#Rapture Derek

[drabblesofrapture]

Hello Again (Superhero AU)

Our Superhero AU went from really lighthearted to very, very sad...

TW: parental death mention, murder mention, broken friendship

~~~

“Hey.”

Derek squealed and jumped. He turned around to see who had spoken, but nobody was there. “I- Selena?”

Silence.

“You never had to be all quiet, you know?”

Another frightened squeal erupted from Derek as he turned back around. There she was. Selena Mavis, in the flesh. The girl he had been avoiding for almost three years now. He hadn’t planned on changing that anytime soon, but…

“So how was your date?” she asked, crossing her arms. “I hear you and Cora are still going steady. Was the movie great?”

Gulping, Derek clapped his hands together. “Uh– Yeah,” he said, a little louder than he meant to. “Saw it in IMAX. Great film.”

The look on her face made him wish that he still knew her as well as he used to. “Good,” she whispered. “Good.”

They sat for a few moments, staring at each other. Derek waited a few agonizing moments before clearing his throat and stepping back. “Uh– I should be getting home now– It was nice seeing you–”

“Don’t,” Selena said, holding her hand up. “Don’t do that, like we’ll be seeing each other tomorrow like old times. We both know that’s not going to happen.”

Lowering his head, Derek turned away so he wouldn’t have to face her head on. “Look… Selena,” he mumbled. “Why are you here? We… We don’t–”

“Don’t what?” she laughed humorlessly. “Hang out? I noticed. Believe me.

“So why?” she asked. “Why did you start avoiding me? I… I thought we were friends.”

“I–” Derek groaned, running his hands over his face. “Maybe,” he said. “I don’t know, maybe I was scared. Really, really scared.”

“Scared of what?” Selena asked. “Of who? Me?”

Derek’s stare was piercing. “... Yeah,” he finally said. “I think it’s safe to say that I am.”

Her face fell. Somehow, she hadn’t been expecting that. Maybe she wanted him to lie, or to say nothing…

“Why are you surprised?” Derek scoffed. He gestured around at the empty alleyway. “Look what you’ve done. Look what you did back then!”

Selena looked away. “... I’m a different person, now-”

“You killed people, Selena!” Derek practically yelled, struggling to keep his voice down as he stepped unconsciously closer to her. “You killed so many people! Do you fucking understand that?”

Shutting her eyes, Selena took a deep breath. William had said Derek was avoiding the news and all that, she remembered, there was no way he would know how dangerous it was for her to lose control. 

“That’s… of course I do,” she muttered, kicking at a rock. 

“Do you?” Derek asked quietly, moving to try and catch her gaze. “Selena - they’re gone. Gone, gone. No matter what they did to you…”

“You know how much that shit hurt me.” Selena’s voice trembled as she shut her eyes. “They fucking deserved it.”

“No.”

She finally looked back up at Derek. He looked like he didn’t know whether to be scared, or furious, or just… sad. 

“No, Selena. The people that bullied you when we were younger did not deserve to die. None of them.”

Her teeth clenched, and she put a hand to her forehead. It felt wet - it wasn’t raining. She was getting too emotional, she was getting too close to the edge.

“You even killed a mother,” Derek said quietly. “You… I can’t believe you-”

“That kid was safer elsewhere!” Selena yelled, stepping forward. Reaching a tense arm up, she pointed out at the city. “No mom like that, that bully, ever deserves to be around a kid! Never!”

“She grew up, Selena!” Derek shouted back, throwing his arms out to the sides. “This isn’t like a recess fight, you killed her for something that happened years ago!”

“And now it’ll never happen again,” she hissed. “Not from her, and not from any of the other ones.”

“Half of them grew out of it, Selena! At least! You killed people for things they stopped doing, and never did again!”

“That doesn’t mean the hurt goes away! That doesn’t mean they get away with it, they can always go back!”

“So, what, you killed them? Killed them so they never have a chance to redeem themselves!?”

“They already had their chances! What about me, huh!? How about how my life ended up from what they did! They don’t say ‘sorry,’ and they get a nice life and I don’t!? They-”

Selena was cut off. A gust of wind slammed into her like a sledgehammer, and she flew backwards until she rolled to a stop on the ground.

With a groan, she rolled back to her front, pushing herself up with one arm as she wrapped the other around her torso. She definitely had bruises from the concrete, and she would have to be checked over for more.

She lifted her head, her vision beginning to clear as she saw somebody land next to Derek, someone with long blonde hair, touching his arm softly, murmuring to him. Fuck.

“Cora.”

Cora turned around, her eyes landing on Selena. Her eyes turned from that ice and cobalt blue to a full glowing white, and she lifted her hands towards the crumpled figure on the ground. “Don’t come any closer,” she warned. “I won’t let you hurt him.”

A hiss escaped Selena’s teeth as she bared them at Cora. “I would never. Harm. Him.”

“Tell that to Jeff.”

Selena grit her teeth. She could feel them growing sharp. She didn’t care. “Jeff is different,” she growled. “Jeff tricked me, he led me on for years. Derek is-”

“What?” Cora said flatly, stepping closer to her. “Your friend? Someone you trust? You treated everybody like shit and threw them away when they came to help you. You thought you would act differently around Derek?”

“Yes!” Selena shrieked, getting up to her hands and knees. It was starting to rain, droplets falling over her face and hair, mingling with the blank ink down the side of her face. “He’s my friend, he cares, he-”

“You attacked him in his own home!”

“I attacked Will!” Selena screamed, sitting up as she clenched her fists. “I attacked Will, he was there, he’s dangerous, I couldn’t-!”

“STOP!”

The two looked at Derek. His chest was heaving, and he had his hands clutched to his hair. “Just- STOP!” he shouted again, shutting his eyes. He shook his head violently before he looked at Selena again, pointing at her. 

“You-” he swallowed. “We are not friends. Not anymore. Not after you turned your back on everything we were.”

Selena’s heart dropped in her chest. The rain was pouring harder, now, drenching them all and making it hard to hear.

“... Come on,” Cora said quietly, putting a hand onto Derek’s shoulder. “Let’s go home.”

“... Hey…” Selena looked up. She saw her hand reach out to them as they began to turn away, but she couldn’t feel anything but the rain. “Hey, we’re not done-”

“You’ve done enough!” Cora snapped, glaring over her shoulder at the girl. “You’ve hurt him enough! Now go away!”

Selena could only watch numbly as they walked away, Cora covering Derek with her jacket to shield him from the rain. Selena’s own coat was getting soaked, the ends laying on the ground as she knelt there.

“... I…” She couldn’t tell whether or not it was the rain taking her body over with the cold, or the creature taking her body over with the madness again. “... What about me?”

Trembling, she lowered her head to the ground, holding it between her hands like it would explode. She stared wide-eyed at the concrete, propped up on her elbows. The only warmth she could feel now were her tears.

“... He hurt me,” she whispered. “What about me?”

[freefallingup13]

Naive Princess pt. 7

Part 6

FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT

TW: Acidic smoke/Chemical burns, gun violence, demons, blood, them mfers be fighting + with magic to boot

~~~

“Keep your filth off of me!” Aidel snarled as a spike of smoke spiked towards Jeff. They were in the thick of combat now, flying and swinging around the room. Between Jeff’s blood and Aidel’s smoke, none of the minors could get a shot in - everything between them was a blur. Every few seconds a desk would splinter, or a filing cabinet would get smashed in. Gildenhos had ordered them to put their guns away. Jeff was fighting, Jeff could handle it.

He stabbed a rope outwards, but it slammed into the wall. Aidel had flown out of the way, responding by whipping a tendril of smoke into the demon. Jeff growled as the smoke burned his skin - was it acid or heat? They had never gotten a full analysis of his powers. It was making things difficult.

"Shouldn't have trusted- you-!" he snarled, his voice distorted now that it had no Glamour. He stabbed his ropes into the ceiling, then swung. His claws were extended to catch Aidel mid-air,but Jeff found his hands embedded in the dirt of the ceiling.

“Oh, never,” Aidel mocked him, holding his hands out. His smoke slashed against Jeff’s bare back, making the demon hiss in pain. Aidel’s teeth grit into each other as he grinned, sending more tendrils to wrap around Jeff’s torso.

He never got the chance - Jeff tensed as he saw the smoke coming, and ropes exploded around him to cover him like a bowl against the ceiling. The smoke made his blood hiss as it began to bubble, but Jeff was getting used to the feeling.

Aidel had to turn his attention away - one of the minors had ignored the order to put their gun away, firing at him. He sniffed as he waved the bullet off-course with a small gust from his palm. Hadn’t they noticed how useless those guns were by now? It wasn’t like any of them had hit him, they only hit Je-

Distracted once again. His eyes widened as a black, wet-sounding rope shot out just a hair’s breadth from his nose. Jerking back, he redirected the winds to hurl towards Jeff once more. 

The demon was lunging from the ceiling when he looked back, one arm creating a shield of blood that blocked the smoke from touching his skin directly. Smart, Aidel could admit, but the air was decidedly his domain. All it took was a slight redirection, and the gales slammed straight down onto the edge of Jeff’s makeshift defense. The impact made Jeff flip off-course, slamming face-first into an overturned desk.

With a triumphant laugh, Aidel turned to the pile of hellspawn surrounding his prize. So much of the girl’s blood had been wasted, now, soaking into the ground. He could only hope that the ungodly amount of blood her system produced would be enough for the summoning.

Taking care of the minors would be easy enough. He used a single tendril to strike at the minor that had shot at him, heavily burning their arms so they couldn’t even hold the gun, let alone fire it. The shout of pain left a grin on the corner of his lips.

The tendril became a cloud, almost hand-like as it darted towards the group of minors. Burning Selena would be fine, as long as her blood wasn’t tainted. She didn’t need to be intact.

A blue, transparent bubble phased into existence around the group, making his smoke whisk harmlessly over the surface - and over them. He growled to himself as he scanned to see which one had done it. A familiar red scarf showed itself dully against the blue; it was that paranoid vampire boy, staring wide-eyed back at him as he cradled the girl. 

Aidel sniffed. Of course it would be the boy who almost ruined everything that decided to be one last hurdle.

Rolling his eyes, he lifted one hand, beginning to curl the cloud over the shield. There was a hissing sound as the boy flinched. Good - the shield could be connected physically to the boy’s pain. If he could make it just painful enough-

He ripped his hand back with a hiss, swiping his other hand across to blow away the fire another demon had summoned. No - not just a demon. It was one of the girl’s siblings. The Greed dragon - he’d lit the smoke on fire with a single breath, his cool, steady gaze burning silently into Aidel.

His teeth grit hard against each other. Great. A Patron, healers, shields. All the things he didn’t want to deal with. This was supposed to be easy.

Oh, and there was the other damned demon.

A black rope wrapped around Aidel’s torso, dragging him down with a steel grip. He started to wave his hand, but he was tackled-midair into the wall, creating a crater that shook the room.

“Got you,” Jeff hissed before wrapping Aidel’s hands to his sides with more ropes. As Aidel squirmed from the impact, coughing to regain his breath, Jeff stepped back, lifting him out from the rubble. He wrapped the ropes around his hand, gripping them tightly in his fist.

~~~

“Sir!” 

Gildenhos only slightly tilted his head towards the minor that approached him, running up from the hallway. “I trust you’ve informed my father about what’s going on?”

“Yes, sir!” The minor nodded. “He’s very wrapped up trying to get away from the crowd, sir. They’re trying to get Belial into position as we speak. Do I need to go back and tell him to hurry?”

“No,” he replied, turning completely forward with a nod. “There’s no hurry. Jeff has the situation handled.”

Part 8

[kitchenisking]

Fic Rec ❤️😇😁🥰

We made it to the weekend!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! So because we are amazing and we made it through a whole week I thought I would reward all of us awesome people with another 10 fics just for fun!☺️

home by jesuisgrace - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 2386, sterek)

“It’s alright, Scotty, we’ll find him, okay? Let me think. We’ve checked the loft, the preserve, everybody’s house, Deaton’s, the school - has anybody been to the old train station? Anywhere he’d associate with pack. I think that’s where he’ll go. Somewhere… if he’s stuck, or feral, or whatever… he’d go somewhere safe. His wolf will take him somewhere he feels safe.

Heartbeat To Remind Me by GotTheSilver - (Rating: Mature, Words: 9437, sterek)

“Spit it out, Stiles,” Derek says impatiently.

“I can kind of heal myself. Sometimes.”

A Teen Wolf/Addams Family crossover where Stiles has some inherited talents he's been keeping secret.

Hunting for Clues by thepsychicclam - (Rating: Mature, Words: 3163, sterek)

To complete the mating ritual, Derek has to go on the mating run to find Stiles, which is a scavenger hunt around Beacon Hills. Derek just wants to find Stiles before he crawls out of his skin.

Multidisciplinary Studies by DevilDoll - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 51348, sterek)

Stiles is a slightly-older-and-very-sexy librarian and Derek has a thirst for knowledge.

We Want This by bleep0bleep - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 2498, sterek)

Stiles blinks, and he's choking. There's something hot and thick in his mouth, moving forward, thrusting into his throat, and there's a heady musk, a thick scent surrounding him, something pulling Stiles' hair, tugging it-- "God, Stiles, you look so good like this," and that's Derek's voice, panting above him, voice wrecked with pleasure. ~ Ever since the MRI, Stiles has been losing time. He comes to in an interesting situation.

Very Important Research by BeniMaiko - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 2195, sterek)

Stiles is really good at research. Like, really good, OK? His current area of study is Derek. Specifically, the things that Derek likes in bed. As in Stiles’ bed. Because sex is a thing they do together now.

Ground Me With Your Touch by Asterekmess (Livinginfictions) - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 7212, sterek)

Suffering from full moon-induced sensory overload, Derek agrees to let his teammate and crush, Stiles, try to help ground him with some skin contact. It works.

The Rapture in the Dark Puts Me at Ease by secondstar - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 28159, sterek)

Derek Hale returns home from war to find that the home he knew and the family he had are gone. Greed, poverty and cruelty have replaced his idyllic memories. Despite the new harshness of Beacon Hills, Derek refuses to believe that all hope is lost. And it seems he is not alone as the mysterious Night Watchman deliver hope to the people of Beacon Hills by giving food and money to those who need it most.

The Night Watchman will not tolerate this injustice. Will Derek?

Karma Is A Bitch by Brego_Mellon_Nin - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 17220, sterek)

Ironically, Stiles was just returning to his dorm after failed negotiations about a possible adoption agreement with a local pack, when he saw the fairy. She was cornered and he was unable to curb his protective instincts.

The fight was short and Stiles was left with only a blooming bruise on his jaw when the bullies scurried away. As a thank you, the fairy wanted to grant him a wish.

Who knew what a bit of fairy fertility magic could do?

Whatever you need by TuppingLiberty - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 11318, sterek)

Derek wakes to find that Stiles has gone into heat overnight, and helps his mate out. 

That's it. Purely PWP and some feelings thrown in. ;)

Chapters 2 and beyond: the PWP that grew some plot, but then also some more porn.

[princeescaluswords]

I see you are a huge fan of fics where Scott McCall dies. Don't worry! More content coming right up! ;)))

As a matter of fact I do enjoy fiction where Scott dies, so thank you very much.

Indeed, my first multi-chaptered Teen Wolf fanfiction, completed all in the way back in 2016 when I was new to both fandom and fanfiction and called Army of Ghosts, has Scott dying in the first chapter. He’s blown up in an ambush and then purposefully dismembered, and the rest of the story is an exploration of how Stiles copes with it. Hint: not well. It’s quite a dark story.

You see, there’s nothing wrong with Dark Fiction, by which I mean fiction which explores activities or events that are rejected as undesirable by modern society, in a way that centers the narratives on the activities or events in and of themselves, and not simply as obstacles for the protagonist to overcome. I believe that not only should these stories exist but they serve a valuable purpose when it comes to understanding the people around us.

My objection has always been to what I call Exploitative Fiction, by which I mean fiction which portrays activities or events that are rejected as undesirable by modern society, in a way that ignores context, consequences and even logic, with the end goal being to present those activities or events as positive experiences for a purpose not directly connected to the activity or event itself.

That’s wordy, isn’t it? Let me give you some examples then to help clarify. I consider it Exploitative Fiction when rape is presented as a step on the path to love, where physical coercion into the sexual act is seen as evidence of passion, but the consequences of employing violence as a shorthand for possessive desire are simply negated because the goal of the story is romantic rapture. I consider it Exploitative Fiction when a slave falls in love with their owner and they develop true feelings for each other, but they still exist within the same slave-owning society, yet the context of that relationship is ignored simply to produce the most intense version of you-and-me-against the world. I consider it Exploitative Fiction when writers create a fanfiction collection called 101 Ways to Kill Scott McCall, in which it is a safe bet that these aren’t explorations of how his death affects others but merely vessels for the unbridled rage of people furious that MTV decided to film a television show with a minority heroic protagonist as the lead.

The reaction to this caution is for individuals to purposefully confuse Dark Fiction and Exploitative Fiction, attempting to shift the argument by obscuring the difference. They employ the motte-and-bailey fallacy, where they point out that Exploitative Fiction is a form of Dark Fiction but choose to defend Dark Fiction, which isn' t the topic. In other words, when someone says “Hey, maybe you should be careful when sharing a story where a traumatized sixteen-year-old with abandonment issues enters into a relationship with a middle-aged millionaire white male serial killer, whose very presence will isolate the teenager from his family and friends, that you don’t present it as a flawless gateway to perfect happiness?” they respond with “You just want everything to be sunshine and rainbows and good triumphing over evil, you Puritan Scold!” and suddenly a person wondering why a story straight out of the discarded scripts of To Catch a Predator is being used as spank-bank material is labeled as Goody Chastity, Implacable Enemy of Joy and Sexy Fun.

“But PEW,” you say, “Isn’t this just your opinion?” And my reply is “Yes, it is my opinion, but it’s not just mine. Let’s talk about Kyle Rayner’s girlfriend.”

For those who don’t know, the term “fridging” came about from an issues of Green Lantern, where a supervillain killed Kyle Rayner’s girlfriend and stuffed her into a refrigerator for him to find. Whatever someone may think of that particular storyline, it started a conversation about female characters being killed as a function of a male character’s development. Having a supervillain brutally murder the loved one of a hero is pretty dark. It’s Dark Fiction. No one said that supervillains can’t murder or can’t murder certain people or that the hero can’t react to those murders. The complaint was that the female character existed solely to be murdered. Her only function in the story was to generate Kyle’s angst, to set up a situation where his character is explored. She was Exploited.

Why is this a big deal? Because it happens a lot, and not just in comic books. In television, in movies, in literature, women are often reduced in narrative function again and again to shortcuts for male character development. Better scholars than me have written about this exhaustively and pointed out how this fictional exploitation feeds into real-world exploitation (and vice-versa). It’s not hard to find a significant amount of public research.

So yeah, in posts like this one, I complain about Exploitative Fiction in the fandom community to which I belong. Because it doesn’t take a literary critic to read these stories and perceive that the goal of the story isn’t to explore the darkness in which Stiles and his killer boyfriend (whether that be Derek or Peter) murder his best friend, it’s the satisfaction of rage that their white favorites weren’t the focus of the show. Again, again, and again in humiliating, degrading detail Scott is murdered or maimed or stripped of power, in one-sided beat downs that follow no discernible internal rules but one: white male characters must win. It’s not about a power struggle or logical consequences, it’s about punishing a character for daring to be the lead, and it’s racist.

You know how I know that? Because I have never found a story where Stiles and Peter hunt down and murder Isaac Lahey for the crime of abandoning the Hale Pack, slandering Peter, or physically attacking Stiles twice. Because I have never found a story where ArchSpark Stiles tortures Jackson or strips him of his lycanthropy because he almost killed the Hales and his father, rejected Derek, and was forced to serve Gerard. Because I have found few stories where Stiles is murdered by Peter because he was plotting against him, and the evidence is that Stiles said mean things about him. It’s nine hundred and ninety times out of a thousand, it's Bad Alpha/Friend Scott, or if it’s not Scott, it’s Sinister Tree Wizard Deaton. And the sample size, my friends, is very large.

So no, I’m not against Dark Fiction. In my fiction, Scott has been killed, maimed, and imprisoned. (I’ve actually been accused of being obsessed with putting Scott in jail.) I’ve explored the consequences of these actions on Scott and the people around him, and it hasn’t always been a happy ending. I look forward to reading stories where he has endured terrible trauma. I’m reading one right now that I’m simply head-over-heels about. I just think that Exploitative Fiction needs to be addressed, head on, especially when it feeds fandom racism.

[alexandrablake]

myrtle ave.

summary: “i love you more than i have ever found a way to say to you” ~ ben fold. or five times derek morgan said i love you, and the one time he actually said “i love you”

pairing: morcia word count: 5,427 warnings: slight mention of food. other than that, this is pure fluff. a/n: couple things. 1- this is dedicated to @morcias​​ not only because she actually helped me with this, but because she was my inspiration for this. 2- never written a 5/1, how do we feel? 3- title comes from the mxmtoon song by the same name because it reminds me of them click here to be added to my taglist!

“the most indispensable ingredient of all good home cooking: love for those you are cooking for.” - sophia loren

She was late, oh so late, and to what she wasn’t sure. There was nowhere to go except home, and no one waiting for her except for day old leftovers and a hot shower.

Hot shower would feel amazing. Maybe that’s what she was late for. 

Frigid air filled her lungs as she stepped out of her car, and she immediately hugged her coat even closer to her as some form of protection. Huddling as best as she could from the wind, she made her way to her front door. She fumbled with the house keys because damn were her fingers cold, but the feeling that enveloped her as she finally walked in the room made it worth it.

It was warm in her house, as it always was, and she was rushed by the feeling of familiarity as she always did when she came home. It was always nice to have a place to come home to, a place where she could be herself, a place to be free from the burdens of the world she sees everyday.

In the comfort of her own home, fatigue of her long hours began to set in. She yawned as she made her way down the hallways towards the kitchen and had to rub her eyes several times to confirm that the mirage in front of her was not so.

A plate was lying at her normal seat at the table, complete with silverware. It was haphazardly covered by a pot lid, and she could make out her shocked reflection in it. Steam was collecting against it - the cooking was done recently.

She spun around to find the cook, but her search turned up no one. Setting her bags down on the couch as she passed, Penelope let out a content sigh when she caught a figure she knew all too well lying in her bed.

Derek Morgan was to blame.

Picturesque white clouds billowed out from the lid as she lifted it. There was shuffling from her bedroom, and she looked up to find herself raptured in the gaze of brown eyes.

“It’s masala.”

Her favorite.

“I-I didn’t know you were coming over tonight,” she stammered as she made her way over to him, hands coming to rest on his upper arm.

He leaned into her palm, blinking away sleep. “I wasn’t. Emily called, said you were working late, and I figured you needed something to eat.”

Her heart sang, and she had to resist the urge to kiss him. There was a time and place to speak the unspoken words between them, but then was not the time.

“Thank you.”

“Anything for you, babygirl.”

“gestures, in love, are incomparably more attractive, effective, and valuable than words.” - francois rabelais

For what it was worth, she really did try to have a good day. She smiled at her coworkers as they passed, and there was no horrible case file to cross her desk, and her outfit was incredible, and her wonderful little angel of a godson was brought in, and and and and

Yet, she still felt so bad. 

Everyone had bad days, it didn’t matter who you were or what you did- and everyone included Penelope Garcia. So, she sat through it, frowning at the bright screens in front of her, thinking that she would rather be anywhere but there.

Derek was working from home, so her safe place was away from her. Of course, she could call him, but he was probably working, and she didn’t really want to bother him just to complain about everything and nothing at the same time.

So she waited and waited, tossing a stress ball from hand to hand, and counted down the moments until she could go home. Penelope prided herself on many things, but her patience when it came to getting off of work did not even make the longlist.

For once, however, the universe took pity on her, by way of one Aaron Hotchner. A stark contrast to her, Hotch had a good day and was sporting a rare smile when he knocked on her door.

“Come in.” Penelope didn’t even try to keep her bad mood from surfacing.

Hotch leaned back onto her desk as he said, “Garcia, why don’t you go home? Almost everyone else has, so there’s no use in keeping you here.”

It felt like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders, but she fought to keep her voice from expressing her overwhelming relief. “Thank you, sir, I appreciate it, but are you sure?”

“Garcia.” He shot her a stern look, but there was no menace behind it. “Take it and leave.”

He didn’t have to tell her twice - well, technically he did, but that's besides the point. Hastily grabbing her things, she bid him a quick goodbye and made her way to the elevator. 

On the car drive home, the bad mood came back, the high of getting off work early quickly wearing off. She had to get gas on her way home, and when she made her way back into her car, she put on her sad playlist. It made her day even worse when she realized that, in her huge library of playlists for every mood, she didn’t have one for whatever she was feeling right then. 

Her parking job was bad, but at that moment, she couldn’t care less. Hot tears rushed to her eyes, and she was fighting a losing battle to keep them at bay. 

“Do not cry. Do not cry. Do not cry,” she chanted as she made her way up the steps. The mantra did not work, and soon she was sitting on the top stair with mascara running down her cheeks. 

It only made it worse that she didn’t have a reason for being so upset.

Cars flew by on the road in front of her, and she stared at them as they passed. Her eyes bounced from them to the little garden that was growing in the courtyard, searching, scanning, for something to ground her. 

Setting with gazing at the clouds, she leaned back onto the stairs. Her back began to ache immediately at the awkward positioning, but, in that moment, she couldn’t have cared less. 

She realized - as she stared at a cloud that looked strikingly like a duckling - that she was allowed to be upset. She couldn’t beat herself up about being in a bad mood, because that would only make it worse. 

That didn’t mean she wasn’t still upset. That doesn’t mean she still didn’t know what was the matter. It just meant that she was allowing herself to be upset.

So she pushed herself off of the concrete steps, tearing her eyes from the fluffy clouds in the sky. Hardening her resolve, she moved towards her door, digging deep into her pockets for her key as she made a half-assed attempt at scrubbing the mascara off her cheek.

The key clicked as she turned it, but Garcia couldn’t make herself open the door, not yet. Inside, there was a very beautiful, loving, joyous man who could probably make her feel better with just one flash of his blinding smile. But, he’d want to talk about what was troubling her so he could fix it. 

That’s who he was. Derek Morgan was a fixer. But Penelope didn’t want to be fixed, because she didn’t even know what was wrong. 

With a huff and a few words of affirmation to herself, she was able to push the door open. 

The sound of dishes clanging and jovial whistling floated down the hall as she shut the door behind her, slipping out of her shoes. She didn’t announce her presence because she didn’t completely trust her voice, but the noises ceased as she made her way to the kitchen and leaned against the doorframe.

The man she loved with her whole heart was elbow deep in her sink, and she mustered a smile at the sight of him covered in suds. The whistling cut off when his eyes slid over towards her, and the smile that he saved just for her dropped from his face.

He took in her frazzled state, eyes slowly moving up her body before catching on her eyes. She barely even noticed him drying his hands and moving away from the sink before she found herself swept into a hug.

Pulling away slightly to look at her with crinkled eyebrows, he placed his hands on either side of her face. Penelope didn’t need to be a mind reader to see the thoughts racing through his head.

“Are you-” he cut himself off, eyes understanding, wordlessly letting his hands drop to clutch hers. 

She was grateful for the lifeline and the fact that he somehow knew that she didn’t want to talk. There was no other person in the world that knew her as well as Derek Morgan did, and she wouldn’t have it any other way.

She let herself get enveloped by his smell as she leaned her forehead onto his shoulder. Soft kisses were pressed onto her hair, and for the first time that day, a feeling of peace flitted over her. 

She was home and she was safe. 

He stepped back slightly, keeping a tight grip on her fingers. His eyebrows remained pressed together, but there was a small smile on his face.

He pressed a small kiss on her nose, but his eyes told her everything she needed to know. I’ve got you.

She offered him the slightest of smiles back. I know.

Walking backwards and bringing her with him, Derek moved towards the couch. She half-cocked an eyebrow, but she was too emotionally exhausted to do any protesting. 

Her attention was brought to his hands- his oh so beautiful hands. Years of working had hardened and calloused them, but there was a softness in them just for her. She’d spent hours fiddling with his fingers, pressing small kisses to each scar. 

He guided her so she was sitting on the couch, staring up at him in wonder, but he turned away quickly. She watched as he grabbed the blanket that had been lying over a chair and tucked it under his arm. 

The couch cushion dipped beside her and the blanket was thrown over them. The television was turned on and she watched the screen with half lidded eyes as he flipped through movies, finally settling on something that made her smile. 

What Happens in Vegas. It was her favorite movie, but he despised it. He didn’t utter any words but she knew why he put it on.

She buried her head in his chest, and his arm fell over her shoulder. It felt natural, because it was. Slowly, gently, and lovingly, his hands drew words on her back, writing novels that one day she’d love to read.

A single tear slipped out of her eye, but it wasn’t one of sadness. No, she was happy. She’d go through a million more days like hers, just to have another moment like this. As the screen flickered with the movie, she allowed herself to fall asleep, lulled by the presence of her love.

“one person caring about another represents life’s greatest value.” - jim rohn

Penelope had known it would be bad the instant she got the update from JJ. She’d spent years working with him, years loving him, years getting to know him; it was to be expected that she would learn when something would be particularly rough for him.

The texts he sent her were only confirmation of her theory.

Hey, when do you think you’ll get back home? I’ll pick up dinner for us <3

I don’t know

Yeah, that’s okay too! I’ll order something when you get here! 

ok 

She didn’t take his lack of enthusiasm to heart, because she knew the next morning he’d fill her ears with apologies about how he was taking his frustrations out on her and that she didn’t deserve him. She’d heard it a thousand times over, and her response of shutting him up by kissing him senseless hadn’t deviated once. 

The door opened and closed, dragging her away from her thoughts. Derek shuffled into the room, lugging a bag over his shoulder, and shot her a weak smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. 

He looked worse for wear. The frown lines in his forehead were more pronounced than normal, and the bags under his eyes told stories of sleepless nights. His hands shook ever so slightly as he placed his bags down. 

Her arms engulfed him in an instant.

Words were murmured into his neck as she hung onto his frame as if her life depended on it, but his arms hovered over her back. He almost seemed afraid to touch her. 

“My love,” she said, pulling back to look him in his eyes, “let me help you. I’ll-I’ll heat up some food, and you can talk to me, and then you can soak in the tub until your gorgeous smooth skin is all pruned, and-”

“Penelope.” Her name practically fell out of his mouth as he leaned down to place his forehead on hers. 

She stared at him, and she knew the concern she had for him was shining in her eyes. “Hi.”

His muscles tensed under her hands as she slid them down from his face to his shoulders, but they soon relaxed as she began to pepper small kisses over them. She stopped when she came to the crook of his neck, choosing to bury her nose into it.

“Let me take care of you, honey,” she said, her words only slightly muffled by his skin. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

There was a heavy sigh, and her face was gently guided to look at his. His eyes glistened with tears but she knew he wouldn’t let them fall.

“Hey. Please,” she pleaded.

“Can I just-” his voice was rough and he had to take a moment to compose it. “Can I just be there for you right now?”

Derek Morgan, always the selfless one. Because even at his lowest points, he would always, always be looking for a way to make someone feel better. That’s what made him the man he was.

She gave him a wistful smile and her eyes mirrored his own. As much as she wanted to, as much as she wanted to take care of him, she knew she couldn’t say no to him - not when it came to him needing something as much as he needed a distraction.

“Okay.”

Stepping back with one final kiss to his collarbone, she gave him another smile and offered her hands out. 

“I am yours to pamper.”

And then there was joy in his eyes.

“we are making photographs to understand what our lives mean to us” - ralph hattersley

“Derek, sugar, can you fill out these forms? Hotch needs them for-” she interrupted herself when she lifted her eyes away from the file to find that she was speaking to an empty office. 

She’d always liked the office - and it wasn’t just because of her involvement in its conception. Something about it just reeked of Derek Morgan, which is a scent she would gladly bathe in for the rest of her life. 

Maybe it was the pieces of him she could find in all the nooks and crannies of the room. The signed football with player names encased in glass. The frame containing the piece of flooring from the first house he flipped. His law degree.

But her favorite thing about his office - barring him - was his photo wall. Taking a little something from her, he’d spent quite some time decorating his office with things he loved, things to distract him from the horrors of the world. 

They’d spent several nights together going through old belongings and keepsakes of his, her head leaning onto his shoulder as he told her fond stories of each one. Occasionally, she’d find a baby picture of him, and he’d try to snatch it away, but she’d hold it just out of his reach, giggling maniacally. 

She’d be hard-pressed to find a happier memory.

Placing the files on his desk and scribbling a note onto them, she turned towards the photo collage, taking in the people that Derek loved.

Her eyes were first caught on the beaming smile he wore in a photo with his mother. Both his arms were thrown around her, and she was clutching his forearms. They were slightly blurry, almost as if he was rocking her, and the photographer caught them in the exact moment, forever capturing their joy.

Then her sight slid to the grainy photo next to it. 

There was just as much love in this one, but the Morgan she saw was much younger. Much much younger. He was clutching a football that almost as big as he was and gazing adoringly at his father, who returned the look. Her heart panged slightly, but at the same time, it fluttered at the thought that Derek was able to look at this everyday. 

The next shot looked strikingly familiar. It wasn’t a photo she recognized, but it was one of her. She almost seemed as if she was glowing with happiness.

So, she took a step back and surveyed the entire collage. Derek had obviously been adding to it without her noticing. There were many pictures she didn’t recognize, some of others, but most of her. 

There were selfies, and pictures that it was very clear that JJ had taken, and pictures that he must have taken. But a rush of emotions overwhelmed her as she stared at the wall of people he considered important enough to distract him from their job.

And she just was struck by how many times she was up there.

“for me, small gestures mean a lot precisely because they are small. they do not shout, "look at me" - they simply offer love, quietly”

She had taken much longer getting home than she normally would. Derek was stuck at home, sick with the flu, and the traffic was awful. Her temples had begun a slow and persistent ache as she sat staring at the trunk of a Subaru, willing herself to be home. 

Of course, it hadn’t worked, but it had caused her headache to worsen.

The stop at Starbucks to grab something hot to soothe both of their aches and pains was in-and-out. Even with the boost of caffeine adding the slightest of spring to her step, it seemed far too late that she was ascending the steps to her home- their home. 

It had been five months, and she still wasn’t used to the fact that she was still in a stable relationship with the man of her dreams, sharing a cozy apartment that they'd both fixed up. Granted, he’d done a lot more of the heavy lifting than she had, but it was at his insistence.

It was her favorite place in the world. A perfect mixture of the two of them, she had never felt more at home - his arms wrapped around her in the house they created. 

Because it was the weekend and she had spent her free time of the week before tending to a sick man, said home was not as sparkling clean as she would have liked. As she swung the door open with her hip, clutching the two coffees in her hands, she braced herself for the mess.

There was no mess.

There was no laundry lying in the middle of the hallway that she had left when Hotch called her in for an emergency meeting. There were no dirty dishes in the sink, just sparkling ones next to it. There were no pairs of shoes strewn across the floor, no coats thrown haphazardly over various furnitures. If she looked hard enough, she would almost say the floor was shining, as if it had been freshly polished.

It was clean.

Wondering if the opposite of a tornado had swept through her home, she slipped her shoes off, taking extra time to line them up with the newly organized ones. It was silent in the home, the only noise in her ears the occasional rush of a car on the road.

She opened her mouth to call out her arrival, but the words stopped short as she took in the sight of her couch.

Derek was stretched across the sofa, eyes covered by the crook of his elbow. One foot was propped up on the arm of it, the other was hanging off the edge. She smiled at the sight, he was much too tall to lay on the couch.

The vacuum was right next to him, as was a still open bottle of NyQuil. He must have been tired, as it looked like he had practically collapsed in the middle of cleaning. 

She almost considered not waking him, to let him rest unbothered. But then she took in his position one more time and the uncomfortable way his head was leaning against the sofa arm, and decided to move him.

Moving his arm away, she laid a gentle hand against his cheek and almost retracted at the heat that rolled off of it. His fever had gotten worse, she realized with a frown.

“Derek,” she whispered, stroking his cheek slightly to wake him. He showed no signs of returning to consciousness, so she repeated herself a little louder.

His eyes cracked open a sliver, enough for her to see how bloodshot they were. He waggled his eyebrows slightly as a form of greeting.

“Feeling any better?” she asked, even though she was pretty sure she knew what the answer would be.

His eyes shut again, but he breathed a response, just barely loud enough for her to hear, “No. M’ head hurs’ like a bitch.”

She gave him a light smile as a response, moving her fingers so they cradled the back of his head. “Come on,” she urged. “Go lay down on the bed.”

There was a very slow shuffle before his figure was sitting up on the couch. She pulled his arm and wrapped it around her shoulders, not entirely trusting his body to be at full strength. She half-led, half-carried him to the bedroom, his head leaning onto hers.

“Get comfortable,” she told him after he made it into the bed. “I’m going to get you some water. Go back to sleep.”

His response was making a small noise that she just barely heard as she padded out of the room. She filled a water bottle with ice and water, deciding against grabbing him any food, because he hadn’t been able to keep any down yet.

After a little deliberation, she pulled a light blanket from the closet to throw over him as she passed, hoping he would fall asleep before it got to be too heavy. He had buried his head into the pillows, laying on his side with one hand under his head. 

She stood in the doorway for a moment, watching his chest slowly rise and fall. He must have really tired himself out if he fell asleep in the short time she was gone. Careful to keep her steps light, she made her way to his side. 

“You’re too good to me.”

Penelope laughed and placed his water bottle on the nightstand. So he wasn’t asleep. “Yeah?”

“Mhm. Tha’s why I cleaned up, ‘cause you were too busy takin’ care of me.”

His eyes were barely open, and he only spoke through exhales. She wouldn’t be surprised if he woke up the next morning with no memory of the interaction.

“Well,” she planted a kiss on his still burning forehead, “you didn’t have to. It’s my week for clean-up duty.”

“Had’ta...pay back.” were the words he pushed out before he fell back into the sandman’s embrace.

“when i tell you i love you, i am not telling you out of habit, i am reminding you that you are my life.”

There was a small post-it note on her computer screen, near identical to the dozen she had in her dress pocket. The handwriting was large and familiar and etched with love that she matched threefold.

I hope the drive in was okay and that you don’t kill me for putting this on your screen. 

It started that morning, when she had woken up to an empty bed. She had lazily thrown her arm out, expecting to connect with a warm and solid body. Instead, she had received the crinkle of paper, and a note that read Good morning, sleeping beauty. Her eyebrows had raised amusedly, and she had expected to find him in the kitchen, smirking as he leaned against the counter.

There had just been another note.

Messages were everywhere. There was one on her coffee cup and one on her steering wheel. There was one on her keys and one on her coat. There was one on her badge. There was even one on Hotch’s desk.

Each one displayed his handwriting, a small joke or a note to not miss her exit. Each one had a small heart in the corner.

She walked with a spring in her step, scanning the halls for the man behind all the words, but he was nowhere to be found. She asked the team, but they were all coy about his location - “around” and “I’m sure you’ll find him” - and they all seemed very happy.

There were bright sunflowers on her desk that she did not recognize, two post-it notes stuck to one of them.

Mom told me about how you sent her flowers and cookies when she got sick last year. She talked about how if I didn’t marry you soon, she’d disown me. She talked about how you called her every week with updates on me

If I had a ring on me, I would have proposed to you right then

She mouthed the words silently. The heart on the notes were a little larger than the other ones. She couldn’t help but wish that he had acted on those thoughts. She couldn’t help but wish that he would propose to her now.

JJ rapped on her door, and she tore her thoughts from the flowers and the message he had scrawled. The blonde wordlessly handed her a file, shooting her an excited smile that didn’t quite seem to match the mood that normally came with the files.

Everyone seemed to know something Penelope didn’t.

Flipping the manila folder open, she was shocked to not find official business, but a collage of herself and Derek. They were smiling in every one, shooting loving looks at each other. A note accompanied

Pick me up my usual?

Shortly after they’d begun dating, their visits to a local pizza parlor had begun to increase. He loved it because they “did pizza correctly.” And she loved it because of the sparkle in his eye that came to when they entered the building. 

It was the only place - that wasn’t the coffee place in their building - that he had a regular order. So, with a rapidly beating heart and a bright smile, Penelope made her way to it. 

She was proud to say that her hands only shook a little bit as she put the car in park in front of the pizza place. It looked unassuming, but that didn’t calm her nerves in the slightest.

Even though her thoughts desperately drifted towards it, she couldn’t yet let herself believe that this would lead to a beautiful man on one knee. But there was something in her that told her that this was going to be her last stop for the day.

The bell clanged as she pushed the door open and eyes shot toward her, but none were the ones she wanted to see at that moment. 

“Penelope,” the manager called from behind the counter, covered in flour and sporting a knowing smile. She dug into her pockets and handed over a flour smudged note.

Out back.

Behind the building was a small community garden. The two of them had spent hours of their life on the bench, planting flowers, working in it. They even had a small plaque dedicated to them because of all the hard work they had spent on it.

It was a home away from home, and although Garcia had damn near memorized every inch of it, there was one thing different about it this time.

In the middle of the garden, surrounded by sunflowers, was the kneeling form of Derek.

She froze in her place. Every muscle screamed to run to him, but she could not move. He offered her a smile, and behind his eyes, she could see his mind running at a million miles a minute.

Forcing her legs to move towards him, small teardrops began to slip from her eyes, no matter how much she willed them to stay at bay. 

This was happening.

She stopped a few feet away from him, and they stared at each other. Neither said a word, and they were almost at a standstill until she saw him take a deep breath and began to move for his pocket.

This was really happening.

Through her tears, she could see Derek fishing in his pocket and pulling out a small object. She leaned her head back to quell her tears and looked back down to realize he was holding a ring box with a sticky note that had her name scrawled on it.

Realizations slammed into her like a freight train, and the tears came rushing back. Joy rose in her throat, and it was all she could do to remain standing at the blinding smile he gave her.

She took the note that said her name and placed it over her heart. It very quickly fell off but she didn’t notice - she was far too enamored with the kneeling man in front of her.

“I spent a lot of time trying to figure out a way to do this, figure out exactly how to express everything I feel for you. But then I realized. I don’t have to because you know - because you do too.”

She nodded, tears flying out of her eyes as she did so. Taking several steps so she was closer to him, she gazed down at him as he continued with his speech.

“I mean, how do you explain something that has never existed before? How do you explain something that never will again? Because that’s our love, Penelope. Its…” he paused, searching for the right words, so she offered something for him, her voice wobbly with unshed tears.

“Ours.”

His eyes swam with love, gratefulness, and emotion at her statement. “It’s ours,” he confirmed. “I’ve loved you since the day I saw you. It took us forever to get to this point, dancing around each other in choreography only we learned, only we perfected. But it was all worth it, babygirl.

“There is no one else in this world that I would rather wake up next to. There is no else in this world that I would share my darkest secrets with. There is no one else who I would rather be with me in every step of the way in my life

“I think I’ve always known I would end up here, down on one knee, proposing to the love of my life - of all my lives, if there were more. I just didn’t know it would be to you. You caught me by storm, you swept me into your life, you entangled me in your web.

“And, now I’m going to ask you to spend the rest of your life with me, so I can keep telling you these truths for every day of it.”

He opened the box, still kneeling, to reveal yet another post-it note.

Will you marry me?

The closest she’d been to describing her feelings in the moment was that her heart exploded in happiness. Penelope nodded quickly, and before Derek was able to hold her hand to slide the ring onto her finger, she had him wrapped in the tightest of embraces - one that he returned with just as much fervor.

Even though he had managed to say it everyday since they’d met, there was only one thing he needed to say at that moment. 

“I love you.”

taglist: @morcias - @sunlightgalaxy - @ssa-badbitch - @lavenderbau - @inlovewithbabygirl​​ - @athenna71​

[deadpanwalking]

obit was beautiful and had me in tears when i read it. so much of it was so haunting and has stuck with me since i read it. you described it as one of the best poetry collections in the last 20 years, any other particular favorites?

The best collections of poetry from the past twenty years? Off the top of my head? Jesus, you know I'm just going to rattle off a bunch of titles before getting hungry and posting this answer, then someone is going to crawl into my askbox to die ask me why I didn't mention their favorite poet or suggest something I've either read already or have zero interest in reading. Anyway:

Aimless Love by Billy Collins

All the Poems of Stevie Smith by Stevie Smith

Reel to Reel by Alan Shapiro

What Is This Thing Called Love and Tell Me by Kim Addonizio

Thirst and Evidence and Devotions by Mary Oliver

Dancing in Odessa and Deaf Republic by Ilya Kaminski

Faithful and Virtuous Night by Louise Glück

Voyage of the Sable Venus by Robin Coste Lewis

Wade in the Water by Tracy K. Smith

Stag's Leap by Sharon Olds

Bestiary by Donnika Kelly

White Egrets by Derek Walcott

Rapture by Carol Anne Duffy

Bright Dead Things by Ada Limón

The Shadow of Sirius by W.S. Merwin

District and Circle by Seamus Heaney

Walking to Martha's Vineyard by Franz Wright

Men in the Off Hours and The Beauty of the Husband by Anne Carson

Time and Materials by Robert Hass

Night Sky with Exit Wounds by Ocean Vuong

[just-a-few-prompts]

25, 22, and 9

9.) Current WIP

oh god I still have to write Derek’s date

he’s so pure

I have never been on an actual date despite having several boyfriends

what the hell do people do on dates I need to make a poll aaaaaaaaaaaaH

22.) Who is/are your favorite pairings to write?

Mmmmmm with my own characters? If you see my VIcey’s Chara Masterpost on @drabblesofrapture , there’s a guy named William there. He is not originally from Rapture. Neither is Toni! For like several years I’ve been daydreaming of different AUs of how they get together, because I was getting sick of making Toni pine desperately for Derek (they were from the same series, and he never ends up loving her the same way). So that’s technically my favorite pairing, and I love writing little angsty snippets of them in AUs.

That being said I’ve got some crackship fics I gotta post there and it’ll be great!

25.) Favorite part of writing

The action. The emotions. The fear.

When I was young, I read a lot. I read a lot about kids going through some pretty angsty fantastical worlds. I learned so much from reading a variety of things; wit, how people might react in certain situations. It really saved me as a kid who was bullied pretty much the entirety of elementary and middle school and really refrained from talking to people in high school. I only talk to one friend from high school now, and have very few close friends despite being in several communities.

What got me through all of that - the loneliness, the wondering - was introspection. Not always by wondering what I would do in a situation, but by putting characters in that situation.

So, I dedicate my time to the description of feelings and tension. I don’t just want the reader to see.I want the reader to feel. I want to give a vivid experience into the worlds of fear, of pain, of happiness, of strain, and of pure, pure wonder. No matter how vicious the view, I want the character’s experience to be clear, as if the reader lived their life. In the moments of description, of held breath, tight chests, and shaky hands reached out to careful, steady ones, I want the reader to be there.

I love writing so that the reader can experience the characters as if it were their own memories. It’s how I survived, and I can’t be the only one who loves fiction and fantasies this way, these deep daydreams. Even if others don’t do the same, I want to share it, just an inch. It’s a wonderful feeling.

[geekgemsspooksandtoons]

The Journals Of Derek Grady Part 1

This is a story set within my Bioshock Rebirth AU. A reimaging/reboot of the Bioshock franchise. https://geekgemsspookyblog.tumblr.com/post/626141727587270656/bioshock-rebirth-timeline-this-is-a-timeline-of-an Just as a heads up if anyone is wondering about the context. I’ve had some stories in my drafts for a long time now and I’m finally publicly sharing them.

I made a post talking about this. There is this character named Derek that was in one of my pilot stories for this AU. But I felt strangely ashamed of how I wrote him. But I’d feel it’s best to use him in better context. In something very intriguing. Mainly the point of view of the Rapture Civil War from someone who fought in it. 

There is this silly theme of certain characters being named Derek in some AU’s of mine. Usual they are men that seem well intentioned, but their mind isn’t always in the best place. I’m just gonna make this because this is something I wanna make.

This was first started/made on December 23rd 2020. I’m not gonna have this beta read. It’s time I just upload this shit. I got the two tags done with. But I would like to mention I was heavily or so inspired by the Star Wars Battlefront 2 Classic story. Especially with the first journal from this character being inspired by the, “Knightfall” level. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2lgG2ENW5Ac Spoilers ahead.

12/31/2001. The attack on the Kashmir restuarant.

I was a young kid when I first arrived in Rapture. I was naïve like many others. Many of used to believe in Andrew Ryan’s so called, “Great Chain”, until things started to fall apart. Especially after the death of scumbag Frank Fontaine. I find it funny he tried to put on a nice guy act whenever he met someone new or when he was in public, but I’ve heard the stories. The stories of the type of man he was.

But after Ryan nationalized Fontaine Futuristics in January 1999, a lot of people weren’t happy. It was surprising how long it took something to happen. So much dividing of social classes, so much shit that had happened during those years. What was gonna happen tonight would change everything forever...

I’ve been on Atlas’s crew of bandits since July. I felt joining Atlas was the best decision I made in my entire life. Because I felt I fighting for the right thing, a good cause. But what Atlas had planned sounded to me almost like terrorism. 

Yet when I thought about it, I really thought hard to myself. After everything we’ve suffered, how Ryan started to push everyone away, how he tried keep himself in power. Even though Rapture was supposed to be the perfect paradise...Andrew Ryan, Brigid Tenenbaum, Augustus Sinclair, Sander Cohen, Yi Suchong, Sofia Lamb, and so many others...how they treated us.

First it was just riots, but now it was time for Ryan and everyone who supported him knew what we were. What we stood for. They were gonna find out we weren’t some bandits who kidnapped some rich assholes to get payback or robin hood archetypes helping poor folks. 

There was no more talk for peace. Because Ryan never gave a damn...he never did.

1/31/2002. The Civil War starting. Apollo Square. Atlas and crew.

It’s been a month since we launched an attack on Kashmir. Things started to really change because the war for this city finally had truly begun. I have never been in war, but with the skills I’ve learned from Atlas and Daisy. I’d felt I was ready, because I needed to be. Not many of us were actual soldiers. But that didn’t matter to us. We knew what had to be done.

But we didn’t knew that Ryan would try to make Apollo Square a prison camp. Yet that didn’t matter, when those so called security officers first started to set people ablaze when they tried escaping. We shot any who would tried to do such things again. When they were hanging people, we fought back because we got tired of their bullshit. We didn’t fuck around. I felt proud when I shot one of those damn officers in the head. 

Apollo Square was practically our paradise. Sure Ryan’s army kept trying to get in, yet we always defended it. Yet even without Ryan, we still had others to worry about.

I feel pretty damn grateful a lot of our weapons were smuggled from the surface. We kept some of the weapons Ryan’s men had as well. 

But I think what I felt more grateful was our leaders. Daisy Fitzroy was practically Atlas’s 2nd in command. She was a tough woman, she didn’t take shit. Considering she worked for that weird kinky lady known as Ava Tate, I can’t blame her becoming that. She’s one of the bravest and smartest women I’ve fought with. I’m surprised she didn’t form our rebellion first.

Bill was lucky enough to be convinced by Atlas to join us after he resigned from the council. But Bill was like us. Even though he believed in Rapture, he was just an old man who wanted the best for people. I found that admirable of him. I also think he’s grateful we hid his ass after he left Ryan. Considering how Ryan gets upset with whoever betrays him, he’d rather want them dead...yet that might of been different considering he was best friends with Ryan himself. 

Diane was new, she was a hostage once with Julie Langford. But when Ryan never paid her ransom and practically didn’t care for her. But I do think she noticed those Jasmine Jolene posters throughout the city, making Ryan’s betrayal seemingly more worse. She originally came to Apollo Square to yell at us of how we possibly ruined her life. But when she saw the shit we were going through, she soon understood even more of the situation. Especially when we heard it wasn’t made better when hearing Ryan’s thoughts on people like us.

She joined us rather quickly, she was like Bill in a way. Diane was honestly a kind woman, it always felt nice to have more supporters. I do find it surprising from what I’ve seen that her and Daisy seemed to have developed a thing. Yet I found it surprisingly adorable...mainly because it was so strange to see Daisy seem soft to another person. But I think it gave the ladies more of a reason to keep fighting on.

But Atlas...he was something else. There was a reason people followed him. I followed him for plenty of good reasons. He seemed like a action hero you see out of those films from Hollywood. But I have never met a man so kind, yet so humble. He was the best of us...or that’s what I thought. You can have a good laugh with him too while having a drink. The man had a family, but he didn’t spoke of them much to keep them safe. I also remember hearing he was a captain in the Irish army. Which gave us an advantage in some ways over Ryan’s men.

He was the perfect anti-thesis to Andrew Ryan. Atlas was someone many genuinely respected and loved. Men wanted to be him, women loved him. To me and others. He wasn’t just a friend. Atlas was sometimes like a brother, or even a father.

Sure he wasn’t perfect and did some questionable things. But we knew it was for the best. Atlas is our best shot at winning this war. And I’m proud to fighting side by side with him, no matter what. 

2/1/2002. Johnny Topside.

I never met the man, but Atlas knew him only for a year. The way he talked about Johnny. I’ve heard stories of him, well that’s because Atlas didn’t want his memory to die. Atlas said Johnny Topside was a diver who had discovered Rapture years ago and for sometime was forced to live in Rapture until he finally had enough. 

Johnny Topside was the start of our rebellion. He was the one that planted the seeds. Johnny was the first to stand up to Ryan, but it resulted in tragedy. No one knows fully what happened to him. But Atlas said Ryan had tried to erase Johnny’s memory from history, and that it was very likely he may of been turned into...a Big Daddy...the idea of that horrifies me.

When Atlas spoke of him, he spoke of him so highly. Saying that Johnny was like a younger brother to him. You could of even seen at times Atlas nearly choked up when talking about him. I can’t blame him, losing someone that was like a brother to him. I’ve would of been nearly tearing up.

The story of Johnny Topside was something that kept us going, it inspired us. Hell, it even inspired me. Atlas didn’t want his memory to die, because what he was doing wasn’t just for everyone. But it was also justice for Johnny...justice for everyone that had enough of Ryan.

My only disappointment is that I never got to meet Johnny...because when Atlas says he’d would rather had him lead us...that says a helluva lot about Topside.

2/3/2002. Booker Dewitt and Ryan’s personal guard.

I’ve heard the stories of Dewitt...he merely sounded like a ghost. But he wasn’t. This was the man that shot down Fontaine, and most likely helped captured Johnny Topside.

Captain Dewitt was known to the citizens as, “The Grim Reaper Of Rapture” and he damn well earned it. But he was also Ryan’s new best friend after Bill left. Dewitt kept Ryan’s enemies in check. Whether by killing them when no one was looking, or capturing them. 

Security was fine, but Ryan’s personal guard and when Dewitt was leading them...that was scary. I think what scared us rebels was whenever he showed up. He always wore that mask...which gave him more of a reason to call him a grim reaper...because he damn sure was.

Ryan’s personal guard weren’t just police officers enforcing Ryan’s rule, they were literal soldiers. They were formed when Johnny Topside had discovered Rapture. The guard was basically a better version of security.

They were made up of men who either genuinely believed in the, “Great Chain” or just were looking to be paid by Ryan. Some of them were ex soldiers, mercenaries, and they were all just horrible people. 

The guard weren’t pushovers, they had years of experience or training by Dewitt. They were merciless, brutal, and effective. The fact Ryan had now decided to use them even more now showcased he truly wasn’t fucking around anymore. He wanted to win this war. But we weren’t gonna let that happen.

I think we were just thankful they didn’t really use Plasmids...if they did...then I felt this war may be over already. But it also gives us a easier chance to kill them all.

2/15/2002. Splicers.

Over the years since ADAM was discovered. Splicers became thing. Poor folks who used too spliced too much...they were once people...but they were sadly monsters now. I think what surprised us is how some of them were on our side...but not many. Unless they controlled themselves.

The Splicers of many types were a pain in the ass for Ryan and Atlas. Killing the rebels or Ryan’s personal guard. They had no allegiance...all they wanted was ADAM...they were basically drug addicts. I remember seeing one time a woman shanking a man for his ADAM, we had to put her down.

I didn’t really use Plasmids much, or some of the others like Atlas, Daisy, Diane, and Bill. It seemed good for Atlas that some of the rebels didn’t try to splice up. Which meant we can deal with less people turning into those...things.

There was one time I had to put down one of them. The man was just 21, but he had spliced up so much that he had gone insane. He tried attacking Daisy and Diane, but me and Daisy took him down shot him in the chest. But he was still breathing.

...I shot him in the head...I hesitated at first for about five seconds...he was younger than me. I wanted to make his death as quick and painless...it gave me a haunting reminder of why we were still fighting. All this pain and suffering...it started with the discover of that damn thing called ADAM...

I’m surprised I haven’t spoken about Tenenbaum yet...I feel like she was 2nd in place for me to kill after Ryan.

3/15/2002. Big Daddies, Little Sisters, and Brigid Tenenbaum.

I think the other thing that haunts me a lot and so many others is these two...I’ve seen them countless times and I have fought them when I joined Atlas.

Big Daddies are practically these...monsters that used to be people...slaves to protect what were once literal children...

These monsters looked like literal giant diving suits at times...some had drills, some had guns. They were tough sons of bitches. These things could kill a man easily, or even a group of a men if you weren’t careful. 

But it’s the Little Sisters that horrify me and other rebels...not because they are dangerous or that they are killers. It’s the fact of what they are. They were children...or possibly still are...forced to collect ADAM because they were implanted with some...damn sea slug Tenenbaum discovered...

There is no known cure for them. I think many of us want a cure. But the only way to help these girls is something horrific...harvesting them. Atlas said it was to put them out of their misery. They had ADAM in them.

From what I’ve seen, some rebels harvested them, some didn’t. Daisy didn’t do it. Neither did Diane or Bill. I remember seeing Atlas making the most sickened face after harvesting one, he didn’t enjoy it at all.

I think it may of bothered Atlas some didn’t harvest them...but it’s understandable why some wouldn’t. Because I remember seeing one 37 year old man, after he had harvested just one Little Sister. The man about 5 minutes later literally put a pistol under his jaw and killed himself.

We all understood why he even did that. Because after you witness a child being horrified by you about to harvest them...it’s a sight you’re never going to forget.

I can still hear those girls screaming. Daisy and Diane do too...it’s in our nightmares. For some reason...the harvesting of a Little Sister scars me than seeing a Splicer or whatever else...I don’t know why...I think it’s because all that innocence was lost...or actually taken. Because there was no other way to help them.

It was all because of one woman, Brigid Tenenbaum. I heard she worked with Frank Fontaine to help make those girls into what they are. I’ve heard she’s had a hard life, but that doesn’t excuse what I find one of the most horrific crimes I’ve ever seen. She’s been in hiding for 4 years after being exposed for what she did.

If we ever find Tenenbaum...I want to put my foot on her throat...whatever what we want to do to her. To be honest, I think I want to kill her more than Ryan...because I don’t know how you can be forgiven for doing that to a child.

God forgives, and whenever I have to put down a fellow rebel because they spliced up too much, I make it quick and painless as possible...but Tenenbaum...quick and painless is not gonna mean anything if we ever find her. 

6/3/2002. SOS and Archie Wynand.

After six months of war with Ryan’s personal guard and the Splicers. Whether some were controlled or not...things were going south for us. We fought hard, we planned as best as we could. But nothing was working, because Ryan was nearly winning.

There was panic among us, we were fearing that all of this could be for nothing. But Atlas revealed something, which he said was a risk in case. He somehow gave an SOS message to the surface to whoever would get it. Because he knew we weren’t gonna win this on our own anymore. We needed help, we needed the surface to discover Rapture. But also, we needed someone to help us take down Ryan. It was on Sunday Atlas gave out the message for help. We prayed someone would answer it. Luckily for us, someone did answer it.

Despite his aircraft was shot down by Ryan, and being the only survivor of his squad. Someone had arrived. That someone was a young man named Sergeant Archie Wynand. An Army Ranger sent by the US Government to discover where the SOS came from. 

To be honest, I was worried by the fact only one man had survived. I’d feared we still didn’t stand a chance. But after I saw that man enter combat and killed so many Splicers, I have never seen a man fought hard like that. He was still young like me, but he was like a commando in his way. It was as if someone like Atlas again had come to save us. 

Me and him never really talked, but from what I’ve seen. That man is the bravest soul I’ve ever seen. He’s loyal to a fault and unbreakable, it was like seeing a warrior unlike any other. I will admit, I felt a bit jealous when Atlas has giving him a lot more attention than me. 

But Archie was important. Atlas sent him commands and he followed through. But I think what confused me the most was something Atlas had revealed earlier. Which resulted in ordering Archie to go to a certain building, a tower in the middle of Rapture. 

6/4/2002. Elizabeth.

A day before Archie had arrived. There was this strange new information Atlas had discovered. That there was some girl in this tower in Rapture. Her name was Elizabeth. Atlas had discovered it when raiding a building near that tower. 

We were so confused on why Ryan had a girl in this tower. In fact? Why was she there? Who was she really? Even Atlas was confused, but she seemed important.

But I feel our questions were answered when Archie saved her. I didn’t get to talk to her personally, but I have seen her in action with my own eyes. Along with some footage. 

Somehow, this young girl had some powers of an unknown source. She was able to summon old sentries, and other things. It felt unnatural. Sure the Plasmids and other discoveries in Rapture were very special...but what this girl could do...it made us question even more who the hell she was and why Ryan had her locked away.

Gonna admit though, she was honestly adorable.

6/5/2002. Elizabeth’s purpose, and what the Hell is Archie? What the Hell is going on?

I think it horrified me and the rebels of what Elizabeth was supposed to be. Why she was kept secret from Rapture. What Atlas had discovered more is that she was secretly a weapon Ryan would use in case against someone like us. A sleeper agent that would of slipped through our ranks or anyone else...almost like a female fatale Ryan wanted to make personally...it confused me because from what I’ve seen, she’s nothing like that.

But I think we surprised us more is that she had been in Rapture since 1983. For about 19 years, Ryan had her in there, with hardly anyone knowing. I think it sickened me a bit more hearing Ryan was gonna use a young woman as a secret weapon in case someone like Atlas came along. It was almost like what happened with the Little Sisters.

Yet the other thing that’s been on my mind is Archie. I’ve talked about how much of a warrior he was. Ever since he rescued Elizabeth, she’s been by his side ever since. I haven’t seen such a effective team. It was like they were perfect for each other.

But again, it’s Archie that has me thinking. Sure he’s a soldier...but compared to any of us...and even compared to Ryan’s personal guard. I have never seen a man be so efficient in what he does. This was a young man, yet he fought like he was like some sort of super soldier. Hell, I don’t even think Atlas and Daisy are that efficient. He’s fast and strong.

He was also using so many Plasmids without mutating. I couldn’t get it? He wasn’t becoming spliced up. I couldn’t believe it? I had lost count of how many times he injected a Eve Hypo into his wrists.

I think the scary part is how many Big Daddies he’s killed...how can one man kill so many. I didn’t understand it? But from what I’ve seen from footage is...him curing the Little Sisters...I couldn’t believe it.

Where were he and Elizabeth staying at? I heard Atlas yesterday say they were at Tenenbaum’s...I couldn’t understand...I’m confused...

6/5/2002 A bigger Big Daddy.

I didn’t understand nor could I comprehend what I had witnessed. Ever since Archie arrived...things were changing. What made me think this way was when I saw...something I didn’t think was possible.

Out of all the Big Daddies we’ve killed. I had never seen one so big. He was about 12 feet tell...he looked older than any of the Big Daddies. He looked similar to the Alpha series Big Daddies...I couldn’t understand. I was lucky to have lived, but I witness it killed so many rebels, Splicers, and Ryan’s army. This Big Daddy was vicious. It seemed like he was on a mission. As if he was tracking down Elizabeth.

I’m just in disbelief...I don’t understand.

I was a witness also to see Elizabeth teleport it somewhere...I think it’s dead...I’m not sure.

6/6/2002. The war soon coming to an end.

To be honest, I was fearing we may never win. But somehow we made it. Captain Dewitt was beaten yesterday, and now Ryan is soon to be dealt with. 

I’ve learned from Atlas that Tenenbaum had created a cure for the Little Sisters...I couldn’t believe it when I heard it. I asked him again if he was telling the truth, and he was. That’s why Archie and Elizabeth were staying with Tenenbaum somewhere. 

It still sounded so crazy. But the next piece of news is that these three would be coming to Atlas’s headquarters, our base of operations. I couldn’t believe I was seeing Tenenbaum...I had...weird feelings.

The plans were while Archie and others went to Ryan’s office to finally take him down. There was hardly anyone left to defend him. While Elizabeth and Dr. Tenenbaum stayed at Atlas’s headquarters. It...an experience meeting this young girl...even after everything she’d been through, but so kind. 

But I wasn’t gonna be staying for long either like Archie. Atlas sent me and some men to take over Fort Folic considering Archie and Elizabeth’s recent visit there. As if the freak that was Sander Cohen had finally left somewhere. It was no longer locked up.

I felt genuine hope for the first time. As if this whole nightmare will finally end. But I will admit, I wanted to kill Ryan as much as anybody else. I had my orders, and I listened. Besides, taking back Fort Folic was a huge win

I do recall Ryan playing golf at times. Hopefully when Archie gets to his office, he’ll beat the Walt Disney lookalike of a fuckhead with his own golf club. It’s what Ryan deserved...it’s what many of us wanted.

6/7/2002. Atlas...and the end...

...I don’t even know what to say...the war is over...it’s actually over...

But it didn’t end with Ryan dying or getting captured...

Atlas...our leader...my hero...my best friend...the anti-thesis to Ryan...was Frank Fontaine.

He’s dead...he was brutally hung...by Archie...his corpse is hanging for everyone to see...he...looks like half of a monster.

Everything we’ve done...everything we stood for...I feel betrayed, but I feel relived. I think others are feeling a similar way...I need no I want answers...

6/8/2002. The birth of the Vox Populi. Tenenbaum discovering these journals.

I think what happened on Thursday and Friday...changed so many of us...even myself...I thank Daisy and Diane for explaining it to me.

There was a huge meeting with the remaining rebels. Archie, Elizabeth, and Dr. Tenenbaum joined in as well. So many discussions were had. Rapture was finally ours...

While Splicers were still a thing, and some rich assholes were still around. Considering half of the city was still going, but we came together to formulate a plan. 

There won’t be another Andrew Ryan, or even another Frank Fontaine. The end of the Rapture Civil War was only the beginning of something much better. 

We weren’t just called rebels anymore, we were officially given a name now. The Vox Populi. It was Daisy’s idea for the name. We were basically the reformed version of Atlas’s rebellion. But now, we had genuine people who actually gave a damn. Who wouldn’t use us as puppets. That we will strive for a better tomorrow. 

For peace, a better community. So we can help out every Little Sister we can find out there, and help whoever else is in Rapture. We’re gonna make this shithole of a city a better living place. No more tyrants, no more conmen, no more rulers, just people wanting to make this place a better place for everyone.

Justice, peace, and all that...I think many of us are still getting over what happened with Atlas...I’m still getting used to it...I’m just grateful it’s over.

But before this the huge meeting, Dr. Tenenbaum discovered my journals...she read what I wrote about her...our struggles. I apologized to her, but she said it’s okay. She said she doesn’t blame me for being angry. I think what surprised me more was the one person that her the most was herself...

For some odd reason, I forgave her...she just stared at me with surprise. She gave me a small smile...and then I said I think I could forgive her after everything she’s tried doing to fix her mistakes. Because I told her trying to fix your mistakes is better than doing nothing.

[sunnydaleherald]

The Sunnydale Herald Newsletter - Sunday, November 1st

Ryan: He'll come again tonight. Buffy: Ryan, listen to me. I'm not gonna let this thing hurt you. Any of you. Grown-ups don't believe you, right? Well, I do. We both know that there are real monsters. But there's also real heroes that fight monsters. And that's me. He looks away and goes back to drawing his picture. Ryan: Can't fight death.

~~Killed by Death~~

[Drabbles & Short Fiction]

Podfic: Red Death's Mask (Drusilla, M) by Ravin_Pods (Ravin), DragonsPhoenix

Wake-Up Call (Buffy/Giles, G) by NoWorries

Beware of Greeks bearing gifts (Kendra, M) by laufire

When Joyce Was Sick (Buffy/Spike, PG13) by Witherstone

Dream Chaser (Buffy/Spike, R) by angelic_amy

[Chaptered Fiction]

A Beautiful Friendship Complete (T) by Francis_Eugene

New Beginnings Chapter 4 (Spike/OC, M) by Minlee1

Heroes, Vampires and Slayers Chapter 11 (Multiple crossovers, T) by Aragorn_II_Elessar

Scoobies in Neptune Chapter 13 (VM crossover, Buffy, G) by Buffyworldbuilder

The Slayer's Wolf Chapter 17 (Teen Wolf crossover, Buffy/Derek, T) by Buffyworldbuilder

The Witch Slayer Complete (HP crossover, T) by Canttouchthis

Caged Birds Don't Sing Chapter 7 (Faith/Buffy, M) by RavenclawSlayer

Hypnopompia Chapter 3 (Faith/Buffy, E) by aliceinwonderbra

Хранитель Chapter 7 (Russian, Buffy/Spike, M) by Invisible_Slayer, SnakeCorps

Spanning Seasons and Planets Chapter 1 (VM crossover, Buffy/spike, E) by DarkVoid116

Chosen to Not Fade Away Chapter 13 (Buffy/Spike, E) by buffy_and_spike

Storm of Shadows Chapter 14 (Multiple crossovers, Faith, T) by GalaxyWanderer_113

The Sexual Tension Award Chapter 2 (T) by KebbyOriginal

Unfavorable Odds Chapter 2 (Buffy/Spike, M) by Cheetoh

All About Faith Chapter 85 (Multiple crossovers, Faith/Bruce Wayne, E) by Peanutbuttertoast

What You Do Afterwards: Season One Chapter 48 (Cordelia/Doyle, G) by myheadsgonenumb

Rapture and Redemption Complete (NR) by TurtleVale

Naked Chapter 1 (Buffy/Spike, NC17) by The Danish Bird

Know Your Mind Chapter 1 (Buffy/Spike, NC17) by SzmattyCat

A Switch in Time Chapter 9 (Buffy/Spike, NC17) by BloodyThorn

Anniversary Chapters 12-15 (Buffy/Spike, Adult) by Nik84

Hung Up Chapter 12 (Buffy/Spike, NC17) by kats_meow

Unfavorable Odds Chapter 2 (Buffy/Spike, R) by bookishy

What They Knew and When They Knew It Chapter 10 (Buffy/Spike, NC17) by Dorians Kitten

Through the Stones Chapter 4 (Buffy/Spike, PG13) by Ajmilone

Hellmouth Hurricane Chapter 3 (Buffy/Spike, PG13) by sandy_s

Avengers Assemble! Chapter 17/a> (Multiple crossovers, FR18) by Kaosreign

Dungeon Designs and House Keeping Chapter 24 (Tara, FR18) by MistofRainbows

A White Knight and the Maidens of the Path Chapter 4 (Multiple crossovers, Xander, FR21) by ShadowMaster

Winged Shadows of Midgar Chapter 4 (Multiple crossovers, Xander, FR21) by ShadowMaster

Stanford's Hunters Chapter 12 (SPN crossover, Connor, FR13) by DebraN

Ghosts From Beyond, Defenders of Realms Chapter 4 (Multiple crossovers, FR21) by ShadowMaster

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Never Leave Me Part Ten by PuckRobin

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[drabblesofrapture]

A Date with Derek, pt. 1 (The part where he picks you up from your place)

It's exactly 7:30 when you get the knock on your door. You walk up and open it, and you see Derek standing there with one hand rubbing the back of his neck, and the other holding a bouquet of roses. It's pretty cold outside, though you know the cold doesn't bother him; he looks more like he's dressed for fall than winter, black skinny jeans, his high-top red converse, and a crimson-red coat lined with white fur. Was that real fur?

You're gently knocked out of your thoughts as Derek holds the flowers out to you. "Uh - These are for you," he said. "I-If you need one, we can get a vase on the way, um- I don't know if you have one already-"

Smiling, you take the bouquet and thank him happily. The roses smelled quite nice. You compliment how nice he looks as you turn to go inside. The small pink tinge of his cheeks as he stammers out a "thank you" is quite cute.

When he doesn't come inside, you turn and beckon him to wait inside. No need to stand in the hallway - you've got to put the roses into water before you both leave.

Pressing his lips together, he nods to you, quietly closing your door behind him as you step into the kitchen. He waits politely in the entryway, looking around at the decorations and furniture you have around. Derek seems nervous - you're pretty glad you're not the only one that is. A date with a coven's Sire is a pretty big deal, but an even bigger deal is that you're going on a date with Derek Alvar, probably the sweetest vampire in Rapture.

After you put the roses in a vase, drying off your hands, you smile at him as you walk back to the door. You hold your hand out to him as you ask if he’s ready to go. 

He stiffens up, blubbering for a moment before he presses his lips together to compose himself. Nodding, he carefully slips his hand into yours, his skin cool to the touch. It’s comfortable.

“So, um…” Derek brings a loose fist to his lips as you lock your door with your free hand. “I’ve never, uh… I have to be truthful, I’ve never gone on a date before.” His red eyes are glowing slightly as they look to you, as if he were a guilty puppy. “If, uh… If it’s alright with you, we could… uhm, I thought we could visit Fauste’s, and then… go from there?”

Fauste’s, that expensive little bakery uptown? You’d heard they made pretty good cupcakes. You grin and nod at him, telling him it’s a great idea. It’s a little adventure for the night.

“Right! Right,” he said, his shoulders lowering a bit. The smile he gives you is more relaxed as he begins to walk with you down the street.

[freefallingup13]

Naive Princess pt. 6

Part 5

We are getting closer to the part where I got stuck...

TW: Lots of blood, blood loss, knife mention, demon mention (don’t worry, the minors mean minor demons, not actual minors)

~~~

Selena was now lying where Jeff and Gildenhos had stood, breathing hard. There was a minor healing her, then another, and another. They kept appearing in flashes of flames, stumbling in confusion as orders were barked at them. She couldn’t tell what was going on.

A few seconds later, there was a yelp as somebody was teleported in who had been lying down. Pages flipped wildly as they dropped their book. With a groan, he sat up. “What the-”

“Comfort her. She needs healing,” Gildenhos said quickly before disappearing again.

“... What…” Derek suddenly caught the scent of blood, and his breath hitched in his throat as he looked around. There was a group of minors here, maybe seven, clamoring over… somebody. When he lifted his hand, he realized he recognized that spaded tail laying on the floor.

Selena.

“Oh, my god-” He scrambled over to her head, hands already glowing with healing magic. “Oh my god, what happened!?”

She could barely focus, head lolling back and forth. One of the healers grabbed his wrist and placed it on her shoulder. “She’s lost a lot of blood,” they said quickly. “I think somebody was trying to use it in a ceremony. She needs to heal, a lot.”

A small whine from Selena drew his attention then, and he looked her over to try and figure out what was going on. He saw one of the minors holding the blade still in her stomach, the massive amount of blood soaking her front. Her eyelids were fluttering, so he carefully lifted her head and placed it on his lap. “It’s okay, Selena, just stay awake,” he murmured, shaking her a bit. At the small whimper, he nodded, going back to healing her. “There you go… everything’ll be fine. It’ll be fine.”

A crash to his side made him jump in surprise, and his gaze jerked over to the room behind him.

Part 7

[weirdletter]

Apocalypse TV: Essays on Society and Self at the End of the World, edited by Michael G. Cornelius and Sherry Ginn,  McFarland, 2020. Cover image by Shutterstock, info: mcfarlandbooks.com.

The end of the world may be upon us, but it certainly is taking its sweet time playing out. The walkers on The Walking Dead have been “walking” for nearly a decade. There are now dozens of apocalyptic television shows and we use the “end times” to describe everything from domestic politics and international conflict, to the weather and our views of the future. This collection of new essays asks what it means to live in a world inundated with representations of the apocalypse. Focusing on tsuch series as The Walking Dead, The Strain, Battlestar Galactica, Doomsday Preppers, Westworld, The Handmaid’s Tale, they explore how the serialization of the end of the world allows for a closer examination of the disintegration of humanity—while it happens. Do these shows prepare us for what is to come? Do they spur us to action? Might they even be causing the apocalypse?

Contents: Acknowledgments Introduction: Apocalyptic Saturations; or, The End of the World Will Not End – Michael G. Cornelius and Sherry Ginn Apocalyptic Television, Hobbes’s Moral Psychology and the Tenuous Nature of Liberal Democratic Values – William S. Allen Post-Apocalyptic Competition and Cooperation in The Handmaid’s Tale and The Walking Dead – Sherry Ginn The Long Winter of Discontent: The Changing Society of Survivors – Fernando-Gabriel Pagnoni Berns, Juan Ignacio Juvé and Emiliano Aguilar Risk Without End? The Seriality of Risk, the Outbreak Narrative and Serial Post-Apocalypse in Guillermo del Toro and Chuck Hogan’s The Strain – Sebastian Müller Driven to Extinction, Again: Cadillacs and Dinosaurs and the Irresistible Apocalypse – Tony Perrello and C. Anne Engert The End of Everything: Survival Narratives and Everyday Heroism in Battlestar Galactica – E. Leigh McKagen Apocalypse(s) Already: Doomsday Preppers at the End of The(ir) Worlds – J.Z. Long Reinvesting in the Rapture: Apocalypse and Faith in The Leftovers – Christina Wilkins Social Life and Death in The Leftovers: Surviving the Personal Apocalypse – Derek R. Sweet “How many times have I died?”: Time Loops, Post-Human Reversion and the Editable Self in The Magicians – Michael G. Cornelius Westworld and the Apocalyptic Cycle – Adam Ellerbrock Postnatural Comedy in The Last Man on Earth – John Elia Appendix 1: Apocalypse Television Series Appendix 2: “Darkness” – Lord Byron About the Contributors Index of Terms

[biblesergeant]

The Rapture Is Coming Soon, Everything In The Bible Is True | Derek - Mi...

[corancoranthemagicalman]

New Year’s Wrap Up!

I decided to do this again this year! This year, I don’t think I wrote quite as many small ficlets on Tumblr, but I wrote a shitload of unposted things between a few friends of mine. I won’t even begin to try to give the word counts on those, so as last year, I shall be using my stats on AO3 strictly. I might mention one or two WIPs that I had hoped to finish this past year, but probably not overall.

Fics that you wrote in 2019:

I Dream In Wishes And Triangles (Found on AO3, Gravity Falls, 2.3k, T+)

Steal The Stars (And Put Them In Your Eyes) (Found on AO3, Voltron, 6.6k, M)

Can’t Fight the Moonlight (Found on AO3, Voltron, 2.9k, G)

Traces of You (Found on AO3, Gravity Falls, 2K, T+)

A Long Walk Home (Found on AO3, Teen Wolf, 2.8K, M)

Take A Deep Breath (We’re Doing Just Fine) (Found on AO3, Voltron 1.9k, G)

Death’s Discrimination (Found on AO3, Voltron, 2.1K M)

Where Sleep Never Comes (Found on AO3, Voltron, 1.2K, G)

Something Understood  (Found on AO3, Supernatural, 2.9k, T+)

The Names Are Coal For My Furnace (And It Burns, Burns) (Found on AO3, Critical Role, 800, M)

Dragon’s Gold (Found on AO3, Voltron, T+, 3K)

A Rolling Stone From Texas (Found on AO3, Supernatural, 20k, M)

Lighthouse On The Shore (Found on AO3, Stardew Valley, 2.8k, M)

In Darkness She Is All I See (Found on AO3, Stardew Valley, 1.3k, T+)

Putting On The Ritz (Found on AO3, Good Omens, 3.3k, T+)

Age It 6000 Years, Then Let It Breath (Found on AO3, Good Omens, 2.5k, T+)

Talk To Me (Like Victorians Do) (Found on AO3, Good Omens, 3.5k, M)

My Life Is Very Lonely (For I Want You Only) (Found on AO3, Good Omens, 2.7k,  T+)

You Only Want To Socialize (But I Don’t Think We Should) (Found on AO3, RPF, 5.5k, T+)

With a Good Omens WIP that is currently at +20k and several fan fics in the Game Of Thrones fandom with my friend, one of which. between. the both of us resulted in 60k words in just the month of June. I have a few pieces here and there that are all WIP as well, but as before I’m just gonna used what I posted. (And possibly that one Good Omens fic because I had planned on it being done already but school happened.)

Total Fics: This year including that WIP but not including my self indulgent and unpublished works, I’ve done 20 fics! Last year I did 19. But, to be fair on myself, I did not have college last year.

Total Words: This year, including those precious 20k words on that WIP, I’ve hit 95,661 beating last year’s 75,533 by 20k words! HA. Definitely counting that WIP in my records for this year.

Ship/Character Breakdowns: Percival De Rolo, Crowley/Aziraphale, Original Characters/Original Characters, Bill/Dipper, Bill/Original Character, Shane/Original Character, Sebastian/Alex, Dean Winchester/Castiel, Jack Kline, Stiles Stilinski/Derek Hale, Sheriff Stilinski, Shance, Svance, Hunk, Klance, Lotura, Pali/Nick, Cee/Tom Holland, PJ/Aquabats, Pali and the Crew.

Best/Worst Title: My Best Title (because obviously, I’m so great at that) Talk To Me (Like Victorians Do) cause I am a bitch weak for a pun. Gonna go with The Names Are Coal For My Furnace (And It Burns, Burns) because it’s just so lengthy for a title. :/

Best/Worst First Line: Putting On The Ritz definitely has the worst. “It was a fancy restaurant. Suzanne would give it that.” It fits the comedic sort of narrative I was going for, but if I’m being hypercritical, it’s not very attention-grabbing. For my best, I’m going to go with a favorite. I love beginning lines that are picture-esque and my most picture-esque was from You Only Want To Socialize. “The wind howled on this fine October evening. It sang the tune of skeletons coming out to socialize. Ghouls and creeps from the depths sauntered and laughed their way into the moral realm. Candles hidden in the mouths of grinning pumpkins lit the way into town from the graveyard from which they all had risen from. As the undead crossed the threshold of the graveyard, they were given human form on this one night as the moon hung overhead.”

General Questions

Looking back, did you write more fics than you thought you would this year, less than you thought, or about what you predicted?

I wanted to write more this year but was worried about school getting in my way. What actually happened was instead of writing fics that I published, I wrote shameless self inserts with one of my best friends to help me relax in between my very busy schedule. I wrote way more than I thought I was going to be able to just because there was absolutely no expectation on an unpublished story.

What pairing/genre/fandom did you write that you would never have predicted last year?

I’m gonna be honest, I think the most unexpected one was writing porn for Stardew Valley, fam. But also Good Omens? I had always seen it on the outskirts being a Supernatural fan but falling in love with the televised series so heavily made them own me completely and I don’t think I had truly expected it.

What’s your favorite story this year? Not the most popular, but the one that makes you the happiest.

Another year where it’s not my most popular but I enjoyed writing it. I loved writing A Rolling Stone From Texas. That piece of work took me three days to write and it’s the most I’ve written in the span of three days. So out of pride, that one. Out of just... the most love I’ve had for a fic is My Life Is Very Lonely if I’m being honest. A trope I’ve fallen in love within the Good Omens fandom is the Outsider POV, and researching a very specific year in American history just so I could write Irving Berlin understanding pining was just so much fun! And the reception of it was something I was woefully underprepared for and every ounce of attention I’ve received to it has clenched my heart.

Okay, NOW your most popular story.

I’d say A Long Walk Home is my most popular story with Putting On The Ritz as a fairly close second. The day I had posted A Long Walk Home that Teen Wolf fandom devoured it and I love that fandom so dearly.

Story most underappreciated by the universe?

Uh, this question is always hard. Maybe A Rolling Stone From Texas? My Life Is Very Lonely is like, my lowest kudo’d and hit Good Omens fic but the love I get for it is overwhelming whilst I’ve never really had any attention to A Rolling Stone. Maybe A Rolling Stone isn’t that great (spoiler: it definitely isn’t). At the time it felt underappreciated, but at the moment I can’t think of any that I feel are underappreciated. 

Story that could have been better?

A Rolling Stone? The Names? I would say I Dream too but I’ve just evolved in my writing style since then. I’ve evolved so much since I’ve written everything, since I’ve written what I wrote last week, so I feel like there’s no point in thinking about what could be better now when I know that I did the best I could at the time.

Sexiest story?

My sexiest story this year did not get published. I’mma be honest. Actually, this year I’ve both written more sexy but also more sensual. I’m a fan of the sensual. My Life Is Very Lonely would probably be sexier if it wasn’t so sad. Lighthouse On The Shore and Steal The Stars were both fairly sexy. (If you wanna know my really sexy writings, Ask C Something and maybe I’ll drop a line or two from some very sensual self-inserts that include Jon Snow, other GOT characters, or a certain Mandalorian ;)

Saddest story?

Last year I answered this with “I don’t like sad.” This year, my saddest piece is hands down - without a doubt - My Life Is Very Lonely. Can’t Fight The Moonlight was more bittersweet than sad, as was Steal The Stars and Traces of You. My pieces all had more diverse emotions, I think, but overall I myself felt so sad and as if I was actually the one pining while writing My Life Is Very Lonely.

Most fun?

Jeepers, the most fun to read? Putting On The Ritz? It was definitely fun reading my first anon hate! I’ve never gotten any anon hate (bless) but the first and only time I have it was the most resentful piece I’ve ever received and I am telling you I was so flattered and my ego so boosted that I had made someone so infuriated that instead of doing something enjoyable with their time they just sort of cooked over what to tell me I was doing wrong with my writing.

(oh wait maybe that one Destiel ficlet I wrote on Tumblr about Dean calling Cas nicknames? That one was light and cute.)

Story with the single sweetest moment?

You know I’m going to cheat and pick three again this year.

That dangerous four-letter word that Crowley had warned Warlock about reared its head like an angry bull in the China shop of his heart. He swallowed the broken pieces, tears stinging at his eyes. “Aziraphale.” Crowley gasped, clutching at the lapels of his coat and pulling him forward. “I’d wait six more millennia for you.” He confessed. He felt dirty. Dirty in the gaze of this pure being. This being of pure light, love, encompassed him in this rapture of a dangerous, four-lettered word. - Talk To Me (Like Victorians Do)

His words still Cee’s movements as she moved back to look at him. Her soft expression melted into something fond and adoring. It was enough to make Shane feel overwhelmed again, but this time it was in a good way. Slowly, this overwhelming radiance was a good thing. No more nights of a cold, chilly companion. Now his sunshine laid in bed, wrapping itself around him in warming beams. - In Darkness She Is All I See

Jack nodded and swallowed the forming bitter-sweetness on his tongue. He turned to the picture frame beside his bed. He paused as he reached for it. Sparing Uncle Dean one more glance, Jack took the picture reverently in his hands. He turned and took two steps toward his uncle before holding out the picture.

“This belongs to you.” Jack’s voice wavered for a moment and perhaps he hadn’t done as well swallowing that emotion as he had thought.

Uncle Dean shook his head. “Nah,” he pushed the picture frame back toward Jack’s chest, " take him with you.” Uncle Dean took in a deep breath before nodding. “He always wanted to see the world.” Giving a half shrug, Uncle Dean gestured with his chin to Jack’s suitcase. “Take care of him for me.” - A Rolling Stone From Texas (going back, this was a completely rushed fic that I wish I had bitten the bullet and taken my time with, but overall it was littered with a few small and sweet moments.)

Hardest story to write?

Mhm, probably the WIP I’m doing now? Just because I’m at the sad part near the end (yanno, the Day of Darkness or whatever the proper writing term is) that’s always the hardest part for me. Everything else was an experiment for fun. Maybe like functionally all the Good Omens fic since I’m teaching myself HMTL so I can make footnotes, but like anything else wasn’t too hard.

Easiest/most fun story to write?

The easiest was probably any of the ship focused ones. I just get into a “this makes me happy” mood set yanno? I definitely had fun writing A Rolling Stone, My Life Is Very Lonely, and actually most probably the WIP I am trying to finish up. I keep counting it since most of it was written in the previous year.

Did any stories shift your perceptions of the characters?

As in like did I project pining so hard that I completely understood heartache but also happiness in knowing who owns your heart in My Life Is Very Lonely? Cause yes. I think also writing A Rolling Stone really helped me understand how old Dean Winchester is since I felt like I didn’t even have to age up his character. RIP Dean, man.

Most overdue story?

The WIP that I’ll finally maybe drop hints of? I want to drop hints but I’m also so afraid of someone beating me to the punch and doing it better. My one true fear. It was supposed to be done back in October but unfortunately the holidays and such took everything over that my school didn’t already own. Anyways, it’s a Good Omens fic fused with my literal favorite movie of all time. So there’s your hint.

Did you take any writing risks this year? What did you learn from them? I think I took a lot of risks in creating lore this year. It’s always so hard to know whether your lore will take off or not and I think I took a chance on that. Not only in my published works but in my unpublished works as well. I learned that if you take the time to really just dedicate yourself into that lore that it doesn’t matter as much if other people enjoy it because you’re putting down those ideas and creating art. Creating a world of your own and it’s amazing.

What are your fic writing goals for next year?

To complete my writing goal of last year and write a piece of work longer than The Cat and the Shadow. To work on writing more things to be published to really share what I love so that hopefully encourages other people to share what they love! And, maybe, eventually start a fic that has weekly updates because I crave for that validation of someone waiting eagerly for an updated chapter.

Last year I had the goal to have a more popular story than Eat A Little Dream Of Mine. Eat A Little Dream Of Mine still has the highest hit count, being one of the first few dozen Monster Prom fics to have ever been published to AO3. A Long Walk Home wasn’t too far from matching it, though. Only off by 300- or so hits. But Putting On The Ritz beat A Little Dream’s kudo count by 19!! Goal accomplished!!

I don’t know if anyone wants to do this, but my followers and mutuals are more than welcome to! I’ll specifically tag @paliseizy @damejudyhench @yuzuling @revasnaslan @ineffablefool @isthatbloodonhisshirt And I’ve probably missed someone in my post-holiday haze and I apologize. Thinking is hard.

[electricsays-archived]

starter for @empathists ;; based on this !! 

‘are you still coming tonight?’ sofia couldn’t help the roll her eyes at the text message her friend, derek had sent her. he was clearly into her but she wasn’t into him and his text was practically oozing with desperation. it had been two weeks since she arrived at this school and just like she thought, she felt like a prisoner. she resented her parents for sending her here, claiming that they couldn’t handle her anymore. it was a stupid and lame excuse for them not taking the time to actually understand their daughter. being at the school made her think of her parents more, which was what she didn’t want to do. so, when derek shot her a message about some party, she didn’t hesitate to agree. the only problem was getting out of there. now, her and her roommate haven’t spoken since the first day but she figured if she talked to her kindly, she would cover for her. “do you actually believe in that stuff?” she spoke up, eyeing the bible in her roommate’s hands. “like, god and jesus and the rapture?” 

[eternalsterekrecs]

Hi, I was hoping you could help me find any fic that were regency/historical aus with Stiles as a lower class than Derek. The more misunderstandings and angst the better. Thanks!

HISTORICAL/ROYALTY AU WHERE STILES IS LOWER CLASS

You’ll See Me Again by matildajones

Stiles is standing there in his uniform, hair long and hands behind his back. There’s a blush on his cheeks and he can barely look Derek in the eye.

“Hey,” he whispers. He’s wearing the medal Derek had presented to him.

Derek stares. He doesn’t think he’s breathing anymore.

--

Stiles is the soldier who saved Derek and brought him back home. He doesn't seem to care that Derek's a prince or that he's a little bit broken. Derek falls, quick and sure, but it's not easy knowing that Stiles will soon have to return to the war.

Worlds Apart by siny

Derek Hale, Heir Prince of Betonia and Italy, meets Stiles Stilinski, college boy.

Paint My Spirit Gold by Red_City

There was a gift.

There was a curse.

There is a power in the house of Hale, given to the firstborn son of every generation - the ability to turn everything he touches to gold. Though the original intent of the power was thought of as a gift, in reality, it is a dreaded curse that causes the bearer a life of fear, isolation, and danger.

Thus, Prince Derek is born.

remember my love by bleep0bleep

Stiles wakes up and suddenly the war is over, he's no longer a penniless mage, and living in an exquisite manor married to the man he's been in love with for far too long.

“It’ll be fine,” Stiles says gallantly. “I am certain I will just fall in love with my husband all over again, and I will find plenty of joy doing that.” He winks at Derek for good measure.Derek blinks.

Thank You For This Dance by matildajones

Derek picks up another glass of champagne, and that’s when he sees him. A man stands at the edge of the room, chewing his lip and staring at the dance floor longingly. Every person walks past him. Derek must have done it a hundred times this evening. --Derek is not one for dancing, but at a ball he meets Stiles, an orphan, and he becomes quickly attached. He does not care what other people think about Stiles' wealth and status, but it's a lot harder for Stiles to ignore the comments that have haunted him his whole life.

It's even harder to convince Stiles that Derek's feelings are genuine.

The Rapture in the Dark Puts Me at Ease by secondstar

Derek Hale returns home from war to find that the home he knew and the family he had are gone. Greed, poverty and cruelty have replaced his idyllic memories. Despite the new harshness of Beacon Hills, Derek refuses to believe that all hope is lost. And it seems he is not alone as the mysterious Night Watchman deliver hope to the people of Beacon Hills by giving food and money to those who need it most.

The Night Watchman will not tolerate this injustice. Will Derek?

Scowls and Sarcasm by dr_girlfriend

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single alpha in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a mate.

Whether or not Derek Hale felt that way was hardly a concern to the neighborhood — the very fact of his arrival was enough that the surrounding families seemed to consider him the rightful property of one or another of their eligible sons and daughters. That was, of course, before they met the man.

Here Comes the Sun by ajeepandleather

He has never been known to sit still very well. Apparently that also extended into jobs, because Stiles Stilinski cannot settle on a job even if his life were depending on it. Maybe that will change when he becomes house master to the infamous Hale manor.

Burning Glances (Turning Heads) by Yiichi

Stiles is a lower-class tailor, who has always dreamed of attending the fabled, annual Hale ball. His good friend, Lord McCall, somehow managed to procure an extra invite.

Stiles doesn't expect anything of the evening. He certainly doesn't expect to capture the gaze of a dark, mysterious stranger wearing a wolf mask.

Cinder-Boy and the Nightmare Prince by Saucery

The epic love story of Stileserella and his mysterious, rather creepy prince.

Day for Night by andavs

Stiles could honestly say he’d thought that fitting through the drain pipe would be the hard part.

When he’d formulated his escape from Beacon Hills' inescapable dungeon, the biggest obstacle in his mind had been the drain pipe. Of course it was. He was going to squeeze his perfectly average sized body through a small hole in the floor that hopefully led to the sewers unobstructed and didn’t have any sharp turns for him to get wedged in.

To put his horrible plan in context: he was less than an hour away from being publicly executed for theft. Desperation did funny things to critical thinking.

All that once was, remains. by countrygirlsfun

Life is only a long list of constants.

Being a part of a royal family, being a prince, has been a constant in Derek Hale’s life since he was born and swaddled in silk cloths.

Wherein Derek finds himself in love with a stable boy who is more than he seems.

The One With The Scottish Wolf Lord by Stoney

I just... okay, there was a ridiculous bodice ripper cover with "SCOTTISH WOLF LORD" and I went from there. THE PREMISE IS CRACKY BUT THE STORY IS NOT. *crosses heart*

The Hales are alive and a royal family in Scotland; Stiles is the waif sent to work in the kitchens, elevated to personal attendant/servant to the young Lord Hale. Who happens to be a wolf who can't shift back. (Not without finding... *spoiler*)

(I just really love romances, can't stop won't stop.)

The Wrong Hale by Dexterous_Sinistrous

“I apologize,” Stiles started.

“You apologize often,” Derek commented.

“It's expected,” Stiles explained. “But I am sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I haven't seen … I haven't seen much in life.” His heart was beating fast with excitement.

“And you're here to see much?” Derek softly asked, curious why such a perfect creature would be hiding away when a ball carried on elsewhere.

“I'm here to meet someone,” Stiles replied.

~*~

In which, Stiles and Derek find themselves in a star-crossed predicament.

As the river flows into the delta by ElisAttack

Stiles never planned on squiring for a laird, but he figures fate has a funny way of doing things.

Or the one where Derek is a kind-hearted Scottish laird, and Stiles is his saucy squire.