#this sat in my drafts for two years...it's time for this birdie to fly

[aether-forged]

Be Kind, Please Rewind

Robin x trans-fem!reader

Summary: You want to confess your feelings to Robin by slipping a love note in the return case of your favorite movie, but Steve is the one to open it. Panic shoots through you when you make eye contact, but when he winks and pesters Robin to check the movie in, you know the universe blessed you with a wingman.

-> AO3 <-

Taking your weekly trip to Family Video was one you always looked forward to, especially after a stressful school day. The obnoxious chatter and ringing became a thing of the past when entering the quiet video rental store, save for the occasional bustle during their busier hours. You also had the opportunity to see Robin after school, which wasn't exactly your main reason for visiting, you liked to rent your favorite movie every week, but it wasn't not a bonus. 

Because only going to Family Video to see your crush was what stalkers do, and you're not a stalker, it just so happens she works at the only movie rental place close to your home. And admitting that aloud to explain it felt awkward. 

Mega awkward.

That was something you knew Robin understood. You two would babble on about how difficult it is to be socially awkward on top of wielding a runaway mouth before your brain had a chance to catch its breath and catch up. You over shared, was overly energetic about your random spouts of insight, and the list goes on for as long as you could without a filter. It was comforting to have a fellow rambler in your corner, as your other friends were either more filtered or born for social situations. Having those friends around relaxed you, assured you that you weren't annoying or monopolizing conversations. 

But not having moral support the day you impulsively decide to confess your admiration to Robin definitely sucked. 

You agonized over what the most painless, less awkward way of confessing was for a week until you decided on writing a note. A short note you could tuck inside the case for Robin to see without you having to go through the audible train wreck of confessing. Admittedly, it took you a few hours to narrow down what to say on that intimidating piece of folded paper, but you cheered to yourself when you finished it. 

With that reassurance in mind, you clutched the movie tight as you entered Family Video. It was like your good luck charm from the amount of times you carried it around, wishing upon the VHS tape for good measure. When you saw Steve manning the counter instead of the blonde, you grew apprehensive about returning the movie a day early. He offered a smile in greeting, adjusting his weight to direct his attention to you. Once you stood in front of him, you could see Robin crouched behind him quietly talking to the pile of cases on the floor. 

“Welcome back.” Steve said as he leaned against the counter. “Ready for a renewal?”

“Not today.” You chuckle. “I’ll be back next week for it.”

“We got some new movies to keep you busy in the meantime.” Steve grinned, pointing towards the section on the front wall. “You might find a new favorite.”

“Doubt.” You laugh, deciding to place the movie on the counter and head towards the wall of new arrivals. 

It was an awkward way to close the conversation, but Steve was used to a certain someone doing the same thing. You were just worried about what he would do when he opened the case and saw the note. Once you stood in front of the wall, you dared to peek behind you. Steve was busy pulling up your information on the computer, but of course the moment you looked he finished clicking into the system and opened the movie case. Warmth painted your cheeks when Steve grinned and met your eyes, offering a wink before closing the case. 

“Hey, will you check this movie in for me?” Steve sweetly inquired, hearing an inaudible groan of reluctance. “I won’t ask for the rest of the shift, you can organize to your heart’s content after.”

Satisfied with the compromise, Robin pulled herself to her feet and reluctantly picked the movie up. When she saw the title, she smiled and immediately looked around. Blue eyes locked with yours after a moment, eliciting a wide smile and wave from the blonde. Her reluctance to check the movie in had faded, but you looked away when she found the note. 

And you looked back out of nervousness. 

Her cheeks were the first to paint red after reading the note, warmth spreading to her ears and covering her face as she shyly hid her face behind the paper. She quietly squealed to herself as she turned to Steve, who encouraged her with a grin. 

You turn back around and absently run your eyes across the new arrivals again, feeling your heart flutter like a clock ticking down the seconds. As she inhaled, a trembling exhale answered yours as she approached. 

“Hey, so uh..” Robin began nervously, bracing yourself for the gentle let down your anxiety was certain would happen. Her blush deepened her cheeks, imagining how hot to the touch they were. “I’m really, really bad at this stuff, but a movie date would be really, really cool. What do you wanna watch? I’m up for anything, I don’t care if I’ve already seen it.” 

“I’ve watched (fav. movie) enough times to last three lifetimes.” You chuckle, tilting your head coyly. “Let’s watch your favorite movie.”

Robin’s posture straightened as she grinned, leaning her body to prompt you to follow her. You oblige with a smile, trailing behind her excited steps. She pulled Doctor Zhivago from the shelf and presented it to you like a prized possession. 

“It’s about doomed love.” Robin informed as if entranced, shyly smiling and tilting her head in thought. “Kinda like how being gay and finding love is like.”

“Dark, but I like it.” You approve with a nod, an awkward silence meshing between you two. Your anxiety screamed at you to ask that dreaded question, wanting to ensure that Robin was honest. “I do have another question though.”

“Mm?” Robin prompted, lifting her chin in encouragement. 

“Are you..Is it okay that I’m trans?” You stumbled. “That I’m not a ‘real’ girl?”

“You are to me.” Robin sweetly assured, taking your hand and lacing your fingers together. “You look like a girl. You talk like one. You kick ass like one! You’re more than your body to me.”

Blushing, you returned the smile, squeezing her hand. 

“Thank you, Robbie.” You hum, allowing the nickname to slip as she smiled. “Soo…Friday at 6?”

“At your domain, as your invitation suggested.” Robin affirmed, swaying cutely before you reluctantly released each other's hands when customers entered. Turning back to you with a smile, raised her shoulders in delight. “See you then.”

“See you Friday.” You echo like a giddy schoolgirl, offering an affectionate eye roll to Steve’s cheesy double thumbs up. “Aren’t you supposed to be working?”

“I am, obviously.” He teased before he and Robin double teamed the stack of movies returned to them. 

You exit the movie rental store and mount your bike, your heart beating out of your chest as you ventured down the street towards your home. The sky seemed more blue than it did when you entered Family Video, the clouds soft as they waded across the azure sea above. Friday night couldn’t come soon enough, and counting down from Monday felt like an eternity. It gave you the entire week to prepare yourself for the awkward mess you two would be, but it also gave you something sweet to work towards. You giggle at the thought of all the possibilities that waited for you, all thanks to Steve improvising as a wingman. 

I’ll have to be his wings one day. You smile to yourself, lost in a daydream as you made your way home. 

[starlessea]

𝙎𝙩𝙚𝙥 𝙤𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙂𝙖𝙨 - Prologue 0. Closing Time

Series Masterlist: Step on the Gas

Summary: A dishonourable discharge from the military results in you being hauled off to live with your grandparents in the boonies, otherwise known as the middle of nowhere Georgia. After running over a nail on the road, and pushing your grandpa's vintage Camaro to the nearest auto-shop, you meet Daryl Dixon - the local mechanic. At some point, the world ends, but that stubborn man never gives you a chance to slow down. His smile gives you whiplash, but he still insists that you to step on the gas.

Words: 6286

Chapter Warnings: Language, Injury

The sky was empty — save for one bird.

Daryl watched it fly above him, so close to the ground that he could make out the beating of its wings and swore he saw individual feathers flutter in the breeze.

His fingers itched over his crossbow, as he contemplated shooting it down from the sky and plucking it clean. He'd have something to eat then, at least. Though, for some reason, Daryl Dixon couldn't bring himself to let loose his arrow, watching as the bird soared overhead — and disappeared beyond the trees.

The man sighed as he kicked up some loose stones with the toe of his boot. What a waste, he thought, before trudging through the field once again.

The sky remained cloudless for the rest of the day, existing as a pale, washed-out grey that made Daryl feel uncomfortable as he hunted. The game must have felt the same, since the deer he'd been tracking made itself scarce, and the string of squirrels hanging from his belt seemed no heavier than it had done when the sun rose that morning.

Still, he trekked onwards over the thick, winding grass and through damp forest overgrowth. He was nearly back at the quarry already, but he hardly had anything to show for it. A few measly rodents and a sprained ankle were barely worth his trip in the first place; they sure as hell wouldn't be enough for all of the mouths he now had to feed.

Daryl cursed at himself for hesitating to shoot that bird straight out of the sky, and clip its wings. It wasn't much, but maybe it would have lasted a day if he was lucky. Still, there was no use wondering now, since it had swooped so close to him that he almost felt the downward draft on his cheek — and then he let it fly away.

He thought that it had been a jaeger; it definitely looked like a seabird that had veered too far from the shore. It was a gull with a white breast and dark, blackish feathers — and a wingspan that made sure you couldn't miss it.

He remembered you pointing one out to him, at 3am, parked up on that deserted beach as the two of you stared out into the rocking ocean.

"Ya thinkin' 'bout 'er again, baby brother?"

Daryl could hear Merle's voice taunt, in the deepest, darkest corners of his thoughts.

"Tha' lil' birdie of yours?"

He quickly shook his head — even though it was the truth.

It had been Daryl's own mind that conjured up those words, after all. Merle wasn't actually here. He was probably back at the campsite, lazing about and leering after women far too good for a beaten-up redneck like him.

Though, funnily enough, Merle had said the exact same thing to Daryl when he noticed his gaze settling over the new bar server, who swiped away the froth spilling over from their draught beers. Merle had given him even more of an earful when he realised that his younger brother was waiting for her shift to end.

Daryl took a deep breath, before rolling his neck to try and relieve the tension that had built up there. Once his mind drifted into thoughts of you — even if only for a split second — it often sank to the point of no return.

You were all consuming; you had been from the first time he laid eyes on you in that old, country auto-repair shop.

He remembered the way your voice chirped like a bird's, despite the curses that often fell from your lips.

You even made those sound sweet.

And he could also recall the way you yelled over the rumble of his bike engine, and competed with the screeching that came from his tyres losing their grip on the worn-out tarmac.

You'd told him that it felt like you were flying — and that was probably the reason why Daryl Dixon couldn't shoot that jaeger.

Then, the man heard something louder than he had done since the world ended — and suddenly, the sky was no longer empty.

There was an explosion, and that dull greyness was set alight with brilliant hues of red and orange. It made fire start to rain down upon Daryl, who could only stand and watch below. Debris fell out of the sky like a meteor shower, landing beyond the trees in the distance — to a place that Daryl couldn't quite make out, no matter how much he squinted.

The air became full with the sounds of scraping metal and flickering flames that caught the leaves and made them burn up like the end of a cigarette. Daryl felt his heart race as the adrenaline pumped its way through his veins, and made him flinch each time something crashed heavily to the ground.

There was often a moment in a person's life where their brain got kick-started into gear — and they awoke from whatever auto-pilot they'd been functioning on until that point.

For most, it was probably a mundane milestone like marriage or parenthood.

For others, it might have been a life or death situation that made them re-evaluate their perspective.

For some, it had only happened when the world actually ended, and the apocalypse began.

And perhaps, if Daryl had been a smarter man, it would have been this instant — as he gazed up at the sky and watched it burn above him. Maybe this was his second life-changing realisation; maybe he was lucky enough to get two.

But, for Daryl, the first had just been a regular Tuesday.

The garage was sticky hot that day. It was the kind of heat that made you sweat no matter how many fans you had blowing — since Old man Dean was too cheap to install air conditioning. His boss was a bit of a stickler for paying his bills, and nit picky with his nickles, but he'd always been kind to Daryl.

That being said, working as a mechanic wasn't exactly where Daryl had pictured himself at his age; but then again, he couldn't really picture himself anywhere at all. He felt like that last piece of the jigsaw puzzle, which didn't quite fit in with the others — the one that you had to bend into shape just to make it work.

Sure, he enjoyed seeing the different bikes roll in and out of the shop — those models he would never be able to afford — and Daryl appreciated having a few extra dollars in his pocket for when Merle raided his savings to score some pot.

Besides, there wasn't much else to do in the boonies. Daryl's old man once told him that the only interesting thing to rear its ugly head out of Georgia's backyard in the last fifty years was Dean's Auto Shop. That's probably why Daryl started working there in the first place, as a summer job when he was teenager — and had never really left since.

As much as he didn't want to admit it, his old man had been right about one thing — despite the bastard never catching on to the role of father. He'd been right about the shop being the only interesting thing around.

Because it was the place where he met her.

And then she became the only thing in that small town even worth being interested in.

Daryl didn't hear a car pull up into the shop, but he heard the mumbling outside from where he sat in the breakroom — chewing on some of Dean's leftover pizza that was bordering on stale.

"Dixon, get your ass out here for a second, would you?" the old man yelled, banging on the thin wall that separated them with his fist.

Daryl cursed below his breath, throwing the rest of his food into the trash and dusting off his hands over his jeans. He stepped out into the shop, and was met by an unfamiliar face — looking over at him curiously.

He suddenly felt unexplainably nervous, and dropped his head down to his feet as though it were a reflex he didn't know he had.

"This is your guy," he heard Dean say, before letting out one of his usual chesty coughs.

The man smoked a pack a day too much — and that was coming from Daryl.

"Owner of that bike you've been eyeing, too," he went on.

That caught Daryl's attention, and he instantly glanced up at the woman in question. She was breath-taking, but she also looked very much out of breath. She seemed as though she had run here, despite the Georgia heat.

"You ride?" he asked, but his gruff voice made it sound like more of a demand.

He grimaced at his own tone, but the woman didn't seem bothered by it in the slightest.

She laughed, and it sounded like nothing he'd ever heard before. "I wish," she said, running her palm along the polished metal and tracing her finger over that shiny logo.

Usually, Daryl would bark at anyone who touched his bike, and Dean seemed as though he expected him to do just that — from the way he raised an eyebrow at the daring woman, too oblivious for her own good.

Except, Daryl stayed quiet.

"Was never allowed within a mile radius of one," she went on, before turning back around to grin at Daryl like it was easy. "My folks were scared I'd take off into the sunset, never to be seen again."

He could relate to that. After all, it was exactly what he and Merle had done as soon as they'd gotten the chance.

"Mhm," he hummed back, before glancing over at the car parked in the middle of the shop. "She's pretty."

It was a steel blue colour — would definitely benefit from a lick of paint, but still pretty nonetheless. The tread looked good on the tyres, and Daryl couldn't see any signs of the rusting those models were prone to. Someone had taken good care of it.

"Excuse me?" the woman asked, and suddenly Daryl was reminded of just how bad he was with words.

He cleared his throat, and ran his hand over the hood.

"Yer car," he explained, "'69 Chevy Camaro?"

Daryl asked, but he already knew the answer.

"Oh yeah, that," she replied, sending him an apologetic look. "It's my grandpa's, so we're going to have to be real discreet about this situation over here."

Daryl raised an eyebrow as she beckoned him to the other side of the car, crouching down near the wheel arch.

"Some bastard left a nail in the road, and I ran straight through the thing like it was a stop sign," she grumbled, pointing out the puncture.

Daryl almost laughed at that — but he was still much too jaded from being caught in the middle of his break.

The woman stood back up and toed the deflated tyre with her boot, scowling at the sight of it.

"I know you're closing soon, but I had to push it half a mile just to get here," she said, and wiped her brow with the back of her hand.

Suddenly, her appearance made sense. Since he'd first laid eyes on her, all she'd done was tug at the collar of her vest, and try to stand in front of one of those poor excuses for a fan. But even then, Daryl couldn't quite believe her story.

"Ain't no way ya pushed that thing 'ere by yerself." The words left his mouth before he could consider them twice.

And the look she shot Daryl in return made him want to take them straight back.

But then, she smiled.

"I'm stronger than I look," she protested, leaning against the hot car. "You can ask the dozen assholes who catcalled me on the way but never offered their help."

This time, Daryl did let out a chuckle.

"Damn lucky y'ain't pass out," he quipped back, "heat's no joke."

She grinned again, and Daryl wondered whether she had an endless supply — or if she'd saved them just for him.

"Tell me about it," the woman teased. "Never liked visiting Georgia because of it."

Then, it all made sense to Daryl — the reason why she intrigued him so much.

"Y'ain't from 'round here, are ya?" he asked, surprising himself.

Usually, he couldn't give a 'rat's ass', as Dean called it, about anyone who stumbled into their shop. Never did they get more than a half-hearted greeting from Daryl, or a grunt as he told them to mind their head on that low door frame (she didn't have that problem). Though today, he seemed oddly talkative.

"Haven't seen ya before," he added.

The woman folded her arms over her chest.

"Would you recognise me if you had?" she asked.

"E'erybody knows e'erybody in this place," he answered. "I'd remember if I saw ya cross the street."

It was partially the truth. Daryl knew most people — but he only bothered to remember a select few.

"Moved here last week," she caved, proving him right. "I'm keeping my grandparents company watching daytime cable and doing grocery runs."

Daryl smirked. "An' runnin' over nails with their car, apparently."

"That, too," she confessed.

It was silent for a few seconds, and Daryl realised that he should probably give her a quote for the job. Though, she interrupted him before he could.

"Listen, your new neighbour would be really grateful if you could cut her a break," she said, eyeing the Camaro like she was considering whether it was even worth the hassle. "The old man's going to kill me if I come home on foot tonight."

Daryl knew what she was asking. The notice in the shop window made it clear that they'd be closing in half an hour; Daryl had been all but ready to flip the sign himself. Before she'd arrived, he'd even dared to think that he could shut early — and possibly get to crack open a cold beer and enjoy the breeze of his porch.

He sighed.

"I'll see what I can do," Daryl mumbled, "but I ain't makin' no promises," he warned — as he caught the way her eyes lit up at his words.

But that was a lie. Daryl knew he wouldn't let himself go home until it was finished.

The woman was utterly gleeful. He watched her smile much too widely for her face, and for a moment Daryl thought that she might even jump at him. But she seemed to catch herself at the last second, and abruptly stopped.

She didn't falter long, though. "Thank you, thank you so much!" she said, excitedly, before pausing to tap at her jean pockets. "I don't have any cash on me for a deposit, but I'm heading to work now."

She looked sheepish as she explained herself.

"I'll come straight back and pay in full," she added, trying her best to convince him.

Daryl narrowed his eyes like he didn't quite understand. Then he did, and he laughed properly.

"Deposit?" he asked, shaking his head. "City girl, here we jus' keep yer vehicle if ya can't pay."

The woman's expression was priceless. She looked as though she couldn't figure out whether he was joking or not, and stared at Daryl with her mouth slightly agape as she debated which it was.

He couldn't watch any longer.

"Where ya workin'?" he asked.

Then, he cursed himself for doing so. Time was ticking on, and he already had to stay overtime because of his inability to say no. Well, usually he had no problem with the word; it just seemed like it was stuck in his throat today.

"Joe's bar," she replied. "It's a few blocks over and-"

"I know Joe's bar," Daryl interrupted.

Everybody knew Joe's. It was the only place around that sold a decent draught beer. He'd been going there since he was a teenager — younger than he should have been, but old enough to know better.

"Me an' my brother go there a lot, but I ain't seen you 'round."

She nodded.

"Only started a few days ago. Hopefully they don't fire me for being late."

Daryl glanced at the clock. It was approaching his closing time and her opening one.

"Ya better get runnin', Camaro," he noted, tapping at his watch that didn't even work. "Rush hour soon."

The woman narrowed her eyes at the nickname. Daryl didn't know her real one yet, and felt like it was too late to ask for it. He'd have to catch a glimpse of Dean's log book later to find out.

"Will do," she replied with a smile. "Thanks again, Dixon."

Though Daryl couldn't quite work out how she knew his name, either.

He watched her scurry about collecting her things, and walked her to the entrance. The sun was starting to set — leaving the sky a pinkish orange that only made him squint the more he looked at it. He held the door open for the woman, and heard Dean snort from the back of the shop. But the way she thanked him made it worth the teasing.

"Take care of that sixties Honda," she winked, "she's a real beauty."

Daryl was surprised that she knew the model of his bike, considering she'd never even ridden one.

"If only ya knew," he mumbled back as he saw her off. "Will take ya for a ride one time if yer willin'."

She stopped in place. Daryl didn't know why he said that. It had just slipped from his mouth like oil from a can.

The woman laughed and rolled her eyes like she didn't believe him.

"That's what they all say."

Then, she started to jog down the street — just like she said she would — and Daryl thought her crazy for even attempting it in this midsummer Georgia weather. That woman had entered the shop like a whirlwind, and when she left Daryl couldn't remember what he'd even been doing before.

Dean cleared his throat and threw a rag at him that he barely managed to catch.

"Keep it in your pants, boy."

Daryl scowled at the man; he knew him better than that. So, he didn't give him the satisfaction of a reply, and instead got started on setting the Camaro up on a jack.

"She's a beauty, I get it," Dean went on, despite his silence. "Her type don't belong in a place like this, that's for damn sure."

Daryl had to agree with him there. He'd gotten a glimpse of his reflection in the wing mirror of her car and grimaced. He had grease on his face, and part of him cursed Dean for not telling him before he'd left the breakroom.

"But you know Mike and Doreen?" the old man asked, and Daryl nodded. "That's their granddaughter."

Daryl furrowed his brow — not realising he'd done it until he caught himself in the glass once again. Mike was a hard man, the type to straighten out any kinks in a person with brute force and that baby boomer spite.

"She may be real pretty, kid, but that one's trouble," Dean noted, confirming his suspicions.

He ignored the way he called him 'kid'. The old man still hadn't grown out of the habit — despite Daryl being well beyond his teenage years now.

"Trouble?" he repeated, like he couldn't quite comprehend the word being associated with someone like that.

Dean chuckled — but it turned into one of those coughs that made Daryl wince.

"Maybe more so than you," he said. "Got kicked out of the military, I heard."

Daryl spat at the floor, and Dean laughed again. They both hated those military dogs who often paraded through their town, looking at them as though they were trash beneath their government-issued boots.

But, if she'd been kicked out then maybe they could find some common ground.

Old man Dean wagged his finger at him, recognising Daryl's no-good expression; he'd become familiar with it by now, from all the times he'd worn it throughout the years.

"So don't go losing your head over her, Dixon," he cautioned, pretending not to know how good Daryl was at throwing caution to the wind.

"And remember to close up before you leave."

But it was too late.

Daryl had already lost his head, and his heart — but he wouldn't know that the latter was missing for a very long time.

You ran the cloth along the oak bar surface, wiping away any sticky beer rings that had been left there.

This is why we have coasters, you sighed.

It had been a slow Tuesday night, but you'd somehow still been roped into working the close. You tried to tell your boss that you were having car troubles, and had plans to stop by the garage on your way home — but he seemed to prioritise his own date over yours.

Well, you wouldn't exactly call giving the local mechanic his cheque a date; usually, you didn't have to pay for those. But you couldn't deny how it had made you feel when he smiled that smile your way — so small that you'd almost missed it — before you took off running out the door.

It gave you whiplash.

Perhaps he was just being friendly. But, then again, he didn't seem like the naturally friendly type. You shook your head, throwing the beer-soaked rag into the sink. You didn't trust that man in the slightest.

That wasn't a new development, really; you didn't trust most men. And, you often found that the ones who made your heart race like that were the worst of them all. He was trouble, that one, and you'd had enough of that to last a lifetime.

You untied the double knot of your apron, and folded it up neatly. There were a few whiskey stains on it — you'd caught a whiff of that top-shelf scent a few times now — but you were already too late to even consider putting it in the wash. Instead, you left it at the end of the bar, and swapped it out for the ring of keys lying there.

It was closing time, and you prepared yourself to run three blocks in the dark. You stepped out into the night, feeling the cool breeze on your cheek as opposed to the midday heat that had been there when your shift started. You flipped the latch and turned the key in the lock until you heard it click.

Then, you held them between your knuckles so that the jagged edge poked out.

"Ya done for the night?" a voice came from the shadows, and your heart dropped.

That brief second lasted a lifetime as the blood rushed to your ears like a strong current through running water, and your grip tightened over those keys. But then, you noticed the reflection in the glass panels of the door — and relaxed.

"Jesus, you scared the shit out of me," you scolded the man, "thought you were a dejected patron tryna jump me or something."

Perhaps he was; you still didn't know any better.

Dixon was leaning against that dingy brick wall, opposite the back door of Joe's Bar. You didn't even know what that other building was — but some sketchy figures usually loomed about it, so you tried to stay clear.

Maybe he didn't get the memo, you thought.

"Tha' happen before?" the man asked back, casually.

Though, the dim street lights overhead illuminated his face, and you caught a glimpse of his serious expression before he let it drop. He held a lit cigarette between his fingers — almost smoked down to the butt already — and it made you wonder just how long he'd been waiting for you.

"Maybe once or twice," you laughed, but it didn't sound as natural as you had intended.

You noticed the man's eyes flicker down towards the keys held between your knuckles, and you quickly slipped them into your jean pocket — hoping that he wouldn't pry. Luckily, he didn't seem like the type to unnecessarily butt into other people's business.

The smoke trailed from his lips and caught the stark light of the street lamp. He almost looked cold — bathed in that bluish tint which made those cigarette fumes seem nearly luminescent.

"You here to make sure I don't run off with your paycheck?" you teased, fishing out the wad of bills from your back pocket.

You waved them at him, and considered how precarious the situation may seem to an onlooker if they happened to pass by. The man looked as though he felt the same, since he quickly glanced over his shoulder down the alleyway — checking to make sure you were alone.

"Don't worry, Dixon, I busted my ass tonight just so I could leave you a nice tip," you said with a smile, handing the money to him.

He took it, slowly, as though he had to remind himself what it was even for.

Then, he let that cigarette butt fall to the floor, and stamped it out with his boot — before dragging it along the concrete until it was nothing but embers.

The man shook his head at you. "'M here on behalf of the welcome committee."

You snorted as you processed his words, and followed him out of that narrow alleyway into the main street.

"Bullshit," you called, "as if-"

You rounded the corner after him, and stopped. He was there, leaning against that pristine sixties Honda bike — spare helmet in hand.

It was parked up on the sidewalk, polished metal glinting in all its glory under those neon lamps. Dixon was almost camouflaged against it — his black leather jacket also speckled with white light. He held out that helmet, as if it were an invitation he was waiting for you to accept.

But he seemed shy — as though acutely aware that it was only an invite, and nothing more. So, you took it, and shook your head as you realised that it wasn't his spare helmet he had offered you; it was his only helmet.

"Said I'd take ya," he murmured, fastening the strap gently under your chin.

It was too big, so the man compensated by tying it tighter until you felt like your jaw was wired shut. But, you just smiled.

"An' I ain't no liar," he said when he was done, and kicked his leg over the bike.

Then, you sped off into the night.

You yelled over the sound of the engine for him to go faster, and laughed as you had to spit out the stray hairs that had blown into your mouth. Your clothes whipped in the wind, too, and you clung to the man in front of you as though you were afraid they might catch the draft, and make you fly away. It was electrifying; your whole body felt like pure static as you rode past shop displays and windows that made your reflections look like hazed blurs.

That whole trip felt like a hazed blur, really, because suddenly you were there.

"Where are we?" you asked, unsure of where 'there' even was. "Why'd we stop?"

You pulled the helmet from your head and cocked your leg over the bike. The man let out a chuckle at the sight of your hair, sticking up from the static — as though lightning might strike at any moment.

"Smoke break," Dixon grumbled, before coaxing out the squashed cardboard packet from his jeans. "You want one?" he asked, offering it to you.

You shook your head; you didn't smoke.

He shrugged in response, cupping his hands to his face to get a flame from his lighter. You left him to it, and turned away from the bike to catch the view.

And what a view it was, indeed.

You hadn't even noticed the sounds of the lapping ocean waves before you saw them. The cliff overlooked the beach below, desolate, with a high tide that drew the shore into you. Your grandmother had told you about this place once, on the phone a few months back as she tried to sell rural Georgia to you.

It wasn't like you were given much of a choice, anyway.

But now that you'd been shipped out here — against your will, no doubt — you had to admit that she'd been partly right. It was breath-taking. Back in the city, a place like this would be littered with beer cans and tacky, disposable barbeques within a week of someone posting about it online. Here, however, it looked untouched.

It was as though the two of you were the first to ever set foot here, on this particular crag that overlooked the waves — leaving your footprints alongside tyre treads for the next pioneers to discover.

You glanced back at Dixon over your shoulder — who was busy trying to look as though he wasn't already looking at you — and smiled.

He was one hell of a welcome committee.

Daryl almost choked on the fumes of his cigarette — letting out a cough that reminded him of the way old man Dean spluttered in the mornings. He really needed to kick that habit, he thought, and snubbed out his cigarette on the ground.

Then, you scowled at him, so he picked the butt back up and stuffed it into his pocket, grimacing at the thought of having to clean it up later.

He had been lying about the smoke break, really, but then he needed to carry out his excuse. Initially, he'd only thought about picking you up from the bar and offering you a ride back to the shop. He hadn't the slightest clue of how that plan had become this.

Somewhere along the way, Daryl might have accidentally taken a wrong turn, and ended up in the most scenic place he would think of. Stupid damn street signs, he cursed, as though he hadn't driven those roads a hundred times before.

Camaro seemed to call him out on his bluff, too, since she turned to face him and immediately shook her head.

"You're lying," she said, as though she were certain, "but the view is extraordinary, so I'll forgive you just this once."

Daryl swallowed thickly, tasting the tobacco that had made his throat so dry. For someone who claimed himself not to be a liar, that was all he seemed to be doing today.

Then, he watched you make your way towards the edge of that cliff, like you couldn't even hear him warning you to be careful. It was like you weren't paying him the slightest attention. Daryl was used to that from women — but somehow, this was different.

You didn't look down on him, nor at him with any hint of prejudice for wearing jeans still coated in oil, and boots he'd had to tape the soles of just to keep them together. In fact, you weren't looking at him at all. You seemed far more concerned with the stars that flickered in the night sky above you, but at the same time grateful towards the man for having brought you to them.

"You treat all your customers like this, Dixon?" you asked him.

He watched you turn around and look at him like you'd only just remembered that he was there. But, then you beamed a smile at him so bright that it put the stars to shame — and made all of your other ones look dim in comparison.

"Y'ain't special," he grumbled, shaking his head. "Jus' given' ya a lift home 'cos Dean told me to."

Though, Dean had left the shop hours ago.

Daryl watched you laugh like you'd caught him out one more time.

"There you go again," you said, teasingly. "Do you ever tell the truth?"

No, he didn't. He always tried to, but oftentimes it never did him any good. The people of this town had already made the assumption that he was a natural born liar. You were the first person to ever make the distinction between his white lies and those other types.

All his life, Daryl had been pigeon-holed into the role of good for nothing redneck, and had only recently graduated to the slightly less stereotyped town mechanic. But that night it was as if someone, for the first time, tried to get a peek at whatever was underneath.

Old man Dean was right. You were trouble — but not for the reason he had said. You were trouble because you seemed entirely unaware of your place in the world, and it made Daryl start to question his own. You seemed nice — perhaps even lovely — but Daryl never trusted those types. He knew you were far too good to be wasting away the early hours of the morning with the likes of him — and it left him wondering what exactly you wanted.

You'd already paid for his services, after all.

"Thank you for letting me see the stars again," you breathed, stretching your neck which ached from staring at the sky. "It's been a while."

Back then, Daryl didn't quite understand what that meant. He'd thought perhaps that you'd been talking about city pollution.

On the way back, Daryl felt you cling onto him tightly as he drove through empty roads, and passed the old, flickering street lights that blinked like camera flashes. But, when his fingers accidentally brushed up against yours, as you both reached for the shop door, you pulled your hand away.

It had only been a random Tuesday — that had eventually rolled into a Wednesday by the time he'd gotten you back into your repaired Camaro — but that was the moment in his life where Daryl felt like he had finally woken up.

But even awake, he often found himself lost in daydreams of the woman who crash landed into his life, and disappeared from it just as quickly as she came.

Daryl followed the trail of debris that had fallen from the sky, as though he were tracking some giant, metal bird. He didn't want to stick around too long, given that the noise had probably attracted every damn walker in the area; he just hoped that he was still far enough away from camp that they wouldn't be drawn there.

He stepped over the hunks of hot wreckage, some of it still ablaze, until he eventually came across something soft and not made of metal.

It was that jaeger. It was dead.

It looked as though it had been struck straight out of the sky. Its feathers lay scattered around it — the white breast now red with blood — and its wing was bent at a crooked angle, broken.

Daryl scowled. If he'd known that it was going to have such a meaningless death, then he would have shot it himself. Though, he still didn't add the bird to his string of dead animals; he thought that it had suffered enough.

He continued onwards through the brush until he stumbled across what he'd been looking for. But even as he saw it with his own eyes, Daryl couldn't quite believe it. Before him was the husk of a downed helicopter, burning in the middle of the forest.

Immediately, he ran to it, tripping over the wreckage as it got thicker and harder to navigate.

Though, there was no pilot inside — only radios and machinery parts that Daryl didn't know the names of. They screeched high frequency sounds as they caught on fire, and it made his ears ring the longer he listened.

So, he turned back.

That was when he saw it — them — a few meters away. His stomach dropped. Guess that's the pilot, he thought, looking up at the body tangled in the trees.

He'd never seen a parachute in real life before — only ever in the movies. He'd also never understood how that flimsy material could stop someone from plummeting to their death.

Well, in this case it hadn't.

The pilot was dangling from one of the branches, all caught up in those wire cables like a fish on a line. The limbs were contorted awkwardly, and Daryl swallowed thickly at the sight of their arm which had definitely been broken — reminding him of that miserable jaeger's wing.

He'd been all but ready to turn around and leave. The smell of burning rubber and the white noise from those radios would probably keep him up for the next few nights, but there was nothing he could do about that.

He'd been all but ready to turn around and leave, but then the body spoke to him.

"Dixon?" he heard it gasp.

And Daryl wondered just how many impossible things he might encounter today.

The voice startled him, and he almost stumbled over his own foot in return. Walkers couldn't speak, and they surely wouldn't know his name, either. Then, he caught the slightest movement, and recognised a jacket much too familiar. It had been his, after all, before he'd given it to you.

The pilot groaned, and Daryl recognised that tone of voice, too. He quickly fumbled about for his pocket knife, not even stopping to consider how the hell he'd be able to cut you down.

He couldn't even comprehend how you were alive-

"How's it hanging?" the voice spluttered.

-and how you'd kept that same god awful sense of humour.

Let me know if you want to be added/removed from the tags!

Feedback is always welcomed; I love hearing what you all think - so feel free to comment, send in an ask, or just message me if you want to chat!

Also, here is my buy me a coffee! If you enjoy my writing, tips are always appreciated. Thank you for reading!

A/N I’ve tried so hard to post this, sorry for all the technical difficulties...

[hergan416]

First line meme

Rules: List the first lines of your last 15 stories. See if there are any patterns. Then tag your favorite authors!

I was tagged by @touchmycoat and I will pass this on to anyone who wants to do it. Even if I don't follow you, or you don't think I mean you, I mean you if you think this sounds fun. Feel free to tag me so I can see what you learn!

About formatting--I am considering each chapter in the fic "Thirty One Days" a unique chapter for the purposes of this meme, as they are written to be loosely connected one shots.

I am using both of my pseuds to better get a picture of my writing history, so if you end up looking up my yugiomo pseud...know that there WILL be omorashi and consider this your warning. If you do not know what this is, and are over 18, use urban dictionary or something.

Astonishingly, all of the first lines of all of the fics are tumblr safe. Horray. Most of the fics aren't. If you look up any fics, PLEASE pay attention to the ratings on AO3, and any content warnings.

Patterns: Every. Single. One. Of my new (2019 holiday season forward) fics starts with the name of a person and a paragraph. This paragraph immediately sets up the person's thoughts. Previously, I had begun fics with much more action, often with dialog, or specific thoughts or actions. "Keijo!!!!!" was sitting in my drafts for years before it was finished and posted, so it makes sense that it followed my old format, despite falling on the newer side of the break I took writing. (It is the only thing I published besides the 2018 YGOME before the 2019 YGOME started me writing again.) The long break coincides, to my memory with the tumblr purge and me entering a long-term relationship with my current partner. I should maybe think about adding more action into my writing again.

15. "War of Love: The Game" from "Thirty One Days" --- “Draw!” Atem yelled as he pulled the card out of the deck and looked at it.

14. "Dignity Lost! The Ship Ride to Duelist Kingdom" (yugiomo pseud, and yes apparently I'm mainblogging that now). --- Anzu grit her teeth as she listened to the gentle sound of water on the hull of the giant boat, every wave torturous to her ears. Finally she stood from her position crouching next to Honda. “I’m at my breaking point,” she complained, her voice a slight whine.

13. "Paladins: Champions of the Realm" from "Thirty One Days" --- “Enemy double kill... enemy triple kill!” the automated voice announced. "Enemy killing spree.”

12. "Failure" (yugiomo pseud) --- Stupid Kaiba and his stupid rules! Jounouchi thought, desperately working at the restraints that held him him in place. Who even made desks like this anyway? It almost seemed like the chain was built in, like it was meant to be on the desk. But that couldn’t be right. Kaiba had said he’d had this desk as a kid.

11. "More Sex Play" from "Thirty One Days" --- “Want to play something other than Duel Monsters this afternoon?” Atem suggested to Kaiba as he dug through the golden box for his deck. “I live in a game shop, surely there is something else you’d like to try to beat me at.”

10. "Alone" --- All Kaiba wanted was to shrink away from the music, the noise and the crowd. He didn’t want to play this part anymore, but he had to, for Mokuba’s sake. Mokuba was all that was left.

9. "Trying (On) My Patience" -- “Look, all I’m saying is that you need to find something other than a discarded school uniform to throw over your shoulders. And maybe some better jewelry.”

8. "Keijo!!!!!" from "Thirty One Days" --- “Don’t you think we should check it out?” Atem insisted, his intense gaze meeting Kaiba’s across the desk. “It’s the latest competitive fad in Japan. According to Yugi, men are going crazy for it.”

7. "Liquid Gold" --- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9XaS93WMRQQ

Atem sat at the computer, simply searching the internet while he waited for Seto to finish up with his work. While he almost exclusively had been using this specific computer in Seto’s office space since coming back from the afterlife, occasionally Seto would use it to set the ambiance while Atem was gone. What Seto didn’t know is that Atem had figured out how to search the browsing history, and that he had recently seen that there were nearly 20 plays of the same youtube video.

6. "All I Want For Christmas..." --- Yugi yawned as he watched out the window of the Kaiba jet . It was the private one, not the blue eyes white jet; Yugi had always been secretly nervous about that plane’s capability of flying, and regardless, there wouldn't have been enough room for Mokuba, Yugi, and Seto to fly in the dragon-shaped jet together. He’d been woken by the announcement of the plane’s descent, as dawn broke over the unique arrangement of city and harbor that forms Sydney, Australia. 

5. "Help Me Doctor (I Have Sinned)" --- Marco always had an eye out for sails as he went about his daily tasks on Whitebeard’s peaceful home island. He’d been expecting Edward Weevil to make his way there eventually, and in the meantime needed to protect the small island from bands of low-class marauders. So, when he was walking down the beach and he recognized the telltale black flag, he immediately pulled out his spyglass. The jolly roger showed a skull surrounded by a fluffy pink scarf, with giant red lips and a brown and pink tricorne on its head, and Marco’s heart rate immediately increased.

4. "Shimmering Blush" --- Tony Tony Chopper woke up bright and early, excited to go back to see his friends. The last two years in Birdie Kingdom without seeing any of the other Straw Hats had been long, even with the new friends he’d made here. He knew he was stronger, and would do his best to support everyone now that he would finally get to see them again.

3. "House On A Hill" --- Marco wasn’t about to listen to Katakuri (of all people) lecturing him on selflessness. They both had always been the kind of people that would prioritize their families over themselves. That was why they had ended and Marco was cursing Katakuri for not leaving the island after yet another ill-advised tryst.

2. "Relief" (yugiomo pseud--you thought this died in 2017, didn't you?) --- Ryou had, for the most part, reached an understanding with the Spirit of the Ring. Unlike Yugi, Ryou was well-aware of the other person that had come attached to the Millenium Ring, the Item his father had gifted him from one of his archeological digs. Most people probably would have assumed they were cursed the first time they saw the disembodied Spirit following themselves around, and thrown the Ring away as far as they could. Ryou, in contrast, turned around, faced the Spirit, and said hello.

1. "Shared Nightmares" --- Robin has had nightmares about the Buster Call that destroyed Ohara ever since she escaped her fate. Sometimes it’s just the kids back home that picked on her and called her a devil child, all in the rescue boat and dying because she might have made it on board, sometimes it’s the burning of the Tree of Life, sometimes it’s Saul’s laughing face as Akoiji froze him solid.

0. "Seek and Ye Shall Find" (I miscounted and started a fic late and I am not spending time readjusting this nonsense) --- Atem was so happy he’d finally found a way to at least view what was happening back in Domino. Rather than getting surprised by the Gods’ future requests at world-saving, he could keep an eye on things from the afterlife. It’s not like he could transport himself to Domino without the Gods’ help, so it was more a way to keep an eye on things in the meantime. The Kaiba Dome seemed the best place for the mirror into the realm of the living; after all, Seto Kaiba now seemed the center of all the trouble.

[oops-mistakes-were-made-blog]

English Story

This was a little story I wrote for my English class, this is the only copy I could find and it’s the first draft, so sorry for any form of mistake. I’m not exactly proud of this so sorry! I hope you enjoy!!!!!

    I lived in a small village on the Island of Dragons, the village was named wolfpine due to the amount that grows there. We provide crops for the cities and towns, everyone knew everyone in the village and we got the freshest crops. My neighbor’s name is Mesarth, she grows Whisper fruits they were sweet, soft fruits they tasted like milk, you could cook them with anything. I grew animals, specifically sparreoteas, large bird creatures, you can also crush their feathers and you can have them as tea.

      My claws clicked against the stone as I walked to the local market it was a famous market, no one was there yet except a few shop owners, some are food, others are pots and pans, others jewelry and gemstones, my shop was stationed next to Mesarths, I never complained though, we’ve been friends for years. I always got there before her, I sat my bag down and grabbed the rope and pulled the curtain to show my table, I sold sparreoteas feathers and meat and the chicks can be sold as pets.

     Mesarth showed up About 30 minutes later with a large bag of what smelled like Whisper fruit.

“Why hello there, Tyanmus! It’s such a lovely morning, isn’t it?” Mesarth asked, I chuckled, nodding “A little birdie your parents are coming to see what you’ve been up to”

“Ah, yes. Did I yell that loud?” I laughed, jokingly. She nodded. I fake gasped, being dramatic. I grabbed a small bag of ground sparreoteas feathers and set it on her table, she glanced up and grabbed four whisper fruits the sparreoteas chicks went crazy with peeps and squeaks as I walked by. I placed the fruit next to a box that was used to hold the sparreoteas feathers.

     The Market place slowly filled with all kinds of creatures, I even saw one or two elves, which was very rare. They came for the Whisper fruits. Unicorns, pegasi, griffin, and many dragons, from many different places. A chinese dragon approached slowly, looking around to make sure no one stepped on his tail.

 “Is this the place you sell tea?” He asked.

“Yes, this is, how many feathers do you want?” I responded, a nice grin on my speckled face

“F-Four, please” He sputtered, I pulled out four feathers and placed them on the table.

“Four pieces of Electric Gold, please” I kept my paw over the feathers, so he didn’t grab them and run, It’s happened several times before, I was just being safe. He pulled out four pieces of the bright blue gold and dropped them on the table. Using  my tail I pushed the gold into a brown sack on the ground, they clinked against the other currency, I’d sort it later. I lifted my paw, and the red dragon across from me grabbed them and left.

     The shops were closing and very few dragons were left. Mesarth came by during her lunch break to give the remainder of the chicks a Whisper fruit, they almost immediately destroyed it. I had to wash them later. Mesarth and I were currently playing a game of cards, she was out of Whisper fruits, so her shop was closed and so was mine. My parents never came, I wasn’t too surprised. They were never there for me.

“Are you sad?” Mesarth asked placing a king down, winning the game. I looked at her placing my cards on the table

“About what? That my parents never showed?” I asked

“Yes, I mean, I would, but you have a different, and odd, relationship with your parents. I know you guys don’t get along”

“No, They never liked it up here anyways, we lived in a rich neighborhood when I was growing up. My mother is too stuck up to even THINK about coming up here” I laughed, she looked worried.

“I’m worried about you Tyanmus” I stared at her, wide-eyed.

“Why?” I asked

“Well, you seem stressed so I’m going down to the city tomorrow and I was wondering if you would like to come with me” She asked. She started counting her money, she pushed two jewels to the side, obviously from the elf.

“I’d love to go, but what about the shops?” I asked grabbing my sack of disorganized money.

“You need to harvest feathers, don’t you? Why don’t you just say that you need more feathers?” she said

“Because it’s a lie”

“You always lie, Tyanmus and you KNOW that”

“I lie when I need to” I growled

“You don’t need to go with me, I was just offering” she huffed, falling back

I sighed, we never argued much, only when I was trying to talk her out of doing something careless.

“Fine, I’ll go with you, I really do need a break” I muttered “Maybe I’ll visit my parents” I laughed, grinning.

    I glanced at the edge of the floating island, You could see the main part of Dragon Island from here. It was a short flight, nothing more than 5-7 minutes, depending on where you wanted to go.

“Which part of the island are we going to?” I asked as we shot into the air,

“Well, we’ll be going on a hunt.” she explained, flapping her wings to keep herself in the air

“A hunt?” I asked

“Yep!” she chirped, I didn’t like the grin she had “It’ll be easy, I promise.” I sighed, relieved.

“Then I have to babysit my cousin for an hour, You can go home by than if you want to”

“I’ll probably just look around the city, see what’s new and what’s gone” I laughed.

A sharp pain shot through my side, I lost my balance and fell, my wings folded to my body, an instinct.

“TYANMUS!” Mesarth screamed, her paws shot to her face. She glanced back at the two dragons, they didn’t seem to care or even notice that they ran into anyone. I blinked, my vision blurring. I knew I was going to pass out, and I trusted Mesarth enough, I trusted that she was going to catch me.

She was chasing after me

     I dug my claws into Tyanmus’ shoulder, I noticed that he was asleep. I looked up and we were two far from the island to actually fly back and get help. I sighed and decided that it would just be easier to just fall some more and stay on the surface of the Earth for the rest of the day and the night if necessary. I wrapped my front legs around his torso and flew into the clouds. We almost never got rain on Dragon Island and so much rain at once scared me. A large explosion came from behind me, I almost dropped Tyanmus.

“You better wake up soon.” I growled, glancing at the dragons’ spotted face. There was another explosion, this one woke Tyanmus, He yelped in terror and started slipping. I tightened my grip on him, my claws digging into his scales.

“W-Where are we?” He asked looking around

“I don’t know” I answered “But I think I see land over there, so hold on” I let out a puff of smoke through my nostrils, and I slowly made my way over the dot on the waters.

 Most of the journey was slow, I could admit that and I had to watch, helpless while Mesarth carried me. My wing had been damaged when the younger dragon had run into me, so I couldn’t fly

“Uh, Mesarth?”

“Yes?” She asked, she sounded tired, I really didn’t blame her, I was really heavy

“What’s that? It looks like those things that take disabled dragons to other islands” I said, pointing at the large wooden, what looked like a sky boat

“I don’t know” She hummed “I noticed that it’s not colored like wood” I glanced at it, it was more of a silver color and it was moving rather quickly

“We should get to the island before you pass out” Mesarth nodded

We landed on the island safely, Mesarth flopped next to me and passed out almost immediately. I stared at her for a few seconds before passing out myself.

     I was woken with a bright greeting from the sun, I rolled over to see how Tyanmus. He wasn’t there. I Shot up, the warm, dry sand welcomed my paws. I tried to step but it was awkward and I stumbled most of the time.

“Mes? Where are you? MES?!” I spun around, Tyanmus stood there with something in his mouth, he seemed to have something wrapped around his torso

“TYANMUS!” I screamed running back to him “Are you ok? Is your wing better?” I asked, frantic. He simply shook his head

“My wing is torn, I won’t be able to use it the next few days, I’m sorry but I got us food!” I looked at it there was a ring of wood. Tyanmus blew on it and it immediately caught fire.

“What is that?” I asked, looking at the odd looking, fuzzy creature

“I don’t know, but it’s edible” He said “Only when it’s cooked” He adjusted his shoulder, moving his wing

“Do… you need help with that?” I asked him, he seemed confused “Your wing, I mean”

“Oh! Yeah, I’m not the best at this” He chuckled, flipping the creature. I quickly fixed the quick bandages, wrapping it only around his wing

“Thanks” he mumbled, his mouth full of fur and meat, I grabbed it and quickly bit into it, It tasted good, really good and I suddenly remembered how hungry I was. I finished it swiftly.

     “I guess we’re stuck here for the next few days” I said. I looked over at Mesarth. She looked sad.

“Listen, I’m sorry.” I said, looking at my paws and I dug my claws into the sand “I- I’m sorry that, I got us stranded here, I’m-”

“There’s no need to be, I thought it would be easier to come down here and wait, I never thought about how bad your wing was” We were both guilty. We sat in silence, watching the water lap at the sand, it sometimes hit our paws. A shape started to appear in the distance, we weren’t sure what it was so we left the sand covered ground and into the shade of the forest. Mesarth stayed on watch while I slept in a tree.

     The large boat was on the shore, Mesarth was in the tree next to mine, she was sitting on a thick branch, looking at a strange looking creature, I sat up.

“What is that?” I whispered, staring in awe

“I don’t know” she immediately, whispered back. The creature turned around and his eyes landed on the two dragons. His eyes widened he turned around and started yelling, I couldn’t understand what he was saying but I knew it was bad. Mesarth jumped down and ran away. I tried following her but due to my hurt wing, I crashed and tripped most of the way.

“MESARTH! MESARTH WAIT!” I screamed, while tripping over a tree root. I rolled into a large field where Mesarth stopped, her chest heaved while she panted. She stared at a waterfall, amazed my the beauty. I limped to sit next to her.

     We stayed by the waterfall for about an hour, Tyanmus had fallen asleep listening to the waterfall, I had to admit, it was relaxing. I too, fell asleep. I slept dreamlessly, for a few minute’s only to be rudely awoken by yelling, My head shot up. The creature was looking at us,  and it said something, I didn’t know what, but I didn’t like it. A few more of the creatures walked up to me, nets in their hands. I growled lowly and flicked my tail in a warning, they didn’t seem scared, smoke came out of the corners of my mouth, they seemed more hesitant, stopping and glancing back. A few moments later, one of them stepped on my tail, I roared as fire scored their faces and burning the net, they each screamed as they ran, I looked over at my best friend he seemed horrified, I’m guessing that my roar woke him up. The creature stood there for a few seconds more before walking away, with what looked like a grin on his face

     “Mesarth, what happened?” Tyanmus asked as I drank from the lake at the bottom of the waterfall, I pulled my nose out of the cold water, soothing my throat and chest. I looked back at the small dragon

“They attacked us and I did what had to be done”

“So you killed them?”

“NO! I didn’t mean to at least” I blushed “You’re safe, thats all that matters to me” I said sternly

“Do you think they’ll be back?” Tyanmus asked, sudden horror in his tone

“Probably not” I told him, a sudden movement caught my eye, my paw shot into the water, catching whatever it was, I grinned at my catch, a fat fish.

     Tyanmus gathered wood and started the fire so we could cook the aquatic creature. as the fish cooked I changed the leaves that wrapped around Tyanmu’s wing. Most of them had been ripped when he ran through the woods.

“I’m sorry for running off without you” I said, tugging on a leaf

“Do you think we’ll be able to get back home soon?” The small dragon asked, fear in his eyes

“I hope” I pulled my tail out of the water and used the fur on my tail like a brush. We ate our fish in silence, and fell asleep immediately after.

     We spent a week there, waiting for Tyanmu’s wing to heal, we left the island the moment he could fly for more than an hour without help. we saw the floating island much sooner than we thought me would, we didn’t complain about it though. We were laughing and doing tricks in the air he even went under the waterfall that went off the side of the island, laughing, we both flew to the edge to take a break, a few minutes later a familiar voice was heard “MESARTH!! TYANMUS!!”  We both looked up, a white dragon came running towards us, she immediately engulfed us into a hug

“YOU GUYS ARE OK!!” she screamed, digging her claws into our backs.

    We went back home, Malirth made us sparreoteas tea and made us a proper meal, we caught up and chatted for a bit. Mesarth suddenly gasped, her paw covered her mouth

“We need to go see my parents!”

“And I should go to the hospital, to get my wing looked at” I pointed out. Mesarth nodded

“we’ll head to the hospital first, that’s more important” Malirth carried me to the hospital, so I didn’t have to strain my wing, they did say my wing was broken, and I had to stay in the hospital for a day so they could keep an eye on me about an hour later my parents came bursting through the door

“Oh thank goodness, you’re ok” My mother sighed, falling against my father

“We went to the market place and you weren’t there it worried us.”

“we also went to your house and it said you’d be back the next day so we went and- and” She sobbed.

“I’m fine mom, really” I told her, laughing. I slept better than I ever have in that hospital bed.

    I went back to working at the market place a month later, and I was never more grateful to see so many creatures in my life.