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mldrgrl · 3 years

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His’n

by: mldrgrl Rating: PG Summary: A Hanella Twitter prompt, of sorts. Hank introducing Stella as his wife. https://twitter.com/hole4gillian/status/1411255101990203392?s=21

The whole Zoom appearance thing was getting to be old hat, so when Hank was asked to appear live and in person at the reopening of an independent book store he frequented, he jumped at the opportunity. He missed reading to people that actually existed and weren’t just little boxes on a screen. He missed that instant feedback and energy that only a live audience could provide. He missed being the center of attention.

The appearance was on a Tuesday evening. He asked Stella to go, but she had a late class that night. He asked Becca to come, but Ziggy had a puppy training session. He wasn’t terribly disappointed. It was a rare occurrence to have any of his family at an event and he was fine with it.

Hank was greeted by the owner and manager of Read This, a man named Philip, who he considered to be a step above an acquaintance, but not quite a friend. They had a relationship built upon reciprocity. Hank was a regular customer, even name dropped the store a few times in interviews to give it a boost, and Philip always stocked his books and made sure signed copies were on display.

The event space in the store was just a small stage at the back, barely large enough to fit two chairs comfortably, and an assortment of mismatched folding chairs scattered in front of it. The bookstacks were at angles, pointed towards the stage in a vee formation like an arrow down the aisle. Hank had done a few signings there in the past and they always felt more like intimate gatherings than events.

Philip kicked off the appearance with a short speech thanking everyone for coming out and for supporting the store over the years. He kept it short and simple and then gave Hank the floor to a round of applause. Hank stepped up onto the stage and gave Philip a quick hug before he sat down. All the seats out in the audience were full - all fifteen or twenty of them. He took a passing glance at the crowd as he unfolded the pages he’d brought with him that had been tucked into his back pocket.

“Any of you motherfuckers blog about this later and call me an old man for what I’m about to do, fuck you in advance,” he said, taking out the reading glasses he had hooked to the collar of his shirt that had recently become a necessity.

Everyone laughed. Someone woo-hooed from the audience and Hank dropped his chin to look over the rim of his glasses.

“Philip said I could read whatever the hell I wanted,” Hank said. “So I’m going to read an excerpt from a new novel I’ve got coming out in a few months called Alone Together. A couple things you should know going in, the novel follows the story of Miranda and Scott, a married couple who are on the verge of calling it quits after fifteen years when the pandemic hits and forces them hunker down together when they’d really rather be anywhere else. This bit I’m about to read is about half-way in, when Scott is starting to reflect on what exactly went wrong and when.”

Hank paused to smooth his pages again. When he looked up, he straightened his shoulders in surprise. He saw Stella, leaning against one of the bookstacks with a mild smile on her face. She was in her work clothes, a white silk blouse and fawn colored pencil skirt and tan heels. She had a tan blazer over her arm and her briefcase in hand as well. He took a subtle glance at his watch as he adjusted his pages. Her night class should have only started a half an hour ago.

“Uh,” Hank started and then hid a grin behind his fist as he cleared his throat. “Scott watched his wife at her computer from across the room. She had her headset on and she was laughing. He couldn’t actually remember the last time he’d heard her laugh. It occurred to him that he’d forgotten what it sounded like.”

It took about fifteen minutes for Hank to read the full excerpt. He was momentarily distracted when he saw Becca walking down the aisle. She went straight to Stella, gave her a hug, and then turned towards the stage with Stella’s arm across her shoulders. The surprise of having both his wife and daughter there for him almost made him cry.

When he finished, the audience clapped, and Philip came back onto the stage to moderate audience questions. All the questions were the same variations of questions he had been asked his entire career. He could answer them in his sleep. While he was droning on about his routine and writing habits, he saw Becca tip her head back, whisper something in Stella’s ear, and then duck out from under her arm and walk away. He hoped she wasn’t leaving without saying goodbye.

“Gentleman in the green shirt,” Philip said.

“You said earlier that you were inspired by the pandemic, so I have to ask, how much is fiction and how much is reality?”

“Are you asking me if I based it off my own life?” Hank asked. “Well, first of all, I want to make a broad statement about writing in general. That whole ‘write what you know’ garbage that people, mainly professors, let’s be honest, try to instill into you, is bullshit. Do you think Bram Stoker was a vampire? Do you think Thoms Harris was a cannibal? And believe me, I’m not saying that writers don’t cull from their real life when they’re putting words to paper, but there always seems to be this assumption that if you’re writing a modern story, set in a modern world, that somehow that must be your life and your voice.

“Unlike Scott, I am happily married to the most beautiful, intelligent, way out of my league woman and I would never forget, not even for a hot second, that I am the luckiest bastard alive. We started off the pandemic in very close quarters and when I was trying to think about what I might be interested in writing next, it occurred to me that I could very well be in a miserable position if my life was different. But, it’s not my life that I was imagining when I finally sat down to write. It was two people who were at odds with each other and how would they respond to this?

“I’ll say this, though, and then I’ll get off my high horse on the subject. There is one thing in the story that I gave to Scott that belongs to me. I even read from that passage tonight, and I’ll read it again.”

Hank put his glasses back on and flipped through his pages until he found the paragraph he wanted. He glanced up and out to where Stella was before he re-read the lines.

“He could recall in stunning detail the moment he knew he was in love with her. It wasn’t a romantic moment. They weren’t out on a date. It wasn’t during or after sex, when he was naturally euphoric. It was on a hot summer morning in August when the air conditioner had gone out overnight and they’d both slept poorly and were pissed off at the world. He watched her angrily brushing her teeth with her pink cheeks and dark circles under her eyes and in his exhaustion and anger he wished for a moment that she wasn’t there, but then he had a flash of his life without her and suddenly he felt a swelling in his chest that stole his breath. He never wanted to envision a life without her again, not for a minute.”

Hank stared at the page for a few beats before he finally took off his glasses again and looked up. He first looked for the man that had asked the question and then he turned his gaze to Stella.

“The fictional situation was different,” he said. “But, the feeling was the same.”

Stella gave him a subtle smile and her lips puckered very briefly. His own lips twitched in response and he finally cut his eyes away. He took a few more questions and then Philip thanked him for his time and invited anyone that wanted to stay to have a book signed to wait for a few minutes as they set up the table.

As people began to talk amongst themselves, Hank left the stage to go to Stella. She was chatting with Becca, who had returned with two cups of coffee from the cafe next door.

“Hey,” Hank said, sliding his arm around Stella’s waist and squeezing her hip.

Stella put a hand on Hank’s face and her thumb briefly circled his mouth. She didn’t say anything, but her eyes held his in a warm gaze. She tilted her chin up at him and he leaned down and kissed her cheek.

“Daughter,” he said, turning to Becca while still holding onto Stella. He put his hand on the top of her head and kissed the part in her hair.

“Father.”

“I’m glad you came.”

“We thought we would take you to dinner,” Stella said. “When you’re finished.”

“I would love that.”

Philip came up from behind Hank and said his name. “We’re ready for you,” Philip said.

“Philip, this is my wife, Stella Gibson. And my daughter, Rebecca Moody.”

“Lovely to meet you,” Philip said to Stella and then nodded to Becca. “We sold out of the hardcover of your last book. Please, let me know if you’d ever like to do a signing.”

“Sure,” Becca said.

“You’d have to put twice as many chairs out,” Hank said. He could tell Becca wanted to roll her eyes at him so bad.

“Go do your thing,” Stella said, putting her hand over Hank’s on her hip. She rubbed her thumb over his and he captured it and pinned it down for a moment. He nodded and then kissed her cheek again.

“Love you,” he whispered into her ear.

“I see what you mean,” Philip said, walking Hank back to the stage where a folding table was set up. “She is out of your league.”

“Right?” Hank said with a laugh. “And she married me. Unfuckingbelievable.”

The End

#i wrote this #hanella #hank moody #stella gibson #marrieds #the fall #californication

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ayoitsnic · 3 years

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Platonic! Sam x Reader x Dean

Word Count: 2.5k

Trigger Warnings: None? Violence that's pretty typical for Supernatural

Summary: Sam and Dean found out they have a sister. They're very skeptical at first but upon meeting they find out that despite 2 totally different upbringings they have more in common than they expected.

*Disclaimer* I wouldn't normally describe y/n in fics but in this one I did so purposefully to show the similarities between the siblings. I've been told some people are a bit touchy on that.

Oh also this is the first fanfic I've ever written so I'd be happy with constructive criticism.

'This is John Winchester. I can't be reached. If this is an emergency, call my son Dean 866-907-3235. He can help.'

'Shit' Y/N thought to herself as she was put through to her dad's voicemail. 'Wait....it said call his son....does that mean...? Wait do I have a brother he never told me about!?' Grabbing a pen and a pad of sticky notes she called again, this time hoping for voicemail so she could write that number down.

'This is John Winchester. I can't be reached. If this is an emergency, call my son Dean 866-907-3235. He can help.'

She got his voicemail again, quickly scribbling down the number before hanging up and dialing it.

Sam and Dean were just finishing up a ghoul case in Indiana when Dean's phone began ringing in the glove compartment of the Impala. Reaching over from the driver's side Dean quickly found his phone, glancing at the caller ID "Unknown Number?" He questioned out loud. He assumed it was a scam caller, but answered it anyway just in case "Hello?"

"Is this Dean?" A female voice asked, sounding mostly nervous, but also just a teensy bit excited.

"Who's this?" Dean questioned skeptically, causing Sam to look over curiously from the passengers side

"I'm Y/N. I umm....this is gonna sound crazy but I'm your sister." She felt weird saying that. Until 5 minutes ago she was an only child. "I tried calling dad but it went straight to voicemail and said to call you if it was an emergency...I kind of need help.."

Shocked with the idea of possibly having a sister Dean pulled the car over to a screeching halt, putting the hazard lights on. He needed a minute to take that in. He put the phone on speaker so Sam could hear what was being said "No that's impossible. Dad already had one kid we didn't know about. No way he had a second." Dean said, obviously in denial.

"He what?" Y/N asked, a grin spreading across her face. Regardless of the circumstances that prompted this call, she was elated to find out she had more than one sibling

Realizing what he had just said, Dean shook his head "Nevermind. Where are you?" He asked as Sam began to flip through John's journal, looking for any hint that there might've been another Winchester out there. It didn't take long for him to find the missing pages not even halfway through the book. It would seem she was born long before Adam.

"I'm in the Poconos, in Pennsylvania." Y/N responded

"Okay well we're about 10 hours from there. We'll be there in the morning." Dean told her "Text me the address." The phone call ended and Y/N texted him the address. They weren't sure what the emergency was that she had to call their dad for but regardless of whether or not it was their kind of thing, Sam and Dean were definitely gonna haul ass to go meet this mystery woman.

The next day Sam and Dean found themselves in Northeast Pennsylvania before noon hit. When they finally reached their destination they realized that this woman had grown up so differently from them. She lived in one of those fancy gated communities. Well THEY considered it fancy. Y/N was used to it, but then again the bar wasn’t too high with the childhood Sam and Dean had. The houses were big, the yards green, you needed a pass from security to get in, the only thing missing were picket fences.

"Are we sure we aren't walking into a trap?" Sam asked Dean as they stood on the big white porch, ringing the doorbell. "Well if we are, we're certainly prepared." Dean had grabbed holy water and had his gun tucked into the back of his jeans. Sam, a little silver and the Demon killing knife. It wouldn't protect from /everything/ but it'd save them from most of their most common threats.

When Y/N opened the door you could definitely see the family resemblance between her and Sam. She was tall for a woman, standing around 5'10, had light brown, shoulder length hair. Her eyes though, those were a beautiful shade of green like Dean's. It was almost like looking in a mirror for the boys "Hey." She greeted, letting them in

"Which one of you did I speak to on the phone?" She questioned

"That would be me." Dean replied, raising his hand a bit "This is my brother Sam." Sam was still trying to get over the fact that it looked someone took him and hit copy/paste.

"Wow. Dad really got around didn't he?" She commented without thinking. "4 kids, good for him." Just like Adam whom Dean had very briefly mentioned the day before, John Winchester while still her father, wasn't in the picture that often. Sure he seemed like a cool guy the few times a year he would visit but they never really had a proper Father/Daughter connection. She did care about him, but at the end of the end of the day he was just a person she knew she could trust, hence she didn't think twice about making comments like that until she noticed the look on her brothers' faces when she said it. "Sorry, I want thinking when I said that." She quickly apologized, wanting to move on.

Upon entering, the whole house smelled like Palo Santo wood. She found the scent very calming. "Anyways it's a hell of a drive from Indiana. You hungry? I made pie." She offered.

Dean's face lit up at that "What kind?" He asked with a small grin

"Blueberry. It's my mom's recipe." Y/N replied as she motioned for them to sit at the kitchen table. While she took out a knife to serve the pie, Sam had swapped out her utensils for ones they knew were silver.

"So what was so important you felt the need to call us up here?" Sam asked. Y/N could already tell she liked Sam. He gave off good vibes.

Y/N stayed silent for a moment before telling them "My cousin was found dead the other night. He had his throat ripped out. Cops say it was a Mountain Lion but it sounded like something that might interest Dad. Where is he by the way? I tried calling him a few more times and it just kept going straight to voicemail. Doesn't even ring."

Sam and Dean both looked a bit sad as they had to break the news that their father had passed away and had been dead for quite some time now. Upon hearing that, Y/N didn't really react. She wasn't sure how to. Of course she should've felt something because it was her father, but at the same time, as mentioned previously, he wasn't around a lot. He was absent for most of her life just like he was for Sam and Dean's. Sure he was there for the big stuff like birthdays, her high school graduation, or prom night where he let her drive up in the impala, but it was the small stuff she wanted him there for.

"So you know about the whole 'fighting monsters' thing then?" Dean asked as he splashed a small amount of holy water on her leg under the table. Sam kicked him under the table for even mentioning it. What was he thinking!? She didn't even notice the holy water but the question caused Y/N to look at him weird.

"What the hell are you talking about? Mom always said he was a fed." This almost forced Sam to hold in a chuckle.

Despite looks from Sam telling him it was a bad idea to tell her what they really do and that it was probably a vampire that killed her cousin, Dean told her anyway. They already made the mistake of not being totally upfront with Adam. Dean wasn’t making that mistake again "Yeah, okay." She chuckled dryly "You fight monsters. Sure you do." Like any sane person, she thought they were bullshitting. "Next you're gonna tell me you've found bigfoot out something." She said sarcastically

"Actually Bigfoot's one of the few things that isn't real." Dean told her with a smirk

"Tell ya what, you fight monsters?" She motioned towards her two brothers "Prove it. Show me these monsters. Let's go find the 'Vampire' " she said with finger quotations "that killed my cousin."

"Oh no no no." Sam finally spoke up "I was against telling you about what we do to begin with, but I'm drawing the line at having you go out on a hunt. You could really hurt. Or worse, killed."

"What is this, some bullshit male chivalry thing? Do you think women can't do the job?" She questioned with a raised eyebrow.

"No, no that has nothing to do with it." Sam quickly back tracked "It's just that you only found out today that monsters are real, you've never hunted before, and we don't want you getting hurt."

Y/N got quiet for a moment, contemplating how she wanted to respond to that. When she finally spoke, she leaned across the kitchen table and told the boys very calmly, like eerily calmly "He was my family. I'm going and we can do this the easy way or the hard way. Your choice." It was loud and clear, in no uncertain terms that she would do anything for her family. That included killing vampires.

The group went silent again. Sam and Dean exchanged a few glances before Dean relented "Alright fine, but you follow our lead."

"Deal." Y/N nodded

It didn't take long to locate the vamp nest. Only a day or two. In that time Sam had given Y/N a full rundown of everything she'd need to know about Vampires. How they're nocturnal but that doesn't mean they can't wake up during the day, how the whole 'stake through the heart' thing doesn't actually work and you gotta cut the heads off, and how they normally live in groups.

Thankfully it was a small nest, only about 6 or 7 of them. When the 3 of them pulled up to the old, long abandoned Birchwood Resort, Dean popped the trunk revealing their weapons cache. Y/N looked surprised to see all that stuff, peeking over Dean's shoulder to get a better look. "I've never seen so many weapons in one place. That's awesome." She grinned as Dean handed her a machete. Sam looked at Dean, thinking to himself how similar she sounded to him.

"Alright, Sam and I are gonna go in. Stay out here and if you see any of them try to run out just chop the head off." Dean told her

"You're crazy if you expect me to stay out here and miss all the action." Y/N told Dean as she leaned against the side of her dad's car. She didn't care how long the old man had been dead. To her, that would always be his car. NOT Dean's. With a sigh, she looked up to the night sky and ran her fingers through her hair "Alright fine, whatever. You're the master. I'm just the padawan." She shrugged, kind of annoyed but not in the mood to argue. Sam chuckled at the Star Wars reference.

"This place is huge though." Y/N added "It's really easy to get lost in. You might be better off with someone who grew up here and is familiar with the area. I wonder where you could find someone like that." She hinted, as her and her friends would explore this place as teenagers. "I think we'll be okay." Sam declined. They really were set on having her outside. Thinking about it, she could definitely understand the decision. They'd probably see her as a liability.

Once Sam and Dean had found the nest, the massacre began. After killing half the nest Dean found himself pinned under a vamp, his weapon thrown across the room where he could reach it. "Sammy!!!!!" He called out but Sam was busy with 2 vampires of his own.

Outside Y/N had grown bored of waiting for the boys to return. How long did it take to kill a few 'Vampires'? 'Fuck it' she thought to herself 'I'm going in.' And that's exactly what she did. Looking around the place for her brothers she ran into 1 vampire. Too Easy. She cut the head off as it made a move to go after her. Looking at the decapitated head on the ground made her nauseated but she pushed on.

Before long she heard a commotion From inside one of the private cabins. Peeking through a window she saw the bad position they were in. Scared, and sick to her stomach she ran into the cabin. Swinging the machete in her hand she killed the vampire that had Dean pinned. It was a clean cut and came centimeters from Dean's throat.

He got up, grabbing his own machete to help out Sam. After the vamps were dead Y/N averted her gaze, trying to avoid looking at more dead bodies as she caught her breath.

"I thought we told you to wait outside!" Dean told her to which she instantly responded with "And I thought Sam said you guys would be okay on your own but I just had to come and save you. You should be thanking me."

With a sigh Dean nodded "Are you okay?" He asked, just making sure. "I'm fine. I'm covered in blood and I just killed 2 Vampires, but I'm fine." Despite the nausea, she grinned. The whole hunting thing wasn't supposed to be fun, but this was the most excitement she had in a long time. "Alright, I don't know about you guys but I would kill for a shower right now. If you want after that I know a great bar off main street. I could use a stiff drink."

Sam and Dean left 2 days later, having found a case in Virginia. "We are gonna keep in touch, right?" Y/N asked as Sam and Dean put their duffel bags in the Impala

"Of course we are." Dean agreed while Sam added his contact info to her phone. She of course already had Dean's info saved. "You sure you don't wanna come with us?" He asked which caused Y/N to shake her head lightly "As much as I would love to, I have responsibilities up here. Work, family, what's left of a mortgage to pay off...Maybe one day though." She offered a soft smile.

After hugging both boys and telling Dean to drive safe, they took off for Virginia. "Dude," Sam looked over at Dean "I know we were skeptical at first but can we agree she's definitely related to us?"

Dean looked at Sam weird “I don’t see it.”

“You’re kidding right?” Sam asked “Aside from the fact that she’s like a walking replica of me, she makes really good pie; you love pie. You saw how defensive she got when I told her it’d be safer to sty at home while we took care of the vamps. It’s clear she’d do anything for her family. Sound like someone you know? and while we’re on the subject let’s talk about the fact that she’s not a terrible hunter. She’s far from a natural and a little weak stomached, but for someone who’s probably never killed a thing in their life she wasn’t bad.” Sam listed all the different ways she was just like Dean.

“What was the first thing she said when she saw the arsenal he keep in the trunk?” Sam asked his brother who responded with “I dunno. What’d she say?”

“She said ‘That’s awesome. She sounded just like you.” Sam insisted

Dean sat silent for a moment, focusing on the road ahead of them before relenting “Yeah okay when you put it like that she’s definitely related.” He agreed

#Supernatural #Sam Winchester #Dean Winchester #sam winchester x reader #Dean Winchester x reader #female reader

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cowboyified · 3 years

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Below are some WIPs I’m releasing into the wild. They were all written at different times over the past two years so any mistakes/cliches you can blame on past June, I don’t know them.

Go, be free.

This first one I think is the one I’m most fond of. I had such a vision for it; bottlecaps in trees, river swimming, making out against the fridge, all that good stuff you get with weecest.

The summer Sam is seventeen they stay in one place for long enough Dean starts referring to it as ‘home’.

It’s an old farmhouse, miles from any other structure, bar an outhouse and hay shed. There’s a porch running the length of the front and back, the wooden boards pulled up from their nails, wavy with the weather. Weatherboard paint peeling, wallpaper inside torn and missing in most places.

They’re squatting, technically. The property owned by a family saved by hunters once, friends of friends of Bobby’s, too distraught by what they’d witnessed to raise their kids on cursed land. Dean had told Sam that Dad had been told by Bobby that had been told by Pastor Jim that it was chupacabras. A whole pack of ‘em, feeding off the lambs in the back paddock, tried to take a bite out of the baby girl and Sam had said, “As if man, those things are tiny, I’ve seen pictures, you could kick one and it would limp away like a fucking chihuaha, you scared of chihuahas, huh, Dean?” But Sam still hikes his sheet up under his chin when he hears scuffling under their window between sleep.

There’s remnants of the house’s past inhabitants still scattered around the place. Sam had stood and slid two inches on the wheels of a tiny replica car that had been jammed under the couch the second day they arrived, piffed it at his brother’s head, who’d caught it, exclaimed that it was Camero, dude, treat her with some respect and had sat it on top of the fridge.

The bookshelf in the corner of their shared bedroom holds mostly dust and tattered occult books stolen from libraries from all over the country, left by hunters who have found what they’ve needed and moved on. There are a few of the worst Stephen King novels shoved haphazardly on the top shelf and Sam finds something funny in that, the irony in enjoying bad horror when the real deal lurks behind the screen door.

Dean gives him a look when Sam pulls down and cracks open a copy of The Tommyknockers, snorts, “Haven’t you read that one already?” and Sam says, tucking himself into bed, “Yeah, it fucking sucks, King was royally off his head while writing it, that’s why it’s so good.” Sam finishes three quarters of it in one sitting while listening to Dean’s quiet snores from the other side of the room.

It’s a ten minute drive to the closest town, an off the highway, invisible to the outside world, kind of one-street community. No reason to take the exit if you don’t already know it’s there, one store, one gas station, one bar in an old brick post office building, unfitting, the carpet pulled up at the corners but home to the best fries Sam has ever had in his life.

Sam follows Dean out to the courtyard, neither of them are legally old enough to drink but there’s nothing else to do but to get respectably drunk in a place like this, anyone that has lived long enough in the true country is some kind of functioning alcoholic, so Dean orders a beer and isn’t asked for ID. In a town small enough for everyone to know every intricate detail in the threads of dirty laundry, they are foreigners. No one knows where they’re from or where they’re going and Sam knows that Dean likes it that way.

It’s never been a secret that Sam prefers to feel like he has a part in everyday normalcy. Dean thrives under anonymity, gets a kick out of it because it makes him feel dangerous. He had stopped accompanying Sam to school two states ago, a silent agreement with their father when Dean had come home early and helped John cut splits into the tips of bullets instead. Like hell I’m signing up for compulsory extra curricular activities. What’s the point in making friends with people whose biggest concerns are the answers to whatever bullshit test and who fucked who last Friday?

Finding comfort in a nine-to-five kind of community is a flaw Sam’s been burdened to deal with.

It’s early afternoon, the courtyard is empty and the table they chose rocks on its legs every time Dean slides his drink over for Sam to share. It’s bitter and Sam hasn’t had enough beer in his life to know if it’s supposed to be like that or if it has just soured from the long journey it took to get from the brewery to their glass. He drinks it and doesn’t grimace because his brother is looking at him through the rays of warm country sun.

“Tastes like piss, huh,” Dean says, leaning forward out of the light so Sam can see him clearly again. He takes back the glass.

“S’not that bad,” Sam replies, rubbing the leftover condensation into his hand, doesn’t look at Dean, finds it hard these days, twists in his gut all wrong. Sam knows why.

His brother hums, “There’s gotta be something else to do around here.”

Sam thinks, Dad’s left the car, we can go wherever we want, but doesn’t say it because his brother is loyal to a disastrous fault.

That’s a recurring thought. Sam in the shotgun seat, his brother behind the wheel, driving away. Just away, to someplace else and they’d be okay because they’d have each other and all Sam ever needs is his brother, like water. But John will be back in two weeks, term starts again in a month and he needs his father to sign the enrollment forms. Two more years.

“You see the old dredge outside of town?” Sam asks, remembers passing it when they arrived, all twisted, rusting metal, the bones of it against the setting sun.

“What did I tell you about respecting your elders?”

“You told me that they all smell like porridge and are easily susceptible to sleight of hand. No, Dean, Dredge,” Sam stresses. “Big rusty old machine that pulls minerals out of water.”

“Looking to strike big, Sammy?”

“Yeah, you see, my family is poor, brother at home too dumb to get a job. Our father went to get milk and never came back,” Sam sniffs for effect. “I can’t go home empty handed again, sir.”

“Ah, a real sob story,” Dean nods in understanding, tips his head back and finishes the beer. “Let’s get out there then, sonny. We shan't let that simpleton, downright fool of a brother go hungry.” Dean jabs Sam in the ribs when he stands, hard enough for him to gasp, gets Sam’s head under his arm before he can recover. Sam claws embarrassingly at his brother’s torso, face pressed warm into the side of Dean’s waist.

“I will pray for us young Samuel, for I too, dream of riches,” his brother is exclaiming, tripping them out and onto the street. “I only ask that we share whatever bounty dredged as I saw the most exquisite pony a few miles back and I simply must have it.”

And Sam thinks - with his flushed cheek hard against Dean’s skin through the thin sweaty fabric of his shirt, heart beating too fast against his ribs in a way that has nothing to do with exhaustion - you can have it all.

---

Sam’s brother’s perpetual state of being is ten miles over the speed limit; this can be applied to almost every aspect of him. Dean goes and goes and rarely stops. They’re pushing double that out of town, north of their property, into the forever stretch of flat land and Sam loses himself in it. That idea of away, of going and going and that Dean could take him because he’s an expert in the field.

The Impala blasts Born To Be Wild and Sam imagines the lyrics spreading out over the dry grass. He rolls the window down and throws his head out, trying his best to keep his eyes open against the road’s wind. The sun beats down, warmth soaking through and into his bones and Sam laughs as the cattle turn to catch a glimpse of them soaring.

Dean pulls him in, tugs at the back of his shirt, says something along the lines of, what are you, a dog? Should get you a shock collar for all the times you’re a little bitch, but Sam can’t hear him over the roaring of the open window and the look of transparent glee on Dean’s face, it’s loud and assaulting and Sam has to turn away because seeing Dean like that wobbles him dangerously from the nonchalant facade he has going on in relation to how he feels about his brother. But mostly his face hurts from smiling too wide.

Used as a warm up last year. Boyking!Sam

He thinks he’s in Louisiana, maybe. That he got here in the tray of a pickup and that he couldn’t feel the wind in his hair like maybe he should. The driver had stopped for a piss-break and Sam had snapped his neck without his hands.

He rubs them together now, tries to feel guilty but there’s nothing to feel guilty about because his hands are clean; he doesn’t have to use them anymore.

Sam thinks he’s in Louisiana because he stepped out of the truck and into a wet kind of heat. There’s a church with thick greenery growing over the roof and white wood that’s been mold-blackened by the humidity. He laughs to the darkness because it's very funny to him that he’s driven himself subconsciously to a place of grace.

He skips up the steps, two at a time, gleefully. The smell of the bayou and rotting wood has put him in a good mood. The lock snaps when he blinks, the chain unraveling and snaking into a coil at his feet. The doors open for him and maybe he did that with his mind too, or maybe they were just expecting him.

The church has been used recently, its interior better kept than the outside, bibles tucked neatly in the backs of pews, ribbons tied into plaits. The white of the moon falls in blankets through the windows, shadows of leaves moving over the floor like rippling water and the bust of Mother Mary prays for him at the altar.

Sam spreads his arms and addresses her, says to the room at large, “Shall I repent for my sins, oh Lord?” and it echoes, gives him goosebumps, a current under his skin. He has an audience here because God is omnipresent, this is a place of worship and Sam has always been good at that.

A church in Louisiana, standing before a plaster of his mother’s namesake in a church for a God he used to think could have some defying factor in a destiny that was always going to be concrete. It’s funny, blatantly. Sam puts his hands gently to Mary’s cold face, kisses her on her lips before crushing her head, spraying ceramic.

Sam stands behind the lectern, hands red with his own blood now, sticking the pages of the Good Book. He’s read it before anyway.

“Am I to be forgiven?”

Last is a casefic I had planned out in 2019. I didn’t get very far into the actual writing part of it, but I still think the setting is cool, less so the plot I had in mind.

Just outside of Bridgeport, Connecticut there’s a community built on a sandbar. A small secluded semi-island, connected to the mainland by a mile-long beachfront. A town of forty to fifty now abandoned, vandalised residences.

The police find the bodies of the boys there, bleeding out and into the sand, each other’s skin caught under their fingernails.

Sam watches as his brother pulls the sheet back from one of the corpses, laying blue on the steel morgue tray. He’s a kid, a boy, not even eighteen. Hairless, lanky, multiple stab wounds puckered around his belly and Sam thinks he does not look peaceful for someone who is meant to be at rest.

Dean is quieter than usual, his body language stiff. They’ve seen their fair share of dead kids but Sam thinks that this one might look a little too much like an adolescent version of himself. Shaggy brown hair, too long limbs, college on the horizon. Sam blankets the sheet back over the boy’s face and hears his brother exhale in what he thinks might be relief.

The coroner tells them that the other two are the same, besides the youngest one. He’d been blinded, thumbs pushed through his eyes until they popped like grapes. He asks if they want to see him too and Sam says no, thank you, we’ve got what we need.

Which is a whole lot of nothing, but they’ve only just arrived and there’s evidence that doesn’t involve corpses that needs to be checked.

“Pussied out in there huh, Sammy?” Dean says as they’re walking down the funeral home’s front steps, past the manicured roses and trimmed lawn. You see these perfect hedges? We’ll treat your dead mother with the same detailed care!

Sam pulls at his tie and scoffs because he knows he wasn’t the only one uncomfortable standing in the morgue; cases that involve kids always rub them both wrong.

#wip dump #wincest #my words

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ceruleanwhore · 4 years

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Let’s talk about LoK’s shit worldbuilding

Technology is what I’ve seen the most people the most opinionated about, so that’s where I’ll start. Plenty of people out there share my opinion that having LoK be set in basically the American 20s is just some really shitty worldbuilding but I’ve also encountered plenty more who are of the opinion that since it’s technically possible, that means it’s good. For those who aren’t aware: just because something is technically possible does NOT make it good. AtLA is set in a more traditional fantasy world with a hard magic system where the setting, character design, and everything else are meant to feel older (even though this time it isn’t modeled after Europe). There is some technology in AtLA and what is shown works with the nature of their world and their society so it isn’t like, say, a lamppost from England being dropped right into this little fantasy world and disrupting things. The trains in Ba Sing Se are a perfect example of this with how they are operated by benders and also fit, visually, with the surrounding buildings and whatnot.

The issue with LoK is that it seems that there was no real thought around the development and incorporation of new technology in the context of the world. Instead, it’s as though they copied and pasted the American 20s in there and it’s really jarring. This would be the part where I said that just because it’s possible doesn’t mean it’s good writing- just because our industrial revolution was at breakneck speed doesn’t mean that having your fantasy world develop the same way is a good idea. For a little context, let’s compare this to the Lord of the Rings. Imagine that Christopher Tolkien one day decided to write a whole new four part series set a century after the end of Return of the King. So now, seemingly out of nowhere, boom, technology. Minas Tirith is basically 1920s Chicago, they have cars and stuff. And the thing is that there was a little bit of technology in LotR, just like with AtLA, so that is a fair comparison.

Also, like I said earlier, it feels lazy with how they’re just throwing in some of these different types of technology. For example, a glove that electrocutes people with no explanation whatsoever on how it works doesn’t make sense. Not to mention, the fact that anything relies on lightning bending, which is SUPPOSED to be super fucking rare (more on that later) is beyond stupid.

I think this reflects an ongoing issue with Korra where they clearly think that they should be trying to make things more “realistic” but either don’t realize or don’t care that in the process they’re wrecking that ‘fantasy’ feel their world used to have, which brings us to our next topic: people.

Just like how they decided to go the ‘realism’ route with a breakneck industrial revolution, they also decided to go that same route with homosexuality and, more importantly, homophobia. Friendly reminder that if you’re writing fantasy and you spice it some with some good, wholesome gay content, you DO NOT have to ruin it with fucking homophobia. It’s supposed to be fantasy, you dense fuck. It has its own problems but the Dragon Prince is an absolutely perfect example of how to write gayness in fantasy, i.e., perfectly common with zero homophobia to be seen. Writing it like Bryke did just to double down on “it’s been like 90 years since the war ended but did you know the Fire Nation is fucking TERRIBLE and Sozin is basically HITLER?” is weak, stupid, and fucking annoying.

The other thing I want to touch on is race. Basically, put whoever you want in your story and have them look however you want them to look but keep in mind that the way you do or do not introduce groups of people can affect the quality of your writing. What I mean is that with a fantasy universe like this, it’s all wysiwyg. When the gaang traveled around *the world* meeting and interacting with all kinds of people from all kinds of places in all 3 remaining nations (and showing memories of the air nomads that are now gone), that’s your chance to showcase all that wonderful diversity. By the end of the series, when their tour of the whole world is over, you should have a complete picture.

Again, think about LotR for a second. By the end of Return of the King, you’ve encountered all the different types of men that ever existed in any of Tolkien’s writings (kinda sorta including the dunedain, and there’s even a reference or two in there with Aragorn tying that in all nicely), multiple kinds of elves, dwarves, goblins, hobbits, ents, huorns, the eagles, Tom Bombadil and Goldberry, the Nazgul, and multiple maiar (some good, some corrupt). The only race that hasn’t appeared in any of this that does exist in Tolkien’s other works is the valar but, otherwise, you, as the reader, along with characters like Frodo have been introduced to each and every race in middle earth, and, frankly, the Valar can be excused because they all are in the Undying Lands (plus Manwe might have been mentioned with the eagles.) Now, compare that to LoK where, with a Rowling level of retconning, they decided to just add some more races out of nowhere with no explanation 90 years or whatever after the original series.

I just know that, for myself, I would’ve loved to see all this included from the beginning and incorporated into the original series and the travels of the gaang. Instead, we have it so AtLA is pretty set one way and then in LoK there’s just that one random dude with an afro and then, going into the comics afterwards, they decided to start incorporating different races in a way that feels like a JK Rowling tweet (“Hermione was black all along, even though I described her in the books as having light skin and picked a white actress to play her, I swear!”) So, basically, when you’re writing fantasy, you kind of have to include everything like that because that’s how the genre works and it’s not like in normal fiction where you can just have a black character without any explanation. Once again, the difference between how fantasy writing works and things being “realistic”.

As for realism, yanking the white lotus out into the open by their ear like an errant child is so unspeakably dumb and unrealistic. They’re a SECRET society who transcend the four nations and operate in SECRET jfc. After the war ended and the old folks home was no longer fighting the Fire Nation, the rest of them should’ve been able to go back into hiding no problem. But to drag their asses into this mess just to make them like Korra’s personal bodyguards and guards at high security prisons is so fucking stupid it hurts.

So then, to finish this up, let’s talk about bending. First off, there’s the issue of how bending forms have just… ceased to exist and/or been replaced with vague yet aggressive punching. Remember when Katara had to learn all those water bending stances and there was even a scroll of them? Or when Aang had to learn fire bending forms from Zuko? Well fuck that, now everyone can just punch at stuff instead. Never been able to airbend even with what should be proper form? Try waving your fist around!

The other thing is how so many of these characters are just “so naturally gifted” and can either successfully bend well with little to no experience or casually do stuff that’s supposed to be hella difficult. An example of the first point is Zaheer who just got his airbending like 3 days prior but suddenly can fucking fly and an example of the latter would be the blood bending, just all of it. That’s kind of another thing, though, how they’ve taken these things that were special and notoriously difficult and then watered them down and made it so literally everyone can do it. You know how lightning bending was a really cool thing only Ozai and Azula, the Fire Lord and princess who are both also known to be especially skilled benders, could do? Not anymore, now pretty much any fire bender with a pulse can shoot lightning out of their fingers. Same goes for blood and metal bending.

Also, can I just say that I’m mad at how pro bending was done? The earth bending stuff with the Boulder and all that worked because that framework of wrestling is really well suited to the element. Now, it’s what I’ve been saying where it’s like ‘oh yeah we can just put all the elements together in this boxing type shit because everyone in this fucking series can bend by punching, right?’ They had an awesome opportunity here to figure out different styles of fighting sports tailored to the different types of bending and they said ‘nope, fuck you’ and gave us that shit. Or just sports, in general, based around if the people playing and benders and, if so, what type of bending they have.

The last main thing with bending though is the absolute horseshit of harmonic convergence and kinda just season 2 in general. For starters, Korra getting her bending back because dead Aang was like “here ya go” was bullshit. I feel like it would’ve been better if that had been when Unalaq got introduced as her spiritual guide and, through working with him, she eventually was able to reach Wan, see his whole backstory like we got in episode 7, and then, afterwards, she could contact Raava directly and somehow with her get her bending back. Then, afterwards, she could go back to Republic City and give everyone their bending back and start helping with reconstruction from Amon. Season 2 doesn’t need a villain and it most certainly does NOT need that dumbass ‘dark avatar’ bullshit.

Also, in terms of the air bending, seriously, fuck that shit. If air bending is going to come back then maybe, I don’t know, after following my other advice have Korra realize that not only can she take bending away (like Aang) but she can also give it so she could just go around to all the acolytes and make them airbenders. Or, if that would fuck up the balance or some shit, have her go around and make all the people who lost their bending to Amon into a fresh batch of air benders. You can’t really introduce something like energy bending and then expect us to believe that the only way to bring air bending back is for Aang to fuck a lot and then rely on following generations and subsequent incest, plus hc is fucking stupid when you have a character who can straight up just give people bending.

Oh and all that convergence shit brings up my last point of discussion, the way they retconned and fucked up the lore. Just like with what they did with lightning, blood, lava, and metal bending, they also decided to just do everything they could with those fucking turtles. Just like with Azula’s lightning bending, the entire fucking reason the lion turtle works so well is because of how it is so rare and special and all that so once you take that away, it doesn’t matter anymore smh. For most peope, champagne is special. You know why? Because most of us aren’t out here drinking the shit by the gallon every day. So yeah, between that and the way they threw away already established lore (that was further reinforced by experiences of characters in the show) makes it just a big old “yike”. All they had to do was fanagle a bit to keep Raava and Vaatu but ditch the whole hc shitshow and just maintain the parts that are already established.

#anti lok #bad worldbuilding #bad writing #anti legend of korra #lok #legend of korra #avatar #lok critical #lok criticism #legend of korra criticism #korra criticism #korra critical

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potatocrab · 4 years

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Salvation is a Last Minute Business (18/18)

Chapter 18/Epilogue: We Could Go Places

Madelyn finally earns her happy ending.

“With my brains and your looks, we could go places.” - Frank Chambers as played by John Garfield (The Postman Always Rings Twice, 1946)

That’s all she wrote! Thank you to anyone to joined me on this wonderful journey! 😭

[read on Ao3] | [series masterpost]

June 22nd, 1958

“You’re late.”

Madelyn laughed at the sound of Nick’s voice, calling out to her the moment she arrived at the agency that morning, the bell above the front door indicating her presence. Her amusement persisted as she walked through the lobby, observing the care packages that filled the space. Even Ellie’s desk was covered with boxes and flower bouquets—more than what had been present the previous evening, or the day before that. There were more gifts scattered throughout the room, all sent in congratulations after news of Valentine Detective Agency’s success spread across Boston. Taking down Eddie Winter was one thing but solving a decade-old missing persons case and exposing a government conspiracy was another. Nobody expected the ragtag detective and his lawyer broad to take expose the Institute—not that anybody knew the university were hiding such abhorrent secrets in the first place.

She leaned against the doorway of Nick’s office, surprised by the lack of clutter that typically covered his desk. The stacks of case files and reports had been boxed away, leaving the room the cleanest she’d seen in years. Well, except for the small sprinkling of cigarette ash on the oak wood that he’d failed to hide—hell would freeze over before Nick Valentine gave up that habit. All that remained on his desk, aside from the usual decorations, was a single newspaper and a bottle of Irish whiskey, two perfectly poured glasses on standby. A Sunday tradition.

Madelyn grinned. “I think I’m right on time.”

“I wonder if Grace Kelly received this many flowers when she won best actress,” she joked, walking over to take her usual seat in the armchair to the left.

Nick chuckled, rounding the desk to join her with the two glasses in hand, the bottle and newspaper tucked under his arm. “I’ll let you know when I start feeling like a Princess.”

“You should see Piper’s office,” he added, passing her one whiskey-filled glass and the weekend edition of Publick Occurrences before sitting down. “Gal’s been flooded with offers from all over the state, including the Bugle, to run their editorial departments.”

“She’ll never take them,” Madelyn contended. “She has enough resources and connections to finally fund a full staff. Maybe finally move into a bigger office and give us the space back so we can do the same.”

Even though Nick smiled at the idea, he reeled in his excitement. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

Madelyn feigned innocence, shrugging as she hid her grin behind a generous gulp of whiskey.

He glanced at her curiously, smiling against the rim of his cup as he also took a drink. He expertly diverted the conversation. “So, where were you this morning?”

She considered lying just for the fun of it, but decided the truth was just as shocking. “Church.”

“Madelyn Hardy, once again attending Sunday mass,” Nick replied, shaking his head in humorous disbelief. “I thought I’d never see the day.”

Neither did she. Madelyn was sure she had lost her faith the day her husband died, buried it along with Nate to be forgotten. His death, and her survival was more than guilt—it was sin. And then, one New Year’s Eve party later, everything changed. She’d been tested over the last several months, and despite the grief and the loss, she was also at peace. Nate was at peace. Somewhere along the way, she’d found salvation.

“You could say I’m a changed woman.”

Nick considered her words in comfortable silence, the two slowly drinking their whiskey while exchanging soft, lingering smiles. It was reminiscent of the ‘good-ol-days’, but calmer. He said what she was already thinking. “I’ve changed too. We all have.”

Madelyn contemplated asking if he had any regrets, or if everything they had done was for the best when he silently gestured towards the newspaper draped across her lap. She glanced down, smirking at Piper’s headline. Reunited!

“She’s finally learned to reel it in,” she jested, looking over the picture of Shaun Pearlman—now eleven years old—standing with his parents, Nathan and Nora.

“After such headlines as The Boogeyman Banished, and The Synthetic Truth,” Nick’s laughter was at the expense of their dearest reporter friend. “The article speaks for itself. It’ll take some adjusting, but the kid will be alright.”

Madelyn studied the family portrait again, focusing on their smiling, overjoyed faces. “It isn’t everyday that somebody gets a happy ending.”

“They’ve earned it,” Nick remarked, just the slightest hint of sorrow passing through his light green eyes. Jenny—the heartache would never go away. He remained silent, but his smirk slowly returned, encouraging her to continue reading through the newspaper.

Inside, there was a picture of Hancock—John McDonough—formally announcing his plans to run for mayor in the 1959 election. He had already been working with the interim mayor after his brother’s death, ensuring that any lingering Institute corruption was snuffed out. His platform hadn’t changed much—of the people, for the people—and judging by the large outpouring of support, a lot of Bostonians dug what he was offering.

“Are you going to vote for him?” Madelyn teased, chuckling when Nick grumbled a sigh and rolled his eyes without an answer.

There was another article about Preston Garvey and his Minutemen, reclaiming their post in Quincy now that the Gunners had been successfully chased out of town. MacCready had found a place in their ranks, grinning like the sun was shining out of his ass in the group picture that accompanied the article. It was a good fit for the former mercenary, even if Preston was a little weary about accepting him at first. The network of neighborhood watchmen were supported by the newly reformed Boston Police, Sergeant Danny Sullivan himself promising to oversee their continued partnership.

Correction—Deputy Chief Danny Sullivan—earning quite the promotion after the fall of the Institute exposed and removed more corrupted individuals from power. He was running his own campaign, recruiting the best and brightest minds to fill the ranks throughout Boston’s precincts with the promise that integrity and stability were there to stay.

“Still have a long way to go,” Nick commented, his distrust of the system would linger too. “But it’s a start.”

Madelyn nodded in agreement, flicking her eyes to another one of Piper’s headlines—Mr. Danse Goes to Washington.

“He’s not going to be happy when he finds out about this,” she laughed.

“The Lieutenant will get over being compared to Jimmy Stewart,” Nick replied. “The man’s a war hero, isn’t he?”

Her laughter continued as she read over the article, trying not to imagine Lieutenant Danse in a comedic movie from the past, and instead as the dignified officer he was. The headline was tongue in cheek but accurate—he’d gone to Washington, D.C. to testify on capitol hill about what occurred at Fort Hagen between the Institute and the United States military. He’d also promised Nick and Madelyn that he’d watch over the federal investigation closely, ensuring another cover-up didn’t take place.

“Here,” Nick spoke, standing to snag a second, unseen Publick Occurrences from his desk. “Special edition. Hot off the presses, as Piper would say.”

Madelyn exchanged copies with him, setting down her glass so she could examine the front headline closely. Valentine and Hardy—The Unstoppables.

“So are you the Silver Shroud or The Inspector?” she giggled, covering her mouth.

“Ha, ha, Mistress of Mystery,” he retorted sarcastically, sitting back down across from her.

There was a picture of them standing in front of the office building, the neon light of the agency sign burning brilliantly behind them. The longer she stared at it, the larger her smile became, warmth radiating through her body. She’d never felt more proud or honored to be a part of something important. She felt at home.

“This is going to give you more exposure than you’ve ever had,” she remarked, tapping the paper with her fingers. “There’s going to be people lining out the door asking for your help!”

“Our help,” Nick corrected with a small smile, leaning forward in his chair. “That is, if you’re still up to the task of being my partner.”

“Of course Nick,” Madelyn answered immediately, unable to stop from grinning. “You’d be hard pressed to find a woman as willing as I am to put up with your brand of bullshit.”

He laughed, louder and heartier than she’d heard him sound in a long time. “Has anyone ever told you how charming you are?”

Madelyn tilted her head to the side. “Funny you should mention that.”

The laughter settled into quiet mirth as Nick looked into his empty glass with a sigh. “I need a vacation first.”

“Really?”

“Really,” he echoed. “Starting with a proper meal. Care to join me?”

Any other time and Madelyn would’ve said yes. She frowned as she shook her head. “I have a date.”

“That’s nothing to pout about,” Nick smirked. The detective—her partner—regarded her with a warm smile. “I can forgive you this one time.”

The warmth had settled in her heart, and she wondered if she was glowing as she smiled at him, the happiest she’d felt in years. Nick reached over to gently clasp her hand, squeezing her fingers as he spoke. “It’s a good look, Madelyn.”

She stood up, leaning over the small distance to place a soft kiss to his cheek. “Thanks, Nick.”

“Sure, sure,” he watched her as she left, lingering only for a moment in the doorway. “See you later, doll.”

Madelyn sat in the vinyl blue booth of the Slocum’s Joe, gazing out the window and watching as people passed by on the sidewalk. Cambridge wasn’t nearly as busy since the Institute’s downfall, but hundreds of people still called considered the Boston neighborhood their home—including her. She’d made occasional trips to her apartment in the last few weeks but had only recently started living in D7 again now that she was sure it was safe. Codsworth and Dogmeat were more than pleased to have her home, the Mister Handy unit suffering a bout of anxiety after being separated from his mistress—even if it shouldn’t have been possible with his programing. Even now, the robot had difficulty letting her out of his sight, and she laughed when she noticed Codsworth across the street, hovering about as he walked Dogmeat, a leash tied to one of his metal arms.

“What’s so funny?”

She glanced up to find Deacon setting down two cups of coffee before sliding into the booth across from her. Two sugars and a little bit of cream for her, straight black for him. He wasn’t in his usual suit, swapped out for something far more casual and befitting for summer, black wig left forgotten on her bedside table. Of course, he’d never leave without securing his sunglasses—his eyes were only for her to see.

Madelyn titled her head, gesturing out the window as she took a slow sip. “It seems I’m always destined to have somebody stalking me.”

“I take offense to that,” he held a hand over his chest, feigning attack from her teasing words. “To imply that I stalked you.”

Madelyn struggled to contain her giggling behind her cup. “Hmm, and what would you call it?”

“Careful observation from afar,” he said, brows furrowing for a moment as he inspected the contents of his coffee before taking a careful taste—always with the suspicion. You can’t trust everyone, even the barista at their regular coffeehouse, it seemed.

“What would you call it now?”

Deacon smirked at her flirtatious question. “An up-close and personal liaison.”

Madelyn smiled, her heart racing in excitement as it usually did when they danced around this subject. There still hadn’t been much of a discussion—or a confession—since their infiltration of the Institute. No clear conversation about what their relationship meant. It didn’t stop them from acting like lovers, a constant stop-and-go ever since the evening she got shot, pausing when they needed to focus on the case instead of romance. Now that there were no more distractions, what she desperately yearned for was full steam ahead. She darted her eyes back out the window, forcing her mind to stop before she spiraled into anxiety and doubt. She was happy—right?

Deacon’s hand reached over the table to cover hers. “Do you want to go to D.C.?”

She glanced back to his face, momentarily surprised by his question. Any joke she thought about making—that everybody was going south—fell away. “With you?”

His expression faltered. “No, with Drummer Boy,” he said sarcastically.

“I dunno,” she nervously laughed, humor the only defense mechanism she could rely on. “Robby makes for a pretty good date when you aren’t—”

“Charmer,” he groaned, fingers tightening around hers, even though a smile dared to pull at his lips.

“Is this one of your business trips?” she persisted. “Or would this be for pleasure?”

“Why can’t it be both?” he responded, and it sounded witty enough, except all traces of humor had disappeared. “Can’t you tell when a guy is trying to be serious?”

Madelyn swallowed, and released a shaky breath. “What is it?”

Deacon didn’t say anything, and she was afraid she’d scared him off with her teasing. Minutes passed before he finally reached up and removed the darkened shades from his face, placing them on the table next to their forgotten coffee cups. Blue eyes locked on blue, but still, he remained silent.

“What do you want?” she prompted, slowly turning her hand over to lace their fingers. “Deacon?”

She’d seen that emotion in his eyes before—just last week—when he tried to tell her something important, and she denied him the opportunity. This time, she wasn’t afraid.

“I want…”

“Je t’aime,” she answered, filling the silence when he trailed off. His eyes widened, the shock quickly subsiding as a bright smile pulled at his lips. Madelyn knew it was a simple saying, but still translated. “I love you.”

“I—”

Not everyday that Deacon was at a loss for words. He suddenly moved, slipping out from his side of the booth and swiftly sliding in to join her. Madelyn turned to meet him, laughing as the butterflies swarmed her stomach like she was experiencing this—love—again, all for the first time. He leaned in close so only she could hear.

“Je t’aime,” he repeated with an ever-growing smile. “I love you too.”

There was nothing left to say, so he kissed her instead. Madelyn smiled against his lips, sighing when his arms wrapped around her in a warm embrace. Deacon was still grinning when they parted, eyes shining with an emotion she wanted to keep there forever. He pulled her close, and she rested her head against his shoulder, switching her gaze back outside.

The sun was shining, and she was happy.

#fallout 4 #noir au #deacon x f!solesurvivor #deacon #madelyn hardy #nick valentine #oh god it's over ;_____;#I'm going to go cry now #masterpost to follow

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ofmythsandmadness · 4 years

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i need a favour - five.

PART FIVE - dinner and a show - or in which, two dumbasses both struggling with the same emotional dilemma force themselves to continue their silly little game without acknowledging what’s really going on in their minds (or something like that). WORD COUNT - 4716. A/N - It’s been so long, I’m really sorry. I had zero inspiration for this chapter and struggled to even write 200 words...and then just sort of spent two+ weeks writing little by little until this happened. It’s not great, but it’s...it’s a thing. Just as reference - the relationship between the two sisters (as portrayed in the chapter) is tense and broken from unnamed past experiences. basically to sum it up, they were close as kids, but they didn’t have great parents, and both were just depending on each other. but then the older sister left y/n alone with them when she turned 18 and basically turned against her, becoming totally independent and renouncing her old life - including y/n. while the two are trying to have a relationship now (really just forced by her sister), it’s strained and not at all the same. and her sister really’s just a dick, it’s not entirely her fault but she’s a dick. so that’s that, on that. and that makes no sense...but it’s too early for me to make sense. enjoy.x

THANK GOD FOR HER SISTER’S WINE CELLAR.

Sure, she had mocked her silently plenty-a-time for it, believing it truly a waste of aesthetic space considering how little her sister drank - but Y/N was really singing its praises that night. Quite possibly, the best thing her sister had ever done.

“He’ll be here,” she promised, wincing as the red liquid slipped down her throat. “He’s just running late at work.”

That was complete bullshit. Really, she had no clue where the guy was - all she had gotten from Diego that day was a call two hours before heading over, a rushed conversation telling her he might be late and that she should go there on her own. Reassuring. But she could not explain to her sister that, no matter what the woman knew about the two of them.

Weren’t couples dinners supposed to be light-hearted, not, ‘my fake-boyfriend might be doing something super dangerous and stupid and I will have no clue until the hospital calls me because I’m still his emergency contact, even after bitchin’ and bitchin’ at him to change it’? She was not totally sure, but had a feeling that was not a good thing to mention over drinks with her way-too-eager-to-judge sister.

“He’s still coming, right?” the woman asked, a twinkle in her eye. “I mean, this isn’t just a joke on me, you do have a boyfriend?”

“Don’t be funny. He’s coming.”

“Good. I’m glad. And I mean that - I was worried about you, for a little bit.”

Y/N frowned. “Mm. Worried?”

“Sure,” her sister shrugged. Her tone was light-hearted, but there was a hint of malice behind it - because there always had to be, with her. “It’s been a while since the last guy...and I was just you know, worried that you just made the guy up to shut me up. Which is why I insisted on this little meeting happening sooner than later, so you couldn’t just pretend a guy up.”

She was not one for dramatics, but she was really close to throwing a glass, at that. Sure, her love life had been a tried and troubled tale, but it was not as bad as the woman made it out to be. Just because she did not run everyone past her sister, does not mean they did not exist. And okay, sure, they all turned out to be dicks and liars, but that did not mean -

Y/N sighed, letting her shoulders slump down and give up a little bit of the weight resting on them. Letting herself get riled up too early would be her downfall. So instead, she pretended to find it funny, letting a mirthless laugh slip through gritted teeth. “Yeah. Guess so. But uh...Diego’s good.”

“Mm. Well, I’m glad.” Her sister downed another sip of her water (she had referenced several times that she could not have alcohol - even though Y/N knew that, dammit). “How long have you two been actually together?”

“Um...couple we-months. Maybe two months.” That might be the wrong number. Shit. “Not too long.”

“Really? It always seemed like you two were, you know…” she gestured lamely with her hands, “you weren’t - you know - on the low?”

Y/N was about ready to chase Diego down herself, from pure irritation. “No.”

“No?”

“Just friends,” she shot back. “Like I told you, the relationship part’s a very new thing.”

Just before her sister could ask one more time something sort of totally invasive that made Y/N question her every decision, the doorbell rang. It seemed just maybe, her mumbled prayers (or veiled threats) for Diego to finally show his face, had been greeted by a miracle.

Y/N sprang to her feet. “I’ll be right back.”

“Oh, but-”

“-right back,” she repeated, already turning and walk-running to the foyer. Her eagerness for some relief had quickly beaten out her annoyance for him being so late, and she found herself smoothing her top, biting back a grin that was not yet deserved of him. She carefully swung the door open, catching the man on the other side mid-knock.

“You’re late.”

Diego shrugged, looking slightly sheepish as he offered up his hand full of...flowers?

Not what she had been expecting.

“Got held up. Would you believe it was just for these?”

“Uh...no - but why do you have them?”

“Knew I’d be late,” he explained, brushing past and into the home. His eyes left hers to trace the room, taking in the bright decor and sounds of laughter in the back. She could practically see the anxiety building behind his dark eyes, but he easily covered it with a short chuckle. “But, explaining to your sister what I was actually doing didn’t seem right. Flowers were an easy out.”

Y/N ignored the humourous adlib, seizing upon his other words, instead. “What exactly were you doing? Are you alright?”

“I’m good. Trust me,” he added, seeing the look on her face. He bared his teeth in a smile that more resembled a grimace.” You should see the other guys.”

“Dumbass,” she grumbled, even through a half-smile. She traced her hands over his face and upper torso, prodding to see if there was any pain - only to be swatted away seconds later. “Are you hurt?”

Diego just shrugged. “M’fine.”

“Diego-”

“-if we stay here workin’ out the details, your sister’s going to come around the corner thinking we’re bumpin’ uglies right on her weird doormat,” he hissed, once more pulling her hands from him. “If that’s what you want to go with, sure, but...”

She felt her face grow hot and inwardly cringed. Her head ducked down, an attempt to disguise any redness in her cheeks and she gestured forward. “Fine. Lead the way, Casanova.”

He just grinned and poked a calloused finger at her reddened cheeks, mumbling a ‘cute’ before making a beeline forward. Y/N was left open-mouthed in the hall. But with no time to consider yet another odd remark, she pushed ahead too, forcing herself to smile at the pair. One, already looking so much more uncomfortable than the other.

“Isn’t that sweet?” Y/N simpered, swallowing the bile brought up at the stupid, fake words. “I mean, you’ve known this idiot for years n’ years and yet he still shows up with flowers and all that.”

Diego shuffled back and threw an arm around her shoulders. He looked towards her, but strangely not really at her; like he was somewhere else completely. “Aren’t flowers a necessity for meeting a girl’s family?”

“Maybe if it was with her uptight parents,” her sister butted in, smiling like she was the goddamn Cheshire Cat, “but you know what? I’ll take these gratefully, necessary or not. They’re beautiful, Diego.”

Y/N smiled a little more at that. A little bit more genuinely. There was something nice, seeing two people she truly cared about interacting. Sure, her sister had known Diego for ages, after meeting him one night, post shitty fight - and post climbing through her window, blood dripping from almost every part of his body. But apart from brief interactions when one or the other was not in the right state of mind (booze or injuries or otherwise) they really did not exist in one another’s worlds. And sure, her sister was mostly a malicious, passive-aggressive asshole who somehow had grown up to be a copy of her mother even after hating her for most of her childhood, and probably was going to call Y/N later and make up so much shit on Diego. Just to be a dick.

And sure, this was all fake. But it was a little fun, pretending like she was actually taking a real boyfriend back to meet someone.

Maybe she needed to drink a little more, because that fantasy needed to drown. A-S-A-P.

“...wanted to be here,” floated through her thoughts. Y/N shook her head and drew herself back to reality, where her sister was discussing - what was she discussing? “But you know, guy’s been working overtime to cushion out the accounts. He’s eyeing a Christmas vacation, you know?”

Right. Andy, her husband. Her actual husband who genuinely loved her - and what was she supposed to do there? Shit. Right.

She forced herself to nod. “That’s sweet. Where are you two looking?”

The woman shrugged and looked back down to the pot she was stirring. “No clue yet. Somewhere warm, though. I don’t want to deal with the snow, and-” she paused to pat her protruding belly, “-I know mini me doesn’t either.”

Diego laughed at that. A fake laugh, sure, but it was pleasantly well executed. Maybe Allison’s acting abilities had rubbed off on her brother.

“When are you due?”

“February! But it’ll probably be early. Both his mama and aunt were, so…”

“Yeah?”

Her sister nodded eagerly. “Y/N a little earlier than me, though funnily enough, that’s the only thing she’s not been late to? I mean, you probably know that though. How criminally late your girlfriend is to everything?”

“You’re hilarious,” Y/N grumbled back. “But I’m not that bad.”

She stole a carrot and sank back against the counter, that time a little bit apart from Diego. His arms, now freed from resting around her shoulder, folded across his broad chest. “You just don’t understand. Sometimes, you gotta take a couple more minutes to be this much better than your annoying git of a sister.” Half a joke, half bitter sentiment bottled up and thrown back at her sister’s simpering smile.

“Really?” the woman scoffed. She shuffled away from the pots, ready to pour the thick stew into the bowls. “Please. You’re just jealous that I got all this way before you. And that it took you five more years n’ me to meet a guy that’ll actually put up with you, eh?”

Okay, so that stung a little bit more. Mostly because it was a little too true - even if she did not know it. Y/N forced a chuckle, still, because it was supposed to be funny. “It’s more me putting up with him than vice versa, I’ll have you know.”

“Hey,” Diego admonished. His voice shook a little, but only the littlest bit, a tremor only she could probably sense. “I’m a dream.”

“Sure you are, sweetheart.” She did not miss the flash of surprise at the pet name, feeling a sense of pride for catching him off guard. “Do you know how many shirts of mine he’s ruined because he’s just thrown everything in with his bloody shit?”

“Hey, be grateful he does laundry!” Her sister groaned. “I mean, Andy’s a dream, I love him to bits, but…”

And just like that, things were okay. Her sister was eager to talk about her own relationship, her life in general - and both Diego and Y/N were more than okay to let the focus remain on her. The less questions about them, the better. They could eat in some sort of peace, and pretend to care a little bit more about her workplace politics than they did. And unlike at the Hargreeves place, Y/N did not have to worry about planting an emergency smooch on her ‘boyfriend’ in order to save face.

But of course, things could not be that simple. Just as she had been hoping for an easy visit in and out, the woman’s eyes widened and she seemed to remember who was joining her for dinner. That this was not just a normal get-together where she could talk an ear off a ‘friend’ and kick them out an hour later.

“Sorry for talking so much,” her sister gushed, resting her spoon in the now empty bowl. “I swear, I haven’t shut up at all. I’m such a rude host.”

Y/N scoffed. “Please, it’s fine. It’s nice to hear what’s going on in your life.”

“Well, sure, but this is when I’m supposed to be grilling Diego and making sure he knows not to hurt you, ask all about your future plans, embarrass you - yada, yada, yada. I totally forgot - it just felt natural, you know? But whoopsie, on my part.”

Y/N and Diego shared a look of minor distress.

“But really,” her sister continued, oblivious to the tension growing, “I’m not that worried about him. Or you two. I knew you two were gonna have a thing from the start. Felt like it was just waiting for it to happen, you know?”

She laughed quietly, a little bitter. “Funny. Everyone seems to say that.”

“Do they really?”

She nodded again. “You’d be surprised. I-I mean, I was. Didn’t think that we were so, um...so obvious.” Obvious? More like out of a Hallmark Christmas special, from the way everyone gasped when they were told the two were not together. Really made a girl question-

“-well, probably ‘cause it’s true,” her sister shrugged, unknowingly interrupting yet another of Y/N’s inner monologues. She waved her piece of bread between the couple sitting across from her. “I mean, the way you two look at each other? I got to a point where I thought you two were already together, that I’d get a postcard from Vegas saying y’all eloped or something.”

“I wish,” Diego mumbled. But it was louder than he seemed to expect - at least, that was what his face said when both women looked his way. He swallowed and stammered for an answer. “I-I just m-m-m-mean, I had a thing for her for too long to count. If only I could have gotten a grip sooner.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, her hand finding his arm, squeezing lightly. “I should’a done the same. No sweat.” She looked his way, trying to make herself smile like those Hallmark movie women did. Her next words were softer, raspier as she struggled to get them out. “Guess we’re both just idiots...yeah?”

It was fake. Of course. There was nothing between them, no cheesy romance building that would lead them to a couple thousand fairytale moments afterwards. She knew that, he knew that - there was nothing between them, aside from mutual anxieties about screwing up their pretend relationship.

But the look he gave her, did not feel so fake. It was a little strange and a little too strong, like something in the way she said that made his heart twist like it did her own. His dark eyes trained on hers, slipping from them for a second to - did he look down, or was she just messing with her own mind?

“You two are seriously, so adorable. I swear to god, it’s disgusting and I love this so much.” Her sister, oblivious to anything happening in front of her, continued on. “You actually like her, yeah?”

“Yeah. Course.”

She nodded. “Good. Cause you know, not everyone can be as lucky as I have been..and somehow, my sister manages to attract the worst guys. Always after the same thing, then once they really know her, they scram.”

Y/N bit her tongue, holding back any retorts that might slip out. She knew what she meant to say, but it really didn’t work. And putting up with her insinuating that she just couldn’t get a guy to actually like her...while she was talking to a current guy? It was to be expected, sadly, but that did not mean it did not hurt.

“But you know what, Diego, I think you’re okay. I mean, you’ve stayed this long, right?” Her sister cackled - yes, cackled - at her own joke, while both Diego and Y/N sat in silence. “Ha - right?”

Y/N downed her second glass of wine and wished she could sink into the floor.

THE SECOND THEY WERE OUT OF HER SISTER’S house, and at a safe enough distance from it, Y/N finally let out the frustrated groan she had been holding back all night. She whirled away from Diego, catching just a glimpse of his confused expression before she let her facade be shattered.

“I regret ever, ever even suggesting we do this. You know what? I regret all of this. Lord - what was I thinking?”

A soft chuckle left his lips, quiet compared to aggravated shouts. “Was it that bad?”

“That bad?” She retorted. “Diego, that was like if Allison, Five and Luther all combined their DNA and created some super-being who then smoked a whole boatload of crack and decided to live in Suburbia and feed only on bragging and passive agressive remarks.”

“Mm. Might be an exaggeration.”

“I - barely but - come on, you didn’t see how bad she was?”

Diego shrugged and headed over to where he parked his car, her following suit after his silent gesture. “Maybe a bit.”

Y/N sank into the passenger seat with a snort. “She might as well thrown your stupid knives at you a thousand times over -- or - or something stupid like that. The shit she said? Good lord, I would have thought she was the second coming of your dad.”

“Y/N-”

“-I mean, she basically told me to my face that I wasn’t deserving of you of anyone? And that you were just gonna up and drop my ass soon enough. And then, insinuated to you that you should get ready, like I was a goddamn timebomb just waiting to go off! Like she knows me through and through - she doesn’t know jack shit about me. Nothing! That woman only cares about one thing, and that’s herself. Ever since she could leave home, she lost the ability to think of me as anything than a piece of work that she was burdened to guide. And anything something happens to her, she gloats about it. Her stupid job, her stupid husband and their stupid Christmas vacation - everything is so fucking stupid and amazing and I’m just a piece of fucking stupid shit!”

She did not mean to grow so heated, and had not even realised things were so bad, until her voice cracked at the end and she felt hot tears build in her eyes. Y/N gulped in air and scrubbed at her cheeks, brushing away any tear that slipped out. She did not even dare to look Diego’s way, suddenly ashamed at her childish outburst.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know - sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

She laughed bitterly, still biting back the angry tears. “No, it’s not. You just put up with me and her all night, and then I have to come and whine like this - I’m so-”

“-hey, a’right, stop there. Don’t do that.”

“Don’t do-” she paused to sniffle and lifted her head so she could watch his face, “-what?”

He sighed, suddenly looking very out of his element. And she could understand why; sure, the two of them had been through a lot, but it was unlike either of them to break down in tears in their car, bitching about their family - further than just their surface actions. Normally, it was pushed down or masked by bad jokes, they’d drink too much and ignore their familial issues because mentioning them were too painful. Only sometimes did they face the pain - and honestly, Y/N could not remember a time she had truly broken down over her sister with him.

“Can we just get out of here, please?” She tried a tearful smile. “Escape this suburbian nightmare, ‘fore I lose my dinner in your car?”

He just nodded and revved the car engine, a strange look in his eye as he turned away. It looked as though he wanted to say something, even going so far as to open his mouth twice and look back her way - but nothing came out. They both just sat in silence then, driving forward aimlessly through the pretty neighbourhoods. Though neither really saw any of it; both were too lost in their thoughts to take in the sights.

“I don’t know why I bother,” Y/N finally mumbled, softer than anything else she had said before. She avoided Diego’s sharp gaze. “Like, I know I’m just gonna leave her place upset, but yet I keep going and letting myself be dragged through the dirt. Eve-even before you came, she was ragging on me. Maybe worse, I dunno. Just shit about how different we are, about how old I’ve gotten, and then just all these little malicious comments that makes her sound so much better than I am. I mean,” she choked, trying her best to hold back the emotions but failing, “she’s right, sure. I’m not like her at all. I live in a dump of an apartment, I’ve got no friends and my ‘boyfriend’ isn’t even really my boyfriend at all. Just a fellow loser I entrapped, got ourselves stuck together.”

“Y/N…”

“Right. You’re not a loser, sorry.” She snorted to herself, looking down at her trembling hands. “I’m the loser. Yeah? A sorry little loser, who you’re now fake-stuck with.”

She dared not look up. She did not want to see his face, to take in the pity, half-baked sympathy radiating through that he couldn’t express. That would probably just make things worse - it stung enough, admitting this out loud. She sounded like a whiny teenager all over again - and she really didn’t want to think about that just then, it was easier to pretend like this was all in her head, scrunch her eyes tightly shut and just let the car drive down the dark streets.

“If you’re a loser, than I’m a...a thousand times worse.”

She dared to open one eye, squinting his way. “Huh?”

“I-I - you’re - d-don’t let what she says g-g-get to you,” he stammered out. His voice was hoarse, low, hushed like someone else was listening in. “I mean, shit. Look what you’ve done for yourself.”

Y/N bit her lip and let both eyes open, but said nothing. Just sat in silence and waited for him to say more.

Which, he did, just a moment later. “You’ve got a good job you worked for. You work y-y-y-your ass off f-f-f-or everyone around you.”

“Not true, I-”

“-and you p-p-p-put up with my bullshit all the time. For nothin’ but the goodness of your heart.”

She scoffed a little at that, but she was smiling still, softly into the darkness. “Not true. You normally bring some sort of monetary gift back.”

“Sure. But a coupl’a pizzas and beers is nothing to what you do for me.”

“What does it matter? We’re friends, friends do stuff like for each other - what are you getting at here?”

He did not look her way. His eyes remained trained forward, frozen as they stared through the glass window, but she could tell they were not totally focused. All his energy was being poured into his words, forcing them to come out the way he wanted even through his evident emotional issue. He was holding something back, but what? She could not say for the life of her.

“D-don’t let yourself get d-d-dragged by her shit,” he finally said. His right hand left the steering wheel and hovered before falling awkwardly against his leg. “I did that to myself too long. Let the stupid numbers define who I was, just ‘cause a lunatic decided to give ourselves them so we h-h-hated each other. B-but you know who stopped me from letting it t-t-t-tear me up?”

She could barely breathe.

“You.” Only then did his eyes leave and meet her own, pausing as they bored into her glassy gaze before flitting away. “And maybe I can’t make the same speeches you can, b-but I’m not gonna let you think you’re not as fucking great as you are. You got that, Y/N?”

“Diego…”

“You’re maybe the greatest person I know,” he said, gruffer that time, “and sure that’s not much to say...but I do mean that.”

And Y/N, Y/N had no clue what to say to that. She stared his way, watching his stone face shift with the shadows, but no words left her lips. She could only watch in silent shock, unsure where this was all coming from - or how to respond to such sweet words. He had never said anything like that to her before, leaving compliments to five word-or-less mutters, and she would throw a joke back just so things didn’t get weird. That was what their friendship was. Don’t let shit leave surface level, else they might just drown in all the unspoken emotions lurking underneath.

But this was different. This was raw, and from his heart, confessions that she couldn’t just up and ignore. What she was supposed to make of it, she didn’t know, but she was certain it wasn’t just nothing. Diego didn’t say all that for nothing.

“Thanks,” she finally said, silently cursing herself for the trembling voice. “Means a lot.”

He grunted. “Sure.”

“No, I mean that...dude.” In an act of half adrenaline, half why-the-fuck-not, she reached out and tentatively touched his free hand. She ignored the shock that flinched through his body and grasped it tightly in her own. “I...I don’t know, I’m not good at accepting compliments.”

“It’s chill.”

“But, but,” she repeated, squeezing a little tighter, “I appreciate it. I needed that. You know? Sort of, okay, someone thinks something of you, but it’s okay cause I’ve got someone I actually l-care about in my corner. So...uh, I don’t know anything about boxing, I’m trying to make a reference but it isn’t working?”

She could just barely see a smirk creep across his mouth, and she in turn grinned at that, feeling a bit better then. His hand moved in hers, finally holding her own back. She almost drew away then, but still held tight - for reasons she could quite place. But she knew she didn’t want to let it go, let him go, and so she let her fingers intertwined with his, and let her back hit the seat once more.

Soon enough, they were on her street, then pulling up in front of her dimly-lit apartment lobby. Only then did Y/N shift again, slipping off her seatbelt and preparing to exit. Her hand, however, did not leave his just yet.

She glanced his way and bobbed her head towards the building. “You wanna come up?”

“No, it’s okay.”

“You sure?”

He nodded, smiling softly. She rarely saw that from him, the sweet grin he only let slip to certain people - but god, did it suit his face. Absent-mindedly, she made a note to remember how much she liked that smile on him.

“I have to get back, Al’ll kill me if I don’t close up properly tonight.”

“Okay. Well...uh, feel free to stop by, if you need to.” Her words hung between them, hesitant, unsure. Her hand slipped from his and she leant down to pick up her bag. “Thanks, Diego.”

Y/N’s hand found the door handle and she twisted away, gaze now far away from his own. She was just about to leave, when-

His hand found her arm and she turned immediately. Without hesitation, they both rushed forward and lips met lips, hitting one another sloppily before moving into better position, pressing hard and fast as though the world was ending and these were their last moments. She felt, almost distantly, as his hands met her face and tilted it up, just so he could reach it a bit better, taste her lips a little more against his. She found herself dropping her bags and reaching up too, threading her hands around his neck so she could hold him closer. They moved slightly awkwardly, but despite the tight space the embrace was still frantic and unhindered by the car. If anything, it only added to the close quarters, forcing the pair to pull even nearer to the other to feel the right amount of warmth from the other.

And then, just like that--

--it was over.

Both pulling away. Both wearing mirrored looks of shock. One sinking back into his seat, the other frantically searching for the passenger door handle and stumbling out. Both struggling to comprehend just what the fuck happened even as they ran away from the other, one slamming their brakes and the other forcing her legs to run like they never had before. Neither one stopped until their were both inside, pressed against their doors with hands tracing at their lips, lips that had been just so easily slotted against the others. Both left staring off hazily into the distance, unsure what that kiss meant - for them, and their future ‘together’.

TAG LIST - @asexualmarauder @thatshellfiredean @the-bird-suit @rangotangomango @fandomsandmore394 @thatkidofwarandpeace @antoouu @soul-of-a-traveller @yall-wildin-like-siriusly @artsyle @asuperconfusedgirl @fic-cheesecake (let me know if you want to be added, or if I missed you)

#i need a favour series #diego hargreeves x reader #diego hargreeves oneshot #diego hargreeves series #diego hargreeves au

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za3k · 3 years

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2020 Videogames

In 2020 I’m newly retired, so I’ve had free time. I think it’s fun to do reviews, so without further ado here’s every video game I played in 2020!

I recommend:

(4/5) Among Us – Very fun. It’s only fun with voice chat with friends, so I’ve only gotten to play once or twice. I’ve been watching it more than playing it. Also free to play for mobile gamers–I’m tired of the “everyone buys a copy” model of group gameplay.

(4/5) Brogue. Brogue is an ascii-art roguelike. It’s great, and it has a nice difficulty ramp. It’s a good “quick break” game. I play it in preference to other roguelikes partly because I haven’t done it to death yet, and partly because I don’t need a numpad?

(4/5) Cook Serve Delicious 3. One of the more fun games I played this year. You get really into it, but I had trouble relaxing and paying attention to the real world when I played too much, haha. I own but haven’t played the first two–I gather this is pretty much just a refinement.

(4/5) Green Hell. Price tag is a bit high for the number of hours I got out of it, but I haven’t finished the story. Great graphics, and the BEST map design I’ve seen in a 3D game in a long time. It feels like a real place, with reasonable geography instead of copy-pasted tiles. I love that as you walk along, you can just spot a cultivated area from the rest of the jungle–it feels more like it’s treating me like an adult than most survival games. Everything still gets highlighted if you can pick it up. I played the survival mode, which was okay but gets old quickly. I started the story mode–I think it would be fine, but it has some LONG unskippable scenes at the start, including a very hand-holdy tutorial, that I think they should have cut. I did start getting into the story and was having fun, but I stopped. I might finish the game some time.

(4/5) Hyperrogue. One of my recent favorites. The dev has made a fair number of highly experimental games, most of which are a total miss with me, but this one is fun. I do wish the early game wasn’t quite as repetitive. Failing another solution, I might actually want this not to be permadeath, or to have a save feature? I bought it on steam to support the dev and get achievements, but it’s also available a version or two behind free, which is how I tried it. Constantly getting updates and new worlds.

(4/5) Minecraft – Compact Claustrophobia modpack. Fun idea, nice variety. After one expansion felt a little samey, and it was hard to start with two people. I’d consider finishing this pack.

(4/5) Overcooked 2. Overcooked 2 is just more levels for Overcooked. The foods in the second game is more fun, and it has better controls and less bugs. If you’re considering playing Overcooked, I recommend just starting with the second game, despite very fun levels in the first. I especially appreciate that the second game didn’t just re-use foods from the first.

(4/5) Please Don’t Press Anything. A unique little game where you try to get all the endings. I had a lot of fun with this one, but it could have used some kind of built-in hints like Reventure. Also, it had a lot of red herrings. Got it for $2, which it was well worth.

(5/5) Reventure. Probably the best game new to me this year. It’s a short game where you try to get each of about 100 endings. The art and writing are cute and funny. The level design is INCREDIBLE. One thing I found interesting is the early prototype–if I had played it, I would NOT have imagined it would someday be any fun at all, let alone as amazing as it is. As a game designer I found that interesting! I did 100% complete this one–there’s a nice in-game hint system, but there were still 1-3 “huh” puzzles, especially in the post-game content, one of which I had to look up. It’s still getting updates so I’m hoping those will be swapped for something else.

(5/5) Rimworld. Dwarf fortress, but with good cute graphics, set in the Firefly universe. Only has 1-10 pawns instead of hundreds of dwarves. Basically Dwarf Fortress but with a good UI. I wish you could do a little more in Rimworld, but it’s a fantastic, relaxing game.

(5/5) Slay the Spire. Probably the game I played most this year. A deckbuilding adventure through a series of RPG fights. A bit luck-based, but relaxing and fun. I like that you can play fast or slow. Very, very well-designed UI–you can really learn how things work. My favorite part is that because it’s singleplayer, it’s really designed to let you build a game-breaking deck. That’s how it should be!

(4/5) Stationeers. I had a lot of fun with this one. It’s similar to Space Engineers but… fun. It has better UI by a mile too, even if it’s not perfect. I lost steam after playing with friends and then going back to being alone, as I often do for base-building games. Looks like you can genuinely make some complicated stuff using simple parts. Mining might not be ideal.

(5/5) Spy Party. One of my favorite games. Very fun, and an incredibly high skill ceiling. There’s finally starting to be enough people to play a game with straners sometimes. Bad support for “hot seat”–I want to play with beginners in person, and it got even harder with the introduction of an ELO equivalent and removing the manual switch to use “beginner” gameplay.

(4/5) Telling Lies. A storytelling game. The core mechanic is that you can use a search engine for any phrase, and it will show the top 5 survellance footage results for that. The game internally has transcripts of every video. I didn’t really finish the game, but I had a lot of fun with it. The game was well-made. I felt the video acting didn’t really add a huge amount, and they could have done a text version, but I understand it wouldn’t have had any popular appeal. The acting was decent. There’s some uncomfortable content, on purpose.

(4/5) Totally Accurate Battle Simulator (TABS). Delightful. Very silly, not what you’d expect from the name. What everyone should have been doing with physics engines since they were invented. Imagine that when a caveman attacks, the club moves on its own and the caveman just gets ragdolled along, glued to it. Also the caveman and club have googley eyes. Don’t try to win or it will stop being fun. Learn how to turn on slo-mo and move the camera.

(4/5) We Were Here Together. Lots of fun. I believe the second game out of three. Still some crashes and UI issues. MUCH better puzzles and the grpahics are gorgeous. They need to fix the crashes or improve the autosave, we ended up replaying a lot of both games from crashes. It’s possible I should be recommending the third game but I haven’t played it yet.

The Rest

(3/5) 5D Chess with Multiverse Time Travel. More fun that it sounds. If you play to mess around and win by accident, it’s pretty good. Definitely play with a second human player, though.

(1.5/5) 7 billion humans. Better than the original, still not fun. Soulless game about a soulless, beige corporation. Just play Zachtronics instead. If you’re on a phone and want to engage your brain, play Euclidea.

(3/5) A Dark Room. Idle game.

(1/5) Amazing Cultivation Simulator. A big disappointment. Bad english voice acting which can’t be turned off, and a long, unskippable tutorial. I didn’t get to actual gameplay. I like Rimworld and cultivation novels so I had high hopes.

(3/5) ADOM (Steam version) – Fun like the original, which I would give 5/5. Developed some major issues on Linux, but I appreciate that there’s a graphical version available, one of my friends will play it now.

(4/5) agar.io – Good, but used to be better. Too difficult to get into games now. Very fun and addictive gameplay.

(3/5) Amorous – Furry dating sim. All of the hot characters are background art you can’t interact with, and the characters you can actually talk to are a bunch of sulky nerds who for some reason came to a nightclub. I think it was free, though.

(0/5) Apis. Alpha game, AFAIK I was the first player. Pretty much no fun right now (to the point of not really being a game yet), but it could potentially become fun if the author puts in work.

(4/5) Autonauts. I played a ton of Autonauts this year, almost finished it, which is rare for me. My main complaint is that it’s fundamentally supposed to be a game about programming robots, but I can’t actually make them do more than about 3 things, even as a professional programmer. Add more programming! It can be optional, that’s fine. They’re adding some kind of tower defense waves instead, which is bullshit. Not recommended because it’s not for everyone.

(3/5) A-Z Inc. Points for having the guts to have a simple game. At first this looked like just the bones of Swarm Simulator, but the more you look at the UI and the ascension system, the worse it actually is. I would regularly reset because I found out an ascension “perk” actually made me worse off.

(5/5) Beat Saber. Great game, and my favorite way to stay in shape early this year. Oculus VR only, if you have VR you already have this game so no need to recommend. Not QUITE worth getting a VR set just to play it at current prices.

(1/5) Big Tall Small. Good idea, but no fun to play. Needed better controls and level design, maybe some art.

(0.5/5) Blush Blush. Boring.

(3/5) Business Shark. I had too much fun with this simple game. All you do is just eat a bunch of office workers.

(3/5) chess.com. Turns out I like chess while I’m high?

(3/5) Circle Empires Rivals. Decent, more fun than the singleplayer original. It shouldn’t really have been a separate game from Circle Empires, and I’m annoyed I couldn’t get it DRM-free like the original.

(3/5) Cross Virus. By Dan-box. Really interesting puzzle mechanics.

(4/5) Cultist Simulator. Really fun to learn how to play–I love games that drop you in with no explanation. Great art and writing, I wish I could have gotten their tarot deck. Probably the best gameplay “ambience” I’ve seen–getting a card that’s labeled “fleeting sense of radiance” that disappears in 5 seconds? Great. Also the core stats are very well thought out for “feel” and real-life accuracy–dread (depression) conquers fascination (mania), etc. It has a few gameplay gotchas, but they’re not too big–layout issues, inability to go back to skipped text, or to put your game in an unwinnable state early on). Unfortunately it’s a “roguelike”, and it’s much too slow-paced and doesn’t have enough replay value, so it becomes a horrible, un-fun grind when you want to actually win. I probably missed the 100% ending but I won’t be going back to get it. I have no idea who would want to play this repeatedly. I’m looking forward to the next game from the same studio though! I recommend playing a friend’s copy instead of buying.

(2/5) Darkest Dungeon. It was fine but I don’t really remember it.

(2/5) Dicey Dungeons. Okay deck-building roguelike gameplay (with an inventory instead of a deck). Really frustrating, unskippably slow difficulty curve at the start. I played it some more this year and liked it better because I had a savegame. I appreciate having several character classes, but they should unlock every difficulty from the start.

(2/5) Diner Bros. Basically just a worse Overcooked. I didn’t like the controls, and it felt too repetitive with only one diner.

(2/5) Don’t Eat My Mind You Stupid Monster. Okay art and idea, the gameplay wasn’t too fun for me.

(2/5) Don’t Starve – I’ve played Don’t Stave maybe 8 different times, and it’s never really gripped me, I always put it back down. It’s slow, a bit grindy, and there’s no bigger goal–all you can do is live.

(3/5) Don’t Starve Together – Confusingly, Don’t Starve Together can be played alone. It’s Don’t Starve, plus a couple of the expansions. This really could be much more clearly explained.

(1/5) Elemental Abyss – A deck-builder, but this time it’s grid-based tactics. Really not all that fun. Just play Into the Abyss instead or something.

(1/5) Else Heart.Break() – I was excited that this might be a version of “Hack N’ Slash” from doublefine that actually delivered and let you goof around with the world. I gave it up in the first ten minutes, because the writing and characters drove me crazy, without getting to hacking the world.

(2/5) Everything is Garbage. Pretty good for a game jam game. Not a bad use of 10 minutes. I do think it’s probably possible to make the game unwinnable, and the ending is just nothing.

(1/5) Evolve. Idle game, not all that fun. I take issue with the mechanic in Sharks, Kittens, and this where buying your 15th fence takes 10^15 wood for some reason.

(4/5) Exapunks. Zachtronics has really been killing it lately, with Exapunks and Opus Magnum. WONDERFUL art and characters during story portions, and much better writing. The gameplay is a little more varied than in TIS-100 or the little I played of ShenZen I/O. My main complaint about Zachtronics games continues to be, that I don’t want to be given a series of resource-limited puzzles (do X, but without using more than 10 programming instructions). Exapunks is the first game where it becomes harder to do something /at all/, rather than with a particular amount of resources, but it’s still not there for me. Like ShenZen, they really go for a variety of hardware, too. Can’t recommend this because it’s really only for programmers.

(1/5) Exception. Programming game written by some money machine mobile games company. Awful.

(4/5) Factorio. Factorio’s great, but for me it doesn’t have that much replay value, even with mods. I do like their recent updates, which included adding blueprints from the start of the game, improving belt sorting, and adding a research queue. We changed movement speed, made things visually always day, and adding a small number of personal construction robots from the start this run. I’m sure if you’d like factorio you’ve played it already.

(3/5) Fall Guys – I got this because it was decently fun to watch. Unfortunately, it’s slightly less fun to play. Overall, there’s WAY too much matchmaking waiting considering the number of players, and the skill ceiling is very low on most of the games, some of which are essentially luck (I’m looking at you, team games).

(3/5) Forager – Decent game. A little too much guesswork in picking upgrades–was probably a bit more fun on my second play because of that. Overall, nice graphics and a cute map, but the gameplay could use a bit of work.

(3/5) Getting Over It – Funny idea, executed well. Pretty sure my friends and I have only gotten through 10% of the game, and all hit about the same wall (the first tunnel)

(3/5) Guild of Dungeoneering – Pretty decent gameplay. I feel like it’s a bit too hard for me, but that’s fine. Overall I think it could use a little more cute/fun art, I never quite felt that motivated.

(1/5) Hardspace: Shipbreakers. Okay, I seriously didn’t get to play this one, but I had GAMEBREAKING issues with my controller, which is a microsoft X-box controller for PC–THE development controller.

(2/5) Helltaker. All right art, meh gameplay. But eh, it’s free!

(3/5) Hot Lava. Decent gameplay. Somehow felt like the place that made this had sucked the souls out of all the devs first–no one cared about the story or characters. It’s a game where the floor is made out of lava, with a saturday morning cartoon open, so that was a really an issue. Admirable lack of bugs, though. I’m a completionist so I played the first world a lot to get all the medals, and didn’t try the later ones.

(3/5) House Flipper – Weird, but I had fun. I wish the gameplay was a little more unified–it felt like a bunch of glued-together minigames.

(2/5) Hydroneer. Utterly uninspiring. I couldn’t care about making progress at all, looked like a terrible grind to no benefit.

(1/5) io. Tiny game, I got it on Steam, also available on phone. Basically a free web flash game, but for money. Not good enough to pay the $1 I paid. Just a bit of a time-killer.

(3/5) Islanders – All you do is place buildings and get points. Not particularly challenging, but relaxing. Overall I liked it.

(3/5) Jackbox – I played this online with a streamer. Jackbox has always felt a little bit soulless money grab to me, but it’s still all right. I like that I can play without having a copy–we need more games using this purchase model.

(3/5) Life is Feudal – Soul-crushingly depressing and grindy, which I knew going in. I thought it was… okay, but I really want an offline play mode (Yes, I know there’s an unsupported single-player game, but it’s buggier and costs money). UI was pretty buggy, and I think hunting might literally be impossible.

(2/5) Minecraft – Antimatter Chemistry. Not particularly fun.

(3/5) Minecraft – ComputerCraft. I played a pack with just ComputerCraft and really nothing else. Was a little slow, would have been more fun with more of an audience. I love the ComputerCraft mod, I just didn’t have a great experience playing my pack I made.

(3/5) Minecraft – Foolcraft 3. Fun, a bit buggy. Honestly I can’t remember it too well.

(1/5) Minecraft – Manufactio. Looked potentially fun, but huge bugs and performance issues, couldn’t play.

(4/5) Minecraft – Tekkit. Tekkit remains one of my favorite Minecraft modpacks.

(3/5) Minecraft – Valhelsia 2. I remember this being fun, but I can’t remember details as much as I’d like. I think it was mostly based around being the latest version of minecraft?

(4/5) Minecraft – Volcano Block. Interesting, designed around some weird mods I hadn’t used. I could have used more storage management or bulk dirt/blocks early in the game–felt quite cramped. Probably got a third of the way through the pack. I got novelty value out of it, but I wouldn’t have enjoyed it if I had ever used the plant mod before–it’s a very fixed, linear progression.

(5/5) Minit. This is a weird, small game. I actually had a lot of fun with it. Then I 100% completed it, which was less fun but I still had a good time overall.

(3/5) Monster Box. By Dan-box. One of two Dan-box games I played a lot of. Just visually appealing, the gameplay isn’t amazing. Also, Dan-box does some great programming–this is a game written in 1990 or so, and it can render hundreds of arrows in the air smoothly in a background tab.

(3/5) Monster Train. A relatively fun deckbuilding card game. It can’t run well on my computer, which is UNACCEPTABLE–this is a card game with 2D graphics. My MICROWAVE should run this shit in 2020. Ignoring that, the gameplay style (summon monsters, MTG style) just isn’t my cup of tea.

(2/5) Moonlighter. Felt like it was missing some inspiration, just didn’t have a sense of “fun”. The art was nice. The credits list is surprisingly long.

(2/5) Muse Dash. All right, a basic rhythm game. Not enough variety to the game play, and everything was based around perfect or near-perfect gameplay, which makes things less fun for me.

(3/5) NES games – various. Dr Mario, Ice Climbers. Basically, I got some Chinese handheld “gameboy” that has all the NES games preloaded on it. Overall it was a great purchase.

(2/5) Noita. “The Powder Game” by Dan-Box, as a procedurally generated platformer with guns. Lets you design your own battle spells. Despite the description, you really still can’t screw around as much as I’d like. I also had major performance issues

(3/5) Observation. I haven’t played this one as much as I’d like, I feel like it may get better. Storytelling, 3D game from the point of view of the AI computer on a space station. I think I might have read a book it’s based on, unfortunately.

(2/5) One Step From Eden. This is a deck-building combat tactics game. I thought it was turn-based, but it’s actually realtime. I think if it was turn-based I would have liked it. The characters were a bit uninspired.

(1/5) Orbt XL. Very dull. I paid $0.50 for it, it was worth that.

(4/5) Opus Magnum. Another great game from Zachtronics, along with Exapunks they’re really ramping up. This is the third execution of the same basic concept. I’d like to see Zachtronics treading new ground more as far as gameplay–that said, it is much improved compared to the first two iterations. The art, writing, and story were stellar on the other hand.

(3/5) Out of Space. Fun idea, you clean a spaceship. It’s never that challenging, and it has mechanics such that it gets easier the more you clean, rather than harder. Good but not enough replay value. Fun with friends the first few times. The controls are a little wonky.

(1/5) Outpost (tower defense game). I hate all tower defense.

(3/5) Overcooked. Overcooked is a ton of fun.

(4/5) Powder Game – Dan-box. I played this in reaction to not liking Noita. It’s fairly old at this point. Just a fun little toy.

(1/5) Prime Mover – Very cool art, the gameplay put me to sleep immediately. A “circuit builder” game but somehow missing any challenge or consistency.

(2/5) Quest for Glory I. Older, from 1989. Didn’t really play this much, I couldn’t get into the writing, and the pseudo-photography art was a little jarring.

(4/5) Raft. I played this in beta for free on itch.io, and had a lot of fun. Not enough changed that it was really worth a replay, but it has improved, and I got to play with a second player. Not a hard game, which I think was a good thing. The late game they’ve expanded, but it doesn’t really add much. The original was fun and so was this.

(3/5) Satisfactory. I honestly don’t know how I like this one–I didn’t get too far into it.

(4/5) Scrap Mechanic. I got this on a recommendation from a player who played in creative. I only tried the survival mode–that mode is not well designed, and their focuses for survival are totally wrong. I like the core game, you can actually build stuff. If I play again, I’ll try the creative mode, I think.

(3.5/5) Shapez.io. A weird, abstracted simplification of Factorio. If I hadn’t played factorio and half a dozen copies, I imagine this would have been fun, but it’s just more of the same. Too much waiting–blueprints are too far into the game, too.

(2.5/5) Simmiland. Okay, but short. Used cards for no reason. For a paid game, I wanted more gameplay out of it?

(0.5/5) Snakeybus. The most disappointing game I remember this year. Someone made “Snake” in 3D. There are a million game modes and worlds to play in. I didn’t find anything I tried much fun.

(1/5) Soda Dungeon. A “mobile” (read: not fun) style idle game. Patterned after money-grab games, although I don’t remember if paid progress was actually an option. I think so.

(4/5) Spelunky. The only procedurally generated platformer I’ve ever seen work. Genuinely very fun.

(4/5) Spelunky 2. Fun, more of an upgrade of new content than a new game. Better multiplayer. My computer can’t run later levels at full speed.

(1/5) Stick Ranger 2. Dan-box. Not much fun.

(3/5) Superliminal. Fun game. A bit short for the pricetag.

(3/5) Tabletop Simulator – Aether’s End: Legacy. Interesting, a “campaign” (series of challenge bosses and pre-written encounters) deckbuilding RPG. I like the whole “campaign RPG boardgame” idea. This would have worked better with paper, there were some rough edges in both the game instructions and the port to Tabletop Simulator.

(4/5) Tabletop Simulator – The Captain is Dead. Very fun. I’d love to play with more than 2 people. Tabletop simulator was so-so for this one.

(2/5) Tabletop Simulator – Tiny Epic Mechs. You give your mech a list of instructions, and it does them in order. Arena fight. Fun, but I think I could whip up something at least as good.

(3/5) The Council. One of the only 3D games I finished. It’s a story game, where you investigate what’s going on and make various choices. It’s set in revolutionary france, at the Secret World Council that determines the fate of the world. It had a weak ending, with less choice elements than the rest of the game so far, which was a weird decision. Also, it has an EXCRUTIATINGLY bad opening scene, which was also weird. The middle 95% of the game I enjoyed, although the ending went on a little long. The level of background knowledge expected of the player swung wildly–they seemed to expect me to know who revolutionary French generals were with no explanation, but not Daedalus and the Minotaur. The acting was generally enjoyable–there’s a lot of lying going on in the game and it’s conveyed well. The pricetag is too high to recommend.

(0/5) The Grandma’s Recipe (Unus Annus). This game is unplayably bad–it’s just a random pixel hunt. Maybe it would be fun if you had watched the video it’s based on.

(3/5) The Room. Pretty fun! I think this is really designed for a touchscreen, but I managed to play it on my PC. Played it stoned, which I think helps with popular puzzle games–it has nice visuals but it’s a little too easy.

(3/5) This Call May Be Recorded. Goofy experimental game.

(4/5) TIS-100. Zachtronics. A programming game. I finally got done with the first set of puzzles and into the second this year. I had fun, definitely not for everyone.

(3/5) Trine. I played this 2-player. I think the difficulty was much better 2-player, but it doesn’t manage 2 players getting separated well. Sadly we skipped the story, which seemed like simple nice low-fantasy. Could have used goofier puzzles, it took itself a little too seriously and the levels were a bit same-y.

(2/5) Unrailed. Co-op railroad building game. It was okay but there wasn’t base-building. Overall not my thing. I’d say I would prefer something like Overcooked if it’s going to be timed? Graphics reminded me of autonauts.

(2/5) Vampire Night Shift. Art game. Gameplay could have used a bit of polish. Short but interesting.

(4/5) Wayward. To date, the best survival crafting system I’ve seen. You can use any pointy object and stick-like object, together with glue or twine, to make an arrow. The UI is not great, and there’s a very counter-intuitive difficulty system. You need to do a little too much tutorial reading, and it could use more goals. Overall very fun. Under constant development, so how it plays a given week is a crapshoot. The steam version finally works for me (last time I played it was worse than the free online alpha, now it’s the same or better). I recomend playing the free online version unless you want to support the author.

(1/5) We Need to Go Deeper. Multiplayer exploration game in a sub, with sidescrolling battle. Somehow incredibly unfun, together with high pricetag. Aesthetics reminded me of Don’t Starve somehow.

(2/5) We Were Here. Okay 2-player puzzle game. Crashed frequently, and there were some “huh” puzzles and UI. Free.

(3/5) Yes, your grace. Gorgeous pixel art graphics. The story is supposed to be very player-dependent, but I started getting the feeling that it wasn’t. I didn’t quite finish the game but I think I was well past halfway. Hard to resume after a save, you forget things. I got the feeling I wouldn’t replay it, which is a shame because it’s fun to see how things go differently in a second play with something like this.

These are not all new to me, and very few came out in 2020. I removed any games I don’t remember and couldn’t google (a fair number, I play a lot of game jam games) as well as any with pornographic content.

2020 Videogames was originally published on Optimal Prime

#games #review #reviews #videogames #yearly review #cross-posted-from-blog

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sugarbooger513 · 4 years

Text

Moving on- Chapter One

This is the beginning of my OC’s story. Hope you guys enjoy!

Her icy eyes stare into the mirror as she tries to fix the short honey brown curls on her head. However, there isn't enough patience in the world for her to deal with it. Jasper finally gives up, tossing the comb onto her dresser before straightening the tie around her neck. "Are you decent, Jasper?" "Yeah, come in." Her roommate, Lilith, walks into her bedroom with a small smile. Like usual, she's wearing her sky colored bodysuit and white combat boots. Her hair, which reminds Jasper of virgin snow, is in a neat bun on the top of her head. "Looking like the lesbian you are, I see." "Fuck you, Lilith. My girlfriend likes how I dress." "Exactly. A les-" "Stop it." Her laughter makes Jasper smile, despite wanting to look irritated. Lilith has been her best friend for a few years now. They decided to get a small two bedroom apartment when Lilith got a full time job at the Ingenium agency. Jasper still worked as a free lance hero, until today, that is. "First day jitters?" "Huh?" "Your hands, Jas. They're shaking." Jasper frowns at how easily she can be read. In a way, it's ironic. "The All-Knowing Hero" Daedalus is the easiest person to read. "Yeah, I guess so. At least Midnight will be there." "Oh yeah, she's your old mentor, right?" Jasper nods, smiling from the thought of the kind Hero. While Jasper never bothered copying the R-rated aspects of Midnight, she certainly learned from her combat skills. At the time, Midnight was fresh out of high school, but she took Jasper's training very seriously. There were days she would come home beaten to a pulp from training, but Jasper is nothing if not headstrong. "Well, I'm going to join you at your frist day." "Wait," Jasper pauses, "why? They have the Sports Festival today. You'll just-" "I want to introduce you to my old homeroom teacher. I was a part of his first class." "I thought you couldn't stand him." "I mean," she chuckles lightly, "he really wanted to expel me. Like, REALLY wanted to." "Sometimes I sympathize with him." Lilith sends her less playful roommate a wink, which causes Jasper to roll her eyes. How do they get along so well? "Whatever, Jas. I'm going with you whether you like it or not." "Fine, but you aren't allowed to embarrass me." "Trust me, I don't think I could. Eraserhead is generally one of those guys that just doesn't give a damn about what's going on around him." 'Eraserhead,' Jasper tilts her head slightly, 'that sounds awfully familiar. Still.. I can't quite remember why'. The two of them walk outside, so Lilith pulls the mask from her body suit over her head. Jasper smiles at her friend as they start their walk to UA. The nerves seem to only get wilder in Jasper's body as they walk. Principal Nezu reccently called her about an opening at her alma mater. Not long ago, a class was attacked by a "League of Villains" at USJ. One teacher was severly hurt from protecting his class, and the number one hero, All Might, was also injured. They decided to hire a few more teachers, preferably ones with quirks that can prove useful in case this league attacks again. Jasper doesn't have a physical quirk, so she was shocked when Nezu explained the situation to her. Her quirk, Daedalus, allows her to see someone's strengths and weaknesses as long as she stares at them. However, if she blinks, her quirk is deactivated. It also tends to give her really bad headaches if she over uses it, so she tends to only use it in short bursts. "So, what is your title now? Ms. Daedalus?" "Nah. Just Daedalus, or Jasper for the other teachers." "Are you actually teaching a subject?" "No? I'm not sure if I ever will, but as of right now I'm some sort of disciplinary officer or something." Lilith snorts. Jasper... her friend.. as a disciplinary officer. Is that some sort of sick joke that Principal Nezu has planned? If so, where's the punch line? Before they know it, the two of them make it to the now ramped up security gate at UA High. One of the police officers at the front make both of them flash their hero licenses before they are allowed to walk inside. "Man," Lilith shoves her license back into her body suit, "this seems insane. I would feel bad for the kids." Jasper waits a second, but her friend doesn't finish the thought. "Umm.. you would feel bad for them..?" "If I cared." There it is. That's the Lilith she knows. "Well, I feel bad for them. UA was always my safe place, and I had a great home life. I can't imagine if some fo these kids come here to get away from their homes." Lilith shrugs slightly, but she can't convince Jasper that she really doesn't care. She might hide her normal name from the world, but being a hero is Lilith's calling. There have been multiple times where Pro Hero Ether has put herself on the line for complete strangers. "Yo, Ether," Lilith glances at Jasper, "do you know where the otehr teachers would be?" "I do. Just follow- Tenya!" A tall, blue haired boy turn towards the sound of his name being called. As soon as Jasper meets his navy eyes, she realizes that he's Ingenium's younger brother. No wonder Lilith knows who the kid is. "Ether, it's nice seeing you here! Did Tensei give you the day off?" "Yeah, he didn't want me to join while he did his business in Hosu City. Plus, I thought I should be ehre for Daedalus's first day." The polite young man actually bows in front of Jasper. 'Man, he is a lot like his older brother'. "Uh-you don't need to do all of that. I happen to be friends with Ingenium, and I have done a few missions alongside him. It's nice to meet his little brother." "It's nice to meet you as well, Daedalus. I see that you have a UA badge on your blazer. Are you one of the new teachers?" "Oh, I'm the new disciplinary officer, so I hope I don't have to deal with you too often." The way the boy holds his arms up makes Jasper chuckle lightly. He seems a lot more.. robotic than his generally laid back older brother. "Of course not, ma'am. I believe in keeping order and-" "Yeah, yeah, all that noble bullshit. We'll catch ya later, Tenya. I'm gonna go introduce her to Eraserhead." He nods and walks back towards a group of teenagers that they can only assume are his fellow classmates. The two heroes turn and start to make their way up a flight of stairs. Lilith surprisingly pulls her mask off before knocking on the door at the top of the stairs. "Come on in." Jasper jumps a bit from the familiarity of that voice. Once the door is opened, the shocking green eyes make her smile. "Holy crap, is that Present Mic?" The enthusiastic blonde hero jumps form his seat when he sees his friend and past partner. Well, not exactly a 'partner'. If he ever needed an extra set of hands, Daedalus was one of the first numbers saved in his phone. The two of them never really went anywhere to hang out, but they considered each other good friends. "Rock oooon! If it isn't Daedalus herself! What brings you up here, baby?" Jasper chuckles before accepting a hug from the lanky hero. "I missed you too, boom boom baby. I actually got a job here as a disciplinary officer, and Lilith wanted to bring me up here to meet her old teachers that I didn't have." "Well, ya know one of 'em, baby." Jasper smiles at his sweet term of endearment. Mic has called her baby since day one, and he's the only person other than Mirko, her girlfriend, that could ever get away with it. Lilith suddenly lets out a sigh. "Eraser, you look fucked up." "Language, child." Jasper turns and winces at the man sitting in the chair behind her. The poor guy is wrapped in bandages from the waist up. She has no idea what any of his facial features look like, minus how deep grey his eyes are. Lilith sighs softly. "Jasper, this is my old homeroom teacher, Eraserhead. He's the one that always tried to expel me." "Sometimes I wonder why he really didn't Lils. It's nice to meet you Eraserhead." The man lets out a small snort, which she can only hope is a bit of laughter. "Just call me Aizawa, since we'll be working together. Without thinking, Jasper holds a hand out to him. When he glances at it, she blushes a deep red. "Shit.. sorry." "Don't apologize. I understand that it's weird. Daedalus, was it?" "Jasper, please, but yes." He nods slightly. "Sho," Mic shifts his intense gaze to his wrapped up friend, "you can't tell me you don't know her." "Oh, I remember her. I remember training her with Midnight." "Wooooah, I don't remember.. oh wait." Jasper suddenly remembers one training session when she was a teenager. Midnight had taken her to an abandoned building with two other guys. The two guys faced her and her mentor in multiple sparring matches. She always remembered Mic being one of the boys since he had taken the time to talk to her, but the other boy was more to himself. He was really cute, in a mysterious sort of way. "You seem to be realizing that you know my best buddy, Sho." "I.. Yeah, I apologize, Aizawa." "You apologize too much, seriously. I don't care. You look different than I remember, though." Jasper lets out an awkward laugh. "Yeah, I guess I do. I cut all my hair off and.. ya know, gained a bit of weight." Lilith immediately shoots her friend a glare, which isn't shocking, but Mic jumps in. "Yo yo yo, baby, you look just as gorgeous as ever. Hell, if you didn't like women, I would totally hit on you." Jasper chuckles and gives the blonde haired man a pat on his head. Aizawa groans when he laughs softly, and Jasper's first instinct is to crouch in front of him worriedly. "Is there anything I can do to help your pain a bit, Aizawa?" "Not really. It's just something I have to put up with for a while. Thank you, though." Suddenly, Mic's phone starts to ring, making the other three people in the room jump a bit. His usually bright green eyes seem to dull when he looks at the number. "Hey, Joke. What can I do ya for?" Aizawa mutters a few curses under his breath. "Joke," Mic continues with a groan, "the two women with us are not trying to hit on your boyfriend. One is a lesbian and the other is an old student of his." Jasper can't help but chuckle a bit. "Jealous girlfriend?" Aizawa's eyes hold the smallest amount of amusement when he meets Jasper's baby blue eyes. "Yeah, you have no idea." Something about the tiny giggle she breathes out makes his heart pick up its pace. He's suddenly thankful for the ridiculous bandages wrapped around his face because he's sure that she would notice the slight flush on his otherwise pale cheeks. Mic finally hangs the cell phone up, glancing over his shoulder to look at his friend. "I don't understand why she only tells me when you 'screw up'. Sho-" "Can we talk about this at home, Mic?" Mic respects his friend's wishes and stops talking about the situation. Still, Aizawa knows that he won't forget. The two girls decide to hang out with Mic and Aizawa for the rest of the sports festival. Mic and Lilith end up reminiscing about her school days at UA, while Jasper sits in the chair next to Aizawa. Most of their small talk ended in something about a shared love of cats and coffee. "Have you ever been to the cat cafe downtown?" "No, actually. My dads work as vets, so I spend time with their patients a lot." Aizawa makes a small note in his mind about her admitting to having two fathers. He would never judge her about it, but he likes to remember things he thinks other people would tend to forget. "Mic and I go there sometimes. There are two cats I enjoy the company of a lot." "Well," Jasper smiles a bit, "maybe I can go with the two of you at some point." Aizawa feels a smile creep to his face. Her company amidst the boistrous blonde he calls his best friend sounds like a nice change of atmosphere. "Would your girlfriend care?" "Mirko? Hell no. She isn't the jealous type." "I hate being the bearer of bad news," Mic sighs, "but Joke would." Jasper quickly puts her hands up. "I swear I won't jump your bones, Aizawa." "She'll jump my bones." Lilith has to add in. Mic snickers at that. "Lilith, I will break your bones." "That's hot." "Good lord." Aizawa even chuckles at Jasper's flushed cheeks. He can't help but think how cute her embarrassment is, but he keeps the thought in his head. Mic would flip his lid if Aizawa admitted that anything other than cats was cute. "Honest question, baby," Mic passes Aizawa a bottle of water, "would you jump MY bones if you liked guys?" Lilith howls out her laughter as Jasper smirks. "Nah, too loud. The whole neighborhood would hear you climax." "Damn, baby. That kinda hurts my ego." Aizawa rolls his eyes before holding the water bottle up. "You deserve it after giving me an UNOPENED water bottle. I can't open it, dip shit." Jasper giggles and reaches to unscrew the lid for poor Aizawa. "There ya go." He feels his face warm yet again. He didn't exactly mean for her to do it for him.. "Thanks, Jasper." "Anytime." "Look at that," Mic groans softly, "Bakugo wins the Sports Festival." Jasper smiles, not knowing who the kid actually is. She remembers when she won it in her third year. Her parents cried like babies seeing her on the television, and Midnight even threw her a party. 'Hopefully that kid feels good about his win. He deserves it, I'm sure'. "I'm not shocked," Aizawa comments, "he's headstrong." "He's a bit unstable, Sho." "No, he really isn't. He doesn't settle for less than what he wants, and that's how a true hero is." Lilith snorts. "Tenya has told me about that guy. He sounds like an ass, but one of the greatest heroes in Japan is a grade A bitch." She's talking about Endeavor, and the thought of that man makes Jasper tighten her fists in anger. Jasper can't stand that man. From the moment she met him, a weird feeling of absolute hatred invaded her body. Her girlfriend, Mirko, has to work with the guy from time to time, and Jasper always refuses to accompany on those missions. She just knows that she wouldn't be able to focus with that asshole barking orders like he leads something. "Jasper? What's wrong?" She jumps slightly from Aizawa's sudden question. "Oh, I just don't like Endeavor, and that's who she was mentioning. I swear, that man makes it hard to want to stay a hero." Mic tilts his head. "I mean, he's saved a lot of people." "But there's a reason All Might is number one. I'll give you a hint, All Might isn't a major douche canoe." "Being likeable isn't a necessary trait to be a hero, Jasper." Aizawa raises an eyebrow despite the fact no one can see it. "You're right, but being an ass to fans and such is just wrong. You hide all of your hero work, Aizawa, so I'm not sure if you would understand how much it means to a child when you give them a high five or sign their freaking teddy bear." Aizawa nods in agreement. No, he doesn't really know that feeling, and he doesn't care to. Lilith even snorts. "In all fairness, I don't like kids, so I never pay attention to them while they watch me work." "I love helping kids, yo. They get a kick out of my speaker." Jasper turns her attention to Aizawa when she notices him picking at the bandages on his face. "What are you doing there?" "I'm supposed to be allowed to take most of these damn things off since the festival is over." Jasper stands from her seat and walks over to where he's sitting. "May I help you out?" "Can you?" Lilith chuckles from her seat. "Trust me, she has taken care of a lot of my injuries. She should be a medical professional at this point." Jasper rolls her eyes before she reaches behind Aizawa's head to take hold of the end of his wrappings. "Anywhere that I need to be careful around?" "Oh, uhh, under my right eye is still kind of tender." She nods, thankful he's honest about his pain. Even Mic goes quiet while watching her unwrap Aizawa's face. Truth be told, it scared the hell out of him when Aizawa got the news that his quirk might not be the same. For Christ's sake, the man is only thirty. He doesn't need to retire that early. "Aaaand, that should be the last one." Jasper turns to throw away the bandages before turning her attention to his arms. "Do any of these need to be left alone?" "My right elbow. Thank you, Jasper." She smiles at his thanks and wuickly unwraps his left arm and his right forearm. Finally, she stands completely and meets the man's eyes. Despite his hair being slightly disheveled, he's a very handsome guy. He looks exhausted, but his eyes hold a sort of alertness that only the best heroes have. The deep scar under his right eye, however, makes her stomach drop. If she remembers correctly, his quirk works a lot like hers. Any injury to the eye can be detrimental to their careers. "Sho," Mic glances worriedly at his friend, "do you think erasure will work?" Aizawa closes his eyes for a second before nodding slightly. "Only one way to find out. Mic, scream." "Are you-" "Do it." The scream is enough to almost rupture all of their eardrums. Jasper quickly covers her ears and watches as Lilith does the same. Suddenly, Aizawa's eyes shoot open, and the color of them makes Jasper gasp out loud. Hopefully no one heard it. That would be a bit embarrasing. Still, the crimson color of his eyes is grogeous. Mic suddenly goes quiet, barely making a peep. Aizawa smirks, but it's quickly replaced by him closing his eyes and letting out a pain filled groan. Jasper's next movements are out of pure instinct. She quickly gets on her knees in front of his seat and her hands are immediately on his face. His eyes are squeezed shut, but he tenses at the gentle touch. Her fingers glide so easily over his now sweat glistened skin. "Open your eyes, Aizawa. Let me check on you." Usually he would push someone away for being so caring. He usually can't stand when people try and take care of him, but her voice is so fucking genuine. He can't help but open his eyes to meet hers. Her lips curl into the smallest smile hes ever seen. "Don't over use it, Aizawa. It works, and that's what matters. Let it get back to normal on its own." God, if it were Mic telling him this, he would tell him to shut up... but it's this caring girl. He finds himself nodding. Suddenly, the door is opened, and his stomach drops. "Umm... what the fuck are you doing to my boyfriend?"

@katgalle

#eraserhead #aizawa shouta #mha shouta #bnha #aizawa x oc #present mic

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keichanz · 4 years

Text

Another Day in Hell || Ch. 5

this chapter is for @noanieactuallydrawingalot. i still absolutely love that amazing art you drew for this story and i’m forever thankful and sooo glad you’re enjoying this story!!! <3

also wanna give a shoutout to my girl @cammysansstuff because she’s been reading and supporting this story since day one and it means the world to me. <3

Read on AO3

Ch. 1 || Ch. 2 || Ch. 3 || Ch. 4 || Ch. 5

The following days were spent in a mixture of more random small talk, light banter – Inuyasha was quick to discover that Kagome was fucking feisty when riled up, and likewise Kagome learned the half-demon had a wit that nearly matched her own – and some light weapons maintenance training. Kagome sometimes went with Inuyasha when he had to leave for some reason or another, whether it be searching for supplies, killing some nuisance deadies (helpfully stabbing some that Inuyasha felled), or inspecting the store for any security breaches or evidence of any unknown presence. Most of the time, however, she stayed behind, letting her shoulder heal and doing her part to keep the space tidy.

Kagome was able to recognize the voices that came out of the radio whenever Inuyasha talked with one of his friends. Most of the time it was the ones called Slayer and Monk, though sometimes a voice that went by Cane came through. Those conversations were always interesting; it seemed that Inuyasha didn’t exactly get along with this Cane guy and they were constantly tossing insults at each other. Kagome suspected they were both purposely trying to piss the other off and while strange – and if she were being honest, somewhat childish – it was also highly amusing.

It was after a particular conversation between him and Monk in which they discussed a rogue and the issue of trusting them with a fawn (??) that Kagome had asked why had had given his real name when he met her and not his alias. Inuyasha had seemed surprised at first, but then he’d shrugged and simply said he’d needed to get her to trust him. Doubtful she would if he’d lied right off the bat and given her a false name.

She’d digested that in silence, though the smile on her face suggested she appreciated that he had, in fact, been true with her from the start.

It was getting easier to be alone now, for which she was grateful, and while she still felt some lingering anxiety whenever she paid too much attention to how long he’d been gone, it was easily manageable. To pass the time, she played cards with an old deck she’d found while sneakily nosing through the stuff Inuyasha had collected over the months. A lot of the time whenever he returned during one of her games, he’d sit down and join her and they’d have the rowdiest, loudest games of Bullshit ever.

It was tons of fun though despite it being just the two of them, and more often than not Kagome was left gasping for breath from laughing too hard.

It was the day before two of Inuyasha’s friends were supposed to show up to take over watching the store and Kagome was in the middle of a rather boring game of Solitaire when the radio crackled to life. So used to the silence of the basement during Inuyasha’s absences, she jumped in her seat with a startled gasp and snapped her gaze to stare at the device where it sat on the table in front of her.

“Ash, come in.”

She blinked. Slayer, she thought, recognizing the feminine voice. Kagome’s brow furrowed slightly; the woman had sounded slightly out of breath and a tad harried. Was everything okay?

“Ash, do you read?” Slayer’s voice came over again and Kagome detected a smidge of impatience.

She bit her lip and glanced at the ceiling door. Inuyasha had been gone for about forty-five minutes and was due back in another fifteen, however it was always unpredictable when his exact arrival would be.

“Dammit, Ash—” Slayer cut herself off with a grunt and Kagome’s frown deepened as she stared thoughtfully at the two-way. That hadn’t sounded very good at all...

“Come back or so help me god I’ll feed all your precious ramen to the stupid zombies!”

Kagome’s eyebrows rose at the rather...unique threat and her lips twitched. Over the past few days she had also learned of Inuyasha’s fervent love – or maybe obsession was a more accurate term – for the noodles and had he been around to hear it she was fairly certain that particular threat would get his ass in gear. The man liked his ramen.

A few more seconds ticked by and the device remained silent. Kagome watched it for another five seconds before shrugging and going back to her game, figuring Slayer must have realized Inuyasha wasn’t around. Putting the five of hearts on top of the six of spades, Kagome idly wondered what had happened and hoped that it was nothing bad—

“Answer me right now, you goddamn prick!”

The shriek coming from the tiny speaker startled Kagome so badly she nearly fell out of her chair and with a gasp, she didn’t think as she reached over and snatched up the radio.

“Uh, er, h-hello?” Kagome spoke into the mic, wincing at how uncertain she sounded.

She received no response and she bit her lip before continuing a little more bravely, “Um, Slayer, right? I’m sorry, Ash isn’t around right now, but I can pass along a message if you’d like?”

She released the switch and waited anxiously, hoping the woman wouldn’t be mad that she’d answered and not the half-demon. A few seconds later the two-way crackled to life and Slayer’s voice, much more composed, came through.

“Hi,” she said amiably and Kagome relaxed. “You must be that woman Ash has told us about. Uh, yeah, I’m Slayer.” She gave a nervous laugh. “I’m sorry you had to hear that...usually he picks up right away so I thought he was deliberately ignoring me. He’s done it before, usually when he’s in a mood.”

Kagome could practically hear the other woman’s eyes rolling and she couldn’t stifle the snicker that bubbled up. “I’ve only known him for a few days, but I know exactly what you mean.”

“I think we’ll get along just fine,” Slayer replied and Kagome could hear the smile in her voice. “Listen, I don’t mean to be rude, but I need to go. I did have a reason for contacting him and it’s kinda urgent, so could you please tell him to contact me when he gets back?”

“Of course,” Kagome returned without hesitation, frown back in place. She wanted to ask if everything was okay, but knew it wasn’t her place yet so she refrained. “He should be back in about ten minutes or so. I’ll let him know right away.”

“Thank you,” Slayer said, relief evident in her voice, but there was also an edge to it that was more than a little concerning. “It was nice meeting you...sorta.” A soft laugh floated from the speaker and Kagome echoed it.

“Ditto,” she said and the radio fell silent once more.

Worrying her bottom lip again, Kagome set the two-way on the table and sighed, staring down at the cards on the table. She’d scattered them slightly when she’d been startled from the radio suddenly coming to life so she started gathering them into a pile and stacking them back to replace into the ripped cardboard box.

She had just decided to get in a little PT for her shoulder when the ceiling hatch flipped open and Inuyasha dropped inside with a grunt. His shirt was bloody, which meant he’d had to utilize the sword at his hip – Tessaiga, if she recalled correctly – and Kagome hoped whatever he’d had to cut down was already dead.

She tipped him a smile and sat down on the bed. “Hi.”

He flicked her a glance, grunted, and promptly shed his shirt, unceremoniously dropping it to the floor before digging around for a clean one.

Kagome’s face flamed and though she told herself to look away, her eyes took in his muscled back with unveiled appreciation, catching a glimpse of his chest as he straightened to pull a t-shirt over his head. Hastily she looked away and desperately hoped he hadn’t caught her checking him out. Good lord, but the man was ripped.

“Um, Slayer needs to talk to you,” Kagome said. “She sounded a little weird, so I answered her back on the radio. She said it was urgent.”

Inuyasha frowned and picked up the two-way. “Weird, how?”

Kagome shook her head. “Like she was out of breath and, I don’t know...agitated?”

Nodding, not really liking the sound of that, Inuyasha depressed the switch and spoke into the mic, “Ash to Slayer, come in.”

Her reply was immediate. “Took your sweet time,” she quipped.

He rolled his eyes. “What happened? You said it was urgent.”

Never one to beat around the bush, Sango cut right to the chase. “Monk’s hurt,” she said and even Kagome could pick up on the concern in her voice. “We ran into a group of people that threatened to kill us if we didn’t hand over our weapons and supplies and Monk got a cut in his arm that I think needs stitches.”

“So why don’t you—”

“We ran out last week, Ash,” she cut him off, sounding impatient. “Remember? Because Cane is a fucking idiot and used the last of it so he didn’t bleed out after that stupid stunt he pulled?”

Inuyasha cursed because yeah, he remembered. “Fucking wolf,” he muttered.

“Besides,” Slayer continued, voice soft. “You’re the only one I trust to do it right. It’s Monk, Ash.”

Inuyasha closed his eyes and sighed, thrusting a hand through his hair. “Yeah,” he rumbled, grimacing. “I know. Alright, fine, but Thing One and Two are gonna hafta—”

“They’re already on their way,” she interrupted and the relieved gratitude in her voice was unmistakable. “Left about fifteen minutes ago.”

“Copy. See you soon.”

“Back atcha.”

Inuyasha stared thoughtfully down at the two-way radio for a moment before shaking his head and placing it back on the dock to charge. Ginta and Hakkaku, otherwise known as Thing One and Thing Two, were the biggest scatterbrains he knew and often forgot to put it back on the dock to charge at the end of the night. At least now it would have a halfway decent charge before they carted it around everywhere.

“Looks like you’ll be meeting everyone a day early,” he said as he turned back around, one hand on his hip while the other racked through his hair. When all Kagome did was toss him a distracted smile before adopting her look of pensive concern again, Inuyasha frowned and then crossed his arms.

“What is it?” he asked. He’d gotten to know the young woman pretty well in the past few days and he could tell something was bothering her now.

Her eyes flashed to his at the question and she worried her bottom lip. He cocked a brow, wondering what it could possibly be to make her this hesitant, then she sighed and really, he should have expected what came out of her mouth next.

“Those people,” Kagome began quietly, her gaze searching his, but for what he didn’t know, “that...Slayer was talking about, who wanted their weapons. Did...were they...killed?”

Kagome didn’t fail to notice the way Inuyasha visibly tensed, and when all he did was clench his jaw and harden his stare, she had her answer.

“So,” Kagome said some twenty minutes later and tilted her head, giving him a sidelong glance as her lips twitched. “Thing One and Two?”

From where he stood by the edge of the shop’s roof, keeping a lookout for a huge black truck and straining his ears for the sound of a diesel engine, Inuyasha glanced to his right and studied the profile of the woman that stood beside him. His gaze met hers for an instant before she looked away, back toward the deadened land that surrounded them and the even deader figures that wandered it. A few of them dotted the landscape here and there, but not enough to be a concern, so they more or less went ignored.

Inuyasha’s brows dipped into a slight frown. He knew it was still bothering her. She tried to hide it behind vague smiles and forced laughter, but he could see the strain around her eyes, the way she unconsciously worried her lip and seemed to lose herself in thought. He didn’t like that she was so obviously troubled by this, and several times now he had to stop himself from reassuring her or spewing out complete bullshit just to see a genuine smile on her face again.

Because the fact of the matter was, anything he could say wouldn’t make a damn bit of difference because this was something she had to work out by herself. He knew she didn’t relish the thought of killing someone in cold blood – hell, he was willing to bet his ramen stash she was the type of person who caught insects in her house and released them back outside – but unfortunately, that was the way of the world now. You had to kill in order to survive and she was just going to have to accept that on her own terms, no matter how harsh it sounded.

Inuyasha knew she would. Kagome was strong; maybe not in body, but definitely in will and heart, and he was confident she would come around in time. And until that time finally came around, Inuyasha would be there to protect her and offer his assistance whenever necessary.

“You’ll understand when you meet them,” he finally answered, lifting a brow. “Otherwise they’re known as Smokey and Bandit.”

Kagome actually did a double take at that and her mouth dropped slightly.

“Yeah,” Inuyasha muttered, knowing exactly what she was thinking. “I know. And yes, it was deliberate. I swear to God they’re joined at the hip. Not once in the entire time I’ve known them have I ever seen them apart. Also they’re bona fide idiots.”

“Don’t be rude.”

He shrugged, unapologetic. “You’ll see,” he said and the distant rumble of a diesel engine had him turning his gaze back to the road.

Not ten seconds later he spotted the familiar black dually weaving between the abandoned vehicles on the road, the twin silver stacks rising up on either side of the cab clearly visible. The truck was lifted and altogether a motherfucking powerhouse and Inuyasha loved the thing. His own vehicle had been stolen long ago when everything started but it wasn’t a huge loss; the sedan had been on its last legs anyway and he wasn’t sorry to see it go.

This monster, however, Inuyasha had pretty much claimed as his own, everybody knew it, and he’s not going to lie: he was going be fucking devastated if something happened to it. He considered it a bonus that it was a zombie killing machine and hell yeah it was fun mowing them down with the modified grill he’d fashioned himself. Reminiscent of a pilot that was usually found on trains, the heavy steel frame easily cleared anything in front of it and it was arguably the best idea he’d ever had.

While Inuyasha raised a hand and waved, gesturing for them to drive around back to the loading dock, Kagome came up beside him and gawked at the six-wheeled monstrosity.

Inuyasha caught the look on her face and grinned proudly.

“Beauty, ain’t she?” he boasted and watched as Hakkaku, in the passenger’s seat, threw him a thumbs up as Ginta turned the wheel to go around back.

“It’s huge,” Kagome mumbled, frowning. “Is it yours?”

“More or less,” he answered and gently took her elbow to guide her to the other side of the roof. “I found it shortly after my own car was stolen, cleaned it up, made it better, so as far as I’m considered it’s mine now. Doesn’t hurt that it’s a beast and a definite upgrade from what I had before.”

The two wolves were just backing up to the loading dock and hooking an arm around Kagome’s waist, Inuyasha murmured a word of warning before hopping down to the ground. Predictably the roar of the diesel truck had attracted a number of deadies and Inuyasha told her to stay put before unsheathing Tessaiga and getting to work.

And as always, Kagome watched in awe as the half-demon darted from zombie to zombie and she couldn’t help but think that he was truly a sight to behold as he swung that huge sword of his around. Bodies fell at an alarming rate and there wasn’t a hitch in his stride, zero hesitation as he cut down the undead with a practiced ease that was almost frightening.

“Pretty amazing, isn’t he?” a voice said to her right and Kagome managed to tear her gaze away from the half-demon to find one of the inhabitants of the truck standing beside her, his gray eyes friendly.

“Don’t tell anybody, but I’ve always thought Ash can give Cane a run for his money any day,” the wolf demon said with a mischievous grin and Kagome blinked in surprise.

“Don’t let either of them hear you say that, or you’ll never hear the end of it!” another voice piped up and Kagome shifted her gaze to find wolf demon number two standing in the bed of the truck. The first thing she noticed about him was his blonde mohawk tipped with red and she thought the look suited him.

The one beside her, a tad shorter than she was with hair the same shade as his eyes and streaked with black, snickered and offered her another wide grin.

“Nah, he’s too busy showing off to hear,” he chortled and Kagome had to smile. “And Iris was bitching out Cane again when we left so doubtful he’d even care if he knew.”

“His face was so red!” Mohawk crowed as he hoped down from the bed and landed beside Gray Eyes.

“But from anger or shame, it was hard to tell!”

While the two men laughed at the expense of Cane, Kagome stood there staring between the two of them with a bewildered look on her face, not sure exactly what to say and wondering if they even remembered she was standing there. She suddenly understood why Inuyasha called them Thing One and Two.

And as if on cue, said half-demon sauntered over and barked, “Would you idiots knock it off and introduce yourselves already? Fuck’s sake, how that wolfshit puts up with you two I have no idea,” he muttered as he bypassed them and entered the backdoor to open the bay in order to load the truck.

As one the two wolf demons looked at each other, blinked, then broke into wide grins before abruptly spinning around to face her so fast Kagome took an involuntary step back.

“Our apologies, miss!” they said simultaneously and Kagome could do nothing but stand there and gape as together they took the same stance, legs akimbo with thumbs pointing at their chests, and plastered on matching, toothy grins.

“I’m Smokey, I have dimples!” the gray haired one said proudly.

“And I’m Bandit, the shrewd one!” Mohawk declared, then to Kagome’s utter bewilderment, they performed an odd sort of synchronized dance with fake fighting that reminded Kagome of a bad action film. They concluded it by striking what they probably assumed were power poses but in reality made them look ridiculous.

Well, more ridiculous.

“And together, we’re Smokey and the Bandit!” they chorused and it was glaringly obvious they thought they’re little show was original and awe inspiring.

So of course Kagome, after getting over her shock, smiled brightly and clapped as they blushed and bowed.

“I have to admit,” she started, a teasing note to her voice, “I was a bit disappointed when you didn’t roll up in a black Trans Am, but that definitely made up for it.”

The duo stared at her for a beat of silence before abruptly losing their shit, jumping up and down, talking loudly over one another and basically just acting like rabid fangirls over the fact that Kagome understood the reference and where they’d gotten the names from. She stood there with a bemused smile on her face and inconspicuously inched toward the door where Inuyasha disappeared.

The truck bay door suddenly slid open, revealing Inuyasha in all of his scowling glory as he glared at the two idiots.

“You both need to shut the hell up before you attract every goddamn roamer within a mile radius and I have to explain to Cane why you morons became zombie food while I stood by and watched. Now quit wasting time, make yourself useful and help me load the truck or so help me...”

He let the threat trail off with one last glower before turning and disappearing further into the backroom to gather supplies to take back to the dojo. Bandit grimaced and muttered an apology to Kagome before scampering after him while Smokey chuckled nervously and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Uh, sorry,” Smokey apologized with a sheepish smile. “It’s not often we meet people who share our love for classic films. Heh.”

Kagome giggled and waved off his apology. “It’s fine,” she said. “It’s a good movie and one of my favorites. I have to ask, though, you do realize—”

“Smokey, get your ass over here before I barbecue it in molasses!” Inuyasha bellowed and Kagome snorted a laugh.

The wolf demon scrambled to obey, tossing Kagome one last smile before scurrying over and taking the box of canned food from Inuyasha’s arms to hand to Hakkaku, making a train.

About half an hour later the truck was loaded up, Ginta and Hakkaku were standing in front of the open bay door and waving them off as Inuyasha and Kagome drove off in the monster of a truck. Inuyasha had had to lift her up into it since her arm was still healing and she couldn’t heave herself up but he hadn’t seemed to mind and in fact did it before she’d even asked.

Leaning out the open window and smiling back at her new friends Smokey and Bandit, Kagome waved one last time then leaned back in her seat with a sigh. They were definitely interesting characters and meeting them made her wonder what his other friends were like. She was especially eager to meet Slayer; it’d be nice to have a girlfriend to chat with again and maybe she’d be able to get some more information about Inuyasha from her.

“I like them,” she announced, reaching up to grasp the handle above her head as they bumped over rough terrain and ran over debris that couldn’t be avoided. “Now I know why you call them Thing One and Two.”

She giggled as Inuyasha snorted, but the grin on his face told of his amusement.

“Told you,” he said and hit the button to put up Kagome’s window. Some of the roamers were a little too close for comfort and he didn’t want one of them reaching in.

“I do have to wonder, though...” Kagome suddenly said and Inuyasha flicked her a brief glance before looking forward again.

“What?” he rumbled, managing to squeeze the massive truck into an alley that led back to the main road. A few roamers were standing around in it, but the mounted pilot took care of them, effortlessly plowing them down and clearing the way.

Kagome tilted her head and tipped him a smile, brown eyes flashing impishly.

“They do realize that Snowman was Bandit’s partner, and not Smokey the Sheriff?”

Inuyasha couldn’t stop the grin from spreading and he barked out a laugh.

“What we’re dealing with here,” he replied, shooting her a smirk as amber eyes glinted wickedly, “is a complete lack of respect for the law.”

Kagome threw her head back and laughed.

Ch. 6

a nod to one of my all-time favorite movies, Smokey and the Bandit. also that last line that Inuyasha says is a quote from the movie. Sheriff Buford T Justice, otherwise known as Smokey, says it to his (very dimwitted) son.

buy me a coffee? C:

#another day in hell #ch 5 #inuyasha #kagome #inukag #keizfanfiction #fanfiction #zombie apocolypse au

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halowastaken · 4 years

Text

Why I Left (chapter 6)

read it on ao3!

Summary:

Deep inside of him he hoped that If Mr. Stark ever finds out he won't hate him and he will help him, but that wasn't possible. Mr. Stark was the good guy and as ex-good-guy Peter knows that the good guy's work was to get rid of the bad guy, and Peter wasn’t ready for that. Tony cared about him. It would destroy him. It’s almost been a month of this secret. A full month of pain that Peter has to go through daily.

---

When Peter woke up he felt better. He actually didn't feel like dying for the first time ever since May died. That morning Peter decided that he was gonna tell Tony.

For Peter's surprise, Tony wasn't in the kitchen when he got out of his room. When he asked FRIDAY where he was, she answered 'the lab' which was unusual because, well, it’s FRIDAY. That confused Peter. Tony stopped a while ago staying all night in the lab.

Peter took the elevator and when the door opened he was even more confused. Tony was reading a paper. Tony never uses paper. He thinks that it is dumb given that you can't go two meters and don't find a tablet or phone in his household. But he was reading papers. And using a pencil. Not a pen. A pencil

"Who are you and where is Mr. Stark?" Is the only thing that comes out of Peter's mouth. Tony looks up and raises an eyebrow

"Well. You got me. I am an alien for another galaxy and Tony is on my native planet. What gave away my identity?" Tony says jokingly

"The paper? I thought you didn't use those anymore" Peter said and Tony rolled his eyes

"I know. This, my friend, is the final draft of the Sokovia Accords. They told me to give it a final look before making them official and told me to use a pencil if I wanted to annotate something" Peter's jaw dropped in disbelief

"Hey that's my job! You usually let me do that! Not fair! I like correcting older people!"

"Yeah ok but this is, like, the final thing. As in 'official final super important' thing. That and also last time you made all of your notes with a pen" Peter scoffed

"It's not like they don't have millions of copies"

"It was a glitter pen!"

"I had nothing else at the moment! And it looked good!" Tony gets back to the paper

"Tell that to everyone in the UN. Imagine me trying to explain why did Tony Stark used purple glitter pen in the accords" Peter raises an eyebrow

"The pen was yours"

"So? You have glitter pens too and use them on a regular basis. Mind your own business"

"Whatever. What have you written?" Tony sighs

"So far so good. This changes are good" Peter sits next to him

"You do notice that it's literally the original document but they just clarified a bunch of unnecessary stuff and they explain everything as if they were trying to explain it to a nine year old?"

"Yep. It's on purpose. We need the guys that think like nine year olds to understand that the accords are the best for all of us" Peter rolls his eyes "Don't get sassy. You know that the world needs those guys even if you don't like them"

"The world seems doing pretty well without them. We should just try to reach Thor and Dr. Banner. They're the good guys. And I know that King T'Challa wouldn't mind being an Avenger"

"You did" Peter's jaw dropped

"Don't make this about me! I am being serious! There are so many people qualified for the job and yet you want to stick with the ones that don't deserve it!" Tony's look changes a bit

"Listen, kid. The past is in the past. I don't like them either. However even I am willing to sacrifice my ego for the greater good. The world needs them" Tony says more seriously. Peter just crosses his arms and Tony ruffles his curls "It's not like you're gonna meet them. Actually you're not gonna do that. I forbid you to do that. I don't trust them and I don't want you with them"

"That's great because I don't want to be with them either. I don't want to hurt anyone" Tony slowly turns to see him and then gets back to work. It's time for Peter to tell him "The reason I came here is because I have to tell you something and-"

"Hey by the way, is there any chance that you can stay the weekends like always? If Rhodey is gone and Pepper is working It gets lonely in here" Peter sighed

"Not anytime soon. I'll let you know if that changes"

"At what time are you supposed to be in school? I can't drop you off today and you know how Happy is"

"I still got time. I-"

"Kid I know I don't tell you this very often, but I am really proud of you kiddo. Since I've met you you've changed for the better. And I like to think that I changed too maybe? Everyone agrees that I was a mess before you came, including me. I really want you to know that I am glad you are here. And I am sorry if I got you in trouble” Peter’s eyes widened. Well fuck. That complicates things.

“Y-yeah. I am glad I am here too. And don’t worry about me. I am fine” His inside was screaming in pain. He couldn't tell if his asthma was back or it was just a panic attack but he really wished it was just asthma

“God I am glad I left that out of my chest. It was eating my inside” You got to be kidding me “So. What were you gonna tell me?” Well now nothing

“I liked your lasagna” Peter said immediately. Tony smiled and rolled his eyes

“Thanks kiddo. It was my mom’s recipe” Tony said and Peter’s phone rang. He checked who it was. Happy

“Happy is calling. He is probably here already" Peter said disappointed on himself

"Go then. You know how Happy gets" Tony said and then returned to the papers. Peter kept staring for a second. He didn't want to talk about it. Not even to Tony and specifically not now. If Peter tells him every hope that Tony has for him will die leaving him alone. Peter didn't want to be alone again. He wanted his aunt and his uncle and his family back. He wanted to go back in time. But that couldn't happen. That's not physically possible. So Peter didn't have lots of options left. Peter just wanted to end with his suffering, yet he isn't going to do it because that scares him. Because he is a coward. He is the bad guy

That's all he could think of. While he was at school he tried to focus but he couldn't. He couldn't help but think of the 'what ifs' of the situation. He just wanted to be happy. He was happy before. Even though his family was a little dysfunctional, he was happy. Now he just wants to die. His life sucks and it's his own fault.

After school he went out as Spiderman and it was actually a good day for the arachnid. He stopped a bank robbery and a guy that was in a car accident and almost got yeeted (or is it yoted?) over the Brooklyn bridge. Spiderman was the only thing that kept Peter alive. If not what else? It was the best thing going on with his life. He wished it wasn't that way. He wished that Peter Parker was happy too. But most importantly, he wished that Ben won't notice that he is past his curfew.

He snuck back in from the window, but he didn't have his suit on anymore. He decided to take it off before going home. When he got to his room he laid down in his bed and sighted. He was a little worried about Ben now. He needs a new job and all he is doing is staying on the couch drinking. What's up with that? Peter knows damn well Ben and he's not the kinda guy that gets fired in the first place-

"Where the hell have you been?!" Ben yelled, kicking Peter's door. He had the same shirt as two days ago and a bottle of wine in his hand. The image wasn't pretty

"Decathlon practice" That was only half true. He was supposed to be at decathlon practice but he skipped it

"For two fucking days?! Do you think I am an idiot?!" Peter raises an eyebrow

"You told me I could stay on Thursdays at Tony's! I was there!" Ben scoffs

"I didn't say shit! Stop lying to my fucking face!" Before Peter could answer Ben slapped him. Ben slapped him "I've had enough of your bullshit! Don't you think you've done enough?!" Peter was in shock. He didn't know how to react. That was the last thing Peter expected "God you're such a pain in the ass" Then he left the room and closed the door as loud as he could while he was doing it.

Peter just stared at the door with tears in his eyes. He knew that he deserved it. He deserved hell. He was the bad guy.

He is the bad guy

I am the bad guy

It's all my fault

I should just die already

I am the bad guy

---

It kept going.

What once was only a slap in the face turned into beating.

Peter was sure that Ben was gonna kill him, but he didn't actually care.

As a matter of fact Ben would do a favor to the world if he finally kills him.

And the days with Tony were the worst.

He had to keep all his scars hidden for his own sake because Peter was a murderer.

His way of dealing with it was that he would just lock himself in his side of the lab with his soundproof headphones and start coding. Yeah that's something he does now. He codes like a boss. Tony Stark level coding and all of that. He got into it right after May died.

Nobody has noticed something is going on. Peter found May's old makeup bag and his concealer techniques were good. But it wasn't Mr. Stark's fault. He didn't want him to know anyways, right? That wasn't something that Peter wanted

Right?

It’s almost been a month of this secret.

A full month of pain that Peter has to go through daily.

But it was fine. Peter deserved it. He was the bad guy and that is what bad guys deserve

“We’re running out of food” Peter says thinking out loud while checking the fridge. Ben wasn’t home yet so Peter took the opportunity to get out of his room for just five minutes. And as a matter of fact they were running out of food. Ben stopped going grocery shopping weeks ago (Now he just goes alcohol shopping and calls that ‘groceries’). Ben also hasn’t got a job so the money is another issue. Everything they had is going to every bottle Ben buys. Peter really has to figure out what to do because they also have to pay rent, and taxes, and go buy some decent food, and all of that, and Ben doesn’t seem to care enough anymore.

“What the hell are you doing?” Peter’s eyes widened as he turned around. He did feel his spider senses going off but he totally ignored it. He didn’t realize Ben arrived. Before Peter could answer Ben already started the shitshow “It's your fucking fault!” He yelled and kicked Peter in the stomach; it made Peter gag. There was nothing there and it hurt more. “She’s gone because of you ! You were supposed to die and she died for you! You don’t give a damn about it though, because you’re a selfish little prick who don’t deserve to live! She was everything to me and you took her away. That’s all you do, is take and take and take and you never stop!” Ben yelled, kicking him and bringing him up to slam him in the wall. The words hurt more though and he started to cry. He could take a beating, but Ben's words hurt more than anything.

And the thing was he was right. Peter could’ve saved her. May would be alive and they’d be happy and everything would’ve been okay if he just hadn’t froze. Ben said other things but Peter had a ringing in his ear blocking everything out “Go to your goddamn room! I am tired of your fucking face!” Peter immediately got up as he could and ran to his room to then lock himself in. He looked at himself in the mirror and tried to stop crying but he couldn’t. In times like this he really wishes he was Spiderman and not Peter. Spiderman is a superhero that doesn’t fear anything. Peter is just human. He bleeds when he falls down, and he crashes and breaks down.

Ben’s words in his head were like knives in the heart. It was like he built Peter up and then made sure he falls apart, but he is only human. But he is the bad guy. He is the villain of the story. The guy that children fear. He was a monster. The least he deserved is to be treated like a normal person. But god did it hurt. That night Peter tries to clear his mind coding in his laptop. A drone design. Something basic but fun. While he was doing that he got a call. It was painful to answer

“Hey Tony” Peter said with his fake happy voice

“Care to tell me why the hell are you not here?” Tony says more jokingly than mad

“What do you mean?” Peter asks confused

“Oh my god. Parker how dare you? I thought that we had something special!” Peter raised an eyebrow and Tony scoffed “It’s Thursday. Why are you not here?” Peter’s eyes widened. Holy shit he forgot about Tony

“I had to pick something up from the department. I am on my way” Peter lies immediately and Tony just laughs

“It’s fine if you forgot. If you still want to come just tell me when you get here” Peter rolled his eyes

“No can do. I like surprises and you know that. I’ll swing by eventually” Peter said and then hung up. He immediately put everything that he wanted to bring in his backpack and put on the suit. Minutes later the Spiderman was swinging towards the Stark tower.

The fact that he went to spend the night with Tony doesn’t mean he forgets.

He is the bad guy.

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bytheangell · 5 years

Text

Raise a Glass to the Past

(Read on AO3)

Present Day

“I was looking through your files again at work today,” Alec says, leaning his head back against Magnus’ shoulder. They’re both on the sofa, Alec nestled comfortably in the space between Magnus’ legs, leaning against Magnus while Magnus leans back against the cushions. They each hold a glass of white wine after dinner, enjoying the breeze coming in through the open balcony door, listening to the faint sound of rain falling just beyond the wall. “Again?” Magnus asks, a light laugh chasing his words. “Ran a full Nephilim background check on me before we started dating, didn’t you?”

Alec knows the words are spoken in jest, but the memories they bring up leave the current Head of the New York Institute biting down on his lower lip, considering his next words carefully.

“Actually…” Alec starts before stopping abruptly. It’s a strangely personal series of events to explain, even if they all involve Magnus; somehow the idea of telling him about it brings up a lot of conflicting emotions in Alec He’s embarrassed at the guilt he felt for most of his life, at how he thought so much about the man he loves before he ever met him, that this man who changed his entire life from the second they did meet managed to shape so much of it even before that moment, without ever realizing...

What will Magnus think if he tells him now?

“Actually, sort of. But not intentionally. See, when I was probably about 5 or 6…”

---

Alec, age 6

Alec finds his way once more behind his father’s desk at the New York Institute. There are files up, files that he knows he shouldn’t be reading, but ever since he learned how to string full sentences together he’s absorbed every word he could lay his eyes on. And that includes dossiers left on computer screens in the same room as him while his father runs down to the ops room for a moment to deal with some emergency or another.

Even kneeling on the large chair his head doesn’t clear the back of it, blocking him from view of anyone passing by the open door. Which is good, because if they did see him he probably wouldn’t get to read the page about a warlock that’s front and center, with a black-and-white photo of a man with spiked hair, slit cat-eyes, and a grin that makes Alec smile back even though he knows the man in the photo isn’t smiling at him. Magnus Bane. Those aren’t words Alec knows, but they’re words he’s heard out loud before. A name.

His father comes back and scolds him for touching his computer (which, Alec defends, he didn’t technically do, he only read what was already open), before being ordered to re-read the section of the Shadowhunters Codex on Warlocks if he’s so damn interested in them. Alec dutifully slumps out of the chair to obey, his copy of the book marked with dozens of pencil circles of words he doesn’t know to ask about later. He’s only half focused, however, his mind frequently drifting back to the eyes and the smile of the man in the photo.

---

Present Day

“I was your first Downworlder file. How cute.” There’s a hint of sarcasm to Magnus’ tone, one that Alec doesn’t take personally. He knows the tone of those sorts of files and the reasons why his father might’ve had it up on the computer that day. But there’s also a hint of actual endearment over the idea that Alec remembers that, even now.

“You were,” Alec confirms. “And I have to admit, as a suggestible youth, I didn’t have the best impression of you at first.”

“Oh, no?” At this Magnus straights up a bit, shifting behind Alec on the sofa. There’s no turning back now, Alec, realizes, not after piquing Magnus’ curiosity like that.

“I’m sure you can imagine, but any files the Institute had on you weren’t painted in the most positive of lights…”

---

Alec, age 8

It isn’t long before the Institute’s records, both on the computer and in the library, become freely available to Alec. He’s reached a point in his training and studies where it’s easier for him to simply look up answers on his own when he can rather than run everything back to Hodge or his parents. Because he stays out of trouble and does what he’s told when he’s told to do it (as much as any kid does, certainly more than Jace or Isabelle at the very least) he’s left to his own devices for most of the time he’s not in a lesson or training.

This means no one is around to see him stop at Magnus Bane’s file almost every time he goes to look something else up… or should he say, files, plural. There are a lot of files on him, Alec notices, many marking him as a criminal in varying degrees: lying during Clave Inquiries, harboring fugitives, refusing to assist in investigations when his services were requested, aligning with dissenting Downworlders against Clave sanctions throughout the centuries. The bottom line is always a general disregard for the Nephilim which is all Alec is able to discern from the words on the page when he first comes across them.

It seems simple enough at first read. He isn’t familiar with all of the terms he comes across or every single one of the various laws and regulations broken, but he doesn’t question them. This is a very powerful warlock who is capable of doing a lot of damage - and he doesn’t seem to listen to any of the rules. Hiding fugitives, helping criminals. If Magnus Bane is on the Clave’s radar then it must be for good reason, High Warlock or not.

So when everyone around him tells Alec that Magnus is not to be trusted, despite the fact that he still feels inexplicably drawn towards the cat-eyed warlock in the photos, Alec forces himself to believe them.

---

Present Day

“And what number is that file up to these days?” Magnus asks with an amused smile.

“Right now? Pending review of wiping your record clean after, you know, saving the entirety of Idris and all,” Alec says, shifting himself forward enough to turn to face Magnus on the sofa as he takes a sip of his wine. “Plus, I don’t think Jia liked the idea of the Head of the New York Institute being married to someone with such an extensive criminal record.”

They both laugh at that, Magnus shaking his head incredulously. “I don’t know… that’s a lot of history to erase. I think I’d like it better if they kept it - we could print it out and frame my accomplishments, hang them over the fireplace.”

Alec shrugs. “We both know most of those violations were bullshit anyway,” he points out. “Do we?” Magnus challenges playfully. “Because a moment ago you were telling me all about how young Alec Lightwood thought Magnus Bane was nothing more than a dastardly, dangerous lawbreaker.”

Alec rolls his eyes. “I didn’t stay that naive forever.”

---

Alec, age 10

Alec never stops asking questions, always eager to learn more, so no one thinks twice about it when he starts to ask them about the High Warlock of Brooklyn. He’s careful to approach a wide range of adults around the Institute so no single person will see that the cases he ‘randomly’ chooses to read up on for his studies all happen to revolve around a singular Warlock.

What he learns, slowly, is that the only danger Magnus Bane poses is to the stuffy older members of the Clave who wouldn’t know how to be nice to someone if they tried. Almost all of the fugitive harboring Magnus is guilty of turns out to be for injured or wrongfully accused Downworlders (though the Clave didn’t know they were wrongfully accused at the time). But Magnus knew, and he protected them when he thought the Clave probably wouldn’t listen to a word they said if they were taken in.

The more Alec learns about his people, the more he starts to realize that they believe they’re better than everyone else in the Shadow World. The rules are set up to favor them because they enforce the rules. The Nephilim are in a position of power in the Shadow World, dealing out justice as they see fit - this is a lesson taught to him now as something to pride himself on, but instead it leaves him feeling uneasy.

He wants to talk to Downworlders about it but he’s forbidden. They would only feed him lies, the older Shadowhunters tell him. He doesn’t need to confuse his mind with so many sides of the same story when their side is right here for him on a silver platter. When their side, the right side, is the only one that matters.

Someone must talk to his parents because soon he’s told to stop asking questions about Magnus Bane. His job is to learn what he’s taught, to do as he’s told.

Except his questions don’t stop there, not about Magnus, and not about himself.

His parents take him to the wedding of a family friend and with tears in her eyes his mother smiles down at him and says “One day you’ll meet a nice young lady, and I’ll be watching you up there.”

Alec thinks of all the girls his age and frowns. He doesn’t like any of them that way, even though he knows one or two have a crush on him. Their friends giggle about it and try to push them together during sparring, but Alec mostly finds it annoying.

“Does it have to be a girl?” Alec whines. When he thinks of the people who make him smile, the people he might want to spend the rest of his life with (which doesn’t mean much to a nine year old who thinks the break between dinner and dessert is an eternity) his thoughts drift to a boy or two in his training classes, and then to some photos in a database that bring him more comfort than he even fully realizes.

“Of course it does. Why would you even-” Maryse almost dismisses before her gaze turns sharp, almost fearful.

“What if I want to marry a boy?” It’s such a simple, innocent question. He hasn’t liked any girls yet, but there are a few boys he think he might. So it only makes sense that instead of a nice young lady he’d want to marry a nice young man.

“No, Alec. Shadowhunter boys don’t marry other boys. It isn’t-” Maryse falters. “They just don’t. You just haven’t met the right girl yet, but you will. I promise.”

Alec considers this. “But what if-”

“Alec, I said no. This isn’t up for discussion. And don’t ever mention this to anyone else, okay? Especially not to your father.” They’re speaking in whispers to begin with, and though Robert is only two seats away on the other side of Isabelle he’s entirely oblivious to the conversation. Izzy looks like she may have been listening but turns her head quickly.

Alec simply nods and keeps the rest of his thoughts on the matter to himself, not just for that day but for years to come.

---

Alec, present day

“I always knew how I felt was different, but that was the first time I realized it was wrong,” Alec admits. “And up to that point I was nothing but the perfect son, I didn’t want-- I didn’t want to ruin that.”

“Maryse knew,” Magnus realizes, surprised.

Alec nods. “My father was the only one who didn’t, or maybe he was just in such deep denial he convinced himself he didn’t notice. But I think everyone else had an idea, at least. Izzy was the only one who ever tried to bring it up but I denied it long enough that she stopped trying. My mom never mentioned it again after that wedding, and neither did I. Well, not until…”

“Not until your wedding,” Magnus says, smirking ever so slightly.

“It was kind of hard not to talk about it after the stunt you pulled, yeah,” Alec points out, and though he tries to sound accusatory he’s smiling back, unable to help himself. .

“The stunt I pulled? It takes two to tango, Mister. You could’ve just taken me out of the room to talk, you didn’t have to make out with me in a hall full of Shadowhunters,” Magnus counters, eyebrow raised in amusement before growing serious once more. “I’m sorry you felt like you had to hide who you are for so long.”

“Yeah,” Alec agrees. “Me too.”

---

Alec, age 12

“Please?” Alec begs, hazel eyes large as he tugs at the back of his mother’s dress. “Let me go to the meeting! I promise I’ll behave. I won’t say a word, you won’t even know I’m there.” He’s twelve-and-three-quarters now, nearly thirteen whole years old. Plenty old enough to sit in on a meeting. In fact, his parents have dragged him along to countless meetings he didn’t want to be in, so he doesn’t know why this one is such a big deal.

Maryse shares a look with Robert who only shakes his head. “You can come to the next meeting we have with the Clave. Not this one. I don’t even want to be in this one.” Alec’s father mutters the last bit, earning him a reproachful look from Maryse.

“But I don’t want to go to a Clave meeting. I want to go to this one,” Alec insists.

“Why this one?” Maryse asks, and Alec opens his mouth to answer before snapping it shut again quickly. What can he tell them? That he overheard them talking about meeting with the local Warlock representative? That he wants to be in the same room as Magnus for more than 5 seconds, to hear the man speak and see if he’s anything like what Alec imagines after reading every report on him they have?

“Because I already know a lot about Shadowhunter things. I want to learn more about Warlocks, too.” Not a total lie.

Both Maryse and Robert exchange a hesitant look. “Alec, sweetie. The man we have to meet with… well, he doesn’t like us very much. It’s already going to be a very difficult meeting... Maybe we can bring you along to talk with some other warlock another time. You just be good for Hodge, okay? We’ll be back soon.”

They’re gone before Alec can ask any of the dozen follow-up questions running through his head. Us? Did Magnus not like him either, even though they never met? Did he hate all Shadowhunters? So many questions that Alec knows he’ll never get the answers to because he knows better than to ask now.

...then again, maybe no answer is better than getting a truth he doesn’t want to hear.

While his parents are gone he goes back to the computer. Back to the files and the photos. It’s safe, and it’s become almost a ritual habit by this point to imagine a world where the things he’s starting to feel for boys isn’t something he can’t talk about; a world where his gaze can linger on more than just a photo on a screen without being seen as a cause for concern.

---

Alec, age 14

“Son, we need to talk. You’re coming of an age now when you’re going to start having… impulses. You see, when you like a girl-” Robert Lightwood begins after making it a point to call Alec into his room after watching one of the girls in his class flirt with him endlessly during his last training session, going so far as to try and lean up for a kiss after he pinned her to the mat. Alec had never moved so fast in his life to jump back from it but apparently that part was lost on his father. The fact that Alec got a lot of attention from the girls his age, however, was not overlooked.

Alec doesn’t have the heart to tell him that he already knows all about sex. Word travels fast once one kid gets The Talk and his dad is a year and a half late to this party. He also doesn’t have the heart to tell him that liking girls, Alec is now entirely certain, is never going to be an issue.

Or perhaps it’s going to be the biggest issue, because his mother’s words still echo in his head, creating a cycle of guilt and shame every time he does feel an impulse, just not about any of the girls he’s around. He barely looks at the other boys, afraid of what might happen if he looks too long, or the wrong way. Afraid someone will notice… that someone will know.

For now he forces himself to smile back at the giggling girls, but he hates it. And every time Jace ends up stepping in oozing charm to pull the attention away from him it leaves him feeling equal parts grateful and sick to his stomach, because he wants Jace to smile at him like that. He wants any boy to smile at him like that.

Except every time a boy is even remotely kind to him he’s afraid it’s because of something he did that he didn’t realize, or something he let slip that he didn’t catch, and so he closes himself off entirely. He throws himself completely into training, into work, and into files stored away he sometimes forgets are for everyone’s use, and not just his own personal escape.

---

Alec, age 17

Duty first, his father tells him. He’s being raised to run an Institute, to help bring the Lightwood name back to its former glory and prestige. That leaves no room for error… it certainly leaves no room for his attraction to guys, especially not his troubling feelings for his parabatai or his increasing infatuation with Magnus Bane.

His exposure to Downworlders has increased significantly since he, Izzy, and Jace began sneaking out to a Downworld-run diner downtown. Izzy and Jace have both dallied in the company of romantic partners who would give their parents a heart attack to learn about, but not Alec. He watches from afar, daydreaming but never partaking. He can’t, not with anyone he actually wants to. Part of him knows that they’d never say anything if he told them but he doesn’t want to put that sort of burden on either of them. Because that’s what it is, and that’s all it will ever be: a burden.

He gets the feeling he’d be more easily forgiven for wanting to spend his time with downworlder girls than Shadowhunter boys, if his feelings were simply an act of teenage rebellion. If only. He knows by now that Shadowhunter, Downworlder, or even mundane, the only people he’s ever going to like are going to be boys. And he knows that will never be okay.

So instead of smiling back at the waiter he keeps pointedly avoiding eye contact with he watches after Izzy and Jace, yearning for the freedom they have and their honest sense of selves. They can afford to sneak out, to mess up, to disappoint - the same pressures and expectations aren’t put on them that are put on him, and he envies them for it. He shoulders the burdens so they don’t have to, defending them at every turn in the hopes they never feel the crippling shame he experiences every single day.

---

Alec, age 20

Alec gets stuck with the task of assisting with updating all of the databases with more up-to-date photos after getting caught sneaking into the Institute at 3 am one night. In truth, he only allowed himself to get caught by security in order to buy Jace and Izzy enough time to run in the opposite direction - both of them are already on probation this month while he has, as usual, a nearly spotless record. He’ll take the hit this time and they’ll owe him a huge favor later, one he’ll be sure to make count.

“I can’t believe he supplied us with his own photos,” says a voice followed by laughter from one of the other Shadowhunters on the project.

“Who?” Alec asks, only half-listening for the answer. He doesn’t particularly care,

“Magnus Bane,” comes the reply in a tone full of contempt. Alec freezes, nearly dropping the stack of photos in his hands. “Said, and I quote, ‘Our security cameras never pick up his good side’.”

“Let me see,” Alec manages, wondering if he sounds as anxious as he feels. They all look over the offering Magnus sent over, most of which are from that club in town that he owns now, Pandemonium. Some of the photos are just him, others have an assortment of men and women in extremely close proximity. One photo looks downright compromising and Alec has to turn away quickly to avoid anyone seeing the fierce blush that crosses his face. It’s the first time he realizes that maybe Magnus is like him, a simple reminder that he can’t possibly be the only person in the entirety of the shadow world who likes the same gender. Magnus looks so comfortable, so carefree in that photo, and Alec wants that, too.

For a moment he closes his eyes and imagines a world where he has a chance at happiness without having to hide, where he can be bold enough to take a photo with another man, to leave a lingering touch--

And then it’s gone.

The names and jokes that follow at Magnus’ expense make Alec’s blood boil as much as they make his stomach turn, because a lot of them could just as easily be aimed at him. They are, indirectly, not that anyone other than him knows it. Alec doesn’t know how long it goes on before something inside him snaps.

“He really isn’t that bad, you know,” Alec mutters.

“What was that, Lightwood?” One of his peers questions.

“Magnus Bane,” Alec says, louder now. “From what I’ve read on his file, he really isn’t that bad. Most of his charges were due to misinformation.”

“I heard he and Camille Belcourt were a thing once. Bet he gets her to just encanto everyone who catches him,” one suggests.

“Yeah. My father was part of a raid on some rogue werewolves Bane defended in the early 90s. He never got charged for that, either, but my uncle nearly died,” another says.

Alec decides to cut his losses and not bring up the fact that most of those raids were unjustified, the charges were dropped because the warlocks and werewolves were only reacting in self-defense.

The photos Magnus sent in end up in the trash and the standard security camera footage uploaded in their place. Alec can’t help but think that the photos are unnecessary anyway - every side is Magnus’ ‘good side’.

---

Present Day

Magnus rolls his eyes. “Do you know how long it took me to pick out the best photos for that?” he says with an exaggerated roll of his eyes. “The least they could’ve done is return them to me. Didn’t have to throw them out.”

Alec, however, finds it difficult to be amused by the story, even now. “Doesn’t it bother you? That that’s how some Shadowhunters see you? Not just you, but all of the Downworlders?” It’s something that’s bothered Alec more and more ever since he saw the sort of reception Magnus got for the brief period he stayed at the Institute with him. Of course Alec isn’t naive enough to think the bias is gone, that people would change their minds overnight just because the Head of the Institute was with a Downworlder, but… he expects more than what he got. He expects better. Magnus deserves better.

“Of course it does, Alexander. But there are some people so stuck in their antiquated ways that they’ll never change, not for you, and certainly not for me. If I worried about everyone with an unfavorable opinion of me then I wouldn’t have any energy left for the people actually worth my time and effort. People like you.”

Alec relaxes a little at that.

“I wasn’t so sure I’d be one of those people when the first time I saw you at Pandemonium ended with you fleeing through a Portal,” Alec admits.

---

Alec, age 24

Alec keeps an eye on Jace and Clary… and Magnus. It’s the closest he’s been in years, not trusting his own instinctive reactions enough to dare come to the club on his own. Magnus is so much more attractive in person, and the guilt that wells up inside of him at the simple observation is nearly enough to drown under.

He doesn’t have long to dwell on it before a Circle member sneaks up behind Magnus and Alec takes him out with one well-aimed shot from his arrow, careful to avoid eye contact with Magnus as he walks by him to retrieve his arrow and scan the crowded room for other attackers. He has a job to do, he can’t allow his emotions to distract him.

“Who are you?” Magnus asks out loud, unaware that a few recently activated runes allows Alec to hear the words over the thump of the music even at this distance. Alec has to fight against the shiver of anticipation that runs down his spine in that moment.

Because Magnus Bane may not know who he is - not yet - but Alec certainly knows who he is. How do you explain to someone you just met that they’ve held your interest for years? Short answer: you don’t.

Alec focuses on his arrow, on the Circle member, and by the time he turns back around Magnus is gone and Alec’s following Jace, Clary, and Izzy out of the club without looking back.

Alec doesn’t miss his chance the next time they meet, not long after and under strangely similar circumstances.

“Well done,” Alec says, allowing his bow to drop slowly once he’s certain his arrow hit its mark. His shot is followed quickly by a blast of blue magic which renders the circle member unconscious. Alec looks away from Magnus, aware of how long he’s waited for this moment: their first meeting. Just to be in the same room as him--

“More like medium rare,” Magnus says, and Alec’s thankful he’s looking away because he doesn’t know what he’d do if his first proper interaction with Magnus Bane is for him to catch Alec rolling his eyes at the pun.

It isn’t long before Magnus makes his way across the room and into Alec’s space. “I’m Magnus, I don’t think we’ve been formally introduced?”

“Alec.” He smiles. The only thing he can think is that the photos and faraway glances didn’t do justice to even half of Magnus’ beauty. And then he realizes he’s staring, smiling like some dopey schoolboy, and he can’t seem to make his mouth stop grinning. “Um, we uh, should really, uh, probably get, you know…”

Alec silently prays to the Angel for the ground to open him up and swallow him whole, which would be far less excruciating than his fumbling. Magnus, to his credit, doesn’t seem deterred. “Right. We should join the party,” Magnus agrees, finishing his thought for him.

And the rest? Well, the rest is history. Their history.

---

Present Day

As he finishes recounting the impact Magnus had on his life before they even met, Alec’s face is a little flush despite the cool autumn air; whether it’s from the tinge of embarrassment over the story he kept to himself for so long or the alcohol (which he blames for blurting all of that out) finally starting to get to him he can’t tell.

“Alexander…” Magnus says, voice soft and eyes full of an emotion that Alec can’t quite place at first. “I had no clue-”

“Of course you didn’t,” Alec says with a soft laugh. “You had no way of knowing. Honestly, I never even planned on telling you. But that’s what made it so easy for me to trust you from the very start - I knew you were a good person before I even met you. It wasn’t just that I always dreamed of meeting someone like you… I just always dreamed of meeting you.” Alec takes a deep breath. “But do you know what finally made it sink in that it didn’t have to be just a dream?”

Magnus doesn’t ask what, he doesn’t have to. The curiosity is written all over his face and he remains silent, giving Alec the time to finish his story at his own pace.

“The day we tried to get Clary’s memories back, when I ruined the summoning circle. You told me I didn’t have anything to be ashamed of,” Alec’s voice is quiet now. “It was the first time I had the hope that that might be true. That there might be one person out there who wouldn’t look at me, at what I wanted or who I wanted, and only see something that needed to be hidden.”

Magnus reaches across and takes his hand. “I’m glad you listened.”

“I’m glad you didn’t give up on me,” Alec admits. “I didn’t exactly make it easy on you.”

But Magnus shakes his head. “All my life, the only times Shadowhunters were willing to give me a chance were when they needed something from me: a deal, or a favor. You aren’t the first to see that file and form a judgement, but you’re one of the first to look beyond it. To see me as a person, and not just someone with something to offer.” Magnus smiles again. “It seems to me, Alexander, that you didn’t give up on me, either.”

Alec thinks about that for a moment and nods, and then turns and grabs his glass of wine. “To not giving up on each other, then” he offers.

Magnus mirrors the motion, glass meeting glass in the space between them on the sofa. “To never giving up on each other.”

They drink, and Magnus shifts to lean back against Alec, Alec’s hand moving up to brush through his husband’s hair. The last thing Alec thinks as they drift off to sleep on the sofa, Magnus first and Alec close behind, is how nice it is to go from never dreaming he’d have someone like Magnus in his life to dreaming about Magnus every time he closes his eyes, no longer ashamed of the love he deserves.

#magnus bane #alec lightwood #malec #shadowhunters #maryse lightwood #this was a prompt/idea given to me a few months back by some people I adore #and I took a lot of time to hopefully do it justice because it was such an AMAZING concept #so I hope you all enjoy it! And check the AO3 for links to the lovely minds who came up with the concept!#elle writes a few deadbeat lines #long post #like REALLY LONG POST #tw: homophobia #tw: internalized homophobia

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chickensarentcheap · 4 years

Text

Sanctuary - Chapter 6

Warnings: some fluffy, domestic Tyler ;)

Tagging: @valkyrie-of-the-light, @alievans007, @c-a-v-a-l-r-y

When she arrives home at four, she finds her entire family -minus Ovi- fast asleep in the backyard hammock. Tyler with one leg hanging over the edge, Millie tucked under one arm and Tanner under the other, and TJ on top of his chest with his head tucked under his dad’s chin. He is completely at peace; this man that has seen so much, done so much, survived so much. His features soft, body fully relaxed, a gentle smile playing on his lips. Utterly relaxed and content, surrounded by the little human beings that he had had a role in creating. It was a realization that he remained in awe of even now. Maybe because he didn’t feel as if he deserved that kind of love; these innocent and pure beings who idolized him and loved him unconditionally. Or maybe because he had a hard time believing that someone like him could create something so beautiful. Not once, but four times. He had once told her, just after Declan was born, that his children were the greatest gifts that anyone had ever given him. And he’d sat there with his minutes old son in his arms, tears in his eyes, thanking her for him. For giving them -as a couple- a chance. For giving him a life that he could be proud of.

“You make me want to be a better man,” he’d admitted, and she’d never heard a more sincere and beautiful compliment in her entire life.

And now here he was, this big, strong man covered in tattoos and scars, out like a light while cuddling the gifts that he treasured so much.

She can’t resist taking a picture with her cell phone. Quickly sending a copy of it to Nik with the words: this is how a total bad ass spends his day off. Then she leaves them, carrying the baby on her hip into the house and laying him down for a nap. Mac is right by her side; watching every move she makes as if to let her know that that his little human and he’s in charge of making sure everything is done right. And to make sure Declan is protected. And when she leaves, the puppy is yawning loudly and curling into a ball at the side of the crib, ready for his job as nanny.

She relishes the time in a quiet house; not screaming of fighting children, no teething baby whining and crying, no hammering and drilling and whatever noise accompanies reno work. Just the gentle hums coming from the central air and the refrigerator, the chirping of the birds gathered in the surrounding trees, the slow boil of the kettle. There is rarely a moment without chaos in their home; a puppy and four kids and a husband that can’t sit still makes for very entertaining times. So she enjoys every possible second, sipping tea as she leans stomach first against the kitchen island, thumbing through flyers and a stack of bills, doodling on a pad of paper that she’d meant for a grocery list, but can’t be bothered to do the actual work.

The sliding door opens and Tyler steps in, barefoot, yawning loudly and wiping sleep from his eyes.

“Well holy shit,” she grins. “Sleeping beauty awakes. Look at you with your fancy new hair cut, looking sexy as fuck. And it isn’t even my birthday.”

“Early Christmas present. They wanted to shave my beard off, but I told them you’d file for divorce if I walked into the house clean shaven.”

“Never mind divorce. I think that’s grounds for justifiable homicide,” she teases, as he lays a hand on her hip and leans down to kiss her in greeting. “Very nice,” she gushes, and brushes the wayward strands out of his eyes.

“Your daughter says it looks weird.”

“She’s five. This is a kid that puts mayo and peanut butter together. Now that’s weird. Seriously baby…” she runs a hand through his hair. “…you kind of make me wet.”

He grins. “Doesn’t take much, does it.”

“You seem to have a very odd effect on my insides,” she confirms.

“Odd as in bad, or…”

“Odd as in good. Very good,” she fists the front of his t-shirt and pulls him down into a longer, more intense kiss. And his hands move from her hips to her ass, fingers digging into the soft flesh as he pulls her flush against him. “Hi, by the way,” she says when they final part.

“Hi,” he presses his lips to her temple and then moves towards the fridge. “So, how’d it go?”

“With my mom or with Jennie? Because both were very…interesting…to say the least.”

“Start with the worst one first. What kind of mood was the Wicked Witch of the West in today?”

“While she was three coffees with baileys and about two gin and tonics into things when I got there. Not that it mellowed her out at all. She was her usual self.”

“Bitchy?” he pulls a beer from the fridge and shuts the door with his hip, twisting off the cap as he joins her at the island, small of his back at the edge of the granite.

“I was going to say catty and miserable, but okay. By the way, talk around the Thanksgiving dinner table may get X rated this year. I told her that we were having a lot of sex.”

He grins, the bottle of beer pressed to his lips. “Well you weren’t lying, so…”

“She had the nerve to bitch at me for not losing all the baby weight. Excuse me? I’ve had four kids in the span of five years. Am I already supposed to be a size three? For one, I’ve never been that small. Ever. Second, I’m still trying to feed a ten-month-old and I’m sorry if I have to eat extra so I make extra for him. Have you seen how much your son can drink?”

“He probably doesn’t even really want the milk. He’s just a boob guy.”

“Oh great. Add to the list of things that make him even more like you. But can you honestly believe her? Ragging me about my weight?”

“Who gives a shit. I think you look amazing. Who cares what she says?”

“She just drives me absolute bat-shit insane. She can never just compliment someone and be a decent person. She has to always get in those little cheap shots that make me want to punch her in the throat. And I know I shouldn’t be saying that about my own mother, but…”

‘She’s your mother but she isn’t a mother,” he reasons. “Because no mother talks to her own child like that. Just because she’s your mother, does not mean you have to take her shit. Just tell her to fuck off. I’ve told her. Which is probably one of the many reasons she hates me.”

“She doesn’t hate you. She just doesn’t know you. And for some stupid ass reason, she won’t be bothered to even try.”

“Why stress about it? I don’t. Let her see the kids. Let her be a grandma. I don’t need to like her or spend time with her.”

“But it would make things a little easier if you did,” Esme points out. “Which isn’t your fault, by the way. She totally caused all of this. And can you believe she still talks to my ex? After everything he’s done? Like, what the hell? And she had the nerve to give him my phone number and our address so…”

Tyler frowns. “She did what now?”

“Something about how he wants to make amends or some bullshit like that.”

“So she just up and gave him our address? So your ex husband…who is a narcissistic, abusive prick…actually knows where we live? Where our kids live?”

“He’s definitely a narcissistic, abusive prick, but he’s not a homicidal maniac. It’s not like he’s going to come here and hurt the kids.”

“I don’t want him coming here at all. Why would I want your ex husband coming here where you live with your current husband?”

“Current? You make it sound like there’s going to be others.”

“I didn’t mean it like that. But why would I want him coming here? This is our life. Not his. What if my ex wife showed up out of the blue? You’d flip your shit. And I’m not saying that’s wrong. Because you’d have every right to. Or any of my exes for that matter. Would you want them just showing up?”

“Well Nik just comes by whenever, so…”

“Nik is not an ex. By any stretch of the means.”

“Wasn’t she a booty call? Ex booty call?”

“That was a long time ago. Last time that happened was a year before you and I met. Technically she’s my boss, so I have to answer when she comes over or calls me. And why are we even talking about Nik? What does Nik have to do with your ex husband being a raging asshole?”

“I honestly didn’t think you’d get this worked up about it,” she admits.

“I don’t like people just coming around my kids. Our kids. You know that. Didn’t we just have to explain this to Ovi last night?”

“This isn’t someone from your past that wants revenge. This isn’t someone whose toes you stepped on and now they want to get back at you. He’s an idiot, but he’s not a psychopath that’s out to hurt children.”

“Okay, so he’s not a psychopath. So after everything he’s done what does that make him? A sociopath?”

“Look at you,” she teases. “Bringing out the big words.”

He scowls.

“You’re not pissed off that he knows where we live. You’re not even pissed at all. You’re jealous.”

He gives a derisive snort. “What’s there to be jealous about? I’m the one that’s married to you now. It’s my bed you’re in every night.”

“You…” she stands in front of him, plucks the bottle of beer from his hand and takes a swig. “… hate the idea of there being men in my past.”

“I know there’s men in your past. It’s not like I was your first. You were married before me. I think that’s a sign that there were guys before me.”

“But you hate it. Don’t you. You can’t stand thinking about me being with anyone else. It just pisses you off when you think about it,” she holds the beer behind her back when he reaches for it. “Admit it. You can’t stand the thought of another guy touching me and kissing me the way you do.”

He gives a cocky smile “No guy can kiss you and touch you the way I do.”

“Okay, I’ll give you that. But you’re seriously upset about this, aren’t you. You really don’t like thinking about it.”

“I really don’t like thinking about it,” he admits, and reaches around her to grab the beer. “There. You happy? Now you know my weakness. I hate thinking about you being with other people. It pisses me off. And now one of these people are going to just show up on my doorstep. So yeah. I’m a little upset.”

“Awww…baby…” she moves closer, standing between his thighs. “…I like this side of you. The one that lets me know I’m not just the maid and the cook and the baby maker.”

“You’re more than that,” he says. “A lot more than that.”

She kisses him, long and slow and soft. Her arms around his neck and her nails scraping against the edge of his hair line where the strands are the shortest. Then lays her head against his shoulder, both of his arms loosely circling her waste, the beer bottle cold against the small of her back.

“So how’d the other thing go? With Jennie?” Tyler had met her once; when G had brought her to a team get together to announce that he was getting married. It felt like a lifetime ago. Two years before he and Esme met. Twenty-four months before everything went to shit and G lost his life in that Bangladesh forest.

“She’s still having a really hard time,” Esme sighs, her cheek still resting against his shoulder. “All of his things are still there. His clothes are still in the closet. Like he’s just going to walk through the front door one day. It’s been five years. But to her it might as well been just five days ago. It hurts my heart. Seeing her like that.”

He presses a kiss to the side of her head, tightens the hold around her waist.

“I felt so stupid. Standing there not knowing what to say or do. What is there to say? I’m sorry? That just seems so…trivial. What does saying sorry even do? Nothing. All it does is show that I’m a total moron when it comes to these kinds of things.”

“You’re not a moron. Far from it. She was probably just happy to have someone there to talk to.”

“She seemed happy at first. Relieved. But then she just got angry. At me for not staying with him in the forest. At Nik for getting him mixed up in such a huge mess. At you for surviving. I tried telling her that I understand why she’s angry. I was angry for a long time. I mean, I know it’s not the same. You survived. And it hurt. That she’s actually mad about that. That I’m not feeling the same kind of grief that she is.”

“It’s not a personal thing, babe. She’s just hurting. She’s angry, like you said. People say shit when they’re angry. And she’s right. I shouldn’t have survived. But I did for whatever reason. I’m still here. Somehow.”

“Thank god for the miracle of modern medicine,” she declares, but sniffles against him.

“Hey…hey…don’t…” he tangles his fingers in her hair and gently pulls her head back, so she is looking at him. “…we agreed that this was over. That we were never going to talk about it again. As soon as we left Dhaka that second time, it was behind us. So don’t do this. Don’t go back down that road. Because it’s dark and it’s fucking hard and nothing good will come from it.”

“She was just so angry. At all the wrong people. Doesn’t she realize I get it? I’m not the enemy. I start worrying the second Nik calls. And then I worry more when you walk out the door. I worry every time you call to check on us that it’s the last time I’ll hear your voice. And I worry that I won’t see you walk back in the door.”

“I know,” he presses a kiss to her forehead and then pulls her into him, a hand on the back of her neck. “I know you do.”

“I just want this to be over. I just want this to all be behind us. I just want you home. For good. No more jobs.”

“One more year,” he promises. “Then I’m all yours. Then we live a normal life. Whatever normal is. Our version of normal.”

“You better not die on me, Tyler Rake. You have twelve months to get through. You better not make it to eleven months and twenty-nine days and die on me.”

“I’m not going anywhere. You can’t get rid of me that easily. Didn’t you learn that five years ago? If that didn’t kill me, nothing will. You’re stuck with me.”

“There’s worse things,” she reasons, and he holds her face in his hands and places his lips against her forehead. “I’d miss you if you weren’t around.”

“You’d miss me leaving the toilet seat up and living the empty milk jug in the fridge?”

She nods. “I’d even miss those things. I’ve gotten used to you just being here. To waking up and rolling over and you’re just there. To hearing your voice. I think I take those things for granted. Jennie made me realize how it’s important to never just assume that someone is always going to be there. So thank you. For putting up with my shit. For sticking around when sometimes you probably just want to walk away. I know I’m not an easy person to love. Just thank you. For being you. And for loving me the way you do.”

Smiling, he pushes her hair behind her ears and kisses her. Not demanding. Not hungry. Not desperate. Just the languid and soft movements of closed mouth upon closed mouth.

“Twelve months,” he tells her once again. “I promise.”

It sounds sincere.

And it’s almost enough for her to believe him.

***

“Ovi’s gone to Butte again,” Esme says from the passenger seat, as they make the short drive into town.

It’s rare; a night out as a family. But since he’s been home, Tyler’s been determined to make every moment with his wife and kids count. The conversation about Jennie still reeling from G’s death had hit home. Life while still in the game was extremely unpredictable; you never knew where you going to end up from one week to the next, what dangers lurked around every corner and in dark alleyways, if you were even going to make it home when it was all over. And if that did happen, he didn’t want his kids’ only memory of him being that he was gone a lot and the majority of their quality time was spent on the phone or through video chats.

“Yeah…” he sighs. “I know.”

“He must be pretty serious about her if he’s willing to drive back and forth that much. Most guys these days wouldn’t travel three blocks to see someone. It’s too much effort.”

He glances through the rear-view mirror, making sure that little ears aren’t paying attention to the conversation. They’re paying no mind. Little faces glued to the books or tablets in their hands. “I don’t know about that. I know guys that will drive four hours for a blow job.”

“Speaking from experience?” she grins. “Have you driven that far for one?”

“I would have had to travel all the way from Australia to Colorado if everything had gone right five years ago,” he points. “I mean, not just for the blow job, obviously. As good as they are.”

“Good? Just good? Don’t insult me.”

“I think I’ve already told you…more than once…that you give the best ones I’ve ever had. “But seeing as you’re in the mood to have your ego stroked, I’ll tell you again. I would have travelled from Australia to Colorado for a blow job from you.”

“Maybe I could have been a call girl,” she playfully muses. “If my skills are that good.”

“I’d be your best customer.”

“Baby, you wouldn’t be able to afford me,” she teases, and then laughs and tries to wriggle away when he pinches her thigh. “I would give it to you for free though. Your skills aren’t so bad either. I’d be willing to give you freebies for those skills. Think Ovi is getting freebies?”

“Not from you, I hope.”

“There is something seriously wrong with you. That is just so wrong in so many ways. I mean from this girl he’s seeing.”

“She’s not a girl. She’s a woman. A grown ass woman.”

“And…”

“And something doesn’t sit right with me. What does she want with a nineteen-year-old?”

“What did you want from someone five years younger?” Esme counters.

“That’s totally different. We were both in our thirties. I wasn’t an adult and you a teenager still. I don’t know. It just doesn’t feel right. He seems too…eager.”

“This coming from a guy who just admitted he would have travelled here all the way from Australia to get head.”

“Totally not the same thing. He’s still a kid. We were adults when we hooked up. There’s a difference between two consenting adults and a kid and a woman.”

“I know you see him as the same Ovi he was in Dhaka, but that’s five years ago, Tyler. Nineteen is not a kid. He’s an adult. And believe me, I’m having a hard time accepting it myself. Where did the last five years ago? How did he go from scared little Ovi to running to Butte to get laid Ovi?”

“Jesus,” Tyler frowns. “Really?”

“If you’re this bent out of shape with him being grown up and doing grown up things, wait until it’s one of the kids you helped make. Especially your daughter. You’re going to have a coronary the day she comes home asking to go on birth control.”

“For fuck sakes,” he scowls. “Not this conversation again.”

“Or when she starts her period and I’m not home. What are you going to do then? You’ll freak the hell out. I know you will.”

“You’re never leaving the house when it gets close to things like that.”

“Baby, you’re so cute. You have the skill set you have but you’re scared of your little girl growing up and becoming a woman. That’s probably the only thing you are scared of.”

“There’s a couple other things,” he admits.

Both scenarios involve her and the kids in one way or the other. Being thousands of miles away on a job and some crazy fucker bent on revenge seeking it on them and him having no way to protect them. Or dying while away on a mission and leaving his entire family behind to go on with life without him. Both kept him up at night. Both were becoming an obsession. Even he was getting tired of the near constant travel and the toll the game was taking on his mind and his body. And that was a point he’d never thought he’d get to. Where despite the money, the job was nothing but a burden that kept away from the only true things that mattered in his life.

***

They dine at a family friendly Italian place in downtown Telluride. Enjoy the simplicity that comes with just a meal out: the older kids happily colouring on the large sheet of paper covering the tabletop, the baby in the high chair attempting to feed himself torn up pieces of garlic bread, the nursing of alcoholic beverages and the chance for small talk.

It’s a normal existence for once. Just a family out for the evening. There’s no talk of the job, no mention of the drama with her mother, or both Ovi’s new girl. Just those little flirtatious comments and smiles that they still indulge in from time to time. Five years sometimes feels like five days. That they’re still that new couple enjoying every moment together. They hadn’t really gotten that chance before. Dhaka had gone so horribly bad and they’d never gotten around to executing the plans for travel and simply getting to know each other. Then came a baby and life as a married couple. Hitting the ground running and never really having the time to catch their breath.

But even through all of that, they’d discovered pretty quickly that they weren’t just good at being lovers. But each other’s confidants. Best friends. They actually got along outside of the realm of marriage and parenthood. Imagine spending fifty years with someone but never really knowing them? One day waking up and realize that if you’d never been with them -romantically and sexually speaking- that you’d probably actually despise one another? So caught up in raising children that once they flew the coop you suddenly realize that you don’t even recognize the person sitting across the dinner table from you? And worse, not even recognizing yourself.

They never worried about those things. They made sure of that. To keep that bond that went far beyond just being spouses and parents.

While Tyler takes the twins and the baby to the bathroom to clean them up, Esme stays that the table with her daughter, Millie perched in her lap as she plays a game on her mother’s cell phone. The meal was long ago finished but Esme relaxes in that lazy yet almost euphoric feeling that comes with one too many glasses of wine. Her face feelings flushed, her body filled with warmth that spreads from head to toe, her mind cluttered with a million and one thoughts but none of them actually registering.

“Hey!” Millie suddenly pipes up, a frown on her face. “That’s the creepy guy from today!”

“Creepy guy? What?”

“When Ovi and I went for ice cream,” she explains, as she swivels around on her mother’s lap to face her. “There was this creepy guy that kept watching us. Ovi said it was probably because I was cute and he was jealous I have ice cream and he didn’t.”

“Well you definitely are cute,” Esme says, as she pushes her daughter’s hair behind her ears and noisily kisses both cheeks, getting an adorable giggle in return. “But you’re looking more and more like your daddy every day and that makes me kind of sad.”

“Don’t be sad, mommy. Daddy’s not ugly. He’s cute enough.”

“Yeah…” Esme smiles, and moves those thick light brown tresses off her daughter’s shoulders. “…he is. Think we should keep him?”

“I don’t want him going anywhere. I don’t want him being anyone else’s daddy. Just mine. I don’t want to share him.”

“Well I don’t think you have to worry about that. So who is this creepy man? Which one is he? And don’t look. Just tell me what he looks like.”

“Do you see the lady with the purple dress and the red hair?” her tiny fingers fidget with the necklace around her mother’s neck; a simple small diamond on a thin rose gold chain. “He is right beside her. He’s the one with all the pictures on his arm. Like daddy’s.”

“Tattoos,” Esme gently corrects, and looks over her little one’s shoulder. The man in question sits at the bar; one of his motorcycle boots propped on the bottom rung of his stool, eyes riveted on the menu in front of him.

‘Do you see him?” Millie asks. “Do you see him mommy?”

“I see him. He’s just trying to decide what he wants to eat.”

“That’s what he does. He pretends he’s doing other things but really he’s watching us. He did that this morning. With a newspaper. And now he’s here.”

“I think it might just be a coincidence, sweet pea. This town is only so big. You’re bound to see the same person more than once.”

“And when he was leaving, he talked to daddy.”

“Really? What did he talk to daddy about?”

“Just that he was from Chicago and he was here on business. That he has kids at home.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it. But it really was creepy, mommy. It made my tummy all nervous. I don’t like when my tummy gets all nervous.”

“I’m sure there’s nothing to be nervous about. That it’s just a coincidence. Maybe he’s just lonely and looking to make friends. I wouldn’t worry about it,” she presses a kiss to Millie’s forehead. “Did you have fun with Ovi today?” she attempts to calm her with a change in conversation. “What kind of ice cream did you get? I bet it was bubble gum.”

“It was,” she nods enthusiastically, hands moving to the sides of her mother’s face, running her palms along Esme’s cheeks. “I hope Ovi never moves away.”

“Where would he go?”

“Back to his real home.”

“This is his real home. With us. He won’t go back to where he was born because he’s happy here.”

“I’d miss him,” she pouts. “If left. He’s fun. He watches cartoons and Netflix with me and will even wear the tiara and let me paint his nails. Daddy doesn’t let me do those things.”

“Well your dad is what they call an alpha male.”

“What’s that mean?”

“I will tell you when you’re older. Much older.”

“Fine,” she huffs. “Is daddy really a superhero? Like Thor?”

“A superhero? What…?”

“Ovi said that daddy helps people. That he goes places and helps good people get away from bad people. Is that true?”

“Yes. That’s why he goes away so much. People needs his help and he goes and helps them. And sometimes he gets hurt. But he always comes back, right?”

Millie nods. “Just like superheroes. Sometimes they get hurt too, but they always get to go home after. But what if something bad happens and daddy doesn’t come home?”

Sadness tugs at her heart. And that innocent little face and those eyes filling with tears. “Daddy will always come home. You don’t need to worry about that, okay? Daddy will always find a way back to us. To you. And when has daddy ever lied to you? Or broken a promise?”

“Never.”

“So don’t worry, okay? He isn’t going anywhere. Not for a long time. I promise.”

She watches as he husband returns to the table with their brood of boys in tow; the way he smiles and stops to interact with those who know him; clients from his reno job, people he’s assisted with things like fixing leaky taps and patching holes in roofs and cutting grass.

He is far removed from the man he was five years ago. The man who’d been broken and battered; weary and guarded. He laughs and smiles more now. He lets people in. To an extent. There are parts of his life that he keeps tightly under wraps not just for his safety, but theirs as well. But he’s become quite the fixture in their little town. Charming people with that smile and accent, and of course the body.

The ladies love the body. She can’t count number of times where they’ve been in the grocery store and there’s been some thirsty housewife lusting over him in the check out line. And having the goddamn gall to give her dirty looks because she’s the one with his hand near her ass and the one that gets the sweet little kisses on the cheeks.

It is both disheartening and flattering when your husband is the most wanted piece of meat in the supermarket.

“Daddy, look!” Millie whispers when he finally returns to the table. “It’s that creepy guy from the ice cream place!”

“You know him?” Esme asks, as Tyler sits across from her once again and settles the baby on his lap; those big strong hands under Declan’s arms as the ten-month-old stands on his father��s thighs. “Who is he?”

“Just some guy that’s here on business. That’s all I know.”

“He’s creepy,” Millie declares. “I don’t like him. He kept staring at us. It was weird. It made my tummy hurt.”

“I think it was the ice cream that made your tummy hurt.”

“No, daddy. It was him. It’s my tummy. I should know.”

“It is kind of weird that he’s here,” Esme remarks. “What’s the chances of being in the same place twice?”

“In this town? Like eighty percent. Don’t start. I don’t need two paranoid females in my life. He’s just some guy here on a business trip. I’m usually the one that gets the weird feelings about people, yeah? So relax. Drink more wine.”

She cocks an eyebrow. “Are you trying to get me drunk?”

“Maybe,” he winks at her. “The drunk Esme is the uninhibited Esme. And she hasn’t come out to play in a really long time.”

“She would if you stopped getting the normal Esme pregnant all the time.”

“Just one more,” he says. “Just one. I swear.”

“And knowing my luck, it will be two again. Or maybe three this time.”

“No more babies!” Millie laments. “I don’t want any more brothers! Three is way too many.”

“Yeah, well one sister is too many,” TJ shoots back.

“I’ll kick your ass!” she threatens, and he makes a move as if to swat at her.

“And this is why we can’t have nice things,” Esme sighs, as she pushes her chair away from the table. “Because your children are the spawns of Satan. All good genes my ass. Come on Millie. Let’s go and get cleaned up. Go. Scoot,” she taps her on the bum to get her moving. “And by the way,” she says to Tyler, as she leans down to peck his lips. “I don’t need wine to be uninhibited. All you have to do is that thing with your tongue and that’ll be that.”

“There’s like ten things I do with my tongue. Narrow it down.”

“You’ll figured it out,” she says, and playfully tousles his hair before herding their daughter through the busy restaurant.

She can feel the eyes on her as she departs. The stranger at the bar watching her intently.

#tyler rake #tyler rake fan fic #tyler rake fan fiction #chris hemsworth character #extraction #sanctuary

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whetstonefires · 4 years

Note

Same anon as Seph anon, thanks for answering my ask! Ahahaha I really did go a little wild with the chance to ask one of my favorite authors about one of my favorite characters... so, here's a more restrained version of that for another one of my faves I guess cause it's just a pleasure reading your responses. Tifa Lockhart. 4 (because i see her as kind of a person who'd be into the idea of romance?), 5, 14, 18, and 20.

Oh well hey again! Glad you liked the last one. Aww, thank you. 💗 Enthusiasm is always nice. More opinions by me, then! ^^

4. Best places to kiss on their body

Haha I agree Tifa’s a romantic in both the general and narrow senses but ooh, spicy. 😆 Hm.

I think Tifa would like kissed...just below the corner of her mouth, and on the insides of her forearms, and in her palms and knuckles because her hands are so much of her, and would be so easy to see as things that don’t need or deserve tenderness because of their power. And on her hip, at the outside hinge, just below where her belt rests in her main outfit.

5. Guilty pleasures

Unlike Sephiroth, Tifa does guilt a lot. She’s also a lot better than he ever was at pleasure. Both are highly contextual. They change.

More than once, it’s been Cloud. When she was fifteen and sick with feeling trapped in this dead-end town, her promise with that awkward boy next door who’d acquired a certain mystique through his standoffishness and big dream was a vehicle for fantasy that she’d have been mortified if anyone suspected.

When they were traveling the world and she knew something was wrong with him, with what he remembered, and she wasn’t saying anything because she was too afraid to find out what was wrong with who--she was still happy to have him there. Her person. Hers. Leaned into enjoying it more than she would have, if she hadn’t felt like it was going to be snatched away, somehow.

When she first lived in Midgar, it was pain, and blood on her knuckles. She went looking for fights, in those first months after she healed up from Masamune, and the slums had plenty on offer. She knew it was a waste of herself and her training, a stupid risk and a cruel choice, but it was the only thing that felt real.

That was how she first came to the Heaven--not as terrorist, or potential owner, or interviewing for a position as a barmaid. She was looking for a brawl.

In the days after Meteor, it was sweets. She’s always been active enough that indulging her sweet tooth only twinged her a little on an internalized-weight-bullshit scale, but when the main engine of industry had just been crushed and there were refugees on every side and she was spending most of her waking hours trying to mitigate the suffering in the aftermath...spending outsized chunks of her share of the enormous heap of gil the team had accrued traveling the world on getting A Whole Ice Cream all to herself felt more like a crime than half the people she’d beaten to death in her time, but it was one she went ahead and committed.

14. Ingrained habits/forces of habit

Tifa has many good and responsible habits. She does dishes promptly, without thinking twice. She does her kata every morning. She’s good at forming habits, and keeping them up.

She’s also good, of course, at habits she doesn’t want. Patterns of rumination that aren’t good for her. Habits of avoiding a subject or a problem that bothers her, until it’s a bigger problem than it started as simply for her habituated inability to confront it.

And if she doesn’t change contexts after she loses someone, it takes a long time for the habit of expecting them there to go away. She never quite stopped expecting to see Cloud when she was leading the team after the Northern Crater, and it took until after she’d spent a few days with him in Mideel to stop looking for Aerith.

18. Things they’ll never admit

They’re mostly silly or obvious, or both. She thought Sephiroth was cool and Zack was hot, when she was sixteen. She really did believe Cloud wasn’t real, for long enough to matter, even though it was Sephiroth who said it.

There’s one that isn’t. She tries to be sorry, for everyone and everything that was lost and broken in the road to ending the old world, and she can’t. It’s sad, and she wishes it hadn’t had to happen, and she’d never have done it, but she wouldn’t wish any of it undone, if it put Shinra back in power.

Even the people she loved. Her town, her Midgar friends, Aerith. She’s given her heart to the future, and she’ll let go of everything from the past if that’s what it takes to build something new. Nibelheim was a cage for her anyway, dear as it was and dearly as it loved her. It’s easier to leave behind than she thinks it should be, now that she isn’t alone in the emptiness of its destruction, or strangled with a hopeless need for vengeance.

She has Cloud left, from those days, and that’s enough to live on.

But she thinks even Barret would give it all up, everything they have now, just to have the massacre of Corel unmade. And maybe Cid or Reeve would agree with her, but she doesn’t want them to. So she’d never tell anybody.

20. What-ifs/Alternate Timelines

There’s a lot you could do with alternate-timeline Tifa but only three things that I’m persistently interested in.

First, she realizes she can leave town, too. Like...she clearly more than a little wanted to, and felt that she had to stay. Leaving town to seek your fortune and become a hero or whatever is only for boys. So she was living vicariously through Cloud, in canon.

The natural thing as a fic writer is for her to also try for SOLDIER, which I’ve seen done, though in character terms it’s a little less likely, assuming it’s even an option. I tend to assume Shinra only recruits men for active combat roles (which Turks technically are not even tho they actually are) because that’s what we’re shown, and while you can headcanon around that because of helmets and so on, I’ve never felt that ‘pretending the fascists aren’t as sexist as they seem’ was really a strike for women’s lib in transformative fandom? Shinra is not a positive environment. That’s a fact I’m happy to let stand.

They might make an exception if you were good enough, tho, and Tifa is very good.

Second scenario, Zangan doesn’t turn up at just the right moment to get her out of the reactor before Hojo swoops in, and she gets picked up with the rest of the survivors for the Sephiroth Copy Reunion Project. I started writing this one. It’s uh. Dark.

Third, she doesn’t wind up in Midgar. There’s suggestion in the game that Zangan brought her there to get treatment for her stab wound but it’s literally the other side of the Planet so I mostly ignore that on the basis that it’s absurd and adds nothing of value to the story, and assume she made it there on her own.

But in this AU he left her with one of his 127 other students and they bonded while she was healing up, and got into contact with some of the others who knew how to contact some of the others, and all these people knew people of their own, and Zangan-Ryu became a Mass Movement without actual Zangan’s direct involvement or support, at least not until later on.

Because I think it’s wild that this man wanders the world dropping in on his scattered collection of disciples one at a time, meaning Tifa is part of a fairly large community with whom she is not at all acquainted, and there’s potential there that I’ve never seen built into.

Tifa fomenting provincial insurrection potential. :D

#ask #ask meme #tifa lockhart #ffvii #hoc est meum #a nonny mouse

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killjoy-loveit · 4 years

Text

Stitch Me Back Together- 2

A/N: I would like to clarify that everything written in this story is complete fiction and isn’t to be taken as a true portrayal of reality. This is written in 1st POV, the character’s name is Fleur, and this is a series. I am still working on it, the end date isn’t set as of yet, however, I will try to update it when I can (though two updates are scheduled this month). Every member of Vixx will be featured in this piece, though for this second part the only one of them in it is Ken/Jaehwan. And as always the links to my masterlists will be in the notes!

Summary: Fleur is on a path of discovery, and what she finds might not be what she’s expecting. And we all know that at times, knowledge brings danger.

Word Count: 2,606

Genre: Supernatural/Fantasy/Mythical AU, Angst

****WARNING: Mentions of blood****

During the two weeks that I was off work, Lucille frequently came around. Almost as if she feared that I’d fall apart in a matter of hours if I was left alone for too long. While I wouldn’t break down in tears, I couldn’t guarantee the state of my mind for long. Something just didn’t add up, and I had two weeks to try to come to some sort of conclusion. Any free time I had without Lucille hovering over my shoulder was spent with my nose buried in medical textbooks. Or medical research papers. Or articles relating to medicine. However, the normal sources I went to had very little in the way of explaining what I’d seen. That’s when things took a turn.

I stopped limiting my search to the medical field. At this point, I wasn’t sure if I was losing my marbles or if it was actually something… Supernatural. But I’ve never been the type to give up without getting answers. So, despite being skeptical, I turned to resources I never would have considered otherwise. I frequented sites that gave supernatural explanations, involving magic and creatures that shouldn’t exist. Stores I used to avoid, even going so far as to express my confusion at their existence, became a second home. The person that probably monitors my account might’ve wondered what the hell was going on because I got a fraud alert after buying over $100 worth of books on the supernatural.

Of course, explaining that it was actually me that made those purchases over the phone was a tad interesting. And by that I mean difficult. I kept stammering, feeling like I was being interrogated when in reality all the person wanted was confirmation that I was the one who made the purchases. After that experience, I felt like maybe I was just being paranoid, or going overboard. Except that all changed when I found an explanation that fit. One that, under normal circumstances, I would have thrown directly out the window. It probably wouldn’t have even been allowed a second thought.

Based on the book I found, it said that Remi Juarez was… A shapeshifter. Further research only locked in that explanation in my mind. Some shapeshifter’s hearts beat slower, meaning the blood doesn’t circulate as fast, which could explain why he didn’t bleed out before getting to the ER. His blood had traces of an unknown element, one that made it difficult to figure out what treatments were safe. And I thought it was my imagination initially because no one else saw it, but I saw his face change for a split second- into one of the paramedics. But then it was gone. There was more in the book, but nothing that I’d be able to determine as true without the autopsy report in front of me.

At that point, I still thought I was losing my mind. It just didn’t make sense. All of the creatures and beings from mythology were just supposed to be fairytales, they weren’t meant to actually exist. Magic wasn’t meant to be real, just some fluke that could be easily debunked by science. But I was starting to realize that science couldn’t answer everything. It didn’t have the answers to the questions running through my mind and wreaking absolute havoc. I wanted it to be a dream. Wished that it was all in my head. But I started noticing things. The kind of things that wouldn’t typically hold any value.

Whenever I went out, I would notice at least one person who deviated from the norm but not to the point that just anybody would notice. People whose eyes flashed a different color; had unnaturally sharp incisors when they smiled; laughs that sounded like tinkling bells; beguiling words that could change another’s disposition in a matter of seconds; the slight brushing of one’s hands against another and causing them to go blank like they were in a trance. And I couldn’t keep denying it further, there was no point. I had to accept the fact that the supernatural existed- something I’d been denying since I was a kid. I was always that one kid to call bullshit on the sweet fairytales or scary stories adults would tell.

Fear had consumed me, becoming a permanent part of my being. Sometimes it was the overwhelming kind that could make someone want to curl into a ball in the corner of a room and never move. Other times it was just like a brief flicker of an old tv that’s connection had worsened over the years. The fear was hard to deal with, but I’d always been good at hiding my problems from Lucille. I never wanted her to worry, or be scared, or hurt, and if she saw that I was afraid, well… She’s always been a wild card when it comes to my stronger emotions. Either she’d try to solve the problem for me, or the solution would evade her and just lead her to be upset.

Though, it’s not that Lucille thought I couldn’t handle things on my own. No, she knows I’m more than capable of taking care of myself. Rather, she’s always thought of us as a duo, fighting against the world together. Except that isn’t always a plausible way of handling things. This was one of those times, is one of those times. Feeling useless and paranoid wasn’t something I wanted to share with her, it’s something I needed to carry on my own.

My first day back at the hospital after reaching such a conclusion was nothing short of a mess. Keeping my mind clear was difficult. Whenever I saw something slightly out of the ordinary, the kind of thing that could be explained in one of the supernatural books I bought, it would stay in my head, flitting about. There were only two good things that happened that day: my request for a copy of Remi Juarez’s autopsy report was approved, and I managed to, somehow, perform my job without a falter. I was surprised that, despite the upheaval of the world I’d come to know, I could still function enough to treat patients effectively.

Today seemed to be going better though. I’d had my morning coffee and got to chat with Lucille a bit before she went to sleep. The sterile smell of the hospital, one that took me a long while to get used to, brought a new sense of comfort to me now. I was back where I was meant to be.

“Fleur, hey,” Selene called out, pausing me in my tracks.

“Oh,” I respond, lips parted and eyebrows raised. I’d been too lost in my head to notice I was passing the nurse’s station. Selene has been the resident gossip since she was hired two years ago. “Hello, how are you, Selene?”

She plastered a sympathetic smile on her face, it looked forced. She then pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “I feel like I should be asking you that question. Of course, I’m more than fine! How are you holding up though, dearie?”

Bile rose up in the back of my throat. I’ve always hated small talk, especially if it was the fake, prying kind. People like that never actually cared about you, they just wanted information they could spread. “I’m managing. Thank you for your concern.” My lips pressed into a thin smile before I stepped past her.

Pleasantries are something I try to avoid as much as I can, it feels contrived. No one tells the truth to such questions, just as they don’t expect the truth. Such questions have become a way of greeting, not actually being asked because the other person cares. And heaven forbid you tell the truth, that’s a good way of making someone freeze in place. I could hear the way she huffed in annoyance as I walked off. It was no surprise to me though, not at this point. Selene wasn’t a pleasant person to begin with and she only got worse with time.

Now only one thing was on my mind: the autopsy report. I knew it’d be waiting for me when I arrived for my shift today, and I was anxious to get my hands on it. After retrieving the file, I quickly made my way to the doctor’s lounge to skim it before my shift starts. Settling down in one of the rickety chairs, I tried to convince myself that nothing would be out of the ordinary. But of course, such a wish couldn’t be granted.

Multiple irregularities seemed to jump straight from the page, and I was helpless not to fixate on them. The oddities started from the rate his blood clotted, to his bone density, and even to the bullets he was shot with. One of my first conclusions was proved to be true: Remi Juarez was shot from two directions. Meaning there were two shooters. Both seemed to have used the same bullets though, a mixture of silver and steel, which made it likely they were working together.

Another thing I learned from the report was that there was truly nothing else I could have done to save him. Each step I took was correct, and despite his slow blood flow, he had just lost far too much blood at that point. With the number of bullets that riddled his body, it was surprising he hadn’t bled out faster, let alone that his heart had managed to keep beating. But I still have questions that the report hasn’t answered. Why were there two shooters in the first place? Why wasn’t he dead on arrival? How did he survive for so long? And why, exactly, was the detective relieved when I didn’t know anything?

Twelve hours later, at eight in the evening, long since the sky had darkened considerably, I finished my shift. The air was crisp and refreshing after having been cooped up inside all day. Leaves crunched under my feet as I walked down the sidewalk, my eyes taking in the beautiful scenery of the city at night. People bustled about, groceries clutched in their hands, pushing strollers, young couples holding hands, businessmen with phones glued to their ears. I hadn’t driven to work this morning, and I was quite happy with that decision. I think I needed this, to see life like this.

That feeling didn’t die down until I was closer to my apartment building, maybe five minutes away. The street lights were flickering and I couldn’t spot another person on the sidewalks. The air felt eerie and thick, making it hard to catch my breath. Then I heard a low growling, joined by something scraping against the cement, sending chills up my spine. I swallowed the growing panic, the likelihood of something or someone being behind me was low. Clearly I haven’t been getting enough sleep since I’m imagining things.

Except I wasn’t imagining things, and I knew it the second I felt hot breath on the back of my neck. I jerked forward instantly but was quickly pulled back by long, twisted claws. A scream bubbled up in my throat, begging to be released- a plea that I ignored. The low growling started again, growing louder with each passing second, and this time it was directly in my ear. I felt the creature’s saliva drip onto my shoulder, soaking into my jacket.

I felt frozen in place, be it by terror or because of some mind trick the beast played on me I couldn’t tell, and I didn’t care which it was. I just wished I was running. That my feet would start without my mind telling them to. If ever there was a time for my feet to have a mind of their own it’s now. But alas, I had no such luck. The creature’s claws dragged down my arm, ripping through the fabric of my coat and digging into my skin. At that moment it was like my body woke up, I tore out of the beast’s grasp, ignoring the searing pain in my arm as its claws left me. I ran and I didn’t stop. My feet pounded down the sidewalk until I could make out my apartment building in the distance, but even then I didn’t stop- I could still feel the creature hot on my trail.

One second I was running and the next I was lying on the concrete, a grisly claw gripping my ankle. A panicked shriek pierced the air as I looked back and saw the creature. Its eyes glowed a dark red, with tough gray skin that resembled the concrete underneath me, and vicious-looking fangs that protruded from its mouth. Terror flooded my veins, this thing looked like a monster straight from my childhood nightmares. I kicked my free foot at its face, catching it by surprise and causing its grasp on me to falter. In that instant I shot to my feet, continuing my race to my apartment building.

This time I made it safely inside, but I didn’t relax until I was in my apartment with each entryway sealed. My breathing was heavy, coming out in pants as adrenaline raced through me. My mind was spinning. What had I done to get a beast sicced on me? Did someone know that I’d figured out what Remi Juarez was? Am I a target now? Once I’d calmed down enough, I felt the blood trailing down my arm, dripping onto the hardwood floors beneath my feet. Glancing at the scratches left behind by whatever that creature was, it was easy to tell that they weren’t deep enough to need stitches. I could take care of this myself with some disinfectant and gauze.

By the time my arm was wrapped up nice and tight, it was just past ten o’clock. There was only one person I could call. One person I could question. And I wasn’t even sure if he’d give me any answers, but I could try. Grabbing my cellphone from the counter, I dialed the small numbers on the card I’d kept close to me since I got it. The line rang, once, twice, three times. I thought I was going to go through to voicemail, but then I heard his voice.

“Hello?”

“Detective Lee, this is Fleur Boudreaux.” I could feel my determination wavering.

“Oh,” he sounded surprised. “It’s quite late, what are you calling about?”

“I need to talk to you,” I whispered hoarsely. “It’s important.”

“Right now?”

“Right now.”

He was at my door thirty minutes later, dressed in a more casual outfit than the last time I saw him. When he came into my apartment, the door fully closed behind him, I hesitated as I felt his gaze on me.

“What happened to your arm?” Detective Lee asked, stepping forward, eyebrows bunching together in concern.

“It’s why I called you,” I breathed out, moving my eyes to his. “I… Was attacked.”

His eyes widened considerably. “Attacked? Why didn’t you call the police?”

“Aren’t you the police?”

“I mean, yes, but‒”

I cut him off quickly. “I couldn’t just call the police about this. It had to be you, at least I think it has to. Anyone else will just think I’m crazy.”

The look in his eyes changed, realization flashing in them. “What are you talking about?”

“What I’m talking about,” I say, stepping forward. “Is Remi Juarez. He wasn’t human, and neither was the thing that attacked me tonight. So I have some questions I need you to answer, starting with: what the hell have I been dragged into?”

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