#&. A: REL: AVERY

[rcyaledits]

the princess was profoundly cherished by her father--his little flower, his dearest star. and as she grew so did the rumor that the king could refuse his daughter nothing.

charles wharton stork / edouard vuillard / house of the dragon / the west wing / les mis / rings of power / leila chatti / borgia: faith and fear / ally carter / jodi picoult / holly warburton / cecilia corrigan / v.e. schwab / w. s. merwin / ever after / edward lee / nimmieamee / sylvia plath / benjamin alire sáenz / c.c. aurel / amanda strand.

[wornkindness]

but in modern avery definitely has a vast and extensive vinyl collection. and amelia, without even asking, often goes through it and picks out her favorites. and no, she doesn't intend on returning them.

[sinceileftyoublog]

Joshua Abrams & The Natural Information Society Community Ensemble, Zosha Warpeha Live Show Review: 2/20, Constellation, Chicago

The Natural Information Society Community Ensemble

BY JORDAN MAINZER

A year ago from last Thursday, I saw a Frequency Festival show at Constellation consisting of local mainstays and the rare Chicago appearance of an NYC-based string duo. Last Thursday followed a similar formula, though the number of members of the New York act was halved, while that of the Windy City heroes was multiplied by four-and-a-half. With normal participant Mikel Patrick Avery out of town, Joshua Abrams & The Natural Information Society Community Ensemble--a drum-less lineup (!)--premiered a new piece made for Peter Margasak's annual celebration of experimental music, purportedly entitled Make Shift Real Now.

From left to right: Jason Stein, Ben LaMar Gay, Jason Adasiewicz

Like Since Time Is Gravity (eremite), the 2023 album billed to the Community Ensemble, Abrams' and company's new work unfurled in jazz harmony, rhythm, and soloing, hypnotizing in the sum of its parts rather than through instant drones. The performance forewent a sonic and even visual democracy (when Abrams picked up his double bass, he towered over everyone) for divergent elements, challenging you to make something steady out of them. Reed instruments swelled simultaneously--Jason Stein's bass clarinet and Edward Wilkerson's saxophone, for instance--only to be interrupted by atonality. Jason Adasiewicz's vibraphones offered grooves and syncopation. The band at times descended into free mallet percussion and squeaking woodwinds, but remained loose all the while. Don't get me wrong: The set was still enrapturing and transcendent. Watching Natural Information Society feels a bit like having your memory wiped, Men In Black-style, as you're unable to describe specifics of what you just witnessed. Should Make Shift Real Now be released as a recording, I can't wait to dig into it and try to figure out exactly how Natural Information Society continue to snag me, whether through spellbinding consistency or all-encompassing noise.

Adasiewicz

Zosha Warpeha

Opening, and performing for the first time in Chicago, was Brooklyn-via-Minnesota composer Zosha Warpeha. She plays the hardanger d’amore, a fiddle with five bowed strings and five sympathetic strings (strings that aren't touched but vibrate when activated by bowed tones). Warpeha makes music within the realm of Nordic folk and free improvisation, imbuing her spontaneous playing with voice. Last year, she released her debut album silver dawn (Relative Pitch), recorded over two days and inspired by nature, light, the smallest specks of existence, and the space they take up no matter their size. On Thursday, the echo caused by the thuds of her bow created worlds of texture, while the tactile scratches of her fiddling yielded a sense of fragility and survival. Alongside her wordless vocal harmonies, Warpeha stomped, resulting in a swaying beat that felt like a keen, the wisps of her breaths becoming one with the light abrasions of her strings. Her circular bow motion generated walls of sound, and she skillfully awoke you from mesmerism via the occasional out-of-place string pluck or full stop. As silver dawn scrutinizes the ultimate power of fleeting moments, Warpeha's set was both made up of nanoseconds in time and its own evanescent entity, in conversation with and belying centuries of tradition.

[starscrowncd]

the plan wasn't always to kill his brother. caden was hoping avery would simply stand down or agree to exile, something else foolishly hopeful. caden is an ass, but he's not entirely heartless. if anything it kinda plays into this idealized view of his older brother. (the way they end up seeing each other at different points almost goes in reverse but that's an entirely different post) but avery doesn't give caden any other choice

[tinystepsforward]

it's definitely harassment but how is that sexual harassment...?

that was the asker's phrasing and not mine. that said, there is absolutely a sexual element to this harassment — not "sexual harassment as in i'm making it clear how much i want to fuck you", but "sexual harassment as in i'm publishing a list of relatively normal nsfw tumblr urls out of context in a way that is clearly intended to paint you specifically, especially in the context of what much of twitter thinks of trans women, as a deviant who cannot be trusted".

it's using sexuality and status as a sex worker against her. that is something which happens to me, fairly often — i am not a trans woman, but i was a sex worker for nearly a decade and sexually exploited/trading sex for favors well before 18. people get very twitchy about an ace lesbian who's fucked a four-digit number of men for a variety of reasons, especially a southeast asian migrant sex worker. i don't personally see it as sexual harassment when it happens to me because it doesn't make me feel sexually shamed, but i do see it as sexuality-based harassment, bigotry (consistently racism in my case, and transmisogyny here), and whorephobia across the board.

i think that it would be more than reasonable for avery or anyone else facing this behavior to feel deeply, personally violated by the ceo of a massive company pulling sex-related urls from empty old blogs (a private, personal thing) out to effectively tell the world "look, i'm being reasonable, here's a pervert, look at this perverted sex behavior, this justifies any and all mistreatment of her".

[wendichester]

Hello! I hope you're doing well 🩵 I was thinking that, if you like the idea and have the time, you could write about Dean and Sam having a little sister (or little cousin/relative), and attending her ballet recital, something like this scene happening, which with Dean and Sam's reactions would be even better, Dean would be proud, of that I'm sure! 😂 of course it's up to you babe! https://youtu.be/ar0I1HjAcfk?si=JDITYGCFe0zqoUxR

𓂃 ࣪🩰˖ ִֶָ ೀ litte sister,

summary. no one messes with your little sister. the winchesters will make sure of it .ᐟ

pairing. dean + sam winchester x your little sister ; big brothers dynamic

wordcount. 483

notes. i just know they would be so protective, makes my heart melt

The moment the Impala pulls into the parking lot, Dean's already shifting in his seat, eyes sharp as he scans the ballet studio's windows. His jaw clenches, hands gripping the wheel so tight his knuckles turn white. Sam, on the other hand, is quiet, watching his brother with concern. This has been a problem for weeks.

"Think she's okay?" Sam asks softly, the worry in his voice barely concealed.

Dean doesn't respond at first, his gaze fixed on teh door where your little sister just stepped out, her face crumpled in a mixture of frustration and hurt.

He doesn't wait for you to open the door. He's already out of the car, practically storming toward the building. Sam follows, having difficulty keeping up with his older brother's determined stride.

You can hear the sharpness of Dean's voice even before you reach the door. "I swear, if those little brats did anything to her..." His words trail off, but the anger is evident in his voice.

Inside, the room is quiet, except for the faint tapping of ballet shoes on the wooden floor. The other girls stop mid-giggle when they see Dean ad Sam, both towering over them with their protective stances. The tension in the room is palpable as the girls look between each other, unsure of how to react. For a second, even you are preoccupied.

Dean takes a step forward, voice firm. "You've got a problem with my sister? I dare you to mess with her again, you little rascals."

Sam steps in, placing a hand on Dean's shoulder. "Dean, let's just get her and go."

Dean huffs, but his body relaxes slightly. His gaze flickers to you and your sister, who's standing near the door, eyes downcast, obviously trying to hold back tears, your hands on her shoulders for comfort. He clenches his fists, but doesn't move to confront the girls.

Sam gently guides your sister toward the door, speaking softly, his calm demeanour contrasting Dean's simmering anger. "Don't listen to them, okay? They don't know what they're talking about."

Dean watches as she heads toward the door, his chest still tight with frustration as he gives one last glance to the girls. Once inside the car, he speaks again, his eyes meeting your little sister's through the rearview mirror. “Next time they mess with you, you tell ‘em you’ve got two big brothers who won’t let it slide.”

Your sister's lips curl into a small smile at his words. “I will,” she says, the flicker of confidence creeping back into her voice.

Dean’s scowl softens when he hears her, though his eyes remain fixed ahead, still fuming. “That’s my girl.”

Sam leans back, running a hand through his hair as the car pulls away. “She’s tough, Dean. She’ll handle it.”

Dean doesn’t respond immediately, but you can see his pride shining through. "She better. No one hurts my family."

want be part of the taglist.ᐣ ⋆.˚ ★— @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing ⋆ @deans-daydream ⋆ @ariasong11 ⋆ @ambiguous-avery ⋆ @krabog ⋆ @itsdearapril ⋆ @whereiwakewarm ⋆ @nymphet-quenn ⋆ @bluemerakis

[luveline]

i am in love with the way you write kbd!steve and would love to see more of him being enamoured w reader and the way she is with the girls if you’re up to it😩🥺🤍 love you all smooches for you 😙😙

kisses before dinner ♡ mom!reader

Steve watches through the slice of open doorway. You do it all in relative silence, a moment's peace between you and the second oldest, Bethie sitting prim as a doll on the countertop you've put her on as you clean her face with a damp hand towel. You take the stain of her peanut butter and apple slices off of her lips in gentle strokes, drying her off with the other end of the towel. Your hands (like Beth's hands, the same fingers and the same shaped nails) are sweet as you trace your pinkies from her temples to her chin in unison.  

“There,” you say finally, “perfect again.”

“Thanks mommy.” 

You lean down for a kiss, which you get, but Beth wraps her arms around you before you can think about escaping, whispering something Steve can't hear. 

“I love you too,” you say a touch louder. “You okay?” 

“I'm okay.” 

“You're happy?” 

“Yeah, mom, I'm happy! I'm amazing.” 

“Amazing?” you ask, your fondness for her filling every syllable. “You are amazing, that's true.” You peel back to smile at her, turning into her touch and obscuring Steve's view. He hears the soft smack of another kiss, almost jealous, until Avery comes to attention where she's laid up at his side to ask why he's holding a sock. 

“It's your sister’s,” he says. 

“Which one?” She giggles. “I have too many.” 

“What? You do not, you have the perfect amount of them.” 

Avery's shoulders shake next to his arm as she laughs at his mock-outrage. She kicks her leg over his thigh and he squeezes on instinct, sock and all in hand. 

You and Beth make your return to the living room hand in swinging hand. Beth's polka dot pyjamas are trailing behind her on the floor and her hair is a little wild, but her face is pristine, and her smile is even better. 

“You look happy,” you and Steve say at the same time. You to Avery, and Steve to Beth. 

The girls laugh. Dove, playing with blocks that don't fit together by Steve's feet, looks up suspiciously at the commotion. “What?” she asks. 

You laugh more, “Just me and daddy sharing a brain,” you say, wiggling your fingers at her. 

“Yucky.” 

“Mm,” you agree, collapsing on the couch next to Steve's open side. Beth climbs into your lap and he'd think you hadn't noticed if it weren't for your arm wrapping immediately around her. You've been great at this whole mom business since the very first baby, not because you're a natural, but because you always tried so hard to be as loving as you could be. 

When Steve met you, he fell in love with you for a multitude of reasons. You were interesting, beautiful, with a penchant for taking care of people and falling asleep in the sunshine. He'd come calling and find you knocked out in sunbathers or elbow deep in washing up. You wanna help make dinner?

“You're looking at me funny,” you say. For a few moments, Steve had been looking at the version of you he met almost ten years ago. 

“Am not.” 

“Are too. You were looking through me. Now you're doing fake googly eyes.” 

“They're not fake,” he says, indignified. “They're so real. Look how real they are.” 

“Don't give yourself an aneurysm, I believe you.” 

“What's an aneurysm?” Beth asks. 

Avery nods agreeably with her sister's line of questioning, eyes flicking between you and Steve in wait of the answer. 

“It's a bad joke,” Steve says dismissively. 

“Ouch.” You lay down against his shoulder. It's not an especially romantic nor affectionate touch, but it doesn't have to be. His skin thrums with your nearness every time. “So mean to me, Stevie.” 

“Did you always call daddy Stevie?” Avery asks. 

You rub your cheek against his sleeve. “What do you mean?” 

“‘Cos, like, his name is Steve.” 

“His name is dad,” Beth says. 

“Daddy!” Dove says. 

Steve gestures for the littlest to come forward and sit with them. She climbs up with help onto his knee and gives him a hug, but no sooner has she sat than she's climbing back down. “No, mom didn't always call me Stevie. She used to call me Harrington, or H when she was feeling nice.” 

“And plain Steve,” you say. 

“Yeh, but why Stevie?” Avery asks. 

“Well, why Avey-bear? Dovey?” you point out gently. “It's nice. Like you wanna keep saying someone's name, even after it's done.” 

It's why Bethie’s called Bethie, and not Bethany, Bethan, or Beth. Her legal name is Bethie, and that ‘ie’ at the end, while having been a name Steve adored, is a little tribute to love. Your love for him. 

He forgets sometimes, but now he's remembered he might start crying. Dad hormones, he decides. Having kids makes you more emotional for sure. It's definitely not because you're amazing, and lovely, and everything he ever wanted day in, day out, every second of every hour— 

“I just love him,” you say, kissing the top of Steve's arm. “Same way I love you guys. He's my family, he has been since we met.” 

Bethie’s lips curve just like yours when she smiles, and Avery has hints of you in hers, too. “That's nice, mom,” Avery says. “I'm glad you met him.” 

“Yeah, me too!” you say, a breathless cheer as you throw your arms around Steve and Dove's soft tummy to hug him tightly. “I wouldn't have him or my pretty girls if I didn't.” 

Beth worms her way into the hug and Steve gets an arm around Avery's shoulders to include her, not sure who's forehead to kiss first. You reach over his lap to rub Avery's arm softly and he decides you should probably get the first one, on account of being the world's biggest, sweetest sweetheart. 

[thecircularlibrary]

getaway car

f1 au

word count: 1058

warnings: n/a

pairings: averyjameson

“Why was it so hot?” Avery asked herself, standing in the luxurious Formula 1 Paddock Club, watching and waiting for the race that she and her sister watched annually as children to start. The Monaco Grand Prix. God, it even sounded like a dream. How she and Libby had gone from a couple of low income girls with low expectations thrust upon them, to an heiress and an F1 driver, Avery would never understand. One distant relative that Avery had house-sat for one summer, and suddenly she was standing in a lounge watching one of the biggest and most historic races of the year. It still shocked her sometimes.

“Long time, no see Grambs,” she heard a familiar voice say from behind her. She turned around and grinned, “Could say the same thing to you, Hawthorne.”

Grayson Hawthorne. One of her best friends. He was wearing a Ferrari bomber jacket and a white button down with black dress pants. The staple of any of the driver managers in the lounge. 

“I assume you’re keeping up your whole ‘impartial viewer’ act you put on for every race, at this race too?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Then you’d be correct. And get rid of the air quotes, I really am an impartial viewer. Unlike some people, I refuse to choose between people I care about,” Avery responded, looking pointedly at the man in a jacket supporting his younger brother’s team while ignoring his older brother driving for Red Bull. She wasn’t being serious, she knew it was his job to support Ferrari, but she also knew he was in no position to throw stones.

“Listen, you know that if it weren’t for Max and Libby, you’d be wearing a jacket just like this one to support my brother,” Grayson said with a shrug before walking away to continue to mingle for sponsors for said brother.

His brother. Her boyfriend. Jameson Hawthorne. Though she would never say it to her sister or her best friend, he was the reason she was here. They could hardly blame her either, Libby lived with her in Ithaca and Max was four hours away in NYC. Meanwhile, from March to December, Jameson was 3,485 miles away in London. The plan was for her to move over there when she graduated from college and continue her work there. However, at 21, her college graduation was still two years away and she desperately missed him. 

They’d met at a Stand Up 2 Cancer gala two months after she’d inherited her fortune at 17. She, of course, immediately knew who he was. A Formula 2 driver and alternate for Ferrari, Jameson Hawthorne was someone worth keeping an eye on in the racing world. And Avery knew how to keep an eye on the racing world. When he approached her and asked her a riddle—“If yes is no and once is never, how many sides does a triangle have?”—she answered him. The rest was history. She became close with his brothers very quickly and Grayson and Xander became two of her closest friends. Nash was somewhat of an older brother to her.

Avery was shaken out of her memory by the first of five red lights turning on. In the qualifying rounds yesterday, Max had placed 5th, Libby 7th, Nash 2nd, and Jameson 3rd. As she watched the cars line up, she noted Nash and Libby’s Red Bull cars, Jameson’s Ferrari, and Max’s McLaren spaced out among others in that order.

She watched as the cars took off and got comfortable watching the tracker on the screen , where she’d be watching for the next two hours.

- ❁ -

At the 1 hour 30 minute mark, Jameson took his pit stop. Max took hers twenty minutes ago, Libby ten minutes ago. Nash had yet to take his. Avery knew better than to question Nash’s racing techniques: as of right now, he was the number 1 ranked driver in the circuit. However, that didn’t mean he was unbeatable. Especially not by his baby brother. 

- ❁ -

As Jameson finished his last lap, milliseconds ahead of Nash, Avery let out a cheer. Grayson smiled slyly over his shoulder at her as he clapped his hands over his head. She and Grayson left the Paddock Club to see the podium celebration. Max had taken third place, while Libby had taken fifth. While Avery was sad for her sister, she knew Libby would come back from it. Libby always came back from these things. She and Grayson watched, grinning, as Nash clapped Jameson on the back and they left the celebration after popping the champagne. 

Jameson found her immediately upon stepping off the concrete and ran towards her, sweeping her into a drugging kiss. He was still sweating and his hair was completely messy from his helmet. He was wearing his red and white racing suit. He held one hand in her hair and the other gripped her waist as she held his face in her hands. He smiled against her lips.

“I missed you,” he whispered quietly enough that only she could hear. Gone was the slight twang his voice had held when they met, replaced with a subtle, barely-there, English accent.She returned his smile.

“I missed you too. I’m proud of you,” Avery couldn’t stop smiling. She hadn’t been directly rooting for him over Libby and Max, but she was rooting for him to shoot out from under Nash’s shadow, and he had done just that. 

He dipped his head to her shoulder, adrenaline mixing with the race he’d just won causing him to be out-of-breath. “We should get out of here.”

Avery sighed in sympathy before patting his hair. “We can’t. Grayson’s looking for you to go back to the Paddock club and mingle. He says you need more sponsors, Jamie.”

Jameson rolled his eyes.

“The only thing I need is time with my girlfriend that lives over 3,000 miles away,” he said, about as exasperated as anyone who's boss has hired their older brother to keep them in line. Avery pulled out her phone.

“I can call my driver. We can go back to the suite and order room service and margaritas,” she offered, letting herself be 21 for once in her life.

He looked at her, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“I’ll drive.”

[heavenlyraindrops]

♱ Father Forgive Me (For I have Sinned) ~Chapter Fourteen ♱

Lucifer Morningstar x Angel!Reader Fandom: Hazbin Hotel Chapter Fourteen Warnings: profanity, slight gore, violence Click on the first tag to see all the other chapters.

♱Where the purest soul in Heaven falls for the Devil♱

[Chapter Fourteen]

You frantically threw aside the cushions, sweeping your hand under the sofa, rug and table in search of the bracelet. After checking everything you slumped, your back to the sofa, heart thrumming wildly. It had been hours since you’d started searching for it, the sun dipping beneath the horizon. Your entire living room had been turned upside down, inside out in the desperate search. 

It was definitely gone. 

You stood up, fists clenched, and pressed your palm against the cool glass, searching for Lute’s silhouette against the sky. She wasn’t there. 

It was definitely her who had taken it.

But wait- you flinched away from the window as you made eye contact with a winner on the street. Maybe she hadn’t taken it. Maybe it was lying around somewhere in your house, waiting for you to find it. You racked your brains, trying to remember where you had last put it. 

Of course your memory would fail you now. Of-fucking-course. 

You flopped onto the sofa, staring at the light hanging above you. Maybe you could enlist someone’s help. But then what would you say?

Hey, I was wondering if you could help me find this illegal bracelet I lost. Yeah, I use it to illegally communicate with my illegal boyfriend, who also did illegal stuff and got kicked out of Heaven. I’m probably next, haha. Don’t worry about it!

No doubt someone would ask for an explanation. 

You sat up, pulled yourself together, and held your head high. If you went down, it would be with grace. Not a desperate, scrambling, pleading mess, groveling at Sera and Lute’s for the slightest scrap of mercy they could have spared you. 

You slunk to your room. You might as well just go to sleep.

♱♱♱

A knock sounded on the door.

Your heart jolted painfully, and you opened the door to see Saint Peter’s smile plastered across his face.

“Saint Peter,” you observed, flicking your eyes up and down his face. His smile strained a little, as if he knew what he thought you didn’t. But you did know. Unfortunately. 

The morning light that had filtered through your blinds, cutting the darkness in your house like butter, now blinded you full in the face as you stood outside on your porch. Peter smoothed his clothes down, and you noticed a shake in his hand despite the relatively warm sun, touched by the cool breeze. He was nervous. 

“I think you know what I’m here about,” Saint Peter said apologetically. You arched a brow, deciding to play it cruel with him. The more you could frazzle him, the better.

“I’m afraid I don’t,” you said coldly, stepping forward, advancing towards him dangerously. He stumbled back a little, face colouring.

“[name],” he said, and his voice was as firm as he could muster. “Please. Sera wants to see you.”

Your chest clenched, airways closing. You froze, wings fluttering slightly in the breeze. You could feel Peter’s eyes trained on you. You smiled wryly. 

“Aren’t you meant to be at the gates?” You asked, hoarsely. “I’d go back if I were you.” Your wings instinctively spread out as you took a shaky step back, towards your front door. 

He sighed, and it was low and long. His eyes were weary. “You can’t run away.”

Two black figures shot out in front of you, and you let out a small scream, trying to wrench away as one of them gripped your arm before the other, tugging you back. You kicked out with your legs, then went limp, panting. “Get off of me,” you hissed. 

One of the exorcists dropped your hand, although the other didn’t, instead opting to point the spear at your neck as you remained in the crushing vice of her grip. The one who had released you took a couple of steps back, taking off her helmet. Brown locks tumbled down, swaying in the wind.

“[name],” Avery said, and her eyes were serious. “You better come with us.” 

You opened your mouth, then shut it. The melancholy in the girl’s eyes had always had an effect on you. “Fine,” you choked out. Peter made a pleased noise, face glowing with the relief and satisfaction that washed over him. It made your blood boil, but you cooled it again. 

You swallowed the lump in your throat, before wrestling your arm out of the second exorcist’s grip. “Let go of me,” you muttered. You locked eyes with her glowing ones shining off of her helmet. “I’m not going to run away,” you spat, and after a reproachful glance towards Avery she dropped your arm, prodding you forward with the blunt end of her spear. 

Saint Peter took to the skies. Avery turned to you. “You try to fly away,” she began,

“We’ll shoot you down with no hesitation. Got it?”

“Got it,” you said flatly, and with a powerful beat of her wings she thrust herself into the air, donning her helmet again. The exterminator behind you didn’t move, so statuesque you had forgotten she was there. 

You threw yourself into the sky, and felt the whoosh of air from underneath you- another from behind you. Twisting your neck behind, you saw the exterminator in tow.

Heaven’s buildings and streets glided away beneath you in a pastel blur, Avery and Saint Peter in the distance ahead, the other exterminator on your heels. A large park came into view, soft green grass speckled with trees, which eventually gave way into a wood. 

An impulsive thought seized you, coursing through your blood like hot fire. 

You swerved left, shooting into the undergrowth. You could feel the exorcist’s enraged yell behind you, fading as you swerved beneath the canopy and crouched down into the leaves, peering at them through the branches. Avery jabbed a finger in one direction, then another, then lastly, yours, eyes not seeing you as she flew off and away. Saint Peter went another way, but the exterminator’s head turned, slowly. 

Her eyes locked onto yours.

You suppressed a small scream as she darted towards you, a black blur in the air as you launched back into the air again, weaving haphazardly through the trees. Thorns and branches cut at your skin, pain blooming sweet and fresh. 

The black blur collided with you like a thrown spear, shoving you onto the ground and straddling you as you wrestled to get out. Your hand twisted beneath you, pain shooting up your arm and rooting into your shoulder. She grabbed your hands, pinning you down, and your shoulder twisted and cracked. You screamed. 

“Stop moving,” she hissed, voice hard. You sent her off with one powerful kick, and her head slammed into the tree, lolling against the wood. You poised your wings for flight, then froze, your entire body going rigid. 

“Are you…” your throat was dry, voice coming out cracked and raspy. 

She didn’t move, but let out a light groan, head flopping down. You stumbled forward, hand outstretched, then pulled it back. There was a trickle of golden blood down her neck. You felt your own shoulder throb at the sight. You looked into the sky, and saw Avery suspended in the air, wings beating steadily.

Directly above you. 

♱♱♱ a/n: I wrote this cause ppl were asking me to write and blowing up my dms and inbox on here and other platforms so basically I was pressured into it but PLEASE after this leave me be because I have exams and they’re really tough but important. I’d rather write when I can and what I feel like writing than be pressured into updating a fic I started for fun. This isn’t the only thing I’m writing or wanna write, I have other ideas and interests I wanna explore. I have literally gotten texts saying “why did you update (fic name) but not FFM? While saying you have exams? You hypocrite…” Like girl what… I have free time and FFM isn’t some weird commitment I swore by? The more I get treated like this the less interested and demotivated I’m getting in this fic. I’m not your content machine. wtf

[rcyaledits]

it was often noted how alike they were, the king and his beloved daughter. both well & even tempered, good & gentle hearted, and both far too forgiving of the world around them.  

yours truly (aka katie) / damsel / the lion king 2 simba's pride / waarover praten zij? by scheveningen 1999 / you / borgia faith and fear / kaylie smith / taylor swift / elizabeth / house of the dragon / the last of us / the fall of the house of usher / the tudors / trista mateer / marina tsvetaeva / the rings of power / beyoncé / elizabeth lim

[wornkindness]

her father's death shakes her to her very core. it hits her hard. and generally she's careful around who she breaks down around because its a vulnerable place to be. and when it comes to her father's death it's even more so. since in pretty much every verse where avery's death has been included, (especially the ones where she is queen or ends up becoming queen because of his death) amelia doesn't really have the luxury of being able to fully allow herself to really absorb it all in the moment she finds out. it hurts of course, but her really grasping it, feeling the full weight of the fact her father is no longer there, that doesn't happen till later. (how much later is kinda verse dependent)

[sunlightmurdock]

Ashes, Ashes | Prologue | Bradley Bradshaw

masterlist | next chapter

Six days after Maverick’s disappearance, Bradley isn’t quite whole anymore. But, there isn’t time to crumble.

warnings: bradley bradshaw x minimally descriptive oc! avery mitchell : age gap (23/33), smut, angst, hurt / comfort, mentions of character death, mourning, extra warnings to be added chapter by chapter. This entire fic and my blog is an 18+ space, minors do not interact. Do not repost.

…

“Rooster, those bandits are closing. We can’t go back.”

“Rooster, he’s gone. Maverick’s gone.”

It’s a stomach-sick, sweat inducing kind of fever that lingers now on this mild morning. Breeze blowing across his skin, patterned and rhythmic, reminding him every now and again to breathe.

It has been exactly six days since Pete Mitchell was declared missing in action. Six days since a missile meant for Bradley hit Pete’s plane and sent the sixty-five million dollar aircraft spiraling into miles and miles of desolate, freezing forest. Bradley has slept four times in those six days, and each time he has, his subconscious reminds him of exactly what he is responsible for

Today is a relatively chilly morning in May, and Bradley is sitting on the front step of a cottage near Bird Rock in northern San Diego. Today is the first day since he got home three and a half days ago that he has left his apartment. Natasha stayed over last night. She has stayed over every night. She slept by his side, on top of his covers, just holding his hand. When he was in the shower this morning, she laid out his clothes for him. She hasn’t ever known him to be this quiet. Ever.

He hasn’t said much at all since they got back. Natasha knows that he’s picturing himself alone in that forest. Dead, or worse.

Now, she sits at his side and rubs soft circles on his shoulder over the black fabric of his t-shirt. He would do it for her, if she was the one going through this. She would be too stubborn to listen to him too. They have known each other since flight school. Natasha got so drunk the first Friday that Bradley spent his entire first Friday holding her hair back while she threw up.

The next day, Bradley had embarrassed himself so badly in front of a girl he liked that he almost quit just so that they wouldn't have to see each other again.

That kind of thing bonds you for life: After that, they have remained pretty close. Especially now, when they need each other.

“Rooster, no one expects you to be here right now — you went through something awful out there.” She says it one last time anyway, even though she knows that it won’t change a single thing.

That’s one of the reasons that their friendship is so strong — sometimes a person just has to do what they have to do, Bradley and Natasha respect that sentiment. Even if it means texting back a no-good ex, or staying out a little too late on a work night now and again. Each other’s best interests are always at heart, but it’s human to not put yourself first now and again.

Bradley hasn’t sat on the steps of Maverick’s two bedroom beach cottage since he was thirteen. Right before Maverick pissed off an admiral and got shipped out somewhere crazy, somewhere cold — he can’t remember exactly where anymore, he never wrote a letter there.

That was all right before he started only seeing Maverick on holidays and special occasions, the occasional baseball game.

Pete bought this place back in the eighties.

He got it for a steal. A craftsman bungalow three blocks from the beach, with two bedrooms and a small yard. He had wanted to be close to Carole, and he had just gotten married.

Bradley’s memories of Charlie are faint, but he knows that her father helped Pete with the down payment. Maverick hated him for that. His first and, as it happened, only marriage hadn’t lasted very long. Two or three years, maximum. She was gone before Bradley finished second grade, anyway.

He remembers that she always made sure they had the ice-cream that he liked when he came to stay here — Mav had always been a little bit more forgetful when it came to that stuff.

The spare room here used to be Bradley’s. Back when his mom worked weekends at a hotel in La Jolla, and he and Pete would take Friday night trips to Blockbuster every week.

He hasn’t even been inside yet. He can’t imagine how much the interior would have changed since those weekends back in the nineties.

Glancing down at the IWC clock face on his wrist, the big hand has been creeping up on ten o’ clock for what feels like hours by now.

Breeze sweeps a strand of Natasha’s hair off of her face. She leans against her best friend, her palm trailing to the middle of his back.

Natasha has two parents. They definitely don’t see eye-to-eye often, but she knows where they are. It’s a Sunday, they’ll be at Costco. She has a sister who gets on her nerves but adores her nonetheless, Leona will be at a spin class this morning. None of the people she loves are missing. If one of them were, she would have others to lean on.

For Bradley, it’s just her now.

“I can’t let her turn up to an empty house.” Bradley’s voice comes out more hoarse than either of them is expecting it to. He hasn’t cried yet. He keeps thinking he might, the urge is there, but the tears just don’t come.

Bradley doesn’t even know her. Not really. Not even when he was a kid. It’s been sixteen years since Bradley was even on speaking terms with Maverick. Even when he still was, the news about Maverick’s accidental bundle of joy had been quite hush-hush.

He saw her a couple of times, the wriggling infant with perpetually sticky hands in an out of place looking car seat in one of Mav’s sports cars.

It doesn’t matter now that he never got to know her. Because of him, her life will be different forever. He’s got a debt to her father that he’ll never repay. For the sake of that, he’s willing to wait hours for her to turn up.

It has been six days. If Maverick survived the initial hit, and the ejection, then he has still been out in the snow for six days.

Probably injured. Alone. Being hunted. He’s gone. And yet, Bradley just can’t — or won’t — grieve him. Moving on isn’t an option.

So, he just sits here and waits. He doesn’t even know who, really, he’s looking for. He never met the mother, hasn’t really seen any pictures of you ever.

Pete Mitchell’s only child. The last time he saw her was when she was three years old, staring at him from the backseat of her mother’s blue ford escort with a pacifier in her mouth while your parents argued a few feet away.

He’d been sitting on these same front porch steps, pissed off because Mav was making him late for his baseball game.

Admiral Simpson is the one that has been doing all of the correspondence. He did Bradley a favour by giving him a heads up that the girl was even coming. Bradley wouldn’t have even known how to contact her himself.

He doesn’t have Maverick’s number any more, much less a girl he met a handful of times.

Back when he knew her, she didn’t even know her numbers. And her mother lived up near Oregon. She was a waitress. Most of the time Pete drove up to see her, or the weekends that she visited him, Bradley would stay with a neighbour.

He bows his head just slightly, elbows rested on his parted knees. Maybe he shouldn’t have worn sweats. He hasn’t ever let Natasha dress him before. Today wasn’t a good day to start. Meeting Mav’s kid wouldn’t be a formal occasion, but under the circumstances he reconsiders.

His ears perk up at the sound of an engine misfire.

Natasha flinches against him. She’s not been feeling that great since they got home either. Her dreams are like his too. It doesn’t matter.

The car squeals around the corner at the far end of the street like its driver is trying to get it onto just two wheels. He lifts his head in time to see a steel blue ford escort hit the curb on the street just past Maverick’s property line.

Instantly, he pushes himself onto his feet. That kind of maniacal attitude to manning a vehicle must be hereditary.

Both he and Natasha watch as the driver slams their fists into the wheel in frustration. Then, the driver notices them for the first time.

Hair twisted up messily, her face stark and tired, with a caught expression like a scolded child. She swallows.

Avery Mitchell has seen Bradley Bradshaw periodically throughout her life. There is no escaping his image when Maverick’s around. But, none of those photos are recent. They’re all from at least twelve years ago now.

She blinks, vague recognition in her expression as the engine splutters to sleep and she gets out of the car with the keys in her hand.

While she thinks Bradley looks different, he can’t find any semblance of the way he remembers her in her face now at all. She’s not a little kid anymore.

Natasha pushes herself to her feet, brushing the dust from her palms onto her jeans. A brief look is sent towards her best friend, but he doesn’t reciprocate. He’s staring straight ahead as Avery starts off with one foot on the pavement, swinging the groaning car door shut behind her.

High top black converse. The other foot follows next. Jeans. Normal, appropriate for the early May weather before the heat really picks up. She exhales and her hand flies up to wring at the nape of her neck, sore from sitting all that way.

“Hi,” She forces out. “Bradley, right?”

That’s stupid. She knows who he is. He knows who she is. Both of them know why they’re here.

“Yeah.” Bradley agrees without a nod. His hands are neither in his pockets nor doing anything else that might be productive. He tells himself that he should maybe shake her hand, but he doesn’t. He tells himself that maybe he should say something more, but he doesn’t.

Towering over the pretty brunette at his side, Bradley doesn’t look anything like he had in his photos at high school graduation. His face is longer and wider at the same time, his cheeks have lost some of their roundness but they still have a youthful pink flush. His hair is shorter, auburn and tidy around the back and sides. Still trying to be curly on top.

He grew up near the beach and his skin tells the tale. Freckles and a golden glow to his skin that is an all year round kind of thing by now. Slight redness across his collarbones, the high points of his body where the sun hits most when he’s drying off after a swim.

In his eyes, Avery searches; she was hoping to find the boy from the pictures. The grinning blond in the baseball uniform. Something familiar down here, at least. Instead, there’s something else.

Whatever that look is, she hopes it isn’t pity. Just because his dad — no, she stops herself, she shouldn’t think that. It shouldn’t start out like this.

“How was the drive? — Not too bad, I hope?” The tiny brunette finally bursts through the wall of silence that Avery and Bradley have been competitively building up since her sneaker touched the pavement two minutes ago. “I’m Natasha. I work with… — I — I’m Bradley’s friend.”

“Hi.” Avery starts out, dropping her hands down to her sides and shifting on her feet. She glances back at the car — practically a smoking pile of crap on the road. “It wasn’t too bad. I need to see a mechanic while I’m here, but — I don’t know. I’ll find time.” Just from watching her, Natasha can see that Avery is a personal all over the place.

Neither here nor there. She doesn’t look like you’ve been crying, either. Mascara intact, lips glossed, her makeup looks pretty.

But, there’s a restlessness in her eyes that gives her away.

Bradley knows that it has been a long time since he and Maverick were on speaking terms. He knows that even before that, they didn’t talk much about the kid he had a couple hundred miles away.

But, shit — he wishes now that he had at least seen a picture first so that he could prepare himself.

He remembers footie pajamas and drool and chubby, perpetually sticky cheeks.

Now, there’s a belt looped through her blue jeans makes sure that the denim hugs her in all of the right places and that tank top is confirming to him that she’s absolutely nothing like the faint image he has in some of his oldest memories.

There’s got to be something wrong with him — that that’s one of the first things that sprung to his mind.

That Mav’s kid got hot in the twenty years since he saw her last. He shakes it from his head. Physically. He shakes his head and finally springs into action.

“What’s the matter with it?”

For the first time in five days, it’s the first time that someone hasn’t started a conversation by asking how she holding up. It catches Avery totally unprepared, and her knowledge of cars leaves her under qualified to answer anyway.

Bradley Bradshaw takes three long strides along the stone garden path and he has reached her already.

He’s on a course right for her, and he’s big when he’s not squished into one of those photo frames in Maverick’s house. She leans back slightly, starting to brace for the impact of him hitting her.

He’s aware of his size and has learned to grow careful with it, stepping around her narrowly and heading straight for her old shitbox of a car.

“I don’t know. The steering is loose and the engine is making a weird noise.”

Bradley twists his neck and shoots an incredulous look at her, back over one of his wide shoulders.

It’s a fourteen hour drive down from the Oregon coast, on a good day, and this car ran like shit when her mother bought it twenty something years ago.

Popping the hood, Bradley finds himself thinking of something other than those snowy peaks for the first time all week. He lets out a deep breath.

Ahead of her, Avery stands confronted with Mav’s place.

The cottage she was forced to spend the occasional weekend or weeks in during the summer a couple of times through her childhood.

Most of the times that she had seen Pete was in her hometown. He was always the one who travelled. It seemed fair. His job meant that it didn’t happen often.

Avery’s memories of this house are faint, but the same uncomfortable restless feeling it gives her remains. She remember quiet days sitting on the couch with her hands in your lap, waiting for that court-mandated forty-eight hours to be up.

Natasha is facing the other way. She watches Bradley step off of the curb and pop the hood. Bradley has a technical knowledge of engineering from his career, and a slightly broader scope from his interest in vintage cars — but he’s not a mechanic.

A quick glance to her right and she takes note of the way Avery’s frowning down at the weeds poking through the stone path pavers.

Like watching a storm roll in before a big surf, Natasha has a bad feeling about this arrangement. There’s a competitive nature to the way Bradley needs to be busy — given the right permission, he’d run himself into the ground with it.

Two people who should be coming to terms with their grief, and it's clear to her that they’re both planning on ignoring this problem for as long as they can.

She stares at you, already planning on tearing up all of those weeds for the week to come.

“You can’t drive this piece of shit.” Bradley decides from the street. He stands back and plants his hands firmly on his hips, shaking his head.

Avery turns slowly on the balls of her feet and pushes her hands into the pockets of her jeans, glancing back at Natasha for a little bit of help here.

He doesn’t even look up.

Crowding over the hood of the car, glaring down at it. Thick shoulders filling out a plain black t-shirt and long legs hidden under loose fitting grey sweats. An auburn curl dangles over his forehead.

“I… Kinda have to.” Avery points out. A recent graduate with no immediate career plans, who just quit her waitressing job to pick up the pieces of her presumably dead, semi-estranged father’s life. Buying a new car isn’t exactly in the budget right now.

Bradley opens his palms and braces them against the open hood. He turns his head and looks first at Natasha. His best friend. Then, the house. He learned to ride his bike on this street. Maverick lived on this street. Finally, his attention turns to her. He watches her watch him.

Leaning against her shitty, old car like it’s the only thing keeping him on his feet. Squinting at her because he left his sunglasses in work and the doctors won’t let him go back there for another couple weeks. Natasha’s going to pick them up for him later today.

Avery’s staring back at him, wondering why he’s looking at her like that. Like he’s looking for something.

He pushes off of the car and stands, wiping his hands on his sweats. “I’ll take care of it. Whatever you need. I can drive you for a bit.”

As Bradley walks around to the back of the car and pops open the trunk to grab her bags, Natasha is struck with a numbing realization.

This really is a bad idea. She knows it’s more than him being nice, and it’s more than him owing Pete Mitchell.

Maverick put himself in an early grave trying to make up for a mistake he made when he was young, and she’s got a bad feeling that Bradley won’t stop until he does the same.

…

Tags: @ahoyyharrington @diorrfairy @just-a-harmless-potato @hangmanshoney @sgt-barnesveins @shanimallina87 @nykie-love-anime @lilyevanswhore @sammyrenae68 @moonlight-addisyn @pulisvertz @cherrycola27 @chxosunbound @tayygriffith @yuckosworld @callsign-magnolia @trickphotography2 @katieshook02 @atarmychick007 @sushiwriterhere @books-for-summer @thelonelyumbrella @angelbabyange @iwontshutuptilltheyaddgeckoemoji @stillreadingfantasy @casualhilarity @s-u-t @topguncortez @sweetwhispersofchaos @aaprilshowers @shadeds-library @bradswolfe @wishingwell-2 @roostersgirlfrxend @itsmytimetoodream

[aaal-iz-well]

✦ making the rumor mill churn ✦　　

a/n: hey guys, so this is basically me making good on my promise to post small ficlets and stuff, so here you go. enjoy reading it. the title says it all.

“Avery!”

“Miss Grambs!”

“Look here!”

“Mr. Hawthorne, how do you feel about the comments on your relationship with Avery Grambs?”

Avery tensed beside Jameson, smile growing tight, and despite all the media practice, her shoulders curled inwards. No one would notice it, except the edits where they focused on every micro aspect of her body language in slow motion.

Avery would hate it.

Jameson cocked his head in a pose, winking at a random boy in behind the cameras, seeing him squeak. He widened his stance, because despite the heels, Avery wasn’t quite as tall as him.

“Heiress?” he spoke in her ear.

“Huh,” she hummed, careful not to turn towards him. He could already imagine all the thoughts in her head, what would happen if she did.

“Do you think they know,” he asked casually over the din of the reporters bombing them with questions.

What would you say about your father’s connection with Miss Skye Hawthorne? There’s uncertainty about the future of the Hawthorne name after your decision to liquidate majority of assets for charity. Is it—

“What, Jameson?” Usually, his vague questions (Heiress, guess what I’m thinking right now? When am I going to see the girl of my dreams?) were met with equally vague— and at times mischievous— answers from the young billionaire.

A question for a question.

He would forgive her for not playing this time. He supposed the strain of her smile, of having to keep her cheeks up, but not too wide, not too creepy, not so, bluh, generic, not like that, was taking a toll on her capacity to entertain him.

No worries, he could be the entertainer tonight.

“About the mark on my collarbone,” he whispered, the words barely more than air. “Do you think I should pull it down just a little, teeny tiny bit. Give them something to talk about?”

“Jameson!” she said through her smile, eyes never straying to his. Her calmness was laudable, really. At times, he was willing to bet it gave Grayson’s a run for his money. Literally. But he could sense the undertone of warning in it. she might as well have said the words with daggers in her eyes.

“What are you going to do?” he challenged her in a sing song manner, pretending not to notice the tick in her jaw. The way she seemed to withdraw from the crowd was something he relished in. The way, despite her frozen face, he knew he had her attention. Her spine straightened. Her smile was muscle memory, and she was looking— not at the reporters of cameras, or journalists— just looking. Her gorgeous self. Above all the lies they were ready to spew about her.

“Are you going to kiss me on the mouth after that, cause like cat’s out of the bag?” he continued lowly, serenading in her ear. “Really really hard. Show them you did it, banish all those stories from their minds.”

“Shut up Jameson,” she said, her lips barely moving to make the sound. They moved further up the carpet, his hand on her back.

Jameson assesses the crowd from this higher vantage. “They seem to want to know an awful lot, don't they. And I wouldn’t mind climbing the rung to the hottest Hawthorne. My aunt's had her days, af—”

Suddenly, Jameson shut his mouth like a trap.

Well, that was okay, relatively okay, considering the alternative was yelping like a kitten when Avery pinched him, right on his hip. Where she knew the skin wasn’t quite as sturdy as the rest on his body. They’d had a long night, though he was far from complaining.

“Cat got your tongue, Jamie darling?” she said, finally finally looking at him, speaking the words right over his face. The words weren’t spoken through her frozen smile. This was a secretive one, meant only for him. Something that Landon couldn’t take the credit for instilling, something entirely, unapologetically her own.

The answer to her question would be in the affirmative, cause he couldn’t bring himself to answer. His entire body tingled with tremors, the epicentre where she’d pinched him.

“Who knew you had a pause button.” Her nails lightly dragged over his back, but they were more soothing than teasing. “Smile for the cameras.”

“You forget, Heiress,” he told her when he’d recovered. A forearm hoisted on her shoulder to make up for lost time. “Two can play that game.”

“They very well can,” she told him, a twinkle in her eyes. “But I doubt you want me on your bad side, Jameson Winchester Hawthorne.”

His heiress really did know all the chinks in his armour. The way she said his name, the practiced ease, it slowly rolled off her mouth like that. Jameson Winchester Hawthorne. Like leisurely unspinning a yarn; a command; a challenge; a gauntlet thrown down. Jameson Winchester Hawthorne. Brimming with things only the two of them could understand.

He was a squeaking schoolgirl, a fangirl, a crazy man palpitating on the street.

“What?” he asked her. “You're going to unleash your PR dogs on me”

“I’ll alone be enough to make you regret it, let alone my PR.”

Jameson, for this once thought it best not to test her. He was done here. So he let his arm drop from her shoulder and wound it around her waist instead as they made to take their seats. “I think I agree.”

“Miss Grambs, Mr. Hawthorne, is it true that the two of you are in a relationship? The rumour mill is certainly going to be busy tonight.”

And well, later on, when it was Avery’s turn on the stage, he knew that camera was panned in on him, if he fanned his collar— it was a bit stuffy, in his defence, or rather his cover— and made sure people knew, he could always claim plausible deniability.

a/n: so that's it. i have some more ideas and may be posting soon, thanks for reading. also feel free to send some promp if you iiked this. buh byee love you guys

[quasi-normalcy]

Lower Decks season 5 predictions!

Shaxs/T'ana wedding!

Relatedly: Kira is a wedding guest

Possibly related: We get to see the Caitian homeworld

William Boimler returns, seemingly as a villain, but actually he's infiltrating Section 31 on Riker's orders

Mariner needs to be in command of a group of ensigns, at least one of whom is obnoxiously insubordinate towards her

The alternate reality version of Rutherford from the trailer has all his original memories

Another Crisis Point episode! Or, rather, I'm thinking that there will be a fake epilogue at the end of the finale where it looks like it's a few years later and one of them has been given their first command, but then it turns out to be on the holodeck

Ferenginar joins the Federation

There's an actual serious episode where some supporting character gets "redshirted"

A Planet Killer joins the battle in the opening credits

Everyone gets promoted up to lieutenant in the finale

Not quite a cliffhanger ending, but something that demands closure occurs in the finale

Something happens that's relatively innocuous on its own terms, but ties directly into the backstory for 'Prodigy' or 'Picard'

Avery Brooks guest stars. (I'm not actually expecting this, this is blatant wishcasting. But even so.)

[yandere-sins]

Ya playinnnnn DOL? Ashhshshshs

What do you think of the shady bastards of the town? Like Bailey, Remy, Briar… Wren, Avery~

Yessssss, thank you so much for asking me about them ♥ DoL is currently helping me through my depression phase, lol!

To be fair, I somehow managed to avoid Wren until now, idk how, but they probably weren't relevant in my playthroughs, lol. Can't say much about them, though! That said, I like all the characters in the game, but I do have some thoughts and feelings about them, I hope I get to write some in the future!!

So, the shadiest PoI in town from most to least favorite for me:

Avery

Love, love, love them! Absolutely always unlock them because... duh!! Good money, too, lol! Jokes aside, I love saving money all week just to dress up for them and play a nice trophy darling at their events! And the hotel room scene? I love it! And they are always so happy when you impress them with dancing or your English, and I'll be happy to play along with them. Yes, of course, my love, anything you say, my love (and anything you pay for, lol)! I think their title is such a farce; they are probably a trust fund kid, let's be honest, but I'm not complaining, lol! I have seen almost all of their events by now, and I am really looking forward to how their storylines will continue in the future since there's so much still unexplained and baffling, but I'll keep dating them; they are absolutely my favorite, and one of the few PoI that seem to actually care about you despite being fishy.

Harper

Listen, I got sent to the Asylum only once, and I've been avoiding it like the plague ever since. But I found myself quite intrigued with Harper afterward. What is their motive? Why are they doing what they are doing? Is it just scientific interest? Their encounters say otherwise, especially those at the check-up and underground farm! I know there must be more behind this doctor, and I need to find out, no matter what! They really have the "innocent" look down to a T, and then you land in the Asylum or the underground farm, and BOOM! Scumbag! Either way, good character, very fishy person, and the questions are eating me alive.

Briar

Oh, I hate them! But I love them. But I hate them. This could go on forever. Look, they are helpful. They have a good purpose if you want that fake ID. And you can make very good money relatively early on with Briar's help. But no matter how hard I try, raising their love is so damn hard I always give up. The opportunities are too small, and then you sign up for a show and get kidnapped or something, and they'll be so mad again. Also, it feels like you can do nothing without their permission, and it's annoying (kinda possessive, eh?). I just wanted to see Landry, why am I getting kidnapped in broad daylight from the Pub??? (I have not forgiven Briar for that, it really hurt my ego!) However, with Briar, there's a lot to do at least, and they possibly play a lot of roles in your daily life in DoL, and that's why I think they are quite entertaining, but I wish we could do more with them.

Leighton & Quinn

I didn't mind them a lot until I saw their endings for the Avery Event, where you are invited to poker night, and they intrigued me! Since then, I have gotten pretty close to Leighton, doing both the Blackmail Leighton and Get Blackmailed by Leighton events, and I have unlocked the archeology site with Quinn. They are both ultimately really fucking shady, but much like with Avery, there is still so much unexplained (although hinted at), and I wish we could have more interactions with them (and maybe actually make a change, like when we blackmail Leighton or rat them out to the police that it actually has consequences and punishments). So yeah, not my favorite PoI, but I am still really invested in them.

Bailey

Honestly, Bailey is pretty unlikeable. I hate how they want 4k every week; I mean, it's easier in the later game, but man, I'm trying to save to renovate a fucking farm; cut me some SLACK. (Also, can they stop dropping hope in the orphanage all the time?? I am working so hard to build it up!!!) Then again, Bailey saved me a few times from events, and I felt really thankful for that. There's so much going on with them. I hope we can build a relationship that will lead to better co-existence or partnership with them in the future. I feel like they could become a more important role with more direct events in the future. Still, their personality is, yeah, unlikeable and the scummiest of them all, really. Probably feels like that since you really can't escape them either without harsh consequences, so yeah. It's complicated.

Remy

In the beginning, I really liked Remy. Liked visiting the Ranch and riding horses, I thought they were pretty nice. Then I passed out in the moor, and ever since then… they've become really dull. It feels like they are one of the more involved PoI, at least, but the interactions and all just became so repetitive with them that it's no fun anymore. I'd like to know more about their involvement in these strange parties you can go to with Avery and what that's all about, but otherwise, I just try to avoid them these days. I already escaped 3 times from the farm, and although the game isn't programmed like that, I feel like there's no coming back from it for our relationship, lol. Maybe in the future again, hahaha.

[bobby-r2d2-floyd]

The Nanny (Hangman x Reader)

authors note: so, hangman won by a long shot in the poll, but for the few that voted for the rest, they're still coming! i have to deal with the bs with my basement and i am a college student, so i have to deal with my coursework as well.

inspired by @roosterforme

this will be a mutli part series, im not sure how many parts though

pairing: jake "hangman" seresin x benjamin niece!reader; established mav x penny

warnings: some swear words and an inaccurate depiction of how social workers handle dropping a baby off to its living, absent father. also cyclone is a dad bc jon hamm if a dilf.

not proof or beta read, we die like men.

summary: Hangman wakes up one day to a social worker and an infant on his doorstep. the infant? his 3 month old daughter.

word count: 1.9k

-----------

It was the one day that the Dagger squad had a later morning (11am, per Maverick’s request), so when the pounding on Jake’s door woke him up at 8:45, he was a little pissed.

He stumbled out of bed and the arms of some red head whose name he definitely doesn’t remember, throwing on a shirt along the way to his front door where the pounding is originating from and reverberating through his skull. “I heard you the first fucking time,” he curses out, throwing the door open and preparing to unleash verbal hell on the person standing at his doorstep.

All the words die out though when he sees an older woman standing there with a sleeping baby in a car seat at her feet. “Jacob Seresin?” she asks and his eyes bounce between the infant and the woman.

“Yes?” he asks, voice cracking a bit as he looks back to the woman.

“Do you mind if I come in?” he nods and moves aside as she picks up the car seat and steps inside. “My name is Caroline Husband, I’m a social worker for the state of California.” she tells him as she sets the seat down on his coffee table, “and this is Avery. Your daughter.” 

Jake feels his heart stop as he looks down at the little girl, “what, what do you mean?” he sinks down to the floor on his knees, heart racing and Caroline gives him a small smile.

“Her mother-” she looks down at the paperwork she was holding, “Samantha Barnes, passed away from complications shortly after birth, you were listed as father on the birth certificate.” 

Samantha Barnes… Jake remembered her with a small smile. They were briefly exclusive before she had disappeared one night, leaving behind the memories and a note saying she needed to go back home to help with her ailing father, her last living relative that she still spoke to.

“H-how uh, how old is she?” he asks, taking her small, but definitely bigger than a newborn, hand in between his finger and thumb.

“She spent some time with a foster while the state was waiting for you to return stateside. She just turned 3 months old.” Caroline forms him, which makes sense as he was just in the middle of the ocean for the last five months. “I have some supplies in my car that her foster mom put together for you, should you choose to keep her.” 

“Choose to?” he asks, as if there was any other option for him. The second he found out Avery was his, there was never any other option.

“You can alway sign your parental rights away, there’s plenty of families looking to adopt babies.” she says and he shakes his head.

“No, she stays with me,” Jake says as he stands and Caroline smiles up at him.

“Well then, there’s all the information that you need. Her old foster mom made a list of information for you, her pediatrician, what formula she was feeding, how to prepare bottles...” she goes on to tell him more necessary information about Avery but tunes her out as he watches the little girl start to wake up and look around, well, as much as a 3 month old can, he supposed. “Here’s my card, it has my personal cell phone number on the back should you not be able to reach me at my office in the event of an emergency.” 

He takes it with a smile and a thank you before walking Caroline to the door to help her bring the items in from her car and as quickly as she was here, she was gone. Leaving Jake to sit on his couch as he stares into the eyes of his daughter. 

He kicks out his guest after 15 minutes of sitting there before he’s googling how to put a car seat base securely into the back seat of a F-150. After fighting for what felt like an hour (only 10 minutes) he has his daughter secured in his car before driving way under the speed limit to The Hard Deck, only 45 minutes late to meeting up with the rest of the Daggers but as soon as they see him walk into the bar with a car seat, all the teasing for being late blows out of there mind. 

“Do we need to call the police?” Bradley teases and Jake lets out a nervous laugh.

“No.. no police needed.” Jake says as he sets his daughter’s car seat and diaper bag in the middle of the pool table the team was surrounding.

“Well, then who is this?” 

Jake takes a deep breath before answering, “this is my daughter, Avery Seresin.”

Immediately the team has plenty of questions for the team’s resident playboy. He explains the situation as best he can with the information he got from Caroline.

“I never even knew Sam was pregnant. She never said anything and then she was gone.” Jake says softly as he looks down as his daughter in his arms, sleepily drinking from the bottle he made and Penny gives him a smile.

“You seem like a natural already.” she says, snapping a photo of the daddy-daughter moment and he smiles.

“Yeah, I was still around when my sisters started having their own kids, all girls too, ironically.” he responds with a small laugh and the movement of his chest startled Avery awake and she starts drinking more steadily again.

The squad takes the rest of the day before the bar opens with turns holding the newest member of the team. Aside from Jake, Bob and Natasha were the only other two who seemed comfortable enough to hold her without needing any instruction on support for her head. 

“Does Cyclone know you have a kid yet?” Mav asks as he takes his turn holding Avery, seasoned from when Bradley was a baby and he used to watch him while Carole and Goose needed alone time. 

“Fuck, no not yet.” Jake groans as he rubs his hands over his face. “I need to go see him.”

“Go see him now, between Penny being a mom and me dealing with Bradley as a baby there’s plenty of experience here to watch Avery for a bit while you try to get some time to adjust to dad-life.” Mav says and Jake looks over at him.

“You’re serious?” 

“Yeah, besides, Avery is already better at 3 months than Rooster ever was.” Mav teases and Bradley makes a couple of offended noises before being slapped in the chest by Natasha. 

Jake nods, “okay well here’s her-”

“Hangman, get out of here. I did all this with Amelia.” Penny says as she pushes him towards the door and Jake pulls her into a hug.

“Thank you so much, Pen.” he says, meaning it too since Penny is the closest thing to a mom that he has since he hasn’t talked to his real mom in years. 

The drive into base wasn’t a long one, but felt like it was with how often he was checking his backseat and not seeing his daughter before remembering she was safe with Penny and Maverick at the bar. 

Walking into Admiral Simpson’s office, Jake broke out into a nervous sweat. “Um, excuse me, sir.” he says as he knocks on the open door.

Both Admiral Simpson and Admiral Bates looked up at him from where they were sitting at the desk discussing some news that they received from higher ups. 

“Can I help you, Lieutenant?” Cyclone asks and Jake nods, taking that as an ‘okay’ to walk into the office.

“Yes actually, I uh.. I was wondering if I would be able to get leave, sir. I had a surprise visit from a social worker this morning and-and my infant daughter.” he says as he straightens out his back and rolls his shoulders back.

“You have a child?” Cyclone asks, closing the folder that he had open to focus more on Jake. “Since when?” 

“Well, as of 9am this morning, sir. Her mother passed away after she was born and no other living relatives so… She’s currently with me. Well, not with me Captain Mitchell and Penny Benjamin are currently watching her.. sir.” 

Warlock and Cyclone share a look and Jake stands there nervously, “I know that this is short notices but all I’m asking for is a week to figure things out, find a sitter, get some kind of a routine started for-”

“Okay.” Cyclone says and Jake looks at him instead of the spot that he had been looking at on the wall. “You only want just one week?”

“I can have more, sir?” Cyclone nods, having recently become a father himself and knows how important bonding is for parents. 

“Unless something urgent comes, how does three weeks sound?” he asks as he pulls something up on his computer and begins to type.

“I would greatly appreciate that.” Jake says with a small smile and Cyclone nods, ending the conversation and Jake starts to walk out of the office.

“Seresin?” Warlock calls out and Jake turns around, “congratulations.”

“Thank you, sirs.” 

Jake drives back to the bar already feeling lighter than he had in the last 6 hours, and upon walking back into the watering hole, he sees a red faced Avery and a panicked Rooster.

“Bradshaw what did you do to my daughter?” 

“What did I do? She threw up on me!” he says, holding the infant safely, and at an arm's length away. 

The rest of the team is laughing behind him and Jake just takes Avery and lays her against him so her head is on his shoulder, “well I’m sure you deserved it.” 

Bradley glares at him before wandering away to the bathroom to clean up. Jake smiles and rubs his daughters back as she babbles in his ear.

“How did talking to the boss go?” Penny asks and Jake smiles.

“Really good, actually. Said I can have three weeks as long as nothing urgent comes up that’ll need the full team's attention.” 

“Well, if you ever need a nanny so you can have a break and none of us are available, my niece just moved to the area and is looking for work.” Penny says with a small smile as Jake moves to sit next to her. “Plus she has a degree in early childhood and special education.” 

“Okay, yeah I’ll let you know.” he says with a nod.

“Well, you can meet her tonight, she’s supposed to come and help me out here for the night since Jimmy can’t make it in.” Jake just nods and Penny pats his shoulder that Avery isn’t sleeping on while she stands to start opening duties for the bar. 

Jake didn’t end up meeting Penny’s niece that night, or any time in the following week. In fact, it wasn’t until the last week of his leave that he met her. 

Jake was holding Avery as he walked into the bar before it opened, she was babbling up a storm and he took his sunglasses off to put on the top of his head when he saw someone new behind the bar, head thrown back and laughing at something that Bob had said. 

You look over at him and he swears his heart stopped, “Hi! I’m Y/N Benjamin, but you can call me Saturn.”

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