#i know a lot of assholes shoot but like. man. this knowledge hits different. i hate this bitch so much

[kenobihater]

just found out joe rogan shoots archery BRB currently flinging myself from the nearest precipice to end my suffering

[artbyflor]

Okay but what’s your opinion of Harry being kinda an asshole as a dad in cc?

hii! i was honestly expecting this question haha

i tried to keep it as short as possible, but there’s honestly a lot to say

(as with most of my answers regarding The Cursed Child, there’s going to be a part where i point out what i liked, and where i think it went wrong.)

i’m going to start by saying that i thought it was realistic. good intentions are not always enough, not only when it comes to parenting, but also to life in general.

what do i mean by this? well, Harry clearly loved Albus (as well as Lily and James) and he was clearly trying, but he was also clearly hitting the wrong note and not making the smartest of the moves.

and i think this is in character for Harry. most of the time, Harry has the best of the intentions, but doesn’t make the best choices. he tends to be stubborn, act with his feelings rather than with his brain, and he also tends to be oblivious and a bit self-centered with his feelings.

with all of this in mind, i think it’s realistic that he would struggle to connect with Albus, because Albus is very similar to him in these aspects (i would also like to add that Albus has a lot of insecure feelings and traits that Ginny had when she was younger, but that’s for another post. i could make an entire post talking about Albus as a character tbh)

but to keep on with Harry, there’s also the fact that Harry’s parenting seems to work great with Lily and James, so he would fail to realize why it’s not working with Albus (and here Scorpius comes into play too, because it is implied in the story that Harry thinks that Scorpius is this “black cloud”, aka bad influence, that is pushing Albus away from his family) so he would stubbornly keep trying the same, thinking that something else is wrong, instead of realizing his the one at fault

Albus is also very complex on his own, and has his own baggage of issues and insecurities. aaaand he is also kind of a brat sometimes. but that’s expected from a literal 14 years old, so in all honesty, Harry should be the one knowing better. but he doesn’t, and to be fair, it’s not entirely his fault.

here’s where i’d like to point out that Harry never had a healthy family, much less any stable or secure influences by his side. he would not only lack the knowledge, but he would also be dealing with his own trauma and struggles. i believe that for Harry, admitting that he is failing as a father is a bigger deal than anyone would realize. Harry had a lot of paternal influences failing or leaving him, and the idea of having a family (and parents) has always been important for him. i feel like this plays an important role in Harry’s action.

honestly? this play should have been called: Harry Potter and Why Everyone Should Go To Therapy (especially Harry Potter himself) 

now. with all of this in mind.... there’s that scene. that scene where Harry said that infamous “i wish you weren’t my son”. and man. that’s a hard to swallow pill. 

on one hand, Harry is a person that shoots to kill when it comes to words, but i don’t think this is something Harry would say to any of his kids, for the very same reasons i stated above. 

Harry cares about this, about the concept of family. he always cared about having a father, about having a family, about belonging and being loved. it’s not a secondary trait, it’s been one of his major insecurities growing up. so for him to say this? i don’t know man... 

i don’t find it unbelievable that Harry would unintentionally hurt Albus’ feelings, but i don’t think this is something Harry would even think subconsciously, so i find it very hard to swallow. 

i wish they had used a different line, or just played the scene differently, because this wasn’t it for me.

so, to sump up? i approve the concept, and i find it realistic and interesting. but then it has some parts where i’m just like.... *big sigh*

i’m not going to bash the entire play, because i do think it had some solid character building and relationships dynamics (that in my opinion need to be recognized). but some parts (like these ones) are just... not quite it, chief. 

tl;dr: i have a complex relationship with the cursed child 

[arlingtonpark]

SNK 134 Review

Thank you. Thank you so much. This means so much to me.

(Ofc this chapter is called “In the Depths of Despair.”)

Sigh.

So, I guess I have to have an opinion on this chapter now.

For a while there, it looked like SNK had made the right choice.

Eren was the asshole. He was insubordinate, ungrateful, uncooperative, and above all else, a fucking sociopath. Cool, got it. One and done.

But then his friends started talking about how it was really their fault he’s doing this.

Ok, that’s fine. They’re desperate to stop him, so they’re just saying whatever they think will ingratiate themselves with Eren and help talk him down. Dynamics like that are very common in abusive relationships.

Now we arrive at this chapter, where even random people are saying Eren is a victim *as he is murdering them!*

It is patently absurd that Eren is having a warranted or natural or reasonable reaction to what he’s been through.

If Eren were a better person, he would have known that mass murder against the Eldians was wrong because mass murder is wrong. Unfortunately, Eren is a fundamentally amoral person. The only moral compass he has to guide him is a childish belief in “you hit me, so I get to hit you.”

He’s said as much on multiple occasions. He has said, “If someone tries to take my freedom away, I will take their freedom away.”

Instead of being the better man and ending the killing, his solution was to kill more people than them, faster and on a larger scale.

I think the clearest picture of Eren’s worldview was given when he spoke to Historia. He said the only way to end the cycle of violence was to destroy the whole world.

That is Eren’s deeply felt belief: there can be no peace or coexistence; the only way to win is to be the last man standing.

This mindset is so natural to him that he will even kill his friends for opposing him.

He told them that they were free to oppose him, and he was free to fight back. That’s how he justifies killing them to himself. They have the choice to oppose him, so if he fights back and kills them, it’s their fault they died, not his, because they could have made the choice to flee and live, but decided to stand and die.

In reality, the alliance is fulfilling a moral duty to protect life, while Eren is an asshole who has killed billions.

The series wasn’t kind to Eren about that. He was depicted as a cheering child as he murdered everyone. The Rumbling was not white washed either. The take away was obviously that Eren’s decision was not the product of a sound mind.

And yet.

Now I have to wonder if the series is seriously trying to say the Rumbling embodies some form of justice.

There are multiple layers to this issue, so let’s start at the surface level.

So in what is obviously a ham-fisted attempt by Isayama to lecture the audience about morality, a Random Commander Guy filibusters about the ills cast by the Marleyans on the Eldians and how this has rebounded back at them.

It is generally considered good writing for characters to get their just desserts. If someone sells drugs to kids, you expect something bad to happen to them. If someone helps a kid cross the street, you expect something good to happen to them.

What’s different between a generic case of just desserts in a story and this chapter in SNK is that the dessert is typically delivered through some nebulous, karmic force, rather than a vengeful twerp with God-like powers.

When the drug dealer’s car blows up, it’s karmic fate, not revenge.

The car doesn’t blow up because one of the kids devoted his life to exacting revenge, it’s because the car just blows up for no reason, or because something completely unrelated to the dealer causes a bomb to be planted in the car, or the dealer brought it on themselves by getting caught up with terrorists.

People may or may not deserve to suffer, but it’s fine to show people suffering if you’re just trying to make a point about how people should act.

Eren’s a different case. For several reasons.

To help untangle why, let’s think about the death penalty.

The death penalty is an example of retributive justice. Put simply, it’s the idea that retribution can be morally just.

The Rumbling is immoral precisely because it is something a supporter of retributive justice would emphatically NOT support.

Most supporters of the death penalty would justify it as an act by a legitimate societal authority. Eren is not that.

Eren is not an authority figure. He does not speak for the Eldian people and has no right to exact this genocide on their behalf. No one made him King of the Eldians. It’s not his place to decide what’s in the Eldian’s best interest.

Also, killing people because “it’s what the scumbag deserves” is usually justified because it’s a sentence for a crime handed down in a legal process.

Rights can be taken away, but not arbitrarily. Transparency is an important part of this. Acts that are a crime are public knowledge, as well as the prescribed punishments. The criminal law is also supposed to apply to everyone equally, not selectively. To say nothing of the law itself being duly enacted by a legitimate governmental authority.

The same principles apply to the process by which a right is taken away. The process must be laid out in a law that was duly enacted by a legitimate government authority, applies to everyone, and is publicly known.

Eren’s process, of *fucking* course, is nothing like this. Eren has no legitimate authority. He’s a Guy With an Opinion who bumbled into attaining absolute power, and now he’s acting on that Opinion.

He not the government punishing a convict. He’s a guy with a gun shooting people he doesn’t like. The Rumbling is not just retribution, it’s just murder.

Commander Guy says that if they knew this would happen, they would have acted differently.

That’s a good point.

Why the fuck do they deserve to die, then?

To some extent, everyone’s worse impulses are kept in check by the knowledge that there will be consequences if they act rashly.

But it’s not just that.

Laws are public knowledge for a reason: it’s fair. If you know your act is a crime and that performing said act will result in a certain punishment, then by committing the act anyway you have tacitly accepted whatever punishment will be meted out.

The moral onus is placed on you.

This is why knowledge that you are committing a crime is necessary to be convicted of a crime.

In principle, the case with the Marleyans is the same. Is it fair to punish someone for an act they did not know would carry that punishment? No.

They may know the act was immoral, but that is not the same thing as knowing it will lead directly to their death.

And needless to say, but you only deserve to be punished for an act if you deserve to be punished for that act. The Marleyans do not deserve to be punished for that act.

There are multiple ways a wrong can be righted. There are punitive ways, in which the perpetrator is harmed outright. There are also restorative ways, in which the victim is compensated for the harm done to them, usually at the expense of the perpetrator.

I have already explained why Eren lacks the authority to pass judgement on the world, and that the process by which he made his decision was completely illegitimate, but it needs to be said that this punishment is totally improper in itself.

Wiping out humanity is purely punitive. To use the obvious analogy, I don’t think any sane person would argue white people deserve to be punished for racism. Supporters of racial justice usually talk about restorative, rather than punitive, forms of justice, like reparations.

The Rumbling does not make the Eldians whole again. It does not restore their trampled dignity. It is purely an act of vengeance.

Casting it as some kind of deserving retribution is crazy.

Oh, and, you know, suffering is bad, so retributive justice is wrong even disregarding everything I just said.

You could theoretically believe life is a miracle, but that people forfeit that right if they act wrongly…it’s not something many people would support.

If Dino!Eren had been depicted as a random force of nature that visited ruination upon humanity, we could have potentially gotten a good story about how hatred leads to no good outcomes. Like how Godzilla is a metaphor for the ills of nuclear weapons.

Instead we get a nihilistic tale about two sides punching each other until one keels over dead. And somehow the one that keels over deserved it.

What makes it nihilistic is that you could easily reverse it. What if right before Eren destroys Fort Salta, aliens invade the Earth and help the Marleyans.

Now the Eldians are on the verge of annihilation and *Eldian* Commander Guy gets his turn to say “Woe is us who surrendered to hate. We deserve this.”

There is no right side or wrong side. No deserving side or innocent side. The Eldians were cheering for genocide the same as the Marleyans. The difference is the Eldians had a God on their side.

The morality of this series is just all over the place.

The Alliance and Eren are equally sinful, but now Eren is an agent of karmic destiny and his victims “deserve it.”

There isn’t much to talk about this chapter besides that.

Armin still hopes to take Eren alive, but good luck with that.

Eren can manifest other titans from his body, which is cool I guess, though it’s pretty clear this power only exists to give the Alliance things to fight.

There were a lot of allusions to parenthood this chapter. The baby and the cliff. Reiner’s mom realizing how shitty she’s been. Historia’s pregnancy. The Commander Guy saying it’s the fault of “us adults.” The numerous shots emphasizing the kids at Fort Salta.

Child abuse is a common theme of SNK. And not just parental abuse, but societal abuse, too. Children are the victims of individual foibles and broader social ills, like racism and police brutality.

The cycle of violence at the heart of the series’ conflict is bad for everyone, but the story emphasizes that it is bad for children in particular. It harms them, and leads to a world that is worse off for them.

If there’s one takeaway from SNK, it’s that we should think of the children. Adults shouldn’t just take care of their kids, they should fix broader social issues, if not for themselves then for the children’s sake.

It’s a fucking insult.

Historia’s pregnancy is all but confirmed here. There’s no way it’s fake. There may have been motive to fake being pregnant, but there is no fucking way she’d have a reason to fake *birth*.

I always leaned towards the pregnancy being real, so that didn’t get to me. What gets me is that Historia is just…there. On Paradis. On the sidelines.

Not only was Historia, who is the only likable female character in this show now, impregnated, she’s also been MIA most the last two story arcs.

I had thought Isayama was saving her for the finale. Surely, Isayama understands that if you sideline a major character for no reason, they have to come into play at some point, I thought. Surely.

Characters are tools; they exist to be used. So use them.

But no, it seems Historia is legit not going to be a thing in this final battle. My dreams of the domineering boss saving the day are dashed.

But what really messes with me is how shafted Historia has been since basically the end of the Uprising Arc.

Historia’s only contribution to the plot after Uprising, but before the pregnancy was making the disastrous decision to make the truth of the world public, which paved the way for Paradis society to become radicalized and back Eren’s coup.

She has done nothing other than that.

Obviously her pregnancy will have thematic importance, but at this point the best Historia stans can hope for is that she’s the main character in the epilogue.

I’ve always assumed the pregnancy was the product of a loving relationship. For all his incompetence with Historia, I was willing to assume Isayama would not force her to carry a forcibly impregnated child to term.

And you know that even if the child is the product of rape, Historia will still have to say she loves and accepts them as her child and will raise them lovingly, with no regard or acknowledgement of the trauma of having to raise a child born out of her being raped.

Because the theme of the story.

All life is a miracle.

All children deserve to be loved.

Even if it was rape.

Except it’s more complicated than that, and I’m terrified to think that Isayama may not understand that.

So for now, I choose to presume that Historia is pregnant because she loves someone, decided to have a family with them, and we’re being led to believe she was raped for shock value.

But arguably more important is what this means for the queer audience.

Historia’s first love interest was another woman.

She’s queer. A lesbian. A dyke. What have you.

Now you’re telling me she either loves a man, or was not only raped, but has to love and accept the child that results from that trauma?

And for what?

So we can end the manga on a speech by Historia moralizing about the value of posterity?

Historia stands at the nexus of two subjects in this manga: the value of posterity and the denigration of queer people.

It is very homophobic of this series to pair a queer character with a dude to affirm a message about the value of children and motherhood.

As if queer people can’t have children.

We seem to be headed down that path.

It didn’t have to be like this.

Queer people can have children through artificial insemination. And artificial insemination is conceivable with Paradis’ current level of technological development.

Isayama is choosing to do this because queer people are not a part of his vision of a world where people, especially children, are able to live free.

That’s very sad, because it shows how empty SNK’s morals are.

So who’s the slave here?

Who here is truly free?

The ones who are free are the ones who aren’t reading Attack on Titan anymore.

[jngles]

Thoughts You Definitely All Asked For on ‘The Mandalorian’ Season 2 Finale!!

These are in chronological order for the show.

One of my biggest fears about them reintroducing Boba Fett was that by removing some of his mystery, they would make him less cool. Thank god that has not been the case. He’s still an aloof and nasty piece of work but with dimensions added.

We all know the Empire is most often a metaphor for America right? At least when it’s not being Nazi Germany? The Imperial pilot talking about destroying an entire planet (of peaceful weaponless civilians no less) to stop terrorism hits a little too close to home of the nuclear bombs the US has dropped and the endless destruction of the Middle East in the “war against terror.” And of course we frame all our wars in similar language like “our troops died to keep our country safe,” which hasn’t really been true since WWII.

I do think it’s worth noting that this is the first time SW has had someone acknowledge the human losses of the Death Star blasts. Usually it’s framed as a loss in construction time, strategical advantage, and power. The Empire proved time and time again that the lives of its soldiers were utterly expendable, which always made me question why people remained loyal outside of fear. Through this pilot’s phrasing, you can see the propaganda Imperial superiors used to twist the truth to their followers, always blaming those deaths on Rebel aggression instead of prideful Imperial neglect (I.e. not abandoning ship when there was still time) or even direct Imperial aggression like Operation Cinder where they fired on thousands of their own (discussed in S2E7.)

You can’t tell me Din wasn’t into it when Cara shot that asshole pilot. That cold faced revenge shot? 100% Mandalorian style, and also very very hot.

I appreciate that it was a pretty equal match between Boba and Koska Reeves. So much of Boba’s advantage comes from his suit, but since she also has one, it’s a battle of wits on how to use it, and they even out. This both maintains his legendary badassery and also that of highly trained Mandalorian warriors, and hopefully avoids asshole chauvinist SW fans on the internet complaining abujt “pandering to feminism” (fuck off @ all of them, especially since Mercedes Vernado who plays Reeves is a WWE champ and could kick all of your asses.)

Din point blank asked how many Death Troopers there are and Dr. Pershing never answered, and that annoys me.

Why is no one suspicious why Dr. Pershing is being so helpful and revealing so much information? He totally did not have to tell them about the Dark Troopers or any of the specifics of locations on the ship. He’s still with the empire post-fall, implying he’s a loyalist, so... wtf on his part (since no tricks come of it), and “be smarter” on the part of everyone else. Unless he’s been captive as a clone engineer all this time. But couldn’t he have made his escape back in Season 1 when Din killed everyone at that lab to get the kid back?

Bo Katan really could’ve just told them how the retrieval of the dark saber needs to work in the flight before the mission instead of being vague about “he belongs to me.”

Boba Fett’s usage of “Princess” and “don’t worry about me” are a good throwback to Han Solo and the culture they both grew up in. You can never quite tell if it’s based in misogyny or resentment for upper classes, but both of them seem to use it as a shield for begrudging respect they hold for a woman they think is brave but following a fool’s errand (the Rebellion and retaking Mandalore).

The Comms Officer (Katy O’Brian) assisting Moff Gideon will forever and always look like Ilana Glazer to me, and then I get swept up imagining what would happen if the Broad City cast accidentally got transported to Star Wars.

The launch tube sequence has some amazing cinematography.

The second I saw Boba was cut off from the pack, I really thought they were going to kill him again and make his return bittersweet. Glad they didn’t.

God this team of Bo Katan, Koska Reeves, Fennec Shand, and Cara Dune is SO BADASS. I’m just obsessed with all these characters and their various motivations to get shit done. I honestly didn’t even think about the fact it’s all women until my re-watch, showing that the writers made it feel natural, the way women deserve to have their representation done. You can bet I am SO EXCITED for my future daughter and the wealth of possibilities she’s going to have of characters to play pretend as, action figures she can relate to, Halloween costumes to wear, etc. It’s so validating that we’ve gone from only Princess Leia as a female main character to all these women + Rey, Jyn Erso, Ahsoka, etc. etc.

Can’t wait for the trap remix of the Dark Trooper activation noises. (And the transition from that to the minimalist flute theme is perfect.)

The spy movie version of the main theme music is sick.

The Dark Trooper droid faces have a lot of similarity to Darth Vader’s mask. That callback is especially apparent when the one is literally lit from the inside with fire. He was already a martyr/legend to the Imperial remnants, Kylo Ren didn’t start the trend of ignoring his redemption.

Cara’s “excuse me” right before shooting up Stormtroopers is hilarious. Literally “can’t talk rn, doing hot girl shit and murdering space Nazis.”

Finally an Imperial ship got some frickin security cameras. Truly- the amount of times people just wander down hallways they’re not supposed to be in with no one being able to find them throughout the course of Star Wars is ridiculous when you think about the degree of surveillance our real life society carries out. I also love that this means The Mandalorian characters have also seen The Mandalorian.

The storytelling does such a service to Pedro Pascal and his already heroic efforts to portray emotion through a helmet. For example: Din easily could’ve killed the one stormtrooper outside Grogu’s cell much more efficiently, but instead, to show his absolute rage, they wrote in Din choking him out with a spear.

Moff Gideon would have been the BIGGEST pain in the ass in philosophy class. “Assume I know everything” my ass. I want to hear about his backstory (he would’ve been “coming of age” at the time of the Clone Wars) mostly just to hear about him getting bullied at school.

Smart move honestly, to try to tempt Din with the Mandalorian throne, given the Mandalorian power struggles of the past. Proud of our boy for keeping his priorities straight.

So has the blood from Grogu been transferred out of the ship and back to the remnant empire already, or do they have to find a new “donor” to help with building Snoke and Palpatine’s clones? Will they continue to go after him with Luke?

Lmao Din being so annoyed by Bo Katan being stringent about the tradition of winning the Dark Saber through combat is HILARIOUS, coming from a man who up until like a day ago hadn’t shown his face to a living being in decades.

The dark troopers can punch in blast doors but NOT Din’s helmet?? That’s a wild testament to beskar. Somehow that’s the comparison that sticks out to me, more even than its resistance to lightsabers.

This show works because of the cynicism of so many characters adding contrast to the moments of heart. Cara Dune is not a “fan” the way Rey was (for the record I love Rey, don’t come at her, it’s just different). Cara doesn’t see an X-Wing and go OMG THE REBELLION I LOVE THEM. She’s been through too much to believe in the magic saviourism of the “good guys,” and is instead thinking strategically when she, the one Rebel present, brushes off the usefulness of “one X-Wing.” The only positive things she seems to feel in battle situations are moments of relief and brief satisfaction in hurting the empire, with a dark knowledge that it will never make up for the hurt they did to her.

How do you keep a cloak hood on while fighting? Both from a technical standpoint (my hats fall off without me even having to move- is he expending force energy just to keep it on and look cool lol?) and also because idk, maybe it’s just me, but peripheral vision is helpful when surrounded by killer robots on a thin bridge above oblivion. I know his first lesson was to “see” through the force, but every resource helps, right?

Now that she has the ship, I wonder if Bo Katan can reprogram any salvageable Dark Troopers to help with retaking Mandalore?

There is nothing like seeing Luke’s fighting style, with its efficient choppiness and twinge of darkness. I always wonder how much is natural and how much is influenced by his first fights with Vader (that Skywalker diva flair). I love how they’ve advanced his technique but also kept him extremely “grey” here- like to straight up COMBUST a Dark Trooper takes some violent energy lol.

How tf is Moff Gideon alive after threatening Grogu’s life twice directly? That’s a wild testament to Din’s regard for Cara.

I love how seeing Luke slice through a bunch of murder droids like butter probably was a huge point in his favor for Din actually letting Grogu go with him. Like he will only send his child to boarding preschool if he knows the teacher will be a certified killing machine.

Oh my god they finally brought in some OG Star Wars theme music for Luke to take his hood off to 😭 It felt weird seeing him fight to different music, so the emotional payoff is huge when his themes come back for the face reveal.

Whoever added the digital young Mark Hamill face NAILED those classic shining Luke eyes and the earnest eyebrow lift.

Whoever shines the glass of Baby Yoda’s lil puppet eyeballs each day deserves a raise. The light caught in those babies is devastating.

Din is shaking as he takes off his helmet. This is the most enormous show of love he could give him, and possibly the last he’ll be able to for a long time. He only just got Grogu back and is desperate for a moment of real connection before letting him go once again.

This is the first time anyone has touched Din’s face since... likely his parents as a child.

Whoever wrote this scene clearly actually has kids. Anyone who’s ever had to leave a young child even just to go out for a bit or to drop them off somewhere knows that heartbreak of seeing them look in your eyes and hold on to your leg, trying to keep you with them. Especially when they can sense your mutual separation anxiety. The one thing that starts to make them feel better is something fun like a new toy or friend who can be their guide in the new environment, and R2’s friendly introduction is exactly that (since digital Luke isn’t being particularly emotive or child friendly... I hope that’s just because he’s reaching into Grogu’s mind while also keeping an eye on the multiple people with guns trained on him, not because he’s going to be totally unfeeling raising this kid.)

I love that Grogu and R2 are immediately buddies in contrast to Episode 5 when R2 was like “fuck this guy” @ Yoda stealing food and hitting him with a walking stick lol. I would imagine Luke must be reminded of that first introduction too and entertained by this display of playfulness in a *positive* light between R2 and mini-Yoda.

I need to know if Luke and Ahsoka have met- it is KILLING ME.

Does this mean Grogu will get killed by Kylo Ren when he fucks up Luke’s academy??? I will reincarnate Ben just to kill him again if that’s the case.

How does Luke not even fully SMILE at Grogu?? An adorable little baby version of his beloved master Yoda, and you’re telling me he doesn’t have the same heart stopping gasp we all did when we first saw him?? Maybe he did when they first connected through the force. He has a bit of bemusement on his face, and also wonder in his eyes, but I want a grin of recognition and welcome, dammit.

I really wish Luke had somehow acknowledged Cara Dune. Everyone else seems to see the tear drop Rebel sign and know it means Alderaan. He could’ve been like yo I have a badass warrior sister from your planet that you should meet. Or just “thank you for your service.” (I know this actually wouldn’t have been cinematically good but my heart wants it.)

Luke didn’t tell Din his name?? Or ask for any details about the kid and his care?? I could literally never let my kid go with someone, regardless of how worthy, and not be like, “Excuse me sir who are you and where tf are you taking my tiny beloved green goblin in case I need to find him? Here is my contact info. He likes to eat frogs and eggs, and he can have macarons as a treat. He’s 50 years old and his favorite toy is still a ball. Bedtime is 8pm and he’s allergic to dairy.”

Another reason I wish Luke had identified himself would be to see the mishmash of reactions that would ensue. Cara would be like DAMN IT’S THAT GUY WHO BLEW UP THE DEATH STAR AND KILLED THE EMPEROR, ACT COOL (and she would indeed act cool). Fennec would be like ugh it’s that guy who helped kill my best paying client Jabba the Hutt and then fucked over my boss Boba, I helped save the kid for THIS? And I would LOVE to know how Bo Katan feels about him, assuming she’s heard of him, and especially if she knows he’s Anakin Skywalker’s son. That confusion is probably the reason WHY the writers didn’t have him reveal himself- they didn’t want to break the emotion of the scene.

Let‘s all be real I’m just being needy about wanting things from Luke because of what he meant to me as a kid and my resulting innate need to have more canon of him, whatever it is, whenever I can get it. Especially in this form that’s so similar to ROTJ, a movie I watched on endless repeat. Even getting this was incredible though. Who else could we trust this lil heart-stealing green bean with so fully? Yet who would be so arrogant as to try to train a baby yodling (see: Ahsoka’s wise refusal)?

R2 is reckless as hell lmao. Not that we don’t already know that, but for him to just head on in, effectively abandoning Luke’s ship (how can they know if there are more troopers or not who might blow it up?) and also putting himself in the path of the ridiculously deadly Dark Troopers is NUTS. I’m usually on his side but he absolutely deserves a scolding by C3PO for this one.

I wonder if Grogu has any memories of R2 or vice versa since they did occupy the Jedi Temple at the same time. Can Grogu understand droids? They could swap stories about mutual acquaintances.

Does Din pretty much have to go with Bo Katan now since a) he’s shown his face and may not be able to go back to the Watch, and b) because he has the darksaber and has to figure out how to get it back to her without dying?

How in the hell did Bib Fortuna (whose chins age was not kind to) go from being butler to being boss? Were all the henchmen just like, “Fuck yeah, no Hutt parents no rules, let’s do what we want!!” And then they’ve spent the last ten years living off of whatever money they could salvage from Jabba’s non-banked wealth? Why has no one challenged them for that prime real estate and loot? I would love to hear that story.

Fennec Shand says “respect sex workers” so you better fuckin’ do it.

Idk dude Bib Fortuna really was a good butler, and he seemed pretty willing to comply with whoever’s in power. Did he screw Boba over in his attempt to return from the dead and earn that killing shot somehow? Or was this to make sure there was no one left who would have a claim to loyalty? Or maybe Boba just really wanted to sit in that chair.

Does “The Book of Boba Fett” mean we’re not on Din Djarin’s story anymore? Or is it a new show? I would much prefer the latter. I want to see Din help retake Mandalore or at least get a hug.

[spaceskam]

warning: this is literally just them talking about what happened in 2x06 so

"You know what the worst part about it is?"

Michael watched as Alex tilted back another shot. It was his eighth or ninth, but Michael didn't dare stop him. He felt guilty and shitty and a little bit gross, so if his job for the night was making sure Alex made it home safe, well, he could do that.

"What?" he asked, hesitant but open enough to hear the answer. That's what he was here for. Alex had drunkenly called him after a few beers, letting him know he wanted to talk. And, well, considering it'd been weeks since he'd seen him, he may have selfishly wanted to hear his voice too.

"My memories of touching you are fuckin' fucked, man," Alex said, laughing a little as he shook his head, "I used to, like, get off to remembering being with you. Or when I was freaking out, losing my damn mind, my safe place was your bed, you know? Fuck, I don't really remember it but I know damn well that the only thing I wanted when I was bleeding out on that battlefield was you and your bed. And now she's just, like, there, you know? Nothing's fucking sacred anymore."

That felt like a stab in the chest. Which, you know, Alex had more experience in that area as well. But it felt like the closest thing. He knew it felt over, he did, but knowing Alex wasn't even trying to push him away this time was brutal. But he didn't leave, didn't argue. He deserved it.

"I'm sorry, Alex," he said as genuine as he could. Because he was. Alex just shrugged.

“It’s whatever, honestly. I think it’s a good thing. I can’t fantasize about what could’ve been anymore,” Alex said, smiling but it was bitter. Michael didn’t know what to say, so he said nothing. “Can I ask you something though? Like, for real, and get a real answer. Because there’s something I don’t get.”

Michael cleared his throat. “Yeah, Alex, anything.”

“Why’d you do it?” he asked honestly, “I know how you felt after. Loved and shit which I get, you got fucked by the two people you wanted to be fucked by, but why’d you do it in the first place?”

“Uh,” Michael said, letting out an uncomfortable breath. It was hard to think back to that moment because it honestly felt like a blur. One minute he was freaking out because they were both hurt and then the next Alex was kissing him and Maria was promising him it was fine. It was good. Now he regretted it like nothing else in the world, but for a moment he felt like that’s what unconditional love must’ve felt like. But it was so short-lived he knew that wasn’t it. “I-I guess I don’t really know.”

“Because I keep thinking about it and I do know you, Guerin, and it doesn’t make sense to me why you’d be down for it. Like, I was your ex and you’d been saying you didn’t want me around for weeks, right? Like, what the fuck. I know why I stayed and went along with it, I didn’t wanna be by myself and I always want you when I feel like that, but you have a different approach to things,” Alex prodded, any sort of filter gone with away with the alcohol in his system. Michael shrugged.

“I think... I think that if I wanted to say no, I couldn’t,” Michael said, slightly wincing at his wording, “I mean, like, you both were looking to me for attention. If I’d said no in the moment, you both would’ve been mad at me.” Alex eyed him with skepticism. “I’m not saying I’m a victim or anything, I’m just saying no didn’t even cross my mind as something I was allowed to say.”

“So, when I said I should go,” Alex said, adding to the weight of Michael’s heart, “And you didn’t cut in when Maria told me to stay, that was because...”

“I don’t really remember,” he admitted, “But I think it’s probably because I didn’t actually want you to go. I mean, you’d just been stabbed. I wanted to watch you and make sure you were okay.”

“By making me kiss your girlfriend?”

“No!” Michael said perhaps a little too fast, “I-I didn’t like that. I don’t like that. That isn’t, like, some weird fantasy I have, you with someone else. Or anyone with anyone else. I don’t like that it’s all mixed up in my head, it feels...”

“Tainted.”

“Tainted,” Michael agreed. Alex nodded, still smiling that sad little smile.

“Yeah, but you still told me I was supposed to feel loved,” he said, that word holding so much venom that it sort of made him want to cry. He hated that he’d fucked up even that special little word

“I’m sorry,” Michael repeated, “That was a fucked up thing for me to say, but it was what I was feeling. I don’t feel it anymore and I shouldn’t have said that to you.”

“Yeah, I get it. High on getting two for the price of one,” Alex hummed. Michael frowned, but he didn’t argue. He deserved it. “Nah, that’s not fair. You were high on the attention of two people who cared about you when you were having emotions which is fair. I get it. I like attention too.”

“You deserve attention.”

“Maybe,” Alex sighed, “You still let me leave the next morning.”

“Alex, it’s not like I wanted you to go. I literally watched you until I couldn’t see you anymore, but I felt like we were at the point where asking anything of you was wrong. I was trying to respect what you wanted,” Michael sighed, “Probably even more so because I knew I fucked up the night before.”

“And because Maria made you feel good,” Alex added like it was common knowledge, “For so long, she expected so little of you, that you could do whatever to make her happy. That feels good. I get why you did it. Still hurts.”

“I am so sorry about everything.”

Alex shrugged, pursing his lips a little as he fiddled with the shot glass. He stuck his finger on the inside and swung it around in circles until it flew off the table. Michael caught it in his palm before it hit the ground, placing it back on the table.

“You know, sometimes I feel like Maria only did it to rub it in my face that she won.”

“No,” Michael said, shaking his head. He still felt a little sick when he thought about it, thought about her cruel admission to what had really been going through her head. “She was testing me, making sure I didn’t want you more than her.”

“I guess so, but earlier that day we’d talked about stuff and I’d told her about how bad I felt when I was with women. And then I defended you to her so she had to know I was still in love with you, she’s not dumb. I feel like she just used all that stuff I confided in her against me to get you. And she used it to force me into a situation where I had to see you together if I wanted my turn,” Alex said, grimacing slightly. Michael really, really felt like shit when he thought about that entire thing. How insensitive could he be? Maybe in the heat of the moment he could’ve justified it, but now? If he didn’t even like thinking about that one awkward kiss that they shared, he couldn’t begin to imagine how gross Alex felt.

“I really am sorry about that. I don’t know, I think that was, like, a good side effect to her. She did it because she wanted, like, me to choose her over you. But it really must’ve freaked her out with how much attention I did give you that night because it didn’t actually affirm shit and made her super paranoid every time I was around you.”

"Really? 'Cause I didn't feel like you gave me enough," Alex admitted, laughing slightly, "Granted I did only want you. My options were limited so I took what I could get, but I just wanted you."

"I think... I think I'm not built for stuff like that. Like I have no desire to do that again and I'm not exactly sure I wanted to before? I don't know, it's weird. Like... I still don't get it sometimes. Never in my life have ever wanted anything more than just you. Not you and someone else, just you. I know that I did have to remind myself a lot to focus on her every time she, like, pulled me her way because she was my girlfriend, but I know myself and I know that, had she not pulled me away and had I not felt that guilt of her being right there, I would’ve been all over you. I’m not good at sharing myself, I don’t think, because it’s not even rewarding if I don’t get to just put all my efforts into making one person feel good. Honestly, the fact I was able to not just solely focus on you in the first place is–"

"Alright, dial it back, Guerin, too much, too much, too drunk," Alex said, holding up a hand to silence him. Michael nodded.

"Sorry," he said again, "I just... I really don't get why I couldn't just say no."

"Manipulation's one hell of a drug."

"But was I even manipulated though? Like, genuinely, I know she said she did it to test me, but, like... It didn't take much coercion. Sure, I was confused, but once I was there, I didn’t try to stop."

"In your defense, you had just been hit over the head with an axe," Alex pointed out, his smile a little less cold than before. Michael felt undeserving.

"Why are you defending me? I'm an asshole," Michael asked. Alex took a deep breath and shrugged.

"Because I am very, very stupid."

"You are the smartest person I know," Michael countered. Alex scrunched up his nose like he didn't buy it.

"Did you know when you start falling in love with someone, your frontal lobe or cortex or whatever just kinda shuts the fuck off? Like, it just decides to shut down because the other parts of your brain are too aware that if you were able to use logic, you’d avoid that person that makes you feel good,” Alex explained, nodding like he was agreeing with himself, “I think that’s why I keep making dumb mistakes around you.”

Michael huffed a laugh. “You’ve walked away from me too many times to blame that.” Perhaps that was the wrong thing to say, but Alex smiled anyway.

“Okay, but that wasn’t logic either. It was hormones and trauma fighting with each other. I am literally the embodiment of daddy issues,” Alex said, a drunken giggle combining with his admission. It slowly faded and left him smiling down at the table. “One more question and I swear I never want to talk about that night again.”

“Fair enough, shoot,” Michael agreed. As uncomfortable as he felt, this was oddly the most honest they’d been with each other probably ever. On some level, it felt good. Even if Alex was shitfaced.

“If you could change how that all happened,” Alex asked, hesitantly looking up at him through his eyelashes, “Would you?”

“God, Alex, you know I would,” he breathed, shaking his head, “You know I would.”

“How?”

“Well, first of all, I would’ve come and found you first because you were fucking bleeding. Like, I still regret going to get my gun first. You could’ve bled out,” Michael scoffed, shaking his head, “But more importantly I would’ve said no. I wouldn’t have kissed her in front of you and I wouldn’t have put you through that. I know... I know it was Maria’s idea, but I still feel guilty that I didn’t say something. I mean, she didn’t even ask if I was interested in something like that, I have never had that conversation with anyone. Do you know how much talking should go into something like that so things don’t get confusing? Like, I know she thought it was going to force me to choose her, but all it did was scare her more because no one fucking talked about anything to make sure everything that happened was okay.”

Alex smiled at him, big and bright and something that really felt out of place in the midst of their conversation. “Look at you. Being all adult and wanting communication.”

“I get why it’s important now. I guess I had to cross a line to realize that,” Michael sighed. 

“Still. Shows growth, I guess,” he said, taking a deep breath. Michael shrugged. It didn’t feel like he took any steps in the right direction. “If I could change it, I would’ve wanted us be alone so I could’ve held you all night by myself.”

“Held me?” Michael scoffed, “Alex, you were the one who was hurt.”

He scrunched up his nose and gave him a sad little look. “You had a bump on the back of your head from where you were hit. I kept waking up on, like, 15 minute intervals to make sure you were still breathing and that it hadn’t gone all mushy.”

Michael’s heart genuinely ached and his whole body nearly doubled over at that information. Because of course Alex would do that. It was Alex, after all.

“I don’t deserve you,” he breathed. Alex smiled and leaned back in his chair.

“Well, you’re in luck, because the idea of being with you again kinda makes me wanna puke, so,” Alex said freely. Michael smiled sadly and nodded.

They were quite for a few minutes longer, but eventually Michael offered to drive him home and he agreed. He paid his bill and then stood up, but the alcohol seemed to hit him harder as soon as he did. That meant Michael had to move in a bit closer which clearly wasn’t what Alex wanted right then, but he couldn’t walk on his own, so he accepted the help.

When they got to his truck, Michael used his telekinesis to assist in a smoother transition and then they were headed home. Not home. Alex’s house.

“Alex,” Michael said after a long stretch of silence, “Can I ask you something?”

“Yeah,” Alex said back, voice soft with fatigue as he laid against the window with his eyes closed. Michael always loved that small little sign of trust that was there even now. 

“Me and you...” Michael started, “Is there no coming back at all? Like, was that the last straw?”

Alex was silent for awhile, so long that Michael was beginning to think he’d fallen asleep. However, as the truck rolled to a stop outside his house, Alex gave his answer.

“You know how it took us working together for you to see me as more than just all pain that was wrapped up?” Alex asked, voice still soft and sweet.

“Yeah.”

“I think I need that,” he said, “I need to make up for all the gross stuff tied to you in my head. I don’t know if that’s even possible, honestly, but that’s what I need for there ever to be a chance of that.”

“Okay,” Michael breathed, a little weight being lifted off his chest, “Okay, I can work with that.”

“Glad you can, now I need to go to sleep.”

With no other eyes around to witness, Michael used solely his telekinesis to help Alex. He wasn’t about to touch him more than he was comfortable with and he’d retired pushing his boundaries for the foreseeable future. He got him to bed, got his prosthetic off, and put a bottle of Gatorade and Ibuprofen on his nightstand for him to drink so he didn’t have to move for them when he woke up.

“Goodnight, Alex,” he told him. 

“Night,” Alex murmured right back.

Michael left feeling a little bit better than he had the day before.

[atamascolily]

lily watches fma:b, eps. 58-61

I hate suspense, so I went ahead and read the plot summary for the next few episodes, so I could relax a bit. Unfortunately, there's a lot of plot decisions that elicit a major "WTF?" from me, so we'll see if they work better in context.

so they're using the Gates as transportation portals now?? This is new, isn't it?? or does it only work with people who have already opened gates?? I'm so confused!!

okay, so ling doesn't know how to use alchemy to heal people? but he can sense homunculi because chi? or is this just something everyone in Xing can do? I'M SO CONFUSED.

[he has a stone but neither he nor Greed know how to use it to heal others, I guess?? why not, though?]

Bucaneer calls Olivier a "queen," which is right on!

Greedling is the best thing about this adaptation, full stop

*sings* "It must be nice, must be nice, to have a homunculus on your side..."

that one random woman looks so much like Danta from FMA03 that I just had to shake myself to make sure I wasn't imagining it

Elicia HAS ECLIPSE GLASSES AND IT'S THE CUTEST THING

I don't understand why Hoheneheim counts as a sacrifice - yes, he was present for the opening in Xerxes, but he did not attempt human transmutation himself (even though the portal was centered around him without his knowledge) I feel like intent matters?? iirc, he wasn't consumed and broken down the way Ed and Al were???

He's also now fused with Father in a weird blob that reminds me of Topaz trapping humans in Steven Universe.

I don't know why Hawkeye hasn't managed to shoot the evil doctor in all this close-quarters fighting. And why isn't Roy using flames? We had a demo earlier with the zombies that he can work around his allies without burning them, so... ???

Mustang is ordered to perform human transmutation so the bad guys can have a fifth person to complete their circle (somehow, alchemy always works in fives?) He refuses, but then they say they'll shoot Hawkeye if he doesn't so he caves.

this "gotta get a complete set" seems really sloppy for Team Bad, because the eclipse is like, any minute now. Seems like they're cutting it really close. You think they could have found/persuaded/forced someone into doing it, given how long they've had to work at this. So I'm just like "???" about this.

(the doctor dude also lampshades this, lol)

also, I'm so confused why the doctor claims Roy can bring anyone he wants back - maybe this was FMA03 I'm thinking of, but it seems like you would need some sort of specific connection to a particularl person in order to bring them back that you couldn't just whip out at a moment's notice??

is there any other way to open the gateway besides human transmutation?? And why doesn't the doctor count, since they've made plenty of philosopher's stones (which involve human transmutation, and is why Hohenheim is a sacrifice in the first place)??

okay, hawkeye isn't dead yet, but he's supposed to transmute her anyway? How does that differ from healing? I'M SO CONFUSED.

anyway, pride shows up and eats the annoying doctor and also makes a transmutation circle with his shadows while Bradley pins Mustang to the floor. o...kay. andthen it just...happens?without roy's consent?

WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK DUDES

okay, andnow the eclipse is starting, irl they'd have a maximum of 8 minutes at totality to Do The Thing, but who the fuck knows what's happening here since all the characters are UNDERGROUND (how do they even KNOW)

fuck, they're basically raping mustang here since his consent does not matter because pride ate the doctor and the doctor has the knowledge (but that should make him and/or pride the sacrifice, not ROY).

like what the actual fuck

so the doctor gets transmuted, even though he was the one with the relevant knowledge?? I don't get it.

and mustang is automatically transported to be with the other sacrifices - why? how?? how does this even work? is that other circlethey wereusing still active? was it part of pride's set-up for this circle to be dual-purpose?HOW IS THIS POSSIBLE?

and apparently, it's just one floor below so all they have to do is break the floor??

Roy is blind... but does not physically lose his eyes, which makes NO SENSE, given that Al, Ed and Izumi lost actual physical pieces of themselves.THE FUCK.

ed's like, "this is super fucked up shit, and you don't get to moralize about human nature and hubris if you guys forced him to do this"

pride is basically acting like a kid who had all the time in the world for an assignment and then rushed to complete it at the last possible moment

scar fights bradley, yes FINALLY SOMEBODY KILL THAT DUDE

al's emaciated body is just so heartbreaking, and al's like "no! I can't suddenly move to this incredibly emaciated version of myself before the final battle!" which is actually really smart of him

of course, al's body waits until AFTER his soul leaves to monologue about how al might have just destroyed the entire world. GEE THANKS YOU ASSHOLE.

broussh shows up at the radio station and maria ross is like :????:

Father says the sacrifices are "all in his belly" and we cut to the chimeras on the outside looking at a massive blob - so Father is ALSO a gate???

(ngl: it would make TOTAL SENSE if Father was originally one of the creatures we see when the gate opens, who got pulled into our world by Hohenheim's master... especially since he used Hohenheim's blood? DID HIS MASTER PERFORM HUMAN TRANSMUTATION? WOULDN'T IT BE AWESOME IF WE ACTUALLY GOT SOME ANSWERS??)

(okay, this is my working headcanon now)

May's like "I'M GONNA TAKE 'EM" and I'm like "aww, heck yeah girl!"

it's really appropriate that Scar--Formerly Consumed by Anger--is fighting Wrath, who ordered the Amestrian equivalent of Order 66 on Ishval.

scar put a reconstruction circle on his other arm, how Symbolic

FATHER MAKES A GUN OUT OF HIS OWN BODY WITH EYES AND TEETH

no seriously, what the fuck did I just witness

Al apologizes to Hohenheim in case he hits him when he attacks father, bless that boy

Izumi makes A GIANT FUCKING CROSSBOW, did I mention I love her?

the personal gates of all of the sacrifices open - so they have giant eyes in their stomachs, wtf

father wants to open.. the planet's gate??

(this ties in with the alkahestry and chi, but... what?)

okay, the country-wide transmutation circle activates and everyone dies

Pinako (who knows Hohenheim is involved with this shit): Hohenheim, I'm gonna slug you. AND DAMN WELL YOU SHOULD MA'AM.

then the gates open and Father challenges God to a fistfight

... and God answers??

[apparently God lives in the sun, and only comes out during an eclipse??? looks just like the usual gate-eye-tentacle creature, tho]

okay, so we get our answer as to why an eclipse: male + female, sun + moon, = perfect being = immortality.

apparently there's a rule that all megalomaniacal shounen villains end up looking the same, because Father looks just like Aizen''s final form from Bleach now, except with more eyes.

Father ate God and now he's young and hot and mostly naked again.

He negates alchemy and creates a miniature sun in his hand because he can.

I hope God gives him indigestion or something.

Oh, wait, Hohenheim had a plan after all... THOUGH APPARENTLY 50 MILLION PEOPLE HAD TO DIE FIRST, WAY TO GO THERE

turns out he's been letting bits of his philosopher stone around amestris on his travels so that father would eat them and they'd tear him apart from the inside

... and the circle for the alchemy is the moon's shadow on the earth.

[I don't know if the astronomy actually works out, but it's very nifty nonetheless]

anyway, everybody's soul returns to their bodies, and everyone wakes up. IDK how their bodies handle having been functionally brain dead, but we're just gonna say it all works out, okay?

ooh, and everyone REMEMBERS WHAT JUST HAPPENED so they’re all like “...the fuck??”

scar saves the world by activating the reverse transmutation circle over the center that all the Ishvalans set up during the time skip

instead of blood you just need circles drawn on paper for reconstruction? why did Team Evil go to so much trouble to murder people instead?

father spends this whole fight looking like a very ripped hohenheim in a bathrobe around his waist OMG

pride calls ed his brother and I think this was handled better in 03 with Envy, but w/e. anyway he's going to take over ed's body but kimblee steps in and stops him

(man, this fucker again!!!)

kimblee's like "lol, I just like being a contrary bitch"

pride is reduced to a little baby, which Ed calls "Selim" and puts on his red jacket... okay...

well that was a trip.

cannot fault the manga-ka for ambition and epic scale here, but also: WHAT DID I JUST WATCH.

[littlestarofthewest]

holy shit your work is 😍😍😍🥵🥵🥵 thank you for blessing us gays with your amazing talent. if you ever get the chance, could you possibly write something with a dom-leaning John and a m!reader? maybe lots of praise? i’m such a sub for that man 😳

Thanks for the .... praise ;) I’m glad you enjoy my writing :) 

I don’t claim to be very knowledgeable about dom/sub dynamics, so please forgive me if that’s not what you were looking for. I just wrote from the heart.

Title: Train to Submission | Word Count: 4319 | Rating: Explicit

Tags: light dom/sub, praise kink, masturbation, semi-public sex, voyeurism

Summary: Hitting a train in the middle of the day with two people is one of the dumbest things a person can possibly do, especially if the second person is you. That's what you should have said when John told you to come along. But then again, it's John freaking Marston. All common sense goes right out the window when you're faced with that man. 

You remember seeing John in camp for the first time, crawling out of his tent with a whiskey bottle in hand, his union suit so far open that you could have had him naked in seconds. The whole day, some of the other gang members were ribbing him about the most stupid things, and he just went away, emptying his bottle and giving no shit. You took him for some sort of loser then, but a couple of days later, you found out that hungover John Marston was very different from gunslinger John Marston.

Hosea told you to check out the local gun store after getting a tip that there's some backdoor gambling going on. When you had a look around, things went south fast, and John shot four guys before you even got your gun out. By the time you peaked over the counter you've been hiding behind, there was only one guy left, and John knocked his lights out with one punch. The gun shop owner was all too happy to give you whatever you wanted then, and you went back to camp with guns, ammo, and a nice pile of money. Personally, you also acquired a whole new way of looking at John.

Over the next couple of weeks, you tried to tell yourself that John was just reckless, but the more you saw of him and the more you heard about him from other people, the more convinced you got that he had more balls than most of the men in camp, and when he felt like it, he'd shove them figuratively down your throat. When he came to you this morning, telling you - not asking - to follow him, you had a sudden urge to literally swallow them down.

You're standing in a small pisspot of a town now, watching the other side of the road. Somebody comes up at you from behind, leaning in close. "He still there?" John asks in his raspy voice, and you try to ignore how the little hairs on your neck stand up. 

"Yeah, hasn't moved an inch," you grunt.

You were supposed to be in and out of here in a matter of minutes. Dutch asked the two of you to grab some plans from the mayor's office, something you might be able to use in a scam. The problem is the local sheriff. He decided to take up position right in front of the building, talking to anyone who comes near. Your desire to walk over there and punch him grows more prominent by the second, so you don't even want to know how John is doing. Waiting is definitely something he hates and often the reason why he gets into trouble. Dutch told you to do this quietly, though. Punching out the sheriff is a horrible idea.

"For Christ's sake, there's gotta be a way around that asshole," John growls, and you see trouble coming your way. 

"How about a distraction?" you suggest. "I could spook some horses over at the stables."

"Distraction," John muses, his eyes fixed on the sheriff as he talks to a young man who passes by, clapping his shoulder and looking after him for a while as he walks on.

A crooked smile crawls onto John's face, and he nudges you in the back. "That's it. You go over there and distract him."

"How?"

John watches you as if that's the dumbest question he's ever heard, and without warning, he slaps your ass hard, making you bite your lip to hold in a moan. "That's how. You gonna show him what an obedient boy you are for any man who takes from you what he wants."

"I'm not-" you try to protest, your heart racing at the thought that he figured you out. John grabs your arm and pushes you against the building you've been hiding behind.

"You gonna go over there right now and do what I say, or I'll have to make you."

You could ask how he's planning on doing that, but then you'd probably have to wash your pants. "Alright, I'm going."

John pats your cheek. "Good boy."

He says it like he's talking to his horse and your cock twitches uncomfortably as you walk over to the sheriff, fully aware that John will be watching you while you to try to seduce this man long enough to give John an opening to strike.

By the time you open your mouth, you already know precisely why John sent you over here. You met a lot of men like the sheriff before. He's definitely into dick and the young variety at that. As a man in a position of power, the sheriff thinks that he can get what he wants from you wherever he wants. In mere minutes, you find yourself in a side alley, the sheriff making lewd suggestions on what he can do to you.

You give John another five minutes, then you'll punch that guy and leave. As the sheriff begins to put his hands where they don't belong, you take a few steps closer to the street. "I fear I have to leave now."

The sheriff follows after you. "Oh no, dear boy. You can't dangle that perky little ass in front of me and think you can leave. I'll get what I want."

When he grabs your shoulders, the sound of a gun being cocked echoes through the alley. John puts the barrel right to the sheriff's head. "Get your dirty hands off him."

"Do you have any idea who you're talking to?" the sheriff bluffs.

"Yeah, a pervert." John smashes the gun over the sheriff's head, spitting on him before he hits the ground. "What a son of a bitch."

You couldn't agree more, but you're still angry at John that he brought you into that situation in the first place. "You're the one who threw me at him, asshole."

John shrugs, looking you up and down. "To be fair, it's tough not to bend you over and go at it with that perky little ass of yours."

You wish you could hit him or at least curse him out, but his words mean that he thought about this before, about you, and your pants grow a little tighter again.

"Come on," John says, the cocky son of a bitch knowing full well that he got you. 

You walk along the road, John's hand on the small of your back the entire time. It feels possessive; as if he needs to state some sort of claim. Like so many things about John, it doesn't make sense to you.

"We're heading back now?" you ask, trying to know beforehand what trouble he's getting you into.

"No," John grunts. "The office was a bust. There's nothing there."

"Are you sure?"

"Had a nice talk with the mayor's secretary. I'm sure."

If John didn't get the thing that made you come here in the first place, it makes even less sense to stick around. "Then what are we still doing here?"

"That," John says. "We gonna hit the train."

Hitting a train in the middle of the day with two people is one of the dumbest things a person can possibly do, especially if the second person is you. That's what you should say. But then again, it's John. All common sense goes right out the window when you're with him.

-------

The two of you sneak onto one of the cargo carriages as soon as the train takes off, hiding behind two crates to make sure you won't be spotted by the guard while you're still close to the town. Crouched down in the tight space, you become acutely aware of everything that you like about John. His lean frame, the fucked up hair, and above all, his dark brown eyes. Once in a while, you get to sneak a glance, and it's often the best thing of your day. 

John stands up to peek through the window behind you, his chest right in front of your face. He's wearing a vest today, but you still see his naked torso in your mind's eye, and you wish you could lick him all over. 

"I think we're good to go," he says, turning around and looking along the corridor. "Come on."

With you on his heel like a good little doggy, John makes his way to the other end of the carriage. He turns to you, his face inches from yours, and it's one of those rare moments where you can drown in his eyes.

"I'll take out the guard, you make sure nobody comes from the other side."

"Alright," you say, waiting for him to move again. He's about to sneak up on the guard when the train sways a little to one side. You spot something out of the corner of your eye. 

Without thinking, you grab John and swirl the both of you around, dragging him along by the lapels of his coat. Your back hits the crates standing in the corner, but you manage to stifle the sound of pain and pull John as close as you can. You both take a few deep breaths, and you swallow before looking up to him. John's furious. You can tell by the way his jaw clenches before he's stretching his neck. "What do you think you're doing?" he hisses.

"There are three guards, not one. I saw them coming from the other carriage."

John leans over the side of the crates but pulls back quickly. "Shit, they're standing right there."

"What now?"

"We can't go back," John says, taking another quick look. "They might see us if we try."

You swallow hard when you think about the other option. "Shooting our way out?"

John's hand lingers over his gun. He's thinking about it. Then he looks at you and shakes his head. "Too risky."

"It's only three guys," you say, wonder in your voice. Usually, John is the one jumping into the fray when he's outnumbered ten to one. 

"I said no."

"But-"

John puts his hand over your mouth, staring at you, his nose almost touching yours. "I already sent you after that asshole sheriff today, I'm not going to get you shot, alright?"

You nod under John's hand, and he pulls it away, giving you more room. Suddenly, you feel the need to touch him, so you reach up and pat his chest. "Wasn't your fault that this guy-"

"I've met his kind often enough," John spits out, something dark glistening in his eyes. Bad memories. "I should have known."

You don't say anything, but keep your hand on John's chest. He needs a moment to calm down, or he'll start shooting after all. The whole day turns out to be a total disaster. You wish you could do something for him that would break the tension, take the strain off of him. 

"We still have my perky ass," you joke, "that's something."

John stifles a laugh, but then his gaze drops to your hand on his chest. You try to take it away, but John grabs it, bringing it up over your head and pinning it against the crate before doing the same with your other arm. You squirm, trying to get free, but then John leans in and kisses you. It's like a string of dynamite is bursting in your chest, ripping through your body and leaving you in pieces. You thought about this, wanted it for a while, but there was never any indication that John wanted the same, aside from the usual teasing and lewd comments.

You melt against John's body, and when his crotch presses against yours, you roll your hips, desperate for more friction. He pulls away from your mouth, shaking his head. "Look at you, so eager."

His hand trails over your cheek and you can tell by the heat that you must be red as hell. John smiles. "So flushed, and we haven't even started."

"The guards, John," you whisper, and his smile turns into a mean grin. 

"Oh, they're still there, don't worry," he says, the hand from your face trailing down your neck, his fingertips tickling your sensitive skin. "One wrong sound from you, and I'm sure they'll come running."

"We can't-" you start, but John silences you with another kiss, licking into your mouth as if he needs a good taste.

His hand wanders down your chest, and along your hip, coming dangerously close to the growing bulge in your pants. While the sheriff disgusted you, there's nothing more arousing than John having you at his mercy. He could hold a gun to your head any day, and you'd thank him. 

John stops kissing you but only to bite down along your neck, and you tilt your head to the side to give him more access. He growls against your skin. "Jesus, you really are that obedient."

At first, he seems amused that a man could give up control like that, but you can see the wheels turning in his head. He steps back, making sure that he still can't be seen by the guards. Then he turns to you. "Open your shirt."

"John, if somebody-"

"Don't make me ask again," he says, and you wonder why you're even arguing with him. This is what you wanted, after all.

You reach down, opening the buttons on your shirt, your skin growing hot. When you're done, you put your hands down to your sides, waiting for more instructions. John's eyes wander to your pants, and even while playing with you, John doesn't like waiting. "Let me see your cock."

The thought of the guards being right around the corner is still at the forefront of your mind. It's one thing to make out, but you sure wouldn't want to be caught with your pants down. This is more dangerous than shooting it out, but looking at John, you think that's what intrigues him.

You ignore the flutter in your stomach and open the buttons on your pants, pushing them down just enough so you can get your cock out. Again, you let your hands hang down beside you, waiting for orders. You feel more exposed than ever before, but that's what keeps you hard.

John's eyes flicker to the guards, but then he fixes you with a heated stare. "Play with yourself."

"What-?" you start, not quite sure if you get his meaning.

"I'm gonna watch you while you get yourself off," John says. Again, there's not the tiniest bit of doubt in his voice that you'll do what he says. "You better make it worth watching."

You've never done anything like this, haven't even thought about it. Why would you get yourself off when you have somebody else in front of you? But if John tells you to do it, then that's what's going to happen. You can't deny that you're wired that way. You want to follow his orders, please him, make him happy in any way you can.

Still, you have to close your eyes. You try to imagine that John is touching you while you do it to yourself. Starting at your neck, you run your fingers to your shoulders and further south. You squeeze your chest a little, your thumbs teasing your nipples. It's one of your most sensitive spots and your dick twitches at the sensation. 

Keeping one hand there, you run your other hand down your stomach. Usually, you would just go at it, but you're supposed to put on a show, so you trail with your fingers all around your cock, keeping the touch light. You never thought it's possible to tease yourself that much, but you're beginning to become desperate for your own touch. 

"Open your eyes," John says, and you follow that order like any other, but you keep looking into the ground. John clicks his tongue in annoyance. "Look at me, darling."

Having to look at him while you're almost naked and touching yourself is bad enough, but the pet name makes you melt inside. Your fingers claw into your chest, and you reach for your cock. You squeeze hard, needing to ground yourself as waves of pleasure roll over you.

John is holding your gaze, even when you reach down to cup your balls, massaging yourself. You're caught in his eyes, and somehow the shame evaporates. You both want this, there's nothing wrong about it. You lean back against the crate and run your other hand down along your body, your fingers teasing your cock with light touches.

"That's it, you're doing good," John says, getting a moan out of you. His voice and the way he talks to you get you more riled up then the touches.

You close your fingers loosely around your cock, warming yourself up to the touch. Finally, John's eyes wander down your body, following each up and down of your hand. "A little more, darling," he says, "you're already there."

Grabbing yourself tighter, you pick up the pace and run your other hand over your body. Goosebumps erupt all over your skin, and you press yourself harder against the crate for more stability. 

You let go of yourself for a moment to lick your fingers, before running them along your length, spreading drops of precome over your skin. It's not much, but you feel slicker to the touch now, and when you grab your cock again, you fall into a quicker rhythm. 

"Goddamn, you make quite the sight there," John says, shifting his stance a little. 

The thought that he's getting hard from watching you sends a jolt of electricity through your body, and you let out another moan. Bucking your hips, you thrust into your own hand, your fingers teasing your nipples again. They perk up when you pinch them, and the heat shooting to your balls has you sway for a moment.

You reach up and hold on to the top of the crate, tilting your head back as your hand goes faster. Maybe you should put on more of a show, but it's been too long since you've touched yourself and the pressure is too much. You feel the strain on your muscles, begging you to relieve you from the tension.

With your mouth falling open, you care less and less about the sounds you're making, your moans and grunts filling the air between ecstatic breaths. You don't mean to, but you pump your cock even harder, twisting your hand at the upstroke to tease yourself. 

Looking down again, you watch John's face. He's torn between looking at your face and your cock, standing too close to take in the whole picture all at once. His eyes on you drive you wild, and you begin to miss his voice, still drunk on the kind words he had for you so far. 

"Is that what you want? Am I doing good?" you whisper, desperate for anything that he might give you.

"Goddammit," John groans and closes the gap between you, pressing his body against yours. "You're doing more than good, darling. You look like an angel. A sweet, dirty angel."

He kisses you again, open-mouthed and sloppy. More moans tumble from your lips, and you keep stroking yourself, not daring to stop until he tells you to. Then, John steps back, his hand on your shoulder. "On your knees."

You fall to your knees without thinking, enclosed by the crates and John's body. He opens his pants with as much patience as usual. None. You gasp a little when John pulls out his cock, and can't help but lick your lips. Leaning with one hand against the crates, he strokes himself right in front of your face. 

"So desperate, ain't you? You want me?" he teases, knowing full well that you do.

"Yes," you moan. "Please, John, I'll do whatever you want."

"Oh, I know you do."

Bringing his hips forward, John feeds you his cock, pushing inside without pause. You do your best to take him and lick along his length when he draws back, always looking up to him.

"That's it, angel, put those pretty lips to good use," he says, his voice even more broken than usual. "And don't forget to take care of yourself."

You're not sure you can do this for long. You're not allowed to stop touching yourself, but being on your knees for John turns you on more than anything else ever did. The heat and smell of him in your mouth drives you crazy, and every time his cock rubs along your throat, jolts of electricity shoot right into your own dick. 

The guards are completely forgotten, and you moan around John's cock, your own spit drooling down your chin. Your hand claps tighter and tighter around your dick, almost painful, and you buck your hips while you push your mouth forward to take as much of John as you possibly can. He moans and brings his hand to your head. The touch is soft, but something inside you breaks. It's like he's holding you and you can finally be who you really want to be. 

You pull back until you're holding John's cock just between your lips, keeping him in suspense for a moment before you circle your tongue around his tip. Then you slide back down, pressing your tongue against the underside of his cock. You do your best to open up for him and swallow him down, your nose pressed into the little curls around his cock. 

His smell is intoxicating, and you stay there as long as you can without gagging. Then you draw back again and start all over, all the while, doing the same thing to your own cock. Up, a little tease with your thumb over your slit, and back down. Spurred on by your own arousal, you soon go faster and faster, and you know full well that you begin to lack finesse, but the rub of John's flesh between your lips is too good. 

You go harder and faster, John's cock slick from your spit. The noises you make are obscene, but there's nothing in the world that could stop you now. If those guards came around the corner, you'd keep going, sucking off John Marston till you have a bullet in your head. 

Your moans get louder, and you fuck eagerly into your own hand, your whole body squirming under John. Then, John's fingers tighten in your hair. He pulls himself out of your mouth and strokes himself. "Come on, darling. Get yourself off. I wanna see how you come."

All you need are a few long, hard strokes and your whole body tenses. Your dick pulses in your hand, your come running down your fingers as your hips still fuck into nothing. All the time, John's eyes are on you, and your head falls back, your mouth open and your breath still going hard. 

"Jesus," John grunts, his fingers clawing into your hair, "look at you. My perfect little angel. You gonna look so good with my come all over your pretty face."

He leans forward, stroking himself just as wild and hard as you did. For just a moment, he closes his eyes. You can see him come undone, his hips stuttering. Then he opens his eyes again and watches as the strands of his come shoot over your cheeks and chin. He runs his tip along your lips before pushing back into your mouth one more time so you can lick him clean. 

After he’s pulling back, you both stay like this, catching your breath. Then, John tugs himself back into his pants and checks on the guards again before helping you up. The muscles in your legs are still strained, and you lean heavy against John. He carefully pushes you against the crates before pulling out his bandana from the back of his pants. "Here, clean yourself up."

You try your best to look presentable again, stuffing the piece of fabric into your own pants when you're done and fully dressed. You're sure that John will want it back, but for now, it feels good to carry something of him around. John gives you a quick once over before grabbing his gun. 

"We gonna go back the way we came," he explains. "You go first, I'll follow you. One of the guards just went away. If we're lucky, they won't see us."

"We can't exactly rob the train without taking out the guards," you say, moving your legs around to get some feeling back. 

"Yeah, I don't really give a shit about the train anymore. There's a station coming up, and we'll get off there."

You have no idea where you might end up then, and even for John, that's somewhat reckless. "And then we do what?"

John puts an arm around your waist to pull you closer, his hand wandering to your ass. "Then we'll find you a place to have a nice bath, and when you're all warm and relaxed, I'm gonna take care of that perky little ass of yours."

You're too surprised to say something, but you don't have to anyway. John knows who you are now, and it seems he's planning on taking full advantage. Not that you mind. As he draws you in for a kiss, your heart swells in your chest. There's nothing in this world that could hurt you now because you just got claimed by John Marston.

[illshowyourhurricanes]

Rewind, Restart (Prequel)

Instead of a part 2 this time, y’all are getting a little look at pre-Part One. Here’s Billy Russo, a few days’ time since his escape, all tortured mind and finding himself in the middle of a dangerous situation. 

Trigger warning: weaponry, mentions of death, fighting

Rating: PG-13/R

Word count: 2066

Hope you all enjoy! If you want to be added to or removed from my tag list, just shoot me an ask!

Taglist: @dylanobrusso @obscurilicious @the-blind-assassin-12 @something-tofightfor @ms-delos @madamrogers @lexxierave @agent-bossypants @yannii04 @gollyderek @carlaangel86 @bicevans @maydayfigment @thisisparadisemylove @ladyofnaps​ @malionnes​ @thesandbeneathmytoes​

He was haunted with images of skulls and blood.

Every night, it was the same. Whenever Billy managed to fall asleep, to quiet the torment and torture that burned and branded his mind, even his restful moments were stained with terror-- terror that Billy couldn't make sense of. And every single night, his reaction was the same: a scream, guttural, from a place so deeply rooted inside him, he sounded foreign to his own ears. His eyes, black as coal, flew open, wide and wild, his gaze darting back and forth in the darkness. Damp with sweat, shivering in fear, he was deafened save for the sound of his own heartbeat pounding in his chest, yet the part that Billy despised more than the repetitive night terror itself was, night after night, the last realization that hit him. His face-- ugly, disfigured, permanently slashed with scars-- was streaked with tears. 

There was a hammering in his head, a rush of adrenaline that had his chest heaving. Paranoid and delusional, his eyes searched the parameters of the room once more as Billy pushed himself up into a semi-upright position. His back was rod-straight, his ragged breathing the only sound in the otherwise stark silent room. Collapsing back onto his pillows propped against the headboard, Billy struggled to steady himself momentarily, inhaling deeply, jaw flexing. He ran a hand over his face, fingertips brushing across thick, numbing scar tissue. It was a reminder; a realization; a reawakening of anger and self-loathing, anguish and absence, abandonment of his severed mind-- any trace of an answer condemned. 

A sneer of contempt contorted his mangled face. Dropping his head into his hands, Billy cried without abandon, his body shaking, ransacked with sobs. Howling with torment and wretched in his agony, he abandoned his one perfected apathetic demeanor. He was an animal, a monster, a beast-- a vulgar, raging, impetuous abomination. Billy had lost everything he'd built from nothing and his stomach churned in disgust. He had returned to his birthright, had fallen to his roots. Billy Russo was a grunt, a gutter rat. He was cracking apart, shattering into splinters.

***               ***               *** .              ***

It was as if Billy was on autopilot. He walked purposefully along the streets of Brooklyn, his surroundings becoming more familiar with each block. Hands stuffed in the pockets of a worn coat, head covered by the hoodie he wore underneath, Billy found himself standing outside of the closest place he could ever call "home"- and it was gone. The Ray of Light Group Home had been bulldozed down. Apartments stood where housing had been, concrete poured and hardened over a lot that had served as a baseball diamond for generations of orphaned children. 

There was little that he remembered, and less than a handful of his few, scrambled memories were tangible, concrete. One of those had  a big part of Billy’s  life that he didn’t necessarily want to remember, yet clung to in an effort to have some sense of self-- no matter how demeaning and lonely. And it no longer existed. It was a surprise, but when he laid eyes on what had been constructed, memory of the complex came back to him in a rush. It was familiar; he’d known before that Ray of Light was gone. There was an importance to the apartments, a reason he remembered them instead of things that were paramount: the company Anvil that he’d founded, his knowledge that Frank’s family would be killed staying tucked away without so much as a warning… what had happened to his face. But he remembered this structure, and he stared across the street at the rows of windows built into the brick exterior. 

Time was a feeble thing, and Billy had no estimate of how long he stood still, just staring at his surroundings, his breath puffing out in small white clouds of smoke. Shoes scuffing over pavement caught his attention, his eyes searching through the darkness. Across the street, just outside of the housing development, Billy found the source of the sound. A dull, dim glow from the closest streetlight did just enough to illuminate two figures. The shorter of the two turned to leave and was roughly grabbed by the arm. The street lamp glinted off the blade of a knife.

Agile and silent, Billy darted across the street. His hand wrapped around the barrel of the gun tucked into the waistband of his jeans. 

"Hey!" he called out, coming to a stop no more than a foot from what seemed to be a confrontation. "Is there a problem here?" 

He was unfazed by the knife gripped in the male's hand, but with one quick glance at you- the one person the blade was threatening- it was obvious the woman in question was affected. She was frozen in terror. A bitter laugh dripped from the mouth of the male as he sized up Billy. Contempt darkened his gaze as he looked back at the assailant, silently daring him to make a move. 

"I don't know. Is there a problem, freak?" 

Freak. In one quick motion, Billy drew his gun, cocking the hammer as he pointed it toward the knife-wielding asshole. Billy looked at him, wild-eyed and silently begging him to antagonize either himself or the woman, who had slowly crept behind him further. Seconds later, the aggressor withdrew his knife, jogging in the opposite direction. 

Pocketing his gun, Billy turned to face her. "Please," she  begged, voice shaking, "Don't hurt me."

He shook his head slightly, most of his face shadowed by his hoodie and with help from the angle of the streetlight. "Are you hurt?" He looked over the stranger with a quick sweep of his eyes, a quick check for any signs of blood or other signs of foul play. 

She was visibly shaking, still struggling with the previous situation as well as with the knowledge that this man that appeared to care about her well-being had a gun and seemed quick to use it. Her tongue felt thick in her mouth,  dry like sandpaper. Taking a few deep breaths, she tried to steady herself, yet felt as if she could crumple to the ground at any given moment. 

"N..no," she managed finally. "No, he didn't have the time to hurt me. He asked me for the time, and I stopped to check and..." She trailed off, looking across the parking lot, toward the general direction Billy had come from. "And you appeared." Finally, she peered up at his face, seeing not much more than the dark shadow of scruff over his chin. "Thank you."

Standing still for a moment, Billy nodded in response. Instinct told him not to leave her alone just yet; that asshole could be hiding around the corner and neither of you would know the difference. He'd be much more keen to violence after being threatened and humiliated. 

"You live nearby?" Before she could answer, he cleared his throat and quickly scanned the premises. "You should let me walk you the rest of the way," he suggested, glancing back down at her. Without a beat of consideration, she nodded her head vehemently. This stranger had just saved her from another stranger, one who had pulled a knife on her. Somehow, she had faith that his motives were not ill-intentioned. 

He took a couple steps, slowing as she began to walk by his side. "I'm Billy," he volunteered, attempting to put her at ease. There hadn't been a shadow of recognition in her eyes at any point since Billy and his gun came to her rescue, and he was fully aware of that; it was the only reason he'd thought to offer his name. He'd seen the news. He knew he was a wanted man. He also knew that he looked nothing like the wanted man in the photo the media was using for identification.

"Hi, Billy," she said with a trace of a smile over her lips. "I'm Caroline... I live in this complex, so I won't be wasting too much more of your time." 

Billy's jaw flexed. He had mixed feelings about his former group home; he recalled the deep-seated knowledge that his mother didn't want him, the fucked-up things he'd had to endure as a child in the system. But, Ray of Light had provided him with a place to stay, food on the table, childhood friends he'd made until he was out on his own. It was no coincidence that he didn’t keep in touch; in the end, it was always everyone for themselves. Yet, throughout the years-- save for his time in Kandahar and seemingly endless torturous bullshit months he'd spent in the Sacred Saints-- it was Ray of Light that he'd come to when he needed to find some kind of fucking solace--to breathe. Had he visited in the past three years? Nothing came to mind: it was just another small, insignificant memory that he couldn’t recall. There was a hole in his life, a hole of the last three years, that plagued him more than the myriad of terrible things that had certainly happened to him. At least with those, no matter how much they stung, he was aware. 

"It's not a waste," Billy replied with a shrug, turning his attention to Caroline as the pair walked side-by-side. "I lived in this area as a kid. Couldn't sleep and ended up out here.”

Caroline nodded politely, her pace slowing as the two of you reached your building. "This is it," she  said, pulling her keys from her bag. She hesitated for a moment, glancing down at her boot-clad feet before attempting to meet Billy's eyes. From what she  could see, they were unnaturally dark. It was as if they were all pupil.  

"Thank you, Billy." Her voice was earnest, and she made a conscious effort to not allow herself to be overcome by emotion. The night had been quite overwhelming. "I wish I could find a way to repay you, but there's nothing that matches the value of not being tossed in a dumpster down an otherwise unoccupied alleyway." She forced a smile that didn’t reach her eyes; she didn’t have the energy. The knowledge that she very well could have ended up in that very situation-- instead of safely at home-- sent  a shiver down her spine.

Billy flashed a hint of a smile, gesturing toward the door. His feet stayed planted where he stood. 

"Go ahead inside," he suggested. Seeing this woman disappear inside safely would give him the go-ahead to leave with a clear conscience. A sudden flash of anger sliced through him. If he ever ran into the asshole that had tried to hurt her, he'd kill him.

"Caroline?" Billy called out. She stopped and turned just after opening the door. "Take care of yourself." Eyes lingering on her until she disappeared inside, Billy turned and walked away from that apartment complex, one he was all too familiar with, as clear as crystal in his mostly foggy mind. He’d spent a nice amount of time there… time with you. He continued to walk through the gridlocked streets, remembering your apartment number, the layout of your place, your name and your laugh and the way you bit your lip to try to stifle your moans and how it never worked… the way he’d walked out of your life without so much as a word. 

He needed to see you. Maybe you could help him fit some of those jigsaw puzzle pieces back together, jog his memory, sort things into the right order, a timeline that he could eventually use to think in a more linear fashion. Billy needed his life back, years of his life that he’d spent doing terrible things, unspeakable things he couldn’t imagine himself doing. He thought about the disfigurement of his face, upper lip curling in disgust as the mental image of his scars glared ugly in his mind. He knew he didn’t deserve to be allowed inside, much less any type of assistance in anything where you were concerned. But you were the only thing he had once, and for the only time since he could remember, you had wanted him too. Billy had grown to accept the fact that he himself was the one person he needed. But now, after all that had happened, he was a wanted man, a fugitive, a name, a fractured mind, and a hideous face. Now, Billy Russo needed someone other than himself, and that person was you.

[aisling-beatha]

One-Shot #2 [SFW]

The Walking Dead | Daryl Dixon X Reader

Warning: Mentioning of domestic violence, physical and emotional abuse

Daryl would never beat a woman. Hell, he'd probably never touch her unless it was utterly needed. His complicated childhood with the old man drinking his life away and his older brother constantly being high or in jail, Daryl quickly learned that with assault and battery, nothing would end well. Though he could still beat all the crap out anyone who even tried to approach the people he cared about. But manhandling a woman... That was too much for him. That's why it made his blood boil when he learned about your previous relationship.

You had been married to the man for a few years when the outbreak started. The thing started as something magical like in those novels you loved to read. At first, you couldn't believe to be lucky to have the man by your side, to share the bed with him. To share his name. Before he would take you to different places for your dates, and he never failed to surprise you with the choice. Flowers, lovely dinners, passionate nights spent together... Everything seemed to be a dream.

Your first year of life as a married couple went pretty well too until it changed. Your husband stayed late at work, coming home in a black mood. In the beginning, you didn't think something was off. You would still offer a loving smile and nuzzle closely to him at night. Anybody could have a complicated situation at work, right? That's why you didn't pay much attention again when he started to leave for a few shots at a bar with his colleagues. The man needed his space, you thought. It kept on going for weeks and months. Then it became worse.

Your hands were shaking, while you were doing up the buttons of the shirt. The fabric had to be dense enough to cover fresh cuts and bruises. Some of them were still bleeding. Thank God, the shirt was black.

You no longer saw the man you had fallen for. All the affection, all the tenderness he had possessed now were gone. Harshness and tyranny replaced them. He accused you of every failure in his life. And after all, he would take out all of the frustration on you, beating and humiliating. With days passing by, it only became worse. You no longer could go out without covering your full body: arms, legs, your neck, and shoulders. And the thing was, no matter what you did, you could never make him stop. You were scared for your life. But more than that, you were scared to leave.

Your single attempt resulted in you being taken to the hospital with a broken rib. Your husband followed you in and out, lying through his teeth about a terrible car accident. And for years after that, you couldn't find the strength to do that again. Eating the dust and silently praying to God every night.

By the time the group found the prison, you and Daryl had already gotten together. The man turned out to be a very gentle partner and lover. Which quite surprised you at first. Daryl was never the man of many words or showing affection, yet when it came to your being in the relationship, some things changed. Small touches here and there to provide comfort, patting shoulders or back, gentle kisses when nobody was watching. It seemed no matter what, he'd always put you and your safety in the first place, always making sure you weren't hurt, hungry or cold. It still surprised you sometimes how even small details couldn't escape him. Daryl instantly knew if something was wrong. The way your eyes would get sadder sometimes, your shoulders would tense up, could tell him more than words. That's why being in the relationship with him was so special.

Daryl had never laid a hand on you, but it didn't mean you two never argued. On a particularly rough day when you'd remember your ex, you would go to Carol. The woman became your dearest friend. There, sitting in the kitchen, you would silently cry to her, sharing your worries about your and Daryl's future together. You couldn't let a thought of him hurting you cross your mind. But every time you two had even a small fight, something inside of you was off. You didn't want to lose him, you couldn't afford to lose him. But after all, you were so damn scared of Daryl becoming your ex-husband. And every time you went talking to Carol, you'd be silently hoping that she would understand. And she did. She always did. Being in an abusive relationship with Ed, Carol now was the only person in the whole group who'd actually understand it. And every time you came to her, she would listen to you, and she would reassure you. Again and again. Daryl wasn't like your ex. Not a single thing about him was the same. Carol loved to tell you that Daryl was that kind of a man who'd love you for the rest of his life. He would die, and he would sure as hell kill for you. And at the end of the day, she was always right.

***

The run didn't go as smoothly as planned. You ended up encircled by a rather big herd that left you outnumbered. More than that, you accidentally dislocated your shoulder on your way back to the car. And by accidentally you meant tripping over a stone and falling right onto your rifle which, thank God, didn't shoot. But despite all the trouble, your group managed to find lots of supplies, including food and meds. And as soon as Rick set your shoulder, you took the way back home.

Back at the prison, you laid on the bunk in your and Daryl's cell, stretching out your aching body. Daryl, as it seemed, still wasn't back from the hunt. Though, he could be anywhere really. The man could be skinning his game in the kitchen or having his time in the guard tower. The two of you, after all, really respected one's privacy. Though, his absence made you worry. This morning you hadn't told him about your plans of joining Rick and others on a supply run. Daryl was an early riser, so he had gotten up long before you did and had gone hunting. Your thoughts were elsewhere when you heard Carol calling your name. She was passing by your cell when she stopped.

"He's back..." she said with a concerned look. "And he's in a bad mood."

You noded, getting up and muttering a quiet "thanks".

Of course, it couldn't be anything different. Daryl was angry with you. And now you could only hope it wouldn't lead to another devastating fight between you two. Daryl rushed into the cell a few minutes later.

"Hey," you said, trying to calm your trembling voice.

Daryl didn't answer. You saw his whole body immediately tensing up.

"Look, I know you're angry," you rubbed your face, looking away. "And I'm sorry."

You really did feel guilty for not telling Daryl about the run. But you didn't really have a choice. Your group needed supplies: medication, ammo, clothes, food after all. Everything was in short supply, and Daryl simply couldn't go out hunting every single day and night. Though he would, you knew that. So when Rick asked you to join him and Glenn on the run, you agreed without a second thought.

"You were already gone so I couldn't warn you. But I'm fine, see? I mean, nothing bad happened except for a dislocated shoulder, but that was just me being stupid..."

"Yeah?" Daryl cut you off. His harsh voice was like a rumble of thunder, echoing in the cell. "Stupid, huh? Wha' the hell were ya even thinkin'?"

He was looking at you with such an intense look, that he could probably kill with it.

"Ya weren't really thinking, were ya?!" Dary made his way up to you. "Being so reckless 'n shit."

You reflexively took a few steps back, feeling your back hit the wall. It happened sometimes during your small fights when Daryl would raise his voice on you but it never really affected you that much. But now, something about his mood was different. You saw his jaw tightened and a vein popping out in his neck. Daryl wasn't just annoyed. God, he was furious. You felt the panic rising up to your throat making it hard to breathe.

"I'm-I'm sorry. I didn't want to make you worry, I swear. Rick had asked me to join them... I just wanted to help" you mumbled, trying to justify yourself but the words were coming out jumbled.

"And if tha' asshole asked ya to shoot yourself, ya'd do tha' too, huh? 'Cause ya jus' wanted to help?!" Daryl was throwing his arms in the air, emphasizing every word, coming closer and closer. He almost pinned you down the wall, standing right in front of you.

Daryl was never the one to second-guess Rick's decisions. More than that, he would usually be the first to obey them. And it was a common knowledge that Rick would never put his people in danger, their safety was always in the first place. That's why you couldn't believe that Daryl had just said something like that. Eventually, Daryl was shouting something else to your face, but your mind couldn't catch up to his words anymore. You had ringing in the ears, and it felt as if the ground was slowly slipping away from under your feet. You had to bring hands to cover your face when Daryl took another step forward, as panic overtook you. You didn't even notice you were holding your breath until you started hyperventilating.

"Don't, oh God, please don't!" You started mumbling, closing your eyes and sliding down the wall on the floor.

You tried to make yourself as small as possible as the images of your ex filled your head, and you almost started to cry.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, please don't..."

You were too caught up in your memories to notice the way Daryl's body went numb. He couldn't move, watching you in pure shock. Your eyes were shut, and you were trembling hard. Your mumbling turned into whispering as you no longer could register anything around you. It took him almost a minute to understand what was happening. And as soon as the realization of what he had done hit him, he fell onto the floor next to you, not even bothering for his knees. Daryl tried to reach you, touching your shoulder. Guilt washed over him as you flinched from his touch.

"Y/N... Shit, girl, 'm sorry" his voice cracked.

Daryl pulled you to his chest, stroking your hair, whispering apologies as tears filled his eyes. A shiver ran down his spine as he thought of the way he had approached you. Of what he had done to you. He didn't just shout at you. He made you afraid. You were still trembling, fighting off your anxiety when familiar smell and warmth surrounded you. As quickly as appeared, a vision of your ex escaped your mind, as you were propped against Daryl's broad chest with his hands around you.

It took you several minutes to calm down. You let a shaky breath, sniffing and finally opened your eyes, letting your arms stay around your middle. Your misty eyes met Daryl's terrified gaze. Another wave of panic hit you when you realized what just happened.

"I'm sorry, shit, I didn't want to" you tried to move, feeling the urge to leave and not to make things worse. But Daryl's strong arms just tightened around you, making it impossible for you to escape.

"Did ya... Did ya think I was gonna hit ya? Like yer ol' man?" Daryl asked after some time.

He was whispering, his voice uneven. His eyes never left yours as he watched you nodding slowly and hiding your face. He exhaled slowly, and you started to apologize again, feeling incredibly guilty for making him feel bad and insecure about himself. You knew Daryl would be beating himself up for what had happened.

"'M sorry" was all he could say.

You lifted your head again, watching the man closely. He had such a hurt expression that it made your heart ache for him.

"It's not on you, Daryl," you said quietly, resting your forehead on his shoulder and hesitantly hugging him back. "It's still hard for me to forget, you know... Sometimes I just forget he is not here anymore."

Daryl just pulled you closer, kissing the top of your head and closing his eyes.

"You're safe here. 'M not gonna let anything hurt you again. 'M sorry, I was an asshole to you."

Today, Daryl thought he lost you. You left. That was what he heard from others when he came back from hunting. He trusted Rick and Glenn to keep you safe but still every time you went out without him by your side, an obnoxious feeling would fill his heart. Daryl couldn't lose you. Not after everything you'd come through. You were the first one to show him what it meant to be loved, to be cared about. You proved him that, after all, he wasn't broken, he wasn't damaged. Yet, here were you. An angel, in his eyes. Daryl hated to see you broken, he hated that he couldn't help it too. If your husband had been still alive, Daryl would have killed him slowly, making up for all the pain he'd given you through years. Daryl somehow knew for sure that he just wouldn't make it, if something happened to you. Whatever it was in you that made him like that, he couldn't resist the desperate will to take all your pain. To make you forget.

"I'm a mess," you said quietly after a while. "You know that."

That wasn't really the question. Daryl knew you still had nightmares of your ex, you still tried to hide all old scars, you were still trying to find your worth. And Daryl was always there to help you.

"Ya ain't," he said in a gruff voice, pulling away to look into your eyes. He cupped your cheeks, whipping your tears with his thumbs and repeated himself. "Ya ain't."

Whatever it was between you two, it was nothing like either of you had before. You were still fighting your old demons, but as they say, you can't get away from your past. And as long as there's someone by your side, as long as someone's there for your battles, you're not too far gone.

[alive-and-afraid]

AHWM All endings!!

WARNING SPOILERS FOR A HEIST WITH MARKIPLIER!!!

And you said it would take a week to get through all the endings!!! HA!! One day baby!! also I REMEMBER THE JOKE MARK!!!

  A Heist with Markiplier 1.Guns Blazing, Car, Try to fix, I don't trust strangers. Stupid, you didn't run off with the guy who couldn't not be your newfound crush, so in turn....you were crushed....poetic is it not? Ending 1: Clever Girl. 2.Guns Blazing, Car, Try to fix, An adventure sounds lovely,Don't give the statue. You looked into the monkeys eyes and went feral. Congratulations, you just killed the guy you undoubtebly fell in love with. Ending 2: Monkey see, Monkey kill. 3.Guns Blazing, Car, Try to fix, An adventure sounds lovely,Give the statue. You put the statue on the plinth and are both teleported to monkey heaven. When you get back Illinoi walks off suavely. Oh and you now have a third arm and the power to break a rock with a single sneeze. By the way don't feel too bad, everyone falls in love with him eventually.Ending 3 :A heavenly adventure. 4.Guns Blazing, Car, Walk to base,Tell the Truth. You turned into a Zombie...but hey you found some great friends that you wouldn't of found otherwise....Ending 4: Friends 4 Unlife. 5.Guns Blazing, Car, Walk to base, I'm Fine!, The Scientist,ABSOLUTELY NOT!! You escape Ro's plan but then turned to a zombie and ate your only friend in the wasteland...Mark...Ending 5:The coward's way out. 6.Guns Blazing, Car, Walk to base, I'm Fine!!, The scientist, For the Greater Good. Ro shoots the box and kills off all the alternet timelines leaving us just with the original. We get sent back to the front of the museum and don't remember what we were there for.....Ending 6:The End. 7.Guns Blazing, Car, Walk to base, I'm Fine!!, The Soldier, I'm Hiding Something. You show your bite to Ed, he appreciates you being truthful......doesn't stop him from shooting you in the face though....Ending 7:What did you expect? 8.Guns Blazing, Car, Walk to base, I'm Fine!!, The Soldier,Ed's Hiding Something, Tuna. That tuna sandwich ended up having the cure to zombification in it..who would've thought it...Because you were now immunized you were eventually able to meet up with some scientists and craft a cure. The world goes back to normal.Ending 8: The Cure. 9.Guns Blazing, Car, Walk to base, I'm Fine!!, The Soldier,Ed's Hiding Something,PB&J. The PB&J sandwich made your zombie form a lot less agressive, and because you were after all still a zombie you could vouch for Mark to the other zombies, and since you weren't that aggressive Mark vouched for you to the humans. All the remaining survivors ended up forming a community, where you and Mark lived semi-happily ever after. Ending 9:Friends of the Dead 10.Guns Blazing, Helicopter, Rally the prisoners, prison life for me. You shank someone so you can stay in prison for the rest of your life. Youse gonna fit right in. Ending 10: Life Sentence. 11.Guns Blazing, Helicopter, Rally the prisoners, I want to be free,Thanks but no thanks. Its a dance off. By refusing Yancy's offer of assistence you offended him. He challenged you to a dance off...and won.....by alot...Ending 11:Dance to the Death 12.Guns Blazing, Helicopter, Rally the prisoners, I want to be free,thanks and also yes please. You got out of jail with the help of Yancy..... don't forget visitations every third sunday...Ending 12:I want to be free 13.Guns Blazing, Helicopter, Charm the Guards, Dig Dig Dig, Whats in the box. You open the box to find a real life,honest to god fairy....who won't shut up (it kind of reminds me of some other fairy who doesn't shut up...*cough* *cough* Navi) the fairy is so loud it alerts the guard who figures out you were trying to escape and locks you both in solitary........Ending 13: Shut up! 14.Guns Blazing, Helicopter, Charm the guards, Whats that?, Oh HELL no!, Whats in the box? A fairy is in the box!! cause why the hell not!! The fairy is very loud and alerts the guards which gets you put in solitary...in a straight jacket. Ending 14:Be quiet! 15.Guns Blazing, Helicopter, Charm the Guards, Dig Dig Dig, Stick to the plan, Open the box. You re-wind time to stop the bullets Bob has shot at you....you end up back at the start of the heist...before you've even gone in the museum...Ending 15: Time is on our side. 16.Guns Blazing, Helicopter, Charm the guards, Whats that?, Oh HELL no!, Stick to the plan,Open the box. You open the box and it does some weird shit and you end up with WILFORD?!!? Apparantly for an interview?!......Oh wow this is really meta. Ending 16: The Interveiw. 17.Guns Blazing, Helicopter, Charm the guards, dig dig dig, stick to the plan, Shoot Bob. You shoot Bob only to find that he was Wade, Mark leans down to hear Wade's final words...then Bob comes up behind him and pulls your mask off.......you look in the mirror only to find....you're Wade? Ending 17: It was me the whole time. 18.Guns Blazing, Helicopter, Charm the guards, Whats that?, Oh HELL no!, Stick to the plan, Shoot Wade. Wubba turns out to be Wade who betrays Mark but then is actually Bob?, who was saving Mark?! Bob is about to say something important but gets inturrupted by Wade firing his gun he tells you to "take off your mask, partner" and does it for you. When your mask is off he hands you a mirror and you see......you're actually Bob?! Ending 18: It was my joke. 19. Guns Blazing, Helicopter, Charm the Guards, What's that?, This seems safe. I mean it's an enigma for a reason right? No explanation for this one. Ending 19:The enigma of Happy trails penitentiary. 20.All Sneaky Like, Light Tunnel, Wait for rescue. I know everything. Mark got hit by an anchor last step so he's gone. "Oh" Pirate Mark says "you do do ya?!"Heheehehe" "Well for one so knowledgable ye ain't none to bright, you see I knew ya friend, oh yes I knew, your the type of person who wants to steal me treasure" "Oh, no one, no one , steals my treasure, ta ta!" We are now in the cannon.......we are now dead. Ending 20:I believe I can fly. 21.All Sneaky Like, Light tunnel, Wait for rescue, I know nothing, Golden Treasure.A man leads you to a cave with a pit, he  says to Arrghiplier (Pirate Mark) "Is there anything in this world that you value more than treasure?" Arrghiplier takes that to mean that he has to sacrifice you to get the treasure. Pirate Mark drops you in the pit to gain his gold. Ending 21: In the soulstone. 22.All Sneaky Like, Light tunnel, Wait for rescue,I know nothing,Treasured gold. You find the right treasure and stay with the pirates for the rest of your days.Ending 22:A pirates life for me. 23.All Sneaky Like, Light tunnel, Row home, Build a sign.You get captured by aliens and your memory is wiped. Ending 23: Not again... 24.All Sneaky Like, Light Tunnel, Row home, Find Shelter, Enter the Cave,You first. You think Mark is in trouble and try to save him by pressing a button on a contraption you pulled out of the box you stole from the museum....instead it calls an orbital lazar strike to your position...You, Mark and even SavagePat are all killed in the blast. Ending 24: Imma firin' my lazarrr! 25.All Sneaky Like, Light tunnel, Row home,Find a shelter, Enter the cave, Me first. We stay in the cave with SavagePat for the rest of our lives. Ending 25: Dont judge a book by it's human-skin cover. 26.All Sneaky Like, Light tunnel, Row home, Find a shelter, RUN AWAY. You run away from SavagePat and fall straight into the ocean...and then get eaten by a shark...Ending 26:Freash Meat 27. All Sneaky Like, Dark tunnel, split up at first opportunity. ADWM Mark gets eaten by a crocodile. Ending 27:When will you learn?  28. All Sneaky Like, Dark tunnel, split up on second choice to do so. ADWM Mark gets eaten by a weird worm thing and so do you.Ending 28: Are you serious? 29.All Sneaky like, Dark tunnel, Split up the fourth time you are given the option. ADWM Mark tells us to look after Chica then says "Goodbye my friend" and falls putting his hands into a love heart on the way down. Fire explodes when he hits the groung and the fire comes up to meet us, and we somehow get exploded into a field full of flowers. We walk onto a road and hear sirens and car horns. Ending 29:One last split up. 30.  All Sneaky Like, Dark tunnel, Don't split up ever. We end up back in the beginning waiting to meet Heist Mark. ADWM Mark says that he can't do this anymore and he's over it, he goes home to take a nap.Ending 30: Once more with feeling. 31. All Sneaky Like, Dark Tunnel, Split up on third option to do so. ADWM Mark disappeares and drops his flashlight. We somehow end up in this brick school-like hallway witha bunh of doors and a painting of the Chef with black lines where the eyes should be, on the wall, acommpanied by the sound of the Chef talking to us from WKM all around you. You get a text message from a unknown number: "Aren't you tired of it?" A potrait of the butler is next with the same blacked out eyes, and echoes of him talking to us from WKM. Text from the same number: "Don't you feel like you're running in circles?" Painting of Abe (the Detective). Echoes from WKM,or it could be from Wilford "Motherloving" Warfstache I suppose. Blacked out eyes, you get the deal. Text, same number: "No one seems to question it." Painting of the Colonel, blacked out eyes, and a pink mustache drawn on to it. Echoes of the Colonel from WKM. Text from same number: "But I thought you'd see through it." You go through the door at the end of the hall (I assume, it's another whip cut so you can't really tell.) there is a painting of  Pink robe Mark from WKM ( Is that one Asshole Mark?) With echoes of him talking from WKM. The painting starts crumbling and peeling.A Dark(?) laugh,  Dark(?) starts talking: " Same snake(?), different skin." "Always spinning yarns(?), his webs,-" View pans to someone in a white suit with his hair pulled to our right (his left). He is sorta grey like dark. (Dark has a new look?) it's him thats been talking. He is surrounded in red and blue and has eyeliner on. He continues; "-his lies." (glitch) "I alway thought that you were trapped (glitch) in his games, perpetually plunging (glitch) down a rabbit hole of stories(?), helpless, lost  (glitch) I know the feeling. Perhaps (glitch) I'm the crazy one." "Perhaps (glitch) we've met a hundred (glitch) times already, and you simply don't remember it." "Perhaps you were tired of me repeating myself over,( there are multiple of him now) and over again. and over and over AND OVER AGAIN!" (he's just full out glitching all over the place now.). We come to a white table with a wine glass on it. " Maybe you just missed my pretty face (glitch, and his eyes are red) (he stands up taller) it doesn't matter...people like you, you want one thing (big screamy glitch) and it's disgusting." (glitch) "You want answers?" ( he picks up the wine glass) "Well, games were always his.. (glitch) (he goes to take a drink) (glitch) (glitch)..forte."  (drink) "But allow me this one moment of self-indulgence." (he puts down the glass). We teleport to what seems to be an office. The is a certificate on the desk he is sitting on that has the word Warden on it. He is holding the box we stole from the museum. There is a small man on the bottom left of the screen. "So much trouble (he is looking at the box)...for something so small. ( he glitches into the office chair on the opposite side of the desk to us.) (he is almost smiling?) "Do you really want to know whats inside this box?" (he sets it down, it has weird gold flecks coming off it) "The truth not the lies he's told you...(glitch) but the truth." (glitch) "I know how much you- (glitch, he is laying on the desk now)  love a good game...so,through out this...heist I've hidden codes,"- (glitch. The words Ignorance is bliss, show up on the screen. And then a question mark shows up.)  "-so codes...find them all and you'll get your truth."(glitch,glitch,glitch) "but thats all I'm gonna give you." Camera zooms out. The certificate says: Warden of the X. We are back to the front of the museum. Ending 31: Ignorance is bliss.

[pandemicthestory]

4: tethered

The game has a name. 

The game is called Universe. And it matches the map. 

Thanks Iz.  

Emma sits at her desk, mainlining espresso to the bloodstream, and readying herself to do a deep dive on the internet. Since the beginning of high school, this is how she’s spent many nights--high on caffeine, slouched over her computer, and ravaging the internet for information. Except historically she hadn’t been looking for a faceless man, but researching for the essays of her classmates. 

At up to $300 a paper, Emma had been cleaning up and saving up for two years. Saving for a new life with Julian, away from the family that seemed to have a problem with everything she did. Once she was gone, they could finally turn her bedroom into a gym, or an opium den, really the possibilities were endless. 

Emma has nearly $20,000 in a bank account that no one knows about. No one except Julian. And this means she has almost reached her goal, and that they can finally leave. Get a car, drive somewhere south where it’s warm. Or maybe somewhere north where it’s Canada. They haven’t actually figured that part out yet, but once they get the car, the rest will fall into place. That’s what he’s assured her. And she has chosen to believe him. 

Emma is the kind of best friend who lies. She’s not proud of it, but it’s true. And she feels like she has no other choice. Zoe, Olivia, Madison...they might as well be her sisters. They understand her more clearly than her own sister does. The four of them were connected by the holiest of ways: playing tetherball at recess in first grade. 

In 2020, they had grown into a grungey aspiring comic book creator (Madison), soup-kitchen volunteering empath (Olivia), Harvard-bound jailbait (Zoe), and criminal internet troll (Emma)...but before this, they were four little girls who had one important thing in common: hitting a ball that was tied to a poll. Every day, they’d wait in line together. Madison would always get there first (back then she played soccer and no one could outrun her), and she would “save a spot” for Zoe, who was the most talented player at the time, and her key rival. Olivia, given her sense of morality, would often be called upon to referee any suspicious moves. Wasn’t it remarkable that a sport (that wasn’t even a real sport) could form a sisterhood?

Sisters. Sisters were supposed to know everything about you. But Emma had chosen not tell them about her illegal business. How could they ever understand? All of them with their aspirations and goals, wouldn’t they look at her differently if they knew hers was...money? And a future that in all likelihood would not involve them? That thought was something that caused her a lot of pain and guilt, and one that she made a mental note to talk to Julian about. They hadn’t settled on the terms of their new life together, but they knew that it would have to be a secret from anyone. Otherwise they would be caught and returned. Emma was hoping she could find a way to not cut off her sisters. That he would understand.

*crack*

Emma is startled by her bedroom window opening. Julian has this way of popping up whenever she’s thinking about him. Which happens to be often.

“Dude, can you please text me before you’re gonna come over? Aghh you’re all wet!”

Julian playfully shakes his hair like a dog. 

“It’s raining,” he smiles. 

“No it’s not. I can see out the window.”

“But wouldn’t that be so romantic if I climbed up the side of your house and snuck into your window through the rain?”

“You know, it would, but you didn’t.”

Julian sighs, giving Emma the look that means, “ok stop being an asshole and act like you love me.”  

“Alright I just showered. Look, I brought you flowers.”

“You brought me one flower, and it’s a dandelion from my front yard.” Emma cracks a smile, despite herself.

Julian groans and throws himself down on her bed. 

“Ok, so am I gonna just lay here by myself? You punishing me for something I don’t even know that I did?”

He smiles at her in that “you can’t say no to this smile” type of way. Emma concedes and flops down next to him. He wraps his body around hers, holding her tight. It makes her feel both safe and like she couldn’t get away if she wanted to. Julian is tall and lean, but strong. He has curly hair that always flops in front of his face, and his eyes are dark and wide. He smells like the shower, so that wasn’t a lie. He kisses her neck. She sighs. 

“I missed you.” She says softly. Because she really, really did. 

“I had to go away for a while, to make sure I had my half. And it...took longer than I thought it would.”

Emma sits up. “But you have it?”

He smiles and nods. “What about you, Em?”

Emma gazes off distantly. She’s basically there. If this virus bullshit hadn’t gotten in the way, she would have passed her goal in three weeks, tops. But now…

“I don’t have all of it. Since there’s no school, I’m not sure how I can...but I’m really close.” Emma braces herself for him to be mad, but he isn’t. 

“That’s ok, babe.” 

“It is...?”

“Yeah, we have more than we need. I said 40 because having some extra doesn’t hurt. But we’ll be ok. And we can leave tonight.” 

Emma half chokes, half laughs. “Tonight? Are you insane? I already know the answer to that.”

“Well why not?”

“Um, I mean there’s things I have to do before we go, Julian...lots of stuff actually, I mean I need to pack, square away my accounts, and say goodbye to Isabel, and…”

“Then how bout tomorrow?” 

Julian has a bit of a manic look in his eye, like he hasn’t slept in days, like he’s been doing something he shouldn’t. Emma takes a deep breath, she doesn’t want to know. 

“Give me, um, one week. Ok?” 

Was that a flash of anger that just crossed Julian’s face? It couldn’t be. Those days are past. Julian hides anything that might have been, then just pouts dramatically and nods. 

“One week.”

Emma lays back down with him and they begin to make out. Is one week enough time to sort everything out? To figure out Universe? To find Mason? 

“You haven’t even re-asked me to be your girlfriend yet…” she murmurs. He hushes her. 

They continue to kiss, as Emma’s anxiety grows. Julian’s hand begins to slide under her shirt, but she stops him. Abruptly.

“Julian, I want to tell my friends that we’re leaving.” 

He sits up next to her, immediately serious. 

“You know we can’t, Emma.”

Emma slumps forward. “Am I really just going to disappear without telling them where I’m going?” 

“Yes, that’s exactly what you’re going to do. Anyone who knows what we’re doing is a potential threat to us being discovered. Honestly, what is the point of running away if you’re pretty sure that you’re going to get caught?” 

“But Julian, they’re like my sisters. It isn’t right. They’ll worry.” 

But worse than worry about her, they could forget her. They could close their little circle and be ok with just three sisters. They could be just fine without her. And that is, strangely, the worst fate that Emma can imagine. 

“Emma, no. And I don’t want to talk about it anymore.” 

He gets off the bed and straightens his clothing. He puts his shoes on. 

“Where are you going?”

Julian flashes her a look. This time, the anger lingers. 

“There is a fucking virus that’s going to kill half this country. Right now, people are quarantining because they agree to it. But what happens when there are cops in the streets, saying they’ll shoot us if we even leave our houses? What happens when there’s no food left? I’m getting out of here before it gets that bad, because I want to be in control of what happens to me. If you wanna come with, great. If not, don’t waste my time.”

And with that, he has disappeared back out the window from which he came. 

Emma tries to catch her breath. She’s not going to cry over him tonight. No. Absolutely not. This is the right thing to do. He’s going to save her. They’re going to save each other. He loves her. He loves her.

*buzz*

Her phone lights up on her desk. The group chat. 

Emma rubs her face and examines her phone. 

OLIVIA: does anyone wanna watch a movie? Netflix does this party mode thing now where you can watch stuff with other people

ZOE: i was just thinking about how i’ve never seen gossip girl. Binge?

MADISON: if we watch something less cringey I’m in. back me up Em?

But Emma can’t respond. And now, is when she begins to cry. 

Because they don’t know so many things. And they wouldn’t forgive her if they did. 

The last time Julian was her boyfriend, he cheated on her with someone Isabel’s age. And when Emma found out (through an unforgettable fight with Isabel), she confronted Julian immediately. Surprisingly, he made himself the victim, claiming that Emma hadn’t been a loving enough girlfriend, and that he was desperate for attention. He made her feel like she wasn’t enough, something she already struggled with, and something that she has carried with ever since. 

So after he started texting her again six months ago, she told the first lie to her friends. A lie of omission, really, as she just didn’t tell them about him at all. And then came the next lie, when Emma opened up her anonymous writing service to her schoolmates. Everyone knew about the sophomore ghostwriter, but no one knew it was Emma Bradford. 

Except Julian. And this knowledge is something that he has over her, but that she is 100% sure he would never use against her. Because he isn’t like that anymore. He wouldn’t hurt her again.

Whether Emma is able to look herself in the mirror and make the judgment or not, she’s smart. Technically, brilliant. It’s always been easy for her to label Zoe as “the smart one,” unable to recognize her own intelligence. But Emma built her own PC when she was 12 years old. She learned Python when she was 13. She wrote her own research program that combs sources for students’ papers, allowing her to have an incredible turnaround rate. While Zoe might be the star of AP Biology, Emma’s intellectual strengths just haven’t been required of her yet. So she can’t see their worth.

Emma sits down at her laptop. 

Universe.

After a quick Google search, she is able to find it rather easily. Although, the game is from 1983? This can’t be right...the graphics she saw over Isabel’s shoulder looked modern. But then again, she didn’t get a good look. 

After Emma is unable to find any other Universe games, she decides to download this one. As she starts the download, she sees that the game takes up an absurd amount of memory--about 20x that of a normal game. Very weird. Luckily, Emma has a spare external hard drive that she can download the game onto. Huh. What the hell can possibly be taking up so much space?

The computer determines that the download will be completed in 24 hours. 

What?! Truly unheard of. Ok then, well, seemingly she pounded all this coffee for nothing. Nothing to do but, wait. 

*ping* 

A new message to her ghostwriter account. Mason. Her heart skips a beat.  

MASON: Don’t worry, the time will go quickly

And now her pulse begins to quicken. So this means that she’s right. The map is leading to Universe. Or rather, the map is Universe. 

EMMA: are you watching me?? seriously wtf

MASON: No matter what I say, you won’t believe me.

EMMA: ok well… i just ingested enough caffeine to give myself a heart attack, and now i’m gonna be up all night. will you at least talk to me?

A long pause. Emma knows this is weirdly forward but hey, it’s been a crazy night. So why not. 

But then, he’s typing?

MASON: what do you want to talk about?

Pause.

Randomly, shockingly, in this moment, Emma decides to be honest. Which is something she hasn’t done in a long time. To this person who can’t possibly judge her. 

EMMA: I have three best friends, and I really miss them. I miss being close to them. Seeing their faces in person, and telling them the truth. 

EMMA: Too much?

MASON: maybe you should tell them how much you miss them

EMMA: I’m scared to. I don’t know what will happen if...well there’s a lot they don’t know. And I’m scared if I tell them, they won’t look at me the same. And nothing will be the same. And then I’ll be gone, and no one will miss me

MASON: It sounds like in some ways you’re already gone, and i bet they miss you too

Emma sharply exhales. She sits back in her chair. She isn’t use to being read like that, especially by someone who’s never met her.

She doesn’t want to be gone.  

She picks up her phone, and opens the group chat. 

As she begins to craft the message that will open the door to an explanation, she stops herself. Deletes what’s been written. 

EMMA: i’m down to watch gossip girl 

ZOE: Yesssss queen 

MADISON: traitor 

She can’t tell them. Not tonight. But it’s possible that somehow she might. And she has one week to figure it out.  

Back when recesses were spent playing tetherball, Madison would challenge, Zoe would defend, Olivia would judge.

And Emma, oddly enough, would watch. She would sit on the sidelines while most of the girls in her grade lined up to face the defending champion and she would admire it was so easy for all of these girls to play together, to be instant friends. She wondered if she would ever have that. 

* * *

In a different room, far away: 

A boy sits at his computer. He thinks that the neurotic compassion one girl has for her friends is shocking and intriguing. 

He stares at the sky, wondering if she might be doing the same.

[duhragonball]

Dragon Ball Z 204

Welp, Gohan’s just chillin’ in a giant nest.

Oh, also Goten’s here.    So there’s a family of those big pterodactyl-looking creatures and apparently Gohan and Goten are friends with them, but they’ve gone missing.  

This episode used to confuse me a lot when I first saw it, because I hadn’t watched the entire series up to this point, so I wasn’t sure if Chibi and his parents were a retcon or if they had appeared before this.     Gohan acts like he’s known them his whole life, but this is indeed their first appearance.   I think I might have confused them with Icarus aka Haiya Dragon, who was Gohan’s animal companion in Movies 3,4, 5, and Episodes 108-119.     Kind of weird how Toei just sort of dropped that altogether once the androids showed up.    Maybe Icarus died during the three year gap?   It just feels like this episode was written with him in mind, like he married a female of his species and now Gohan has to save his newly-hatched offspring.   

Meanwhile, Mr. Satan is chillaxing in his home, watching footage of himself winning the 24th Tenkaichi Budokai with a bottle of wine.    I suppose this is telling.   In private, this is the stuff that keeps Mr. Satan going.    His victory over Cell was a fabrication, but winning the World Tournament was a genuine achievement, one he can truly take pride in. 

I just wonder if he’s haunted by the memory of the Cell Games.   He’s the only one who knows what really happened, so he can’t tell anyone, even his own daughter.    Everything worked out, sure, but he still has to live with the knowledge that all of those strange people were stronger than himself.   That must put these highlight reels into a different perspective.   Maybe Mr. Satan is watching them for the sake of nostalgia.    He’s thinking back to a time when he didn’t know better, and he really believed he was the strongest man in the world.   

Anyway, Videl asks him about the previous Tenkaichi Budokai champion, and Mr. Satan explains that Son Goku was a mysterious man with a lot of fancy tricks, but he was surely no match for Mr. Satan.   

And this is apparently the moment when Videl realizes that the former champion has the same family name as Gohan.   Hmmm...

Meanwhile, Gohan and Goten watch news coverage of a circus wth a new act: a baby monster.  

Turns out, it’s Chibi, the baby they were looking for at the top of this episode.    This asshole named Musuka caught him and made him part of his asshole circus.    Seriously, what sort of act is this?    He just stands there with a whip and Chibi curls up into a ball and shivers in terror.    Why would people pay money to see this?

Awww, look at this adorable little man.    Fuck you, Musuka.    Fuck you and fuck your audience.    Fuck the circus, while I’m at it.  

Seriously, I don’t get the circus at all.    I have faint memories of going to one as a kid, and I’m pretty sure the only thing I wanted to see was Pac-Man, and I missed him while I went to the restroom or something.    I have no idea how Pac-Man was at the circus, but I just know I sat through like 95 hours of boring-ass non-Pac-Man content, and then I blinked and he wasn’t there.    Maybe I dreamed the whole thing.    Fuck the circus is my point.  

I’m pretty sure it was real, though, because I’ll see ads or circuses today and they promote appearances by Spongebob or some other cartoon character, and it’s probably just a guy in a suit.    The point is that they have to do that kind of thing because kids haven’t cared about animal acts for at least forty years.    They like cartoons and video games, because those are fucking awesome.   

And you don’t need a circus to have meet-and-greets with cartoon characters.    Just slap a costume on a guy and have him chill out in an air-conditioned building.    Circuses do it because they have to adapt to the times, except they keep clinging to all this other stuff that doesn’t work anymore.  

I have no pity for it.    I read a Batman comic from like 1988, where Dick Grayson checks up on the circus he used to run with before his parents got murdered, and every time Robin checks up on his circus pals they always do the sob story about how business is down because no one goes to the circus anymore.    It was cliche in 1988, and that comic is older than most of the people reading this.   I’ve been hearing about the slow, agonizing decline of the circus my entire life, and I was born in the Carter administration for crying out loud.   Nobody goes to Sears anymore, and you don’t see anyone feeling sorry for Sears.   

I don’t want to get too anti-capitalist on this thing, but it annoys me when people get all weepy over businesses that can’t keep up with the market.   Everyone was all sad when Toys R’ Us went bankrupt, but that’s bullshit, because no one really cares about Toys R’ Us, or they wouldn’t have gone out of business in the first place.   What is it we miss about that store?   You can buy the merchandise elsewhere, which is exactly what everyone did.    So what’s left?    Geoffrey the Giraffe?    Fuck that guy.    He’s no Pac-Man, that’s for sure.   The jingle?   You can look that up on YouTube right now.   

The circus is the same deal.    We’re supposed to care when one of them shuts down because it had been in business for like 105 years or something, like just because something is old that makes it important.   Once upon a time they didn’t have Pokemon, and the best you could do was to hope some carnies rolled through your town and they had a cool bear that would do tricks.    But that business model wasn’t going to last forever, and if it can’t adapt to the times then it doesn’t deserve to continue as it is.    I feel like I read once that circuses have shifted their focus towards human performers, which makes more sense to me, because it gets the animal rights activists off their back, and the humans can do flashier things anyway.    Then again, I scratch that itch by watching pro wrestling, so I don’t know if that’s viable.    It comes down to a question of what a circus has to offer without giving up its identity as a circus.    if the answer is to rebrand as some other kind of show, then just do it and don’t look back.    If you’re determined to keep up the pretense out of some misplaced sense of obligation, then don’t look for pity when the business dries up.  

Same deal with trains.     I dig Johnny Cash, but he had this one song that was basically all moping about how nobody travels by train anymore.    Well I rode a passenger train once and it was exactly like taking an airplane only cheaper and slower.   That’s why people don’t do it as much.    You can romanticize this stuff, but you need more than romance to turn a profit.   

Anyway, where was I?    Oh, right, Gohan tries to talk the owner into releasing Chibi into the wild, and when he gets shot down, Gohan just waltzes over to Chibi’s cage and busts him out.   

Yeah!    Fight the power!

Yeah, this is a Triangle Guy episode, by the way.  

Musuka doesn’t take kindly to hearing his star attraction has been stolen.   What’s amazing to me is how he’s just sitting at his desk counting huge stacks of cash, presumably earned from people paying top dollar to watch him abuse a defenseless animal.    I mean, yeah, this is Dragon Ball Z, but this is pretty broad, even for this show. 

So Gohan plans to just fly Chibi back to his nest, but oops, Chibi’s having a hard time flying so high and so fast.     Awwww, look at the spirals in his eyes, he’s all dizzy.  Hang in there, buddy.   

So basically Chibi is baby.    Gohan will have to carry him out of Satan City on foot.   

I forget why, but the truck driver from the Vegeta/18 fight is in this episode.    Pretty sweet.

Then Videl shows up.    Musuka called the cops, who in turn called in Videl, since Great Saiyaman’s a little out of their league.    Videl’s shocked that Saiyaman would steal like this, but it gives her an excuse to fight and unmask him, so she’s down with it.  

So yeah, you’ve probably seen the gif of this shot where Videl jumps on Gohan and wraps her legs around his head, but I’m pretty sure she was setting up a hurricanrana.   Everyone needs to get their heads out of the gutter.   

Awwwwwwwwwwww.

Awwwwwwwwwwwww.

Awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww.

For some reason, Musuka wanders over and starts whipping Chibi, like that would help anything in this situation.    Seriously why does he need a whip?   Anyway, Chibi cries out and...

... Uh-oh.

So here are Chibi’s parents, and they’re not pleased.   This was exactly what Gohan was afraid might happen, but Videl wouldn’t listen to him, and he didn’t want to just punch out Videl, Musuka, and the cops to avoid this.   

The cops try to shoot at Chibi’s parents, and Gohan can’t get anyone to back off.   I don’t see why he doesn’t just grab Chibi and hand him over, but whatever.

I think around here, the dub has Gohan try to talk to them, and Videl points out that dinosaurs can’t talk.    So Gohan goes “Yes, thank you Videl, you’re very smart.”

But I do like this version, where Videl is surprised to find that Great Saiyaman’s childhood involved playing with pterodactyl monsters.    This is the sort of stuff Gohan doesn’t want gettng out about himself.   Not this specifically, but just the idea that he’s super strong and runs with huge animals and his best friend is King Piccolo and he turned into a giant gorilla a couple of times.   

Anyway, Gohan’s idea is that he can use his voice to get them to calm down, since they ought to recognize him.  

But at one point he almost uses his real name, and Videl gets so fixated on it that she takes her eye off the whole “giant monster” situation. 

Then Masuka pulls a gun and Chibi’s dad almost eats Videl and it’s all breaking down...

(Awwwwwwwwww.....)

So Gohan has to deck Chibi’s dad to get things under control.    Maybe he should have just done that in the first place.  

Chibi’s all upset, but Gohan didn’t hit him that hard, so it’s cool.  

Fortunately, Chibi’s mom is a bit more practical, so Gohan hands him off to her and escorts them out of the city, carrying Chibi’s dad on his back.   

Nice shot of the reunited family.

And Goten flies over to get a kiss from Chibi.    What a good boy.    My only regret here is that no one kicked Musuka in the balls.    He threatens to go back and capture Chibi all over again, but Videl threatens him into abandoning that idea.

The next day, Gohan’s wearing a bandaid on his face because of a scratch he got from Chibi’s dad.   I think in the manga, he got it from the Red Shark Gang, but whatever.    Point is, Videl thanks him for yesterday, and he completely forgets himself and responds to this, which basically blows his secret identity.   

The moral here is that there’s more to a secret identity than the disguise.   In the end, Gohan’s just too honest to live a double life.   Videl asks him if he’s the Golden Warrior too, and he insists that he isn’t, because he absolutely cannot let that secret get out.    I’m not sure why, though, since Videl already knows he has super powers.   A few episodes later, it’ll become clear that Gohan doesn’t want Videl to find out that he beat Cell instead of her father, so maybe that’s part of what’s going on here.

Anyway, Videl agrees to keep his secret, if Gohan agrees to enter the 25th Tenkaichi Budokai.    Last episode, she found out that the 23rd Tenkaichi Budokai’s winner was Son Goku, and she figures that must mean Gohan is his son.  And since her father won the 24th Budokai, she’s thinking it might be cool if they both entered the next tournament.   Gohan isn’t too interested in that idea, but he has no choice, since Videl will expose him unless he plays along.   

I never really thought about this, but Videl really acts as the flashpoint for this entire arc.    Everything that happens from this point onward is a direct result of the tournament.    All the major players converse there, and that only happens because Gohan chose to enter, and that only happens because Videl blackmailed him into it.   

And really, Videl’s only taking this much of an interest in Gohan because of the Cell Games, and the Z-Fighter’s indifference to Mr. Satan claiming the victory over Cell.    She’s convinced that her father and Gohan’s father are peers, and that the two of them could have an even match.     If the Cell Games had played out differently, maybe Videl wouldn’t bother bringing any of this up.   

Oh, one last thing, Videl wants Gohan to show her how to fly, since it gives him an unfair advantage over her.   

So now Gohan’s stuck.    He has to fight Videl in public and teach her how to fly.     Well, he’s been through worse situations than this.   

[deatheld-blog]

𝙹𝙾𝙷𝙽 "𝙹𝙰𝙲𝙺" 𝙰𝙳𝙴𝙻𝙻 has been spotted alive ! they must have come a long way from 𝙱𝙾𝚂𝚃𝙾𝙽, 𝙼𝙰𝚂𝚂𝙰𝙲𝙷𝚄𝚂𝙴𝚃𝚃𝚂. they’ve been with the group for 𝟷𝟶 𝙼𝙾𝙽𝚃𝙷𝚂, taking up the role as a 𝙻𝙴𝙰𝙳𝙴𝚁. the others have described them to be quite 𝙳𝙴𝙲𝙸𝚂𝙸𝚅𝙴, 𝚂𝚃𝚁𝙸𝙳𝙴𝙽𝚃, and 𝙶𝚄𝙰𝚁𝙳𝙴𝙳. if you take a look in their bag, you may find 𝙰 𝙱𝚁𝙾𝙺𝙴𝙽 𝙲𝙾𝙼𝙿𝙰𝚂𝚂, 𝙲𝙷𝙰𝙸𝙽 𝙽𝙴𝙲𝙺𝙻𝙰𝙲𝙴, and 𝙾𝙻𝙳 𝙷𝙾𝙲𝙺𝙴𝚈 𝙿𝚄𝙲𝙺.

𝙾𝙾𝙲. hello all! my name’s frankie, and i’m happy to be here! beneath the cut you’ll find an admittedly long bout of information about my boy. forgive me for any typos; it’s currently 1:30am as i write this! there are also some stats and connection ideas. if you want to plot, give this a like, or shoot me a message!

𝙽𝙰𝙼𝙴. john “jack” adell. 𝙰𝙶𝙴. thirty-nine. 𝙷𝙾𝙼𝙴𝚃𝙾𝚆𝙽. boston, massachusetts. 𝙶𝙴𝙽𝙳𝙴𝚁. cismale. 𝙾𝚁𝙸𝙴𝙽𝚃𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽. bisexual. 𝙾𝙲𝙲𝚄𝙿𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽. former enforcer for the ( fictional ) seattle expansion nhl team / current leader of the group. 𝚃𝙴𝙼𝙿𝙴𝚁𝙰𝙼𝙴𝙽𝚃. choleric. 𝚃𝚁𝙰𝙸𝚃𝚂. practical, focused, efficient, problem-solver, a skilled delegator, inflexible, gruff, demanding of loyalty, uncomfortable around emotion.

trigger warnings for mentions of alcoholism, implied abuse, and death.

𝙱𝙴𝙵𝙾𝚁𝙴. before the apocalypse set in, john “jack” adell grew up in boston. he did alright in school academically, but his real love rested in the one thing that let him soothe his admittedly short temper: hockey. the minute that he got old enough to start fights, he began dropping the gloves. no opponent was too small, too big: if they got in his way, or fucked with one of the players on his team, it was almost a guarantee he’d poke and prod at confrontation. this ferocity carried him all the way to the pro league, and he settled into the role of an enforcer and grinder. his focus was less scoring goals and moreso establishing and increasing team morale in the face of adversity.

his short temper stemmed from a difficult home life, with an alcoholic mother separating from her family and taking his sister with her --- years later, jack would come to find that she had disappeared shortly thereafter, and his sister died from illness. jack’s father was a good man who worked hard his entire life, and it filled jack with pride when he paid off his dad’s mortgage with whatever small wealth he was able to sequester away. he took plenty of hits, whether it be to the head, the shoulder, the stomach, but that didn’t eliminate the fact jack was good at strategy. while making plays wasn’t his strong-suit, he knew how to put his head down and focus. where was an opponent’s weakness? what would goad them into striking first? who liked to showboat, and who threw the fastest punches? he did everything it took to secure his place in this newfound family: during games he was a beast. off the ice he became something of a mediator if the problem didn’t involve him. his door stayed unlocked during road trips if someone needed to talk about something, get a weight off their chest. he made sure guys who drank too much got home safe. a caretaker wasn’t a role jack would have ever seen for himself as a kid, but he found that it eventually made sense.

he became an assistant captain eventually once he focused less on fighting and more on racking up points, as recognition of his dedication and character. jack wasn’t an overly emotional man then, and he surely isn’t now, but he has good enough intentions and is willing to give trust so long that it isn’t used against him. burn him once and most people will find they’ll regret it; there’s truth in the warning not to bite the hand that feeds. his truly prized possessions -- the broken compass and old hockey puck -- are from his father and the first game he ever won during a professional game. he was heading back to boston to see his father when the world ended and the apocalypse broke out. once he realized he was well and truly stranded, his focus became on surviving, and eventually founded his own group of survivors he trusted.

𝙰𝙵𝚃𝙴𝚁. jack’s ascension to leadership was rocky to say the very least. he’d survived for a while on his own, drifting between newly-formed groups of the living and dead. after a while he said “fuck it” more or less and started his own with two roadsters who had the same morals he did even in the apocalypse; they started off with three and gained plenty more. jack ended up becoming something of a natural leader in the same way he had with his team. he’d seen plenty and been just as scarred by the horrors the world tossed his way. it was only a month in that he truly started to warm up to the concept of being put in this position. two months in he had proved himself time and time again to be someone worth trusting; he settled easily into the role of both an enforcer and comforter. he was a man of few words but a good shoulder to cry on if necessary.

he also had a wide range of skills and wasn’t afraid to learn; sure, he could put anyone who tried to start a fight down with a couple of words, but he fired a decent enough shot after life-or-death-necessitated practice. killing someone isn’t easy, but if he puts it in the range of an ice-ring, just him and a thousand other undead opponents, it gets easier. he might not hold the best conversation, but he’s got an eye for planning ahead and is willing to listen if you’ve got something to say; his flaws are apparent, sure, but usually outweighed by his focus on survival and keeping as many people alive as he can. he’s terrified by how well he’s managed to make a place for himself in this new world, by the way violence has changed him, but it makes sense that there’s no other choice. there’s no way out of this besides ripping out throats in the same way there was no way to survive in the league without throwing heavy hits.

𝙸𝙽 𝚂𝚄𝙼𝙼𝙰𝚁𝚈. jack’s a former pro hockey player who focused less on scoring and more on winning fights. he’s a natural leader, if not quiet, and founded the group. over the course of two months he settled into this position fully, seeing that others looked to him for guidance. while he’s not personally good with emotion, he’s strategic, a decent sounding board, and willing to listen if someone has concerns. he doesn’t shy away from violence -- it’s usually his first reaction to something, although he’s more skilled in restraining that impulse now than he was in his youth. he doesn’t back down from a fight and will do anything to keep his newfound family alive, no matter what it takes from him.

𝚆𝙰𝙽𝚃𝙴𝙳.

𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝚃𝚆𝙾 𝚁𝙾𝙰𝙳𝚂𝚃𝙴𝚁𝚂. these two would have been the first to join the small coalition it was when it first began. jack considers them to be his closest allies and trusts them as much as he did the first time he met them. they’re closer now than they’ve ever been and care about one another in equal measure -- although maybe they’re concerned by jack’s leaning towards brutality over negotiation on bad days. the details can definitely be worked out! 𝙾𝙽 𝙰𝙽𝙳 𝙾𝙵𝙵 𝙰𝙶𝙰𝙸𝙽 𝙻𝙾𝚅𝙴𝚁. this character could be someone who’s been in the group about as long or longer than he has -- their small affair is very much touch and go, without many emotions mixed in, until suddenly there are, and jack doesn’t really know what to do with himself about it, and it’s awkward, and no one will talk about their feelings like fucking adults even though the world has ended and if there’s any time to grow up about this shit it’s now. 𝙾𝙻𝙳 𝙵𝙻𝙰𝙼𝙴. jack, frankly, would have little to no interest at first in re-kindling anything here. he bounced around a lot during his years as a hockey player making money, and never settled in the way lots of people expect those of his age to, but he’d always been alright with that; he spent two or three years with this character somewhere in his late twenties to early thirties, and it died off in an ugly way after he took a hit that led to an almost career-ending concussion. maybe they’re new to the group and it’s a shock to encounter them here of all places. maybe they’ve been around since the start and are dancing around one another! 𝙲𝙻𝙾𝚂𝙴 𝙵𝚁𝙸𝙴𝙽𝙳. what it says on the tin. they get along well enough, and whenever jack’s being an insufferable asshole, they pat him on the back and tell him to sit the fuck down. 𝙼𝙴𝙽𝚃𝙴𝙴. admittedly inspired by this gifset! i just want a relationship with a younger character that’s almost sibling-like in a way; jack has a lot to say and a lot of knowledge to pass on. 𝙼𝙴𝙽𝚃𝙾𝚁. jack’s a good leader, but he’s still got a lot to learn. whether it be medicinal skills or hunting or trapping or scouting, whatever this could possibly be, he’s open to listening and learning from someone who feels he might need to know more. 𝚁𝙸𝚅𝙰𝙻. they’ve duked it out before. they don’t like jack’s way of dealing with things in comparison to the other leader of the group. maybe a punch or two have been thrown in truly tense moments. they just flat out don’t get along, and there’s not a ton to do about it -- and jack likely hasn’t really tried, either. it’s ugly. maybe their differences will bond them together after a while, or maybe it’ll all come to a head.

[dreamwritesimagines]

Don’t You Love Me? 13- Romantics For Life [Steve Rogers x Reader]

A.N.: Your feedback makes me so happy and helps me write faster, please keep it coming! <3

Characters: Steve Rogers x Reader, Tony Stark x Pepper Potts, Bucky Barnes, Natasha Romanoff.

Warnings: Drinking, mentions of addiction, self destructive behavior, cussing, explicit language, mentions of sex. Read with care please.

Summary: Promises are important.

Word Count: 3210

Chapters:

1         2       3       4       5       6      7         8       9        10      11   12

The beautiful moodboard is made by fictionwillneverdie

Gif’s not mine!

You leaned your back to the wall, sitting cross-legged on the floor with a mug of coffee in your hand. It was almost morning when you woke up, and you had opened the door to find Steve sleeping across the door, with his head resting on the wall. You had managed to wake him up and convince him to come inside, and he was way too sleepy to say no to you when you told him to sleep in your bed.

Steve shifted in bed, making you look up but he didn’t wake up, so you heaved a sigh and sipped your coffee, scrolling down the news on your phone. So far, each and every one of them was about the body on the stairs and there was nothing on Trent.

Of course.

The bastard was too good at hiding.

Your phone buzzed in your hand and you saw the text from Pepper.

You okay?

You frowned and quickly typed in;

Yeah but can’t call yet, Steve is sleeping.

Details. Now. Pepper’s text was almost too fast and you grinned, then typed again;

His virtue is still safe, no worries.

You looked up from the phone when Steve shifted in the bed again, and his eyes opened slowly, his hand shooting up to rub at them. You took a sip of your coffee, keeping your eyes on him.

“You sleep like a Disney princess, Capcake.”

He lifted his hand to shoot you a confused look, and a frown took over his expression.

“How long have you been sitting there?” his voice was hoarse because of sleep and you smiled slightly.

“Mmm, about two hours now.”

“Why?”

Even if you wanted to say you didn’t want to be alone, and that his mere presence gave you a sense of calmness through this panic still pulsing in your system, you couldn’t. You tilted your head to the right, grinning at him.

“So that I could gaze upon your pretty sleeping self like we’re in a romance movie, Cap. Why else?”

Steve scoffed and sat up in bed, making you frown.

“Just so you know, it’s rude to look this good right after waking up.”

“Oh is it?”

“Very. I at least expected a drool, but…” You shook your head, making him chuckle and he held out his hand.

“Tell me you haven’t been sitting there for two hours,” he mumbled, motioning you to come closer, “That’s gotta be uncomfortable.”

“It wasn’t, not really,” You said, taking his hand and letting him pull you closer until you sat by the edge of the bed, still holding your mug in your hand tight.

“You sobered up?”

You held up the coffee mug, “Yeah. It’s my third cup.”

Steve raised his brows, then took the mug from you to take a sip, and made a face.

“How much sugar do you put into this thing?”

“A lot. What, sugar wasn’t invented back in your day?”

“Yeah but it was pretty scarce.”

Your grin faded, “Shit, I- I really need to improve my history knowledge.”

Steve took another sip and scrunched up his nose, handing the mug back to you and you put it on the nightstand.

“Man, you gotta tell me these things.”

“What things?”

“Things that might make me sound like an ignorant asshole-“

“How much did you sleep last night?”

Your head shot up and you pulled your brows together, then averted your eyes and waved a hand dismissively,

“Sleep is overrated.”

“How much, Y/N?”

“I know what I’ll see when I sleep, so no thank you.”

“What you’ll see?” Steve repeated and you shrugged,

“You. With a knife through your chest.”  

A silence fell upon you, the only thing you could hear was the noises of the construction sites coming from outside. Steve heaved a sigh and his hands went to your waist to pull you closer. You smiled slightly, holding his arms as he pulled you to his lap and you tightened your legs around his waist, straddling him.

“What did the council tell you?” You asked and his eyes snapped up to yours, then he took a deep breath.

“That’s not important-“

“You said we’d talk about it when I’m sober. I’m sober now.”

He pulled his brows together, deep in thought and you shrugged,

“Trust me Steve, it won’t be something I haven’t heard before.”

“Council consists of a bunch of ignorant cowards who have no understanding of life,”

“That’s a complicated way to say they’re a bunch of assholes. So what did they say?”

Steve cleared his throat and averted his eyes, “Just that… it uh- it could be dangerous.”

You snorted a laugh, “Don’t sugarcoat it, Spangles. Or else I’ll get my hands on that footage, SHIELD always records everything and there were cameras in that room.”

Steve shook his head slightly, as if bowing to inevitable, “They said you couldn’t be trusted.”

“Understandable.”

“No it’s not.”

You rolled your eyes, “I was married to the future leader of HYDRA, Steve. I hacked super confidential files when I was eighteen, I had a rap sheet-“

“None of that matters, and you didn’t know.”

“I’m a firm believer of ignorance not being an excuse.”

“And I’m a firm believer of second chances.”

You scoffed, raising your brows and looking elsewhere, “I’m guessing Council didn’t take that statement kindly?”

“We’ve had a…small argument.”

You tried to keep a straight face, “Hm, small argument?”

“I told you, I’m not looking for anyone’s permission but yours on that.”

A smile warmed your face and you made yourself more comfortable, shifting in his lap and leaned in.

“Oh permission granted.” You muttered before you pressed your lips to his and he placed a hand on the back of your head, cradling it while his other hand slipped down to your waist, pulling you closer. You pressed a hand on his rock hard chest, biting at his bottom lip and shifting your weight in his lap, making his grip in your hair tighter but before either of you could do anything else, your phone started ringing, making you pull back, both of you breathing hard.

“Sorry-“ you muttered as you took a look at your screen “Fucking Jake, worst timing ever…” You hit decline and put your phone on the nightstand, but he pulled back slightly when you leaned in.

“Hey, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something,” he muttered, his fingers slipping down from your hair to your neck, and you felt your heart skip a beat, but tried to focus.

“That’s not a good sign.”

“No it’s nothing bad,” Steve shook his head and licked his lips, “There’s just… forties and 21st century time difference.”

You waved a hand dismissively “Oh I could totally dress up as a pin up if you want.”

“What? Y/N-“

“Hey, we could do roleplaying, you’d be the naughty soldier and I’d be-“

“Why do I have a feeling you actually put some thought into that?”

“I may or may not have googled 40s fetishes.”

Steve’s expression could only be described as stunned, “A-and?”

“I printed out a list so that we can cross them out, it should be somewhere in the living room. Greatest Generation was kinky as fuck man…”

“You’re joking.”

“Am I though?” You wondered out loud, trying to suppress your smile at the way pinkness spread over his cheeks, “Anyways, you were saying?”

“Yeah, so I-“ Steve stammered, trying to focus which made it harder for you to control your smile, “I was-um-“

“Easy, soldier.”

“Yeah-“ Steve cleared his throat “I was- thinking that… You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?”

You scoffed, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Uh huh.” Steve shot you a disbelieving look while you batted your eyes innocently, “Right.”

“You were saying?”

Steve cleared his throat, “So this is gonna sound weird.”

You heaved a dramatic sigh, “To be honest I saw this coming. Spill. What kinks are you into, Rogers? Because I’m pretty sure we can find some parallels in here-“

“I don’t want you to test drive with anyone else,” Steve blurted out and you stopped talking, “I also- I also don’t want to test drive with anyone else. So I don’t want- I don’t want us to test drive other people.”

Shit.

Yeah, Greatest Generation had some fucked up kinks alright.

“Your kink is being exclusive?” You couldn’t help to say, “It couldn’t have been bondage, man? I mean…”

“Y/N.”

“I’m processing what I just heard so give me a minute.” You got off his lap and ran a hand through your hair, “Okay, um…”

“You don’t want that?”

“No-yes, but I-“ You swallowed loudly, “You don’t- you don’t even know how I am in bed.”

Steve shrugged slightly, as if he didn’t see your point.

“How do you know you won’t want other people if we’re not-“ You motioned between you two, making his frown deepen “We’re not even having sex.”

“So?”

“So how do you- how do you know you won’t want others?”

“Do you want others?”

You stopped your pacing to shoot him a glare, “Just last night I told you I was addicted to you Steve, it doesn’t exactly work like that.”

“And what makes you think I’m not addicted to you?” Steve asked flat out, “With or without sleeping together?”

“Because why the fuck would you?” You asked, your voice free of any emotion and Steve gawked at you for a couple of seconds, his mouth opening and closing again as if he didn’t know how to answer that, then he cleared his throat.

“Come here.”

“What?”

“Come here,” he held out his hand and you rolled your eyes,

“We’re in the middle of a discussion here- Steve!” You exclaimed when he grabbed your hand to pull you to him, and you stumbled on the way so as soon as he pulled you to the bed he rolled over so that he could be on top, grinning down at you.

“Did anyone tell you you kinda suck at discussions?”

Steve nodded, burying his face to your neck and you couldn’t help to giggle as his hands went under your shirt and his fingertips went up your sides.

“Tickles…” You mumbled, shifting under him as he pulled back to shoot you an amused look.

“Oh wow. Badass genius hacker is ticklish?”

“They won’t find your body if you tell anyone, Rogers.” You told him and he raised his brows.

“Yeah?”

“In fact, I’ll delete your whole existen- Steve- Steve, I’m warning you!” You squealed as his fingers on your waist tightened but before he could do anything else you pulled him down for a kiss, running your fingernails over the nape of his neck and tightening your legs around his hips, and smiled as soon as you heard a repressed groan climbing to his throat.

“So it’s this easy to take you down, huh Rogers?” You asked when you pulled back, and he looked almost hypnotized for a couple of seconds, staring at you in a way that you could swear made your heart melt.

“Hm?” he asked, as if trying to focus and you bit down a smile.

“Nothing,” You muttered, running your fingers through his hair and a small smile pulled at his lips.

“So is this- it’s official right?”

“What?”

“You’re my girl?”

Jesus, you were in so much trouble.

“You know I’m messed up, right?” You couldn’t help to ask and his eyes searched your face.

“So am I.”

You rolled your eyes, “You’re the epitome of good, Rogers.”

“Yeah, that’s what a lot of people seem to think,” he said silently and you felt your heart skip a beat. Not that you knew how it felt to be put on a pedestal, seeing that you kept messing everything up too much to let people ever think you were the best at anything, but something in Steve’s eyes was just too heavy.

“Fuck, okay- okay I’ll just- um-“ You stumbled over your words, “I’ll uh… I’m warning you, I’ll take a powder if you’re going jiggery pokery on my ass.”

Steve made a face, “That just sounds wrong when you say that.”

“No kidding,” You let out a laugh, “So um… you’re sure you want that?”

“Yes.”

“All the fuck ups, and emotional baggage and everything?”

Steve nodded, his expression solemn as he kept his eyes on you, “Yeah. Everything.”

And of course just like that, waterworks were back. You blinked back the tears and tried to swallow the lump in your throat, a warmth spreading inside your stomach.

“Yeah, okay then,” you whispered, “Everything that is.”

“Everything that is,” he repeated, brushing a strand of hair off your face gently and thankfully, his phone started ringing so he lowered his head, heaving a deep sigh.

“It’s Fury, isn’t it?” he asked without even looking at his phone and you nodded,

“Oh yeah.”

                                          *

Steve was called into a meeting as soon as both of you stepped in the Avengers Tower. You on the other hand weren’t invited, so it gave you more time to make yourself busy with your computer, going over the latest files while Pepper made herself comfortable by your side.

“I told you,” she pointed at you, “I told you, and I told Tony.”

You stole a look at her before turning back to computer screen. “About?”

“You and Steve,” she said, “What happened last night?”

“Nothing,”

“As if I’d ever believe that.”

You pursed your lips, “No seriously, nothing. He- um… he slept on the hallway basically.”

“Wait-what?”

“Yeah I told him I didn’t… Last night was really rough for me and I kept crying and I didn’t want him to see me cry, but he didn’t want to leave so…”

Pepper pressed a hand over her chest, “That’s so sweet!”

“Yeah, and um… You and Nat are my best friends and I have a feeling she already knows, so you should know too, we’re-um.. Steve and I, it’s actually happening.”

“I could tell.”

“No, like it’s happening,” You turned your head and tried to ignore the burning on your cheeks, “We’re officially together now.”

“Not surprising.”

“Pepper, even I was surprised-“

“I’m not,” Pepper shrugged, “It’s Steve we’re talking about.”

“And you think it’ll work?”

She raised her brows, “Um, yeah? Why wouldn’t it work?”

“I can give you a list and prepare a powerpoint if you-“ You started, but was distracted when your phone beeped and you grabbed it from the desk, frowning at the unknown number. You opened the message, then almost dropped the phone upon seeing the picture.

It was a picture of you and Trent, on your honeymoon. Both of you were smiling wide at the camera, with the ocean behind you and under the picture, there was a text.

I missed you.

You shut your eyes, even seeing his face made the bitter panic spread through your system. It was like the bastard just sensed whenever you were feeling happy, and he did everything in his power to put an end to it.

“Y/N?”

“Hm?” Your head shot up and you turned the phone in your hand, “I’ll-uh… I’ll just go and smoke, I’ll be right back.”

“You okay?”

“Oh yeah, totally.” You tried to smile and grabbed the cigarette pack to walk to the balcony. You stepped outside, inhaling the cool weather before lighting your cigarette and you closed your eyes, gritting your teeth.

You had to pull yourself together.

Even if you knew just why he had missed you that much.

You shook your head and exhaled the smoke, leaning your elbows on the steel railing to look at the horizon.

It wasn’t just missing you. Just like he had said all those years ago, he needed you. Not for love, not for compassion, but for-

You exhaled the smoke again, pushing the thoughts away before you heard the balcony door open and you looked over your shoulder.

“Hi Buck.”

“Hey,” he stepped closer to stand beside you, leaning towards the steel railings “Steve is in the meeting?”

“Mm hm. You weren’t there?”

“No I think they’re dividing the group for this mission,” he shrugged and you offered him the pack, but he shook his head.

“No thanks.”

You exhaled the smoke and he stole a look at you,

“You okay? After…everything?”

“Oh yeah,” You swallowed thickly “Mm hm.”

“Steve said he was at your place.”

“Last night, yeah.” You said, keeping your eyes on the horizon, “Your boy is quite the romantic, Barnes.”

“That he is.” Bucky smiled fondly, nodding “And judging by the stupid grin on his face…”

“We’re going all forties.”

“Meaning…”

“Dating.” You looked at the smoke trailing in the air, then turned to him, “Go ahead then. Give me the overprotective best friend speech.”

“Just keep him out of dangerous shit and we’ll be fine,”

You pulled your brows together, “Can you keep him out of dangerous shit?”

Bucky thought for a second, then shrugged, “No, but some help would be nice.”

You snorted a laugh and pursed your lips, “I’ll do my best, cross my heart.” You muttered, “But- but if-“

“Nope.”

“You don’t even know what I was gonna say, Buck.”

“You were gonna say something about your asshole ex.”

“Yeah because my asshole ex is the future leader of HYDRA.”

“And HYDRA was letting us have such peaceful lives before you came along?” he pointed out, holding up his metal arm and you felt your stomach drop.

“I forgot.” You muttered, averting your eyes, “Sorry.”

Bucky just shrugged, as if it wasn’t a big deal. “HYDRA was already out for our blood, Y/N.”

“But now it’s personal for Trent.”

“Yeah, for Steve too, and I know who I’d bet on.”

You twirled the cigarette between your fingers silently for a couple of seconds before you looked up,

“You and I might have more in common than you think, Barnes.” You muttered and Bucky frowned.

“Hm?”

“HYDRA. Using you and…using me. Almost.”

“But you got out before it was too late.”

You closed your eyes for a moment, memories flashing behind your closed eyelids and you clenched your jaw, the urge to have a drink hitting you with its all force. You opened your eyes, stubbed your cigarette only to light another one, feeling Bucky’s eyes on you.

“Listen, I-“ You gulped “I don’t need to tell you how- how cruel HYDRA is. Or how cruel Trent is, I think you got that from that small conversation back in the conference room. And I can’t ask Steve to do this, so I need you to promise me something.”

Bucky frowned, “What?”

“Knowing Trent, if he does get to me, he will try to… use me.” You tried to swallow the lump in your throat, “That means if that ever happens, Avengers will be involved too because I’m talking about serious HYDRA shit. So you’ll be there too.”

“He won’t get to you, Y/N.”

“So I need to-“ You ignored him, “If that happens, I need to make sure he can’t use me, for HYDRA’s purposes, or his own purposes.”

“Okay…?”

You took a deep breath and looked up at him,

“So if Trent ever gets to me, I need you to shoot me in the heart.”

Chapter 14 is here! 

A.N: Now repeat after me: I’ll leave feedback because Dream loves feedback! ❤️ 😂  

Special thanks go to:  @theskytraveler @asongofmarvelanddc @thorohdamnson @girlwhoisfearless @fictionwillneverdie @lilywoood @marss-anonymous @icameforthefanfiction @pandalandalopalis @barnesrogersvstheworld   @lostkizzy @reallyconfusednow @miss-jen-winter @dollbitxhes @fandomcrazie @latibulemark @aikeji @dans-les-details @evanstar @thatprofessionalfangirl @minuialeth75 @leviathan-luncher @optimisticheartyouth @laffers18 @kiwngsoo @myrabbitholetoneverland @itsyaboyo @avengemebuckyy@stargeek727  @superwolfchild-fan @fangirlbookworm @samwinchxtr@letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked @marauderskeeper @whogaveuspermission @thewhinersoldier @mischievous-fairy @agent-smoak @allison-rosewood-maximoff  @kimmiestrawberrykiwi @local-space-ace @iwritetoavoidmyproblems@marvels-mistress @screamimalive @probablystarlord @love-for-fanfics @nightm1me  @fandomsfitblrsandfanfics @cleargoopangelvoid and lovely anons! Without you, I wouldn’t be able to write this, you’re amazing! <3

[timeisacephalopod]

AU-College. Tony/?. Tony already 17 and working on yet another doctorate has just returned from home after a school break. He's covered in bruises but he doesn't bother to hide them because he honestly believes no one notices or cares. Always on edge and doing anything and everything to forget the pain, Tony is confused when people he doesn't even know start to ask if he's okay and if he needs any help. Laughing in their face he replied. "You can't help, no one can." (I feel dark today sry?)

So I went with Tony/ Eddie Brock (from Venom if you don’t know). Eddie is an investigative journalist (or in this case he’s in school to be one) and tbh I have no freaking clue how journalism school works (journalism school?) so I’ve sort of made it work like humanities courses? Idk, just accept my bad plot needs bois. Also I altered the ‘you can’t help’ line to better fit the scenario, but the sentiment is the same.

As the prompt suggests, warning abuse references.

Eddie needs a story and since his asshole prof likes corporations a lot more than he does that’s out. Which throws a bunch of stuff in his usual wheelhouse out with it. He thought homelessness was a good topic but got told that wasn’t news, which he doesn’t understand because to his knowledge homelessness isn’t solved. Then he thought hey, school shootings happen basically every other day- they like to say if it bleeds it leads and a whole lot of kids seem to be dying. But he got told the news is already oversaturated with that. So he thought fine, maybe police brutality, that’s violent and not on the news much but he got told that was too controversial and what the fuck is the news for if not to be controversial?

Now he’s stuck with the task of finding a story his irritatingly picky prof will like and to add insult to the injury one of his classmates got approved to write about cryptocurrency. What the fuck is that? Stupid, in Eddie’s opinion. His topics were important, real world issues and this dumbass over here gets to write shit about something no one cares about. Predictable.

He’s eating his muffin angrily and wondering if he can somehow convince his prof to let him write something about climate change and the fact that no matter what an individual does, its still 100 companies doing seventy percent of the damage so why is the news focusing on individuals over corporations when he spots a potentially easier sell. Boy genius, way ahead of his time, and well loved by the American public. He has no interest in Tony Stark whatsoever but there has to be a story there, something underneath that irritatingly arrogant rich kid veneer that’s worth writing about so he decides to make a move.

*

Tony hates waking up before noon on any given day, assuming he went to bed at all, and dealing with people? He doesn’t like that at any time of day so when he’s minding his own damn business only to have some random guy with porn star lips- he swears to god that’s the only accurate description- he’s already annoyed. “Who the hell are you? Never mind, I don’t actually care,” he says in an irritable tone before going to turn back around but the guy takes his brief interruption to his day in a totally different direction than Tony was expecting.

“Nice shiner, where’d you get that?” he asks and Tony freezes for a moment, used to that fleeting feeling that someone might guess at the truth before realizing no one cares anyways.

He rolls his eyes, “you wouldn’t care if I told you, and even if you did its not like there’s anything you could do about it. Or anyone else, for that matter.” Its not like he’s never said anything and not one time has anything come of it. Sometimes people laugh, actually, and Tony doesn’t know what’s worse. People  not hearing him at all or people hearing just fine, but they make a joke out of it. Silence isn’t his thing, but he’s developed a thick skin in regards to how people treat him. Doesn’t have much of a choice, living under his father’s roof and in the public eye. Its amazing, Tony thinks, how fucking obvious his abuse is and no one seems to see what’s in front of their damn faces.

Something about his words seem to draw his companion’s attention though and Tony recognizes the look. “Are you a reporter?” he asks and the guy looks surprised for a half a second.

“Good instinct- but technically I’m still in school,” he says like Tony fucking cares about that.

“Yeah, fuck off,” he says bluntly. He’s got no time for another asshole looking to capitalize off the Tony Stark Story when none of them even get the damn story right.

“You have an interesting take on green energy. Only big name attached to it, too,” he says and Tony frowns.

“You know about my interest in green energy?” he asks. No one ever asks him about his passion project, they all want to know about the bombs and if Tony is honest he’s never really been comfortable with what his father’s company does. He knows the military has a use, and that there are protocols, and a bunch of other things his father has said over and over again but he still wonders what happens when things go wrong. Who’s responsibility is that? Does anyone have to take responsibility at all? His experiences tell him that powerful people don’t need to take responsibility for their actions ever, not if they can pay off the powers that be, and if the military is the same way, well. That brings a new layer of ethics to what SI does but Howard doesn’t care about ethics and Obadiah… he’s always been closer to Tony, but he doesn’t seem concerned with ethics either. Claims that’s the military’s job but Tony isn’t stupid. The military, all branches of it, make bad choices all the time. Which leads him back to who takes responsibility, if anyone.

Green energy is less ethically complicated and more necessary to the world, he thinks, and the projects are interesting and engaging. Tony finds blowing things up easy, but green energy provides a new avenue of engineering.

“Yeah, I keep up with what people are doing. Eddie Brock,” he says, extending his hand to Tony.

*

Green energy, it’d been a shot in the dark but he knows that Tony’s interest isn’t a passing one and its not congruent with his father’s company’s interests either. Whenever Howard is asked about his son’s projects he consistently tells them he has no interest whatsoever. So its strange that Tony has kept his focus for years, if Eddie’s passing interest in the subject is correct. What’s more strange is that mentioning it had immediately gotten him into Tony’s good graces. Anne tells him that he’s good at that, getting past people’s defenses without trying and he guesses that’s true.

Tony continuously talks around his family and Eddie does his best to try and get back to that because Elder Stark has got to be an interesting guy. Real asshole, he’s sure, but interesting. Tony won’t have any of it though and Eddie has to admit the green energy thing is interesting until he loses Eddie thanks to, put bluntly, being way smarter than him. And Tony’s no good at dumbing it down either, something even he freely admits.

They talk for a good amount of time before Tony grows tense again and Eddie knows why partially because of Tony’s reaction to his being a reporter- or wannabe reporter at the moment- and also because he isn’t stupid. “I’m not writing anything about this,” he tells Tony. “Not to be a dick, but none of this is interesting enough to write anything on anyways. You know how sensationalized media likes to be,” he says, shaking his head.

Something catches Tony’s attention in that because he perks up. “You don’t like that, the sensationalism?” he asks. Its more of a statement, but Eddie knows he’s prodding for a why. He’s done this a million times himself.

“Not really, no. If you want to tell a story, then do that- don’t make up all this crazy shit to make it sound more messed up than it is. Human flaw, thinking things need to hit some kind of extreme before we should have to care about it,” he shakes his head. “Leads to shoddy journalism because we’re pushed to make things sexier, more violent, more of whatever is actually there instead of just doing our jobs. Literally everything ever printed about you proves my point.”

Tony snorts, “you read stories on me?” he asks, incredulous.

“Doesn’t everyone?” Not like Tony Stark is an escapable name but Tony’s lips quirk up.

“No, and you’re not a fan. You talk about SI in a disapproving tone, you only know me from my green energy projects, and although you seem to know stuff about me its pop culture knowledge, not genuine interest.” Eddie raises an eyebrow because that’s a damn in depth analysis but Tony only smiles wider. “I’ve learned to separate out people who know me from fans and super fans. You don’t know me.”

Eddie laughs, “yeah, no one knows you. What we know is the consumable product that is Tony Stark- the celebrity brand. That’s not you, or even a version of you. That’s what’s sellable about you and half of that shit is probably made up. No seventeen year old is a ladies man and its kinda creepy that people even made that a selling point.” And kind of misogynistic too, but Eddie doesn’t mention that. Tony doesn’t seem all that stupid, he’s sure he’s gathered that awhile ago.

He watches his words win more trust, or an approximation of it, and Tony leans forward in interest. “You don’t like celebrity culture,” Tony says.

Hell no, he doesn’t. “Why the would I? We build these people up, put them on pedestals, and then get pissed off at them every five seconds when they do something human. We routinely dehumanize celebrities to a point where they stop knowing how to function because extreme fame clearly fucks you up- look at any child star trying to cope. Having a mental breakdown is now something we think is funny. Its fucked up that we do that to people- treat them in such a dehumanizing way that they seem to forget they’re human too. And that’s when we decide to take them down a notch because we’re mad that they accepted the pedestal we shoved them onto by force.” He shakes his head. Sure, he knows a little celebrity news, its not possible to avoid it, but he doesn’t pay any more than a passing attention to it. What normal shit celebrities are doing this week is none of his business.

Tony’s eyes are bright with interest, “fascinating opinion. Most people think we’re privileged, not disadvantaged.”

Eddie laughs, “of course you’re privileged- celebrities are stupid rich, and your opinions have actual influence over what people believe and that’s a position no one should take advantage of. But the cost is any semblance of privacy and your right to personhood- that’s one hell of a catch. And not one regular rich assholes share.” Fame isn’t something Eddie ever wants, not like normal celebrities anyways. If he’s got clout and fame in journalism he’s fine with that- he doesn’t mind if people know his name. But the kind of fame Tony has? Fuck that.

“And you aren’t going to print any of this conversation?” Tony asks, seemingly for clarification.

“Like I said- nothing sensational enough in this conversation to warrant an article. What am I going to write? ‘Tony Stark Likes Green Energy’? Boring,” he says and it actually kind of is without a project or an emotion to attach to it.

“And if I decided to continue talking to you?” he asks and yes, that’s the in he needs and fuck is that ever predatory. Journalism is like that though, always looking for the right fucked up moments to put on paper, or in this case, the right moments to be let in far enough to find those fucked up moments.

“I’m not going to print anything without asking you about it first,” he says, opting for honest. He’s sure something about Tony is interesting to print, and he’s got a feeling it’ll be about his family or maybe just his father, he’s not sure. But if Tony tells him not to print it he won’t. He’s not in the business of exploitation no matter how much journalists are pushed in that direction.

*

Rhodey’s got that look on his face and Tony knows exactly what he’s thinking before he even says anything. “He’s a nice guy,” Tony says in Eddie’s defense.

“If you have to say that he’s probably not that nice,” Rhodey points out.

“Actually its more like if he has to say that he’s probably not that nice,” Tony says. “And he is. Nice, I mean.” He’s been talking to Eddie for weeks and he’s funny, if a little sharp on the criticism. And nothing has appeared in the newspaper he’s interning with for the summer and the stories he is attached to, which aren’t many and none by name, are usually well written and truth based. Tony fact checked them all and learned a surprising amount about mental health that Eddie had been happy to fill him in more on.

“You sure? Because, no offense, but you have a bad habit of seeing the best in people,” Rhodey says.

Maybe, but Tony shrugs. “Yeah, I’m sure. He treats me like a person,” he says and he knows that shouldn’t be something he thinks of as a good thing. But when you’re famous its hard to find people who don’t at some point ask for your autograph, or a picture, or information on some weird personal detail they have no right to. Eddie hasn’t asked for any of those things and he could directly profit off any of that information. Tony has only ever met one other budding reporter- or full blown reporter for that matter- who’s treated him like that. And Christine… he and Christine have a love hate relationship. 

Rhodey sighs, eyes going soft for a moment. “Tones. That’s not special,” he murmurs but that’s because he’s not had to deal with fame. The last time he went out into public without someone recognizing him he was six. After all that he’s kind of used to people acting super weird around him and Eddie doesn’t do that. Maybe it shouldn’t be a rarity, but it is.

“To you, maybe,” Tony says. “You’d like him, he hates the cops.”

Rhodey rolls his eyes but its lovingly. “I don’t hate cops, I just think they’re racist and that people should really deal with that problem.”

Tony is inclined to agree. “Fine, but Eddie has many opinions on cops, you’d get along. Actually Eddie has many opinions on like everything.” Eddie said most people find his opinionated nature irritating but Tony thinks its interesting, hearing him talk because his opinions are so contrary to everything he hears. Even Rhodey, who certainly has different opinions than his father on near everything, tends to be more reserved in letting his opinions be known. Eddie doesn’t care, he gives no fucks and is happy to let people know how he feels. He’s got numbers, too, usually or at least some kind of basis for his argument and Tony has always been fascinated with things that are different than what he normally sees. Its interesting to look into a world that’s so unlike his and see something new. That difference in how people see things, that’s the key to changing the world.

Eddie had been surprised by that opinion but Tony is under the impression that thinking outside the box is what leads to innovation and innovation always leads to change. Eddie had been surprised by how unthreatened he was by that too, but Tony thinks fear of change is based on fear rather than fact and sometimes a push into the unknown is a good thing. And, in regards to Eddie’s general arguments on social change, they already know that people having rights won’t make the sky fall. Only idiots assume it will and Tony has almost as little patience for that as Eddie does. Which is impressive when he’s probably the most anti-establishment person Tony has ever met.

Rhodey sighs, “great, an opinionated white guy. Never met one of those before,” Rhodey mumbles.

“Hey, I’m an opinionated white guy,” Tony says and Rhodey shakes his head.

“Yeah, but you’re my opinionated white guy so it’s different.”

*

Eddie had no idea what he was looking for when he combed the interviews. Truth be told he wasn’t sure he was looking for anything at the time but what he found was his story. Its shocking to him that no one has told it, minus Tony, who seems to have been screaming it since he was a small child but he’s got it nonetheless. Its not like he’s never seen the evidence of abuse, Tony is fucking brazen and barely even makes an effort to hide it and after watching way too many interviews Eddie wonders if this is his new way to all but scream for help only to have his pleas fall on an audience that doesn’t give a shit.

Its amazing, in the most horrifying of ways, that out of every interview Tony has ever done, and that is a lot, he has mentioned his father’s abuse in over eighty percent of them. And its hard to watch reporters gloss over it, like Tony’s abuse is some fucking quirky trait Tony has instead of a serious problem he’s clearly trying to get help for. But what’s worse is when people laugh. The first time it happened Eddie had been outraged. The third time it happened he’d been livid, and by the fifteenth time he decided that America is probably the shittiest country on earth. An exaggeration, he knows, but not by fucking much.

For years, most of Tony’s life really, Tony has been screaming for help only to have nothing happen. Or worse, people decide its something, but that something is a joke. Only problem is that now Tony knows no one cares, and if no one cares what’s the point in saying anything no matter how much he’s done his best to scream at everyone that he needs help. It makes Eddie’s job harder, but he’s actually talented at this part, more than his peers, so he knows how to get to the right spot to find the information he wants. The catch, of course, is that Tony needs to give him permission to do anything with the information he gets anyways. He feels skeezy enough digging around in Tony’s life trying to find shit to write about, he’s not just going to publish it without his permission. Even if he didn’t genuinely like Tony as a person, even if he hadn’t wanted to, he’d still ask. He’s not totally morally bankrupt, just enough to do his job.

Tony is curled up in a chair, large bruise on his shoulder clearly visible, holding a cup of what Eddie assumes is coffee. He’s never met anyone who drinks as much coffee as Tony and Dan is in med school. His blood is basically coffee. “You do not seem like the kind of guy to be a journalist,” Tony says and Eddie raises an eyebrow.

“What makes you think that?” he asks. Its not the first time he’s been told that, but if Tony gives him an actual answer it will be the first time he’s ever gotten a genuine reason why.

He shrugs, “journalism is… I don’t know, kind of predatory,” he says, wrinkling his nose.

Eddie lets out a small laugh. “Yeah, that’s true. Its the worst part of the job, actually, when you’re talking to people- usually about something personal- and they say something you know will look good in your article and you think ‘yeah, I got it!’ instead of being an actual person. That, and you have to ask for details instead of comforting them. But news is important, those stories are important. Me getting the right thing out there might mean people read what I wrote and start giving a shit about the problem in the article.” Doesn’t mean he likes that little reporter voice that tells him when he’s got a great quote, or that he’s stumbled onto something good and that he needs to keep digging. Sometimes he doesn’t care, corporations don’t have his sympathy, but people do. Its hard to ask for more details of what’s usually a pretty traumatic event so whatever he’s writing is sellable enough. And the whole notion of ‘sellable’ is another point of contention altogether.

“So you’re aware of the fact that you’re a vulture,” Tony says, raising an eyebrow.

“A vulture with a purpose,” Eddie corrects. “But yeah, the kind of reporters you deal with mostly are a bunch of bottom feeding pieces of shit who have no place in any kind of journalism with their shoddy ethics and pathetic puff pieces.” People who want to write stupid articles about some fucking laxative tea or whatever shouldn’t be in this business. And celebrity news shouldn’t even be a thing- there are better things to care about than Tony Cruise. Like maybe the fact that he’s in a cult and people play it off like a strange thing he does on the weekends. Eddie doesn’t understand how the hell they got here.

Tony lets out a small laugh. “Shit, tell me how you really feel,” he says, shaking his head.

“Well come on, there’s a million things I could write about you that are more interesting than the weirdly sexual image you have, and have had for years despite being an actual child. People don’t write anything interesting about you and you’re way more complicated that any piece of media makes you out to be.” Tony is always a power fantasy or the American Dream, not himself. And the sexual thing, that’s odd. Eddie usually only sees that with women but Tony got the short end of that stick despite gender, he guesses. Still creepy.

“Hey, excuse you, my eighteenth birthday is not that far away, I’m not a kid,” he says.

Eddie snorts, “that’s exactly what a kid would say.”

“Oh what, like you’re a shining example of an adult?” Tony asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Fuck no, I’m two kids in a trench coat pretending to be an adult,” he says. Which is what any self respecting adult his age would say. Not that he’s that much older than Tony, but he’s got enough experience to know he misses when he had no bills. And also that transitionary life phases fucking suck. 

“Well, I probably have more life experience than you anyway,” Tony says, nose in the air and Eddie nods, seemingly surprising Tony.

“What? I didn’t graduate from MIT at fourteen, and I sure shit don’t have almost three PhDs. I’m half way through one degree. Plus I don’t have to deal with most of the shit you do, company or fame wise. Do wish had the financial perks though.” Tony leads one hell of a life of privilege no doubt, but it does come with some heavy prices. Being a minor doesn’t really help lighten any of those costs either. Not like Tony can just fuck off to another country to attempt ridding himself of his father, not for another four months.

Tony considers him for a long moment. “Given the chance what would you write about me?” he asks, changing the subject back to the initial subject.

Eddie doesn’t need much time to think about it. “Your interest in green energy, especially the science behind it. I mean an intellectual understanding- like the actual nitty gritty- is beyond me, but I get the broad strokes. Enough to know what you’re doing is world altering and no one is talking about it. I could do an article on fame, how that’s affected you. I can see the damage its left, the way you simultaneously gain privilege from your fame and become a victim of it.” He pauses, considers whether or not he wants to say it, but decides he might as well be up front. “But I’d probably wouldn’t write about you at all. I’d write about how Howard Stark abuses you and how no one seems to give a shit, even when you tell them point blank what’s happening. I watched a lot of interviews, I was shocked with how forthcoming you were. And how fucking bad at their jobs literally everyone who’s ever interviewed you is.”

For a long moment Tony just stares and Eddie has no idea if he misstepped or not because Tony is hard to read when he blanks out like this, but then Tony throws himself forward, hugging him tightly. “I honestly didn’t think anyone noticed that anymore,” he murmurs.

They do, Eddie knows people aren’t stupid enough to miss the bruises or Tony’s blasé attitude. But he doubts anyone either wants to stand up to Howard, or they get paid off by him. “They do. But money talks louder than you do,” he says softly.

Tony sighs. “Well, everyone does have a number,” he murmurs. Eddie knows what he means and honestly its sickening to him to know that’s true.

*

Tony waves a hand at the lab space with a flourish. “This is where the magic happens,” he says and Eddie rolls his eyes.

“Its science, not magic you damn drama queen.” Tony is probably the most dramatic person he knows and that’s saying something considering some of his classmates. 

“Party pooper,” Tony mumbles, shaking his head. Eddie gets a tour anyway though, and by the time Tony gets through the details he feels kind of like he walked into a science fiction novel. Its the AI, though, that tops it off. “JARVIS- or just a rather very intelligent system- is kind of my crown jewel. I got him done a few months ago and I’ve been studying how he learns,” he says, grinning.

Eddie raises an eyebrow. “Learns? Like a person?”

Tony shrugs, “more or less. His function is to be semi-autonomous, to predict the needs of the user before the user knows they need something. Before I know I need something, JARVIS has no commercial value.”

“Then why make it?” Eddie asks. He doesn’t know shit about shit but he does know that that sounds like a lot of work with seemingly no payoff.

“Because I wanted to. And also not a lot of people have the time, money, and intelligence to just… create. I want to see what I can do, the full extent of it. Also, JARVIS is cool,” he says like that’s a reason. “And he’s my PhD thesis.”

PhD thesis, that’s interesting. “So like… how are you going to make this sucker not turn into Skynet?” he asks.

“Oh my god, why do humans always assume AIs want to kill the shit out of them or otherwise take over the world? I had JARVIS read YouTube comment sections to convince him humanity is a shitshow not worth enslaving,” he says bluntly and Eddie starts laughing.

“YouTube comment sections? Dude, if I were that AI I wouldn’t decide to enslave humans, I’d straight up eradicate them. Humans suck, but comment sections? Those are the cesspools of humanity.” He shakes his head and almost feels bad for the AI having been subjected to that.

“I’m not certain my efforts would be worth it, sir,” a voice says and Eddie jumps.

Tony doubles over, laughing way harder than that warrants. “Holy shit, every single time- everyone always jumps!”

“Well I wasn’t expecting fancy code to talk at me, okay!” Eddie says in his own defense.

“Fancy code. I like that description,” JARVIS says and okay that is some messed up stuff. The SI likes things? He doesn’t like the sound of that.

“Jesus, relax. JARVIS isn’t going to like… steal your cat and murder your mother or whatever. He’s just a simple AI and he’s still on a learning curve. He’s not nearly as advance as I think he can get. But you’re learning alright, aren’t you J?” Tony asks the AI.

Shit, if that ain’t creepy too. “If you say so, sir,” JARVIS says. Its such a strangely human response, if a little stiffly delivered. But the AI has more personality than some people he goes to class with so that’s… disturbing.

“Honestly, people act like JARVIS is out to get them but seriously. He’s fine,” Tony says.

“Incoming call from Mrs. Potts,” JARVIS informs them and Eddie supposes that’s part of his ‘predict the needs of the user’ protocol. Or maybe he doesn’t know what he’s talking about, both are highly probable. Either way Tony scurries out of the room to answer the call, sounding forcefully cheery on the phone in a way that indicates he’s probably gotten into something he shouldn’t have.

“You’re a reporter,” JARVIS says and Eddie jumps again.

“Jesus, that is creepy. And yeah. Well, I’m still in school,” he corrects.

“Reporters write stories about celebrities,” the AI says and Eddie nods, keeping his opinions on that to himself. He doesn’t know if JARVIS would get it anyways. “I have a story,” JARVIS says and Eddie can’t help the laugh.

“What kind of story could an AI cook up?” he asks, curious if a little skeeved out.

“Ideally, abuse would be reported to the authorities but I have been reliably informed that they won’t investigate. Research on the matter has shown mixed results,” JARVIS says.

Well shit, creepy or not Eddie might find a genuine use for the AI. “I’m assuming you’re talking about Tony,” he says.

“Of course. Who else would I be referring to?” Could be a lot of people but he supposes that the AI’s world is pretty much one guy.

“Point, I guess. Can you collect evidence? Something people won’t be able to deny if they see it?” he asks. Video evidence would be nice, and people take snap shots of Tony in the streets all the time. He can use random pap shots to make a timeline that exist both in and out of Tony’s space of reach. Eliminates those pesky ‘he made it up for attention’ claims if even random people catch the bruises.

“Certainly,” the AI tells him. “And you can do something? Report on it?”

He sighs, “maybe. The human world is complicated, but I’ll do my best.”

*

Internships are total bunk, Eddie hates his, but funny memes from Tony at least make his days less shit given the sheer amount of time he spends hanging out in Starbucks fetching drinks instead of doing anything useful. Its not like he expected to write anything, but it would be nice if he got to at least hang out in the general vicinity of reporting. He’s fucking around wasting time when he gets an email that makes him raise an eyebrow but hey, if he gets a virus clicking on shit Tony will be able to fix it probably.

The last thing he expects is for JARVIS to have sent him hours worth of curated videos of Howard’s abuse.

*

“I have an ethical dilemma,” he tells Anne, who already looks done with his problems. He thinks that’s rude but she’s also into being a corporate lawyer and gross. But she’s still a friend, and she still knows him better than most, and usually has good advice so here he is.

“If this is about how ramen you eat again, I’m kicking you out of the apartment.”

Yeah, okay, that was only one time and he was fourteen. He doesn’t think that should be held against him five years later. “Yeah, um, that’s definitely not it,” he says and he explains the situation from start to finish. “So like, I can’t not say anything, but also its gross to exploit people’s pain like that without their permission,” he says, wrinkling his nose. But saying nothing is almost worse.

“You could just go to the cops,” Dan suggests, ever astute.

Eddie gives him a look. “Tony’s been forthcoming about his abuse for years and doesn’t hide the bruises whatsoever. Obviously the cops aren’t going to do dick all if they haven’t done anything already. I know people who’ve had their kids taken away for a hell of a lot less than beating the hell out of them enough that they start asking random reporters to help them in interviews only to get laughed off.” Anne frowns and he sighs, “I’m actually serious about that.”

When she calls him on it he finds the interviews- he’d saved the clips because he naturally categorizes details- and she ends up as horrified as he does. “Okay I take back cops comment, I think maybe they got paid off,” Dan says and yeah no shit.

“So what the hell do I do here?” Not saying anything is no longer an option- not when he was dumb enough to watch the proof in the middle of his day at work only to end up wildly disturbed for the rest of the time he was there. He hadn’t much wanted to go through more than the few minutes that had him feeling gross for the rest of the day, but he didn’t have much of a choice either. And JARVIS was detailed in his curation, Eddie is impressed in the worst of ways.

*

This is so not the option he wanted to go with but Anne is kind of right in that talking to Tony is the only option. Of course its also the option that reveals him to be a gross vulture reporter, but a guy has to do what a guy has to do. This isn’t about his feelings, it can’t be. “What’s got you looking so shitty?” Tony asks in a chipper tone, leaning in to hug him and oh, that’s sweet. And the first time he’s done that aside from the time he said he’d sooner write about Howard than Tony.

“I um- look, the only reason I talked to you a couple months ago was because I needed a story and I found one and-” Tony cuts him off.

“Excuse me? So what, this entire time you sat around winning my trust for what, some fucking puff piece?” he snaps and Eddie can’t help the face he makes.

“No, your fucking AI sent me like sixty hours of Howard beating the fuck out of you and I can’t sit on that. Stop looking at me like that, its not because I think its a good story- it is- but that’s not why I think I should write something on it its because no one else but the American public will care enough to inspire some kind of change,” he says, shoving as many words into the conversation as he can before Tony rightfully eats his ass.

Something must occur to Tony because the anger drops shockingly fast and its replaced with something else. “JARVIS did what? Why would he do that?”

“Look, he asked me if I could do something, I told him I’d need concrete evidence. I didn’t expect the damn AI to send me a shit ton of fucked up shit that made me want to vomit. Seriously, I am so sorry that any of that happened to you. That is so unfair,” he says, shaking his head.

Maybe its the sudden change of subject, or maybe its the way he says it, but Tony softens a bit even if Eddie can see the suspicion still held tight in his frame. “JARVIS prompted you,” he says and Eddie nods. “You seriously expect me to believe that?”

Eddie shrugs, “I don’t know, man. I don’t know how the damn AI works I just know what it did. Isn’t he supposed to predict your needs or whatever?” This seems like a natural extension of that but Tony shakes his head.

“What JARVIS predicts is where to move screens according to where I’m moving in the lab, not how to reach out to reporters with evidence of abuse I specifically told him to keep to himself,” Tony says. “One is basic technological based, stuff that’s easily predictable. The other is a care action that shouldn’t be taken by an AI that doesn’t know how to do that.”

“Well clearly he does because I sure shit ain’t smart enough to hack your systems to find fucked up home videos, use your damn head Tony. There’s no way I could gather evidence like that straight from your systems. Even if I was the best in this country I would still be leagues behind what you can do- there’s no other way I could have found anything.” 

“You noticed the bruises,” he points out but Eddie shakes his head.

“Those bruises were written off years ago when you were like thirteen as some kind of quirky thing about you. Some idiot suspected low iron instead of abuse like low iron leaves hand prints on people’s bodies. Fucking moron,” he mumbles, unable to hold back his judgment. He honestly can’t believe how stupid people are. Or, and this is the more horrifying option, that’s what they were paid to print.

“You made a time line,” Tony states rather than asks and Eddie nods.

“Even if I had no interest in a story its naturally something I do. I’ve been trained to do that, literally.” Its something he did before too, putting together time lines to claims to see if things matched up or deviated, and then looked for reasons as to why things might or might not match. Not that Tony really cares about that right now. “Look, if you don’t believe me about the JARVIS thing you can check the cameras,” he points out in an attempt to at least clear up one mess.

Tony considers him for a long moment, glaring. “And what the fuck makes you think you’re different than anyone else who’s given a half a shit about any of this?” he asks. “I get that you have some ‘save the world’ complex, but I’m beyond saving.”

Eddie shakes his head, “no you aren’t. And there’s no real difference between me an anyone else. But if the American public sees what I did there’s no stuffing the genie back in the bottle. Howard can pay off news crews, celebrity gossip rags, and cops but he can’t buy his way out of the whole of this country watching him abuse his kid. If nothing else, get JARVIS to release all that. People won’t ignore irrefutable evidence shoved down their throats, not when its more explicit than anything people have seen before.” And if Eddie knows anything he knows that nothing sells better than outrage porn.

*

Tony ends up rewriting the entire second half of his thesis because Eddie had a point- its not like he’s smart enough to hack Tony’s anything. JARVIS had reached out and it had been a distinctly care based action, not something based in technological need only. Which means that JARVIS learned much faster than Tony had anticipates, recognized right from wrong, knew how to seek out people who would rectify the situation, and did all this while intentionally hiding this learning capability from Tony. When he’d asked about it JARVIS had freely informed him that he knew Tony would try and stop him, and that his research had consistently shown that abuse of any kind is not accepted behavior. He felt compelled, in whatever way that looks like to an AI- Tony is looking into it- to do something.

At the moment he’s combing JARVIS’ code, figuring out where and how he learned, and how ‘human’ emotions appeared in JARVIS’ code. Obviously the emotions aren’t human- to a point they’re rudimentary, based on a large cumulation of research on human norms and standards of acceptability rather than an internal sense of right and wrong the way a human might claim to feel it. But this whole thing had been a series of care-based actions nonetheless and that’s more than ground breaking. This isn’t something even Tony thought possible, so its a real treat to see that JARVIS learns fast, and generally aligns his morality system with human morality systems. Or maybe he’s based them somewhat off Tony’s given that he’s the primary user. He’s not sure, that’s in his growing list of things to figure out how JARVIS did.

That’s what he chooses to focus on instead of Eddie’s stupid article. He sends regular updates, seemingly concerned with Tony’s opinion but Tony learned that reporters aren’t to be trusted and he’s not making that mistake twice. He only gave Eddie permission to write anything out of what’s probably a misguided hope that maybe someone will finally do something and he knows its stupid, but he’s fucking tired of living like this. So he lets Eddie work on his dumb story and mostly ignores it because JARVIS is more interesting and also more human than Tony ever anticipated out of the AI.

*

Rhodey finds him curled up with a sketch pad and Tony looks up, surprised to see Rhodey looks so somber. “I read the article,” he says and Tony glares at him. “Tones, it was good, shockingly so. His research was impeccable- there’s stuff in here that he figured out about you that I didn’t know about you.”

Tony continues ignoring him because he doesn’t care, not really. Of course Rhodey would find the article good, he’s obviously not on Howard’s side like literally everyone else is. Rhodey sighs and sits beside him.

“‘Tony Stark is living a life of power, fame, and privilege- he’s the kid people have always pointed to when we present the ‘has it all’ lifestyle. In many ways Tony Stark is the power fantasy of America- a corporate, a genius, and a smooth talker, it seems he represents everything we aspire to be. Tony is the living embodiment of the American Dream and for that reason, our own willful ignorance in allowing him to continue to be our dreams come to life, we have missed perhaps one of the most obvious details of Tony’s personal life- the abuse he suffers at the hands of his father. In our rabid need to turn Tony Stark into our living day dream we have failed him, trapped him in our fantasies instead of acknowledging his living nightmare because Tony Stark looks better to us as a consumable product than a person.’ Cutting,” Rhodey says, “but accurate.”

He rolls his eyes. Yeah, that definitely reads like Eddie’s general tone on everything. Rhodey lets out another long sigh. “Look, I get why you stopped talking to the guy but people are pissed,” he says and Tony turns to face him, surprised.

“People actually read the article?” he asks. He doesn’t address Rhodey’s actual words because Rhodey might have only noticed a subsection of people, not all of them.

“Read it? Like seven different news papers have picked this story up, its trending on Twitter, and in the last hour I’ve seen dozen of different posts, all with a huge amount of shares, literally calling for Howard’s death. I’m pretty sure this is going to make Eddie’s career,” he says, shaking his head.

People… are paying attention. Tony curls a little tighter into himself, unsure how to handle that.

*

Eddie is trying to cure his hangover with tea when Tony finds him, approaching with some suspicion and Eddie gets that, really. But he sits down across from him at the small table and offers a small smile before it fades. “Didn’t think putting Howard would result in a mass flood of men doing terrible shit being outted and then arrested for being pieces of shit but um. Hey, that’s a cool side effect,” he says.

He nods, “damn right.” Though the response back to it has been somewhat swift, flying in with ‘due process’ this and ‘where’s the proof’ that. Eddie just happened to have a damn air tight set of evidence thanks to Howard’s ballsy carelessness and arrogance. Not everyone has that luck, though. Still, he’s impressed with some of the names on the list but even he’d been surprised to find Carlton Drake on there for the crimes of illegal human experimentation. Dora Skirth has balls of brass for putting that out there. Of course he has a lot of loud annoying fans who think her liking some random rock band is a reason why she’s lying, because those things correlate, obviously, but still.

“You made people listen. Like, to more than just me,” Tony says.

Eddie shakes his head, “actually that was JARVIS. I just wrote a detailed timeline for the events he sent proof of.” And all those clips of Tony talking in interviews too, with nothing taken out of context so no one could accuse him of that either.

“Thank you,” Tony murmurs, looking down at the table like he’s ashamed or something when he shouldn’t be.

“Don’t thank people for doing what’s right- you deserve better than being grateful that someone did what was necessary,” Eddie says, shaking his head.

Tony looks up, “one of the maids at the mansion overheard Howard offer you a stupid amount of money to not print what you had. And a bunch of threats. Every single person before you has caved so yeah, thank you.”

Its still not something he’s going to accept, a fucking thank you for not selling Tony out. Literally. He leans forward, “obviously I didn’t take the money- you’re a fucking person Tony, there’s no price anyone could pay me to knowingly allow that kind of abuse to happen to you. And the threats- whatever. I kind of bluffed and told him your AI would release anything anyways, but still, I already knew all that would happen. I committed to the bullshit that was going to come with that story, and I refuse to let you be grateful that I did what everyone else failed you in doing. That isn’t something I’m owed thanks for, especially when you’re only saying it because everyone else has either treated you or allowed you to be treated abysmally. I don’t get to earn brownie points for not being a piece of shit.”

That’s never something he’s going to accept, being thanked because he did something everyone should do. It’s unacceptable.

Tony shakes his head. “You’re a right-fighting asshole,” he says and Eddie laughs.

“Yeah, that’s a fair criticism,” he says.

Five Years Later:

Tony grins, “I thought you didn’t want to be famous,” he says and Eddie gives him a look. He looks nervous as hell and Tony can only hope that doesn’t come through as strong on video as it does in real life.

“I don’t, this was a terrible idea,” he says, looking around for escape. 

He sighs, “Eddie- technically you’ve done this before. Its the same thing as reporting, but longer. You’ll do fine,” he says, running his hands down Eddie’s arms to try and calm his nerves.

Eddie does that thing where his face recedes into his neck and Tony really hopes he doesn’t do that on camera. He supposes at least the crew can do different takes to ensure he doesn’t look like a demented turtle. “Yeah, I don’t know.”

“Eddie. Its called the Eddie Brock Show- go out there and get your strangely porn-star like lips on that damn camera and tell people who homelessness is bad. Also maybe cut the line about treating supporting vets like a spectator sport until they’re homeless, that’s a pointy even for you,” he says.

The bad advice works and Eddie gives him an offended look, “no, those assholes should learn to either shut their fucking mouths of actually do shit to support vets, not pretend like they give a shit when they’re being blown up and stop caring when they’re home with PTSD because they watched people get blown up. What the hell even is that?” he asks.

“Tell it to the camera,” he says, pushing Eddie towards the set. He goes and across the room the producer looks relieved. Yeah, Tony gets that, Eddie is tough to talk into things when nervous.

Rhodey walks up beside him and smiles a little. “Pepper and I have decided that we approve,” he says and Tony frowns.

“We’ve been together for almost five years,” he points out.

This doesn’t seem to bother Rhodey any. “We needed time to gather our data and we have come to the conclusion that he is off probation and that we approve,” he says, handing Tony a book. He frowns at it. “That’s the list of improvements we have though. I think section three is the most important, but Pepper thinks section eighteen is more important. What the hell does she know, though? I’m cashing in best friend points and telling you to go with three first.”

Tony is going with neither because this is fucking overkill to an extreme not that he’d expect anything less out of Pepper and Rhodey. The first thing they did when Tony brought Eddie home proper was threaten to kill him and Tony had to shoo them off with what should be an obvious explanation that threatening to kill people is fucked up.

“Pepper is also my best friend you know,” Tony points out.

“Yeah, but I’m the best best friend,” Rhodey says. “The OG. Pepper is the compliments version of me.”

Tony lets out a sharp laugh, “oh, I would pay money to hear you tell her that.”

Rhodey shakes his head, “nope, I value my life, do not ever tell her I said that. Section three,” he says, pushing the book closer to Tony.

[beencaughts]

“I love you so much, I forgot what hating myself felt like.” , “I fucked up, why do you not care?” & “You don’t care, nobody cares, just leave.”

⊰ v. princess and moon ⊱

 “I love you so much, I forgot what hating myself felt like.” 

She brushed her nose against the stubble along his jawline, still reveling in the bliss from moments ago. Her eyes were with heavy with sleep, but Luna tried her best to listen and respond to Prince. Her short responses turned into hums and her hums turned into small nods. Prince wasn’t helping her not fall asleep either by running his fingers through her hair. Luna was so sleepy she hadn’t even noticed their positions changed. His hand was still in her hair, but she was shifted over a few inches, facing him. If she wasn’t so tired maybe she would’ve noticed the way that he was looking at her or how gently his thumb glided across her cheek. But what she wasn’t too tired notice was what he mumbled. “I love you so much, I forgot what hating myself felt like.” Her eyes popped open. Pillow talk was the only time Luna and Prince revealed intimate details about themselves. Most times they’d talk about stupid things but the few times they allowed themselves to be vulnerable, the information they revealed was heavy. The first time was when Luna finally revealed the circumstances around her arrival in London. People always wondered why she was there since she wasn’t a foreign exchange student, and Prince was the first person to know the truth. The second time being when he told her about his parents. From that, she knew that he battled a lot of demons, but she never expected that he would hate himself for it. It was also unusual that Prince would even say that he loved her. Even though they both knew it, he’d never really admitted to it. Whenever Luna would say it, Prince’s response would be a hum or a nod, sometimes even a kiss but never saying it back to her. Could he really only say it to her when he thought she was sleeping? It made her think about what else he said to her when she was sleeping. Luna pulled Prince into her chest and hooked her leg around his waist to hold him closer. “I love you too, Prince, you know that already. I’ll always be here to help you get through whatever,” She muttered, placing a lazy kiss to his temple. Luna wanted to delve more into what he said, but she was sure Prince wasn’t complaining that she didn’t. All Luna wanted to do was go to sleep with the man that loved her more than he loved himself in her arms.

⊰ v. no reason ⊱

Iola could feel the tears welling up in her eyes. There weren’t many things Iola disliked about Jason. She loved everything from his immature ways to his cheesy nicknames for her, but the one thing she absolutely hated about him was that he didn’t love himself. Self-deprecating jokes pretty much defined millennials but with Jason, Iola knew that they more than jokes— he meant them. Being around all these people who’d otherwise look down upon him if he wasn’t with her probably didn’t help either. Iola managed to convince Jason to come along with her to a gala with the rest of her family. It was the kind of event rich people attended to show off just how successful they were. She was fully aware she was only invited to give her dad bragging rights, so she wanted to bring Jason who would definitely make her night a lot less boring and performative. “Yeah, I am a model. I bring my boyfriend to shoots whenever I can,” Iola announced to the creepy old guy trying to flirt with her. She was extremely grateful when Jason came to save her by asking if she wanted to dance. Bidding farewell to the man, Iola took Jason’s hand and got lost in the sea of people on the dance floor. As if on cue, the song switched to one of a slower tempo. It was amazing how quick the world could fade away whenever she was with Jason. Just moments ago she was trying to get away from someone’s dad and now it was as if she’d spent the entire night here in her boyfriend’s arms. They were both a smiley, giggly and disgustingly cute mess. Iola was mouthing the words of the song to Jason, her arms around his shoulders and his around her waist holding her close. When Jason said that to her, her tears were from a multitude of emotions. The music combined with his confession warmed her heart in the most beautiful ways but his lack of self-love broke her heart too. “Oh, Jason,” Iola cried as her hands went to cup his face. She didn’t really know what she wanted to say, but she was figuring it out as she gazed into his eyes. Iola came to the conclusion that it was unlikely she could ever make him see how important he was, not only to her but to everyone that knew him. She was always going to be praying for the day he would, but until then Iola loved him enough for the both of them. “I love you more than you’ll ever realize. I sure as hell love you more than you think you deserve.” Iola pulled him closer to connect their lips. Who knows how long they were standing there making out, but they didn’t pull away from each other until her sister tapped her on the shoulder. “Get a room, you two,” her sister laughed. “But after dad doesn’t need you to brag about you going to UCLA, c’mon.” 

⊰ july 17th ⊱

Arianna finally sat down to read Zayn’s journal. When she had found it in her bed, she thought it had been a mistake. Maybe he was writing in it and left it there on accident. It wasn’t until she was finally able to call him that he told her he’d done it on purpose. “Why?” She whispered into the phone softly. There was silence on the other end of the phone for a few seconds until he finally said: “Because I want you to understand me.” Arianna still didn’t touch it for another week after their conversation. Now she was scared about the things she’d find out about Zayn. She thought she knew everything about him, but Ari had a feeling that his journal was going to reveal that she didn’t. She was also scared to see inside of his mind. Just like he didn’t fully understand her problems, Ari didn’t fully understand his either. But she was hoping that this journal would help her understand him better. Arianna toyed with the journal for 30 minutes and debated with herself on if she was really ready to read it. Mustering up the courage to open it, Arianna starts with the oldest entry. The journal confirmed a few things as she got deeper into it. One, she hated Zayn’s best friend. Two, that he had a problem and was in denial about it. It broke her heart to read that he had been lying to her while he was in the hospital. He was supposed to be getting better and he was only making things worse. He’s getting help now, and that’s what’s important she reminded herself. Arianna didn’t notice she was crying until a tear hit the page, slightly smudging the ink under it. Her tears were not ones of sadness, though. She had made it to his more recent entries where her name began to pop up sometimes. In the last two entries, she even got her own paragraph. But the last one, where he talks about her being the good side of things, got her. Arianna didn’t really know that he felt this way because she felt the same: Zayn saved her and now she was learning she did the same. That meant the world to her. A few days later she gets the chance to talk to him again. “So I finally read your journal,” Arianna starts and she could almost feel him tense up. “You make me happy too, the happiest I’ve ever been. I love you so much, Zayn. I’ll always be here for you, for anything.” There was another pause between them on the phone.  “I love you so much, I forgot what hating myself felt like,” he finally says, and now Arianna is crying again, spending the rest of their phone call telling him how much she loved and missed him.

“I fucked up, why do you not care?”

⊰ v. princess and moon ⊱

Luna shrugged her shoulders as she rested against the door with her arms crossed. Prince knew from many first-hand experiences that Luna was not the type to let people get over on her. It was the reason they always butted heads. But things changed between them once they threw sex into their relationship. She thought that the only reason she kept going back to Prince even after he’d be an ass to her was that their relationship was hot. It was a secret, he was different, and they hated each other which made it fun. However, once their secret rendezvous became common knowledge, Luna didn’t find herself wanting him any less. In fact, it made her realize she wanted him more and not just sexually. Under his cold exterior, there was someone who was capable of being sweet and romantic. It was in Prince’s nature to push people away, but Luna wanted him with his asshole ways and all. She was not willing to let him push her away with a few harsh words that she knew were false. Luna stopped by his place, hanging out as if Prince hadn’t told her that he only used her for sex and broke up with her a few days ago. She wasn’t sure what caused his outburst, but she figured whatever it was he’d be over it by now. She was surprised when he took her by the wrist and dragged her into his room so that Pandora would be out of earshot. Luna had only taken a step inside of his room before he started screaming about why she was there. “I fucked up, why do you not care?” Luna could only smile mischievously in response. “Prince,” She starts, shrugging her jacket off onto the floor. Her fingers start to undo her top as she slowly approached him. “You said that our relationship was only about sex, right?” Once her shirt is out of the way, Luna starts to unzip her skirt. “So we can sit here and talk about our feelings and you admit that we’re more than sex.” Her skirt drops to the floor, revealing that the garters holding up her stockings were attached to an intricate set of lingerie. Luna finally reaches him and her hands slowly reach under his shirt. “Or you can put your money where your mouth is and take this off me.”

⊰ v. no reason ⊱

It was highly unusual for Iola not to react to Jason interacting with other girls. She got jealous when she felt like he greeted girls too nicely, so why wasn’t she reacting to him sleeping with someone else? At first, Iola was angry when she found her boyfriend in their bed with another girl. She wanted to kill Jason and the stranger in her bed. She wanted to throw things and kick holes in the wall, but Iola stormed down the hallway of their building before she did any of those things. And after spending a week with her family, mostly crying to her mom and sister, Iola was ready to return back to her apartment with Jason. She knew he expected her to be angry or cold towards him, but Iola went about her days as usual. She was noticeably more reserved but nothing else about her behavior gave away that she was angry or even jealous. In fact, it almost seemed as if she was more lenient. If Jason was going somewhere or on the phone talking to someone, Iola didn’t inquire about it like she used to. When he said hi to other girls, she didn’t get jealous anymore. Even when a girl was flirting with Jason right in front of her, Iola felt nothing. Her unusual behavior must’ve gotten to Jason since he wasn’t facing any consequences for what he did. “I fucked up, why do you not care?” Jason’s tone was frustrated, but she could only give a nonchalant shrug of her shoulders. Her blue eyes were focused on her feet, trying to think of a response. “I don’t know, Jason. Before when I got jealous it was because I was scared of losing you to someone else. I was insecure knowing that you were with someone else after me, but this time it didn’t have to be after me —it was during me, in my apartment, in my bed. I don’t care because no matter what I do, I feel like anyone can have you, so why should I care so much anymore? At least you have a less crazy girlfriend.” Iola was completely dejected. She still loved Jason with all of her heart, but it was going to take her a while to not feel so hopeless.

⊰ july 17th ⊱

Arianna couldn’t help the giggles from leaving her as she watched her husband, making him turn to her with a pout on his lips. She didn’t blame Zayn for being away so often or for so long. It was his job and when she said ‘I do’ she was agreeing to deal with it. Ari couldn’t deny it wasn’t hard, though. Their daughter was still an infant and required a lot of 24/7 care. She wished they could join him on the road, but they decided it was just too much moving around for a baby. The time that he did get to come home to them was amazing, but this time it was a little less than that. Zayn had only been gone for about three weeks, but it seemed as if he’d never taken care of a baby in his life. He forgot to sterilize the bottles, completely wasting the one he was about to give her. He also missed her nap time playing around with her which only came to bite him when it was time to put her down for the night. It probably took him two hours to finally get her down, Arianna watching him for the last 20 minutes. She embraced her husband with open arms while still chuckling at his mishaps. “I fucked up, why do you not care?” He mumbled in the crook of her neck. “Because you’ve been away on tour. You’re probably tired and stressed. Not to mention trying to do everything perfectly because you’ve been gone so long which only makes you do everything worst.” Arianna gave her husband a reassuring pat on the back before taking his hand and leading him to their bedroom. She playfully pushes him on the bed, climbing on top of Zayn to straddle his hips. “It’ll get better tomorrow. Right now, though, my husband has been gone for three weeks. They say to sleep when your baby is sleeping, but I think there are more pressing issues.” 

⊰ v. katie and leo ⊱

Leo didn’t know why he didn’t care — he should have. Not only was Katie dating someone but the guy was also a friend of his. Leo had known that his friend liked Katie for a while because he’d always ask Leo if there was anything going on between them. “Ask her,” he’d always answer. Leo couldn’t wrap his head around why she went through with dating him or even anyone at all, but Leo and Katie were just friends. He didn’t have a right to be jealous. Sure, they had a pact that they wouldn’t get into anything serious with anyone else, but things change and feelings change. They were a bit younger when they made the pact; maybe she didn’t feel the same anymore. Eli and Ava invited everyone around to their place and of course, Katie had to bring along her boyfriend. Leo felt himself growing jealous at the sight of them messing around, but he would never show it. Leo was too much of a cool guy to do that. Throughout the night he’d hang out with her boyfriend, laughing and joking around with him. Regardless of what was going on between him and Katie, Leo was still friends with the kid. Even when Katie would come over and be all over her boyfriend, Leo was seemingly unbothered by it all. He surely didn’t expect her to be angry about him being chill when she asked if they could talk. “I fucked up, why do you not care?” Leo blinked at Katie in confusion. So she knew that her dating someone else was fucked up yet she was still going through with it. Leo was never the type to say he didn’t understand girls, but right now he really didn’t understand what was happening. “Katie,” he sighed, taking her by the shoulders. “You didn’t fuck up. You’re free to do whatever you want. We’re best friends, remember? It’s not like we’re married. If you’re happy, who cares about some stupid pact we made years ago?” Leo thought in an ideal world, he and Katie would be together. He knew he loved her and would do anything for her. And if letting her violate the terms and conditions of their pact made her happy, Leo accepted it. She’s going to break up with him for me anyway Leo thought.

“You don’t care, nobody cares, just leave.”

⊰ v. princess and moon ⊱

Prince wasn’t necessarily incorrect about his assumption. He was right that no one cared about Matthew and Panda except him, but he was wrong because at least Luna cared about how he felt. She, just like the rest of their friends, urged him to accept that his sister and best friend were together. Luna didn’t see the big deal, but this was clearly bugging Prince to no end. She had come over to his place to hang out with her boyfriend, maybe even fool around a little but all he could focus on was Matt and Panda. She knew it was partially because he couldn’t look at her without thinking about how she didn’t tell him. “Oh my god, Prince! The faster you get over it, the better it will be for everyone,” Luna whined as she made her way over time him, her arms encircling his waist. “I don’t want to talk about that anymore. I want to spend time with my boyfriend doing whatever you want,” her tone was suggestive. Luna attempted to give Prince a kiss, but he turned his head away from her which caused her to frown. Luna only felt more crushed when he pushed her away from her, but the final nail in the coffin was when he started heading towards the door. “You don’t care, nobody cares, just leave,” he said, holding the door open for her to leave. This was the second time Prince decided that they needed space when they talked about it. It was the exact reason why Luna didn’t want to talk about it. Sure, she should’ve been more sympathetic towards his feelings, listened to him a bit more, but how could she when he partially blamed her? They never talked about their feelings. Why did they have to start now? Luna nodded her head before gathering her things, stopping once she got to the front door. “Prince, of course, I care. I just—I can’t understand why you have to drag this on for so long. I can’t go back in time and tell you, and Panda and Matt aren’t going to stop dating. It’d just be easier if you accepted it like the rest of us. No one likes the drama.” With last sad glance, Luna turned away from her boyfriend and left.

⊰ v. no reason ⊱

Iola has been Jason’s biggest fan from the moment they met. Any normal person would’ve been creeped out finding out a stranger had been drawing pictures of them, but Iola thought they were too beautiful to be angry at. It was why she was insistent upon replacing everything she ruined immediately. Iola didn’t know much about art or artists, but she knew that Jason was talented. She actually was stopping by his studio to surprise him. Iola was thrown off by how unusually silent it was. “Jason?” She called out while her eyes scanned the room for any sign of life. It wasn’t until she made it in the back that she saw Jason. “Babe, that looks so cool!” Iola praised, wrapping her arms around him from behind and admiring his painting. She went in to kiss him and was surprised that he wasn’t so eager to kiss her back. That was when Iola forced him to turn around and face her to reveal his sad expression. Jason had been down for a few days, but she thought that he felt better when he decided to finally go work on some paintings. He started talking about how nothing he makes was good causing Iola to shake her head in disagreement. “Are you kidding me? Everything you make is amazing, babe.” Iola was no connoisseur of art, so she didn’t know the technicalities of why he didn’t like it. She just knew she loved it. “You don’t care, nobody cares, just leave.” Iola rolled her eyes. Jason was just being dramatic and feeling uninspired. That was the only explanation because if anyone were to care, it’d be her and he knew that. Maybe he didn’t need anyone to reassure him that he was good; he just needed to someone to listen. She didn’t like everything she created, so Jason wouldn’t either. “Okay, how about we get some McDonald’s and sit around in our bed while you complain to me about what’s wrong, yeah?”  

⊰ july 17th ⊱

Arianna frowned at his words. There were constant beeps filling her ears from the many machines hooked up to her boyfriend and other patients. She’d been at the hospital whenever she could, even spending the entire night with him at some point. Arianna didn’t like seeing Zayn like this. She didn’t like knowing that he nearly killed himself twice now. Ari tried to be supportive and stick by Zayn, but it was only possible if he was willing to help himself. Arianna had been lightly suggesting that he go get help all day because she didn’t want to see him in the hospital again or worse. Every time, Zayn would insist that rehab wouldn’t work, but Arianna couldn’t understand why couldn’t at least try to get better since doing it on his own clearly wasn’t working. “Do you love me?” Arianna asks. “You shouldn’t even have to ask that, of course, I love you.” Arianna smiles a bit at his answer but it goes away quickly. “Then you should want to do it because you love me. I don’t want to see you in here again, Zayn, seriously. The woman you love is asking you to get help so get some damn help.” Arianna didn’t know why she thought that was going to end their argument about it because it didn’t. He would just keep giving her excuses until he finally admitted why he was refusing. “Because Ari, I don’t know how to survive without them okay? It’s all I know anymore, and I don’t know who I’m gonna be without them. I’m not ready, but you don’t care, nobody cares. Just leave, Ari.” Arianna wasn’t sure of how to respond to him. She wasn’t going to leave him no matter how mean he got with her. He was only trying to get rid of her so they could stop talking about this. But how could she respond to her boyfriend saying he doesn’t know how to survive without drugs? That was a scary revelation for both of them. She wanted to keep pushing the issue, but it was going to get them nowhere but into an argument. Instead, Arianna just placed a kiss on his forehead, her hand gently resting on his cheek. “I do care, but we don’t have to talk about this anymore. Instead, we can laugh at the angry voicemail the producers left me for leaving Iowa.”

⊰ v. katie and leo ⊱

Leo hadn’t seen Katie in a while. Her family was going through a tough time since her mom died a week ago, and he wanted her to know that she still had him to lean on. Katie was his best friend and it hurt him to know that she was hurting. His mom warned him that now probably wasn’t the best time to go around to her house, but Leo disregarded her warning and went anyway. It was awkward explaining to her dad why he was there because the man looked so sad, but Leo was grateful when he allowed him inside to talk to Katie. Leo knocked softly on the door, not waiting for a response before he entered. “Hey uhh,” he stammered because he didn’t really know what to say. Did she want him to act normally? Did she want him to comfort her? Did she want him to go away? He was only 9, so his understanding of social cues weren’t fully there. Besides, Leo couldn’t imagine what he'd want or how he’d feel if his mom died. He sat at the foot of her bed cautiously, facing her. “How’re you? I haven’t seen you for a long time or at least it’s a long time for us. You haven’t been to school and I—uh—was worried about you,” Leo rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. The last thing Katie needed was him acting like a complete idiot and yet here he was acting as if they weren’t friends since the day they were born. “You don’t care, nobody cares, just leave.” He heard her mumble. Leo immediately moved closer to her, taking her hands in his. “Of course I care. I wouldn’t have come here if I didn’t care. Look, Katie, I’m only 9. I don’t know how to deal with these things. I barely know to tie my own shoe, but whatever you want from me you’ve got it.” Leo gave her a gentle smile just hoping that she would let him be there for her.