gremlinfuck

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Major

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me when the story is set in days of future past and the reader is dead in the present and logan sees them when he goes back to 1973 and it’s the most angsty shit I’ve ever read

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Logan (2017) dir. James Mangold

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Why is he so fine like actually

The Wolverine (2013)

Do NOT repost without credit please

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in my heart they're still on a road trip

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it is planned as a comic of several pages

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Hello fanfic writers, I want to post something put tumblr says it’s too long? How do you guys fit long fics on here, HELP!!!

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Gunlance 👍

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metaltango is actually endgame. capcom told me

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New objective: k i l l

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2.14

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I'd Be Home With You (Krauser x GN! Reader)

You fought each other and both lost. It's not the ending you would have chosen, but it's one you're at peace with.

Word count: 982

CW: major character death, angst

“You’re gonna be the death of me.”

Never let it be said that life didn’t have a sense of humor. A bad one, maybe. A taste for irony in the bitterest sense of the word, but a sense of humor, nonetheless. 

You wondered if Jack remembered saying those words to you, years and years ago. You’d cracked some stupid joke, and the Major had rolled his eyes. Smiled. Spoke those words with an affection that had given you pause. You remembered that moment because it was when you knew that loyalty wasn’t the full extent of what you felt for the man. There was something else. Something more. 

You remembered that moment now, because it seemed so impossibly far away. It was a time you would give anything to go back to. 

You’re gonna be the death of me.

He wasn’t smiling now. There had been fury in his eyes as you’d fought. Fury and hatred and desperation. A madness you couldn’t name or recognize. It all faded now, as the realization set in. As the cold metal sank home, into his chest, just like he’d taught. Just like that, a passing joke was turned into something heavier. Inescapable. As your knife finally stopped at the hilt, you thought of those words. The death of me. 

The price of that death settled heavily in your gut, flesh and bone that was twisted and mangled and sharp enough to punch clean through you. Enough to make blood bubble up in your throat and spill down your chin with a cough. 

Krauser’s eyes, even fading, widened at the sight. Then washed over him a look of understanding. Acceptance. 

Equal exchange. A life for a life. 

His for yours. Yours for his. 

“Thought I . . . taught you better . . .” he managed, still standing somehow, the both of you leaning on each other to stay up. It was a house of cards, you knew, because the stone and earth beneath you was calling. Beckoning the two of you to, after such a battle, after so much hurt, to rest. You hadn’t wanted to do this. You’d tried - really tried - to make him see reason. To call back the man you knew. In the end, though, he’d forced your hand. Your mission, your orders, all of it pointed towards this moment. 

You should have had the strength to survive it. Krauser was right, he’d trained you better. He’d given you the tools you needed to fight and to live. He’d given you strength, a shoulder to lean on, an ear to listen. Major. Friend. Confidant. Partner. Enemy. Jack Krauser had been so many things to you, and now, he would be one more. 

He would be the last person you ever saw, and you the final soul to see him. At that moment, you couldn’t imagine it ending any other way. Falling on each other’s blades. You were sure you’d seen that film or read that tragedy. 

Now, though, even with the taste of ruin in your mouth, you just laughed. Even if it was a dying thing. “Taught me . . . everything I needed,” you said, gritting your teeth through the pain. Staggering a little as your legs started to give. You wouldn’t have to live in a world where you killed the man you cared for most, now. That knowledge, that weight, would be picked clean by whatever carrion birds would circle you by morning. There was peace in that. 

Peace enough that, as the two of you sank to your knees together, your blades still locked in each other’s flesh, you smiled. “Had you on the ropes.” 

Krauser’s head lolled forward a bit, the warpaint on his face doing nothing to hide the curl of his scarred lips. His gaze was unsteady, but he still tried to look you in the eyes as he spoke. “Look where it got you.” There was no venom in his words. No malice. No anger. Just him, however weak. The man you knew, once, who’d saved you just as you’d saved him. So many missions, bruises and cuts and broken bones . . . 

“Glad it’s over,” you said with another cough, admitting what had been burrowing into you for years. Freeing what you’d kept to yourself. 

You supposed you could have mourned what might have been. Even as you looked into his eyes, though, even as you imagined being so close under better circumstances . . . 

No. This would do. 

Because no matter what could have been, no matter how things might have ended up, you felt a little lighter as Jack huffed one of his final breaths. “Glad it’s you.” 

You should have heard those words under different circumstances, but this was alright too. As the world started to blur, it was enough to know that, even with all the fury that had built between the two of you, even with all the wounds you’d dealt and been dealt, it didn’t matter. That whatever he felt, beneath it all, there was care. Whatever name it took didn’t matter as you felt yourself teetering. As you nodded - or maybe it was just the world around you dipping and dancing. Either way, you knew your forehead rested against his for a moment as death reached for the two of you.

“Feeling’s mutual . . . Major.” 

Your grip on the knife was growing weaker. 

His eyelids looked like they were being weighed down. 

“Knew . . . heh . . .” he shook his head, “knew you were gonna be the death of me.” 

You couldn’t quite manage a laugh this time as you both fell. Even so, as your vision ebbed, as you felt your blood seeping out of your body, you weren't afraid.

Jack went before you did, the blade in his chest cutting the thread of your story together. Good, bad . . . none of it mattered. Wherever he went, you knew you wouldn't be far behind.

That was an ending you could live with.

A/N: The seasonal depression and Hozier are responsible for this ("In A Week" specifically)

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Good night 💤