakfast, Bucky gave you a ride to the garage in the pickup truck, now complete with a duct tape covered tail light. He said he could finish off the final touches on your car while you waited in the office, apparently the bar wasn’t open this early and there was nothing else to do in town apart from a shitty cafe and a gun range.

The two of you ducked under the half-open shutter and he headed into the back, telling you to wait by your car for a few minutes while he tidied up. The place was pretty small, just one other car being worked on aside from yours. You wondered how Bucky’s dad got him the job here, whether he had an in with the owner or whether he was just that easy a guy to trust. Running your fingers over the tools lined up on the workbench, you thought that maybe you could be happy with a life here, maybe it was exactly what you’d been looking for.

You almost jumped out of your skin when an older, grey-bearded man in coveralls suddenly appeared beside you. He gestured toward the rustbucket.

“This yours?” You nodded politely. “Here.”

He was trying to hand you the keys, eyes glued to the clipboard he was holding.

“Oh, Bucky said it still needed some work.”

He looked confused. “This one? Nah, this was ready to go yesterday. He said you were out of town or something.”

“He said what?”

Grey beard replied but you didn’t hear it, too busy piecing together the events of last night and becoming increasingly more pissed off as you did so. Bucky had lied to you for a quick lay, of course he fucking had. You felt like such an idiot. You snatched the keys and asked the now very puzzled looking man to open the shutter for you, climbing in and firing up the engine as he did so.

Bucky appeared at your window. “What are you doing?”

“Ask your friend over there.”

You gestured over to the other employee, who just shrugged while yanking on the shutter chain, and a wave of realisation washed over Bucky’s face.

“Let me explain.”

“I’m good, thanks.”

He banged his hand on the side of the car in frustration, quickly moving round to stand between it and its route to freedom.

You honked the horn. “Move, asshole.”

“Not until you hear me out.”

“Why should I? I don’t fucking know you, I don’t owe you shit.”

“Right.” Moving at a lightning pace, Bucky somehow managed to sprint around the side of the car, yank open your door and pull the keys from the ignition before you could even register what was happening. “Get out.”

“Go fuck yourself.”

With a frustrated sigh, he hurled the keys as hard as he could out onto the forecourt. “What’s your plan now, huh?”

You grunted loudly, narrowed your eyes at him and stepped out, marching straight past him and heading outside. He caught your arm before you reached the keys.

“Just stop for a second.”

“I don’t want to hear it.”

“Tough shit. I’m going to talk and you’re going to fucking listen, alright?” His firm tone shocked you a little, it was enough to make you relent just for a second. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? I shouldn’t have lied. I just wanted to spend some more time with you.”

“Well you pulled that off, so congrats, but now that you’ve had what you were after I’d like to go.”

“It wasn’t like that, I wanted more than that.” He rubbed his forehead. “I want more than that.”

“I’ve heard it all before, Buck. You barely even know me, just let me leave and we can both move on.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Cause you’re the only fucking thing that hasn’t depressed or bored me since I lost my dad, alright? I know it sounds stupid, but watching you take out my tail light was the first time I’d actually felt alive in months,” he slid his grip on your arm down, taking your hand in his, “and, maybe I’m out of line here, but I think you feel the same.”

You thought back.

Jesus, he was right. That was the first time you’d actually been in a good mood since leaving your apartment. Surely it can’t be healthy to base any kind of relationship on the joy you get from destroying each other’s property and screaming at each other, though? Can it?

In all fairness, he was the only person you’d even met that actually kept you on your toes, and you quite liked that. Usually people just responded to your insults with offence or tears.

“I don’t know. I mean, I guess, but I’m just not sure that-”

Your train of thought derailed completely when his mouth crashed against yours, your words getting swallowed as all of the breath left your lungs at once. You were hesitant at first, but you soon relented, relaxing, wrapping your arms around his neck and smiling against him, which he reciprocated.

He pulled away, looking incredibly pleased with himself. “So that’s how to shut you up.”

“Won’t work every time.”

“Worth a try, though.”

---

[spop-romanticizes-abuse]

Hey what's up? Been a time since i sended an ask how you doin'?

Anyway, i think that Catradora really destroyed the way that people often view enemies to lovers cause before that the villain always had to redeem himself to earn the hero's affection, another thing that probably ruined was those horrible Tik Tok POVs where the villain is just a nice guy and the hero was actually the evil One3 (idk if that originated on Tik Tok or somewhere else but i see that often on Tik Tok)

But some shows that actually do a good Enemies to lovers story is Maya and the 3 and Dragon Prince, cause at least the two characters don't torture or humiliate each other, they fight on equal footing and is clear they are only enemies because one doesn't understand the other, plus they have some pretty cute scenes that are actually cute and not abusive framed as cute

hey, i’ve been doing alright! how about you?

c//a actually ruined enemies to lovers for ME because it was one of the first media with the enemies to lovers trope that i had seen. and after that, i was skeptical of any other enemies to lovers that people talked about because i didn’t want to see another toxic romanticized mess. but it seems that it has the opposite effect to some people, to the point where they call some enemies to lovers ships VANILLA, because it’s not as abusive as c//a ☠️ and i don’t even use tiktok but i know exactly what POVs you’re talking about lmao idk when it became a trend to idolize the villains. yes, there are some villains who are complex and have interesting motivations, but people seem to have shifted completely to praising the villains and blaming the heroes.

that reminds me of the quote that i absolutely DESPISE “the hero will sacrifice you for the world and the villain will burn the world down for you” or something along those lines. first off, idk what media these people are consuming because there are very few heroes who would readily sacrifice their loved ones, even if they wanted to save the world, they would seek out other options. and i’ve seen very few villains who actually care about people, in fact, the most popular villains are famously either loners or abusive to everyone around them. secondly, i don’t get the hype around wanting someone who is rude to everyone except you. sure, it makes you feel special but why would you WANT to date an asshole? give them enough time and they would start treating you like trash too. i would much rather date a kind person who isn’t rude to anyone, unless they have a good reason.

idk the first one you mentioned, but the dragon prince definitely does enemies to lovers well! there is enough animosity in the beginning so that we can see some banter and tension, but they develop the ships in a healthy way. amaya and janai are my favorite, i love how they developed the relationship between them and gave us an ACTUALLY GOOD sapphic ship. highly recommend this show to anyone who hasn’t watched it!

[shadowisles-writes]

Adventurers ⛰️ Elucien Week Day 3

Just wanted you to know The times I feel helpless Nothin’ but dark skies On the nights that seem endless You are like daylight, babe -Daylight, Vance Joy

Word count: 1027

@elucienweekofficial

Lucien wiped sweat off his forehead with his sleeve before he walked back into the house. A long walk away from Helion’s palace, it was a two storey house that Elain had fallen in love with on sight years ago. It had needed work, but Lucien didn’t argue with her choice. He had built plans to fix it and found local businesses that could sell them the materials they needed.

Elain had no knowledge of the handiwork necessary when they started, but she had learned, never hesitating to get her hands dirty. They had laughed endlessly while they painted each of the rooms together and ate bread and cheese on the floor of their living room before they had bought their table. Helion had offered them space in his palace—and paying people to do all of this work had always been an option—but both Elain and Lucien wanted to build their home with their own hands as much as possible.

They had failed at some things, like the one time Lucien flooded a good part of the house after drilling a hole in the bathroom wall and hitting one of the water pipes. They had taken Helion’s offer for a few nights while someone more qualified fixed up the house. In the end, it was beautiful and theirs, and Lucien was thankful for it every time he stepped through the front door.

Usually, at this time of day, Elain would be found in their garden cutting off a few fading flowers or checking for pests. Sometimes, when their roses were close to wilting, she’d cut them off and use the petals to make a fragrant loaf of bread. Lucien frowned when he had to walk up the stairs to find her, sitting by their bookshelf without a book on her lap. She just stared through the window from the armchair, not reacting when the door creaked or when his foot scuffed the floor to make noise on purpose.

“Elain, honey,” Lucien whispered as he brushed his fingers lightly over her hair.

“Hi, I didn’t hear you come in,” she turned her head and smiled in a way he knew was forced.

“You were deep in thoughts,” he remarked, feeling the warmth of the sunlight she had soaked up emanating from her skin.

“Yeah,” Elain looked out the window again and said nothing else.

Almost silently, Lucien pulled another chair to the window and sat in it beside her. He didn’t stare at her, but rather turned to the same view she was looking at. He remained silent for several moments, 

“Can I help?” He eventually asked.

“I felt cold,” was all Elain said.

Lucien expected them to sit in silence for a while longer. He always stayed with her in those moments, just for support because he’d seen the heaviness in her eyes whenever she was forced by her sisters to go outside and pretend she was in a mood to talk. After a while, though, he usually tried to bring her back to their present, and the happy life they had built together.

This time, Elain herself broke out of her stillness by herself and sighed as she scooted her chair closer to his to lean into him heavily. Lucien wrapped his arm around her shoulder, accepting her into his chest in a position that couldn’t have been comfortable but at least brought them closer.

“We can leave,” he murmured against her hair.

It wasn’t a fix, but he hoped it could be a spark of joy. As he had hoped, Elain perked up a little bit. She sat up, threw her legs over his lap and transferred herself from her chair to his thighs while Lucien circled her waist to keep her from sliding.

“And go where?” She asked with hopeful eyes.

“Summer, or Day,” Lucien shrugged with a smile. “Spring, or somewhere on the continent,”

Elain kissed his jaw. “That’s a lot of options,”

“Anywhere with enough sunlight, really,” he broadened her options, as if the Day Court wasn’t bright and warm all year round. It was the cold that bothered Elain. He had always known, but over the past few years, he had noticed she only slipped deeply into those moods after too many cloudy or rainy days in a row.

“You’re my sunlight,” she told him instead.

Lucien was surprised for a moment, his brow furrowing in confusion. “I’m sorry?”

“You’re my sunlight,” Elain rested her small hand on his cheek. “When I feel cold, or things seem… dark. You’re like sunlight. We don’t need to pick an adventure from the amount of sun, I just need to be with you.”

Lucien kissed her softly and closed his eyes tight to stop the tears from stinging. Adventures were what Elain had always called their trips. He didn’t even remember how it had begun, but even the simplest trip out of their city to visit a rare flower field was an adventure. Lucien had made a game out of it, writing random destinations on pieces of paper and making Elain pick one to decide where they would go next.

Sometimes, adventures were a visit to her sisters and trying out a new place in Velaris, sometimes they involved traveling to a corner of a court neither of them had explored before. Lucien had slipped some of his favorite places there too, where he could show her around and give her stories of his past visits.

“Let’s go to Summer,” he eventually whispered, stealing another kiss before he continued. “Just you and me, and a little house right on the beach.”

“I’m a terrible swimmer,” Elain chuckled, though he had taught her enough to stay afloat

Lucien grinned, his hand squeezing her hip gently. “You can cling to me the whole time.”

She huffed a laugh, remembering what had happened the last time they went to the Summer Court and swam naked at night. She had clung to him indeed, legs around his waist and arms tight on his neck.

Only good memories came from that time, drawing a smile to her face, so Elain agreed in a soft voice, “Let’s go to Summer.”

[hypewinter]

Tw for blood just in case

Danny stared up at the sky, for once grateful that he didn't have to breathe. If he did, he'd imagine it'd be very painful considering all the wounds that currently covered his body. He couldn't even remember who he had just fought. Between all the challengers to the throne and the "threats to the timestream" as CW put in, he couldn't keep count. They all kinda blurred together after the 5th fight. All he knew was that his body hurt. And I'm probably bleeding profusely he mused morbidly as he felt liquid trickle from his nose and down his cheek. He barely had time to recover between each fight before he was thrown into the next. Not that the recovery periods were any better. When he wasn't fighting, Danny was sorting through years of backlogged paperwork. His healing factor reflected his state of exhaustion by mending his broken body at an incredibly slow pace.

The young king closed his eyes as the sun set. I'm so tired he thought. With nothing else to do until he was healed enough to move, Danny began cataloguing things that needed to be done once he got back to the Infinite Realms. There was a territory dispute that definitely required his immediate attention. Oh! And then there's that annoying meeting with the observants. Eh, he had been putting that off for a while, what was a little more time. He had to pick his new royal guard. Something Fright Knight was quite insistent on. Ellie also wanted him to visit soon. Danny continued going through his mental checklist, deciding which things could be put off and which things needed to be done right away.

Satisfied with his list, Danny began drifting off. Why waste valuable sleep time right? Before he could fully succumb to sleep's sweet embrace though, a glowing green portal opened up just above him. Danny screamed internally, expecting another challenger to come through. He was currently physically incapable of fighting off another opponent right now and hoped that whoever came through would take pity on him. At the very least maybe they would let him recover his strength out of some sort of honor code? Who was he kidding? He knew the odds of either option happening were slim to none.

Tears slipped out of the boy's eyes as he prepared for his second death. "It was a good run I suppose." Danny croaked. Oh God! He can't believe those were going to be his last words. That was when the figure finally came through the portal to reveal.... Clockwork!? The time ghost blocked out Danny's view as he came close and observed the boy. Then he uttered one sentence "Take a break." With that, green flooded Danny's vision as he was portaled away somewhere, his consciousness slipping away.

--------

Superman stared at the boy in front of him. He lay unconscious in the grass and looked so peaceful one would think he was sleeping. Except for the blood. It was everywhere. Flowing freely from his body and soaking into the soil. Superman couldn't even tell what his original hair color was or what he was wearing because of all the blood. There was also the unnatural way some of his limbs were bent. In fact, the Kryptonian would have assumed the child was dead, had it not been the barely noticeable rise and fall of his chest.

Superman swallowed as he opened his comlink. "Get me Green Lantern and prepare the MedBay." He said as he crouched down. He wouldn't dare to move the kid without proper support. "Don't worry." He whispered, "It's going to be alright."

[sofiadragon]

Pro-Ship just means Anti-Censorship

Come with me to the land of metaphor...

Imagine the beach. It's a beautiful hot day, and our protagonist Mannie Straw, wants a lovely safe day of sunbathing and some ice cream. Such a simple, easy plan. Appleton Oceanview is such a popular resort town, with lots of services and plenty of signage to help people get where they need to go. Mannie just wants to sunbathe and get ice cream, but it's popular and has a simpler vibe than all the flashing lights of Wattown, while Findersfield is just so dingy-looking and old-fashioned.

Mannie goes to sit on the beach, laying out a nice straw mat she brought so she can sit and enjoy the view of the ocean. Oh no, there's a really big guy in a Speedo right in front of the spot she picked! He's so scary, and why is he wearing such a tiny little thing? Doesn't he know that many women have trauma that makes them feel uncomfortable around really big guys? Not that she has trauma, but she doesn't want to see someone like him all exposed like that. He shouldn't be allowed to walk around like that where everyone can see. Besides, she came here to enjoy the ocean and the sun. Ugh, this is ruining her sunbathing. She could move, but she's already put down all her stuff.

She leaves the beach with a nice tan, having read several chapters of a lovely lesbian romance novel, but fed up and irritated because that big guy and his friends were so close to her. She passes a sign that says there is a clothing-optional gender-segregated area between the piers, but she shouldn't have to walk all that way just to avoid seeing men in Speedos. They should at least be in proper shorts!

Inside the resort, Mannie Straw follows signs to the ice cream shop. There are so many flavors and toppings! She loves chocolate and caramel the best, but oh no! There is a piña colada flavor, and a picture of a piña colada sundae is right in front of her when she walks up to the counter. There could be unaccompanied children here! She doesn't see any now, but there could be, and what about recovering alcoholics? If they taste a piña colada flavored ice cream, they might relapse! The advert clearly states that there is no alcohol in the sundae, it's made with fictional rum, but it could encourage alcoholics and small children to seek out real alcohol somewhere else. This is ruining her day! The teenager working behind the counter sees she is looking at the piña colada flavored ice cream and offers her a taste, and instead of saying she'd prefer chocolate and caramel, she takes it because free ice cream is free ice cream. She buys her preferred sundae, but the taste of coconut lingers in her mouth for a while and there is a bit of crushed pineapple between her teeth. She fills out a comment card about how much she hates the flavor of coconut and why there should be no alcohol-themed flavors because that promotes alcoholism in children.

Mannie Straw goes home, convinced she had a terrible day.

But she didn't have to, she could have avoided it all.

I break down the metaphor into what actually happened under the cut.

Censorship mentality as an -ism

She searched for what she wanted, perhaps a character or TV show tag, but the things that came up had a lot of unwanted content in her first search. Instead of trying a different search, or using the exclude tags feature, she just kept on looking at the things she didn't want to look at. She didn't want to put the effort in to avoid seeing those things, either by using the exclude tag feature [the segregated beach] or by refining her search [picking a spot further away from the Speedo guys,] she just wanted them to not be there in the first place. That's censorship, and while the specific thing Mannie doesn't want around might make sense to her, someone else might have the exact same objection to her reading a romance novel about lesbians! She'd be very upset if the thing she liked was censored. It's selfish for her to want everything in a library to cater to her desires. Might as well object to the shelf of home improvement books in the library because you are renting. It's not there for you, move on.

Depending on what dog whistle you think is underneath my description of a 'big man' I'm comparing it to racism, sexism, and body shaming. That our Strawman can cite a legitimate reason someone might not want that sort of person/story in their face doesn't make censorship a good thing. She still got what she wanted from the beach, the content she didn't want to engage with didn't prevent her from reading what she wanted to read, she just didn't like that she was near to people/ideas she didn't like the look of. She could have just looked away, and in fact, she did! It is her responsibility as an adult to handle her own day. In the same way, you don't have to read every story that shows up in your AO3 search. Pick what looks good to you! Curate your experience.

Ice Cream as Problematic Content

Is the ice cream shop promoting alcoholism by having a cocktail flavor? If you say yes then you're so far down the puritanical rabbit hole I'm not going to reach you with this post. In the same way that there is no real rum in the ice cream, fictional characters are also not real and can't be harmed. They are dolls - toys people play with. We don't say a young boy roughly playing with his little green army men until they break is the same as a murderer. From underage romance to serial killers, this is all pretend. Fiction is the ultimate safe space, you can't be hurt here. You can be triggered while safe in your bed with all your comfort items around to soften it and help you process. Some people do that on purpose!

Specific example: In making the movie Crimson Peak, no actual underage boy and his murderous sister engaged in CSA for years before he turned on her to save the first person he genuinely felt love for. Tom is fictional, and no matter how horrific his story is, it isn't causing harm to real living children to publish a story with CSA as a foundational plot point. If a six-year-old sneaks into the movie theater or streams the movie at home, that's a parenting failure and not a reason to censor or ban the rated-R gothic horror movie. It is not the job of Guillermo del Toro or anyone else who helped make it to keep kids away from this movie. Children shouldn't be on the internet unsupervised. It was a very successful movie, praised for the art of the story and the incredible sets. Lots of fanfiction set in that universe is going to directly handle these really messed up topics, and if you are just in that tag to fantasize about Tom Hiddleston's perfect ass there is some work you will need to do to make sure you are just getting the fluffy romance happy ending where Lucille falls overboard on the way back to England.

Are all people who read those darker stories monsters who want to do these things in real life? No! In fact, most people who read them are doing so because feeling scared or grossed out in a safe space is what they want. It's the same as a roller coaster or a house of mirrors. Some people like being scared in a safe way. Just because our Strawman prefers fluffy happy fix-it stories and sapphic romance doesn't mean other people can't enjoy darker themes.

Gothic Horror in particular is a genre full of the wildest sexual assault, incest, and violent murder - and it is often written by women so we do not need to make it a safe space for the ladies. It is not a coincidence that gothic horror is more popular among women, who are more likely to be victims of sexual violence. While our Strawman is virtue signaling, a lot of people with the traumas she's supposedly talking about are the people writing and consuming these stories as a way to process their experiences. An alcoholic might get the cocktail-flavored ice cream because they have a craving and don't want to risk 'just one drink' to satisfy it. A victim of sexual assault might read a story about a rape to safely revisit what happened to them and put those bad thoughts out of mind again.

Personal Responsibility and Selfishness

Throughout, our Strawman had chances to avoid the things she didn't want to interact with. She didn't want to be near certain types of people, but she didn't want to move to get away from them. She didn't want to eat piña colada flavored ice cream, but she didn't want to turn down a free sample.

This is the same as someone who wants to enjoy a specific type of story in a fandom that has a lot of content they aren't interested in. That's fine. She can do that, nobody is forcing her to read anything. The problem is that she insists on engaging with things that she doesn't like. She accepts the sample, looks at fanart or reads the first chapter of a story about a ship that squicks her, instead of just scrolling on or hitting the back button. It is selfish to think that everything you ever interact with will be to your taste. I'm not going to demand onions be banned from my local grocer because I'm allergic to them. 17 year old boys in the pharmacy can't demand the tampons be moved out of the aisle with the condoms so they don't have to think about periods. (Where I live all that stuff is always in the same place.)

Not everything is for you. Something that makes you feel the ick might make someone else feel more secure. The tender care shown during the aftercare in a well-written BDSM story might make one person feel cozy while someone else might be too focused on how much that would hurt and only feel alarmed and upset. Some people might read a romance between adults with a big age gap and think it is sweet that this twenty-five-year-old man will give a domestic abuse survivor fifteen years older than him a chance at starting over, while someone else can only think about how gross it is that his new step-daughter is close enough in age to him to be his little sister. Some people read a story about a teen girl with a crush on her teacher and see grooming when he gently rebuffs her, others see a fairly common teenage experience they can relate to... and even if they end up together ten chapters later that's a fantasy being fulfilled in a safe way because it isn't real.

Sometimes it's just a fantasy, and nothing works the way it would in real life. Sometimes as an adult, you want to eat ice cream for lunch. It isn't healthy, but that's the choice that was made and I believe we should have enough freedom to make that choice. It's our personal responsibility to regulate our own media diet, just the same as we do for food. That's just how being a responsible adult works.

Watching cliché pornos doesn't make mentally healthy people expect strange things from the pizza delivery guy. If it did that to you, get therapy. It's absolutely a you problem, and your responsibility to handle it.

[tooloudamind]

I know that the fateful Final Fifteen of Good Omens S2 has been analysed to death and that there have been countless metas about the same (of which I may have missed some, so please direct me to any that may help answer my questions), but I'm still wondering what else Aziraphale could possibly have done at the end of S2 other than accept the Metatron's offer. I do interpret GO2's ending as being somewhere between “Aziraphale regressed completely to his S1 mentality” and “Aziraphale pushed Crowley away on purpose as part of his game of 4D chess”.

As we saw, the Metatron enters the bookshop apparently just in the nick of time, when Michael is making (empty? did Aziraphale have any way of knowing that, until the Metatron butted in?) threats of erasing Aziraphale's name from the Book of Life. I find this transition extremely jarring, as most of you probably did— what important part of the conversation did we miss, after Gabriel and Beelzebub and the other demons left, for us to jump directly to Michael re-asserting her earlier resolution of Extreme Sanctions? When did Crowley become sprawled over, almost immobile in Aziraphale’s armchair? Were Aziraphale or Crowley going to do anything about the threat that was currently being made to Aziraphale's life? These are all things that make my plot brain itch. But if there’s any purpose for this abrupt turn of events, it’s to emphasise this— Aziraphale's existence as he knows it is coming to an end (the “precious, peaceful, fragile existence” he had carved out with Crowley— which Crowley himself had called fragile for a reason), and there’s nothing he or Crowley can do about it. He is at a crossroads, and it is at this point that the Metatron approaches with a coffee— and makes it clear to Aziraphale as to exactly which options are available to him.

Even so, Aziraphale's first reaction upon hearing that he was to be appointed as Supreme Archangel was to say, right to the Metatron's face, that he didn't want to go back to Heaven (which btw, S1 Aziraphale could never. I'm so proud of my bby for coming this far) He really only seems to become amenable to the offer when the Metatron brings up the possibility of re-instating Crowley— and even then, we don't get to see Aziraphale's reaction in the moment, only the excitement that he later projects towards Crowley. When Aziraphale all giddily tells Crowley that he, Aziraphale, might have misjudged the Metatron— it probably is less because he’s getting something like a gold star from Heaven and more because Crowley’s getting the gold star, so to speak. I’ve been seeing about how Neil wrote in the flashback that GO2 started with, after he wrote the ending and realised there needed to be a reason to care— and the revelation that Aziraphale really did know the angel that Crowley once was, does put everything about the ending into more context (so that’s just brilliant). We know that Aziraphale has seen Crowley at his most carefree, and that Aziraphale was also always the one who was more cautious about Heaven. Many have theorised that in Aziraphale’s eyes, Heaven’s greatest failing was that it sentenced Crowley, of all angels, to Fall— Crowley, the once-angel whose inherent goodness wasn’t extinguished even when his essential nature as a demon forbade it (or at least, according to the propaganda that Aziraphale has been fed for all his existence)— and I do think it might have been the first in a long, long row of dominoes that were set to fall.

When the Metatron made his (clearly insincere) offer to undo Crowley’s Fall, Aziraphale might have clung onto it as a glimmer of hope that Heaven was indeed capable of righting its wrongs. Why would Aziraphale have reason to suspect that Crowley would react as badly as he did? From his point of view, and even from that of the audience, Crowley had always seemed at odds with his apparent demonhood and the fact that he even had to Fall. From Aziraphale’s point of view, Crowley won’t have to pretend to be a “bad demon” anymore— he can just do good (and be with Aziraphale), openly, without fearing for the consequences. Yet, even when the Metatron sends Aziraphale off after their little chinwag, he still doesn’t match the enthusiasm with which he confronts Crowley. Had he psyched himself up for the sole purpose of appealing to Crowley? (… ouch.) And Aziraphale has had a listening problem all season, often distracted from whatever Crowley’s trying to say, but here it comes into play worse than ever. Crowley reiterates that they’re “on their own side” to Aziraphale in the most explicit way he has since the bandstand in S1, but this seems to fly over Aziraphale’s head almost entirely, with Aziraphale then proceeding to make exactly the same offer to Crowley except in terms of the Metatron’s newly proposed status quo. It’s as if Aziraphale didn’t want to consider any other possibility where Crowley and he could continue being together— or couldn’t.

I think that Aziraphale really wanted to make the best of a bad situation, and for Crowley to come with him, emotional baggage be damned. (Otherwise, he wouldn’t have tried so hard to stop Crowley leaving.)

And a bad situation it is— let’s lay out all the cards on the table, shall we? Aziraphale and Crowley were left alone by their respective ex-employers only because they’d scared both sides enough with their body swap shenanigans. The implied precondition, of course, is that they wouldn’t further meddle in the business of Heaven and Hell— confirmed when Gabriel and Beelzebub are explicitly given this ultimatum, and they decide to fuck off together and find their freedom in Alpha Centauri. Meanwhile, Aziraphale and Crowley have already exhausted their first, and only, strike— and Michael seems to have found another threat that seems dangerously effective. (Really, though, for all Aziraphale thinks Crowley could even bear to return to Heaven as an angel— does Crowley think Aziraphale will ever be content leaving the Earth and its denizens to the tender mercies of Heaven and Hell? Have those two ever been able to go without sticking their noses where they’re not supposed to, for all Crowley pretends not to care? Heaven and Hell already had more reason to chase down Aziraphale and Crowley than they ever had for Gabriel and Beelzebub.) They were at the end of their road, and Crowley knew it as well as Aziraphale did— except Aziraphale was in denial the entire season and Crowley revived his fantasy of them running away together that he only ever brings up when they’re literally in an end-of-the-world situation. Did the Metatron threaten Crowley? He might have— but the question is, does he even need to do that?

The Metatron isn’t negotiating. Michael may not have the authority to edit the Book of Life, but if that authority does rest with anyone, it’s with the Metatron. This isn’t a choice that Aziraphale can merely walk away from, and he knows it. Who would choose death over coffee, if given the choice— if that can even be called a choice? “So predictable”, as the Metatron says.

Still, after Crowley kisses Aziraphale back to his senses, Aziraphale is on the verge of throwing all caution to the wind anyway. The Metatron divulges to him for what exactly it is that Heaven is taking Aziraphale back into its clutches, and Aziraphale exchanges a single, vulnerable look with Crowley which could say a million different things— You were right—I wish you were with me—or is it just a goodbye? And then he gets in the elevator anyway, and flashes the creepiest smile we’ve ever gotten from Aziraphale during the entirety of the show. To me, this is the demented expression of a not-man who is realising he has absolutely nothing to lose.

Personally, I think that Heaven won’t know what hit them.