#never woulda gotten here without her

[of-time-and-space-itself]

YIPPIE! We Unlocked The Snatcher DLC, LET'S GO!

The best way that I can describe this man in this AU is like.....mostly deadpan, with an occasional snarky quip, he kinda just rolls with the flow at this point. He's very much past his prime, and is now just very calmly sitting in the passenger seat while Hat kid rams her scooter into the nearest cement wall.

He is the only real sane voice of reason in the entire kingdom, Which is why Hat always bothers him with all her problems.

Something I can mention w/o having to be vague is the fact that, - yes, in this universe dad snatcher is a thing. It NEVER comes up in the main story, mostly because I decided I wanted it to be a side thing entirely(backstory for the two kingdoms). Hat kid isn't actually aware of this until post-plot, which is when their relationship really starts to blossom.

In the meantime, he's just her super secret lawyer that nobody really knows about.

[cultofdixon]

It’s the thought that counts

Daryl Dixon • She/Her Pronouns • Baked goods to win the girl’s heart when yours was already his • SFW

Requested: Anon

“Yea think she’s gotten used to this place?” Daryl asks his best friend Carol while they were on the porch, her thinking they were watching everybody but of course he was watching a certain somebody.

“Yeah, I think she’s liking it so far. She is more careful than the others who sort of dived into this place”

“Good…that’s good” He crosses his arms leaning against the post next to the stairs as Carol leaned over the railing noticing his attention never leaving. “She livin’ with yea right?”

“Yeah, Y/N didn’t mind staying in Rick’s the first night or two but once I asked if she’d like to stay with me? She jumped at the opportunity” Carol is close to both Daryl and Y/N. Just one of them is more forward about their feelings.

“…she doesn’t want to be with me in the Grimes residence?” He didn’t even think for long about those words when he asked them. All he knew was the instant realization made him quickly avoid Carol’s smirking. “Fuck off”

“Y’know you’re going to be seeing them a lot right? You’re close friends and she’d rather be around you than anybody else”

“Why yea say that when she’s literally over there talking to this…Aiden fucker”

“Because he’s the head runner for the supply runs. Y/N got asked by Deanna to join said group for her job here”

Daryl scoffs bringing his gaze to the ground. “Bet yea that son of a bitch is flirtin’ with her”

“You care too much and see so little. She’s coming over” Carol whispers the last part causing Daryl to straighten up brushing off dirt or whatever was on his person, nothing. “Hey Y/N”

“Hey! Hey Dar” Y/N smiles at the archer watching him return that smile of his. “I’m glad I saw you were out here”

“Oh yeah?” Carol smiles with intentions that Y/N caught on making her role her eyes as Daryl was left clueless. “Why is that?”

“That Aiden guy?” Y/N gestures with her head. “Makes me really uncomfortable…I’m gonna try and get Deanna to let be on the recruiting team”

“Yea wanna help them bring people in?”

“You’d be good at it.” Carol adds to Daryl’s concern with a bit of a bright side. But Y/N respects the honesty. “But be careful with these people yknow? Aaron is part of the recruiters and they are nice but—“

“I know how to take care of myself…it’s honestly just to have a reason to get outside the walls without needing an escort”

The two look at each other confused as Y/N gestured with her head toward the brothers talking to each other.

“They think I can’t handle myself” She laughs in response to both of them scoffing. “Anyway, I’ve gotta go talk to Deanna and hopefully Maggie can help me convince her…I shouldn’t be out long”

Carol nods smiling, thankful, that she keeps her update and more importantly him. Daryl watches Y/N leave the porch as a thought came to mind.

“Is she going to the party?”

“I don’t know. But I am, to get on people’s good side. Why?”

“I don’t know…if she ain’t then I guess…uh I could…uhhh…”

The woman couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her throat making her friend the archer blush out of embarrassment. She gently grabbed his bicep ushering him inside and deciding to help him.

About an hour or two has passed and Y/N entered the home with a bit of an exhausted look to her complexion. A small smile graces her features as she makes her way into the kitchen finding Carol making another casserole, at least with all the ingredients it looks like she was doing that.

“Another casserole?” Y/N smiles bringing herself to the kitchen island finding all the different items on the counter. “Smells good”

“Oh yeah, another one. The one I’m making is for us though…and a few cookie batches to win some people over”

“Who woulda thought you can make all these things with what this community has found over however long this place has been around…” Her smile falters for a second before she shook off that feeling. “I’m gonna see what they have for anything comfortable. I’ll be back in like. An hour…ish”

“Going to take advantage of the shower and hot water?”

“If I could live in it, I would” Y/N laughs on her way out and the second she left the kitchen, Daryl groans getting up off the floor.

“You didn’t have to do that”

“Didn’t want her to see me” Daryl brought the bowl over with half the cookie dough since a batch was already baking. “Don’t want to spoil shit”

“Well, hate to break it to yea but I don’t think she’s going to want burnt cookies” Carol states indicating they both missed the timer going off as Daryl quickly turns around to pull the batch out.

After Y/N got ready for the evening, thankfully finding leggings and a sweater to wear, she brought herself back to the kitchen finding no Carol but Daryl beating himself up about the batch of cookies in front of him. He was tapping one against the counter telling them both how hard it was.

“Messing with one of Carol’s failed batches?” Her voice startled him out of his thoughts as he sets the cookie he was messing with down trying to think of the words.

“Uh. Yeah” He doesn’t want to say it’s his. “She’s gettin’ another tupperware container from Rick’s”

Y/N took a seat at the island reaching over and taking a cookie as Daryl gives her a concerning look. “What?”

“They’re burnt”

“But not all of it. ‘Sides Id always eat my dad’s burnt cookies whenever he tried to make them.” Y/N broke apart the cookie eating the bits that weren’t burnt too bad. “They are really good, props to the chef”

I’m right here and I should just fucking say I made them Daryl couldn’t help the small twitch in the corner of his lips as he watches her take a few more before taking her leave after telling him she’ll skip out on the casserole.

Before she completely disappeared, Daryl quickly rounded the island as his fast pace made Y/N stop giving him a questioning but curious look.

“I-…Sorry. Forgot what I was gonna say”

“That’s okay. Come find me when you do remember, Dar” Y/N smiles warmly, heading back upstairs with the cookies he made as he watches her go.

Felt like perfect timing for Carol to come back watching Daryl stare upstairs smiling a bit to herself when she noticed his emerge.

“Talk to Y/N?”

“Yeah”

“About…asking her out or?”

“No…” His shoulders slumped slightly as he brought himself to look at his friend. “Anyway. Another batch or should we try and get the dessert?”

“You’re lucky I found a cake tin at Rick’s and I’ll take care of it. Gotta make it perfect” Carol smiles heading toward the kitchen once more. “But you can help, and it’s the thought that counts”

“Always”

Daryl found out through Maggie that Y/N was going to go to the party. Taking the opportunity to scout around the entire community to ease her anxiety and Rick’s. So he was going to wait til she returned to the house to present her with the dessert he (well Carol) made.

Cheesecake. It was HARD. Like real fucking hard. But thank god there’s a vegan option that Carol found in one of the old cookbooks in the house.

“Hey Daryl” Aaron’s voice caught the man off guard as he was following Y/N a moment to make sure she was alright and none of Deanna’s sons were being annoying. “How are yea holding up?”

“Fine. Ain’t going to the party?”

“Eric’s house bound so I was never gonna go but least you thought about it.” Aaron smiles at the archer taking his chance. “Wanna have some dinner? It’s spaghetti”

The archer knew it’d be a while before Y/N made her way back so he took the opportunity and it was a good one. He had a reason for himself to enjoy this place a bit.

Y/N turned away from the window when she heard the knock on her door. Half expecting Carol on the other side but she was happily met with Daryl after he had gotten back from dinner and receiving a bike frame. She was going to ask if he himself went to the party but her eyes were drawn to the cheesecake held in his hands.

“Did you make that?” A bit of a spark in her eyes caught all of Daryl’s attention as he nods fighting back a smile when hers emerged. “Wow…how did…how is it even possible without milk?”

“Cashews apparently…or whatever kind of nut that can be made into milk..” Daryl thought back to the mini argument he and Carol had while making the nut milk about said substitute.

“…Cheesecake is my favorite, I’ve only ever told you that.” She smiles taking the plate when it was handed to her as she couldn’t contain her laughter. “I can’t eat all of this tonight”

The two found themselves back in the kitchen as Daryl let Y/N cut herself a slice about to cut him one when he objected. Given he made it for her.

“We can share then” Y/N smiles wrapping up the main cake and tossing it in the fridge before grabbing two forks for the one slice. “You really didn’t have to make this for me…”

“I wanted to” He felt the heat rise in his cheeks as Y/N couldn’t help but match the same blushing expression on herself. “I’ve always wanted to do this…as if like…”

“Asking me out?” Her tone shifted and Daryl first heard it as confusion but then thought it over and remembered hearing the bit of excitement in her voice. “This…is definitely…”

The small pause caught his whole undivided attention as his eyes looked at her waiting for more watching her take a bite of the cake and absolutely enjoying it.

“One of the greatest things to happen to me” Y/N smiles enjoying the cake sliding it over for him to get a taste of his work. Thought the way he took a bite and enjoyed it more than what a typical baker would with their own work. She knew he didn’t make it, she knew the thing he made were the burnt cookies that she did enjoy.

“Uhm. So…Do you—-“

“I’d love to, Dixon” Y/N continues to smile bringing herself around the island and gaining a bit of courage to press a kiss to his cheek. The smallest affection and impact making him lean into it and chase for another that she would happily give. “It took you long enough…and can I just say something?”

“‘Course” Daryl gave her the smallest smile as Y/N pulled herself close bringing her lips to his ear.

“I think I like the cookies you made more” She whispers with a smile, giving him one more kiss on the cheek which permanently left the blush on his cheeks before pulling away and taking the plate.

[manic-sapphic]

i'm sorry but i just gotta rant a bit about relating to catra - but tbh, not just her..

i know i've been sleepy on the rants lately - i realized tumblr let's you freely make and post gifs (only 10 at a time tho, how's my obsessive ass supposed to live w that? i'm tryin) out of short vids and omfg, believe me, i ain't done w that. never. but i'm sorry if i duped you into thinking i was done posting any rants muahahahs cause i ain't done w them either.. ever. likewise. gifs are great cause a pics worth a 1000 words right, and they're 3 seconds of frames of pics. but sometimes, it feels like silent film. and i just can't always stfu

sooooo ~~

oooook, tbh, i haven't personally gotten much of any bs from people on this platform tryna hate on catra, but it's still happened to me elsewhere, and i know it still happens to some here, and i have thoughts about it. so, while i recognize that most the people i interact w on here prob feel mostly the same way - i'ma post about it just so it's on my blog. just so it's out there for those who can't and/or won't try to understand.

as many do, i relate to catra for personal reasons that run pretty deep - from my first watch, it's what made me empathize w her character at her worst and still hold onto the hope that she'd somehow claw her way out of the fucking pit she straight up dug for herself.

found herself down there and figured shit - that's it. this was my doing, this is my life now, till it becomes my death; this is where i've trapped myself; i dug my own grave and there's just no getting out of it ("you made your choice, now live with it" ~ reminds me of the fairly common proverb of "you made your bed, now lie in it")

but her chance to do this bold, brave, selfless - yet, ironically, still quite fittingly (for the catra we all know and love) self-destructive act (but this time, embracing self-destruction as a means of self-sacrifice - in an attempt to keep the promise for what she thought would be her last chance to ever do so) - of helping get glimmer to darla without adora ever having to actually dock at horde prime's flagship -

...break my heart, why don't you? into a number of pieces i can't fathom; like, if i gathered them all into a pile, i could start counting the shattered lil shards and wouldn't be able to count out the last one in my lifetime. break my heart like that. that's not a joke. this show makes me feel something, lots of things, in ways that, tbh, i have a hard time finding much of irl anymore. no fault of life's, ofc. much like catra, i know this shit is all on me.

but hey hey hey tho - that's ok. i'm ok. i don't mind that, because it's ok not to feel ok. tbh, sometimes i think people need to let themselves feel that more when they need to; just look at catra in s1-4. it's not an uncommon motif in fiction; every villain has an origin story. and emotions almost always play into it; and a villain's typical determination to repress the very emotions that plunged them into a previously unknown depth of darkness - only ever adds to their unpredictable, chaotic, and vengeful nature. who woulda thought~

that being said - my main point is, for anyone who just can't help but hate catra (and luckily, that doesn't seem to be anyone who typically sees my posts/interacts w me, so this is really just something i kinda feel the need to say, even if i'm preaching to the choir and know, deep down, if it actually met a catra-anti's eyes - it would prob only spark more irritation on their part, or at the very least, make no difference) -

but just know (i mean this sincerely) if you just can't see any reason to - not even empathize, i can see how that could def be something not everyone can manage - but if a person can't even see catra's character as someone they can try to sympathize with… and i mean, it doesn't have to happen in the first 4 seasons, but if the show ended and one happens to still find themselves unable to understand at all or even find her worth trying to understand in the slightest ~~

this is not sarcastic, i really swear i mean this: it seems like you might be pretty lucky.

truly and sincerely, i mean that; if you're someone who can't find any way in themselves to relate or even sympathize w this character, i'd guess it's at least due in part to the fact that you're quite literally incapable of seeing where she's coming from - at all. and idk. in some ways, i envy you. in others, i don't. it's confusing.

i've had remarkably good luck myself, it would seem, (idk how often other people get troubled by catradora antis here) endlessly ranting on this platform w/o anyone tryna give me a hard time - i've been able to share shit about not just catra & adora, but almost every other character - cause although i may not relate to any of them in quite the same way, they all represent (in my mind) different facets of personalities, interests, and insecurities as well. and i think many fans prob feel they share some aspects of themselves with certain parts of, often, more than one character.

and even the brightest characters have at least a small streak of darkness - even if it's as innocent as feeling like they don't fit in (glimmer, frosta, and scorpia have all shared this feeling- one to the other- at some point) or finding it so difficult to be in tune w their environment / circumstances that they're unable to connect w and use their powers; like perfuma in the crimson waste or adora on beast island.

i think there are a lot of just jaw-dropping, wonderful characters in spop - and def not for their powers, abilities, or accomplishments - but for the flaws they possess that viewers can relate to while they watch these characters simultaneously display their strengths and own those flaws - refusing to let them be what defines them. such a dope fucking msg if you ask me; everyone is flawed, everyone fucks up; but at the end of the day, everyone has their strengths, too; and if you're trying your best to use them for good - even if you falter at times.. what more could anyone ask of you?

i relate to catra all throughout the show (and i realize many do, and while i feel for whatever in anyone's past/present has caused them to see a kindred spirit in catra, i'm sure we can probably all agree: it is so lovely to know there is this fictional cartoon character [of all things] that was rebooted in a way that [imo] was very much intended to offer some solace, hope, & understanding to those who do find her relatable)

cause guess what. you're worth more than what you can give to other people.

that goes for everyone.

or at least, it certainly should. we all deserve love. ok?

you too. <3

[toffyrats]

toff makes newsies content alert alert 🚨

hi guys ok context for this story (?) basically i was reading abt the donner party like a month ago and then i wanted to do a little character study ish thing w modern au newsies, but then like a quarter of it ended up being abt the donner party so. atleast i have something to feed my newsies followers with. yeah? yeah.

so tw for like. kinda weird mentions including death, cannibalism and so on n so forth. it’s not yk awful YOU KNOW WHAT i’m making this seem a lot more about the donner party than it actually is let’s just move on.

there’s some redfinch, ralbert (but its one sided ofc) and kinda implied javid? ? also kath n sarah hate eachother (for now). again its a character study but all of them so no single pov but cmon its me so its kinda albert centric. ok this is getting long lets begin

     “the donner party is sooo boring,” race groaned from where he was sitting with crutchie on a beanbag. “who cares about a whole bunch’a dead guys in a wagon?”

     “i find it interesting,” crutchie put in. “really emphasizes the human instinct to survive.”

     albert shook his head in disgust. “i would never eat another human. sounds gross.”

     “if you went that long without food, you would,” crutchie replied matter-of-factly. 

     “what was the point of all that, then?” race grumbled. “pretty much all of ‘em starved anyway. they coulda gotten off easier without eatin’ eachother.” he practically threw his book across the room into albert’s hands. “i’d rather starve than eat another person.”

     “they weren’t right in the head,” jack explained, not looking up from his book. “they were so hungry, they probably became demented.”

     “humans are animals,” crutchie added.

     albert snorted. “great job, crutch. want a medal?” 

     “no, i mean- no matter what, driven by hunger, thirst or exposure, we’re gonna try to live. even if that means eating our friends.”

     “ehh, i dunno.” jack tapped a finger on the top of his book. “i think i might be with william hook on this one. rather die from eatin’ too much than eatin’ too little.”

     albert leaned back in his chair, the front legs lifting up off the floor. “i don’t even think eatin’ people was the problem,” he mumbled. “if the reed guy didn’t take the stupid shortcut, they all woulda survived.”

     “man, if only,” race cut him off. “then they wouldn’t be in the history books at all and we wouldn’t hafta be crammin’ for the test right now.”

     “yeah, ‘we’ as in ‘not you’, race.” albert waved his friend’s book above his head. “i still have your book. we’s the only people studyin’.” 

     race opened his mouth to say something back when the door to the room opened and katherine walked in.

     “oh!” she seemed taken aback. “hi, guys! didn’t know you were in here.” she took a few steps in their general direction and stopped. “wait, are you supposed to be in here?”

     the four boys glanced around at eachother and shrugged almost in unison.

     “sorta,” albert said finally. “we’s technically supposed ta be in gym, but coach said we could study since we got a test tomorrow.”

     katherine gave an exasperated sigh and turned her course to the filing cabinet in the corner of the room. “nobody ever uses this room. you couldn’t have just stayed in the gym?”

     “gym’s awful.” crutchie shook his head. “well, i mean- for me, anyways.”

     katherine nodded in understanding, opening a cabinet starting to go through it. “you guys meet the new kid yet?”

     race immediately perked up. “there’s a new kid? no wa-“ 

     “you wouldn’t like him,” katherine deadpanned.

     “oh.” race’s face fell. 

     “well, what’s he like?” jack asked curiously, finally putting his book down.

     “quiet, reserved… uh, he’s kinda preppy looking-“

     “ew, yeah, okay, cut it right there.” race made a face and waved his hand infront of his face, making a ‘stop’ gesture. 

     “he sounds almost as boring as the donner party,” albert groaned.

     katherine shrugged, turning back to the file cabinet. “i like him.”

     “of course you do.” jack smiled and shook his head. “he seems like your typa guy.”

     “and of course you’re the only one that cares,” race smirked.

     katherine pinched the bridge of her nose with a long sigh. “race, please.”

     race threw his hands up in mock innocence. “hey, hey! i’m just sayin’!”

     crutchie closed his book and held his head in his hands, rubbing his forehead. “race, have you forgotten the only reason they broke up in the first place?” 

     “yeessss, crutchie, i know,” race forced out. “does this kid have a sister or somethin’?”

     katherine hesitated. “yes, he does.” her voice was curt, and she sounded like she didn’t want to further the discussion. 

     unfortunately, race was never good at picking up on other’s emotions. “what’s her name?”

      jack glared at him, but katherine spoke before race could figure out a way to deflect the blame somehow. “sarah. sarah jacobs.” 

     “jacobs, huh? what’s th’ guy’s name?” jack asked, diverting the subject.

     “david,” katherine sighed out, relieved. “you should talk to him, when you can. maybe not al and race, but-“

     “yeah, definitely not al and race,” albert said quickly, and race nodded in silent agreement. 

     jack suddenly got up and cracked his back, then his neck, then every single knuckle before finally saying, “alrighty then, me an’ crutch’ll go find ‘im. he should jus’ be in gym, yeah?”

     race stared at him with a blank expression. “how is even getting up out of a chair an entire process for you?” he asked finally, and albert snickered. 

     jack shot yet another glare in race’s general direction as he turned to help crutchie up. “you sure you don’t wanna come?” he asked when the shorter boy was successfully up on his feet. 

     “positive,” albert hummed. katherine gave a triumphant shout and pulled out a single paper from the cabinet. 

     “what’s that?” race pressed, curious as ever. 

     “oh, just a little list- it’s for the school newspaper.” she shrugged and glanced quickly between the four boys. ”i have to give it tooo…” she scanned the paper quickly for a name. “…finch cortes. i don’t assume any of you know what class he has right n-“

     “physics, room 203,” albert answered immediately, before katherine could even fully finish. “i mean- i think. how would i know?” the front legs of his chair hit the ground with a loud bang as he looked down at his lap, his face heating up. “it’s on the second floor,” he added quietly, fast enough that it almost sounded like one word.

      crutchie smiled and ruffled albert’s hair playfully. “don’t worry, you can trust red on his finch factopedia,” he assured katherine, and albert swatted his hand off of his head with a sharp scowl. 

     “ooohhkay then,” katherine nodded slowly, her eyes narrowing like she didn’t quite get what was going on. “well, i’ll go find him, then. thanks, albert, i’ll tell him you said hi.” 

     “wait- no!” albert desperately tried to stop her, but she was already out the door. 

     nobody could really understand how katherine’s brain worked. it was as if she were a machine, and anything you tell her to do, she will or won’t without any wavering decision- and she was notoriously bad at reading between the lines.

     “welp, we’d better get goin’,” jack said quickly, and crutchie agreed. 

     “no, wait! no, please! don’t leave me with him!” albert pleaded as he watched jack saunter out the door, eager as ever to meet a possible new acquaintance. crutchie pivoted and shot a sympathetic glance in albert’s direction. “sorry, al. you’re stuck wit’ him.”

     “to most, being stuck with me is a good thing!” race reassured albert mockingly, draping his arms around his friend’s shoulders. 

     and then it was just race and albert. and for some odd reason, it was a lot more awkward than usual, and the air cracked with an unusual tension.

     “so… you an’ finch, huh?” race asked after a moment, a crooked grin creeping onto his face. 

     albert shook his head quickly and wrung his hands nervously. “no, no,- it’s- not like i got a crush on ‘im or anythin’, i… it’s this brain of mine, the adhd, it, uh, chooses to fixate on the dumbest people at the most inconvenient times…” his voice trailed off, his unfocused eyes coming to rest on race. 

     his mind began to wander, his thoughts turning to static before they could even front. he shrugged it off- something he had gotten used to by now-and looked away. “you get what i mean.” 

     “i mean… i guess.” just the tone in race’s response let albert know he didn’t at all get what he meant. 

     just then, the bell rang, loud and steady, startling both boys out of the uncomfortable silence they had fallen into. 

     “saved by the bell,” race chuckled, stuffing his books into his backpack. he pointed at albert forcefully as he turned to leave. “don’t think ya got off easy, though. i still wanna know all about this fling wit’ you an’ birdie.”

     albert groaned loudly in response and flung his backpack over his shoulder lazily, hearing race talking to himself about albert cortes, finch dasilva, and a few other things in italian that albert couldn’t understand a word of.

     albert knew he wasn’t off the hook, he didn’t need race of all people telling him that. but he also knew that finch was in his last class, and maybe-for once- he wouldn’t be all sweaty and gross after gym and too self-conscious to even try to sit near him.

     no, he did not have a crush on him.

     he loved race, and no matter how much he wished for it to, it was never going to change. but maybe finch would take his mind off of it.

     no, albert is not thinking about that right now!

TEEHEE HOPE YOU ENJOYED please speak to me in the tags tell me what you liked and didn’t and whatever also yes ik crutchie would use a wheelchair in a modern setting but i dont even know how those work so yeah not touching thag until i do more research

[jesshasnofilter2]

I dont know how to meet friends as an adult. So I went to a remote corn field and made friends with a dog named Tank. Let me tell you all about it:)

I was at my Gramma's over the weekend. I love my gramma, obvs, but I did miss my 8 mo puppy, Lucy, like crazy.

I'm outside with a sketchbook and the shittiest pencil I own, and up walks Tank.

My Uncle will usually feed Tank something special when he's here, He wasn't, but Tank didnt know that. so Tank was making his frounds.

In an effort to...idk, self soothe(?), I sat outside for hours hung out with Such A Good Boy. Well, more accurately, he hung out with me.

His human came to retrieve Tab human called and called him, in plain sight - the bribery treats in hand and rattling the plastic. Tank stayed at my feet.

Now...sigh..I know that in reality, I was sitting in a garage alone with the big roll up door door open, and Tank was laying belly-down on the cool concrete.

Yes. It was probably more likely that he refused to leave my side because he was cool and comfy in his spot and I just happened to be lucky.

But I like to think he sensed that I am a secret dog whisperer. Secret even from me.

I dutifully gave this boh his ear scritches and belly rubs. I was hoping it would be good enough karma to get Lucy some lovin from the camp staff. Maybe someone might be more inclined to rub her belly for me.

My gramma lives in a town of under 500 where I get no cell service. Left to her own devices, she wouldn't have gotten wifi. It was really for the rest of us, and also to shut me up. Needless to say, I do not complain out loud about how shitty her wifi is, considering I was the second loudest one bitching about it.

Im saying all that to say this: I got to draw a stranger's dog (with permission) (never try photographing stranger's dogs without asking their human parents, that's creepy and dangerous), and gave the brief sketch to Tanks dad, but not before I took a pic or two before the final touches.

I think I like drawing animals. Who. Woulda. Thunkit.

[toxicanonymity]

The Contractor. Silence can never be bought, only rented (pt. 6 of 6)

4k / dbf!Joel x f!Reader / pt 1 / master list

STORY MASTER LIST

Warnings/Notes: I8+ some angst, dry (wet?) humping, unsafe PIV SEX (!), legal age gap. Acronyms - RICO is about organized crime. barely edited.

It’s so close.  It’s finally here. His hand slides under your shirt, runs over your back then pulls you closer. He feels so good, it’s like a dream.  But the more you wake up, the more your thoughts creep in.  You want the truth.  You pry your lips away from his, and right away, he latches onto your neck.  “What did my Dad want?” you ask. Between kisses, he murmurs, “don’t worry about it.”

Joel shows you his phone and your dad is at the gate.  He thinks in silence for a moment. 

“Well, we’re not doing anything,” you offer, but your heart is pounding.  “Don’t let him in.”

“I’ve gotta let him in.  What’s he gonna think if I don’t?”

He rubs his beard and opens his home automation app.  “You’re in the pool house,” he decides.  He turns on a dim light in the pool house.  

“What does he want?” you ask.  

“Hell if I know.  Go through the basement.” 

“No way.” 

“Come on, Trouble.” 

“I’m not going through the tunnel alone.” 

He seems endeared by your fear.  “Do it for us,”  he says with a wink that makes your heart jump.  Then he gets up to take the drinks to the sink. 

“Wait,” you say. 

He freezes. 

“What were you gonna say? Now that I know . . . ?”

“Now that you know, I don’t have to worry about you finding out later and being mad.”

You kind of doubt that’s what he was going to say.  “I’m mad anyway,” you say. 

“Figured.  It’s okay.”

A car door opens and closes.  

“Go,” he whispers. “I’ll come get you when he’s gone.” 

You make it to the pantry stairs just in time.  

-

When your dad comes in, Joel says, “Welcome back.” 

Your dad asks, “Where’s my girl?”  

“Sleepin’ it off in the pool house, I reckon.  Didn’t want her to drive.” 

There’s a long pause and your heart races. 

Your dad says, “Good, good. . .thanks.” 

Damn, Joel is smooth.  He asks your dad, “Somethin’ you didn’t wanna call about?”

“Yeah. . .” 

You’re tempted to stay and hear more, but you’re also afraid of what you might hear.  You creep down the stairs quietly.  You think about going to the theater instead and waiting in one of those recliners.  It’s silly, but you really don’t want to go underground to the pool house.  The tunnel is climate controlled and has automatic lights, but it’s still spooky without windows.  

-

You’re standing near the tunnel entrance trying to work up your nerve when you hear raised voices, and now you can’t resist.  You quietly make your way back toward the stairs to listen.  If no one is going to tell you what’s going on, this is your chance to find out.  It occurs to you there’s no reason for you to go all the way to the pool house except that Joel doesn't want you to hear this.  Otherwise, you could have hidden anywhere and your dad would be none the wiser. 

A cabinet slams shut and Joel demands,  “How many aren’t you tellin’ me about?”

“Not tellin’ you? I just found out!  I’m not in charge, you know that.”  Glasses clink with ice. 

“North of the fuckin’ border again. God damnit,” Joel says. He’s even more heated than he was in the car the other day. 

Your dad asks, “What do I have to do to get you all in on this? Let’s get it done and be done with it.”

“You know what I want.  I want out.”

“You’ll be out.” 

“I want it in writing.” 

Your dad scoffs.  “You want a paper trail now? When the whole point was to keep your charges off paper?” 

“Not the charges, damnit.”

“Then what do you want in writing? You made some bad guys go away in exchange for evidence going away, now we’re square?” 

“It was supposed to be a six month contract.  Here we are, how many renewals later? And I’m still consulting.”  You can picture the air quotes with the way he says it.  

“Still better than 20 years for RICO,” your dad says. 

“Never woulda gotten the max. . . You know what? At least the wiseguys have a code.”

Your dad sharpens his tone.  “Ever wonder what happened to that evidence?”

“FUCK”  A glass shatters. “I’m never gettin’ out. Just say it.”

“This is the last-” 

“Don’t string me along with this one last job bullshit, then the job’s a whole fuckin’ cartel.  Call it what it is.  I’m an asset.  Not a contractor if I don’t got a fuckin’ choice.”

“You’re gonna be out.” 

“You won’t even give me your word.”

“Joel, you have my word.”

“Alright,”  Joel calms down a little.  “And what about you?  You ever think about your daughter in all this? You want her on tiktok seein’ your head roll off one day ‘cause you couldn’t take the loss and retire?”  

“Don’t talk about my daughter.”

There’s a moment of silence, then your dad continues. 

“We’re on the same team, buddy.  I want this over as bad as you do.  C’mon, let’s look at the intel.” 

You’re sick to your stomach.  Whatever this is sounds like it’s about your dad’s ego. What’s new. You shrink back to the tunnel and jog through it so it’s over fast.  

-

You’re laying on the couch in the pool house, and you don’t even want to think about what you just heard.  So you’re replaying the earlier conversation in your head.  The one about your stepmother and  . . . gross.  Something doesn’t sit right about it.  You’re trying to figure out why Joel would have felt guilty for you blackmailing him into sex. 

It hits you that the only reason he’d feel guilty is if it were his doing. . . If he realized you thought you had leverage and saw an opportunity.  Deprive you, make you want it that bad, see if you’d try to twist his arm into it.  And once you got there, game over?  Was he just getting off on having the power all along? Then you ask yourself the real question.  If that’s the case . . . do you wish none of it ever happened?  It’s an easy no.  

So you put that to rest and can’t help but think about what you overheard between Joel and your dad. You want to know how this all happened, but from the way Joel was talking about heads rolling off,  you’re most worried about what he and your dad are up to right now.  You want to hear it from Joel.  You want to know what his real job is.  The truth might be the only thing you want more than to fuck him.  And if he won’t tell you the truth, maybe he doesn’t deserve the latter. 

You’re exhausted from being in the sun all day.  There’s a big, heavy blanket – silky, not exactly cozy.  It’s like a rich guy blanket, probably put there by an interior decorator.  You curl up on the oversized couch and pull it over you.  There’s a bedroom, but you don’t expect this to take as long as it does, so you don’t get in bed.  You stay on the couch.  It feels like Joel is taking forever, but you’re too tired to even look at the time. You take off your shorts and bra, swaddle yourself in the blanket, and drift off. 

-

You don’t hear Joel come in or take off his pants or put his stuff on the table.  You feel cold for a moment when he lifts the blanket, but then he gets under it with you and takes you into his arms, and he’s warm.   

You stir, and Joel whispers, “You wanna get in bed?”  

You shake your head no.  

“It’s right there . . .”

“No,” you manage weakly.  You’re not remembering any of the drama at the moment, just enjoying being in his arms and too sleepy to move.  

“Ok,” he whispers, and kisses you on the head.  You fall back asleep with your head in the crook of his neck. 

. . . 

In the middle of the night, you wake up in his arms with one of his legs hooked over both of yours and his boxers pressed against your panties, which are soaked with arousal, you can feel it.  He’s only somewhat hard, but it’s enough to make you need it, bad.  He smells freshly showered but you can still catch a hint of his sweat, which makes you need it worse.  Your nose brushes his beard as you look up at his face. 

He blinks awake with sleepy eyes.  He presses his lips into yours for a long kiss that starts light, affectionate, closed-mouth, then becomes desperate, invasive. You accept his tongue greedily. He hardens right against your crotch.  His hips roll into yours, and before long, he’s rock hard, and you softly moan “mmm” into his mouth.  

He whispers, “Are you on-” 

“Yeah,” you cut him off.  Then he covers your mouth with his lips again.  Yeah, you’re on birth control, and the question makes you throb as he kisses you.  It’s so close.  It’s finally here. It’s grinding into you right now.  His hand slides under your shirt and runs over your bare back, pulling you closer against him, and he moans softly.  He feels so good, it’s like a dream.  

But the more you wake up, the more your thoughts creep in.  You really, really want the truth.  It dawns on you this might be your best shot at getting it. 

You pry your lips away from his, and right away he latches onto your neck.  

“What did my Dad want?” you ask him. 

Between kisses on your neck, he murmurs, “don’t worry about it.”  

“Tell me what’s going on,” you demand.  

He rolls his arousal into your clit and you bite your lip to suppress a moan while you wait for his answer. 

 “Not now, sugar. . .”

He lifts your shirt swiftly but smoothly and palms a breast, then is hard-on drags down your thigh and you feel a damp spot on his boxers. He takes your nipple into his mouth while he pulls your shirt off, and you help him, despite your reservations.  You need the truth, but you’re aching.  Your body needs to be filled by his. 

“Not now. . . so, when?” you ask. 

“When I’m back,” he sighs.  

“Back from what?”

He doesn’t answer.  He lightly drags his lips over the top curve of your breast, over your shoulder, up your throat, your jaw, to your ear.  

-

His boxers find your drenched panties again and press against you in just the right place.   He’s so stiff, it takes your breath away, and a soft moan falls out of your mouth.  He whispers, “This is all that matters,” and you want him to be right so bad.  He nibbles then sucks your neck right under your ear. He grinds his rock-hard member into you in a slow rhythm at just the right angle.

“This,” he says, looking from your eyes to your mouth and back.  He wraps his arms around you, grinding into you rhythmically.  He kisses you again, and his tongue erases whatever words were on yours.  Blood rushes to your lips with the gentle suction of his own. With his face still on yours, he slowly, carefully takes his boxers off under the blanket. 

You slide your hand down his abdomen and your breath hitches as you graze the light padding of his lower stomach.  You find that small, circular scar and gently caress it.  He flinches, then moves your hand to his cock.  It sends a  bolt of need to your aching clit, but you still have to ask. 

“What’s it from?”

“C’mere,” he says, and latches onto your mouth again as he thrusts into your hand.  

You want his lips on yours forever.  You want nothing more than to just give in and fuck him.  You push yourself up with your arm and he rolls onto his back.  You shrug off the blanket.  He watches you in a trance as you straddle him with his cock still in  your hand.  You thumb his scar again and he says, “you know I served.”  Right.  Of course.  

His stomach rises and falls, and his head tilts slightly as he watches you nestle his naked cock at your drenched, silky underwear, right against your clit.  You roll your hips into him and moan at the friction. 

“Let’s lose these, sugar,” he pants. He hooks his fingers into your underwear and you lift each leg to slowly slip out of them.  

-

You settle back in, then close your eyes, tilt your hips, and use him to pleasure yourself.  You drag along his cock, from your clit to your dripping entrance and back, making his manhood shine with you, and he groans.  Then you lay your hips onto his again and his hips rock against you, with his unfathomably hard cock gliding firmly against your slick.  

He moans and breathes heavily.  “I gotta be inside you, sugar,“ he says as he grinds into you rhythmically.  

“I’ve gotta know the truth,” you reply, but it physically pains you.  

He groans.  “Fuck,” he pants. “What do you wanna know?”

“What you’re up to,” you say as you use your hips to massage yourself with his stiff manhood.  

He takes a deep breath.  “It’s complicated,” he says, and you inwardly acknowledge he’s probably right.  You stop moving and start to back yourself down his thighs.  You bend at the hip and hover over his cock. 

“Are you still in construction?” You stroke him slowly.  

“Still own the business.”  He adjusts his hips under you.  

“But that’s not all you do.”  You bring it almost to your mouth and take a deep whiff of his musk which makes you twitch with need. 

“No,” he quietly admits. 

You think about how to simplify this and get it over with.  You throw caution to the wind and ask,  “Do you kill people?” You thumb the precum beading at his tip.  No immediate answer.  Then, you take his salty tip into your mouth for just a kiss and he groans.  You take it out.

He sighs.  “You really wanna know?” He thrusts into your hand.

You give it another kiss. “Yeah.” 

You slowly crawl back up his body and lay half on him and he rolls toward you so you’re on your side like before.  You hook your top leg over him.  You search his eyes for an answer, but he looks down at your bodies instead.  His large hand engulfs your ass cheek, caresses it with his palm, then gives it a firm squeeze and pulls you hard against him, and your wet pussy meets his stiff cock again.  

“What do you think?” He asks quietly, then buries his nose in your neck and whispers, “Cause you’re prolly right.”  Your heart skips a beat.  You wanted more, but at the same time, it feels like he just told you everything he has to tell - or that’s what you’re trying to believe, for your body’s sake.  You don’t feel anything about what he just said. All you feel is him, and that’s all you want.  

-

He groans as he grinds into you, and his neck vein bulges. He rolls his arousal harder against your slick seam and kisses your neck. “Come on, sugar,” he says.  

You open your mouth but don’t have any words, you can only breathe.  He ruts against you again and you close your eyes with a moan.  You’re throbbing, physically aching, swollen with need, dying to have him.  

“Gotta be inside you now baby,” Joel repeats, smooth and low.  He thrusts hard against your clit, slow, but so hard.  His mouth devours yours, and your nipples harden against his broad chest.  When his stiff member drags back down your clit, he hesitates at your entrance, then puts his hand on your ass, and the tip of his cock is caught by a tilt of your hips.  Tension swells and tightens deep within you. 

He begins to slowly push the firm head of his cock into your tight, wet hole and reads your face.   You have to remind yourself to breathe. Your brow furrows.  You bite your lip and inhale through your nose.  You both adjust your hips so the angle is just right.  He pushes a little more, and the stretch of his girth makes your whole body dizzy and desperate for more.  He pauses and you just barely nod. 

The arm under you pulls you closer with his hand flat on your back while his other hand braces on your leg that’s hooked over him.  Then he pushes his stiff length into you with a grunt that becomes a loud sigh, and you gasp as his thick cock makes room for itself inside you.  He pauses when he’s mostly in, and you look into each other’s eyes.  

“Now fuck me,” you whisper.  

“Yes ma’am,” he growls.  He backs out all but the tip, then plunges into you completely.  Your mouth falls open with a moan as your bodies are finally joined and he bottoms out with a shudder.  

His lips latch onto yours as he retreats, then slams into you again with a grunt.  He buries himself in you, slow and hard, each time somehow better than the last.  Your hips roll into him, and together, you gradually up the tempo.  You kiss sloppily, half your mouths breathing heavily and vocalizing against each other’s cheek. Each exhale is a moan.

His hips roll fluidly against yours and his whole body tells you how bad he’s been wanting this. Every time he fills you up, you could cry from how good it feels.  He opens his mouth wide and puts it on your neck again, gently sucking your delicate skin into his mouth.  He grabs hold of your ass and uses the arm under you to gently put you on your back without fully pulling out.  Your legs wrap around him and he sheathes himself entirely once again.  

You hook your fingers under the bottom hem of his t-shirt and pull it over his head.  He takes in the view of your whole body again before he leans back down.  

“You look so goddamn hot,” he says, looking down at you, thrusting into you. He looks hot, too.  

The moonlight reveals a faint farmer’s tan from the barbecue.  His pecs and triceps are pumped up and flexing as he moves in rhythm.  His hair is messy and perfect.  The silver bits of his beard glisten. 

He leaves space between you and reaches down to thumb your clit, almost putting you over the edge, but you quickly take his hand and pull his body back into yours.  

“About to come?” he asks.  You nod and take a deep breath.  He thrusts into you hard then slowly rocks his hips deep inside you with his neatly trimmed hair grinding into your clit.  The tension bursts inside you and you groan his name as a massive wave of pleasure overwhelms you.  Then another.  You clench around him and your body jerks erratically.  Your nipples go almost painfully hard and drag against him.  

He pushes deeper than you thought possible, balls tightening against your ass, and you gasp and moan. Then he grunts, pulses inside you, and his whole body shudders as you milk his cock.  You keep pulsing as he fills you up with his seed. Your whole body is drunk with him.  When you’re both finished coming, he looks at you, and himself, then you again as he catches his breath.  He strokes your face and says, “god damn.” 

You almost forget you’re two different bodies until he slides out of you, leaving a void your insides try to fill. He lays on his side and takes you in his arms again.  

-

He looks so peaceful.  At the moment, you don’t care if you still don't know what’s going on.  You don’t even care if he manipulated you into wanting this so desperately.  All you care about is whether this is going to happen again, and you’re terrified of finding out it’s not.  You start to worry about him going to do this job. 

After a long silence, you say,  “You don’t wanna do it, do you?”

“Do what?” 

“Whatever you have to go and do.”

The peace evaporates from his face.  He sighs.  “No. . . No, I don’t, sugar.”  He rubs his temples with the thumb and pinky of one massive hand.  

“Then why do it?”

“No choice,” he says. 

“That’s messed up,” you say.  “I mean, not having a choice.”

“Yeah, well, it was my own dumb ass.  Thought I was gettin’ outta somethin’ worse.  Didn’t know what I was gettin’ into.” 

“How do you get out of it now?”

“Finish the job, call it a day, see what happens.” 

“Really?”

“It’s been a long time comin’.” 

A couple seconds after he says it, a little smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.  He doesn’t have to make the joke out loud.  You playfully pinch his cheek. 

“Worth the wait?” he asks with a smirk.  

You shrug, and he says, “I’ll take it.” You can feel your whole face and body glowing.  You don’t need to spell it out.

-

You get pensive thinking about why now, why tonight.  “You weren’t just pissed at my dad, were you?”

He chuckles, then almost seems to panic when he sees you’re serious. “God, no, Trouble. . . “   His heart rate visibly quickens on his neck.  He didn’t even have to ask you what you meant.  He wraps his arms tight around you and kisses your head.  

“So whatever happened to ‘not tonight’?” you ask. 

“Couldn’t help it,” he says.  “Neither could you.”  Well, that’s true.  “Plus, now I don't have to worry ‘bout you findin’ out you didn’t blackmail me.  That woulda broken your sick little heart.”

“Maybe,” you say, still a little paranoid, but you push the thoughts away.  

“I don’t think your dad needs to know about this,” he says.  “That woulda been a sick serve though if I was mad at him,” he chuckles.

“Did you just say sick serve. . . “

“Sick serve,” he whispers in your ear.

“I don’t think that means what you– where do you pick this stuff up, anyway?” 

“Prolly Jesse, he never shuts up.”

“So, Jesse’s-”

Joel puts his thumb on your lips.  “Said too much already,” he says. “ You gotta keep it to yourself, okay?”  You give his thumb a little bite before he takes it away. 

It’s funny, you never had anything over him before, but now you kinda do.  Not that you’ll do anything with it.  Too dangerous. 

“Yeah,” you say.  

After a long silence, you ask, “What are you gonna do when it’s over?”

He sighs and adjusts his arms around you.  “This right here,” he says.  “If you want.”  

You fall asleep in his arms again. 

-

When you wake up, he’s gone.  It’s light outside.  Birds are chirping.  You have a text from him that says “Stay here if you want. Back in a couple days.”   You don’t stay there.  It’s too creepy without him.  You go back to your apartment, but you worry about him a lot and check your phone constantly.  A few days later, you get off work, and when you walk out of the bookstore, he’s parked there, leaning against his truck, ankles crossed, wearing Ray Bans and a t-shirt, jeans as tight as ever, arms tucked under his massive biceps.  

“Here comes trouble” he says as he pushes himself off his truck.  He puts his hands on his hips and lets his pants adjust as he pops out one knee.   

Your lips meet as he wraps his arms around you.  

“All done?” you ask.   

“Let’s celebrate,” he says.  “Got that same suite on the river.  Booked it for the rest of the month, so I reckon I’ll be around.”  

-

Thank you for reading and engaging with this story for all six parts, y'all have been so awesome!

FWIW I see this as a happy ending with ominous undertones lol. I think I will come back to these two in the future (assuming there's still interest now that they've fucked). That's why I didn't blow my whole load in over explaining the subplot in this part. I initially included the sub plot so there would be an interesting basis to come back to them after the main story.

I just started another (darker) dad's best friend story: Left in Lincoln. In addition to smut it's also slow burn horror but no gore. Heed warnings. . .

-

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[laudsimogen]

Absolution

It’s been too long since Imogen has gotten a moment alone with Laudna. Two days since she’s come back before they get rooms at an inn and finally, finally they’re alone. Finally they can talk freely.

Laudna falls onto the bed first, stretching luxuriously like a cat. “Oh, it’s so good to lie in a bed again,” she says. “I’m still quite sore. The Sun Tree was lovely, but it didn’t help in that aspect.”

Imogen sits on the edge of the bed next to her, chest tight. She lets Laudna get comfortable, then takes her hand again, gripping it tight. “Laudna,” she says, and her voice cracks. She doesn’t want to alarm Laudna, doesn’t want to be forceful. She wants to talk, and she wants it to be gentle, but her voice already betrays her emotions.

Laudna’s content smile fades. “What is it? Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” Imogen says. “I’m good. I’m wonderful, now that you’re back. But I just—” She takes a moment to gather herself. “You know you’re not a burden, right? You know you don’t—you don’t have to repay us or anything silly like that.”

Laudna’s gaze drops. “You all went through so much to get me. You spent days on it when you could have been doing more important things. And I’m so, so grateful, but…”

“There is nothing more important than you,” Imogen says. “Nothing. Do you understand? We didn’t bring you home out of a sense of obligation, Laudna. We did it because we love you. We didn’t want to live in a world without you. You’re worth every little bit of effort it took and more.” She swallowed past the lump in her throat. “I wish you could see that in yourself.”

Inky tears well up in Laudna’s eyes. “I’m trying,” she says quietly. “I am. I want to see it.” She takes a deep breath. “Something feels different now, Imogen. I don’t know what it is, other than the obvious. It’s good. But it’s going to take some time to get used to.”

“That’s all right,” Imogen says, and she gently wipes the tears from Laudna’s eyes. Her hand lingers there on her cheek. “You have all the time in the world. I just don’t want you to ever think that any of us are burdened by you. Even if you feel like you weigh yourself down, that weight is light as a feather to us. We’ll pull you right back up, okay? And we’ll be glad for the honor to do it.”

Laudna nods. “If you’re sure,” she says. “I’m so lucky to have friends like you. It makes coming back so much easier, knowing I’m not alone this time.”

“You’ll never be alone again as long as I’m alive,” Imogen says. “I haven’t got the chance to say it yet, but thank you. For choosing to come back. I don’t know how hard it was, or whether you had misgivings about it, but…I’m just so grateful you’re here. I really don’t know what I woulda done if I never got to see you again. So, thank you for being so brave.”

“Imogen…” Laudna reaches up to tuck a stray lock of lavender hair behind Imogen’s ear. “It wasn’t…it wasn’t bravery. It was just love. I couldn’t go anywhere else when you were out here. I couldn’t part ways with you yet.”

Imogen had been holding it together for Laudna, but now a sob escapes her, and then another, and she collapses onto Laudna, wrapping her arms tightly around her thin frame. “Thank you,” she says, her voice muffled in Laudna’s neck. She can feel the pulse there, so slow and steady, and she doesn’t think she’ll ever want to move. “Thank you. I love you so, so much, Laudna. You have no idea.”

Laudna hugs her back, but there’s a hesitancy there. She’s silent for a moment, then speaks so quietly Imogen almost can’t hear her. “Imogen,” she says. “Is there a reason that you…that you didn’t ask me to come back? That Orym was the one who spoke to me?”

Imogen stiffens and pulls back, so shocked that her tears immediately stop. “What?”

“It’s all right,” Laudna says, though there’s a distinct sad undertone in her voice. “I’m not mad. I’m just…just curious.”

“Laudna, I did call you back,” Imogen says. “You didn’t hear me? Pike said you would hear me.”

“No.” Laudna frowns. “I heard Orym, so I followed his voice. You spoke to me, too?”

Imogen gives an incredulous laugh. “Of course I did; I can’t believe it didn’t get through. Thank the gods Orym did.”

Laudna pauses for a moment, absentmindedly tracing lines on Imogen’s hand, following the lightning marks. “What did you say?”

“Well.” Imogen hesitates. She’ll tell Laudna, of course she will, but why does it feel so much harder now? “I said a lot of things,” she says. “Mostly I just told you it was your choice to come back, no one else’s, and that I wouldn’t try to force you. That I’d be here for you no matter what if you did come back. And I told you I love you.” She smiles a little. “That’s the gist, anyway. There’s some other stuff, but…it doesn’t matter. You’re here now. We have time to talk about it later.”

“You gave me a choice.”

“Well…yeah.” Imogen keeps her eyes trained down at their entwined hands. “I’m not gonna pretend I would have been okay if you’d chosen to move on. It would have broken me. But that decision wasn’t about me; it was about you, and if moving on was what would have been best for you, I wasn’t gonna let my pain put a stop to it. You deserve better than that.”

“I think that’s the best thing anyone has ever done for me,” Laudna murmurs. “I wish I could have heard it.”

“Me, too.” Imogen curls up next to Laudna and lays her hand on her chest, just over the new scar beside her sternum. Not hiding it, not shying from it like she had while Laudna’s body had been still and empty. It was simply part of her now, and Imogen loved every part of Laudna.

“I made the right decision, in any case,” Laudna says. “I’m glad to be back here with our friends. With you.” She covers Imogen’s hand with her own and laces their fingers together. “I feel like I can face anything with you. Even though I couldn’t hear you, I knew you were here. I knew I could lean on you for support, and you would hold my hand through whatever comes. That’s the real reason I came back.”

Imogen’s heart pounds hard in her chest and she smiles up at Laudna as tears form in her eyes again. “I’m so glad I can be that for you,” she says. “Because that’s exactly how you make me feel, too. You’re my home, Laudna. You’re my heart. And I never wanna be apart from you again.”

“Oh, Imogen…” Laudna grips Imogen’s hand tightly, and Imogen can feel a slight tremble in it. “I’ll always be with you. I’ll be here next to you as long as I can be on this mortal coil, and if I ever fall off of it again…” She swallows. “I’ll find you. Somehow. I’ll do whatever it takes if you promise to do the same.”

“Of course,” Imogen whispers. “Of course. Always.”

[avatarl0v3r]

Reincarnated part 6 NeteyamxFem!Human!Reader

Warnings: cussing

Index: the reader finds out about her past life then the war starts

You follow the two of them to a small hut where a woman sits meditating “Mother I see you” Neteyams mother says and the woman opens her eyes and noticed you behind her along with Neteyam “Grandma theres been a sign from Ewya” she raised a brow then looks at you “Come here child and let me see you” you walk over to her nervously and sit down.

She looks at you intently “What is your name” “Y/n” she nods her head “You two leave she stays with me” Neteyam wanted to interfere but his mom grabbed his arm and led them out the small room “Now lay down” you do as she says because she’s older and your parents always told you to respect your elders she starts to chant which for some reason it comforts you you close your eyes and see all these memories you didn’t know existed.

It was you with Neteyam but younger and without an avatar, the next flashback is you crying and Neteyam comforting you, the very last one was clear as day it was your “nightmare” but this time the faces weren’t blurry you could feel the pain on your shoulder and see Neteyams face he was crying begging for you not to close your eyes.

You gasped and sat up very fast “Do you remember now?” Mo’at asked you you looked at her “Yes but if i died how am i alive now” she looked at you you remember that look all to well “Reincarnation Ewya blessed you and brought you back to Neteyam” you smiled remembering everything you felt for Neteyam before you died in your past life you hugged Mo’at tears of joy rolling down your face “Thank you” she hugged you back.

You got up and walked outside the hut seeing Neteyam you walked up to him and hugged him “I’ve missed you so much ‘Teyam” he hugged you back instantly happy this all wasn’t some coincidence Mo’at explained to him that you had gotten reincarnated on earth when you died and now your back to finish what Ewya had started.

—

You went back to the RDA and woke up Becca “Dude what the hell i thought you were someone trying to kill me” she said almost punching you “Calm down but i have to tell you something” you told her everything Mo’at told you and she was shocked “If the RDA finds this out they’ll kill you” you looked down conflicted “I know.”

You acted like the interaction with Neteyam never happened. Still work with the RDA to try and kill Jake Sully

—

After about a week or two there were no leads on Jake Sully well none you were gonna tell them they had yet to find out about you being close with Jake Sullys son.

You were called to the head of this whole ‘Kill Jake Sully Mission’s’ office durning target practice, you walked in and sat in the chair and the woman turned to you “Y/n your the best soldier we got right now, and your the only one who i know can get leads so i need you to start working your ass off getting me some leads understood?” you looked at her “Yes ma’am.”

—

You were talking to Becca about what had just happened “I’m not sure what to do I woulda betray your bestfriend like that, but if you get caught your as good as dead”

“I know that’s the problem”

[sublimecatgalaxy]

I love your stuff! Could you do one where Daryl was captured but reader saves him but reader has never killed anyone before so they're really out of it and in shock kind of?

Yes, love this.

My hands shake as I drop the gun, blood spattered all over the walls and door as Daryl stares at me in shock. I'm sure I'm the last person he expected to see coming to his rescue, his quiet and meek girlfriend who typically didn't go out of her way to get into trouble.

My knees drop to the ground as my chest tightens, feeling Daryls arms immediately wrap around me and pull me into his lap.

"The fuck are you doin' here? You gotta death wish?" He chastises but I curl myself into him as I listen to the sirens around me sing, The Sanctuary now well aware of my presence. His hands cup my cheeks as he pulls away from me, thumbs catching my tears as my lips wobble, his worried eyes flickering over me. "Are you alone?" He asks, his head tilting to look over at the man on the floor, motionless and bloody.

"I killed him." I mutter, ignoring his question as his brows pull tightly together before a quick look of realization passes over his expression. "I didn't want to hurt anybody, I- uh- I just couldn't leave you here." My voice sounds distant from me, echoing in my ears as Daryl makes his way to his feet, taking me with him as my feet stumble.

"We gotta get outta here, alright? Stay with me." His eyes find mine as his hand slips into mine and with a gentle squeeze, he leads me down the hallway.

By the time we reach the forest, I'm hyperventilating, the reality setting in that I killed someone. I wanted to go the longest I could without having to do it, but the minute that Rick told me that he couldn't manage to talk Negan into letting Daryl out, I knew that I had to go. I could barely stop my feet from carrying me to a car and down the road, away from Alexandria.

"Aye, c'mere." Daryl mutters, pulling me down into a ditch and behind a tree, concealing us perfectly as his hands land on my waist. "You never do that shit again, you got it?" I'm silent as I nod, understanding his frustration but I knew that I was right in doing what I did. "I don't need you dyin' just trying to save me. I'm not a damsel in distress, Rick woulda gotten me out." He reassures but I just scoff, shaking my head as he sighs, his shoulders drooping at my argumentative state.

"You were in distress though. I couldn't leave you." My hands rest on his chest as he presses simple kisses down my forehead and down to my cheek. "Rick told me that Negan wouldn't budge and I just got in the car and drove." My chest deflates as he sighs, my heart aching as I wrap my arms around his waist, listening to the sound of his pounding heart.

"Just," he pauses, pulling back once more, leaving a chaste kiss on my lips, "don't do that shit again-"

"Then stop getting kidnapped!"

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Taglist: @bubblebuttwade @rafelover2405 @leslienjazzy @sorceresss @grxnde-dwt @alex–awesome–22 @bunnietoof @niyamar1e @serialghost @plantlungs @geniusohn @akaliltimmytim @lilaalouuxx @xshariex @elliotsbeigeguitar @elle4404 @lelieja @srhxpc i@joselyn001 @taysirene @spinkspanther @thedivineuphoria @peter-maximoffs @tsukishimawhore @poohkie90@szlaco @distantsighs @nstyles4299 @wolflover384 @givemefoodandlovesstuff @vane28282 @yeswhatever33 @amirrahfranson @vvaalleennttiinna@f-mu @yaspillz @jeyramarie @skylievin @abbybarnes17 @jointherebellion215 @visiondaddy @steezysimfinds @its-ya-gay-boi-luigi @crunchytoenailsyum @glizzymcguirex @beth123lg @melovesmut @rafecameronswhore @ariianelle @write-from-the-heart @vampviolets @haylee-e@popehaywardssecretgf @honee-chai-tea @lokiandbuckywife @smoke-and-fire @officiallyunofficialperson @heyaitsklaudia @rosepetalsparks @bluetreecloud20 @scenesofobx @double-shot-of-tequila @1dluver13xx @colbysbrocks @iamasimpingh0e @smoke-and-fire386 @chiyongberry @id-3-kbro @diorsitgirl @errorfound101-allideasburnedout @neverwillknowme18 @ellyskey @taylors-folk @loversjoy

[michelle-is-writing]

Bunny the Pug, Chris Pontius

Word Count: 1k~

I had planned on surprising Chris tonight with something very special. First, I picked up dinner for us to enjoy and even had a gift for him. There wasn’t a special occasion or anything. I just wanted to surprise Chris as he’s been in kind of a funk lately. It’s unusual to see Chris without a smile as the man just radiates happiness, and I don’t ever want that to stop.

“No, just stay still, please?” I ask the pug in front of me as I try to put the tutu I bought for her over her chunky hips. “Please, Bunny, just work with me?” I plead, but the dog only tries to get away from me, too excited about all the new things around her. Sitting back on my knees, I huff. Chris and I have always wanted a dog, and when my friend texted me about her sister being unable to keep her three-year-old pug, I knew that was the dog we would love. Plus, her name was ‘Bunny’ of all names, so she was perfect.

The sound of keys in the front door makes me hurry up with the tutu and bunny ears I bought for the dog before gathering her in my arms just as the door opens.

Turning around before Chris can see me, I hold the excited pug in my arms as I hear him come into the house, haphazardly throwing his keys onto the table before walking further into the living room. However, his steps pause and I know he’s incredibly confused. I would be too if I walked in and saw him with his back to me trying to hide something.

“Uh, babe?” He says, making me bite back a smile. I’m hoping he’ll be happy, and I have no doubt he will be. “Whatcha got there?”

Turning around, I greet Chris with our new dog, only for his face to light up like never before. “Holy shit!” He yells with a grin, making me laugh. “Is she… she ours?” He smiles, hoping for me to say ‘yes.’

Nodding, I hold her out to him as she fights me in my arms to get to him; an instant connection. “Her name’s Bunny, by the way,” I tell him, watching as she proceeds to greet him with kisses all over his face.

“No way,” he states, looking at her costume I put on her moments ago, now almost falling off from her excitement. “Bunny the pug,” he murmurs, “the perfect companion for Bunny the Lifeguard! And she’s already got the costume, babe! Who woulda thought?!”

His words make me close my eyes and shake my head with a laugh. Of course, I know she already has the costume. I was the one who bought it and put it on her.

“I love you so much, babe,” Chris says, leaning in close to kiss me before wandering off to give Bunny a full house tour. His action makes me chuckle. He doesn’t realize I already did that when I first got her home, but that’s okay. It’s so cute to watch him walk around with a happy pug in his arms.

Later on in the night, the jackass crew end up crashing at our apartment, all of them wanting to come to see Bunny who was still in her costume from earlier with my lovely husband now wearing his costume to match. Just like how she was with Chris when he came in, Bunny was excited to meet all the new people eager to give her love and attention - all except one. For some odd reason, when Ehren began to pet Bunny just like all the other guys, Bunny stopped wagging her tail before turning around and barking at him.

Immediately, we all stop in shock before Knoxville begins laughing like crazy. “Apparently dogs don’t like you either, Ehren!” He exclaims, causing the rest of us to join in on his laughter.

Not paying it anymore mind, Bunny runs back over to the couch and hops onto Chris’ lap where I sit beside him. The now happy dog instantly cozies up to him like she’s done ever since he’s gotten home. “Hey, Jeff, get over here and film this,” Knoxville says, waving his hand for Ehren to get closer to me and Chris. However, based on the fact that Bunny didn’t like him before, he hesitates.

Once Jeff gets closer with a camera, Ehren gives in and moves closer. Bunny’s demeanor quickly changes and she goes on alert as the strange man gets closer. When the guys came into the house, they all came in at once and Bunny had no qualms with anyone else. She loved Knoxville, Wee-man, Steve-O, everyone; so I'm at a loss as to why she doesn’t like Ehren.

Before Ehren gets too close, Bunny nips at him, but I realize that a pug’s mouth isn’t all that… normal. Instead of actually biting him, it’s more like she’s gumming him since her teeth are jagged. Knoxville continues the teasing by leaning close and letting her give him kisses before egging her on to go after Ehren.

“You couldn’t have gotten a better dog, babe,” Chris tells me as the guys laugh at Bunny’s strange dislike for Chris’ friend. “Like, she really is the best dog for us and our family,” he adds, kissing my cheek afterward. “And she hates Ehren, which is even better.”

I laugh with Chris at his comment before watching our new pup get to learn all of her disjointed family members. Sure, they don’t live with us, but I have a feeling she’ll be going to every set and house that Chris and I have to go to. Plus, I can tell she’s stolen Johnny and Wee-man’s hearts too.

Looking up over to Jeff’s camera, I smile seeing the camera lens directly aimed at mine and Chris’ smiling faces. I can only hope Jeff wouldn’t put my face in the movie as I have no makeup on right now, but to my dismay, he speaks up. “This is definitely going in the credits scene.”

[hunterwritings]

Hello! Can I request Thomas’ s/o standing up to Hoyt for him like she’s so small but when she’s angry it’s scary, like the markiplier tiktok “if you ever come in here again with a gd opinion I will shove it so far up you ass, You’ll never see the light of day again!” Thank you!

STOP I LOVE THIS SO MUCH-

defensive

summary: after Hoyt starts to talk down to Tommy, you step in and stand up for him

pairing(s): thomas hewitt x fem!reader

warnings: cursing

You let out a sigh as you shifted your car into park as you opened the door and stepped out. You heard the car door close as you began walking back into the house on the property. You were out doing some chores in the fields and were just coming back to see tommy and eat dinner. Your eyebrows furrowed together as you approached the front porch and heart yelling inside. Fear set in as you thought it might be one of Tommy's victims that had gotten away and tried to hurt someone. Your speed picked up as you ran inside and into the den to see Hoyt, Luda Mae, and Tommy standing there. Hoyt was screaming almost every curse word in the English language you could think of as Luda Mae watched and shook her head. "What the hell is going on?!" You asked, finally getting their attention as they all looked at you. Thomas's eyes lit up the moment he saw you standing there. "This dumbass almost cost us our dinner!" Hoyt yelled as his hand gestures to Tommy. Tommy just stood there stiffly as he kept his hands crossed over his stomach. "Well we still got him, didn't we?" Luda Mae tried to step in. "That don't matter! What if you woulda let them get away, huh?" Hoyt yelled as he took a step towards tommy. You heard Thomas breathe out heavily as he kept his eyes on Hoyt. "Do you think this is fucking game, tommy?" He said, practically spitting at Thomas.

You couldn't take it anymore, you ran up and pushed Hoyt away from Tommy. You knew that Tommy could easily kill Hoyt if he wanted to, but you weren't just going to stand there and let him talk to him that way. "Shut the fuck up Hoyt!" You yelled as you coul feel your blood start to boil. "The hell do you think you're doing?" Hoyt asked, anger still written on his face. "Don't fucking talk to him that way!" You yelled, pointing your finger at him. Thomas watched from behind you in admiration, he loved that you showed how much you loved him by sticking up for him. "You know that Tommy is the only one doing any real work around here compared to you. All you do is scare some teenagers, while Tommy is out here actually doing something for all of us!" You argued as Hoyt stood there, bewildered at your anger. "You think you're the big bad wolf in this house, but without Tommy, you'd be dead by now." You spewed as you took several steps closer to him. "You better treat him with respect now." You spat as your eyes stayed in the same postion, staring him down. Hoyt pressed his lips together as he looked down at you and glanced back up at Tommy, knowing he couldn't say anymore. He huffed loudly as he turned and walked into the living room. "Well that was somethin'." You heard Luda Mae say, you had almost forgotten she was in the room. "I can help start dinner-" You started as you turned to face her. "No darling, now you just relax and I'll get our dinner ready." She gestured with a smile, you knew she was grateful for you defending her son. You gave her a faint smile before she turned and walked into the kitchen. You turned your head sideways to look at Tommy standing there, in the same position he was in before. "I'm sorry for yellin' Tommy." You briefly state as you took a step towards him. He gave you a hum of reassurance as he looked down at you. "I wasn't just gonna stand there and let them talk badly about my boy." You smiled as you reached up to give him a brief kiss through the hole in his mask. You could see a smile through his half-face mask and how his eyes lit up. Tommy leaned down and quickly wrapped his arms around you as he picked you up and held you close. You laughed as he held you in the air and kept your around wrapped tightly around his shoulders. You knew that he was grateful for what you'd done and that had left a smile on your face.

[mangosimoothie]

The Bachelorette: Episode 19 - Learning Experiences

Welcome back once again to The Bachelorette! It’s time to move out of the Bachelorette mansion and into a new fabulous vacation spot. Aja goes on two dates, and let’s just say one of them is pretty surprising. Aja now moves into her Fantasy Suite, where she can invite her date to spend the night - cameras off. Looks like things are heating up! 

Aja and the final three were leaving the Bachelorette mansion for their new location when suddenly, there was a mysterious burst of light in the sky. What could that be? [soundtrack]

“Is that…no way.”

“Hey guys! What’d I miss?”

“X’irron!!! Holy shit!! How are you here?? Didn’t you get deported back to space??? Oh my god I MISSED you!!” “I missed you too! I’ll explain everything once we get a chance to talk. Where are we going?”

“Surely he can’t be allowed to just drop back into the competition, no?” I mean, why not? “It’s not fair! He hasn’t been here half the time!!” Bastien…YOU entered the competition halfway through. “That was different.”

With our additional passenger ready to go, we head away from the mansion and to a beautiful set of bungalows deep in the magnificent jungles of Costa Rica. Each bachelor will have his own little bungalow, but the best room of course is Aja’s Fantasy Suite, where each bachelor might just have a chance to spend the night with Aja if he’s lucky enough to get an invite.

Aja is overjoyed to get another day to spend with our favorite extraterrestrial, X’irron. The two go on a date to a bar in town where the locals teah them how to salsa. Just like his singing, X’irron’s dancing is…not great. Music and dancing aren’t really a thing on Sixam though, so we’ll cut him some slack. Besides, him and Aja still have a great time.

Danced out, Aja and X’irron find a quiet spot in the courtyard to catch up. Aja gives X’irron the lowdown on everything he’d missed. He’s pretty confident he would’ve killed it if he’d been here. The first elimination, Alanzo and Darion went home - “Come on. No way you would’ve eliminated me round one.” The obstacle course - “Earth’s gravity is pretty weak compared to Sixam’s, so I’m really light on my feet. Woulda aced it.” The hometown dates - “Not gonna lie, that would’ve been iffy…but the Bastien vs. Cooper situation would’ve kept me safe. I was always gonna be top three. ” Then it’s X’irron’s turn to explain. Right before X’irron left his planet to be on the show, Sixam deemed Earth a quarantined planet. Because of that X’irron was teeeechnically not supposed to be here, so his family came and zapped him up before he got in trouble with IICE (Intergalactic Immigration and Customs Enforcement.) Luckily he was able to get a Cultural Studies Visa and come back to Earth. In the meantime, he did a lot of traveling to other planets.

“Well, I’m glad you’re back. I seriously thought I was never going to see you again. I hope you didn’t have TOO much fun planet hopping.” “I’ve been a lot of places, but Earth is special - even if it is a dying planet. I won’t lie though, I have some crazy stories from all over the galaxy.” “…X’i, I have kind of a weird question to ask you, and I don’t know how without sounding like a total weirdo so just hear me out for a second. Sooo you’ve hopped around to all these different planets, and I know you’re a big social butterfly. Have you ever…~gotten to know~ people on other planets. Know what I mean?” “Oh, you’re asking if I’ve ever fucked an alien. Yeah! It’s a learning experience.” “X’irron!!!” “That’s not what you were asking?” “I mean yes, but I would’ve asked it more delicately!” “You Earthlings and your ‘tact.’ Sixamians don’t even have a word for that. Have YOU ever ~gotten to know~ people from other planets?” “No, you’re actually the first alien I’ve ever met.”

“Well, first time for everything. Right?” [soundtrack] Before things get to heat up too much, X’irron and Aja request to end their date early, even though we still have like 5 hours of shoot time left.

They go right to Aja’s suite, and she sends us away immediately.

So miss Aja, how did your overnight with X’irron go? Any interesting details to share?? “He and I had a lovely evening.” You’re contractually obligated to give us a better soundbite than that. “Fineee. I’ll say this: I learned a lot of very interesting things about myself last night and I’m glad I got a chance to ‘get to know’ X’irron better. That a good soundbite?” It’s a good thing there’s a day in between all the fantasy dates, because Aja spends the whole next day asleep. Get it, girl.

Next is Aja’s date with Zeke, where they explore an ancient Incan temple hidden in the depths of the jungle.

Each tomb comes with a puzzle to solve and plenty of booby traps to avoid, but both seasoned travelers Aja and Zeke study the tombs and find their way through the maze.

Eventually, they come to a weird archway that’s rumored to lead to amazing treasure. “Indiana Jones been reallll quiet since we teamed up.”

Lo and behold, the rumors are true. Aja decides they should give the treasure to the local cultural center. “I just don’t want some white tomb raiders to find it and sell it to the British Museum, you know? I think the temple spirits will understand.” “Just when I thought you couldn’t get any more perfect. That’s an incredible plan.”

They have some trouble finding their way out though, and they walk right into a trap that dropped Aja into dangerous waters! Luckily Zeke is there to dive in and pull her right out. Thank god, because this show can NOT afford another hospital visit. 

“Aja!! Are you okay??” “I’m fine Zeke - I wasn’t drowning I just REALLY didn’t wanna get my hair wet.” “Don’t scare me like that!” “Aw but it was so fun to see you go all valiant hero on me. I think I still might need mouth to mouth.”

“Lucky for you I’m CPR certified.”

Aja invites Zeke back to her suite where they celebrate their successful adventure. “I can’t BELIEVE we fell for that trap! Now my hair looks a MESS, so embarrassing.” “I got you. Sit down, I’ll give you a retwist.”

“Booby traps aside, I had so much fun with you today. It seems like every time we’re together we get into some craziness. And the retwist is a nice touch - I was overdue.” “Gotta have your crown looking right, right? Aja, you are reckless in the best way.” Zeke finishes Aja’s retwist in record time like a master loctician, and after that the night really gets away from them. They spend a long time talking about their travels, their plans for the future, their hopes and dreams - stuff like that. “I really want Black Beauty Babies to be more than just my brand, you know? Especially after visiting your commune I’ve been thinking a lot about how I can really give back instead of just being the face of something. I worry a lot about my social media presence making me seem disingenuous. I don’t know, maybe that’s dumb.” “You wouldn’t be worried about it if you didn’t mean it. Honestly, you’re one of the most genuine people I’ve ever met.” “I don’t always feel like I am though. I don’t know - maybe you bring it out of me more.” [soundtrack]

Um hey Aja, it’s way past wrap, so we’re gonna head out. “Oh shit, sorry, I didn’t realize it was so late! I can’t believe we stayed up til 3am just talking.” “You want me to go, so you can get some sleep?” “Absolutely not. Crew though - yall can leave please.”

So Aja, how do you feel after your overnight with Zeke? Your locs look great by the way, he really got you the hook up. “Zeke is special. I can’t explain it, but it’s like there’s this new version of myself that I’m learning to be when I’m around him.” How would you say the dates are stacking up so far overall? You had a great time with X’irron too, right? “They’re both so different. It’s impossible to compare!” But there’s another elimination coming up after you go out with Ryan and Bastien - you’re gonna have to compare them eventually. “I’m trying not to think about that.”

NEXT | PREVIOUS | BEGINNING 

[airlock]

I’ve been pretty scarce lately, haven’t I? last week this was because uni was demolishing me, but lately, it’s been more about, ehum, the downside of spending like 50% of your social time in Fire Emblem communities when a new game releases, precisely in the middle of the aforementioned demolishment by uni

I’m still probably going to be ignoring non-direct notifications for the next while or so, but now that I’ve finally gotten my hands on the shiny new toy too, I’m eager to become part of the problem for everyone else!

and on that note, I’m here to post my impressions of Fire Emblem Warriors: Three Hopes as of the start of ch4

maybe this should go without saying, but goddamn, the DIFFERENCE that it makes to be back to having a protagonist with their very own dialogue as well as a discrete personality. Shez and Arval’s back-and-forths really get the most out of the “gremlin living rent-free in your brain constantly complaining about your dumb ass decisions” by actually having two participants to it. even the none-too-revelant dialogue pick prompts are a lot nicer now that Shez will actually verbalize the option that you pick, which also means you really get the most out of all the funny and/or mean options-

also, Arval is cute and I want to pinch her cheeks no matter how gross the texture there probably is

plus she forced Shez not to call Alois out on telling dad jokes. she gets it

on a related note, I’ve only had this version of Byleth for like three voiced lines, and I’ve already seen more charisma than anything they’ve done in the entirety of Three Houses. y’know, Jeannie Tirado is a phenomenal voice actress -- actually giving her lines to read brings that out all of a sudden, who woulda thunk? (somewhere between this and Xander Mobus complaining about how few actual lines he had as Persona 5 Joker, I’m arriving at the perhaps bygone conclusion that one should maybe not waste highly talented voice actors on silent protagonists-)

anyway, it’s funny as hell to me that they went to all the bother of setting up the whole “hey, you’re a garreg mach student now!” thing, only to shut the academy down and send everyone home in 2 chapters. also I hope Leonie got a refund-

I’m digging the gameplay so far; I was a bit worried that it seemed to be trying to spin too many unique plates at once -- I will, of course, really see yet how all these interlocking systems hold up throughout an entire game, but in this early juncture, it actually feels like everything has a place and nothing is encroaching too hard on anything else.

on the other hand, though, I think I can see what people mean when they said the original Fire Emblem Warriors was surprisingly headache-inducing for a Warriors game. I enjoy the tactical aspect, but it feels like it comes at the detriment of direct gameplay; you decide what everyone’s going to do, it feels awesome, and then you’re like, wait, what am *I* going to do now-

(”I never quite understand which character I’d rather be playing as at a given time” was also a thing that hassled me in Hyrule Warriors: Age of Calamity, though, so I guess this is just how Warriors game are designed now. that, or I had it too good with the original Hyrule Warriors)

also, apropos of nothing, but I’d not realized how fucking sweet Ignatz’s new outfit is back at the character trailers. holy fucking hell the man is oozing drip alongside all that paint

(ETA: and how could I forget to mention Holst??? they had me at “ProZD is doing his voice btw” and what can I say, promised and delivered)

if you’ve been beholding my wretched reactions to things so far, though, you know what the thing I’ve REALLY been looking forward to in this game is. and...

just the ch4 basecamp has already hit me with TWO long documents about little details about the Alliance, including new details about the local economy as well as more lords, territories, and details thereof. even Acheron has a household name and even a full name now! and they went and gave him one of the most badass fucking full names of anyone in this verse-- but I digress; I can see I’m going to be eating out of this game’s hand when it comes to worldbuilding. which is to say, I’m high up in the clouds right now, ready for Claude’s first named murdercousin (brother, apparently?) to fly by with his wyvern and kill me instantly.

[arrowflier]

Betting on Bullets

Daily Speedwrite, finally stopped keeping count.  I’m sure lots of people have written scenes similar to this, so please let me know if I hit too close to anything existing.  

It was a Sunday afternoon when it happened.  Everyone was at the house for a family dinner--Ian and Mickey included, despite the latter’s protests that better things awaited them at home--and they gathered around the table as the oven timer ticked away.  

Carl was telling some story he heard from his partner about a shootout outside the old Macy’s, complete with his own colorful commentary. 

“Then, POW!” he shouted, jolting back in his seat with the kickback from a fake shotgun.  “Jones got one of ‘em in the leg.”  He relaxed again with a shrug, adding at a normal volume, “other one got away though.”

Mickey hmphed, taking a long sip from the beer bottle he had been dangling from loose fingers.

“Damn cops,” he muttered.

Carl raised an eyebrow at him across the table, ignoring Ian’s headshake and Lip’s widened eyes.

“What?” Mickey asked roughly when he caught the look.  “I said what I said.”

“Bet I woulda taken both of ‘em down,” he challenged.  “Gotta keep criminals off my streets.”

“Here we go,” Tami murmured under her breath, standing and taking Fred from Lip’s arms.  “We’ll be in the other room when you all calm down.”

“Me too,” Liam said, jumping down from his chair and hurrying through to the living room.  Tami turned to follow as the remaining boys started in on each other, then paused at the counter. 

 “Franny, why don’t you come with me?” she suggested lightly.  The little girl shook her head without looking up, completely absorbed in doodling on a scrap of paper that used to be a water bill.

“She’s fine,” Debbie said absently from where she sat next to her daughter, texting someone.

“Kid, you couldn’t hit the broad side of a barn,” Mickey dismissed behind them.

“You wanna grab a gun and try me?” Carl goaded loudly, and Debbie finally looked up, right into Tami’s expectant eyes.

“Yeah, fine,” she grumbled.  “We’re coming.”

House rules left with the children, apparently, and things got louder behind them as they moved into the living room.

“I could outshoot you any day, Gallagher,” Mickey announced.

“Mick,” Ian warned, lost under Carl’s response.

“Please, I’d wipe the floor with you.”

“Alright, alright!” Lip cut in.  “Let’s settle this the old fashioned way.”  Everyone quieted as he took charge.  “Ian, go get one of those targets you used to steal from ROTC, think we’ve got one in the attic still.  Carl, Mickey, go get your guns and meet us under the L.”

“What guns?” Mickey asked innocently, wide eyes fixed on Carl.  “I’m an ex-con, man, I don’t got no guns.”  He thumbed his brow.  “Least not while there’s baby cops in the house.”

“I’m not gonna turn you in, Mickey,” Carl said, rolling his eyes.  “Just gonna prove I can take you.”

Mickey’s eyes narrowed.  Seeing it, Ian sighed, getting up from the table with a groan and heading upstairs to find the target.  He knew not to fight that look.

Behind him, he could hear Mickey say, “Oh, it’s on.”

-----

Twenty minutes later and the four of them are gathered under the train, target set up along the length of the tracks.

“Alright,” Lip said when he finished adjusting it.  “Here’s how this is gonna work.  We all get three shots.  Go for head, heart, and groin.”  He gestured to the appropriate areas on the target.  “Carl and I will use his gun, Ian and Mickey use theirs.”

“We’re part of this now?” Ian asked his brother, exasperated, but Lip just grinned.  

“What, you were gonna let your husband have all the fun?” His grin turned sharp.  “Or are you worried you can’t hack it?  All that army stuff was a long time ago, little brother.”

Ian, tight-lipped at the sudden mention of his old dream, didn’t respond.  Mickey just muttered, “asshole,” under his breath, and stepped forward.

“My turn first,” he decided, raising his gun and shooting off three quick rounds before Lip could even get clear.

“Fucking hell, Mickey!” he yelped as he flinched away.  “Give me some fucking warning next time!”

“Nah,” Mickey replied.  “Gotta have my fun, right?”  He spun his now-unloaded gun around his trigger finger, showing off.

“Jesus,” Lip said under his breath, taking out a marker and writing “MM” next to each hole in the target.  Mickey hadn’t done too bad for such a quick draw.

“I’m next,” Carl declared, stepping into position and taking his stance.  “Out of the way, Lip.”

Lip took a few exaggerated steps to the side before nodding, and Carl squinted for a second before firing off his own shots.

“Not bad,” Lip said when he returned to mark them.  “Looks pretty close, actually.”  He leaned back to get a better look, then gestured Ian over.  “What do you think?”

Ian glanced over the spread of bullet holes, shaking his head.  “I think it’s a shame,” he offered.  He got three confused looks in return, and clarified, “all that lead-up, and neither one of you can shoot for shit.”

Carl just gaped at him, but Mickey snorted.  “Oh, excuse me,” he started, “think you can do better, Mr.--”

He was cut off by Ian grabbing the gun from his hand and shooting three times in quick succession, the sound drowning out the rest of his taunt.

Everything was quiet for a moment, and then--

“Fuck,” Lip breathed.  “Ian wins.”

“No fucking way.” Carl walked up to peer at the target, where a new hole sat right between his and Mickey’s shots at each point of interest.  “How did you do that?” he asked as he faced his brother, but Ian was locked in an intense staring contest with Mickey, and didn’t hear him.

“Uh, guys?” he tried, and it snapped Mickey out of it enough to grab Ian by the arm and start dragging him away.

“We’re leavin’“ he said gruffly, and Ian brokered no argument, casting a giddy grin over his shoulder at his brothers.

“But I haven’t even gotten a turn!” Lip called after them.

“And unless you wanna watch your brother’s perfect aim in a whole new way, you’re not gonna!” Mickey returned.

They never did make it back to the house for dinner.

[commonwealth-ladies-react]

Okay so you know how sometimes raiders will talk about that person that makes all those sounds like the motorcycle and the grenades? Could you do companions react to finding out its the some survivor who’s doing it? Like theyre at a raider camp and they overhear the raiders telling one of the stories and then sosu is like “watch this” *insert gun sounds* (also could you make the reader gender neutral please •~•) thank you :)

[First I want to apologize for the delay, it took me a couple weeks to recover from my wrist injury and then I recently started a new job at a warehouse, so I’ve been absolutely knackered by the time I get home. But here I am, finally! Enjoy.]

It did take long to run into trouble after leaving Goodneighbor. Sole gestured for their companion to lay low, kneeling down by an old semi trailer before stealing across the street closer to a wooden barricade. Two Raiders patrolled the top of the crude barricade, but didn’t seem to notice Sole.

Sole moved forward and their boot accidentally kicked against a loose rock. It skidded across the cracked asphalt, making the two Raiders whip around. “Who’s there?!” One demanded, waving her gun around.

[more under the cut, this got long]

Neither Sole nor their companion said a word.

“Damn it, hearin’ shit again.” The Raider lowered her gun.

The other Raider did the same and stepped closer to their partner. “Hey, did you hear about that kid that’s been runnin’ around?”

“Gonna have to be more specific.”

“Yeah, apparently Joe down by Hardware Town saw them. They were pretending to rev up a motorcycle and throw grenades and everything. But like… There’s no motorcycle. The grenades are rocks. The kid’s just faking it all.”

“You serious? That’s…” The Raider laughed. “That’s fucked up, man.”

Sole grunted. “I wouldn’t call me a kid,” they grumbled.

Their companion gave them a quizzical look.

Sole put a finger to their lips as a sign for silence and grabbed a handle of pebbles. A beat passed before they tossed them against the barricade and began making a loud hissing noise between their teeth. They grabbed their companion’s hand and dragged them along. Just as they made it to the barricade, Sole shouted a large explosion.

As the Raiders turned, guns drawn, Sole started pointed at each of them, hand positioned like a fake pistol. “Pew! Pew pew!” They shouted, ‘shooting’ each one. “Pew! Pew—tch, tch, tch.” Their ‘gun’ jammed and they mimed having to reload. “Pew!” They ‘shot’ one Raider square in the chest.

The Raiders were so confused that Sole was able to run right past them, dragging their poor companion behind them. Once safe, they began to laugh.

Cait: She looked at Sole, her eyes wide and her chest heaving. “You coulda gotten us killed, ya idiot!” She wanted to be angry, but a part of her was more impressed than anything. “But… Damn, fine. You mean you’re the one doin’ all that?”

Sole nodded, smiling. “You bet.”

“That’s…” Cait sighed, shaking her head. “God damn it, if I’d known ye’re like this, I woulda played along a lot sooner.” She found she rather liked the idea. It was funny, and the looks on the Raiders’ faces? Fucking priceless.

Curie: “Zhat was very dangerous!” Her heart beat hard against her ribs and she was more concerned with controlling her breathing than anything else. “You are very lucky that zhe Raiders didn’t shoot at us!”

Sole rubbed the back of their neck, looking sheepish. “I’m sorry… But that’s how I got out of fighting before, and it’s worked so far!”

“And zhat is… Well, is isn’t fine, but I want you to warn me next time!” She can’t help but be worried. The Commonwealth is a dangerous enough place without running straight through certain death like that. To be sure, she’d never quite get used to it, and never encouraged it.

Piper: “You mean you’re the one those Raiders were talking about?” Of course, she already heard about the strange person that would pretend to ride motorcycles and throw grenades and shoot guns, but she never expected it was Sole. “I’ve been tracking that guy for ages!”

Sole grinned. “It was me, all me.”

She flicked out her notepad and grabbed a pen from her glove. “All right, tell me where you got the idea and how the hell you go so good at making those noises.”

It didn’t bother Piper much. She thought it was interesting more than anything, and was perfectly happy to sneak around Raider camps while Sole did their thing. It was always funny, after all.

[dizzydancingdreamer]

Steve Rogers, The Man On Fire

Hey y'all, as Pride month draws to a close I would like to post this fic. It's been in my drafts for a month and I finally today found the motivation to finish it. This is special to me for many reasons, one of which being that I'm proudly a part of this community. Some of the anger written in is my own. I think a lot of people will resonate with it. I really hope you all enjoy this and happy Pride Month <3

This was based loosely off a headcannon and once I re-find it I will credit!

Synopsis: Steve is freshly thawed, queer, and pissed | A.k.a. Steve's experience in 21st Century America

Characters: Steve Rogers, Mentions of Bucky Barnes, (loosely a Stucky fic but Steve thinks he's dead here)

Warnings: Angst but not bad, Steve Rogers being volatile and chaotic (we love), poorly written accents (I literally read this with an accent in my head), literally a 2k monologue

Word count: 5.1k

Steve Rogers came out of the ice angry.

No— not angry— Steve Rogers came out of the ice fuckin’ furious.

He came out of the ice with his hands curled into two fists, with his jaw clenched so hard his teeth were liable to snap, and with a bone to pick with every damn reporter and historian and too loud opinion on this side of the Brooklyn Bridge.

He came out simmering— no, erupting— like the serum in his blood couldn’t keep his body from hibernation all those years ago but it sure as hell won’t keep him from setting the entirety of New York on fire now. He’ll burn it all down if he has to and rebuild it the way he remembers it— the way Bucky would have remembered it— and at the end of it all no one— not the bigots or deniers or the homophobes that seem to be the only thing that came with him from the forties— will be able to say that Captain America can’t love whoever he wants.

No one will be able to say that Steve Rogers didn’t love James “Bucky” “the man I’ve loved since twelve years old” Barnes with everything he had and then some.

No one.

So he starts with the museums in Washington— because sure it isn’t New York but where else would a relic like himself belong more?

He still has hope when he enters the building. They didn’t make them like this when he was a kid— they had science fairs in the town hall and culture fairs in the backstreets near the docks but never anything this grand. No tall marble pillars or enough stairs to make him wonder if he would have been able to climb to the top when he was half the size he is now. It’s strange. It’s kind of wonderful. Yeah, the Smithsonian museums make Steve Rogers feel small for the first time in a very long time and that gives him hope.

That hope doesn’t last long, though, because soon he’s wandering through the halls, following the signs that say Captain America: The First Avenger— what the hell is an Avenger? Is that what they’re calling soldiers these days? Now he feels small and old.

Turning the corner is like landing on another planet, one devoted entirely to him. His picture is everywhere he looks, his name is in lights, even his damn uniform has been replicated and presented on a little stage and he hates it. The rage is back, sparking at his fingers— he’s a match and lucky for everyone this building is made of stone because if it wasn’t he’s sure it would be reduced to nothing but ash by now.

It only worsens as he begins reading through the plaques and the paragraphs flashing across screens on the walls— he doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to that. The more he reads, though, the more he wonders if the stone is really, truly safe from the fire in his blood. He doesn’t think it is.

He surely isn’t at least— he feels like he’s going to explode. This isn’t him— none of this is him. War hero. Martyr. Golden boy. He has to stop reading that plaque— clearly no one did their research. Clearly no one dug up his medical files— or his police records. Brawls at the pub, disorderly conduct behind Mr. De Luca’s sandwich shop, public nudity at the beach that one time— thank you Bucky for the best night of his god damn life. Golden boy— ha.

Golden nobody with the black eye and broken hand is more like it.

For a moment he thinks he’s fine— he thinks it can’t get worse than this. Then he gets to the early life section and for an even longer moment his tongue tastes like gunpowder.

Steven Grant Rogers grew up in the streets of Brooklyn alongside his friend James Buchanan Barnes—

He can’t bring himself to finish the sentence— not when they already got the most important part wrong. Friend. Friend? No, no, no. No! There are a million words in the english language that Steve could use to describe Bucky and ‘friend’ will never be the first one.

How about best friend?

How about partner in crime?

How about soulmate who loved Steve so much that every night for the past forty-eight days since he woke up in an era that Bucky doesn’t exist in he’s cried himself to sleep with the same cherry cola taste of his ‘friend’ on his tongue.

It’s the final straw— Steve loses it.

“Anyone got a marker?”

The museum is quiet before he speaks but when his voice— steadily rising and taking on that New York headiness that his troops used to jazz him about— cuts through the exhibit— his fuckin’ exhibit— it’s silent. It’s dead, almost as dead as Buck— Nobody dares move a muscle as he rips his ball cap off his head and throws it at the statue of himself. Everyone knows who he is— everyone is going to know who he is so help him god.

“I said—” he tries again— “does anyone have a marker?”

It takes a moment for the people around him to pick their jaws up off the floor and he allows them that moment with a smug grin starting to tug on the corners of his lips. Finally— they’re starting to get it.

He’s not a hero; he’s a supernova of every scrawny, queer kid who’s ever gotten beaten to a pulp for kissing who they want.

Maybe then it’s fitting that the marker— when it’s finally produced and placed in his waiting palm— comes from a teenage girl with a shaved head and a blue, pink, and purple denim jacket and a busted lip. She doesn’t say much— only a mumbled here you go— but her eyes say everything that her words don’t. Give em’ hell, Cap. For the first time since waking up he flashes a genuine grin back— yeah, this one’s for you kid.

Steve wastes no time uncapping the sharpie— he’ll look that one up later— and scratching out the error. The blasphemy to his unholy name. It takes him a little longer to decide what to write in its place. There are a million words, sure, but somehow none of them feel right at this moment. None of them are enough. That’s something he’ll have to come to terms with later, though— how much nothing feels like enough anymore without Bucky.

Finally Steve settles on a word and he scribbles it as neatly as he can given the fact that he hasn’t had to write anything in eighty years. When he takes a step back, feeling alive for the first time since waking up, he beckons over the girl with the shaved head and points to the place where he’s taken it upon himself to correct history.

“Hey kid, why don’t you go ahead and read that outloud for everyone here.”

He allows another moment— this time because she deserves the time it takes for her eyes to light up and the smile to stretch across her bruised mouth.

Steve laughs— a rusted, croaky laugh; another first in forever— when her head whips around, facing him as she loudly proclaims: “It says boyfriend. Steve Rogers grew up in the streets of Brooklyn alongside his boyfriend Bucky Barnes!”

“Damn right I did—” he mutters to the kid before taking a step towards the crowd of gaping mouths. “Did you all hear that? Don’t worry if ya’ didn’t— I’ll say it one more time. Boyfriend. Bucky was my boyfriend and if he was here today he would be my husband. If any of you have a problem with that then feel free to take it up with me. I took on half of Brooklyn for that man and I’ll do it again.”

When no one says anything Steve nods, turning to hand the girl back her marker and to thank her— he may be angry but he hasn’t lost all his manners— but when he looks at her she doesn’t look back. Instead she takes the same step forward that he had, one of her hands balled into a tiny, shaking fist at her side and the other wrapped around a cell phone that’s pointed towards the crowd. He doesn’t understand the mechanics but he thinks she’s recording.

“You hear that?” She parrots the super soldier with a wavering but fierce voice. “Captain America likes men! And none of you can deny it!”

This time it’s his mouth that drops, watching as she shakily turns the camera off and spins back around. Before Steve can say anything, though, she’s talking again, this time hastier, and he can’t help but think that she sounds so much like him. All flushed and scrawny and pissed.

“I’m sorry, I’ll delete the recording if you want but, I jus’ know these bigots are gonna’ try and cover everything up and that would be a fuckin’ shame. I don’t know if you know how many kids need to hear this. I did— and I think they should too. Only if you want, of course.”

He doesn’t answer right away— he can’t. It’s like looking at himself at fifteen. Suddenly he’s back again, his feet hanging in the water as his boyfriend paces behind him, asking if he’s ready to have him look at his knuckles yet. He didn’t get that many good punches in— the scrapes are mostly from the pavement— but Buck always worries too much so it doesn’t matter. The protective idiot.

Steve shakes his head, blinking away the sunset lingering behind his eyes. “Bucky woulda’ loved you, kid.”

The next time he loses it— the next time he turns into more flame than man— is after he saves the city he’s been trying to burn down for three months.

It isn’t long after that day in the museum when Nick Fury decides it would be best for everyone if Steve goes back into the field. Of course, no one really asks him what he wants— they pretty much just shove a new suit into his hands and tell him to get training, Captain— but what else is new?

No one really comments on his outburst besides that either. Can you really call it an outburst when you’re just trying to reclaim the parts of you that have been stolen? Sure, the press gets a hold of the story and, true to what the kid had said, tries to twist it into something more digestible, but no one actually addresses it up with Steve. Apparently when someone saves the world as good as he does no one cares that they kiss men.

Or that they don’t wanna’ to actually save the world anymore.

See, in those three months— between the training and training and even more training that Steve Rogers begrudgingly obliges— he has time to catch up on the world. More importantly, he has time to catch up on what the world thinks of him. He scours a plethora of documentaries, scholarly essays, and whole books of information about his time as Captain America. Well— his time as Captain America when it mattered. In all his scouring he learns one thing: everything written about him is wrong.

It’s all so fuckin’ wrong.

Just why the hell would he want to save a world so bent on destroying who he is?

The Smithsonian exhibition was nothing compared to what’s been written in the eighty years he spent in the ice. Better yet, nothing compared to what hasn’t been written about him. They’ve taken an eraser to every part of his life that doesn’t fit with the golden image that they constructed for him. A.k.a. every part that matters. His relationship, his past, every little thing that made him supposedly perfect for the role he was given. Gone. Erskine told him he was a good man— apparently he was the only one who thought so.

Apparently being a good man isn’t good enough.

They only wanted the perfect soldier. Yeah, well, they had one and they fucked him over too. Don’t even get him started on what they did to Bucky— Steve doesn’t want to think about what Winnifred— Winnie for short— Barnes would do if she saw the history books erasing her baby’s Jewish roots. Or his relationship. It wouldn’t be pretty, that’s for damn sure. If ever there was someone more protective than Bucky it would have been his mother. Not that there’s a damn note about her in anything either though.

Maybe that’s the final straw that does him in this time— watching the place that Mrs. Barnes loved more than almost anything else in the world crumble, while also knowing that the world no longer gives a shit about the two people she loved more.

“Mr. Rogers, this is where you grew up, is it not? Is there anything you would like to say about what took place here in your home city today?”

Maybe he pretends not to hear the last part— maybe he really does only hear up until where the reporter asks him if there is anything he wants to say. He’s been around quite his fair share of explosions; it would make sense that his hearing is a little off. Maybe he just doesn’t care anymore, though.

Scratch that— he definitely doesn’t care anymore.

And why the fuck should he? He does have something to say and propriety be damned he’s going to say it.

Steve stares into the crowd of faceless reporters and flashing cameras with a scowl on his grimey face. Around him stand the other Avengers— his ‘team’. The last time he had a team the historians screwed up the history for every single member. Dugan, Morita, Falsworth, Jones, Dernier, Sawyer, Juniper, Pinkerton. Barnes. All of them were brave men with families and sacrifices and all of them were treated like jokes by ‘reporters’ just like the ones in front of him now. He really doubts there’s a difference between old and new journalism.

The only difference is that now he’s here and this time he’s not going to let them write anything but the damn truth.

“It is—” Steve muses, brushing the sweaty hair from his forehead— “I’m surprised you know that though.”

The reporter cocks his head, clearly confused, and it makes the super soldier’s blood boil. “Come again, sir?”

“I said I’m surprised you know where I was born, kid.” This time when he says the word— kid— it’s derogatory. “Ya’ know, considering how you all seem to know nothing about me otherwise.”

Steve almost smiles at the way the crowd tenses. He actually would if it weren’t for the white hot rage coursing through his veins, mingling with the last of the adrenaline leftover in his system. It gives him an extra kick— not that he needs it. Even when he was just a runt from the wrong side of the tracks he needed nothing more than an offhand comment to raise his fists. Fighting to Steve Rogers has always been intoxicating— the aftershocks of winning the battle just makes it more thrilling now.

Who knew, right?

“Sir I asked—” The reporter sputters and Steve simply holds a hand up, silencing him before he can start again.

“Yeah I know what you asked, alright. You want me to talk about the battle here in New York today and how I am more than happy to have risked my life to save it. But I can’t do that, kid. Because I didn’t save it for you. I didn’t save it for any of you.”

Steve feels his team tense— maybe were it any other time he would stop talking. He would just leave it, let the issue go, because Bucky would tell him too. They aren’t worth it, bruiser, he would say, they aren’t worth your blood. Maybe he would listen to his boyfriend because usually he was right. Bucky was always right. So yeah, maybe he would list—

Who is he kidding; he knows he wouldn’t.

Not then and certainly not now— not when Bucky isn’t here to defend himself against everything Steve has been reading about. That’s exactly why he doesn’t stop talking. Someone has to defend him and who better of a person than him? So, yeah, he keeps going, even when he hears footsteps behind him.

“You wanna’ know who I did save it for? James Barnes, that’s who I saved it for! You see, just around that corner there is a bookstore. Rickley Books. That was my boyfriend's favourite bookstore. You know, the man who gave his life to stop a train in Austria from reaching the enemies? Yeah that was him. That train was filled with supplies. Had it reached their headquarters, who knows if we’d be standing here today. If there would be a New York at all. Not that you would know that. But who cares about that dead sergeant from the 107th, right? There’s plenty just like him.”

Steve shrugs nonchalantly— a move he picked up from the very man he’s speaking about— but he spits his words at the reporters with enough venom to cancel out any peace that the action brings. That’s his own move.

He keeps going. “You know who else I saved it for? His mother. Yeah, his mother Winnie Barnes. Wonderful lady. She used to run a soup kitchen a couple blocks from here. Kept the rift raft like myself from going hungry most nights— I was a brawler, you know.”

A couple of reporters in the crowd laugh at that and Steve flinches, his vision tinting red as he cranes his neck, seeking them out.

“Oh you think that’s funny, do you? You think I’m joking? I’m not. You ever been backed into a corner, son? Had people hurl slurs at you that I can’t even repeat today? Ever been beaten up for loving your best friend? No, I bet you haven’t. You weren’t a queer kid in the thirties. That’s hard— that’s borderline impossible actually. I only made it because of people like Winnie Barnes. That woman was a saint but nobody talks about her either.”

Steve has to take a deep breath, clearing the rasp in his voice that rises as he dwells on the woman he called his second mother for so long. She wasn’t just a saint, she was an angel. He can’t cry here though, not now. Not even as his throat begins to tighten.

“Winnie was the type of lady who didn’t let anyone walk over the little people. She used to sit me down and say Stevie you gotta’ fight for what you want because ain’t nobody gonna’ give it to you. She told me that I shouldn’t have to but that there were going to be people who would try to tear me down just for being me. And she was right— just like her son— because that was the era, you know? But now, here in the twenty-first century, you’re all still trying to tear us down.”

A hand lands on his shoulder, small fingers tugging at where his suit has begun to tear. Natasha Romanoff. He meets her gaze quickly, neck craning to stare down the red head, and in the few seconds their eyes meet it’s like Bucky is next to him. Somehow the blue in her irises catches the falling sun just like his used to. Steve can hear the gruff of his voice in the depths of his mind. Back down, bruiser. The sentiment is echoed across Nat’s face.

Steve shakes her hand off him, turning back to the reporters— don’t they know that he can’t?

“You all say you care about me, huh? That I’m a hero? You know nothing about me— you don’t want to. Before I was a soldier I was a kid. A queer kid. I said that already but let me repeat it. Queer. Did you write that down? None of you certainly did before. That’s how I know that you don’t care— because in an age where being queer is infinitely more accepted you still don’t bother to write it down.”

He pauses for another breath, shutting his eyes against the blinking red lights of the cameras. They’re like little demons, always watching his every move. Recording. Everything’s always recorded these days. Will he ever be used to that? Bucky was the technology guy, not him. Not then and not now.

When Steve picks up again— eyes open and shoulders freshly straight— it’s on a new note— a clear note.

“You don’t care about me— you certainly don’t care about the real heroes of the war because if you did you wouldn’t erase our history. Do you know how much it would have meant to Bucky to see our relationship accepted? The man who died for you? How much it would’ve meant to his mother? You can’t just pick which of our stories and our sacrifices are worthy and which aren't.”

He hasn’t spoken this much since he’s woken up, not all at once at least. Maybe he should have, though— maybe if he had then he wouldn’t feel like ripping the heads off everyone in front of him right now. Call it fight or flight. Call it revenge. Hell, call it whatever you’d like because it doesn’t really matter. Either way he feels like a kid again— again— backed into a corner behind the deli with his fists up and his teeth bared.

He feels feral again.

“So now you just want me to save the world like I did— like Bucky did— all those years ago— or maybe jus’ New York— as if that’s any better— and you don’t even bother to write a proper article about me? Hell, I never even asked for an article, let alone a whole exhibit! I’m just a soldier— and before that I was just a kid. If there’s never another article written about me I’ll be grateful. But now that I’m here, standing in front of you, I’ll say this—”

Just as Steve’s voice is cresting into a shout that would no doubt be heard regardless of whether or not the microphones were in front of him, Natasha tries one more time, her fingers slipping between his.

Her voice is a dull buzz compared to his, only reaching his ears by sheer will. “C’mon Stevie— we gotta’ go now.”

Like before he’s stunned but this time instead of seeing Buck— instead of hearing him in his head— he hears Winnie.

You fought good, honey. You fought good for us. You can rest now.

It’s jarring and it’s not lost on him the handful of awkward seconds that it takes for him to respond. That’s just the effect Winnie had on people though— still has, apparently. Steve shakes his head— I know, mama. But I gotta’ finish this fight.

“No, Nat— I’ve got to say this.” Steve mumbles— voice just beginning to waver despite how hard he clenches his jaw— before sneering at the crowd one last time.

“If I ever read an article from any of you that discredits Bucky Barnes, our relationship, or myself just know that I’ll come for you. I’ll come for this city. Don’t you ever forget who I saved it for. James Barnes, Winnie Barnes, and every queer kid who’s ever felt erased because of people like you. The bigots in the forties couldn’t stop me. The Nazis couldn’t stop me. Not even the Atlantic Ocean could stop me. So don’t think for a second that any of you could either. Have a good day.”

With that Captain America turns, marching off the impromptu stage and beginning the trek back to his apartment. He doesn’t bother looking at his team as he passes them— he can imagine their stunned faces well enough on his own. No doubt he’ll be getting another assignment from Fury soon enough to make up for this ‘outburst’ too. Still, he feels a little bit better. There’s an ache in his shoulder, and one under his ribs too, but he still smiles as he passes Rickman and Sons Books. That must mean something good.

The last time Steve Rogers burns he doesn’t burn the way he’s expecting to— he doesn’t vandalize his own name or blow up at a reporter. No, the third time— the final time— that Steve Rogers burns it’s with nostalgia— and with a damn good cup of coffee in his hand.

“I had no idea this place was even here.” The girl across from Steve muses, tiny hands shifting the steaming cup back and forth.

Her name is Ellie, he learned that back at the museum after asking for a copy of the video she took. He barely knew how to use his phone back then, let alone his email— hell, both still confuse him more often than not— but she had been patient. A little awestruck and a little riled up too but he took it in stride— easily. It’s not hard being nice to the spitting image of him.

“I’m glad I’m good for something other than making the news.” Steve chuckles and this time he means it— there’s no malice or ill intent, only humor. “O’Malley’s ‘s been here longer than I have. Looked a little different then—” he takes a moment to let his eyes wander the old coffee shop and it’s new appliances— a moment to feel his age catch up to him— “but I guess I did too.”

Ellie’s laughter joins in there and it’s strange— strange that he hasn’t laughed with another person in seven, almost eight, months; strange that her laughs sound so much like Bucky’s when they were younger; strange that Bucky isn’t here to hear. Here to laugh, too. Because he would have.

He would have called Steve an old man, would have wrapped his arm around his shoulders, would have asked— no, demanded— that Ellie try the plum cobbler. They always made the best cobbler. Bucky always had the best laugh. All grit and breath and him. Steve feels warm just thinking about it.

“Well thanks for letting me in on the secret, I’ll make sure to guard it carefully.” She even has Bucky’s warm sarcasm.

Maybe it’s not so much like looking in a mirror as it is looking at what he wishes he and his boyfriend could have been back then.

“And thanks for letting me interview you—” Ellie continues, setting the cup down but not before nodding at it, her eyes wide— “wow. You weren’t kidding about the joe, huh? Anyway— thanks for scheduling this. I know you’re probably super busy— and that there are more well established people you could have gone to.”

Steve sets his own mug down too— if he hadn’t there’s a possibility it would be more puddle than porcelain. “Well established means nothin’, kid. Not when you don’t have heart. They’re parasites, all of ‘em. The press couldn’t care less about me.”

Ellie nods, lifting the lid of her laptop. It’s a little bit dented and slathered in stickers, not quite the newest model— he would know, he has the newest one and it’s still sitting in his apartment in the box. Yet another testament to how little the people around him truly know him.

“Welcome to the twenty-first century, can I get you a side of classism with that commercialism?”

Now she sounds like Winnie too.

“Say, has anyone ever told you that you’re funny?”

She shrugs, tilting her head, a lopsided grin glued to her face. “Once or twice— I never know if they mean it or if they just want me to shut up. I never do so I guess we’ll never know.”

Steve sputters out another laugh because; “I guess we’re the same then— never give them a moment, kid. That’s the best advice I can give you.” He pauses— again— he supposes it’s going to be a day of pausing— he supposes it’s about time he pauses— before adding, “Bucky would’ve scolded me for saying that.”

Ellie’s fingers, swift and deft over the machine— Steve hadn’t even seen her begin to type— pause too as her smile softens. “What would he have said instead?”

Her question shouldn’t catch off guard— this is why he asked her to meet him; to finally, properly write his story— their story. Still he pauses— Steve’s empty hands feel hot, his shoulders warm; bare— what would he have said? It doesn’t take long to hear his boyfriend’s voice, not there but somehow loud in his ear all the same.

Just relax— they aren’t worth it. It’s too nice out to care about anything but the water— are you coming in or not? Summer doesn’t last forever, you know?

It’s impossible but Steve can feel the sun on his back and on his ears again, like he’s there— like he’s back, sixteen and on fire. Those were the days where everything made him cold. The days where his skin burned no matter the season but especially in August which was when the ocean was warm enough to swim in. It never stopped him from joining Buck— nothing could have stopped him. His cheeks warm, too, at the thought.

Steve blinks, his own smile— perhaps a little lopsided in it’s own right— shaping over his mouth. “He would have told you to relax— and to try the plum cobbler. It’s fantastic.”

With another giggle— and a reiterated comment— has anyone ever told you you’re funny, Steve?— they fall into a conversation, just a kid and a relic, about life. It’s not an easy conversation— but then again those kinds never are. It’s real, though, and unedited. Unfiltered. Just the way Erskine and Winnie and Bucky would have liked it— the only way Steve wants it. It’s not perfect but, hell, Steve has never been perfect.

He’s never wanted to be.

Maybe Steve doesn’t know everything his boyfriend would say— and maybe he’d be lying if he said he doesn’t blow up once or twice after today— but he can confidently say that he gave Brooklyn a run for her money— twice— and lived to tell the tale. He can say then when it mattered, he burned. That he still burns. That he will until he doesn’t— until he’s extinguished.

But, hey, though Summer doesn’t last forever, not even the Atlantic could extinguish the flame that is Steve Rogers.

That’s what he writes— in Sharpie— on the card he writes to Ellie— the one attached to the computer he knows he’ll never use.