#drift gets more bitches then most of the population

[leprechaunsthings]

I made sum cute art then this filter on my phone made it so mimuch cuter so have the fultered version.

[communistkenobi]

Do you think andor stans are pretentious? I'm seeing people calling them that more and more. I know some are annoying but every star wars fan is annoying imo.

the most beloved past time of star wars fans is bitching, and andor has provided us with an extremely productive frontier from which to do so. I’ll just agree and say that yeah sure it’s pretentious, because I don’t think trying to like logically refute that is a good use of time.

I think part of the reason why the “andor is better than the rest of star wars” sentiment is so popular (beyond the subjective enjoyment of it as a superior show) is that andor has a completely fresh take on star wars, one that is deeply connected with the “guts” of star wars canon, and its presence in the canon is making people go “wait we could have had this kind of Star Wars content all along?” and then rage at the rest of the franchise for not being andor.

It’s sort of hard to describe why it feels this way (at least in short form lol), but like I think the main difference between andor and the “traditional” star wars show is that andor is taking the canon extremely seriously. not in a strict factual manner, but in the sense of like, okay how does the empire operate? what is its internal structure like? How does it respond to rebel attacks? What impact does that have on civilian populations?

These of course are not new questions (I think SW Rebels for example does a decent job of exploring these things), but it feels different. To use the mandalorian as a counter example, take the tracking fobs the guild hands out. These are simple devices that provide location data for targets. They make the plot go forward. Easy and simple. But like, I don’t think that would fly in a show like andor. Not only on a technical sense (how tf do you get sub-metre accurate positional data on another person who is dozens of solar systems away, frequently on fringe planets that do not have global satellites?) but also in a sociological sense - if this technology is available, how else is it used? Who else uses it? What kind of society produces this kind of technology? I think andor pushes audiences to think of these silly little gadgets as technologies of power. It must always be considered in its ability to oppress people and its role in structuring society. The infrastructure required to make something as simple as those tracking fobs work is itself a commentary on the state of the galaxy. And these questions are multi-scalar - if something as simple as a tracking fob can provide extremely accurate, unrestricted data on virtually any person in the galaxy, where do those data come from? Where are those data being held? Who controls those datasets? Why are these data being collected?

I think andor most excels at attending to the bureaucratic and administrative elements of the empire. “The Empire” is not a literal physical thing that you can point to and say it exists, it’s a collection of people and equipment and buildings and processes and laws and ideas. You see proof of the state in andor every time a database is queried, every time a criminal record is made, every time a security contract for another planet is secured. a person could go their entire life without seeing a star destroyer and still know the empire is very much real. It’s literally doing “we live in a society” shit with star wars. It approaches star wars not at the level of individual characters but at the level of systems, as a process of history that you are watching unfold, and that history is being told through the lens of people experiencing it.

This is sort of drifting off topic, so to circle back - I think andor is demonstrating the power of star wars canon in a way previously unconsidered, and people are (i think understandably) irritated that, for all the money and brain power and talent behind a lot of the other shows, we aren’t getting the same level of curiosity for this incredibly expansive fictional universe. I don’t think star wars always has to be this way, or even be this serious, but I think the recent narrative failures of the other shows (the mandalorian, kenobi, book of boba fett) demonstrate that star wars does not have to be about itself - you can explore the canon seriously and create stories from what already exists. You do not need to treat characters as saints or action figures, you do not need to flinch away from them showing vulnerability or humility or flaws. People will disagree that the shows I mentioned do this in the first place, but then they’re the people who say “you’re pretentious” to begin with, so in the immortal words of sun tzu. who give a shit

[thelioncourts]

You’re definitely right they can remove some of the useless love interests but even if you do the stories are still about Lestat. Louis would just be there to offer support or whatever but he has no arc or character development in these books after TVL. That’s why it’s impossible to keep him a main character with these book storylines cause even if he’s there in every scene he wouldn’t be doing anything.

So I totally get why people would rather he just leave the show than be used as set dressing for lestat.

But I don't think they're going to just do book storylines??? Like??? They've not done book storylines as they're written thus far, so why would that be subject to change???

I'm sorry, I'm not meaning to come across as short or anything, but I have 11 asks in my inbox all about this right now and I don't have answers and don't really know why people are coming to me.

As I've said in previous asks, I have said most of what I can and have to say on the matter.

As a Louis-fan, I get where everyone is coming from, I truly truly truly do. Knowing his fate in the books, regarding material, is enough to have us all on edge, so please don't take this as something it's not, I just --

The show has already given Louis so much more than what Anne ever did. Not even talking about what the change of time period and race adds to him as a character, we have a fully fleshed out development of him as an individual, as well as him and Lestat as a couple and as parents to Claudia.

Show!Louis has this family that we learn so much about, at least in comparison to the book. In the book, we know Paul, and we know Paul because he's the catalyst for Louis. It's similar here, only we get Grace and we get Florence and we get Paul and we get Louis' relationship with each other these characters. We know that Paul and Louis were extremely close. Paul could come preaching at Louis' establishments in Storyville, causing scenes and making trouble for Louis, and Louis could threaten him and pull a knife on him and the next day they could be sitting at the breakfast table, bitching to each other like any set of siblings when telling on the other to mom. We know that Florence has insane expectations riding on Louis' shoulders and that the death of Paul was a catalyst for her too, no doubt since it's very obvious the entire family knew of Louis' queerness before Lestat even came around, but it was a thing they didn't talk about, and then he goes and moves in with Lestat anyway. We know that he and Grace are close, that he was the first person to know of her pregnancy (via vampirism), that they drifted immensely in his fear of himself as a vampire. We know that the loss of that family for Louis was the reason for so much of his pain, for so much of his struggles with vampirism as a whole.

We know that Louis is a businessman, and a good one too, and he likes it. Sure, he didn't like all the racist shitbags he had to deal with, but he was better than all of them and they knew it and he liked that. He was ruthless in his business, strong and fierce and proud, and the loss of the Azalea, the race-war waged against the black population of New Orleans, was yet another source of devastation.

We know, as a parent, Louis is smothering sometimes, motherhenning Claudia to the point that she had to learn how to shut him out of her head. We know, as a parent, Louis is softer, to the point of fault at times, but that he also gives in to her whims, drinking human blood again when she points out that his criticism of hers and Lestat's eating habits make her feel poorly. We know, as a parent, he watched her go out to hunt on her own proudly, like a parent watching their kid go drive to a friend's house for the first time.

We know, as a lover, Louis is spoiled by his husband. "How can I say no to you?" followed by Louis' most pleased, beautiful smile. We know, as a lover, Louis can look at his husband like he hung the damn moon that guides their nightly hunts. We know, as a lover, Louis can be argumentative, assured that he is right and not afraid to tell Lestat so. We know, as a lover, Louis will smile brilliantly at his husband as they sneak around in coffin together, acting like damn teenagers in love. We know, as a lover, Louis, for all his issues with Lestat, loves him tremendously so, to the point that their hearts sync up and that, when Lestat is lying there, "dead," Louis cradles his body to his chest and screams his agony.

None of this is in the books.

It's all made by the writers of the show. And, as of now, the writers have yet to disappoint me with their writing of Louis. So until that moment comes, I'm going to be optimistic because 1) they've yet to prove me wrong and 2) if I'm not optimistic, what am I really sticking around for then? I don't want to stick around and be miserable at the thought of something all the time.

[wherethewordsare]

Birds of a Feather

For @notsafeformurphy who was having a day of it the other day and we got to talking and.... oops this happened. This honestly started out as a nature docu au and ended up a coffee shop au? Idk man.... Anyway, Shay I hope you enjoy this! 

Also tagging @herostag since it was requested. and @jaskierswolf cause I think they’re gonna start yelling at me if i keep forgetting. Going to try to get my tag list back together if anyone is interested. <3 <3 <3 Hope yall enjoy Jaskier huffed as he flopped over again, his body refusing to just relax down into his mattress and let him sleep. It had been a stressful day and to make matters worse, it had been the third night in a row where he was simply unable to sleep. 

Giving up, he reached for his phone, scrolling through youtube for a moment, looking for something that he could just zone out to for a little while. Usually he would put on music or white noise but even that didn’t seem like it would be helpful. He had to find something extremely dull and maybe a bit pretty. 

He scrolled past a thumbnail of three large men in park uniforms. Two of them looked like they were at least somewhat interested in being there while one tall man with near white hair simply scowled at the camera. 

Wild Wednesdays with the Rivia Nature Reserve the title read. 

“Okay, I’ll bite,” Jaskier huffed as he rolled onto his stomach. He pulled the kickstand of his phone case out and set it up before pressing play and curling his arms around his pillow. 

“This week, we’ll be talking to Geralt Rivia, our resident raptor specialist about what goes into rehabilitation efforts when it comes to conservation,” someone said off camera, cheerily. When the camera panned to Geralt Rivia however, he did not seem to share the narrator’s same upbeat tone. 

For a few minutes, the narrator off camera seemed to try to ask Geralt about himself, only getting stilted answers and that same scowl that had been in the thumbnail. Jaskier snorted with a smirk. 

“You’re not having any of this, are you? You’re gorgeous though,” he chuckled. He felt his back relax as he yawned, snuggling closer into his pillow. 

And then it happened. From off camera, someone handed Geralt a leather glove that he put on easily before taking a cord. He clicked a bit and the scowl he had moments ago melted into a fond smile. 

“And who is this?” the narrator asked. They clearly had picked up on the shift in Geralt’s demeanor as a small falcon took up perch on his forearm. 

He actually cooed at the bird for a moment before holding it up for the camera. “This is Roach. She’s one of our recent rescues.” He smiled, a barely there tilt of his lips and his honey colored eyes softened. Jaskier got the impression on anyone else, it would have been a full grin. 

“Oh, I like that look,” Jaskier murmured, feeling his cheeks heat up. 

“And what is Roach?” the person asked off camera. 

Geralt took a step back, turning his arm slightly, causing the bird to flap agitatedly at him as she kept her balance. “Yes, I know, but I have to show off how pretty you are,” he said to the bird, fond and warm. 

“Oh no,” Jaskier whispered into his pillow. “He’s soft and hot.” 

“Roach here is a red-tailed hawk. They’re pretty common through North America,” he explained, pointing out the red-brown of her tail. The hawk nipped at him as he got her to open her wings for the camera and he only chuckled. “She’s about six, the same age as my daughter actually. And,” he leaned in conspiratorially, “I’ll be honest with you, I’m not sure which one is less well behaved.” 

Roach must have understood a bit of that because she gave a cry before nipping at Geralt’s hair, clearly annoyed. 

“Listen, if you weren’t so hornery, I wouldn’t say it,” he said to Roach, pulling another scowl but there was clearly no heat in it. 

This was not the same man from the thumbnail or the same man that barely gave answers about himself at the beginning of the clip. When that bird sat on his arm, he lit up and Jaskier was weak. 

Geralt answered a few other questions about hawks and about the reserves program for rehabbing hawks, his voice deep and gravely. He would have sounded gruff if not for how much he clearly loved what he did. 

Geralt looked at Roach a little sadly. “Unfortunately for our little lady here, she won’t be able to return to the wild. Due to her injuries when she came to us, she won’t be able to hunt on her own,” he gave her a soft smile before he petted down her neck gently. 

Jaskier’s eyes were starting to feel heavy. He had turned into the pillow, letting Geralt’s voice wash over him with simple facts about red-tail hawks as he drifted off to sleep. It hadn’t been dull at all but there was something about the way Geralt spoke that just melted him into his mattress. 

When he woke, his phone was dead, probably from being set to autoplay. As it charged, he looked at the videos that had played while he was asleep, most of them from the Rivia Nature Reserve. There were a few specials with other team members but Jaskier picked out the ones that mentioned Geralt Rivia directly. 

It had become a near routine and soon, Jaskier found that he just slept better after watching those nature clips. Sometimes, Geralt wasn’t even on camera, simply walking through the process of population counting for the reserve as the camera panned around to different birds up in the trees. There were other videos featuring Roach the red-tailed hawk as well and it was clear that she was a favorite, not only of Geralt’s but the viewers as well. 

Within three weeks, Jaskier had made his way through nearly the whole catalog of the reserve’s videos. He knew he would move on from tall, silver and brooding and find his next sleep fix but for now he simply enjoyed it. 

~

He should have said no, he should have mentioned that he simply did not do morning shifts, and there was a reason for that, but Essi had been persistent, almost feral about him taking her shift. 

“Please, Jask. I promise, you won’t regret it!” She grinned at him and there was something in her eyes that sent up a dozen red flags. 

“What are you plotting?” He asked flatly, squinting at her over his glass of wine. 

“Not a thing, darling, just trust me on this,” she giggled, sipping her own wine neatly. 

~

It hadn’t been a terrible morning, though Jaskier was barely managing to stay upright by the the coffee grinder. He was used to staying up long nights and it hadn’t changed anything when he knew he would have to open. 

His phone buzzed in his pocket. 

I know you mentioned he had a kid, but he’s single. You’re gonna want to put a blueberry muffin in right now. 

He blinked at his phone, squinting as he tried to decode just what the fuck Essi was saying. 

What?

But he put in the blueberry muffin, his phone on the counter as he watched the three little dots dance where Essi was texting back. 

You still owe me a no questions.

“What the fuck is she even-” Jaskier heard the bell above the door just as he set the timer for the oven. 

“-and so I tell him that if he isn’t going to at least make an attempt to clear out the back trails, we’re going to find a new contractor.” Came a voice behind him. 

Jaskier froze, his hand on his phone. He nearly threw it in a panic. He recognized that voice. He’d recognize that voice in the dark, though to be fair, he usually listened to it in the dark. 

He glanced over his shoulder and sure enough, Geralt Rivia was standing at his counter with two others from the nature reserve. 

“Be with you in just a minute!” he tried for cheery and landed firmly in panicked. He ducked behind the large coffee machine and shot a text back to Essi. 

I haven’t decided on whether or not I love you more than anything or if I’m ever going to

speak to you again!

Have fun! ;)

That bitch. It had been a setup! He adored her, the meddling little sneak. He schooled his face the best he could, knowing full well that his ears were still the color of the strawberry frap they served. 

“Morning, what can I get you guys?” He asked as he wet his lips, trying not to stare right into Geralt’s gorgeous face. 

“Three coffees, a blueberry muffin warmed up and a plain bagel, untoasted,” Geralt said offhandedly as he looked around. “No Essi today?” 

“Uh, no. I’m filing in this morning. Jaskier, at your service.” As he dipped his head in a mock bow he internally cursed himself. One day, one normal day, that was all he asked for. “Hope the bagel isn’t for Roach. I’m not sure she’d like it. How is she? We haven’t seen her much recently?” He shot off without thinking as he started to pour the coffees. He froze again as his brain caught up with his mouth. 

Behind Geralt, both of the men snorted. “Looks like you’ve got a fan, pretty boy,” the darker haired one jostled Geralt’s shoulder with a smirk.

Geralt only stood there, tilting his head slightly as though he wasn’t sure what had just happened. 

“Ah, I mean…” Jaskier fumbled, nearly spilling one of the coffees down his own front. 

“She’s doing fine actually,” there was a soft smile on his face, the same he wore when he got to handle the birds directly and Jaskier could feel himself melt on the spot. “Naughty as ever. Learned a new trick to take a swipe at Lambert here if he’s holding the feed bucket,” there was a low rumble of a chuckle. 

The dark haired one behind Geralt stopped laughing abruptly. “She’s a menace.” He growled, picking up his own coffee from the counter. 

Behind Jaskier, the oven dinged. “Oh and your muffin!” He turned, letting himself have the moment his back was to them to silently scream. He had been tricked! He had been set up! He was going to try to get this man’s number and he would never hear the end of it. 

“You already had it in?” Geralt asked, that smile still in place. 

“What can I say, we make sure to take care of our favorite customers.” He was almost proud of himself at how smoothly that had come out as he turned to look back at Geralt. He should have been paying attention to the muffin as it dropped, missing the bag completely and splatting on the floor. 

“Fuck,” Jaskier nearly cried. “I am so sorry. Give me, just a moment, I’ll get another one in for you.” 

He watched as Geralt ducked his head, smirking. “Would you like to meet her?” He gave another tilt of his head, his eyes clearly looking Jaskier up and down. 

He was sure he had died. This wasn’t real. This was the good place. Or the bad place. Either way, this place was the place his soul had clearly left his body. He stood there, cold muffin in hand as he gaped at Geralt. 

“Uh-”

“You don’t,” Geralt cleared his throat, “I was just wondering since you seemed… to be a… fan.” His face slipped into a scowl and no. No that wouldn’t do at all. 

“I would love to, yeah. I’m off at three?” 

“Oh! Jaskier! Thank you for coming in to open. I can take it from here,” Essi slipped in beside him, taking the muffin from his hand. “Morning, Dr. Rivia,” she nearly sang, her face smug. 

“Dead. You’re very very dead when I see you again,” Jaskier whispered to her though he couldn’t stop grinning. 

“So you were saying?” Geralt asked, leaning against the counter. 

“Turns out, I’m free as a bird, you’d say.” Jaskier chuckled as he slipped his apron off and made his way around the counter. 

Geralt snorted and rolled his eyes but took his coffee and muffin from Essi. “You know that phrase ‘eat like a bird’ is really not that good of a way of saying that someone doesn’t eat much?” 

Behind them, Lambert scoffed. “Here we fucking go again. I said I was sorry for bringing it up!” 

Later that afternoon he found himself wearing a glove similar to the one he had first seen Geralt in, a small tawny owl bobbing on his arm as he looked on in wonder. He had met Roach and she had nipped at his hair and shirt, screeching when food wasn’t produced. 

“Hmm, let’s get Scorpion. He won’t tear you to shreds,” Geralt gave Roach a fond little tap on her wing with the back of his fingers. 

By the end of the day he left with a few knicks in his fingers and a phone number. He had never slept better.

[91percentpynch]

lonely heart - kevaaron au pt 4

oh look it‘s me, coming out of my dark hole to make you suffer with a super sad chapter with a nasty cliffhanger:) so get your tissues ready and enjoy!! okay first of all sorry that i didn‘t update this in a g e s and that it‘s rather short and for the cliffhanger, but i‘ll try to update it more regularly now:)

check this out for the other parts:)

trigger warnings: drug abuse, mention of suicide, mention of mental health issues, very sad aaron, mention of blood

“You were too good for me”, Aaron whispered into the void. “You were way too fucking good for me. You made me a better man. And I fucked up”

Aaron got up as he felt the tears burning in his eyes. He knew he wouldn‘t be able to sleep alone tonight. Like every single goddamn night since he left Kevin. Like every single goddamn night since he made the biggest mistake of his life.

„Taylor?“, the blonde haired boy murmered, „You up?“

„Babe, you know I‘m up. My girlfriend lives three states away, we talk every single day at the same time as you call your man. Not that I would be able to sleep when you call him, cause a) i love Day and b) you‘re always sad and high and end up in my room anygays, so did he take the phone darling?“

Taylor was Aaron‘s roommate and the closest thing he had to a best friend. She had been there for him every single day, cuddled him, held him while he cried and dried his tears afterwards. And Aaron did the same when she misssed her girlfriend too much.

„You do realize he is not my man anymore, I fucked that up. Big time. He did actually take the phone just to tell me to fuck off and stop calling“

„You could always go over there and say it in his pretty face. Didn’t say you can’t come over did he?Pro point: Might lead to making out“, Taylor said while taking him in her arms. „Plus another pro point: you‘d get sober again. And you‘re less moody. No offense but a Kevin-less Aaron is hardly managable, like you‘re either a whiny little bitch or you‘ll give me the death glare of the cenutry. Legit worse than Andrew‘s and I called him a cute little baby boo once when I was drunk and he almost stabbed me right there with a look on his face like I just murdered Neil in front of him“

„Tay, I take that as a compliment. And we both know Kevin’s a bit of a dumbass so he did not exactly tell me Not To Come over just stopp calling. Anyways I don‘t even know where he lives. And stop talking about me getting high, you do the same shit“

„Yeah but I know my limits and I have not the same history as you. And for the i DoN‘t EvEn KnOwS wHeRe He LiVeS, phone number. Now“

„O- okay“, Aaron said and told her Kevin‘s phone number while Taylor calmingly stroked his back.

„Neat, got him“, Taylor said after a while. „He‘s with the scary big dude and his adorable little boyfriend I think? I have their address right here, I think we‘re gonna visit them tomorrow cause it‘s like 4 am right now and we don‘t wanna rob him his beauty sleep plus we don‘t want to wake the scary big dude. And I‘m pretty sure the adorable small golden retriver boy could and would stab us“

„Did you just stalk my ex and located his phone at 4 am like fucking Garcias in Criminal Minds?“, Aaron said confused.

„Anything for you big guy. And as I said I miss Day‘s pretty face, preferably in your pretty face so you shut the fuck up about how stressed and depressed and lonely you are.“, Taylor chuckled as Aaron looked at her shocked.

„Well I miss Casey, preferable in your face so YOU shut up“, Aaron was never as good in witty remarks as his brother. Especially high Aaron.

„Babe I think it‘s time for you to go to bed, you‘re not fun when you‘re sad, high and tired. Come here, let me cuddle you, while you whiney little bitch sleep“

Aaron slowly went over to Taylor and into her loving arms, laying down, trying to fall asleep.

After a long while aaron drifted into sleep, just to be greeted by familiar smaragd eyes. In his dream Kevin and he never broke up. Kevin was on top of him, his hands gently discovered Aaron‘s body, touching him as if he was sacred, something to worship. Kevin‘s lips were at Aaron‘s ear whispering sweet nothingness. Aaron‘s hips moved against Kevin‘s loving touch. „Stress release“ Kevin called these holy moments in dawn. „Highlight of my day“ Aaron called them.

The dream was as beautiful as it was cruel. It was as if his body, his mind were as much refusing as able to believe that Kevin was gone. It was his own fault, Aaron knew it. But the ever present voice of his mother, disapproving and disgusting, in his head was just too much for him to handle. He thought - foolish as Aaron was - that the pain of living without Kevin would be better, less cruel, less painful. But he never knew real love and therefore never experienced its lost. Until that faitful day. Until Kevin took his bags and left.

Aaron was used to pain. The hot one after an extraordinarily vicious hit. The cold one when his mother died. The numbing one when the hunger was growing more and more unbareable. But nothing was even slightly as hard to handle as the loss of Kevin in his life.

Kevin was the first good thing Aaron had. He gave him a will to stay, to try, to give this stupid sport everything he got. And Exy turned into more mundane things like getting his eating routine under control or getting a more or less acceptable sleeping schedule. The dark days were still there, for both of them, and they would probably never leave them completely alone, but they got less. And when they did happen they would hold each other together.

Ever since he fucked up things with Kevin, Aaron had more and more dark days. The voice of his mother telling him he‘s a failure, the bored stare of his brother and Aaron convincing himself Andrew wouldn‘t even bet an eye if he died, the voice telling him the world would be a better place without him growing louder and lourder every passing day.

Logically he could say that the death of a single person wouldn‘t change much for the over all world population, expect maybe it‘s some kind of insane mademan dicator or someone important, but still. It made sense. All he did after all was fucking up, being a failure, never good enough, never perfect.

His lonely heart only screamed Kevin‘s name and he knew if Kevin didn‘t take him back, his life wouldn‘t make much sense anymore. Well he would definetly not tell Kevin that. He would not manipulate Kevin into loving him, because that wouldn‘t be much better than not having him at all.

Aaron woke up the next day around noon. He didn‘t really feel like getting up, like getting up was simply too much. But Aaron knew he had to. He didn‘t want to worry Taylor more than he already did. And it would end today. One way or the other.

So he got up, put on the first pair of black jeans he could find and the first sweater his hands could find. Ironically it was one of the sweaters Kevin gave him, on the third of december last year. It was one of Aaron‘s favourites as well.

„Ready for the big Day, small guy?“, Taylor said winking at him.

„Not really? What the fuck am I supposed to do there anyways?“, Aaron replied on his way to the coffee maker.

„Talk to him? Deliver one of those borderline cringe big speeches. Get im flowers. Break into his bedroom and say ‚Draw me like one of your french girls‘, naked of course“, Taylor laughed at the face Aaron made, listening to her suggestions.

„I think I like the big speech. I mean I‘m shit with words, but I‘m sure you want to help your boy getting ‚his man‘ back, right? Also what kind of flowers would you give someone you dumped cause the voice of your dead mother told you it was wrong and disgusting, which you never told him for obvious reasons?“

„Honey, you‘re so fucked up sometimes, I love you but you should go to a therapist or something. Also I‘d say sunflowers or roses? I don‘t speak flowers man, I‘m the tech nerd. Not the romantic one, the nerd. But we‘re gonna make a snazzy speech and you‘re gonna get your man back“

After their typical breakfast - if Aaron didn‘t forget to eat again - they sat down together on the living room floor, paper and pen ready, trying to write the world changing speech.

„Why is this so fucking hard? Why can I only tell him how much I love and miss him when I‘m high off my ass“, Aaron complained.

„What about you don‘t think about him that much. Just tell me what you love about him and then we write that down?“, Taylor suggested.

Aaron took a deep breathe and closed his eyes. „I loved him because he was the first one who saw me. Aaron Minyard. And not just the other Minyard, the lesser twin, the shadow of Andrew. He looked at me and somehow chose me. Even if he could have had everyone else. He chose me, even though I‘m not special. Kevin chose the failure when he could have had the first prize. He looked at me and saw something worth loving, worth keeping around. Hardly anyone could tell Andrew and me apart. But it took him less than a day to do so. Kevin is strong, so so strong and somehow chose the most fragile thing he could find, took it and made it worth soemthing. Kevin made me feel something. Not numbness. Not pain. Something warm and beautiful and living. He gave me a reason to stay alive. Kevin made my life bearable, he made my life beautiful. We were both broken and we would probably still be broken if we were together but we softened each other‘s edges. Kevin believed in me when no one else would. He knew how I felt, knew what I needed and when I needed it. Kev gave me love and safety and I kicked it with my feet. This man is like a god who fell for whatever reasons for a homeless man. And I know I don‘t deserve him but I also know I cannot live without him. And I know that I must tell him that before it‘s too late. If it‘s not too late already“

Taylor wipped a tear out of her eyes. „That‘s it. You tell him that and we‘ll get him back“, she said. „Can I hug you?“

„Sure you loser“

„Ah there is my boy“

They spent the rest of the afternoon writing down the speech, making edits here and there. In the end Aaron collected the pages and went to his room to change. He replaced Kevin‘s sweater with a simple black jumper, put on his Docs, got his keys and left.

Aaro did feel a little uncomfortable, stalking Kevin like that. But he knew this was his chance to fix things. This was his chance to get Kevin back, to make his life worth living again. Which to be fair was a bit selfish, but you are allowed to be a little selfish sometimes, aren‘t you?

Jean and Jeremy‘s apartment complex was a 15 minute drive away from the flat Aaron shared with his three roommates. Theirs was fanzier, obviously. After all Jeremy was a professional Exy player and Jean was some kind of semi famous artist or fashion maker or whatever. They could give Kevin the world. They could give him what he desereved. All Aaron had to offer was an apology and his love. No money. Not yet anyway. Just anxiety, depression and stress.

But if Kevin was willing to take his love, to give Aaron one more chance, he promised himself Aaron would make it count. He will tell Kevin how much he loves Kevin every single god damn day. Aaron will get therapy and work on his issues. Sober up and this time for good. He will do anything to be worth of god‘s love. Just that god in his case was a twenty two year old boy with black hair, forming soft waves at the end and a smile that will make the sun jealous. Eyes made out of smaragd. Lips so sinful and kissable.

Aaron sat down in front of the door, waiting for his courage to come back to him. He could do this. He would get his man back.

Hours passed, or maybe it were only minutes or seconds after all before someone came closer. Ever so slowly Aaron lifted his head, just to look in the ever so familiar green eyes, big with shock.

„You said to stop calling. You never mentioned face to face conversations“, Aaron said, his voice hoarse.

Kevin stared at him as if he was a ghost, a reminder of his past life, something he rather wanted to forget.

„Look I know I fucked up. I know I‘m not good enough for you. I know you deserve the world and I cannot give it to you. And when you look me in the eyes and tell me you don‘t feel anything for me anymore, no love or hate or affection or whatever humans feel, I will turn away right now and go and never come back. Never bother you again. But if you allow me to apologize, if you however decide to gieve me one last chance, I prepared this whole ass speech for you“

Aaron was sure they could hear his heart beating against his chest, roaring, screaming to return home. To return to Kevin where it belonged.

Kevin‘s eyes wandered to the floor, his fingers automatically closed around his left wrist. A nervous habit. Just another little part that makes Aaron‘s heart ache.

Slowly, almost painfully slowly, he lifted those unbelieveable beautiful eyes and met Aaron‘s golden ones. Kevin studied him and the world around them stopped.

Out of the corner of Aaron‘s eyes he could see Jean going still, his breathing too calm, too even. It‘s the same thing Andrew does when someone fucks with Josten. At least his death would be fast. Or slow. Whatever. Aaron didn‘t really care, without Kevin it wasn‘t worth anygthing anyway.

„Why“, Kevin said after what feels like forever, „Why would I forgive you? Why would I give you another chance? Why would you think you can come back here just to fuck me over again? Aaron I loved you, I really did. I always will. You were my first love and maybe, yeah maybe, my last one. But right now I can‘t. I just, I just can‘t. Please leave. Please leave me alone. For now. Maybe, one day we can talk about it. But right now I cannot handle the thought of you to leave me. To tell me all these beautiful lies, to cut me open and leave me to bleed out. I love you“, tears were running down Kevin‘s cheek. Tears Aaron one day, a long time ago, promised himself he would never let Kevin feel again. Pain. Sadness. Everything because of his failure, because of his weakness, because he‘s a fucking piece of shit.

„Thank you for giving me a reason to stay. Jusst remember that you were my light, my warmth, my happiness and I never stopped loving you. Never will. Please just be happy“, Aaron replied as he turned around to walk to his cars.

When he was sure he was out of ear shot, he let himself feel. Feel the pain. Feel the loneliness. Feel the numbness and the cold and the hatred. It was in that moment, that moment where he was alone and nothing more to lose, that he decided that it was enough. He would end it. End it tonight.

„Thank you“, he texted Taylor. „I‘m glad I didn‘t eat you in the womb“, he texted Andrew. „You were not so bad after all“, he sent to Neil. And lastly „Thank you for taking me under your wing“, to Nicky. They would understand. It would take them some time but in the end they would feel better. They would be happier without them. Because at the end of the day he caused them pain and wasn‘t really worth a thing.

So when he got in his car, tears running uncontrallably down his cheeks, he knew what he had to do.

[hehron]

LONG DISTANCE FRIENDSHIPS

A Harry and Hermione one-shot based on the prompts from this list: "Even if we don't talk for days, I'll always be your best friend" and "No one understands the effort of long distance friendships".

Edit: A 'sort of' companion piece to this, Aftermath, now posted!

“Finally, you made it!” Hermione exclaimed when she saw Harry hobbling towards "their booth" in The Hog's Head.

“Sorry. Couldn't get away from Robards. I swear he gives me more paperwork just to prove he's impartial. I've never loathed being the Boy Who Lived more!” He groaned, falling to the seat opposite hers.

Hermione sniffed in amusement. “Not even when a madman was after you?”

“Nah, Robards makes old Voldemort look like a flooberworm.” Harry grinned.

She shook her head, laughing. It was wonderful that they were able to joke about such things. For far too long, they'd been living as a shell of the people they were, and now, finally, they were healing. Her heart warmed. She'd been terrified that they'd drift away. She and Harry didn't have the easy friendship he had with Ron or the understanding he shared with Ginny. That didn't mean their bond was any less strong, she thought fiercely.

“What's wrong?” Harry asked, and she realised she'd been frowning.

“Nothing.” She sighed. “People assume, don't they?”

“Assume what?”

“They think the only reason you and I are still friends is because of Ron and Ginny. They forget that we go way back.”

“Except Witch Weekly readers, who seem to think we're having a secret torrid affair.”

She lightly smacked his arm, smiling. “Keep it down, will you? I don't fancy being plastered on their front page again.”

“Come on, Hermione, the love of my life, won't you suffer a few articles to be with me?” He sighed dramatically.

“I knew you guys bunking with George was a bad idea!” She laughed.

Harry's face grew serious. “What set this off?”

Hermione looked away. “Ginny's friends seemed to think it's weird that I'm spending time with you while she's not.”

Harry raised his eyebrows. “Ginny's got Quidditch, and, besides, why do I need an excuse to hang out with my best friend?”

“Are we, Harry?” She asked, her eyes misty. “Are we still best friends? We never get to spend time together anymore, and when we do, it's almost always with Ron and Ginny, not that I don't love them, of course, I do, but- but- I miss you!”

Harry stared at her, stunned, and Hermione felt her cheeks heat up. This was exactly why people thought they weren't close. She always wanted to talk about her feelings while he preferred brushing them off with a sarcastic comment.

“Hermione,” Harry said forcefully, laying his hand on hers, making her look up at him to find his face burning with a fierce determination. “No matter what happens, even if we don't talk for days, I'll always be your best friend.”

She choked back tears and engulfed him in a bone-crushing hug, which he returned with a chuckle. Wiping her tears, she sipped her drink.

“But seriously,” Harry said. “Since when did you start caring what other people think?”

“I don't.” She said petulantly. “It must be the stress of the NEWTs. Without you two distracting with one of your hair-brained schemes, there's nothing to keep me busy!”

“I thought you were looking forward to a peaceful year.” Harry teased.

Hermione snorted. “Bad habits die hard.”

“Well, to ease my conscience of not helping my best friend, I'll break the rules and share the details of my new case with you.” Harry announced, causing her to groan.

“That's illegal.”

“So was brewing polyjuice potion in our second year. Now,” He laid a crumpled piece of paper on the table and started explaining. Hermione sat there listening to his theories, a feeling of contentment enveloping her at the familiarity of the situation. Yes, they were grown up, yes, they were in love with their significant others, but that didn't mean that they had to give each other up. Not now, not ever.

“Honestly, Hermione, you could have at least told me my boyfriend proposed to you.” Ginny said grinning, as she dropped the latest edition of Witch Weekly onto the library table.

“Why do you still read that?” Hermione asked exasperatedly.

“I like it. Gives me more things to tease Harry about.”

Hermione snorted. “So who's heartbroken this time? Luna?”

“Oh no. She's in love with Ron, apparently, who's heartbroken because Harry cheated on him with his girlfriend. Of course, I'm just an attention-seeking bitch who doused him with love potions, so I'm fine.” Ginny said solemnly before bursting out laughing.

“Can't blame Luna. Ron is much more dashing.” Hermione said cheekily.

“Oi, half the wizarding population, who voted Harry, Most Eligible, would disagree.” Ginny said, waving the magazine in her face. “Although, you do have to applaud their deduction skills. Not everyone has the power to be wrong every single time.”

“Some people just don't understand the effort of a long distance friendship.” Hermione said. “But I have to admit, they might be onto something in Luna's case. She did like Ron much more than necessary while he was a prick.”

“Oh dear god, not another one! I ought to start a screening process. New Best Friend needed: preferably one without a crush on any of my brothers!”

[strangebeautiful]

Need a Baker

Rating: Explicit

@genmaweek prompt: Birthday Party

Pairing: Genma/Sakura

Summary: Genma comes home early to help Sakura prepare for his birthday party and catches her doing something completely unexpected.

Also on ao3! 

Genma barely had time to react as two hands grasped him by the shoulders and pushed him out of the door of his own shop. He turned around to face his best friend (now assistant manager) with puppy dog eyes.

“Go. We’re not going to let you close on the night of your birthday party,” Raidou said firmly, leaving no room for debate. Genma’s skateboard was unceremoniously thrust into his stomach, knocking the wind out of him as he sulked away. Even three years after opening his skate shop, it was still his baby, and delegating was always a struggle for him. With a sigh, he hopped onto his board and took off down the block.

If he was being honest, though, Genma was grateful that Raidou had forced him out of the door. Sakura had taken the day off, a huge undertaking for the busy neurosurgeon, and was preparing to host his birthday party at her apartment. Leaving work a few hours early meant that he could help her out, and it would make him feel less guilty about his already overworked girlfriend going out of her way to have a party on his behalf.

When he rolled up to Sakura’s tall swanky complex about ten minutes later, Genma pulled out the key that she had sweetly provided him six months into dating and let himself into her apartment. He called out a greeting to her as he kicked his shoes off at the door, but heard no reply.

“Maybe she’s in her room?” he murmured to himself before walking toward the stairs. However, he caught a flash of pink in the kitchen and turned toward her in surprise.

Sakura had her back to him, tapping a cup of flour into a bowl with her earbuds in. She was wearing a small pair of black running shorts and a red tank top, lightly humming to herself as she cracked an egg against the counter. Her hair was up in a messy bun, and she looked casually stunning, as per usual. He took one step in her direction but was interrupted by Sakura’s voice. “Bitch I’m a problem nobody solvin’, you can keep hatin’, I’m poppin’ regardless,” she rapped to herself, and Genma’s jaw dropped.

Sweet innocent Sakura listened to rap? Until now, Genma was utterly convinced that she only listened to those boring medical podcasts that had him drifting off on long car trips. The brunette grinned mischievously and figured there was no shame in hanging back to see what his little cherry blossom was up to.

The rosette continued to toss ingredients into the mixing bowl, rolling her hips to the music playing in her ears and piping in with sporadic lines of the song. He heard the bass pick up from across the room, and suddenly, she shook her ass in a way that belonged on a club dance floor.

“Dance on the dick, now, you been served, I like a dick with a little bit of curve, hit this pussy with an uppercut,” Genma’s jaw dropped as she playfully accompanied the line by punching the air before continuing, “Call that, ah, Captain Hook!” She cracked a smile and laughed softly to herself as she started the hand mixer.

Genma and Sakura had been dating for nearly a year now, and he had never heard her swear. Hell, getting her to say anything other than his name and “oh god” in bed was a struggle. Even at her most frustrated, his girlfriend was always composed - he supposed it was a side effect of having a profession that required unrivaled professionalism.

But Sakura’s secret was out now.

“I need a Mr. Clean, make that pussy beam, okay, I just might need a baker, make that pussy cream,” she sang as she swirled the spatula and her hips in time. She lowered into a squat to pull a pan from the lower cabinet, bouncing her ass like she was riding a dick and causing her running shorts to ride up indecently. Genma was unashamedly hard at the sight.

She spooned the batter into the baking pan, grinding her hips against the counter to match the music. When the bowl was emptied, Sakura took the spatula and suggestively licked the batter from it. “I’m too sexy to be fuckin’ under covers,” she exclaimed, turning to throw the utensil into the sink and finally catching sight of Genma in the doorway.

Sakura screamed.

And in her shock, she pegged him in the forehead with the spatula.

“Oh my god, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Sakura gasped in concern as he folded over in equal parts laughter and pain. “You scared me!”

Genma felt her delicate hand on the small of his back, and when he finally composed himself, he stood up. He smirked at her, teasing, “I didn’t know you listened to rap.” She immediately blushed in response.

“H-How long were you there for?” Sakura asked with a tinge of panic.

“Long enough,” he said, placing a kiss on the corner of her lips as she flushed even darker in embarrassment.

Sakura turned back to the pan filled with batter, sliding it into the pre-heated oven and setting a timer. She chewed her bottom lip nervously as she turned back around, leaning against the counter and looking up with her bright green eyes. “You weren’t supposed to see that.”

Genma chuckled in response. “What, I shouldn’t know that my girlfriend uses bad words sometimes? Or that she can twerk?”

“I was not twerking,” she huffed. “I was dancing. That thing you do when you like the music you’re listening to.”

“That kind of dancing belongs in the bedroom, sweetheart,” he teased, walking over so he could place his hands on her hips. “Or the kitchen is fine if you’re feeling kinky.”

“Genma,” Sakura whined. “You’re never going to let me live this down, are you?”

His lips curved into a predatory grin. “I think you can persuade me. Maybe if I hear more of those dirty words again, I can be convinced to conveniently forget to tell our friends about this incident.”

“Ugh, you’re so embarrassing,” Sakura groaned as she half-heartedly pushed his hands off her hips.

“Maybe I can just request a repeat performance at my party tonight. You know, you can’t deny the birthday boy a gift,” Genma purred with a wag of his eyebrows, drawing her back in.

“You’re exhausting,” she sighed, feigning exasperation. “Fine. What do you want?”

Genma pressed one hand against Sakura’s lower back and the other on the back of her thighs, lifting her onto the counter. She squeaked as the cold tile touched her ass. “I want to make that pussy cream.”

Sakura looked like she was ready to die of mortification. “Oh. My. God. Stop.”

As Genma peeled her shorts and panties down her smooth shapely legs, he couldn’t help but admire the way her cheeks reddened. “This is improper,” she protested, but it didn’t stop him from reaching up to graze her breasts under her loose tank top. He was pleasantly surprised to find that she wasn’t wearing a bra.

“And I just heard you say plenty of improper words,” Genma said playfully, lifting her shirt to brush his lips over the soft skin of her belly. “I’m not going to give it to you until you ask for it, so hop to it.”

Sakura bit her bottom lip hard as Genma toyed with her nipples, teasing the crook of her hip with open-mouthed kisses. “Isn’t this supposed to be your birthday present?”

“Mi pleasure es su pleasure, baby,” he said smoothly as he dug his teeth into her thigh. She let out a small unintended moan in reply.

“What was that? I couldn’t hear you over the collective groan of the Spanish-speaking population of the world.”

Genma chose to ignore the jab, spreading her legs open with his warm palms and admiring the glistening honey already visible between her thighs. He wet his lips in anticipation. “So saucy today, sweetheart. But you’re already turned on and you can’t hide from me, so why don’t you just ask for it?”

Sakura rolled her eyes, but when he ran his tongue over her outer folds, her hips jerked hard. She mumbled something under her breath, and he grinned.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” Genma asked as he repeated the action with a little more pressure, drawing a gasp this time. “All I heard was something about eating. I’ll enjoy eating that cake tonight while I tell stories about how innocent little Dr. Haruno is actually a twerking deviant.”

She nearly screamed in frustration. Defeated, she begged, “Please eat my pussy, Genma!”

“Gladly,” Genma said before parting her folds with his tongue. The shuddering little moan she let out made his pants uncomfortably tight, and he flicked the top button open to relieve some of the pressure. When he slid two fingers inside her slick entrance and suckled on her clit, her hips nearly came off the counter.

“S-So good!” Sakura keened, grinding against his face. “F-Fuck.” The guttural way the word caught in her throat made arousal coil dangerously within him.

If there was anything Genma took pride in, it was his ability to make a woman come with his tongue. He was notorious for having a lifelong oral fixation, keeping something in his mouth most of the time - toothpick, gum, etc. But there was nothing more satisfying than feeling a gush of wetness on his lips and a pair of gorgeous thighs squeezing his face.

He redoubled his efforts, flattening his tongue against Sakura’s clit and drinking in the sight of her head thrown back, her knuckles white as she gripped the counter. The sounds that spilled from her lips were rising in pitch and frequency, and he crooked his fingers upward to match the increased pace of his tongue. Genma had a sneaking suspicion that she was already aroused from her earlier dancing because she was rarely worked up this quickly.

“I love your mouth on my clit,” Sakura moaned, and he was so fucking hard hearing her talk like that. Her fingers laced through his shoulder-length hair, tugging him closer to her. “Fuck, Genma, you’re gonna make me come.”

He groaned against her sopping pussy, the wet sounds of his fingers and tongue filling the kitchen. Genma knew she was ready to come when he felt the telltale release of tension before she clamped down hard on his fingers. She toppled over the edge with his name on her lips, trembling as she rode out the waves of pleasure. He kept stroking her with his tongue and fingers until she was so overstimulated that she pushed him away.

At that exact moment, the timer for the cake went off.

“Ah, fuck,” Sakura said as she nudged Genma back far enough to hop off the counter. She grabbed a pair of oven mitts, bending over to pull the cake from the oven. He admired the curve of her naked ass, and if she hadn’t been holding something hot, he would have certainly groped it.

Sakura preened with satisfaction over the cake. “I just need to let it cool before I add icing.”

“I can add some icing,” Genma winked.

The rosette rolled her eyes. “I can’t believe you.”

“I can’t believe you,” the brunette retorted. “You were a wildcat this whole time and you didn’t even tell me.”

“I didn’t want you to think I was some sort of slut,” Sakura said with a pout. “And sometimes it’s hard to break out of professional mode, you know?”

Genma slid his hand to cup her ass, drawing her close to kiss her breathless. When he pulled away, he said, “You’re not just any slut. You’re my slut.”

“You are the literal worst,” Sakura lamented, but her lips curved up in a grin as she slid her hand down the front of Genma’s pants to stroke his length, green eyes sparkling with mischief. “Do you think we have time for me to dance on your dick?”

Genma’s eyes lit up as he tugged her by the arm toward her bedroom. “Absolutely.”

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Space Orcs “Maximum Discomfort.”

Another addition to the little prison series I am doing. I don’t think this one has plaything too inflammatory in it, but it is still up to you weather you want to risk it.

Krill was trapped in a prison of fear, worst of all, he was trapped in a prison prison, a human prison, the most brutal species in the galaxy putting their own most brutal into close confines with no way out and no connection to the outside world. What was worse, this wasn’t even a licensed prison overseen by the UNSC or the GA, this was an outlier, a maximum security penitentiary on a border moon designed specifically to deal with the people that no one else wanted to. It was lawless, it was mad, and it was a great way to get yourself Killed.

After seeing his life flash before his eyes earlier, when confronted by one of the other prisoners, he now clutched desperately to the back of Commander Vir’s jumpsuit forever thankful to the human for his act of courage, in offering to fight the entire prison population to protect him, but Krill new the truth. Commander Vir was no alpha here, he wasn't the right kind of human, these ones were hardened, cold and calculating. The commander had the tendency to be juvenile naive and trusting at times. 

He was going to have to bluff hard to survive, or neither of them were going to last a day.

Together they were dragged across the room and seated rather aggressively at the center of the human table . Adam grimaced visibly as he sat held fast by the large man from earlier who looked around the group of humans and made eye contact with each and every one of them, “Well everyone please welcome our newest guest, “Captain Jack.”

Adam looked up his confusion overriding his worry, “What?”

“You have an eyepatch and a peg leg, that makes you a pirate.”

“I mean, yeah, but if I Recall Captain Jack had both eyes AND both legs.” 

The man’s smile fell brows falling, “Are you questioning my nickname choice.” 

Adam shrunk back a bit, “I ur…. No sir….”

The man glowered at him and then began to laugh. The rest of the group followed suit, Krill shrank closer to Adam’s legs. It may have been laughter, but it definitely wasn’t the inviting kind, he chucked wiping tears from his eyes, “Sir ... ain't that quaint…. This little bastard thinks I’m a sir.”

More laughter.

Suddenly Adam felt himself jerked to his feet held at least an inch off the ground by the front of his jumpsuit staring the large man in the eyes, nose to nose, “Don’t call me, sir.” 

“S-sorry s-si…. I mean yes…. Of course….. It's just a bad habit.” His composure from earlier was beginning to crack a little. Krill hid under the bench.

“What you army or something.”

“Yes…. yes. I have the tattoo to prove it.” That seemed to ease their curiosity and he was set down and ordered to show them. He did as he was told, pulling off the top layer of his jumpsuit to hang around his waist, and pull down the neck of his T-shirt to show the tattoo. There was a murmur from the group, “Aviation, so you can fly planes and shit?”

Adam let go, “Yes…. more like jets and shit….”

“You ever been in combat?” One of the men asked interested 

Adam rubbed the back of his head glanced towards the Drev side of the room, made a decision and nodded, “Yes I…. I was deployed during the Drev war. The atmosphere on their planet doesn’t…. Exactly allow for much flying, so I was ground infantry during our last push.”

There was another murmur around the table.

“So you gotta kill you some of those battle bastards.” Andam jerked forward uncomfortably as he was slapped on the back, “Thank you for your service!”

“Wait….. Is that where you lost your leg and your eye.”

Adam swallowed, “Just the leg, the eye was an accident.”

There was a murmur of appreciation from around the table, “Hey, that mean you were involved in operation Steel Eye.” One of the men asked, and the rest of the group muttered in anticipation leaning forward. Adam scratched the back of his neck awkwardly.

“I uh…. Well yes.”

There was an eruption of glee around the table and Adam was slammed by a wall of delighted hollering, laughing, and back patting by the group of men cheering him on for having crushed the Beatles, shown them their place, and so on.

“Alright, alright that changes things a bit. I hate using people’s names as you know, so I’m not going to let you keep yours, but I’m gonna come up with something better for you like Steel, short for Steel-Eye, I like that, it’s a good name, honorable. Wait till those big ugly beetles know who we got on our side.” 

Adam went slightly pale glancing across the room. The largest Drev there was an almost 10 foot female with Vivid green carapace. She looked like she could have charged through a four foot steel wall, “or we…. Could not mention that.”

One of the guys next to hi laughed, “You’re a funny guy, Steel, you don’t have to worry about nothin’ we won’t let them touch you, not when you are such an esteemed addition to the human species.” Adam grimaced again as the table cheered. Krill hugged his leg, they were totally going to die.

“Tell us, aside from being a beetle killing badass, what else can you do, what are your talents. You see despite your service, no one just eases by here. What can you bring to the table.” There was a whole lot of learning going on in this group, and Krill could tell that the Commander wasn’t particularly happy about the situation….

“I uh…. Like what? I mean I can fly, but that’s not…. Useful here.”

“Nah, friend, we talkin bout stuff like drawing, steeling, fighting….” that seemed like a pretty varied list to Krill, and he couldn’t imagine how the first one went with anything.

“Ur ... uh, I can draw a little…. Not like shading or anything like that… but I can do outlines I guess ... ur -”

“And you can fight.” Someone prompted 

Adam grimaced but was forced into a nod under the scrutiny of the other prisoners. He was grabbed around the shoulder and pulled in close, “Well there it is, our new tattoo artist.” The big man looked down at Adam, “he left us under….. Well a sheet, so you get his job now. Glad to have you on board.”

-

Adam was coming to learn that his original understanding of how prison worked was…. Completely wrong. Documentaries were generally the way to go, but even then those were not entirely accurate either. If anything movies romanticize prison, crazy how stupid that sentence was out of context, but really the only thing he might consider comedic or cinematic about the whole thing was The Boss’s use of nicknames…. And yes, that was his nickname. No one knew what he was really called, all they knew was that he was The Boss and should be treated as such. The other men Adam and Krill had met on the first day were his Lieutenants. The big dark man was Smiley, the handsome man was Fabio, and then the two little men were the Gemini boys 

That first night Adam had been forced to eat the nastiest prison 'glop probably ever prepared in the history of humanity. Adam had almost thrown up on multiple occasions arguing that it wasn’t necessarily the taste, but the texture that was throwing him off. He had eventually given over the rest of his trey to Smiley who seemed to enjoy the glop. When the bell rang, the group of them were ushered into their containment units. Krill was forced to Separate from Adam, but luckily ended up in a sell with a terrified Tesraki who spent most of his time hidden under the bed.

Adam, on the other hand, walked into the cell to find the top bunk absolutely overwhelmed by a massive balding man with a greasy face and broken nose. He paused in the doorway grimacing as the man looked at him, but with a buzz, the doors slid shut behind him. They made eye contact for a very long moment and the other man drifted a lazy expression over him.

Adam felt his insides turn to mush, but he tried not to show any fear. Showing fear in a prison was like showing fear to a dog. Fear meant weakness, and weakness was a reason to attack. Instead he nodded stiffly, “Evening, guess this makes me your new roommate. What’s your name.”

The man eyed him, but didn’t answer.

“Adam eyed the bottom bunk, and the sagging bunk above it. He had no intention of lying down in that bed scene it seemed at any moment he was going to get crushed as the top bunk fell. He glanced around the room and was sickened. It was maybe ten feet long and seven feet wide with an open toilet in one corner and a sink next to that. Otherwise there were no other furnishings.

Truth be told he really had to pee, but he was coming to find out quickly that he had a serious issue doing that when other people were present. Plus the boogeyman was still staring at him. With a sick sigh and a churning stomach, Adam sunk to the floor and leaned his head against the bars looking out into the hall which had gone dark. A few flashlights swiped here and there from the prison guards on patrol, but otherwise there was no movement. Listening to the sounds, he caught the soft mutter of voices, and a few other unsavory sounds, but he tried not to think about them too much. Glancing towards the top bunk he found a pair of eyes still glittering in the darkness.

He took a deep breath through the nose to calm himself.

It didn’t help. In fact it took all he had not to break down into tears and start whimpering for his mom to come save him. Damn he was such a bitch. Instead he leaned his head against the bars and took a few more deep breaths. He wished Sunny were here, if she was here they would already be out, shed have bent the bars with her bare hands and kicked everyone’s ass that tried to get in her way. Sure he wanted nothing more in the world to be a total badass, but where he pretended, she really was. 

That night was probably the worst night of his life, and that included his multiple nights of PTSD induced fear right after the war. He was cold, scared, uncomfortable, and trying very very hard to block out the noises coming from the other side of the room. He didn’t know what they were, and he didn’t want to find out they could have been innocuous, but they could have totally not been, plus he needed to pee like a racehorse, but the toilets were metal, so that totally wasn’t an option. He rested his head against his knees and, SOMEHOW, by the grace of deity was able to fall asleep.

He woke up the next morning to kidney pain, and the rattling sound of the doors as they beeped open. He hit the cold stone floor of the hallway with a grunt and a curse as the other prisoners began peering out into the light rubbing their eyes and grumbling.

A shadow darkened the space above him, and Commander Vir looked up to find the Boss standing over him with a bit of a grin, “Rough night?”

He cursed and scrambled to his feet adjusting himself as the boogeyman pushed past him out the door. Adam followed the man with nervous eyes, but  hand clapped him on the back, “Oh don’t worry about grunt, he's a gentle giant really, kind of quiet, but wouldn’t hurt anyone.”

Adam snorted and before he could censor himself, “I wasn’t worried about him, I was worried about the bunk snapping and crushing me in my sleep.” 

Luckily the boss burst into fits of raucous laughter, “Didn’t know you had such an acerbic tongue. I expect you down in the yard in ten, don’t be late.” The man let him go, and adam quickly rushed back into the room for the most relieving moment of his adult life before walking back out and picking up Krill a few cells over. The Vrul seemed to have had a better night floating in a corner while his roommate hid under the bed. Together they made a quick, and hopefully unnoticed exit down the stairs and onto the floor. In an almost panic, Adam found his way into the courtyard at the center of the jail where the humans had claimed a rather dodgy set of workout equipment

“There you are Steel, was just beginning to worry you had gotten lost .” The men about the yard chuckled, and Adam was forced to sit on the edge of a bench handed a strange contraption and a little well of inc, “Let’s see what you can do, Kid.”

Adam blinked and stared at the strange contraption, “The hell is this.”

“A tattoo machine, what the hell else would it be.”

Adam looked up, “Looks like something pulled out of a dumpster. Or the tetanus machine.”

The prisoners folded their arms displeased.

Adam crossed his arms, “I get you guys don’t exactly have anything to work with, but I am not going to work with that till it’s proven sterile. I am not getting blamed for someone’s death or infection, and AND I at least need a marker or something, so I can do an outline before I start. I don’t produce shit. Also someone is going to have to convince Grunt to sleep on the bottom bunk because I am NOT doing that shit again.”

Lucky for him the prisoners seemed at least amused by his demands, and were ordered off to find equipment. Adam tasked Krill with a way to sterilize the equipment, which Krill determined was highly unlikely but was forced to work with what they had. However, once the prisoners learned that Krill had medical training, He was suddenly accepted as a human, and then forced to look at everything from blistered feet to weeping sores. This place was disgusting, and he nervously glanced at Adam, who was now sitting on the bench top half of his jumpsuit tied around his waist, T shirt exposed trying to figure out how the hell to use the improvised machine, which required a rather steep learning curve.

Both of them were wildly out of their depth krill having gone from being the chief medical officer of a high tech floating space hospital in which he had requisitioned all the latest medical equipment one could hope for to doing back alley physicals on human convicts in a maximum security prison yard, while Adam had descended from Fleet Commander of the UNSC, golden boy of the GA, and most influential human in the galaxy to doing half rate prison tattoos with no more than a paperclip and improvised inc on another man’s exposed thigh.

From what Adam seemed to think, they should at least ask for favors in exchange for their services. Perhaps that way they could make themselves invaluable enough that no one would be able to question their use, or their importance

[choerrypuffs]

the element of substance.

pairing: earthbender!jeno x avatar!reader

genre: fluff, angst

word count: 5.2k

author’s note: jeno’s chapter to my 00 line x avatar series! also this is important - i wanted to clear some things up since i noticed a few of you were confused with jaemin’s chapter. this series is formatted like a dating game. you pick a route with a character (00 line) and then once you finish that route (the fic), you go back and pick another one. the stories have nothing to do with each other, like wiping clean the slate! (this message has also been posted on the masterlist to avoid further confusion)

additional: check out the art that the lovely and EXTREMELY talented steph ( @aqiaquas​ ) did for this fic here! 

Your journey to the Earth Kingdom has not been kind to you.

Everything is so dry, and for lack of a better word, so earthy. No matter how much water you drink, your throat still feels like sandpaper. The food you eat somehow always has the slight aftertaste of dirt. Plus, the weather is horrendous. Most people would enjoy it, since it’s a pleasant springtime warmth, but you’re from the North Pole. Winters are harsh, and summers are practically nonexistent there, which means any rise in temperature is absolute misery for you (you are dreading your eventual trip to the Fire Nation). 

You’re about a couple of hours away (by foot) from the Earth Kingdom’s capital, Ba Sing Se, where you will have to consult with the Earth King to find yourself an earthbending master. You don’t really know if marching into the most populated city out of all of the four nations, demanding a conference with the Earth King and asking for an earthbending master immediately is the best approach, but it’s not like you have any other idea or someone else to tell you otherwise. 

You’d never realized how awful it is to travel alone. Not having a person to just interact normally with is something you didn’t know you would miss so sorely. 

Currently, you’re in a neighboring harbor town to restock your supplies. The goal is to get to Ba Sing Se before the sun sets, which means you don’t have time to dilly-dally. Just as you hand over some coins to pay for your food, you feel a sharp shoulder crash into your own, making you stumble a few steps to the side. The coins are knocked out of your hand and fall onto the dock, some probably rolling off the dock and into the water. Clutching your throbbing shoulder, you turn around to glare at your perpetrators. 

“Hey!”

It’s a group of four brutish-looking thugs. Their stares are murderous as they hone in on you, like a pack of rabid wolves. However, you don’t back down. “Watch where you’re going, assholes. And if you won’t, then at least have the decency to apologize when you run into someone.”

The tallest one, bald and sporting a beer belly, takes a step toward you. As he snarls at you, he reveals two rows of rotting teeth. “What did you just say, bitch?” 

“I said, apologize,�� you hiss back.

You can barely get the last word out before he seizes you by the collar and nearly crushes his nose against yours. His breath smells exactly how you expected it to smell―like a decomposing animal. Your eyes water at the stench, but you still manage to glare up at him. 

“You wanna fuckin’ die?” he screams in your face, spittle flying everywhere. 

Right when you’re about to create a giant wave and wash all four of them away, there’s suddenly a pale hand wrapped around the wrist of the thug. Taken aback, you can only gawk at the handsome stranger coming to your aid. The stranger’s hair is as black as midnight, just like his eyes. His expression is calm, but there’s something about his naturally piercing gaze that makes you feel slightly intimidated. 

The stranger forcibly removes the thug’s hand from your collar and throws him with such force that he flies toward his other three lackeys and hits them like a projectile. The four thugs are knocked out in a heap, like a pile of smelly dung. 

You feel your jaw drop at the stranger’s almost inhuman strength as he dusts his hands off like nothing happened. “That...that was amazing.”

There’s annoyance on his face as he turns to look at you. “It was getting in the way of business. Also, next time you cause a scene, could you do it in front of another stand?”

You feel your temper spike again. “Does everyone in this town just have terrible manners?”

The stranger opens his mouth to respond, but the elderly woman who had been working the food stand you were at comes up from behind him and smacks him hard across the head. “Jeno, stop being rude. This young lady has already been through enough today.” 

The stranger, Jeno, pouts like a child as he rubs the back of his head. The elderly woman smiles apologetically at you and hands you the bag of food you were planning on purchasing. “Here you are, my dear.”

“Thank you,” you say shyly, ducking your head in gratitude. “The money―” 

“Don’t worry about that. Think of it as an apology for my tactless grandson.” She waves you off.

Jeno rolls his eyes but doesn’t try to defend himself. However, you’re already on the ground, picking up the scattered coins. Once you count them, you realize one is missing. That was the last of your funds so you have no way of fully paying her back now. Frowning, you hand the elderly woman the coins that are left and walk over to the edge of the dock. 

“Give me just a second.”

You’re not sure how deep the water is, but luckily, there’s no current. Since the water is calm, the chances of the coin not being swept away into the ocean forever is still plausible. Taking a deep breath, you hope what you’re about to do works. 

You hold your palms out and slowly lift them. The water surrounding the dock rises with your hands, creating three walls of water around you. You lower your hands, but the water continues to ascend as you search for your coin. Despite your efforts, all you find are pebbles, weeds, and fish. 

Just as you’re about to give up, there’s a glint in the corner of your eye. When you turn, you see the missing coin drifting about, entangled with a weed. You plunge your arm into the water without hesitation and extract the coin out. You wipe it dry with the hem of your shirt, not at all bothered that your entire sleeve is dripping wet. Lifting your arms again, you gently bring the water back down, not even making a splash. Satisfied, you smile and walk back over to Jeno and his grandmother.

“There you go,” you say cheerily, holding out the last coin. 

The two are both staring at you with absolute astonishment. Jeno is a little more subtle about it, but his grandmother is gaping at you. And it’s not only them, everyone on the dock is staring at you. You suddenly wonder if it was such a good idea to bring so much attention to yourself because they will definitely have questions now. Even though you’re not trying to hide the fact that you’re the Avatar, you don’t exactly want to announce it to every place you go.

“So you’re a waterbender,” Jeno states flatly.

“How’d you know?” you ask sarcastically.

“It’s rare that we see a waterbender around here, and such a powerful one at that,” Jeno’s grandmother marvels. 

“Why are you here anyway?” Jeno asks, crossing his arms. “The Water Tribe isn’t exactly known for their sociability and penchant for traveling.” 

“I’m going to Ba Sing Se,” you answer vaguely. 

“For what?”

“Why is this any of your business?” you shoot back, mirroring him and crossing your arms as well.

“Because I’m also going to Ba Sing Se,” he responds. 

“What?” Your eyes widen.

“I’m going to pick up a new shipment of fruit,” he explains. “See how easy it is to tell someone your business when you have nothing to hide? You, on the other hand, haven’t even told us your name.”

You glare at him. “It’s Y/N. Sorry, I don’t like to tell assholes the story of my life.”

Jeno’s grandmother watches you two go back and forth, a scheming smile on her lips. She places her hands on both of your arms, making you turn to look at her. “Perfect! You guys can go together.”

“Don’t even joke about that, Gram,” Jeno chides.

“I think I’d rather go with those thugs from before,” you grumble.

“Ba Sing Se is much more dangerous than you think. You’ll want someone to watch your back,” Gram insists.

“I think she can handle herself,” Jeno snorts.

“I assure you that I can handle myself,” you correct.

“Oh, won’t you put this old woman’s anxious heart to rest?” Gram bats her eyelashes. “Even if you don’t need any help, my Jeno needs someone to look after him. Something bad always happens when he goes to Ba Sing Se.”

“Gram,” Jeno says sharply, a warning flashing in his eyes. “that’s enough.”

She immediately quiets down, shrinking back a little. You scowl at Jeno, even though he’s already starting to look guilty. “Don’t talk to her like that.” 

“This has nothing to do with you―”

“Actually, it does. Because you just found your new traveling buddy.”

You know for a fact that Jeno isn’t normally this quick of a walker. He’s just doing this to annoy you, and it’s working, but you’re too busy trying to keep up with his pace to really give him an earful for it. You’re actually working up a sweat trying to match his long strides with your somewhat shorter legs.

“Can you please―slow down?” you wheeze, finally able to muster enough breath to speak.

Jeno doesn’t even have time to answer when your foot catches on a pesky rock and you come crashing down onto the dirt road. You land hard and it knocks the air (the little that’s left) out of you. Groaning, you can only mumble a soft ow as you sit up.

For the first time since you two left, Jeno turns around. He walks over to you and lowers himself onto one knee, taking your arm and putting it around his shoulders as he helps you get up. “Are you okay?”

“No thanks to you,” you mutter, wincing when you put weight onto your legs. The skin on your left knee has been completely scraped off and you’re bleeding through the material of your pants.

“I’m sorry,” he says genuinely, looking remorseful. “I’ve been...on edge today and it was wrong of me to take it out on you.”

“Well, I haven’t been exactly helpful in calming you down, now have I?” you snort. 

“No, I was rude to you first. I deserve it.” He shakes his head.

The two of you fall quiet. Your arm is still around his shoulder and one of his hands has naturally found itself on your waist. Clearing your throat, you awkwardly step away from him and let your arm fall limply to your side. “Um, thanks.”

“Can you walk?” Jeno asks, eyebrows furrowing in concern as he eyes your knee.

“I’ll manage,” you reply, bouncing around to gauge the pain. It hurts way more than you expect it to, but you try to play it off like it doesn’t. Your pride as the Avatar has slightly been hurt at the fact that a mere knee scrape has managed to take you down.

However, Jeno is extremely unconvinced. He frowns as he watches the blood seep through your pants every time you put weight on that leg. Turning, he squats down and puts his arms out from behind him. “Get on.” 

“What?” you ask, still not understanding. 

“I’ll carry you.” 

“You’re going to carry me for the entirety of the walk to Ba Sing Se?” You raise an eyebrow. 

“Yes,” he answers simply. 

“You’re not very good at making jokes,” you snort. “Let’s just go before it gets too late.” 

“I’m not joking though.” His head swivels around to give you a puzzled look.

“You’ll die of exhaustion! Even if you’re freakishly strong,” you exclaim.

“I appreciate the concern,” he chuckles, “but I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t think I could do it.”

“Jeno, it’s really not that serious. I can walk,” you sigh.

“We’re going to argue pointlessly, only to have get on my back anyway, so can we just get to that part?” He mimics your sigh.

It’s clear he won’t have it any other way. The stubborn part of you wants to resist until the very end, but you’re losing daylight fast and yielding is your only option. Grumbling, you reluctantly climb onto his back. You’re surprised by the broad expanse of it and how secure you feel when he carries you. Jeno’s slim fingers grip your thighs firmly as he adjusts you before beginning to walk again. 

You wrap you arms around his neck and press your cheek against the space between his shoulder blades. When you breathe in, you can only smell him. Jeno’s scent is dizzying mix of sandalwood and soap, dulling your senses like some sort of drug. For a guy that works at a stand that sells fish, he smells way too good.

“So, what’s up with you and Ba Sing Se?” you blurt, trying to distract yourself.

“Why is this any of your business?” he asks, copying your words. 

“You can’t expect me not to ask. Your grandma was super worried about you going and you just said you’ve been on edge all day. Do you owe people there money or something?” 

“I thought we had an understanding that we weren’t going to ask each other questions,” he answers curtly. 

“What, you don’t trust me? I thought we had a bonding moment back there! You’re literally carrying me on your back,” you whine.

“So tell me why you’re going then.” 

You hesitate, not sure if you should reveal the truth to him or not. If push comes to shove, you are extremely confident in your ability to kick his ass so it’s not like your safety is compromised. Jeno doesn’t really seem like the type of person to constantly run his mouth either, so you doubt that he’ll instantly tell everyone. Shrugging, you decide to just go for it. 

“I’m the Avatar,” you say casually, “and I’m going to Ba Sing Se because I need an earthbending teacher. See how easy it is to tell someone your business when you have nothing to hide?”

Jeno stops in his tracks. His arms slightly fall slack, and you think he’s about to drop you, but they regain their strength quickly. His head turns to the side so he can look at you with bewilderment. “What did you just say?” 

“I am the Avatar,” you repeat slowly, watching the cogs turn in his head.

There’s a beat of silence before your declaration registers.

“You―wait―why would you just tell me that?” he splutters. 

“You asked!”

“So you just answered? What if I tried to kill you right now or something?” he demands. “How could you be so reckless? Try to lie at least!”

“First of all, you must be out of your mind if you think you can kill me. Second, I wouldn’t have told you if I didn’t think you were trustworthy. Can’t say you feel the same towards me though.” You roll your eyes. 

“I am actually speechless right now.” Jeno shakes his head. 

“That’s right. You’re carrying the Avatar. Relish in it,” you say proudly. 

“I’ve never seen an Avatar as rash as you,” he mumbles. 

“Hey! Put some respect on my name,” you protest. 

He snickers and you slap his shoulder. “So, now am I worthy enough for you to tell me what your deal with Ba Sing Se is?” 

“I just don’t have good memories associated with Ba Sing Se. It’s not as mysterious as you think. It pales in comparison to what you just told me,” he sighs.

“Are you an earthbender?” 

Since he worked at food stand in a small harbor town, you assumed he wasn’t but you weren’t so sure about that now. Considering the fact that his expression grows stormy even at the mention of Ba Sing Se, it’s clear that he was―at one point or another―deeply linked to it.

“No,” Jeno answers a little too quickly.

Such an obvious lie, but you decide not to push it further. He probably won’t tell you much more anyway. In the end, you two are just strangers.

Somehow along the way, you fall asleep. 

You don’t really remember when or how, because the two of you had a constant stream of conversation (mainly facilitated by you) going. All you know is that you’re currently being shaken awake. Jeno is bouncing you against his back like a baby, trying to jar you from your slumber.

“Y/N, we’re here.” 

Rubbing your eyes, you blearily try to grasp what is going on. Jeno is walking down a busy road and from the way he is confidently striding, he has a clear destination in mind. The two of you get stares from the locals, but he pays no attention. 

“Where are we going?” you ask, yawning. 

“To pick up my shipment of fruit and get your wound treated.” 

“But that still doesn’t answer my question. Where are we going?” You’re a little more alert now, knowing that you’ll have to meet with the Earth King soon.

“My supplier’s house. He’s a friend of mine,” he explains, “his name is Doyoung.”

“Is he going to be okay with me barging in?” You raise an eyebrow.

“As long as we’re in and out of there quickly. He doesn’t like people dirtying his place.” 

“Well, he just sounds like a bundle of joy,” you say wryly. 

“Doyoung is a nice guy. He’s just a little...prissy,” Jeno chuckles.

The two of you walk for just a little longer before he stops in front of a cozy and humble-looking mudbrick house. He sets you down at the doorstep so he can knock. You’re a little wobbly since it’s the first time you’ve been on your feet in hours, and you realize just how long Jeno has been carrying you. To your utter shock, he’s barely broken a sweat.

The door opens shortly after Jeno knocks and the prettiest man you’ve ever seen in your life appears. Pale, luminous skin with delicate features and dark hair that fans his face perfectly. His angelic expression is quickly ruined when he sees you. “I didn’t realize you were picking up strays now, Jeno.”

You sigh. Why do all of the handsome men you meet lack manners?

“She’s not a stray, Doyoung. She was, er, at the stand and told Gram that she was going to Ba Sing Se, so Gram made me escort her here,” Jeno explains. “Her knee is all scraped up, so can you treat it?”

You bite back a tiny smile, noting that he didn’t reveal your identity. 

 “I really don’t want to, but I know you’re not going to leave me alone until I do. Come on in, I guess,” Doyoung grumbles, stepping aside to let you in. 

Jeno grabs your arm and helps you hobble over to one of the chairs in Doyoung’s living room. As he does, Doyoung begins rummaging around in a different room. He comes back with some sort of salve and a roll of gauze in hand. 

“Jeno, your fruit is in the storage in the back. Go get it while I take care of this situation and don’t forget to organize everything back to the way it was,” Doyoung orders.

You really don’t want Jeno to leave you alone with Doyoung because he kind of scares you, but Jeno doesn’t get your signal and leaves. Doyoung squats down in front of you, examining the scrape on your knee. Most of the blood has crusted over, but it’s still extremely tender and raw. He squeezes the salve onto his fingertips and applies it onto the scrape in slow circles. The salve must have some sort of numbing effect because it stings way less than you expect it to.

“So what was the actual reason Gram sent you with Jeno to Ba Sing Se?” Doyoung asks nonchalantly.

“Pardon?” You blink.

“Did Gram really tell Jeno to escort you here?”

“Well, uh, it was kind of the opposite. She wanted me to escort him,” you admit. “I guess to protect him, since he’s not an earthbender.” 

He snorts. “And who told you that?” 

“Jeno did.” 

“And you believed him?” He raises an eyebrow.

“No, but what choice do I have?” 

“Good. Because Lee Jeno is the strongest earthbender in the Earth Kingdom,” Doyoung states. “And probably the worst liar, so you’d be a fool to believe him.”

Even though this revelation should shock you to your core, you’re not that surprised for some reason. You’re mostly just confused. “But why did he lie?”

“Because he doesn’t bend anymore.”

“And why are you telling me this?” you ask warily.

Doyoung looks you in your eyes.

“Because Gram wouldn’t have sent you here if she didn’t think you could help him.” 

It takes Jeno a very long time to come back from the storage. When he does, he’s carrying a large crate and his chest is heaving. He looks more exhausted than he did when you were on his back. Doyoung is not fazed at his state. 

“Everything better be in the exact same spot like it was before,” he warns. 

“Why would you put the crate in the very back when you knew I was coming to get it today?” Jeno whines.

“The workers put it there, and who am I to stop them?” Doyoung shrugs. “Anyways, get out of my house.” 

You get up with your freshly bandaged leg and walk over to Jeno. “We need to talk.”

“Not in here, you don’t,” Doyoung interrupts.

Jeno nods toward the door. “Let’s get out of here first.” 

Clenching your jaw, you yank open the door for him and follow him out. Once you’re a good distance from Doyoung’s house, Jeno turns and faces you. “What did you want to talk about?”

You look around. Doyoung lives in a rather secluded area, and there’s not much around except for the rocky terrain that surrounds it. You make sure Doyoung’s house isn’t in the line of fire before walking up to Jeno. You take the crate out of his arms and set it on the ground, about five feet away from him, before climbing on top of it and sitting cross-legged.

“Be my earthbending teacher.” 

Judging by the look on his face, he’s been expecting it. His arms hang limply by his sides, like he’s already accepted defeat. “What did Doyoung tell you?” 

“Lee Jeno. You joined the Dai Li, Ba Sing Se’s most elite secret police force, at the age of thirteen. Your abilities were so exceptional that you became their leader on your eighteenth birthday. You were at the forefront of countless successful operations and cemented yourself as the Earth Kingdom’s strongest soldier. However, you abruptly resigned after leading the Dai Li for two years and left Ba Sing Se to live with your grandmother in a small harbor town. You swore to never bend again and live the rest of your life in obscurity.” 

Jeno laughs harshly. “So he told you everything. Figures.” 

“Why did you stop bending?” you ask softly. 

“Because I was nothing more than a weapon to them. Because I was losing my humanity. Because I didn’t want to be a pawn anymore,” he whispers. He sounds so broken, so angry, so hurt. “Nothing good ever happens when I earthbend, so I stopped.”

“Do you hate earthbending?” 

“Gods, I wish I did,” he says bitterly. 

“Then stop denying what is natural to you. Earthbending is in your blood.” You grasp his arms. 

“No.” Jeno steps away from you, like your touch is hurting him. “Doyoung may think that you can be my savior or some shit, but you can’t. I won’t ever bend again, okay? So, please. Let’s just leave.”

You straighten your back. “Alright. We can leave. But only if you can get this crate out from under me.”

He sighs. “Y/N―”

“It’s a simple task, really. If we’re going by brute strength only, you’ve got me beat by a landslide. You could just pick me up and throw me off,” you point out.

Jeno looks at you like you’re a toddler throwing a tantrum, but nonetheless starts walking toward you. He almost gets to you before suddenly coming to a skidding halt. When he looks down, he sees that his legs are covered in ice. You had pulled the moisture from the ground and frozen it. 

“But we’re not going by brute strength only, now are we?” you tease in a sing-song voice.

“Y/N, this isn’t funny,” he says seriously. “Neither of us have the time to be doing this right now.”

“I know. It’s just strong enough that you can’t punch your way through it, but it could be shattered instantly if, let’s say, it were hit by a relatively large rock?” You tap your chin, pretending to ponder. 

“Why are you doing this?”

“Because I’m selfish and I want you to teach me earthbending,” you reply.

Jeno says nothing, clenching his fists. You can tell he’s starting to get irritated. 

“I can do this all day,” you say breezily, examining your nails. You try your best to look as flippant as possible, doing everything in your power to rile him up.

“Y/N, this is the last warning.” His voice is low. 

“What, are you actually going to do something?” you taunt.

The pebbles around Jeno slowly begin to levitate. You can literally feel the ground tremble as he gets angrier. He forms the pebbles into one big rock and uses it to destroy the ice. Once he’s free, he stomps his foot on the ground and tosses a perfectly round boulder in the air before kicking it directly towards you―or rather, directly towards the crate so he can knock it out from under you.

You quickly pull a tendril of water out of your canteen and use it as a whip to destroy the boulder before it can reach the crate. It makes a loud crack noise when it hits and the boulder shatters into tiny pebbles again. You suppress a yelp when the ground suddenly begins to move. The crate is sliding forward, picking up acceleration as it (and you) speeds toward Jeno.

You suck out as much water from the ground as possible and manage to create a small tidal wave, pushing it at him. The force of the water knocks him back and onto the ground. You quickly freeze the crate in place, stopping it in its tracks. When Jeno sits up, you can see the joy in his face. That mischievous, almost child-like sparkle in his eyes when you two spar head-to-head. The love for earthbending that he tried so desperately to hide.

He begins gearing up for his next attack, but you don’t do anything to retaliate. Instead, you unfreeze the crate and take the hit. You get thrown onto the ground, but Jeno makes sure your fall is cushioned. You scrunch your nose up when you realize you’re covered in mud. 

“Why didn’t you avoid it?” Jeno asks, helping you get back up. 

“Because my job here is done,” you shrug, trying to wipe the mud off (but you end up smearing it into your clothes).

“What do you mean?”

“I just wanted you to remember what it feels like to bend,” you smile sadly. “I wish you could see the look on your face when you earthbend, Jeno.” 

“I―”

“I have to go, but remember this. You are an earthbender, not a weapon.”

After the fight with Jeno, you go straight to the palace to request an audience with the Earth King. Luckily, they were already expecting you so you don’t have to convince people that you’re the Avatar. Since it was pretty late, the king insists you spend the night and that he will speak to you about an earthbending master the next day.

When you wake up in the morning, you’re whisked away by the maids. They give you Earth Kingdom robes since your old clothes are still drying and braid your hair before taking you to the throne room. There, the king informs you that your earthbending master is currently in Omashu, the second largest city in the Earth Kingdom, and will be there for some time so it would be best for you to go to him. The king tells you that transportation to Omashu will be provided by his army and that you embark later this afternoon, which means you have about three hours to kill.

You laze around in your guest bedroom, unable to really focus on anything. Your mind constantly goes back to Jeno, no matter how much you try to distract yourself. 

I hope he made it back to the harbor town safely.

Shaking your head furiously, you chide yourself for worrying about him. You did what you could, and now he isn’t your problem anymore. You’re the Avatar; you don’t have time to be thinking about some boy.

Yet...

“Avatar Y/N?” 

You jolt up when you hear the maid’s voice. “Yes?” 

“Your carriage has arrived.” 

Cringing, you want to tell her that it’s a little bit of an overkill to travel by carriage, but you don’t want to make her life more difficult than it is. You get out of bed with a sigh and open the door. The maid bows politely, but you’re not looking at her. Instead, you’re looking at who’s behind her. Unable to control your surprised squeak, you cover your hand with your mouth. 

“Why are you here?” you ask, muffling yourself. 

Jeno awkwardly rubs the back of his neck. His cheeks are flushed and there’s sweat beading on his forehead. He looks frazzled and out of breath, like he’s been sprinting. “I, uh, talked to the king. He granted me permission to go to Omashu with you and teach you alongside the other earthbending master.” 

“But―you―” You can’t even form words. 

“You were right.” He talks for you. “I love earthbending. When we sparred, I felt like the void in my chest was filled. Something just...clicked. It was natural. You can’t fight something that naturally comes to you.” Jeno smiles at you. A warm and radiant smile that makes you feel tingly. He holds his hand out. “Thank you, Y/N.”

When you place your hand in his, you feel the same way you did when he was carrying you. Secure. The tension in your body instantly melts away and you subconsciously step closer to him, grinning. 

“Guess you just found your new traveling buddy.”

“Oh, by the way, Doyoung got this letter in the mail from Gram today. It’s addressed to you and she specifically told us not to open it.” 

take care of my grandson, avatar y/n

- gram

[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: Love, Maybe? {18}

Chris Evans X Reader OFC Vixen Giovanni

Warning: Cursing, Angst

Word Count: 3.2K

Summary: After a night of drunkenness you wake up next to warm, hot as hell body, a migraine and no memory of the night before. When you come to realize that the hot body belongs to none other than Hollywood’s golden boy Chris Evans you freak out. As events unfold you become even more panicked to find out you got married in your drunken haze. What else is there to do but get it annulled, right? Before walking away, you share one more night of molten kisses and passion. 3 years later you are still living with the repercussions of your brash decisions, but the surprises don’t stop there. The past has a way of coming back and have you questioning is this fate that you’ve been running from, hell could it have been love, maybe?

Note: Italic texts is an inner Vixen thought. Bold Italic texts is an inner Chris thought.

**Slightly Edited/Proofread**

Thank you guys for reading!!!! If you enjoyed this please LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG. 😊 ❤️  ❤️ ❤️

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

Chapter 18: First Steps

  -Vixen-

   “How long has it been?”

   “About a week,” you responded as you spooned another overflowing spoon of vanilla ice cream into your mouth, then another soon followed.

   “Okay, a week isn’t bad. I mean I’d expect a little adjustment period. The man just found out he has an almost-three-year-old daughter. I think a week is an acceptable amount of time to take,” Nexus calmly rationalized.

   You weren’t as calm or seeing things the same. You were the complete opposite. Where she was calm, you were an anxious mess. You’d spent the last week in a hyperactive bubble of chaos. Your mind ran miles a minute, thinking what he was thinking, doing, how he was feeling. You worried more than anything. Part of you worried he��d decided he wanted to be involved, that he wanted to be her father and be completely hands-on, and another part of you worried he’d decided to cut and run, worried he didn’t want to know her, didn’t want to be a father. You worried about a lot more than that, to be honest, but touching on it was not something you were ready for. Instead, you stuffed your face with even more ice cream.

  “You’ve been eating a lot of ice cream lately. You wanna talk about it?”

“I like ice cream,” you defended.

   “Yeah, but you normally eat a lot of ice cream when you’re stressed and anxious.”

   “Okay, yes, I’m stressed. This is an insane situation. A situation I created, but it's still a stressful situation.”

  “I get it. You’re the mother of Chris Evans’ child. That is insane to think about, and even more insane to say it. The only way for us to get used to it is to keep saying it so say it.” You looked around the semi-crowded dessert shop. She was crazy if she thought you’d go shouting out your business. You looked back at her, and she gave you an expectant look as if she had no time to waste.

  “Nex, you’re insane if you think I’m going to shout out my business—especially here.”

   “I never said shout it. Whisper it if you have to, the point is you have to speak the words.”

   Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath; it wasn’t a full one. You hadn’t been able to take a full one for weeks, not since San Fran. It always felt like something was sitting heavy on your chest. You still hadn’t said the words. In three damn years, it was the one thing you had refused to say.

   “Vix, come on.”

   You sighed loudly and kissed your teeth. You looked over to Ella playing in the child area across the shop and smiled, watching her innocence. She was innocent in all this. She deserved everything good in the world.

   “I am the mother of Chris Evans’ daughter. Chris Evans is my baby daddy.”

   Nex snorted and shook her head. “Nice touch.” You sighed again and plopped a hefty spoonful of ice cream in your mouth. “I don’t feel any better you false prophet.” Nexus laughed this time, drawing Ella’s attention. She laughed too making you smile.

   “What if he’s decided to hell with her and the whole father shit? What if he hates me so much he doesn’t even want to bother?” the silence stretched between you and Nex and the two of you just stared at Ella. “Let’s say that is the case, how would that make you feel?”

   “Feel? She had to be kidding. I’ve worked overtime for years to put a kaput on anything related to feelings. I made an effort to not even go near any content that could evoke any feelings.”

   “Okay, something easier then. Would you be okay if that were his decision?” You rubbed your scalp; you were already regretting the intricate updo you’d put your hair in this morning. Reaching back, you took the pins out and sighed once you were free. “I’ve been living with just her and me for her whole life. It was without a thought of having someone involved. I never once thought hey what if he were, it was just not where I was. If he decided to just continue on his life knowing he has a child out there and chose not to be involved, I think I’d be okay.” You looked at Nexus who had a “bitch please” look on her face. Who were you kidding, you probably wouldn’t be okay with it. You’d probably be pissed though you had no right to be.

   “Do you want him involved? I honestly think you’re more worried about him choosing to opt-out over anything else.” You took another attempt at a deep breath and was still unsuccessful. “If he opted out it would be like him not choosing me again, and even worse not choosing her. She’s a part of him Nex.”

  “Not choosing you,” Nexus repeated. You didn’t even realize you’d said that out loud.

   “Shit!”

   Ella rushed over to you as quick as her little legs could manage and pulled on your pant leg. Sliding off the seat to sink to the floor getting on her level, she threw her arms around your neck burying her face into your chest. “What’s the matter, sweetie?” You lifted her and gently rocked her from side to side in an effort to soothe her. She didn’t answer, and you looked at Nexus communicating that it was time to go. Without missing a beat, Nex got up, gathered your trash and walked to the door where she discarded of the items in the bin. “What’s wrong Ella?” She didn’t respond to Nex’s question either. You assumed she was tired and decided it was time to head home. It had been a busy day.

   By the time you made it back to the house and got Ella taken care of with a bath and a small snack the sun had set, and you were more than ready to call it a night. As you waited for the pizza to arrive, you scrolled through your social media and sipped a glass of wine. Curiosity got the better of you, and you typed in his name. As the results populated, you saw a bunch of images of him throughout the years, most from movies. You looked over the pictures and admired how his look had changed over the years.

   When you’d met he wasn’t an ugly guy, you doubted he had ever been ugly it was universally impossible. He looked as if he was still in that stage of life where he didn’t’ want any ties, and he preferred things to be complication-free, it showed it in his small goatee. Now that goatee had filled out in a jaw-dropping way; his eyes had intensified with how blue they were. The night in the diner you couldn’t not look in his eyes. You didn’t know if it was the fact that his hair had gotten redder and it worked to bring out the blue more or if they had in fact gotten bluer. His eyes were Ella’s eyes. You loved spending hours just looking into her eyes through the years. It dawned on you the night at the diner why.

   You were thankful when the doorbell rang to find it was the pizza. After Ella gobbled down two slices, she sauntered off to the playroom with Nexus’ finger tightly in her small hand, and there they remained for at least an hour. You didn’t even notice when Nex sat beside you on the back deck. She held out another bottle of wine which you smiled at. As she filled your empty glass your thoughts drifted yet again.

   “So, not choosing you.”

   You sighed because you knew she hadn’t let it go. You knew she’d bring it back up; you knew it would be one of those things that you’d have to face head-on. “Tell me about what that meant.” Gulping down the glass of wine, you refilled it and rubbed the smooth glass against your full bottom lip. “There are two possible nights Ella was conceived. Either it was the night we got married in Vegas or, the last night at his house here in LA after we’d signed the divorce papers. It’s impossible to tell really. They were days apart. Anyway, the night at his house after we’d—everything was good, it was amazing. it was always amazing Nex.” You sighed again taking a much-needed pause, the memories from that night were beginning to play in front of you like a movie and were bringing all the feelings with them.

   “I mean, he carries himself with pure big dick energy, and it’s not a small amount it’s an overwhelming amount. I don’t understand how because he’s a white boy, but he has it.” You snorted unable to contain your amusement. She was right, you’d noticed it years ago. It was overpowering hence how you got married and then how Ella happened. “So, you’re saying Chris Evans lays good pipe. Wow,” Nex said as she stared into the backyard with an amazed look on her face.

   “Good is an understatement. It’s not just the pipe that’s pure perfection.” Nexus gasped and looked to you like you’d just dropped the biggest bomb in the world. You gave her the eye and knew she got it. She giggled to herself while you immersed yourself in the memories again. “We’d spent the day together, had lunch, talked—a lot he comes off so relatable, so down to earth, you can tell he’s cut from a different cloth. I messed up and thought amazing dick and strong strokes meant more and could mean more, and he set me straight,” you summed up.

  “What the hell does that mean? What did he do?” You stared into the glass you held and finally said the words out loud and allowed the emotions you felt then to float front and center for the first time since it happened. “What!? Oh, hell no he didn’t.” You nodded and finished the glass then poured the last of the bottle into your glass.  Yeah, you’d finished the whole bottle by yourself.

   “Wow, I’m speechless. He said that? Wow.” You nodded again and bit your bottom lip and rubbed your temples, feeling the throbbing start. “What’d you say?”

   You’d wanted to cuss his ass out but if you’d done that it would have shown you cared more and that was the last thing in hell you would have done. “Nothing. He went to the bathroom. I got dressed and left. There was nothing to say. He made his position clear.” You both sat there in silence. You lost in the memories from that night and the things you could have said. You wondered if you would have said something showed that you cared if things could have been different. Would he have admitted he felt something too? Would the two of you have been able to get it together perhaps date, then raise Ella together this entire time? Would you have stayed married? Groaning you put the glass down. These were dangerous thoughts, thoughts that could ruin things more than they already were.

   “He was the one that hurt you. He’s the reason you shut down, the reason no one ever had a chance all these years. The reason why Zack will never make it out the friend zone. He broke you.” It was then you remembered Zack. You hadn’t talked since that day at the restaurant. The day you’d seen Chris. He’d stayed away, and you knew you would have to be the one to reach out to make things right. You just didn’t care to.

   “Shit, maybe I am broken.” You stood, gathered your glass and two of the four empty bottles around you and walked inside. Nex followed you into the kitchen with the remaining items.

   “I don’t think he’s decided to opt-out. After everything I’ve come to see over the last few years or interviews, he wants kids, a family. Plus, he doesn’t look like the kind of man who’d opt-out knowing he had a baby in the world. He needs time; he needs some space; it’s a lot you dropped on him. It took you nine months to come to terms with your situation. It wasn’t until they put Ella on your chest that it all really clicked for you. It’s been about two weeks.” She was right; you knew it. This wasn’t the kind of thing one just absorbs in hours. It was a lot, a lifetime worth of responsibility.

   “Do you want him involved?”

   “This again.”

   You closed your eyes again and tried to separate your feelings from what was right and wrong. Carefully and quickly you went through the endless possibilities and outcomes, and though you tried to keep your feelings out of it, they crept in. After a while, you groaned. The ringing of Nexus’ phone broke the silence and saved you from saying the words. Nexus hurried to her bag and rifled through it until she took out the phone. It was almost midnight, and neither of you knew who could be calling.

   “Hello?” Her eyes slowly widened, and you felt a sinking feeling in the pit of your belly. Deep down, you knew who it was.

   “Shit.”

   Nexus walked to you. “Hang on.” She held the phone out to you. You didn’t move; just looked at the phone then to her. She nodded as if to urge you to make a move, but you were frozen. Nexus reached out took your hand and placed the phone in it. You stood there trying to find your voice and your courage. Slowly you raised the device to your ear and released a slow breath.

   “Hello?” There was silence for a good minute then you heard him take a deep breath on the other end.

   “I want to be involved. I want to be a part of her life.” Tears filled your eyes, and they rolled down your cheeks freely as you nodded as if he could see you. “Are you there?” Clearing your throat and wiping away the tears you nodded again.

   “Yeah, I’m here. Okay.” More silence stretched between you. You had no idea what to say; the decision was made. He’d stepped up, opting out was not an option. You felt fear but also a strange mix of relief and happiness.

   “So, how do we do this?” You scoffed and laughed. No matter how you tried to stop yourself, you couldn’t manage it, so there you stood leaning against the kitchen island laughing like an idiot. “I have no idea,” you responded. It was his turn to laugh. So that was how a good two minutes were spent, the two of you laughing at the situation and the fact neither of you knew what to do now, or how to do it. slowly your laughter died down, and the silence returned.

   “I know you said you don’t know me or some things about my lifestyle and this might be the wrong first move but--.” More silence stretched with his hesitation. Your anxiety rose higher, as did your heart rate. “Can I meet her?” Your heart pounded and melted at the same time. His voice was so small, so unsure and so damn gripping, you wanted to reach out into the phone and place it against his cheek. You groaned and put your head on the island and allowed the cold marble to center you. “It was a stupid idea. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be so presumptuous; of course, it’s too soon.”

   “No, no, that’s not it. No, you’re not, it’s fine. I’m sorry I just—I’m having a hard time with words or thoughts right now. I’ve been attacked with memories for the last few hours, and it’s taking a toll. I’m sorry. Yeah,” you rushed out without thinking.

   “What kind of memories?” With the question you imagined his hands on your body and then his head between your legs. You groaned and shook your head. “Oh, you know, normal stuff.” Somehow you knew he was smiling; you could feel it, and it made you smile as well. “Yeah, I know about normal stuff. It’s hard,” he responded.

   “Hard? Does he mean what I think he means? What’s hard? Is he hard? Does he think about what I think about? Does he have dreams like I do? Oh my god!”

   Clearing your throat, you tried your best to shake away the thoughts and the butterflies taking flight in the pit of your belly. “So yeah, you uh—you can meet her. I don’t think it’s too soon. It may be long overdue.”

   “Really? Are you sure? I don’t want to overstep or--.” You interrupted his ramble with a smile on your face. “This is new for the both of us, I don’t have a manual or a guide, and I have literally been living the last three years based on what feels right. If it feels right I do it. This—it feels right. It feels like the right move,” you filled in. He was quiet again. You wondered what he was thinking, wondered what he would say if he’d say anything at all.

   “Is tomorrow good?

   “Jesus he’s really in.”

   “Yeah, sure. Tomorrow is fine,” you confirmed while even more butterflies took flight. You tried to keep your thoughts straight, tried to keep everything else at bay. “Um, maybe the restaurant off of Wilshire?”

   “Might not be a good idea doing this in public. There’s already been more than enough run-ins with the paps. She’s still freaked from that day,” you explained. “Right, of course. I’m sorry about that by the way,” Chris interjected.

   “It’s fine. I’m sure you can’t control it.” He sighed into the phone and you pictured his breath smelling like oranges and mint like it did that last night. You took a deep breath as if you could really smell it—smell him. You couldn’t. This was just a phone conversation, and you were already feeling foolish. “What about my place?” Your stomach knotted, and you softly gasped as you placed your hand over your belly. You wondered if he still lived at the same place. “Do you still live at the same place in the hills?”

   “You remember. Yeah, same place.” Your core clenched and you groaned. “Not a good idea. Um, why not here. It’s somewhere she’s comfortable, private away from the press, safe.” Another stretch of silence filled the time. “Safe for her or you?”  He saw through you. A disconcerting feeling filled you. It was definitely safe for you. You knew if you went back to his house, you’d be incapacitated with memories and emotions and this wasn’t about you. It was about Ella, him and Ella. “Safe all around. Does that work?” He agreed, and the two of you released a breath in unison then let the silence return. You could hear his breathing, and it was a soothing sound, a sound you liked. You confirmed an adequate time and gave him your address then rushed off the phone and dropped into the couch. Nex tried her best to calm your nerves, but it wasn’t enough. You knew you wouldn’t sleep that night. You felt there was a lot on the line and you had to make sure you were under control by tomorrow.

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

***If you want to be tagged please SEND AN ASK SO IT WILL BE EASIER FOR ME TO KEEP TRACK OF. Thank you for reading!!! 

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

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[venus-says]

Life update and some other things!

I'm sorry, the old Venus can't come to the phone right now... Why?... Oh, 'cause he's dead!

Yes, you're not having a hallucination, I'm indeed back with the blog. I mean, I'm not completely back yet, but I'm in the process of coming back.

So, you may be asking (or not) why I've bee away for an entire month and well this post is to tell what happened.

I was trying to keep a schedule of posts because I'm a madman and I thought that having consistency in the form of posting daily would be a great idea and that the world would conspire in my favor and would let that happen while having two huge long term projects coexisting. It happens that life isn't as kind and it came to bite me in the ass for trying to do too much stuff at the same time.

There wasn't necessarily one specific thing that lead me to take a break, it was more like a conversion of bad things happening at the same time in my personal life that really worn me down to an estate of deep sadness and exhaustion, and to my luck, all of that decided to happen at the same time as quarantine started in Brazil which brought a lot of tension, a huge political mess, and a whole lot of anxiety as our current president and his supporters seem to not care for the well being of the population thinking that the virus is just a made-up thing to make him and his government look bad. And don't even get me started in the whole lot of unconstitutional stuff has been happening, and that apparently no one in our justice system seems to care, that just makes the fear of us falling into another dictatorial regime after only 35 years of being back into living in a democracy hunt me in my dreams at night.

As you can see, this hasn't been the happiest of times.

And it just gets worse because the things that were supposed to help me in escaping from this terrifying reality actually only made me feel worse. First, because I couldn't just sit down and watch them, I had to watch and write about them, which was something I honestly had no energy to do. And second, because I wasn't exactly happy with the shows themselves, you know? I was really done with Prichan after the another!Daia arc, Zero-One had been constantly making me angry, all of the problems I had with Precure 5 seemed to only have been exacerbated into extreme levels in GoGo, Kamen Rider Ghost's 2nd and 3rd arc were just ghastly, and On Parade... well, was On Parade. Only Healin' Good was genuinely making me happy but even that I tried to avoid because I was very afraid of my mood ruining my experience with the show and turning something I really enjoyed into something that I hated.

And I know that it seems that I'm that salty bitch who loves to hate things just for the sake of it and that I should be thriving if I was seeing a lot of problems in the shows I was watching, but that's very far from the truth, I actually hate talking about bad things. Because the franchises I cover here are things that I love, I mean, this is a personal blog where I tell my PERSONAL experiences as I watch these shows, and as things that I love I want all of them to be good and I wanna say good things about them, but I can't come here and fake saying that I loved something and I had the greatest time ever because it would go against what this blog is about. Also faking enthusiasm is just as mentally exhausting as being honest and talking shit about stuff so that wouldn't really solve any of my problems.

So, in a self-preservation move, I step away from this blog and I indulged myself in a whole bunch of shit that wasn't anime in order to get me up and running again while I try to forget the problems of the world. I've listened to a shit-ton of podcasts, I've done some gaming (which is something that I barely do), obviously I cleaned and cooked a lot (like most of the people in quarantine are doing), and I've even got back into reading which was something that I haven't really done since my tablet broke like two years ago. Gosh, I even found out I actually like musicals and I've been watching recordings of shows on youtube non-stop and that has brought me a lot of joy (and I believe a lot of headaches to my neighbors). Heck, I even got to watch a few of the anime that just started in the most recent season and even got to find some new faves, so that break time was really helpful in making my mind drift away from all the negativities and the bad energy that was lurking around.

Of course, I'm still not 100% back, I'm still feeling very tired and my sense of time is all messed up, but I'm feeling better and I'm feeling renewed so I thought it was the time to slowly get back with the blog. And you can call me weird here, but it didn't feel right to be back with new energies and a new vibe and continue with the same dumb name for the blog. Like, I know this is a dumb thing to be hung on, but I gotta be honest I was never fully happy with my usernames that I've used in the past two~three years. I think CureCupid is a dumb name and venus-moonrise is even dumber, and I've been wanting to rebrand for a long ass time but I'm not a creative hoe and I couldn't think of a better name that wouldn't sound silly as hell and it wouldn't include the words venus, moon, and fairy, in any shape or form.

But I thought about it and realized that there wouldn't be any other time as perfect as this one to change my URLs, because I already lost the timing once when I stopped making gifs at CureCupid and I had that huge ass break in the blog before I came back to it in August last year, and since I'm with renewed energies would be very conflicting to keep going while having this thing with a dark aura around bringing me enjoyment down. And so I changed my usernames, I'm sorry for making you all confused, but I needed a concrete change.

And that's not the only change happening. Forget the daily posts, I may try that again in the future, but not for now. Until my gears are grinding to their full capacities I will post whenever I want, but whenever I get ready to have a schedule again I will post only 4 days of the week because if there's a thing that this period has taught me is that I need to consume other things that aren't precure, aikatsu, and kamen rider, so that I don't go crazy. So there's that.

Finally to conclude this long-ass post I would like to thank you all for still keeping up with me even though I'm a terrible content creator. I don't know if people on tumblr are aware but I have a WordPress blog that is basically the same thing as the tumblr just with more screenshots of the episodes and that blog hasn't had a single day with 0 visitors even though I haven't posted in the past 38 days and I'm really grateful for that and I hope that from now on I can match up with this support.

I'm not sure when I'll be back with the weekly show reviews, thankfully for the purposes of this blog almost all shows I cover are in hiatus due to COVID-19 so I can catch up with them easily without feeling pressured. But before that I decided that I'll do a monthly faves post to come out sometime during this week, is not necessarily a post with only my favorite things of the month, I just got inspired by Pixielocks video and I wanted to do something to talk about the things I watched during the break and it's something I want to become a regular thing for the blog so I have another incentive to watch other things without the need of commitment.

Well, I've written way more than I needed but I'm glad I was finally able to put this out, it may seem like a silly thing but it really made me feel better to be able to open up about stuff. Thank you so much for reading, be safe, take care of yourself, happy mother's day (!!!), and I hope I can meet you in the next time. Bye-bye.

[crossbowking]

The Road Ahead : Chapter 18

Chapter Index HERE

Summary : (Set in the beginning of season 1) Anna Brooks lost everything after the world ended — the last remaining part of herself being her older brother, who she lost contact with after communications dropped. While en route towards Atlanta to find him, Anna’s truck breaks down, leaving her at the mercy of the cruel new world. Now, Anna must face her fears head on as she struggles to deal with devastating loss, constant danger, and finding her way in a land that now belongs to the dead. But sometimes, a glimmer of hope can be found disguised as a short-tempered, hard-headed redneck who may just save her life in more ways than one.

Pairings : Daryl x Original Female Character

Warnings : Slow-Burn, Language/Violence/typical Walking Dead themes

Author’s Note : Oh. Hi. *crickets*

I KNOW I HAVEN’T UPDATED IN MONTHS. LITERAL MONTHS. I’M SORRY. BUT THIS WRITING SHIT IS LIKE...HARD. I hope y’all remember wtf has happened in this story because I had to go back and reread because I was LOST. So hopefully this shit makes sense. (I’ll insert a recap to refresh everyone’s memory.)

I’m sorry. I’m gonna go hide in the corner now.

Shoutout to @wilhelmjfink for creating the awesome cover pic for this series! Love you bb.

THIS CHAPTER IS DARYL’S POV, ALSO.

Okay, that is all.

xx crossbowking

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Recap...

- Anna was attacked by Merle (hopped up on coke, mind you) en route towards Atlanta in search of her brother, Ben. Their parents died at some point during the journey and Anna now wears their wedding rings on a chain around her neck.

- Daryl swoops in and saves Anna from Merle, fixes her truck, and they have a moment *swoon*. He offers her a place in his group but she declines, putting her family first and continuing for Atlanta (even though he already told her the city was destroyed). 

- Anna spends the night in a shitty gas station market, has a flashback of her childhood/a sneak peek into her relationship with Ben, and cries herself to sleep *aw bb, it’s ok*.

- The next day, Anna stumbles across a herd who traps her on the roof of the market...all hope seems lost. Until gunshots from the city draw some of the herd away *aka Rick escaping the tank*. A storm rolls in, providing the small amount of water Anna needs to make it to the city. A car alarm sounds from the city shortly after, drawing more of the herd away *hm...whoever could that be? Possibly a cutie patootie driving a red sports car?...*

- Anna makes her escape and continues for Atlanta. She parks her truck and makes the trek to her brother’s apartment with no trouble. Once there, she finds a walker trapped in his bathroom, but luckily, it’s not Ben. She finds a note from him addressed to her saying that he left for Fort Benning after the city was overrun. Anna stays the night and decides to try for the army base next.

- Anna scavenges the following day, gathers supplies and heads back to her truck before nightfall. She runs into Rick’s group (leaving the city after trying to find Merle) attempting to hotwire her truck, has a not so pleasant reunion with Daryl, but decides to drive the group back to their camp *she owes Daryl, give her a break*. 

- They return as the camp is getting overrun by walkers. Anna helps defend the quarry and saves Carl, almost dies, but *dun dun dun* is saved by Daryl once more.

- Rick offers Anna a place in the group but she’s set on searching for her brother and heading to Fort Benning. She’s still unsure why Daryl is being so cold to her. 

- Stays one more night with the group, contemplating next move. Daryl gives Anna his dinner after she gave Sophia hers, only furthering Anna’s confusion regarding the archer. *make up your damn mind, Dixon!*

- Anna decides to join the group to the CDC. If CDC is a dead end, Rick promises they will try for Benning. 

- Daryl is being a jerk face again and Anna is #overhimandhisissues.

- They make it to the CDC, meet Edwin Jenner, and have an interesting dinner. *group finds out Anna’s mom had cancer, but ultimately died from a walker bite*

- Everyone gets drunk *ayeee gettin’ crunk*

- Anna and Glenn bond while everyone else turns in for the night *supposedly* and she finds out more about the archer/Merle/what happened in Atlanta the day she ran into them.

- She learns that Daryl and Merle got into a huge fight/brawl and is pretty sure she’s the reason it started. Realizes that Daryl is a moody lil’ bitch because he blames her for the way things ended with him and Merle/the fight they had/the mean things he said to his brother.

- Shane pops up outta nowhere, all sorts of fucked up, and basically attacks Anna because he’s a horny lil’ psychopath. Daryl hears the struggle and yet again, *shocker* saves Anna.

- Daryl stays in Anna’s room *cue awkward tension* and she spills out some sort of apology *which Daryl ignores* instead bringing up the fact that she didn’t find her brother. She shares the note she found/her plan to head for Fort Benning. Daryl is like “psh, ya ain’t gon’ make it, ya dumb ho” and Anna’s like “psh, you’re so fuckin’ rude omg” and Daryl storms out and Anna’s all like “JUST BC U GAVE UP ON UR BROTHER DOESN’T MEAN I’M GIVING UP ON MINE” and Daryl’s like “ow...dat’s some cold shit” and leaves.

- Anna can’t sleep because GUILT. Anywho, the next morning everyone has breakfast together, Shane apologizes to Anna/threatens her to keep her mouth shut in the same breath.

- Then, cue the group trapped in the CDC/building about to explode.

- Group gets out, Anna’s a dumb lil ho and runs back inside for her backpack *LEAVE HER ALONE SHE COULDN’T LEAVE THE PICTURE OF HER AND BEN/HIS NOTE TO HER BEHIND*

- Anna almost dies, but whoohoo, she lives! Daryl runs back into the field and carries her semi-unconscious form away from the wreckage.

There. Now everyone’s caught up.

AND...HERE WE GO.

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

Previously…

Black spots suddenly danced in Anna’s vision, her stomach rolling, her body’s aches and pains dulling as her legs began to give out, unable to keep up with the archer’s determined pace. She squeezed her eyes shut, her drooping head lolling against Daryl’s shoulder as the world began to fade.

The last thing Anna felt was the archer sliding his arm up her back, slipping it around her shoulders instead as his other arm cupped behind her kneecaps, swiftly swooping her off the ground.

And then everything went dark.

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

Now...

The desolate road spilled out before the caravan of survivors, its winding roads and towering trees seemingly endless. Abandoned cars littered the sides of the road, some doors till strewn open, others covered in blood and grime. There wasn’t another soul in sight — it was as though the entire world had been completely wiped clean, forced to begin again from scratch.

The survivors traveled along cascading backroads, steering clear of highways and more populated areas as they navigated out of the city and into the rural countrysides of Georgia with no set destination in mind.

Daryl lost track of how long the group had been driving, the minutes and hours seeping into one another as the sun reached its highest peak and began its slow descent. His hand rested lazily atop the steering wheel, the other resting on his thigh, fingertips drumming anxiously against his knee.

His mind had been ticking nonstop since the group had escaped the Center for Disease Control. The explosion had drawn in a massive herd, bigger than any horde Daryl had ever seen before. There hadn’t been time to reconvene, to figure out a different course of action, to make sure —

A soft whimper suddenly drew Daryl’s attention to the passenger seat, his gaze settling on her.

Anna Brooks.

The archer sighed, pulling his eyes away from her sleeping form, focusing back on the road ahead. He rested his elbow against the doorframe, the side of his thumb finding a home nestled between his teeth. He gnawed absently on the side of his thumbnail, his thoughts refusing to settle, his nerves standing on end.

In the midst of all the chaos, during the group’s last ditch effort to escape the impending blast, Daryl hadn’t even realized that Anna was no longer with the group. His jaw clenched, the backs of his teeth gnashing together — how could he not have realized?

He could still feel that pit in his stomach, the feeling of dread that’d shot through him when he’d spotted her climbing out of the CDC after Dale and Andrea. It felt as though all the air had been sucked from his lungs, leaving him paralyzed, only able to sit and watch as she ran for her life — and there hadn’t been a damn thing he could do about it.

The explosion had drawn in the dead, giving him no time to make sure she was uninjured, to make sure she was okay. He didn’t think, he didn’t hesitate — he just ran back for her, the heat from the blast surging over his exposed flesh as he spotted her trapped beneath an unmoving walker, her hammer lodged in its skull.

Although she’d been disoriented when he’d found her, unsteady and dazed as he’d pulled her to her feet, the most important thing was that she was okay.

So he’d carried Anna’s weakened form back to his truck as she drifted in and out of consciousness. And when Lori emerged from the RV, frantically motioning for him to leave Anna with her and the others before they departed, he blatantly ignored the offer — he just couldn’t bring himself to do it, for some reason. He had to keep an eye on her, had to make sure she kept herself out of trouble. The damn woman had run back into an imploding building — who the hell knows what else she’d do?

No. No, he needed to keep an eye on her. He didn’t trust anyone else to keep her alive. That was what this boiled down to. He didn’t trust anyone else to —

Daryl clenched his jaw, grip tightening around the steering wheel as he forced himself to focus — to get a fucking grip. What the hell had gotten into him? This wasn’t who he was. This wasn’t what he did. Everything had been so simple before — before losing Merle, before the CDC, before he met her. Over the course of the last few days, Anna Brooks had somehow managed to worm her way into the forefronts of his mind, had crawled her way beneath his skin, and now he couldn’t seem to quiet the demanding need to keep her alive.

What the hell had gotten into him?

Daryl still thought about that day back on the road — the day he first met her. She’d seemed so vulnerable, so terrified — cowering beneath Merle’s grasp, his knife pressed against the hollow of her throat, a small trail of blood seeping from her pierced flesh. It wasn’t the first time he’d walked in on Merle tormenting some poor unsuspecting victim — but there’d been something different about her. The moment her big, brown eyes locked with his, he found himself intervening before he could think twice. There hadn’t been a moment of hesitation when he pointed his crossbow at his brother’s head — not even a flinch.

And that is what had freaked him out the most.

He sometimes wondered what would’ve happened if he hadn’t gotten involved that day. What would’ve happened to Anna? How far would his brother have gone? Merle had been out of control that day — had been for a long time before that too. The drugs hadn’t helped either, instead heightening his already brusque demeanor.

Merle hadn’t cared about anyone or anything — Daryl wasn’t even sure if his brother ever really cared about him. He knew that Merle’s inevitable downfall would happen from his own recklessness, his own actions and choices, and he’d been trying to prepare himself for life without his brother for a long time coming.

But in all the various ways Daryl had pictured his final moments with Merle, what he hadn’t expected was for there to be a brutal fight, a harsh exchanging of words, and an overwhelming swell of guilt vast enough to swallow him whole.

And it all came to a head after that day on the road.

The day he met her.

Daryl stormed through the growing underbrush of vines and leaves, stepping over an exposed root as he pushed forward, driven solely by frustration. He heard a sudden thud behind him, followed by a string of muttered curses, but still pushed forward, ignoring the racket.

“Damn roots be poppin’ up outta nowhere, swear ta’ Christ,” Merle’s gravelly voice echoed from behind.

The archer glanced over his shoulder, spotting Merle kneeling on the forest floor, grunting as he pushed himself back onto his feet. But Daryl didn’t slow his pace, didn’t respond, didn’t offer to help — nothing. He didn’t trust himself not to snap right now, the anger coursing through him growing with each step he took closer to camp, further away from the scared girl with big brown eyes and a beaten down pickup truck.

Daryl gnashed his teeth together, grip tightening around his crossbow. What a shit-fucking-day it had been. He’d volunteered to go hunting, to try and rile up some food for the group waiting back at the quarry. But then Merle had decided to tag along last minute, his brother itching to be out in the wilderness, away from the cautious eyes that watched his every move back at camp.

And it had all gone downhill from there.

Merle’s boisterous persona had done an outstanding job in alerting every living and nonliving thing within a mile of their approach, leaving the pair empty-handed by the end of their long day. Daryl’s frustration had only grown with each hour that passed, the thought of coming home with nothing forming a pit in his gut. The brothers were already on thin ice with the group, one wrong move away from being kicked out on their asses — no thanks to Merle, he might add.

They’d scoured the vast forest, waded through the babbling creek just a few miles from camp, and even checked out a couple cottages and sheds they’d randomly stumbled upon — but there’d been nothing, everything within a five-mile radius seemingly wiped clean.

“Mind slowin’ your roll there, baby bro?” Merle called after him, his voice becoming more and more distant with the increasing space Daryl was putting between them. “Ain’t the athlete I used ta’ be,” he snarked lightly.

Daryl rolled his eyes, although Merle couldn’t see from where he trailed behind him.

“Hey, what’s the fuckin’ dealio?” Merle snapped, his footsteps quickening. “Ya ain’t still pissed at me, are ya?” he pressed, an incredulous laugh booming from deep within his gut. “Aw, c’mon, Darlina —”

“Hey!” Daryl snapped, halting abruptly and turning on his heels, coming face to face with Merle, who’d finally caught up to him. “Ya gonna draw in every walker around if ya don’t shut your damn trap,” he hissed, eyes narrowed into slits, Merle’s jeering expression only angering him further.

“Ah, let ‘em come!” he scoffed, holding his arms out at his sides. “We can take ‘em, you an’ I!” he continued, the volume of his words increasing, echoing throughout the otherwise silent forest.

Daryl huffed a breath, shooting his brother a look of contempt as he turned on his heel and stormed forward, leaving Merle behind once more.

“Hey, what’s got your panties all up in a twist, huh?” Merle mocked, catching up and falling in step beside the archer. “This ain’t ‘bout that skirt from earlier, is it?” he accused tauntingly.

Daryl stiffened, his body going rigid at the mention of the girl from the road, but he refused to give his brother the satisfaction of a response.

Yet somehow, Merle knew he’d struck a chord, a lopsided sneer coming over his face as he nudged Daryl in the ribs with his elbow. “C’mon, is that it?” he teased, snickering softly. “Ya pissed at ol’ Merle for layin’ claim on the bitch ‘fore ya had the chance? Ya see, I knew ya was —”

“I said shut up, Merle!” Daryl suddenly growled, turning to shove his brother to the side, coming to a swift halt. “This ain’t ‘bout the damn girl. It’s ‘bout how ya can’t keep ya damn mouth shut, alright? Ya scared off any decent game we might’ve found out here — an’ now we’re goin’ back ta’ those people with jackshit!” he snarled, standing toe to toe with his brother, fighting off the urge to smack that arrogant look off his face.

“An’?” Merle shot back simply.

Daryl faltered, brows furrowing. “An’ what?”

“An’ that ain’t our problem, brother,” he scowled, some of the humor fading from his expression. “Ain’t our responsibility ta’ make sure those pricks don’t go hungry, am I right?”

Daryl scoffed, his brother’s selfishness not surprising in the slightest. “Ya know, maybe if ya spent a lil’ more time with your head out a’ your ass, we wouldn’t be in this fuckin’ mess ta’ begin with,” he spat, turning on his heel once more.

“My head spends jus’ the right amount a’ time in my ass, thank ya very much.”

“That you or the drugs talkin’? Hard ta’ tell the damn difference these days,” Daryl shot back over his shoulder before pressing forward.

“Yeah, yeah,” Merle called after him, following suit. “It’s medicinal — doctor prescribed an’ all!” he snarked.

Daryl exhaled heavily, prayed for strength, and pushed onward, suddenly hearing the soft murmur of voices growing from the approaching camp. He quickened his pace, hoping to be able to sneak back into his tent before anyone noticed his return. But much to his surprise, when the trees parted and the quarry came into view, he spotted the entire group sitting around the unlit fire pit in hushed conversation, all heads turning his way as he appeared.

Daryl paused, eyeing the group warily, feeling a pinprick of guilt hit him when most of their gazes traveled from his face, down to his empty hands, their hopeful expressions falling. The buzzing conversation quieted, a tangible disappointment spreading throughout the group as they realized that there would be yet another meager meal for dinner that night. The archer clenched his jaw, lowering his gaze slightly, feeling uncomfortable with all the sudden attention on him.

“Y’all miss me?” Merle’s voice suddenly boomed, breaking the quiet. Daryl glanced up at the group once more, noticing how almost everyone began either rolling their eyes or turning their gazes away, one person audibly groaning. Merle let out a low whistle. “Tough fuckin’ crowd,” he murmured as he moved to stand beside the archer.

Daryl watched as Shane leaned over to whisper something in Lori’s ear before he pushed up from his chair beside her and made his way towards the brothers, rubbing a hand roughly through his tousled hair. “Nothin’?” the officer asked softly, placing his hands on his hips, directing his question towards Daryl.

The archer merely shook his head once, readjusting the crossbow slung over his shoulder.

Shane muttered a curse under his breath, staring off into the trees behind the brothers. “Y'all were out there all damn day an’ ya didn’t find nothin’?” he pressed, his expression tense.

“Ya got fuckin’ eyes, don’t ya? What’s it look like?” Merle snapped, taking a small step towards Shane, drawing the man’s attention away from Daryl. “Ya think ya can do any better, how’s ‘bout ya get off your lazy ass an’ get out there yourself, Officer Asswipe,” he bit out challengingly, puffing his chest slightly.

Shane scoffed and for a moment, Daryl thought he was about to start swinging. But instead, he just shot Merle a dirty look and turned away, making his way back to the fire pit where Lori and Carl sat.

Merle suddenly clamped his hand down on Daryl’s shoulder, leaning in close. “Ain’t our responsibility, brother,” he rasped once more, tightening his grip as he lowered his voice further. “Don’t be forgettin’ why we’re here in the first place — why we been playin’ ‘nicey-nice’ with these fine folks all this time,” he whispered darkly.

Daryl glanced at his brother, the dangerous sneer on his face unsettling. Without another word, Merle huffed a laugh, clapped Daryl roughly on the back and pushed past him, making his way towards his own rickety tent.

Daryl watched his brother walk away, feeling the weight of his words spread like fire through his veins — he hadn’t forgotten why they were there. How could he? It’d been the only thing he could think about since they’d joined the group.

Merle had come up with the idea — of course it’d been his idea. And Daryl had just…gone along with it. He hadn’t protested, hadn’t tried to talk him out of it. He hadn’t even put up a fight.

Did that make him just as horrible as his brother? Or worse?

Daryl scanned the camp, his eyes lingering for a moment towards where Carl and Sophia sat, tucked underneath their mother’s sides, eyes wide and innocent as they quietly listened to the resuming chatter. These were decent people — good people. And he and his brother were going to rob them blind come the following night, leaving them defenseless against the looming threat of the dead.

Daryl grimaced.

Worse. It definitely made him worse.

But then suddenly out of nowhere, images of the girl from earlier flashed through his mind and he stilled. He wasn’t sure why or how she’d weaseled her way into the forefronts of his thoughts, but before he knew it, there she was. He could picture the distrust marring her tense expression, the look only fading after he’d proven to her he meant no harm. He saw the light that’d rekindled in her tiresome eyes after he’d successfully fixed her broken-down truck, the way her smile brought life to her whole face. He remembered the way her gaze softened as she thanked him, politely turning down his offer to join the group back at the quarry.

He’d felt like he’d finally done some good, like he’d done something that actually mattered for once in his life.

That was the type of man he was. Not…not this. Not some sorry sack of shit, blindly following his big brother’s destructive footsteps. That wasn’t who he was. And that wasn’t who he was going to be, damn it.

Feeling a new sense of resolve wash over him, Daryl straightened up and marched forward, searching for where his brother had wandered off to. It only took a few seconds before he found his brother lounging in a picnic chair outside his ramshackle tent, sharpening his hunting knife as he whistled softly.

Daryl saw a flash of that same knife being held to the girl’s throat earlier, but quickly pushed the image away, it only fueling his anger.

Merle glanced up at Daryl’s approach, giving him a quick once-over before he focused back on his weapon.

Daryl cleared his throat quietly, scanning the area to make sure there were no wandering eyes, no potential eavesdroppers. “Hey, we need ta’ talk,” he murmured lowly.

“So, talk,” Merle shot back gruffly, taking a moment to observe the knife’s sharpened edge, using his thumbnail to test the blade.

Daryl huffed a breath, growing more and more impatient towards his brother’s indifferent attitude. He quickly surveyed the campgrounds once more, double checking that this would be a private conversation. When the coast seemed clear, the archer crouched down in front of Merle. “Shit don’t feel right, man,” he rumbled, giving his brother a pointed look.

Merle suddenly scoffed, the corner of his mouth raising into a smirk. “That kinda sounds like a ‘you’ sorta problem, don’t ya think?”

“Nah, ya ain’t listenin’ ta’ me,” Daryl growled, his frustration mounting as he shot up to his feet. “We can’t do this — it ain’t right. They’ve — they’ve got kids here, ya know?” he pressed quietly, urging his brother to see reason.

But Merle simply stiffened, tucking his blade back into the holster of his jeans, regarding Daryl silently for a long moment. “So?” he finally rasped, face set in a stony expression as he folded his hands in front of him.

“So?” Daryl shot back incredulously.

“Ain’t on us if those lil’ shits starve, now is it?” Merle shrugged carelessly, no trace of humor in his gaze anymore. “We ain’t their daddies, are we?”

Daryl faltered, his response not entirely surprising but it did little to soothe his ever-present hostility.

“Don’t matter none,” Merle continued when Daryl remained silent, a hint of a sneer creeping across his face. “Ain’t like those Rugrats gonna last long enough ta’ starve ta’ death anyways,” he jeered, leaning coolly back in his chair, shrugging nonchalantly.

And Daryl had heard enough. Talking his brother out of an idea was like talking to a brick-fucking-wall. Merle could do whatever the hell he wanted — Daryl would have no part in it. So instead of playing into his brother’s antics and giving him the reaction he was poking for, Daryl turned on his heel and stormed away, muttering harshly beneath his breath.

But he’d only made it a few feet before Merle’s rasping voice stopped him dead in his tracks. “Ya got somethin’ ta’ say ta’ me, ya best be sayin’ it ta’ my face, lil’ brother,” he suddenly hollered and Daryl could hear the growing impatience in his voice. It was then that he realized that his brother’s shout had silenced every other conversation spread out amongst the camp, all eyes suddenly ping-ponging between the two brothers apprehensively.

Daryl clenched his jaw, turning around to find his brother now standing upright, his arms held out at his sides, clearly attempting to provoke him. But the younger brother remained steadfast, biting his tongue as he shot his brother a dark look.

“It seems ta’ me ya got an awful lot ta’ say, so why don’t ya go on an’ share with these fine folks,” Merle continued, egging him on, the sudden attention only stroking his massive ego as he turned to address the entire group, as if putting on a show. “My baby brother ain’t a man a’ many words — I’m sure y’all have caught on by now,” he placed a hand mockingly over his heart. “But my oh my, sure looks like there’s jus’ somethin’ real important an’ all that he needs ta’ get off his chest. Somethin’ he’s jus’ dyin’ ta’ share with y’all,” he finished boldly, motioning for Daryl to take over, his eyes challenging. “So, c’mon then, brother. Share with the class.”

Daryl’s gaze narrowed, feeling his blood begin to boil as he shot daggers in Merle’s direction, moments away from losing his composure.

“Let’s jus’ take it easy, alright?” Shane suddenly intervened, coming to stand between the brothers, holding his hands out. “Let’s jus’ be adults here, now,” he hissed quietly, giving each a stern look. “No need for this.”

“That’s right, Officer,” Merle quirked a brow. “That is exactly right,” he rasped, his words holding a heavier meaning as he leveled Daryl’s stare coldly.

“Alright boys, put your rulers away,” Lori suddenly chastised, coming to stand beside Shane, arms crossed over her chest, expression stern. “You’re scarin’ the children, now. Let’s just — let’s just start gettin’ dinner ready, alright?” she urged softly, hoping the brothers would hear reason and stand down.

But when neither of them spoke, each brother glaring at the other, eyes alight in some sort of silent struggle for power. “Enough,” Shane interjected once more, the tension radiating off the brother’s affecting the group as a whole. “I ain’t gonna ask either of ya again —”

“Alright, alright, relax cowboy,” Merle finally scoffed, waving Shane away. “Put a cork in it. We’ll play nice. No need ta’ get all dramatic, now.”

Shane shot Merle a dangerous look before he shook his head, running a hand over his face as he grabbed Lori’s elbow and gently pulled her away. Daryl remained unmoving, chest heaving as he waited for his brother to move first.

Merle whistled lowly, slowly turning on his heels, seeming like he was finally standing down. But then suddenly, he glanced at Daryl from over his shoulder, snickering softly. “Hey, ya think Officer Dickweed’ll let me borrow his handcuffs sometime? Jus’ in case I run into that piece a’ ass from earlier, ya know? I’d like ta’ be a lil’ more prepared next time,” he murmured lowly, an unsettling gleam in his eye.

And Daryl saw red.

Before he knew what he was doing, he found himself suddenly throwing his crossbow to the ground and launching himself at Merle, tackling his brother roughly to the ground. He heard vague shouts echoing from around him, could feel someone tugging on the back of his shirt, but all he could focus on was Merle’s taunting expression.

He was able to throw in one solid punch, feeling a swell of satisfaction as Merle’s head snapped to the side before he was yanked off his brother and hauled backward. Daryl struggled against the restraint, watching as Merle was pulled to his feet, Shane and Morales fighting to hold him back as well.

“Daryl, stop!” Glenn’s voice suddenly broke through the noise. “Just relax!” he urged, grunting as he and T-Dog struggled to hold the archer at bay.

“— let go a’ me, damn it!” Merle growled, his face twisted as he tried to wriggle free.

“Enough!”

“Break it up!”

“Shane —”

“Ain’t none a’ this concern none a’ y’all!” Merle snarled, still fighting against Shane and Morales, his eyes zeroed in on Daryl. “This between me an’ him,” he growled, jabbing a finger in the archer’s direction. “C’mon, Darlina — how’s about we settle this like men?”

“‘Well, what a’ sorry fuckin’ excuse for a ‘man’ ya are, then! Ya do nothin’ but shit for this group!” Daryl snarled back, all of his pent up rage spewing out of him. “Could’a done somethin’ useful today — but instead I find ya out there gettin’ high an’ doin’ some stupid shit ta’ an innocent girl, actin’ like a damn prick! Ya ain’t nothin’ but nothin’, Merle! Do ya get that by now? Huh?”

Merle movements stilled as he regarded his brother threateningly. “Ya best watch your mouth, boy,” he rasped darkly, his eyes narrowed as Shane and Morales slowly released him, still keeping him at arm's length. “Don’t be forgettin’ who you’re talkin’ ta’, now. Don’t be forgettin’ whose blood ya got runnin’ through ya. Ya don’t wanna go on an’ piss off the only family ya got left, the only family who ever watched out for ya an’ stood up for your pathetic punk ass!” he growled, the anger in his words growing.

Daryl scoffed, yanking out of Glenn and T-Dog’s grasp before marching over to where he’d thrown his crossbow down. He grabbed his weapon, ignoring the heavy silence that’d settled over the camp as he regarded his brother once more, feeling nothing but contempt. “Ya jus’ a fuckin’ waste a’ space,” he spat between heaving breaths, slinging his bow over his shoulder, the words feeling bitter on his tongue yet he couldn’t stop them from slipping through his lips. “A good-for-nothin’ addict — jus’ like dad.”

Daryl ignored the subtle flash of hurt that snaked its way across Merle’s face before his expression hardened. No one spoke, all eyes suddenly trained on him as the two brothers stared each other down once more.

Then, without another word, Daryl turned on his heels, shoved away the mounting swell of guilt that suddenly hit him, and stormed back into the darkened forest.

Daryl jolted back to reality, a metallic taste suddenly seeping across his tongue. He quickly pulled his thumb away from his teeth, noticing the blood now trickling down the side of his thumbnail. He sighed, wiping the blood away on his jeans as he focused back on the road.

Those were the last words he ever said to his brother. He hadn’t expected that fight to happen, hadn’t expected for those insults to come from his mouth, but Merle had always had a way of pushing him — and Daryl finally snapped.

But now his brother was gone and he’d never get the chance to mend things. His punishment for what he’d said was to wallow in the guilt that’d stay with him for the rest of his life — however short he had left, at least.

Another whimper drew his attention back to Anna and he glanced at her from the corner of his eye. Her brow was creased, lips turned down into a slight pout, eyes shut tight and crinkled around the edges. Sleep brought her no peace — she still looked just as weary, just as troubled, as she did when she was awake.

Daryl fought back the urge to reach out and wake her.

He sighed softly, forcing his eyes back on the road, away from the girl sleeping beside him.

When Daryl had found out what happened in Atlanta, that Merle had been left behind, handcuffed to the roof like a fucking animal, his first instinct was to lash out. That always seemed to be his first instinct for some reason. But he’d gone back for his brother — he’d made the trek back to that dead-ridden city to save him and what did his brother do? He cut off his own fucking hand instead.

Dumbass.

If Merle had just waited a little while longer, if he hadn’t been so damn impulsive —

Daryl grimaced. He’d seen some nasty shit in his life — but seeing his brother’s sawed-off, cold, limp, stump of a hand laying on that roof…well, that had to take the cake.

His stomach churned just thinking about it.

Still, his brother was tough — toughest son of a bitch Daryl had ever known. And he knew that Merle would never just roll over and give up…so the archer did what he did best and he tracked his ass.

And that had been a dead-fucking-end.

The only thing Daryl was sure of was that Merle had somehow made it out of the city alive. He had to have been the one who stole the truck that he, Rick, Glenn, and T-Dog had driven down to the railroad. It had to be him.

So now, Daryl was left to live with the unknown — the fate of his brother was something he’d wonder about until the day he died. Maybe Merle had succumbed to the effects of his injury, crashed the truck, and bled out somewhere on the road. Maybe he found his way back to the quarry and realized that the entire group had upped and left him, that his own brother had upped and left him. Maybe he’d made it somewhere safe, found a new shelter, a new group of people to take him in.

Daryl scoffed under his breath. Merle had a better shot of winning the fucking lottery than he did finding a group of people who’d put up with his bullshit.

Just because you gave up on your brother, doesn’t mean I’m giving up on mine.

His grip tightened around the steering wheel as Anna’s words echoed through his thoughts, their argument from last night settling like a pit in his stomach.

A fresh wave of fury washed over him as he remembered Anna’s desperate shouts, Shane’s greedy advances, and the blistering red heat that’d coursed through him when he came out of his room and saw her pinned up against that wall.

He could’ve killed Shane right then and there.

Daryl’s eyes darted up to the rearview mirror, spotting Shane driving his Jeep directly behind him in the caravan of vehicles, the man’s face twisted with tension, eyes narrowed as he stared straight ahead. But he must’ve felt the archer’s gaze on him because suddenly, his eyes flashed up to meet Daryl’s in the rearview mirror. The two held one another’s stare for a long moment before Shane finally looked away, letting his arm dangle outside the open window of his Jeep, his fingertips drumming against the door.

He should’ve killed Shane right then and there.

Anna shifted in the passenger seat, curling inwardly, arms wrapped around her middle as she tried to find comfort against the glass window she leaned against. After a moment, she sighed softly, her even breathing resuming as she settled against the door.

Daryl let go of the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

He was hoping Rick would pull the RV over sooner rather than later for the group to reconvene, giving him a chance to escape the small confines of the car and the inevitable tension when Anna finally woke up. She’d tried to talk to him about what happened between them back at the CDC, but it hadn’t been the right time — it never seemed to be the right time.

So he’d brushed her off — but not for the reasons she probably thought.

As memories from the night before swarmed his vision, something suddenly made itself startlingly clear. The truth was, she’d been right — he had given up on his brother.

But not her — he hadn’t given up on her.

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

A/N : Season 2 has begun!

We got to see a little flashback about that brutal fight Daryl and Merle got into, part of what has been fueling his hostility. As well as some of his conflicting thoughts. What’d you guys think of this chapter?

Next chapter will also be from Daryl’s POV -- we’ll be seeing a flashback of the night before and what exactly happened to Daryl after his and Anna’s argument. And then we will be switching back to dear Anna’s side of things.

I’m excited for what’s to come. Thank you to those who’ve stuck with me. I appreciate you all so so so much. If anyone is lost or has any questions, feel free to shoot me a message!

QUESTION OF THE WEEK: 1. Are you still interested in me continuing this story? I understand if not because it’s been so long and I, myself, couldn’t even remember everything that’s happened. 2. Was Daryl right in what he said to Merle? Who’s side are you on?

Feedback is INCREDIBLY important. I write for my own happiness, but I also write for YOU. So don’t be afraid to shoot me an ask or message or leave a comment with your thoughts! It truly motivates me and helps move along the writing process. Let’s discuss and be friends!

If you want to be notified when I post again, let me know and I’ll add you to my tag list!

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[ginnyzero]

Completely Harmless Ch. 1

Completely Harmless An SSO SilverGlade Re-imagining Story (Or Fix it Fan Salt fic) By Ginny O.

When Lily and her friends wanted to buy horses and were directed to the Silverglade Manor and its myriad of problems, they didn’t expect to start a revolution. They were just a bunch a stable girls. Completely harmless. Right?

A/N: Things are only canon if I say they’re canon. Pre-Saving the Moorland Stables compliant for the most part. Posted in its entirety on my website. Posted in 2000 to 4000 word bits here. Rated T for Swearing Word Count 177,577

Chapter One

Thomas Moorland had been nice enough and extremely sympathetic when he’d regretfully told them that he couldn’t sell them the horses they were riding. They were the camp’s horses and if he sold every horse that one of his campers got attached to, there’d be none left. They’d pouted, but the man had held firm even though he’d had a twinkle in his eye.

The large group of girls talked among themselves a bit sadly. They did love riding and the horses at the stable.

It was Justin. Thomas’ dark haired son with the soulful eyes that half of the girls in the group had a crush on that saved the day.

Figuratively that is.

“Psst,” he hissed as he peered into the stables.

The girls looked up at him in different stages of untacking their horses.

He grinned at them and bounced in. Leaning against the wall, he crossed his arms. “Heard you ambushed dear old dad.”

“You don’t have to sound so chipper about it,” Abigail mock pouted.

“Happens every year,” Justin grinned. “A couple keep trying to buy Saga out from under me.”

“You should be complimented. He’s a good horse,” Jennifer said. She patted her horse’s nose.

“He’s my horse!” Justin made a face and stuck out his tongue.

Lily cocked her hip. “Justin Moorland, you either have a trick up your sleeve or you came to torment us.”

Justin smoothed his face. “Torment you. I would never do that.” He put his hand to his heart. “My honor.”

“Loretta does all the tormenting around here,” Melody muttered.

Justin flicked his fingers and held up a folded glossy square of paper. “Ladies, if you truly desire horses, the best in Jorvik, you need to go see old lady battle axe herself, Baroness Annabella Silverglade.”

The girls stopped untacking their horses.

Lily raised a brow. “And what must we do to get there?”

“Stop trying to buy my horse!” Justin flung the folded square at her.

Lily caught it.

The girls giggled.

Justin rubbed the back of his neck. “I heard a rumor that she really could use some help. A friend of mine, Linda, she’s been working for the Baroness, helping run the Equestrian Center. But I’m afraid she’s bit off more than she can chew. Plus, she’s so busy already. Alex isn’t helping much since she comes down here to hang out with Maya so much.”

Maya shouted. “I can hear you!”

“Judy, Tyra, and Pauline are trying to keep things under control, but you know.” Justin shrugged. “Linn is stuck at the Riding Arena, Sonja is supposed to be helping out but she’d rather be in Valedale. Sabine is a bitch.”

“Justin!” Abigail gasped.

Justin smirked at them. “Well? If you want to get there and back before dark, you better be going now.” He waved at them cheekily and trotted off.

Grace huffed. “The nerve of him.”

“Utter cheek!” Melody agreed.

Lily opened the square of paper. It was a map. And Justin had helpfully drawn a red line from Moorland Stables to Silverglade Manor. There was also a few notes written in white ink. One read ‘Grape Mountain,’ and the other, “Loose Paddock.” Grape Mountain was south of the manor and Loose Paddock was north of it. Justin had included a note with an arrow at a broken line also in white. “The Baroness’ personal territory.”

Lily nodded. Justin was right. If they wanted to go out to the manor and get back before dark, they’d better leave now. At least the route seemed mostly clear. Though one bit looked disturbingly off the roads.

The horses seemed a bit astonished that the girls were putting the saddles and bridles back on them. But they were generally good spirited animals and were more than willing to leave the stables again, as long as it was at a placid trot.

The girls weren’t willing to push them either. They chattered at each other about what type of horses the Baroness might have. Some thought Arabians, others English Thoroughbreds, and others droned on about the merits of Hanoverians.

Justin’s route took them up the cliff to Nilmer’s Highland and a sharp right to the north towards Silverglade Village, a place they hadn’t yet explored. But the map said that off to their left, under the disturbing red line, there should be a path near the castle. Well, relatively near the castle. There was a lot of lawn between them and the huge yellow limestone castle on a cliff.

Regina saw it first. “Found it!” She said loudly enough so all could hear but not so loudly it’d spook the horses. They turned off the cobbled road and followed what was little more than a dirt track between some hills.

In the distance, up on a hill, had to be the manor. But it was really far into the distance. Between them and it was lots and lots of green.

“It looks rather impressive,” Lily said.

Their talk drifted to who they should approach. Annabella Silverglade herself? Or this Linda person? Or Judy? They didn’t want to be too much of a bother especially so late in the day.

The track led them to another road, they emerged on it between two birch trees, as the map showed it would. Off to their left and thus, to the south and across the road to the west were rows and rows and rows of grape vines. They grew along the flat parts of the mountain too.

“Oh, I get it,” one of the girls said.

“That can’t be the real name.” Abigail wrinkled her nose.

They turned up the road and noticed that the grapes continued despite the terrain. The road continued skirting a hillock and they came to a bridge. Far to the east they could see the village and realized it must be tucked right up next to the old castle walls. As they crossed the bridge, a dot off to the east (their right) looked like a rather quaint farm. They thought or speculated. There was a silo at least.

The road turned and for a little bit the road was lined with birch trees and grape vines. It was a long way up. They grew nearer to the manor and details emerged. A white stone wall with an iron wrought gate overgrown with weeds. To their left was a terrace also gone to weeds. Ahead of them though, the classical Greek inspired white stoned manor with its large windows and stately columns shaded by birches was impressive. The frieze on the tryptic above the door satyrs frolicking among the grapes and playing harps and pipes.

But overall, to either side of them were large, no huge, gardens gone to seed populated by yet more birch trees.

To the north the stable, or they assumed it was the stable, mimicked the manor house. It was large and long and off center was a columned archway over the roadway with another tryptic with a triangular frieze displaying horses rearing, cantering and trotting. Through this archway they could see a stone bridge. The stable had small individual doors that the top part opened individually on the lower floor and on the upper floor with the flat roof were more open windows showing where the hay was stored.

They assumed they could get into the stable proper through that doorway.

In front of it was a large parade ground with a rather odd symbol tiled into it.

And, to the south, the other large building was a large rectangular thing with a triangular roof instead of a flat one. It reminded them of what the Parthenon was supposed to look like with the long columns down the side of it.

Despite the run down appearance, the place was remarkably busy. Now, they didn’t want to bother the Baroness at all. That wouldn’t be proper. She was no doubt a busy woman. So, instead, they looked for Linda.

However, the first person they found was a girl with black hair that reminded them a lot of the stable manager of Moorland Stables, Jenna. She introduced herself as Judy.

They explained their mission. They wanted to buy horses and Thomas refused to sell them the camp horses and Justin had sent them this way.

Judy shook her head. “Happens every year. Well, you’re in luck. We have a fresh batch of three year olds looking for forever owners. They’re broken enough to ride and all, but they’ll need a great deal of training before you’ll be able to win any championships.

That was fine with the girls.

“Now, I’m going to warn you. These horses are special. They won’t be accepted by just anyone.” Judy said.

The six girls nodded.

“All right, they’re in the stables. May Aideen smile on you,” Judy grinned at them. She waved them towards the long structure.

There was a fence around the parade ground. But no one wanted to tie their horses to it. That wasn’t done. Plus there was nothing for the horses to eat near the parade ground. The girl’s dismounted and loosely tied the camp horses up in the area overrun by the weeds.

They all gasped as they went under the rotunda. It was actually stained glass and parts of it was faceted to throw off rainbows. The stained glass was of course, grape bunches and vines. They went into the shorter section of the stables first.

Inside the stables reflected the outside of the stables. There was cool white stone under their feet and the walls of the stable had been bleached white and had a silver sheen where the pattern of the wood was. Each stable wall topped with the delicate iron work like the gates.

But inside these pretty stalls were the prettiest horses the girls had ever seen. They had delicate heads and long flowing wavy manes and tails.

No one could restrain their squeals.

They didn’t run. They didn’t want to scare the beautiful creatures. But they certainly all walked quickly to the different stalls fishing out cubes of sugar and holding out hands to try and make friends.

A dark brown girl in a bright orchid t-shirt that read Knights of Unistria and black shorts laughed. “You must be new here. These are Jorvik Warmblood Sports, Jorvik’s best kept secret. I’m Linda.” She seemed friendly enough.

Lily was the leader. “Oh, we heard you worked here. I’m Lily and these are my friends Abigail, Grace, Regina, Melody, and Jennifer.” She gestured at each of the girls. “We’re, um, campers.”

“Obviously,” Regina rolled her eyes. They all wore the camp uniform after all, red t-shirt, grey fingerless gloves, brown riding pants, black riding boots and a black helmet. It was dreadfully unstylish.

Linda smiled at them and pushed her glasses up her nose. A bay horse with a white blaze down his nose and a white mane and tail huffed into her hair. She reached up to pet his neck absentmindedly. “And this is Meteor, the constantly starving.”

Meteor had the same nose shape and body structure as the horses in the stables. Though he was bigger and his hair wasn’t nearly as long.

“He’s handsome,” Grace said. “Is he yours?”

“More like, I’m his,” Linda wrinkled her nose.

“Oh, like cats,” Melody giggled.

“We’re here to become owned too, or something,” Jennifer waved her hand around.

Linda sighed. “Did Justin send you?”

“He gave us a map and everything.”

“Is it really Grape Mountain?”

“No. That’s him being cheeky.” Linda huffed. She tugged on her pony tail. “All the horses here are for sale, it’s true. In fact, if we don’t sell them. We’ll have to cull them. We simply don’t have the resources right now to look after them all. They’re in here for their final checkups.” Her face fell. “And it’s not really fair to release them into the wild. I mean, maybe they’d be all right.” She bit her lip. “So, they’re really cheap, three hundred shillings each. The Baroness is simply at her wits end and so am I.”

The girls looked at each other and looked around the barn. It seemed clean enough, but it probably could be cleaner.

“Thanks Linda,” Lily said before anyone else could. “That’s, a lot better of a deal than we expected.”

Linda twiddled her fingers. “Look, I have to run. If you have any questions, talk to Judy or Tyra. They know everything there is to know about the stables and Jorvik Warmblood Sports.”

“Not Sabine,” Grace said shrewdly.

Linda blinked. “Sabine’s a boarder. She doesn’t work here. She likes to make everyone think she does.”

“Good to know. We’ll be on our guard.” Lily saluted.

Linda smiled again. “All right. Good luck!” She said and trotted out.

“Huddle,” Jennifer said.

The girls gathered into a circle.

“Okay, something is definitely going on here.” Lily rubbed her chin.

Abigail groaned. “I’d do anything, and I do mean, anything, to get away from Loretta.”

“But, but, camp,” Grace hissed.

“Look, if this Baroness is as important as Justin implied she is,” Regina murmured. “I don’t think Old Man Thomas is going to mind us coming to help her out.”

“He might reward us,” Abigail bounced on her toes.

Jennifer sighed. “And riding around the cavaletti in a circle is so dull.”

Grace wrinkled her nose. “And the Bobcat race is, look, okay, Tan and Loretta are full of it and the other girls don’t want to lift a finger if it involves actually doing anything that might scuff their nails. They want us to be Bobcats to do their dirty work.”

Lily held up a finger. She jogged out of the stable and flagged down Judy who had a clipboard. “Judy, I have a question. It might seem odd.”

Judy widened her eyes. “Ohkay?”

“Does this stable have a dedicated riding club?”

Judy opened and shut her mouth. “No. If we did, we probably wouldn’t be in this state.”

Lily beamed at her. “Thanks, Judy.” She turned around and jogged off leaving a very bemused and confused Judy behind her.

Lily returned to the huddle. “Good news. No riding club!”

The girls jaw dropped.

“No club? Really? This gorgeous stable is ripe for the taking.” Regina’s voice turned fervent.

“This is not Pokemon Go!” Jennifer glared at her.

Lily tossed her hair. “Girls. I have an idea.”

Abigail pounded her fist into her hand. “Let’s show up Loretta.”

Grace’s lips parted. “Form our own riding club,” she breathed.

“And claim the SEC for our own and rule!” Regina pumped her fist into the air.

Lily smirked. “Exactly. So, let’s get some horses, recruit Tyra, Pauline, and Linn. The map says the Riding Hall is behind the manor, recruit more if we need to back in Moorland, and take Loretta and her Bobcat girls down.”

“Break,” Jennifer said.

They girls moved apart and scattered across the stables to look at the different horses. There were plain horses without markings, and those with; appaloosas, dapples, paint horses. There were those with the fancy coat genes too, cremellos, buckskins, and roans.

It wasn’t like they fell in love with the horses, because they did. But it was also like the horses fell in love with them.

With their shillings in hand they tracked down Judy and handed it all over.

Judy beamed at them. “Oh, thank you, thank you so much.”

“No. Thank you,” Lily said with a smile.

A/N: If you read this, I’ll be surprised. This story is a practice project for my portfolio and my own Horse MMORPG called Mystic Riders. I wanted to prove to myself and my dev partner that I could in essence design a section of game. I’m a fashion designer and a writer who loves games. I don’t expect (or want) SSO to implement ideas into the game (mostly.) This is for my own education and entertainment.

Writing story is the way I organize my thoughts and world build. So, this story may be a little salty, and a little shady in places. I care about Star Stable, horse games, and actual MMORPGS so much that the wasted potential grinds my gears. I chose the Silverglade Manor area because so much of that potential felt untapped to me and there were so many story lines that touched the Manor. If you want to see my take on anywhere else in the game, then, I’d have to work for the game. (There is only so much free labor I’m willing to do.)

FOR THE ACCOMPANYING IMAGES PLEASE DO NOT REMOVE MY WATERMARK AND CONTACT INFORMATION. THANK YOU. I get it. Some of you might get excited and want to see this stuff in the game, especially the clothes, tack, and pets. However, the only way I want to see this in the game is if I get paid for it. If I see it in the game and I’m not paid for it, there will be hell to pay. You think I’m salty. I’d be angry. Personally, I’m not going to send this info to SSO. If you do, leave my contact information there! Don’t give them any excuses to steal.

Now, I’ll know you haven’t read this note if you leave me comments about how ‘salty’ I am about the game and if I hate it so much I should do something else. I am doing something else. It’s called Mystic Riders MMORPG Project. Mystic Riders however is a very baby phase game. You can check out our plans on the game dev blog. (Skills, Factions, Professions, Crafting, Mini-Games, 25+ horse breeds!) If you know anyone who would be interested and has money or contacts about game making, direct them to the blog.

[xylune]

Pfft...

Update on my living situation below. Beware; thar be monsters here!

Okay. People have sometimes asked me what inspires some of the situations in my stories, and I don’t think it’s an exaggeration to say: “my fucked up life, that’s what!”

When I got home from work today, I found a notice of non-renewal nailed to my front door. They’re giving me until the end of this month to get out or they will charge me $25 per day after the 31st, and they (not so subtly) threatened to take me to court and force me to pay double the rent if I don’t comply.

Thing is, I was already packing before even informing these gentrifying fucks that I wouldn’t be renewing my lease and couldn’t justify paying a grand per month for what is essentially a rotting closet with a broken toilet seat, no stove, moth infestations and termites. Not to mention the ants. I have to feed my cat in a chair because if I leave her food on the floor, ants swarm it after about an hour no matter what I do.

So these greedy property grabbers actually think that I can pay double rent when I’m moving out because I couldn’t afford an extra hundred-fifty per month? Fucking assholes. You can’t sue the poor; we have nothing to give to you.

Anyway, my car broke down right after I paid my final month’s rent. I really should have just refused to pay that and kept it for my moving expenses, because they are required by law to give me 30 days to leave. In fact I think their threat to charge 25 a day is bullshit and all I really have to do is report them for collecting rent on a property without a stove. Yeah, fine me, bitch. Or try to. If you want to be slapped with the title of “Slum Lord” and sued by the fucking state for illegally collecting rent from me, you do that.

Oh, right. The car. It required a new radiator, two new fans, two new hoses. All up it came to $800. Fortunately, I’ve been going to my regular mechanic for two years and he’s letting me pay it off in increments. What’s fucked up is that I could have paid the whole thing UP FRONT if it weren’t for the fact that I decided to take the high road and pay my rent.

That cuntwaffle landlord has cost me way too much. Why did I have to be such an idiot and pay, just to have the same number of days I would have gotten for free to get out of here? Ugh! So much for humanity. They’ve shown me none in return...but my mechanic certainly has in his generosity, and my friend is saving me from homelessness so I should count my blessings.

One other (very important) point I want to make that does tie into my personal situation and millions of others, folks: Gentrification. It’s predominant here in Florida, as well as other states attractive to wealthy people looking to retire or just live in warmer climates. They price out the low income people, the struggling poor, the families. The population of transients in St. Petersburg FL is rising each year. Yes, there are plenty of job opportunities--which is what drew me here--but the cost of rent is beyond absurd.

There are more working homeless people here than some people can even imagine, and I’m a hair’s breath away from joining their ranks. I’ve spoken to some of them at the shelter down the block from the place I’m now vacating. They had homes. Most of them do have jobs. They aren’t just “leeches”. They work hard, and they lost their homes because the cost of having a roof over your head to call your own in this shithole sucks up more than 70% of the average person’s wages.

It’s also a “right to work” state, which basically means “right to fire for whatever the fuck reason the employer wants to make up”. People that used to be high on the totem pole got canned for no bloody reason except that their wages became too high to suit the company, so they booted them to train another unfortunate to take their place...until that person too gets promoted enough for it to be too much of a drain on corporate finances.

Do Not Move To Florida unless you are rich or 55+ in age. This place will lure you in with promises of jobs and beaches and sun and surf, only to suck up everything you earn with rent costs and property taxes. By the time you realize the problem, you’re stuck here. You can’t afford to save money to get out, because everything you earn is going into survival. Eventually, you might end up being one of the backpackers drifting from shelter to shelter.

Just some advice. Be careful of states with “high employment” because lots of job opportunities doesn’t mean affordable housing, health care or high enough wages to cover the cost of living. Visit Florida on vacation, but don’t move here unless you have a sizeable inheritance, job security that guarantees at least 2k a month in wages, or the means to buy your own home. Even if you can buy your own home, the property taxes here will murder you.

Florida is the retirement state for a reason. All affordable mobile home parks and apartments here are for ages 55+. Anyone younger than that is screwed. That’s why I’m moving in with someone who happens to live in a 55+ community, as are a LOT of younger people here in Florida. Three of my friends have had to do the same; rent a room from someone in a 55+ community because everywhere else is too fucking expensive.

[gold-from-straw]

Enough - ch6/8 (possibly 9...)

AT LAST! Erik arrives, half way through the fic! On the plus side, this is now ACTUALLY and officially a Cherik fic since they are at least on screen together. on the down side... this is not going to make it any less angsty, I’m sorry!

Read from the start on AO3!

Charles regretted being out in New York on the day of the protest. The streets were crowded with mutants and allies, and behind them trailed the counter protesters, the ugly hum of anger thick in the air, pressing on his temples and making him flinch at shadows.

He hurried down the side street. His errand was over, another student booked to visit the school in a week. Luckily this one had supportive parents who wanted to look around as well, make sure their child was going to be well cared for while they learned to hone and control their teleporting powers.

He heard the minds before he saw the men, before he heard their feet pounding on the tarmac. Run quick round here Trask’s waiting we’ll get him fuck he’s fast run!

Charles flinched back as two men raced past. Even with the loud projecting, they were both surrounded by a haze of fear, but unlike someone just running away, they were also saturated with anticipation… even excitement.

Seconds behind them, legs and arms pumping, came a tall, furious looking man, projecting determination, and righteous anger, and Charles knew with a horrifying certainty that he was running into a trap. “Wait!” he yelled, and tore after him.

He could hear the voices ahead of him, the first men had doubled back and were standing with a trio of other minds, and in a panic, Charles reached out into the pursuer’s mind and cried out again, wait!

The man stopped and spun on his heel, glaring at Charles. “Was that you?”

Charles caught up to him, breathing hard, and held his finger to his lip. But it was too late - the other minds were coming closer, anticipation a tingling zing to the edges of their minds. “Please, trust me?” he asked the tall man.

The man curled his lip up, but before he could retort, the ambush arrived.

Charles gripped the man’s elbow and concentrated hard, pressing his fingers to his temple in his old childhood crutch. He reached into their minds, a part of him already bemoaning the loss of his morals, yet again, and simply cut himself and the man out of their awareness.

“Well, where the hell is he?”

“He was right here!”

“What are you--”

Shhh! Charles insisted in the man’s mind, and oh God he had such a beautiful mind, it was all he could do not to reach in, brush against all the sweeping lines, the architecture of it. It’s harder if you talk.

“You said he was following you!” snapped one of the ambushers, a bulky guy in combat trousers and black boots.

“He was,” insisted the second runner who’d passed Charles. He was almost pleading with his boss.

“Well he sure as hell ain’t here now,” yelled Combats. “You fucked up, that’s what happened. You were supposed to piss Lehnsherr off enough that he’d have to follow you, and now what? What are we going to do with the transport we’ve hired?”

The man at Charles' side, Lehnsherr, tensed at this, radiating a fury so powerful that Charles was amazed the attackers couldn’t feel it.

“I swear, boss, he was following us,” whined runner number two. “He should be here.”

“He was, definitely,” nodded runner number one, nodding. “We hit that blonde bitch with the dart, and we made sure he saw us - he was definitely coming after us.”

Combats threw his hands up. “Well he’s not here now, is he?”

The two runners looked at each other and shuffled their feet like naughty schoolboys as their boss ranted and raved. Charles was considering pushing them to leave, making the decision for them, when Lehnsherr reached out his hand. The metal of the fire escapes whipped out like cobras, curling tendrils around the three men’s arms and hauling them up, trapping them against the wall. Lehnsherr grinned, all his teeth showing in vicious glee, and stepped forwards out of Charles’ grip, lifting a huge rubbish skip in front of the screaming, writhing captives.

For a moment, Charles was staggered by the overwhelming beauty of his mind as he used his powers, aurorae dancing around his senses, reaching out and limning all the metal in the immediate vicinity with a twisting light. He lost his grip on the men’s minds as he stared and soaked up the incredible presence.

Then he yelled and rushed forwards, standing between the men and Lehnsherr. “Don’t! You’ll kill them!”

“Yes, that’s rather the point,” he said dryly.

“You can’t just kill them!”

“It’s better than what they’d have done to me, isn’t it? I bet they’d take you, as well, a powerful telepath like yourself. Where did you have in mind, boys? Some lab somewhere in the wilderness? Pump me full of drugs, see how far you can push me, how much it’ll take to tear away my powers, how much it’ll take to make them explode uncontrolably? Why do you think I should let you live?”

His mind was sharp-edged with fury and grief, but Charles held up both his hands and took a step closer. “Because you have it in you to be the better man.”

“We already are the better men,” he snarled. “These… these baselines are the Neanderthals of the present, they know they’re in the presence of the next stage of human evolution, and they’re fighting their own extinction.”

Charles rolled his eyes so hard it hurt. “Oh, and you were doing so well! Don’t tell me you’re still subscribing to that utterly Victorian notion that evolution is a linear process with some sort of optimum species in mind. And here I was thinking you were intelligent - your mind is so beautiful, how can you still believe that Homo neanderthalis was in any way inferior to Homo sapiens? You do know that nearly all people of European origin have approximately two percent Neanderthal DNA, and that Neandertals and Homo sapiens populations lived side by side for centuries, interbreeding, until finally genetic drift and climate change and the end of the megafauna spelled the end of them, don’t you?”

The alleyway was silent. Water dripped in the corner.

Charles cleared his throat. “Anyway. What I’m saying is that… umm… just don’t use biology as your excuse for bigotry and supremacist leanings.”

Lehnsherr bit his lip, creases forming at the corners of his eyes. “Two percent, hmm?”

“Yes,” said Charles primly, crossing his arms.

“Well, that’s very interesting information, Mr…?”

“Xavier. Charles Xavier. Now, are you going to put that skip down?”

“Skip?”

“Garbage… thing. Whatever you Americans call it.”

“I’m not American, I’m German.”

“Well, I don’t know what you call it in Germany- look, are you going to put it down or are you going to discuss linguistics?”

“I’d much rather discuss biology,” he said, lowering the skip to the ground and completely ignoring the squirming, yelling humans still pinned to the wall behind them. “Say, over coffee?”

Charles blinked rapidly. “I… I beg your pardon?”

Lehnsherr held up his hands. “Sorry, I mean… platonic coffee would be good too. But if my gaydar is correct...”

“You want to take me out for coffee?”

“If you want to accompany me, yes.”

Charles opened and shut his mouth, completely lost for words. He bit his lip, and Lehnsherr flicked his eyes down, and back up to his eyes. “Ummm… your, uh… your gaydar’s correct,” he said at last, weakly.

Lehnsherr grinned, shark-like, and his mind sparked at the edges, like flint on steel. “Excellent. Oh- I do still want to hear more about Neanderthals, of course. I’m not just asking you out because you’ve got glorious blue eyes and the most fantastic mutation I’ve ever seen.”

Charles’ butterflies didn’t know what to do with themselves. He felt himself breaking into a wide, utterly silly grin, and goodness knows what he would have said if the captives hadn���t spoken up just then.

“Oh, Christ, they’re faggots as well.”

Charles turned and narrowed his eyes at them as Lehnsherr lifted the skip again, making them shriek and howl in fear. He held out his hand to Lehnsherr. “Wait, I’ve got a better idea. One that won’t send you to prison.” He pulled out his phone and dialed. “Hey, Moira? Yes, we’ve got three men here who just attacked my friend and I. If you come down to…” he looked around. “Cortlandt alley, I think? I’ll check and text you my location anyway. We’ve got a lovely little trio, armed with tranquilisers and suppressants, and a van somewhere they’ve been planning to use to transport their victims. Oh, perfect. Thank you, Moira, I owe you one.” He glanced up at Lehnsherr. “I think my friend and I will clear out before you get here. It’s still a bit hairy for mutants in this area, if you know what I mean. Yes, thank you. You know how to get hold of me.”

He hung up and smiled sweetly at the men, straining at their bonds. “You’ll never get away with this, mutie scum,” snarled one of them.

Charles pursed his lips and tutted. “Oh really. This isn’t Scooby-doo. And I have very good links with the local police. And quite exceptional lawyers, as well.” He turned to Lehnsherr. “Shall we?”

Lehnsherr raised an eyebrow, mischief twinkling. “I still say we should kill them.”

Charles shrugged. “Well, as I said, my lawyers really are very good, so…”

He laughed, throwing his head back, and Charles felt shockwaves of desire rushing through him. He pushed them back, trying to stay pragmatic. He would enjoy this for as long as he got, but at some point this gorgeous man, this beautiful mind, would remember what he was, what he could do, and he’d move on. But first, maybe there would be coffee…

[fandom-imagines-stories]

This Isn’t Over, Kid

Tony Stark x Daughter Reader, Peter Parker x Reader,

Words: 2736

Part One

Summary: Again, spoilers for Infinity War. The reader and the other Avengers are making plans to undo everything Thanos has done. Tony and Cap continue to argue while the reader replays the final battle over and over again in her mind.

Notes: I just really wanted to add more to Peter and the reader’s relationship, including his final moments.

“Y/N!” Your father called out as Thanos launched you away from him, your suit had already been nearly destroyed. There were no blasters to keep you from hitting the ground. You closed your eyes, awaiting the pain.

“I’ve got you.” A voice comforted, arms latching around you. Peter held onto you as the metal legs of his suit kept the two of you from hitting the ground. “Don’t worry, I’ve got you.”

“Peter, if we don’t…” You started.

“Don’t even think about it. We can still win this.” He said. The Guardians ran towards Thanos, but he knocked them back with a wave of energy. They started to float off, but Peter set you down and started grabbing them with his webs. You turned back to Thanos and froze. Your father was on the ground, Thanos continuously hitting him.

“Dad!” You screamed, running towards them as fast as you possibly could. Tony got up, facing the giant Titan, refusing to give up. As you drew closer, Thanos began to aim the gauntlet at you.

“Not today you son of a bitch.” Tony growled, his suit forming a blade as he thrust it towards Thanos. Thanos grabbed his arm and snapped off the metal weapon. Before Tony had a chance to think, Thanos turned the blade on him and drove it into his side.

You could tell that his side was still hurting him by the way his hand subconsciously fell to it when he stood. He could tell that you were sore with every step that you took. It was strange- even when you weren’t living with him, whenever there was something wrong with the other, the two of you could tell. And no matter how busy he was, he always managed to clear some time for you, especially when you were upset.

But now was different, and you both knew that. This wasn’t some high-school mean girl making fun of your shoes or whatever had seemed so important back then. People were dead. Half the population of the entire universe, to be precise. And one of them was… Peter. The one boy that you fell head over heels for from the moment you met him. And your father promised you that he’d bring him back.

He blamed himself. You saw that more than anyone. He thought that if Dr. Strange had just let him die, none of this would have happened. You wanted to tell him that it wasn’t his fault. That Thanos would have gotten the stone anyway and there would be one more person gone. And you wouldn’t have been able to handle it.

“Hey,” Bruce greeted awkwardly from the doorway. You were sitting in the lounge, trying to brainstorm a way to find Thanos. “How are you holding up?”

“I'll be fine once we get everyone back.” You sighed. Bruce nodded and sat down across from you.

“You shouldn’t have to worry about this kind of stuff.” He noted sadly.

“Well that’s our lives now, so I might as well get used to it.” You shrugged.

“Banner,” Tony said from the doorway. “Cap wants to talk to all of us.” Both of you stood. Tony gave you a crooked smile. “Not you.” You fell back onto the chair with an irritated groan. Nobody was letting you do anything and it was driving you insane.

You grabbed a water bottle from the fridge and headed down to the gym, hoping to throw some punches alone for a little while. After your mother was murdered, you took it upon yourself to learn some self-defense- mainly boxing. It calmed you down on the days you missed her the most.

Now you just needed something to take out your frustration on. Everytime you hit the punching bag, you saw Thanos fighting your dad.

“No!” You screamed, running towards your father as he stumbled backward, a gasp escaping his lips. “Dad!”

“Stop her,” Tony ordered and you felt a pair of arms wrap tightly around your waist.

“Let me go, Peter!” You shrieked, desperately trying to break out of your boyfriend’s grasp. “Let me go!” Tony looked at you and closed his eyes, a single tear running down his face.

You saw Thanos disappearing with the Time Stone after Dr. Strange gave it to him to save Tony.

As soon as Thanos vanished, you finally broke away from Peter and sprinted to your father. You stumbled across the rocks but kept going until you were in his arms. Tony held unto you, after mending his wound as best as he could for now. He hadn’t been ready to die. He couldn’t do that to you. He couldn’t leave you an orphan… just like he was.

“Are you okay?” You looked at the spot where he was stabbed and sighed with relief that it wasn’t fatal. But as the others started to gather, the realization hit you. Starlord looked around in horror.

“Did we just… lose?”

Most of all, you saw Peter. You heard the fear in his voice and saw his eyes looking up at you.

You felt numb. Thanos had won. People were fading away left and right; Starlord, Dr. Strange, and the others. And all you could do was stand there and watch.

“Mr. Stark….” Peter started beside you. He took your hand. “I don’t feel so good.” He stumbled forward, but you and Tony caught him.

“No no no, you’re okay.” You pleaded. “You’re going to be fine, Peter.” You could feel him start to shake.

“I don’t want to go.” He whispered, his voice filled with fear. “I don’t want to go. Please, sir, I don’t want to go.”

“You’re okay.” Tony shook his head, laying Peter down on the ground.

“Peter, please.” You ran your fingers through his hair. He reached up his hand to wipe away a falling tear from your cheek.

“I’m sorry.” His face broke apart into dust and drifted away as you tried to cling to him. But soon, you held nothing but the air and a memory.

You landed one final hit to the punching bag before resting your forehead against it, trying to catch your breath. Emotions ravaged through you and you couldn’t keep from shaking.

“I feel bad for that bag.” A voice said from the doorway. Bruce walked in with a sympathetic look on his face. “You okay?”

“I’m fine.” You snapped. He cocked an eyebrow. You were never good at lying to him. “I can’t stop thinking about it. All of it. And now, nobody will let me help and I’m just stuck here.” You slid down, sitting with your back against the wall. “I need to do something. Away from here.” Bruce sat down next to you.

“What did you have in mind?” You gave him a look.

“After my mom died, my dad bought our old house. He wanted me to be able to go somewhere that he knew about whenever we weren’t getting along or when I was upset. I just thought that I could really use that right now.” You sniffed and wiped a tear away with the back of your hand. Bruce put a comforting hand on your shoulder.

“I’ve still got a car.” He offered. Tony was going to kill him, but you’d always been like a daughter to him and you were hurting. He wanted to do something to help. “We could drive down to the city for the day, maybe stay there for a little while, if that’s what you want.”

“They need you here.” You argued.

“Yeah well, without the other guy, I’m not much help. I kind of understand how you feel in all this.” You looked at him and he gave you a small smile. “It’s up to you.” You thought for a moment. It wasn’t like you were going to be missed here. You pulled him into a hug.

“Thank you.” The two of you stood and made your way to the garage, but not before you stuck a note to the door of your bedroom, telling your father that you needed to clear your head.

“Ready?” Bruce asked, unlocking his car. You nodded.

“Let’s go.”

“Peter…” You gasped as if all of the air had been sucked out of you. “No.” You clawed at the red dirt of Titan’s surface, each tear that fell turning blood-red. “Come back! No! Peter!” You screamed, letting the pain take over you. “Peter!” You kept scratching the ground, rocks digging into your skin.

“Y/N,” Tony said softly. You let out another anguished cry. He pulled you to him, putting his own grief aside to try and comfort you. You buried your face in his shoulder and he held the back of your head as you sobbed against his suit. You tried to push away from him, but he held you tightly. “Y/N, stop.” You still tried to get away.

“We have to save him. We have to-” You could barely breath in between sobs. “Peter!” Finally, you gave up. You let your father practically pull you into his lap and hold onto you like you were the only thing he had left. Maybe you were. There was no way of knowing who else was gone so for that moment, the two of you were all each other had.

Neither of you knew how long you were just sitting there, completely alone on a deserted planet. But there was a loud sound and a bright light flashed before you. There, looking tired and despairing, was Thor. Tony stood and tried to lift you up with him, but you wouldn’t move.

“I can’t leave him.” You refused. Tony sighed sadly.

“Sweetie… we have to go.” His eyes pleaded with you and even though you shook your head, you were far too tired to argue. So he scooped you up in his arms, like you were still that little girl running around his apartment, and carried you back home.

It was exactly as you remembered it, but something about it just felt… different. The drive here was in mostly silence, Bruce occasionally asking about things from before Thanos. Conversation safe topics- school, mostly. But even that was difficult. You went to Midtown Science. Your dad had offered to enroll you in more advanced schools, but you liked Midtown. You could study your engineering without the bother of stuck-up brats asking you insult-laced questions about Stark Industries.

It was where you met Peter.

“Do you want anything to eat?” You asked Bruce as he looked around. “I’m sure I’ve still got some cereal in the cabinet somewhere.” You always stashed snacks for when you needed to blow off steam after school before heading back to your dad’s place. Bruce shook his head, thanking you for the offer. “Make yourself at home.”

As he examined the contents of your mother’s bookshelf, you slowly entered your old bedroom. It was smaller than the one you had now, but it was the room you’d grown up in. There was a picture of you and your mother on the nightstand from when you went to Niagara Falls when you were eight. You sat down on your bed, picking up the frame.

“I wish you were here.” You whispered. Your tears fell onto the glass and you tried to wipe them away. “You would know exactly what to do. You would tell me to stop feeling sorry for myself and get up and get him back.” You clutched the picture to your chest, looking up at the ceiling. “I’m trying, mom.”

Back in the living room, Bruce made sure you were gone and answered his phone, which had been ringing since you’d both left headquarters. He had to pull the phone away from his ear when he heard Tony’s angry shouts.

“Where the hell are you? And where is Y/N?” He demanded. Bruce took a deep breath.

“She’s with me and we’re perfectly safe, Tony.” He assured him.

“You’re kidding me right?” Tony scoffed. “Half of the earth was just wiped out. People are panicking. It’s chaotic.”

“She needed to get out, Tony.” Bruce ran a hand over his face. “I just wanted to give her a break.”

“I’m coming to get you. Where are you?”

“I don’t think she wants to see you right now.”

“I don’t care!” Tony exclaimed. “I am her father.”

“I’m sorry, Tony.” Bruce hung up before Tony could say anything else. He quickly hid his phone as he saw you enter from the other room. “Hey… how are you feeling?” He saw your red eyes and the tear streaks drying on your cheeks. You pushed everything down and gave him a smile.

“I’m gonna make some popcorn.” You announced. “I’m sure there are still some cheesy old rom-coms under the TV.” You disappeared back into the kitchen and Bruce exhaled the breath he didn’t realize he was holding. He tried to convince himself that he was doing the right thing, letting you take a break from everything and everyone, but he couldn’t help but wonder if keeping it from Tony was a bad idea.

It didn’t take much to get Bruce to agree to your favorite movie that you used to watch with your mom. You could tell that he was just trying to make you happy. You almost felt the urge to laugh. Two years ago, you were sitting on this couch, probably watching this same movie, with your mother. You’re only worry was what you were going to wear to all those stupid middle school dances. Now your only friend was a middle-aged man who turned into a giant green monster when he got cranky.

You’d barely gotten through the beginning credits when a bright light and the sound of metal feet coming up the sidewalk signaled the end of your little getaway. Both of you went outside to see a furious Tony standing on the porch, his suit already fading off.

“Dad-” You started but he held up a hand to stop you.

“Not now.” He snapped. He eyed one of his closest friends like he’d just kidnapped his kid. “Care to explain, Bruce?”

“I asked him to-” Again he stopped you.

“The adults are talking!”

“I offered to bring her here, Tony.” Bruce sighed. “This isn’t her-”

“It is my fault!” You shouted. “It was my idea and I dragged you into it.” You turned to your father. “I needed to get out okay? It was all driving me crazy! You promised that we’d get everyone back! You promised to get him back and we’re still standing here doing nothing!” You screamed, stepping towards him. Tony closed his eyes.

“Bruce, I think I need to talk to my daughter alone.” His tone was calm, but you could tell he was barely keeping it together. Bruce nodded and informed that he would be inside if he was needed. He opened his eyes again and you could see the hurt within them. “You don’t think I’m trying? I have been busting my ass to get Peter back. You’re not the only one who cared about him, Y/N. Peter was my responsibility and I let him down.” You sat down on the porch swing and brought your legs up, tucking them under your chin.

“Sometimes I wonder why we even try.” You admitted. “We couldn’t stop Thanos in the first place, so how are we supposed to reverse what he’s done?” You sniffed and wiped away your tears with your sleeve. “God, I can’t stop crying. It’s pathetic.”

“Hey,” Tony said softly, taking a seat next to you. “This isn’t over, kid. We aren’t going to stop until we get him back. And if we’re gonna do that, we’re going to need every person we’ve got.” You looked at him.

“Really? You’re going to let me help?” Every part of Tony wanted to say no, but maybe Cap was right. Besides, you had handled yourself the last time.

“Only if you promise to be careful.” He said in his best ‘dad voice’. Your face brightened and you pulled him into a hug.

“Thank you.” You whispered, pulling away. Tony smiled and wrapped an arm around your shoulders, both of you looking up at the sky. “Mom would know what to do.” Tony chuckled, remembering your mother’s fiery wisdom. She always seemed to know the answer to everything.

“Yeah… she would.”