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banannabethchase · 1 year

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After Mox is injured during the Hangman match, Wheeler has to use to use some of the powers he's hidden for years. He's not able to hide it from Mox, though, and the reaction is far from what he expected.

Me like 2 weeks ago: I hate writing noncanonical supernatural elements I suck at it and it's the worst I'll never do it again.

Me today: ?????!!!!?!?!???

Title from Sub-Radio's "King Of My Heart", which is so poppy and delightful it makes me happy dance. Prompt from @sarahcakes613 "Demon gf who makes people make a pact for every little thing." I - it technically works? The prompt ended up flipflopping a little weirdly, but I think I made it work.

Mini Playlist: King Of My Heart - Sub-Radio Like an Animal - The Donnas Motivate - Little Mix Animal - The Cab

Wheeler fidgets as he watches Mox in medical, getting checked out all over. He keeps asking, “What happened?” He looks panicked.

Wheeler thinks back to the ring, where he leaned in and did what he always said he never would.

“You can walk out of this ring,” Wheeler had said, using a muscle he hasn’t touched in years, stretching something he’d hoped to keep locked away.

“I can walk out of the ring,” Mox said, leaning on Wheeler. And he did. He walked out the ring.

But not because he really could.

Because Wheeler used his power on him.

They make it back to the hotel he’s sharing with Mox, and he’s able to stand now, for real. Without any outside force compelling him to do so. His eyes have cleared, his body more steady. It’s a sprain, somewhere in his knee, but it should heel soon, Doc had said.

“Babe, I’m fine,” Mox says, collapsing into bed with a smile. He looks cozy and calm in his sweatpants and hoodie, but it took a hell of a lot of help from Wheeler to get him showered and changed back in the arena. “I can, like, feel your stress. Come sit.”

Wheeler knows Mox can’t know what he’s done. No human would ever imagine this to be the reality of, well, everything, because demons are phenomenal at PR and, also, mindwipe powers. And verbal subconscious insistence, which is what Wheeler had done earlier that day.

Mox sits up, staring. “Did I say something when we were out there? Was I a dick?” He stares at Wheeler, concern in his eyes.

“I have to tell you something,” Wheeler says. He sits on the edge of Mox’s bed, but he can’t make himself meet Mox’s eyes.

“What’s up?” Wheeler can feel the way Mox’s eyes burn into the side of his face. “Hey, Wheels.” He puts a finger under Wheeler’s chin, turning his head so Wheeler has to look at him. It hurts. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

He has to say it, doesn’t he. “I’m a demon.”

Mox’s face collapses into a laugh. “Oh. Cute. Seriously, what’s going on.”

“I told you!” Wheeler says. “I’m a demon. I’ve been manipulating all of you.” He steps away from Mox’s touch. “I’ve been lying.”

“Wait, hold up.” Mox waves off Wheeler’s words. He gets closer to Wheeler, leg stretched out behind Wheeler’s back. “Are you alright? Like, are you okay right now?”

“I would be,” Wheeler grumbles, “if you believed me.”

Mox studies his face in that way of his, eyes locked and loaded, parsing through every thought that’s ever passed through Wheeler’s mind. “What the hell are you talking about, kid?”

It takes over an hour to convince him. Mox keeps interrupting, of course, to check if Wheeler’s having some sort of mental break or something, and he’s not. He’s just trying really hard to tell the man he loves that he himself isn’t a man at all, and Mox is convinced he’s lost his mind.

“A demon, though?” Mox asks. “You? Really? Come on. I’d guess that of, like, Bryan, or maybe MJF. But you?” He cups Wheeler’s cheek in his hand. “You’re the sweetest on the whole roster.”

“Demons can be good! We just have to work at it,” Wheeler replies, and he realizes very quickly that folding his arms across his body and pouting probably isn’t making his point. “You know how you got out of that ring today?”

“With your help, and Paul’s.”

Wheeler shook his head. “What did I say to you, right before you stood up?”

Mox frowns, searching. “Um. You told me…you said I could walk out of the ring.”

“And did it feel like how I normally talk?” Wheeler asks. He hates doing this. He hates having to sit here and watch someone learn that he’s been a fraud his whole life. He’s only done this once before. It was a mistake.

Mox’s face practically clouds over, and Wheeler knows that look. Mox is getting it. “It wasn’t,” he mutters. “I – I’d fallen over before that.”

Wheeler nods. “Your leg wasn’t working.”

Mox stares at him, comprehending, finally. “You made me walk out of there.”

Wheeler nods. “I did.” He waits for the inevitable. He waits for the reaction he’s gotten in the past.

He doesn’t get it.

“Holy shit, can we try that in bed?” Mox asks, looking positively gleeful. “I love that.”

“You what?!”

“You, making me do whatever you want…” He spaces out, clearly watching some vision of Wheeler he’s never seen before. “Oh, I like that.”

“Mox!” Wheeler has to straight up snap at him to get his head back on straight. “What – you like that I’m a demon?”

“I like you,” Mox says, shrugging. “And if you’re a demon and you can, like, get into my head during sex or, fuck, even matches! That just turns this to eleven, baby. I’ve got so many ideas.”

Wheeler flops back onto the bed, careful to miss Mox’s knee. “All this time,” he grumbles, “and you’ve just got a demon kink.”

“I’ve got a you kink,” Mox clarifies. “The fact that you’ve got demon powers or whatever just sweetens the deal.”

Wheeler rolls himself off the bed and onto the floor, where he lays, silent, for at least a full rerun of CSI that Mox talks through.

“Hey,” Mox says, striding into the kitchen like he hadn’t just gotten his knee taken out by an angry cowboy the previous week, “I got an idea.”

Wheeler pauses. “An idea?”

“Yeah, don’t look so shocked.” He reaches for the fridge and pulls out the gallon of milk, drinking straight from the container. Wheeler rolls his eyes as Mox wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “We could, like, add your weird voice power to do stuff around the house. Make things more fun.”

“Is that the only way I’ll be able to convince you to stop using bleach on every surface?”

“Screw you, it’s a good cleaning method.”

“It smells bad.”

“It’s clean,” Mox argues, kissing Wheeler’s nose. “The goal is clean, not lemon scented.”

“We could do both – anyway, that’s not the point.” Wheeler turns back to him. The dishes from his breakfast can wait. “So your only reaction to me being a demon is to get horny and household about it?”

Mox considers, then nods. “Yeah. Knee’s ready for vigorous activity, if you want to try it out.”

“You are incorrigible.”

“Yeah, and you love it.”

“I do,” Wheeler relents, “but still. You don’t even know how my powers work. I could be convincing you to be with me this whole time. You might not like me at all.”

To Wheeler’s surprise, Mox laughs. “I can tell the difference from the way you talk normally and the way you spoke that other time. Come on, I can prove it.”

He considers it. Technically, he’s not doing anything wrong if Mox is asking for it, right?

“Fine,” Wheeler says. In his normal voice, he says, “Put the dishes in the dishwasher.”

“Nah.” Mox grins at him.

Wheeler rolls his shoulders, puts some power behind it. “Put the dishes in the dishwasher.”

Mox’s eyes glaze over a little, a dopey smile playing on his lips. “Sure, baby.” And he does it. Without an ounce of complaining, he does it. Wheeler’s not sure if he needs to stop or tell Mox to do something else. He may continue to put dishes in the dishwasher until there’s no more room.

Mox puts the last from the sink in the washer, puts in the soap, and closes the washer. Wheeler watches his face, and it’s like he can see a veil removed as Mox comes back to his sense. “Whoa.”

“I know,” Wheeler says, wincing. “I’m sorry. It takes all your autonomy away.”

“No the fuck it doesn’t,” Mox says, looking positively giddy. “I knew what I was doing. I just…I wanted to do it.” He licks his lips, moving into Wheeler’s space. “I wanted to do what you wanted me to do.”

Wheeler huffs as Mox goes for his neck. “I should have known you’d be into this.”

“You shoulda,” Mox confirms. “Big ol’ monster fucker, me.”

“I am not,” Wheeler says, and he tries to put in a lot of force behind it, “a monster!”

Mox pulls away, grinning. “Aw, no?”

“Monsters have a much harder time pretending to be human for years and fooling everybody around them,” Wheeler argues. “Demons are much better at disguising themselves to live among the mortal.”

Mox leans in, so goddamned close. “Love when you talk demon to me.”

“You are the weirdest person I’ve ever met,” Wheeler says, and he slides his hand up Mox’s body, gently curling it around Mox’s throat. “Tell me what you want from this.”

“Anything,” Mox says. “Legit, just…whatever you want.”

Wheeler sighs. “I could make you sign a pact with me to give me your soul.”

“Deal.”

“No!” Wheeler laughs. “You – no. Stop it. This is serious.”

Mox licks his lips. He crowds into Wheeler’s space, presses a leg between his thighs. “Want you to fuck me and tell me what to do during.”

“Using the powers?” Because he has to check. He has to make sure.

“Yes, Jesus, how many times do I gotta tell you?” Mox huffs.

“Be nice,” Wheeler snaps, with just a little power behind it.

Mox’s eyes glaze over, smile on his lips. “Yeah,” he says, sounding far away. “Yeah, like that. Thanks, baby.”

“This is ridiculous,” Wheeler grumbles. “You horny bastard. Tell me exactly what you want.” He puts the power behind it.

“I want you to fuck me against the sink,” Mox says. “I want you to make me beg for it. I wanna beg for it.” He turns his eyes on Wheeler’s, spaced out, but knowing. “I want your cock.”

Wheeler sighs. “Well, since you asked so nicely.”

“I’m so nice,” Mox says, voice a little weird. “You want me nice.”

“I do.” Wheeler thinks for a second. “Hold onto the sink. And don’t move.”

“Okay.” Mox shoots him an absolutely radiant smile before he turns around and grabs the sink. Wheeler had been thinking Mox would face him, but this works.

“I’ll be back in just a second,” Wheeler says. “Don’t move.” He considers. “Um, unless there’s, like, an emergency. Also, you can breathe and body stuff. And if something is wrong or – yeah, just don’t let yourself or anyone else get in danger. Otherwise, stay just like that. You understand?”

Mox doesn’t answer.

“Mox?” Wheeler peeks around him to see Mox with his entire body held stiff. “Oh, shit! Yeah, you can talk, that’s fine.”

“I understand,” Mox says. “Hurry up, though. I can only be nice for so long.”

Wheeler gives him a kiss on the cheek, because Mox is obnoxious and charming all at once, and rushes up the stairs. He grabs lube, and, just for fun, a vibrator, and hustles downstairs. “You good, Mox?”

“Impatient,” Mox says. “Trying to be good.”

“Aw,” Wheeler says. “Not exactly what I meant, but okay.” He fumbles a little, trying to set everything on the counter. He pushes away the clutter, because he has a feeling he might need something to grip onto. “Any reason you want me to fuck you in the kitchen?”

“Never done it before,” Mox answers. “Adds a little spice to it.”

“Oh, because your demon boyfriend fucking you under a weird demon power isn’t spicy enough,” Wheeler grumbles, but he reaches around for Mox’s belt. “Tell me what you want.”

“I want you to fuck me,” Mox all but whines. “I told you already.”

“You’re getting kind of bitchy,” Wheeler says, unbuttoning Mox’s pants. “I don’t remember telling you to be bitchy.”

“Didn’t tell me not to be,” Mox singsongs. “Maybe you should give me a specific instruction.”

“Ugh, fine, be a bitch, whatever,” Wheeler says, getting a hand around Mox’s cock, “but if you’re too mean, I stop.”

Mox whines, hips twitching. “That’s a very fine line for me to tread.”

Wheeler hums a little, hand still as Mox squirms under him. “Better tread lightly, then.” He lets go, drizzles some lube on his hands, and strokes gently. “Don’t move.”

“Oh, fuck off.”

“I said you could be a bitch,” Wheeler says, stroking slowly, “not be mean.”

Mox lets out another whine, his knuckles turning white as they grip the edge of the sink. “You’re the one being mean.”

“I’m allowed to be mean,” Wheeler says, finally getting a little fun out of it, “you asked me to make you beg, right?”

“Yeah.”

“So, this is me, trying to make you beg.” He keeps stroking Mox with the lightest, gentlest grip, being as infuriating as he can muster, all while Mox is making this high pitched whine that makes Wheeler feel a little giddy. “I have an idea.”

“Yeah,” Mox says, “give me anything. Anything you want. Tell me to – ”

“Quit that!” Wheeler says, and he lets go of Mox’s cock, steps away from him.

“No,” Mox says. “What the fuck? You’re the worst.”

“Again, you told me to make you beg,” Wheeler says. “If I say you can move, are you gonna be good?”

“Yeah,” Mox says, “I will.”

“Then, you can turn around and let go of the sink,” Wheeler says, “and that’s it.”

Mox spins so fast it almost makes Wheeler dizzy. “Hi,” he says, little smile playing on his lips. “Fuck me now?”

“You haven’t begged yet,” Wheeler says, “and that was a specific request.” He reaches over, grabs the vibrator. Mox’s eyes get comically wide. “Yeah, I thought you might like this.” Wheeler turns it on. “Any requests?”

Mox closes his eyes, breathes deeply, then looks at Wheeler. “Uh.”

The vibrator’s a little thing, really, and Wheeler knows Mox likes it as sort of an extra while they’re fucking, likes Wheeler to feel it on the outside of him while Mox can feel Wheeler inside him. But he wants Mox to say it.

“Want you in me,” Mox says. “And want that on – anywhere.” He squirms. “Kiss me?”

Wheeler leans in like he’s the one being voice commanded, kissing Mox with the power of the whole world behind him. He drops his hand and lets the vibrator drag along the length of his cock. Mox moans into his mouth, desperate, hands reaching up to grip Wheeler’s hair.

“Like that,” Mox says, “fuck, baby, like that.”

“Good to know. Now you want me inside you, huh?”

“Fuck, yes, oh my god,” Mox throws his head back. “God, you’re the fucking worst. If you don’t get inside me now, I’m going to die, you fucking monster.”

“Demon,” Wheeler replies primly. “I thought I told you not to be mean. Maybe I just walk away.”

Mox’s eyes meet his, and they aren’t as glazed over as they were before. “Don’t you dare,” he says, and it would be a little more intimidating if he wasn’t half pouting. “Come on, please?”

“You called me a monster.”

“It’s a compliment,” Mox snaps, and Wheeler laughs.

“Well, in that case.” Wheeler grabs Mox’s hips and turns him around, pressing up along his back. He shoves down his own sweats to his knees, finally able to admit he’s as impatient about this as Mox is. He slicks up his cock with one hand while teasing Mox with the vibrator. And he’s struck with an idea. He trails it down behind Mox’s balls, holding it right behind them. He starts without the powers, wants to gauge how Mox reacts to it. “Hold the vibrator. Right here.”

“Hmm?”

“You want the vibrator?”

Mox nods. “Yeah, yeah.”

“Then you have to hold it,” Wheeler says, power behind it.

“I’ll hold it,” Mox says, and he does, taking it from Wheeler’s grip. He shudders, a whole body thing, and Wheeler lets himself admire the masterpiece in front of him, the thumbtack scars, the proof of the way Mox is willing to let his body suffer for his art. It feels like an honor to be the one giving Mox a little pleasure when all others only get to cause pain.

He rubs the head of his cock between Mox’s cheeks, just a little.

“Now, please,” Mox demands.

“Oh, please?” Wheeler asks. “That’s new. Glad to know you can beg. No, Mox, I gotta open you up first.”

And it’s so easy, isn’t it, the way Mox shifts his legs and the vibrator at the same time to accommodate one, two, then three fingers. He takes Wheeler so well, every time. “You’re so good at this,” Wheeler says, watching a little as his fingers disappear into Mox, as Mox pushes back on them. “Tell me how it feels.”

“Not enough,” Mox gasps.

“Turn up the vibrator, then.”

With a whine, Mox does as Wheeler commanded, and that full body shudder hits again. “Oh, Christ fucking god, Wheeler, if you don’t get in me right now...”

“I am in you.”

“You know what I mean,” Mox growls, and it’s close enough to begging that Wheeler relents.

The first slide into Mox’s body feels like coming home, and Mox reaches a hand back to grab at Wheeler’s hip. “Fuckin’ finally,” Mox says on an exhale. “Come on, start moving. You’re takin’ too long.”

“I – what – turn up the vibrator again, you insufferable motherfucker,” Wheeler grumbles. Mox does so, and, fuck, it hits Wheeler like a train. He can feel everything, he supposes, more than a human, but this is a whole new level: the vibrator, the way Mox eggs him on, the way he can really slam into Mox’s body from this angle. He lets himself get a little distracted, loses track of time and space and sense. He feels drunk with it, obsessed, and he bites at Mox’s neck a little too hard, with the wrong teeth. He tastes pennies.

“Shit,” he says, pulling back. “Mox, I’m sorry, I –”

“Again,” Mox says, “oh, fuck, yes. Do that again.”

“You and your stupid pain kink,” Wheeler mutters, but he relents, pressing another biting kiss to Mox’s neck, a little more controlled this time, sure to leave a mark but no punctures. Mox grinds down onto his cock, twisting.

“Close,” Mox says, voice hardly more than a whisper. “Wanna – wanna come, please, wanna come.”

“Turn the vibrator as high as it’ll go,” Wheeler commands. “And hold on onto the sink again.”

Wheeler practically sees stars and the vibrator goes full blast, and he thrusts into Mox. He wraps an arm around his waist for leverage. “Good?” he asks Mox. “Tell me what you want.”

“Harder,” Mox whines. “Don’t stop until – until you come inside me.”

Wheeler’s the one whining at that, and he follows Mox’s demands. He wraps a hand around Mox’s cock and it’s seconds, really, that Mox is coming all over himself and Wheeler’s hand. He’s shaking.

“You can move the vibrator,” Wheeler says, chasing his own orgasm.

“No,” Mox says. “K-keeping it – until you – ” He cuts himself off with something akin to a wail.

Wheeler ramps up the pace until he’s coming hard, teeth sunk into the back of Mox’s neck. Mox slumps over the sink, dropping his hand. When he gets a little more sense back in his body, Wheeler eases the vibrator out of Mox’s hand, turns it off.

“Okay, breaking the control,” Wheeler mumbles, lips against Mox’s back. “Formally rescinding all verbal subconscious insistence. Not sure what I have to do to make sure it’s gone.”

“It’s gone,” Mox says. “Oh, fuck.”

Wheeler pulls back a little, pulls off his shirt to clean Mox up a little. “Are you okay?”

Mox is quiet as he pulls himself full to standing, and a wave of anxiety crashes over Wheeler. He shouldn’t have allowed this. He should have stopped it.

The wave disappears when he sees the grin on Mox’s face and in his clear eyes. “Oh, fuck, so much better than okay.” He laughs, rubs a hand over his head. “We’re gonna have so much fun with that power of yours and those, uh,” he touches gingerly at the bruises along his neck, “are those demon teeth?”

Wheeler grimaces. “They are.”

“Hot,” Mox says, nodding. “Yeah, break those out whenever you want, baby.” He takes the t-shirt from Wheeler’s hands, wipes off his body and hands where Wheeler missed. “Not sure how I feel about the kitchen bit, though. Worked in the moment but…” He trails off, gesturing to the mess they made across a few cabinets and in the sink. Mox pulls up his jeans, but skips the belt. “We’re gonna have to bleach this shit down,” Mox says, hands on hips, frowning.

Wheeler groans. “Not the fucking bleach again.”

“Gotta,” Mox says, with his best imitation of a pout.

“Fine,” Wheeler decides, “but we’re making a deal.”

Mox lights up. “Like a sexy demon deal?”

“No, fuck, fine! We’ll do – every time I agree to your bleach-related cleaning requests, I get a kiss.”

Mox nods. “I can work with that.” He leans in, kissing Wheeler gently.

“What was that for?”

“Prepayment,” Mox says, giddy. “This’ll be fun.”

#Wheeler Yuta #Jon Moxley #Yuta x Mox #in which Sara writes #sarahcakes613 #wtf i like wrestling now???#I DON'T KNOW IT JUST OKAY

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fractallogic · 24 days

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Boy I did so much cleaning between the last horn of the Avs-edmonton game (sigh) and now

I ran the roomba, emptied the dishwasher, loaded the dishwasher, washed the stuff that couldn’t go in the dishwasher, folded the laundry, took the laundry basket downstairs, cleaned the upstairs toilet, swiffered the upstairs bathroom, hand-vacuumed what the roomba missed, opened and tossed junk mail, wiped down the visible counter space (because I CANNOT FIT EVERYTHING INTO MY CUPBOARDS ugh I can’t wait to have a fucking normal-sized kitchen), filled up the cat food bowl (water bowl and food egg to come tomorrow)

Now my back hurts and my head hurts and my feet hurt, but Artemis is very sleepy and is pushing her very warm back feets and toe beans into my arm, and letting me put my face in her belly, and also snoring

Tomorrow I’ll do laundry (and maybe fold it before a week goes by???), submit my tax docs to my accountant (and ask them to please file an extension), change the litter (and re-resolve to get back in the habit of cleaning the litterbox every day), get my nails done, talk to scone, and bake something (either the chocolate chip cookie bars, the chocolate chip coffee cake, or the chocolate chip pumpkin muffins)

And on Sunday I’ll go to the gym and write my NSF final report (auggghhhh) and finish reading this article for review that is now a month overdue… and maybe also repot my new beautiful plant that came in the mail today????

But now it is time to go to bed. I will shower. I will put the cat away. I will go to bed. And I will have some of my waffle leftovers in the morning.

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asystemerror · 7 months

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💗Is there a scene you can’t wait to write for a WIP?

My brain is very scattered when it comes to character concepts/scenes so like I had to take a bit to narrow down a few :0

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

Manor Tea Time Stuffs (Aka the Mordred AU):

╰┈➤ I'm really excited to flesh out more of the background characters for the blog! (Ex. Willow, May, Oleander, etc.) Not only is it fun with world-building and creating a fuller sense of the world the characters live in, but 3 of them are quite literally one glass-orb-shattering event away from being revealed on there lol. Idk how much I wanna reveal here, but I feel very devious when I think about it mwehehe.

╰┈➤ I've been thinking of making a master doc of just general lore! Mainly so it's easier to track stuff I might not be able to constantly be able to bring up in rps (Curse my characters for having issues with expressing themselves/general memory issues!!). Because of this, I've been plotting how everyone entered the manor and how their first impressions on the others were. I'm excited to piece it together!

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

Fnaf Oc Stuff (2 separate stories! They're titled Programmed Protocol and Charle's Entertainment Co.):

╰┈➤The Charle's story bounces around my head like those old loading screens for DVDs. My main WIP for it is to mainly work on the universe more/bring out some of the more horror elements I had planned visually. (I'd also like to finish the story I began for it, but that's here nor there).

╰┈➤As for Programmed Protocol I have a lot! I have 3 new MCs and concepts to work with. My main goal rn with that is to flesh them out more and redesign some of the robotic cast to fit the darker aesthetic I have planned. I figure it will be easier to pick a fate for the story from there haha!

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

Desiderium Stuffs:

╰┈➤ I've been meaning to make a short story similar to the WIP I shared here about another one of the ghost characters in the story, Leonara. I'm thinking of doing something that plays off of the idea of haunted dolls and how they freak museum owners out sometimes.

╰┈➤ In the main story I'm working on with my friend, I'm connecting ways to introduce Neil's sister, Mal (or Madeline if you're overly formal). She's a challenge as she can see fuzzy glimpses of the future from time to time. I've been experimenting with balancing it feeling both natural for her character, and not being spoiling/plot convenience to the reader.

#mun babbles #ask game!

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miloucomehome · 1 year

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some thoughts (esp on school -- got some grades...)

I’m waiting to get my grades and got one for the visual communications course...it’s a C-. I’m not happy at all. I’ve passed the class, but we never got a copy about our grades and she’s been giving me Cs from the beginning and I do not understand why.

What’s worse is that her grading technique is to include assignment grades in the grading calculations for projects.

I’m not joking here. In my typography course with her and even this one, I would’ve probably ended up with a B- or C+ but instead since she includes the mountain-load of assignments in the grading, my grade for the first project (which includes a few assignments) is a 6/10 (about a C or C-). If you end up submitting anything late, it’ll impact your project’s grade, not the separate assignment grade.

edit: also, late assignments aren’t docked X% per week, like the other profs, but instead are docked a full letter grade.

(TL;DR here: Our assignments aren’t being weighted correctly as outlined in the syllabus and are instead combined with the project’s grades)

Add to this, she doesn’t provide a complete syllabus (PDF or printed) and refuses to. With this method of grading, she’s not even following her grading system by combining the assignment grades as part of the project’s grades. I’ll actually double check this, because if she’s not following her own syllabus’ grading system then I don’t think these evaluations can fly. I don’t want to deal with my department and I may just file something with the ombuds office anonymously.

I’ll need to copy-paste the syllabi for both courses I had with her that she copy-pasted to the moodle page menu awkwardly and save those in docs with screenshots before I lose access to the pages. (they’re in a div/table that will not print)

On another class--not typography but a 400-level course I had to submit everything late on--it looks like I’m set to fail terribly with 30-something percent (which doesn’t make sense) but I think it’s because Moodle is only calculating the numerical grades this prof inputted and is confused about the random letter grades she put in. (Or maybe it’s only taking into account the letter grades (there’s only 2; one’s an F for 10%-weighted assignment I missed bc of sickness. The other is an A- on the proposal stage of the final assignment and is the only letter grade inputted while the rest are numerical)

Otherwise maybe it’s just indicating the mean number (not points) calculated is 32.4. It makes no sense. Even the points I got make no sense. Are they percentages? or points out of the total the assignment is worth? I feel like I’ll find out this course’s grade tomorrow but I still might send an email in the morning if I wake up early enough.

In any case-- if I have to retake that 400 level course then fine. But if I have to spend another class with *that* prof (PM) then I will entertain the option of delaying my own graduation to avoid her and her bullshit killing my GPA (if I can’t find another course to substitute it with). I plan to even write a detailed warning on Rate My Prof because the typography course is one she’s always given so students will eventually get her. I just want them to not be surprised and be prepared in case if she won’t improve her teaching and grading methods from all the lengthy comments we gave her in evaluations.

EDIT forgot to add but I’m not going to lie here--my confidence in my skills is just so incredibly low. I know it’s because I got terrible profs this semester, but it’s just bad. I’m going to try and busy myself and use my UdeMy accesses and, when I get a job, try that Domestika course on wayfinding design and architecture that I’ve been eyeing and even just make my own things and print them out to rebuild my confidence. Like, it’s no joke. It’s in tatters. I don’t even want to share any work at this point on Behance.

Anyway, I have a cute story I should share and preserve here of a call I had with my aunt on Tuesday where she was excitedly trying to figure out what other possibilities there were for my profession and how I could approach my early stages of my career when I graduate. (”what else can a designer do as a job”)

#milou thoughts

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ursulasfishandships · 2 years

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You Saw Beyond- Part Two

Hiiii! Thank you so so much for the positive reception on the first part. I had loads of fun writing it! Here's part two, based on the song Chip on Your Shoulder. I love love love this song. Let me know if you have any requests or questions! <3

Edward had decided to take a walk around campus. It was a nice night, and it wasn’t like he had friends to talk to. However, something else caught his attention. Sniffles came from one of the nearby benches. As he neared it, he realized it was you in a scandalizing pink bunny costume. You looked like something out of Play Boy magazine. He wasn’t quite sure what to say.

“Y/N, what’s up… doc?” That last part slipped out, a blush growing on his cheeks.

“Hey, Edward.” You sighed, trying to wipe your tears from your eyes. “Just love… you know?” You shrugged, pouting.

“No, I actually don’t. Love lead you here?” He moved to sit next to you, trying to keep a foot distance between you. He didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.

“I’m like a total laughing stock. I’m flunking out of school. I have absolutely no friends, no chance with Bruce. At this rate, I’d be happier if you just picked up a rock and hit me on the head.” You threw your head into your hands.

“Wait, wait slow down.” He put his hands up, trying to process everything you just said. “Are trying to tell me you came to Gotham Law to follow Bruce Wayne?!” He was genuinely shocked.

“Yeah, I thought we were going to get engaged and I could live my dreams as a fashion designer for celebrities. But now look at me!” He was looking at you, really focusing on your face. He noticed the pretty pink eyeshadow across your eyes. Even in the dull lamplight, it shimmered. “I mean be honest with me, Ed, am I crazy for thinking he’d fall back in love with me if I came here?” Edward bit his lip. He could lie to you, but he knew that lying never helped.

“Y/N, you stalked some guy to an Ivy League and you expect him to just fall back in love with you?” He scoffed. You didn’t seem hurt, so he continued. “That is probably the weirdest reason I’ve ever heard-”

“Well, why’d you come?” You asked, crossing your arms. You did it at first to make a statement of defiance, but he could also see the goosebumps on your skin. You were cold, but you weren’t about to tell him that. Edward was also taken aback by your question, thinking about it for a moment.

“Huh, why did I come?” He asked himself out loud. “Well, Miss L/N, I grew up in Gotham City’s Orphanage.” He told you, beginning to shed the green cardigan he was constantly wearing. “Saw kids die from the cold, drugs, or just straight up getting beaten.” He placed the cardigan over your shivering shoulders. Your face was understanding, listening to what he had to say. “I’ve seen the worst ways the legal system can treat kids. So I got through Law school by busting my ass day and night. I worked two jobs just to pay to go to classes.” He was sitting a bit closer now. “So please, forgive me for not weeping at your tale.” He motioned to the little puffball on your bodysuit. You rolled your eyes at him. You didn’t appear to be mad, considering you pulled his cardigan closer to your body.

“Well excuse me, just because you have a chip on your shoulder-” You said. It could’ve been a rude thing to say, but he liked that you challenged him to explain why he was like this.

“You know, I do have a chip on my shoulder. And if anything, I’m gonna let it drive me to be the best I can. If it’s gotten me this far, then I can’t see where it takes me. You might want to get one, too, Miss Lola Bunny.” He poked your shoulder. He didn’t know where this confident side came from, but you brought it out of him. You listened to his little rantings more than anyone else ever had. Maybe he had found a friend.

“Eddie, that sounds soooo negative.” You bemoaned, holding out those ‘o’s again.

“You asked me to be honest!” He put his hands up in defense, which made you giggle. “I wasn’t born into the privilege of a rich family. I have to work twice as hard.”

“Wait, rewind. Did you say you worked two jobs?” She asked, very shocked. He would’ve stuck up his nose to any other rich snob like this, but you were different. You had clearly lived in a bubble and he was your first look at the outside world. You could be the difference. “How do you do it?” You were genuinely curious, your whole body facing him.

“Well, I don’t go to parties. It’s not like I get invited to them anyway, but besides they're not a good use of my time. I don’t spend hours on my appearance.” He motioned to you.

“Clearly…” Ouch. He deserved that one.

“Still, it will all be worth it when I win my first case and get to put one of those losers in jail where they belong. Help out those kids they lied to.” He felt your hand on his arm.

“That’s really sweet of you.”

“No,” He placed his hand over yours, “See, that’s the chip on my shoulder.”

“I just need to prove to everyone that I am serious.” You said, jaw tensing.

“What you need to do first is get inside. You’re freezing!” He helped her up. You wobbled a bit before almost tumbling down. He held you in his arms as you began to cry again. “Where’s your dorm?” He asked, and you pointed to the nearby building. He helped you along, finally letting go when you unlocked the door to your room. Your tears had finally dried.

Your room was very… pink. He should’ve expected this from you. You walked over to your closet, closing the door. You were probably changing out of your costume.

“Make yourself at home!” Your voice was cheery.

He took in the surroundings. The last girl's dorm room had been nothing like this. No, last time it was some smarty pants academic who wanted him for the Falcone internship. He let it happen, of course, but this was so different. He noticed the pink Monster cans in the trashcan.

“Drink a lot of caffeine?”

“It gives me energy!” You cheer, proving the effects.

“I’m more of a Mountain Dew guy, and I drink to stay up studying.” He moves closer to what could’ve been a desk. It was covered with pictures of you with your friends and family. You had that bright, kind smile. And then there was that picture of you with Bruce. You two were in a hot tube together. Your hand was on his muscular chest. He picked it up to look closer. “Speaking of studying, where are your law books?” He asked, still staring at the picture, trying to erase Bruce Wayne in it with his mind.

“It’s um… it’s under… well it’s under…” You muttered, finally exiting your closet in a bright pink tracksuit. You were scouring your room. “There!” You pulled the books out from under your bed. Edward sighed again. The plastic wrap was still on. Every moment you tested him a little further.

“Been reading this hard…” He mumbled, not intending for you to hear.

“Ugh.” You rolled your eyes, turning away from him.

“Uh oh, the room just got colder.” He teased. You gave him a light slap on the shoulder, moving to sit down at your desk.

“Let’s get started…” Through the months, Edward for some reason kept coming to your dorm room. Every time you pissed him off with your privilege, he just felt the stronger urge to help you realize the potential you had. You were so unlike the rest of those snobs. You were willing to learn.

“Y/N!” He called, drawing your attention from Bruce, who was outside with Selina Kyle. “Define Malum Prohibitum.”

“Malum Prohibitum is…” You paced around your room, which was a bit messier since had first been there.

“An action-” He tried to help you but you cut him off.

“An action prohibited by law!” You shouted back, a grin painted on your face.

“So Malum in se-” He continued.

“Is an action that’s illegal in itself! Assult, theft, murder, that green sweater.” You pointed at his sweater, causing him to laugh.

“Very good.” His eyes drifted to your bag. “Where are you going?” He raised an eyebrow, setting down the notecards.

“Home, duh.” You said matter-of-factly. “It’s Thanksgiving.”

“Uh huh.” He nodded slowly, moving to stand. You stopped him, putting a hand on his chest.

“What? You’re giving me that look again.”

“Well, I think you’ll pass…” He folded his hands behind his back, moving to pace around the room.

“Awesome!” You cheered, pumping your fist in the air.

“In the bottom percent of Falcone’s students.” Your face fell into a frown. “Look you’re going for okay, then you’ve done great. But if you want to do better, your vacation plans may have to go on hold.” You stopped your foot on the floor.

“Ugh, why do you have to be right?” You flopped down onto your bed.

The gears finally switched in December. He approached your dorm room, present in hand. He watched as you leaned out the door, wishing Bruce a Happy Hanukkah. Edward pushed that little green monster down into his stomach. Bruce Wayne was the only reason you were here and asking for his help. You left your door open, you were studying with a friend. He leaned in.

“Ho, ho, ho!” He tried at his Santa Claus impression. It was awful, but it still made you laugh.

“Edward!” You grinned, “This is my friend, Barbara.” He gave the red head a nervous wave. She returned it with a beaming smile. He turned back to you, holding out the small bag.

“For you. I know you wanted to go home for Christmas, but I did the best I could.” You took it from him as he adjusted his glasses. He watched you eagerly dig through the box.

“Eddie, you are two sweet!” You pulled out the piece of clothing at looked back at him. “You’re sweater?!” Your jaw was slack.

“You wear it so much, I thought I’d just give it to you. Although you did call it ugly that one time…”

“No, no, I love it. You are so adorable to think of me.” You held it closely to your chest, breathing it in.

“Oh shit, I’ve got to go! Nice meeting you, Eds.” Barbara said before leaving the room. She bumped into an unwelcome face on the way out.

“Hey, Y/N, have you seen Selina?” Bruce Wayne leaned in the door frame. He was wearing his fancy winter coat that probably cost more than all the clothes on Edward’s body.

“Yeah,” She smiled, eyes dazed. “I mean, no, I um, I haven’t.” She shook her head.

“Great…” He sighed, before leaving the door again.

“Uh, Y/N?” Edward stepped forward. You were still staring at the spot Bruce had just been in. “I hate to say this but I think I’ve noticed something.” He waved his hand in front of your eyes. You suddenly came back to reality.

“Huh? Did you say something?”

“See that’s the thing. Whenever Bruce is around, your IQ drops. I hate to say it, but the real thing in your way might be the guy you came here to impress.” You blinked a few times at him, trying to process what he just said.

“Oh my god!” You grabbed onto his shoulder violently. “Eds, you’re so right! I need to show him I’m serious! I’m not gonna doodle hearts to get my law degree, I have to use my… my chip on my shoulder!!” Edward was a bit terrified at your fervor but he was excited. You finally understood. Now it was your turn to shine. And he saw it the first class back from break.

“I think he was very much within his rights to ask for visitation. I wasn’t stalking at all. After all, the child in question would not exist without his sperm.” Bruce explained.

“Now you’re thinking like a lawyer, Mr. Wayne.” Falcone smiled. Edward, however saw your hand in the air, a bit timid, but there nonetheless.

“Professor Falcone…” He pointed to you. Falcone looked over at you.

“Miss L/N?”

“Mr. Wayne makes an excellent point, but did the defendant keep a long of every single sperm emission made?” You scrunched your eyebrows, almost asking the question to yourself.

“Why do you ask?”

“Well, unless he tried to make contact with every single one of his sexual encounters to find if a child had resulted from those unions, he has no parental claim over this child. We should, then, be asking ourselves why this child? Why this sperm?”

“Interesting-” He started to say, but you cut him off.

“And, by Mr. Wayne’s standard, all masterbatory emissions not seeking an egg could be called… reckless abandonment.” You put a lot of emphasis on the last two words, really selling it.

“Miss L/N, I believe you just won your case.” Falcone smiled. Edward wasn’t sure the last time he had seen him do that. You smiled back, just as brightly.

After class, Flacone stopped you and congratulated you. He wanted you to apply for his internship.

“I’m way ahead of you, Professor.” You pulled a pink (shocker) piece of paper from your backpack. “Thank you for your consideration.” He nodded and you winked at Edward before walking out.

“Dear God, it's scented.” Falcone groaned. “Put this on file.” He handed the paper to Edward. He looked down at it. Months ago, he thought you were going to leave the school, and here you were, one of the top students in the law class. He was thankful, thankful he had taken a chance on you. He was thankful he hadn’t judged you like the rest of your classmates. No, you were different. You treated him like a human being. You listened to his advice, but also gave some of your own. You were smart, and he wasn’t sure if you knew it. You were different. You were a breath of fresh air hidden in the smog. He knew you would never like a guy like him, and for some reason, he was okay with that. You were his friend, and that’s all you were ever going to be to him. Although, you never can tell…

#edward nashton x you #edward nashton x reader #edward nashton #riddler x you #riddler x reader #the riddler #paul dano #paul dano riddler #legally blonde au #batman 2022 #batman imagine #bruce wayne

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highqueenofelfhame · 3 years

Text

fafs, twenty-two

masterlist // rowaelin au // 4k words follow @highqueenofelfhamewrites and turn on post notifs for updates! i don’t do a tag list anymore because it’s too time consuming and doesn’t work half the time. thank you to @punkassbookjockey26 and @westofmoon for help with this one! ash had a great idea featured in here and katie is always my little editing faerie that makes my writing loads better.

AND WE’RE BACK! first things first i do not know when the next update will be, this wasn’t even supposed to happen anytime soon but i missed it and them and here we are. i wrote it so quickly it’s a little weird. i also had a major hiccup with google docs during the editing process so if you notice any extremely wonky typos or sentences, please dm me about it so i can fix it. i think i got it all but i’m unsure and nervous lol. also-- i can’t believe this fic is 86k words. it’s the longest thing i’ve ever written and i am just very proud of myself and this fic. i hope you guys are still excited and eager to read this story, and i hope you enjoy!

Waking up with Aelin’s body still tangled with his after a day of complete and utter ravishing was a luxury that Rowan never wanted to give up. Her golden hair was splayed across the pillow with her face turned toward him. The sunlight illuminated her body’s soft curves and hard muscles, and he didn’t stop himself from exploring her skin with his fingertips.

In sleep, her face was smooth and void of concern, worry, or anxiety. She looked so calm like this, and Rowan desperately wished he could bring that same sort of peace to her reality. Most of the time, when she was awake, when the facade of the swaggering assassin fell away, there was still a tightness in her jaw and a sharp coiling to her muscles. Like she was always on alert. Even when she was quick with her wit and sharp tongue, he knew that part of her was still always lying in wait.

Rowan knew she’d never known a day of peace in her life. Maybe before everything had happened with her parents, but ever since she was a young girl, the explosion of chaos that wrecked every day had sharpened her into a blade. It was paranoia. It was spending her life peering around corners before she walked out because any number of people could have been waiting to take her down.

But when she was asleep, she looked younger. The romantic in him thought she looked like an angel, but he was sure if he voiced that out loud, she would adamantly disagree. Still, she was so beautiful. Any hour of the day, she was the most immaculate thing he had ever seen, and he loved her.

Love. When he had said it yesterday, something had changed on her face. It wasn’t anything he could quite place— he was sure he saw relief, adoration, and love on her face. Yet, there had been tension to her mouth when he kissed her. It had confused him, but she had seemed so wholly blissful the rest of the day it had been easy to push from the forefront of his mind. It had been a day of cooking together, watching movies, and completely ignoring those movies to peel their clothes off and drown in the feeling of one another. They’d had yet another coupling before drifting off into deep sleep, and Rowan had muttered the words between her shoulder blades seconds before falling into oblivion. Aelin had squeezed his hand in response, but at no point yesterday had she said it out loud.

Not that he needed her to. Rowan saw her for everything that she was. He knew about lives she’d taken, about the blood that stained her soul. He knew that sick, fleshy slap had been Arobynn’s heart hitting the ground, seconds after Aelin had succeeded in cutting it from his chest. None of that scared him— Rowan knew he had no reason to fear the woman that shared his bed. Yesterday had been tangible proof of that, that she was willing to further darken her soul to keep him safe. He would do the same with no hesitation. Rowan would follow Aelin Galathynius to the ends of the earth if it meant being with her.

But he sensed some hesitation. He could see it in her face and feel it in the way her hands had stuttered over his skin. Despite that, Rowan knew that she loved him. If he was to believe the feeling in his gut, she had felt that way for a while now. Perhaps he had just said those damned words too soon.

His thoughts were brought to a pause as she roused from sleep, bare legs shifting against his. Beneath the sheets, her body arched as she chased away the stiffness in her limbs, toes pointing while they ran down his calf. It took a solid thirty seconds for her eyes to blink open, the morning sun casting brilliant light within them. Rowan couldn’t help himself and leaned down to press the softest of kisses to her mouth.

“I need to shower,” she whispered, voice thick with sleep as the heel of her hands dug into her eyes. Rowan watched quietly, letting her drag her body awake while his knuckles brushed over her ribs.

“I have to go into the office for a few hours. They have some questions for me that I’m sure they’ll have for you, too. But I told them to give you another day to rest.”

“You were kidnapped and drugged. I hardly need another day to decompress,” she countered, sitting up and reaching for his shirt at the edge of the bed. Rowan watched while she tugged it on and flipped her hair out from the collar.

“It was a long day for you, too.”

“I can handle it.” Taught tension strung the words together as they hung between them. It was so close to coming across as snappy, and she seemed to realize it as she looked over her shoulder at him and gave him a tight smile. “But if you think I should wait until tomorrow, I’ll wait until tomorrow.”

“Thank you,” he said, relief flooding him to his toes. Instead of saying anything, Aelin merely hummed in response and disappeared into the bathroom. In truth, he’d wanted to talk with Lorcan first and see what was going on after his curt summons an hour ago. If anything negative was going to come of what had transpired over the last few days, Rowan wanted to know, and he wanted to be able to give Aelin any heads up that he could.

As he heard the sounds of water thumping against the tile of the shower, Rowan stretched his own body out in his bed. Focusing on the ceiling fan above him, he flipped through the Rolodex of his memory to recount everything that had happened in the last few years the best that he could.

Everything had started at the gala where he’d first met Aelin. Their casual friendship came after, followed by a relationship that blossomed over several months. And when Sam had been killed, and he found Celaena Sardothien left for dead in a warehouse,the truth had slowly unraveled. Anger had been the first thing he’d felt, followed by betrayal. Losing the woman he’d known as Lilian had forced him through grief as if she’d died.

And in a way, she had. But Rowan also knew that the woman he loved was one and the same. It was the same heart beating under his fingertips, the same lips he ached to kiss. Aelin had made more than one comment lately about burying Celaena Sardothien somewhere that no one could ever find her, paired with a sardonic laugh that made it sound like a joke. But some days, he couldn’t figure out if there was truth in that statement. If she was going to try to run to escape the terrors that she’d endured over the last few years.

His fingers raked through his hair as he threw his legs over the side of the bed and made for his closet.He went through the motions of putting on a suit for work, his mind still caught up on Aelin. Despite knowing she wouldn’t run, there was still that fear there. Rowan just wasn’t sure what he was more scared of - the law catching up with her or the pain of being left behind.

~*~

It wasn’t good. In fact, it was worse than terrible. He’d known it from the second he’d stepped into the conference room and noticed the files stacked on the tables. There had been no reason to read the labels. He already knew that every file was a different assassination that Aelin had committed. From what he could tell as he lowered into a seat, this was a meeting about what they could do to finally convict Celaena Sardothien.

It had gotten worse as soon as Lorcan started talking. There had been no beating around the bush about what everyone wanted to happen. Maeve was even sitting in at the head of the table while everyone on Rowan’s team chimed in about different cases they had studied and what details could potentially be used for evidence against her. To his credit, Rowan managed to stay silent the majority of the meeting and only spoke when he was required.

But as soon as everyone had filed out and the door clicked shut, Lorcan had said the one thing Rowan had been hoping he wouldn’t ever hear.

“We want you to testify against her.” The sentence sent a powerful jolt of dread through his body, and his hands began to shake against his thighs. He curled them into tight fists and turned his gaze to the window. Rifthold was bustling beneath them, no one having a single clue that they wanted his testimony to lock away the love of his life.

“Look,” Lorcan said, leaning forward on his elbows. “I’ve let you carry out whatever dangerous, kinky fantasy you wanted to play with and kept my mouth shut about it. You’re an idiot if you think I don’t know where she stays most of the time or if I don’t see how you’ve started to look at her. But she’s a murderer. One that you put behind bars not too long ago. One that I know you’ve been getting closer to, and I thought she might tell you something that would help our case. That’s why I let it happen because we need whatever she tells you when she thinks she’s safe to really be able to put her away.”

“She doesn’t tell me anything useful about the case.” It was only partially a lie. He knew some of her secrets, some of her darkest and heavily guarded ones. But there was a lot of information that she never told him because it could be used against her.

“I think we both know that’s bullshit. You’re playing house with her, for gods' sake. I know she’s told you at least one thing that would be useful, and you have to wake up at some point, Rowan. You aren’t doing yourself any favors by deluding yourself into thinking you can have a future with her. She’s a murderer. She’s a con artist. She’s a thief. She is just biding her time before she slits your throat in the middle of the night and—”

“That’s enough.”

“When we call you to testify, you’ll be under oath. You can’t lie, and if you pull this same bullshit in court that you’re trying to pull with me right now, I will personally make sure you’re locked up for it.”

“Like a good friend,” he snarked, eyes hard as he looked back over at someone he had considered a friend at one point. Maybe not now. Not when he was hellbent on locking Aelin away by using his own words against him.

“If you want to ruin your own life, that’s on you. Don’t try to pin that on me.” Rowan’s jaw clenched while he stared at Lorcan, the darkness in his eyes having nothing to do with their color. “I’m not a fool. I know she was somehow linked to what happened to Elide, and you are insane if you think I’m going to let her walk around and do it again.”

The temper he had been keeping on a tight leash was slipping. His nails were digging painfully into his palms as the vein in his forehead pulsed. If Lorcan was looking for his body language, he might notice how hard his heart was beating based on the throbbing of the artery in his neck. He might see the rigidity in Rowan’s jaw and the anger flaring in his green eyes.

“Aelin didn’t have anything to do with what happened to Elide, and you are too clouded by your judgment to see a clear picture. By ignoring the facts, you aren’t protecting her. You’re using it as leverage to get a leg up in your career, so if you want to talk about who is putting Elide in danger, look in the mirror.” There was a sharpness to his tone that he couldn’t keep hidden, one that had Lorcan’s shoulders tensing as he clenched a pen in his fist.

“You can tell me all you want that your little girlfriend didn’t try to kill my fiancée, but I don’t buy it. If it wasn’t directly by her hand, she had some part in it, and I will not let that happen again.” If Aelin knew what Lorcan was saying, the guilt would eat her alive. It already had been. He had seen her jolt awake in the middle of the night so many times from the deaths that fell on her head. He had spent too much time chasing away the nightmares, too much time holding her hand while she cried about what had happened to everyone she had ever loved.

“You protect what’s yours, and I’ll protect what’s mine.” Rowan couldn’t have said it more plainly if he tried. There was no surprise on Lorcan’s face, however. He merely sat back in his chair with a slight smirk pulling at his lips. When all was said and done, and Rowan looked back on the argument, he might not have a clue who had the upper hand. There was no telling from where he sat who had won.

“When this all falls apart and bites you in the ass, I can’t wait to see what you say about her in court.”

Rowan said little else before leaving the conference room and exiting the building altogether. Every muscle in his body screamed at him to hit something, anything. He had half a mind to go back inside and lay Lorcan out on his ass for everything he’d insinuated about Aelin. Even the brick of the office building would satiate his need to hit something as hard as Lorcan’s head.

His day really couldn’t get much worse than how it had gone so far, he decided. Aelin had seemed almost distant this morning, barely returning the kiss he gave her before he left his apartment. Now he was expected to plot behind her back, a move that would lock her away forever. Trying not to dwell on the verdict, he took his time walking to his car, flipping his keys over his finger to give his hands something to do.

Life in prison wasn’t the worst her sentence could be. Rowan already knew that if she was found guilty, the penalty very well could be death.

~*~

Undeserving. Aelin Galathynius was wholly undeserving of the way Rowan looked at her when she woke up. Despite her heart fluttering in her chest when she saw his expression, her veins had flooded with ice. It had been easier to pretend everything was fine yesterday after he’d uttered those words to her. It had been easy to keep dragging him back to bed to avoid talking, to avoid her own feelings bubbling to the surface. Feelings that she was doing her damnedest to keep choked down but wasn’t sure how much longer they could stay locked up. The warmth of his body pressing against hers had almost been enough to thaw out her bones. Yet when she woke up and saw that look on his face, a heavy weight had dropped back into the pit of her stomach.

So after he left, she’d carefully packed all of her clothes into a small duffel bag she found in the top of Rowan’s closet. Every shirt she’d brought had been folded into tiny squares the same way she had folded away her feelings.

It wasn’t that she didn’t love Rowan. She did. It was the most overwhelming thing she had ever felt, making every part of her body ache. Yet, she refused to let herself feel it. She refused to let him feel it while so much was on the line. It wasn’t just their hearts; it was everything. His life, his jobs, his friends, his soul. How much would Rowan compromise to keep her safe? How much would he wash down the drain to save her from the fate that awaited her? She had already lost everyone and everything that there was for her to lose, but she couldn’t be the reason why Rowan lost everything, too. Not when she was so undeserving of the love that radiated from him.

Not when she had a ledger so crimson and bloody that it would never be clean. Her soul was marred with scars of every life she had ever taken. Those people had stopped breathing by her hands, and she would be damned if the same thing happened to him. He’d already been kidnapped because of her. She didn’t believe any of the bullshit Arobynn had spewed about her being a pawn. If anything, he was trying to make her hesitate long enough to let him live so she could dig for answers.

But she knew Arobynn. Knew he was a liar. Knew everything he did and said was to save his own hide and prolong his useless life. She had seen him do it again and again, and when it came down to it, she wasn’t willing to let him say anything in his defense. If Rowan hadn’t said her name and pulled her from that blind rage, Aelin may have gone as far as to cut his tongue out just to ensure that even in whatever hell he burned for eternity in, he could never speak another word.

No, everything had been because of her. All the pain her loved ones had felt while they bled out on the ground. Rowan kidnapped and drugged and left with bruises speckling his body. And she refused to let it go on any longer.

“What’s this?” Aelin’s eyes moved to the front door where Rowan now stood. She hadn’t even heard it open or close, so caught up in her plan to get out of there as quickly as possible. There was a rigidity to his body that had been mirrored in his tone. Compared to how Rowan had seemed yesterday and this morning, he looked like a wire ready to snap. Confusion weighed heavy between his brows, and the color seemed to be slipping from his cheeks.

“I’m going back to my apartment. Without an imminent threat, I don’t need to be here anymore.” It was the truth of the situation but not of her heart. She hoped her voice was steady and convincing enough.

“Is everything okay?” He asked, kneeling before where she was perched on the end of his bed. The duffel bag was full beside her, and she didn’t miss how his eyes focused on it before looking back at her face.

“Yep.”

“Aelin.” So many emotions flickered through her name when it tumbled from his lips. Frustration and concern seemed to be the most obvious, perhaps a bit of anxiety. Exhaustion. Worry. Irritation. It was difficult to pick out which ones were aimed at her. For his sake, she forced herself to smile.

“I just don’t want you to get in trouble with me being here all the time.”

“I don’t care about that.” A pang of sadness ricocheted through her body. That he truly didn’t care about the consequences of being with her because he thought he loved her.

“I know you don’t, but I do,” she said simply. Her smile vanished as he gave a curt nod and rose to his feet with a sigh. The fingers that had spent hours memorizing every inch of her body only yesterday raked through his hair roughly. The meeting hadn’t gone well; she could tell without asking.

“Do you want me to help you carry the bag back?” The words sounded tired and heavy, escaping on the end of a sigh. His body language told her he would rather not be having this conversation and the way he put more space between them to lean against the bathroom door made it even worse.

“No. I could use a walk anyway.” She had told herself all day that it would be easier if he didn’t put up much of a fight and try to persuade her into staying. Still…when he didn’t object any further, it felt like a confirmation that maybe he hadn’t meant to say what he’d said yesterday. Maybe it had been a slip of the tongue while he was delirious from pleasure.

It made it easier that he walked her to the door and just let her leave, but it didn’t hurt any less when he didn’t at least try to kiss her goodbye.

~*~

“You look like shit,” was the first thing Nox said when Aelin opened the door to her tiny apartment. Eyes rolling, she let him in and scooped the takeout bags from his hand, heading for the couch. Pride and Prejudice played on the television while she dug into her container of Chinese takeout. Making himself at home, Nox kicked his shoes off by the door and soon dropped to sit beside her to eat his own dinner. “You wanna talk about it?”

“I want to eat my food and chase it with the bottle of rum you said you’d bring.” There was little inflection to her voice while she spoke around a mouthful of food.

“Is this about the suit?”

“I literally just said that I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You actually didn’t answer my question; you deflected, which is kind of cowardly if you ask me. I didn’t think Celaena Sardothien was scared of anything, least of all a conversation about her feelings.” His words hit their mark, gnawing at her mind the way her teeth did her cheek. Turning them over in her mind, her eyes blurred on the meal in her hands. Celaena, perhaps, wasn’t scared of anything. She could walk into any situation and leave the victor, compartmentalizing any feelings she had into perfectly wrapped packages that she could assess at a later date.

Aelin wasn't that person, though. These days her feelings were a hurricane ravaging her soul, and she couldn't escape them. Not anymore.

When she had ripped Arobynn’s heart from his chest, she had expected to feel content. There was a peace she thought would crash over her in waves, like his heart no longer beating would soothe the darkest parts of her,soul. Instead, there had only been a sharp ringing in her ears while she held the fleshy mass in her hands, an emptiness that she had never felt before crushing in on all sides. It may as well have been her own death. Maybe that’s what it would take for her to feel at peace.

“Celaena.” Nox’s voice followed a jab to her shoulder with his finger, and she whipped her head around to look at him. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

Her heart was beating so hard she could barely hear his voice. It almost sounded like she was underwater. It took several more thumps of her heart to focus on his face, and she didn’t realize that her cheeks were wet until he brushed at them with his thumb. Truthfully, she ached to tell someone, anyone, about the turmoil that ravaged her. But Rowan was the only person that knew her for everything that she was. He was the only person, save for Arobynn, that knew her true identity. And Rowan was the last person she could get herself to be fully honest with today. Nox didn’t know the truth; he was on a need-to-know basis. There was just no accounting for how he might react if she told him everything, so instead of letting honest words tumble from her lips, she forced them up into a smile and shook her head.

“Nothing. I’m fine.”

166 notes · View notes

c-optimistic · 4 years

Note

for your happy prompts ask, perhaps kara is a documentary film maker who follows ceo lena around for a doc and ends up falling in love with her by learning a bunch of little things she finds out during filming? also p.s. i absolutely adore your writing even when it tugs at the heartstrings. thank you for writing what you do! it makes my day everytime i see an update or get an email

She wasn’t allowed to see Lena Luthor until she’d signed so many papers that, if stacked together, would be taller than she was. She wasn’t even allowed to touch her camera around Lena Luthor until the woman herself, CEO extraordinaire, had personally vetted Kara out.

“You know,” Kara said as casually as she could, finding herself nervously adjusting her glasses when Lena’s cold gaze fell on her, “I usually have a whole team with me when I do this.”

“And I agreed to this on the condition that only one nosy filmmaker follows me around, not a whole team.” Lena’s reply was like everything else Kara had learned about the CEO thus far: she was blunt, a little harsh, tone and eyes cold and emotionless. She gave nothing away, not in her walk, in her mannerisms, in the ridiculously healthy food she ate, in the way she spoke to her employees or board members. She was cool, detached, wickedly smart, and utterly composed. “And I must approve the final result,” she added, gesturing to the mountain of paperwork Kara signed.

(Kara sighed internally, a tiny part of her sure Lena was a robot.)

“But it’s everything, right?” Kara clarified. “A total look into your life, no holding back?”

“You may follow me around to your heart’s content,” Lena said, leaning back in her desk chair, studying Kara intently.

“May I ask, Ms. Luthor, what made you agree to this, when you’re usually so distrustful of the media?”

Lena gave Kara a smile that didn’t touch her eyes. “What made you ask to do this when you know I distrust the media?”

Lena hadn’t answered, so Kara knew she didn’t have to either, but she felt it was important to establish some kind of rapport with the woman she’d be following around for the next few weeks. “I’m of the opinion that things are rarely as simple as they seem from the outside, that’s all.”

“Well,” Lena said, looking pleasantly surprised and offering Kara a grin (a real one, one that touched her eyes and transformed her face), “perhaps that’s why I agreed to you doing this.”

“You’re one of Ms. Luthor’s closest friends, is that right?”

“Yes.”

“Since before your daughter was born?”

“Yup.”

“So would you say you know her quite well?”

“Sure.”

“Do you plan on answering any of my questions with more than one word?”

“Nope.”

“Okay. So, in one word I suppose, how would you describe Ms. Luthor to a stranger?”

“Flawless.”

The rules of her arrangement with Lena were rather simple. For the next several weeks, Lena consented to having Kara around from the moment she woke up to the moment she went to sleep. In return, Kara was not allowed in certain meetings at L-Corp, was not allowed to bring her camera with her at all when Lena went down to R&D, and if Lena asked for her to stop filming at any point, Kara was bound to immediately do so and erase any footage she may have inadvertently captured.

For the first two days of the arrangement, it was actually rather boring. Lena was awake before the crack of dawn, she didn’t acknowledge Kara’s presence as she made coffee and toast (though she did push a cup and a plate towards Kara), and then spent the next fifteen or so hours in her office, sifting through papers, answering phone calls and responding to emails, and forgetting meals. It wasn’t until the third day that Lena’s routine changed slightly.

She received a phone call at breakfast, and whoever it was caused a bright red blush to bloom on her cheeks. Kara zoomed in slightly on Lena’s face as she answered the call. “Now’s not really a good time, Sam,” she began, falling silent at whatever this Sam was saying on the other end. Lena’s eyes flitted over towards Kara, but to her surprise, she didn’t ask for Kara to shut off the camera. “That sounds terrible,” she said, sounding truly apologetic, something about her countenance changing. She seemed softer, more open, calmer than Kara had seen her yet. “And Ruby was so excited too.” Lena fell silent once more, nodding almost as if unaware of it. “I agree with her,” Lena suddenly laughed, still nodding, “it’s not fair at all. But there’s no way I’m not going to visit. Do you want me to bring anything?” Lena laughed again, and Kara wondered if her camera was capturing the change she was witnessing with her own eyes. “As if I could forget Ruby’s chocolate.” A pause. “Give her all my love.” Another pause, a tiny smile on Lena’s lips. “All right, I will. Bye.” As she hung up, she looked over at Kara, as if daring her to comment, everything about her shuttering at once.

“Who was that?” Kara asked, not really expecting an answer. To her surprise, however, Lena’s eyes flitted to the camera and she let out a soft, resigned sigh.

“That was my CFO, Sam Arias,” she answered, her tone a complete 180 from what she was using on the phone. She studied Kara for a moment and must have read something on her face, because her shoulders deflated and she motioned towards her phone. “Sam is my best friend. Her daughter, Ruby, is my goddaughter. We were supposed to go to the animal shelter today.” Lena smiled softly, almost as if unaware of it. “She’s finally convinced Sam she’s responsible enough for a pet. It’s actually—” Lena stopped suddenly, her eyes shifting to the camera once more, any warmth that had managed to leak out dissipating at once. “In any case, she’s sick. So we’ll have to reschedule.” She waved her hand towards the camera. “Can you turn that off, please?”

“Uh, yeah, of course,” Kara said quickly, making a show of turning the Camcorder off and setting it aside. “Is something wrong?”

Lena shook her head, leaning against her kitchen counter as she eyed Kara with something like curiosity. “You know, I’ve seen all of your other work,” she said after a moment, frowning at Kara like she was a puzzle she couldn’t figure out.

(Had she? Seen all of Kara’s work? A part of Kara was curious as to how, after all, most of her stuff was tucked away in a closet back in Midvale, waiting to be opened up and viewed during Christmas, when Alex would laugh at the films she’d made in high school about how the boys’ sports teams were unfairly given more attention than the girls’. The others were projects for her degree and one or two failed attempts to get a real production company to take the risk on her.

In fact, if not for Cat Grant’s decision as ‘The Queen of All Media’ to get involved in filmmaking, funding a project from a no-name creator, Kara wasn’t even sure she’d have the film she was making now.)

“Oh,” she said inarticulately, not quite sure how to word what she was really thinking. How rich did you have to be to be able to bribe anyone into giving you anything?

Lena nodded carefully, her face a perfect mask. If not for the way her eyes followed Kara’s every movement, Kara would’ve even thought that Lena was bored. “You’re very fond of certain themes. Hope. Love. Endless optimism in the best of humanity.” She said it like it was a bad thing. And it was suddenly Kara’s turn to lean forward on the opposite end of the counter, feeling her head tilt to the side questioningly.

“Is that what you got from my films?” she asked, genuinely curious.

Lena seemed wary of the question, standing up straight and crossing her arms over her chest defensively. “Isn’t that what you intended?”

“You know,” Kara said slowly, “I don’t actually believe in all that creator’s intent nonsense. I think we search for parts of ourselves when we consume art. So if that’s what you got from my films, that says more about you than it does about me.”

If anything, this seemed to offend Lena. “So you’d deny having any sort of intent with your work? What about making something with meaning?”

Kara laughed, shaking her head. “That’s not what I mean, and besides, who says art has to mean anything?”

“Of course art means something,” Lena argued, narrowing her eyes at Kara. “What’s the point of doing it if it doesn’t mean anything?”

Kara shrugged easily, giving Lena a small smile. “I disagree. I think art says something. But meaning is up to the people who consume it.” She picked up her camera and pointed it at Lena without turning it on. “Doesn’t matter what I intended to say with my films, you got meaning from it. So I’d say there was a point in making it, don’t you think?”

Lena eyed her for a moment, apparently not liking that Kara wasn’t giving her an answer, wasn’t telling her what she was trying to say with her work. But then, after several long seconds, she relented, letting out a chuckle and shaking her head. “Well, fine,” she said, her smile touching her eyes. “As long as you don’t try to say anything silly like hope, love, or endless optimism in the best of humanity with this film.”

“I’m afraid I can’t change who you are, Ms. Luthor,” Kara said softly, turning her camera on and effectively cutting off any response Lena may have had.

(And when she looks at the footage weeks later, she’ll freeze that frame, breath catching at the look on Lena’s face: the softness of her eyes, the curve of her lips, and the pleasantly confused crinkle between her brows.)

“Do you spend a lot of time with your godmother?”

“Oh yeah, loads! She’s great.”

“What sort of things do you do with her?”

“I mean, normal stuff? She takes me to get ice cream all the time. The other day, she rented that new horror movie that came out and watched it with me when I stayed over. My mom went nuts when she found out.”

“So you like her?”

“No, of course not. I love Lena. She’s my aunt, you know? She’s family.”

“And if you had the chance, what would you want the world to know about her?”

“That she cares, so much. And that she’s funny and super smart and helps me with homework and after my mom she’s the very best person I know.”

The visit to Luthor Children’s Hospital was, as far as Kara was aware, unplanned and in fact gave Jess a great deal of anxiety. For her part, Kara was mostly frustrated and annoyed, wondering if this film was worth it at all. Because Lena Luthor seemed to be asking Kara to turn off the camera more and more, especially when her day deviated at all and she was forced to leave her office.

(Walks in the park, lunches with her goddaughter, a touching moment with the child of one of her employees...all locked away somewhere in Kara’s memory, but destined to remain there instead of on film, where it should be.)

She huffed a little bit as she leaned against the wall, watching Lena walk quickly towards the group of nurses and doctors. She didn’t say anything when Jess joined her, a contemplative look on her face. “She always does this,” Jess told Kara after a long silence, rolling her eyes fondly. “She’ll cancel meetings last minute because she heard one of the kids in the hemoc ward has finished treatment or that they’re out of toys to give to the new patients.”

“Why isn’t there any press if she does this often?” Kara asked, turning to Jess but watching Lena out of the corner of her eye. She was talking to one of the doctors now, looking comically out of place with her designer clothes while surrounded by colorful artwork by kids that littered the walls of the Children’s Hospital.

Jess fixed Kara with an unimpressed look. “You’ve met her, right?” she asked rhetorically. “She goes out of her way to hide these visits. She says that she has to keep it under wraps because she wants to keep it about the kids and not her. But I think the truth is she’s just worried people would mistreat the kids and their families for allowing a ‘Luthor’ within ten feet of them.”

“Oh,” Kara said dumbly, a little stunned by the new information, and feeling guilty for her thoughts earlier. “That’s...awful.”

“I’m not telling you this for nothing, you know,” Jess continued, frowning at Kara. “She’s been avoiding lots of her usual charitable work since you’ve been around. The whole point of this was to get everyone else to see the real Lena Luthor, but she’s ruining it by being humble and noble.”

(Kara wanted to groan, roll her eyes, or better yet go over to Lena herself and shake her until she understood what Kara’s job was.

How was she supposed to make a documentary about Lena Luthor if Lena Luthor was so determined to hide herself away from the world?)

“What would you have me do?” she asked, not voicing her frustration, though it seeped into her tone anyway. “We have a deal, and she doesn’t want me to film these things.”

Jess shook her head, looking terribly unimpressed by the answer. “Don’t you have artistic integrity? Would you allow anyone else to boss you around and tell you what you could and couldn’t film?”

Kara looked over at Lena, who was now smiling at a young boy who had ambled up to her with his mother and infusion pump stand in tow. She watched as Lena actually dropped to her knees to talk to the boy, nodding vigorously at whatever he was saying. After a long moment, she turned back to Jess and shook her head. “No,” she said finally. “I guess I wouldn’t.”

And after Jess had given her another significant look before walking off, Kara raised her camera and began to film.

“Mr. Spheer, you’re an ex of Lena Luthor’s, right?”

“Ah, I see this documentary is quite personal. Are you sure that Lena is okay with this sort of thing going into her movie?”

“Well, it’s my movie. But she’s free to ask me to take things out.”

“Fascinating. Yes, I am Lena’s ex. I was quite brokenhearted when she broke it off to move to National City.”

“Oh, she broke it off?”

“So curious, Ms. Danvers. Perhaps you’re interested in something beyond a mere film?”

“W-what? No, that’s—please be serious, Mr. Spheer—”

“It’s Jack to you, my dear. What else do you need to know about Lena? Her favorite flowers are plumerias, her favorite food is—”

“—oh that’s really not necessary. If we could just focus on who Lena is as a person. A friend. A former girlfriend?”

“Hmm, yes. Well, just imagine your perfect woman, Ms. Danvers.”

“Oh, um, I—”

“—exactly, you see Lena. That’s an universal experience, I’m afraid. Lena is simply...too good for this world.”

“So you’d say the treatment she gets by the public is unfair?”

“It’s unfair how much people attack pineapple on pizza, Ms. Danvers. The way they speak of Lena without knowing her? That’s a pure travesty.”

They were about ten days into filming when Kara saw Lena relax for the first time.

She was using the word ‘relax’ rather loosely, of course. Lena didn’t do what Kara did after a long week—put on a pair of sweatpants, order loads of junk food, and watch so much Netflix that it eventually felt the need to ask her if she was still watching. In fact, Lena’s idea of relaxing was more work. Just, fun work.

She was dressed in jeans and a blue shirt, knees pulled up to her chest as she sat at her desk, mumbling under her breath as she did whatever she was doing. (She hadn’t bothered to explain to Kara, had just sighed and acquiesced to the presence of the camera in her home office.) Perched precariously at the tip of her nose were a thick black pair of glasses, her hair falling to her shoulders in gentle waves.

She looked different. Softer, somehow. Gone was all the trappings of a badass CEO, and all that was left was a clever (and beautiful) young woman, working on the things she loved in her spare time.

Kara zoomed in slightly, focusing on Lena’s face, on the furrow between her brows, her lips twisted in concentration. There was something there, something different, and Kara just wanted to—

“Is that camera heavy?” Lena asked, looking up suddenly, a curious expression on her face. She was good at that, the polite looks, gently asking for more information. Tiny eyebrow raises, nearly imperceptible softening of her eyes, lips quirked the slightest bit, all intended to disarm her quarry, making them drop their guard long enough that they give everything held close to their chest away.

“Not really,” Kara answered, grinning at Lena. This made the other woman blink in surprise, clearly not the response she was looking for, that expression on her face shifting suddenly, becoming more calculating. “I work out,” Kara went on to explain, shrugging easily, careful not to jostle the camera. “Besides, it’s not that heavy, I think about five pounds.”

“What kind of camera do you use?”

“Oh, it’s a Panasonic AG-HVX—” she cut herself off. “It’s not that interesting.” Kara adjusted her glasses and made sure Lena’s face was still in focus. Somehow, this made Lena’s tiny smile reappear. She stood up and circled her desk, and Kara was forced to back away to maintain focus.

“You love filming, don’t you?” Lena asked, and Kara blinked, not quite sure where she was going with this.

“Ms. Luthor, as I’m sure you’re aware, this film is about you.”

If she thought this would in any way cow Lena, she was wrong. Lena just grinned, looking like she’d somehow won something.

“Do you know what I don’t understand?” she said with faux casualness, crossing her arms and tapping a finger against her elbow. “Why would you, someone Cat Grant speaks so highly of, be willing to agree to this assignment? Something most people wouldn’t touch with a ten foot pole.”

Kara frowned, not thinking as she responded. “It wasn’t assigned, Ms. Luthor. I pitched the idea. I wanted to do this.” Lena’s words sank in a moment later. “Wait. Cat Grant spoke highly of me?”

“Why?” Lena asked, no longer smiling.

Kara blinked at the change in tone. “Why what?” she asked, genuinely confused. This was, apparently, the wrong answer, because Lena chose that moment to begin pacing in front of her desk, looking more than a little bothered.

“I don’t get it,” she said as she paced. “I tried to figure it out, looked into you, into your work. I thought maybe you were doing this to build fame, but I’ve seen your work and even without a movie about the last Luthor, I have no doubt you’ll be very popular—”

“Oh, that’s nice of you, thank y—”

“—then I thought maybe you have a vendetta against my family and just want me to look bad,” Lena continued, barreling over Kara’s words and ignoring her entirely, “but the only connection between you and my family is your cousin, Clark Kent, and he’s the journalist who broke the story on my brother, so if anything I should dislike you—”

“That’s not exactly...Clark and I aren’t—”

“—so I really need you to explain it to me. Why did you want to make this film?” She paused her brisk pacing as she asked the question, meeting Kara’s eyes with a fierce look, one Kara was infinitely glad she was capturing on film. Because this, this glint in Lena’s eyes, was why Kara wanted to do this.

“Do you remember the speech you gave when you came to National City?” Kara asked, and judging from the way Lena’s eyebrows rose in response, she was rather thrown by the question. “Because I do. I watched it maybe a few dozen times. All those horrible questions, all the absolute certainty that you were like your brother, and you kept your head up and you promised to prove them all wrong, to make up for what he did.” Kara sighed, shutting off the camera and setting it aside gently. “I’ve never seen anything quite like it. I was...interested. I wanted to see more.”

“And?”

“And what?”

“Did I meet your expectations? Disappoint you? What?”

Kara smiled, unable to help it. “Does my opinion on you really matter?”

“Do you always answer a question with another question?” Lena shot back, eyes narrowing.

Kara’s smile just widened and she began to gather her things, preparing to leave for the night. Impressively, Lena didn’t question her further, just watched her then followed her to the door, looking rather cross. Pausing briefly to adjust her glasses and the strap of her bag, Kara turned suddenly and met Lena’s eyes. “You exceeded them. My expectations, that is,” Kara added when Lena offered only a quizzical look in response.

For a moment, Lena didn’t react, then that same look from her office—the softness of her eyes, the curve of her lips, and the pleasantly confused crinkle between her brows—overtook her expression, and she let out a laugh.

“Well, good then.”

“You went to boarding school with Ms. Luthor?”

“I don’t think that’s public knowledge, how do you know that?”

“Um, Ms. Arias told me about you. She mentioned your relationship with Ms. Luthor is unique.”

“Well, Sam would know, wouldn’t she?”

“Ms. Rojas, if you don’t want to speak to me, you don’t have to.”

“It’s fine. Look, Lena and I have been estranged for a while now. I...I did something to break her trust.”

“So would you say that Ms. Luthor is difficult to get along with?”

“No, I’d say that Lena values things like honesty and trust, and—you know that Austen novel? With the man who says that once you lose his good opinion, it’s gone forever?”

“Pride and Prejudice?”

“Exactly. Lena is like that.”

“Ms. Luthor is like Mr. Darcy?”

“No, she’s classic. No matter what’s going on, she’ll endure.”

“So...you were the one difficult to get along with?”

“Have you ever thought about taking your work to a whole new level, Kara? How do you feel about virtual reality?”

“Oh, um, I don’t have particular thoughts? But I’d love to know yours about Ms. Luthor. For the film.”

“She won’t believe this, or that I’m saying it coercion free, but Lena is...a visionary. More than that, she’s just a decent person. Which is more than most of us can say, don’t you think?”

After their conversation, Lena opened up dramatically.

(Well, dramatically was a stretch, but considering how closed off she’d been before, the difference was rather drastic.)

Kara filmed Lena’s visit to an animal shelter, capturing the way her fingers gently ran over the fur of the dog that immediately trotted over to her, placing its head in her lap. Lena had then explained that she went to shelters often, just to volunteer, as she was unable to adopt for fear of not having time to give the dog the attention it deserved.

Later that week, Lena let Kara stay later than usual, putting on some music as she got to cooking, going as far as to teach Kara the basics of the dish, laughing when Kara admitted that her skill in the kitchen was limited to making sandwiches. At one point she grabbed the camera and set it aside, dragging Kara into the kitchen, giving instructions and lessons as she swayed her hips to the music.

(It was silly, it was lighthearted, it was fun, and Kara couldn’t help it.

She forgot she was there to make a film.)

And as the days and weeks dragged on, when Lena showed off her skills at the piano—apologetically explaining she hadn’t had time to really play in months—or when she told Kara about her very ‘nerdy’ stamp collection or even when Lena seemed to ignore there was a camera between them and she began to talk about her day and her hopes for the weekend, Kara forgot that it was a job. She forgot that she was supposed to be making something, paying attention to more than Lena’s smile or the way her eyes lit up whenever she mentioned work she was particularly passionate about.

Somewhere along the way, Kara cared more about the opportunity to spend time with Lena than she did the film itself.

More worryingly, that realization didn’t even bother her.

“Why filmmaking?” Lena asked one morning, pushing coffee and toast towards Kara with a tiny smile. The camera was still in its bag, untouched since Kara had arrived nearly an hour earlier. “Why not journalism like your cousin?”

“My cousin and I,” Kara began awkwardly, adjusting her glasses, “well, our relationship is a little strained, I guess.” She didn’t need the slight tilt of Lena’s head to know that Lena wanted her to keep going, to explain further. She let out a soft chuckle and rubbed her forehead with the tips of her fingers. “Um, so my parents died when I was twelve. And Clark sort of...left me? I went to live with the Danvers instead, and they bought me a camera for my birthday.” Kara grinned at the very memory, still able to feel its weight in her hand, the eyepiece against her eye. “It was one of those old camcorders, do you remember? The ones with the tapes? I drove them nuts, filming literally everything. I don’t think they ever saw my face for the first few months I was with them, it was constantly behind the camera.” She didn’t explain why she wanted to document every moment with her new family, but judging from the way Lena’s eyes softened, she understood anyway. “From there it became serious. I started making films. School projects, etc. Now I’m here.”

“Why documentaries? Why not something like...oh, I don’t know, action movies?” Lena prodded, looking curious, looking interested, looking like the answer mattered.

Kara just shrugged, suddenly not able to look Lena in the eye. “I guess there’s a part of me that wanted to take after Clark.”

“How long have you been working for Ms. Luthor?”

“Um, this December will make seven years.”

“As her assistant, you have remarkable access to her. What’s she like?”

“Driven, ambitious, works way too hard. I don’t think she’s ever taken a holiday or even a break...but um, maybe don’t say that in the film.”

“Artistic integrity, remember? She works hard, that’s clear. But what about personally? Her relationship with you and the other employees? What kind of boss is she?”

“She cares a lot. A few years ago, before Lex Luthor, well. You know. Before all that, LuthorCorp was facing serious losses. Mr. Luthor wanted to just get rid of entire departments, but Ms. Luthor said the research was vital, and more than that, the researchers were important. She convinced her brother to keep them on—she won’t admit it, but it was more than being persuasive. She paid for it out of her own pocket.”

“So you’d say she’s charitable?”

“No, she’s passionate. And she fights for the things she believes in. Ms. Luthor likes to say that charity implies pity, and she doesn’t do anything out of pity. She just does what’s right by people.”

“Some would disagree, they’d argue that LuthorCorp, and by extension its new iteration, L-Corp, don’t care about people, but about profits. Do you think that’s a fair assessment of the company you’ve devoted seven years to?”

“Look. I get it, people are suspicious of L-Corp because it used to be LuthorCorp. But it’s not just a name change. When Lena took over, she gutted her company. There’s not a single program left from Mr. Luthor’s time as CEO. L-Corp is all Ms. Luthor.”

“So if L-Corp is Ms. Luthor, who is Ms. Luthor?”

“She’s a woman who’s been hurt all her life, Kara Danvers, and whose only goal is to keep as many people as she can from hurting too. Sometimes I just wish she realized she doesn’t deserve to be hurt anymore either.”

“Oh.”

“Also, I don’t care about your artistic integrity, that last bit does not go in the film.”

One afternoon, when Kara was dangerously close to dozing off on the couch in Lena’s office—camera turned off and set aside, not really needing more footage of Lena working at her desk—Lena suddenly jumped to her feet, an excited gleam in her eyes.

“They’ve done it,” she said, the smile forming on her lips so wide that Kara found herself smiling back.

“Done what?” Kara asked, fairly sure this would lead to Lena’s refrain of ‘that’s company business and I’m afraid you’re not privy to that information’ but instead, Lena looked at her appraisingly, then rolled her eyes.

“If I allow you to bring your camera in R&D, do you swear not to film my ongoing projects?”

“You’re going to let me film in R&D?” Kara said excitedly, jumping to her feet and grabbing her camera.

“Kara, do you swear?”

“Yes, yes, of course, Ms. Luthor. I absolutely swear.”

And the next thing Kara knew, she was filming in the one place she’d been told was off-limits, capturing the lab and Lena talking to her researchers animatedly about the advancement they’d made in gene therapy, not entirely surprised when Lena shoved the scientists towards Kara and urged them to brag about their achievement—while also warning them to be as vague as possible—and then sank into the background, clearly thrilled to have her scientists as the center of attention.

And later, when Lena decided to actually take a lunch hour as a ‘reward’ for the great strides L-Corp had made, she took Kara along, bought three different appetizers, and smiled her wide smile before she said, “It’s Lena, by the way. Just Lena.”

Mouth still bulging with the three potstickers she’d practically inhaled, Kara couldn’t manage much more than a nod, but later—when she was alone—she tried saying the name aloud, and it sent a shiver down her spine.

“Mrs. Luthor—”

“It’s doctor, actually.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Dr. Luthor. You adopted Ms. Luthor when she was four, is that correct?”

“I’m afraid I don’t have time for this nonsense. I consented to this interview only to say one thing: Lena was always the more clever of my children, but she’s foolish and soft, and this silly film is yet another example of that.”

“You agreed to meet with me to just say...that. Okay. That’s um. Fine.”

As the weeks dragged on, Kara had little reason to continue filming. Her deadline with Cat Grant was fast approaching, and she had more than enough footage. All that really remained was editing, of putting the final pieces together. But she found herself filming anyway.

Every day, she’d make her way to Lena’s apartment, making flimsy excuses about how certain footage was no good, or had been corrupted, and that she needed retakes of Lena doing ordinary things (like reading the paper, cooking dinner, or talking about her day). She knew that Lena could tell her excuses were just that, but mercifully, Lena didn’t seem to want to call her out on it, merely gave soft reminders not to stay up so late every night to edit (the ‘you could just as easily stop wasting your time here and be editing during normal hours’ going unsaid).

(Jess had rolled her eyes when Kara came by L-Corp and Lena mentioned offhandedly that Kara somehow hadn’t gotten a shot of Lena entering her building in all the time she’d shadowed the CEO, and wasn’t that odd?)

But what Kara knew, what made her stretch out these moments as long as she possibly could, was that once the final product popped into existence, once she showed Lena and got her okay to send off to Cat Grant, that was it.

No more Lena.

And that terrified her.

(So she gathered more footage, fruitlessly hoping that the final product would never be ready, dragging her feet at every step.

She edited, studying Lena’s every expression, tried to pinpoint the exact moment she’d started to fall for the not-so-detached CEO extraordinaire, and wished it didn’t all have to come to an end.)

Two days after Kara had sent Lena the finished film, she got a curt email from the CEO herself with only three words: come see me.

Jess gave no indication about how her boss was feeling when Kara arrived, merely stared evenly at Kara and gestured with her head for her to just go on in. When Kara tried to ask her, Jess shook her head, pointed at the door to Lena’s office, and made a shooing gesture.

“It’s odd to see you without a camera,” Lena said when Kara sat down across from her, trying to keep her hands from fidgeting.

“It’s odd to be in here without a camera.” Kara took a deep breath. “Did you watch it?” she blurted, unable to keep it in. “What did you think?”

“You’re really fond of certain themes,” Lena said, then she raised her eyebrow. “You also filmed quite a bit when I had asked you not to.”

“Artistic integrity?” Kara tried, and Lena...laughed.

“I don’t know if I agree with the way you portrayed me,” she said slowly as her amusement faded. “You took a lot of liberties.”

“I was very faithful to the subject of the film, Lena.”

“What do you think you were trying to say?” Lena asked, waving off Kara’s comment.

“What meaning did you get from it?”

Lena studied her for a moment, as if she was trying to read Kara’s mind. “I’m not some selfless genius, Kara.”

“Is that what you think the film is saying?” Kara asked her, not rising to the obvious bait. “Like I said, Lena. I was very faithful to the subject of the film.” For a long moment, Lena didn’t respond, and Kara felt the worry she’d managed to push away since sending the film to Lena creep back in. “Does this mean you don’t approve of the film?”

“Hmm?” Lena said, distracted. “No, I’ve already sent it along to Cat Grant, giving my okay. Even though you broke our agreement, I can’t deny the final result was very favorable to me.”

“I wouldn’t have made something that wasn’t completely true,” Kara said, somewhat hotly, most of her irritation bleeding away with the knowledge that Cat Grant was in possession of the final product, that the rest was up to her.

Lena smiled, eyes soft, and she nodded her head almost incredulously. “No, you wouldn’t. I know that.” She cleared her throat, seeming a bit nervous. “But I was thinking. I’ve been missing our talks about your work, and I know you don’t like talking about what you’ve made, but perhaps you’d make an exception for me. Would you be willing to give me a private showing of your film? Give me all the insider secrets? I know your subject quite well, it would be a fun exercise.”

Kara’s heart slammed to a stop, the jump-started at the sight of Lena’s amused eyes, that tiny curve of her lips. “A private showing, huh?” Kara mumbled, feeling a little dazed. “I still won’t tell you what I was trying to say.”

“That’s completely fair.”

“But I suppose I could give you some insight on my thoughts.”

“Only if you wanted.”

“It may have to be more than one session,” Kara said, trying and failing to stop the spread of her smile. “There’s a lot of footage you know.”

“So it’s a date?” Lena asked, and Kara couldn’t help her eager nod.

“It’s definitely a date.”

#thank you so much!#supercorp #fanfic

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sisterspooky1013 · 3 years

Text

Only One Choice, Part 2, Chapter 19

Read it here on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic

While at first the days and nights that Mulder is away on a case feel lonely, she soon comes to appreciate the time to herself. She reads more, watches the rom-coms that he despises, has one-sided conversations with Priscilla, and gives her vibrator, long since relegated to the back of her bedside drawer, a second lease on life. When Mulder is home he’s more animated and energetic, their sex exciting and passionate. The things she loves best about him magnified, but also some of the worst. There have been a few nights he’s missed dinner without so much as a phone call, and her worry quickly gave way to irritation when he waltzed in the door raving about secret storage facilities hidden in mountains. They create new routines, new boundaries and expectations, and as time wears on, they adjust. He’ll call if he’s going to miss dinner, and she won’t guilt trip him when unexpected cases ruin their plans.

The day before Thanksgiving, he gets a tip from one of his sources about a UFO crash site in Utah and books himself and Monica tickets for that night. Scully questions whether he’s going to miss Thanksgiving dinner at her mother’s and he grimaces, saying he hopes to be back but as usual, can’t make any promises.

The last she hears from him is around 8:00 am on Thanksgiving day when he asks her to send his regrets to her mom. She tries to keep the disappointment out of her voice as she promises to pack up some leftovers for him to have when he gets home. When he hasn’t called by Friday afternoon, she’s a little bit worried. By Friday night, she’s panicking.

Not knowing what else to do, she goes to the Gunmen’s, using her own special knock that spells out “doc” in Morse code.

“Hey, Sis, are you okay?” Missy greets her with a worried frown, now an honorary fourth member of the trio.

“I haven’t heard from Mulder in over twenty four hours,” she answers, breezing past Missy and into the tech room. “I need you to find him for me.”

The Gunmen work their magic while Missy pours her drink after drink. They track his flight into Salt Lake City and then ping his cell phone just outside Provo around 8:00 pm Thursday night. After that, nothing.

“What do you know about the case he was investigating?” Byers asks, perched behind a computer with Missy’s arms draped over his shoulders, her chin resting on his head.

Scully rubs her hands over her face in frustration. “Nothing, other than an alleged UFO crash site. He didn’t give me any other information.”

“What about his partner, Agent Reyes?” Langly asks, “do you have any way to get ahold of her?”

“I’ve tried her cell a hundred times, it’s off,” Scully replies, feeling tears coming up again.

“Does she have a family, someone else you could contact to see if she’s been in touch?” Byers adds.

“She has a partner, Dahlia,” Scully explains, “but I don’t know her last name to look up her number. I’m sure it’s in Monica’s file as her emergency contact, but the whole Hoover Building is shut down for the holiday. I know that her first name is Dahlia, she works at a flower shop in Alexandria, and they live in Palisades. That’s it.”

“Well we can work with that, why don’t you go home and get some rest?” Frohike offers, resting his hand on her shoulder.

She shakes her head, quiet tears slipping down her cheeks. “I don’t want to be alone,” she whispers, her voice small and afraid.

“I’ll come with you, Sis,” Missy says, replacing Frohike behind Scully and wrapping her arms around her sister’s shoulders.

After Missy has gathered her things and kissed Byers goodbye, she drives Scully’s car back to her apartment and plies her with more alcohol. They hold hands as they sleep, Scully’s dreams plagued by visions of Mulder detained, hurt, or worst of all, dead. If she’d had any idea that having the X files reopened would put his life at risk, she never would have entertained the idea.

Please come home, she begs God, the universe, Mulder himself if he’s somewhere listening. Please be okay.

The phone shrieks and she sits up abruptly, her head spinning. Early dawn light is just beginning to seep into the room and she feels like she hasn’t slept at all.

“Mulder?!” she blurts out, a thousand prayers on the tip of her tongue.

“No, it’s Langly, sorry. We got a number for Agent Reyes’ partner.”

Missy is now awake, and scrambles to the hallway to get a pen and paper so Scully can write down Dahlia Vidales’ phone number.

“Thank you Langly, bye,” she says and hangs up without waiting for a response. She dials Dahlia’s number with shaky hands, repeating please please please in her head over and over.

“¿Hola?” says a creaky voice, and Scully glances at the clock to see that it’s only 6:00 am.

“Dahlia?” she asks desperately, her head feeling thick and muddy.

“¿Si, Quién es?”

“This is Dana Scully, have you heard from Monica recently?” Her throat feels thick and dry, her ears ringing in protest of what they might hear.

“Oh, Hi Dana. Yes, I spoke to her last night around ten pm.”

She lets out a shaky breath, feeling a wave of relief.

“Was Mulder with her?” she questions, her jaw quivering.

“Si, she said their cell phones were confiscated and they had stopped at a diner to get something to eat. She called me from a payphone. Is everything okay, Dana?”

She’s shaking, her body suddenly freezing even under her down comforter. The tension she’s been holding for the last two days erupts in a wave of tremors and she starts sobbing.

“Did she say when they’ll be home?” she forces out around her tears.

“They were hoping to get a flight this morning, so sometime today, should be.”

“Thank you, Dahlia. Sorry to wake you,” she says, and hangs up.

Missy holds her as she shakes uncontrollably, her head aching as her racking sobs jostle her dehydrated brain. Missy runs her a hot bath and after some ibuprofen, two big glasses of water, a set of warm clothes and a hot meal, she feels physically much better.

Mentally, she has shifted from worry, fear, and despair to white hot rage. When he walks in that door, she is going to kill him.

———

“Later, Reyes, sorry to hijack your Thanksgiving,” he says with a regretful smile as Monica slides into a cab. He grabs the next one, chucking his duffel bag into the trunk and slumping into the back seat with an exhausted sigh.

It’s been a long few days. They’d located the crash site and even got a little peek at it from behind a utility shed, but soon after they were loaded up in a paddy wagon and interrogated for six hours in a place that was definitely not a police station. When they were finally released, it was without their cell phones, though the suits were kind enough to let them keep their FBI badges.

He needs a shower and a shave, and a good night's sleep. He hopes Scully has gone grocery shopping, and if he's really lucky, there will still be Thanksgiving leftovers. He’d tried calling her from the terminal but she hadn’t answered. At least he has a full day off tomorrow before getting back to the daily grind on Monday.

The cab drops him off outside Scully’s apartment building and he tosses some money over the seat before retrieving his bag. Once inside, he’s fitting his key into the lock when the door swings open and he finds Melissa on the other side.

“Oh, hey Missy,” he says with a touch of surprise.

“I was just leaving,” she replies with an icy stare, and he wonders if something is up with her and Byers.

“Okay, see ya,” he says as she brushes past him and down the hall.

The apartment is dim, a fire crackling in the fireplace the only source of light.

“Scully?” he calls out as Priscilla trots up to him, rubbing her flank against his leg. He picks her up and scratches under her chin, letting her rub her cheek against his two-day stubble.

“I’m here,” Scully says flatly, and he realizes she’s lying on the couch.

He picks up his bag and walks it to the bedroom, dropping it on the floor and discarding his suit jacket on the bed. Returning to the living room, he leans down to kiss her on the cheek and then stands between the fire and the couch, facing her.

“Did you have plans for dinner?” he asks, “I’m starving.”

She scoffs, but he can’t make out her face in the dim light.

“Make your own fucking dinner,” she spits at him, and he physically recoils. Scully very rarely swears, so when she does, it means something.

“Whoa,” he says with a concerned tone, “What’s going on with you?”

“What’s going on with me?” she repeats, moving to sit up. “What’s going on with me? Hmm, let’s see,” she continues, her voice shifting to angry sarcasm. “Perhaps, Mulder, what’s going on with me is that my boyfriend skipped town just in time to miss Thanksgiving dinner with my family and I had to answer questions all night about where he was. Or maybe,” she says as she leans over and snaps on the lamp on the end table, illuminating her face. Her eyes are red and puffy, pronounced bags resting underneath them. “Maybe it’s the fact that I haven’t heard from you in over fifty hours, not a single phone call, or email, nothing. Maybe what’s going on with me, Mulder, is that I have barely slept in two days.” She stands, moving towards him, her voice rising in volume and her bottom lip quivering. “Maybe what’s going on with me is that I thought you were fucking dead, and I had to track down Dahlia to learn that not only were you alive and well, but you were also perfectly capable of calling me, but simply chose not to. MAYBE that is what is going on with me, Mulder!”

He stands there shell-shocked as she pushes past him, slamming the bedroom door shut as wails of agony erupt from the other side. Priscilla jumps up on to the coffee table and quirks her head at him with a meow.

“I have no idea,” he says to the cat.

He cautiously opens the bedroom door and finds Scully sitting cross-legged in the middle of the bed, a wad of tissues in her hand and tears streaking her face. She looks up at him with a wounded expression that he’s never seen before, and would never like to again

“I’m sorry, Scully, I didn’t mean to make you worry,” he says softly, approaching her.

She gives him an incredulous look.

“How the hell would I not worry if I hear nothing from you for two days, Mulder? What was I supposed to think? And why didn’t you call me?”

“They took my phone, Scully,” he offers, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

“What about the phone in your hotel room, Mulder? Or a pay phone, or a goddamn stranger’s phone. Your cell phone is not the only device available for you to contact me with.”

He’s starting to feel like he’s being lectured by his mother for staying out past curfew.

“Okay, Jesus, I get it. I’ll try to call next time,” he says with an irritated tone.

“You’ll try?” Scully asks him, the anger taking center stage again.

He shrugs. “Shit happens, Scully. You don’t know what it’s like out in the field. Sometimes you don’t have access to a phone, or you’re running down a lead and just can’t waste the time to make a call.”

The shift in her demeanor tells him that was the wrong thing to say.

“Waste the time?” she asks in a tight whisper. “Calling me so I know you’re okay is a waste of your time?”

“God, no, Scully, that’s not what I meant. You’re twisting my words around. Look, I’m exhausted, I’ve barely gotten any sleep, can we talk about this tomorrow?”

“YOU’VE barely gotten any sleep?!” she screams, then stands and walks towards him. Even with the ten inches he has on her, she looks larger than life, imposing, and scary. “I have been lying awake crying for two days worried about you!” she shouts up at him. “Get the fuck out of my apartment!”

He’s dumbstruck. He can’t remember the last time she referred to it as her apartment instead of theirs.

“Scully, you can’t be serious, all my stuff is he-”

“I said get OUT!” She cuts him off. She picks up his bag and walks it to the front door, tossing it into the hallway.

He walks slowly towards the door, waiting for her to say she doesn’t mean it, that they should get some sleep and talk about this in the morning. She stands beside the open door, her chest heaving and her jaw set, eyes focused on some far-away point but most certainly not on him. He steps into the hallway, opening his mouth to speak, and she slams the door in his face.

He hears the thunk of the deadbolt, and the sound strikes him as similar to the final nail in a coffin.

#the x files #txf #dana scully #fox mulder #gillovny #msr #sculder #x files fanfic #alternate universe

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mldrgrl · 3 years

Text

Broken Things 17/24

by: mldrgrl Rating: varies by chapter, rated R overall See Chapter 1 for summary and notes

November approaches quickly. The surveyor is due to arrive in only a handful of weeks. The horses are coming along just fine with their training. Mulder’s relationship with Katherine feels like it’s moving forward at a pleasant pace. Just before the last weekend of the month, he asks her if he might accompany her into town that Friday.

“Of course,” she says. “But, you don’t need to ask.”

“You might have plans with your friends and I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

“I would like to call on Susannah and Monica and Doctor Black, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t welcome to join me.”

“Then, I will accept your invitation.”

“My invitation? You invited yourself.”

“Did I?”

Probably the only thing he finds more delightful than when she raises her eyebrow at him is when she rolls her eyes at him.

He asks if she’d like to attempt to drive the wagon into town, but she declines. She feels that she’s only just mastered the carriage and has not had any wagon lessons yet. She’s more than happy to have him drive them.

Their first stop is the mercantile. Susannah rushes out to greet them and pulls Katherine inside by looping her arm through hers.

“We’ve got the prettiest new fabric in that will suit you so well,” she says. “I’ve been hoping you’d come by and held it just for you.”

“John,” Mulder greets, as he enters the store.

“Mulder, what timing. The denim trousers you ordered arrived just this week.”

“Thank you, I’ll take them now if you’ll wrap them.”

“Already done.”

“Katherine has our supply list, but it looks like your wife has absconded with her.”

“Yes, she’s been waiting for her to come in.”

“I’ll just take a look at the catalog in the meantime, I may have a few other things to order.”

“Certainly.” John slides the thick book of merchandise across the counter to Mulder. “We saw Melvin ride through town a few weeks ago and take Doctor Black back with him to the ranch. Heard you had taken a tumble from a wagon.”

“Just a little shoulder damage. That does remind me, if you have any liniment, I’ll take a couple tins off you.”

“We’ve got Sloan’s. The oil.”

“That’s fine, two bottles. No, make it three. I’ll bring one to the Doc.”

“He said Katherine patched you right up and did about as good of job with it as he would’ve done.”

“I guess if I had to compare the two, I much prefer the bedside manner of my wife.”

Mulder chuckles as John blushes and fumbles with the bottles of liniment. He’s saved from any further conversation of his shoulder when Katherine appears with Susannah and some bolts of cotton fabric with a blue paisley pattern.

“Kate, you have our list?” Mulder asks.

“Oh, yes.” She opens the little drawstring bag at her wrist and gives John the paper.

“Now that Katherine’s taken over from Melvin, you don’t have to translate his hieroglyphics any longer.”

“Yes, lovely handwriting.” John nods and then starts to collect items from the list, all business.

“I was just needling your wife about that Sunday dinner get-together we promised,” Susannah says. “You be sure not to keep her so busy she can’t do some proper visiting.”

“She is more than free to ride out at any time to come calling, but it has been a bit hectic lately.”

“Oh, we heard about your fall. Doctor Black said Katherine did all the doctoring for him and he didn’t lift a finger.”

“It was a mild concussion and a shoulder dislocation,” Katherine explains. “Just required a re-set of the shoulder and a good deal of rest.”

“John, put in for five of these undershirts here on page 67. Kate, is there anything you might want from Montgomery Ward?”

“I don’t know.”

“Take a gander and put in for whatever you find with John. I’m going to head across the way to the lumber mill just for a few minutes.”

“Alright.”

Mulder leaves Katherine at the mercantile and goes across the road to the mill. It’s a noisy place with a lot of sawing and yelling and hammering. The smell of sawdust is everywhere. The air is thick with it and Mulder can swear he feels it clinging to him as soon as he gets within five feet of the place.

“Mr. Hartwell,” he shouts, waving his hat to get the foreman’s attention.

Mr. Hartwell leaves the saw he’s working with stuck in the lumber he’s cutting and takes his gloves off to shake hands. “Mr. Mulder, good to see you,” he says.

“I’m soon to be in need of some lumber.”

“Oh?”

“I took over Old Man Goodwin’s plot and I’ve got a surveyor coming out a little more than a week from now. He’s supposed to get me some plans for a bigger barn, new stables, and we’ll be doing a new bunkhouse and expanding the house eventually.”

“Is that right? When might you be needing your order?”

“I hope to break ground by winter. At least on the corral. I’ve been clearing trees on the property and we can recycle some of what we’ve already got. You still have a record on the build on my current plot?”

“I reckon so.”

“Let’s start with that same amount. I’m about to run down to the bank. I’ll tell Mr. Skinner you’ll be giving him an estimate and he can advance anything you need and I’ll take what I can get by let’s say, mid-December?”

“Well alright then.” Mr. Hartwell nods.

“I’ll also be in the market to hire labor, so if you have anyone in mind you can point my way, I’d be most grateful.”

“I’ll ask around.”

“Thank you.”

The two men shake hands again and Mulder heads back to the mercantile. John Jr. is loading up the wagon with their purchases. He gives Mulder a wave.

“How are things with your sweetheart?” Mulder asks, helping to load the last of the crates from the porch.

John Jr. sighs. “She broke off with me a couple weeks ago.”

“Well, now, that’s a shame.”

“She said I was boring and then the next day she was holding hands with Luke Doggett.”

“That the Sheriff’s boy?”

“Yes, Sir. I can’t even be mad over it because Luke’s a nice guy.”

“Be patient. You’re a hard worker and you’re not boring at all, you’re stable, like your father. You’ll find a great girl one day that’ll appreciate that.”

“Naw, I think I’m done with girls for awhile. I’m gonna save up and get a horse.”

“Well, horses are good too. When you’re ready to buy, you come see me. I’ll give you a good deal.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Mulder chuckles to himself as he walks away from John Jr. and goes back into the mercantile. Katherine gives him a smile that makes him want to wrap his arms around her. He puts his hand at the small of her back instead.

“Ready?” he asks.

Katherine and Susannah say their goodbyes. Mulder helps his wife up into the wagon seat and then they head to the bank. He leaves Katherine at the line to the teller’s window and waves to Skinner who motions him into the office.

“I wanted to let you know that we’re moving forward on the expansion,” Mulder tells him. “Mr. Hartwell should be coming by with an estimate for lumber. I told him to speak with you and you’d arrange to advance him anything he might need.”

“I can do that.”

“I also, uh…” Mulder turns his hat over in his hands for a few moments and then he glances out into the foyer of the bank before he shuts the door to Skinner’s office for a bit of privacy. “If you can get word to my lawyers through the branch in Fort Worth that I’d like to update my will, I would appreciate it.”

“Certainly, if that’s what you want.”

“I’m sure I’ll need an update of my account holdings, so whatever they need they can have time to put it together.”

“What brought this on, if I may ask?”

“Had a fall from a wagon a few weeks ago. Nothing drastic, mind you, it just got me thinking and I’d like to make sure that if...well, if anything should happen, there’s no question of what my wishes are.”

“Your wife would be protected, by law.”

“Not well enough. I want to make damn sure the ranch will stay with her, and I want to make sure Melvin will be taken care of as well.”

“I’ll get word and if anything comes back from your lawyers, I will let you know.”

“Thank you.”

“Does she even know? Who she really married? How much you’re worth?”

“No.”

“You might want to tell her sometime.”

“When the time is right.”

↭

Katherine feels more confident this time when she pays the mortgage. The teller is polite, calls her Mrs. Mulder, slides the card to her that she needs to sign with a fountain pen and she doesn’t hesitate this time to write Katherine Mulder next to the date.

She’s finished before Mulder is done speaking with Mr. Skinner, so she waits for him outside by the wagon. She’s never really gotten a good look at the town before. The row of businesses stretches long and wide. If the bank is the end point, the mercantile is the start. In between there’s a sawmill, a blacksmith, the saloon, an icehouse, a cafe, a flour mill, a bath house, a meeting house, the sheriff’s office, a barber, a boarding house, a livery, a laundry, and the house of ill repute, as Mulder referred to it.

She knows there’s a church somewhere and a school, but they must be hidden in the outskirts of the town. Doctor Black must have his practice somewhere off the main road as well. Monica had said she lives off the road that veers left from the bank and she wonders how many other homes are out there and where everyone lives. The Byers may make their home as part of their store, but presumably Mr. Skinner does not sleep in the bank. And she remembers that Susannah said he had a wife.

Mulder comes outside and stands next to her. “When I first got here about the only things that existed were the mercantile and the saloon,” he says. “Sometimes it seems like all this just sprang up overnight.”

“Susannah was telling me today that a Wells Fargo office is coming in next year.”

“Long overdue for that, if you ask me. Nearest place to send a telegram is either Abilene or Fort Worth, depending on where you’re at.”

“How many folks live here?”

“I can’t say I know for sure. If I were to wager a guess, maybe fifty or so in town. There’s a lot of ranches around these parts that do their business here, so if you consider them to be part of the town, there’s got to be at least another hundred.”

“It’s strange, but I grew up in a city of twenty thousand people and it always felt very small to me. But, standing here, on a street you can probably walk up and back in a quarter of an hour, it feels enormous.”

“Well, they say everything is bigger in Texas.”

“I have heard that.”

“Where to now, fair Kate?”

“Where does the Doctor live?”

“Up that way behind the boardinghouse.”

“I’d like to drop in on Monica first then, since the Doc is on the way back.”

Katherine takes Mulder’s hand to climb into the wagon and he drives them down the road, over a short bridge, and then past a grove of trees. A house appears as soon as they clear the trees, like an island in a sea of bluebonnets.

“Goodness,” Katherine says. “Monica said you can’t miss it.”

The rumble of the wagon must have alerted her friend. Monica comes out to the porch, wiping her hands on a dishrag. She waves and jumps down the steps to greet them as they come down the lane.

“I hope you don’t mind us dropping in,” Katherine says as she climbs down from the wagon. “We were in town so I wanted to say hello.”

“Are you kidding? I’m thrilled.” Monica hugs Katherine hard and keeps an arm around her shoulders as she waves to Mulder. “I’ve got cornbread in the oven that’ll be done soon. You’ll stay and have a cut before I bring dinner out to John, won’t you?”

“Well, that sounds too good to pass up,” Mulder answers.

“Come on in.”

The Doggett residence is similar to the ranch house. There’s a dogtrot that runs from the front to the back, but the left side of the house is all kitchen and dining area, presumably bedrooms are on the right. Monica offers them chairs at the table and then checks on the cornbread. Mulder holds a chair out for Katherine as she loosens her hat and removes her gloves, but he doesn’t sit down right away. He moves over to a breakfront along the wall and runs his hand over the smooth wood.

“This is a beauty,” he says.

“My boy built that,” Monica answers, proudly.

“The Sheriff did this?”

“No, our son Luke. I swear he was swinging a hammer before he could toddle.”

Mulder nods and continues to run his hand down the side and across the front. “How old might Luke be?”

“Fifteen. Just had a birthday on the 13th of October.”

“That’s funny, we have the same birthday.”

“Your birthday was the 13th?” Katherine asks. She’s mildly embarrassed that she had no idea her own husband’s birthday had passed.

“I didn’t even remember myself until just now.”

“What year were you born?” Monica asks.

“1861.”

Monica closes her eyes and tilts her head for a few moments. “You’re a three,” she says, with a brief nod.

“A three?”

“Yes, in numerology. Your life path number is a three. It means you like to inspire others and make them smile. But, if you feel you’ve been misinterpreted you can become sullen and withdrawn.”

“Is that right?” Mulder grins as he looks at Katherine and she raises her eyebrow. “But, I thought I was blue and red. Now I’m a number?”

“Oh, you told him about his aura?” Monica beams.

“I um…” Katherine can feel the heat rising to her cheeks as though she were caught gossipping. Mulder must sense her discomfort for he finally sits down beside her and takes her hand before hanging his hat on his bent knee.

“One day I’d like to hear all about it,” he says, squeezing Katherine’s hand. “I was just wondering though, Mrs. Doggett-”

“Oh, call me Monica, please.”

“Monica, that’s really high quality work your boy does. How would you feel about letting him come out this winter and work on an expansion out at my ranch? I’d pay him, of course.”

“I’d have to speak with my husband about it, but I’m sure Luke would be thrilled at the prospect. He’s been at us to quit school for the last few years.”

“Oh, but he can’t quit school,” Katherine says.

“Well, most of the kids around here quit by the age of twelve. They’re needed at their farms or ranches. Luke’s been the oldest in the schoolhouse for the last two years and he’s been pretty anxious to move on. John wouldn’t let him since we don’t have a farm and he’s certainly not going to allow his son to take on a job at the saloon, which is about the only place that’d hire a boy his age.”

“I’m going to be looking to hire quite a few men starting next month or so,” Mulder says. “There’s plenty of room in the bunkhouse for him and I’ll see to it he comes home for the week’s end. Your husband is welcome to ride out any time to check in.”

“I would keep my eye on him as well, if you’re at all concerned about that,” Katherine adds.

“Oh.” Monica puts her hand on Katherine’s arm and smiles. “I don’t doubt that. My, what a lovely ring!”

“Thank you.” Katherine runs her thumb along the side of her ring band with her thumb. “My husband got it for me.”

They spend the next half of an hour with Monica Doggett, sharing a slice of cornbread and chatting amicably. Mulder asks her more about this numerology thing and she happily shares with him more about his life path based on his birth date. When it’s time for them to take their leave, Mulder offers to drive Monica to the Sheriff’s office, but she says she would much rather walk. It’s just about her only time to herself and she enjoys it.

They ride back up into town and Mulder passes the bank to go down a smaller road behind the north side of the town. He points out a house up the ways with a sign hanging at the front that simply says ‘DOC’ etched in wood.

For some reason, Katherine feels nervous on the way up to the doctor’s porch. She knows she already made a good impression on the doctor, but still wonders if that was just politeness. The doctors she knew from nurse’s training were mercurial. Someone bearing a compliment one day could come bearing condescension the next, or worse.

Mulder opens the door to usher her inside. Doctor Black peeks out from behind a curtain and smiles broadly.

“Just my luck,” the doctor says. “I’ve just set a broken bone and could surely use your assistance while I mix a plaster.”

“Of course,” Katherine says. She immediately takes her gloves off and hands them to Mulder.

There’s a young boy perched at the edge of the exam table, no more than five or six, sniffling and sullen. Katherine moves to him and right away she can see that his left wrist is broken. She smiles at him and takes a gentle hold on his arm, cradling his wrist in her hands so the doctor can get to work on mixing a plaster.

“My name is Katherine,” she says to the boy. “Who might you be?”

“Joey Skinner.”

“Is Walter Skinner your father, son?” Mulder asks.

Joey nods and then wipes his nose with the back of his good hand.

“Has anyone gone to fetch Mr. Skinner?” Mulder asks Doctor Black. “I could run over to the bank right now.”

“Yes, why don’t you do that.” Doctor Black nods to Mulder and then hands Katherine a roll of gauze. “I trust you can wrap up that wrist.”

“Certainly.” She deftly holds Joey’s arm with one hand and uses her thumb to pin the edge of the gauze down and begins to wrap. “Joey, you tell me if this hurts, okay?”

“Okay.”

“So, how did this happen?”

“I was playing tag with Grace and Emma and Isaac and I was ‘It’ and I was running and I tripped on a rock and I felled down and my hand hurted real bad. Grace yelled for Miss Holly and Miss Holly bringed me to the doc.”

“Well, I think you’re a very brave boy and we’ll have you fixed up in no time.”

“Now,” Doctor Black says, rolling a small table over with a bowl of milky liquid and wrappings. “Joey, this might feel a little cold, but you do your best to hold still, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Excellent wrapping,” the doctor tells Katherine. “Would you like to do the plaster?”

Katherine nods and the doctor moves the table to her side so she can work. She runs the wrapping through the liquid and winds it around Joey’s small wrist and arm, moving methodically. She has experience with setting and wrapping broken bones, but never on a child. She’s cautious, but tries to be quick for Joey’s sake. Doctor Black provides her with a few short instructions as she goes.

“Beautiful work,” Doctor Black says when Katherine is wiping her hands dry. “Joey, is there any pain in your wrist now or in your arm.”

“It’s kinda itchy.”

“Yes, it might be, but you can’t scratch right now, I’m sorry. We’re going to let it dry and when it’s done it’ll be hard as a rock and keep your wrist in place so it can heal.”

Joey’s bottom lip begins to tremble. “Is it gonna be on my arm forever and ever?”

Katherine puts her arm around Joey and rubs his shoulder. “Not forever, sweetheart, just a few weeks is all. And the doctor will probably check on it a time or two to make sure it’s healing properly.”

“That’s right,” Doctor Black says.

“Joey!? Joey!?” Walter Skinner bursts through the door with Mulder behind him.

“Hi, Daddy.”

“Joey.” Mr. Skinner rushes over and for a moment, Katherine is afraid he’s going to grab the boy up in a fit of panic before the cast sets.

“Everything’s alright,” Katherine says.

“What happened, son?”

“I was playing tag…”

As soon as Joey starts up with his story again, Katherine slips away from the exam table to go to Mulder. “He okay?” Mulder asks.

“It wasn’t a bad break.”

“Good.” He pulls Katherine’s gloves from his pocket and hands them to her.

Doctor Black comes up to the two of them and he and Mulder shake hands. Mulder gives him the extra bottle of liniment he bought at the mercantile and the doctor thanks him.

“Looks as though your shoulder’s healed nicely,” Doctor Black says.

“Yes, well, I happened to have a very strict nursemaid to see me through.” Mulder chuckles and Katherine demurs a little.

“If you think you could spare your wife for a few days a month, I’d be happy to have the help here.”

“Oh, I really couldn’t,” Katherine answers.

“Why couldn’t you?” Mulder asks.

“Well, there’s just so much to do. And the expansion is coming up, so…”

“I’m sure we can work something out.” Mulder nods to the doctor and at Katherine. “Good skills should never go to waste.”

Katherine is all but rendered speechless. She doesn’t know if she’s shocked or grateful or why she should even be so surprised. Mulder’s the only man she’s ever known that doesn’t seem to want to control her in some way, who seems to want her to have independence as much as she wants it. And she doesn’t just think he’s putting on airs of a generous husband in front of the doctor. She believes that he means what he says.

“We’ll talk it over,” she says.

“Joey.” Mulder produces a quarter and walks over and hands it to the boy. “Next time you’re in the Byers mercantile, you tell Mr. Byers you want a bag of his best penny candy.”

“Gee, thank you, Sir!”

After they leave the doctor’s place and get back into the wagon, Katherine sits close to Mulder and holds his arm as he drives. “Did you know Mr. Skinner had a boy?” she asks.

“Hell, until a few weeks ago, I didn’t even know he had a wife. He doesn’t talk much.”

“I think that minor panic may have caused him to lose what little hair he’s got left.”

Mulder roars with laughter.

#i wrote this #Broken Things #Chapter 17 #MSR #AU

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therenlover · 3 years

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A Candid Chat

Hello all!

I want to say, before I say anything else, that I’m sorry. I’ll probably repeat that sentiment several times within this post, which I warn you will be absurdly long, but it’s important to me that you all know, every single one of you, that I apologize for my recent absence. I had and have every intention of fulfilling the promises I make you. That being said, life has gotten in the way recently, and I think it’s only fair to you that I explain where I am in life right now and why I haven’t had the energy that I should.

Just a quick warning, I will be writing about my depression, general feelings of anxiety, minimal bodily harm in minor detail, and, most importantly, very vague references to past CSA.

I repeat, there will be potentially triggering topics, as listed above, in this post, so please skip this if you feel you may be upset by any of the topics above.

With that out of the way, though, it’s time to get down to the brass tacks.

It’s easiest to start off this apology with a brief rundown of what my last few weeks (months even??? It’s hard to keep track) have consisted of. My house was... more than a bit of a wreck up until a little over a month ago. 4 people with severe depression who all contracted Covid-19 twice had been festering in it for months and I won’t deny that there was some serious problems with the conditions. Nothing too upsetting, just a carpet fully covered in dog hair and some rooms with piles and piles of stuff from undone chores, but it was bad enough that we wouldn’t take visitors.

I take no pride in sharing this. Hell, I’m massively ashamed. Cleaning up that mess, though, was a large project that took away a lot of time for about two weeks as we prepared to host members of my family in our house for our 2 week summer family reunion. Overall this was a pleasant time, but a busy and stressful one too. One such stressor was being in close contact with an older cousin of mine who victimized me when I was younger.

I won’t go into detail, but they took advantage of me when they too were young. I had been previously groomed by another, much older cousin, so it wasn’t my first time being put through a situation like that. My relationship with her is complicated but, as usual, it was hard to have her living in my house for 2 weeks and always having her in close quarters. Around this same time, my first abuser got married, and I was flooded in my personal social media with posts about her “happy day”, which lead to a lot of guilt. I worry that if I don’t come forward other people might be in danger. Unfortunately, I also know that most people just wouldn’t care. I’m too much of a coward to take the risk. I hate myself for it.

Overall, everything together- the cleaning and the visitors and the issues within myself -led me to dropping the ball on my responsibilities, both on tumblr and when it came to my college process.

I’m now in a... tough place when it comes to that. I’m having loan issues, I might not not have one vaccine dose that I should which might prevent me from signing up for classes, my online intake is in just about a week, and I’ll be, if all of that works out, leaving my home and the people I care about behind to go somewhere entirely across the country with no promise of seeing them until May or June.

Basically...life has been hard. It’s no excuse, I promise I’ve tried to write and post and I’ve planned a million comebacks, but I’ve been having so much crushing anxiety about literally everything lately that I feel immobilized by it. Life is like a pit swallowing me up and I’m just... terrified and scared and sad whenever I’m not distracting myself with an awful anxiety inducing task or conversation with friends. I’ve put a lot of strain on them through that though, and I hate it. I have probably over 20 half written drafts in my google docs where I sit and try with all my might to write something, anything, but I can’t figure out how to end it.

I’ve been having a lot of issues with endings lately.

Anyways, I digress. I’m trying my best to be more present here now that there aren’t loads of people in my house and I’m on the computer trying to figure out college stuff for most of my productive hours anyways, but I don’t know what the future holds. I have one month, no, less than that now, because I’m supposed to move in on the 16th, to figure everything out while saying goodbye to people I’ve seen every day for all of the life I can remember. I’m terrified I’ll come back to find people I don’t know.

I know I’ll miss watching my sisters really grow up.

I hate it, but I know the choice I made is for the best.

Well... that’s that. I’m sitting down to try to write something now, but I’ll be online tonight and willing to answer any questions you have as honestly and realistically as possible. I probably won’t look back on past asks for a while, so if you sent anything recently that you feel I need to see, just resend it. Again, I’m so sorry for dropping the ball, but I hope you know that I’m still trying and I’ll continue to try for however long it takes. Thank you to those who are willing to wait for me.

Finally, thank you to Lemur Heaven. You make my days so much brighter and help me not dread my notifications. I love you all. I couldn’t ask for better friends. Sorry for... well, me.

And thank you Chris. You’re the best friend I could ever ask for. Without you, I wouldn’t be even half near brave enough to keep pushing through this and trying to make the best of it. You deserve the world.

#tw: csa #tw: childhood trauma #tw: depression #tw: anxiety #jac rambles #rant

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thatiranianphantom · 3 years

Text

2020 Fic Roundup

Fine, fine fine. Oh boy, I have written a LOT of Bughead this year. Please allow me to take you on a guided tour of Why Sadie Has Gone Insane This Year, Fic Edition.

these scars are a metaphor for my soul - My first Bughead fic! A series of oneshots, predictably most after 4x15. This one has my marriedteens!Bughead oneshot in it.

it’s an interesting feeling, though - P1 of the we are a masterpiece series, post 4x17, lovingly ripped off of Boy Meets World.

to know it’s over - P2 of the we are a masterpiece series. Betty tells Jughead about the kiss. Look, it’s lovingly ripped off, but Boy Meets World fed us for this exact scenario.

ride the storm (direct the whirlwind) - Remember that “poetic” writing we all did as younguns? Well, this was mine, of 10 years ago, transplanted to Bughead.

no one else is singing my song - Ah, a classic. My first long, post-4x17, pregnancy fic.

....am I predictable?

Anyhow, the feedback was lovely on this one and it spawned a series, the je t’aime toujours series, otherwise known as the Georgina universe.

to be the only one in the world (who knows it’s not) - P3 of the we are a masterpiece series. This one got longer than anticipated. Also, my first introduction to some less-than-thrilled comments when I put Betty or Jughead with literally anyone else, no matter how briefly. A learning experience, to be sure.

you’re gonna see (that sometimes bad is good) - This guy started out as me indulging myself and @go-ldy‘s request for some Cooper/Jones/Smith family fun that we were robbed of. Family fluff was a lovely break.

i have a voice (it is my song) - Part 2 of the je t’aime toujours series. It’s more family fun!

until then (listen for her song) - Oh boy. This guy was dark. But oddly, I loved writing this more than a lot of my fics. I was born for deathfic.

i’ve had my moments - this was the Bughead drabble fics, wherein I learned it is impossible to limit myself to 100 words. I am the child of two journalists, what do you want from me?

all i need is a bitter song - The fic with an audience of one (1). And that one is me. In fairness, the Venn Diagram of Wynonna Earp and Riverdale fans is....basically a circle.

someone else is singing along - last part of the Georgina verse. Some missing moments where I cram in still more angst.

when you love someone - oneshot fluff can be fun! Inspired by Willow and Tara of Buffy, a couple I never really liked but whose plotline can be repurposed for Bughead, it is the story of the pain the group goes through after the Bughead reunion, when those two animals just can’t keep their hands off each other.

go, be yourself on your way - the plot bunny that wanted hurt/comfort, and lots of it. Still stands a chance of getting a sequel. Maybe.

head over feet - fluff can be fun part 2! Harnessing my need for Bughead babies with some shameless pregnancy fluff. This research was the most fun to do.

i’ve been waiting for you - see above. Pregnancy fluff, part two.

i’m right up the road (i’ll share your load) - Okay, so tbh, I’ve had a hard time writing lately. I’ve just been feeling kind of bored and uninspired with the show, and there are few fics that I write which give me the feels. THIS ONE, THOUGH. This one and listen for her song gave me ALL of the feelings. It’s me finally demanding that attention be paid to Betty and Veronica’s friendship, since god knows the show won’t do it.

regret takes hold (we grow old) - my imagining of Season 5. I’m working on the next chapter, I swear. There’s a word doc for it open now, and an outline. I just have to, you know, write it.

all is calm, all is bright - my Bughead Secret Santa fic! Just pure Christmas fluff.

Whew, it’s been a year. Thank you all for your support on my crazy, angsty stories! I’d love to know if one is your fave, or if you’ve recommended my fics, or even just that you enjoyed. Thanks for coming on this ride with me ❤️

#Riverdale #Riverdale fic #My Fics #It was a year my friends #I stand by my tag on my very first fic #I WROTE THIS AND I DON'T WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT #Bughead #Beronica

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fablesrose · 3 years

Text

Tell Me a Story 3

Summary: It’s go time

Word count: 2,188

Pairing: cop?!Dean x mafia!reader

Square filled: Crack

Warnings: shooting

Masterlist ~ Bingo Masterlist

A/n: For @girl-next-door-writes make me feel bingo. This only has a little bit of crack, but it was sure fun to write! One more part after this!

“Hey Angel.”

“Hey Hot Shot,” I smiled as I held my phone to my ear, the nicknames had settled in for us over the past couple of weeks, and I couldn’t deny that I liked using them. “The next monthly meeting is tonight, you ready to put on a show?”

He laughed, “Like it’s ever an act with you sweetheart.”

I snorted, “Yeah, sure.” I sighed, “Alright, for real though, be a loving boyfriend, but don’t be stupid.”

“Roger roger.”

“I guess I’ll meet you there.”

“Yup.” He hung up the phone promptly, leaving me in silence.

I rubbed my hands all over my face, “He’s a professional who’s only acting this way to make it natural and so he can get some sort of promotion. Don’t look too far into it. You’re probably going to go to prison anyway once this is all over with.” Despite telling myself this over and over, it really didn’t make a difference. I groaned and tried to force my face to relax from the smile I was wearing.

I banged my head once against a nearby wall, “Okay, time to get ready to get this over with.”

Before I knew it I was watching Dean pull up and park near my apartment as I walked to the meeting building.

“Have I ever told you how much I love your car?”

“Only every time you see her,” Dean fell into stride beside me.

“I thought we were gonna meet there.”

Dean grabbed my hand, “And how would that look, the boyfriend not escorting his very important girlfriend into an extremely dangerous crowd?”

“Fair point,” I squeezed his hand, smiling softly to myself.

The door squeaked as we opened it, giggling at nothing.

“Glad you love birds could join us.” Chuck sat at the front of the room, looking rather impatient.

I took my place, Dean beside me, and nodded soberly.

“Let’s begin.”

Naomi stepped forward, “Of course, sir. I have some things that need to be looked-”

“I don’t care about that,” Chuck waved his hand as he cut her off.

It took everything in me not to laugh.

“Some of my… sources, have told me that Doctor Hess wants to make a deal with me.”

There was a couple beats of silence before Meg got brave, “Uh, and who is that?”

“The leader of the Lettermen, obviously.”

The room erupted in laughter.

“Letterboys? Really?”

“Yes,” Chuck snapped at us, trying to shut us up, “and Y/n is going to set it all up.”

That sobered me up quickly, “Pardon?”

“You are going to set up the deal. You’re gonna be our middle man.”

I felt my insides shrivel. What he means is that I’ll be the scapegoat.

“Sir, I’d like to accompany her on this assignment if you don’t mind,” Dean said as he took a half step forward.

“I do mind. Starling will be working this alone, directly with me.”

“But sir-”

I placed a hand on his arm, “Dean.” I shook my head, telling him it wasn’t worth it.

He set his jaw and didn’t press any further.

“So, It’s settled then,” Chuck clapped his hands together once, “that’ll be all, you’re dismissed.”

I glanced at Naomi who looked annoyed at not getting her business done, but she wasn’t brave enough to get snapped at again.

It wasn’t much time later when me and Dean were walking back, alone again.

“Why did you do that?”

“Dean-”

“Why did you stop me from pairing up with you?”

“Because, you were doing a great job at being a loving boyfriend, but I also told you not to be stupid. What you were about to do was incredibly stupid.”

“So you’re gonna do it alone?!” Dean sounded angry, I wasn’t exactly sure why.

I turned to face him, “Yeah, I am! I’ve done stuff like this before, and I’ll have to do it again! But do you understand what this means for us??”

“No, I don’t.”

I grabbed him by the shoulders, “We can do something with this… Maybe I can…”

“We can do some sort of sting operation,” Dean quieted down like he was understanding.

“Exactly! I’ll set something up, I’ll feed you all the information...” I nodded my head, “we can do this.”

“Fine,” he turned and started walking again, “you’re still going to be doing most of this alone though.”

“Don’t worry Dean, I won’t mess it up.”

I thought I heard Dean mumble something, but I didn’t ask what it was. The rest of the walk was quiet until we reached where his car was parked.

I ran my hand along her, looking for scratches that didn’t exist.

“Stay safe, alright? I can’t be losing you now, Angel.”

“I will, don’t you worry Hot Shot.” I smiled at waved as he started her up and drove away.

Let’s cut to me probably doing something stupid, but it is the fastest way to get stuff done in these situations.

“I think you’re on the wrong side of town, ma’am.” A group of boys approached me as I walked a quiet street, deep in Lettermen territory.

I sighed, “You’re probably right, but I also heard through the grapevine that a Doctor Hess wants to make a deal. That ring any bells?”

They all glanced at each other before one addressed me, “Stay here.”

I leaned against a nearby building, choosing not to answer him vocally.

After a while, a man closer to my own age approached me.

“Doctor Hess?”

He laughed, “No, my name is Mick Davies. I’m more of a spokesperson. And I’m assuming you’re not Chuck.”

I smiled back at him, both of us keeping our distance, “Yeah, you wish. It’s Y/n.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.”

His smile dropped into a more serious expression, “You are correct when you mentioned a deal. Details are still in need of some finalizing, of course, but the basics are, if you share with us some of your… resources that we hear you have, helping us get on our feet, we’ll give you a part of the profits and keep our boys on our side of the line.”

“Intriguing...” This could be big. If I played my cards right, I could maybe bring down the mobs on both sides of the city. Now to play some cards… “If we come to an agreement of terms, Chuck wants a face to face settlement to seal the deal.”

“I don’t think that will be a problem.” He pulled out a card from his pocket, “My contact information, so we can work out the details before the deal.”

I stepped forward and took it, “Well, it’s been a pleasure, hope I see the least amount possible.”

“Likewise.”

And like that we both turned and went out opposite directions.

That wasn’t as bad as I thought it was. Maybe this will be easy.

But now to convince Chuck.

“They want the sealing of the deal face to face or it won’t happen.”

“Yeah, that’s fine.”

That wasn’t as bad as I thought it was. Maybe this will be easy.

Now to tell Dean the good news!

“Dean, call me back.”

“Dean, I’ve got something to tell you.”

“Hot Shot, if you don’t answer this damn phone I swear I’m not going put this meeting up.”

Why was this not easy.

The meeting was set. It was to happen in an isolated location just outside of town, two weeks away. Chuck was going to bring the goods, loads of weapons and drugs. I had to be there to back Chuck up, as I’m sure Mick would be there to do the same for this Doctor Hess.

“Dean, I sent the information to your phone, please be there with as many men as possible. From your old job, just to be safe.”

I wanted to actually talk to him. I shouldn’t want that. I’ve gotten too close. It doesn’t matter anymore though. He’s stopped talking to me mid job. The worst case scenario is that I somehow get found out and killed. The absolute best case scenario is that everyone goes to jail except me. The one I was fearing most though was the one where I never see Dean again. Unfortunately there were a bunch of options where that happens.

I kept telling myself that it was just a job to him. That this would benefit him. That he would never want to associate with someone from the mafia in normal circumstances.

Maybe going to jail would be good for me.

My phone rang with an unknown number popping up on the screen.

“Hello?”

“Hey Angel, sorry, I broke my phone.”

“God dammit!” All that worrying for nothing. All the stress that he was somehow dead or leaving me to deal with Chuck by myself. Wasted.

“What?”

“I have been trying to reach you all day. I got the meeting set up, its in two weeks. I’ll send you the place. Both Chuck and Doctor Hess are going to be there with a metric ton of damning evidence in the form of illegal weapons and drugs.”

“That… is awesome!”

“I know right?? I’m gonna need you to bring in all your people.” I soaked it in for a couple of breathes, “I can’t wait to see the look on his face when he’s arrested.”

“You’re not going to be there.” His voice was firm, it was commanding like there was no room for argument.

“Dean...” I spoke regretfully, oh how I wish I could listen to him, “if I’m not there, this all falls apart. This isn’t a personal choice, I have to be there.”

“You could get hurt.”

“Same with every day of my life.”

He sighed, “Fine, but you’re gonna wear a wire so we can communicate.”

“Dean, Chuck may be stupid enough to let you in as a cop, and he may be stupid enough to do this meeting face to face, but he’s not stupid enough-” I paused, “I take that back, he may be that stupid.”

“So it’s settled, you’re going to wear a wire, and I’m gonna bring in all the law enforcement fire power you could ever dream of.”

I laughed, “Deal.”

The meeting came all too quickly. I was wearing a wire, like Dean asked me, but I did not enjoy it, it seemed to be all that was on my mind. Everyone arrived separately. It was decided that I would arrive first and scout out the area, kicking out any lurkers. Then Mick was to show, then the bosses.

Dean was talking in my ear, telling me that they were ready, that anytime now Chuck and Doctor Hess was going to be arrested.

“The profits of the supplies will be split 70/30 right?” Chuck was chatting with Doctor Hess, me and Mick farther out.

Hess huffed, “That’s hardly enough to cover our other expenses, 50/50 split.”

“Come on Doc, there has to be something in it for me, 60/40.”

Her stare was withering, but Chuck was always an idiot, “Fine.”

They shook on it and Chuck directed her to the product a little ways away.

“Chopper is coming in to get eyes, then we’ll fall in,” Dean said.

I hummed discretely to tell him I heard and started to glance around the dark sky, supposedly looking for stars.

Eventually the helicopter flew in with a spotlight shining down on us.

“Finally,” I spoke out loud, glad this was going to be over.

But I might have spoken a bit too loudly since Chuck pulled out a gun, “You bitch!”

I faced him, my arms crossed against my chest, “Been called a lot worse you motherfucker.”

“FBI! Drop the weapon!” Dean was at the front of the group in an FBI vest, aiming his gun at Chuck. The rest of the agents surrounded the area and quickly started arresting Hess and Mick.

Chuck hesitated, but in the end he shot at me. I tried to move quickly but he still grazed my shoulder. Chuck looked like he wanted to shoot me again, but Dean took two shots before he could, one to the hand holding the gun and another to his leg, effectively making him drop the gun and fall to the ground. Dean directed a couple of agents to Chuck while he ran over to me.

“Man, you really are a hot shot Hot Shot.” I laughed as I pressed a hand against my shoulder.

“I can’t believe you just stood there as Chuck aimed a gun at you. That is so dangerous,” he made sure I was comfortable before he called for a medic.

“Chuck isn’t that great with precision weapons, look, he just grazed me!” I laid my clean hand on his arm, “Thank you. This means so much to me, I don’t know how I could ever repay you.”

The medics came and started to push Dean back so she could get to me.

“You helped get Sam out, how ‘bout we stay in touch and we’ll call it even?”

I nodded, “You got it Hot Shot.”

“They’ll take good care of you, Angel.”

Best Buds: @kitkatd7 @snarky--starky @confetti-its-an-imagine-blog @kaogasm

Dean: @akshi8278 @msmarvelouswinchester

TMAS: @flamencodiva

#dean x reader #cop!dean #mafia!reader #spncreatorsdaily #Girl Next Door's Make Me Feel Bingo #make me feel bingo #fbi!dean #dean winchester #crack #tell me a story 3

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 4 years

Text

Humans Are Space Orcs “Preparations.”

I’m getting ready for an interesting new arc, I think, so we shall see. I never know what my brain is going to want to write.

“Lieutenant, command is yours. Keep the ship operational till I get back. I want low orbit just in case we have to bail out quickly.”

“Yes sir.”

Boots clattered on metal as Commander Vir clattered down the stairs and moved quickly down the hallway. A small entourage of figures walked at his back, “I’m not sure I like this commander.” One of them was saying, “It could more than easily be a trap.”

He sighed, “I know, but the GA wants it done.”

“I would much rather do reconnaissance for a while-”

“And so would I, but the chairwoman made it very clear that we needed to speak with them as soon as possible. I’ve already tried establishing radio contact, and nothing. The only way to go now is the old fashioned way.”

They took a sharp corner, “Tell the council to meet me down in the docking bay.”

“Yes sir,” They scampered off leaving another subordinate to fill their place.

Most of the council was already there when he reached the docking bay. Dr, Krill, Sunny, Dr. Adric, Ramirez Narobi etc. etc.” He paused before them, hands clasped behind his back.

“You shouldn’t go alone.” Came the first announcement.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, which means I want at least six marines, and a group from the diplomacy team. I know I’ve been taking lessons, but I don’t trust myself nearly as much as I trust them.”

“Are we sure it needs to be you at all?” Krill pointed out getting to the heart of the issue on first try, as was usual for him.

Commander Vir turned to look at the little doctor on the spot, “The Kree have demanded a high ranking representative.”

“Then lie to them, send down someone not important and pretend,” Krill said

He crossed his arms, “We aren’t going to lie. Starting out diplomatic relations with a lie would destabilize the entire foundation of what we are trying to build, no we need proper protection is all.” He turned to look at the others, “Any objections? If so raise your concerns now?’”

Sunny raised a hand, “You're Not going unless you bring proper weapons, otherwise, I say we shouldn't meet them.”

“I agree….. And I have an idea.” The group looked nervously around at each other, “No, you are very much not going to like it, and you will probably argue with me.” He turned to Dr. Adric, and motioned hi to follow, “Ramirez get your marines and-”

“Already done commander.”

“Nice and fast of you.” He turned to look at Ramirez one last time placing a hand on his shoulder, “Are these the marines that have…. Uh…. trained with the new equipment?”

Ramirez nodded enthusiastically, “Yes sir.”

“Good.” “New equipment?” Krill wondered rather suspiciously.

“Yep you're going to hate that too.” Commander Vir announced knowing that he was going to argue and knowing that people would assume his decision was poor. But he had talked it over -- seriously -- with Ramirez, and they had both agreed it was too good a strategic advantage not to. Ramirez had then talked with the requisitions officer and so on and so forth until the package had been loaded onto the ship not a few days before, but that he thought he might be able to get away with, it was this next thing, they were going to hate.

Floating at the back of the group Conn knew what he was thinking, “They’re going to lock you up.”

“Are you exaggerating, or is that seriously what they are going to do?”

The starborn kept silent leaving hi on edge as he moved forward and into the equipment room. He knew where it was, they had hardly hidden it as well as they thought they had, and he could tell by the nervous movement of the rest of the crew that they knew too.

Ight as well not keep them waiting.

He walked over to one side of the room, pushed a rack of guns out of the way, reached down and dragged the large silver box onto the open floor.

Immediate uproar.

“No!”

“Not on your life!: “What are you thinking!”

Commander Vir crossed his arms, planting himself before the box with feet spread wide. He let them continue to rant, sunny even tried to pull hi away, but he ducked past both of her arms and stepped back, so he was now standing on the box.

“QUIET ALL OF YOU!”

That made them shut up, at least for the moment.

“Commander, we won’t let you.”

“I know.”

“Than why even bother bringing it up.” Sunny demanded

Even Ramirez was looking a little put off..

He turned to look at Dr. Adric, “That is why he is here. I know for a fact that I can do it, and not cause harm to myself. I’m healthy enough mentally to manage, but if the good doctor decides that I am wrong, than I will put it down and stp arguing.”

Below him, the Iron eye logo glinted in the yellowed overhead lights.

Dr. Adric looked on in concern, “What is this about?”

Krill and a few of the others turned to protest, but commander Vir stopped them with a raised hand turning to look at the doctor, “You are aware of my time in operation steel eye?”

He nodded.

“And were you aware that I put the armor back on for the burg war not some months ago?”

“Yes.”

“Do you know about the project.”

He laced his hands together before him, “I published a paper on it. I know that it was a volatile experimental pice of technology that the government attached directly into the spinal columns and muscles of the forty surviving soldiers. Each machine was powered by the steel eye prosthetic which contained the suit’s power source. I know that they used drugs to stop the excruciating pain, and that they added amphetamines to cause aggression and allow the soldiers to stay up longer…. And I know that more than three fourths of those soldiers are dead now and only have of that fourth is….. Operating functionally as people.”

Commander Vir smiled, “Yes, than you do know. IT took me years to recover from the suit, than I went and put it on again, and that caused a relapse in y mental health to a degree that I almost got myself grounded and , likely, discharged. However, during that time I also spoke to a group of people who were working on a similar project, operation Iron eye.” There was a nervous shifting around the room, “ITs the same thing as stell eye, though it requires no drugs, and no pain. The Trade off is, I had to go in for surgery because the attachments are permanent.”

He turned around and pulled down the collar of his shirt so Dr. Adric could see the first port just below the base of his skull, “I had these done at a time where I honestly shouldn't have, but I thought this was my only option.” He turned back around, “I am well aware that is not true, but what’s done is done. I have the implants, they cannot be removed, and I have the suit. I might as well use it to protect myself. That is the point? To protect myself and the rest of the crew?”

There was silence for a moment.

“We can’t let you do this.” Dr Katie was saying.

Narobi was shaking her head emphatically .

He turned to look at Dr. Adric, “I leave this decision up to you doc. If I’m not mentally healthy enough to handle it, than I will stop, but you are the expert here and the most unbiased among us.” Dr Adric shifted on the spot nervously. He could see where this was a problem. The unhealthy associations that soldiers were bound to make after an experience like that was…. Horrible to imagine, but the Commander seemed calm, so he supposed there was no issue with trying.

He was a bit nervous about all the eyes that his decision caused. Sunny looked like she was about to beat him to death with her spear, and Dr. Krill seemed intent on poisoning his drink the next time he had the chance.

They took the Iron eye box back to the medical bay, and The three doctors observed the process.

Commander Vir was feeling pretty good as he slid back into the box listening to the connections click into place. Were there some bad memories? Yeah, sure, but he could handle those well enough.

Dr Adric kept a close eye on him as he stood the whirring of hydraulics accompanying his movement. He flexed his fist inside the iron eye suit and turned to look at the others.

Krill was frowning. Sunny was glowering , Dr. Katie wouldn't even look at him. Ramirez looked very, very nervous.

Dr. Adric walked over and checked his pulse, asked a few questions, but finally decided there was no reason to tell him no.

That pissed off almost everyone else in the room, but commander Vir pulled on the specially made iron eye gear, “You wanted me safe, and this is as safe as I can think of being, and I trust Dr. Adric’s judgement.” With each footstep, metal clattered against metal, and the soft hiss of the hydraulics accompanied him up the hall.

THe others followed in concern and anger.

The crew turned to look their eyes wide looking nervous.

They expected him to do something stupid.

What they didn’t know is that he actually had a practicing mental health professional on his side now, and truth be told, he didn’t feel anything really. Yes he could just as easily compare the experience to the steel-eye suit, but without the pain, the experiences were too different.

Reaching the docking bay for the second time. The marines were already waiting as were the diplomacy team.

Dr Krill cursed, “You arent serious.”

“Krill, I appreciate your opinion as a doctor, but in areas of equipping marines, I trust Ramirez more.”

The line of marines saluted as he drew nearer, their bodies covered by their combat ACUs, and each one wearing a matte black painted jetpack.

He turned, just in time for Ramirez to step forward with another, mounting it to the back plate on the Iron- eye suit, where it clicked satisfyingly into place.

Krill and Sunny both looked as if they were about to have a conniption.

He withdrew something from his pocket, “Don’t worry, I did my homework, and read the manual. I don’t plan on even using it if this all goes well.” he looked at the group of them seriously, “This isn’t for fun, everyone, this is for the safety and protection of myself and others. I have a panic button ready in case anything goes wrong, and I will have two more teams of marines on standby in low orbit in case something decides to happen. I have the diplomacy team to speak when I don’t know what to do, and I have the marines for a firefight if it comes to that. THe first sign of trouble and we fly out if we have to.”

He stepped forward a bit, looking around at the concerned and angry faces, “I understand you all are worried, but I have thought this through. I have taken your suggestions, and I am doing everything I can to stay safe.” He looked up at Sunny, “I will be equipped in the way that you suggested.” he turned to Krill and Katie, “We have the medical supplies that you ordered in the bags that were placed in the ready room.”

He turned to Narobi, “You sent in one of your best people to service all of the equipment days ago. I, and these men are as safe as we can be.”

Maybe one day he wouldn't have to explain his actions to these people, but he understood that, in the past he had made a bunch of poor decisions. This time would not be that time. He had thought of everything, and he had talked to everyone else to consider things he hadn’t thought of. He was listening to his crew, and differing to the knowledge of experts. He didn’t pick the team, he didn’t pick the equipment, and he was going to allow the knowledge of others to carry through this time.

Yes, one day he would be able to make a decision without explaining everything, but today was not that day.

He looked around, “Are there any objections?” He held up a hand to cut Krill off, “On the basis of logic and not being angry at me?”

Krill shut his mouth.

One of the floor technicians jogged up, “The shuttle is ready commander.”

He nodded and turned to the marines, “Load up!” He then turned and ordered a second pilot onto the ship so as not to leave it unmanned when they were gone.

In the confusion, he turned to head towards the ship, but something caught his hand.

He turned and looked up to find Sunny’s golden eyes staring down at him. He could tell she was mad, displeased, and even a little hurt, though she didn’t say any of that.

The one day he thought he had made no mistakes…. And he had.

He looked around quickly, and seeing no one paying attention, he took one of her other hands.

The Iron eye armor impeded a good connection but it would have to do, “I’ll talk to you when I get back.”

SHe remained quiet.

“I know…. I should have told you, and you can kick my ass later, ok?”

His smile fell from his face as she continued to glower.

He squeezed her hands, “Back before you can say Adam is a dipshit.” He squeezed one more time and let go turning towards the shuttle and flexing his shoulders with a hydraulic hiss , the iron eye clattering hungrily with every movement

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bluezey · 3 years

Text

Little Sister - Conception

I decided to work on the birth of Judy fanfic as my first fanfic in google docs, even though it’s gonna be a multi chapter one. I posted the first chapter in case I lose it cause I don’t know how saving works on this yet. So, hate to be a jerk, but the next two chapters are going to be released together. You’re just going to have to sit on the first chapter. At least it’s got plenty of feels to hold you over.

“Mom, I’m home,” Ian announced as he entered the home. He placed his staff by the front door and stopped just short of the stairs. He looked ahead into the kitchen across the way through the living room, spying a small pile of cards and presents building up for his graduation party next week. It made him smile and feel more relieved that he just survived his last day of high school. He walked upstairs and into his bedroom, he took two steps and flopped his backpack down by his desk. He sighed and relaxed, feeling like a big load was mentally lifted from his shoulders, as well as physically.

Ian slumped down into his desk chair, with enough force that it rolled back a few inches. He looked up after a moment or two to spy a note written on a sealed envelope mailed to him. Ian could make out the sloppy, bold writing from here, Barley’s writing declaring that something awesome arrived in the mail for him. Ian picked it up to see the letter was already opened… and it was addressed from the enrollment offices at Willowdale College. Ian immediately tore the letter out of the envelope and read it, reading it over and over as his chocolate brown eyes grew wider and wider.

The old boom box immediately slammed atop his desk, and Ian had to try once or twice to get the old cassette tape inserted into the tape deck. Just as he pressed play, the voice of Ian’s dad began to echo from the old speakers.

“Hello? Hello?”

“Dad!” Ian basically shouted, then tried to control his volume. “It’s me, Ian.”

“Is that right?”

“Yeah!” Ian replied to the recording as he looked up at the pictures of his dad Wilden pinned to the wall above his desk. “How ya been?”

“Well, I’m trying to.”

Ian chuckled to himself. “Well, today was the last day of high school, and I’m gonna graduate next week. I wish you were there to see it… I know, I can keep a picture of you in my pocket under my graduation robe.”

The voice on the tape laughed to himself.

“Yeah, well… remember that college you went to? Willowdale College?”

“I know.”

Ian grew so excited he was trembling. “Yeah, well, I got a letter of enrollment today.” Ian showed the acceptance letter to the photos. “I’m in! I start this fall! I plan to spend a few years there, and transfer to a college to take my classes in astrophysics!” After finally revealing the information to his dad, Ian’s face and energy fell when all he heard was the white noise of the tape recording. “Wow… I hope I get the same college experience as you did.”

“Well, let’s find out.”

Ian couldn’t think of anything else to say, but there was something he wished he could do. Making do, he unpinned a picture of his dad off the wall and hugged it tight against his chest. Tears of bittersweetness rolled down his glowing blue cheeks.

“Okay, bye.” The tape ended.

Ian’s face folded into a melancholy frown. “Yeah… bye.” He sat down, still clutching the picture to his chest in his makeshift hug.

The long string of silence was broken by Ian’s bedroom door flying open. “Hey Ian, I- oh.” Barley stopped mid sentence when he saw the boom box on the desk and the dried tears on Ian’s face. “I, uh…”

“It’s okay,” Ian replied, sitting up and wiping the tear from his face while placing the picture of dad on his desk. “Come in.”

Barley stepped into the room. “I got off the phone with mom and- hey, you got the letter!” he interrupted himself again, seeing the acceptance letter under the picture of dad.

“Yeah.” Ian looked curious as he remembered the writing Barley added to the open envelope. “Did you… open it?”

“How else could I have read it?” Barley asked back.

“Barley,” Ian softly scolded with a big smile.

Barley laughed proudly as he hugged his brother tight, lifting him up out of the chair. “I’m sorry, I had to. I was bringing in the mail after work and I saw the letter.” Barley finally let Ian go, Ian tried to keep his balance as they stood together, eye to eye. “Well, congratulations, college man.”

Ian tried to hold back more tears of joy. “Yeah, thanks.” Trying to break the tension, Ian suggested, “Maybe you’ll be next. Perhaps a nice community college?”

Barley scoffed in a playful laugh. “Nay. I’m making waves at my part time jobs. Weekdays stocking at Valiant Taels, weekends at Manticore’s Tavern, renaissance faire in the fall, the occasional engine work out of the garage…”

“Jobs at a comic and RPG shop and a tavern isn’t gonna pay a lot, Barley,” Ian commented.

“No,” Barley shrugged, “but they’ll pay enough, for now.”

Ian chuckled before thinking aloud to himself, “Wow, Willowdale. I can’t wait to tell mom. Have you told her?”

“Nah, you can do that tonight.” Just as Barley said that, the boys could hear the front door open downstairs.

“Boys, we’re home,” Laurel called from downstairs. “Boys?”

“Up here, mom!” Barley shouted back, loud enough that Ian had to cover his long ears.

“Come down boys,” Laurel replied. “We need to tell you something.”

“Us too!” Ian replied excitedly. He grabbed his letter and stuffed it in the back pocket of his jeans as he raced after Barley down the stairs.

“Woah, hold your horses,” Colt laughed as Barley nearly tripped on the last step.

Ian made his way down the stairs, slowing as he saw Barley take his seat on the couch, and Laurel in a chair, with Colt standing beside Laurel. Curiouser, Ian sat down next to Barley on the couch. “What’s going on?” Ian asked, realizing that Colt and Laurel are smiling with excitement, but he hasn’t told them yet.

“Boys,” Laurel said, holding Colt’s hand in hers. “I have big news.”

“Oh, so do I,” Ian said, getting ready to grab the letter from his pocket, but pausing when he heard mom’s words.

“We’re pregnant.”

Barley and Ian, almost in unison, looked at each other then to Laurel and Colt. “What?”

“Remember how I’ve been sick for the past few days?” Laurel continued, her smiled growing brighter. “It’s morning sickness.”

“We just came back from the doctor,” Colt continued, happily holding Laurel’s hand. “It’s positive.”

“Positive?” Ian asked.

“Positive,” Laurel replied.

“You’re positive?” Barley asked.

“Positive!” Laurel almost shouted, hugging Colt and giving him a big kiss.

When it finally sank in, Barley was up on his feet and hugging them as well. “A little brother? This is amazing! Yeah-ha!”

It sank in for Ian, but felt more like it was weighing him down. He silently let go of the letter in his pocket and just sat there, looking down at the ground.

Laurel finally noticed and asked, “Ian? Did you say you had news too?”

“... yeah, nevermind.” Ian stood from his seat and walked back upstairs.

“Ian?” Laurel called out.

“Ian?” Barley called out as well, Colt also concerned.

Ian knew to be excited, he knew not to be selfish. But the timing… he was going to graduate, he’s going to college, Willowdale College. And now, there’s a baby. For the first time since dad, mom is pregnant with Colt, uhm, Ian’s step dad. Ian’s still getting used to calling Colt dad since he and Laurel got married, guess a part of him is still holding onto his dad, his first dad. Things were getting complicated, Ian thought graduating and getting the college he wanted would fix things. But it’s only getting worse.

“I got this, Barley. Ian?” Laurel opened the bedroom door to see Ian lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling. He looked downtrodden, maybe even empty, like he wanted to get the thoughts racing in his head to cease just once. Laurel sat down on the foot of the bed. “Ian? You had some news?”

“No, it’s okay,” Ian replied, trying not to look at her.

“Honey,” Laurel brushed a curl out of Ian’s face. “I still want to know. Please, tell me.”

That sweet, comforting tone helped Ian break out of his funk. He sat up and pulled the letter from his pocket. Instead of reading it to his mom like he planned, he just handed it to her.

Laurel silently read for a moment, but then she was bursting with excitement. “Accepted? You’re accepted! My little college man!” Laurel squealed, practically throwing herself onto Ian as she gave him a big hug.

Ian finally smiled as he hugged right back. He let those saddened tears fall, but he was happy once more.

“This is so great,” Laurel told Ian. “We’re going to go through so much.”

Ian looked confused again. “We?”

“Yes.” Laurel looked at Ian and explained, “You’re going to college, we’re going to have a kid.”

“We?”

“Yes,” Laurel smiled. “It’s my child, but it’s your sibling.”

Ian looked like a deer in headlights. “I’m… going to have a little brother?”

“Laurel! Ian! Dinner!” Colt called from downstairs.

“Oh! We’ll talk later. Race you downstairs,” Laurel announced as she ran out the door.

Ian didn’t move an inch, still staring at where Laurel’s eyesight once was.

He’s graduating. He’s going to college.

And he’s getting a sibling

#pixar onward #sir iandore of lightfoot #ian lightfoot #barley lightfoot #laurel lightfoot #colt bronco #judith judy lightfoot #judy lightfoot

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prismatica-the-strange · 3 years

Note

Au Zombie apocalypse (but more like the movie Fido

While I did watch the film (and absolutely loved it!), I didn't really know how to write it as an AU, so I went more for a 7 Days to die meets Tyler Posey's Alone.

Word count: 2014

Warnings: Blood, violence, swearing

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

"Jackpot!"

"What'cha got?" Cam comes up behind her to look into the cabinet.

"Enough to last us a while," Bunny grins, shrugging off her backpack and shoving cans from the shelves into it.

"Dread found a buttload of nonperishables," he says into the radio on his shoulder, "What about you gu-"

He's cut off by the sound of gunshots from two floors up where Daniel and Vala are going through apartments.

Bunny freezes, hand gripping the worn, bloodstained handle of the fire ax on the counter next to her. Everything goes quiet.

They wait for what feels like forever with bated breath until Daniel's heavy breathing crackles through the radio, "We had a group of infected, but we took care of it... Keep an eye out, those shots could have attracted more."

Before she can even let out a breath of relief Bunny sees a figure shambling up behind Mitchell.

"Behind you!"

She manages to pull out her sidearm as the zombie tackles him. She fires a few times and prays she was quick enough to kill it before it bit him.

The infected goes limp and she nudges it with her toe before pushing it off him.

There's a lot of blood, she wipes away as much as she can but she doesn't see a bite mark, just the gash on his forehead.

"Mitchell's unconscious," she says into her radio, "Zombie took him down and he hit his head, I don't see a bite."

"Keep your distance, just in case," Daniel answers, "We'll be right down Bunny."

"Hey! It's just me!" Daniel says when she points the Glock at him.

"Announce yourself next time dumbass!" She snaps, pointing her gun to the floor. "There's infected around, I could've killed you!"

He glances up at her when he kneels next to Mitchell, checking him for bites or deep scratches. "We'll bring him back, but he'll need to be watched closely, are you okay?"

"'M fine, let's get him back to base." She assures him with a small smile.

"Guys!" Vala skids to a stop in the doorway, "We've got an entire pack of runners headed right for us, if we're leaving, we need to go now."

"Help me with him," he looks to Bunny and she slings one of Cam's arms over her shoulders, helping Daniel get him to his feet.

Vala takes point as they drag him down the, now darkening, hallways of the apartment building. The group makes it to the truck without incident, Vala climbing into the bed with Cam and the supplies they managed to raid.

The compound was a small, red-brick school that they had reinforced. Two floors, lots of rooms, a flat roof that was good for patrolling on, and a chain-link fence surrounding it that they had wrapped and topped with barbed and razor wire.

"This is Raid Team One to Base, come in Base," Bunny says into the radio hooked to the dash. "I Repeat, This is Raid Team One, we're coming in hot, ETA 8 minutes. Base, do you copy?"

She gets back nothing but static and she looks to Daniel in the driver's seat.

"We have a man down and sprinters on our ass. ETA 5 minutes. Base, please respond." Nothing, "Damnit Walter! You'd better have that gate open when we get there or I swear to fuck, I'm gonna kick your ass!"

... "This is Base to Raid Team One, what is your current Eta?"

"Fuckin' finally!" She holds the mic up to her face again, "One minute Walter! Get that gate open NOW!... And tell the doc to be ready for a bleeder."

"What in the hell happened?" Sam asks as they unload Cam from the back.

"One of those new silents," Bunny grimaces, wiping her sleeve at the speckles of dried blood from her cheek, "Fucker got the drop on us."

"Hey!" She stops the group just inside the gate, the sound of gunfire echoing from O'Neill and Teal'c in the watchtowers as sprinters hurl themselves at the fence, "You know the rules, I can't let you in until you get a bite check."

"Damnit, Sam! Mitchell's dying!" Daniel snaps, "We don't have time for this!"

"I won't be the reason we have another outbreak!" She argues, pulling her pistol from its holster.

"Both of you calm down!" Fraiser interjects, rushing in with a gurney, "Sam, put your gun away, and Daniel..."

She looks at him pointedly, "Roll up your sleeves. Rules are rules, no exceptions, not even you."

He does as she says as she scours Cam for bites, Bunny and Vala also rolling their sleeves and pant legs up for Sam to inspect.

After getting checked out, Bunny brings the raided food to the kitchens, Daniel trailing closely behind her.

Once they make it to their quarters, an old English classroom, he pulls her into his arms.

"You're sure you're okay?" He asks, looking her over again.

"I'm fine," she assures him, "A little irked that we had to leave before we finished looting, but physically, I'm okay."

"Good," he sighs, pressing his lips to her forehead.

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

"We should take the mountain." She says, fingers drumming against the table in the war room.

"Not this again," O'Neill sighed, running his hand over his face, "That place is swarming with infected."

"But it's also loaded to the teeth with Ammo, MREs, and medical supplies." She argues, "Enough to last at least a few years. Jack, we've nearly picked the rest of the town clean, there's not much else to raid, what do we do then?"

"And or med supply is running dangerously low," Fraiser cuts in, "The stock in that mountain could save a lot of lives."

O'Neill huffs and slouches against the wall next to the window, looking out in the direction of Cheyenne Mountain.

"We need to take inventory of our current ammo supply before we make any hard decisions," He says, "If you can get the floor plans from the town office and draw me up a workable plan for this, we might- and I stress the word might- be able to get this thing off the ground."

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

"So you finally got O'Neill to agree?" Cam groans from the bed in the makeshift infirmary, "How the Hell did you manage that?"

"Persistence."

"You annoyed him into it," he clarifies.

"Something like that," Bunny laughs, "Daniel and V are prepping the truck to raid the town office to hopefully get the floor plan."

"Document snatching, I don't envy you there."

"Yeah... So how are you doing? Feeling hungry for human flesh?" She jokes, "Craving my sweet sweet bone marrow?"

"Nah, the doc checked me out, I am 'infection free' as the kids call it."

"That's good, I hope to see you up on your feet soon, I don't like being down a man." She pats his arm and makes her way to where the rest of the team is getting ready to head out.

"How's he doin'?" Daniel asks, lifting the weapons duffle into the bed of the truck.

"Cam is Cam," she shrugs, "Bit of a concussion but otherwise still the same, we lucked out."

"Yes, those new Silents are beginning to be quite the problem," Vala says, climbing into the back of the truck.

"We'll figure it out," Daniel nods, "We learned to manage the sprinters, we'll get a read on these ones too."

"You guys ready to go?" O'Neill asks, walking up with Teal'c, his hands in his pockets.

"Just about," Daniel says, "What's goin' on?"

"With this new variant out there, I know I'd feel a lot better if you took Teal'c with you." He tells them, "So you're taking Teal'c with you."

"Hop in," Bunny motions to the truck, and Teal'c nods before stepping into the bed and shutting the tailgate.

The town office is mostly empty, with only a few zombies stumbling around, easily incapacitated with melee weapons.

"Where do you think they'd keep the floorplans?" Bunny asks, scraping the blood off her ax on the side of a desk.

"Archives are in the basement if they had them at all," Daniel explains, "Uh... Teal'c and Vala, you guys take guard up here, Bunny and I 'll check out downstairs."

Their lights shine around the dusty folder-covered shelves as they try not to kick up any papers that litter the ground as they go.

"It's too fucking quiet," Bunny hisses, eyes darting over to Daniel, her knuckles white as she grips her flashlight, "Daniel."

He turns to look at her, but her eyes and light are trained on a spot on the floor. He follows her line of sight to a bloody bootprint on the cement floor, "That's not ours."

"It's still wet," she grimaces and he shines his light around their immediate surroundings.

"They're still here," his eyebrows knit together, "We should go."

"We need those plans."

"We don't even know if the plans are here," Daniel argues, "Even if they are, is it really worth risking our lives to a band of Rovers?"

"We risk our lives every time we leave the compound," she frowns, stepping past him to continue her search.

"Is someone there?" She calls out and Daniel rolls his eyes, grabbing his radio.

"Teal'c? This is Daniel, we think we could have a Rover situation here, keep your eyes peeled."

"Understood."

The sound of shuffling papers alerts them to another presence a few shelves over. Daniel pulls his gun, pointing it in the direction of the sound, pulling Bunny behind him without a second thought.

"Come out," Daniel orders, "Calmly with your hands behind your head. We're armed."

A small figure slowly shuffles into the light, hands clutched tightly around a raggedy-looking stuffed moose.

"Jesus Daniel, it's a kid," She tries to move past him, but he stops her.

"Are you alone?" He asks, "Is there anyone else here with you?"

Their eyes start to glisten with tears and they start sniffling.

"M-my papa he-" They hiccup, "He told me to hide. B-but he hasn't come back!"

"Honey, how long ago was that?" Bunny asks them.

"F-four days ago."

"Oh geez," Daniel slowly lowers his gun and looks to his wife who carefully approaches the child.

"Did your dad tell you anything else before he left?" She asks softly, unscrewing the cover of her water bottle and handing it to them.

"S-something 'bout getting bit," they pout, taking a sip.

She turns to Daniel.

"He can't be more than five," she whispers, "Daniel we can't just leave him here."

"I know."

"What's your name, sweetheart?" She asks as Daniel radios the new information to Teal'c and Vala.

"H-Henry."

"It's nice to meet you, Henry," she smiles warmly, "You're gonna come with us, ok? We've got food, water, and a nice safe place to stay."

"But... but my Papa!"

"Honey, I'm sorry but I don't think your papa's coming back," she tells him, "Now you need to come with us to where it's safe."

"Ok."

"I need to make sure you weren't bit too, can you roll up your sleeves for me?"

He nods and does as she says.

Once she's sure he hasn't been infected she picks him up and he clings to her.

"We just need to find something before we go."

"I think I've got it," Daniel calls from the other side of the basement, after a good 40 minutes of searching through musty old files.

He meets Bunny near the stair and unfolds one of the blue documents. Shining his light through it he smiles when they see the layout of one of the complex's floors.

"Hell yeah!" She grabs his arm, and grins, "Let's get these back to base."

"It's okay," she reassures the young boy when he whimpers, holding her tighter when she goes to set him in the front seat of the truck, "I'll be sitting right next to you."

"Base this is Raid Team one," she says into the dashboard radio, "The mission was a success. We found a new survivor and we're headed back. ETA 15 minutes."

○●○●○●○

There will be a part 2 (or even more) because I really love this AU and want to write more for it

Taglist: @mysg1spacemonkey @sgcprometheus @i-am-morrigans-apprentice @malcolm-reeds-pineapple @witching-things @reeseykins @abnormalvampire64 @girl-obsessed-with-things @gatez @myro-tse @just-a-si-fi-nerd

#Zombie apocalypse au #Daniel Jackson #Daniel and Dread #Bunny Dread #prisma Answers #prisma writes #stargate #SG-1

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