Sunlight #6

Part 4


“I… I didn’t think anyone would ever see me like that. I’m just… me. I’m not special.”

“But you are special. To me.”

“… I want to be. Because… you’re special to me too.”

“Does… does that mean…?”

“Yes… Yes! Oh god, a thousand times yes!”

The finale to the four-part special of how Sunny and Sci-Twi hook up! From here on out, it’s going to be absurdly diabetic (for those of you I haven’t killed already).

If you’d like to ask the girls anything, please see the ask link at the top of the blog! Until then, have a good night~!

Hey fandom! 👱🏽‍♀️👱🏻👩🏻👨🏿 did you know 🤔🤔🤔it was okay for ships 🚢🚢🚢 to not make any sense?! 😳😳 it’s okay if it’s not canon 💣💣 because people 👫👭👬 can ship whoever they want! If it’s for aesthetic purposes 😍😍 or just a joke 😂😂 doesn’t matter! What’s not okay 🙅🏻🙅🏻 is to berate someone for their ships 🚫🚢 if you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say it! 🤐🤐 happy shipping! ❤️🚢❤️

Gone and Back Again (Rucas) Chapter 1

Riley and Lucas haven’t seen each other at all in over a year, but will a few old feelings come to the surface when Lucas finds his way back into Riley’s life?


Riley sat alone in a booth in a run-down, vintage style diner that smelled of greasy hamburgers and maple syrup. She sat there with a slice of uneaten apple pie in front of her. It was almost midnight, and she was the only customer that had come in over the past two hours she’d been there. The waitress who’d been serving her that night was leaned over the counter with an outdated copy of Vogue, and was drinking out of a water bottle that was probably full of vodka instead of water.

The apple pie in front of Riley had gotten cold almost an hour ago, but it’s not like she planned on eating it anyway. She hadn’t exactly come to this diner for a burger and a slice of pie; she’d come as more of a means of escape. She knew that she’d have to go home eventually, but she had no idea what she’d do when she did. She thought about her cover story for when she got  back as she traced the outline of some splatter on the black and white tiled wall.

“Need anything else, Hon? A refill maybe?” The waitress asked as she walked over to Riley’s booth. Riley nodded in response, not even looking up at the woman. She mumbled a quick “thank you” as the waitress, whose now visible name tag read Maggie, refilled her coffeecup.

The familiar sound of a certain pickup truck started to fill the air. No, there's’ no way that’s him. It can’t be… The noise came to a stop as the engine shut off, and after maybe a minute, the jingling of the bells attached to the door could be heard. Riley turned around to see who had come in, and just as she’d suspected, it was the one person she wanted to be away from most of all.

In a panic, she dug through her wallet and found a crumpled up five-dollar bill to tip Maggie. She slapped it down on the table and grabbed her jacket. She stood up on shaky legs and looked for any exit but the front door, where he was still standing, but she seemed to be out of luck. So, with all the courage and grace of an injured fawn, she made her way to the door, keeping her head down, in hopes that she wouldn’t be recognized.

“Riley?” Lucas asked as she approached. Riley let out a sigh as she brought her gaze up to him. Tears began to well up in her eyes, and she knew that he was the last person she wanted to cry in front of at the moment.

“Not now, Lucas,” she responded. She pushed her way past him and out the door. Her foot got caught in a hole in the unpaved parking lot as she sprinted to her car, causing her to fall. She hadn’t realized that Lucas was following her until he was at her side, making sure she was alright. “I’m fine.” Her voice was full of tears, “I’m fine, so stop worrying about me,” she told him as she stood up and dusted off the skirt of her short, tight fitting dress.

Her ankle hurt like hell as she walked to her car, but she kept on going. Lucas was still standing right where she’d left him, even after she’d gotten in her car. He was looking at her like he was waiting for something, like he couldn’t believe he’d let her walk out of his life- again. Riley shook her head sadly at him, and he turned and went back into the diner.

She watched him through tears as he slammed the door behind him in frustration, just like she’d seen him do a million times. The slow, silent tears that had been running down her face had been replaced by sobs that wracked her whole body. After maybe fifteen minutes or so of sitting in her car, having an emotional meltdown, her whole face was red and puffy and her head hurt from banging it on the steering wheel like a madwoman. The midnight stars were beginning to be covered by clouds, and the car was getting stuffy and hot, and Riley decided now was as good a time as ever to start driving home. Home to a messy apartment where the rent was overdue by two weeks and where her roommate thought Riley was out with some guy she’d met at a bar.

Riley was tired, not just the kind of tired you get when you haven’t had decent sleep in weeks- even though she was that kind of tired as well- but the kind of tired where your heart just needs a break from all the emotional bullshit it’s dealing with. Before she put the car in gear, Riley caught a glimpse of herself in her rearview mirror. Her hair was a mess and her mascara had run all down her face, her lipstick was so smeared around her mouth that she looked like some sort of demented clown.

She took a deep breath to pull herself together as she fastened her seatbelt. She kicked off her stiletto heels and examined her ankle. It looked bad, but not nearly as bad as it felt. It looked like someone had run her foot over with a bicycle; it was splotched all over with varying shades of red and purple. But it felt like someone had just tried to amputate her foot with a table saw. She knew it was going to be a long and painful drive back to the a apartment.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, she put the car in gear and started to pull out of the parking lot. She stopped for just a moment before pulling out and grabbed her cell phone from the passenger seat. Swallowing her pride, Riley put the phone up to her ear and waited for her roommate to answer. But after four rings, it went to voicemail.

“Hey, it’s Avalon. I couldn’t get to the phone. You know what to do!” Her roommate’s cheery, automated voice replied.

“Hey, it’s Riley. I’m on my way home, I’ll be there in twenty,” Riley replied after the tone, trying to keep her voice steady. She got on the main road and drove almost twenty miles over what the old, faded speed limit signs enforced. She slowed down a bit as she got closer into town. As the scenery changed from countless trees and half-dead plants to the run-down shops and tattoo parlors of downtown, the sense of dread she’d been carrying with her became more evident. A line of a few mostly burned out and condemned houses came into view on the right side of the street.

They used  to be so nice, those houses. At one point, they’d been some of the most expensive houses in the area. But that was before a bunch of crackheads and drug dealers moved in some thirty years ago. Only one of them was still occupied. A little old woman who had been knocking at death’s door for the past two years was still living in the last one, and she was the only reason that all of the houses hadn’t been torn down. The city wanted to tear them all down at once, but the old woman refused to leave, so the city figured that they’d just wait a few more years until she died.

After a few more moments of driving in the deafening silence, Riley parked her car outside her apartment complex. She grabbed her purse and her shoes, while deciding to leave her jacket in the car. Taking her keys out of the ignition, she couldn’t help but wonder what Lucas had been doing at the diner. It was the first time she’d seen him in over a year, and she wasn’t exactly thrilled that she had.

She got out of the car slowly, trying to keep her weight off of her injured foot. Her phone buzzed from inside the little clutch she’d been using as a purse. She didn’t stop to check her phone; she instead just kept walking. The lighting in the main room of the complex was dim, and it gave off an eerie blue glow. Riley had always been terrified of being down here so late at night, but it didn’t slow her down at all. She limped as fast as she could to the elevator, praying that it wouldn’t get stuck or anything. Her biggest fear had always been of getting trapped in an elevator.

The elevator creaked, groaned and jostled as it always did, but Riley hd made it to her floor with no mishaps. She pulled her keys out of her purse as she came closer to her apartment. She unlocked and opened the door in a hurry, and went inside. The T.V. was on, but Avalon was probably in bed. Avalon had a habit of forgetting to turn things off, and that didn’t make the electricity bill any more affordable, which frustrated Riley. Riley turned off the T.V. and plopped herself down on the couch, not even bothering to change clothes.

She woke up the next morning with a serious headache and a crick in her neck from sleeping on the couch. The sharp pain in her ankle had turned to an equally painful throbbing. Riley sat up as memories from the previous night came flooding back to her. Memories of Lucas at the diner, and how he tried to help her after she fell. Riley had always hated being hungover, that was why she rarely ever drank. But the previous night had been one of the rare occasions where she would go to a bar and not care about what she’d feel like the next day. She knew that she hadn’t gotten absolutely plastered, but she did remember having more than a few shots of something.

She got up and walked to the fridge for some food. One of the few things in the fridge was a plate with a few slices of leftover pizza, and Riley figured it was better than nothing. She didn’t even bother to warm it up, and besides, cold pizza had always been one of her favorite breakfasts. She grabbed some ice from the freezer as well and wrapped it in a dishtowel to put on her ankle.

Riley was on the couch with her food and her ice, watching old reruns of Golden Girls when Avalon got up. Avalon trudged into the living room and sat down beside Riley.

“What time did you get home last night?” Avalon asked, taking a slice of pizza from Riley’s plate.

“Almost one,” Riley replied, still staring at the television, “you were already in bed when I got home.”

“So how was the date?” Avalon asked with her mouth full.

“I didn’t go on a date last night,” Riley admitted, “I lied, I was out drinking and then I went to some diner a few miles out of town.”

“Why’d you blow off that date?”

“I just…” Riley started, “I just needed to get away for a little while, that’s all. What’d you do last night?”

“Brad stayed over last night, he’s still asleep. But the better question is what happened to your foot.”

“Long story, but I think I need to go to the E.R.” Riley responded.

“I’ll drive you after Brad leaves. Wait, you didn’t get into a bar fight did you?” Avalon asked, her eyes were wide, like she was actually concerned that Riley got into a fight.

“No, I tripped.”

“Well, that’s not a very good story,” Avalon responded as she made her way to the coffee maker.

“It is when you hear the rest of it,” Riley remarked, setting her empty plate down on the beat up coffee table.

“Okay, let’s hear it,” Avalon directed. So, Riley told her everything she could remember about that night, and when she got to the part about Lucas, Avalon almost did a spit take with the coffee she was drinking.

“So anyway, he probably thinks I’m totally mental or something,” Riley finished. The morning went on as it usually would. Riley got up to take a shower and get dressed, and when she’d come out of her room, Brad and Avalon were sharing a long ‘goodbye kiss’ by the door. After Brad left, the two women got in Avalon’s car and drove to the hospital.

The woman at the desk handed Riley a stack of paperwork to fill out. Avalon had decided to come in with her friend, and they both found chairs to sit in while they waited. But as Riley turned away from the lady at the desk, something- no, someone- caught her eye.

softestsky  asked:

Has anyone ever told you that your last name is very accurate because Caleb/Adam and Sam/Mark are the most adorable pairings ever and I am shippen them so hard right now? (Seriously. I love your writing and your name.)

I’ve had my name my whole life so it never occurred to me to make puns on it! But yes, it is the perfect name for shipping stuff, which is good because I live for shipping. I’m glad that you’re on board with both those pairings!


Thomas Hamilton x Flint - I still love him.

I know I’ve been making a lot of little quips about things that antis do that bug me, but I feel like this really needs to be said.

I get so frustrated whenever I see an anti post something that ends in something to the degree of “Sorry sweetie I don’t make the rules uwu.” Mostly because making the rules is exactly what they’re doing.

These posts almost always begin with something really awful, along the lines of “If you ship ____ you’re ugly/gross/icky”, and that isn’t okay. It isn’t okay to judge a person’s character based on their tastes in fiction.

An alternative to the above is “If you ship this you’re an abuse apologist/pedophile/not a true fan”, which is much more harmful. Using such strong language towards someone who merely has different tastes in fiction than you is just… wrong.

On top of this, many of them add a little not in the tags that, in my eyes, makes things go from bad to worse. “This isn’t directed towards survivors, you’re only allowed to ship it if you’re coping.”

This little footnote doesn’t change the fact that these antis just said that people who ship this are as bad as abusers themselves. All it does is show a halfhearted attempt to seem like they genuinely care about survivors.

In closing, posts like this are far more harmful than the problematic ships that they’re trying to protect the world from. We’re not the ones saying every person who enjoys a particular relationship is gross, or evil, or abusive. We’re not the ones tacking on a weak attempt to seem like we care about people, ignoring that survivors of abuse, while a large group of cops shippers, are not the only who use ships to feel normal.

Just something to think about.

bad “love/hate relationship”: sexual tension that only builds from the fact they piss each other off, they dont have anything in common and refuse to learn from one another or listen to one another, only showing kindness when theyre attracted to each other

better “love/hate relationship”: despite pissing each other off, they realize they have more in common than they first thought, and while shy to admit do care for each other, and it they focus more on what they have in common than what drives them apart as they fall in love