#and that he doesn't have to settle for ''good enough'' anymore. and how terrifying that is. since he's finally caring about something | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

aidaronan · 1 year

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The years go by. The retail jobs that Steve thinks are temporary keep piling up, but he has no idea what else to do with his life so he just keeps on keeping on.

Until a large tree falls on the lawn of the little house he managed to buy and he gets the quote on removal and the number literally hurts his soul.

He buys a small chainsaw instead. Over the course of a few weeks, he gets most of the branches cut up. He collects some large rocks from down by the quarry and digs out a fire pit in his backyard. On his days off, his friends come over and they sit out back and have a few beers. The pile of wood dwindles. The giant trunk is another story though. His chainsaw isn't big enough for it. Burning it would take forever, and Steve's terrified he'd disappoint Smoky the Bear. He's at a loss.

Until he sees another giant trunk in someone's yard carved into a bear.

He knows what to do then. Not a bear, but something else. Through trial and error, the trunk becomes the rough shape of a woman, the remnants of the branches like a crown on her head. It's not as amazing as the bear he saw, but it's his. He finds he loves the smell of sawdust and the feeling of creating something.

Just like that, Steve realizes what he wants to do. It takes several months and a lot of yard sales, but he scrounges up the tools he needs to start woodworking. He learns to measure twice and cut once. He makes tables and chairs and carves them with art and designs that get better and better the more he learns. Shockingly, people actually buy his pieces.

Even more shocking comes the realization that he's making enough money to do it full time. He puts in his two weeks notice at Melvald's and hands in his assistant manager badge.

He's not sure he's happy, but he is content. It feels good to work hard and actually have things to show for it. It also feels good to work muscles he hasn't used since high school. He carries on for a few years like that, creating and learning and creating some more. Then Eddie Munson blows back into town. Invited back so Hawkins can have their most famous alumnus sing the national anthem at homecoming. Steve's honestly surprised he shows at all. "Can't believe you didn't tell them kiss your hairy ass," Steve says. Because of course Eddie ends up around his fire pit, sipping on Steve's cheap beer like he doesn't have three Grammy awards on his mantel. The years fall away with each drink, reminding Steve of just how much it had hurt when Eddie left. He'd wanted Eddie so bad back then, more than he'd ever wanted anyone. He can feel the echoes of that deep ache across time.

"Pfft. Don't you know all famous people wax our asses now? All the rage in LA." Eddie cuts a look at him and smirks when Steve rolls his eyes, grateful for the lighthearted moment to snap him out of his maudlin nostalgia. "Really though I thought about it, but then I thought it would be way funnier to donate a metric fuckton of money to Hawkins High with the stipulation that it go to the theater and band programs. Kind of bummed they couldn't honor my other request though."

"Which was?"

"My old Hellfire throne. I miss her, but apparently she's not around anymore. Something about water damage."

"Oh yeah. Water main busted a few years back and flooded the theater. I remember that." "Yeah. Had to settle for the promise they'd make a game lounge and stock it with all the supplies a budding young nerd needs."

"That's really nice, Eds."

Eddie shrugs. "I've been known to be nice on occasion. You'll come to homecoming, right? Moral support?"

Steve hasn't been to homecoming in years because he sees the other people who stayed in town all the time, and he has no interest in seeing the people who didn't. He can only answer the same questions so many times. Oh, I'm doing woodwork now. Yep, I still live right here. Nope, still not married, no kids.

He goes though, and he answers the uncomfortable questions. Because Eddie asked him to. Because no matter how long it's been, Steve can't deny that some part of him still...

He says goodbye after, and Eddie leaves again, and Steve tries not to think about that too much in the following days.

He's halfway into the project before he realizes what he's building. He'd seen Eddie's throne quite a few times back when. What he doesn't have memories of, he makes up. He adds his own touches too, making it a throne fit for a rock star, a nerd, a friend.

He carves ornate patterns, he creates scenes of dragons being beaten back by a man with a guitar, crowds of people that could be knights or concertgoers.

It's his favorite piece he's ever done, and his hands are shaking when he dials Eddie's number. He gets an answering machine and stumbles through a message.

"I made you something. I guess it's kind of silly, but it's here in Hawkins if you want it. Or I'm sure you can afford the shipping if you don't want to come. Just, I made you a chair. It's more of a... Well, you'll see. Unless you don't want to... It's Steve by the way." He hangs up before he can embarrass himself even more.

Eddie doesn't call him back. One day passes and then another. Steve tries not to let it get to him. He works on orders and new projects. He enjoys his little backyard oasis. He rents a few movies and thinks they're okay.

He's debarking some wood in his driveway when the rental car pulls up, Eddie stepping out in ripped jeans and an old Metallica tee. "Hi again, Stevie."

"Oh." Steve clears his throat. "The thing's in the garage. I'll..."

Eddie doesn't say anything for a long time, circling the throne, running his tattooed fingers over each little detail.

"You made this whole thing?"

"I did."

"For me?" Eddie looks at him then, one hand still touching the wood like he doesn't want to let go. Even under the harsh lights of the garage, his eyes are such a warm shade of brown that Steve forgets to breathe.

He nods. "For you."

"Why?"

There are a hundred answers Steve could give, but he spent so long not knowing who he was or who he wanted to be. Too long. "Because you'll always be the one that got away. Because some part of me will always want to make you smile no matter how long it's been."

Eddie falls into the throne like he just got the wind knocked out of him.

"You don't have to respond to that," Steve says. "You can just say thank you and take the chair."

"I can." Eddie blows out a breath. "But that would be incredibly stupid considering half my early ballads are about you."

"What?" Unfair. Steve doesn't have a chair to fall into.

"Oh sure, I changed the hes to shes for a while there because..." Eddie waves his hand. "But they're about you, Steve. God, I should've asked you out. I just thought..."

Hearing those words is a lot like seeing that carved bear all over again, something clicking into place that wasn't quite right before.

"Go out with me now then," Steve says. "Or stay in. I've got a frozen lasagna and I rented Contact."

"Steve Harrington? Asking Eddie 'the Freak' Munson on a date? Did hell freeze over?"

"Pfft." Steve takes a step closer toward what he wants most. "Hell froze over in 1986, Eddie. You were there."

Five months and a lot of long distance phone bills later, Steve opens Harrington Woodworking in Los Angeles. That same day, Eddie takes photos for Rolling Stone posing in an ornate throne in his living room. He tells the reporter exactly who made it and what he means. At concerts, he starts singing those ballads the way he always wanted to. More often than not, Steve stands in the wings singing along.

#steddie #fanfic #mine #woodworker steve #rock star eddie #i meant for this to be a drabble but 😂

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cheralith · 3 months

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all i wanted — gojo satoru, ft. geto suguru

content warnings: gn!neutral, no pronouns or body parts mentioned, angst

he can't believe what he's seeing.

in the park's gazebo that sits near your apartment building, there you are. settled underneath its vines and ivy and the sunset looking overhead in the sky. a bundle of colorful flowers gathered in your arms with a large heart-shaped box of chocolates nestled underneath. there's a plethora of matching shaped balloons settled around the floor of it, all red and pink and white and shiny, resembling mirrors that shine your much too happy face that doesn't face him...

but another.

there you are, hiding your shy smile behind a hand and giggling at whatever suguru is murmuring as he pushes a lock of hair away from your flustered face. satoru fists his own bouquet of flowers he gathered last minute hidden behind him, evidently frustrated as he bites his lip so hard that it draws blood. his seem so weak and desolate compared to the larger than life bouquet suguru has given you; a bouquet that shows careful arranging and organizing of each flowers, not the flimsy, clustered flowers that satoru grabbed on his rushing way to see you to declare what he had been hesitating to say for the longest time.

his knuckles turn white and pulse with a fiery ache from how hard he was grasping his now-bent flowers, doing his best to shove down the thick lump in his throat as he sees suguru wrap his arms around you and pull you closer to him as you accept his valentines proposal of "be mine?" written on a small, but intricate lunchbox cake decorated with colors that replicate the balloons. satoru doesn't miss the small bunch of boxes seated on the benches of the gazebo already unwrapped, the leaves of their wrappers nestled nicely on the ground—there's more presents than flowers in his bouquet, and satoru cannot feel anymore pathetic. his flowers can't compare to the intricate set-up suguru has created. he thinks its almost a mockery of sorts.

it's not fair, he thinks. you've been friends with satoru in the same length that you've been friends with suguru, and he's sure that both of them have harbored feelings in a time frame equivalent to each other, so why does suguru get first pick? he's the one that broke off from you, him, and shoko... he's the one that left you mysteriously in the dust those years ago... he's that ignored you on the first couple semesters of college up until a few months ago...

but satoru was there. why can't you acknowledge him in the way you acknowledge suguru? satoru was there every step of the way—his shoulder was the one you cried on. his arms were the one you ran to when you celebrated a good grade on a test. his presence was the one that comforted you in the bane of suguru's absence.

but here's the problem.

you did acknowledge him. you had actually acknowledged satoru's place in your life so much and valued it to a degree that you took the risk of perhaps making it more than just a mere long-term friendship. maybe it wasn't explicit, but it was implied enough to the point where it struck fear in satoru's heart.

and he ran away from it like the coward he was—terrified to his wits end that another suguru situation would happen again to him, in which his feelings already engrained so deep within him that if there's the slim chance that you'll leave him like suguru did, there'd be nothing but a deep and hollow pit in his heart. a relationship would just increase that chance—and he wasn't going to take any chances of that happening.

satoru thought he'd never fathom two large chunks of his heart being empty, yet here he is—facing what remains of his heart that belongs to you in the palm of the other person who owned the other half of it and tore it away all those years ago.

the ground feelings more dense, locking him in place and forcing him to watch the scene that unfolds before him.

if he was just a few mere hours faster, he knew that he could be in suguru's place is he was just stronger, if he was just willing to pay the small price for a potential forever with you. it was a severe last-minute decision, but he knew that's what he wanted, what he yearned for. what he even needed, perhaps.

yet, his hesitation has paid its dues.

your back is to him, thankfully. but suguru's eyes flicker up from your smiling face that he holds tenderly in his palms to share satoru's grief-stricken one. for a second, his face in unreadable to satoru, until a cruel smirk snakes on suguru's lips.

and, while never breaking eye contact with satoru, those same lips reach down and share a soft kiss with yours, your forever now being in suguru's hands that just barely pass his own.

the bouquet of frail flowers fall to the ground, yet no feeling returns to satoru's hand. only a cold wind of nothing grasps it back.

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box-dwelling · 7 months

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So I've had this idea swimming in my head for a bit and I considered doing a fic about it but honestly I just want to do a headcanon write up for now at least. So narumitsu Franmaya post SOJ kids!

So I think after SOJ the elders in Kurain are going to start really getting on Maya's ass about having a baby. And it's getting really annoying. She been dating/married to Franziska for years at this point but I think they're solidly convinced she's having her "lesbian phase" and that once Pearl is of age and doesn't need looking after anymore and she's officially the Master of Kurain she's going to find herself a husband and settle down.

Maya fucking hates this. She wants them to properly recognise her relationship and while her relationship with the entire concept of having kids is very complicated, she doesn't want Channeling to die out so she condededs that fine, she'll have the damn kids but Franziska is being their mom.

Franziska has her own complicated ideas around legacy but is equally getting annoyed but she recognises this is important for Maya's culture and she doesn't dislike kids in general, she's been a good Tante to Trucy and while her relationship with Pearl is rocky she's thinks she's done a perfect job being her quasi step mother.

So they concoct a plan.

One day they sit Miles, Phoenix and Trucy down and say they're going to try IVF and they ask Miles to be the donor because in the absence of true male Von Karma DNA, honourary Von Karma DNA will do the job. Phoenix is completely on board because hes been listening to Maya complain about this for literal years and wants it to be over and done with for her. Trucy finds the idea hilarious because it promises to make their already insane family tree even more convoluted and she thrives in that chaos. She's also very aware that's she's presently the baby of the family and is a bit worried about her dad's empty nesting. Miles is honoured to be asked.

They do the thing. Then a few months later the Wright-Edgeworth's get a panicked phone call. Maya has just had a check up and has found out that she is pregnant with triplets. But one of them is male. 3 kids was going to be a lot anyway but there's enough people in Kurain that they can make it work. But Maya is very very aware of how weird the village is around men and really doesn't want her kid raised in that environment. And Phoenix and Miles, bleeding heart chronic adopters that they are agree that they'll raise the boy and Maya and Franziska can raise the girls in Kurain. So begins the chaos.

Miles does an insane amount of prep for the baby. He reads literally every parenting book he can get his hands on. He might as well have an honourary degree in child development after the amount of research he does. He calls up old contacts from universities he's taught at to get access to papers, he complies reading lists, he makes binders full of note, he goes completely overboard because he's going to raise this kid right. (I honestly think he did this when he first became involved in Trucy's life too but those stages of development are vastly different to that of a baby)

Franziska, does not. She is convinced she knows everything she could possibly need to in order to do this perfectly. Pearl turned out fine. These kids will too. Miles keeps sending her papers he's read and she will skim them, states that she already knew all of that and tell him he's over reacting. However she does do a good number of therapy sessions in preparation to get her head straight about what stuff Manfred did that was good and what stuff he did that was bad.

Phoenix is panicking and being way way too attentive of Maya. He's calling every few hours to make sure she's ok. Not because he's worried about the babies, though he is, but because his best friend/kid sister is carrying 3 human beings and he's terrified she's going to get hurt. He will cross the bridge of raising them when he gets there, he did fine with Trucy and he's kind of a dad by nature at this point.

Maya Hates being pregnant. She despises it. She can't do all the cool active stuff she's used to, Nick is being overbearing as well as all the other general stuff that sucks with being pregnant. She is not enjoying this and is actually kinda glad it's triplets because that means she has 2 female heirs an she never has to do this ever again. She is however also not stressing about raising them. She has some basics covered like making damn sure no one pits them against eachother and that they can chose among the pair of them who's going to inherit her title when they're good and ready. They'll need a certain level of spiritual training obviously but she's determined to give them as normal a life as possible and hopefully when they're old enough have them travel a lot with her and Franziska while Franziska is working.

This is a more complicated other headcanon but I think this is around the time Trucy starts properly coming to terms with the fact that the Gramaryes suck ass and she doesn't actually want anything to do with them. So she's kind of doing some soul searching and decides to take a gap year after school to figure out if she wants to be a magician or not by trying to define herself by something else. This gap year ends up manifesting by being an investigative assistant full time at the WAA while also trying out literally everything else she's ever had a passing interest in. She's figuring herself out during this time basically.

The babies come. Nick is incredibly overbearing during the labor. Franziska is just focusing on helping Maya through it and Miles is stressed the fuck out that this is happening and real.

And so Richard (after gumshoe), Sakura (named after the Pink Princess), and Brunhilde (named by Franziska because it means Armoured for battle which Maya thought sounded cool as hell) are born. The elders are very upset about how the names don't follow traditional fey naming convention but Maya doesn't care. She wants these kids to grow up knowing the exist outside of the village and giving Brunhilde a German name makes is even clearer that Franziska is her mother and nothing is changing that fact.

Maya and Franziska have a basically uneventful time raising the girls. The elders have been prepared for this for years. Maya goes by Mom/Mommy, Fran goes by Mama. As they planned they take them all over the globe with Frans work with Interpol. Maya gets to call it a holiday regularly and fobs off the elders by saying that they'll be better trained by being more worldly. She'll look after the kids as Fran works and when they go back to Kurain they switch and Fran will take cases in the japanifonia prosecutors office when the elders want to train them. They're a well oiled machine. Brunhilde ends up taking more after Fran and Sakura takes more after Miles. Brunhilde is actually really good at channeling but decides to let Sakura take the title because she enjoys it more. The elders are actually pretty glad about this because Brunhilde is absolutely terrifying. She got the Edgeworth glare which combined with supernatural powers makes her seem like something out of the Omen. Franziska and Maya couldn't be more proud. Sakura is a little more mild mannered but given her parents it's not by much. She's still a forceful presence but she's just typically a lot more easy going. She is genuinely passionate as hell about Channeling, she got Maya and Miles' autism and it's becomes her special interest. She's studious and devoted and really cares about what she does. She ends up doing a ton to revolutionise channeling when she becomes master and basically brings it into a new golden age. The two of them are close and their parents make certain to makes sure there's absolutely no bad blood there.

Miles and Phoenix have a slightly more chaotic time raising Richard. They're both workaholics and also running major legal bodies so figuring out how to make time to raise a baby amongst that is difficult.

They start with Phoenix taking paternity leave and calling in to talk with Athena. Trucy at this point is still in her final year so the office is quiet as hell and Athena HATES it. She needs a busy environment and being alone in the office is driving her mad.

So that last like a month before they just decide to baby proof the WAA and have Phoenix look after Richard while he's there. Athena likes babies (like come on, she does) but the crying is difficult on her ears so Phoenix gets her some very strong noise cancelling headphones and the pair of them come up with an insane series of methods of non verbally communicating. Phoenix and Athena barely have a braincell of common sense between them so they end up with various whiteboards all over the office to write stuff on and a nerf gun each to get each others attention.

One Apollo's first return visit from Kura'in with this as the new status quo Richard nearly chokes on a dart and he asks why they didn't just both learn ASL to which Athena and Phoenix both look at each other because the sensible solutions never even occurred to them. They learn ASL after that.

The first time they have to investigate a case Phoenix just straps up with a dad harness and takes the baby to the crime scene. This goes predictably poorly. Richard won't stop crying while they're talking to witnesses and Athena has to put on her head phones which means Phoenix has to write down everything the witness says to show her but his handwriting is terrible and he can't spell when writing so quickly so Athena keeps misunderstanding what's been said. Richard throws up on some evidence. They then get threatened by some goons which when Phoenix reports back to Miles about his day nearly gives him a heart attack.

After that one of 3 things happens. If Trucy is free, she'll either babysit her kid brother or investigate with Athena, if she isn't and Miles is free/just doing work in his office, they'll drop Richard off with him for the day where Miles has baby supplies ready. If neither of them are free, Phoenix will stay in the office and look after Richard while Athena has him on face time. That being said I'd give it 3 years before that kid's back to being dragged along to crime scenes. It's the Wright kid way.

I feel like the courthouse probably has a day care so they drop him off there during trials

When Richard is in Miles office is comparatively calm compared with the WAA. Klavier comes in to coo and sing him lullabies. Taka will sometimes take vigilant watch when he's sleeping. Simon will on occasion ask about his psychological development. But it's a lot more sane. When he's a bit older I'm reasonably certain that Simon will let him play with his katana at least once but other than that its fine.

Despite this Richard grows up to be basically fine. Weird girl energy as comes with the territory but they try to make sure he's has as normal a childhood as possible. He takes after Maya a lot which is either a biological thing or just kind of what happens when a considerable chunk of your devolpment is done in a WAA that is lacking Apollo. Miles is keeping a detailed track on all his development milestones and he's pretty far ahead but reasonably so. He's smart but he's not a Prodigy which they take to mean basically healthy. If and when he ever does struggle with something they're very good about telling him that's ok and that helping him improve while also making sure he knows it's not a moral failing to struggle. He's aware that Brunhilde and Sakura are his siblings but it's explained more as 3 kids being a lot to handle rather than the stuff about Kurain being weird. He sees them both regularly and all 4 of them love all 3 kids to pieces.

In terms of appearance as they get older, I think Richard has Maya's round soft features but Miles' grey hair and eye colour. Brunhilde is kind of the opposite, she's got the dark hair and piercing blue eyes but the sharp Edgeworth features. She also got his shitty eye sight and has glasses from a very young age. Sakura has grey narrowed eyes but round cheeks and dark hair.

#this is semi Inspired by nutmeg mayonnaise's au which is great but it mostly not #franmaya #narumitsu #Wrightworth #ace attorney headcanon #Phoenix wright #miles edgeworth #franziska von karma #maya fey #trucy wright #athena Cykes #my aa kids au #waa shenanigans #klavier gavin #Apollo justice #simon blackquill

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ariundercovers · 2 months

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It's Not You (Frankie "Catfish" Morales x Reader)

Pairing: Frankie Morales x afab!bi/pan!reader (No use of y/n!)

Length: ~1.5k words

Summary: You accidentally start imagining a woman while Frankie's going down on you. Panic ensues.

Written a a first-go for the @triplefrontier-anniversary ! I hope this drabble doesn't totally suck, lol. I have another one in the works to keep the LGBT+ themes going!

As always, I'm super open to any and all (constructive) criticism. Let me know what you think, what you love, what you hate. I just like to hear from you!

“Oh fuck, fuuuuck-”

Your eyes are squeezed closed, Frankie’s head tucked tightly between your thighs. This was always one of his favorite ways to be - right in the middle of you, tongue working all over your folds and clit like he were the originator of the very action itself.

He’s an expert - absolutely brilliant at it, and he can always get you off in record time, faster than anyone ever could before him. So, this time, when your orgasm completely eludes you, feels entirely too far away for too long, you start to question yourself.

What is wrong with your body?

That’s when you squeeze your eyes shut and try your best to picture something that’ll help get you there.

The sloppy sounds coming from his mouth and between your legs fuel your visions as you’re picturing him on top of you, inside of you, between your legs, and then, suddenly… blonde. Blonde and curvy and boobs on top of you, smothering you. Your eyes jolt open, the image crashing over you like a bucket of ice water, and then you reach down, tugging at his oily curls and pulling him up toward you the best you can manage.

“Fuck, baby, baby, stop, please.” You hate to even ask him something like this. You hate to lose the feeling of it, because it’s still good, even if it’s not quite getting you there right now. He stops immediately - you know he always would - and you whine as you roll your head and look down at him. “It’s not gonna work this time, I don’t think.”

His brows raise at you, confused, and then his face shifts to one of concern as he gets to all fours and closes your legs, shifting them off to the side so he can climb back up the bed and envelop you in his arms.

“What’s wrong, amorcita?” You sigh, closing your eyes and tucking yourself tightly into his chest, trying to figure out how to explain.

“I, uh… shit. It’s… I don’t-” He cuts you off, then, your inability to tell him what’s going on makes him even more nervous.

“What did I do? Tell me, please, so I don’t do it again. I’m sorry, sweetheart, I didn’t mean to, whatever it is.” You pull back from him just enough to look up at his face, eyes widening as you realize that he thinks this is his fault.

“Oh, Frankie… No. No no no no. It wasn’t… it could never be you. Hell, you’re the fucking best I think in the whole damn world, honestly. It’s not you. I promise.” You can see the visible shift, the sigh of relief he offers you as he settles against the pillows, tension evaporating out of his chest and shoulders.

“Okay. Then what is it?” Your teeth worry at your lower lip, unsure how to broach it. You’ve never been forward with him about any of this - about your sexuality, about the things you’d probably, ideally, want to be able to explore with him. You’re pretty sure he won't react poorly, but the truth is that you just don’t know.

You’re terrified to lose him.

Taking a deep breath, you shift away from him further so you can get a proper look at him, meet him eye to eye, and get a sense of the expression on his face, you gulp down the worry that’s lodged in the back of your throat.

“I, um… It was taking a long time, so I thought maybe if I closed my eyes and focused on the feeling it would help move things along, you know? But then I couldn’t stop thinking, and it was all you at first, but then suddenly it wasn’t and I, uh… I panicked. It was like instantly I couldn’t handle it anymore.” His face is still concerned as he reaches out to brush his hand along your bare arm, bringing your knuckles up to his lips and pressing a kiss there.

“What do you mean by ‘it wasn’t’?” His voice is soft, gentle. Like a feather brushing across your cheek or… something like that, at least. You do your best to answer.

“I, um… started picturing a… girl?” His eyes widen at you slightly and he tilts his head in your direction.

“Okay?” He responds. You blink back at him for a long while, trying to read his expression the best you can. You’re not getting much out of it, though, and you scrunch your brows in confusion.

“Okay?” He stares at you for a moment before his lips turn up in a slight smirk, shaking his head incredulously when he realizes you’re shocked by his response.

“Are you expecting me to be upset that you were thinking about someone else, or were you expecting that I’d be upset that it was a girl?”

“I, well…” You cut yourself off before you can blabber yourself too deeply into a hole. It sounds much stupider when he says it out loud, as it happens. You mentally smack yourself for a moment before you let out a deep breath and an uncomfortable laugh. “That sounds really dumb when you say it out loud.”

He chuckles and brushes his fingers across your temple, then down to cup your cheek in his hand.

“Amor… You’re not going to scare me away just because you’re what… bi? Pan? Some other word that probably exists but I don’t totally understand? It doesn’t matter to me. I love you. As you are. Always.” You can feel yourself getting a little choked up at his admission, the honesty of it all really getting to you. You can feel the intensity of his love for you beaming from his face, right into your chest where your heart beats so fast and so loudly that you can practically hear it in your ears.

How in the world did you end up with the most perfect human on the planet? You can’t possibly even imagine another one better than this, more pure, more kind… it’s not possible. The very earth itself would shatter if such a person existed, you think.

Your own self-doubt creeps in and begs for validation once more, even though you know deep down that yes, of course he’s telling the truth. Of course.

“Really? You mean that?” He just smiles back at you and shifts closer so he can lean forward and press his lips ever so gently against your forehead, one hand cupping the back of your neck as he does.

“Of course I do, baby. Come on. And for what it's worth, I’m not upset that you started thinking about someone else, either. Maybe it’s something we should talk about. Bringing in a third? If that’s something you think you need, that is.”

“What? You’d just… be okay with something like that?” He only smiles back at you, genuine and earnest.

“For you? Anything.” You shake your head in disbelief, sighing out a massive breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding.

“I don’t deserve you, Frankie.” He huffs and shifts forward, caging you in with his arms on either side of your body. He looks down at you, head cocked to the side, before he leans down, lips attaching gently to your collarbone. He presses little kisses all the way up it, across to your shoulder, along the upper ridge of your collar and to the base of your neck. Then, his kisses turn to little licks and nibbles as he works his way up your neck and to your jaw, biting lightly right at the tip of your chin.

“You’re right. You deserve more than I can give you. I suppose I’ll just have to spend my life making up for that, won’t I?” His teasing tone is apparent as his lips continue their trek, up your cheek, across your cheekbone, your nose, and finally to your own lips. Your arms wrap around his upper body and pull him down onto you with force, needing to feel him pressed along your body.

“It really doesn’t bother you? Not at all?” He shakes his head ‘no’ and then nuzzles his face into your chest, between your breasts, hands pushing them together toward his cheeks as he hums into your skin. He resurfaces just long enough to answer.

“Not even an ounce. I fucking love you, just like this.” You smile and close your eyes, reveling in his affections.

“Thank you, Frankie. I don’t even… I’m not sure what to say.” He keeps kissing you, all across your chest and breasts, hands massaging the tender flesh softly.

“Wanna let me try again?” You look down at him with a smile and a laugh, fingers reaching up to tug at his curls, pressing your fingertips into his scalp. You pull him up to you again, pressing your lips together for a long, hard moment.

“Absolutely, I do.”

#frankie morales x reader #writing #francisco morales #frankie catfish morales #francisco catfish morales #frankie morales #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier #pedro pascal #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fanfiction #no beta we die like men

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your-divine-ribs · 3 days

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Ice Cold Part 15

Words: 2.4k

Lyla finds out more about Van’s past 💙

Ice Cold Masterlist Main Masterlist

"I owe you my life Lyla."

Raj's voice was filled with an appreciative kind of awe that made me squirm in my seat. I was uncomfortable enough visiting him as it was, I hated hospitals, but the praise he kept heaping on me just made things worse.

"You'd have done the same for me, any of us would have," I replied. "I just wish I'd not been distracted. As soon as I saw those fake waiters I knew something was wrong. I shouldn't have hesitated."

My mind drifted back to that fateful night in Paris and the note from Van urging me to 'GET OUT NOW'. I was sure if I'd followed that instruction I would have been at Raj's graveside now rather than his hospital bed, but still it didn't seem good enough.

Raj shifted where he lay, groaning and screwing up his face, clutching his bandaged abdomen. "Shit... I think it's time for my pain meds again."

"I'll get a nurse," I offered, rising to my feet. "I should be getting back to the office anyway."

"No!" He said hurriedly. "Don't go yet!"

I hesitated, turned to him, watched an awkward little smile emerge on his lips as he struggled to hide his discomfort. "I was thinking... erm... maybe when I get out of this place... maybe we could... errr... go and grab a drink or something?"

My heart sank as I took in his hopeful expression and I just hoped the small smile that I painted on looked genuine. "Errr... yeah sure... that'd be nice... look I really do need to get back. I'll come and visit again soon."

"I'd like that," I heard him say as I hurriedly turned and made for the exit.

Of course I had no intention on taking Raj up on his offer. He was nice enough, a real gentleman, good-looking and sweet. Someone I was that sure Jen would call 'a real catch', but those qualities didn't interest me. They didn't make my heart race and my mind spin. They didn't make me feel the same way that Van did.

In truth, my visit to Raj wasn't just as a well-meaning friend or colleague, I'd also had an ulterior motive. I wanted to find out who'd he'd been working with on the psychological profiling team. I tried to tell myself that I wanted to delve into Van's past to assist me with bringing him down, but I couldn't lie to myself anymore. I was in so deep now all I could do was tread water and try and keep my head above the surface, the dangerous current threatening to completely sweep me away.

Andrea was a small bird-like woman with sharp features and a serious demeanour, and she looked at me with something between wonder and admiration as I asked her to walk me through Van's psychological profile report.

"We've all been talking about you in this office Lyla," she said, eyes bright. "No one else has spent so much time with Van before and got away with their life. What was he like?"

Exciting... Dangerous... Intoxicating...

I batted the words out of my mind and settled on a very different adjective.

"Terrifying."

I saw Andrea visibly shudder as she pushed her glasses further up the bridge of her nose, picking up a thick file and starting to leaf through.

"You know, you're such a good agent," she said, pulling out sheets and photos. "Most field operatives don't care much about profiles and psych reports, they're straight in there all guns blazing, going for glory. They don't realise that getting inside someone's head and knowing how their mind works is key to catching them."

"Well, no matter what they've done, they're still people at the end of the day, right?" I answered.

Andrea narrowed her eyes. "Oh, we don't do this to humanise them. They're monsters... all of them... no matter what they've been through. No... we do this to find their weaknesses. That's how we bring them down."

"Oh..." I looked away quickly, taking a sip of my coffee.

Andrea carried on, a thoughtful look in her eyes. "Of course someone like Van... well that's easier said than done. He doesn't appear to have any weaknesses. Tell me... you've been the closest to him... what are your thoughts? Is there anything we can use to get to him?"

Her question caught me off guard and I froze for a moment. Of course Van had a weakness. A very obvious one. And unbeknownst to Andrea she was looking directly at it.

"Errr... no... I don't think he does have any weaknesses that I've seen... but he's just a man right? They're all weak in some way, hey?"

I nudged Andrea gently, grinning, trying for a joke to distract from the serious look on her face as she studied me intently, but it was quite obvious she wasn't the joking type. She simply sighed and turned her attention back to the files, picking up an old dog-eared crime report.

A photo slipped out of the pages and fell in front of me on the desk and I picked it up for a closer inspection. It was a small boy, he couldn't have been any older than five or six. His clothes were crumpled and torn and stained with what looked like dried blood. The pale skin of his face was streaked with it too. The haunted look in his eyes told me that he'd seen horrors no boy of his age should have seen.

"Is this... is this Van?" I stuttered.

I didn't really need to ask. I'd recognise those striking blue-green eyes anywhere. Andrea nodded.

"What happened to him?"

Andrea's expression was grim as she spoke. "This was taken when they found him, he was just six years old. His family were killed... all of them.... and he witnessed it. He'd been left in the house for five days with their bodies when they found him."

"Christ..." I breathed. "How were they killed?"

"Murdered."

The word cut through me like a knife to the heart and an image of my own dead father flashed through my mind's eye.

Andrea wasn't finished with her gruesome tale. "It was brutal, a machete attack apparently. The father was beheaded. It was a gangland style execution."

Nausea rose in me. "Who did it?"

"I'm sure you've heard of Tommy Chappell."

I nodded. Everybody had. An infamous criminal who was notorious for running all of the criminal activity in the North twenty years ago.

"Van's father was a bad man. Really bad. Rotten to the core. He used to work for Tommy, running the drug operations. He got greedy though, he was skimming money off the top, and then of course when he got found out Tommy had to make an example of him."

"What about his mum?"

Andrea had a look of distaste on her face. "She was no better. A junkie and an alcoholic. She should never have had children, those boys were neglected right from the moment they were born. They never really stood a chance."

"Boys?" I said, confused by the plural term.

She sifted through the files again, her fingers alighting on another photo. Van looked even younger here and he was with an older boy.

"Van has a brother?"

"Did," Andrea confirmed. "He was a lot older than Van. Chappell didn't spare him either."

I could picture the horrific scene in my mind, Van as a young child, forced to watch his family members meet their grisly ends. It didn't matter whether they were good or bad people, at that age family were all you had. I shook my head, trying to clear the emotion away that was threatening to surface. I had to be professional.

"So what happened to him... afterwards?"

Andrea pulled a sizeable stack of papers out of the file and placed them into my outstretched hands. "He got taken into care. He was young enough that there were plenty of families who were interested in fostering to start with... well, that was until the problems started."

I stopped sifting through the papers and looked up at Andrea, eager to hear more.

"It became apparent quite quickly that Van wasn't like other six year olds. Something was seriously wrong with him. He was... cruel, destructive, often violent. One family went so far as to say he was evil."

I scoffed disbelievingly. "That's ridiculous! He was six years old! After everything he'd been through it's not surprising he had issues!"

"Naturally," Andrea agreed. "Social care's come a long way in the last twenty years. Unfortunately Van was shipped around a lot at first. Families handed him back because they couldn't cope with him. Eventually they ran out of options, so he stayed in care homes... some of them shall we say... rather disreputable..."

She screwed up her face. She didn't need to elaborate, I'd heard enough horror stories of vulnerable children abused by those who had been trusted to care for them.

Andrea went on. "He became just another product of the system... damaged. It's a textbook classic example really. I mean, not all psychopathic behaviour stems from neglect and abuse, but the majority does. If an infant doesn't receive the love they need to form emotional bonds in the first few years of life they develop what's known as attachment disorder. Believe or not, humans have to be taught how to love!"

She allowed herself a laugh then, but I didn't find any humour in it. The ache in my heart was steadily getting stronger the more I heard.

"But his parents... they must have loved him in their own way!" My voice cracked with an emotion I wasn't expecting.

"The McCanns?" She snorted like I'd said something preposterous. "Like I said the mother was an addict and his father was a violent, abusive man. His brother was brought up in the family business and he was very much his father's son. Van was probably being taught how to load a gun when most little boys were getting their first train set. I don't think that boy ever saw anything even close to love... not even for one day of his life."

I wasn't prepared for the feelings that ripped through me, I almost felt physically winded and my unemotional facade slipped. Andrea's eyes narrowed at me.

"You look a little peaky. Do you want a glass of water?"

"No... errr no I'm fine, honestly. Carry on... please."

Andrea's eyes lingered on me just a fraction too long, and I could feel the guilt rising. I cleared my throat and let my head hang whilst I pretended to study the social services statement.

"There's not much more to tell really...." She lent forward, lowering her voice. "Don't go feeling sorry for him. He's good at what he does because he doesn't feel remorse."

"I don't feel sorry for him!" The words sprang from me forcefully, defensively. "I just know how it feels to lose a parent in such a brutal way... that's all."

"Yes I know all about that," Andrea said. "It's the age-old argument of nature versus nurture isn't it? Are people really born bad or does life just shape them that way? You can put two people through the same experience and they can react in totally different ways. Van chose this life. Your dad was murdered too but look how you turned out."

Yeah, a real upstanding and moral citizen...

"It's hardly the same is it?" I replied, knowing I sounded like I was defending him but not being able to stop myself. "He had nothing. At least I had family... my mum..."

"Like she was such a comfort to you when it happened!" Andrea's sharp and sarcastic tone cut me off and I looked at her, stunned. She looked shocked by the outburst herself, quickly back-tracking.

"Err... I didn't mean... I mean I shouldn't have said that..." She faltered, then put out a hand to rest on my arm which I hastily moved away. "I'm sorry but I read your file, your psych evaluations, your therapy sessions..."

I dropped the files on the desk, rising quickly to my feet, pushing the chair back forcefully across the floor with a screeching sound. "I suggest you do your job and read the criminals' reports, not the staff's!" I hissed.

"But... but I had to! When we had that data breach earlier in the year... all those files got accessed. It wasn't just the assignment files... they got into the personnel files too."

I'd already started to turn, but this statement stopped me in my tracks. I'd not heard of any data breach. "What are you talking about?"

Andrea's face looked stricken, like she'd said something she shouldn't have and had now been caught out. I glared at her, watched her squirm with unease.

"I'm guessing no one told you then..."

I took a step closer, my mind racing. "Told me what?"

She glanced around, uncomfortable, but I wasn't backing down. "Just tell me," I said sharply.

She sighed then, took a breath before the words tumbled out of her. "It was the worst breach we've had. Our network's supposed to have state of the art encryption too, it should be uncrackable, but somehow someone got in. They accessed all sorts, assignments, undercover agent information. It blew some of their covers wide open. Thankfully they managed to get them all out in time... but it could have cost lives. Remember that senior member of staff Eric suddenly leaving? Someone had to be made accountable. At least they didn't access too many of the personnel files..." she trailed off, eyes darting around before coming to rest on me again. "They got into your file though... they accessed the whole lot... everything. It was strange because none of the other agents were affected... it was only yours..."

I'd stopped listening at this point. Thoughts were thundering through my head as I stood motionless, mouth agape.

"Are you alright? I don't think Paul wanted to worry you..."

I ignored her, starting to back away before I quickly whirled around and made for the door, flinging it open. All I could picture in my head was Van, eyes burning into me with intensity whilst he spoke those three words.

"I know you..."

#ice cold #van mccann fanfic #au fanfic #vanfic

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strqyr · 1 year

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I seriously have to ask. Why on earth are you so determined to push the idea that somehow the ENTIRE HUNTER SYSTEM is toxic and painful and it needs to be thrown in the bin. When not only is Ruby's circumstances far more unique than those your typical hunter would typically face. But we have the vast majority of the main cast affirm that yes, they ARE Hunters, in an epic scene of awesome character development?

I get that Ruby is not in an okay place at the moment. She has trauma from Beacon and Altas that is not fully addressed. And her teammates have not reached out to support her in Volume 9 until her outburst (partly due to bad timing. Because holy shit did her backing away from Crescent Rose send alarms ringing in everyone's heads). But blaming the entire Hunter system as toxic and needing to be removed feels very, 'throwing out the baby with the bathwater', you know?

the system currently in place is a post-war concept. it is, at most, 80 years old. we know the world managed to do just fine without it, as before the war kingdoms were expanding and finding new grounds to settle. as a systemic group huntsmen and huntresses aren't needed: the main reason for the academies to exist is to defend the relics hidden in vaults within them, putting a huge target on them that the students meant to defend them don't even know about. same students who usually start training to kill monsters (and potentially other people as well, since that can be part of the job) at the age of 13. that's a child.

we're talking about a system that is basically churning out child soldiers. there's no reason why they need to graduate at the age of 21 instead of starting to train at that age.

we're talking about a system that has no way to actually keep track of all of huntsmen and huntresses to ensure that they aren't abusing their power. these are people who have trained in combat, who have unlocked their aura for extra protection, who can have special powers in form of semblances. these are people who have the power to arrest others. the power imbalance between a regular citizen and a huntsman is absurd. they are super-powered mercenaries who are also cops and if the one you've trusted your life with decides being a decent person doesn't pay enough or doesn't bring them enough joy anymore or whatever, there's not much a regular citizen can do against them alone.

and we have seen them abuse their power already. this is not a what if? this is a holy shit this is already happening. raven has been the bandit queen of anima for almost 20 years, people are terrified of her, and qrow only cared to amass a group to go deal with the tribe when he found out the spring maiden is there. how is this not a problem?

my point is nothing in the show is actually selling me the idea that the huntsmen system is necessary. just because there are few good eggs doesn't mean the rest isn't rotten, that there aren't issues that need to be fixed.

there will always be heroes, people willing to defend those who need help. but they don't need to have a title of a huntsman or a huntress to do so—clearly, since humanity was doing just fine before the war without the academies. and a town or a family should not be required to have enough money to pay for someone to protect them or else trust a goodwill of a stranger to care about them enough to help without a payment (especially when there's a lot of 'looking the other way, this doesn't concern me' going on).

the system isn't bad just because someone came out of it mental health problems—tho obviously that's bad too and should be reason enough to investigate what went wrong and how it can be prevented in the future—it's bad because from the viewpoint of a Regular Joe who needs a huntsman now, you either have enough money to hire a huntsman—and then hope the one you get not only arrives in time but is also actually a decent person—or you're fucked.

#rwby #rwby9 #rwby spoilers #stormmodblog #ask.strqyr #i mean i could go on and on #but that's the gist of it

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joyfulladywarrior · 1 year

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Aemma survives au part 1

Aemma was able to survive being cut open. Everyone told her that this is a miracle from the gods. The whispers say otherwise. What good was she to the king now that there is no potential for her to give him a son? The whispers completely ignore his hand in ensuring that she doesn't give him one. Instead of sacrificing the baby to save her. He sacrifices her to save the baby and sacrificed any chance of her giving him any other baby. She often wonders what would he have done had the baby been a girl who lived...

Questioning herself, Viserys, and everything she knows was how life was for her after waking up. She didn't know how she can look at Viserys after his betrayal. She'd have preferred to have him cheat on her and beget a bastard than do this to her. She didn't know how she can face her daughter. Her daughter who saw her mutilated body and stayed at her bedside. When she lays asleep, she can hear her sometimes. Crying and praying. Her daughter who has been avoiding her and Viserys now that she is awake. It is her own fault though. She cannot blame Rhaenyra for the distance when she herself had not thought of Rhaenyra being motherless when one of her pregnancies finally (or Viserys) kills her. She had only thought of her duty and forgetting what it was to live without a mother. She used to talk to Rhaenyra about duty and how she has to give the king a son. Told her that both of them are only royal wombs. No. Aemma can't blame her. She can only hope that Rhaenyra will marry a good man but... wasn't Viserys a good man too?

Aemma's plan to avoid Viserys and talk to her daughter has failed. She could not avoid Viserys as he is the king and Rhaenyra is still running from her. A few moons has already passed and it is apparent that Viserys does not feel guilt anymore, if he ever did that is. He came to tell her that the council is pushing him to take a new wife. The problem is that the Faith does not believe in polyamorous marriages which means that they will have to annul the marriage and, in doing so, Rhaenyra will be declared a bastard. She wouldn't even be a lady. For the first time in moons, Aemma begged Viserys not to do this. She even sent ravens to her family in the Vale and Daemon for help. Neither the threat of the knights of the Vale or Daemon changed Viserys' mind. Viserys kept telling her that he would legitimize Rhaenyra after but Aemma didn't want her daughter to be stuck with a name similar to the queen who never was. As a last resort, Aemma threatened Viserys that she would leave Westeros with Rhaenyra if he continues with this decision. Viserys, being used to calm and demure Aemma, did not believe her.

It happened during the night of the marriage annulment...

There were servants who were still loyal to Aemma. They sneaked her to Rhaenyra's room and she woke Rhaenyra. Her daughter is so confused and terrified. This is the first time her daughter talked to her in moons. Even her being named a bastard hadn't moved her daughter to tears as she had hoped. She and Viserys stole her childhood from her and ruined her future. Rhaenyra was apprehensive about leaving but she followed her mother at the end and they both left on Syrax with only the clothes on their back. Aemma decided against making a stop at the Vale due to fearing Viserys trying to get them back. At first, they went to Volantis in the hopes of reuniting with aunt Saera and her cousins. She was hoping that the blood of the dragon will be thick enough for her to get some help settling in. Regardless of what everyone said about princess Saera, she is a true dragon (unlike Aemma herself and Viserys and her loyalty to the House of the Dragon is admirable. She had helped them settle in and showed the both of them freedom they never dreamed of.

#queen aemma #aemma arryn #aemma targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen #fuck viserys #viserys targaryen #saera targaryen

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heliads · 2 months

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'confessions of a judas right before the kiss' - teresa agnes

Teresa knows what must be done for the Cure, for the world. Thomas doesn't understand. Maybe he will, maybe he won't, but Teresa won't waste any more time trying to convince him.

masterlist

Unlike anyone else, Teresa knows how this will end. Unlike anyone else, Teresa knows that it will end right. She doesn’t understand how everyone else is so blind and so full of themselves to think that the lives of a dozen teenagers are worth the world, but Teresa can see past her own self importance to realize what she has to do. She’s always had a gift for logic and pure reasoning. Maybe that comes from seeing firsthand what the Flare does to people she cares about. Maybe that comes from remembering.

Many boys and many girls have lost their memories in the course of the WCKD experiments. Teresa, however, kept all of her memories safe and secure in her brain, where they will remain along with her good grace, her common sense, and her knowledge of a simple, age-old adage: WCKD is good. It always has been. It always will be.

For once, though, she’s alone in that belief. Out here, at least. How is it that only a short time ago, hardly even a matter of months let alone a couple of years, Teresa had Thomas right by her side? He’s still there now, of course, but a wedge has been driven between them. Thomas doesn’t get it anymore. He can’t see the forest for the trees, and he cannot understand that there is a grander mission at play than just the wellbeing of a handful of teenagers.

They can call her insane, or violent, or a traitor. It’s fine. Teresa is no stranger to name-calling. However, when Thomas and his friends talk about how they can’t believe WCKD would do this to them– them, just a few people really, hardly more than a couple dozen– Teresa remembers the hundreds of thousands of teenagers out there in the world right now, either currently having their minds ripped to pieces by the Flare virus or lying in terrified wait for such a fate to befall them.

Teresa has always been good at seeing the bigger picture. They used to say that’s what made her so good, so special, so perfect for the WCKD project. Really, it was because she was both immune to the virus and desperate enough to do anything to cure it, but the sentiment was appreciated. Teresa is a good student, and a good student always obeys orders.

Including, at the moment, the order to turn in Thomas and everyone else currently clustered around the campfire. She can see them now, laughing at each other, running their hands through the bright sparks that have escaped to the air. They’re happy. Good. They all deserve happiness, even for only a short time. Even Teresa, who is about to betray all of them.

She doesn’t know what Thomas will say when he finds out. She can picture it already, the slow crumple of his face like tissue paper in her hands. The light will drain from his eyes, and there will be no more pleased spark behind his irises when he sees her face. It’ll hurt him, obviously, but it will hurt Teresa far more, because unlike Thomas, she remembers what it was like when he still cared about the cause.

They’ll give him back his memories once all of the Gladers are returned to WCKD headquarters. Maybe then he’ll thank her for it, for correcting his course. Or maybe, at a bare minimum, he’ll stop hating her. Teresa will settle for that. There is nothing that can stop her from doing the right thing, but it’s always easier when you have someone by your side. That was Thomas for a while. It isn’t him anymore.

She doesn’t understand why he doesn’t believe in it any longer, truly, but she’s got time to experiment with that. The returned memories will help, probably. Hopefully. WCKD promises they will, but WCKD promises a lot. Most of the time, it’s Teresa’s problem to make sure the promises come to fruition. Usually, they do, but then sometimes Thomas loses his memories and Teresa loses him and then nothing really makes sense anymore, not as it once had.

It’s no issue, though, not to her. If it was, she’s cured herself of it a long time ago. Part of the gift of foresight is the knowledge that what needs to be done must be done, and there is no way around it. So Teresa will betray her friends, if that is what it takes to save the world, and she will continually purge WCKD of the infected to ensure the organization stays alive, and she alone will enable them to find the cure.

When they do get it– because they will, make no surprise of it, the cure to the Flare will come out because of Teresa, because Teresa was the one who never gave up. It won’t be a bad epitaph for her tombstone. It’s certainly a good mantra to keep in mind while she completes the difficult tasks in search of something better. All Teresa has to do is press one button, and WCKD will come. Easy. Simple. Alienating.

She’s already separated herself from the happy crowd down below, electing to veer closer to the rock face shadowing the bonfire so she can have some time to think. Sometimes, it feels like that’s all she can do: think, plan, use her brain, but then again, that’s what she was designed to do. Teresa Agnes is a construct of a WCKD laboratory. If there was a girl before her, she only ever existed as proof that the old ways could not continue.

Because Teresa remembers it, doesn’t she? She remembers everything. No matter what she tells the others, no matter what she tells Thomas, Teresa remembers it all. Running. Screaming. There was a little girl once, a little girl who was alone and Immune, and she was rescued by kind people who fell to the Flare. She saw it happen as they gave her over to WCKD. Bright eyes clouded over by inescapable, incomprehensible rage. They could have escaped the virus a little longer if they hadn’t rescued her, probably, hid out in some back corner of the country where there were fewer Cranks, but they didn’t. Teresa was the priority.

That’s a true sacrifice. They risked their lives by sending her to WCKD instead of running because they believed in the possibility of a cure, a cure that could be brought about by a girl named Deedee who’s already forgotten what her mother’s laugh sounded like but does know what it feels like to run from days and nights, surrounded by immense darkness and the insane. That girl knows why the cure will always come first, even before herself, and by consequence Teresa will always know that too.

We all have to die so everyone else can live. This is the way the world works. No one likes to be the sacrificial lamb, but everyone loves to reap the rewards. Thomas and the others might not want to die, and heaven knows Teresa doesn’t either, not after everything, but all those who already succumbed to the Flare and will at some point in the future didn’t want to die, either. Which is a worse fate, to fall victim to your own mind or to be quickly and quietly put out of your misery knowing you’ll save the fate of humanity?

The choice is obvious. To her, at least. The other Gladers still think they can fight this one out; hell, they still think there’s something to fight. Teresa wants to tell them that she’s battling a bigger enemy than just Janson, she’s going up against the enormity of the Flare, but they don’t want to listen. They already don’t trust her. This will just exacerbate it.

It doesn’t matter, anyway. To the lab they were born, and to the lab they will be returned. This is how they save the world. This is why it’s worth it. Teresa did not want to watch her friends die. She certainly did not want to be the one pulling the trigger or holding the syringe, but no one gets an easy out just because they stopped liking the circumstances. Thomas helped her design the experiments in the first place. He understood the gravity of it all then, but if he doesn’t anymore, that’s not her fault.

Teresa has her thumb on the button to call WCKD to their location. Maybe the tracer was activated already, maybe they embedded one in her skin and it’s been sending them signals this whole time. They could have just given her the illusion of choice so they could introduce one more accursed variable into the experiment of Teresa Agnes. When they carve into her brain– if she’s the one they choose to use, of course– she wonders if they’ll see how much she grappled with this. She wonders if that’ll make for a better cure, knowing that she tried.

She has time, though, before she does it. One last glance. She can see her friends laughing by the fire, how the sparks illuminate bright grins and dazzling happiness. WCKD will come soon enough, blowing down retribution harsh enough to stamp out their fire and the last of their hopes, but for now, it’s good. Teresa can’t help but feel as if she has given them this, even if she will be the one to take it away. The small moments are worth far more than anyone imagines, anyway. She has several of her own.

She can’t quite find Thomas among the crowd, but that’s alright. He’s always difficult to track down anyway, too popular for his own good. Too many people need him, and Teresa is one of them. Her heart swells as she remembers a different time, when they had both been smaller and she, at least, had been no less fervent about the cause. Teresa shuts her eyes, reaches into her pocket, and activates the remote. WCKD is on their way now, if they weren’t already. Job done.

Small pebbles skitter loose on the path behind her. Teresa turns to see Thomas coming up behind her. Guiltily, she finds that she’s grateful to come face to face with him again, to have one last moment before he hates her completely.

He comes to a stop, leaning back against the rock face so he can stare at the wide sky stretching out before him. Thomas has always had this natural sense of wonder about him, this innate passion for the people and places he visits. It’s sort of like naivete, were it not for the fact that both of them have experienced far too much to ever be innocent. Teresa’s less good at it– appreciating the little things– but when she watches Thomas, she imagines that she might know what’s going through his head at least a little better than she did before.

Thomas tears his gaze from the bright spark of the campfire to look at her. “What are you doing up here?” He asks, voice casual. No suspicion yet. Just curiosity.

It’s a good trait to have, for a scientist, for someone chasing the cure. In just a short while, he’ll have his memories back, and then he’ll be hers again. Teresa looks back at him, and instead of answering, she just smiles. Thomas smiles back.

Outside, several miles away, engines roar across the desert, powering towards them. Nobody knows at all except for one girl, and she is very good at keeping secrets. The best of which she knows by heart, the one she wrote to the Gladers before she sent herself up into the Maze: WCKD is good.

maze runner tag list: @blondsauduun, @ellobruv, @retvenkos, @neewtmas, @mxltifandom-imagines, @hiya-itsamber, @gods-fools-heroes, @hope92100, @23victoria, @w1shes43, @imwaysthelastchoice, @fadedver, @il0vebeingdelulu

all tags list: @wordsarelife

#teresa #teresa imagines #teresa oneshot #teresa agnes #teresa agnes imagines #teresa agnes oneshot #the maze runner #the maze runner imagines #the maze runner oneshot #tmr #tmr imagines #tmr oneshot #tmr teresa #tmr teresa imagines #tmr teresa oneshot

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grumpy-gurgles · 22 days

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I did a drabble with a fandom I'm in, that being Twisted Wonderland. I have never written for this fandom before, I'm scared shitless that someone might recognize my OC's name and call my ass out, and I'm slightly less terrified of this being horrendously out of character.

You can ask more about my OC but like. I probably won't be fully name dropping him for the sake of exposure, and I'll keep this out of the main tags as much as possible. Safety precautions. If my legitimate main gets exposed outside of this tummy stuff, I will end it all /hj

Drabble under the cut

OC x Az.ul As.hengrotto, made this in like a half hour so it's bad fyi I just Had A Thought it's 1am I already regret this-

Valentin is notorious for overworking. Whether it be his schoolwork, his alchemy work, inventing things.. he's always difficult to get settled down. He only seems to legitimately take a break at the times he has to, which is when he's sleeping, or when he's in too much pain to do so.

This, however, doesn't apply with hunger whatsoever.

His stomach doesn't have a clock anymore. He eats when he thinks it's a good time to, which doesn't end up often. And it's usually quick things that he can get through the next assignment or gadget for, and then leave his belly grumbling for more. And due to the quiet, almost shadow-esque nature he has among peers, nobody would really notice. Even if his stomach was loud, it'd probably be ignored or put onto someone else.

However, there's an exception to this. Usually one exception, sometimes three. Valentin's fellow dorm members in Octavinelle, specifically(on most occasions,) Azul.

Azul seemed to have a similar issue with overworking. That's how the two ended up bonding, though initially begrudgingly on Valentin's end of things. And Azul had very quickly caught onto the fact that Valentin doesn't have the healthiest habits with eating, because of how often his stomach kept betraying him whenever there was food around.

As a food sensitive person himself, Azul found himself having an issue with that. He initially thought of some contract that would rope Valentin into a proper eating schedule, instead of forcing him to work at the Monstro Lounge on top of everything else. But that wouldn't happen; Valentin wouldn't touch a contract, barely even the Lounge or the VIP room, with a 10 foot pole. He was smart enough to keep his grades up, and he was guarded enough to where Valentin seemingly had no problems! He definitely had problems, but exploiting those for the sake of getting the guy to have a solid meal in his belly also sounded bad. Because that wasn't a good move at all, especially since Valentin would probably try and punch him if he did that. Sevens, he's hard to handle. No wonder he's like a shadow in comparison to many other students. Dealing with this was a difficult task.

But then Azul had his lightbulb moment; ask him out to a little cafe thing! Not on a date or anything, just something to take his mind off it all. Maybe a contract would come later, if Valentin had more trust. He just had to ease the boy into it!

Azul had to drag Valentin to the first time they did this. Shockingly, Valentin let him, instead he chose to keep insulting him. But nothing that was really a sore spot for Azul, like his weaknesses, insecurities, or weight.

"You're an asshole," was one of the frequent phrases that Valentin muttered as his stomach snarled at him from the smell of various food places. But that day was the first day that Azul had heard Valentin's stomach being content and full, instead of upset and practically starved. Valentin was quite embarrassed about how loud his belly was as it digested the coffee and pastry he put in there, but only let that show when they were away from people.

It was the first time, that Azul was aware of, that Valentin had let someone in his brain for a bit. And it felt good, knowing that it was him.

This continued for a few more times, before the Leech twins were intrigued by their boss suddenly putting a solid chunk of attention into this guy. They joined in a couple of times, but usually they left it all alone.

So whenever Valentin starts with his horrendous schedule again, of only eating to get by with a grumbly stomach on too many occasions, Azul is there. It was initially going to be some manipulation tactic, maybe. But maybe it was more of a flirtation tactic the longer it continued for the both of them.

#grumpygurgles #this isn't really kinky at all but tags are tags #hunger kink #tummy kink #hunger drabble #oc x canon #soft hunger stuff #soft tummmy stuff #sfw hunger #sfw belly #twisted tums

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kindred-sims · 1 year

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Part 2/2

TW: Emotional abuse, verbal abuse

"How dare I? How dare you! I'm a guest in your home, is this how you would treat your guests?" Sterling scoffed at Caleb. "Really, I would've thought that even simple farm folk could raise their children with at least some manners..."

"...Jo, go put Carrie back to bed. I don't want her here for this."

Caleb spoke both sternly and plainly, keeping his angered gaze focused on his father-in-law as Jo numbly walked out of the room with their daughter in tow. He hadn't been proud for yelling in front of the two of them as he had, but his anger had been kindled, and he could no longer force himself to remain as pleasant as he'd tried to be all evening.

As far as he was concerned, Mr. Blythe had crossed a very strong limit with his words. And that was a limit that no man should ever dare cross as long as a Wakefield was around.

"If you must know Mr. Blythe, my parents did raise me to have good manners, and they certainly raised me to be gracious," He tried to keep his voice level, but his ire was too hard to disguise, and it was taking everything in him to not begin shouting again.

"But they also taught me to put my family first above anything else, and that's what I'm doing now. For that, I'm not going to let you stand around and continue belittling my wife any longer--"

"I'm sorry, your wife?" The other man let out a harsh chuckle. "Forgive me for saying so, but I believe she's been my daughter longer than she's been your wife. I'll treat her however the hell I please, and I'll be damned if some oafish farmer is going to tell me what to do!"

"Papa, that's enough!"

Try as she might, Jo hadn't been able to bring herself to leave Caleb alone with her father, and had swiftly returned after ensuring that Carrie was settled. She didn't know why, but overhearing his insults toward Caleb -- combined with the nasty things he had to say about Carrie, had caused something inside of her to snap, and she knew she couldn't stay quiet anymore.

She didn't want to either.

For nearly twenty-one years she'd been dealing with his cruelty, and she was done playing the timid creature.

"Oh, you stay out of this, girl, this doesn't concern you--"

"No. I think it does," She spoke firmly, stepping between Caleb and her father. "Papa, my whole life you've been treating me as if I'm an inconvenience to you, and you've never once given me any indication that you love me or actually care for me. And for what reason? Because I'm not the son you wanted?"

"Christ, Josephine, I've heard all I want to hear--"

"I'm not finished yet," Jo kept on, both her voice and body trembling something terrible. She was terrified, but she couldn't stop. "I could've handled it, you know? If you only came here to insult me further, but you didn't. You've not only insulted me, but you deliberately chose to insult both my husband and child, and I refuse. I refuse to let you do those things any longer."

"Like hell you can refuse me, I'm your goddamn father! I'm the only family you have left you ungrateful brat! What do you think your mother would say, or your grandmother?"

"I'm not a child anymore, Papa!"

Jo surprised even herself with how loud she became, but she didn't back down. So many years of hurt, so many years of pain all came spilling out in that one sentence, and by God did it feel so freeing.

"That isn't going to work with me anymore, it won't. You're not my family, you have never been my family," she continued "I have Caleb and Carrie now, I don't need anything from you. I don't want anything else."

"Well I--"

"And furthermore, if I do have a son someday, I will never tell you. Because I'd rather my children have no grandfather at all versus one who is a cruel, selfish excuse of a man."

Sterling looked taken aback by all these words, staring at Jo like he was trying to figure out where his shy, meek daughter had gone. Maybe this was who she really was, maybe he'd never known her at all.

Either way, it was nothing Jo would lose sleep over.

Still seated on the couch, Cora was the next to say something, her voice a hushed whisper.

"Sterling, I think its best we leave now..."

He didn't respond, stood silently for about another minute, before finally grumbling under his breath and following his wife out of the parlor. He glanced back one more time as they departed, a searing fire burning in his expression.

"I hope you're satisfied, Josephine, truly. I thought marrying you off to this simpleton might humble your selfish ways, but I can see now that that was only a fool's dream," he said cruelly, but Jo refused to look at him, keeping her back turned. By now, her resolve had crumbled, and she refused to let him see her cry. Not as he had so many other times before.

"You'll get what you want, mark my words. You couldn't pay me to come back to this pigsty, even if I wanted to. You won't be seeing me, or a cent of your inheritance for that matter. I have every intention to have everything transferred to Edward as soon as he turns eighteen. At least I know the family fortune will be in more...competent hands."

"Oh keep your damn money, Mr. Blythe, we certainly don't need it." Caleb hissed, refusing to take his eyes off either of the Blythes until they'd left the house. He turned to Jo, and it only took one glance at her face for him to pull her into a tight embrace.

"Its over now, love. They're gone, you can cry," He held her close as she sobbed into his shoulder, her entire body shuddering. "I've got you, its alright..."

"God, he's so horrible. He's so horrible, Caleb, how dare he say such awful things!" Her voice was muffled, yet audible enough to know that it was breaking. "About you, about Carrie...what did she do to him besides exist? She's only a baby, she didn't do anything, she couldn't have..."

His entire shoulder soon became doused in her tears, but Caleb didn't care. Only kept holding her, until he was sure she was going to be okay. That she was going to feel safe again. Because while he may be an oafish farmer who couldn't read or write all that well, he knew how to care.

He knew how to love.

Because he loved Jo more than her father could ever claim to. He'd meant every word of his wedding vows the day he'd recited them, and he had every intention to uphold them for as long as the Good Lord would allow him.

#sims 4 #ts4 #ts4 history #ts4 historical #decades challenge #wakefield legacy #1890s #tw: emotional abuse #tw: verbal abuse

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dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night · 6 months

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You can't Follow Your Heart if there's a Stake Through It part seven

TW: minor character death, decapitation, blood, murder in self defense, panic attack, claustrophobia, misgendering, emotional manipulation, referenced necrophilia, referenced child death, referenced taxidermy of a sentient species, implied domestic violence, human whumper, vampire whumpee

Jacob took Sydney's words to heart, and decided to get Rurik a pet that wasn't some creepy crawly thing. He wasn't huge on animals, but cats were more tolerable than dogs, so he made up his mind to adopt one from the local shelter.

One caught his attention, running up to him as soon as he walked into the cat room. It rubbed its forehead against his leg, purring loudly enough to be heard over the meows permeating the room. It looked so much like when Rurik took on the form of a cat, only smaller, with bright orange eyes and a fluffy black tail.

Jacob scooped up the little black fur-ball in one hand. It meowed at him, and settled down immediately, still purring much louder than seemed possible from a cat so tiny. He carried it ever so carefully as he found a shelter volunteer.

"Excuse me, ma'am," he said politely. "I'd like to adopt this kitten."

"Of course." She gently took the kitten from him. "This is Roselita. But she doesn't answer to her name, so you can change it if you like."

"Mhm."

Jacob followed her from the room and watched her get the kitten situated in the carrier. He didn't particularly like the name Roselita, but was glad to know the kitten was a girl. He didn't know what Rurik would name her. Maybe something fancy, like he had named Victoria.

There were papers to sign, of course. Not to mention the need to buy food, a litter box, and a few toys for her to play with. But Jacob didn't mind the hassle. This was the perfect gift for his beloved, and nothing could discourage him at this juncture.

He set the carrier on the floor in front of his passenger seat, where its occupant hopefully wouldn't get jostled too much. His driving was much more cautious than usual, and he winced every time he heard a disgruntled meow during sharp turns.

When he returned to his quarters, he found a sight that should have been appalling. But he was far too desensitized to violence to feel anything but mild surprise. After taking in the full scene, he locked the door behind him and gently laid the cat carrier down on his bed.

A dead body laid on the ground in a suspiciously small pool of blood. The head had been cleanly severed off, and laid two feet away from the body itself. Shards of broken spine laid on the ground around a coiled esophagus. But otherwise, it was in pretty good condition for a murder victim.

Jacob was far more concerned with how terrified Rurik looked, rocking back and forth with his head buried in his knees. He sat down beside him, listening to his pathetic sobbing. It hurt to know he was this distressed, but it was hard for Jacob to pay heed to the danger of the situation when he was so turned on by the dead body.

"What happened?" Jacob asked gently. "Did they hurt you?"

"I am sorry. I didn't- He- I am sorry." He looked up at Jacob, tears streaming from his bloodshot eyes. "Please- Please don't kill me, Jacob Amity."

Jacob pulled Rurik into a hug. "It's okay. I'm not gonna tell anyone what happened. I'll just leave the body in a field and, if anyone finds it, they'll assume somebody else attacked him. No big deal. I do taxidermy of vampires, so I'm always dragging body-bags in and out of here. It isn't suspicious."

Rurik got ahold of himself while Jacob was speaking, taking deep breaths with his face buried in Jacob's shirt. His voice was still shaky, but he didn't seem on the verge of panic anymore.

"You are not angry?" he asked, a brass colored hint of hope in his voice. "He- he hurt me. I woke when he-" Rurik broke off, and pointed at the stake on the ground next to the hunter's body. "He kill me."

"I don't know why he couldn't mind his own business," Jacob growled. "I'm angry with him, not you. I know you were just defending yourself. Now let me take care of the body, and we can have a nice afternoon. Unless you want to get back to bed."

"I will not sleep."

Jacob stood up, and left Rurik curled up in his little corner. Cleaning up the dead body was just as easy as he had assumed. And while the blood took awhile to mop up, getting the body itself into a trash bag and hauling it out the door wasn't a problem in the slightest.

One person stopped to snicker at him, jumping to conclusions for why Jacob was lugging around a dead body, but he ignored her. He was too worried about Rurik to start any fights. Perhaps he should talk to Angelique about keeping random hunters out of his private quarters.

Half an hour later, he found Rurik in much the same position he had left him. This man apparently didn't move as much indoors as he did outdoors. Maybe he was exhausted from interrupted sleep, or maybe the lack of room to pace made him feel all the more claustrophobic.

"I've got something for you," Jacob said. "A pet. Would you like to meet her?"

Rurik sat up, looking far less distressed than when Jacob had left him. His tears had dried along with the blood on his mouth.

Jacob retrieved the kitten from her carrier, hoping she wasn't too upset by being left in it for an hour. Judging by her purring, she was not.

Rurik's eyes widened at the sight of his newest pet, and a small smile bloomed on his face. He reached out to take her from Jacob, and scratched behind her tiny triangular ears.

"I got her for you," Jacob said with a smile. "I hope you like her. She seemed like a good cat."

"Murzik," Rurik said happily, watching the kitten on his lap with rapt attention. "Yes. She good cat."

"Is that what you want to name her?" Jacob asked. "Murzik?"

Rurik looked at Jacob as though he had said something funny, but Jacob didn't get the joke. Murzik was clearly a Russian name, so this had to be some weird pun he wasn't privy to.

"Yes," Rurik decided. "My kitten Murzik. Pretty cat. Good cat. Murzik cat."

Jacob was very happy that his thinking about the box really did help win Rurik over. The love of his life may not respond to pretty words, but he did appreciate having his murders covered up and being given kittens. Truly the perfect man.

Jacob set up the litter box and left out bowls of food and water for Murzik. Hopefully she wouldn't be overly fond of leaving Jacob mice heads, like the cat he had owned as a child. But even if she was, it couldn't be any worse than Rurik leaving dead human bodies lying around.

"Rurik?" Jacob asked.

"Jacob?" Rurik asked in return.

"Do you love me?" Jacob blurted out, before he could lose his nerve. "I- I want you to love me. Like you love animals." He licked his lips nervously. "I'll do anything to make you love me. You know that."

"I never loved husband-men," Rurik admitted, avoiding Jacob's eye. "I loved my children… They died. Long time before. I did not love husband."

"I didn't know you had children."

Rurik held up four fingers. "Daughters." He closed his fist, then held up five fingers. "Sons." He held up a single finger. "Husband."

Jacob's snap assumptions on Rurik's life based on this information explained a lot. Rurik had been a father. Or, at that point in his life, a mother. With no less than nine children, all from a loveless marriage. And he had outlived all of them as a vampire. His cautiousness around men was clearly for good reason, even if he was wrong to apply it to Jacob.

"I'm sorry," Jacob said. "It must be hard to lose your own children. My only family was my parents, and they're dead now. That was hard too, since I was just a kid."

Rurik nodded, watching Murzik run across the floor in pursuit of her food bowl. "I am sorry, Jacob Amity. But I do not love husband-men. You are not kind."

"I promise to be different." Jacob held Rurik's hand. "Your husband died a long time before I could have met him. But I know I'm nothing like him."

"You want children and garden and- and house." Silent tears rolled down Rurik's cheeks. "You want wife. I am not good wife."

There it was. At long last. The root cause of Rurik's discontent. It hadn't really been how Jacob treated him, other than a few mistakes here and there, but how Rurik perceived his advances. Sure, there was something alluring about how Rurik used to be a woman, but that allure was heavily dependent on Jacob's desire to make him feel loved and respected.

"I don't want you to be my wife," Jacob said firmly. "I want you to be my husband. And I don't think it's possible for us to have children, because most vampires either can't have children at all or can't have children with humans. So you don't need to worry about that."

"But- but you are husband. I can not be."q

"Why can't we both be husbands? I know that didn't exist when you were alive, but now two men can marry each other. Or two women. It isn't weird at all. We're both men, so we're both husbands, right?"

"I not know new man take me after husband died," Rurik said, struggling to string together the English sentence. "I thought I was alone."

"And you were alone. But now you aren't." Jacob kissed Rurik's cheek. "Because being alone is a horrible thing. And I want us to be together. Forever."

"I wish we were together in forest. I wish I made you crown of flowers and you saw my animals." Murzik crawled back onto Rurik's lap, and he smiled sadly at her. "I wish to return home. I wish always be home."

"You would have run away. You always ran away from people, or killed them on sight. I couldn't risk that. But I'll take you back, when I can trust you. I would like all that stuff too. Sounds nice."

"Will your friends kill me again?"

This was a rather sudden question, and Jacob wasn't quite sure how to respond. Clearly Rurik meant to ask if they would try to kill him again. And how could Jacob account for other people's actions?

As always, he chose a comforting lie over the harsh truth.

"I won't let them. No chance in hell. But if they do, I'll kill them so you don't have to."

Taglist: @hugh-lauries-bald-spot @heavenlyeden @whumpsday @whumpshaped @kira-the-whump-enthusiast @whumpytine

#Abraham original: Hot off the press #You can't Follow Your Heart if there's a Stake Through It #minor character death #decapitation #blood #murder in self defense #panic attack #claustrophobia #emotional manipulation #human whumper #vampire whumpee #Whump writing #Vampire whump #Whump series

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dean-winchester-is-a-warrior · 2 years

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The Savior

Summary: Y/N tries to make Dean believe he was her savior, but he knows it's the other way around.

Warnings/Explicit 18+: Nothing explicit. Major angst. Sadness. Talk of illness and death. TW: Cancer. Sorry.

Pairings: Dean Winchester x OFC

Word Count: 629

A/N: So, I’ve decided to do all 30 of these writing prompts. I may miss a day here and there, but I’m going to try to do one a day, and I will be completing all 30 no matter what. They won’t always be in order. This fic will be for the prompt: Write something angsty.

Hope you enjoy! I will be putting together a Masterlist for all 30 prompts and adding it to my main Masterlist.

A/N 2: I apologize for the sadness here, this idea just came to mind and I had to write it out and get the sad out. And the prompt demanded it. The OFC in this fic isn't named, and in theory it could be a reader insert, but I hated the idea of putting any of my readers into this one. This is written in Dean's POV.

The beautiful text divider below was created by @talesmaniac89.

The room is so quiet when she's sleeping. Only the soft electric hum of machines can be heard, or the occasional soft-soled footfall of a nurse walking by.

I hate the quiet. I hate how empty it is and how it reminds me that there's nothing I can do, reminds me how weak and powerless I am in the face of this...monster that's slowly pulling apart the woman I love. Every day, every hour, every minute, another little piece of her is eaten up.

She's lost the battle, and it's one I couldn't fight for her. Though, I would have; if it had been possible, I would have traded places with her in a heartbeat. But hell doesn't make deals anymore, and heaven is all closed up to us mortals down here.

I've tried; I've prayed and screamed and cursed God and heaven, angels, devils and saints alike. No one is listening anymore. It's what we wanted, what we fought for, free will and choice. Our stories are ours to write.

And she's decided to write her ending. It's been two months since she laid down her arms and conceded the fight. I shouted at her for that, told her she was a warrior, a hunter, a fighter, a Winchester if only in name, and Winchesters don't quit.

She'd stayed calm while I raged. So unusual for us. In the twelve years we'd been together we'd loved and fought, and made up and loved, and then fought again, from sea to shining sea.

She always refused to let me get away with anything, refused to let me settle, refused to let me give up on myself, refused to let me believe I wasn't good enough for her, refused to walk away from me, refused to let me hate myself. She refused to let me keep hurting.

She saved me. Every day. Completely.

It was the reason I wasn't willing to let her give up, wasn't going to let her rest; we would fight, it's what we did, it's what we knew to do.

But she knew better. She knew her beautiful warrior's body was broken, it was tired. She was tired.

"So tired." She'd said, as I stood, fuming and absolutely terrified as I saw the truth of her words. I could see it in her frail body, her shaven head, her beautiful face, with bones that stood out too prominently.

"I'm just model chic now." She'd joked, instead of crying about the illness that was eating away at her soft, strong body.

She'd fought for two years, seven months, three weeks, and four days. But now she was done. So I stopped shouting, stopped making her feel as though she was giving up. She wasn't quitting. She'd more than earned her rest.

So, now she lays beside me, breath shallow, fingers stick skinny where her hand sits in mine. I trace the blue veins that run just under her paper thin skin, and let the tears fall. I know the time is close.

Her soul is attached to mine, and I can feel it fading.

As her last gift to me, her eyes flutter open and they smile at me. I lift my hand and ever so gently trace the curve of her delicate jaw. Even such small touches can cause her so much pain sometimes. But now she closes her eyes briefly, melting slightly into my palm.

Her eyes open again and she murmurs low and breathy, the chemicals in her blood stealing away her voice. I listen close.

"My hero, Dean Winchester." A rattled inhale. "My savior."

I press my lips to hers and she gives me her last breath, which I use to exhale the truth to her as she slips away.

"No, you've always been the savior."

Tags under the cut:

1 - Jensen RPF + Any/All characters Jensen plays. @lyarr24 @siospins2 @impalaslytherin @maggiegirl17 @akshi8278 @candy-coated-misery0731 @nt-multi-fandom 2 - Dean Winchester Fics Only. @saikosheadcanons @lgranger67 @carryonwaywardgirl 3 - Any/All Fics (regardless of fandom/character.) @sunshineandwings86 @kazsrm67 @sexyvixen7 4 - Everything (includes fan vid/DOOL edits as well) @unabashed-lover-of-fictional-men @awkward-and-indecisive @maliburenee @supernatural4life2022 @spn730015 @b3autyfuldisast3r @kickingitwithkirk @waywardbaby @foxyjwls007 @deanwanddamons @deandreamernp @deanwithscissors @myloversgone @snowlovespie @leigh70 @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone @fangirlxwritesx67 @charred-angelwings @hopefuldreamers-world @mysherlock221b @jensensgotyoudean @stixnstripesworld @thoughts-and-funnies @magssteenkamp @norman1967 @princessmisery666 @eevvvaa @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @deepsketchsupernaturalcowboy @b-i-t-c-h-i-e @twirpbunwarrior @mysweetlittledesire @waynes-multiverse @mrsjenniferwinchester @bernasaurus @jensenslady79

Masterlist Tag Lists

#30 days writing challenge #dean winchester #dean winchester fan fic #spn fan fic #dean x ofc #dean angst #tw: illness #tw: cancer

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land-of-birds-and-comics · 2 years

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so about four years ago i wanted to spend twelve years torturing scrooge (in a funny way, probably) about that one time donald disappeared. since it's just a series of vignettes i will try and see how far i get :) hopefully not in real time.

part 1:

Electricity crackles through the air, and then all Gyro can do is stare at the spot where Donald used to be. For just one millisecond, he thinks, he must have left a Donald-shaped vacuum behind. Now, there's nothing at all to prove he was ever there.

Gyro doesn't even flinch when the door is flung open. His mind is going a mile a minute, a minute a mile. Moving through time is nothing like moving through space.

"I've got you cornered!" Scrooge yells, and he yells it from the other side of an information gap so deep and wide that Gyro feels dizzy at the edge of it. "No excuses, Gyro! Where'd that boy run off to?!"

Donald is, of course, well and truly, gone. He's broken the laws of conservation of mass as we currently understand them, that's how gone he is. No one has ever been so fundamentally not here anymore. "He isn't anywhere," Gyro doesn't say. "I would tell you," he settles for, "if I had any idea."

Scrooge only snorts. "You should know better than to play innocent with me, Gyro." He begins to search the laboratory, dragging a frankly frightening wooden club behind him, his bill twitching from one hiding place to another like he's literally trying to sniff his debtor out. He regards the furnace with particular suspicion, winding up to put a dent in the thing.

"He's not here!" Gyro blurts out. That seems like a good enough start. Not the terrifying truth, not a placating lie. Scrooge freezes, shooting him a questioning look. He takes a deep breath. "He was here..."

"And then he snuck out the back, right?" Scrooge interrupts him. "And you’re not technically lying, because you don't know where he went from there." He fully faces Gyro for the first time, pointing the club in his face with a flourish. "I still consider that conspiring against your employer, you know."

Gyro blinks down at him.

"He took my time machine."

The tension leaves Scrooge's stance, taken aback by the confession. "He... stole it?"

"No, no..." Gyro shakes his head, then, helplessly, lets the gesture trail off to rub his temples. "He took a ride on it. He hopped on my unfinished, untested, unsafe prototype of a time machine to get away from you."

That impulsive idiot. Wasn't it always like this? Wasn't there always someone, and, more often than not, a certain someone, who wasn't capable of exercising basic caution and restraint when handling his inventions, and wasn't it always Gyro who was left to try to fix their mistakes?

This might have been the last time, Gyro thinks. He tries not to let the manifold consequences start unfolding in his mind.

"The cad," Scrooge spits. "Thinks he can just wait this one out. Thinks he can just lay low and go about his merry existence..."

Scrooge starts tapping his foot. "Time may heal all wounds, Gyro, but it won't get me my thirty million back." He stops. "Where is he now? Or when?"

It's almost impressive that Scrooge can stand right in front of him and be just as hard to reach as someone lost to the physical plane. "I told you, I don't know! All I know is that it was a one-way trip."

"We’ll have to go pick him up, then." He taps the side of the machine with the club. "Can’t we just-"

"No!" The thing is in Gyro's hands before he knows it, gripped by a hot rush of outrage. "There's no way to predict where it'll go! It doesn't have a control unit yet!" He clutches it to his chest. "There's no way to know where he went."

Gone, but not gone forever. Gone to the future, which is happening right now, moment by moment. Any one of them could be the one Donald reappears at. It could, of course, also happen to be the moment the sun expands and swallows us all.

Gyro slumps against the console. "He doesn't exist at all right now. He won't perceive his own non-existence- He'll just stumble into the Duckburg of the future-"

Scrooge gets a funny glint in his eye. "The future?"

"I- Yes. It can't go backwards in time, either."

"Then..." There's a pause. Scrooge looks at Gyro like he's just snapped out of a daydream. He snatches the club back, hoisting it over his shoulder, and adjusts his hat. "This is his chance at redemption."

Scrooge turns to leave, looking as pleased now as he looked furious when he entered. "Tell him to bring back anything potentially profitable. Advanced technology, promising stocks, consumer trends, that kind of thing. Then I'll welcome him back with open arms."

Gyro stumbles to his feet. "I can't tell him anything! I just told you, I can't-"

"Of course you can," Scrooge says, looking back one more time. "I'm not letting two golden opportunities slip through my fingers in one day." And with that, he closes the door behind him.

Gyro curses Scrooge, Donald and himself in equal measure. Then he rolls up his sleeves. This is far from the first time he's been asked to do the impossible.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

part 2

#tfw employed by world's tiniest mobster #duckfic

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faytelumos · 6 months

Text

Future, Rural, Hope

This is a little thing I did for a dice prompt in August. I forgot all about it until recently.

---

Kin picked his way down the rows of wilted crops, eyes down, hands on his hips. The sky was still an ashy gray, bits of black and white stuck to the soil top like snow but never melting. Despite the lack of direct sunlight, the crops had started growing, slow though they were. Recently, though, they'd slowed even further. Today, the whole field was wilted.

AA-6 whirred and clicked as it walked its bulky frame up the roadside, one arm stretched down, prodding its soil sampler into the dirt every two feet. The barn cat purred on its shoulder, eyes mostly closed despite the bumpy ride, tapping the tip of her tail into what could have been AA-6's face. But there were backup oculars on the sample arm, so Kin just chuckled as the robot let the cat continue to put her tail in its eyes.

"Anything interesting?" Kin called lightly. They weren't terribly far apart as to warrant shouting.

"Soil moisture is within tolerable ranges," AA-6 said in its whirring, reverberating voice. The cat wasn't scared of its terrifying vocalizations anymore, and just twitched her ears. "Soil temperature is within tolerable ranges." It pulled the sampler out of the dirt, took one bulky step, and stuck the sampler back into the ground. "Soil nutrition is within tolerable ranges." It made a bone-deep humming sound, and that finally made the cat flinch and stand upright on its back. "Root dispersion is within tolerable ranges."

Kin looked back up into the sky. The clouds never went away. This crop had been bio-engineered to withstand the low light, as had anything else anyone bothered sticking in the ground these days. But it seemed it wasn't enough. Kin sighed, rubbing his forehead, looking back down at the field. This little lab-made superfood was the only thing the community was growing right now. It was the only plant that had been rewritten fast enough to start providing food relief. If this crop failed, it was a month's worth of dreams and lives setting them back.

AA-6 stood up straight and turned to Kin. The cat had settled back into her perch on one of its spare vents. Kin had told it multiple times that was bad for the cooling system.

"We should call Deedee," Kin called over. AA-6 nodded its head in that jittered, deliberate, awkward way it had, all the time careful of its cat's tail.

The three of them loaded up into the yard truck, a clunker with no doors, barely a roof, and half a bed, and headed back to the house. Kin and the cat headed inside while AA-6 traded its lower chassis for the house treads on the porch.

It was just as dim inside as out, and as Kin headed for the phone, he reminded himself again to get those dishes in the sink cleaned up. He walked right by the call terminal, its smooth glass face all but collecting dust with so much radio interference in the area, and pulled the landline off of the wall. He dialed Deedee's number in the chunky, plastic buttons, double-checking the note on the fridge to make sure he'd gotten it right. He was slowly memorizing all of the local numbers, and he felt a smidge of pride about that. He held the slightly curved phone to his ear, dusting off some of the black and gray smudges on his clothes while he waited for it to start ringing.

AA-6 rolled into the door, and the cat meowed as it turned to her. It reached out its grasping arm and gently, if stiltedly, pet her head. She purred loudly, sitting tall, eyes closed. Kin smiled at AA-6, then turned away when the line clicked.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Deedee, it's Kin."

"Oh, hey, Kin, how's it going?"

"Oh, it's goin' okay," Kin replied, looking back and out the window. "Except that my crop is wilted today."

"Oh, that doesn't sound good," Deedee hummed. Kin nodded.

"We already checked the soil and the root beds, and everything's normal. There's no discoloration, so I think it's the light." Deedee hummed.

"Okay, I'll grab my sequencer and sample makers. I'll be over in thirty."

"Thanks, Dee. I'll see you then."

Kin heard her hang up as he seated the phone in the cradle. He sighed quietly, turning around again and leaning back against the counter. Once more, the cat had found its perch on one of AA-6's vents.

"I have a name," AA-6 said, the crashing, deep sound of its voice seeming to shake the windows. Kin nodded, glancing over as the cat gripped and tried to knead the metal of its shoulder.

"You remember what I said about naming her?" Kin asked. AA-6 made a jittery nod.

"I accept the responsibility of her life and any offspring she may bear." Kin nodded and waved vaguely for AA-6 to continue. "Her name is CAC-1." Kin smirked.

"You want to name her Cack?" he asked. AA-6 watched him for a moment with its smooth, bucket-like face.

"I want to name her C-A-C," it replied. "Cute Animal Companion." Kin crossed his arms and put a fist to his mouth to hide his smile. He never laughed at AA-6, but right now, the bulky thing was just being so damned cute.

"I think we should limit it to two syllables," Kin said.

"Why?" AA-6 asked.

"Because if she's doing something you don't like, or if you need her to come to you in a hurry, you've gotta be able to say her name fast." He looked to the cat, who was still scratching at AA-6's worn-out paint lovingly. "C-A-C One is a bit of a mouthful."

"What do you suggest?" AA-6 boomed. Kin pursed his lips, looking at the scraggly cat perched on its shoulder.

"Well, when a human names a cat, we like to use their color for inspiration. Usually with a mixture of food words."

"That's stupid," AA-6 boomed. This time, Kin did laugh, but he kept it tight between his teeth. "I am not naming my companion after a meal."

"Ultimately, it's up to you," Kin said, smothering a grin and holding up his hands placatingly. He set his hands on the edge of the counter then. "I think shorter would be better."

"My name is also over two syllables," AA-6 argued.

"But your nickname's not," Kin replied. "That's why when there's trouble, I call you Ron."

"Then I'll give CAC-1 a short nickname."

"That's fine, except that she's already going to have to learn what her regular name is." AA-6 looked to the cat with their face. She rubbed her temple against the black eye spot on their face plate. "It's easier for a kitten, but she's an adult. It'll take some time to teach her one name, let alone two. She can't just add them to a field in her head."

AA-6 stared at the cat as she rubbed her cheeks against the glass protectors over its eyes. It seemed to be thinking, then it turned to look at Kin again.

"GG," it declared. Kin smiled.

"I like it. What's it mean?"

"Gentle Girl," AA-6 announced. For a moment, Kin's heart ached. He thought back to the cow he'd been caring for when AA-6 had landed on his doorstep. He'd always called the old heifer "big girl" or "tender girl" or "old girl" when he was caring for her. How much of that had AA-6 caught from the other side of the fence, where it couldn't spook the sickly thing?

"In that case, I love it," Kin croaked.

When Deedee pulled up in her big, muscular truck, her ag unit was already stepping out of the bed, carrying three large duffel bags in its fancy, attachment-changing arms. AA-12 landed on the ground, causing the truck to bounce slightly with the release of weight, and towered over all three of them with its much more human-looking frame. Deedee grabbed one of the bags from its hands and started walking out to the crops while AA-6 switched back to its field chassis, GG not moving from its shoulder.

"When did you notice the wilting start?" Deedee asked as they walked to the nearest row.

"Just this morning," Kin replied, AA-12 stomping and whirring along behind them. "They were all standing upright last night."

"There hasn't really been a difference in brightness today," Deedee mused. She crouched down once they'd gotten to the plants, then set the bag on the ground and started digging through it. She pulled out what could have been a small staple gun and gently held the base of one plant, then pulled the trigger. There was a soft click and hiss, and she lifted the device carefully. "Get a slide for me?"

Kin carefully withdrew a glass slide from a little carrying case in the bag, being sure to only touch the edges. AA-6 whirred and trudged up to them as Deedee took the slide and smudged the very end of the gun on its surface. Then she put the gun down, withdrew a small device with a relatively broad screen on it, and slipped the slide into a slot. The screen immediately lit up with a polite request to wait.

"How's everything else been?" Deedee asked. Kin nodded, looking out over the fields.

"Good so far. What chickens are left seem to be getting better. And of course AA-6 is still doing a good job." AA-12 rotated its torso to look at AA-6 without moving its feet. GG stared up at it, crouched low into AA-6's shoulder.

"Good job," AA-12 said in a crisp, feminine, Australian accent. AA-6 seemed to hesitate.

"Thank you," it boomed.

The little screen chimed, and everyone looked down to see the results. Deedee hummed and nodded impatiently as she scrolled through an entire catalog of genes and markers. "Blah, blah, blah, I know this... hm, hm, hmm...." Finally she stopped and opened a drop-down on a photosynthesizing gene. "Okay, okay, let's see here..." The device listed everything it knew in English, but there were some genes listed in their quaternary forms. "Okay," Deedee said, marking the file and then standing. "It looks like the gene didn't take well enough, apparently." She made a vague shrug as if she didn't get it, either. "The marker for it is still there, though. Maybe the plant shed the adjustment when it transition life stages." She made a few more taps on the screen, then handed the gun, a small container of slides, and the device to AA-12. "Grab samples across the field, nice and far apart."

"Yes, ma'am," AA-12 said, setting down the bags and taking the scientific materials. Then it took off like a giant Olympic sprinter. Kin shook his head as Deedee crouched down and got into a second bag.

"Every time AA-12 talks, it throws me," Kin said. Deedee scoffed, pulling out some kind of tool with an attached test tube.

"Six scares the bejeezus out of me," Deedee replied. "No offense, Six."

"None taken."

"Christ."

Kin chuckled, looking up and watching AA-12. It was truly incredible how fast it could move, already collecting the first sample well and truly out of earshot.

"So, can we do anything about this?" Kin asked.

"Since the marker's still in place, it'll be pretty easy to fix," Deedee said, nodding. She turned to collect a scraping from the plant she'd already grabbed a sample from. "I have to get back to start producing the new agent, since there's no way I'm getting a signal all the way over there." Kin sighed and nodded. "But I'll fly over with the duster as soon as the tanks are full. Just don't be outside when you hear the plane coming." Kin chuckled and nodded.

"No worries," he said. Even though a plant virus had no real way to affect a human, the thought of getting sprayed with an infectious agent was still gross.

Once AA-12 came back and confirmed it was the same problem across the fields, Deedee finished editing her scraping and tested the new change to make sure it was grafting into the genes properly.

"Perfect," she muttered. "Twelve, mind loading the truck?"

"Of course not, ma'am."

Kin lifted one of the bags and followed AA-12 to the truck, not because it needed help, but because this was his farm and he was otherwise useless for this problem. AA-12 didn't seem to mind, thanking him politely and taking the bag when it was ready.

"I'd offer some refreshments," he said, turning to Deedee as she stepped up to him, "but I don't know how long these can hold on." Deedee shrugged.

"Twelve can take the truck back and get the process going." Kin smiled.

"Then why don't we do that? AA-6 made bread last night, and it's too good to just waste on me." Deedee smiled at AA-6, who had been standing perfectly still so GG could sleep.

"That sounds like a treat," Deedee said.

"Should I come back once the synthesizers are cooking?" AA-12 asked. Kin nodded.

"The more, the merrier."

#Fayte writes #writeblr #writing #farm #sci fi #robots #I don't think this counts as solarpunk

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cityandking · 6 months

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8, 18, 26, & 30 for eniko, lira & minah

thanks! // romance & relationship headcanons

8. is your muse a good kisser? are they experienced or inexperienced?

ENIKO — he's a great kisser. loads of experience. bona fide expert. it's a useful skill to have in his repertoire so obviously he cultivated it LIRA — decent kisser, decent experience. she never really had anything serious going on romantically growing up, but she had a nice time fooling around with a few people (she and ser gilmore decided early on that they weren't compatible romantically, but they had fun together). she's experienced enough to know what she likes and what she doesn't MINAH — good kisser, lots of experience. absolutely had a Teach Me How To Kiss moment or three growing up, and had her fair share of short-lived flings with (and within) the troupe. I think maybe she had a party girl phase or two

18. how does your muse feel about marriage? would they ever want to get married?

ENIKO — he has absolutely no desire to get married. he's not one for faith or making oaths to other people or binding himself to anyone in any way ever again. people can do what they like, but he will not get married. he can't swear himself like that. LIRA — lira always knew her marriage would be a political match and was perfectly content with that. she grew up expecting to be an arlessa or a bann's wife somewhere, running an estate and attending the landsmeet and fulfilling her duties for land and family. in all honestly she was looking forward to it. she was pretty sure that part of her died with her family at highever (and as a warden there was no point in marriage anymore), but to be honest, if they make it that far, she'd enjoy being married to alistair. she was raised to rule, after all. MINAH — minah is a secret closet romantic but her views on marriage are. complicated. as a kid she was super excited to grow up and get married, but as a grown up now, that kind of commitment and trust and vulnerability is just entirely beyond her. and she's a warden now, so what's even the point.

26. is your muse more likely to be loud and proud about being in a relationship, or are they more quiet about it at first and open up about it over time?

ENIKO — super quiet. he's not sharing shit. if he even made it far enough to end up in a relationship, he'd be constantly terrified of that being used against him. he's keeping his mouth shut. (in a modern au where he's slightly less of a mess, he'd still be quiet about it, but wouldn't mind if his partner spreads it around, if that's what they want—doesn't mean he has to comment on it) LIRA — also quiet. she's just like that in general. it's the repression and the trauma and stuff. MINAH — actually pretty loud and proud. not extremely so, but she wouldn't keep it quiet and, depending on the relationship, could even go out of her way to showcase it.

30. would your muse ever be in an open/non-exclusive relationship? would it make them insecure, or would they be open to trying it?

ENIKO — eniko's the kinda guy who is an established couple's third. he's the +1. he's not interested in the degree of communication and relationship negotiation an open relationship (or any kind of relationship) would require, but he's pretty down with sleeping around. that said, if he did settle down into a proper relationship with someone he'd a) be completely willing to accept their request for an open relationship because who would ever actually be satisfied with him, and b) it would totally wreck him and also the relationship LIRA — I think lira would be down with a polyam relationship but not with something open/non-exclusive. like in the hypothetical world where she dates again during/post origins. she just wouldn't enjoy the uncertainty of any non-exclusive, but she's not opposed to the work of a three-way relationship MINAH — would absolutely be down. that kind of semi-committed but also shopping around vibe fits her really well—in her opinion, the openness of the relationship keeps it from getting too serious. she's had her share of hookups in the troupe that are kinda in this sphere

#ty!#minah #lira #eniko #memery

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