#FINE I CHANGED IT MY CONSCIENCE CANNOT HANDLE THIS. OKAY.

[iamnotmereally]

This is what it feels like tbh.

#the pic thee pic oh my fu- #supernatural #destiel #mishapocalypse #good omens #umbrella academy #meme #spn #castiel #misha collins #sof #1k+ #FINE I CHANGED IT MY CONSCIENCE CANNOT HANDLE THIS. OKAY. #10k+

[sixeyesgojo]

I am super duper curious, and I apologise if you're not taking requests at the moment, but how would Dad!Gojo deal with an Arch nemesis daughter? Or perhaps (if more in your ballpark) a Sorcerer daughter that very much looks to be going down the road to becoming a curse user? How would he pull her out of that spiral before things passed the point of no return?

Summary: Gojo trying to handle his "problem child".

Characters: Gojo Satoru & villain!daughter

A/N: HELLO, I FORGOT THIS WAS SITTING IN MY DRAFTS AND I THOUGHT I POSTED IT I'm fine with headcanons whenever, which is why hc requests are never closed (I might take my time to respond though bc busy person). Nie's "stop mentioning the higher ups in your Gojo stuff" challenge, sigh

Let's say her villain origin story has something to do with feeling like being neglected by Gojo. Whether he does it on purpose or not - it's probably the latter because he's just so busy. It doesn't matter much whether she's well taken care of; every child wants to spend time with their parents at some point, right? But it's not easy since he's always busy or away on missions. She sees him being more affectionate towards his students (in her view anyway) and grows frustrated. It doesn't stop here, though. More and more factors come into play and one day...

Arch nemesis daughter:

say sike rn

I'm gonna be super honest and say it: it'll probably end tragically

I somehow don't doubt that the daughter would be weak, so if she's already on the enemies' side... yikes

Gojo would probably try to look the other way, as long as the trouble she causes isn't on a large scale - at this point, there is no chance of convincing her to come back anymore

He's conflicted.

On the one hand, the higher ups have told him to put her down. It's not like he gives a shit about whatever the old farts want him to do, most of the time.

This is his daughter, his irredeemable daughter who grew to hate him so much, she defected.

But this is also his daughter, his beloved daughter he watched grow whenever he was able to all these years

He'll often wonder, what he could have done better. He knows why she abandoned his side.... but given the circumstances, would anything have been different... if he had treated her even better whenever he was around?

His conscience says... logaically, it has to be him. He has to stop her. Not only is it his duty as the current top sorcerer but also his responsibility since 1) it's his fault, 2) it's his daughter.

But his heart? It's screaming out to him to not harm her in any way. The guilt in his chest is already enough to suffocate him in the darkest depths anyway. If he took her youth away too-

It's safe to say the two of them will have to meet at some point and it's going to be ugly

They fight

(but of course, Gojo holds back as he cannot bear going all out against his own daughter)

Pick your poison because I see no happy ending for this one, sorry

possible curse user daughter:

he notices changes in behavior right away

If he can help it - and he can - then he'll clear his entire schedule for her to talk it out with her, presenting his view and understanding her, then maybe spend some urgently needed quality time together

but this is not enough to convince her... until...

Let's assume she's already made contact with some curse users who are interested in recruiting her for their... team or plans.

Naturally, they are sus of her because she's the daughter of the strongest, so ofc they'd tail her to see if she's a mole or not

When they see her out with Gojo... suspicions confirmed.

They wait for an opportunity to attack... Despite being somewhat prepared to go up against Gojo Satoru, they won't risk it if they can avoid it.

And then, they launch their ambush when he's absent for a moment

Everything happens in a flash, so she doesn't even realize that she was not hit... until she processes being in the arms of her father, who's shielding her with his body

Of course he's uninjured, right? He must be, he has Infinity, right?

Wrong, something messed with his ability and to her horror, the daughter realizes that he really shielded her from a freaking nasty hit

The blood's streaming down his back and somehow his Reversed Cursed Technique won't work, yet the first thing he does is ask her, "Are you okay?" Because her safety matters the most to him.

It is that moment when it dawns on her: he really does care about her, even if he doesn't show it much.

All the soft moments he bestowed upon her resurface - all the times they spent time together, the gifts she took for granted, the times he made her laugh - everything, and the sensation of barely missing a bad hit, comes crashing down on her and she's perplexed, frozen on the spot.

Of course Dad!Gojo takes care of the enemies but when he's done, he just... sorta collapses next to her, trying to act cool when she clearly sees the blood

Somehow they make it home and she patches him up, which is also the time where they have a heart-to-heart talk and they talk things out (which was his original plan after spending time with her but then those curse users came)

Things are still rocky but they're on better terms now; both sides are trying their best to make amends

Who knows? Maybe one day they will be able to pick up the broken pieces and fix them together.

#nie answers #anon #gojo headcanons #gojo as dad #dad!gojo #papa!gojo #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader

[dameronology]

love in a time of p.t.a meetings {marcus moreno}

one shot #3 - 4am

summary: you’re used to it just being you & your kid, and you’re even more used to taking on the world on your own when it gets hard - so, it’s difficult to let marcus in, even when he wants to help {series masterlist}

warnings: parenting themes, very brief mentions of loss, probably the nearest thing you’ll ever get to angst in this series and it’s not even angst 

sorry about the huge gaps between the one shots!! life is v hectic at the moment and i am running around like a headless chicken 24/7. what a vibe. enjoy :) 

- jazz xx

Things had been going smoothly - too smoothly. 

That meant it was only a matter of time before your mini demon child decided to kick up a fuss and do something completely, irretrievably wild. He’d done it before - there had been the fire incident, the shaving the dog incident, the you can’t re-enact the final scene from Revenge of the Sith with pencils incident. You’d taken them all in your stride and tried to learn from them; what else could you do, other than roll with the punches in life? Nobody was born knowing how to parent and you had to constantly remind yourself that. 

But this? This was fucking exhausting. Jack’s sudden refusal to sleep was absolutely kicking the life out of you. And even though he seemed to enjoy living in the Moreno house, you couldn’t help but feel your big move had been something to do with it. You were plagued with guilt at the thought of ripping him away from his childhood home, despite the fact he’d been excited to live with Marcus and Missy. You knew it was all in your head but still, his sudden misbehaviour was really bad for your guilty conscience. It was one thing having your parenting questioned by the minivan mums on the playground but something else entirely when it came from your own mind. 

‘Jack, please!’ You reached out for him, pulling him off his bed and forcing him to lay down. ‘It is 4am. Go to sleep!’

‘No!’ He thwacked your arms away. ‘I don’t want to!’

This was the fifth night in the row that he had refused to sleep. Whether it was loudly banging on the walls or playing Life Is a Highway at full volume from his iPad, the little human had taken it upon himself to deprive the entire family of sleep. Normally, you could have handled it (just about, at least) - but work had been beyond busy and with the loss of an elderly family member, everything was beginning to pile up on your shoulders.

‘I cannot do this tonight!’ You tried to suppress your frustration. ‘Jack, please.’

You didn’t want to cry. They weren’t even tears of sadness, more tears of frustration. Frustration that you couldn’t seem to get through to your own kid, and frustration that he wouldn’t listen. You were sleep deprived as fuck and it was out of your control. The temptation to wave your white flag and let Jack have what he wanted was almost overwhelming. 

‘I don’t want to sleep!’ He yelled. ‘I don’t have to do as you say!’

‘Fine!’ You flapped your hands in the air. ‘I’m done, Jack. Do whatever the hell you want.’

Tossing the stormtrooper you were holding to the floor, you turned your back and stalked out the room, shutting it behind you. 

Your back hit the wood with a thud as you slid down it, the formidable pressure on your shoulders finally prolapsing. You rested your head in your hands, letting out a silent cry. Fuck, you hadn’t cried in ages. Most of the time, you were immune to the absolute craziness that came with your child, but you just needed a break. It had just been you and him for so long that you were used to handling it all on your own and you hadn’t had a day off since he was born. Even when his dad had been in the picture, you’d still practically been a single parent. Doing it on your own was all you ever knew. 

You hadn’t even realised that Marcus had come to sit beside you; not until you felt a warm pair of hands on your shoulders, and the softness of his pyjama shirt against you. For a man who had been losing as much sleep as you and running a superhero team, he was surprisingly with it. His ability to hold his shit together was astounding. 

‘I am so sorry.’ You murmured. ‘His behaviour has been bad but not this bad.’

‘You don’t have to apologise, sweetheart.’ He replied. ‘Kids are stubborn as hell.’

‘It’s not even that.’ You sniffed. ‘It’s just that he won’t listen. And I’m the one person he should fucking listen to.’

‘You don’t have to have the solution to everything.’ Marcus reminded you. He gently wiped a tear from your cheek with his thumb. 

‘What if it’s my fault?’ You leant further against his side. ‘What if me uprooting him from the apartment messed him up?’

‘No decision as a parent is easy.’ He said. ‘Especially not ones like that, but you did what’s best for you and him and that’s all you can do. It’s a lot of change for you both but it was the right choice, I promise you.’

‘Maybe.’ You murmured. ‘It’s just...I’ve always been his only parent. Like I am single-handedly responsible for the way he turns out and I do not want to accidentally screw up.’

Marcus softly chuckled. ‘It’s gonna take a lot more than you moving house for him to be a screw up - besides, I’m here to help now too.’

You peered up at him. ‘You don’t have to deal with his shit.’

‘Maybe I want to.’

‘Yeah, but you don’t have to.’

He thinned his eyes at you. ‘What’s going on?’

‘Nothing.’

Marcus moved his arms from you, shuffling around so that you were facing each other. He had a way of holding your gaze that nobody else quite managed; even his brown eyes were tired from exhaustion, he still managed to look right into your fucking soul. Maybe it was part of his job, or maybe he just saw through your bullshit. 

‘Please don’t shut me out.’

You let out a small sigh. ‘I don’t want you to feel like you have to get involved with my kid’s crazy shit. You had a peaceful life before this and-’

‘- I’m not gonna do what his dad did.’ Marcus suddenly cut you off. You could only blink in surprise. ‘I know that’s not you’re saying but it is what you’re saying.’

You’d got got pretty good at your little juggling act over the last five years; it was like you had three balls - Jack, work and everything else the universe had to throw at you. And maybe you weren’t just juggling, but you were doing it on a unicycle. Sometimes it felt like you were going to lose your balance and drop everything, but you’d managed it this far. The idea that Marcus wanted to help you and actually, genuinely had your best interests at heart was an alien idea. You were used to doing everything on your own. 

‘I’m sorry.’ You murmured. ‘We were let down and it’s gonna take time to heal. That’s on me.’

‘No, it’s not.’ Marcus took your hands in his. ‘We’re a family, okay? Nothing is ever going to change that now.’

You gave him a watery smile. ‘I love you.’

‘I love you too.’ 

He stood up, pulling you up with him. 

The fact that not even Marcus and his unusual talents to get your child to behave were working was a testament to Jack’s rough patch. He was normally obedient as hell when it came to listening to him - probably because he was a superhero, you figured. Either way, you both just wanted to sleep. 

Marcus slowly creaked open the door - the sounds of Jack jumping up and down on his bed had stopped, but the godforsaken song from Cars was still blaring in the background. You peered over his shoulder on your tiptoes, trying to get a view at what was going on. By some miracle, the child was now passed out in the middle of the floor. Five nights of no sleep had finally caught up with him, in the same way they were about to catch up with you. 

You gently crept inside and tugged his iPad from his hands, giving him a soft kiss on the forehead. If you moved him from the rug to the bed, you would have woken him; instead, you pulled his blanket from his bed and tucked it over him. 

‘C’mon,’ you took Marcus’ hand as you exited the room. ‘Before we wake the sleeping dragon.’

He tossed an arm across your back, pulling you into his side as you walked down the hallway. 

‘The only person who can wear that kid out is himself.’ He reminded you. ‘Maybe we just need another Jack.’

‘Please don’t give me nightmares.’ 

#marcus moreno x reader #marcus moreno imagines #marcus moreno x you #marcus moreno imagine #marcus moreno x y/n #pedro pascal characters

[isntthisenoughwhatwouldbeenough]

Fighting For Freedom (Hamilsquad x Reader)

A/N: Here is yet another request! This one was for the reader helping Thomas convince Alexander to help France and the reader is french, and they argue with Alexander. I hope I did okay anon, and I hope you enjoy it! As always I’m sending you all lots of love!

.

.

.

“Alex, you must realize we have to help France in their fight for freedom.”  

You try to implore him. France had allied and helped this new nation fight for freedom, it was only right they do the same.

“We don’t have to do anything, they may have helped us fight, but we won our freedom and were not nearly strong enough to join their fight.”

“You won your independence because they aided the nation, Alexander.”

Alex turns to answer you, looking frustrated by your insistence, but he’s interrupted before he has a chance to speak.  

“I see you’re trying to get through that thick skull of his as well,” Thomas chimes in looking annoyed. “I hope you at least attempt to listen to (Y/N), as you most certainly didn’t listen to my reasoning.”

“I would listen to you if you weren’t so pigheaded to begin with,” Alex nearly snarls.

“Alexander!” You grab his arm to pull his attention back to you. “We have to help France it’s the right thing to do.”

“That’s debatable.” He nearly shrugs.

“You can’t be so cold! They helped when they didn’t have to, they could have let us fail.”

“Please, they wanted to be free from the monarchy just as much as we did, they made their choice.”

“They made their choice with a treaty!”

“That’s easily dealt with.”

“Alex you have to convince President Washington to help,” you keep your hold on him, making him look at you.

He seems to soften a little and you think maybe you’re changing his mind.  

“I’ve already made my stance clear, I can’t change it now.”

“But you can, you can. Just go into his office and tell him you’ve changed your mind, you’ve thought of something else, you think”-

He pulls his arm out your grip.  

“I will not,” He looks at you sternly, grabbing your arm and pulling you aside. “I have made my opinion clear and it has not changed.”

“Alex,” you look up at him imploringly, “what about Lafayette?”

“Yes, what about Lafayette, Hamilton?” Jefferson chimes in again, further frustrating Alexander.

“Lafayette is very intelligent he can handle myself.”

“Please, Alex, do it for him, for me.”

His eyes soften for you once more.  

“We cannot put our entire nation at risk for two people.”

“It would be for freedom, that’s what this nation is built on.”

“And we’ve already won our freedom.”

You reel back from him, ripping your arm from his grip.

“How can you be so cruel and selfish?”

“It’s not being cruel, it’s being rational.”

“Fine,” you huff, “if you won’t talk to President Washington, then I will.”

He takes hold of your arm again.  

“You will do nothing of the sort.”

“Let her Hamilton,” Thomas intervenes, “if you’re so sure of your point, why would her speaking to him change anything.” He chuckles. “Unless, you know you’re wrong.”

“I know I’m right,” Alex bites back.  

You snatch your arm from his grip once more, marching towards Washington's office. Alex and Thomas both follow quickly behind you. Just as you reach up to knock on the door, he exits his office. He nods at you and then looks to Alexander.  

“Mr. President,” you rush to say, “may I have a moment of your time to speak about aiding France.”

“My apologies, Ms. (Y/N), but I have already made my decision and will not have it debated further.”

“And your decision, sir?” Alex inquires.

“Draft a statement of neutrality,” he nods solemnly at him and pats your shoulder before turning back to his office.  

“Well, like always you’ve gotten what you wanted,” Thomas says as he leaves.

Alex rolls his eyes and turns to you.  

“I know you’re upset right now, but in time you’ll see this is best course of action for”-

“I’m not upset,” you reply stepping away from his touch, “you’ve made your choice and I’ve made my own.”

“What, exactly does that mean?”

“It means you may not be willing to do what it takes to aide France, but I am.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“It means I’m going to France as soon as possible.”

“You can’t go to France, it’s far too precarious.” He takes hold you once more.

“I cannot stay here and sit around when my people are in such dire need of help.” You pull out of his grip for the last time. “I may only be one person, but I will do anything I can for them.”

“You have to stay,” he follows as you step away, “you belong here, your place is here.”

You halt your steps and turn back to him.

“Not anymore.” You walk away without another glance back.  

 .    .    .    .     .    .    .    .    .    .    .    .    .    .    .    .     .    .    .    .   .   .   .   .   .

You wait at the dock for the boat with Hercules by your side. Both of you had packed what you needed. When you had told John and Herc what had happened, and what you planned on doing. Herc had immediately offered to accompany you. You told John to stay when he had offered his own company.  

“You have to be here for Alexander.” He only nodded his head.  

The boat had finally arrived, and you and Hercules prepared to board.

“(Y/N)! (Y/N)!”  

You heard your name being called, you turned to see Alex making his way towards you.  

“Please, reconsider,” he begs. “Don’t go.”

“I can’t, in good conscience, stay here when I know what's happening in France and who’s there fighting with everything he can.” You place your hand in his and give a gentle squeeze. “Lafayette needs help, France needs help, and I couldn’t live with myself if I did nothing.”  

He has no words for you, his eyes beg you and his grip tightens on your hand.  

“Goodbye, Alexander.”  

John quickly embraces you and holds you tightly.  

“Please, be careful.”

“I’ll write as soon as I can,” you promise as you squeeze him just as tightly.

He releases you and you turn to Hercules.  

“Ready?” He asks.  

You turn with a small smile and nod. “Ready.”

You interlock your arms and board the boat, ready to do aide your home and your friend.  

#hamilton imagine #hamilton imagines #hamilton #alexander hamilton #hamilsquad x reader #hamilsquad #Hercules Mulligan #John Laurens #Gilbert du Motier Marquis de Lafayette #Gilbert de Lafayette #thomas jefferson #george washington #hamilton fanfic

[glitchvault74]

Dr. Ted Said There’s Something Wrong with His Head

[Previous]

———

The caravan starts their trading nearly the moment they reach the settlement. Rig watches the others at work, staring and blinking silently until he hears a harsh “Rig!” uttered for the third time and finally looks at the woman who had been guiding him the day before. She nods for him to follow her and a second person and he wanders after the two of them. They lead him into a small building to the side, and he’s put into another room to sit and wait while the other two talk. He stares at the wall and zones out.

Meanwhile the caravan guard talks with the doctor about the “patient”, their voices low despite said man’s lack of perception.

“You found a random vault dweller wandering around lost?” the doctor asks to clarify.

“He might be a vault dweller,” she says. “Dressed like one, but whatever happened to him...” She points at her head. “His head’s real scrambled, Doc. Says it was sometime in the 2070s last he remembered before waking up. Not even a specific year. If he’s a synth he’s a pretty terrible synth.”

“How so?” the doctor asks.

“He’s dumber than a sack of nails,” she says.

“Well, you did say his head is scrambled,” the doctor replies. “I’ll do what I can, but I don’t know if I can waste supplies for some stranger and not be paid for it...”

She sighs. “Fine, I’ll cover it. But only because he’s cute. Not like he’s coming with us anyway.”

“You’re leaving him here?”

“We’re not putting up with some rando fresh out of a vault. After we leave, I don’t care what you do with him. We’re not taking him with us.”

“Fair enough... Tell me what he’s told you so far.”

In the other room, Rig blinks back to attention once the door opens and the other person walks in.

“Rig Miller, was it?” he asks as he walks up. “I’m Dr. Ted. I’ll be checking you over and getting you any help you need, okay?”

“Fffsure,” Rig answers.

“...Wow, off to a great start.” Dr. Ted leans in and checks Rig’s eyes. Rig stares and then darts his eyes away. “No, no, look at me please.” Rig’s eyes jump back to him. “Hmm, alright.” He pulls back. “When was the last time you ate or drank?”

“Not hungry,” he says.

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

Rig shrugs. “I don’t know.”

“Do you know what year it is?”

“2288,” he says.

“Do you know where you were before meeting the caravan?”

“Vault 113.”

“Do you know what you were doing there?”

“No.”

“What do you remember?”

“Woke up there,” he says. “Before that...” He stops a moment. “2070s. Things were happening. Roommate was missing. Got sent somewhere. Ate something bitter. Bli—- Bleh. Bletter.”

“Bitter, hmm?” Dr. Ted taps his chin. “Was it chems?”

“...What are chems?”

“...Alright then.” Dr. Ted clasps his hands together. “Well, Mr. Miller, I think you’re dehydrated. You need some water in you.”

“Not thirsty...”

“My boy, you’re going to drink water whether you like it or not, or else dehydration will be the least of your problems.”

Rig looks at him, disturbed but slowly nodding. Dr. Ted smiles and nods in approval.

“Anyway,” he says. “Most of the clothes I can spare for you are... Not the best. But if you want to change out of that jumpsuit while I get you some water, you’re welcome to look over there...” He motions at the boxes stacked in the corner. “You stay in this room until I come back.”

“Alright...” Rig watches cautiously as Dr. Ted leaves and he then gets up and walks over to the boxes. He nearly drops the top one trying to move it off the stack, but manages to get it to the floor without spilling everything and decides not to try again with the second box. Too heavy. The third box will remain a mystery. He digs through the first box until he finds a pair of patched brown pants in his size. He drapes them over his shoulder and then stands to look in the second box and immediately sees a grease-stained gray shirt that looks like it could have been blue in the past.

He looks at his jumpsuit and tugs at it, trying to figure out how exactly to get it off.

He definitely damages the suit trying to remove it, and in the process knocks over the second box. He stares for a long moment before sighing and finishes undressing and putting on his new clothes... He then crouches down again to check that mysterious third box...

............It’s the most obnoxiously bright and loudly patterned shirts he’s ever seen, most of them stained and missing buttons, but he has to have one. He pulls out one from the bottom, dragging out something light green and covered in flamingos and leaves. He stands up, spreading out the shirt to inspect it...

“Oh. You found those terrible things.”

Rig turns around to face Dr. Ted who is pulling a face at the shirt in his hands. Rig stares for a long moment and then pulls the shirt on. No buttons, no problem, it’s just for fashion.

Dr. Ted sighs. “As long as you’re taking it off my hands. I swear, I can’t seem to get rid of these...” He hands out water for Rig to take. “Now drink this. Do you mind if I keep your vault suit?”

“Go ahead,” Rig says. He takes the water and sips it and pulls a face. Gross. He drinks more.

Dr. Ted picks up the jumpsuit and frowns. “Did you rip this?”

“...No?”

Dr. Ted sighs again. Annoyed. “Fine, I suppose it’s fair enough trade that you’re taking one of those ugly shirts off my hands.”

Rig darts his eyes down to his shirt and then back up at Dr. Ted. He finishes his water, hands Dr. Ted the container, and hurries to the door. “Okay, bye—”

“Hold on,” Dr. Ted orders. “You don’t know where you’re going.”

Rig pauses in the door. “Um... Nope.”

“I doubt you have any caps.”

“Caps???”

“And I doubt you have any means to defend yourself.”

“Uhhhhhhhhhh...”

Dr. Ted gives him a handful of caps. “This is what we use for money out here. You can exchange them for goods and services.”

“Ah,” Rig says. “Money. The civility of the moor.”

Dr. Ted stares. “What?”

“...Yeah.

Dr. Ted pinches the bridge of his nose. “I cannot in good conscience let you go around on your own. My god. You’re going to die the moment someone takes their eyes off of you.” He grabs Rig by the arm and pulls him along. “Alright, there’s someone who might be able to handle you. Have you met any ghouls yet?”

“What’s a—?”

“Well, you’re going to meet one now.”

Rig blinks but follows Dr. Ted out to where to where the caravan is still trading with those in the settlement. He blinks when he’s led up to a person in a nice dress but with a patchy, wrinkled face, no nose, and dark, dark eyes. Beautiful in a decaying sort of way...

And totally not anything he was expecting.

“Mr. Miller,” Dr. Ted says. “This is Lady. She’s a ghoul. You might meet more of them now that you’re out of that vault.”

Rig waves. “Hi...?”

Lady frowns. “Hi... Teddy, you’ve got a vault dweller...?”

“The caravan dragged him in,” Dr. Ted says, to which the caravan guard clears her throat and looks away. “Anyway,” he continues. “Lady, I thought you could help Mr. Miller out. He thinks he’s from pre-war like you are, and he’s not experienced enough to be out on his own...”

Lady looks over him. Particularly his flamingo shirt. “Miller...? You got another name, boy...?”

Rig stares for a moment. He jolts. “Oh! Right. It’s Rig. Rig Miller.”

Lady tenses up immediately. Rig blinks and looks to Dr. Ted for help, but Dr. Ted seems confused by the reaction. Lady takes a step forward. “Rig Miller...?” she asks.

“Yes...?” Rig looks around and then back at her. “Y— Yesss...?” he guesses.

“Rig Miller is the bastard that killed my sister before the war.”

Rig’s eyes widen. “What...?”

“And you come here and you...!”

Rig looks away, staring at the ground as he tries to process that entire sentence. “Rig would never...” he mutters.

“What?” Dr. Ted asks.

“I— I mean—” Rig looks up again. “I would never kill someone. I never did! I was framed—”

“Bullshit!” Lady spits at him.

“I’ll prove it!” Rig says. “Some— Somehow! I’ll prove it. Rig Miller is no murderer.”

“Well,” Lady huffs up. “If that’s the case, then you’re on your own, Miller.”

Rig winces. He points in a random direction. “I’ll— I’ll just. Go...”

The caravan and the rest of the settlement gives him wide berth as he wanders away with no idea where he’s going or what he’s going to do. Bits and pieces of the things the woman from the caravan told him the day before filter in. Things about the dangers out here that he in no way is prepared for or even knows how to recognize. To say nothing on how he’s going to prove Rig never killed anyone. He’s taking it at face value that it’s 2288, though he can believe it judging by the look of the world around him... Even if the stupid thing on his wrist still insists it’s midnight, January 1st, 1970.

He buries his face in his hands and groans in the back of his throat. What is even going on? None of this has sunk in at all, and it’s just barely making cracks in whatever shell of ignorance is keeping him sane in this entire situation. But his head hurts, he’s dizzy, he has no idea what’s—

“Wow, you are way too easy to sneak up on.”

Rig jumps and nearly stumbles, but something grabs him by his shirt collar and keeps him upright. He turns around and faces whoever is there. Some bald man in sunglasses and a plaid shirt looking a little amused about things. Rig stammers a bit and then gets out an “I pride myself for many things, but not that in particular,” he says, without thinking, as he seems to do.

The man lifts a brow. “You know, I heard them say your head’s a bit scrambled, and I’m not exactly hearing anything to disprove that.”

Rig swallows. “Uh. Hi, nice to meet you, who are you?”

“Oh, I’m just your usual ol’ mysterious stranger,” the man says. “But there are those who call me......... Tim.”

“Okay,” Rig says. “What should I call you, then?”

“...Tim.”

“A bold choice,” Rig says. “I like it.”

“So,” Tim cuts in. “Are you really the Rig Miller? The infamous Rig the Ripper?”

“What?” Rig blinks. “...What?”

“Lady’s got it out for you,” Tim says, pointing back towards the settlement. “Thinks you killed her sister...? Maybe others?”

“Ohhhh,” Rig says. “No, I never killed anyone. I can’t even lift a box.”

“Don’t have to be strong to commit a homicide,” Tim notes. “Could be the perfect cover story...”

“I never killed anyone,” he says again. “I’m going to prove it. ...Somehow. Haven’t figured out the logistics of that yet.” He reaches to rub the back of his neck but hits his head with the large, bulky metal thing on his left wrist that he forgot about again. ...Wait. He stares at it, pausing a moment to think how he got the clothes on while wearing this thing. Did he take it off at some point? And put it back on? He’s an idiot.

“You came from a vault, didn’t you?” Tim asks, snapping him from his thoughts. “You act like you don’t know what a Pip-Boy is.”

“I don’t,” Rig answers. “I woke up with this on my arm, and I already broke it.”

“What? No way, let me see.” Tim looks over the Pip-Boy when Rig lifts his arm. He fiddles with the settings and then covers his mouth, possibly shocked at the damage, possibly— Okay the squeak in his voice shows he’s trying not to laugh. “How do you mess up the date and the radio like that? I hope the geiger counter is still working but I wouldn’t be surprised if it isn’t.”

“This thing has a radio?” Rig looks closer at the Pip-Boy. “Oh, when did that label that says ‘radio’ in clear letters get there?”

“I mean, not like you’re going to get any use out of that with it busted,” Tim continues to try not to laugh. He clears his throat. “Anyway,” he says, serious again. “If you’re trying to solve a mystery and prove your innocence, then I’d head to Diamond City. There’s a detective there who could help you with this case.”

Rig blinks. “I don’t know where that is. And I’m probably going to die on the way there. Something about it being dangerous and the doctor saying I’ll be killed the moment someone takes their eyes off me?”

“Aw, what does Ted know?” Tim asks. “I bet he said your shirt was ugly too. You really think you won’t survive out here?”

He shrugs. “It’s been a weird... two? Two days? I figured if I die, I’ll wake up and this will have been a dream, or I’ll die. Win-tie, right?”

“Oh, come on, you can’t be that helpless,” Tim says, an encouraging tone in his voice. “If you can fire a gun you can defend yourself.”

“I’ve never seen a gun before in my life.”

“...How are you with swords?”

“S’wards,” Rig says. “Are they real? The jury is out.”

“Hoo boy,” Tim mumbles. “I’m starting to see how people think of me.” He clears his throat. “And I suppose you’re bad at the whole science thing if you somehow broke your own Pip-Boy. And you didn’t even notice me sneaking up on you.” He shrugs. “Well, I guess you’re dead meat, Miller. Nice knowing you.”

“Yep,” Rig agrees. “It’s been a good...” He checks his Pip-Boy. “Zero minutes knowing you. Happy New Year’s. 1970. The peak of progress. The— The pike of— Of smubl. Blugh, I. Words. Blugh.”

“Ah, you, too, speak murble,” Tim nods. “Good to blorgt.”

“...” Rig looks up at Tim, blinking. “Yeah...?” he prompts.

“Well, it looks like it’s your lucky day,” Tim says. “Happy New Year’s. My resolution is to help those lost and confused more often and you seem at least ten lost and fourteen confused. I’ve got some business in Diamond City, so you can tag along with me. I’ll get you inside the gate, but after that, you’re on your own finding that detective.”

He stares a moment, trying to find any sort of words to say that aren’t utter garbage. “Yeah... Okay, thank you...”

“And if someone asks who that handsome devil was who helped you arrive in Diamond City alive and only slightly injured, you tell them it was your good friend Tom.”

“Okay, Tim, I will.”

“Hell yeah.” He pats Rig’s shoulder and starts off. “Let’s get moving. Before a Deathclaw with morning breath finds us.”

“...Before a what?”

Tim stops and looks back at him. “Rigsby, you’ve got a lot to learn. Let’s go. Follow me.”

Rig winces and follows after. Deathclaws, huh...? With a name like that, he hopes they’re friendly...

———

[Next]

Written with help from @falloutglow​

#Rig Miller #story #The System is Rigged #art

[ailuronymy]

Bluepelt and Bluestar, please!

Bluepelt: top five worst characters?

Am I allowed to be lazy and just say all of them? No. Not really in the spirit of the thing. (Putting this one under a read-more, though, because it got so long).

Okay, well: I just don’t care about Ashfur. I think everything about that mess was poorly handled and real talk: I don’t have patience for anyone (but usually men) who think they’re owed other people because they “love” them. I’m annoyed that he goes to Starclan without the central issue being resolved, in a children’s series. In a more complex adult series, you can leave a lot more unresolved and open to interpretation, but in a children’s series, I’m not comfortable with a male character behaving that way and then getting described as “loving too much,” like the flaw was being just too compassionate and generous instead of being possessive and violent in what is a distinctly gendered pattern of behaviour. (Also I think they’re related? So that sucks too).

Tigerclaw for... all of that, but most specifically how he abused Ravenpaw. Don’t get me wrong, the murder and cat racism is very bad too, but as a teacher, seeing an adult in a mentoring position use that power and authority to hurt a student is untenable and infuriating to me. You may be wondering: is this one also about Severus Snape? It absolutely is. 

Thistleclaw in Spottedleaf’s Heart, because. yeah. Kind of like how I imagine Bluestar to be better, Thistleclaw provides a pretty terrific and equally interesting foil--(to me, he’s sort of an echo of Philip Pullman’s Lord Asriel, with a few other things thrown in)--but this book makes everything about him feel... slimy. I can’t in good conscience say, “Yes, I like the potential of Thistleclaw” anymore, because anyone who has heard of that book will feel the same deep queasiness I do when thinking of it. Somehow, Erin Hunter (competitive limbo player) manages to take content lower than we thought was possible! I thought Bluestar’s Prophecy was ground-level, but Erin Hunter has more imagination than I do, apparently, because what they saw there was an opportunity to start digging. 

Crookedstar’s mother, Rainflower. That name is so pretty but like, what a terrible parent! This dot-point is for all the terrible parents. 

Scourge, but not because of the murder or anything. It’s because I have cats and I know what they walk like when they’ve got anything on their feet: it’s very goofy. I cannot imagine Scourge as some cool evil badass like you want me to, Erin Hunter, because you gave him absolutely ridiculous fake stiletto nails and now he walks around like this. 

Bluestar: top five worst leaders?

Part of being a leader is having to make the difficult choices, knowing that sometimes what you choose will be wrong, or will hurt, or make people angry or upset. Because of that, every leader has “bad” moments; there’s no such thing as a leader who doesn’t make mistakes--there’s only leaders who do their best to recover after them. Rather than leaders overall, I’m highlighting worst moments.

Bluestar: she counts for two here--the fact she totally overlooked (and therefore enabled) the abuse Ravenpaw was receiving, and her extremely cruel name-change for Brightpaw to Lostface. It was hideously vindictive, as compared to neglectful, and a truly low moment for her.

Tallstar: that jank move he pulled last second to make Onewhisker leader instead of Mudclaw. He should have done that long before he was fuddled and dying, if it was something he truly believed in--but he didn’t. He knew that this change would throw his clan into total chaos, but he was fine with that. I don’t respect his choice.

Brokenstar: sending too-young cats into battle. Not because it’s against the warrior code, but because it’s just spectacularly bad tactics! A smart dictator doesn’t break useful rules--there’s no point. You don’t need to start totally anew when you’re taking over: the saying, throwing the baby out with the bathwater exists to describe this exact mistake. But Brokenstar sends weak too-young apprentices into battle and training, causing deaths and injuries, resulting in fewer future warriors, and poisoning his clanmates against him for no reason. Kittens won’t win fights! Kittens won’t even make a dent in the results. It’s not like there’s cannons for them to be cannon-fodder for. Just so goddamn stupid. 

Raggedstar: for raising Brokenstar like that, my god. Needed to put a lot more Mufasa in your parenting skill tree, my good man. 

#thank you for asking! this one got incredibly long #grey answers #lightningnose

[an-abundance-of-castiels]

Best Left Forgotten

Part 12: Betrayed

Series Summary: You wake up in the bunker with a serious head injury and no memory of the last year or the Winchesters and find that Dean is avoiding you. You are determined to find out the truth about what happened but maybe the truth is best left forgotten.

Characters: Dean x Reader, Sam, Cas, Charlie, Rowena

Warnings: language, Season 10 Spoilers

Word Count: 1357

General Disclaimer: I do not own the gif or any of the Supernatural properties or characters. This is a fan piece and is intended to be enjoyed only as such.

A/N: This is my first fic so any and all feedback is appreciated! A HUGE thanks to @weirdochick56 for rough beta-ing and encouraging me to pick this up again and give it another try in the first place!

Best Left Forgotten Masterlist

Missed Part 11?

**********

“It’s time to let it go,” Dean says from the bed.

“I don’t wanna have this conversation this early in the morning.” You said, pulling on your pants. You don’t look at him as you grab your brush and start yanking it through your hair quickly.

Dean hops up from the bed and wraps his arms around you from behind, taking the brush. He grips your forearms and whirls you around to face him firmly, looking you in the eyes. “Y/N, we both know this curse has to stay. And I can’t bear to lose you. So please, for me, promise that it’s over. That you won’t try to remove the mark.”

“Dean, I already told you, we stopped a week ago.”

“Promise?” He searches your face for any sign of deceit.

“Promise.” You say, feeling the guilt burning in the pit of your stomach.

He studies you for another minute. “Thank you.” He kisses you, seeming satisfied.

“Me and Sam are going out to the mall today, okay? We need a day to…” you trail off, not knowing how to get him off your trail.

“No, I get it. He was mad when you put a stop to it. It’s okay. I’ll be fine here.” He smiles.

You return the smile, hoping your conscience doesn’t give you away.

————————————

“I don’t like this. Killing Crowley… it just seems… I dunno.” You and Sam are sitting in the Impala outside the abandoned factory where you are keeping Rowena, waiting for Cas and Charlie to meet you here.

“Are you kidding me? After he ran off with Dean? Don’t you wanna kill him?” Sam looks at you incredulously.

You shift uncomfortably and are saved by Charlie turning in to the lot. You point and hop out of the car.

“Y/N!” Charlie runs over and wraps you in a hug.

“Hey, Charlie.” You smile. Something about her just warms your heart. She’s like a sister and honestly, you’re hoping she’ll take your side on the Crowley thing.

“So what’s up?” She asks, smiling at Sam. “How can I help?”

Sam looks at her grimly. “We need your help decoding a book. To remove the mark. But we’re waiting on Cas…”

Just as Sam mentions Cas, he pulls into the lot in what you identify as an old gold Lincoln. As he pulls closer you notice fuzzy dice on the rearview mirror. It’s all you can do to not burst out laughing at his pimpmobile as he parks and hops out. “Hello”

“Hi. Charlie.” She holds her hand out and Cas shakes it awkwardly.

You all head inside to where the witch waits. You turn around to explain. “Okay, so we found the Book of the Damned. We have a decoder that also needs decoding. We were hoping that you could help with that, Charlie.”

“And what am I here to do?” Cas asks, scowling at the red-haired witch.

“You’re the referee. Between Charlie and Rowena.” Sam pipes up. “We need you to stay here and make sure that Rowena stays here and doesn’t do anything… fishy.”

“And how is he gonna control me, dearie?” Rowena smirks.

“I am an angel of the lord, witch.” Cas snarls.

“A… whut?” Rowena seems confused.

“Not the point!” Sam interrupts.

“Oh. You forgot somethin’ dearie. Don’ tell Deano…” Rowena grins from ear to ear, clearly gloating in getting to reveal this secret to the group. You can tell she did this just to piss off Sam.

“What?!?” Cas and Charlie exclaim in unison.

“This is a bad idea! It never turns out okay when you hide things from each other.” Cas scolds.

“I’m with the angel.” Charlie crosses her arms.

Sam looks at you desperately. You step forward. “Dean has told us to give up on him, several times.” You look down at your fingers and play with them. Fear and embarrassment and shame all hitting you full force, you continue. “He doesn’t want to be saved anymore. He says he’s fine and that he can handle it, but… he’s lying. I can feel him slipping away. We have to do something before the black eyes come back for good.” You are silent for a moment. “If you all love him, you’ll help us. If you love me, you’ll save him. Because… if he dies… Again…” You look up and look them both in the eye. “I do too.”

Cas looks down, but Charlie holds your gaze. She walks over and wraps her arms around you.

“For Dean. And for you.” Charlie mumbles into your hair. “I’m in.”

“I’ll do what you need me to do,” Cas responds.

“Aw. How cute. Now, let’s talk about how to kill Crowley.” Rowena ruins the moment.

Charlie pulls back to look at you and Sam. “What? The king of hell? That’s suicide.”

“That’s what I said.” You grumble. “Sam?”

“Rowena is gonna make a hex bag.” Sam waves you off.

You and Charlie exchange looks of doubt.

————————————

“At least the damn book burned, right guys? Then he tells me that it cannot be destroyed.” Dean lurks behind Sam almost threateningly. You are frozen. He looks… dangerous.

Buzz

Buzz

Sam’s phone goes off. He yanks it up and answers it. He talks for a moment and looks up. “Charlie’s missing.”

Your head starts to spin and Dean starts yelling at you both.

Buzz

Buzz

Sam picks up the phone again. “Charlie? Where are you?”

Before you know it, you are in the Impala with Sam and Dean, flying down the road to Charlie’s location. Dean is yelling at Sam when you speak up.

“It was me too.” You say quietly.

“What?” Dean’s voice is broken. “You promised me…” Dean’s eye’s dim and you watch the emotions play out on his face. He is crushed. You try to stutter out an apology for breaking your promise, but your mouth only hangs open silently.

In the wake of your deafening silence, his face contorts in anger. You reach out a hand to his shoulder, but he pushes it away. “Don’t touch me.” He spits through gritted teeth.

You slowly put your hand in your lap and turn to face forward. You are terrified of the anger and pain that your betrayal has caused. Fear creeps in. Not fear of Dean. Fear of yourself and the thought that you may have broken your relationship beyond repair. What have you done?

The car screeches to a stop outside a dingy hotel. The three of you jump out of the car and bust into her motel room. You walk towards the bed and Sam races into the bathroom. Sam screeches to a halt and his face contorts in horror. Your stomach falls to your feet at his expression. You don’t want to walk over there. Don’t want to see what just made Sam hold back vomit, but if you don’t, you won't believe it’s true. What you know is true because Sam isn’t going in to help her. One step at a time, you march toward the bathroom door. Then you see her. Lying in the tub. Blood smeared on the shower and on her face. Dead. Not peacefully. Bloody. Grisly. You hold back vomit. You lower your gun and turn to Dean, to hug him, hold him, have him hold you, something, because the world has just ended and you can’t change this. Dean pushes you away with disgust and anger in his eyes, but you can’t even register the rejection for the thoughts racing in your head. Can’t take it back. What? No. This can’t be real. Your sister. Gone. And it’s your fault. These thoughts attack you as you walk over to the bed and sit, your vision spinning.

You close your eyes to stop the world from spinning and ease the wave of nausea that hit suddenly. This is your fault. This is on you. You wait for the tears, but all you feel is… stunned. In less than an hour, you betrayed two of the people who love you most. You have lost Charlie, she’s gone.

And now you’ve lost Dean too.

So quickly.

You’ve lost it all.

Part 13

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#best left forgotten #demon dean #dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel #spn #spn fic #dean x reader #demon dean x reader #angst #fluff

[amari-bdb]

New Beginnings

Mehgan: *After my interview I felt calmer knowing that I was going to be able to set some money back so I can work on getting myself settled. I know I didn’t want to keep going back to that damn lean to under the bridge it just doesn’t seem to work anymore, I know I want more, I don’t want to keep running from place to place. I need to pick a place and stay. So far this town seems to suit. Trez told to me to find Amari, that she would show me the ropes, I have waited tables before just not bartending, seems like it’s going to be fun and I want to learn something new. There she is behind the bar, I take a deep breath and make my way over.* Hi, Amari? Trez told me to find you. I’m Mehgan the new bartender. He said you’d help show me what I need to learn. And the ropes around here. @PretyGrlAmari

Amari: Bossman said he was hiring a new girl. That must be you. (Smiling at her as I look around the bar at the very light crowd) Welcome to ZeroSum. Looks like you picked a good night to start, it’s pretty slow so that will give you time to learn “the ropes” as you say. (Looking her over without being too obvious) The waitresses have a set uniform they are to wear but the bartenders don’t. I would recommend though, if you want decent tips, you wear something sexy but classy at the same time. Have you done bartending before? @Mehgan_RP

Mehgan: *looking down at my jeans and Tshirt feeling like a complete frump* Ok, thank you for the advice. Hopefully after a few paychecks I can get some new clothes. I haven't bartended, but I’ve waited tables before. I know some drinks though. I hope I can learn them, I am a fast learner. *looking at all the different liquors and feeling a little nervous and self conscience about my clothes.* @PretyGrlAmari

Amari: (noticing her apprehension) I am sure you will pick it up just fine. I have a friend who I worked with before I came here who taught me all I know. She is a blonde bombshell who knows her way around a bar and even puts on a show while doing it. (Sighing at the memories) Gosh, I miss her. Anyway, I will be happy to pass on my knowledge as well as the others will. (Not seeing a change in her expression) And Mehgan, if you need it, I could lend you a few of my outfits. I have more clothes than I know what to do with and I hardly where any of them. We look about the same size. The pants might be a bit too long, but we can stick with the skirts or shorter ones. (Smiling at her hoping that eases her nerves some) I can drop some by your place on my way in tomorrow night. I come earlier than you will need to be here. Does Trez have your address? @Mehgan_RP

Mehgan: *listening to her talk and noticing the the shine in her eyes as she remembered her friend. I never had close friends to have good memories like that. Just ones who wanted to use or abuse me.* Oh that’s not a problem I can come in early too. My place is way out of the way. *not really wanting her to see my little shack under the bridge* Maybe I can leave them here and get ready for work here. You don’t think Trez would mind do you? But, let’s please get to the drinks before we get customers. Beer will be easy, the mixed fancy drinks I’ll need to learn. @PretyGrlAmari

Amari: (Smiling but thinking something is off, she wants to leave her clothes at work? That’s not the normal reaction but deciding to do a little investigating without her knowing) You can leave them here. Trez won’t say a word. If he does, I’ll say I told you to. It will be fine. I’ll make room in my office for them so none of the other girls “borrow” them. (I grab the list from the back of the bar) These are the drinks we offer. There is another copy on the back over there that is the cheat sheet for them. It tells you what to use for each one listed and the measurements. (Walking over and grabbing a shaker) I’m sure you are familiar with making drinks. Pick one off the list and then check the ingredients and grab them. (I lean back on the bar waiting for her to gather them up.) @Mehgan_RP

Mehgan: *I just hope I can get through the next few weeks and make enough to get a real place, I also want Amari to like me. I think we can get to be good friends. I take a look at the list and pick out a fruity drink bahama mama.* Ok, how about a Bahama mama? *I look at the ingredients and it’s not hard to make Ingredients ounce dark rum half ounce coconut rum half ounce banana liqueur half ounce grenadine ounce pineapple juice ounce orange juice half ounce lemon lime soda and a pineapple wedge and a maraschino cherry that isn't that hard. I gather is all throw it together and wow that is awesome sweet with just the right taste of alcohol.* Oh, that was easy and it’s so good. I’ve never had this before. *I hand it to Amari* What do you think? @PretyGrlAmari

Amari: (Taking a drink) Mmmm. Takes right on the mark to me. Pick another and try it. (Watching her start on the next one) I want you to take a list home with you, we have extras in my office, and study it tonight and for the next couple nights. Then in three days, I will test you by having you make each of the drinks without the cheat sheet. SO… think you can handle that? @Mehgan_RP

Mehgan: *smiling with the approval from Amari and nodding as she lets me know about the list and cheat sheets. Thinking of the movies I’ve seen humans have ordered martini’s dry so I try that look at the ingredients and it’s simple two and half ounce of Gin half of dry vermouth and a dash of orange bitters the garnish is either olives or lemon twist. I gather then and mix it up with a shaker and done. The martini is not my type of drink but it’s still good. Handing it over to Amari* Good……? *I wait not to sure* Yes, I think I can do that. This is going to be so much fun. I cannot wait to get started. *I look over to her. How long have you been here, do you like it? @PretyGrlAmari

Amari: (taking a sip of the martini and nodding) It’s good. Not my drink of choice, but has the right taste. Nicely done. Gosh, I’ve been here a couple of years now. I was just supposed to be a temp while #Trez was away on business and even though he has come and gone, my role never ended.(shrugs) Guess I’m gonna be here a while. #Trez is off on some (waves my hands in the air, my frustration probably showing) Scribe knows what project and who know how long it will take this time for him to return. Don’t get me wrong, I love this place and the job. Things just aren’t the same when he isn’t here. Anyway, (I pick up the cheat sheet and hand it to her) be sure to keep this handy. Any questions, just holler for me. @Mehgan_RP

Mehgan: *grins as I listen to my new boss and teacher. I put the items away that I used to make the drinks. I look over at her and I decided she is worth trusting* would you like me to wash the glasses and shakers that we’ve used? *I look over the cheat sheet. As I place the glasses in the sink after she says Yes, I get to the last cup and drop it in the sink then it shatters I hollar oh shit reaches in to pull the plug to clean up the mess I look over at Amari* OH, no I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean too. *Just as I pull the plug my hand gets sliced open by a shard of the cup and with the stinging from the soap I jerk my hand back slicing it open more saying* oh shit that hurt. * holding my hand up getting a towel to wrap it up.* What do I do? It’s deep. *holding my hand putting pressure on it to try and stop the bleeding* @PretyGrlAmari

Amari: (her panic over a simple cut, although deep, was a bit alarming. Doesn’t she realize she will heal quickly). It’s okay Mehgan. (I take her wrapped hand in my, applying more pressure for a few moments then checking the cut.) It isn’t as bad as it looked at first. Hands bleed. And look (wiping away a line of blood with the towel) the cut will heal quite quickly, remember? (I lean in closer and whisper) It’s a perk of being as we are. Come back to my office I have a gauze wrap we can use and by the time the shift is over you will be good as new or at least it will be heading that way. (I ask #Mic to clean up the mess and take Mehgan back to my office and bandage up her hand. Something about her makes me feel like she has never had anyone that cared for her or shared with her much about what we are). Don’t worry about the glass. Very few nights go by without at least one slip and crash. Are you feeling ok? @Mehgan_RP

Mehgan: *looking at my hand and having Amari putting pressure on my hand as we make our way back to her office* I know what we are but, I haven’t fed in awhile so I don’t heal fast at all anymore. I actually can’t remember the last time I fed. *Pulls the wrapping off and looks again. Still gushing,* Why won’t it stop? *I start to panic a little more* I don’t know what to do to make it stop. *I wrap it up again and hold it tighter. Looking at the floor seeing the mess I’ve made* Oh, no look at the floor. I’m so sorry. I’ve made a mess. I reach over for another towel to clean up the mess I made* @PretyGrlAmari

Amari: Stop Mehgan. (I pull her up in front of me) The mess is no big deal. I will have it cleaned up and as to the feeding, well that will not work. (I shut my office door and point for her to sit on the couch picking up my phone making a call to one of the females I know who works at #Havers to make arrangements for Mehgan to see the doc.) Alright, I have set up an appointment for you at #Havers. I will have my driver, well #Trez’s driver who I am currently using since #Trez is gone, take you over and drop you off there. Don’t worry about anything or even the cost (expecting her to be worried about that) because it is a work injury, the club will cover the bill. Now, let’s get the cut cleaned up and wrapped and then you can go. @Mehgan_RP

Mehgan: *nervous about the mess but feeling reassured when when she tells me it’s fine that it can be cleaned. She works on getting the cut cleaned and getting me ready to go to #Havers to get a few stitches since it’s so deep and my blood has thinned.* I’m so glad that we have back up and I’m so sorry for this. It’s so awesome to work with you. You are a great person and I hope I didn’t deter my working here Amari. *so nervous I’ve already lost a great job and hopefully a good friend* @PretyGrlAmari

Amari: Quit worrying about the mess and your job is fine here. I am not upset with you at all. Accidents happens. I am more concerned about your lack of healing than anything. (Grabbing my jacket off of the chair and handing it to her as I wasn’t sure she had one with her, I guide her to the door) I will walk you out to the car and give the driver his instructions. When you are done, just tell him where you want to go and he will take you there and then return for me. And, so you know. I am going to have a feeding arranged for you if you don’t get one on your own in the next day or two. (Hearing her start to protect, I stop her) And don’t question it, I’m making an executive decision for you. I am the boss after all! #TimeToVisitHavers #TheBossSaidSo

[hellomissmabel]

“Someone will love you”

MASTERLIST

Pairing: Bucky x reader

Warnings: Angst

Word count: 1.684

Summary: the prompt is “No one else knows that I’m leaving. I felt like you deserved to know.” Bucky and Y/N broke up several months ago, but the heartbreak remains too fresh for Y/N. She sees he’s obviously moved on and happily dating Nat, feeling out of place and unable to move on herself. She can’t leave but she can’t stay either, so what is there left for her to do?

A/N: Written for @bionic-buckyb and inspired by Halsey’s song “Sorry”. OC’s are: Caroline aka @mrshopkirk, Sammie aka @themcuhasruinedme, Sina aka @winterboobaer, Justine aka @justareader, KJ aka @nenyakj and Silja aka @writing-soldiers! Give these girls some tumblr hugs because they’re amazing. A big thank you also goes out to @heartmade-writingbucky for helping me find my mojo back for the ending and proofreading it for me. I love you girl.

I've missed your calls for months it seems Don't realize how mean I can be 'Cause I can sometimes treat the people That I love like jewellery

The truth is, it’s not only in physical pain you risk being swallowed by the darkness. If there’s a more potent pain than physical pain, it must be heartbreak because even though it’s not physical, it feels stronger than anything. You swallow the happy times that resurface like a pill, hoping they will cure the bad days ahead, hoping that everything will somehow be a big, bad nightmare and you’re about to wake up. But the only thing you’re actually waking up from, is self-pity.

And it’s then that you realise your true potential, the road you didn’t pave for yourself. But it’s a road that has been laid out for you from the start, and only in heartbreak you will find it. For physical pain is just that, physical. Sometimes it can be cured and sometimes it cannot. It can last a lifetime and so can heartbreak, unless you choose to step from the shadows that encase you like a coffin.

Unless you choose to show your emotions and at least try to put yourself out there again, then you will be ready. Ready to face the world again, ready to go on that great adventure you’ve been longing to go on since you were a kid. So go on that great adventure, take a risk and take your chances. For heartbreak will turn into heartache will turn into a distant memory. Eventually.

'Cause I can change my mind each day I didn't mean to try you on But I still know your birthday And your mother's favourite song

You didn’t make this decision for yourself. You made this decision to keep the peace. In your heart, in your mind, in your life and that of everybody else. You had changed, inevitably so. And this while all the people around you stayed the exact same. It’s sickening knowing that your critical, sceptic mind is what keeps the peace in your own life. Scrutinising every single element, every broken piece trying to decide if true love actually exists. Or maybe it’s just all a ruse imposed by modern-day society, filled with young souls longing to find their way through all the misery and the black days. With a little help from the romanticised ideas fed to us by the media.

“I’m in love with you, Y/N.”

How you long to hear those words again, falling from Bucky’s lips like a broken record. But he’s moved on now. He was the solid ground underneath your feet when you felt like the pieces of your heart were crumbling apart, his eyes were the storm raging over the deep blue sea and his voice the lullaby fallen angels sing to their friends above, a drop of sin on his tongue. You needed him as much as he needed you.

So I'm sorry to my unknown lover Sorry that I can't believe that anybody ever really Starts to fall in love with me

A soft knock on Bucky’s door tears his attention away from the computer screen. With a soft sigh and a frown knitting his eyebrows together, he puts his laptop aside and shuffles towards the front door. The wood creaks when he opens the door and slowly reveals Y/N’s disheartened face, her dishevelled clothing and the old, brown leather suitcase in her hand.

Due to the aftermath of the initial shock, he barely registers your moving lips. “No one else knows that I’m leaving. I felt like you deserved to know.”

The monotone sound of her voice paired with the emotionless expression curling her lips downwards, sends chills running over Bucky’s spine. “What?,” is the first thought he exclaims. “Why-Why are you leaving?”

Y/N pinches the bridge of her nose, exhaling in both frustration with herself as well as in disappointment with what’s following. “Of all the things that could go wrong, of all the things that could go south in my life, fate chose to ruin us. Not my career, not my family, but our relationship. The best thing that has ever happened to me. And now it’s someone else’s turn to love you.”

Bucky locks eyes with her and shakes his head, unable to wrap his mind around this. “Y/N, why are you telling me this? Why are you leaving?”

“Because I don’t belong here anymore, Bucky,” is her sole reply.

Sorry to my unknown lover Sorry I could be so blind Didn't mean to leave you And all of the things that we had behind

“What? No, no Y/N, that’s not true at all. I need you, you can’t leave.”

“Bucky,” you sigh, “You and Nat are obviously very happy. You don’t need me. Besides, just last week, she made me swear I’d be her bridesmaid for when you finally pop the question. Because it’s going to happen one day soon, we both know that. I see the way she looks at you.”

“But Y/N,” Bucky tries to interject.

“Everybody we know has settled down by now. Scott just proposed to Sammie, Tony’s smitten with Caroline and Steve is very happy with Sina. Clint met Justine over the summer and Sam seems to be hitting it off with KJ. Thor’s gone back to his home country to introduce Silja to his parents. I should’ve married Pietro when I got the chance, then I wouldn’t be so alone and miserable. I wouldn’t be a full 100% happy, but I would’ve had a good life by now. Not one filled with insecurities and, well, emptiness. Because I feel empty without you.”

Tears have started to mix with the raindrops as she speaks in tongues. Bucky has lost all ability to understand what’s swirling inside that pretty little mind of hers. Her features don’t look tired, they look worn out. She’s exhausted, both physically and mentally. “Why didn’t I see this before?,” Bucky asks himself. “Why did I ever let her leave?”

“You know what I regret the most?,” Y/N continues in a feeble tone. “Lying to your face. Lying to your face and telling you I’m fine. You were so eager to believe that I was doing okay, to soothe your conscience after our break-up, that I just gave in. I loved you so much, I love you so much still. I couldn’t do that to you, I couldn’t see your heart break behind those beautiful baby blues. Because I know it would’ve hurt your heart more to hear that I was a mess than it would’ve hurt my pride.”

I run away when things are good And never really understood The way you laid your eyes on me In ways that no one ever could

“Y/N. Please stop talking,” Bucky interrupts your tornado of words. You’re afraid he’s going to start a word vomit of his own, but he just stares back at you with the most blank expression you’ve ever encountered. Drawing a deep breath, he cards his fingers through his hair and tears his gaze away from you. “Don’t you see the way I look at you?”

“You keep talking about how happy Nat and I look. Well, that’s exactly the problem. We look happy but we haven’t been happy for a long time.” Bucky exhales languidly, looking her straight in the eye as he punctuates every word, creating a reeling emphasis. “I. Am. In. love. With. You. Y/N. I’m in love with you. I never stopped loving you.”

And so it seems I broke your heart My ignorance has struck again I failed to see it from the start And tore you open 'til the end

“You don’t realise how much pain we’ve caused everybody. How much pain we’re still causing. I can’t go a single day without looking into the mirror and seeing your reflection staring back at me. I’m Nat’s confidante, she comes to me whenever she’s in need of some relationship advice. You know why that is? She says it’s because I know you best. She doesn’t know, she can’t know. She can’t know I’m still hurting and so are you.”

Silently, you had decided to leave it at this but Bucky didn’t want to give up to easily. His hands grip your shoulders forcefully, as if he means to shake some sense into you, but instead his fingers just dig into the soft fabric of your jacket. His eyes lock with yours and behind them there’s a wildness, a wilderness of emotions that you’ll never see again if you step away now.

“Don’t do this to us. Don’t you get it? We could be together! We love each other!”

“Keep your voice down, Bucky,” you hiss through gritted teeth, afraid the mild disturbance will wake up Nat.

He releases you and hangs his head down in defeat. “Bucky, look at me,” you tell him and he complies. He looks at you with all those raging emotions chaining him to that heavy heart you recognise all too well. “I love you. But I can’t be with you. You deserve someone that will love you better and that someone is upstairs, sleeping in your bed.”

You turn to go, tightly grasping the handle of the old suitcase. “Just because you think I deserve some better love, doesn’t mean you get to break my heart again,” Bucky whispers and it almost goes unnoticed in the dead of night. “You think I haven’t been trying? Surviving? Because I can’t live unless it’s with you. I’d just be existing, I’m just existing. Without you… I’m empty, too.”

“Love sometimes just isn’t enough, Bucky,” you reply, looking back one last time into those cerulean eyes on the brink of tears. “Our love isn’t enough to make me stay. I’m sorry, I truly am.”

“I love you,” Bucky tries one last time, hoping it’ll be enough to make you change your mind, hoping it can evoke even one spark of hesitation. But your mind is firmly set.

“Someone will love you. But that someone isn’t me.”

Sequel: “I can’t fall in love without you”

@beccaanne814-blog @avengerofyourheart @a-little-hell-to-raise @marvelingatthewonder @mrshopkirk @hardcorehippos @knittingknerdy @winterboobaer @italwaysendsinafightt @viollettes @hymnofthevalkyries @feelmyroarrrr @justareader @austinamelio @volklana @4theluvofall @bovaria @themcuhasruinedme @theoneandonlysaucymo @caplanbuckybarnes @hymnofthevalkyries @nenyakj @amrita31199 @emilyevanston @minervaem @howlingbarnes @buchananbarnestrash @austinamelio @youandb @you-and-bucky @fvckingsteverogers @thatawkwardtinyperson @that-sokovian-bastard @abovethesmokestacks @justareader @marvelrevival @marvel-fanfiction @justanotherbuckydevotee @barnes-heaven @heartmade-writingbucky @buckyywiththegoodhair @captnbarnesrogers @mellifluous-melodramas @its-not-a-phase-hux @melconnor2007 @ivvitm1109 @toofuckinfabulous @ailynalonso15

#kaits5kauchallenge #bionic-buckyb #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky #bucky imagine #james buchanan barnes #james barnes #james bucky barnes #avengers #the avengers #modern au #fan fiction #fan fic writing #marvel fan fic #marvel fan fiction #my fan fiction #marvel #marvel imagine #marvel fic #marvel fanfiction #fanfic #my fanfiction #fanfiction #i write fanfiction #sebastian stan #chris evans #steve rogers #natasha romanoff

[hydroxychloroqueen]

Leaving Retail: Part Two

As stated in my previous post, I have found the light at the end of the tunnel and am currently transitioning out of retail and into hospital pharmacy. In many cases that I’ve witnessed, I listen to retail pharmacy technicians say that they don’t want to do retail anymore, and are going to leave… 98% of them are still there in the same pharmacy, 10 to 20 years later (which I can understand; if you’ve already invested that much time, you may feel like you should just stick it out). I was beginning to be one of those people, but there was a great opportunity that I just knew was for me, and I couldn’t handle the thought of someone else having what I wanted. So I shot my shot, and it was so worth it. Shooters shoot. I’ve received a couple of questions asking about what really made me want to move on, where did I go, so on and so forth. Since I’m on staycation for a while (using up time before I go on to my new job), I figured I’d go ahead and answer those questions now.

What Made Me Leave: Personal Reasoning

As y’all have gathered, the environment at my first location (was there for 3 years) made me feel like a mad woman by the end. At the beginning, it was fine and I loved it and the people I worked with. But, as time went on, I began to dislike it more and more. There was a tech that was so hateful to me, yet became obsessed with me, to the point that she would stalk me outside of work (wait for me to get off work, and stalked me online. Creepy). The favoritism my manager was showing to other technicians was so blatantly obvious, and I wasn’t okay with it, but I still treated them with respect and kindness. She knew I wasn’t, so she then began to target me. Any time I made a mistake (not threatening to the patient, but something silly like me making a spelling error), she would get loud and angry with me and put me on display in front of my coworkers. Or, she would give me a “project”, usually organizing an area of the pharmacy, but would be very vague with how she wanted it done. So I would reorganize things the most sensible way I could come up with, and she would wait until I’m done to complain about it. Then she’d have one of her favorites redo it, but she would give them specific instructions.

My manager was also going through some things with her family, and she felt some type of way (angry), so she came to work and took her anger out on me. I understand that everyone has a breaking point, and some people just cannot leave their problems at the door, but I couldn’t even say hi to her without her thinking I was being sarcastic for whatever reason. As a result, I was on the defense and walking on eggshells daily. Somehow, she turned it around and made it seem like I was the one making her feel like she was walking on eggshells. In a roundabout way, she told me that I was unstable by saying “You change your mood at the drop of a hat!” It all felt like one cluster of a mind game and I didn’t want to participate anymore, so when I told her I was looking for somewhere else to go, she was shocked and didn’t understand why.

When I applied for a lead tech position, there is a required portion that your current manager has to fill out stating why they think you’d be a good fit for the position. She was so petty that she didn’t fill it out (she claimed she would take care of it but instead decided to just not do it) just so that I wouldn’t get the job. When she got the notice that I was offered and accepted the position, she was pissed. Off I went!

I got to my new location in my new position, and most of techs were even more hateful than the first bunch. Two of which, the worst of them all, applied for the same position and they were turned down. Understandably, they weren't happy to see me, but I kept up with the “you catch more flies with honey” mentality until they either became more receptive or just left. One stayed and got a little better, the other went off and did something else with the company. Dealing with one was better than two. The one that stayed is a nightmare. She’s double my age, yet acts half my age, is practically half my height, and gets away with pulling the craziest shit. And my current manager, who has to be three times her height, is TERRIFIED of her. She blamed me for things that happened that I wasn’t even present for, she cussed out another technician (every other word was a derivative of “fuck”) so loudly that if a customer was around, they’d be mortified, and just terrorizes everyone by saying “I get along with everyone except _____ because they (insert something she claims they did even though they didn’t do anything).” And it’s always someone new. I’m thoroughly convinced she has a wheel with all of our names on it and spins it, and whatever name the needle lands on, that’s who she’s fucking with for the week. No matter how many times anyone has gone to my manager about her, he won’t do anything about it. She’s so selfish that she’ll go to that person and apologize, but she just apologize just for the sake of clearing her own conscience and doesn't even consider how the other person feels. When she cussed out the tech that hadn’t even worked there for two weeks and left her bawling at a computer, that’s when I knew that I couldn’t take dealing with crazy bitches and a scared-af manager, so when my manager came in about an hour after that girl pulled that stunt, I went to him and said “I cannot take it anymore. I’m moving on.”

Pay and crazy people were motivators for me to start job searching, but I’d say the number one thing that’s in jeopardy while working retail is my health. I have an autoimmune disease, and it flares when I’m exposed to different environments, whether it by physical or mental. I was stressed out at my old location, but this brought on more than what I bargained for. I can’t get out of bed most mornings because my joints lock up, and the stress has brought on so much anxiety that I itch. I break out in hives all over my spine, torso, and down my arms; I scratch so hard that I break skin. The stress keeps me up at night -- I’m up most nights until 1 AM because either my mind is going a mile a minute, or I’m crying (occasionally). I’m not much of a cryer unless I’m at my wit’s end and overwhelmed with stress. As you get older, you get more in touch with yourself and your emotions. I’ve learned that if I’m scratching until I bleed, and definitely if I’ve reached the point of tears, it’s time to eliminate the stress.

Part three, up next!

#pharmacy #pharmacy problems #retail pharmacy problems #retail pharmacy #fuck this shit i'm out

[ecotone99]

[SF] Imperfect Unhumans.

“Most days, I wake up and wonder if the machine has taken over. If today is the day I'll start walking around without control, a passenger in my own body.”

Jacken stroked his daughter’s brown hair as she snuggled against him, careful to use only his human hand. Hilda’s head was laid against his chest, half-off her bed, various tubes and monitors positioned on the other side. Turned away from her, his bulky machine arm hung stiffly, deactivated like all his other parts.

“Is that why you’re always so sad, daddy?”

He smiled sadly at her, wishing inside that he could just make all her worries go away. Little girls shouldn’t have to be worried about their daddies when their own problems were much worse.

“No, honey. They call that having a conscience.”

She struggled with the word, before giving up and not asking, likely determined to look it up herself once he was gone.

“It means I've done bad things and I'm sad about them.”

“Does that make it okay to do bad things? Being sad about them later?”

“No. Not really.”

“Then why did you do them?”

“I keep asking myself that. Maybe the blame is on the people who sent me to war knowing I'd fail. Maybe it's on the people who kept me prisoner and did bad things to me. Maybe the doctor who cut away me and put the machine there. Maybe the machine itself. Or maybe it's me and I don’t want to admit that.”

She puzzled that over, a young girl trying to make sense of concepts and questions that haunted nearly every soldier out there. She looked so small and frail next to her father's bulky form. So fragile. He wanted to hug her, pull her close, but couldn’t, for fear that he might break her.

“Flip a coin on it.”

“Really?”

“Yes. If you can’t figure out who did it, flip a coin on it. It's what May did.”

The mention of Jacken's sister made his chest clench, old anger bubbling to the surface. But he was with the only person he loved in the world, so he forced the venom and bile back down, determined not to show his daughter what a hateful man he had become.

“It’s a nice idea, sweetie, it really is. But life isn’t that easy. We know that.”

“Okay.”

Gently pulling his scarred hand through her hair, he let his child nestle against him, finding some safety in a man she hadn’t known for the first four years of her life. Four years he’d missed and would never get back.

A slow, steady beeping came from a nearby monitor, signalling that it was time for her to rest. Despite being a vibrant bundle of energy when she was awake, his daughter spent most of the day asleep. Unaware and blissfully unfeeling as serums and machines around her tried to fix her body.

His Oone burly arm scooping her up, Jacken drew up the blankets up over her small, stunted legs and tucked her in, bending down to kiss her goodnight as the medication put her under. He stood, reactivating his mechanical parts before carefully picking his way through the room, gazing out at a gloomy sky before pulling the curtains closed.

Looking back at his daughter’s sleeping form, he felt guilt tear into his chest with barbed talons, clawing and accusing.

If only he'd been there when Tanya was pregnant and looked after her. If only he had known he would have a child. If only he hadn’t ran away to fight in some war half a world away.

If only.

Head hanging, he turned and stomped from the room, pausing only to whisper that he loved her when he got to the old oaken door. Turning sideways to get through, he gently pulled it shut behind himself.

“Mother has invited you to dinner.”

The gravelly voice came from nowhere, nearly causing him to flinch in surprise. Careful not to appear surprised, although they both knew he was, he turned to face his 'brother'.

“Richard. Why are you here?” His voice was taut. Tense to the point of snapping.

“Mother has invited you to dinner. Must I repeat myself?”

“No.”

“No? Surely you jest.” The last word had all the dripping scorn in the world forcefully inserted into it, spoken as if to a particuarly stupid kid.

Resisting the urge to grab to grab and throttle the spindly little prick, Jacken took deep, heavy breaths as he forced down his rage. Goddamn machine had left him half a man, but he could still break this smug little prick if he wanted. He had lines, though. And violence this close to Hilda was one he wasn’t about to cross.

“Tell the old crone to take her invitation, spread her fat asscheeks and sit on it.”

Richard blinked.

“You were invited.” He accused, making it sound like the greatest honour in the world.

“I don’t care.” And he didn’t. So far as Jacken was concerned, the old bitch was the entire reason this fucked-up family was as damaged as they were.

Smartly stepping around the corner ahead of them, another Richard curtly smiled and addressed the man standing before Jacken.

“Master. Your presence is needed in the garden. Mis-“

Richard waved him off halfway through.

“Yes, Eighth, I know. I will be there momentarily. Shoo.” Again, he addressed the clone like he was talking to a dog, dismissing him out of hand. The clone vanished down a hallway without another word.

“You must go. You simply cannot refuse. The rules of the house dictate it.” Pulling out a tiny, barely held together yellow book, he waved it at Jacken like it was supposed to intimidate him.

Jacken scoffed at that.

“You still follow the fucking rules? They were made by a mean old bitch to keep young kids in line. Nobody takes them seriously anymore. It's time to grow up, Richard.”

“You. You*. You're a murderer! We let you in our house. You're a disgrace!”*

“Yeah, I probably am. Better than being an emotionally mangled man-child like you. Waited on hand and foot by clones. What do you sort them by anyway? Expiry date?”

Richard's flushed in anger as he glared at Jacken.

“How dare you.”

“I dare.” He growled back. “Call me a murderer, but you're no better. Pretend like they’re not living people all you like, but we both know you’re a worse monster than I'll ever be.”

“Enough.”

They'd gotten so heated that Jacken hadn’t even seen Hans until he was right behind him.

“You were called. Go. If you want your progeny to remain in Josie's care.”

The giant of a man spoke softly and simply, but his tone carried more warning and danger than Richard's red-faced screaming ever could. His bulk filled the entire corridor, head bent to squeeze through. Jacken idly wondered what the old bitch had done to the scientist who made Hans this big. Probably killed him after she got his secrets. So she and she alone had the knowledge.

Lips curling in a snarl, he was about to tell Hans to go fuck himself when it occurred that more of the others might be nearby. Daniel, Shikke, Linda and Walter would all be lurking in other corridors if the old bitch was serious about dragging him to meet her.

Richard, he could break with one hand. Hans was more of a challenge, but he'd bet on himself, if by a slim margin. All the other piling on him, though? Not too good. And the threat against his daughter was clear. If the old hag said it, Josie would stop keeping her stable. Josie always did as she was told. The only decent person in this house, and she had all the willpower of a half-eaten cracker. Then, it wouldn’t matter if Jacken killed the old bitch herself. He would already have lost everything.

Gritting his teeth, he stomped away, making sure to viciously shoulder Richard aside, leaving him muttering at his back and clutching the tattered rulebook.

The old crone wanted to talk? Fine, he'd take all her usual bullshit. Then shove it right down her throat, along with his fist.

***

“Fatter than ever, Bertha. Should I have a card prepared when your stomach staples burst?”

Mother grunted and looked up, regarding him as if eyeing some unsightly vagrant on the street.

“About time. I was worried they removed your brains when they cut off the rest of you.”

“You’ve never been worried about anything but yourself. Don’t pretend otherwise.” Jacken sat in a small, uncomfortable chair, facing the mountain of flesh that called itself Mother in this house.With no hair, crooked teeth and gums swollen with infection, her head reminded the man-machine of a rather nasty arsehole.

“You and your spawn live under my roof. At my expense. Taking valuable time from one of my daughters. But you can’t find it in you to be civil? Shame on you.”

“I can find it in me to be honest. What do you want?”

“A mother can’t see her son without reason?”

His mechanical arms curled around the arm of the chair, slowly crushing it under unfeeling metal.

“You’re no mother of mine. You never have, and never will be. You ruined this house and this family.” Painting a mocking smile on his face, he continued. “So talk all you want, but your words have no hold on me.”

She was showing signs of understanding now. Hidden in the folds of fat that covered her face, but he could still spot them.

“Whatever happened to my sweet boy? You were never this hateful. What changed you.”

“The small, naïve boy learned the truth and couldn’t handle it. So he ran away and went to war, to escape you. But war is a horrible place, and the small, naïve boy died there, replaced by a man. That man came home to find he had a daughter.”

“So I’m to take that your spawn is the only reason I haven’t seen the last of you?”

“Sounds about right.”

“What about the girl's mother?”

“What about her? She’s dead to me.”

“And you’re sure that you don’t need more insightful looks at the situation?” Her voice was soft now, sweet and honeyed. He recognized that tone, faintly. The one she always used to calm them.

He was feeling a bit relaxed now. Maybe the old broad wasn’t as bad as he'd remembered.

“Sure, why not?”

Another smile curled the corner of her lips, almost unnoticeable to the eye.

“Well, to do that, I must have context. Why did you leave?”

A shrug.

“Don’t quite know, honestly. It wasn’t one big reason. Bunch of small stuff adding up over time. Weird things I noticed. How other kids grew up and had some freedom, left home. But you kept us close. Too close. So I left.”

“And shipped off the Russo-Sino war. Where you got captured.”

Her voice was soft, soothing. Comfortable. Safe. Like he could tell her anything.

“I did. Didn’t take long either. Walked right into an ambush in my first month. They killed everyone else, just not me.” He shook his head as if trying to clear something. “Spent the next few months getting tenderized by the chinks. Lemme tell you, little bastards really know how to get in your head. Literally. After they had me beaten down into a lifeless sack of meat..well, the operating table was worse.”

He shuddered somewhat as the memories came bubbling up. She urged him on, her voice making the pain go away.

“Didn’t even have the fucking decency to knock me out before they put me under the scissors. Never screamed so much in my life. Two, three big snips, and I didn’t have my arm and leg anymore. Or some of my organs.”

He held up his mechanical arm, peeling away the shirt to show her the fused flesh.

“Bastards welded that to me. Connected the cables, pulled out some sort of weird welder, and got to work. I was past screaming then. In shock. Heart had stopped a few times. When I came to, I wasn’t myself anymore. Had this thing attached to me. They put something in my head, tried taking it for a test run.” He grinned savagely at the memory. “Bad idea.”

Mother leaned forward, a mildly impressive feat, smiling sweetly. Her voice was as calming as rain on the rooftops, like honey and sunlight distilled into beer.

“So, tell me more about this 'machine' inside you.”

Jacken found that he was nodding, smiling as he had a pleasant chat with his mother.

“Well, to start with, it-“ He paused. “Well, to start-.”

Clearing his throat, he tried again.

“The thing is-.“

There was a burst of pain and red light, a shock going through his system, recordings of the last few minutes playing through his mind in an instant. Something cold and calculating stirred in the part of his brain that wasn’t human anymore.

The sound of wood splintering came from the chair underneath him, the arm of the stool crushed in an instant.

A distorted voice spoke through his mouth.

“Use that power on this body again, and I will burn everything and everyone you love to ashes and scatter them in the wind.”

Then it was gone, just like that.

Holding up a fistful of broken wood, Jacken dropped it before her and stood.

“Jacken died fighting another man's war. He died on the battlefield. He died in the chinese torture chambers. He died on the operating table. All that is left is me. Me and the machine.”

“And the machine sees you and all your honeyed lies.”

***

That night, Jacken did as he did every other night. He sat with his daughter, rough voice talking to her, trying to sing her a lullaby.

But deep inside, he wondered if it was actually him, or the machine.

Did he really want to know?

Holding his daughter close, he decided it was best if that question was never answered.

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