#maria i hope you enjoy

[windmills123]

queen mary of magicant!

[sorryoutofrice]

this is a comic about some much needed down time and that one promise about accompanying the other into any battlefield but this time there was only one bed....

[skoulsons]

Tommy takes Polaroids of Joel and Ellie.

It’s not often, in fact it’s more rare than anything, but the chance to capture sweet moments between them makes Tommy’s heart full, especially seeing the gentleness in how Joel treats her and the way he smiles when she looks at him.

He knows they appreciate them, too.

The first one was when they fell asleep on the couch together. They weren’t even in Jackson one week at this point, Tommy taking regular stops to their house to make sure they were settling in well. Maria cooked a casserole for them, Tommy offering to walk it down to their place in her stead.

He entered the house to the two of them tucked tightly under an old quilt, Joel’s light snores filling the room. His feet were propped up on the coffee table as his left arm was draped loosely around Ellie’s shoulders, his right under the quilt. Ellie was against his side, her head against his chest and her knees bent, curled ip beside him.

Tommy didn’t know they even had a Polaroid or where on earth they got it from, but it was there, on a nearby side table practically begging to be used. The second the flash went off, Joel groaned and swore, Ellie exclaiming something along the lines of what the fuck, Tommy before pressing her face further into Joel’s chest to try and wipe the white lights dotting her vision.

Tommy let the photo settle before rushing out the door, leaving it beside the Polaroid on the nearby side table.

Once they framed it, Ellie kept it; the frame residing right next to her on her bedside table.

The second time was at the stables. Tommy had invited Ellie down to help out with them and she begged Joel to join them. Reluctantly, he did, his reluctance slowly fading as he watched her beaming smile reconnecting with Shimmer.

Shimmer was bigger now, big enough now to hold a human. Tommy watched on as Joel helped her up, his hands hooked beneath her boot before moving to her shins to steady her balance. His hand lingered on her calf as she adjusted herself atop Shimmer, gently petting her mane.

Tommy took it then. He wasn’t paying attention to expressions much, but to his delight, Joel had one of the widest grins Tommy had seen in years.

They framed that one, too. Joel claimed it, the picture sitting proudly on top of his dresser.

The third time was after the baby was born. But this time, Tommy didn’t take it. Maria did.

Maybe it was a bad idea to take a Polaroid in the same room as a newborn, but she was sleeping, so they said it was fine.

The baby was just over a day old, Maria up and healthy as the baby was passed around. Joel was more or less a wreck having yet another baby girl in the family, but he was overjoyed over it.

Tommy handed the little one to Joel, him taking her in his arms with the utmost care he could manage. She was so small, memories of holding Sarah in his arms rushed back to him.

He held her in the crook of his left elbow. He brought his right hand up, lightly rubbing the knuckle of his first finger over her cheeks, the same he tends to do with Ellie. The little one reached out and grasped his first finger, holding it tightly as he eyes peered at him, awestruck.

Quite the grip you got there, sweet girl, he whispered, smiling as he moved his head finger back and forth above her tummy.

Uncle Joel, Ellie said, smiling at the child. It has a nice ring to it.

Tommy stood beside them, relishing in the look Joel had toward his niece. That soft, reserved smile that he doesn’t show often. The creases at the corners of his eyes as he whispers gentle hi’s to her.

Tommy brought his hand up to Joel’s shoulder and squeezed tight, the action saying everything they’re not sure what to express in a moment like this.

That was the framed picture. Tommy’s hand on Joel’s shoulder, an emotional, brotherly smile plastered on his face as he watched his brother cradle a baby like not a day had passed. Joel’s finger still held onto by the little one, his smile as wide as the sea as he watched his niece. And Ellie, pressed up against Joel’s side, one of the baby’s feet fitted gently in Ellie’s palm, watching Joel’s smile with her own, nearly as wide as his.

It sits on their kitchen countertop, that way they each see it every day. A sweet, perfect memory captured. A moment when time stood still, the four of them wrapped up in the deep, unconditional love for each other.

[eegasleega-will-change-this-l8r]

George & Maria

way too late with this, so i'm really sorry to that anon who asked me about my headcanons for them ages ago... but since it's the anniversary of MOTHER 1, i figured i should finally sit down and do it! :D

So, without further ado, here's my own personal take on George and Maria, the two who started it all...

[As always, this is all my own vision for these characters, it differs a lot from other interpretations and since I'm particularly interested in them I kinda go off the rails with it. Hope it's enjoyable!]

So, things begin with Maria! She was the daughter of a fairly wealthy family, born on the later side of the 1800s in a rural part of Eagleland. She was kind, outgoing, positive to a fault, and well-liked by everyone in the town she lived in. She hosted most of the town's events and celebrations, most often at her family's estate, and no one was excluded.

Also, she was trans. This was something of an open secret, although she never talked about it, and most of the locals considered it impolite to gossip about. But since she'd been in the public eye since she was a child, it wasn't something that went unnoticed.

George was an out-of-towner, who showed up one day and quietly settled in, accompanied by a friend of his (his personal doctor, apparently. This is a weird oc that just kinda came into existence naturally, and he just kept showing up afterward... really need to give him a proper name at some point). He was a quiet person, although he got along well with the people he spoke to. He never spoke of where he'd come from, or why he'd left there. Mostly he preferred to stay indoors and write (he was something of an aspiring poet).

He never really paid much attention to the affairs of Maria's family, but one day he just happened to overhear some passing gossip while in town, and what he heard astounded him. He immediately knew that he had to meet Maria himself.

George had never attended any of Maria's parties, not being one for large social events, but he made sure to attend the next one as soon as he could. It was there that the two finally met. George was immediately captivated by her, and the more he spoke with her, the more he knew he was in love. She loved the way he spoke and looked at the world, and she wanted them to keep talking as long as they could.

The whole party passed, people left, until it was just the two of them. They were still talking and now, privately, George could finally reveal his own secret, too.

George was like Maria in a number of ways. However, he'd struggled far more with his own identity than she had. His family hadn't accepted him, had tried to force him into being someone he couldn't be, and so he left. Besides Maria, the only other person who knew about his secret was his doctor, a close friend of his who he'd always confided in. He'd had little hope he'd ever find anyone else who could understand, but he'd never even considered there might be someone else like him.

By the end of that night, they were already in love. They met more and more after that, never wanting to be without the other's company. He loved the way she sang, she loved to help him with his poems. She loved to tease him and say that he looked just like a penguin. When they went into town together, everyone wondered how this strange, quiet man from out of town had captured Maria's heart so well. Eventually, they were married, and after their daughter Rosie was born, they decided to move to a small, quiet town further away.

Just at the edge of the town of Mother's Day/Podunk, they built a small house on top of a hill (George's doctor came with them of course, as loyal as always. He moved into his own house just a short walk away, at the bottom of the hill). And so they lived there, husband and wife, their daughter growing up, and everything was happy.

When Rosie was about 8, a shadow fell over the town. Things lifted off the ground and flew across the room, animals went wild, and people vanished from their homes without a trace. When the morning came, George and Maria were gone.

Unfortunately, I think I'm gonna have to split this post. There's still plenty of George and Maria's story left to tell, and I think there's too much to get into in just one part. (also i still have some things i wanna work out for giygas...)

In any case, that's the story of how George and Maria met, right before everything goes wrong and the course of history is changed forever! I really love thinking about how many things turn out the way they do because of these two people. Without them, Giygas wouldn't have turned out the way he did, without Giygas, Porky would never have gone down that path, and without Porky...

So I've become super attached to my interpretations of these characters, and I really love giving them a larger spotlight. ^^

Hope this was fun! And happy 35th anniversary to MOTHER 1! :D

[gio-scrabbles]

Shadow the Hedgehog vs The World: The Variant Point (Pages 1 and 2)

Here it is! The first two pages of the prologue chapter for my au comic, “Shadow the Hedgehog vs the World.”

I will be uploading the other pages every so often and keep you all updated. Hope you all enjoy!

Pages 3 and 4 | Pages 5 and 6 | Pages 7, 8, and 9 | Pages 10, 11, 12, and 13

[peachiesnake]

So... You're Mary? ... I am! If you want me to be.

[immergladsss]

Moonacre Week 2024- Chp 1: So Long, London

Marius Merryweather looked out the carriage window and watched the city disappear with a dismal form of affection one could only describe as coming from the nostalgia of having lived in one place their entire life.

London was by no means a picturesque beauty of a city. It smelled, was rather overcrowded, and the sun hardly made its presence known. Nonetheless, it was home. It had been home for a very long time, that is until his father’s untimely death and the repossession of all that had ever made his home. He was left with nothing more than the belongings he could stuff in a carpet bag and a couple of trunks, an old book that once belonged to his father, and an estranged uncle whom he was to live with– oh, and his father’s pistol, but he doubted he’d ever need that thing. 

He looked down upon his gloved hands, then over at his governess who was busying herself with French needlepoint in a sad attempt to keep her indigestion at bay, then at the heavy tome across from him. 

It was a strange fairytale about his ancestral home. It was beautifully illustrated and spoke of some magical pearls that granted wishes. Though he didn't fancy fairytales, believing they lacked the necessary information to develop oneself, he couldn't help but wonder as he watched tree after tree pass by, what he’d wish for if he were to ever be in possession of such an item. 

Though Marius had begun his journey to Moonacre with some optimism, any hope he had for the countryside was crushed bit by bit with every ruddy pit that threw him about the carriage like some trinket in a box just gifted to a child. 

He tried his best to remain stoic.

With every jostle, he reminded himself that he had been born and raised to be a proper gentleman. 

He reminded himself he was restrained. Adaptable. Humble.

Yet none of that was enough to stop him from silently cursing his misfortune when a nasty bump caused him to smack face-first into the wall. 

“Oh, good heavens!” Ms. Heliotrope cried out as she removed the needle stuck to her finger, “These roads are certainly in an awful state.”

“I always find the state of an environment to be a reflection of those charged with its care,” he replied, rubbing his forehead. There would be a welt there the next day. “To think I would one day find myself forced to live in the countryside. And one as unmanaged as this. What could my uncle possibly be doing to keep him away from any type of maintenance?”  

“Now Marius, I’m certain Sir Benjamin is a hospitable lord.” Ms. Heliotrope held onto her hat as another ditch sent them flying.”I’m certain you’ll enjoy your stay!” 

Marius held himself back from rolling his eyes. His uncle’s lack of presence, even at his own brother’s funeral, said otherwise. But did he have a choice?

 “Moreover,” Ms. Heliotrope continued. “I hear the country balls are quite fun. Perhaps you’ll even find yourself a nice lady.” 

“I doubt I’ll find any of them tolerable enough to tempt me.” 

Next

[lowpolyshadow]

oh my god it's sonic the hedgehog

[hatergirl-69]

'The Ethel incident' (Ao3)

Summary

Fury has seen some very unbelievable things in his time at S.H.I.E.L.D; aliens and superheros and Greek gods.

But he hadn't even considered ghosts could be real.

Or

Fury adopts another young woman, I guess his adoptions extend to another physical plain.

----☆----

As Ethel glides through the never ending maze that is the S.H.I.E.L.D helicarrier she scolds herself for not thinking of this sooner. All of the governments secrets on aliens and superheroes in one place? It was the perfect location for her to spend the rest of her year. Next stop area 51.

She halts, feeling her entire being buzzing and her vision beginning to shake. Not this again. Honestly she wasn't sure if she expected there to be a bunch of weird relics here, but what did she think was going to happen.

Either way, she had to stay away from them. She wasn't sure if you could die twice, but was she even technically dead if she was still conscious? Well half-dying again did sound plausible, so she tried to stay away from certain places and objects.

Unfortunately for her, this might be one of those places. Ethel turns back the way she came, listening in on the snippets of conversation the agents were having. Each word seemed to hold a double meaning and also be more important than anything she'd ever done in her whole life.

She decides to take a different route this time, soaking in as much of the foreign place as she can before leaving.

Ethel stops again when she almost whizzes past a dark oak door, with a sign reading ‘director's office’. This sounded way too important to not even peep into. Plus, the weird buzzing was mostly gone by now so…

She slowly steps through the door, the old habit of feeling the need to sneak around back from being in such a secretive place.

There’s a man standing there, his bald head facing her while he looks at a large screen with things that looked like a map or blueprint covering it. He sighs, sounding slightly frustrated.

Ethel wonders how many years of high security prison she would get for even being in this room.

Then he turns around and for a split second she thinks he's looking right at her. Then the split second turns into a few more, and she is now 100% sure that Nick Fury is looking directly at her.

“Who are you?”

Ethel can't speak. This was all she'd wanted for… however long she'd been wandering around. She'd visited any mediums she could find, but those who didn't have the strange objects that made it impossible to step foot into their homes without buzzing were usually just liars.

“Kid you better start talking because once security arrives this will get a lot worse for you.”

“I, uh, I'm Ethel.”

“Alright, Ethel. How did you get into the helicarrier?” Nick knows this place is way to secure for anyone to just sneak onto, it's in the sky for goodness sake. Maybe one of her parents work here.

“I don't- well, it's sort of a long story.”

Ethel's pathetic excuse of an excuse is cut off by someone knocking on the door. When Fury calls for them to open it a dark-haired woman in S.H.I.E.L.D uniform, but with a lot more badges, appears.

“Fury? We've got a situation in Cuba.” She frowns when she sees Fury's expression, “Are you alright, sir?”

“You can't-” He stops himself. “I'm busy right now, Commander. Now's not a good time.”

The Commander's eyes sweep the room before she bows her head and shuts the door behind her.

Fury's eyes are trained back on Ethel. “You have a lot of explaining to do.”

“You can see me?” She blurts out, she knew it was a very obvious question but couldn't stop herself. Of all the people…

“Well you aren't invisible.” He ponders this for a few seconds. Maybe this kid could be useful, or at least worth keeping tabs on. “Is that how you snuck on here?”

“Uh. Sure. Yeah yeah, that's how I did it.”

He raises an eyebrow at the teen, under any other circumstance he would've assumed she was lying, but Maria hadn't even seen her when she opened the door, and she's one of the sharpest people he knows.

“Right.” Fury switches off the screen and gestures for her to sit at his desk.

Ethel isn't completely used to ‘sitting’ directly on objects. Her perception of time has changed quite a lot when she considers it, perhaps that's what happens when you have the rest of eternity.

When she maneuvers herself onto the seat, trying not to make it look too awkward, Fury begins again “Where are your parents?”

“Im not totally sure.”

Fury sighs again, his migraine worsening every second the girl sits across from him. “And who are your parents?

“Aha, funny story actually-”

“Skip to the answer.”

Ethel clears her throat, perturbed but unsurprised at Fury's attitude towards her. The only problem: She doesn't actually remember who her parents are. Dying has many side effects, amnesia included.

“They’re dead. Died.”

He stares at her again, but it seems to him the most believable thing to come out of her mouth in the fifteen minutes he's known her.

Well now what? There's an invisible orphan on the helicarrier, clearly with inadequate supervision since she's made it all the way here.

“Where do you live, Ethel?”

“Wherever, I guess.”

“Are you saying you're homeless?”

“Kind of.” Or it could be said she owned any house she wanted to.

“What's your last name?”

“I'm… not sure.”

“And how old are you?”

Ethel is almost certainly sure she would be older than she is now if she was still alive, but she still feels the exact same, and assumes she looks the same with the way Fury looks at her.

“Fifteen.”

This whole situation just keeps getting worse and worse. Maybe Ethel could just phase out of here and forget this ever happened.

“You aren't leaving this aircraft until further notice.”

“What?! Is that even legal?”

“You're an enhanced minor living on the street and sneaking into highly secure areas, I think the law will let this one slide.”

The girl groans and weighs up her options. She could disappear and stop messing with the government, or she could stay here and find out more secrets. But if she does want to stay here it's going to be very difficult to keep being dead a secret.

“I'm not enhanced.”

“Really? that's the only one you want to deny?”

“I can't turn invisible. I'm just… a ghost.”

The man blinks at the girl in disbelief. “You're what?”

“Dead. Undead. I'm not sure how you'd put it.”

“If this is true, how am I even seeing you?”

“You tell me, man.”

He raises an eyebrow.

“Sir.”

The man mutturs something about Hill being right, “How did… all this even happen?”

“I must've drowned or something, I respawned in a lake.”

Fury decides to sweep that one under the rug for now, “How much have you seen?”

“A lot. This place is really cool though, now that I think about it being stuck here wouldn't have been that bad.”

“But you aren't stuck here. You could leave just as you came.”

“Yeah, I could. I don't really have anywhere to be though.”

That was all that was stopping her from leaving. There's no way to control a ghost, what was Fury supposed to do with this kid?

“Well, Ethel, if you'd be content to stay I would very much appreciate it. This is a very… unique situation.”

“Sure.”

There's a silence between them, both contemplating their next move.

“It's pretty ironic, y’know”

“What?”

“Out of the thousands of people I drifted past, only the guy with one eye saw me."

“That's the only eye joke you get”

“Worth it.”

----☆----

Comments are welcome on my tumblr or Ao3, I'll still get them either way :))

EDIT: Found out Maria is ACTUALLY DEAD moments after posting this (Idc how long ago it happened, I wasnt allowed to watch secret invasion ☹️). Will not recover.

[meatriarch]

crickets sung their nightly tune in the dark, under the glow of the moon overhead in cloudless sky. air was chilled as time crawled on by, as pen scribbled carefully along paper — small green clovers decorating along the corners, with vines of leaves along their edges. she picked out the letter paper special, just for lelands' birthday, to send through the mail. she spent time with him ahead of her trip, ahead of spring break. she hadn't intended on missing the actual day, but, she'd wanted to try and hunt down someplace where marigolds were in bloom. her manager at her work, the florists, had mentioned hearing that few people had driven through a town nearby — newt — and spotted some along the sides of backroads, along property lines.

the temptation to spot some, herself, was too enticing — snap some photographs of them, to send polaroids of the stunningly golden flowers back to austin for lee, for his birthday.

and earlier today? maria managed to do just that!

smile beaming as she wrote along paper, dated in top corner : march 10th, 1973. ' — i hadn't been having much luck finding them, the entire drive over? nothing. when i left where i had parked and camped that first night to continue driving on friday? still nothing . . . i was getting a little upset, i really, really wanted wanted to find some marigolds for you, lee, and i was starting to think with every one of the stops i had planned to make, and finding none of them, that i just was never going to. but yesterday, friday night, when i stopped at this bar for a bite to eat and rest from all the stops and the driving, i happened to meet someone, and we talked for a long while. and when he was asking why i was passing through town, i told him i was looking for different flowers to take photos. and that i was having trouble trying to find a certain one — the marigolds — and i described them to him, as detailed as i could, i mean you know how i get, i talked his ears off trying to tell him about how pretty they are, but guess what? lee, he knew what they were! what flower i was talking about! said he was certain he'd seen some around on his familys' property, was pretty positive of it! and guess what, too! he offered to let me go over and get some photos of them! oh, i nearly jumped up and hugged him right there! i was so excited! we agreed on a time and he made notes on my map where his family lived, said he'd meet me off the main road and help me look around for them. and, lee, he was right! there were marigolds! all along this dirt road that cuts through his familys' property, a whole bunch of them scattered all through the grass! they were so beautiful! and they smelled so sweet! i wish i could have collected a few of them to give you, but they never would have lasted through the rest of the trip, and i didn't want to ask him such a thing, not after already being so helpful already. i'm so excited for you to see them! they're so pretty! the ones growing out of those two metal bins is my favorite! he said that his family has a whole bunch of other flowers, wildflowers and their own private fields of some of them, that he offered to me again to come back tomorrow to take more photos of. i can't wait! he said they have alot of sunflowers, too! i can't wait! — '

maria pauses her writing, setting pen down and stretching her arms out in front of her, looking out from the open back of her car, across the darkened field surrounding her. catching shadowed glimpses of wildflowers in the dark, swaying slowly in the night breeze. the lantern hanging from hook on the opposite side of car bed lit up her field of view just enough to see what she was writing, and a the few feet radius around the outside of the car. she'd tucked herself among some trees and underbrush, hidden for the most part from view of the road.

there's a brief, oddly loud rustle of leaves and branches that catch her attention, and she turns her head, twisting herself to peer out from the open end of the car off into the dark of the trees behind her. eyes narrowed, strained and struggling to allow her eyes to adjust to the dark outside. listening, listening — but slowly settles back in place when she hears nothing else seemingly out of place, and looks away.

shiver runs down her spine, and maria huddles into herself more, picking up pen to continue writing — figuring the noise is nothing more than the wind,

' — i'm certain this will reach you by the time that thursday comes around next week! i'm so excited to hear about what you did for your birthday back home, and with the others! i hope its fun and i hope you sneak an extra slice of cake to eat, for me! i'm sorry i won't be back until breaks' over, but i wanted to let you know how happy i am to have met you, lee. you're such a sweetheart and i've loved getting to know you more as time has passed. you're so funny and kind and i hope to get to see many, many more of your birthdays in the future! thank you for being so lovely, and thank you for being my friend. i hope you love the marigolds as much as i loved taking photos of them for you! happy birthday, lee! - maria ♡ '

pen stops at the little heart, setting it in her satchel. she lets the ink finish drying a moment before carefully folding the letter papers and placing them into pre-set envelope, ready to mail them out first thing in the morning with the polaroids, to be certain that they do reach him by the time his birthday arrives this coming thursday, the fifteenth.

she reaches across the bed of the car, turning of the lantern — plunging her surroundings into darkness — and settles herself under mess of blankets in the back of the car, nestling and curling herself up to sleep for the night, facing out at the moonlit wildflowers. a smile on her face as she allows herself to slowly doze off for the night.

tomorrows another big day, after all — she needs to make sure to not sleep in and keep the man from the bar — johnny — waiting on her . . .

@lifesver : another little birthday-related treat for our favorite golden retriever jock ♡

[nishihii]

lesbian win!

[glfry]

I love the m2 references in m3 a whole lot but the lack of almost any specific m1 rep slays me

[meatriarchived]

he stood taller than johnny. maybe six-four. baby blue eyes. copper hair. crooked smile, wide grin showing teeth when he laughs. crows feet. stubble. he was tall. blue eyes. copper hair. tall. blue. copper. not blonde. copper. taller than johnny. or? no. same height. no ... no. he was taller but not by much. he was there, around the other side of the store front. he was right there — the fucker was right there-

the copper-haired one was meant to be beside her - went by isaac. the one she'd set eyes on well over a week before, kind eyes and gentle demeanor when they had spoken, that early evening, when she'd been out on her own. he was surrounded by people he'd known then, however. made it impossible to sneak him off alone, not without one of the others keeping her face fresh in memory, had he not returned that night. it was only a passing conversation, but it was enough to warrant him, two days later, to recognize her elsewhere. to cross parking lot immediately, calling out her name — dolores — and strike up talk once again. a gentleman, helping her pack the back of her car with groceries. kind, friendly, strong. she could see it easily — how well-worked muscle made things a breeze for him. and for most, the sight would falter their knees, make them swoon. once upon a time, she'd be the same if she were honest — now? now all she could read from such display was,

he would put up a nice fight.

instead, however, beside her in the truck she rode passenger in sat old but familiar face; long blonde locks and strikingly green eyes that gazed at her for the last couple hours — with such warmth, such affection; with hidden grief and uncertainty and hope all meshing in green shades bright and dulled. it wasn't the copper-haired man, isaac, in the drivers' seat of the truck driven all this way down from way up north, from montana —

it was donnie — su vaquero — beside her, stealing glances at her during the drive here ( ensuring, perhaps, that none of this was a dream — that it truly was maria flores, truly was the girl, his friend, who had suddenly disappeared those years ago — in the passenger seat, alive ).

to the home she'd set up, a decoy, a place not too far from home — not too far out past the hewitts' property — where she could lure targets to — made them feel safe, when running off alone with her. one of the few, smaller homes, mrs. hewitt had told them some time ago, still in decent condition, that belonged to one of the late patriarchs' brothers' before they up and took off, leaving most of their things behind. took a while to deep clean it, make it look lived-in again, but the remaining hints of a family — of old photographs still hung up all about — worked well as a nice little cover story—

maria found herself bundled in nerves, hands clasped the shawl she had wrapped securely around her ( handmade by mrs. hewitt, for one of her birthdays. shawl mirroring the wings of a mourning cloak butterfly ) — like a safety net, or an embrace; part of her wanted to think it was one of them — lee, or johnny — rather than simple fabric, calming her at this moment . . .

donnie caught her completely off-guard. when he suddenly came into view in front of her, before she'd made her presence known to her target — to isaac. she had been as stunned as donnie's face had been then. green eyes looking over her in disbelief, taking her in, registering that it was actually her — at least, she assumed so. she couldn't deny, either, that she had done the same looking up at him . . .

air lodged itself in her lungs then, and she found it difficult to expel, take in another. it was like the chill of the cold rooms that came over her, a trembling that hit every nerve throughout limbs.

a fear that swept over her.

and when donnie's arms had gone around her, pulling her into hug — misreading her body language, perhaps — she was suddenly small, vulnerable. not wolf, not lamb. not even rabbit.

she felt small, insignificant.

like a mouse.

cornered. arms trapped in a rodents' trap, metal bar like jaw closing around her. there was a panic, a fear, in blown-out eyes, pupils so dilated the hazel around them was non-existent, and they peered past donnie's shoulder, past him, out into the storefronts around them, to the people casually passing by without a thought or mind to either of them.

eyes that, desperately, flickered to every single face within sight — desperately looking for trace of either johnny or lee among them . . .

but then, small voice whispered in her head, you went out alone, remember? they had things to do this morning.

maria found her hands having raised to return donnie's embrace, however evident — likely from how much she trembled in his arms — that he pulled away enough to look down at her, concern laced in brow, and he had loosened his hold, suddenly aware he'd just pulled her in without warning, how it was just as much of a shock to her seeing him as it was when he recognized her. and he had apologized profusely, if he made her uncomfortable, if he had scared her — he didn't mean to, and more words tumbled from his mouth.

maria could hardly make them out. his drawl all but sounded to her like the ringing of ears, of the static of the radio . . .

reminded her of those fucking broadcasts—

her tongue, her lips, felt dried out. so isolated.

she knew, in the back of her mind, that someday, possibly, she or lee could run into any one of their old friends. and the thought of it, time and time again, stirred emotions murky and heavy. knew it would happen. knew it was only matter of time. knew she'd have to, one day, look back at any one of them — see how much they'd changed, the longer it took. for them to see how much she and lee both changed, too. but, maria had assumed when that day did finally come,

that johnny and lee would both be close-by, someplace she could slink over to if it was too overwhelming, too complicated — too painful.

and yet that day came — looking down at her with once-adored green eyes. and she felt completely alone.

it had taken a moment, to regain herself, claw back the security blanket that donnie had — without intention — ripped off around her. and she had finally looked back up at him, as dolores' mask slipped back into place. she let tears gloss over hazels, as cracking smile lifted cheeks as she'd shaken her head reached up between them, took donnie's face between them, allowed her gaze take him in all over again — without properly seeing him, this time; mentally blurring his features, as if quietly trying to erase the familiarity from her memories, erase his importance from them.

she'd reassured him, hours ago, that she was okay and not to worry, it was simply alot to suddenly take in, just overwhelmed seeing him. not a lie, to be fair. and she'd brought him back in, hugging him tightly — hugging him as if she could lose him all over, like he lost her those years ago.

( he still smells nice, voice sounds out again, and his hugs, oh his hugs, they're still so sweet— )

those hours they spent together, before piling into the truck, were sweet. like old times, of him coming by her apartment. talking about the smallest, most seemingly unimportant things. listening to the radio, breaking out into singing songs they knew to one another. of his jokes, and making her laugh. how sweet, innocent, gentle those nights had been to her — had it not been for the years in between, of that last see you later before she left that spring break, who knows . . . maybe she could have mustered up some shred of courage to admit she liked him, then, when she got back home.

but things changed. very much changed.

as much as even this day, he could make laughter pour itself out from her with ease; the taste on her tongue, dragged down throat, lingered bitter aftertaste. it only worsened the more he talked abut what he had been up to — about his moving out of texas, the ranch up in montana, of his daughter . . .

and yet, her face, her eyes, remained softly looking at him as he spoke, gentle smile — albeit, a little sad at first glance. she let him talk, offering curious questions to keep him doing so, keep him occupied. keep him there, across from her. eyes gliding to watch on the mans' wrist at the table behind his seat, quietly keeping track of time.

it was too late, now, to try and find isaac again. she was certain she could have coaxed him, finally, off to the house, entice him inside, in just the right amount of time to get his guard lowered further before johnny and lee would get there.

but isaac was gone, now. long gone, by now.

and there was a tightness along jaw, now, sitting across from donnie. he messed this all up. thought crossed mind, and maria looked at donnie for a moment, in silence. his features, once again, hazed and blurred, and mid-sentence she reached out a hand and took his in both of hers, standing and looking down at him, doe-eyed, pleading, as she had asked him with a small voice, soft and quiet, " can we go someplace else? someplace quiet, donnie? "

uncertainty crossed over him. briefly.

but it was doe-eyes unwavering, threatening tears once again as they welled from past lashes, the small quiver of lip even — a show of sudden discomfort, being out and about; of nervousness being in the public eye, a little white lie told to him earlier — and he crumbled for her. and she rewarded him agreeing, leaning in and kissing cheek, with a sad, gentle smile and a sincere thank you, before he stood and lead her, her hands still clasped over his own, to his truck.

he was not her intended for the night — but donnie could still be a nice catch to bring back in isaac's place. perhaps an even better one — for johnny, moreso.

( she still remembers all those years ago, when reading the newspaper her eyes found herself staring down at her own face — printed, in the obituary section — officially declaring her death. and how it was johnny, and lee, who comforted her when every little part of her mind, her heart, her hope of ever going home, shattered completely. being dead to the world, when you were very much still breathing . . . it hurt. so badly, it hurt. knowing she was given up on. by people she thought she mattered to. by her own family. and it was johnny and lee who were there, to reassure her that she was still very much alive, did matter — to them. and later on, the same was returned to lee, when his obituary, as well, laid out in plain view across tabletop. she remembers, vividly, the sincerity, on johnny's face, in his voice, when he told them both he was sorry their friends abandoned them. )

it was donnie getting the truck door for her, helping her hop up inside, that maria apologized to him — the amount of people had started making her nervous, that if he had places to be it was okay to simply drop her off someplace else. the thought was waved off by him, assured her that anything he could have needed to do could wait, and maria's face lightened up, warmed smile beaming on face ( closest, so far that day, to how she'd smile back then. )

and him smiling back at her — that cute smile of his that she had always adored — there was a tug on her heart as he closed the door, rounded the front of the trust to get into the drivers side. the static and haze buzzing wildly in her head seemed to slow, quieted down, as eyes followed him. watched as he got in, shut the door after him. while digging for his keys and bringing the truck to life from the ignition. when his eyes met hers once again, maria's gaze was softened. and a murmur fell past her lips,

" i missed you, donnie. "

smile returned to his own face, and before he could finish returning the sentiment, maria scooted herself closer to him, leaning in and kissing his cheek, before slipping her arm around his, brought legs up onto truck seat and lowered her head, resting cheek against his shoulder. " i'll let you know where to drive okay? " she tilted head to look up at him, smiling again, as he took off on the road — flustered, with a goofy little grin on his face. small talk shared between them, with the radio playing on low, every now and then one of them turning it higher, singing along to the tune being played and laughing at one another. like old times. then quieting it down, for her to point out where to go, for their talks and questions to continue. for her to look back at him, lean up and give his cheek another kiss. and another—

until instead of cheek, her lips meet his — feathery soft, lightly, as he drives, doing his best to still keep eye on the road. " good thing its quiet today, " is murmured against his lips, with a gentle nuzzle of the side of his face as he re-straightens the truck ( a little carried away, that time. ), " you seem like you're having a bit of trouble driving, donnie— " she teases gently, grinning when he shoots her a look, smirk crossing lips, " only needed to get back in the lane 'cause yer so distractin', miss maria. " she laughs at that and gives his cheek a final peck — for now — and straightens herself up a little in the seat, looking ahead at last out the front window, eyes scanning the landmarks, telling him what backroad to get off of coming up.

things slowly grew more familiar as he drove. and the warmth, the bliss that crept in her chest when they had kissed ebbed away — slowly, souring, a twisting anxiety replacing it in her gut the closer, she realized, they were getting to the home.

this is donnie. this is her friend. this is the guy you had that little crush on, all that time ago, maria — and you're leading him blindly into a wolves den, that damned voice, hissing in her head at her, tell him to just drop you off. tell him to get the fuck away from there. tell him to go home. to montana.

no, he left you there too. they were all so close to you and yet, not a fucking one of them heard you? how bad your voice was for days, after screaming from your cell, screaming for one of them to hear you, to find you? and not a fucking damned one of them did? bull-fucking-shit.

its donnie's voice beside her that draws maria back. back to present from the past few hours, of them finding place to go, to talk, to catch up. back to the passenger seat of his truck. back to her eyes staring empty at the front door of the decoy home. as reality slowly started to sink back in, like insects crawling all across skin.

( she's brought him to his own grave. )

his voice cut in again, that same uncertain concern in his tone, across features. when she turned to look at him, he asked if she's alright, if something's wrong. her head shakes, turning herself to him and leans over, re-meeting his lips softly, until she felt him melt all over again, until she felt his hand attempt to draw her even closer; she gently broke the kiss instead, murmured that they should maybe head inside, instead, if he wanted to. and shot him a playful grin and scoot back across the seat, opened the truck door and hopped on out before he had the chance to respond.

but she knew he followed her up to the front steps. the drivers' side door opened and slammed shut, the crunch of his boots against dirt road under their feet. she reached into suspended flower pot beside the door, taking out house key and dusting it off, glancing back at him with a smile, patting the sides of her dress, " don't have pockets, and not alot of people really come on by here so, don't carry it on me too often. " with a muffled click she opens the door, slipping shawl from around her and sets it just inside, on little side table in arms reach. she glances at him, again, when she steps in but he stays on the steps, looking up at her; eyes looking her over, raising to find and lock back on hers. she pauses and steps back out, closer to him, motioning with her head to the house, " . . . change your mind, donnie? "

please go, please go back to the truck, please go back to montana . . .

" maria— "

please turn around. go back. leave texas, go home to your daughter, please tell me you're leaving—

“ you… you gotta know, before anything else happens tonight… you gotta know that you were the greatest thing that ever happened to me. ”

was it possible for ones' heart to simultaneously crumble into ash and yet still feel warm, full? god she wanted to punch him, shove him back towards his fucking truck. GET OUT, she wanted to scream at him, she wanted to pull him to her, laugh in his face, break down right there in front of him, GET OUT WHILE YOU STILL CAN, im so sorry—

but her hands had lifted, briefly cupped cheeks once more, and brought herself to him, kissing him all over again, letting his arms move around her this time, kissing lovingly, needingly, desperately even, to not want space drawn between them again. between them, however, comes her voice against his lips, " i always wondered, how it'd be, kissing you, you know, vaquero— "

as soon as old term of endearment slipped out, they both were inside the door, him shutting it harsh behind them without once either of them breaking away from the other. all those times, before everything happened, at the old frat parties where he'd come over to check up on her or the others, how they'd lean in close to one another, to hear each others' voices over the music playing as its loudest. how he'd look around the room, and her eyes would linger on him for seconds longer. he was always handsome, to her, and charming, too. his smile — both silly and boyish, or that damned smirk of his . . . they always made her melt a little on the inside, every time he flashed them her way. always wondered, too, how kissing those smirking lips would feel like . . . but, neither of them had ever said a word to the other, before she was taken. thought echoed from time to time, in the far corners of her mind, of if he had or if she had said anything then, would anything have changed now?

who knows.

her mind was whirling as it was, with the high she was getting, kissing him, after all this time. different than it was, kissing her targets. here was something behind both their lips, meanings unspoken, finally at least getting a shred of an escape, after all these years, a gentle touch of lips to hers, different, from how it was kissing—

" darlin', i love you, " donnie panted, his lips a hair's bredth away from hers, " i always did. i always have, ever since i met'cha. think i always will . . . "

his voice however dropped from existence the moment those words left his mouth.

i love you.

her lungs felt every bit of air in them were sucked out harsh, left her freezing inside.

you love me?

liar.

is that why you never heard me screaming for help down there? you loved me so much that the moment you saw an escape for yourself you took it? without a second thought? you love me, and yet you left me there, abandoned me there, then abandoned leland, and then just did what? did you love me so much you begged the police to come to the property? look for us? did you bother even trying to come back with anyone, to try and help us? loved me so much you fucking left me to rot down there . . .

you love me?

never looked back, you took off the moment you could, completely left texas entirely, ran off to live your life while we were stuck here fighting for our own. fighting to survive. you love me and yet, you continued on, met someone, had a kid?

no. you don't fucking love me.

fucking liar. you're a fucking liar, donnie.

maria knew damn good and well what love meant, what those words meant — the strength they held. because they were said, and shown, to her in every possible meaningful way, by leland, by johnny.

i love you was leland swallowing pride and fight when she begged him, pleaded for him to stop, out of fear she would lose him if he kept pushing his luck — and he did. for her. so he could be around, to stay by her side. protect her. so they wouldn't be alone.

i love you was her lost in that damn field, so long ago, running in fear from horrid, half-gored beast, from misshapen faces and figures, from voices from all directions — and then seeing johnny step out into view from the leaves and stalks of sorghum and miscanthus, the only clear, normal, familiar thing she'd laid eyes on for what felt like hours. how when she ran to him, out of desperation to get out, he allowed her into his arms, held her close and reassured her that she was safe with him, he would protect her from all that was lurking around her, and he did just that.

i love you was the both of them time and time again, when they went out on their hunts, together, and they both kept watch over her, even at a distance, even in a large crowd. and the moment either one saw any foul play, overheard any cruel thing be said to her? they were making their way over.

i love you was their protective natures. their gentle touches. their moments of peace back home, eating at the table together, huddled under the covers for warmth during the night, when the shack turned icy-cold.

where the fuck was yours donnie?

how much she would have wanted to someday hear those three words come from him . . . now? these years later, now he says it? when they hold no meaning. when he never bothered to find her. when he ran off — ran, like he always fucking did.

the audacity to tell her he loves her.

fuck you, donovan.

how seconds passing can instead feel like a century has crawled on by . . . when donnie's eyes open, and green meets hazel, does the split second shift in his eyes, across his face, show his attempt to register the look on her own.

before knife, dug out silently from drawer behind her, bites down into his shoulder; her pupils blown out, cold emptiness on her face—

FUCK. YOU.

“ you… you gotta know, before anything else happens tonight… you gotta know that you were the greatest thing that ever happened to me. ” + “ i love you. ” | @priestbit | scenario two, companion.

[levana-stark]

It has finished!!

The world cup celebration!!

Enjoy!

[queenofbaws]

For a prompt I’d love to see what you come up with based on Okkervil rivers song Lost Coastlines

She couldn't say what had caused the ripples playing out across the surface of the lake, but by the time they reached the shore and the water went still again, she'd started to suspect she should've. Something itched in the back of her mind - the very back, a place she seldom went for reasons she couldn't quite remember - and the longer she scratched at it, the more it hurt, so in the end she let it go.

If it was important, it would come back; if it wasn't, it would stay gone, stay sleeping in its bed of silt at the bottom of Toluca, stay bound and buckled in the lake's embrace.

There was that itch again, the one that said she ought to know more than she did, and she frowned against it, rubbing the feeling back into her arms as she leaned against the guardrail and watched the fog pull back from the water. It was only then that she realized her clothes were soaked through and the wooden walkway beneath her feet had swollen, suggesting she'd only just pulled herself out, that the ripples she'd seen...

Maria breathed in the smell of pine sap and rain and decided she didn't need to remember - some things, she knew, were better left where no one could find them.

six sentence sat(or)sunday!!!

[fastfists]

"Sometimes," Maria began, her little face knit tightly in disgust, "my anger outweighs my guilt. The things I feel for GUN, sometimes for the whole world, is ugly." Her hands clenched tightly over her lap. "Do you think that makes me a bad person, Knuckles?"

"Not at all, you're feelin's 'r valid after everyt'ing you've been through. It's understandable why you'd feel t'is way"

There was no hesitation when he answered the young woman, giving her a look that showed he understood to some degree how she felt. After all, from what he knew and learned, her life hadn't been one anyone should've suffered through least of all her — hope could only last for so long and a tragic end breed tragic results.

Plus, it wasn't like long ago he had felt a similar feeling brew within himself. Being the last of your kind, living in isolation from the rest of the world, having to rely on yourself to survive. There had been plenty of times he had thought to just abandon the floating isle, to forsake the Master Emerald in the heat moments where he had yelled at it and asked why he had to deal with this all by himself — he was just a child after all. It was easy to understand Maria in that regards.

"You suffered a lot, gone through more t'an most 'ave — your allowed t'feel 'ow you feel 'bout w'at 'appened t'you cause of it."

"At t'end o' t'day you're still one o' t'sweetest 'n most carin' souls I 'ave ever meet in m'life 'n 'aving t'ose feelin's doesn't change t'at 'bout you...you're ah good person, Maria."

A sincere smile painting his lips as he reached over, gently resting his own hand atop of her's. Giving it a firm but soft squeeze in response. Letting her know that he meant what he said and that he understood how she felt, it was okay to feel it.