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numinousmysteries · 3 months

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Dancing the Tandava (10/10)

We've reached the end. Thank you for all your kind words, likes, and reblogs. I'm so happy you enjoyed this story and I'm thankful this fandom is still alive and kicking <3

[on Ao3] @today-in-fic

Geneva, Switzerland 2023

The rumbling stops abruptly. Mulder opens his eyes and sees that light, both from the fluorescent overhead and the window, has returned to the room. He’s still huddled under the desk with Scully and Hannah but there’s no longer any debris strewn on the floor.

“What the hell was that?” Scully says, her voice taking on the high-pitched tone he knows she only uses when she’s faced with something she truly can’t explain.

Equally baffled, he shrugs as the three of them get up from the floor. They’re in the same office as they were before, but there’s no sign the room was just rocked by a seismic quake. Instead, the desk is neatly organized. The messy piles of paper are gone, along with the bael tree in the corner of the room.

“Look at this,” Hannah says, holding up a framed photo on the desk. Bellona is in the picture alongside an olive-skinned woman around his age and three teenagers who must be their children. All five are dressed in hiking gear, smiling atop a mountain.

Mulder tries the door again and this time it opens easily. Hannah and Scully follow him out into the hallway. There’s no sign of Bellona or any of his followers. The door closes behind them and he notices the nameplate bearing Bellona’s name is gone and is replaced with one that reads “Dr. Samita Shah.”

Hannah and Scully spot the nameplate as well and the three of them stare at each other in bewilderment.

“We should check the collider tunnel,” Hannah says.

Hannah doesn’t have the authority to access the LHC tunnel as an intern, but after a few texts to her friend Emmanuelle from the control center, she’s able to swipe her ID card at the ATLAS entry point. Her card grants her access to the elevator, too. The giant elevator lurches into action and they begin their long descent hundreds of feet underground.

The elevator opens into the tunnel that houses the LHC. There’s a narrow walkway along the side of the curved wall, tracing the body of the collider that extends for miles ahead of them.

Mulder spots movement up ahead and the three of them sprint down the walkway toward the shadowy shape.

“It’s William,” Scully shouts as they get closer. Mulder steps aside to let her reach William first.

Their son is on his hands and knees with his head bowed.

“Don’t move,” Scully cautions, as she checks him for signs of injury. “Did you hit your head?”

“No, I don’t think so,” he says. “I’m okay.”

Mulder joins Scully as they gently help him up to his feet. “I’m in the LHC tunnel? At CERN?” He asks.

“Yeah, buddy,” Mulder says.

“And it’s 2023?”

Mulder confirms the year for him as Scully keeps a firm grip on William’s forearm, both to keep him steady and ensure he won’t disappear again.

“Mom,” William pulls her into a hug. “You saved the world.”

“She has a habit of doing that,” Mulder says, embracing both of them.. He’s reminded of the night William was born, finding Scully and the baby in that dilapidated room, and feeling so overwhelmed by fear and love. His heart hammers as he squeezes his family tighter, unwilling to let them go.

“William!” He hears Hannah shouting and heading towards them.

William frees himself of his parents’ grasp and runs past them along the walkway to meet Hannah. Mulder and Scully watch as Hannah goes to hug him but William takes her face in his hands and kisses her on the lips. They can see Hannah’s shock melting into joy as she grabs him around the waist and draws him in closer. Their lips draw apart but their faces stay close as they whisper to each other. Mulder can’t hear everything they’re saying but he can make out a few “missed yous” and “love yous”

“They make a good team,” Scully says quietly.

“They remind me of us. I guess declarations of love following near-death time-travel experiences run in the family.”

She smirks at him but rises on her tip toes to kiss his cheek, imprinting the spot where she once landed a right hook on a ghost ship. Her lips are warm and soft on his skin, a far gentler sensation than the one her sharp knuckles left back in 1939.

William turns back towards them and calls out, “Let’s get out here.”

William and Hannah walk back to the elevator holding hands. Mulder smiles at Scully, happy to see the relief in her eyes, then guides her in the direction they came from with his hand on the small of her back.

***

Once Scully feels confident that William doesn’t have a head injury or other serious physical damage from his disappearance, the foursome make their way to CERN’s Restaurant 1 cafeteria for dinner. William fills them in on his trip to Camp Hero in 1993. A Google search on Hannah’s phone fails to turn up any articles on Samita Shah’s death. Instead, she’s currently listed as a visiting scientist at CERN, on a one-year fellowship while her husband, Vincent Bellona, continues his work as a tenured physics professor at Princeton.

“It worked, mom,” William says to Scully, smiling. “You convinced Dr. Shah not to join the project.”

“Apparently,” Scully says. “But what I don’t understand is, why do we have no memory of this? If we were able to change the past by altering Shah and Bellona’s timeline, why don’t dad and I remember meeting you in the past? Or any of this happening in 1993?”

“They must’ve wiped our memory before we left Camp Hero,” Mulder says. “The military had that technology back then. They did it to me at Ellens Air Base on one of our very first cases together.”

“Or we could be dealing with a multiverse scenario,” Hannah says.

William looks at her agape. “We must be if you’re seriously proposing that. I think I like you even more in this universe.”

“Ha, ha,” Hannah intones sarcastically and William winks back at her.

“Anyway, I can’t believe how young the two of you looked,” William says to his parents in between bites of his burger. “And even though you were just partners, I could totally tell you liked each other. It was kind of cute.”

“Oh, William,” Scully says. “I can only imagine which ridiculous suit I was wearing, or what tie your dad had on. We must’ve seemed terminally uncool.”

“Well, I wouldn’t really call you guys cool now,” William counters. Mulder playfully flicks a piece of paper straw wrapper at his son. William adeptly dodges it and the balled-up paper flies over this shoulder.

Hannah pokes Wiliam’s bicep with her finger. “Don’t tease them,” she says. “Your parents are awesome. Look how they helped me find you, and how they helped you back in 1993 when they didn’t even know you.”

“They got to know me,” William says, smiling wryly at Mulder. “It took my mom a little more time to believe me, but she got there.”

Scully glances down and Mulder rests a hand on her thigh trying to comfort her. “I wouldn’t have expected any less,” he says.

“It’s just that now—” Scully starts, her voice breaking as a breath catches in her throat. “I couldn’t imagine life without you. We were so scared when you disappeared.”

The mood of the table sombers until William stands up and comes around to the other side to hug his mother. Still seated, she rests her head against his stomach and embraces him around the waist. “I would love you in any universe,” she whispers, pulling back slightly to wipe tears from her eyes.

“I know,” William says, smoothing down her auburn hair. “I think we’d always recognize each other. You too, dad.” He smiles at Mulder then over the table at Hannah. “And you too, Hannah.” Across their trays of half-eaten food, Mulder sees Hannah blushing.

Since finding out William had disappeared, Mulder’s been running on adrenaline, not giving himself a moment to pause and consider the possibility that they’d never see their son again. Now, the relief washes over him like a crashing wave and he doesn’t fight the tears as they come.

So much has changed in thirty years since a skeptical, red-headed spy sauntered into his office haughty with the confidence that comes from never seeing the supposedly immutable laws of nature mutate before your eyes. They tested and challenged each other and forged an elemental bond that couldn’t be shattered with all the energy the world’s largest particle accelerator could muster.

So much has changed for the better. They have a miracle of a son. He just heard Scully essentially admit to believing in alternate universes, although he has no intention of pointing that out to her. He hasn’t abandoned his quest for answers, but he’s found that unraveling the mysteries of the universe can coexist with loving and being loved. It’s more than he ever thought he deserved, and it’s all he could ever want for his son.

#xfiles #txf #xf fanfic #msr #xfiles fanfic #x files #the x files

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yandere-sins · 2 years

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Ever Again

Obey Me! was planned for this prompt and I thought about who to write about since I did a lot of works for any of them at this point. Naturally, I could have chosen someone like Simeon and Solomon but I was just taken by this idea and came to the conclusion it would work best for Levi ^-^ So here we go!

Fandom: Obey Me! One master to rule them all Pairings: Yandere!Leviathan x GN!Darling!Reader Warnings: Yandere, Violence (because of an not-so-accidental accident and off-screen), Possessiveness, Delusional Yandere

Prompt: Free Day Friday: Blorbo - Is there a character (or more than one) you just need to do something to? Now’s the time to do it. This can be a character from anywhere, including your own head! @sintember

»»———————— ♡ ————————««

You awoke to the feeling of lips against your throat, the heaviness of a body weighing down on you.

With a groan, you curled your fingers, noticing just how stiff they were, as was the rest of your limbs. It was as if you had been knocked out and then slept on the floor, every part of you uncooperative as you asked it to move. Coming back into reality and starting to feel your body again was like starting up a computer. And once it was set in motion, everything began to respond again, your motor functions and your senses.

Sobbing reached your ears as you pried open an eye, crusty and swollen. It made you want to remember what happened before you blacked out this badly, the reason your head was still hammering as if someone was pounding against it to be let out. What did you forget? What made you forget?

The sound of crying intensified as your hearing sharpened, the feeling of something wet dripping on your skin and rolling off your neck and the side of your face becoming a matter of notice for your brain. There wasn’t much to see in the darkness of your obscured gaze, though occasionally, blue light flickered through indigo strands of hair, clouding your vision.

Pressure suddenly intensified on your body as you were squeezed tightly, the sobs turning into wailing, and your lungs screamed along for air. You gasped, and suddenly, the crying stopped while your coughing picked up. Frantically, you were released, the person lying on top of you pulling away just far enough to look at you, and you forced the other eye open as well, peering into Leviathan’s face.

A look of horror and surprise graced his face, and you took a few deep breaths once the coughing settled, trying your damn best to understand why he looked at you like that. “O-M-G, [Name]!” he whispered, your name returning the tears to his eyes. Usually, you’d cringe at him spelling out the abbreviation like this, but you hardly had control of your body now.

“I thought you were a total goner! Crushed! Game over!”

Levi stopped himself from continuing by letting out more pathetic crying while you peeled your eyes from him looking around. Something in the way he described it seemed to cause an itch in your brain, and when you finally looked towards the door, you realized one of his shelves was gone. It also made you realize where you were—his bathtub, or well, bed. You couldn’t see the floor, but you assumed the shelf to be there. That was almost enough to figure out what happened on your own, yet, you asked regardless.

“What… happened?” you croaked out, your voice scratching your throat from how dry everything was.

Leviathan didn’t stop crying as he fell forward again, burying his head in your collarbones. At least he didn’t bury you under him again, but this was worse enough. Even if you had wanted to console him, you couldn’t lift your hand. Taking a deep breath after crying his eyes out, he lifted up to hover over you again, bringing your seemingly lifeless fingers to his face on his own and rubbing his own cheek into your palm comfortingly as he tried to get his composure back.

“You wanted to leave,” he recalled sorrowfully. If it wasn’t so hard for you to focus, you’d have called him out on his weird act. He had behaved so weirdly for so long despite the friendship you two had built. If something happened to you, it must have been his doing. It made you angry to think he was the one sobbing and crying while you were in so much pain.

“A-And you said you’d tell Lucifer that I’ve been acting strange and hiding things. That… everyone and you are worried about me… And I! I couldn’t let you go thinking that of me! I am so sorry, [Name]! I am so… sorry…”

Again, he was back to crying, rubbing his eyes like a child that got scolded, and you had a moment to think back, closing your eyes as the blue light of the aquarium strained them. What he said was true. You really did seek him out to confront him. He had been holed up in his room and unresponsive, even when you used your pact magic to order him to come and participate in games or activities with you. You’ve been so worried. Threatening him with Lucifer was the only thing you could come up with. But after you wanted to storm out of his room, your memory went black.

“What… did you do?” you dug deeper, wanting to know everything that happened and how you woke up here with a crying Leviathan above you.

“I just got so frustrated! I hate it when you leave me, and this time you came to me instead of the other way around! I just… I wanted to… I didn’t mean to…”

“Levi,” you croaked, gentle but also assertive.

“My magic did it! I swear! I just wanted to stop you from leaving through the door, and before I knew it, you were buried under the shelf! I didn’t mean it... I’m so sorry!”

Had you not needed the air to breathe so desperately, you would have let out a long sigh. Your lungs were forced to release the air regardless as Levi fell back on top of you, crying. It wasn’t like him to be that easily irritable, and one of the reasons you wanted him to have a talk with his brother before something terrible happened. Apparently, you had been too late.

It took a while for him to calm down. You didn’t want to say or do anything. You’ve always liked Levi, and he was a great friend to hang out with, but ever since he changed, you lost most of your sympathy. And knowing he brought you into this situation made you want to comfort him even less. It was a very awkward situation, not least because of what he said next.

“I thought you were dead…. That I killed you.”

The words were barely louder than his crying, but they caused an odd vibe to come forth from the emotions going through you. A strange thought that didn’t quite resonate with how worried he was acting. It was almost as if...

“And you would have just let me… die? Not even called for a doctor?” you asked him, not as hesitantly as you were curious. A morbid curiosity, perhaps stemming from your near death experience, but with a need to know nonetheless. His hands clenched into fists as he slowly began to rise again, facing you. “I’m useless, aren’t I? I know I am, but I…”

His tear-filled eyes became void of emotions suddenly, the color draining from them as did the worry and hurt from his expression. The abrupt change shocked you and drove a cold shiver down your spine even before he spoke. “I wanted no one to know that you are here. They would have taken you away from me, and I didn’t want that. Terrible, aren’t I?”

“Levi…” you whispered, horrified as the pieces all came together. He would have rather let you die than let anyone else take you to the hospital or get you the help you needed? What happened to this sweet and playful friend of yours?

“Ah, see, it’s…” he stammered, suddenly avoiding your gaze and bashfully looking down. The next time he looked up again, his eyes were back to normal, his expression soft and somewhat… creepy in the way he cutesy peeked at you from beneath his lashes. “I never got to tell you this, but the reason I changed—it’s you!”

You had a horrible feeling about this, but you had already dug too deep into your grave as that he’d stop spilling all the truths now. Levi didn’t care if you wanted to hear them or not, but you wished with all your might that you could have thrown him off you and stumbled out the door so as to not have to experience this.

“Because I really, really, reallyreallyreallyreallyreally love you.”

Now that the cat was out of the bag, he seemed to be filled with instant relief, an expression of glee showing on his face as he laughed merrily, scratching the side of his face like an anime boy would after a confession. It was more genuine happiness than you had ever seen on him, even more than when he got a new game or went to a convention and talked about Ruri-chan. When he looked back up again, his gaze so full of adoration and joy, you felt goosebumps ruin your skin from your arms to your legs, and you didn’t have the time to say anything as Leviathan continued.

“I hope you’ll give me your answer soon! In the dating sims, they always go to a special place to confess their feelings, but I…”

Looking at you sheepishly, he smiled softly again. He was completely lost in his own fantasy world, one that seemed to have brought about the change you were so scared of before.

“I don’t think I can let you go ever again.”

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ghostinthegallery · 19 days

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One Year Fanfic Anniversary!

It is officially one year since I posted my first 40k fic on AO3 and really started putting myself out there in the online community (parts of it anyway). And I wanted to do a bit of a retrospective. Some stuff I learned about writing, fanfic, fandom etc.

it is much easier to start writing once you let go of wanting to get everything 100% “correct.” Characters, setting whatever. People don’t care nearly as much as your inner critic thinks. Or if they do…you can just disagree. It’s fanfic, playing around with ideas and interpretations is the point

i started writing with original work so transitioning to fanfic was a shift. But the things i learned about pacing novels are still invaluable. If you really want to level up your writing, definitely study how novels and short stories are structured

that said structuring a long fic is different from structuring the novel. Chapter releases mean each section almost becomes a short story in and of itself. This also means things get way longer than you expect (rip my word count)

referring back to the original texts often is 1) fun 2) helps you notice things you didn’t before and 3) helps prevent the spread of fandom misinformation. Cite your sources! Especially in Warhammer, our fandom infosphere is a mess

I don’t let the comments drive where my story goes in the broad sense, but they do influence certain details. It’s fun being surprised by what/who readers latch onto. And occasionally a comment has reminded me of something that exists I totally forgot about/didn’t even know. So I look super smart if I pretend that was my intention all along :D

Something should change between the beginning of the scene and the end. Internally or externally or both, something should be different

people did not bash me in the head with the judgement hammer when i decided to publish smut. This has been very liberating. Perhaps too liberating XD

smut is a great way to practice writing short stories. Sex has a clear arc (set up, build up, climax, come down), it is a great space for character exploration, it necessarily involves relationships between characters. and you only need a few scenes (often only one scene) so it stays short. This has been great practice as someone who could not write a short story to save my life

idk if this has mattered but i feel not allowing anonymous comments on AO3 has saved me a lot of grief.

carving out a small fandom space is the way to go. Curate your feed. Block liberally. Don’t engage with people who annoy you, it is not worth it

reblogging and interacting in the comments has been an awesome way to meet people. Highly recommend

Encouraging other people (especially newer creators) to create gets you more art so definitely do that (kindly of course)

robots really are sexy

#Fanfic #writing #personal ramble #thanks for an awesome year guys <3 #warhammer40k

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crestfallercanyon · 2 months

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1, 4 and 21 for Mickey Milkovich since I’ve seen you post about Shameless <3

I have seen you liking some of my posts about Shameless, too! I'm always excited when mutuals overlap in other fandoms than just the root one, if that makes sense <3

Anywho, to the questions!

Why do you like or dislike this character?

This answer's long, so sorry, but I feel like it's hard to talk about all of Mickey in a succinct way. While there are parts of Shameless that the writers severely fuck up, and that fuckery did occasionally get his hands on Mickey Milkovich (like constantly trying to write him off it seems??), Mickey has some of the greatest depth and is also consequently one of the most consistent characters they managed to write.

I've said it before, but he has every reason to "look out for number one," and he does, but his number one stops being himself -- it's for his family (Mandy and Ian in particular). While that has its own ramifications, it's also a beautiful thing about him.

He's also smart. I like that he is not a stupid man, which I feel he could have been very quickly reduced to (and I think they sometimes try to do to him in later seasons but that's a rant for later). Reckless and flippant sometimes, but he is smart and he can and will learn. His biggest character growths aren't from lack of understanding due to ineptitude, it's due to biases, and when those biases gets shattered he learns from them and keeps those lessons with him (my main example of this is when he was so very against letting Ian go to a mental hospital -- the whole progression of Mickey taking care of Ian during his illness is what I would say is where he has most of his rapid growth: it's where he stops trying to pretend he doesn't love Ian, it's where he realizes that he can't do everything on his own and has to ask for help sometimes, it's where he loses his ignorance about what exactly Ian is going, much of what he learns in that season carries with him throughout the rest of the show it seems).

Mickey's story is so full of tragedy, and I thought that Shameless was going to "life sucks and then you die" to him, honestly (whenever something went right, they immediately took a hammer to that fragile happiness as soon as seemingly possible). But he wins. He gets the boy he fell in love with, and has a job, and makes his way out of South Side. It's not the dream he thought he'd always have (he thought he'd be King of South Side) but that dream was also made up of a lot of... resignation. So I'm glad that that was turned on its head for him and he still had happiness, I thought that was consistent with the rest of his life, too.

4) If you could put this character in any other media, be it a book, a movie, anything, what would you put them in?

This is a fascinating question. To be perfectly honest, I actually wish a character like him was in Sons of Anarchy. There were parts of that show I really enjoyed (I mean, boil it down and it's essentially Motorcycle Hamlet), but I think his character and his arc (with Ian, too, actually) would have added a lot of additional depth to that show -- that and have it address queer characters in a meaningful way (the only queer character I remember from that show was very limited and quickly off the show if I recall correctly). I think he'd be really well suited to meld into that world, actually, with a few tweaks to get him as part of the SoA in the first place.

I also would love to have him in a western or noir, but that's more fanfiction au ideas, not actually placing him in another piece of media haha

21) If you're a fic writer and have written for this character, what's your favorite thing to do when you're writing for this character? What's something you don't like?

I love to write his dialogue, the snappish way he speaks. I particularly like to write earlier seasons Mickey because he's got such a front he's putting up, it's fun to figure out dialogue where he's clearly saying one thing and hiding another in-between the words; or just straight up contradicting his own thinking because he has to and is desperately hopeful and also terrified that someone (Ian) can see right through him. There's so much internal conflict of Mickey early seasons that while it can be a challenge, it's also so fun to write.

What I don't like? I'm not sure how to articulate this correctly, but I struggle with writing some of the antagonism he and Ian continue to have in later seasons. I mean it's definitely there, it's a part of him, just because Mickey loves Ian and vice versa doesn't mean those two don't insult each other or all that -- I just tend not to write those moments that much because I either will go overboard and write too strong of an argument or it won't feel quite like their energy, if that makes sense.

Thank you so much for the asks! They were a lot of fun. They come from this: Character Ask Game

#ask games #character ask game #shameless (us)#shameless #Mickey Milkovich

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sequinsmile-x · 10 months

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Sweet Nothing - Chapter 3 - The Hangover

A series of one shots mini fics of our favourite idiots in love to celebrate my birthday, along with all the other July birthdays in the fandom <3

The master list can be found here!

-x-

Hi friends!

Another one of these little mini-fics for you

This one was from anon and the prompt was "Do you feel better now? with the response “Yes, but stop laughing at me.”

On a separate note, your girl is STRESSED about Taylor Swift presale tomorrow so please keep me in your thoughts and pray to the ticket gods xoxo

-x-

Words: 1k

Warnings: Hangover/discussion of alcohol consumption, pregnancy

Read over on Ao3, (ao3 is currently intermittently going in and out of service) or below the cut

Aaron wakes up to the sound of banging, a persistent noise that seems to match the pounding in his head perfectly.

He hears a chuckle from next to him and opens one eye to look up at his fiancee, a bright smile on her face and a sparkle in her eyes that makes him groan. Emily is sitting up in bed with their 13-month-old in her arms, the little girl snuggled against her chest as she joins in on her mother's laughter, even though she didn’t understand what was happening.

“Morning honey,” Emily says, her smile only widening as their eyes meet, “How are you feeling?”

He groans and buries his face in his pillow as the banging sound continues, “What is that noise?”

“That is Jack playing with the tool kit that Roy bought him,” she says, adjusting her hold on their daughter, “I assume he’s found the hammer.”

Aaron rolls onto his back and rubs his eyes, groaning at the bright light in their bedroom, “And you just had to let him play with that this morning?”

“Hey, I took all the batteries out of all the toys that make noise by themselves and hid the controller for the games console,” she says, raising her eyebrows at him, “It’s the best I could do,” she turns her attention to their daughter and tickles her stomach, making the little girl laugh again, “And this is self-inflicted so Daddy should be grateful I even did that, huh, Paisley?”

“Dada!” Paisley screeches out, followed by a laugh that makes Aaron wince, and he groans, rubbing his eyes as if he could scrub the hangover away.

“Remind me why I let Dave talk me into last night.”

“Because it was your bachelor party, baby,” she says, taking pity on him and leaning down to kiss his cheek, grimacing slightly at the smell of scotch and smoke on his skin, “There’s water and aspirin on your nightstand.”

He’s sure he’s never loved her more as he turns his head just enough to see what she’d laid out for him. He sits up and rests against the headboard, taking the pills quickly, grateful for the cool water against his sore throat.

“I don’t remember getting home,” he says, furrowing his brow as he thinks of the night before, everything very hazy after Dave had brought out the second bottle of very expensive scotch and the cigars.

“That doesn’t surprise me,” she replies, smiling at him as he turns to look at her, his stomach flipping for a different reason than his hangover for a second as both his girls look at him with matching, adoring, smiles, “I had to let you in.”

He winces again, “I woke you up? I’m sorry sweetheart.”

She shrugs, “You’re handsy when you’re drunk,” she says, winking at him, “I like it when you’re handsy. Although I think you’ll regret what you said in front of Dave.”

Aaron’s eyes go wide, and she laughs at him again, and he racks his brain to think of what on earth he could have said to his friend, “What did I say?”

“Well, you told him that I like it when I-”

“Not in front of Paise,” he says, covering the little girl's ears and making Emily roll her eyes at him.

“Aaron, she’s 13 months old, she doesn’t know what a blow job is.”

He grumbles, “She’s my daughter, if I have it my way she’ll never know what that is.”

She hums and raises an eyebrow at him, “Go have a shower,” she says, pressing a kiss to his cheek, “You’ll feel better.”

“A cuddle from my little girl will make me feel better,” he replies, and Emily shakes her head.

“Not whilst you smell like a brewery that caught fire next to a cigar factory,” she quips, feeling love for him burst in her chest when he looks genuinely disappointed, “But you can have a kiss.”

“From you too?” He asks, and she laughs again, nodding before he leans in and stamps a kiss to her lips before he kisses Paisley’s forehead and then cheek.

“Do you feel better now?” She asks, openly laughing at him as he stumbles slightly when he stands up, his usual grace lost somewhere between countless measures of scotch the night before.

“Yes,” he mutters, “But stop laughing at me,” he pauses when he makes it to the bathroom door, smiling once again at the sight in front of him, of his daughter sitting in his soon-to-be wife’s lap, “I’ll go shower and then we’ll order in breakfast?”

Emily looks up from Paisley to him, a soft smile on her face, “Sounds perfect.”

“You should be nicer to me you know,” he says, scratching the back of his head whilst he yawns, “It’s your bachelorette party in a few days and I’ll be the one looking after you.”

She shakes her head as he walks into the bathroom, and she responds quietly enough that he doesn’t hear, “Not in the way you’re thinking, honey.”

Aaron groans as he catches sight of himself in the mirror, the lighting of the bathroom doing nothing for his complexion, the dark lines under his eyes brought on by a late night even darker than usual. He’s about to turn around to switch on the shower when something on the counter catches his eye.

At first, he wonders if he’s imagining it, but he steps closer, and his breath catches in his chest as he picks it up, two bright lines staring back at him from the stick in his hand.

“I’ve been feeling off for a couple of days, so I took the test this morning. I didn’t want to tell you until I was sure.”

He turns to see Emily standing in the doorway, Paisley on her hip, her hands buried in the neckline of her mother’s t-shirt, “Em…”

She smiles shakily at him before she turns her attention to the toddler on her hip, “What do you think about being a big sister, sweet girl?”

He walks over and pulls them both into a hug, Emily’s protests that he stinks lost against his t-shirt as she hugs him back anyway.

This, he knew, would go down as one of the best days of his life. Raging hangover and all.

-x-

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#aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #aaron hotchner fanfiction #emily prentiss fanfiction #hotchniss fan fic #hotchniss fanfic #aaron x emily #hotchniss #hotchniss fanfiction #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss

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bestworstcase · 1 year

Note

I was exited for Vol 9 but i so afraid at how they would handle Ruby like will she actually get to vent without having her words used against ger for once???

And the answer was a big no and YET

They made it clear that whatever happens its something they cant gloss over anymore

She got to explode in such a messy way

Hurt the people she loves by going for the juggular

Throught that whole scene for me theres was just this feeling of vindication

FINALLY we're seeing the result of the oh so inspiring "if youre not performing at your absolute best then..." she got from Ozpin

The way she basically took a hammer to the pedestal herself is still just so chefs kiss

Ps i know Neo wants her absolutely fucking dead. But i feel with all the narrative destroying (affectionate) going kn the Ruby and Neo would get along so well now that Ruby isnt masking brainworks have activated

hgfsg YEAH!

i only got into rwby like… a bit less than a year and a half ago, went into it mostly blind (<- i knew the fandom was SUPER ship heavy, a very basic summary of who cinder was, and “this is salem, you would love her” lmao) and got as far as 1.4 before i was like

—except at that point i was being facetious bc rwby really does a fantastic job of initially masquerading as your bog standard ‘plucky kids save the world’ fantasy story at first (<- & stories like that are fun! i just tend to read them with tongue in cheek bc they do make me very conscious of my own suspension of disbelief). i remember hitting 1.10 for the first time and going 😬 and then feeling increasingly like, ‘…hold up.’ through V2-3 and by the time i reached V4 i was like. okay this is a deconstruction let’s GO! but figured the salem side of things would continue to be played straight (bc it always is) until lost fable cold-clocked me. and then i became Deranged.

so during the gap in between finishing V8 and V9 starting, there… honestly there wasn’t a single doubt in my mind that ruby would be having, not just an emotional breakdown but a wholesale crisis of identity and reckoning with the huntsman system itself. bc i think watching the whole show V1-8 in one go, while having very little in the way of preconceived notions about what the story would be, really made the incremental progression towards what’s going on in V9 a lot more visible. (<- i also rewatched it like four times in that time and kept noticing *more* of how well everything fits together. genuinely this is a really well-constructed story. so i have a lot of trust in the, like, intentionality of the narrative, that it’s going to follow through.)

but it’s been just. so so thrilling to SEE it actually, really happen. the narrative crescendo. ruby finally detonating her pedestal bc she can’t take it anymore and she’s a human fucking being. GOD. it’s so good.

also as far as neo goes, yeah i’d agree. for as different as they are they do have a lot of emotional similarity—ruby cornered on the huntress pedestal, neo both literally and figuratively silenced and abused bc she wasn’t the perfect daughter her parents wanted, there’s a very symmetrical experience here of cracking under the strain of a dehumanizing ideal. and i don’t think ruby cares about neo enough to have this bloody rampage of revenge against her that most of the fandom seems to be anticipating. the personal animosity isn’t reciprocal. as far as ruby is concerned neo is just a jerk whom her real enemies (cinder, salem) used as a pawn.

+ i think a bloody rampage at this point in the would be extremely tonally and thematically dissonant. when has this story ever reveled in violence? and ruby is at a point rn where she’s having severe trauma responses and shutting down every time there’s a fight. (she grabs for her weapon when the jabberwalker shows up, but then freezes—& in 9.7 it’s shown that she’s freezing bc she’s having panic attacks. like we see what was happening in her head in 9.1 & 9.5 while she watched wby engage the jabberwalker.)

like rwby has never been about stomping the bad guys into the curb. it’s a story about healing and compassion and escape from systems that enforce and necessitate violence. rip to all the bloodthirsty fans but that’s just not what the show is about.

#rwby v9 spoilers

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penny-anna · 8 months

Note

for the writing prompts game thing, 19

if you want input for the fandom, maybe lord of the rings/the hobbit. if not just disregard this part lmao

hello!! i am very late w this!! u get surprise daemon au.

(on ao3!)

They’d been running for over a day. It felt like a hundred years. The air smelled like damp and unwashed bodies. The mud squished beneath his feet. Everything hurt – his legs, head, lungs, wrists –

Worst of all, the lingering ache around his heart.

When they’d seen Boromir struck with the first arrows, he’d felt Windflower bristling beside him. Ready, he’d known instinctively, to turn into something big with teeth and fangs and pounce and damn the consequences. He’d taken a step forward –

Then a feeling had gone through him.

A cold sick feeling that ran down his spine and back up to his skull and settled in his stomach as a hideous nauseous wrongness and he’d frozen and choked and staggered. It felt like a hand rummaging around inside his guts. It felt like the heavy choking smell of smoke and the taste of blood in his mouth and a thousand voices shouting and his legs gave out under him as he retched.

He’d forced himself to look over his shoulder, already knowing what he’d see. Windflower, stoat-shaped and writing in orcish hands, writhing and biting and spitting and too terrified to change. Nearby he heard a voice yelling her name; then he heard nothing more.

Windflower was a beetle now, hidden safely in his hood. It was a fragile shape, but one too small to put a hand on. She could go smaller still if she had to. It was safer to look as if he didn’t have a dæmon.

Merry wasn’t so lucky. Grumpy was running alongside him, struggling to keep up. She was usually faster than him with her injured leg she was starting to flag. With his hands bound Merry couldn’t try to carry her. It was only a matter of time.

She went down. She must have tripped on a rock or a root because she went down hard, snout first into the mud and the shock of it knocked Merry down too. Pippin skidded to a halt in the mud, heart hammering. He felt a tickle of insect legs as Windflower curled in still closer against his neck.

“What’s happened?” barked a voice. It was Uglúk.

“The fox won’t run,” called back one of his orcs.

Merry was getting up, or trying to. Grumpy was struggling, unable to put her weight on a front leg. Merry’s eyes widened at the side of Uglúk pushing his way roughly through the mob. Then his face set, and he stepped in front of his dæmon.

“What’s wrong with your animal? Huh?” Uglúk said. “Can’t keep pace?”

Grim-faced, Merry said nothing. Grumpy was on her feet, just about. Pippin looked from one to the other, growing frantic. He didn’t know what an orc would do, with a dæmon that couldn’t run – if they might try to hurt her, or worse leave her behind –

“She’s hurt,” he blurted out.

Around them, orcs snickered. And Merry looked at him, eyes bleak, and belatedly he understood why they’d been hiding the injury.

“Hurt, is it?” Uglúk shoved Merry aside, ignoring his cry of protest, and Pippin’s heart sank as he brought out his orcish healing salve.

“No.” Merry made a move towards her, but an orc grabbed his arm. “No –”

Pippin saw what was coming and he knew raw and recent how it felt, and he braced himself – and then Merry yelled.

Orcs didn’t have dæmons. Once upon a time it would have been easy to think that meant they didn’t care. But he’d spent enough time with elves and dwarves and wizards to know it wasn’t so.

It wasn’t that they didn’t feel. It could be that they didn’t know. It was hard to say, as Merry went quiet and Grumpy went limp and unresisting in Uglúk’s grip, if this was an act of wilful cruelty. To any man or the decent thing to do – even for one’s worse enemy – would have been to hand over the healing salve and let them do it themselves. But how would an orc learn a thing like that?

At last, Uglúk dropped Grumpy to the ground. She climbed, shakily but more steadily, to her feet. Her injured leg was taking her weight. The orc let go of Merry’s arm and he stumbled to her side. They stood together, hurting, but whole.

Uglúk barked, “Move out.”

#lord of the rings #lotr #lotr daemon au

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sheetsonfire · 2 years

Text

Dead and Waiting | Part 6

Fandom: Chicago PD

Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader

Genre: Drama, angst, romance, thriller

Warnings: smut, violence, harassment, swearing, gun mentions, fire, injuries, sickness

Word Count: 4381

Requested By Anon: hi! can i request a jay halstead x reader where you work in intelligence with him and for some reason (maybe undercover work) you have to fake your death and no one knows, not even jay… but you end up returning once it’s safe again and he’s mad but also relieved?

thanks and totally understand if you pass over this request <3

This is Part 6, click for Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9 (FINAL PART), EPILOGUE |

When you next wake up, it’s night. At least you assume it is, as in your bleary haze you realise the lights in the surrounding area are dimmed, it’s quiet in a way that says “Time for sleep.” The bustle from when you were last awake had quietened to a hushed activity of nurses, porters and the occasional doctor passing by from the view out of your room.

It takes time for you to fully come to your senses, eventually taking stock of your well-being you realise that within your stomach is a constant current of anxiety, so strong it has manifested in your body shaking. You feel a stifling heat wrapping around your aching limbs from head to toe. The sensation is unpleasant, it creates an uneasy claustrophobic feeling, one that was hovering in your personal space like a darkened cloud. You try to take a breath and end up with a string of hacking coughs that leave you panting, only to feel the sudden urge to hack again and spit up whatever was fighting its way through your chest.

As you do spit up the phlegm, you see the offending item is thick yellow mucus, streaked with blood. It’s soaking into your pristine white hospital blanket and gown and you wince in disgust, feeling a slight embarrassment of not being able to move and take care of it yourself. Your ribs begin to hurt from the strain, and it jostles the wound in your back, provoking a low groan of pain, still breathing hard as you lay back. Willing your hammering heart to slow, it pulses loudly in your aching head.

Lying still, listening to your own strained breaths, you start to realise it’s actually your own skin that’s hot, it's like pins and needles fizzing through your nerves. The room wasn't the problem, you were.

You don’t feel right, not at all, and though reluctant to associate with the people in this unfamiliar environment, they were all the help you could presently get to. So with fumbling fingers, you press the ‘call’ button attached to your bed, waiting in shivering silence with the occasional wheeze.

Credit to them, it only takes less than a minute for a nurse to appear with a sympathetic smile, the lights instantly getting a level brighter. The light makes you close your eyes in shock, your retinas feeling overly sensitive.

The nurse immediately reduces the brightness again, using a panel on the wall. “Hey, hon, sorry about that, is everything alright, Y/N?" She checks your monitors as she eyes you worriedly, seeing your elevated heart rate.

You shake your head no, your neck feels stiff and the ache travels down into your shoulders and back… “I–...I’m finding it harder to breathe, and my chest hurts, I coughed up uh, mucus? Blood? I don’t, I don’t know…” Your head is fuzzy, you try and gesture to the part of your gown concealed by the blanket, and the nurse’s gentle hand stops you.

“I got it, let me see…” She peels it back to reveal the mucus streaked with blood, her brows furrowed.

She pats your reassuringly, “I’m going to page the doctor on call, and then we’ll get this cleaned up.” She gestures to the mess on your blanket, and you nod silently. You felt like shit, and you wished desperately that you were in the familiar environment of Chicago Med, with doctors you knew as friends.

You wished you were home.

You let out a shaky exhale, the persistent ache in your ribs and chest were nothing in comparison to your homesickness and heartache. You had thought that night at the boat yard would have been your last day stuck undercover, at worst your penultimate day, yet here you were - no closer to the end of what had been a messy situation.

You felt even further away and more cut off from Jay, your friends, and your family than you had ever been. The nausea was unending at the prospect of forcing your loved ones to mourn you, with no control over how and when this would all be over.

Your eyes well with tears, and the pressure in your head feels immense, accompanied by the uncontrollable fits of coughing that burned your insides, leaving you gasping for breath.

A hand appears on your back as a mask is placed securely over your face, the nurse has reappeared with a doctor in tow, and is sitting you more upright as the newly arrived doctor listens to your chest and lungs, a serious expression on his face.

“We’re going to take you for another CT scan, detective, and we’ll get that sputum tested. If my eyes and ears aren’t deceiving, I think you have an unfortunate combination of chemical and bacterial pneumonia. We’ll keep you on the antibiotics, and you may need a shot for the bacterial side of things.”

You’re feeling drowsy, exhausted from all the coughing and energy required to stay alert, you nod wearily as they start to wheel you out for yet more scans and tests.

[In Chicago]

It’s approaching a week and a half after your “death” and Will has been staying at your shared apartment with Jay, Ms Goodwin had been insistent that Will go to be with his brother in such a time of need. After all, besides you, Will was the only person really allowed to see Jay’s layers peeled back in such a raw way. He had been helping him make the necessary arrangements and going through with the daunting task of contacting the family and friends that weren’t immediately in the city.

In the meantime, your husband-to-be doesn’t sleep, and if he does it’s in fitful bursts that ultimately end in night terrors where he can’t save you from burning, drowning or being trapped under the collapsed building.

It was expected on Will’s part, he knew that losing you would mess with Jay in a way that would be almost nuclear in nature. Jay smashes things, he drinks until Will tries to intervene, he sobs like a small child in Will’s tight embrace, and he refuses to eat until Will gets upset enough about the weight loss that it guilts Jay into having soup.

Naturally, as you might do in a reversed situation, Jay tries to get access to the Burden files he no longer has access to, due to being a bereaved family member in the case. To which, Hank rather sincerely advises him to leave it alone, and then reassures him that he is doing everything he can to figure out what happened and who is going to be held accountable - despite ATF’s stonewalling. Jay doesn’t necessarily agree to leave it alone, but he stops coming by the district for a few days.

Jay gets visits from everybody in the team, each of them offering to take up the errands required to arrange your funeral and subsequent wake. Of course, you had other friends that also came to give their assistance, Herrmann offers up Molly’s for your wake and Will graciously accepts it. He knows that’s where you had spent so many important and wonderful hours with the people dearest in your life.

One night, when Will is asleep, Jay finds himself outside an apartment that was rumoured to have been used by Jeremy Burden Sr as recently as a day ago. Instead of snooping around the district, he had gone to his CIs instead. Rumour was that Burden Sr had brazenly decided to pursue his business deals, in spite of the wrath from Chicago PD should he be found.

So here Jay was, sitting in his truck, an unusually unkempt beard on his face, eyes red-rimmed and bloodshot, his freckled skin is pale and his expression withdrawn. He takes a swig of tepid black coffee, jaw tight with anger that continues burning with every waking hour, he keeps his eyes fixed on the apartment and waits. Waits for any sign of the man he knew had the biggest part in your demise. ATF had been incompetent, yes, but it was Burden Sr that had brought literal hellfire onto you.

He’s not even sure how long he sits in the stillness of the truck, the cold of Chicago nestles in his bones, but he doesn’t even notice the shivering or the light chatter of his teeth, he only feels the immense ache in his stomach that has him clenching the steering wheel with one hand, and the gun in his holster with the other.

The movement of his passenger door has him whipping his head around, weapon drawn, eyes wild with surprise and defiance.

Recognition kicks in and Jay exhales. It was Hank.

“You gonna put that down, kid?” He asks, his face completely neutral for someone staring down the barrel of a gun.

Jay sighs as he holsters his weapon. Meanwhile, Hank climbs into the truck and closes the door behind him, arms folded over his chest. He takes in the sight of Jay, and his heart sinks, the sergeant lets out his own sigh before speaking.

“What are you doing out here, Jay?”

Jay isn’t one for entertaining such questions these days, instantly replying in a matter-of-fact manner, voice almost robotic, “Burden Sr is still trying to do business, this is his place.”

Hank shakes his head with an incredulous small laugh, “I know what this place is, I’m asking why you are out here, without backup, without anybody knowing where you are. Will is fast asleep, I bet.”

Jay remains silent, the answer is in the lack of words as he keeps staring out of the windshield before taking a glance back to the apartment, still itching to keep surveillance.

Hank let Jay sit for a moment, knowing that he was treading a very fine line, Jay wasn’t likely to take too much scrutiny in the best way right now.

When Jay speaks again, his voice is hoarse, that god awful lump of anguish back in his throat that he couldn't mask.

“I need to do something. I need someone to pay for this, I need him to pay for this. I need someone to hurt like I’m hurting, Hank.”

Hank brings a hand to rest on Jay’s shoulder, his heart was breaking for him. His own grief for you was nothing in comparison to what was in front of him.

“I know, Jay, I know. And I’m working on it, but you can’t be out here jeopardising what I’m working on. More importantly, I don’t need you out here jeopardising your life. Y/N wouldn’t want you out here, bro, not without us anyway.”

Jay swallows, thumbs pushing at the steering wheel for distraction, his stomach drops and he looks down as he answers,

“She doesn’t want anything, Hank. She’s dead.”

The silence is resounding, Jay lets out a sneering half-huff of a laugh, still feeling that resounding rage that you could be taken from him like that.

Hank knows better than to push the issue at that, squeezing Jay’s shoulder in silent understanding.

“Come on, time to go back. Will will have a meltdown if he finds you gone. I’ve got things controlled here.”

Jay looks at your sergeant now, “You’re just saying that so I’ll go home.”

Hank grunts in amusement, “When do I ever say things just for fun? Flash your headlights twice.”

Jay huffs, indulging in the request as he flashes his high beams twice. Almost instantly two flashes are returned.

Hank’s mouth upturns into a slight smile as Jay raises his eyebrows, the relief Jay felt was visible. He could cope a fraction better knowing Hank was just as driven to get justice as he was.

“See? It’s all in hand, Jay, I don’t want to lose anybody else… Anything you need, you got it, alright? Do you need more time after this week?”

Jay shakes his head almost instantly, “No, I can’t be in that apartment any longer than I need to, and Will can’t babysit me forever.”

Hank shrugs and nods, “I get it. Listen, you can partner with me come Monday, we’ll take it one week at a time. If I think you need a time out, or you need to stay in the District at a desk, I will put you there. Is that understood?”

“Yes, sarge.”

“Okay, I’m gonna tail you back home, and then I’m gonna see you first thing, we’re gonna pick up the flowers and Will's making sure everyone knows the schedule for the day.”

The expression on Jay’s face turns back to morose at the end of that sentence, he had been trying to catch some news on the Burden Sr front so he wouldn’t have to think about the fact that tomorrow was going to be your funeral.

“Okay.” He murmurs distantly.

“Okay.” Hanks clears his throat, patting Jay’s shoulder one last time as he climbs back out of the truck and heads towards his own SUV.

Jay presses the heels of his hands into his aching eyes, body stiff from lack of sleep and sitting in the cold. He needed to shower, shave and prepare to speak about you in front of everyone else. He didn't know how he was going to manage it, but he was gonna be damned if he didn't find a way.

[Elsewhere]

The next few days pass in a blur of fevered pain and coughing up what you feel like must be at least one lung, working on two. You drift in and out of fevered dreams where you’ve been crying out for someone to help, for Jay to help. His gentle face would always morph into a hardened one, leaving you behind in the fear and darkness of being alone, flames licking at your skin, the water sloshing as you can’t stay afloat. Your exhaustion continues to win out over your desire to stay awake and away from the nightmares.

When you are awake though, you think of him, you think of his soft kisses and his laugh, the way his green eyes light up when you tell him a joke or tell him how much you love him.

You think of the moments on stakeouts where you'd talk about anything and everything in the car, poking fun at each other, sharing lunch, you name it. Of course, there were the moments where you'd have each other's backs, working in secure knowledge of the other’s thinking.

There were the times between cases when you could find the time to go to the movies or to see a baseball game; when you’d hang out at BBQs that Severide, Casey and Boden would put together; when you’d go ice skating, or stay in cosied up on the couch. Enjoying time with Will and feeling how much of a family you had all become.

Massaging the aches from each other after a long day or tough case, feeling each other close and intimately, simply in a world for the both of you. You would encourage each other, and better each other, your jobs and lives didn’t come with only roses and sunshine, but it made the darkness feel a little more manageable.

You were strong together, strong as individuals and now you found that you were damn resilient when it came to being apart from the person you loved. So you wanted to fight, you would fight to get better, to make it out of this strange liminal space of a hospital, to work towards the day you could go home to Jay, home to your life.

There was, of course, the small matter of rocking back up and saying “Hey, guess what, I’m alive!” but that was another problem you could kick down the road for now.

[In Chicago]

True to his word Hank turns up at the apartment at 8 the next morning, Will had been up since 5, making breakfast and getting himself ready for the day ahead. He managed to wrangle Jay at the table for some kind of breakfast and a glass of water, offering Hank some coffee and a waffle. The two men sat making idle conversation, keeping it to a minimum given the occasion, they would from to time eye Jay who simply stared at nowhere in particular. Looking at him he was now almost clean-shaven, dressed in his suit he looked smaller, more withered, he’d lost weight rapidly in the past week. Your engagement ring sits next to his on the chain still around his neck underneath his shirt, he feels the metal press lightly against his chest, like you were pressing against his heart.

They eventually move on to how the day will go, what time your parents were due to arrive, and what Jay’s “safeword” would be if he wanted to get away from everything and everyone. It was agreed that either Will, Hank or one of the team would help him get to a quiet and safe space to take a minute if he needed it.

The friends you had at Med, at Firehouse 51 and at the various Districts would all be in attendance, for both the funeral and the wake. You would be honoured by the Ivory Tower, a sure deal as Platt was hot on that case. They had tried to say that given the unresolved circumstances of your death, and lack of a body, they would need further time to consider such an event, but that had quickly been quashed by Trudy’s fiery demeanour and sharp tongue. They had agreed to proceed as planned, almost immediately.

Leaving the apartment made Jay feel uncomfortable, like in the daylight everyone could see how broken and ghostlike he was, not just on the outside but on the inside too. Will kept a reassuring hand on his elbow as they took him to Hank’s truck, he thought Jay might shove the hand away but was sadly surprised when he didn’t. He was so used to Jay being assertive and confident, playful and teasing, now it was like that part had been turned off and sealed away.

The car ride is silent, Will watches Jay from the backseat, his heart aches to watch his brother feel the loss of you so profoundly. He texts Adam to let him know they were on their way to the florists, then they’d come to the District - everybody would be going from there to the service together. Hank keeps his eyes on the road, glancing occasionally to check on Jay who sat looking down, hands folded securely in his lap.

Jay stays in the truck when Hank and Will put the flowers in the trunk, he brings himself to look up from his hands, watching the world go by with a vacant expression. He absentmindedly fiddles with the dial on Hank’s dash, turning up the heat, always feeling cold since he started to lose weight. Longing to have your warmth wrapped up in his arms, where he could press kisses to your hair, nuzzle into your neck as you’d hum contentedly.

By the time they’re at the District in an orderly procession with your empty casket on his shoulder, Jay feels like he can’t move his legs. It feels like a betrayal to carry a casket that doesn’t have a body in it. Heavy with dread and denial, he puts one foot in front of the other, accompanied by Will, Hank, Adam, Kevin, and Antonio who had flown back in to be there. He tries to block out the sounds of hushed sobs and quiet sniffles, murmured well wishes and commiserating words of love as you would soon be laid to rest.

He is keenly aware of the fact that many of your family members are directly behind him in the procession, he knows at some point he’ll have to talk to them. Over the almost fortnight that it had been, he had developed this odd fear that they’d somehow blame him for your death. Fear that they blamed him for somehow attracting you to stay in Intelligence, for allowing you to go undercover. Even though he knew you loved Intelligence for its own merit, and nobody was going to tell you what you could or could not do. Especially as he knew you were damn good at your job, one of the best he’d worked with in his near-decade tenure in Hank Voight’s unit. If he was being true to himself, it was his own guilt that was eating at him, no matter how illogical.

The priest’s words sail past his ears as he stands in the church, looking at your casket in a vague sense of disbelief, willing you to burst through the doors from behind and say “Surprise!” But as far as he knew, you weren’t going to and couldn’t do that. So he remains in solemn silence, feeling the rest of his life tick by in meaningless minutes that he wouldn’t share with you ever again.

“And now Y/N’s fiance, Jay Halstead, will say a few words. Jay?”

Somewhere in Jay’s glassy gaze into nowhere, his brain registers that it’s his turn to get up there and bare his soul to a room full of people. The realisation however comes later than was apparently socially acceptable, because Will has to lean over and call his name again in a gentle whisper with a small nudge.

He snaps back to reality, taking in the sobering expanse of the high ceilings and the decor that was so opulent that it felt somehow wrong for such an occasion, too gaudy, too fake. With a clearing of his throat, he shuffles out of the pew and towards the lectern, the adrenaline kicking it up a gear as he turns to face the crowd of familiar, mourning, faces.

He pulls neatly folded paper from his pocket, his own scrawl just about legible as he begins to read, a slight tremor in his words,

“When I first met Y/N, I didn’t know what to think of her. She was my new partner, and I’m sure you can understand that new partners mean change, and I wasn’t all too ready for change at the time…” Jay looks up, swallowing as he continues,

“But she proved me wrong in about a week, she showed me that she was just about the best kind of change I was going to get in my life. She was self-assured, she was sweet, she was patient with me but she also let me know she’d whip my ass if I didn’t give her a chance.” He lets out a half-laugh, laced with sadness,

“This was going to be part of my vows… I never thought it would be used in a eulogy instead…" The room somehow falls into more silence than it had already been in, Jay feels his stomach drop and hurries himself along before he started to rant about how unfair this all felt.

"...So yeah, I have spent every day since that moment building something with her, we have seen each through just about everything. It's my honour to call Y/N Y/L/N my partner in every sense of the word, and I know she'll be remembered, revered and missed for lifetimes to come."

Jay swallows, nodding as he weakly gives a smile of gratitude, "Thank you for coming."

With reserved haste, he makes his way back to his spot between Will and Kim. Will wraps his arm around his shoulder, and Kim takes one of his hands and squeezes it reassuringly. Both of them cry silent tears as Jay looks down at his feet.

The wake, though a kind gesture on Will and Herrmann’s organisational part, was the last place he wanted to be after the funeral. He sat in the back room with the stock and the spare glassware for a good 20 minutes before Will managed to find him and sit with him. To his credit Will did stay silent and just let Jay be, the presence was more for his own comfort than Jay’s - a feature of solidarity and support, even if it wasn’t necessarily desired right now.

During the course of the afternoon and early evening, Jay eventually speaks to your mother and father, and they embrace Jay in warm and long hugs. They viewed him as part of their family and they had no intention of changing that, inviting him to either visit or video call them anytime.

By the end of the time at Molly's, Jay can't keep his eyes open. The day had taken everything from him, and it's with a weary shuffle that he lets himself be led again by Will from the car to the apartment. Not even batting an eyelid as careful hands remove his shoes, Will's gentle demeanour and voice guide him to bed as his brother helps him get down to boxers and a shirt, wordlessly squeezing Will's arm in thanks as he settles under the covers, turning away to stare at the wall.

Will's stomach drops, sadness filling his chest once again. He strokes a hand through Jay's hair briefly, murmuring, "I'll be right down the hall, bud. There's water and painkillers on the table next to you. I love you, brother." He dims the bedside lamp enough to let Jay sleep, but leaves it bright enough that Jay wouldn't be left in the dark during a potential night terror.

With that Will turns and heads toward the bedroom door, gently shutting it to almost closed, leaving it ajar so he could hear any commotion that might happen during the night.

He sits on the couch with burning eyes, his tie now lying haphazardly on the arm of the couch with a beer in one hand. He was so tired but he found himself wanting to scroll through some old videos of him, you and Jay on various occasions. So he did, he watched videos of the three of you hiking, playing board games, at a baseball game, at Molly's, at a Halloween party, at a concert… There were so many memories that made him laugh and smile through the tears. Starting to truly feel for his own loss of you, his sister-in-law, and the loss of you, his brother's world…

End of Part 6

A/N: I initially was going to give you the beginnings of Burden Sr's capture in this chapter, but then I thought of a better way to make it happen. So y'all are gonna have to wait for the next part, I'm sorry!

Tags: @briannareneea985 - @mrspeacem1nusonee - @elius-learns-to-write - @burgstead

#dead and waiting #jay halstead x reader #chicago pd #one chicago

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ghosts-and-blue-sweaters · 8 months

Note

In regards to the seven sentence tag game:

Let's see if I can manage this without going off into the entire plot of Gears of War and a comprehensive guide to the history, science, culture, society, and economic structure of the world of Sera. Or worse, start ranting about the themes of the story. 😅

So within the world of Gears there's a superweapon called the Hammer of Dawn. It's made up of a network of satellites that can rain down firey hell in concentrated bursts. It's a constant presence within the games, books, and comics and helps showcase the gray areas of humanity in a horrific but necessary way. Basically, big scary laser weapon from space. Not to be used lightly.

One of the bigger plot devices in Gears of War 5 is that they're trying to get the HoD back online. Most of the satellites have been lost, destroyed, or knocked offline and unreachable after the near apocalypse the world of Sera endured. The first mission in the game is to find and launch a working satellite. Unfortunately, one satellite is difficult to aim and doesn't cover a large surface area of the planet. One of the next missions you play is an evacuation of a COG settlement. Obviously things go wrong, things are looking bad and my poor sweet darling JD (James) fueled by guilt, pride, and fear decides to use himself as a targeting beacon for the HoD. It works until the satellite goes haywire and Baird no longer has control over it. And then everything goes to ratshit. JD gets hit with a blast that basically cooks him. He ends up severely wounded and in a coma for a while.

Now that you've got some knowledge to go off of this piece is a little bit of introspection on the relationship between JD and his father, Marcus. I'm kind of going for a "these are the times he remembers holding his son" thing. The first being only a few hours after JD is born. The next time being on JD's sixth birthday, only a short time before his mother's death, an event that drives a huge wedge between Marcus and JD. And the last being this moment when he has to drag his dying child to CASEVAC. I'm wanting to explore Marcus's guilt in not being there for his son and how he feels powerless as his little boy lies dying at his feet. One of Marcus's biggest issues throughout the entire series is his messiah complex. He believes it's his job to shoulder pain and suffering for everyone else. For him to be unable to do that for his own son has to feel like a major failure on his part. We don't really get a whole lot of this from Marcus's point of view within the game or the accompanying book. That's all mostly explored from Kait's perspective which is important and great, but poisonous relationships between parent and child are very important to me and I like to explore them in all their multifaceted detail.

So what did JD do? He lied. He put people that depended on him in danger. And he knowingly killed innocents. Eventually, his hubris caught up with him. And now his father has to face his own as they race for the chance to save JD's dwindling life.

And oops I rambled in your ask box. 🤦 Sorry.

Me when I try to explain Ghostbur or Wilbur or Tommy or anything related to Dream SMP to someone who’s not in the fandom XD I usually end up going into a whole lotta detail lol—probably much more detail than is truly needed.

But it’s fun, so :D

Big scary laser weapon from space, gotcha!

NOOOOOOO JD *carefully covers him with a soft blanket and pats his head*

Ough… oh Deathy. One of my favorite things to read about is complicated relationships between family members. Oh gosh. Oh this fic sounds amazing oh my goodness. OH MY GOODNESS!!!!!

YEAHHHHHH FATHER-SON RELATIONSHIPS THAT ARE MESSY YES YES!!! I LOVE!!! OH MY GOSH YES!!!

You absolutely don’t have to apologize, my friend! Reading rambles is one of my favorite things to do :D And this story sounds sooooo good oh my gosh-

Now I’m curious: what do JD and Marcus act like? What are their personalities? Now that I know the backstory I’m very curious about other aspects of them :0

#thank you so much for the wonderful explanation!!#deathy tag #ask #tw language

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angelasscribbles · 2 years

Text

The King's Punishment Part 2: A Bad Romance Three-Shot

Mini Series: The King's Punishment

Original Series: Bad Romance

Bad Romance One-Shots

Fandom: The Royal Romance

Pairings for series: Riley x Liam, Liam x Max, Riley x Max, Riley x Drake, Riley x Rashad

Paring this chapter: Riley x Drake x Siobhan (F!OC)

Rating: NSFW 🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋

Warnings for this chapter: Purely gratuitous sex

Word Count: 3,218

My other stuff: Master List.

Drake opened the door and his eyes widened in surprise, “What are you doing here? Is everything ok?”

His gaze dropped to the overnight bag in her hand as she pushed her way past him. He stepped to the side to let her by.

“Spending the night with you tonight.” She informed him, tossing the bag onto the couch.

“I'm not complaining, at all, but… why?”

“Liam and Max are in trouble.”

“What the hell did those two do now?”

“Do you really want to know? Because it's sexual in nature.”

“Oh, hell no!” He placed his hands over his ears as he shook his head. His eyes went to the overnight bag again, now laying where she had tossed it on the couch, “I'm confused by the overnight bag though.”

“What confuses you about it?”

“What's it for? You have clothes here. You’ve always kept clothes here.” She did, in fact, have both a dresser and her own closet in Drake’s quarters, both of which were well and fully stocked with all the basic clothing items like panties, bras, socks, t-shirts, tank tops, shorts, sweatpants, and pajamas. She had clothes in both Drake and Liam’s suite’s as well as in the room she kept for herself at the palace, her bedrooms at Valtoria, Ramsford and her rooms at Applewood and every other royal residence across Cordonia as well as abroad. It saved a lot of time on packing.

“Oh, that,” She waved her hand in the air dismissively, “I packed like eight pair of underwear, four t-shirts and no pants. The bag was for dramatic effect.”

“Dramatic effect, huh?”

“It worked.” She told him, “Liam almost shit his pants.”

Drake couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of him at the image that painted. “Good. I’m sure he deserved it for whatever he did, which I still don’t want to know.”

Riley smirked, “Yeah, he did.”

“Have you eaten? Would you like some dinner?” He asked her.

Riley considered him for a moment, then pulled out her phone, her fingers flying over the keyboard. “Dinner can wait.”

“What are you doing?”

She gave him a wicked grin, “I’m about to give you an extra special treat. Besides, I was promised a threesome tonight and goddamn it, I’m getting one!”

“Uh….what?”

“Not like that. Don’t worry. I know you don’t swing that way. I’m ordering another woman.”

“Just like that? Like having room service sent up?”

“Yes, Drake. I have booty calls on speed dial, don’t look so surprised.”

“I’m not surprised that people want you, Riley. That’s kind of your superpower. I just….you really want….”

“Drake.” She stepped into his personal space and ran a hand down his chest, “Ever since you found out about me and Hana, you’ve been making jokes about wanting to watch me with another woman. Or was that all just talk?”

He felt his dick twitch at the mental image she provoked, “Yeah, no. I most definitely do want to see that!”

“Then tonight’s your lucky night. Now stop questioning it and kiss me.”

Fire flared through his eyes, deepening from his usual brightness to a darker, hammered copper shade, the subtle gold flecks standing out a little sharper. He wrapped his arms around her waist and tugged her into his body so that he could comply with her demand. Her head was already tipped up to him, waiting, her full, lush lips parted in invitation. He licked her bottom lip, grazing it with his tongue before pulling it between his teeth. She moaned into his mouth as their tongues collided.

Riley pulled away and shoved him backwards, “Sit.” She ordered as he fell back onto the couch. His hands reached for her greedily as she straddled him. He surged upwards, capturing her lips again as his hands slid under her shirt.

He groaned as his hips thrust up and his hands rolled across her breasts, their mouths still locked on each other. Riley quickly unbuttoned her top, exposing her bare chest to him. She pulled away from his kiss. He jerked upwards trying to recapture her lips, but she tipped her head away and laughed, instead, using her hands to guide his head into her chest. He set to work sucking and licking at her tits with vigor. They spent several long minutes exploring each other with hands, fingers, tongues, and lips.

“Goddamn, just let me inside you right now.” He breathed.

“Now where’s the fun in that?” She teased.

They were interrupted by a knock on the door. Riley pulled away with a seductive grin. “There’s the threesome I ordered.”

“Don’t leave.” Drake groaned, reaching for her. His hands grabbed only empty air as she vacated his lap.

“Trust me, you’re going to enjoy this. Now be a good boy and go wait in the bedroom. I have something in that overnight bag I want to change into.”

Drake stood and reached for her again, “You could just come naked.”

She danced out of his reach with a smirk, “Bedroom. Now.”

“Fine.” He grumbled as he made his way to his room to wait, but he couldn’t deny the arousal and anticipation swirling through him. He pulled off his shoes and socks, untucked his shirt, pulled a dark blue, contoured wingchair next to the bed and sat down to wait.

Riley entered the room a few minutes later with another woman in tow. She looked vaguely familiar. Obviously she worked and/or lived at the palace because she’d gotten to his room so quickly, so he’d probably seen her before. But it was the sight of Riley that knocked the breath from his body. He inhaled sharply as he took her in.

“Are you nervous?” She asked in amusement as she took a quick selfie and sent it off in a text to Liam, to make sure he knew what he was missing.

Drake swallowed thickly. “No…yes.” His eyes traced her movements as she sashayed around the bed in the stupidly short negligee that left very little to the imagination. It was clingy where it should be, flaring out at the bottom, the neckline plunging almost to her navel. It was a patchwork of red lace and silk, revealing tantalizing glimpses of smooth, glowing skin.

“You said you wanted to watch.”

He licked his lips and nodded, eyes still locked on her.

“Drake, this is Siobhan. Siobhan, Drake.”

His eyes flicked over to the other woman standing in his bedroom. She was shorter than Riley, her hair was dark, like Liam’s, long like Riley’s, but straight, smooth, glossy. She was pretty. Not as pretty as Riley, but she had pouty, kissable lips and curves in all the right places. He couldn’t deny that Riley managed to pull hot women. Her ability to attract whatever attention she wanted apparently didn’t apply just to men.

He only wanted Riley. But he couldn’t deny that the thought of this woman’s lips wrapped around him made his dick throb a little. His eyes must have lingered there too long, Riley noticed.

“You like her mouth?” She asked, grabbing and pinching the other woman’s cheeks, “It is a very pretty mouth.”

Riley wound a length of hair around her hand as she brought her mouth to Siobhan’s and ran her tongue across the woman’s bottom lip. Siobhan shuddered; her eyes trained on Riley like she was the only thing in the world that mattered. Like she would drown in her desire for her. Drake recognized the look, and the feeling. He watched while Riley bit into Siobhan’s bottom lip, then sucked it between her own lips. Riley pushed her tongue into Siobhan’s mouth, still holding her hair with one hand, while the other hand squeezed one of her very ample breasts.

“Fuck me.” Drake groaned, his pants suddenly too tight.

Riley stepped back with a seductive grin, “Oh, we’ll get to that alright. But first, some ground rules. You don’t touch her, unless I tell you too, got it?”

He lunged out of the chair, arms shooting out to encircle her, jerking her forward with a growl, “You’re the only one I want to touch. I just want to watch!” He lowered his head and started nipping at the side of her neck.

“Perfect.” She smiled as she pushed him away, “Now stand there and be a good boy. Siobhan, help me undress him.”

“With pleasure, my queen!”

Riley had given up on trying to convince Siobhan that she didn’t have to call her that, mostly because she’d come to like it. The way she said it made it sound so sexual, just like Liam did when they were alone.

Siobhan moved to Drake’s side; quickly reaching to shove his shirt from his shoulders. Riley’s hand shot out and grabbed her wrist, bending her arm back a little. Not enough to really hurt, but enough to get her attention, “The same rule goes for you. You touch him only when, where and how I tell you. Understood?”

Siobhan nodded, frozen, eyes locked on Riley, awaiting further instructions.

Riley released her arm as a slow, satisfied grin spread across her face, “That’s my good girl. Now take his shirt off.”

As Siobhan worked his shirt off, Riley pulled his belt off, unbuttoned his pants and slid the zipper down. She pushed the top of his pants and boxer briefs down, until they tangled around his ankles. His erection sprang free, rock hard and glistening with precum.

“Drake, step out of those pants and sit down in that chair.” Riley ordered. “Siobhan, don’t let him touch me.”

“Yes, my queen.” Siobhan moved behind Drake, grabbing both his wrists and pinning them behind him. Before he realized what she was doing, he found his hands restrained with a pair of handcuffs.

Riley shoved his legs apart as she got down on her knees in front of him. Making direct eye contact she placed the flat of her tongue at his base and licked all the way up the shaft. A primal sound issued from the back of his throat as he watched her, “Fuck, Riley!”

She smiled up at him then ran her tongue lightly around the tip until he was trembling with the strain of not being able to touch her. His entire body arched toward her, silently begging for her to take him all the way into her mouth and to stop being gentle. She lapped the precum off his tip with a flick of her tongue then moved away.

“Please!” He gasped out.

“Siobhan, your turn.” She grabbed the other woman by the hair and kissed her, hard, then whispered, “Don’t let him cum yet. If you make him cum, you won’t, not tonight. Do I make myself clear?”

Siobhan nodded as she sank to her knees in front of him. He was filled with equal parts anticipation, desire and fear. Before he could look at Riley to make sure she was ok with it, Siobhan had him in her mouth. He watched as she took him all the way in, moving her mouth slowly up and down.

“Drake.” At the sound of Riley’s voice, his eyes snapped up to her. She slid the negligee down her body and stepped out of it. His eyes stayed glued to her as she poured some massage oil into the palm of her hand, rubbed her hands together then began to massage her own breasts. She played with them, pinching the nipples, rolling them between her fingers, lifting one tit as she lowered her head, her tongue darting out to lap around her own nipple.

“Jesus, Riley!” His body lurched forward, but his momentum was stopped by the fact that his hands were restrained behind the chairback.

“Siobhan, get up and come here.” Riley commanded.

The other woman rose immediately from her knees and went eagerly into Riley’s arms.

“I want to taste him on you.” Riley told her before running her tongue across Siobhan’s lips then kissing her deeply.

Drake watched Riley basically lick him off Siobhan’s lips and suck him from her mouth. His head fell back, as he struggled against the cuffs, “Oh Jesus fucking Christ!”

Drake was ready to explode, and he couldn’t even stroke himself. He watched as Riley walked toward him with a sway in her hips. His eyes devoured her, tension coiled tight inside him, ready to pounce if given a chance.

Riley sank to her knees in front of him once again, only instead of using her mouth, she leaned into him, pressing his cock between her tits and sliding herself up and down his length. Sounds escaped him that he’d never made before and sweat beaded on his brow as he pushed his body off the chair, moving himself frantically between her breasts. Just when he thought he was about to erupt, she stopped. She moved away as he continued to strain toward her, helpless, high-pitched grunts spilling from him.

“Riley….please….”

“Oh, no, babe. You wanted to watch. You haven’t watched yet. Siobhan, come here.” Riley threw herself onto the bed and crooked a finger at her companion.

Siobhan bounced onto the bed then stopped, asking permission first, “Can I taste you, my queen?”

“You may.”

Siobhan crawled up Riley’s body, kissing her bare skin as she went. She took her time, delighting in every swipe of her tongue on Riley’s soft, supple flesh. She worked her way slowly up, kissing and licking her trembling stomach, smoothing her tongue over her breasts, lapping her way up Riley’s neck until she made it to her lips. Their lips clashed together as primordial, guttural sounds issued from Drake’s throat.

Siobhan reversed directions, her lips gliding down again. When she positioned herself between Riley’s legs and looked up at her queen for approval, Riley moved her fingers in a spinning motion and Siobhan complied by swinging her body around so that her mouth was over Riley’s pussy, and her pussy was hovering over Riley’s.

Drake felt like he was in a fever dream as he watched, unable to touch her, unable to touch himself, as the two women pleasured each other.

Siobhan came first, pausing her own ministrations as she cried out her orgasm. Then she swung herself around to attack the soft flesh between Riley’s legs with renewed vigor. When Riley screamed, arching her back off the mattress, Drake thought he was going to cum right then. His dick was harder than it had ever been in his life, and it was throbbing almost painfully.

“Riley…baby….”

“Yes, Drake?” She asked innocently.

“I want to touch you so bad….please….”

“Siobhan, uncuff the man. It’s your turn to watch.”

“May I touch myself while I watch my queen?”

“Yes, you’ve been a very good girl.” Riley responded.

The moment Drake was free of the cuffs, he dove for the bed, grabbing her legs and yanking her forcefully down with a deep, throaty growl. His release had been denied for so long that he was on a razors edge between pleasure and pain. He’d thought that all he wanted was to bury himself in her, but despite the overwhelmingly erotic pleasure he’d derived from watching the two women together, he felt a deeper, more primal need to reclaim her, to possess her, to make her scream out his name. To reassert his dominance, to prove that, no matter what Siobhan had done to her, no matter how much Riley had enjoyed it, no matter how often Riley allowed Siobhan into her bed, no matter what, she was still his and no one could make her feel as good as he could.

He pushed her legs apart, pressing them both down into the bed as his fingers dug into her thighs, his mouth attacking the naked skin of her inner thigh. He sucked hard enough to bruise, needing to mark her, to lay claim to her, to brand her as his. He didn’t stop until he’d left bruises up and down the inside of both of her legs, from just above the knees to the crook where the legs attach to the pelvis.

He pulled back and surveyed his handiwork with satisfaction before running his tongue along her crevice. He plunged one finger, then two, inside her as his tongue worked at her clit. He set a relentless pace as she writhed and bucked beneath him. Her hands sank into his hair, the tell tale feel of her grip tightening as she pulled harder at his hair telling him she was almost there. He picked up the pace even more as he crooked his fingers inside her and suddenly she was thrashing against him, crying out his name as hot liquid coated his fingers. He withdrew them and used his tongue to lap it up.

“Drake-“

Before she could say another word, he backed off the bed onto his feet, pulled her down, flipped her over and entered her from behind.

“Oh God, yes! Fuck me harder!” Riley cried out, her hands fisting the sheets as she pushed back against him.

Drake’s thrusts were already frantic as he rushed towards the climax that he’d been denied for so long. But this time he was in control. From the chair he’d vacated, he heard Siobhan cry out as she pushed herself over the edge. He never took his eyes off Riley though, her perfect, plump ass in the air just for him, her body rocking back and forth as he hammered into her. Her soft moans and whimpers turning into loud groans and gasps as she rammed herself back into him.

“Fuck, Drake, I’m going to cum again!” Her whines increased in pitch and length until he felt her clenching around him.

That was it, all he could take. He slammed into her one more time, hard, the force of it sending them both crashing to the bed, her pinned between him and the mattress. He lay on top her, his sweat mingling with hers as he pulsed into her, wave after wave of ecstasy washing over him. The orgasm denial had built the tension higher and higher so that when the thread of his restraint finally snapped, a flood of endorphin laced euphoria crashed through him, shocking in its intensity. “Fuck, Riley….” He breathed into her neck.

“Mmmm.” Was all she managed in way of an answer, marinating in her own post orgasmic bliss.

When he could finally move again, he rolled off of her and climbed further into the bed to collapse on his back, chest heaving as he looked up at the ceiling. “Jesus. That was….fuck.”

“You’re welcome.” Riley giggled as she crawled up next to him. She looked over at Siobhan and motioned to her, “Come on, you too.”

Siobhan smiled as she clambered into the bed and snuggled happily up under Riley’s outstretched arm, resting her head on her queen’s chest.

Riley’s other hand reached down to entwine her fingers through Drake’s. She sighed in contentment as she turned her head to gaze up at him. She was satisfied that she’d made his fantasy come true and thoroughly enjoyed herself in the process. The night had turned out pretty damn good for her after all.

That didn’t mean that Liam and Max were off the hook though. Not by a long shot.

#the kings punishment #bad romance #angelasscribbles #drake walker #riley brooks #drake x riley #trr poly #choices fic writers creations #cfwc fics of the week #the royal romance fanfic #drake x mc #Riley x Siobhan #trr #choices #the royal romance #choices stories you play

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theirloveisgross · 9 months

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Is this a thing? Origin stories? So I was pretty ill last summer, and for some reason Harry kept popping up everywhere, especially on my instagram explore page that I was browsing bedridden and out of boredom. In hindsight it was probably because of hslot. So I started to view clips of him every now and then, and suddenly my explore page was full of him and funny one direction videos, that let me to louis who was just starting to promote the fitf singles (and I loved his new sound!). Anyway, soon I couldn’t escape the funny 1D compilations and they really cheered me up so much when I was unwell, but I’m sure we all know they are a short, steep and slippery slide down the larry-rabbit hole. Cue youtube videos and master posts and just the whole mayhem and at some point I ended back up at tumblr, found a bunch of blogs and kept following the people those people would repost from and now my feed is full of Louis and Harry and the rest of the boys.

Never have I ever been a part of a fandom that causes me this level of unease tho, and I think it comes from ppl shipping two real people in a very intrusive way. I’m not talking about you lot I follow here of course, but some people can’t seem to behave and understand that there’s sort of a fourth wall that you’re not supposed to break? Like keep the fandom within the fandom bubble, it doesn’t belong out there in the real world.

That being said, you lot here bring me so much joy at a time when life’s been a bit heavy sometimes! And this fandom has so so much talent it’s crazy!! The writers and artists and gif makers and just everyone here is so crazy talented and fun! So kudos to y’all!!

Hi!

Ah, yes... Harry's tour and his new album, everything exploded last year. I'm so glad you found them then and they provided you with some distraction. They can be... very distracting. I still don't know how to get less distracted, tbh.

Your second paragraph... *sigh* Yes, I hear you. That was something I had to wrap my head around the first few months. The intrusiveness of it all? I felt guilty, too, just by looking at videos being slowed down frame by frame of their reactions, or moments, or whatever. It still feels a bit weird, ngl, but it's so... "normalized" here, in this bubble, that I feel "okay" with it. I do agree with you though, that fandom belongs in the fandom. I still remember that "Sing Walls if Larry is real" sign in Washington last year. We saw it before the show, and we rolled our eyes, and I was like "why would people bring this stuff to their shows", but then Louis did what he did (and trust me, I looked at every angle possible, I am very skeptical about these things, but I was stunned). Why? Why did he do that in the way he did it? Hahajha. Listen- who knows? Maybe they were in a very good place relationship-wise and he was feeling frisky about it. Or... he was just being a little shit and knew the chaos it would cause. Or... yeah, idk. It's hard, and I think it all stems from the 1D days, especially the last year, when the Bears were the stars of the show and how they "communicated" with us through them. And it fucks you up a bit... but people forget circumstances, as well. Things change... they're not in the same band anymore, being worked to death, asked to behave in certain ways and whatnot, or asked to do things they don't want. They're on their own now, and I do believe they appreciate the privacy they have after not being seen together all the time and people thinking they haven't seen each other since... 2016? It's genius, if you ask me. Like, hey, we can be ourselves, in our own little world and nobody's gonna dissect how we move, or if we can even look at each other. And I think things shifted for them in regards of "communicating", it feels like they don't have to, and sometimes some of the things we see, might just be because they're so in tune with each other that these things happen on their own. Not everything, but just some things some people love hammering on about. Okay, I'm rambling here and going on a tangent, and not properly curating my thoughts, sorry...

ANYWAY. I'm glad you're here! :) The talent in the fandom is amazing, I feel so lucky we have people that want to share their work that they do in their free time for free with us all. Love to all! <3

Anyone who sees this and has joined the fandom in the last year or so, send me a message if you want. I’m so curious what was your starting point, what made you go “Larry?” and then “OMG LARRY!”, hajdhahs.

#larrie births #lmao that got long and rambley

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bloodsweatandpotato · 2 years

Text

Day 8

Everything hurts and I’m dying

Fandom: Original work

Characters: Spy Whumpee, Whumper

Tw: Mention of torture, stab wounds

Summary: Sequel to day 3. Whumpee wakes up bound and in pain. Their day just goes downhill from there.

Whumpee blinked awake slowly, eyes stubbornly refusing to focus on their surroundings. They experimentally tried to move their hands, and stifled a groan as pain lanced through their shoulders.

Their head was throbbing, their nose and eyes burned, and their mouth tasted foul in a way that pointed to the less-than-pleasant aftereffects of chloroform. They grimaced, feeling the way a spot on their temple pulled with dried blood and puckered skin.

Whumpee swallowed convulsively, pushing down nausea. They had already humiliated themself enough by being caught unaware in an alleyway. They didn’t need to get sick all over themself to complete the pathetic look.

Whumpee turned their attention back to their surroundings, blinking harshly in an attempt to see clearer.

They were sitting on the floor (well, sitting is relative. They were actually slumped against the wall, but who cares about semantics?) with their hands bound behind them. The pain from when they first woke was enough to dissuade Whumpee from attempting to move their arms again, but they did flex their fingers experimentally.

Handcuffs.

Wrapped around a… metal pipe?

Keeping them shackled against the wall.

Whumpee sighed. They had already been cornered in an alleyway and subdued with chloroform and a tap on the head. Why couldn’t their captor have completed the stereotypical kidnapping by just tying Whumpee to a chair? At least then Whumpee would have had a chance at slipping the knots.

As it was, the only way they would get out of the cuffs would be by dislocating their thumb, and the pain in their arms and shoulders told Whumpee it would be agonizing to even get enough leverage to do so.

They took a deep breath, taking stock of their injuries.

They wiggled their toes (already having established they had feeling in their fingers) and were pleased to find all limbs seemed to be attached and in relatively working order. So, probable concussion (it couldn’t be too bad, Whumpee hadn’t lost consciousness, only been a bit dazed), side effects of chloroform, upper arms that felt as if they had been quite rudely smashed with a hammer, and whatever was wrong with their side.

Whumpee really didn’t want to look down at their side.

They really didn’t want to confirm that it was blood warming their skin.

They looked down anyway.

Fuck.

Just then, the door to the basement (Whumpee had figured out it was a basement by now) swung open, and Whumper stepped in.

Whumpee squinted against the light, watching as Whumper strolled down the stairs and towards them. Their kidnapper didn’t smile.

“You’re awake.” They stated plainly.

Whumpee found an angry smile curling their lips into a half-snarl, and they growled out a response in a voice too-raspy from the chloroform.

“Oh good, your eyes work. I was getting worried, y’know, with how bad the interior design of this place is. Ever heard of, I don’t know, color?”

Whumper didn’t respond to the jab, only scanning Whumpee’s form impassively.

“How are you feeling?”

“Well, everything hurts and I’m dying, but other than that I’m great.” Whumpee rolled their eyes.

“Dying?”

“Well the giant stab wound in my side certainly seems counter to my survival, don’t you think?”

Whumper grunted, eyebrows furrowing in the first display of emotion since they had entered. “I didn’t mean to go so deep.”

Whumpee said nothing.

“I’ll stitch it.” Whumper growled, advancing on Whumpee.

“I’ll bite you.” Whumpee promised.

The gag shoved in Whumpee’s mouth was unsurprising. They didn’t struggle, letting Whumper stitch them with clinical detachment. Well, it appears their kidnapper was keen on keeping them alive, at least for then. Whumpee wondered what information they would be tortured for this time.

#whumptober2022 #whump #no.8 #everything hurts and I’m dying #Whump writing #Whump drabble #oc #generic whumpee #writing #spy Whumpee #spy whump

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mimisempai · 2 years

Text

It's never too late to love 3

Summary:

Thor finds Mobius, will he persuade him to come with him to see Loki? We learn more on Mobius' story before the TVA. Will Loki listen to the truth from Frigga's mouth?

Notes:

I remind, to avoid confusion, that for the main story, it is Classic Loki and Mobius, which is not our Mobius. According to one of the theories of the fandom, that there are several timelines and therefore several TVA.

On AO3

Main post Thank you @rins-love-wins for all the amazing fanarts <3

Once out of the TVA, Thor pointed his hammer to the sky and called Heimdall who teleported him to Asgard.

After arriving in the realm, Thor ran along the Rainbow Bridge before diving straight into the lake.

When he reached the shore, he sighed with relief when he saw the figure of Mobius below the thousand-year-old willow tree planted at the water's edge.

His friend was kneeling on the ground in front of the willow.

It was obvious that he would be there.

Loki's favorite place on Asgard.

Mobius was doing what Thor had seen him do hundreds of times since Frigga had shown him the place twenty years ago.

He was stroking the letters of Loki's name that had been carved by his brother's innocent hand so long ago into the willow wood.

His heart sank as he saw the lonely figure of his friend.

A friend who was as dear to him as his own family.

Since that day Mobius had told Thor and Frigga his story.

Asgard - Twenty years ago

Mobius gasped, "I... I knew him, I knew Loki! We were happy! I... I remember everything! Everything!"

"Mother... What is he saying? I don't understand."

His mother shook her head, "That's for Mobius to talk about, all I can tell you is that we can trust him completely."

Thor looked at her confused and turned to Mobius who continued to cry, muttering nonsensical things, "I knew him... all those books... and my Mr. Rochester... Loki... we loved each other... why..."

Frigga rushed to her knees in front of him and took his hands, "Mobius, vedden, you need to calm down, you need to give your mind time to reintegrate all these memories. I know it's hard, but it will be easier if you can calm down."

As Mobius continued to mutter things that made no sense to them, Frigga helped him to lie down, and kneeling beside him took his hand and put her hand on his forehead, murmuring an incantation to calm him, repeating it over and over until he fell asleep.

When the murmurs finally died down and Mobius fell asleep, Frigga let go of him and got up, dragging Thor, who had stayed there, out of the room.

As soon as she came out, Frigga hugged her son and whispered, with a trembling voice, "Oh Thor, if what I have seen in Mobius' memory is true... if what I have understood from Mobius' words is true... then it is terrible. So... so sad. We really need to find Loki. Not only for him, but also for Mobius. Promise me."

Thor didn't understand, but he had absolute trust in his mother so he replied, "We will. For them."

Asgard - Nowadays

When he was close enough, Thor called softly, "Mobius."

Mobius looked up at him and exclaimed, "Thor, what are you doing here? You should be with Loki!"

Thor went to kneel down next to him and put his hand on Mobius' which was still resting on Loki's name carved into the wood before saying softly, "In the same way you should be there too."

Mobius shook his head, "You didn't see the disgust he had when he realized who I was. He... he only remembers Mobius from the TVA. He... he forgot all about m..."

He couldn't continue because his throat was too tight with emotion.

"Mobius... give him time, I'm sure mother will explain it to him and in the end everything will make sense. What I know and mother too, is that you must not be alone. We won't leave you alone. Do you know what mother said the day you got your memory back?"

Mobius shook his head and Thor continued, "We really need to find Loki. For him and for Mobius."

Mobius' eyes widened in surprise, "F-for me?! But... why?"

Thor looked at him tenderly, "Mobius, from the day Mother learned the truth of your connection to Loki, you were no longer a stranger, or a friend, or an acquaintance, you were recognized as a full member of this family. I know that even after twenty years you refuse to accept it, because you think you have no right to, but today, do you realize that you have fulfilled your oath. You've given us Loki back."

He put his hands on Mobius' shoulders and said fervently, "You and Loki were torn apart by a cruel fate, don't let those who did this to you win. You managed to fight for twenty years, don't give up now."

Mobius bowed his head and whispered, "I'm scared. I don’t want to be alone anymore."

Thor held him close, almost taking his breath away with the force of his embrace, "But you are not alone, mother and I will be with you, even in the event... but let's not think the worst now. Just know that we will never leave you alone."

Mobius tightened his arms around Thor as much as he could and whispered, "Okay... okay, I'll come with you."

Thor let go of him and watched him run his hand over the carved letters one last time before standing up.

Thor caught himself dreaming of the moment when he would see the reunited figures of his brother and Mobius in that place.

He hoped with all his heart that it would be in the near future

Asgard - Twenty years ago

"Loki's favorite place here is under an old willow tree by the lake isn't it?"

Thor and Frigga were eating breakfast and turned together to Mobius who had just entered.

Frigga stood up and came to support him, "Mobius! You need to take it easy."

She helped him sit at the table with them, poured him a cup of tea and garnished a plate and pushed it in front of him.

Mobius repeated, "This was his favorite place, wasn't it?"

Frigga nodded and Thor asked, "How would you know?"

Mobius replied softly, "He promised to take me there one day. He... he often told fondly that it was in this place that you taught him magic."

Frigga, with tears in her eyes, whispered, "It's true."

Thor shook his head and asked incredulously, "But... how...?"

Mobius took a sip of tea and explained, "I don't know what the time is on Asgard, what year, but for me, my story is set in the late 1800s on Midgard as you call it. I was a bookseller and owner of a small bookshop in London, a city in England. I had a cat, called Mr. Rochester, I had some friends, but no family as I was an orphan. I lived a quiet and rather lonely life until one day, Loki came into my little shop."

Frigga interrupted, "Is this a vision we shared?"

Mobius nodded and took a sip of tea before resuming his tale.

"Imagine my surprise when I heard the doorbell of my store ring and found myself with my arms full of books in front of an elegant and distinguished man. He wasn't the kind of customer that my humble little store welcomed. Then, when I asked him how I could help him, he said, 'I don't know what I'm looking for yet, but I think you can help me.' I asked him what kind of author he was looking for and we talked about literature. Later, Loki noticed my chess board and challenged me to beat him. As you can imagine, I lost. Although I didn't know I was dealing with the god of mischief that day."

Mobius, although generally saddened by the memories of that lost past, could not help but smile fondly as he thought back to that day.

"That's how our first meeting went. It was the first of many encounters that spanned over a year."

Thor and Frigga, amazed, had thus learned that Loki and Mobius had become friends and then lovers. That they loved each other deeply and made plans for the future. Loki had told him about these incredible things such as the realms, Asgard and the Bifrost. He told Mobius that he was a prince and Mobius had refused to believe him until the day when Loki had used his magic in front of him.

Then Mobius told them that one day Loki had gone away and had promised him that he would come back with a surprise three days later. He had even arranged to meet him in Mobius' store at a specific time, making him promise to be there.

But Mobius' memory only went as far as the day after Loki left and then continued on to the TVA.

"I still remember men in black, hunters as we called them at the TVA, telling me they had to take me away because my presence might change the course of fate."

After his story, Mobius took another large sip of tea and continued a little lower, "When I think that I worked all those years for the people who took everything from me, that I helped them do the same thing to so many other people. How…how could I ? How do I live with that?"

It was Thor this time who intervened and put his large hand on Mobius' shoulder, "You realize you're a victim, right? Just as much as the others."

"Yes, but I ran away! I left them all there!"

Thor said to him gently, "Mobius, unlike me, you seem to be a rational person. So tell me what would have happened if you had stayed to help the others."

Mobius stated reluctantly, "They would have captured me and I would have had my memory wiped."

Thor nodded knowingly, "Exactly, instead you came here, knowing exactly what you were risking."

Mobius became angry again, "And while they are all blinded, while people are arbitrarily exiled to who knows where, I take the time to rest here, when I should... you should have no sympathy for me."

Frigga, seeing that he was becoming agitated, intervened, "Mobius, you deserve this compassion. You may not accept it, but that won't stop us from giving it to you. As for what you should do, you need to heal first and then we can act accordingly. Not before."

"We?"

Thor, who still had his hand on Mobius' shoulder, shook him a little and replied, "Of course, we! You don't think I'm going to let you go into this alone? Loki is my brother."

Mobius let go for a moment, just for a moment, he wanted to bask in the support that was offered to him. Just a little.

TVA - Medical wing - Loki's room

Frigga arranged the sheets around Loki, wiped the sweat from his forehead, then resumed her seat in the chair next to his bed, taking his hand back in hers.

"Mother..."

Loki opened his eyes and repeated with a slight smile on his lips, "Mother, you're here... it really wasn't a dream then?"

"No my son." said Frigga tenderly before pressing a lingering kiss to his forehead.

"Where... where is Thor?" asked Loki.

Frigga replied, "He went to look for someone who should be here. He should be back soon."

Loki seemed to realize something, "I... I don't know if I dreamed this part or not, but... it seems to me that you hugged this... this agent, this Mobius. Mother, you have to know that he's the one responsible for what happened to me, it's because of him that I-"

Frigga put a finger over his mouth and said softly, "I know that, my son, calm down. There are so many things you don't know. I am going to tell you a story and you will have to listen to me until the end. I'm going to tell you the story of a man whose courage and strength of character was equivalent to that of a god. The story of a man who has been working tirelessly for twenty years to make up for what he believes to be his mistakes, who has carried a relentless guilt for all that time. The story of a man who has spent the last twenty years looking for you. The story of a man who has put your life before his own all these years."

Asgard - A few days ago

Mobius, leaning against the thousand-year-old willow tree, heard the light footsteps behind him and turned around.

Seeing that it was Frigga, he bowed and said with respect, "My queen."

Two slender hands came to rest on his shoulders and made him sit up straight as Frigga said in a wistful voice, "Mobius, you have traveled the universes for nearly twenty years with Thor to seek out Loki, my son, you are at home here, you have your own retinue, you are recognized by all the people of Asgard, you even became a lord of Asgard. I consider you to be my son in the same way as Thor and Loki, will you never call me mother or at least Frigga?"

Mobius grabbed the queen's hands and, holding them in his, he replied, his throat tight, "Although in my heart I consider you as such, I have no right to do so until I have returned your other son."

He let go of the queen's hands and walked to the water's edge under Frigga's saddened gaze.

"Your Majesty! Your Majesty! Lord Mobius! Messengers have just arrived in the throne room! They say they are from another universe!"

Seeing that the Queen and Mobius did not react immediately, the young servant, breathless, continued, "That's... that's strange… One looks like you." the maid pointed to Mobius continued, "And the other like his highness, the Prince Loki."

TVA - Medical wing - Loki's room

Frigga continued, "I'll start at the very beginning and tell you the story of Mobius, a humble bookseller who lived on Midgard in 1890 of their time, and whose fate crossed that of a god."

Mobius in Asgard under the willow tree - Loki's favorite place by @rins-love-wins

Hand of Mobius following the name of Loki engraved on the willow by @rins-love-wins

#ClassicLoki/Mobius #classic loki #mobius #not our mobius #older mobius #thor #frigga #ravonna renslayer #hunter b 15 #crackship #crackship treated seriously #getting together #classic Lokius #lokius fic #Loki series

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