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supremechancellorrex · 1 year

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Now, I gotta say, I find it interesting how there are some people that target you for stating your opinion on fiction. I've had this same Jedi-stan user sending me tens and tens of comments which are based on denial and opinion rather than any logical argument. Now, they're telling others not to read my arguments because... what, it's too scary? They literally reblog my post with a quite insulting argument and then quickly block me because they don't want me to respond.

Well, too bad.

This isn't even an argument based on logic. You just stated your opinion and acted like it was a fact, anyone else who believes differently is doing so "foolishly", more "foolishly" than a child apparently. Because despite much evidence to the contrary in children's media, apparently 'villains' never have any depth or say the truth ever, according to you.

Slick: "Yes, she offered me money. But she offered me something more important, something you wouldn't understand: freedom!"

You know the one thing Slick doesn't actually have? It's freedom. Because, he is a slave, that is a fact. Let's go through the fact that slave isn't a title you award but a state of existence and being, a slave by definition is: "a person who is forced to work for and obey another and is considered to be their property; an enslaved person." That is the clones to a T. Just because Slick was selfish doesn't just invalidate he described a situation which still has not been refuted and instead has been only proven over and over again.

Now, you say "the clones are property of the Republic", and they are under the command... of the Jedi, who are generals and part of the Republic command structure. Legally, the Jedi may not have a say in the fate of the clone troopers other than being in charge of their daily actions and organisation for years, but illegally? Are you claiming that the Jedi could not even think to organise a mass desertion? When the law is unjust, you challenge it, you break it. Now, you try to absolve them here by saying that they had no choice because the Separatists were a threat to the Republic, an institution that supports slavery for its own ends. You may hate it but "Cool motive, still slavery" still applies here. Any institution that supports having an enslaved army does not deserve to exist, and that includes the Jedi Order's support of the Republic.

As for your non-sequitur on the placement of the episode, this is just pointless. There is no basis to discount an episode just because it wasn't in Season 4. This adds nothing to your argument and is just a complete fallacy.

You can't really make this argument on a number of basises. One, the writing intentions have clearly changed since that initial George Lucas' quote decades ago. Not only this, but George Lucas doesn't even own Star Wars anymore and Disney are now in charge, with Dave Filoni and a number of other writers making significant contributions.

Dave Filoni: "So I think that trying to draw these paths of the Jedi and the choices they make and how they wind up good or bad … Yoda isn’t afraid in the prequels to say the Jedi are flawed and that they’ve become greedy and self-interested and arrogant. That helps you understand why they’re going to lose the Clone War and why they’re so ripe for the picking."

I think this quote speaks for itself. Also, I think it was very clear that George Lucas, a man well-known for changing his mind and who was still the executive producer, was on Ahsoka's side in the Wrong Jedi Arc. Otherwise at some point the narrative would have refuted her assertions on the Jedi Order, that's just basic storytelling.

Now, onto the clones. You essentially admit that the draft is essentially slavery in the clones' case. The clones are property and are referred to as such, they can't leave, they can't vote, they have no rights and this has been the case since they were fetuses in tubes. Let's look at Umbara again.

Fives: "We did it. We took Umbara."

Captain Rex: "What’s the point of all this? I mean, why?"

Fives: "I don’t know, sir. I don’t think anybody knows. But I do know that someday this war is gonna end."

Captain Rex: "Then what? We’re soldiers. What happens to us then?"

Considering the fact that the Senate are voting on whether to "decommission" the clones like a product in the Bad Batch, I think it's safe to say that Captain Rex's fears were confirmed. Senator Riyo Chuchi, an actual good person in a bad system, is literally fighting to give the clones any rights at all in the Bad Batch, and she is a lonely voice.

Riyo Chuchi: "[The Clones] are not droids to simply be shut down. These are soldiers who defended us, defended our worlds"

Meanwhile, when the Jedi wax on about the end of the War, they just assume they'll be fulfilling the same duties they did before the war. This is because the Jedi are privileged and are treated as citizens during the War, able to walk around completely uncumbered and engage on a conversational level with the elite. They can also leave the Order, especially if they break the code, which is not something allowed for the clones. They may be servants, but they aren't property, and they have more tools to push back and fight the Senate, which they can walk around freely in a venerated position. You practically say this throughout your argument. Over all, the Jedi are drafted, the clones are slaves. There is a difference in the power dynamic.

The Clone Wars waived the right to be dismissed solely as "It's just a superificial kids show, don't criticise" when it decided to deal with dark, serious topics, including the Republic's growing authoritarianism, political maneuvering, slaughter and murder. All those cases of the Jedi challenging their leaders simply make it more egregious that the Jedi never advocated for the clones to the same level. The fact Mace Windu is willing to fight tooth and nail for the Zillo Beast, however demonstrates no passion to fight for the clone rights, who are slaves soldiers under his command, is actually a pretty bad look. There are also clones that died around the same time as Even Piell, yet they get no rites either.

It's funny you mention Qui Gon Jinn because his opposition to the Jedi Council has been noted previously and it is a critique of the Jedi Order.

Dave Filoni: "I think Qui-Gon in a lot of ways represents the kind of path the Jedi are supposed to be on. He’s the one that’s the most compassionate. But he has no ambition to be part of the council. He feels he can’t do what he needs to do if he’s a part of that. That thinking and that philosophy is from what Dooku taught him. Dooku was a free-thinker and was looking out for people."

Oh, you know Dooku too? The guy who said "The Jedi blindly serve a corrupt Senate that fails the Republic it represents." Looks like he imparted some spirit to his Padawan. Ultimately, this actually supports my arguments that the Jedi Order have lost their way as an institution. Now, earlier you say it "sucks" the Jedi can't allegedly speak out because of the draft, at the same time you... have Jedi speaking out on every topic that isn't clones. Hmm.

Well, mademoiselle-cookie, you have crossed into antisemitic territory here and it's shockingly disgusting of you. The Jedi should not be considered an expy of Jewish people, because that would be really racist of the writers and very misrepresentative. Jewish people are not a fictional order of magic monks that wave lightsabers around, fighting wars with state-owned clone slaves, believe it or not. Going through your argument until now has been bearable, but this really takes the cake. I've warned people to stop using real-life minority groups as meat-shields for their fictional favs, however it seems that privileged people will often use minority groups instinctively for their benefit. The fact you accuse me, a mixed race gay man, as being the type to fall for Nazi lies because I critique the Jedi Order is just the icing on the cake.

Also, you argue "it's a kid's show" and then it's a direct allegory for the Holocaust, one of the darkest periods in human history, at the same time, huh? If this were the case, it would mean it's portrayal is even more important to critique without exception.

But, moving on from your just completely inappropriate allegory. So, the Jedi have a "choice" as you just state. That's much more the clones ever had and that is a privilege. You're essentially arguing for the Jedi to stand back and do nothing by choice while earlier you also argued that the Jedi had to do something in regards to the War as it was the moral choice but also that they 'don't' have a choice. Meanwhile, the Jedi were shown to be willing to overthrow Palpatine given the 'proper motivation', but due to their lack of compassion I guess the enslavement of millions of men such as the clones just wasn't important enough. Your argument falls apart because the Jedi did try to overthrew Palpatine in the end, just not for the slaves.

Using the "Bad guys lie" trope in an absolute capacity is also not an argument. You're just stating your opinion as a fact again and it's very 'convenient' your metric. I could reply "Good guys can be wrong and don't always tell the truth" and we'd, like your point, get nowhere.

Finally, an interesting point. There's no denying that Ahsoka did not make the situation as squeaky clean in her desperation, however ultimately my point still stands that Mace Windu, and I quoted him, said "I understand your sentiment, Obi-Wan. But, if the council does as you suggest. It could be seen as an act of opposition to the Senate. I'm afraid we have little choice."

At the end of the day, the Jedi do have a choice despite what Windu says. The choice was political. The ruling isn't unanimous, because doubts are expressed, but as Mace Windu says what they view as important in response to Obi-Wan saying things don't add up regarding Ahsoka is to focus how it looks to the Senate, a Senate that supports authoritarianism, corruption and slavery. The Jedi arguably lie to themselves and say they support justice, but they don't ultimately. As Jedi Master Dooku, the described "free-thinker", says: "The Jedi blindly serve a corrupt Senate that fails the Republic it represents."

Hmm, you don't seem to understand what an "unreliable narrator" actually is. With your use especially, every single character ever could be described as an unreliable narrator, I can describe Mace Windu as an unreliable narrator or Obi-Wan. I could literally flip your argument and claim the Jedi are unreliable narrators who only think they're doing good because they were raised in an environment which told them this from a young age and ultimately they were propping up a failing, authoritarian, corrupt 'Republic'.

I don't think you realise that Ahsoka's story would not have been presented the way it was in Season 7 if the narrative was not on her side. There were key cues in its structure and quotations that were critical of the Jedi Order, who were mostly in opposition to Ahsoka narratively.

Ahsoka: "This is why the people have lost faith in the Jedi. I had, too, until I was reminded of what the Order means to people who truly need us.”

What a coincidence that Obi-Wan, a man gifted with the gab, fails to counter this criticism as well. Just like Slick.

We literally see the Jedi propping up the Republic system for the near entirely of the War. They allowed "the destruction of innocent life-forms", the clones, men brainwashed and forced into combat. They also conducted military investigations, deferred to the Senate, and I think it's very telling that Rex did not reveal Cut Lawquane's location to either the Jedi or the rest of the Republic. As Generals, they are a part of the hierarchy, and they support the Republic, a hegemony of laws and demarcations. Also, last I checked, Satine isn't a slave, I only wish Obi-Wan had gone out of his way to protect the clones as people, but I guess he only does that for citizens.

As for Order 66, again, this isn't an argument on your part. I'm well-aware of events, nor did I say they deserved to be murdered. The Jedi Order, specificially their leadership, made "poor choices" and it screwed them over. I also find your Nazi allegory more disgusting personally, but whatever. Now, let's see what the Jedi are actually doing.

Dave Filoni: "They’ve, as an institution, existed for a very long time. It doesn’t mean they’re evil or bad, but they’re making a lot of poor choices, and they can’t get out ahead of things in part because they’re desperately attempting to do things the right way and take an even stance.”

The centrist stance the Jedi take on most matters clearly contributed to their downfall. They made "poor choices" and I am critiquing them for it because allowing slavery at the heart of the Republic is not just a poor choice, but a stupid and immoral one. They are 'desperately attempting to do things the right way', but they don't, and this is why actual criticisms are levied at them. Again, I never argued the Jedi were evil, I argued they should be held accountable for their flaws and mistakes, like everyone should be.

I like how you completely misunderstood my point here despite many other people getting it. The problem is that the Jedi do have a choice, it's just a difficult one. However just because doing the right thing is difficult does not mean you shouldn't do it. The problem with the Jedi allowing countless clones, who are slaves, to die for years and that not prompt them to confront, combat or even overthrow the Republic is it makes them very morally bankrupt. As soon as the Republic said it was going to utilise slaves, the Jedi should have realised the Republic was the enemy of human decency itself. But, as we know from just watching Star Wars media with basic critical thinking or this exchange in Rebels...

Ezra: "Master Yoda, you’re powerful. You must know a way to destroy Vader and his Inquisitors.”

Master Yoda: “Padawan, thousands of Jedi once there were. Then came war. In our arrogance, joined the conflict swiftly we did. Fear, anger hate. Consumed by the dark side the Jedi were.”

I think you need to add more depth to your idea of "good". The Jedi were complicit in their own downfall. The fact you have to jump through so many 'logical' hoops to 'explain' and 'absolve' them is evidence enough. The fact you also dismiss all criticism of the Jedi as anti-Jedi propaganda, even when coming from its own members, from Yoda to Ahsoka, who clearly the narrative sides with. Now, as for your 'the citizens did nothing too' whataboutism argument? Yep. So, if you're arguing the Jedi are as bad as Republic citizens who also enabled clone slavery, then sure, a little 'harsh' of you, but that's what you're actually saying here. Plus, you keep both stating the Jedi have a choice and don't have a choice when it suits you throughout this argument.

And, regardless of whether the SW writers verbally acknowledge the word slavery, it is the story they present by saying the clones are "property" who "have no representation in the Senate". You should watch the Riyo Chuchi episodes in Bad Batch again, because this should be impossible to miss in the discussion of "clone rights". Your attempted use of 'rhetorical' questions instead of an actual argument is also pretty uninspired.

You literally didn't "debunk" anything, mademoiselle-cookie. As usual, you used ad hominem attacks, misused terminology, made antisemitic allegories, and now you're upset someone expressed an opinion you dislike. The fact you warn other people not to read my opinion as if you're the guardian of Jedi stan tumblr and they couldn't bear having someone make a post they don't agree with is also hilarious, I would hope people are full of sterner stuff. After all, people always have a choice, whether to read or not.

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featherymalignancy · 3 years

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How About a Hug, Hm? REMIX

So a few days ago I got this ask about my Elriel one-shot “How About A Hug?” because I messed up the formatting and I you basically have to to read it as a reblog. I also was really unsatisfied with the end result.

So, I did the most Feathery™️ thing every and REWROTE THE WHOLE GODDAMN THING.

Please enjoy, and know that I will go back and tag people/clean up formatting tomorrow. Right now I just need to post and 😴

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Elain Archeron was running late.

Granted, it was only by seven minutes, which—in many social circles—was still considered well within the accepted boundaries of punctuality.

The problem was that a) being late made Elain anxious, and b) there was absolutely nothing polite about Nesta Archeron when she was made to wait, even by her own kin.

Yet another reason it had been critical that Elain arrive on time: Nesta was already likely to be somewhat hacked off when she saw what Elain was wearing tonight, and Elain had hoped to avoid any further dramatics on her elder sister’s part.

She spent half the cab ride downtown trying to convince herself that it was fine that she’d borrowed something out of Nesta’s closet (even if it had been without permission) and that she hadn’t had a choice; she simply didn’t own anything appropriate for dinner at a four-star restaurant. However, by the time the cab slithered under Trump Tower’s unsavory shadow and into Hell’s Kitchen, she’d given up pretending.

The truth was she had half a dozen cocktail dresses that would have been perfectly suitable for dinner in the West Village, even if the place they were going was one of the nicest sushi restaurants in the city. No, Elain had raided Nesta’s closet for a far more embarrassing reason: she’d been in search of a dress she hoped might finally win her Azriel’s attention.

She wasn’t proud of the absurd crush she had on the guy, but it really couldn’t be helped. He was gorgeous, and smart, and darkly funny when he wanted to be, and she’d been secretly mooning over him since they’d met through Feyre’s fiancée three years ago. God, what she wouldn’t give to have him return even a fraction of her feelings.

Apparently not her dignity, Elain thought with a glance down at her neckline.

The worst part was that Azriel seemed oblivious to her interest in him. He was always polite to her, always made a point to talk to her when he caught her hiding out on the balcony during one of Feyre and Rhys’s crazy parties or sit next to her at their big family dinners, but he’d never once given her any indication that he was in any way that he reciprocated her feelings, which should have been reason enough for Elain to pack it in and stop harassing him.

And that was to say nothing of Mor.

Mor was the friend who’d first introduced Feyre and Rhys, and from what Elain could gather, she and Azriel had a long and complicated history. It didn’t seem to matter that Mor had been dating the same girl for over a year now. When she was in the room, Az’s eyes were always on her. Not that Elain blamed him—Mor was gorgeous in a way girls like her could only dream of being. Still, there was no denying the sting of watching the guy you were interested in pine over someone else.

Given all this, Elain wasn’t really sure why she’d gone to such lengths to dress up for this dinner. Mor would surely be there wearing something incredible and couture, thereby rendering everyone else invisible to Azriel. Still, Elain was a hopeless optimist, and she’d stubbornly sold herself on the idea that if she found the perfect dress, she could finally convince Azriel that she was a woman worthy of affection, rather than Nesta’s bookish, boring little sister.

She had to admit, there was nothing bookish about her tonight. The dress was tighter on her that it was her waifish sister, and dear god it deserved a Medal of Honor for the way it managed to keep her boobs looking so perky even without a bra. She didn’t suppose Nesta would be too happy about that bit, either, so she could only hope her sister was in a good mood by the time Elain arrived.

Just then Elain’s phone buzzed, and she looked down at it and groaned. It was from Nesta.

Where the 🤬 are you?

Running late, Elain quickly typed back. Is everyone waiting?

She watched the gray ellipsis pulse at Nesta responded.

Feyre and Rhys aren’t even fucking here yet. But hurry up, Cash is already driving me insane.

Elain rolled her eyes. She wasn’t sure who Nesta thought she was fooling when she and Elain shared a bedroom wall. Nesta and Cassian, Rhys’s other best friend, ended up banging almost every time they saw each other, which—since Rhys and Feyre had gotten engaged four months ago—was fairly frequently. In fact, Cash was at their apartment making Nesta scream so often that Elain had been forced to invest in earplugs and a sound machine. From Elain’s perspective, it seemed rather pointless of Nesta to pretend she wasn’t completely hot of a guy she called “Daddy” in bed.

Elain shuddered at the thought, hoping that Nesta would end up going to Cash and Az’s loft in Williamsburg tonight instead. Though, she realized glumly, they only ever seemed to go there when Azriel was out, and the only person who seemed able to keep Azriel out later than Cash was Mor. That meant Elain’s options were either to pop an Ambien and hope for the best, or stay out and watch Az make moon eyes at Mor all night. Neither one was particularly appearing.

Elain ignored Nesta’s text as the car pulled up outside the restaurant and she wiggled out, smoothing the back of her tight dress before giving her curls what she hoped was an artful tousle before slipping inside.

Elain’s heart felt into her stomach as she took in the elegant but understated interior of the famed Sushi Nakazawa. Given the prices, she’d assumed the place would be all black granite and swanky chandeliers—the kind of place cleavage like hers wouldn’t seem out of place. Instead the place was elegantly spare and distressingly well-lit. God, she was such a prize idiot.

Unfortunately, she was also out of time, because a quick survey of the interior found that her group was already gathered at the bar, Mor, Feyre, and Rhys having showed up in the interim between Nesta’s text and Elain’s arrival.

Elain’s eyes went to Mor first, who stunned in a cardinal red lace and net sheath. It clung to her frame like it had been made for her, and despite a latent jealous she couldn’t quite contain, she was relieved to find that she at least wouldn’t look overdressed.

Elain’s stomach only wended in a tighter knot when Mor’s eyes fell on her and lit up, a reminder that not only was Mor prettier, she was also an infinitely better person than Elain.

“There she is!” Mor beamed, coming forward and hugging Elain. “I love that dress, Ellie!”

Elain braced herself for Nesta’s inevitably remark, but it was actually Cash who reacted first.

He’d opened his mouth to comment seemingly before he’d actually looked at Elain, because the second he realized what exactly she was wearing, his eyes they snapped the ceiling, as if looking at her chest directly might turn him to stone.

“Whoa, El, all dressed up tonight!”

Nesta, wholly unmoved by his attempted chivalry, elbowed him in the ribs.

“Don’t be vulgar Cassian!” She snarled before narrowing her eyes. “And that’s mine!”

Cash smirked, seeming more at ease now that Nesta was his target.

“I knew I’d seen that bef—ow! Goddamnit woman, what was that for?”

He scowled down at the dangerous stiletto Nesta had just jammed into his toe box.

“Sorry,” she cast over her shoulder, not deigning to look at him. “Did I accidentally step on your foot?”

“I’m an adult,” Elain interjected, cheeks burning as she faced her sister down. “Stop acting like I’ve fourteen and stuffing my bra.”

“They’re just boobs, Nes,” Rhys added, arm slung over Feyre’s shoulder. “Relax.”

“Watch it,” Nesta warned him, but Feyre only laughed.

“I agree!” She said, turning to smile at Elain. “And I think they look amazing.”

“If I’d have known they were going to be such a topic of conversation,” Elain mumbled, grateful Azriel wasn’t here to witness this circus. “I would have worn something else.”

“No, I’m with Feyre,” Mor said, wicked grin forming. “Breasts that nice deserve to be shown off.”

Elain wasn’t so humble that she didn’t feel herself preening a bit at that comment, even if she was still flustered by the prolonged attention. Either way, she was grateful when Cash interrupted with a somewhat sheepish laugh.

“Teenage me would be furious if he heard me say this, but can we please stop talking about boobs?”

“Elain’s boobs or just any boobs?” Feyre said with a smirk.

However, before Elain could admonish her for it, Feyre was crushing her into a hug.

“Hey you,” she said, wrapping her arms and Elain’s neck and whispering in her ear, “let me and Rhys know if you wanna stay at our place tonight; Cash already grabbed Nesta’s ass twice when she thought we weren’t looking.”

Feyre indicated the mirror behind the bar with her eyes as they pulled away, and sure enough, Elain watched Cash’s hand as it drew lazy, dangerous circles just above the swell of Nesta’s well-formed behind.

Elain groaned, hugging Rhys now as well. God , her sister was such a hypocrite sometimes.

Ignoring a lingering twinge of annoyance, Elain forced herself to glance in false realization before casually asking, “So where’s the Birthday Boy?”

“He was on his phone out back,” Rhys said, before raising a hand in greeting to someone over Elain’s shoulder. “There he is.”

Elain tried not to look to eager as she turned and drank in all six feet four inches of perfection that was Azriel Macar. He was dressed all in black, from his prada boots to the soft, expensive t-shirt fitted enough to show off his toned physique. Elain honestly had to fight not to swoon as he ran an effortless hand through his glossy sable hair, the longer pomaded pieces on top stand up for a second before falling into an artful tousle.

“Hey Ellie,” he said, gaze on her and gone so quickly that he never even had time to notice her much-discussed cleavage. Instead, his eyes flicked to Mor and held for a long, meaningful beat before he turned back to Elain and added politely, “Thanks for coming.”

“Sure,” she chirped, trying to ignore the fact that he was coming closer, and that in another second she’d be able to smell that divine Givenchy cologne he always wore. “Of course!“

She bent her head, pretending to be fixing the clasp on her bracelet as his scent hit her and she had to bite back a groan. Sweet Jesus, he smelled good. When she looked up again, everyone else was shuffling to their table and Azriel was lingering, a soft smile threatening to the reveal the absolutely devastating dimples in both his cheeks.

“Do I get a hug?” He asked. “It is my birthday after all.”

He extended his arms, and she gave a nervous laugh, accepting the gesture by stringing her arms around his neck.

“Of course,” she repeated stupidly, trying to ignore the way the muscles in his arms flexed as he embraced her. “Happy Birthday.”

At this he squeezed her a little tighter and she fought off genuine giddiness.

It was a friendly gesture, she warned herself, and it ended the minute Mor called, “Az, come sit by me.”

Elain cleared her throat as he pulled away, turning to where Mor was still beckoning. However, before Elain could get too flustered, he turned back to her.

“Shall we?” he said, indicating Elain go ahead of him. To her delight, they reached the table to find that the only two seats left were next to each other. She tried not to give her eagerness too much leash as he pulled out her chair for her before sinking into the one between she and Mor. Mor leaned over to give him a soft peck on the cheek, and he flushed.

“Where’s Emmy tonight?” Feyre asked as Mor tried to wipe the lipstick from Az’s copper skin and he battered her away, like child trying to fend off an over-bearing mother.

“She’s sick, poor little thing,” Mor said, giving a tiny pout. “She hasn’t been able to get out of bed in days.”

Elain didn’t bother to her disappointment. Emerie had been one of Nesta’s best since they’d met in college almost ten years ago, and she not only was she like family to the Archerons, she also happened to be the only person in the group who knew about Elain’s crush. Elain had sworn her to secrecy at the time, and though it would have been reasonable to assume that once Emmy knew, Mor would know, Elain appreciated that she could trust Emerie to keep her secret.

Elain felt Emerie’s absence keenly and Nesta and Cash began bantering back and forth at lightning speed. Emerie was a master at slowing the tempo of Nesta’s quick wit, making it easier for Elain in particular to feel she could keep up.

More selfishly, Elain also missed Emerie’s ability to keep Mor distracted. When Emmy was around, she was all Mor could focus on. However, in her absence Mor’s attention had reverted almost completely to Az, a fact he didn’t seemed to mind a single bit, if his growing smiles were any indication.

Still, he seemed to be going out of his way to make sure Elain didn’t get lost in the chaos of conversation surging around them, even if he never looked at her for more than a moment or two before his eyes flicked back to Mor, studying her dark brown eyes and crimson lips.

After they placed their drink orders and the waiter came over to begin explaining the omakase menu, Elain wondered if she had time to dodge under the table to throw on some lipstick of her own. Assuring herself everyone was suitably distracted she bent down, hastily uncapping the tube before looking up just in time to see Nesta brush a very deliberate hand between Cassian’s splayed quads.

Elain jerked back, banging her head on the table.

“Fuck!” she swore quietly, straightening and rubbing her head.

Nesta shot her an alarmed look across the table and Elain flushed.

“All you alright?” Azriel asked, and she tried not to bleat in excited panic as his fingers brushed the back of her head. “What happened?”

“I—dropped something,” she fumbled, cursing her sister for being such a salacious wench.

Wasn’t it enough that she and Cash were already going to keep her up all night? Did she really have to make Elain look silly in front of Azriel, too?

“Does it hurt?” Azriel said, still studying her head before letting his eyes go to the server. “Do you need ice?”

“No, no,” Elain said hurriedly, trying to regain her composure. “I’m fine.”

“Did you at least find whatever you were looking for?” Mor asked, and Elain’s flush deepened.

“And then some,” she grumbled to herself, and Cassian gave a quiet but unmistakable laugh before letting out a surprised exhale. Elain had a fairly good idea what Nesta was squeezing to shut him up.

“Should we order, then?” Mor asked, hand falling onto Azriel’s arm. “Any particular requests, Birthday Boy?”

“He’s thirty now,” Rhys pointed out. “I think that makes him a Birthday Man .”

“Birthday Old Man,” Cassian amended. “Don’t worry champ, I’ve already put some viagra in your bathroom.”

“You’re not supposed to share your prescriptions, Cash,” Azriel said with mirth, eyes sparkling even as his face remained neutral. “And besides, I would feel dead back if you needed one tonight and couldn’t find them.”

“Checkmate,” Mor purred as Cash flipped her off.

Beside Azriel, Elain was fighting not to blush again. Cash’s comment, however sophomoric and lewd, had her imagining what Azriel was like in bed. She wondered for a moment if Mor knew before dismissing the thought and the twinge it induced.

“Let’s put this poor souls out of his misery and order,” Feyre said, smiling at the server where he still waited patiently. “Maybe if Cash’s mouth is full, he’ll stop talking.”

Cassian grinned, and, after placing their requests for the chef’s tasting menu, they all settled into an easy conversation. Cash and Rhys regaled them with stories of Azriel at various ages, from the gawky child he’d been when they’d first met him to the shy teenager who’d been terrified of girls.

“Let him be,” Mor said, touching her friend’s shoulder. “He was sweet in high school!”

Rhys laughed.

“It took him a year to pluck up the courage to say three words to you,” he pointed out.

“And they were ‘here’s a pen’ in response to you asking him the time. Nice work, Shakespeare,” Cash said, attempting to muss Azriel’s perfectly styled hair before being batted away.

“I can’t imagine Az ever being awkward,” Elain blurted. “I bet girls thought he was mysterious and cool.“

“See?” Azriel said, gesturing to Elain. “This is why I sat over here.”

“Oh please ,” Rhys said, bubbling his lips. “Ellie’s just being polite. If you two had known each other in high school, we all know how to would’ve gone: you’d have had an obscene crush on her and your dreams of true love would have been dashed after she politely signed your yearbook ‘have a good summer, Adrian’, leaving you heartbroken and alone.”

Azriel gave Elain a soft smile, and her heart burst open as thousands of butterflies flitted out of it.

“I hate to say it, but he’s probably right,” he told her. “I assume high school Elain was very popular.”

“She was,” Feyre said. “Eight different guys asked her to prom.”

“I’m not surprised,” Az said, and Elain made a great show out of drinking out of her masu to avoid having to answer.

She was relieved when the food began arriving to distract everyone, if only to save her the temptation of telling Azriel that there was no universe in which she wouldn’t have been into him, high schoolers or no.

Instead discussion turned to the Feyre and Rhys’s wedding as they ate, and as final plates were being cleared, Cash took the opportunity to once again mocked Azriel for the fact the latter had lost the rock-paper-scissors competition to be Rhys’s best man.

“I lost on purpose,” he told Elain quietly, taking a sip of the Yamasaki Single Malt he’d ordered after dinner.

“Why?” she laughed, following his gaze across the table to where Cash and Nesta were now bickering about whether Rhys’s stag night in Vegas would be better than Feyre’s hen do in Napa.

“Because Rhys told me that you’d convinced Feyre to pick Nesta as her maid of honor, and no offense, but your sister terrifies me. I’d much rather be with you.”

She laughed, biting her lip. It felt so terribly like they were flirting, but she couldn’t decide if it was her imagination or not.

“She terrifies everyone,” Elain said. “And I have a feeling this won’t our last trip down the aisle together.”

Azriel only quirked a bemused brow at this, which had Elain flushing scarlet.

“Not like that! She laughed, fumbling to pretend the idea of them being together was absurd rather than her heart’s desire. "I meant for Cash and Nesta’s wedding. Don’t tell me those two aren’t going to end up together.”

“We’ll have to work out a custody agreement when they finally get over themselves and start dating properly,” he agreed. “I’m spending a fortune on earplugs.”

She laughed, and he seemed warmed by the gesture, because he flashed a modest—albeit dimpled—smile being turning back to the larger conversation.

After dinner they’d gone a cocktail bar, then an Irish pub, and finally—much to Azriel’s chagrin—a karaoke bar. Rhys and Cash spend the majority of the evening trying to wrestle Azriel on stage while Mor and Feyre sang duets to Beyoncé and Spice Girls.

Elain was content enough to sit back and simply observe the scene as it unfolded around her. It was hard to contain her giddy, dreadful anticipation when Mor left around one to check on Emerie and Azriel—besides bidding her farewell with a soft kiss on the cheek—didn’t move a muscle.

Less than an hour later, Cash and Nesta both disappeared about an hour after without so much as a goodbye. Elain groaned, hoping they’d be asleep by the time she got home.

She’d have to rally if she wanted to manage it; they would be at it for hours yet.

By three the place was clearing out, and besides them, only a few tables of marathon drinkers and a girl on stage performing a beautiful rendition of Fleetwood Mac’s “Landslide” remained.

“We’re gonna go,” Rhys said, arm slung around a rather drunk, giggling Feyre. “Ellie, do you want to come with us?”

Elain glanced at Azriel, who’s glass still had two fingers of whiskey in it. If she wanted a chance to be alone with him, this was it.

“I think I’ve got one more in me,” she said, smiling.

“If you mean drink, I’m in,” Azriel said.

“Oh c’mon, brother,” Rhys goaded. “Just one song. I wouldn’t even film it….much.”

“Do Beyoncé!” Feyre chimed in, and Azriel shook his head.

“You know I’d play in traffic before I ever sang karaoke,” Azriel said mildly, making Feyre laugh. "Thanks for coming.”

He rose, embracing Rhys and pressing a kiss on Feyre’s head.

“C’mon, my little drunkard,” Rhys told her. “Let’s get you to bed.”

“Let’s have sex when we get home,” Feyre said, her attempted whisper fully audible. Rhys pretended smack his forehead with his palm and a mimed, “ Oh brother ”, to Azriel and Elain before coax a still-singing Feyre outside.

Azriel chuckled before draining the last of his drink and rising. Elain pretended not to notice the way his well-tailored jeans fit his lean legs and…other parts of his anatomy as he adjusted his belt buckle and glanced down at her.

“Bud Light?” he asked, and she nodded, bobbing to her feet as well.

If she wanted a way to get closer to him that was more elegant than her increasing urge to crawl across the table and into his lap, this was certainly it.

“I’ll come with you.”

He flashed her a modest smile before indicating she lead the way. He ordered and waved off Elain’s attempt to pay before leaning on the bar to avoid towering over her. The gesture brought them nearly eye-to-eye, and Elain had to actively fight not to let hers roll back in pleasure at the bergamot and amyris wood notes in his sinful cologne. Up close Elain could see how much green he had in his hazel irises, and she wanted to tip into them and swim until she drowned.

“Did you have fun?” she said, desperate to get the conversation flowing again, and he smiled, making her stomach flop.

“I did, yeah,” he said, glancing around the bar in bemusement, as if still wondering how he’d ended up there. “Thank you for coming.”

Elain shrugged, grinning.

“You say that like you didn’t think I’d show,” she said, resting a cheek in her hand. She knew by now her expression was not her less than a swoon, though she couldn’t bring herself to care.

Hadn’t been this been her plan all along? Finally get Az’s attention long enough to tell him how she felt? Now was the best chance she’d probably ever get.

“No, I figured would,” Az said, interrupting her reverie. “Or hoped you would, whatever.”

Was that—

Did that mean what she thought it did?

Normally she would have chalked it up to wishful thinking, but the way he rubbed the back of his neck, dimples appearing as he huffed what almost sound like a sheepish laugh, had hope igniting in her chest.

“What does that mean?” she pressed, forcing herself to meet his gaze.

For the first time all night, he didn’t look away. Instead, his eyes skated back and forth across her face, as if she were a riddle he only had seconds to memorize. She watched, transfixed, as he wet his plush lower lip with his tongue before biting it almost self-consciously.

“It means I’m glad you came,” he admitted. “And that you didn’t go home with your sister and Rhys.”

It wasn’t the confirmation she’d been hoping for, and the ambiguity of the statement had her conviction waning. That could just as easily have been mean platonically, and if she pushed him and ruined things between them by making it awkward—

“Of course I’d be here for your birthday,” she said, giving his shoulder a playful shove. “That’s what friends are for.”

She couldn’t help the way her voice got stuck on the word, not when her throat suddenly began to clog with tears.

She had to get out of here, right now. Before she started crying and made things worse. She made to retract her hand but Azriel grabbed it, grip gentle but intent.

“El, don’t go,” he said, and she was surprised at the frank discontent in his normally-impassive expression.

She waited for him to explain himself before instead he let out another strained laugh, grip on her wrist easing. However, he didn’t let go entirely, choosing to intertwine their fingers instead.

Holding hands.

She and Az were holding hands.

And he—

She glanced back up to find he was studying her again, his face a mixture of terror and delight. When she gave his hand a soft squeeze, he let out the breath he’d been holding.

“Jesus, I am bad at this,” he said, reaching up to tuck a curl behind her ear. She wasn’t sure if she’d imagined it, but she thought his gaze flicked down to her lips as he continued to study her with heavy-lidded eyes.

“Bad at what?” She asked, though she’d begun to suspect she knew exactly what, even if it seemed too good to be true.

“At least my timeline is improving,” he breathed instead. “And I haven’t offered you a pen you didn’t ask for yet.”

Hoping she wasn’t misreading the situation, she let her finger trail down to trace the circular buckle of his Gucci before glancing back up at him and purring, “Do you have a pen?”

He smirked before raising his right wrist and glancing at his watch face over her shoulder.

“It’s….3:17 am,” he said, smile spreading as she gave a low sound of approval and flicked her gaze to his lips.

“Smooth,” she said, and tried not to lose her mind as he let his raised hand fall to the back of her neck and bent to kiss her.

He had almost girlishly full lips, and they opened for her as they settled into the kiss. Immediately his hand tangled in her hair so he could alter her head position slightly and get a proper taste of her. She groaned into his mouth he pulled at her lower lip with his teeth. He tasted like oranges and the expensive Japanese whiskey he’d been drinking all night, and pleasure tightened in her low belly as his tongue brushed hers. Her brought his free hand up to cradle her face, and in response she pushed closer to run her hands underneath of his shirt and down the silken skin of his back.

“Fuck,” he breathed with a heated half-laugh, nose brushing her cheek as he bowed into her touch. “You’re killing me, woman.”

She only smirked, feeling more confident now that she had before. She could hardly believe this was happening, but she was too excited about it to fully care.

“Let’s get out of here,” she said, and he bit his lip, as if restraining himself from kissing her again.

“Like to another bar?” he asked, dazed as he continued to stare at her lips.

“Like to my bed,” she said boldly. “Or yours, depending on where Cassian and Nesta ended up.”

He didn’t speak immediately, just studied her, and she panicked.

“I mean, only if you—I’m sorry, should I not have—?“

He only kissed her again in response, more gently this time.

“Please stop apologizing,” he said, kissing her jaw now before seeming to realize something and pulling back, brows synced.

“I—Jesus, do you seriously not know?”

She felt a bit sheepish at his incredulous tone and fought not to stiffen.

“Know what?”

He laughed softly, though their was a edge of self-deprecation in it that kept the gesture from seeming conscending.

“I really am the worst at this.”

“At what?”

“El, I’ll crazy about you. I have been crazy about you since we met.”

“You have?” she blurted, horror fading into genuine—if elated—confusion.

He laughed.

“Did you think it was coincidence that you and I are always sitting next to each other at dinner? That I always find you at Rhys’s dumb parties?”

“I—“ she began, still trying to decide if this was a dream or not. “What about Mor, though?”

“Mor?” he repeated, confused now, too. “What about her?”

“I thought you and she—“

He leaned in to brush his nose against hers, and she blushed at the innocent affection in the gesture.

“Not at all,” he assured her. “I did have a thing for her in high school, but I got over it after she and Cash slept together at prom. We’re just friends, I swear.”

“But she’s always touching you, and every time I see you together you can’t stop looking at her.”

At this he laughed, his smile so genuine and open she almost didn’t recognize him.

“She’s always been touchy-feely,” he said. “She grew up in Madrid, and people are just more affectionate there, I guess. And I only watch her when you’re around because she called me out for having an absurd crush on you, and I was afraid she was going to get drunk and blow my cover by telling you.”

Elain shook her head, still not quite believing what she was hearing. Reading her expression, he bent to kiss her softly.

“What guy wouldn’t be crazy about you?” he breathed. “You’re incredible.”

This seemed to break the spell, and she twined her fingers in his hair and pulled him down for another steamy kiss.

“Text Cash,” she said a little breathlessly when they broke away. “I don’t want an audience.”

She couldn’t felt but feeling smug when he almost dropped his phone at those words. It felt good to know that she wasn’t the only one affected by all this.

“Cash and Nesta are at the lof—“ Az began after a minute, but Elain cut him off with a kiss.

H rose, pulling her against him as his tongue brushed the roof of her mouth.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he said as she kissed his neck and tugged on his earlobe with her teeth, earning a low groan. “You’ve been drinking.”

She grabbed his chin so he would look at her.

“Not that much,” she said, and it was true. “And besides, I wanted this way before tonight.“

“Good,” he breathed, pressing a hand to her low back to bring her close to him. “Because so have I.”

Though they spent the majority of the ride up town and the elevator up to her apartment making out, something seemed to shift as Elain’s door clicked shut behind him, as if the gravity of what they were about to do had finally caught up to them.

Reluctantly Az peeled his lips from where they’d been glued to her neck as he took a small step back, as if to give her space.

“What’s wrong?” She asked, feeling embarrassed for how much she still wanted him even now that he seemed to have come to his senses.

“Maybe we should—” he broke off, looking somewhat guilty. “Hold off.”

She nodded, trying to keep the tears at bay again.

“Are you worried this could mess things up in the group? Because I understand—“

“No,” he said hurriedly, coming forward again, as if he could no longer stand to be away. “Not at all. I just—you’re special, El. You deserve to be taken out and spoiled.”

“Az, you just took us to a $1,800 dinner! Or did you think I didn’t see you pulling our server aside?”

Azriel opened his mouth, and she covered it with a finger.

“You don’t need to earn my affection. It’s yours already, free of charge.”

“I’ve just been—I waited so long to make my move and I’m terrified of fucking it up,” he said with a soft laugh.

“Why, are you bad at sex?”

Azriel laughed, seemed to relax at her teasing.

“I’ve never had any complaints,” he breathed again her lips, kissing her deeply again.

She gently bit his lower lip in response.

“Then I’d say you’ve gotten nothing to worry about,” she said, kissing him a third time.

She moaned softly when drove his fingers into her hair, hips canting towards her as he pressed her more fully into the door.

She could feel his body’s reaction to her pressing between her thighs, and she moaned again.

“Fuck,” he breathed onto her skin. “You are so gorgeous.”

“So are you,” she said, running her hands up the back of his t-shirt and feeling the mosaic of muscles flexing underneath. “Take this off.”

He laughed and pulled the offending garment over his head, making her groan in delight.

“God, this body ,” she breathed, running a hand down his chest and enjoying his shiver at her delicate touch.

He responded by spinning her away from him and gently dragging down the zipper of her dress until he could slip a hand inside of it.

“I knew you couldn’t have a bra on underneath this thing,” he said, voice a touch smug as he cupped both bare breasts and her breath caught in her throat..

“I’m surprised you even noticed,” she said, voice somewhat. “I wore this dress for you, and you didn’t even look at it once the entire evening.”

She laughed, the sound into a soft moan as he twisted one nipple in experimentation. When she sighed and let her head fall back onto his shoulder.

“Of course I noticed the dress,” he corrected. “You have the most perfect tits I’ve ever seen. I just knew that if I let myself look, I might not be able to stop looking.”

“You shouldn’t say that until you’ve seen them without the sorcery of underwire,” she said.

With that he spun her to face him, catching her gaze to ensure he had her permission before tugging down the top of the dress so her breasts fell free.

“Gorgeous,” he said, easing to his knees so he could replace his fingers with his mouth. “Absolutely gorgeous.”

“If I known this was going to be your reaction, I would have worn a bodycon dress in front of you ages ago,” she said, threading her hands through his hair as he dragged his teeth and tongue along her nipple.

“You don’t need some tight dress to be sexy,” he said, resting his chin her her sternum so he could gaze up at her. “I’d take you in your overalls and pigtail braids any day.”

“Is this some Pippy Longstocking fetish we should all know about?”

He grinned, rising to his feet and giving one of her curls a playful tug.

“Because as devastating as you are playing dress up in your sister’s clothes, I prefer you as you.”

“You can’t say that when I’m naked,” she said with a smile, touching his cheek.

“Why not?”

“Because I may start crying and ruin the mood.”

He cocked his head to the side, tracing her lips with a finger.

“I wouldn’t mind a few tears from you in bed. But only if it’s from you sobbing in pleasure.”

His words sent blood pooling south, the intensity cause a dull throbbing.

“Why do I feel like you could do it, too?” She asked, reaching down to free his belt as he heeled out of his boots.

“Don’t tempt me,” he said, taking her hand and guiding it between his legs. “Forget this,” he said, squeezing gently so she could feel how hard he was. “I could go down on your all night and be the happiest guy on Earth.”

Emerie had said as much once, at a drunken girls’ night.

Azriel strikes me as the type of guy who loves eating girls out. It’s why gay women find him so easy to befriend; we recognize kindred spirit.

Elain vowed to never tell the others she’d been right.

“Will you let me?” He asked, gently nudging her dressing off her hips until it came free and pooled at her feet.

“Is this a trick question?” She said, voice going hoarse as he slipping a hand into her underwear.

“Some people don’t like it.”

“I’m not one of them,” she said, he smiled, coaxing her legs around his waist so he could carry her.

“Thank God,” he replayed. “That would break my heart. Which way?”

She pointed him in the right direction before giving into temptation and kissing him again, looking to way she could feel like body reacting to hers as he held her close. Only when they reached her room—which was decidedly messier than she’d have liked considering Azriel Macar was now in it—did he set her down.

He wasted no time into coaxing her onto the bed, taking only a moment to admire the silky black thong she wore before dragging into down her thighs and discarding it.

“Spread your legs for me, El,” he said, brushing kisses to her knee as she slowly did as he commanded.

The light from the nearby street lamp made the room a lot less dark than Elain was used to during sex, and for a moment she though to be embarrassed or postpone. Then she glanced down to admire the contrast of Azriel’s inky black hair framed against the pale skin of her thighs, and she forgot what it even meant to be self-conscious as he finally put him mouth on her.

She swore at the first brush of his tongue, which was both deliberate and extremely delicate. She threaded a hand through his hair at his second stroke, the touch more intentional this time.

“Azriel,” she breathed.

She watched the muscles in his beautiful back shift at this, as if hearing her moan his name had untethered something in him. When he put his mouth back on her, it was clear he was no longer attempted to tease her. Instead he felt right to where she needed him most, refusing to relent until she tipped over the edge.

Even then he didn’t seem satisfied, it and it was only after he made her come a second time did he pull back, licking his lips before bending to kiss her.

“Take your pants off,” she demanded. "Right now.”

She felt him grinning against her neck as he peeled off of her, slowly working the buttons of his pants before sliding them down his trim hips. He wore black boxer briefs underneath, and he honestly looked like an Armani model. She bit her lip, eying the sizable swell of him through the cotton.

“Those too,” she breathed, greedily drinking in his well-defined adonis belt and the bare trace of hair above the band.

He did as she commanded, and she nearly melted. Naked he was a God, all rippling muscles and smooth unblemished skin, save for the chest piece tattoo that extended onto his shoulders and halfway down his arms. She let her eyes sink lower. Even half-hard he was big, and her belly clenched.

Wasting no time, she urged him to take her place on the bed before kneeling at his feet and putting her mouth on it.

“Shit,” he hissed, driving a hand into his hand then down his face. “Ellie, you’re kiling me.”

She looked up at him through her lashes, and he growled in approval, seeming to decide something before breaking her grip on him and hauling her to her feet. He kissed her again, and she could feel his cock as it practically pulsed between them.

She still wasn’t sure she could believe it was for her, that somehow he wanted her as much as she did him, and had for almost as long.

“Condoms,” he breathed against her mouth. “I need to be inside of you.”

She froze.

“I don’t have any,” she said, dismayed.

How could she be so stupid? Why didn’t they stop on the way home? The closest bodega was six blocks, and she knew everyone who worked there. The last thing she needed was all of them knowing—

Azriel pressed a swift kiss to her lips before tangling from her.

“Where are you going?”

“To grab a condom.”

“Naked?

He flashed her a slight grimace, “Let’s agree you won’t ask where I get it from.”

“Oh Moses,” Elain said, face flushing scarlet as she listened to Nesta’s door creaking open.

Azriel was back in less than a minute, tossing an entire box onto the nightstand as he pulled open one of the foils with his teeth, using his free hand to push his damp hair, long enough to brush his cheekbones now that it wasn’t styled, out of his eyes.

“You found those distressingly fast,” Elain said, unsure if she was amused or mortified at the situation.

“Cash is predictable with his hiding spots,” Az said, eyes hooded as he stroked himself several times before rolling the condom onto his length.

“And why did you take the whole box?”

Azriel laughed softly.

“Because I have a feeling we’re going to need them.”

Without another word Az sank to his knees again, one hand lazily stroking himself to maintain his erection as he went down on her again.

This time it only last three seconds or so before he pulled back, resting one knee beside her hip to steady himself before pulling her onto his shaft in a single wet stroke. Using her left bent leg as leverage, he adjusted his angle, smirking at her low, guttural moan of pleasure.

“Good to know your g-spot is as sensitive as the rest of you,” he breathed, and she laughed and tugged him into an ambitious rhythm.

Soon the only sound was their shared breathing, and the sliding on their bodies against one another. She came first, and he followed even before the dizzying waves of pleasure ceased. He pumped lazily in and out of her for another half dozen stroke before gently extracting from her and peeling off the condom.

She curled against him, cheek pressed to chest as her hands continued to explore. Her fingers caressed his swelling pectorals and each of his abdominal muscles before lazily venturing back between his legs. He gave a hiss of pleasure as she began to work his silken shaft in earnest, and in minutes he was fully ready again.

He groaned when she snatched one of the condoms and rolled it onto him before swinging a leg over and sinking astride him.

Her third orgasm hit her only a short time later, and she sighed when he bucked up into her before going languid under her ministrations.

She leaned down to kiss him as he ran a soothing hand down her back.

“Jesus,” he breathed, pressing his forehead to hers and swirling his hips, still inside her despite his orgasm. “That was incredible.”

She purred her contentment, feeling something even more alluring than desire swell in her chest as he discarded the second condom and tugged her into his arms, tangling their legs. He still smelled like cologne, but it had mixed with her perfume, and sweat, and the scent was intoxicating. She wanted to bath in it—in him—until she died from bliss. She listened to his breathing even out, and as she was drifting off to bed, he felt his breath ruffle her hair.

“Do you like pancakes?” he murmured. “I want to make you breakfast in the morning.”

“Really?” she said, looking at him over a shoulder and melting at the warmth in his smile, less guarded now than it had been even hours before.

“I want to make breakfast for you every morning,” he breathed. “I have since I met you.”

She smiled, nestling closer to him.

“I’d love that, but I should probably be the one making you breakfast. It is your birthday, after all. You have to let me give you something other than a bj and a few orgasms for your birthday, even if it is your dirty 30.”

Az choked on a laugh.

“Say you‘ll dinner with me, then. No family or nosy friends around, just us.”

“I think the word you’re looking for it ‘date’,” she said, laughing as his cheeks flushed before realizing something. “Or is the idea just too formal for the situation? I know we did things a bit backwards...”

“We did,” he agreed, stroking her cheek. “But that doesn’t mean I want to spoil you any less. So yes a date, if you’ll still have me.”

“I will,” she said, meeting his hazel eyes before gently kissing him. “With pleasure.”

He smiled against her mouth.

“Then that’s the only birthday gift I want or need from you.”

She smiled, feeling happy to the point of bursting when he kissed her ear and closed his eyes again.

"Happy Birthday, Az.”

His hum of contentment vibrated through her back.

“The happiest,” he breathed.

#featherywrites #elriel smut #elain x azriel #acotar modern one shot #four word prompts

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koskareevesismyqueen · 3 years

Text

Echo’s Girl, Part I

Pairing: Echo x f!reader

Description: Becoming clone trooper Echo’s girl

AO3 link here

Link to the optional explicit part coming soon

Rating: teen

Word count: 2.4k

Warnings: none

Author’s note: This is more of a set up chapter for reader and Echo’s relationship. I will be posting an optional chapter for 18+ audiences in the next couple of days (please please please only engage if you are over 18 and prepared to read NSFW content). There will be 4 parts and we’ll see Echo next as an ARC Trooper! I hope you enjoy this part – if you do please consider reblogging it to share it with other people.

Part I – Clone Trooper

Your first fieldwork assignment. You were nervous, so kriffing nervous. You knew exactly what you had to do but somehow, being dropped off at the Grand Army of the Republic’s barracks, surrounded by soldiers and weapons and war ships made it all the more terrifying. You weren’t quite sure if you were built to be here. No, you knew you weren’t built to be here. You were a scientist and that’s where you were comfortable, in a lab or in the field conducting research. But with the Republic’s funding your best option was getting transport via the GAR, so here you were. You make your way off the taxi speeder, nervously playing with the straps on your bag as a soldier jogs his way towards you. You gulp. This was getting scarier and scarier by the second. How were you supposed to last on a warship for a week?

“Doctor?” He asks as he steps toward you.

“Uh, not yet but yes,” you say and his brow furrows in confusion, but he holds his hand out to take your bag anyway.

“Captain Rex,” he says with a shy smile, “I’ll take you to meet the rest of the boys. We’ll all be around for the next week until you’ve left us for your mission, so it’ll be good for you to have a few friendly faces.”

You nod and follow along, trailing behind him like a lost puppy, completely and utterly out of your depth but trying hard to stay afloat. He takes you over to a group of soldiers who are milling about, clearly enjoying a few moments of peace.

“Men, I’d like to introduce you to our guest. She’ll be staying with us for the next week until we drop her off for her mission. She’s no soldier so if anyone wants to accompany her, show her around so she can get used to being here…”

One of the soldiers steps forward, white armour with the signature blue decals that match the rest of the men, then his own unique handprint that adorns his chest. He reaches up and takes his helmet off and in that moment your heart stops. Yeah, every single man here looks exactly the same. But there’s something about him. You take a deep breath and smile as all the other men and Rex melt away. You hold out your hand to introduce yourself and he smiles sweetly in return.

“I’m Echo. We’ll load up onto the ship, get your stuff in your room and then once we’re in hyperspace I’ll give you the grand tour.” You follow him, suddenly feeling a little less lost and like you’ve found a little piece of home.

♡

You relax a little more once the ship has lurched into hyperspace. You’re no stranger to space travel but it still makes you feel a little queasy each time. Now you’re comfortably travelling and Echo’s grand tour has started you feel like you can semi settle for the next week at least. If you had to live this life for much longer you don’t think you’d cope, but it’s okay for now. Echo shows you the important spots like medical areas, the canteen, and transports. He even takes the time to show you a few quieter spots where you can get a little peace and quiet if you need it. For a few moments you stand in each spot drinking in the silence and the shades of blue that hyperspace creates, thinking about how peaceful the silence is with Echo. At one point, you tilt your gaze to look up at him and the way the blue falls over his features. He moves his gaze to meet yours and for a moment you stop breathing, worried your little crush was coming on too strong. But he just smiles that sweet, warm smile and gently takes your hand to pull you towards your next destination. He lets go of it as soon as you’re heading the right way, but you feel the lingering sensation of his touch on your palm and will him to hold your hand again.

Kriff, you think to yourself, suddenly disgusted that you weren’t acting like a lost puppy but a love sick one, you’d only been away from normal human contact for a few hours and you were already acting like this?

“That’s pretty much everything. We don’t have much to do during travel time apart from prepping for the next mission and we generally have to stay out of the cafeteria unless it’s our designated time to eat, but I guess I could chat with the service droids and see if you get special exemptions?”

“Yeah, that would be great. I need caf to keep me fuelled while I keep sorting through literature,” you say with a small chuckle as you hold up the data pad.

“So, what’s your research about?” Echo asks as you head back towards the cafeteria.

“I’m monitoring purrgil movements. We know…not a lot about them and now with the war on and more ship movement we need to predict their movements to ensure safety. I’m trying to better understand them, breeding patterns and movements so we can avoid them during ship movements.”

“Oh, so, I guess you’re working to protect the clones in a roundabout way?”

“Yeah, I guess so. I’ve never thought about it that way before. I just think of it that I’m protecting the purrgils too. Most people just think of them as a nuisance but they’re beautiful creatures which have been massively looked down upon. It’s sad, and I hope my work can change people’s opinions.”

You walk into the cafeteria and the white walls are a stark contrast to the grey of the rest of the ship.

“Wait here,” Echo says, motioning to an empty table, “I’ll go and chat to the droid.” Echo jogs off and you can’t help but admire him for a second before turning your attention to your data pad. You flick through your schedule, moving around what work you had planned for when to make your schedule for the next week a little more…hyperspace doable. The soft sound of two plastic mugs clinking off the table pulls your attention away from your work and instead to Echo’s warm smile.

“Droid says you can come in whenever. Even gave us hot cocoa now to seal the deal,” he smiles triumphantly as your eyes light up.

You take the mug in your hands, cradling it as you allow the heat to rise through you, then take a deep sip. It’s the kind of rubbish hot cocoa you had on camping trips when you were younger. It’s good.

“Mmmmmm,” you say between sips, “this is amazing. If I ever need something doing while I’m here, I’m coming to you Echo. Your negotiation skills are supreme.”

He lets out a soft chuckle which fills you with a warmth that the hot cocoa never could, and the two of you launch into easy conversation. You tell Echo more about your research and how you got into it, your life on Coruscant and everything that goes with it. He tells you about life as a clone trooper, growing up on Kamino and his brothers. The time passes fast and your schedule for starting up on work goes through the window but you don’t mind at all.

“Hey, Echo,” another clone trooper says as he jogs up to your table. He’s similar looking to Echo of course, but with a tattoo of the number 5 on his temple and facial hair on his chin. You briefly remember seeing him near Echo at the start of the day, although you can’t remember who Rex introduced him as, and assume the two are close.

“Hey, ner vod,” he quickly introduces his brother as Fives.

“We’re going to the onboard 79s tonight,” Fives turns his gaze to you, “you’re welcome to come, save you from being bored to death by this one all night,” he punches Echo in the process, and Echo glowers back at him.

“Yeah, sounds good. Any excuse to get away from doing work anyway.” Not that you had managed to do more than rearrange your schedule so far, which had been pointless anyway as you had ended up spending all afternoon with Echo instead.

“Okay, well we were going to head down in a couple of hours so I’ll see you then. Echo, we’re going to do some training to kill time. You in?”

Echo looks at you uncertainly.

“It’s fine, I should probably get a little work in and take a shower first anyway.”

“Can you remember where you’re going?”

“Yeah, roughly. I’ll find my way.”

“Okay, well as long as you’re still not wondering around the ship lost I’ll come grab you at 1900.”

You watch Echo go with Fives, a small smile creeping across your lips and a giddy feeling searing through your veins.

♡

You’re on fieldwork, you didn’t exactly plan to bring any nice clothes. You have a couple of pairs of leggings which at least flatter your figure and a couple of cropped vest tops that you usually sleep in. When you pair them together you don’t exactly look party ready, but you decide that you look good enough for whatever an onboard bar is like for clone troopers. You pull your hair out of its braids and put on the very small amount of makeup you packed. You decide, all in all you look good. But the nerves are eating you alive right now. Partly at not wanting to make a fool of yourself, but also the fear that you were maybe misreading Echo and making a fool of yourself that way. You shake your head to clear the negative thoughts, then jump at the knock on your door.

You step out and Echo is waiting for you, playing with his gloves and you hope, for a brief second, that he feels as nervous as you.

“You look amazing,” he says, his voice wobbling slightly. He had to be nervous, had to be.

You smile back, “so, this onboard bar?”

“Oh, it’s not much,” he says with a small laugh, “just a corner that was quiet enough for us to find a new use for it. We thought it’d get shut down, but I guess they decided a little down time was good for us.”

And he’s right. When you arrived at the ‘bar’ it’s not a lot at all. A dark space strung with whatever artificial lights had been found around, upturned boxes and storage containers. The bar itself was only obvious because of the sheer number of troopers milled around it. You suddenly feel a little self-conscious, the only female there, and almost as if he can sense it Echo protectively wraps his arm around you. The attention of the gazes pinning you immediately shift and you feel instantly better. Granted, it shouldn’t take a man’s protection to make you feel safe but with Echo it felt too good to deny. He guides you over to the makeshift table where Fives and a few of the other guys from this morning are sat.

“So, how did you manage to put up with this one all day?”

You let out a soft chuckle, “I grew up with 5 sisters, believe me I can put up with a lot.” But you lean back a little and give Echo a soft nudge, resulting in him giving you an affectionate smile. The night goes on and it’s incredibly easy with the boys, especially with Echo guiding you through in moments where you feel unsure. It’s obvious how close they all are, especially Echo and Fives who you now know grew up together. Rex makes a brief appearance although you get the impression that it’s more to keep up appearances and morale than actually wanting to be there. You can’t help but feel that he’s a little preoccupied, although you can’t blame him either.

You’re there for a few hours before you decide to call it a night. After all, you do have work to do at some point and you had spent a whole day away from it. Not wasted, because spending the day with Echo had been fun. But it was still time away from work that you couldn’t afford in the long run.

You turn to Echo, gently squeezing his arm to get his attention.

“You okay?” He asks, the liquid courage clearly showing as he takes your hand and rubs his thumb over your knuckles.

“Yeah, I was thinking of heading off soon. I have a bunch of work to catch up on tomorrow so I should probably wake up early.”

“Sure, I’ll walk you back.”

“Oh, it’s fine Echo. You stay here, I can find my way back.”

But he’s clearly made his mind up because he links in fingers in yours as he stands up, so you follow.

“Bye guys, it was nice getting to know you all tonight!” You call out as they say they’re goodbyes (and a few whistles in reaction to your’s and Echo’s entwined fingers).

You walk in peaceful silence back to your room, although you can tell that Echo is gearing up to say something. You stop when you reach you door, gently squeezing Echo’s fingers as an almost goodbye. But instead, he takes your other hand in his so the two of you are facing each other.

“I, uh. I just wanted to say that I really enjoyed spending time with you today. It’s nice to have a break away from the guys sometimes. And, I really like, uh, you. Specifically.” You smile at Echo’s words, his nerves feeling you with the sweetest feeling. Knowing that he clearly won’t make the move himself, you pull your hands away from his and place them on his cheeks, pulling the two of you together and your lips to lock. For a second, he pauses, clearly a little taken back. But then he gently places his hands on your waist pulling you into him and you deepen the kiss, fireworks exploding through your veins with ecstasy. After a few moments you pull away, willing your legs to keep working and not turn to jelly.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Echo,” you say before placing a final soft kiss on his cheek and escaping into your room.

♡♡♡♡♡

#echo #clone trooper echo #arc trooper echo #arc trooper echo x reader #echo x f!reader #bad batch #the bad batch #the clone wars #bad batch x reader

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rpbetter · 3 years

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You make some really good posts!! Can I ask something about DNIs? I know it's not directly RP-related, but I have trouble as an RPer with how many DNIs, with urls, there are now. I try not to interact with muns who have them, I block them, because it feels manipulative? But I'm also tempted to block people who follow those muns, because they probably think their DNIs are okay to have, so they're still "bad", just not as bad? Do you think that's overkill, am I shooting myself in the foot?

Oh, thank you! I'm very happy you've enjoyed them!

And, of course, ask anything at all!

I think, ultimately, the answer to whether that's overkill is entirely dependent on what your experience is and if you're happy with it. I don't think it is overkill at all, but if you feel like it is costing you too many mutuals, it might be overkill for you.

I'm a pretty insular RPer, I like a handful of close writing partners that I write a lot of threads with, so, having something like, under ten writing partners is great for me while it's miserable for other muns. I can go wild on blocking and not have it negatively impact my enjoyment, but I know that's not the case for everyone!

And I do, actually, I do go pretty wild with the blocking when it comes to things like DNIs. If it comes off as policing to me, not just something like a difference of opinion or a strong opinion on something, I'm going to block. Otherwise, it's just recognizing that this isn't a mun I'm going to work out with, but no hard feelings. With policing though...I don't want that anywhere near me or my mutuals, so, it's going to be a block.

Because they do tend to be in these odd, like, nested situations lol I totally will spend the effort if their DNI is bad enough to look at the muns they interact with and make sure I don't have future contact with them either. The RPC is such a big place, making it easier to forget URLs than to remember them, but it's also a place where we establish circles of contact, making it easier to run into the same group repeatedly. I feel like it's better for my peace of mind to be a little more certain than not at all that this isn't going to happen as easily.

If that DNI etc. has been so awful, I definitely don't require their mutuals professing the same beliefs as loudly as they are. If you interact with someone, maybe you don't know their pet fish's name or the obscure lore in a headcanon they posted five years ago or the rule they updated without telling anyone, but you do know what is on their pinned post or blog description or rules. At some point, we all visit each other's blogs in dash-view if nothing else when we're getting replies or checking for memes they might have posted, going through their tags, whatever. I do not believe that you're mutuals who reblog from each other often, reply frequently to each other, ship each other's muses and so forth, and all this time, you've somehow failed to notice your bestie mun is telling proshippers to die in their DNI lmao

No, you've seen it. And I find it extremely hard to believe, too, that it's never come up in conversation OOC either.

So, this hypothetical mutual is so oblivious to others, completely agrees with the other one's views while not feeling confident enough to share them publicly, or is scared enough of the other one that they won't disagree...and no matter which/which combination that might be, they're not a mutual I want.

Especially when it comes to a DNI with someone's URL in it. Hard pass on anyone who is okay with that!

If I visited a writing partner's blog, let's say this person is also my closest friend, I value them and the threads I have with them so much, and I saw that in their DNI they had dropped someone's URL? We would have to talk. I'd have to bring it up because it's the right thing to do (and would also be highly out of character for any of my friends, thus very concerning). There would have to be a question posed about what happened here, why did you feel like this was a good choice, and do you think it's increasing or lessening the problem to have that there?

Honestly, sometimes people do get so upset about something that has happened that their worst impulses are let loose freely. When you ask someone you have an established relationship with about that, unless you're being really hateful about it right off, it can help them settle down, take a step back, and see that this is maybe not the right action to take. To me, silence says you're okay with it.

When muns started putting more elaborate DNI's in, that alone rubbed me the wrong way because I genuinely do not think that the majority of that information is at all necessary. It's something I can see and fully understand minors doing, not because they're terrible or anything but because the impulses and rationale are just different. You're very much geared to be as loud as possible about things that are important to you, making them a part of you in a huge way, as a teenager. Shit just is unreasonably intense! But as an adult, I expect that behavior to be different. You don't actually need to say on your RP blog's DNI that "transphobes WILL be blocked!!!"

Well, yes, I should hope so lol we're a community filled with muns who are trans, I'd certainly hope you were not cool with that kind of thing. It's one of those assumptive states, it goes without saying because, in a group of legitimate adults, it literally doesn't have to be said that a trans mun in a group of trans muns in a RPC filled with trans muns would be intolerant of transphobic assholes.

And, no one likes a damn transphobe, it's not like this stunning, fresh information, here. Not making such a statement does not, in fact, act as a welcome.

Saying that, and I do not mean literally just that, it's just an example of the type of things found in a common DNI, is a little immature for me. Some of those things are, in addition to being purely self-validating: playing into the fear created by policing, virtue signaling, policing, or baiting. And all of them are pointless. Telling someone who would already be bigoted toward you and others to not interact if they somehow miraculously ID as whatever label that takes for them to not interact with your posts is waving a metaphoric red flag in front of a bull. Kind of like tagging a post as either "antis don't interact" or "proshippers don't interact." Actual quickest and most assured way to get that interaction!

I totally understand the age thing, it's self-protecting. Most people do respect it, but when they don't, you've clearly stated that this is not for whatever age group. Things pertaining to your writing and/or muse I also understand and think are great for a quick glance before someone even gets to the rules. Having in a DNI something like "muns who are easily triggered by gore" when you write a horror muse, for instance. You're advising them that this isn't a great idea for them, and it shouldn't be expected that you change your muse and topics because they decided to follow anyway.

But it became excessive very quickly, and there is the expectation that blogs have a DNI. The further expectation is that there be a specific list of things found in that DNI, if yours does not include it, you obviously don't have a problem with those things. I really cannot be okay with that, you know?

However, when it wasn't being used as a callout or a way to police, that was something that could just be ignored. Once URLs of other RPers started to appear, it was a whole other problem.

It used to be the pervading rule of the RPC that it is not alright to force other muns to chose between you and another mun that you had an issue with, but now we have DNIs with other muns' URLs in them. Now, it's the opposite take - if you have an issue with a URL being dropped in a DNI, or if you continue to interact with the mun, you're likely to get a callout or be on the receiving end of other bullying.

So, I very much think the self-insulating thing to do is to avoid those mutuals as well as the RPer with the URL-laden DNI. They could just block you, but is someone who was so juvenile as to put another mun's URL in their damn DNI going to be mature enough to do that? Will their friends once they complain about you? For me, it's too high of a risk of being around muns I wish would take a very long break from RP and only come back once they've grown up some.

I would never advise anyone to do something that is erring on the side of getting them into harassment water unnecessarily (as in, not something that pertains to digging in your heels and writing what you want or not tolerating bullying where you see it happening), and I feel like not doing what you are is that. However, I also am a firm believer in agency, even to make mistakes.

So, if you genuinely feel like blocking mutuals of someone with a URL-dropped/callout/other highly offensive and bullying thing in their DNI is costing you so many chances to RP that you're no longer enjoying yourself here? You might want to consider adjusting how widely you are blocking.

If that's the case, try going for mutuals who are what I call Casual Mutuals and leaving them open. Those are mutuals that the mun doesn't write with often or at all, they're technically mutuals because they both follow each other, but that's it. There might be some liking of posts or even comments or non-committal, OOC style memes sent in by Casual Mutuals, but that interaction is sparse and, yep, casual. These mutuals might legitimately be unaware of the mun's hateful, bullying bullshit in the DNI, or they are actually afraid to unfollow/block them at this point, so their option feels like staying around as quietly as possible.

With that last deal...you could even be doing someone a favor, Anon. When I've encountered that situation before, it's come about because the other person's Casual Mutual is painfully anxious, shy, and a previous victim of bullying. They feel isolated, they don't have many or any writing partners, and they really, truly, are terrified to distance themselves in a way that might be noticed. It's a type of toxic interaction that rarely gets mentioned in PSAs, presumably because it is so low on the actual interaction scale.

Giving them someone else in their corner, especially if that other mun is more open about their intolerant stance on bullying, can go a long way toward giving someone else confidence. I've had other people's Casual Mutuals become my Casual Mutuals and wouldn't you know it? After a while, they get braver. They see my friends and mutuals doing our thing without any of the bullying going on, they see us supporting anti-policing and not tolerating bullying, and they get brave enough to unfollow the hateful mun. It feels nice to even inadvertently help someone, and over the years, some of those Casual Mutuals have become great writing partners, too. People I would have missed if I had made the choice to block them by the association of a hateful mun they were trapped in the orbit of.

Just try to exercise caution! You seem like a reasonable person who doesn't mind truly thinking on things or doing the work required to be cautious. Assume the close mutuals are a problem, too, and block away. Build a wall with some razor wire on it with those blocks! Don't assume the low-interaction, very casual mutuals are, though. Check out their blogs for signs of agreement with Hateful Mun, and if they don't have any, give them a shot as far as just leaving them unblocked goes.

I also have to say, here at the end, that it's extremely nice to see that people out there are doing this. Honestly would have thought I'd be the last person to encourage a ton of blocking, but that's the environment of the RPC now, and it's really the only way we can deal with this issue. You can't reason with these people, you can't stop them, you can only stay away from them for your own good and send a message that this isn't benefiting them. Not everyone agrees with them, they're not going to keep having people left open for their attacks or their RP entertainment. And if enough people are just walling them off, that is a message they'll have to receive because RP runs on interaction with others.

They might think they want every "nasty ass" xyz Problematic RPer to block them, not interact, or vanish from their view of the RPC, but I don't think they realize what that really looks like. What it looks like is a huge percentage of the RPC missing, including people they didn't realize were "problematic." We tend to be quieter, wanting to stay in our own lanes and actually enjoy the hobby and each other. That's why they have to resort to shit like making everyone pre-guilty, or setting up traps to catch people out on being "gross."

So, I genuinely do not think they're prepared for the rude awakening of silence that would happen if we all actually vanished, but I am dying to see it lol and do sometimes have to wonder if the complaints about the RPC being dead/dying/empty, not in a fandom but overall, are coming from the purity police some of the time. It's quite active over on the Leave Folks Alone Over Fiction side of life :D

#answered #anonymous #policing #dni lists #blocking #rp advice #rp problems

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marmolady · 4 years

Text

Livita: Part One

Remember this fic? I went to do a few edits on my old fic, ‘Livita’, and the whole thing ended up stretching to double the length of the original! It’s now been split into thirds, chronicling Taylor and Estela’s journey to motherhood.

Book/Series: Endless Summer

Main Pairings: Estela x MC/Taylor (f)

Summary: Post-ending. Freed from Vaanu, Taylor has been building a life with her soulmate… but their family remains not quite complete. Read PART TWO.

Warnings: Coarse language.

Word Count: 4262

Reviews and reblogs are hugely appreciated!

Tagging: @sceptilemasterr @saivilo @greengroove @edgydepressedchoicesthot

La Huerta, June 2021

Estela and Taylor had found their home. La Huerta had been their shelter, as it had been for Diego, and for Aleister and Grace, in a time when the wider world had been in turmoil. Some years ago, during the twelve Catalysts’ year of isolation at the end of the world, a small village had been built in the shadow of the great tree of Elyys’tel, and it was here that remained home for the small group. On La Huerta, Taylor and Estela had found their place in this world, together-- and it was there that they planned for their family’s next steps.

Taylor had invited Diego and Varyyn to join herself and Estela in the hot pools at the base of La Huerta’s snow-covered mountainous region. There were few places she knew more tranquil, more calming. She’d need that. What she and Estela were proposing was… monumental. There would be no resting until they bit the bullet and put it out there so… they would just have to take that leap.

That they’d grow their family together had always been a given, at least once it became certain that Taylor could remain with her loved ones on earth. They’d found their peace, and each had their home was in the arms of the other. The next step was the baby. Estela would carry the child; passing on a little piece of the mother who’d been so cruelly taken from her. Of course, it meant that the other grandparent would carry on through the bloodline as well… but having wrestled with it, Estela concluded that honouring Olivia Montoya was more important to her than eliminating Rourke. It was deemed the safer option; whatever Taylor was, she was not entirely human, and her reproductive capabilities and genetic contribution would be rather more of a gamble. If it came to it, they could try that path-- certainly Taylor liked the idea of being related to another person by blood-- but the simple truth was that Estela’s urge for that physical bond was far stronger.

Diego, they hoped, would be the donor-- and someday a doting tio. In Taylor’s eyes, he was ‘her side of the family’, a part of her being that she loved beyond measure. The thought of creating a person out of Diego and Estela, was just about the most beautiful thing Taylor could imagine. In every way, her family. She’d tried to remain detached and unemotional about the idea; there was no assuming that Diego would feel comfortable in being the donor in the first place-- family was a complicated thing for him, at she respected the hell out of that. But god, it was hard not to let her hopes rise.

The outing had been intended to be relaxed, but even as she soaked in the hot springs, Taylor couldn’t help but seek reassurance to soothe her near-constant attacks of nerves-- just a glance and Estela would give her a look, stoic and sure, and it was enough to get her through another few minutes of what was supposed to be easy; just hanging out with her best friend. Diego, of course, quickly became concerned. No fool, he could see something bubbling beneath the surface, clear as day.

“All right. Spill. Something’s driving you crazy right now.”

Taylor flushed-- though she was red enough from the steaming water that it made little difference to her complexion. “I’m fine. We just… want to talk to you about something. I figured if we just sat you down, all serious, you’d jump straight to ‘dear god, who’s died?’”

“Or… ‘dear god, is Estela an alien too?’”

Both girls laughed.

“I’m sure people have wondered that,” Estela said dryly.

Taylor took Diego’s hands, which helped to steady her own from shaking. Jesus, she just loved him so much. If this wasn’t what he wanted… of course, she’d respect that, but she was certain a little part of her heart would break.

“Tay, you’re sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” She took a deep, shuddering breath. Get right into it, or you’ll just make yourself more nervous. “Well, you know that Estela and I have been thinking about having a baby together; we’ve been talking about it a lot, and we’re ready. We’re ready to grow our family… make it a little bigger. And… I really, really hoped… I…we wondered if you might like to be the donor for our baby.”

For a few moments, Diego was stunned into silence; his eyes widened as he swallowed what he’d just been told.

“You… want me to…?”

“You should both talk about it,” Estela said. “We know it’s pretty huge. I dunno… maybe you’d be like the baby’s extra special tio. Whatever you wanted the relationship to be.”

Diego hadn’t heard a whole lot of what he’d just been told. He was already falling weeping into Taylor’s arms. There was no question; no question at all. His mind flashed with an imagined future, of something closer to parenthood than he’d dare let his heart long for.

Taylor held him, blinking back tears-- a pointless endeavour. “I love you so much. It’s hard to imagine doing this without you being a big part of it. Whatever you choose, you’re gonna be our baby’s tio. But it would mean the world to me if….”

“This is the greatest honour,” Varyyn said softly, his own eyes misty.

Estela offered him a warm smile. “It means a lot to us both. Obviously, you’ll need to talk this all through-- we’re not expecting an answer right away. This is… a lot.”

“What sort of, uh, time-frame are we looking at?” Diego asked as he sat back next to Varyyn, who wiped away his tears.

“Soon,” Estela said resolutely. She glanced to Taylor, feeling the emotion just radiating off her. This meant the world to Taylor, as Diego did. “We’re both ready for this, it’s just-- if you want to do this-- how soon you’re comfortable. We know this might not happen quickly, so the sooner we can get things started…”

“...The sooner you can get through the rollercoaster of ‘trying’?”

“Yes.”

For a little while, Diego was quiet… stunned, he needed a few moments for his thoughts to catch up with his emotions. Having children was something he and Varyyn had discussed at great length, and the conclusion they’d always begrudgingly come to was that for the foreseeable future, their lives simply couldn’t accommodate that-- not in a way that would be fair to a child. Diego knew that he belonged on La Huerta, but that wasn’t the whole of his life; where his two worlds collided was a mess. There was still that lingering dream, but he knew better than to hang too tight to it. But… in Taylor in Estela’s child, he could have something beautiful; different but beautiful. Wasn’t that just the way his story was meant to be by now?

“Do you have, like, a plan worked out? I guess it’s pretty tough to travel for procedures right now….”

Taylor grinned. “Don’t I always have a plan?”

“Ha. You know I’d never doubt you.”

“Yeah, we want to stay on La Huerta if we can. Otherwise, we’d be able to get permits to go in and out of San Trobida. There’d be quarantine to deal with-- with the way things are in the States, they’re especially cautious about Americans-- but it wouldn’t be an insurmountable hurdle.”

“Have you worked out who you want to actually carry the baby?”

“Estela’s going to be the birth mother,” Taylor said, giving her wife a small smile and reaching to squeeze her fingers. It had been a tough one. She knew there was part of Estela that felt guilt over the decision they’d reached, but it was a decision they had come to together and Taylor would not let there be any doubt where she stood on the matter. “We talked about it a lot. A lot. Figuring out which oven we want to put the bun in was a huge decision, and there was so much to consider. You know how amazing it would be for me to have a blood tie with someone. I’ve longed for that. And I’ve mostly worked through it; I mean, I’m made up of my family-- of you especially. It’s who I am; it might not be about DNA, but it doesn’t mean it’s not as powerful. It’s… part of the reason why I wanted to ask you. In every way that matters to me, you represent my family.”

Again, Diego found himself choked up.

“And for Estela, it was a little different.”

Estela flushed a little, and averted Diego’s eye contact. This was so intensely personal. “If I could pass on a small piece of my mother… I don’t have anything more precious to give my baby. She would have wanted to give my baby everything. This will have to be enough.” She gathered herself, looking back to offer Diego an awkward smile as he gave her a knowing nod. “I was uneasy about what else I would be passing on, but it’s a connection to Aleister and Grace, and maybe cousins someday.”

“We did consider partner IVF,” Taylor said. “That’s where we take the embryo from one mother and implant it in the uterus of the other, but it felt like… a lot. I don’t have a big attachment to the idea of pregnancy-- definitely not as much as ‘Stel does-- and it sounded like a whole lot of intervention. Nothing about my life has been straight-forward, you know? So I got really invested in the idea of doing this as naturally as possible. Just us, at home, building our family together. I know it’s asking a lot as a same-sex couple, but I’d much rather this didn’t have to become something clinical-- not unless it turns out we can’t get pregnant a simpler way.”

Diego swallowed past the hard lump in his throat. He would represent Taylor’s family. He would be a father figure, an honour bestowed by someone who actually saw him and loved him for it all. And he was going to love his best friend’s baby with every fibre of his being.

Concerned, Taylor rushed to reassure. “Just-- take your time, okay? I know this is huge--”

“No,” Varyyn said firmly, and he gave Diego a subtle nod. He knew his husband; he knew that look on his face, that sweet certainty. He’d seen that smile after he’d asked of Diego a very important question one Niala’rei several years ago.

Diego took Taylor’s hand in one of his, and Estela’s in the other… and breathed deep. “Of course-- of course, I’ll do it. More than anything in the world, I want to do this for you.”

The air filled with joyous squeals and the splash of water as the group erupted into embraces and a few more tears. Sandwiched between the two people she loved more than anything else in all the world, Taylor knew that together, they could make this happen.

__________________________

August 2022

Taylor’s heart sank as she looked at the result. Negative. Again.

Estela sighed and looked away. Again, no baby. Even knowing she could have done nothing more, it felt as though she’d let Taylor down when it really mattered. She’d promised her a family. And for herself…. Everything she’d ever wanted… her deepest desire… it was so close, only for them to be repeatedly smacked down by some invisible barrier.

“We’ll try again,” said Taylor quietly, trying to and failing to sound like someone who hadn’t just been crushed. “This is gonna happen for us, okay?”

Despairing, Estela threw her head back, fighting, fighting against the tears that so wanted to come. For several long minutes she wrestled with herself, with the torrent of emotion, before turning back to her wife. Her voice shook when she spoke. “Maybe… maybe we should try with you… it’s not as if I’m not made up of a load of shit that we shouldn’t really want to pass on to an innocent child. I’ve been selfish.”

“First of all; no. Not only are you not remotely a selfish person, you are freaking perfect… to me, you are perfect. Nothing you could give our baby could be anything but that. I love you. And I know how much you want this. I want it to be you. I want us to keep trying.”

Walking away, Estela could feel guilt clawing at her stomach. Of course she wanted to be the one to carry the baby, but if things kept up like this, there wouldn’t be a baby to carry. She sighed again, heavier, and curled up on the couch, knees against her chest. “Taylor, it’s been over a year…”

“We could see another doctor? But I trust what they said; everything’s working fine, it’s just not necessarily gonna happen overnight. I honestly think we’ve just been unlucky so far. And… and maybe it’s taken us a while to get our turkey-baster technique down.” Taylor sat down beside her wife and began massaging her back, feeling tension in every muscle. So much stress. “I know we wanted to do this at home, but we could consider intra-uterine, or even IVF. How about we give it one more month, and then start seriously looking at other options?”

For a long while, Estela said nothing, staring into space as she tried to process the aching disappointment. When she zoned back into reality, Taylor was still there, kneading her back. Another month… that was reasonable.

Taylor eased down the back of Estela’s shirt and pressed kisses between her shoulders. “I know how much you’re hurting right now… I’m feeling it too. Someday soon, we’ll hardly remember this; we’ll be too busy wading through diapers and trying to get a wink of sleep. But for now, I think it’s a comfort food under a blanket situation. We’ll just snuggle up in a love cocoon until whenever it is that we’re ready to put on brave faces.”

They cuddled beneath a blanket on the couch, grateful to have nothing pressing to do nor any people to see. So much thought, so many long nights of discussion had gotten them to the point of trying, but all the rationale, the planning… all of it mattered little if it just didn’t happen for them. In the end, how it happened wasn’t important; they just needed their family.

The disappointment was not getting any easier, month after month, even as it became expected. They now knew better than to get their hopes up too high. Once again, Taylor would go back to Diego to ask for his help… another round of ‘I’m sorry’s and hugs of consolation, while Estela would back into herself, becoming quiet and reclusive until the pain of the blow dulled. The days, then weeks, would pass, and the couple’s optimism would return as it always did. Together they’d literally undone an apocalypse; so long as they had one another’s hands to hold, they’d soldier through anything.

Estela let herself be held, the touch of her lover offering the only comfort strong enough to keep her from going under. It had been so long now. Doubts, once trifling, became magnified until they were near suffocating. She had gazed upon her reflection in their full-length mirror, taking the time to contemplate while Taylor’s voice floated up from downstairs as she’d filled Diego in with another crushing update. What Estela had seen there was not a nurturer, but a fighter. Her physique, though not perfectly toned as it had once been, was still not exactly cuddly. And the scars… god, there were so many. Wounds from knives, a sword… a freaking dinosaur… her body was just a painting of violence. And that was just the damage that could be seen; far more, far deeper were the scars to her heart and soul. What harm could someone like that do to an innocent baby? Perhaps nature was simply preventing a great cruelty….

“Hey?” Taylor whispered. A quiet grunt was all the reply she received, but Estela looked up, meeting her eyes. “Everything that you are is what’s going to make you a wonderful mom. One of the things… one of the things I’ve been most excited for is just, like… our baby’s gonna say something, do something, and I’ll be like ‘whoa, that’s an Estela thing’. There’s no one else I could even imagine doing this with.”

With a small sob, Estela held Taylor tighter.

“It’s the pain talking, okay? This isn’t anything rational. And I honestly believe this is who you’re meant to be. The first time you held Reggie, I was on the verge of crying because of how right it just was. You held him like you’d never let him fall. Everything you’ve been through has only made you love even harder. And it’s gonna happen; I swear it’s gonna happen… you are going to be such a good mom.”

Estela gently caressed Taylor’s lips with her own, tasting the salt of tears. For her, she’d be strong; it was what she’d always done. It was impossible to be broken for long whilst held in Taylor’s heart and embrace. She could cut through the doubts, just enough to take another step forward.

“Next time…” she said softly.

Taylor nodded and returned the kiss. God, I love you…

“…Next time….”

__________________________

September 2022

Pausing her frenzied scribbling of notes, Taylor pushed her glasses back up the bridge of her nose. From her position cross-legged on the couch in their La Huerta home, she heard the creak of the front door.

“You’re home late,” she said, still poring over her notes. “Reggie holding you hostage again?”

Estela draped her arms over Taylor’s shoulders and kissed the top of her head. “Yeah, something like that.”

Taylor couldn’t help but laugh. “I think a part of you is kinda flattered that you can’t give the kid to someone else without him dissolving into banshee screams…”

“He knows his tia.” Pausing for a moment, Estela waged a silent debate in her head before making up her mind for sure. “Taylor, I want to take the test…”

Taylor looked up. Spending so much time with their nephew had only heightened Estela’s want for a baby. The both of them adored Reginald; most days they saw him, cuddled him, loved him, effortlessly coming into their roles as aunts. But the presence of Aleister and Grace’s bright-eyed baby boy served to highlight exactly what they were missing. “I know. But if you wait a couple more days, it’ll be more accurate. This whole thing is tough enough without worrying about false negatives.”

Estela sat down opposite Taylor, reaching out for her hands. “I’ve just got a feeling, you know? I feel different.” She took her wife’s hand, and tucked it into her bra. “That’s swollen, right?”

“Possibly? But it’s early, sweetheart. I don’t want you getting carried away with something that might not exist.” Of course, it was easy to see signs when it was wanted so much. Between hanging around Reggie all day, and an upcoming journey back to San Trobida in a few days, the yearning was running wild. It was only natural that Estela wanted to greet her tio with the news that she was expecting, but Taylor feared another disappointment. She stroked Estela’s breast, while her other hand lovingly cupped her face. “You know that even if you are pregnant, it probably won’t show up yet?”

“I know that. I’ll do it again in a few days… I just don’t think I can rest without trying.”

“Okay… but don’t get your hopes up. Do you want me with you?”

Estela shook her head. “It’s all right. Like you said, it’s probably too early to work. I’m just trying to settle the voice in my head.” As she moved to leave, Taylor hugged her tight.

“Love you…”

“Love you.”

Taylor looked back to her notes. Their return to San Trobida would be momentous for her; starting up a much-needed youth counselling service in the area surrounding Estela’s home. It was what she’d studied for, and it was with nervous excitement that she jotted down ideas and sketched out plans. With the grants and scholarships that the Aleister and Estela’s inherited company had to offer, there was the feeling that they might be able to make a real difference in giving the children of the civil war hope for the future. The central inspiration to their work was, of course, Estela’s mother. Each award given out to a student was gifted in her name; it provided a small comfort that Dr. Olivia Montoya’s legacy was one of a promise for a better tomorrow. Taylor found herself distracted. They had fulfillment in one another, in the work they were doing… but the picture remained incomplete. The quiet having lingered for too long, Taylor got to her feet, putting her notes aside.

“Estela? Is everything all right?”

No response. Becoming worried, Taylor started towards the bathroom, expecting that she’d need to break out the emergency cheering-up ice cream, as had been a monthly occurrence since they’d started trying for a baby. She knew she’d been right. It had been foolish to cause such distress when another test would need to be taken a few days later anyway.

She tentatively pushed the door. “’Stel? I’m here…”

Estela was sat trembling on the tiled floor, her eyes wide and wet with tears, seemingly unable to look away from the test stick she held in her hand. Several others lay at her feet.

“…Taylor… I’m…” In her daze, she couldn’t even get the words out.

Tears sprung to Taylor’s eyes and her hand to her mouth. Surely… surely it couldn’t be what she thought it was? But then, that smile… that smile… it said it all.

“Wh-what are you… what are you saying?”

“We’re… we’re having a baby…”

Without knowing how she got there, Taylor was on the floor, Estela’s arms around her as they cried, and laughed, and kissed.

We’re having a baby.

#estela x mc #endless summer #playchoices #choices fanfiction #estela montoya #diego soto #liv montoya

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pastelsandpining · 4 years

Text

Last Christmas (Broken Heart)

The fourth prompt in 12 Days of Christmas by @zelink-prompts

Prompt List

Cover Art: @neezlebums be sure to show some love to the original here! I cannot stress this enough guys, PLEASE go like and reblog his work. He spends hours upon hours on every single cover drawing and it’s super disheartening that he’s getting 8 notes max on things he’s working really hard on. So please give his post as much love as you give mine!

***This piece really has nothing to do with Christmas but is setting up for a future one that does.

Words: 1601

Summary: Zelda doesn’t quite know what to do and makes a decision she thought she wanted.

Warnings: So, this is a breakup fic. If things like that negatively affect you, I suggest skipping this one <3

BotW Modern AU with a part two

Zelink-mas 2020 l Masterlist

There were cans of soda on the table, unopened but still cold to the touch, with a plate of cookies in between them. The TV was on, with the Hyflix selection screen up and ready. There were blankets and pillows piled on the couch, ready to be used for a fort or a nest, or whatever they decided to do with them. Everything looked perfect, and far too normal for the night she was planning. Part of her thought she’d actually never be able to go through with it, and she didn’t know if that comforted her or stressed her out further.

But she didn’t have time to sit around and think about it, contemplating it until she chickened out, because her phone lit up with a text message. Zelda bit her lip and considered texting him to go away, but her legs carried her to the door on instinct and his smile was so bright that she felt nauseated.

“Hey,” she greeted away, and the smile that crossed her lips was too easy to be fake.

“Hey,” he replied, pressing a kiss to her nose. She scrunched her face up in response and stepped aside to let him into the apartment. “I brought some ice cream.”

“You remembered! And you just picked it up! You didn’t need to make a special trip,” she scolded, following him into the kitchen.

“Of course I did. It’s not a movie night without ice cream.”

Goddesses, why did he have to be so sweet? Zelda tugged at the sleeves of her shirt, then adjusted her shorts, but nothing was helping soothe the anxiety slowly suffocating her.

“Well, it’s your pick tonight, so, um, hurry it up,” she said, dropping onto the couch and grabbing a pillow.

“Alright, alright. I’m coming,” he called with a laugh. She sunk into the cushions and hugged the pillow to her chest, fighting to keep the smile off her lips. He could make her smile so easily. Usually, she loved that about him.

He grabbed the remote from the table and dropped into the space besides her. She curled up against him almost immediately, tucking her feet underneath her, and watched as he scrolled through the movie titles. There were plenty left to watch since they kept adding to their list, but Zelda almost wanted him to pick a random movie of questionable quality--a movie she wasn’t likely to watch again. But he chose an animated movie, something that looked adorable, and she didn’t say anything as she reached for a drink and popped it open. Link’s arms encircled her and held her close, and she closed her eyes for a moment just to drink it all in.

All she wanted to do was stop time and stay right there. But she knew better than to believe that was possible and to make pointless wishes. She didn’t have to do this, not really. She liked to think she’d made up her mind, though.

She tried not to focus on it yet.

Zelda leaned her head on his shoulder and played with his fingers just to give her something to do. His hands were soft and he gave her gentle squeezes every now and then, making her heart burst inside of her chest.

“She reminds me of you,” Link said, pointing towards the TV. She lifted an eyebrow at him.

“Why’s that?”

“She’s crazy smart, and she’s a little badass.”

She laughed, bumping her shoulder against him and shaking her head.

“Then he reminds me of you because he’s an idiot.”

It was Link’s turn to laugh. She almost cut it off with a kiss before thinking better of it and instead going back to her original position. Hardly ten minutes had passed before he spoke again, and it seemed she wasn’t as subtle as she was trying to be because he paused the movie and took her hands.

“Zel, you’ve been really quiet. Are you okay?”

“No,” she admitted, without thinking much about it.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked, bringing one of his hands up to cup her cheek. A simple gesture, one he’d done a thousand times over, was enough to break her into tears. “Zel..”

“I-I.. we need to break up,” she said quickly, wiping furiously at her eyes. Link paused, searching her eyes with a frown. His expression ripped her heart in pieces, but the words were out now and she couldn’t take them back.

“..why?” he asked, his voice so quiet she almost didn’t hear him. She’d planned this. She wanted it to go better than this. She had a speech planned and everything, a whole explanation of why, but all she could manage was a pathetic:

“I don’t know.”

Link cupped her face again, brushing gently at the never ending tears, and he didn’t say a word. Then, he nodded once.

“Okay. Okay, take a breath, Zelda. I’m.. I’m gonna make some tea, and we’re gonna talk about this. Okay?”

Zelda nodded and once he’d disappeared into the kitchen, she took her pillow and buried her face in it. If she cried any harder, she’d suffocate. But that was fine with her. If she suffocated, she wouldn’t have to see the heartbreak on his face.

Link didn’t return until he had two cups of warm tea in his hands. By then, she was able to breathe again. She took the mug from his hands but didn’t bother offering a smile. It wouldn’t help anything if she did, she was sure. He left a space between them when he sat too, which was fitting. But it still brought her heartache.

“Are you ready to talk about it?” he asked, extending a hand to her. She took it, and she didn’t know if she appreciated or hated how patient he was being.

“I just.. goddesses, this is a mess.”

“Take your time.”

Zelda shook her head and when he squeezed her hand she almost burst into tears again.

“I’m scared, I guess. I mean, we’re starting college and we’re going to be so far apart and..”

“I’d call you every night and I’d drive out to see you any time you said the word.”

“I know you would--” that’s what made it worse, “but I can’t.. I mean, if we get busy.. I don’t know how to balance everything yet. I just thought maybe it’d be safer for us if we.. took a little break until we figured it all out. It wouldn’t be fair to you if we got halfway into the semester and.. and I couldn’t handle it.”

It sounded pathetic. It sounded like excuses. All of her genuine concerns that could’ve been handled in a conversation sounded like an easy way out and she hated it. She’d rehearsed this all week, all day, and she was so frustrated at how awful it’d come out. She dropped her face into her pillow again, because she couldn’t look at him. But his fingers, warm from the cup of tea, threaded through her hair.

“Zelda.. I respect you. Is this what you want?” he asked.

“Yes. I don’t know,” she repeated, lifting her head from the pillow and wiping her eyes.

“Do you want to try, or do you think we should just.. take a break, see how the semester goes..?”

He looked so upset. Goddesses, she felt sick.

“I’m sorry,” she said. The tears were welling up again. He must’ve noticed, because he sighed softly and pulled her against his chest. Zelda held tightly onto his shirt, fighting to keep her breathing even. It was no use though, because his fingers were back in her hair, and she was soaking his shirt.

“I love you,” he mumbled against her head. “And if you need a break, we can take one. I’m willing to wait for you to figure things out. And if you decide that it’s better for you, then I won’t try to, like, beg you to take me back or anything.”

Zelda giggled weakly, tilting her head so she could look up at him.

“I love you too,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I’m gonna go,” he said with a tiny smile as he stood from the couch. “You look like you could use some sleep.”

She knew that wasn’t the reason, and it didn’t make her feel any better. But she nodded and said, “I’m sorry we didn’t get to finish the movie.”

“I’ll forgive you if I can get a kiss for the road.”

She knew what he meant by that, too. She stood up anyway with a weak smile of her own and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. He held her close, with his arms around her waist, and she didn’t want him to let go. But he did, and she tried not to reach for him when he stepped away.

“Text me when you’re home?” she asked.

“Always.”

And then he was gone. Zelda locked her apartment door behind him and leaned back against it, burying her face in her hands. She’d gotten what she thought she wanted. She should’ve felt relieved, but all she really felt was regret.

Link had never been anything but kind and loving to her. He didn’t deserve this. It was why she didn’t go after him. He’d left her to cry in peace, and she owed it to him to do the same.

Why did she do this? What did she gain but a broken heart, something she brought upon herself?

Her phone lit up again.

[I’m home. Keep the ice cream <3]

Continued in Day 10 - Missed Connections

#zelink #link #zelda #breakup fic #angst #hurt/comfort #but more hurt than comfort really #i promise part two is a lot happier than this one #i'm just setting up your classic hallmark movie

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talatomaz · 4 years

Text

solitude | rosita espinosa x fem!reader

a/n: i hope this wasn’t too confusing. i flipped between past and present a bit and tried to make it as clear as i could w/o disturbing the fic.

“jai bhagwan” ~ “praise/thank god” (hindi is my second language)

“mi preciosa hermana” ~ “my precious sister” (I used Google Translate so sorry if it’s not accurate)

warnings: mentions of blood/death/violence/assault (kinda).

word count: 2.4k

masterlist | navigation | request rules

reader was saved by rosita not long after the outbreak and the two soon became like sisters until they were separated when reader had to go on a journey by herself. but meetings with new people have their paths crossing once more...

i do not give you permission to repost or translate my fics on any platform - likes/reblogs are okay and are much appreciated

Walking along the dreary road, you winced at the bright sun shining down on you. You glanced up at the sky before quickly regretting that decision, blinking your eyes rapidly to clear the tears that formed. It had been so long since it had last rained. Not even one drop.

You had managed to find a lake and with skills you had learned from someone close to you, you were able to decontaminate the water and drink it. Not quite quenching your thirst but it’d have to do.

All around you were trees, concealing the horrors that hid within. Subconsciously patting your knife and gun, in their respective holders, you were satisfied that they were within reach. A backpack was slung over your shoulders, a rifle gun hidden beneath.

You sighed, the silence overwhelming. It was your own doing. You were the one who had decided to split from your group, wanting to find a family member who was more than likely dead. Good old stubborn y/n. Just can’t let anything go. You wiped your hands on your trousers, the remnants of dirt still lingering on.

You had had a contingency plan with your group.

You were all heading in the same direction but since you had to make a few detours, you didn’t want to hold the group up, so you had agreed to part ways. Hugs and safety concerns were exchanged but with reluctance, your group, or rather, your sister, let you leave. You all were going to end up at the same crossroads at some point and agreed to meet there as soon as possible.

But when you arrived, after your detours proved pointless, your heart dropped in your stomach at the sight before you. Hundreds of walkers covered the streets. There was no way you could pass through without being noticed. So instead, you noticed a sign post that held the name of the road and gathered a mixture of dirt and mud on your hands and left a message, hoping your group would see it and learn of your next steps.

You had heard of a place called Terminus. Signs were stationed all around the train tracks, “Sanctuary for all. Community for all. Those who arrive survive.” You had decided to make your way to this supposed safe haven.

You remembered following all the directions and you neared the station with each passing day until you had one day woken up in a hospital.

It had taken you a while, but you regained your memories after the head wound inflicted upon you impaired you and you had remembered being ordered to put your-

“Hands up.”

You stopped. You had to be hallucinating. It couldn’t be happening again. Not as you were thinking of that exact memory. Your hand slowly dropped to your gun beside you.

“Don’t even think about it. Turn around slowly and drop your bag and weapons.” The feminine voice commanded.

As ordered, you turned on your heel, gently placing your backpack and rifle on the ground and faced the two people in front of you. A black female with a sword attached to her back and a Korean male aiming a gun at you.

You watched as their hold on their guns faltered as they looked at you with concern.

“Y-You’re a-“

“Woman? Indian? Alone?” You suggested, in a sarcastic manner.

“A child.” The man finished.

Your jaw clenched, “I am not a child.”

You had been through too much to be considered a child. That had been stripped away the moment the world collapsed. Years had gone by since the end of the world, and your teenage years were just about to come to an end.

“Are you going to kill me? Because if you are, can you get it over with? If not, just let me be on my merry way.” You asked, unbothered at either option.

You realised that you had started to feel like the way you did when you had lost all your family soon after this all began. You, your mother and one of your siblings had managed to join a colony, living a pretty decent life and managing the best you could until a group had invaded during the night.

The majority of your community had managed to escape, not without a few injuries, of course, - some bringing back even more painful memories of what you had experienced before the outbreak at the hands of people close to you - and escaped into the forest. The dark sky and trees hid you from the intruders but you had soon encountered another danger. The undead kind. The rest of the survivors lost their lives to the walkers, your family included, leaving you alone.

You had managed to kill every last one of the walkers, including the ones newly animated, and when daylight came, you looked as if you were a member of the undead yourself. Both fresh blood and walker remains caked your skin but, too numb from the substantial loss you had just experienced, you simply sat on a fallen tree log, lost in your thoughts.

Even the walker suddenly dropping dead beside you with a thump wasn’t enough to break you out of your trance. Not until you were shaken back into reality by an unknown person. You had stared up into the woman’s eyes and you weren’t sure what she had seen in yours but she helped you up and took you to her group, which consisted of two other men, one friendly looking, the other more intimidating. She introduced herself and the men, and simply sighed when you remained silent.

You remembered hearing her argue about you with the larger male. He kept spouting on about some mission and she was adamant that she wouldn’t leave you alone.

Later that same night, the first night without your family, you had woken up sweating. She had calmed you, soothing you but as she wrapped her arms around you, you had winced. She had gently lifted your shirt to reveal darkened bruises on your chest and looked back at you with sorrow.

Rather than question you, she put her arms back around you and cradled your head against her. Soon enough, you found yourself speaking for the first time and had told her almost everything about you.

Fast forward 3 years and you were practically sisters; you had your own secrets, things you didn’t tell the men, and she never once allowed you to feel the way you had felt way back when she’d first found you. And she had succeeded.

Until now.

“We’re not going to kill you.” The man finished once more.

Sighing, you leaned down to pick up your belongings, “Well, okay then. Guess I’ll be going-“

You stilled when you heard a familiar voice and then a gentle laugh causing a twinge in your chest. Your eyes narrowed, not believing what you could hear when you, alongside the two other people, swiftly turned to face the direction of the sound as it grew louder. Watching as two women emerged, you straightened as your mouth dropped in shock.

“Oh my god.”

You gasped and the two women stared in your direction, a hand moving to cover her mouth in surprise.

“Y/N?”

You nearly collapsed with relief. It was her. Forgetting about the belongings beside you, you ran up to the familiar face as she did the same; the both of you clinging to each other in fear of letting go lest you lose each other again.

“God, Rosita. I can’t believe it’s you.”

You choked out, wrapping your arms around her waist as she brought you closer to her, frantic words falling from her lips.

“It’s you. You’re here. Mi preciosa hermana.” She slipped into her Spanish dialect as you did your Punjabi dialect.

“Jai Bhagwan. I tried to tell you. I-I left a message on the board-“

You tried to explain but were interrupted by Rosita placing her hands on either side of your face.

“I know. I saw, y/n. I saw. I was so worried when I saw the Terminus message. It’s not a good place. We had to destroy it. It doesn’t even matter now because you’re here and I’ve found you.”

You both hugged each other again until finally parting, arms still around each other’s waist as you stared back at the three people staring at you.

“Can someone explain what is going on?” The woman who was with Rosita asked.

“Y/N. This is Tara, Glenn and Michonne. Guys, this is y/n. My sister.”

✧── ･｡ﾟ★: *.✦ .* :★. ───✧

“I’m sorry you couldn’t find him, y/n. I know how much you wanted to believe that your brother was alive.”

Rosita said, gently rubbing your back. The two of you, alongside the three other people, walked through the forest, leading you back to their group.

When you noticed the group of men, women, and a baby, their chatter ceased as they stared at you. You started to feel unease at their glares until your eyes fell upon two familiar men.

“Holy shit, well, I’ll be.”

“Hi, Big Red.”

You smiled softly as Abraham practically picked you up and hugged you close.

“You had us so worried. I’m glad to see you’re okay.”

“You too, Abe.”

You then turned your focus to the other male and extended a closed fist, laughing when the man shook it instead.

“Same old Eugene. Good to see, you big nerd.”

Now that reunions had passed, another man, whom you assumed to be the head of the group, approached you and looked at Michonne in question. She quickly explained who you were and he then started to speak.

“I’m going to ask you some questions. It’s in your best interest to answer them honestly. How many walkers have you killed?”

“More than I care to remember.”

“How many people have you killed?”

“Rick, she-“

Rosita attempted to come to your defence but stopped when you put your hand out.

“It’s okay. Two. Two people.”

You could feel Rosita’s surprise behind you; she was only aware of one.

“Why?”

“The first one hurt me and tried to hurt my family. The second was recently. He tried to hurt someone I cared about and someone she was protecting.”

You saw Rick glance back over at Michonne and she must have given her seal of approval because he looked back at you and nodded.

“Okay, you can stay with us. We don’t have much but we protect each other.”

“Good enough for me. Besides,” you pulled out some water bottles from your backpack, “I have some necessities.” You handed out the bottles to the group.

Looking over your shoulder at Rosita, you smiled, “I remembered your decontamination skill.”

“Y/N?”

Everyone’s head turned to face some trees where two people emerged.

“Oh my god, Noah! Carol! It’s so good to see you.” You walked up to the both of them and hugged them.

You hadn’t seen them since the hospital fiasco and weren’t sure what had happened to them.

“You too.”

“Yeah, you had us so worried.”

“Seems to be the running theme of the day.”

“How do you know each other?” A man you learned to be Daryl asked.

“Y/N saved me when I was at that hospital.”

“Wait, you were there?” A southern brunette asked, whose name you had yet to learn.

“Y/N, that’s Maggie.” Noah told you and tears filled your eyes at the mention of your dead friend’s sister.

“Oh my, of course. And this is Rick Grimes’ group. Beth told me all about you, Maggie. I’m so sorry. It broke me when I heard what Dawn did. Beth was the one I killed for recently. Some guy tried to come after her and Carol whilst we were at the hospital but I managed to get the upper hand and kill him. But I’m so sorry about Beth.” You explained.

“Here.” You unzipped your backpack again and took out a few polaroids and a bracelet.

“We found a camera somewhere and took these photos. And Beth, she made this and told me to hang onto it but I’d know she’d want you to have it.”

You placed the bracelet around Maggie’s wrist as she looked at the photos of you and Beth laughing. At least for a moment, she was happy before she died which Maggie expressed her gratitude for.

After a few moments of silence, Carol spoke, “Noah and I found a barn hidden in the woods. That’s what we came back to tell you. We should go before it gets dark.”

✧── ･｡ﾟ★: *.✦ .* :★. ───✧

You had all settled in for the night, the sounds of crickets chirping filling the air.

Everyone had fallen asleep, aside from you and two others keeping watch. You were having trouble sleeping and rested your head against your knees. You lifted your head, however, when you felt movement beside you.

Amidst the dark, you were able to make out Rosita’s form as she moved to sit next to you, pulling your blanket so it covered her too.

“You okay, honey?”

“It’s just weird. I’ve been alone for so long and now I’m surrounded by people. It’s the first night in a long time where I can actually sleep without worrying but I just can’t.”

“Can’t sleep or can’t stop worrying?” She asked quietly, careful not to wake anyone else up.

“Both. I don’t know how to explain it.”

“It’s okay, mi vida. It’s okay.”

She shushed you as she gently moved you both so you were laying down on the floor.

She wrapped her arms around you and cuddled you into her chest.

“I got you. I promise you won’t be alone anymore.”

You relaxed your breathing and unclenched your shoulders, calmly sighing at the embrace and closed your eyes.

You were okay.

You weren’t alone anymore.

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kny111 · 4 years

Text

I’m Living Under Government Watchlist for doing ProBlack + BLM work

I’m not sure many of you know this and with what I’ve seen I doubt this will get attention considering how deeply sabotaged tumblr has become. But I’ve been doing activism for about as long as we’ve been yelling things like “HandsOffAssattaShakur“ to protesting what I thought was religious corruption when we did so against scientology to #OccupyWallstreet. I’ve been protesting and doing activism online and offline depending on my mental and physical health which has limited me as time goes by. It’s finally got me burnt out, not from the protesting and activism, but from those whose job in the past and present been to sabotage and destabilize Black lead/ Poc led movements. I’m in a continuation of this. Don’t let my lack of energy in speaking out fool you into thinking I gave up. I have just gotten worn out by them.

The things they’ve done to my mind and body while in this area since moving. They’ve been surveilling me since before I could even remember. Every single day that goes by they’ll have some way of making their presence on my health in a debilitating way. They’ll mess with the internet, phone, my contacts, infiltrate them, infiltrate my family, they’ve messed with the job search process and made difficult for me to enter any job without said job making some offhanded comments showing their solidarity to the corrupted country I protest. They’ve had people I trusted right here on tumblr infiltrated my circles of friends and myself and make it very well known that they feel beyond reproach.

This has all been in coordination with the NYPD and other government agents of defense. They’ll make themselves present in just about any space I try to go. From the forest, parks, to just a simple walks outside. I basically was lead into an area of Manhattan that is mad pro-cop, pro-surveillence capitalism, pro-militarized. Any time I make blog posts or whatever that don’t put em in a good light I get some kind of mental or physical health debilitating action against me like they’ll have mad loud noises at timed intervals like what the agent upstairs does all the time which messes with my breathing due to social anxiety and depression. They’ve had cars roll dangerously close to me, whether im biking or not. They’ll have people walk mad close to me during social distancing measures. I know it be them because they tend to use sensitive information they got through surveillancing me all day and night. Like fam I could be trying to take a piss in peace at like 3am and they’ll still be bumping away and making all types of sound to give the impression that they’re always watching. And they are. And I think the fact that those UFO/UAP objects appeared on my 17th (11/10/2004) birthday added to their obsession with me. The other fact that I ended painting a similar craft under the context of destroying colonialism I believe gave the government more understanding on what they’re really here about. I think that being the end of these oppressive regimes that have made so much out of us. I don’t want to sound superstitious but since then I’ve felt a connection with those UAPs that I only learned to name recently. I no longer think it’s coincidental that about a month or so AFTER I painted those native, queer sisters dancing to bring forth help from their future descendants, the navy posts those videos of the UAP that become well known. They’ve never done that, and yet just a few weeks after I painted this, not only does the gallery I exhibited this in Harlem catches fire unexpectedly, but these things become a topic of discussion in ways we’ve never seen before. I think them UAPs are here for our freedom. But that’s for another post. Too much to unpack into this. I’m just letting yall know what they know of me. So now imagine. This nigga aka me, tied to UFO, fortelling the future (I know what I sound like, but believe me, I can definitely tell the future) AAAND fighting for black lives? Of course they gone be on my ass like a probe. In fact, I think one night they even broke into our apartment (not the first time they do so) and did things against my will as I slept since I woke up feeling violated. Waking up with strange markings and having objects in the crib go missing. But I’ll leave that there. There’s so little ya’ll know about what they’re doing to BLM activists. So much I’ve omitted from here for my own sanity and to process things. This has caused my body a lot of debilitating stress down to my breathing having been shortened. I’m lucky if I have the will power to eat more than 2 meals. I don’t even bike anymore. I can barely run anymore. I can barely speak like I used to anymore. They stole so much more from me than they’ll ever imagine. Even saying all this to yall, whomever listening, feels pointless. Why? because they’re very good at making it seem, even if and when it aint true, that your people don’t fuck with you no more except for those they deem acceptable. As you figured, this would have anyone under 24/7 watch. The government be lookin at me and them UAP and the lands and non government natives as a force they don’t wanna reckon with, so they’ve put a lot out to shrink me as they do to so many of us who choose to fight for the rest who can’t. And this has all been while trying to raises my baby Quinn with my partner. So we’re all dealing with the state and federal terrorists in one way or another. If they not trying physically fuck with me, they’ll be running psych warfare on me, shit thatll have me doubting myself despite the facts. Luckily a nigga still bout that scientific literacy so it’s helped me a lot in spotting them and trying to keep some semblance of a distance. But again because of what I’m tied to: bday 111, UAP/UFO, native resistance and the spirits of the land and those this country murdered for white supremacist ventures, predicting/ESP type of abilities on the daily while telling them how useless their surveillence capitalist tools are knowing we can do this has likely mad them other me, dehumanize me and made me feel less human. Since then I’ve noticed they’ve been limiting my posts and activities on just about any site that has favored white supremacy, neocolonialism and capitalism in some way or another. They’ll mess with my facebook feed, who my posts get seen by, they’ll mess with my IG, they’ll mess with my tumblr especially. Basically any way they can limit who I may say this to and wear me out from even speaking about this and bringing yall hope like that. And remember, the information that they share amongst themselves as surveillance capitalist is the same information hub/database that infiltrated white supremacists and antiblack/antibrown folks in governments tend to us and share with their own hateful ass people. With this in mind, I really think they look at me as some would be leader to those movements since I’m queer and nonbinary so not as easy to trick into the outdated oppresive politics they try to have me on. Since I haven’t shown interest in being with them in any real way and have stuck to my activism and abolishing these systems they’ve continue to in a way torture me. Through sounds, denial of physical services, or when I go out to eat in places that have ties to law enforcement or government agencies, they’ll mess with my food, just about anything you need they’ll fuck with. What would that do to you if you experienced that? Hence why my bloggin changed a bit, not as attached due to energy fatigue and their constant harrassment and obsession with me. Many times, even with the fact that I may be linked to those UAP in some special way I still be feelin like dyin to not be around em anymore.

To add to what I said on how corporate own websites like tumblr have joined them; After having spent a good amount of time blocking my posts and blaming their algorithm. From blocking drawings of normalizing fatness to pro LGBTQ and Black Lives Matter posts like the Eric Garner videos I uploaded. For a few months now I’ve noticed my scinerds blog has been inaccessible, in a way sabotaging my communication with yall. And they would fix my blog posts by limiting who sees my posts, so now most if not all of my posts on this website and few others have been. When I try to use it I’m not allowed, but I’m still able to reblog, so I’ve been reblogging there less science and more activism as a way to protest the racist, white supremacist of tumblr. Be they black or not, they still acting the same. I’m mostly posting this for a future people who understand me and believe me. I get the sense that this post will also be sabotaged or muted in some way. Thanks for reading, in case we don’t link.

#blm #black lives matter

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inevitably-johnlocked · 4 years

Note

Hi Steph, I feel a bit embarrassed but I also don't know who else I could tell this to... I've been feeling more isolated than ever before in my life. Not getting along with my dad, my brother and I don't speak, feeling like my friends only like me when everything is about them all the time, living alone, work just takes advantage of me, etc. I'm currently working really hard to change my life, which includes downsizing my living space and getting rid of 75% of stuff that I own. (ds 1/2)

But in doing this, I can't stop thinking about how much easier that would make committing suicide. I wouldn't leave much mess behind for people to clean up and I could get all my affairs in order first. I just... I don't know. I can't get it off my mind. I've struggled with suicidality on and off for almost a decade now and I'm just so exhausted... I don't see the point in trying anymore. Thank you for listening and I hope you're having a good day otherwise. 💕 (ds 2/2)

Hey Nonny *BIG HUGS*

First of all, I just want to say, I’m not a professional, but I really do think you need talk with one. Please. Because I’m worried for you and they can help you sort through your brain. I know, I don’t practice what I preach, which is why you can only take my words as anecdotes I use to help y’all feel more relatable, and let you know the things I’m doing wrong so that YOU can do them right.

So that said: I know how it feels; I’ve struggled with suicidal thoughts here and there since I was 10, and there was a point in my life after dad died that it got very difficult and hard and everything was crashing around me. I felt stagnant in my job, and my life, and just existing, wondering if it was worth it. And again this past winter it hit me bad when everything piled up (the fraud, the theft, the write-off accident, the slip-and-fall, the insurance issues, the loss of my phone, the annoyance about not feeling respected at my job...) all in a 2 week span, during time off I was looking forward to because I hadn’t had time off since April 2019 (I still consider this the case, since Christmas was a bust), in the middle of the worst bout of seasonal depression I’ve ever had.

It’s very tough to move on from stressful life events when you have mental health issues; it makes packing away our lives feel as pointless as continuing on after a catastrophic couple weeks.

And I know it’s different for everyone, but Nonny, I promise you, even just talking with my best friends has done wonders. I do need to talk to a therapist, but the ones available to us at my job are all booked up and take people on a minimal basis, so it’s been hard to also be now locked up and looking forward to a summer I can’t really enjoy. I can still go out for walks, but the fun of my walks was walking 10 km to the specialty doughnut shop, and then eating it on the bus ride home, or walking 5 km to the Sunday Market, have a little brunch at the shops there, and walk home. I feel I can’t do that kind of distance now because I need to be close to home so I can run to the bathroom if I need to (on those long walks, I would stop in at a Timmies or something for a break and continue on. My bladder isn’t what it used to be). ANYWAY, this point of me telling this story was because I love summer, and I’m trying my best and making do with the situation. I try to get out and do things I enjoy, just in different ways until All This™ is over.

And let me tell you: It’s worth living. This is why I wait until I’m in a good headspace to answer asks like this, Nonny, because I said that without hesitation. Because it really is. I MAKE things that I’m looking forward to so I can carry on, even during All This™. I bought new games, I’m looking forward to spending my weekend playing them. I’m looking forward to the weekend so I can go spend it outdoors. I’m looking forward to getting a home instead of a shit apartment, and possibly getting a cat, so I have someone else’s life I need to ensure is safe – to give myself a purpose. I’m looking forward to eventually see my sister again, and go on holidays with her. That was our summer plan, but obviously it had to be pushed back.

So, Nonny, you need to find out what you’re looking forward to, no matter how big or small: seeing your friends, your favourite artist’s new album, a movie coming out, going to the zoo, Christmas, whatever your fancy. And keep making yourself little things to keep moving on.

Because it’s worth it, Nonny. It really truly is. And this is coming from someone who has a lot of Dark Days and Demons that perpetually keep me in a negative mindspace. But it’s taken me years to realize I need help, and when I’m able, I’m going to.

And finally, Nonny:

741741 Suicide Helpline / Texting Crisis Service

7Cups Online Emotional Support Therapists

National Suicide Prevention Lifeline (USA)

Crisis Services Canada

Suicide SupportLine (UK)

I know there’s a post going around that I thought I reblogged, but these should get you started. I’m sure that if you called any of the National lines, they will most DEFINITELY have your country’s helpline if you’re not from US, Canada, or UK (sorry, a lot of my audience is from either of these three so these were my first picks).

AND, if you think no one would care if you’re gone, I WOULD. WE ALL WOULD. Please, Nonny, I love you, and I care about you and I want you to know that it does get better. <3 Talk with your closest friends and family too. They will help you.

#steph replies #suicide cw #suicide tw #my advice #i'm not a professional #chatting with nonnies #helplines #Anonymous

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iampikachuhearmeroar · 4 years

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y’know i think the main reason that i believed that i couldn’t possibly have adhd (before it became a topic on here) is because some of the people i knew who definitely have it or possibly had it/have it are guys.

the first person i met with adhd was one of my guy friends in my group at public school, who had to give his meds to the office and go there at certain times during school to take them to help him focus throughout the day. he was the hyperactive type.

there was another guy friend in that group who had adhd as well, who always said his constant interrupting of our ancient history class and his needing the social worker who would come to class with him some days was because his having adhd. now if this friend talks to me he blames his adhd on why he hates everything in life and “why just why did i never try in school and you have to fix that for me” basically becomes the main gist of every convo with him.

also i think maybe a couple of guys at catholic school in high school had it too, but the school was much better at hiding it because we had a semi well supported special ed department; so sometimes those boys would head down there and not be in a mainstream class. but if they were in a mainstream class a lot of the time they weren’t in my classes (especially in english) but instead in the bottom class. but they were defs in my maths class because two guys (one of which i thought had absolutely nothing wrong with him but now i think he could’ve actually had adhd- but if i’d thought that in school i thought he was “faking it” somehow so he could be with his friend so he didn’t feel alone in class with a special ed teachers aide).

but somehow i managed to get through high school and uni... albeit falling out of postgrad. although i don’t exactly help pay bills at home (because my dad excuses me from doing it by saying to “save your money” even though i feel like i should be paying at least some form of rent or helping with the bills) i still do buy my own groceries and stuff at the chemist. but sometimes i go overboard with buying shit on afterpay, mostly in the form of impulse buying clothes.... and i was doing this frequently during undergrad uni and postgrad... as if the clothes would fill a hole in me or something and especially after turning in an assignment and when i’d received the assignment back. it got pretty out of control. like once i spent $150 on a vibrator and during on campus uni i was spending like $150 some pay weeks on clothes i didn’t really need except to show off on campus. and this was BEFORE afterpay and other “buy now, pay later” programs were a thing. like wtf did i need to spend $150 on a fucking asos brand trench coat???? ridiculous.

it was the same with tumblr. i remember once throwing a fit because the internet wasn’t working or some shit so i couldn’t use tumblr for a few days. like how stupid is that??? i was even using tumblr during classes in uni, and that creative writing professor i had in 2017 called me out on that during one lesson... being all like “why on earth are you on social media during my class, gwladys?” and i glared at him bc tumblr was basically my entire social life. and i’ve written before about how engrossed i’d get in clearing out my blog archive and likes archive on here, that is do it until 3am without realising how time had really gone by. and it got to the point that i was doing this during my classes (both lectures and tutes) and in my breaks at uni. like it was BAD. that i couldn’t not think about it. i’d also obsess over notes as well, if i made my own posts (and i admit that i still do that).

there was also further back in 2012 and 2013 where i was so stupid jealous at the people who i considered to be “popular” at school would get 50 likes on just one status about something as pointless as “i’m making toast 🍞” or something as equally banal and pointless. so instead i got bitter and started “an experiment” where i’d study who was online and how many people were online at a certain time of day (like 8am before school, 1pm while we were at school, 6pm at dinner and then like 10pm at night before bed) and post my statuses then to see how likes i’d yield on those posts and if it got close to 20-50 likes over the multiple posts. sometimes i was lucky to get to like 10-15 likes on one status at once, and those posts made me feels vaguely successful. finally, sometimes i’d post the same status posts on here to see which social media platform would give me better results. like it was super weird.

then even further back in year 10 i got fixated on getting over the “liked pages limit” on facebook which was somewhere around like 5,000 or something. so i’d spend hours upon hours on end liking pages.... some of which i deeply regret liking when they pop up in my feed for the first time in like 10 years 😂😂😂 then sometimes my friends would post on my wall to be like “DUDE HOW THE HELL DID YOU LIKE *enter stupid fb page title here* AND 645 OTHER PAGES????!!!!” THEN as far back as year 8, i obsessed over the word count (until i finally found it was about maybe 1200 words??) on one of my best friends myspace forum pages where i’d post really fucking weird messages to her sometimes about my week and stuff, when she went overseas for 5months.... and then i turned the word count cut off thing into a competition with my other best friend bc she couldn’t figure it out and i refused to tell her the word limit 😂.

i also did the above with texts on my phone as well, and especially with my web slider phone; because that would constantly conk out when i’d write like 20page messages to my friends. i’d throw it against my bedroom wall and cry when it decided to conk our during those absolutely stupidly long messages. looking back, i don’t blame it for doing that when the phones memory was literally only like 2gb (😂😂) and i’m sure a 20page message would take up like 645 megabytes of that lmao (ok probs not but you get my point lmao). like i basically had zero filter and would write novel length messages to people.... which i still do tbh based on who i’m talking to. i just don’t know when to shut the fuck up. and that’s the same on here lmao.

anyway. this is just another musing on how maybe i could have adhd and i’m not self-diagnosing at all. but it’s stemmed from going through my posts again and people saying that i should probs get tested for adhd bc my behaviour possibly sounds like adhd in girls/women. but the problem is i’ve only ever known guys with it.

anyway don’t reblog this please and i’ll probably delete this post soon.

i just needed to vent again.

#life #about me #shut up ilona #ilona actually shares her life with her followers for once lol #ilona’s catholic school memories

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merakiaes · 4 years

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hi, as you already know, one of your myriads of fans here. so i was wondering what would be steps to take, in your opinion, to start writing imagines/fanfics? Reading your stories makes me wanna take part in this amazing creative world, but i have no idea where to start:) i have some ideas to write, but what would be the things to consider? thank you and much respect and love♡

Oh, wow, that’s a tough question😂 I don’t think there’s anything to do other than just start🤷🏻‍♀️ You have to get your work out there and awaken the interest in order to get followers and more requests, so you should definitely go for it and write the ideas you have. There are things that make one-shots more appealing though so I’m going to try to list them down below.

- Having a nice aesthetic is probably the most important part to ME as a reader. If the post looks messy, chances are high that I won’t read it, no matter how good the fic actually is😅 A nice aesthetic can include a neat foreword section, like I write “pairing”, “requested”, “prompts”, “warnings/notes”, “wordcount” and “summary” before every fic, for example. It gives the post a certain structure. Using a gif of the character you’re writing for is also really important in my opinion. It makes it look more structured, aesthetically pleasing, and inviting. ALWAYS remember to credit the gif-owner if you know who they are, though.

- Paragraphing is BY FAR the most important thing, and that’s just when it comes to writing in general. Some people might not care but I know many people, me included, who just turn back around and go “nope” at the sight of a fic/one-shot where there is no paragraphing. It gives off a very messy vibe and makes my head hurt seeing as you have to concentrate a lot because it’s so hard to keep track of where you are in the text. I know things like that aren’t easy at the beginning for some, it wasn’t for me either, but it’s something that needs to be said so that people know what to practice.

- Insert the “read more” link after a few paragraphs so that your one-shot doesn’t take up the entire searching feed. There will be lots of people who will want to read your fic but there will also always be people who aren’t tempted and in cases like that, it’s annoying to have to scroll for your life to get to the next one.

- TAGS are the most important thing because it’s them that are going to get you promoted in the first place. Some people search for “imagine” while others search for “x reader” so I always make sure to tag the character’s every name/nickname with both “imagine”, “x reader”, “one-shot” and “fanfic” to really get my fic out there, and also the show’s name with all of the above. To further understand what I mean, check out the tags on one of my fics. DON’T tag characters that are not included in the fics with the “imagine”, “x reader” and “one-shot” tags. You’ll get a lot of haters real quick.

- Write in a word document on your computer, NOT directly on Tumblr. I’ve lost count of how many times I wrote oneshots directly on my Tumblr only to accidentally reload the page and lose everything and have to write it all again. It’s really heartbreaking when it happens and it is so time-consuming and not worth the risk.

- Not a must, but I find it easier to put out longer, more filled-out fics by writing the dialogue first and then filling in time and place, etc. If you ever find yourself with writer’s block, try this!

- Also not a must, but I find that this has helped me A LOT on Tumblr. Download the plugin “Grammarly” from www.grammarly.com. The free version doesn’t allow you all properties but it does provide you with the most important one; spelling and grammar correction. I’ve used the free version for the past 6 months now and it’s a great help when you don’t have time to fully and carefully read through your fics. Sometimes it will show the wrong things though so keep an eye out for that. It doesn’t fix all mistakes but it usually takes care of the bigger ones.

- I don’t know how you work as a person but I, myself, get really stressed out if I answer the requests, promising to write them, BEFORE I write them. Knowing that I’ve made a promise and that someone is waiting for me to post their request really pressures me and gives me unnecessary stress. To avoid this, I usually answer the request AFTER I’ve posted the one-shot. That way, I can also link the one-shot in the request so that the requestor, if anonymous, can easier find their way back.

On My Block is a fandom that’s pretty active now after Season 3 so I have no doubt in my mind that you could get requests immediately if you posted a post saying that you’re open for requests. Just specify which characters you’ll be writing for and tag all of said characters with the tags I mentioned above and I guarantee you that you’ll get requests.

If you ever decide to write for other fandoms too, it’s important to remember not to get discouraged when you don’t get much feedback on fics that are in smaller, less popular fandoms. For example, I’ve written a few one-shots for the tv-show Grimm and that’s an extremely small fandom so as you can guess, I didn’t get much acknowledgment for it. It will, naturally, be discouraging seeing as a lot of thought and time is put into the fics, but at the same time it’s only logical.

It’s also important that you know that it’s okay to set boundaries. As a fanfic writer, you provide people with alternate endings and scenarios to their favorite shows, you take time out of your spare time and put a lot of thought and energy to give them entertainment pretty much on demand and for free. Some people don’t understand that fanfiction is a privilege and not a right and will get really whiny/grumpy about the fact that you might be taking a long time to post their request. In that kind of scenario, you have the right to put down your foot and tell them off. It doesn’t make you a bad guy but rather on the contrary, you speak and stand up for all fanfic writers.

While we’re speaking of boundaries, it’s also completely fine that you make a little disclaimer saying that you would appreciate more feedback if you notice that you’re not getting any. The number of likes and reblogs/comments are always going to be uneven but sometimes readers need a little reminder that comments are appreciated, and asking for them doesn’t make you a bad person or anything like that. It’s only natural to want to get acknowledged for your art and if you ever feel like you’re not getting the attention that you deserve, point it out. Fanfic readers are really understanding and appreciative, sometimes they just forget to leave behind a comment <3

I make the mistake really often to force myself into writing even though I shouldn’t. For example, I could have a headache, be sick, tired, or just not feel like it and not have inspiration/motivation to do it. I tend to push myself into writing despite all this and take my word for it that you shouldn’t. I put waaaay too much pressure on myself and by doing that, I usually tend to grow tired of fandoms real quick so that I get left with a lot of unfinished requests that I in any other case would have loved to write, which sucks.

So don’t push yourself. If you don’t feel like writing, don’t. If writing starts feeling more like a burden and a job than a joyful experience, you’re doing it wrong.

There will also be requests that you simply don’t feel interested in, and at those times it’s really important to remember that you have no obligation to write them and that it’s alright to delete them/say no. Again, writing things that you don’t want to will make it feel like a burden and that’s not how it’s supposed to be. Writing is always supposed to feel fun and good, or you’ll burn yourself out pretty quickly.

Every writer has their proud moments and their less proud moments. If you write a fic that you’re really happy and proud of, brag about it! Lift yourself up and other people will jump on the train! And if, in a worst-case scenario, you don’t feel happy with the outcome at all, it’s okay. We all have fics that we love and hate, but just know that from a reader’s perspective, everything you do and put out is going to be greatly appreciated.

Every writer starts off somewhere so don’t be too discouraged if it goes slowly to a start. I hope my pointers are to some help even though I mostly rambled about pointless stuff😂 If you ever need help with anything or if you have more questions, my inbox is always open. I look forward to reading what you have planned, good luck!💕

#ask #advice

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ckret2 · 5 years

Text

Three Eggs in a Cold Volcano

Rodan didn't expect Ghidorah to follow him home. Just one in a long list of things he didn't expect them to do. And the longer Ghidorah watches Rodan recover, the more time Rodan has to think about how odd they are—and try to figure out why it is that he and they are so different from each other. (But then, nobody has bothered to tell Rodan that Ghidorah isn't another member of his species—much less that they’re alien.)

This is part of an ongoing series of Rodorah one-shots. If you haven’t read the others, here’s all the context you need: Ghidorah yielded to Godzilla in order to go help the injured Rodan; Rodan thinks Ghidorah is a member of his species because he’s never seen another Rodan before and figures Ghidorah is close enough; and fics from Rodan's perspective call him "Nido" because members of his species name themselves after their home volcanoes, and his is El Nido del Demonio. Links to the other fics are in the source at the bottom of this post.

###

Nido was confused. Not unhappy, but confused.

He'd spent most of the last few days asleep. Half submerged in his volcano, exhausted, letting the crumbled dust he'd used to temporarily scab over his chest wound dissolve to be replaced by volcanic rock.

And the whole time, there had been the golden one. Sometimes sleeping, sometimes exploring the island below, sometimes circling the volcano and fussing at the little creatures around it. But usually watching. Perched just outside the volcano, clinging to the rim instead of climbing in. Patient while Nido recovered from the damage caused when Infant had paralyzed him. The only reason Nido had gotten paralyzed in the first place was to give the golden one a shot at winning his fight, only for the golden one to surrender. It honestly stung for his injury to be rendered pointless; but then, the golden one had surrendered because Nido had gotten injured, which was...

Hm.

Which was something.

Nido wasn't sure what it was yet, but it was something. It embarrassed him; but it also made him feel valuable.

Being constantly watched was odd. Nido felt like he should be doing something. Performing, maybe. Flying in loops and spirals, maybe showing off how many trees he could blow over at once. Demonstrating how sharp his talons and beak were. Not wallowing in his nest, tired and sore, trying to remember to stretch his wings every once in a while as his wound healed and the last of Infant's venom worked its way out of his system. But the golden one didn't seem to be irritated or bored. He didn't try to nudge Nido into doing more. He just watched.

And Nido didn't know what to make of that.

When he'd pledged himself to the golden one, he'd expected that would mean following him wherever he wanted to go. Instead, by now the golden one had spent more time following him. Even with Nido's injury, he never would have expected the golden one to wait for Nido to fly back to his own home, much less politely follow along. He would have expected the golden one to either abandon him for no longer being the lean mean fighting machine he'd been when they met, or insist that they go to wherever the golden one's nest was to recuperate.

This permissiveness the golden one had offered him wasn’t a bad thing. Nido was grateful that he'd gotten to recover in his own nest, in lava that smelled like his skin and on an island whose coast was as familiar to him as his own name. But it struck him as very strange that the golden one hadn't taken Nido to his volcano.

What did it mean that he hadn't?

Was it because he cared that Nido got to recover in his own lava, even at the cost of getting to go to his own home? Did he think Nido was worth the investment—that the added strength Nido would gain from getting to recover in his own volcano made up for the time the golden one lost defending his own territory? Or was he watching over Nido to be kind, as a thank you for fighting on his behalf, but wanted to make it clear that he no longer liked him enough to take him home? Or—was it because they couldn't go to the golden one's volcano? Was there something wrong with it? Had his volcano been destroyed? Or gone cold?

What if his volcano had gone cold?

When the golden one wasn't watching Nido, Nido was watching him—crawling around the island on all fours like his wings were legs, blunt snouts sniffing at irregularities in the dried lava that had rolled out when Nido woke up. The more Nido looked at him, the more strange he seemed. And he wondered if that could be caused by a cold volcano.

There was the fact that he had three heads, of course—the most obvious oddity. Nido had heard of eggs having two yolks, but usually that meant two hatchlings—and usually at least one of them dead. It didn't mean two heads. Certainly not three. Maybe yolks could fuse together for warmth if a volcano was going cold? Or maybe there had been three eggs at the start, but they'd been put together in one volcano (something Nido knew you should never do) and when the magma had melted the shells, the flaplings had fused together—but the strain of incubating three had killed the volcano?

Certainly, a cold volcano would explain why the golden one didn't have a normal layer of rock for armor. His skin must be so thin, made of little plates of gold as it was. Nido wondered if he himself would be golden too if he didn't have a living volcano to bathe in. The golden one's wings were so skinny that, when the sunlight was behind him, Nido could almost see through them. With no real armor, dI'd it hurt for him to be touched? It hurt for Nido just to have a bit of rock scraped off, never mind imagining if he had no rock at all.

Perhaps a cold volcano would even explain why the golden one didn't seem to burn like he should. As thin as his skin was, Nido should be able to see his fire blazing in him at all times, the magma coursing through his body. But there was none. And although Nido had only been touched by him a couple of times, it was enough to tell how cold he was. Had he gone cold along with his volcano? Was he all hardened stone on the inside instead of the outside? Was it possible to live without fire? Was that why he had lightning instead, thin wheezes of a weaker fire that was just enough to keep him alive but didn't constantly blaze?

And yet, for all the golden one's weaknesses, his thin skin and stone blood and egg mutations—he still towered over Nido. He still kicked up winds like Nido could never dream of. He still completely wrecked Nido in combat—completely wrecked everyone in combat. His battle prowess was even more impressive considering the disadvantages he must have overcome to develop it.

If the golden one wanted to live in Nido's volcano, he'd let him. It was tragic that he'd had to live in the cold so long without a proper home. And if they curled up close, there was room in the caldera for two.

When the golden one returned from frightening off a flock of those annoying little silver birds with high whining cries that seemed to be everywhere these days, Nido pulled himself up to the rim and said, "Come in. My volcano is your volcano."

Most of the time, he found that speech wasn't necessary. He lived alone, after all; and he was the only one of his kind. So he was fairly sure that this was the very first time he'd said something to the golden one, rather than cawing and calling to him—sounds with meanings but without definitions. And yet, when the golden one looked at him with eyes that didn't change, completely uncomprehending—so blank it was as if he didn't realize there was anything to comprehend—somehow, Nido wasn't surprised. Somehow, he'd known the golden one wouldn't understand.

He was so quiet, after all, for someone to whom Nido had given permission to command him. He only rarely made cries, and at that only ones that carried emotions rather than orders. He didn’t tell him what to do, but stared and waited for him to figure it out. At most, sometimes he gestured. Never caws that carried meanings, never words that carried definitions. Of course this lonely fighter without so much as a volcano didn't understand Nido. How long had it taken Nido himself to learn his own kind’s language from other species?

He'd understand eventually, Nido was sure. There were a million different ways for people to communicate, and they only needed to find one that they both understood. Nido would invite the golden one into his volcano then.

And someday, Nido wanted to see the dead volcano that the golden one had come from.

Someday, he wanted to learn his name.

###

(Replies/reblogs are welcome & encouraged! Check the “source” link below for my masterlist of Ghidorah-centric and Rodorah fics, as well as my AO3 and Ko-fi links.)

#rodan #ghidorah #king ghidorah #rodorah #godzilla #fanfic #my writing

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heart-eyes-kippen · 5 years

Text

Hello here’s a Becca x Kelly fic bc we need more content

(Sorry to my Andi Mack followers! This’ll probably be the only ‘the society’ fic I post on this account so feel free to skip this one.)

*AO3 link in the reblog*

*keep reading for the fic*

“I’m sorry,” said Kelly, hovering meekly by the foot of Becca’s hospital bed. “I thought someone told you.”

Becca let out a bitter sounding laugh. “Nope. No one. Gordie dropped by, but he lied to us apparently...”

Kelly smiled slightly, walking around and settling down on the edge of the bed. “He probably just didn’t want to stress either of you out with...you know...the whole childbirth thing.”

Becca nodded, but it seemed as though her mind was elsewhere at that moment. She kept looking between Kelly and the empty space beside her, biting her lip.

When she spoke, her voice was unusually soft.

“I’m scared,” she admitted, and Kelly’s world suddenly seemed to shatter. The realisation of what could happen to New Ham under their new lead hadn’t been an easy one for her, but somehow, looking sadly over at Becca, it hit her all over again like a pile of bricks.

“I know...me too.”

Becca, who had spent the past few days with her baby almost constantly, was now being told that Eden would have to live while Campbell was thriving with his new authority over The Gaurd. Becca, who had told Kelly a few weeks ago about knowing exactly what Campbell was capable of - always seeing it on his face when he spoke to her best friend, now had to watch as he controlled New Ham from behind closed doors. Becca, who despite all of her fears somehow managed to remain so strong, was now looking back at Kelly with tears welling in her eyes.

“So, Allie and Will...they-“

“No,” Kelly interrupted, not unkindly, “they’re making up stories about them. I know it. They haven’t even held a trial yet and people are already throwing things at her and Will on the street. I’ve tried to get through to Harry, but it's like...Gordie and I are the only ones who seem to realise something’s up. And...it’s hard to do things alone.”

Becca nodded, running a shaky hand through her hair. “You’re not alone,” she said after a moment, voice firm despite her tears.

Kelly looked hesitantly up at the girl then. Her hair was slightly unruly, her hands were fidgeting restlessly with the bed sheets and her brown eyes were fixated on the space between them.

She was beautiful. And maybe it was because of all the recent stress, or her stubborn denial of any sort of attraction towards girls, but Kelly hadn’t fully appreciated it before now.

Unfortunately - now happened to be the wrong time.

She directed her gaze from Becca to the dull looking hospital environment around her, darkening by the moment as the sun set outside. There were soft snores coming from the bed beside them - Sam had insisted on remaining close to Becca - but apart from that everything seemed eerily quiet in their area.

She heard a heavy sigh from beside her. “What are we going to do, Kelly?”

And looking over at Becca then, Kelly wanted nothing more than to have some sort of definite plan in taking Campbell down. She wanted to tell the girl that everything would okay, that she knew exactly what she was doing.

But she didn’t. No one in this town did. They were all a bunch of teenagers that had been forced to grow up within the span of months, and Kelly was no exception. She never would’ve counted on having to know how to insert an IV with no medical training, or having to help deliver a baby. She wished she didn’t have to wing everything, but truthfully, that’s all she’d been doing from the moment everyone in their town vanished.

These thoughts must’ve shown on her face because Becca’s expression fell slightly.

“I don’t know either,” she tried to assure, but her voice seemed strained. “I wish I did.”

Their eyes met for a moment, and Kelly had to look away before her thoughts could wander too far. Becca looked down at her hands for a moment, seeming hesitant all of a sudden.

“You can come sit here,” she murmured, gesturing to the space beside her.

So Kelly did.

And somehow, feeling the warmth of Becca’s arm pressed up against her own provided her with a sense of comfort she hadn’t even realised she needed so much until then.

Becca grabbed the blanket that was pooled at the end of the bed and threw it over them both, leaning her head gently on Kelly’s shoulder.

Kelly forgot how to breathe for a moment.

“We’ll figure it out,” Becca said quietly. “When I get out of here. Which is soon, right?”

Kelly laughed a little, looking fondly down at the other girl. “Yes. It’s soon. Tomorrow, even.”

“Thank god. Taking down a psychopath is so much more entertaining than being stuck in here.”

Kelly shook her head at that, unable to keep from smiling. “Dark,” she remarked.

“Everything about this place is,” came Becca’s response. “Except for Sam, maybe. And you.”

Kelly pointedly ignored the way her heart skipped a beat at that.

“And Eden?” she asked, voice higher than she would’ve liked.

“That’s a given,” said Becca with a laugh, sending a glance over to where Eden had fallen asleep in the bassinet beside Sam’s bed.

Her gaze found Kelly’s again after that, and a soft smile came to her lips. “Thanks, by the way. For everything. I wouldn’t have gotten through any of this without you, and...I know I’ve probably been a bit of a bitch lately.”

“It’s fine,” Kelly assured. “You’ve been under a lot of stress.”

Becca smiled slightly at that. Silence fell for a moment. Kelly took a deep breath.

“You know...if Sam can’t help you with Eden for whatever reason, or if sometimes he can’t be with you...I don’t mind helping out.”

Becca contemplated the words for a few moments, before breaking out into a smile.

“Really? Wouldn’t it be annoying with everything else going on?”

“Nothing is too much of a hassle to help you,” Kelly responded, and she really hadn’t meant for those words to sound like a confession but god did they. She spent a few seconds after that having an internal panic, trying not to let it show on her face.

Becca seemed to notice too, because suddenly she was looking up at Kelly with wide eyes. “...Oh. Well thanks, that’s nice of you. I'll probably need all the help I can get.”

Silence again. Kelly’s stomach was filled to the brim with obnoxious little butterflies.

“So...you and Will?”

The question seemed slightly out of place given their circumstances, but somehow Kelly couldn’t bring herself to care. It felt like a whole different world inside that darkened hospital room, one far removed from the rest of New Ham.

“Just friends,” Kelly confirmed. “For a moment I thought there was something there, same with Harry, but for some reason...” she trailed off after that, biting lightly at her bottom lip.

She knew it would sound crazy to anyone else, but being this close to Becca somehow seemed to make her inhibitions disappear. Most of them, anyway.

“For some reason...?”

Kelly let out a breath. “For some reason...I like the idea of guys liking me, but then when actual stuff starts happening I just feel kind of...weirded out. You know? That’s normal, right?”

Becca went quiet.

Kelly continued, more desperate now, “and I guess I just feel like I have to...choose the guys I like...it doesn’t really come naturally. Do you get that too? Or am I just...”

Broken.

For Kelly’s whole life it had felt like she was incapable of liking anyone. She would always panic and feel as though she never quite felt the same way for her boyfriends as they felt for her, and it’s a thought that had been at the back of her mind constantly over the past few months.

“Kelly...I promise you’re not anything like that. Have you maybe considered that you don’t like boys? In that way, at least.”

Kelly hesitated for a moment, her gaze fixed firmly on her lap. “I have.”

Becca looked over at her, clearly expecting something further, but Kelly fell silent again.

“Okay...well, do you think it could be a possibility?”

Kelly bit her lip before giving a fearful little nod.

Becca shifted slightly, wrapping an arm around the girl’s shoulders. “That’s perfectly fine. You know that, right?”

“Yeah...I think so.”

Becca nodded, rubbing her thumb in small motions against the fabric of Kelly’s sweater as she thought about what to say.

“I um...I like both. If that helps at all. I used to only accept my feelings when they were for guys, but with everything that’s happened, it sort of feels pointless now. I mean - we get to decide what’s normal now, right? Why carry over something as useless as homophobia?”

Kelly laughed a little. “That’s true,” she agreed. “If we’re all going to live together then we might as well accept each other.”

“Exactly!”

There were both smiling now, looking anywhere but one another. Becca retracted her arm, and for a moment Kelly felt disappointed by the loss, but instead, she ended up taking Kelly’s hand and intertwining their fingers.

It was just an action - something friends did even, but it felt like more. It felt like a promise.

There were unspoken words and feelings there that frankly neither of them were ready to address, but at that moment, this was enough for Kelly.

Maybe if they were back home she would be scrolling through Becca’s Instagram with a blinding smile on her face, or working up the courage to talk to her between classes, or, if she somehow managed to work through her feelings, maybe she would even be kissing her.

Or maybe things wouldn’t have changed at all, and she would’ve continued dating boys and ignoring the part of her brain that seemed to take notice of Becca whenever it could.

All Kelly knew was that she was currently sat in some sort of parallel universe, holding hands with a girl she hadn’t been able to keep off her mind for years, and for a fleeting moment things didn’t seem so bad.

#becca x kelly #the society #my fics #grizzam

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blackberrywidow · 5 years

Text

Transcendental (i)

Pairing: Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

Words: 4.7k

Chapter Summary: Life goes on, even if you don’t want it to.

Warnings: Canon divergence, angst (!!!!), mentions of death and mourning. You’ll notice that this series will have a lot of ups and downs, but I promise it’ll even out in the next few chapters.

Author’s Note: So here’s the first actual chapter (be sure to find the prologue in the masterlist if you haven’t already)! Still mostly laying the ground work for the plot, but shit really starts happening next chapter. So there’s that. Please let me know what you think with a like/reblog/comment—I love hearing from you!

And as always, special thanks to @blackwidws for creating the banner for this series and just being perfection personified.

Series Masterlist

Chapter One

Then

You winced as a cornstalk whipped back to hit you in the square in the face, but you pushed on, panting and sweating. Your bare thighs were taking the brunt of the abuse, another stalk slicing into your skin as you shot past it, and you were once again reminded that running barefoot through a corn field in nothing but your underwear and an AC/DC t-shirt was a resoundingly bad idea. You were a superhero though, and you had faced worse than this. So you carried on, determined to not get caught.

But determination could only get you so far. You could hear him catching up to you, his feet pounding the ground at a much faster rate than yours. He had always been faster than you, you knew that, but you still cursed internally, careful to keep your ragged breathing as quiet as possible, even if it waspointless. You knew it was only a matter of time before—

“Gotcha!” was the last thing you heard before you felt the sting of webbing smack against your shoulder, and then you were flying backwards, directly into your pursuer’s chest.

Though you had anticipated this move, as it was unquestionably his favorite, you couldn’t contain the gasp that whooshed out of you at the contact. Nor could you repress the exhilarated giggle that burst out of you once you were back in his arms.

“You could have at least let me get a little farther,” you complained, mock pout forming on your lips as you tilted your head back to look up at him.

Peter only laughed, eyes twinkling the way they always did when he was happy. It made your heart swell just to see it, to know that you were the cause of it.

“I could have, but we both know your sense of direction is deeply flawed without AI assistance, so there’s no telling where you would have ended up if I had. And—wait,” Peter cut himself off, expression bemused as he glanced down for the first time since he found you, “are you not wearing pants?”

You raised a single eyebrow in challenge. “Does it look like I’m wearing pants?”

“No,” Peter said decidedly. “You are most definitely not wearing pants. What happened to your pants?”

Your mind instantly flashed to the bush you had fallen into after you had leapt over a fence post to get into the field. The thorns had bitten into your skin, but they had snared your shorts entirely, latching into the pocket and refusing to let go. In a moment of true wisdom, you had decided to cut your losses and shimmy out of the pants before continuing your sprint into the cornfield.

None of which you felt inclined to share with him, knowing he would just laugh at your expense, effectively ruining the tone you were attempting to set by instigating this little chase.

So, you shrugged noncommittally, and offered a half-truth as an explanation. “I was hot.”

Peter’s brows lifted in skepticism. “Uh huh. And you thought running into a cornfield was the best way to cool off?”

“I thought that running into a cornfield was the best way to get your attention,” you shot back, smirking when he laughed.

“Oh? And I thought dragging me all the way to Kansas to have a picnic in a field ‘just like in the movies’ was supposed to get my attention. I also thought it was supposed to be ‘peaceful, quiet, and with absolutely zero interruptions from global disasters and—wait for it—any form of physical exercise.’ And you know,” he continued, giving you a look when you opened your mouth to protest, “some would consider interrupting said picnic to take off running through a field as exercise.”

“Yes well, that was beforeyou decided to eat all the watermelon,” you defended, crossing your arms and narrowing your eyes in mock reproach. “You left me with no other option. It was either run away from my feelings or kill you, and you know I love you too much to do that.”

“But you’re allergic to watermelon,” Peter reminded you in exasperation. “Which is why I packed you the apple—the apple that you ate without complaint, by the way.”

“That… is beside the point,” you finished lamely, suddenly losing confidence once you were standing still and facing him once more. You considered taking off again, but judging by the look Peter was giving you, he knew it, and he had no intention of playing along this time. “And besides, I’m only mildly allergic to watermelon.”

He gave you an unimpressed look, and you knew that he was perilously close to ending your game.

“Come on, (Y/N),” Peter urged, giving you an encouraging smile. “Just tell me what all of this is about. What are youreally running from here?”

And there it was. The game of cat and mouse was effectively over.

“What do you mean?” you asked, trying to dodge the issue even as your grip on his arms tightened.

You wanted this—you knew you did. But you also knew that the thought of ruining this thing—this genuine bit of happiness that you had found—was terrifying.

“You know what I mean,” Peter said, voice gentle and coaxing, still smiling at you like you were the most important thing in the world.

And suddenly you remembered why it was you were doing this.

You and Peter weren’t like other people your age. Most 20-year-olds were worried about finding a job or finishing college. But you were superheroes, and you put your lives on the line every single day. And every time you opened your eyes, you weren’t sure if that day would be your last.

But if there was one thing you were sure of, it was that you loved Peter and he loved you. So you decided that you had done enough stalling, and it was time to just go for it.

“Will you marry me?”

The stunned look on his face was the only indicator that the words had in fact left your mouth. It was also a solid indication that maybe you could have led up to that a little bit better. The Starks were known for their charming words and long-windedness, but they were also known for their impulsivity and bad decisions, so the chances of this going well for you were about 50-50. Of course, this would be one of the times it didn’t—

“Did you really just ask me to marry you, or is this some kind of watermelon-induced hallucination?”

Your mouth suddenly felt very dry, but you managed a sharp nod in affirmation. When he only continued to stare at you, wide-eyed and speechless, your brain decided to grace you with the ability to speak again. Which historically only made things worse for you.

“I did, uh… ask you to marry me. And I mean, I know we’re young. Some would say too young, but most people don’t have jobs that involve saving the world on a daily basis, so you know. Fuck what they think, I guess. Unless you’re worried about what other people think, which is understandable. I mean, it would be very public, because you know. I’m the heiress to one of the largest fortunes in the world. And the daughter of a superhero, who is also secretly a superhero. It kind of complicates things. But most things with us are complicated—well, things with Spider-Man and Siren are complicated, but things with Peter and (Y/N) never are, which is one of the things I love most about our relationship. And I love you, of course, and I know that I want to spend the rest of my life with you, no matter how short it may be. So I figure, why not get married now? Why wait for something that may never come when I’m sure about this? I mean, that’s assuming that you are—”

Peter, finally taking mercy on you, abruptly lurched forward, claiming your lips in a searing kiss that almost made you forget about how awful your previous ranting was. The kiss was slow and sweet, but brief as he was soon breaking away to stare at you with those heartbreakingly beautiful eyes.

“I love you,” he said, and your breath caught in your throat because no matter how many times he said it, it still always surprised you. “I love you, (Y/N) Stark, and I do want to spend the rest of my life with you. I was just surprised. I mean, it’s not every day the girl of your dreams proposes to you.”

You rolled your eyes in an attempt to hide your relief, but also because Peter was ridiculous. As always. “Don’t tell me you think it’s a man’s job to do the proposing.”

“Of course not.” Peter looked affronted, the sight enough to make you giggle and lean in closer to him despite the summer heat. He smiled down at you, pure adoration in his eyes. “But I do wish that I could have talked to your dads first—you know, to make sure that they don’t kill me. And I want to get you a ring, which could be a real problem on a full-time student’s salary. Though I could always sell a kidney… or state secrets. Whichever goes for more, I guess.”

You only laughed, bright and airy, shaking your head before sealing your lips over his again, watermelon mixing with apple in a delicious combination as he pulled you closer and deepened the kiss.

You pulled away several minutes later, breathing hard, and rested your forehead against his. Your lips were tingling, and you weren’t sure if it was an allergic reaction from the watermelon or just the usual affect that Peter had on you. Probably both, if you had to guess, but you ignored it.

“I don’t care about rings or big weddings or anything like that. All I want is you, Peter Parker. Well,” you amended, pulling back and glancing down when you felt something shift around your feet—likely a snake, “you, and to get the hell out of this cornfield. Probably the entire state of Kansas as well.”

“And some pants?” Peter suggested, following your line of sight to take in your bare legs.

You felt your cheeks warm, and you could only hope he would blame it on the heat. “Yeah, some pants might be nice too.”

“Alright then,” Peter said before scooping you up into his arms to carry you back across the field, much to your delight. “So, the to-do list is: me, leave the state of Kansas and find some pants, in that order. Oh, and then get married. I think we can manage that without too much trouble.”

“You better hope so,” you teased, smile so wide it almost hurt. “It only goes downhill from here baby. I’m a very needy person, you know.”

“Oh man, do I,” he sighed dramatically. “It’s a good thing you’re wealthy. To afford all of the medical expenses that come with carrying you on my shoulders for the next decade or so.”

Your laugher rang across the field, but you couldn’t be bothered to care. You couldn’t remember the last time you were so happy. “The next ten years? Think again Parker. You’re stuck with me for life now.”

Now

(Three years later)

It wasn’t raining, but you thought that it should be.

It always rained in the movies, after all. A group of mourners in black, umbrellas raised to block the rain even as tears fell from their eyes. The camera would zoom in on your expressionless face, cheeks dry as you watched them lower the casket in the ground. A single tear would slide down your cheek, and it would be over.

As it was, this wasn’t a movie and the sun was beating down on you and your father’s hand on your shoulder was uncomfortably warm. Your eyes weren’t dry, though you did your best to keep your face devoid of emotion otherwise. Your hands clenched at your side, aching for an umbrella—for somethingto hold onto. For a distraction.

They said Stark men were made of iron, but Stark women were made of stronger stuff. You had to be, if you were going to survive this.

The hand on your shoulder squeezed tighter as they lowered your husband into the ground.

A sob sounded close by. You thought it may have been you, but you couldn’t be sure of anything as you watched the casket that held what was left of Peter Parker disappear from view. You didn’t think you’d be sure of anything again.

There had been a time where you were sure you would spend the rest of your life with Peter, after all. But there had also been a time when you were sure your father, Tony, would live to see you have children, to see you take over the family business, to simply be there. And well… Looking back now, you felt exceptionally naïve to have hoped for anything at all.

You wished it would rain, if only to drown everything else out.

…

“It was a nice ceremony. A lot of people… I’m sure he would have liked that.”

The comment was made lightly, searchingly. Empty words to fill a silence that cannot truly be filled. But empty words were never really Steve Rogers’s specialty, and they fell flat in the back of the limousine that was taking you back to the Tower.

Still, you nodded, the pain in Steve’s eyes pushing you to play along. To ignore the fact that Peter’s funeral was so large only because he was married to you, the Stark heiress. No one knew who he really was. No one knew that he had died a hero. No one but you and your father, and a handful of other superheroes who couldn’t attend the funeral without creating a stir.

It didn’t feel like enough.

“It was,” was all you said.

The car fell back into a careful silence, and with nothing better to do, you continued to stare at your father’s profile out of the corner of your vision. Keen eyes traced the hard edges of his face, the way his hair shown like gold when the light struck it just right. Sometimes you wished you could find a trace of yourself in his features, that you had a physical connection with him the way you had with your other father. That maybe there would still be someone on Earth that you actually shared blood with.

But Steve had been a father to you in every other way since he joined the team when you were 12, and you knew that he was all you had left now.

First Happy to the Mandarin ten years ago, then Aunt May to a heart attack two years ago, then Tony to his heroics last year, now… Peter. All gone to somewhere you couldn’t reach reach them. Steve was the only family you had left now, if one didn’t count Rhodey or Pepper, who both had thrown themselves into work after Tony’s death. You knew you were the only family he had left too.

It hurt to admit, but it didn’t feel like enough either.

“I…” Steve hesitated, eyes piercing through you in the way they always did. “I gotta say, I’m almost glad your father wasn’t here for this… Awful, isn’t it?”

Your eyes burned at the reminder, and you weren’t sure if you could agree or not.

Tony Stark, your biological father who had raised you ever since your mother left you at his doorstep over twenty-three years ago, had nearly a year ago now (10 months and 12 days if one wanted to be precise, but who was counting really?). He died a hero, as you always feared he would, saving the world from a madman who thought he could bring peace to the universe by destroying it.

He was fifty-two. He had been married to Steve for only three years after dancing around the idea for nine. He had been an outstanding father, and he had died alone.

But most importantly, he had loved both you and Peter fiercely, and it would kill him to see you like this now: widowed and heartbroken at twenty-three; his son-in-law dead because he didn’t know how to not be a hero. Just like Tony.

Perhaps Steve was right. Perhaps it was better this way. But still, you craved the comfort only Tony knew how to give you.

You wished for simpler times, if there ever was such a thing.

But what you said was, “A lot of things are awful. It hardly makes a difference anymore does it?”

“Of course it does.” He said it so quietly, you almost missed it, his jaw was clenching the way it always did when he was fighting off tears. And then he was clearing his throat, the way he always did before he gave you a speech. It was nice, you supposed, how some things never changed even when everything else crumbled around you.

“I… I’ve been trying to think…” he started, unsure in a way that he never was. It made you sit up straighter, coming out of your revere enough to give him your full attention. “What your father—what Tony would say. To make you feel better, to comfort you. To give you hope or love or—God, I don’t know, something to make this better. He was always so much better at comforting you than I was,” he let out a shaky laugh, and your eyes burned at the reminder. Steve had always been a comfort to you, but no one had ever loved you the way Tony did. “But I know that there isn’t anything I can do or say to fix this. That I—that neither of them are coming back, and the only thing to really do is accept that and move on.”

He cut himself off there, seemingly unsure of how to proceed, and you knew it wasn’t his fault but it hurt to think about carrying on after you had already lost so much. What more could you stand to survive? What more would it take to break you?

“Is that what you did?” you deflect instead of giving voice to your fearws, your tone mild and quiet in the backseat of the car. “Move on?”

Your father’s lips twitched up into a heartbreakingly sad smile, and it confirmed your thoughts before his words did. “No, I suppose not.”

You nodded, eyes shifting back to gaze out of the window once more. “I thought so.”

The remainder of the car ride was spent in silence.

…

A week passed by uneventfully.

That is to say that while things may have been taking place in the world outside of your small apartment, you were in no way a part of them.

Steve had begged you to move back to the tower, back home.You didn’t have the heart to tell him that without Peter or Tony, no place really felt like home anymore.

Tony had always told you that a home was a concept more than a place, something that you learned quickly when you were traveling constantly with him for the first 12 years of your life. It was a sentiment that only solidified once you found Peter. And now it meant nothing.

The one-bedroom apartment you currently resided in came the closest though. You and Peter had moved in not long after your engagement, despite Tony’s protests that you could find something a little bigger, a little closer to Manhattan, a little more comfortable. It was cheap and located in a questionable part of Queens, but it was yours and the two of you had been so proud that you had managed the deposits and rent all on your own.

It had been the place you called home for three years, but more importantly than that, it held a lot of memories for you. It’s where you and Peter shared your first night as husband and wife, something that seemed like forever ago even though it had only been two and a half years in reality. But it was also where you sequestered yourself after your father’s death not even two years later. It was where you were hiding once again.

You were aware that it wasn’t healthy, closing yourself off like this. But you had no reason to leave.

Without Tony and without Peter, you had no desire to be a part of the world that had used and abused them so.

There was Steve, of course, but he dealt with grief differently than you did. He had his missions and his avengers and his heroics to occupy his time, and though he called you every morning, you didn’t hear much from him. You assumed it was his way of giving you space.

Rhodey and Pepper were both consumed by their jobs as well, and you couldn’t fault them for it. Rhodey’s position in the military and Pepper’s place as CEO of your father’s—your—company were demanding, and they made time for you whenever they could. They were like an aunt and uncle to you, and they always would be, but things had been more… strained since Tony’s death. You suspected that was your fault as well.

And the Avengers, your team that had been your family since 2012, were scattered across the globe. Natasha called when she could, but she was undercover more often than not these days, and it was hard to stay in touch. Other than Steve, she was probably who you were closest with on the team.

Clint, Bucky, Sam, Thor, Bruce, Carol, Hope, Scott…. They were all still living their lives and fighting the good fight to keep the universe as peaceful as possible. You knew that true heroes couldn’t let the deaths of their friends and comrades hold them back. The world still needed them after all.

Which is how you knew you weren’t a hero, no matter how hard you tried to be like your dad. Like Peter.

This grief and guilt that weighed on your soul was just too heavy. After Tony had died, you had tried to carry on his legacy and become Iron Woman, leaving behind the Siren, along with her black suit and batons that she used to take down would-be rapists and murderers, to bear the weight of red and gold armor instead.

It had been difficult, but manageable with Peter’s support. You had always loved saving people after all, always wanted to be a hero.

But now you found that it was impossible to get out of bed in the morning, let alone worry about saving anyone else.

And that day was meant to be just like the rest: bleak, uneventful, unwanted.

But then you heard the creak of your window opening, and the shattering of a vase quickly followed by muffled cursing.

Your armor surrounded you in an instant, nanotech spreading across your body from the twin metal bracelets on your wrists. You weren’t sure what you were expecting to see when you carefully crept into your living room to investigate, but it certainly wasn’t… this.

“Uh… hey,” the boy in the black Spider-Man costume squeaked, before dropping his tone into a clearly false baritone. “I mean, hey. What’s up?”

You only blinked at him once behind the visor of your suit before letting it recede back into your bracelets. If he was surprised to see who you were, he didn’t show it. Which left just one question.

“Is this some kind of joke?” you ask, voice tightly controlled in an effort to keep the tears at bay.

That, at least, seemed to surprise him.

“No!” he rushed to explain, hands up in a placating gesture. “Of course not, I was, uh… I was told to come here. For help.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “Oh yeah? Help with what—fashion advice? And who exactly sent you here?”

The boy—and he most certainly was that, couldn’t be older than 14 based on his voice and stature— hesitated, indecision writ across every line of his body. But then he slowly removed his mask, revealing a mass of curly hair and dark, pleading eyes.

He really was young.

“It was your dad, Captain America I mean,” he explained, eyes lowered to the ground like he doesn’t know what else to say, but things are starting to piece together before your eyes. “He—he saw me scaling a wall in Brooklyn—a complete accident, not my fault. But uh, I told him that I wasn’t really sure what to do with… well, you know…”

“Your powers,” you answered, sparing him the embarrassment of saying it out loud. You could tell he was still struggling to admit it to himself, let alone someone else. “How long have you had them?”

“Just a little over a week,” he says, sounding almost relieved. “I got them the night…”

He doesn’t finish the sentence, but his meaning is clear.

The night your husband died.

You sucked in a surprised breath. “You know who he was?”

He shrugged, looking even more uncomfortable than he did before. “Yeah, the Captain—Captain America—he told me. About… uh, Spider-Man, and what he meant to him. To you. He said that you were the only person who could really help me with this. That you were the only one a-alive who… knows what it’s like.”

You purse your lips, and you want to curse your father for arranging this, but you can almost see his logic. No one knew what it was like to be Spider-Man better than you did—you had spent several years of your life in love with him after all. But you knew what being a superhero did to someone, especially when they were so young. And you wouldn’t play a part in ruining the life of a kid you didn’t even know.

“So you want to be a superhero then?” you ask, ready to tell him what it really meant and that if he were smart, that he would run away from this and never look back.

But he surprised you.

“No,” he says with conviction. “At least not… not now. I’ve got school and my parents and girls and a million other things to worry about. All I want is to know how to control this, so that I’m not sticking to every doorknob I touch or getting stuck on the ceiling every night.”

His tone implied that this had happened more than once, but you decided not to question it despite your curiosity. Instead, you ask, “And I imagine you got the suit from my father as well?”

He nods, a bit sheepishly. “Yeah, I’m… sorry, if it seems like it’s in like, poor taste or something. And that I uh… made some artistic changes. He just gave it to me and said it was mine if I ever decided I needed it, but I guess maybe I should have asked you first. It was just you know, Captain Americaand when he tells you something you just—”

“You do it,” you cut him off with a roll of your eyes. “Yeah, that’s what everyone says, but here’s your first lesson kid: sometimes the best thing you can do is ignore Captain America. Save yourself the pain.”

Your mouth quirked up into something resembling a smile when his mouth dropped open in shock. It felt odd on your face, but you were almost relieved that you could still do it. “So you don’t want to go into the super hero business, right? You just want someone to teach you the ropes so that you can function as a uh… Spider-Person?”

He blinks at you a couple times before nodding, either still in shock that you had dissed Captain America or that you were willing to help him.

“Alright then, we’ll start with the basics. What’s your name kid?”

“Miles,” he said after a beat of silence. “Miles Morales.”

“Nice to meet you Miles,” you respond, already thinking up training regimens and calculating dietary plans to compete with his increased metabolism, and the excitement that came with the sudden appearance of a purposesurprised you. But all you said was, “Let’s get started.”

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