#but my brain did this one on autopilot during the reread

[ragnars-tooth]

You’ve all heard of tam/david/zanna, now may I introduce you to bergstorm/russ

I’ll forgive you if you can’t even remember who russ is - he’s the helicopter pilot that works at the chamberlain base in book 3 (and I believe he gets mentioned in 4 or 5 bc I honed in on that like a bloodhound). It’s probably my favourite part of the series lmao so it’s 90% of what I draw/think about even if a lot of the characters are barely there in the grand scheme of things

I just think they’re neat,, also bergstorm is very interesting as a character and I think it would be funny if he had his whole mysterious polar bear thing And a himbo husband who just hasn’t noticed that he doesn’t age and periodically teleports to the UK.

#the last dragon chronicles #tldc #anders bergstorm #tldc russ #tldc tootega #he’s up in the middle of that first one lol #does it even count as a rarepair or whatever at this point if the fandom is this small #like YES I will give it to you this is out of left field #but my brain did this one on autopilot during the reread #and imagine how extra fucking distraught I was when russ shot that polar bear [redacted] #ngl I don’t remember a lot of russ’s canon personality but I will be rereadimg this series again before my course starts lmao #but the like cool fun guy atmosphere then directly contrasted with all his friends dying over the course of a few hours/days??? #I am in tatters and I can literally only blame myself #like yes he probably had more friends and there were more people at the facility but like… bergstorm literally ‘dissapearing’ for him #my poor fucking cowboy #and he doesn’t even know he did it!!! #he doesn’t even know that he DOES KNOW what happened to him #it makes me actually crazy #anyways to come back to my happy ends au david and zanna send them both baby pictures and go for coffee sometimes #it’s all GOOD and FINE I swear *kicks several large objects under the rug* #oh also I really should have gone through my notes for russ’s actual description but at this point oh well #I seem to remember him being blond now that I think about it but fuck itttt #I’ve already got my grubby trans hands on everything I think you can forgive me for the minor character not being 1:1 #ragnar art #oop forgot that 1 billion tags ago #I had a david post 80% done then deleted it bc I find it too hard to talk about blorbos #but as you can see once I start I don’t stop lmaooo so that’s soon #OH ALSO I think russ hangs about round chamberlain even after it shuts down so I can only imagine how fucked up he was when dragons start #flying out of the North Pole. he is just So Character to me and I know it wasn’t even done on purpose

[loisroo]

ah okay, I saw my girl Cay beat me to for it and already asked about the safe house wip! So just ignore that ask lol! Instead, could I please get some deets for secret secret beyond evil, pretty please!!!😊😊

YES THANK YOU! this is the one i reread often because the feels— i’m hoping to actually finish it during the new year because it’s very dear to me. for this post!

the idea:

so everyone at this point should know how much i love pathetic, guilty joowon. i love diving into his little sad brain, pull apart all the pieces and sit with the small child that feels sad and broken in there…. ya know for funsies!!

so one night i was doing the dive and secret secret by stray kids comes on. and i know— out of all the songs i could have latched onto its kpop BUT the song is really perfect for a pining, sad, guilty joowon. it’s about the rain and not being able to just speak about how much you care for someone— at the beginning it mentions being scared their words will never be heard over the rain but then later it talks about how they sort of hope their words will never be heard and just washed away. they want to let go but they can’t and they try their best to keep moving forward but the secret still remains… it just gives me so many beyond evil and Joowon vibes (the be rain scenes have me by the throat still)

the sneak peek (it’s very rough sorry if it’s a bit messy):

His phone pings and he pulls it out, half hoping for a new case or a missing person so he had something to do besides stare out at the rain and think about men.

And just like that the guilt comes back fully, maybe even worse. The words in the text almost seem to mock him and he can't stop himself as he runs for the bathroom. Bile rises in his throat and he suddenly wishes he had more in his stomach then some toast and tea as he throws up in the toilet.

This can’t be happening, this….this wasn’t possible. He yanks his phone out and dials Kwon Hyuk’s number. The man answers and he sounds almost frantic, “Joo Won-ah, are you okay? Did you just get my text?”

Joo Won’s head is spinning and he can barely spit out, “Hyung… what-?”

He’s not sure what he sounds like in that moment, maybe just like the little kid he could feel curling up inside of him. “Han Joo Won... Han Ki Kwan has got a few people on his side for the appeal but I promise I will not let him get away with it.”

Joo Won can feel his insides running cold, “He shouldn’t be able to appeal, he killed someone and covered it up for years and-.”

Hyuk cuts him off with a much calmer voice this time, “I know, Joo Won. But even if he appeals, it would most likely just lower his sentence, he would still be stuck in jail until he dies.”

It makes something inside of him twist in his gut and he lays his head against the bathroom wall, ignoring how his anxiety crawls a little closer to the surface. “Hyung… What am I supposed to do?”

Hyuk sighs, “Just keep working and worry about your life, Han Joo Won. Let me handle this.”

He’s not sure how long he sits on the bathroom floor. Maybe it’s the exhaustion or the guilt but he can’t seem to rise from the floor until a particularly loud thunder shocks him out of his stupor. He runs on autopilot, not really sure what he’s doing until he grabs a coat and leaves his apartment.

He walks straight into the rain, feeling the tears build up and fall over as he walks. Joo Won has no destination in mind just wants to feel the rain. Maybe he really was cursed to spend his time miserable and drowning.

Joo Won’s not sure how long he walks, can feel his body shaking as he continues to cry. He feels so lost, so frustrated with a broken system, so guilty for not just ending this when he had a chance. If he would have just shot his father instead of making Dong Sik arrest him then none of this would be happening.

It’s the thought of Dong Sik that sends him spinning, he had been trying to avoid it as long as he could but…

Did the older man know yet? Had he heard that Han Ki Kwan was making strides in his appeal? Was he too busy living the life he thought he had gained back?

He’s not sure how long he’s been walking before he suddenly realizes his phone is vibrating in his pocket. He yanks it out to see multiple missed calls and texts from Kwon Hyuk but he just ignores it for the one text message that sits unopened.

Dong Sik had texted him. Joo Won-ah, are you okay?

Joo Won leans against a building as he feels the panic rise in his chest. He lifts his hand up and presses hard on his chest before he crumbles to the ground, sobs wracked his body as he buries his head in his hands. How could the older man even ask him that? He’s too kind, too kind for someone like Joo Won to be around. How many times would Dong Sik allow the Han men to destroy his life before he had enough?

He doesn’t rise from his spot until he’s shivering so hard he can barely stay in his position. He stands shakily, using the wall to help him. Joo Won feels the exhaustion shaking inside of him and when he rises he sways, his vision swimming.

His phone is vibrating again and he fumbles with it, the rain still coming down relentlessly. Dong Sik’s name mocks him from the call and he wants to throw his phone, and wants to chuck it in the puddle next to him so he never has to face the man again.

But he knows he wont, Joo Won can’t seem to avoid Dong Sik to save his life.

It takes him a few tries to answer and he misses the call but Dong Sik calls back right after and Joo Won is able to answer and lift it to his ear, he rasps out a broken, “Hello.”

He hears silence on the other end before a sharp inhale, “Inspector Han, where are you?”

Did Dong Sik want to find him and beat him up? He hears a soft snort on the other end of the line and Joo Won realizes he said that last part out loud, “Yah, you punk. I don't want to beat you up, I want to know where you are?”

#beyond evil #beyond evil tag game #stray kids #thank you!!! #i feel very strongly towards this one

[blackevermore]

x Secrets of The Lake: The Company of Misery and Pain

{ Chapter 12 }

Summary: Vladimir Masters’ family tree has always been tainted by secrets swept under the rug. From generation to generation there have been countless reasons the Masters’ family had seemed to keep private from the public. Even to this day, Vladimir was no exception. But what was one to do when a restless spirit from the settlement years finally breaks free from restraints and demands you answer for your ancestor’s crimes? Vladimir doesn’t know. However, Clockworks does.

Notes: We just having fun, rewriting some of the canon, new adventure new characters. I will apologize now for any grammar, spelling, weird sentence structuring in advance. My brain writes faster than my fingers and even when I go back through to reread it I still miss things. Sorry about that!

Word Count: 3992

P.s: This chapter was...something to say the least. Maybe a bit out of place but I promise I'll make up for it.

He didn’t know how long he stared into his computer screen, watching the cursor blink impatiently for the rest of the email. There were only three lines worth reading and the first two were introductions of having a good day and hoping to be found in good health. After that, he couldn’t remember his mind fading away until he heard the sound of his office phone ringing. Blinking a few times and determining the email could wait till later. He closed the laptop and turned towards the phone to check the small caller ID screen. It was another business call that the secretary pushed through and Vlad didn’t really feel up to answering it. He pressed the wait button then switched the lines to call to the secretary desk.

“Yes, Sir?” The chipper voice answered and Vlad winced, she was always too happy for his liking.

“Hold all my calls.” Vlad loosen his bowtie from around his neck and shrugged off his suit jacket.

“Of course, Sir.” Vlad hung up the call and leaned back in his chair taking a deep breath and letting it out. Ever since he left the house he could feel a small throbbing pain in his core. He did his best to ignore it, waving it off as nothing more than a phantom pain from a few days ago. But as he tried to go about his day he found himself wincing and clinching his chest every so often. The amount of ‘are you okay’ and ‘do you need a moment’ were getting rather annoying, and thus an hour ago Vlad locked himself inside his office. A slow hand made its way up to his chest once more and Vlad held it there. Tayonna must have really tied herself to him during their first meeting for pain like this to continue. As another faint throb did its course, Vlad felt himself being somewhat paranoid and worried. For who or for what he didn’t know, but the emotions were there and he didn’t know what to do with them. And then, like a snap of a finger, the emotions and the pain in his core were all gone, leaving him breathing heavy.

He sat up and rubbed his temple trying to figure out what was happening. He couldn’t continue like this until the end of the day. Making up his mind he grabbed his jacket and headed towards the door.

“Sir?” the secretary jumped as Vlad stormed past her.

“I’m ending my day early, any messages or papers that I need to review I will do so tomorrow. Good day Mrs Andrews.” Vlad didn’t care that he was yelling halfway across the office space as he headed towards the elevator. When he hit the button for the elevator he quickly grew anxious as he watched the floors ding one by one. Cursing the world he turned on his heels and walked over to the stairwell. When the door closed behind him and he peeked over the railing to make sure he was actually alone, he turned ghost and zoomed down to the last floor. Turning human again he quickly walked out the emergency exit towards the parking lot. It was when Vlad finally made it to his car and into the driver's seat that he realized he didn’t want to go home. Naturally, he would be on autopilot after work to get in and drive home. But right now, in the newfound free time he has given himself, he didn’t want to go there. Empty or not. Starting the car Vlad chose not to make any real decisions and drove any which way he felt like turning the wheel.

For three hours Vlad mindlessly drove around Amity enjoying the scenery. Even in places he visited constantly he found new hidden beauties. Has the town always been this lovely? Vlad couldn’t recall nor really remember how often he was able to go out and actually look. Of course, Vlad made sure to do his mayoral duties while in office which consisted of many community projects. But he never truly got to see the outcomes of them, this was amazing, more so than he imagined. He made a mental note that he would have to put time aside for himself to go out in nature. By boy scout honour Vlad swore it that he and nature would once again connect in dear time. As Vlad continued to drive around somewhere on the lower east side of the town a call came through his car’s display. 

“Masters speaking,” Vlad answered.

“I called your office and Almeria said you ended your day early?” Kate sounded a bit breathless on the other end, she was most likely walking somewhere. Vlad huffed quietly.

“Today doesn’t seem like my day either.” He grumbled.

“Water pipes still busted?”

“Hmm...yes and it cost so much to get them repaired.” Vlad had nearly forgotten the lie he had told everyone. Between the morning meetings, the concerned employees, and the pain in his core, Vlad didn't really hold that lie up as important to remember since no one had asked.

“You’re rich, you should be fine. I called to tell you I finished meeting with one of the historians at the Virginia State Library.” Kate pulled away from the phone to give a quick ‘pardon me’ then continued. “There weren’t any recorded documents of any members of your family settling nor doing business in central Virginia during the 17th century. As you know the records the state library has ranges across the whole state. However, there is another library that I’ve contacted that has another set of records that covers small businesses and land that also date back as far. I’ve already set up an appointment to meet with them tomorrow.” Kate pulled away from the phone once more to order a small coffee and a cookie and Vlad felt his sweet tooth spring to life.

“Well good news to you, Miss Way, I have a name that will narrow your search. Vladan Masters, or at the time Masters would have been spelt M, the A and the E would have been mashed together, G I S T E R. Look closer to the end of the 1600s as that’s when he would have been of age or so.” Vlad felt a weird shiver crawl up his back as he spoke the name. Almost like hands latching onto his shoulders and shaking him a bit. He quickly rolled his shoulders and tried to shake it off but it still lingered.

“Right, thank you, Sir, I’ll let you know what I find.” Vlad hung up the call and before he could actually figure out where he was during his little drive. He was parking his car right outside his home. Vlad didn’t want to go in, but he couldn’t sit in the car the rest of the day. ‘You seriously can’t allow some ghost to kick you out of your own house’ Vlad thought to himself taking another look out the side of the passenger window up towards his mansion. 

“Of course not,” Vlad scoffed and got out of the car and headed up the stone steps to his front door. Looking around for any nosy neighbors to make sure the coast was clear. Vlad ghosted through the door and hung up his jacket on the coat hanger. He couldn’t feel any form of energy on the main floor, the house felt almost as cold as it did a few years ago. Vlad hated to remember how empty and alone he was during his darker years of self isolation. He could remember how sad he actually was when the only person waiting for him was Maddie the cat. But when she passed the home grew cold till Dani was brought back and welcomed Vlad’s offer. Vlad teleported into the kitchen in a poof and looked around, nothing, he poofed to one of the living rooms and still no one, he did this all over the first floor until he confirmed the ghost wasn’t around. He floated upstairs and towards the guest room and looked inside and that’s when a feeling of calm settled through his body. Tayonna sat on the bed looking out the windows down towards the garden.

“Evening Miss Tayonna,” Vlad cleared his throat and walked inside but stayed close to the door. The ghost turned around from the window and Vlad could have stumbled over himself at the sight of her. The sun was high in the sky and hung over her like a halo and made her seem to glow. Specks of the sun peeked through her curls warming her skin into a soft brown with red undertones, and her eyes seemed to glow a soft green. She has always taken my breath away. She still wore her stoic expression of wariness and yet it made her seem untouchable. Vlad didn’t know he was holding his breath until his lungs began to scream for air. He tried to not make it obvious as he exhaled and nodded towards her.

“Masters.” Tayonna nodded back towards the man then turned back towards the garden. Vlad felt his heart sting in pain at how cold his name came from her lips. Had he wished for her to call him the wrong name again? Or maybe just not as bitter? He was used to others calling him Masters in an aggressive manner but with this ghost, Vlad knew he didn’t like it.

“I would like to talk to you about this problem you are facing and see if I will be able to aid you.” Vlad didn’t move from his spot, he knew moving closer wouldn’t be a smart move, and the last thing he needed was a blast to the face. One less fight was best for the both of them. 

“Help me? How can you help me when you-...when he isn’t here to be held accountable for his crimes.” Tayonna’s words were bitter and came as more of an attack on Vlad even when she corrected herself. She pulled her knees closer to herself and tucked her head into the space between her body.

“Well for starters you could begin with telling me where you’re from and how you became a part of my family.” Vlad tested the water by taking a few steps closer towards her but quickly stopped when he saw her jerk up and narrow her eyes at him. He held up his hands and raised his eyebrows to show he meant no harm and Tayonna seemed to let her guard down. “May I?” Vlad pointed to the edge of the bed and Tayonna pulled her feet in so there was more space between them. Vlad took that as a yes and sat down comfortably on the edge. He crossed his legs and waited for the other to respond to him. He hoped it would be soon because his tolerance was low and he wouldn’t be doing this all night if he didn’t have to.

“I was brought from the coast, stolen from my people and bought by yours.” Vlad wanted to correct her, his family hadn’t done it, but he knew she meant more so the colour of his skin. “Luther picked me like a friend and his parents were against it.” Vlad wanted to cheer for the fact he had been right. “But he begged them and eventually I was brought to their home. I was ordered to stay by Luther’s side and aid him.” Vlad was surprised by how much he was getting from her. He was sure all day yesterday it would have been hard to get her to talk. But he supposed it was better than having to build up trust over the course of days then finally getting somewhere.

“Do you remember where the family lived?” Vlad turned more towards the girl in hopes he could read her expression. He could tell it pained her to talk about it. Before Vlad could register what he was doing he stuck out a hand and took hers, flipping it over so her palm faces upward and used his thumb to rub circles in the middle. Tayonna gasped softly and she looked between him and what he was doing before yanking her hand back towards her. “I-I’m sorry, I have no idea why I did that.” Vlad held his head and quickly turned away from her. At that moment he had a strong thought that he knew how to calm her down. He knew exactly how to use his thumb to draw small circles and how it would make her feel a bit better. When he touched her, he even felt calmer, relaxed and dare say remorseful.

“No, I don’t,” Tayonna answered and turned back towards the window. Vlad nodded and shot to his feet to leave. He didn’t turn back as he strolled towards his bedroom and slammed the door behind him. Vlad quickly kicked off his shoes and fell into his armchair. His mind was now a scattered mess as he scolded himself for doing something inappropriate, if he kept feeling this pulling feeling towards her he was going to get nowhere. Every time he got too close, Vlad’s mind would draw a blank and he would feel and think things that weren’t true. He felt dangerous emotions he would consider private and untouched that would muddy and mix. Vlad grumbled a fruit and snapped his fingers. A ghost maid was quick to manifest beside him and he told her to bring him a drink. Within seconds the maid was back with a tray of not only a full glass but also the whole bottle. Vlad smirked and silently thanked her for being so generous. 

He slowly took sips as he thought of something else to distract him. Work, no, the drive home, not enough, how annoyed he was, that was never a good one. Then finally he found it, though he had told himself he had moved on slightly he still couldn't help himself to think of Madeline. The way her beautiful blue eyes shined as bright as the moon, or the way her now short fiery hair framed her much more mature face. The way she laughed, the way she carried herself with so much power and confidence, the way she could be so serious and yet so caring. Surely it had to be from having children that made her softer but underneath she was hellfire and Vlad could only dream of having her. Dream of what it would have been if he had had the chance to truly woo her.

I have to say sorry, she has to understand. There it was, the little voice in his head that he couldn’t make vanish. Understand what? Vlad shook his head and took another sip of his drink trying to get back to his little fantasy. ‘Maybe two drinks would be better than one’ Vlad thought to himself and finished off the rest before pouring more. I was scared, we both were scared. ‘Scared of what?’ Vlad didn’t want to acknowledge the voice, he didn’t care, he wanted nothing more than to forget about it. He tried to down his second glass but the burn in the back of his throat made it a bit impossible. Vlad was never a heavy drinker unless time called for it, but he always had to drink slowly even then. ‘What were you scared of?’ Vlad grumbled and tried his best to ward off the voice and his lingering questions. She has to know why I did it. Vlad quickly figured out the voice in his head spoke of something else. But of what was still a mystery.

“Shut up,” Vlad grumbled but that only made the voice get louder and louder. It had started as a whisper yards away, but now it was as loud as someone speaking right into his ear. “Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!” Vlad covered his ears as the voice started to ramble on and on about forgiveness and how sorry it was. Then like an ice shower, the voice in his head changed and sounded just like him. I love her. Vlad felt something standing behind him and jumped from his seat and turned around to shoot off an ectoblast. He manically looked around and soon landed on the red mist floating down towards the ground and slipping out of the door.

“Get away from me!” Vlad's ears rang in slight pain as Tayonna’s voice rose to a dangerous scream. He stumbled over his feet to get out of his room, the red mist was slowly making its way towards the guest room and Vlad heard Tayonna scream again. I had to protect her. Vlad knew these weren’t his thoughts but he felt the pull of energy flowing through him to aid Tayonna. He turned into Plasmius and shot through the walls until he arrived in the room. Vlad gasped as the room was filled to the ceiling in the red mist swirling around like angry thunder clouds. Tayonna was no longer on the bed but the floor on her knees holding herself. Vlad flew down and tried to touch her but a force threw him back against the wall. 

Vlad groaned and got back onto his feet, in front of him the mist pulled together like a thick wall between him and Tayonna. Tayonna was beginning to cry and Vlad felt his body act on its own as he tried to shoot down the wall with an ectoray. But like jelly, the mist gobbled up his shots and swallowed them. As he continued his attacks the mist twisted inwards forming into a face. Vlad’s face but in a way he was unfamiliar with, pure anger and laced linings of betrayal. The mist then began to shrink into a silhouette of Vlad and slowly stocked its way towards him. Vlad gritted his teeth and clenched his fists as he activated his electric powers. He could only faintly remember Tayonna doing this so it had to work. As the mist got closer Vlad shot at it, stunning it a few times but never stopping it fully. The closer it got the angrier Vlad was and a bit worried about what was going to happen. Tayonna was still too choked up on the ground to do anything, not that she could with the collar on. 

“Blasted!” Vlad yelled cursing himself for putting that thing on her. She would have been so helpful right now. “You’re nothing but memories of the past! You’ve done nothing but make her restless and cause trouble for everyone.” Vlad didn’t know why he spoke to the mist as if could hear. But somehow he knew it understood him by the way it would stop a few times. He watched as the mist’s face would halt then twist back into anger, his anger, his rage, Vlad felt it. “Memories can be destroyed, forgotten, and even replaced! You are nothing!” Vlad yelled out once more but that seemed to only make it worse. Within a few quick like static steps, the mist took hold of Vlad by the neck in a vice grip. 

Vlad’s eyes widened as the red mist started to turn human, starting from the fingertips the mist vanished and a tan hand gripped tighter. Like water being sucked out of a stream the mist finally reached the face and Vlad’s heart stopped beating and his core ran cold. He was staring a variant of himself right in the eyes, like an angry lion who had finally had enough of its prey. The doppelganger was every bit of Vlad had he never been shot by Jack’s prototype. Tan skin that saw the softer days of being outside, vibrant cold blue eyes, and dark raven hair that fell a bit beyond the shoulders. But this Vlad seemed so out of place by the clothes he wore. Like a puzzle solving itself Vlad knew now. This was Vladan. This was the person Tayonna was looking for. 

“Then we must help her forgive.” Vlad felt the chills run down his back as he heard his own voice but with a thick German accent. As he tried to pull away and attack once more his doppelganger pulled him closer and squeezed his neck. Vlad gasps and he wishes he hadn’t as he felt the mist starting to fill his body. Vladan began to fade away but the grip on Vlad’s neck stayed as all the mist was sucked into his body like smoke. It burned the back of his throat as the fire in his body became sporadic. He felt a clench on both his heart and his core as mist filled his lungs and seeped into his bloodstream. Every muscle in his body began to clench causing him to fall to the floor only being able to catch himself with his hands. Vlad’s vision began to blur in pure red and he was blind to everything around him. Vlad felt himself fighting and losing control over his body as the pain shot up and down, finally nesting into his chest. He couldn’t scream, the only sound to leave his body were broken breathless grunts and pants. His airways were beginning to collapse.

“Let go of him,” Vlad could faintly hear Tayonna’s voice getting close to him. “Get away from him or I’ll take all of us down.” Tayonna crawled towards Vlad and shakenly placed her hand on his back. She said something in a language Vlad couldn’t understand before a wave of pressure shot Vlad down completely to the ground. The hold on his body released as Vlad heard himself scream above him. The mist lifted halfway out of Vlad’s body with a painful scream then dove back in. Tayonna said the same words over and Vlad felt the weight of the world push him down again. He didn’t feel any pain anymore from his chest but whatever Tayonna was doing did start to hurt. Vlad tried to push himself up to stop Tayonna but she pushed him back down with the same line of words. 

“Tayonna wait,” Vlad said breathlessly and weakly as he once again tried to get out of her hold. “Tayonna stop.”

“Get out of him!” Vlad had somehow managed to roll away before Tayonna could mumble her words again and send him slamming into the floor. Vlad felt his powers cave and he turned human. His hair had managed to fall out of its ponytail and pool in front of his face. Vlad didn’t have the strength to push it out of his way as he felt Tayonna move closer to him. He felt her hand inch closer and he quickly spun around to grab her wrist and pull her down. He rolled them on the floor so he was now on top of her with a tight grip on both of her wrists. He panted hard, he felt so tired but yet he had to keep her down. Inside his body he could still feel the mist travelling through him and then settled into the middle of his core. With a deep gasp, Vlad felt the mist absorbed itself into him. Still breathless and near the brink of passing out, Vlad let go of one of her wrists and brought his hand to her cheek.

“Meine Geliebte,” Vlad knew it wasn’t he who whispered it but he felt the power behind it as he finally felt his body give out and roll off of Tayonna. Tayonna was frozen to the ground as she replayed the words over and over in her ears. Through the same colour eyes, Tayonna saw the man she had once loved. A single tear rolled down her cheek as her eyes stayed wide and her body became numb.

#📖Ghost Stories👻 #vlad masters #danny phantom #dp fanfic #my writing #self ship community

[ragnarachael]

Shoulda, Coulda, Woulda.

Pairing: Deadpool x Daughter!Reader, Peter Parker x Reader

Word Count: 1,945

Summary: Wade didn’t want to ruin his kid's night with her ‘boyfriend,’ but he didn’t have much of a choice, she had a right to know.

A Note: i really don’t think this is all that different from the original piece i wrote back in june 2018. you can’t fix what ain’t broke? (rereading and editing this, i just realized how close to home this hits right now)

Warnings: a bunch of angst that you probably haven’t seen me write before, major canon character death, cursing, crying, all the sad stuff with a bit of jokes at the end. (i don’t know if it’s considered a fourth wall break, but there’s a reference to your local writer behind the screen)

masterlist

Wade had been sitting in the apartment for a few hours now. He was soaking wet in his shirt and sweats, holding onto Vanessa’s limp, cold body like his life depended on it. He was still covered in the blood of the douchebag that pulled the trigger.

He was still sobbing on and off with the door still broken open and the rain pouring through the open window.

If Vanessa were still alive, she would be huffing at Wade for doing such a thing and then he’d make a joke and then they’d make their way to the bed and celebrate their anniversary as planned.

Of all the days he fucking finished his duties early and had idiots follow him back home, it had to be today.

Y/N had made plans with her friend (more like boyfriend, Wade and Vanessa knew something was up) Peter just so they could celebrate.. accordingly.

How the hell was Wade supposed to walk over to the Parker’s apartment complex in Queens and tell his little girl her mother was dead?

How the hell was he supposed to act like a normal human being when he was covered in two different peoples blood right now?

And more importantly, how was he going to pull himself together and get up from the rug where he sat with Vanessa in his soaking wet arms?

Wade took a deep breath, pressing a kiss to Vanessa’s pale forehead before gently laying her body back where it landed what seemed like hours ago now. He slowly stood up, looking at the clock above their bed, seeing it only being almost nine o'clock at night.

Wade just shook his head and moved to his closet, throwing on a hoodie and a pair of jeans to not only to warm up and hide all of the blood seeping through the cloth fabric, but also so he can get his kid. Poor girl deserves to know what the fuck happened.

Queens was only an hour walk from their complex. The Parker’s was then 20 minutes from that point on. That put Wade in front of the complex doors at exactly 10:30 pm. He pulled his hood off as he walked into the warm lobby, ignoring the gasps from the people in the room as he made his way to the elevator.

He either had a lot of blood on his face, or he still looks like the world’s worst burn victim.

He’ll take either for 200, Alex.

He pressed the seventh floor button once he stepped foot into the elevator. Thankfully, he was completely alone in the metal box and started to try and think of how the fuck he was going to do this.

What do you say to the second best thing that’s happened in your life that the first best thing that’s happened in your life is fucking dead?

The elevator opened up too soon to his liking. It wasn’t slow enough for him to get his shit together and man up enough to march down the hall to get to the Parker’s apartment. Either way, his brain was on autopilot as he walked down the long hall, having dropped her off here earlier in the day before he went to do his shit.

He made the first left he saw prior to earlier in the day, stopping at the second door on the left.

He had hoped Peter wouldn’t answer the door. Y/N didn’t need her happiness to be ruined in this moment. If May answered again, that’d be a blessing within itself.

Wade took a deep, deep breath, trying to get his thoughts together before he removed his right hand from his hoodie pockets and knocked on the door firmly.

He placed his hand back in the pocket and waited. It seemed like an eternity before he saw May’s face contorting from sweet and kind to worried, already seeing Y/N’s father here soon.

“Hey, May. Uh, can I speak with Y/N?” Wade got out before May could ask anything. She was taken aback, his his lighthearted, joke filled tone from the day gone, riddled with sadness.

“Of course, Wade. Come in?” May said gently, opening the door a little wider for him to enter as she turned around to go get Y/N.

Wade slowly entered, closing the door gently behind him. He looked around the apartment, smiling very faintly. It looked cozy and like a home. Compared to the apartment that awaited for both Wade and Y/N, depending on her reaction.

He could hear laughter. It was a combination of Y/N’s laughter mixed with Peter’s. His heart flew up into his throat practically at that.

Wade’s mind slowly started going into panic mode.

He shouldn’t have come, he would just ruin her night with her ‘he’s not my boyfriend, but if he would be his nickname would be honey bun because yes, dad, he’s that sweet.’

Wade heard May and Y/N conversing as she came from the hall from the far left of the door, Y/N freezing when she saw her father.

“Dad? What’s going on? I thought you’d be with Mom tonight..?” She questioned softly, her head tilted as May sent Wade a sad smile, probably knowing something was wrong, before she went back to navigate her way to the kitchen, probably to occupy Peter so he didn’t come out.

Y/N’s tone sent a dagger through his heart. He couldn’t break the news to her like this. 

She was just a kid. His kid. 

He didn’t want her to turn out like him at any point in her life. He didn’t want her to be without a mother. He didn’t want any of this to be a reality but here we are-

“Dad?” Y/N questioned again, carefully reaching a hand out to place on his arm as he just stared at her, the gears shifting around in his head.

Y/N carefully placed her other hand on his other arm to hold Wade steady as he swayed back and forth.

“She’s gone.” Easy. Simple. Filled with all the pain in the world.

Y/N just rose a brow in concern and started to rub at the damp fabric clinging to her father’s arms.

“She who? Mom? Did she go to the store after your rounds and hasn’t come back yet? She probably stopped at that one shop you both love-” Y/N was cut off with Wade’s harsh sigh before his hands went to rub at his eyes, ignoring the horrendous texture as his tears blurred his vision.

His heart couldn’t take the pain it was going through. Well, technically, it could, but that’s not the point.

Y/N was about to list off another thing that her mother could have gone before Wade finally spoke up.

“Sweetheart, no.” 

It was quick and firm, which was the complete opposite of their father-daughter relationship.

Y/N was taken back and moved her hands from her father’s arms, slowly crossing her arms over her chest.

Wade took a moment to notice she was wearing some dumb shirt you could buy from a tourist place. It had a white base with a bright yellow taxi and the ugly letters “I survived my trip to New York!” on it smack dab in the middle.

She doesn’t own that, does she?

His father instincts wanted to kick in and question who’s shirt it was, but he held it back.

“The drug lords I went after during rounds today.. they followed me back. I thought I had enough time to catch the bullet. I.. I thought I hit the fucker,” Wade spat, his voice faltering and cracking at the end of his sentence. Y/N’s face went from confusion to sadness, finally understanding what’s going on.

“It hit your mother,” Wade finished. Rip it off like a bandaid.

“You’re joking, right? This is a sick joke to scare me to leave the house, isn’t it?” Y/N said slowly, her eyes starting to sting from the sudden tears filling her eyes.

Wade saw how her eyes glossed over.

He wanted to rip his heart out of his chest.

“I-I..” Wade sighed and looked down at his boots he pulled on. “I kinda wish it was, but it’s not.”

Wade heard Y/N’s breath hitch before he let out a grunt the second she connected with his chest, her arms wrapped around his middle tightly.

His arms wrapped tightly around his daughter’s frame, finally lifting his head up to rest his chin on her head, his own eyes starting to gloss over.

The silence between them was filled with Y/N’s pained sobs in his chest.

Wade really wanted to crack, but he had to be strong for his girl.

Eventually, Wade had moved his head from the top of his daughters and moved one hand that was around her to wipe his eyes which was when she looked up at him with bloodshot eyes, seeming somewhat recovered.

“W-What are we going to do?” She questioned suddenly, Wade now feeling how tight she was clinging to his hoodie.

He sniffled in response at first. What were they going to do?

“I don’t know, sweetheart. I don’t know,” He concluded finally, shocked his own voice was even steady in the first place.

The both of them started to sway slightly as Wade could hear footsteps coming from the kitchen now.

“I just wanted to tell you, you had a right to know. I plan on heading back and figuring out what to do with her body-”

“She’s still in the apartment?!” Y/N whisper yelled, also hearing the footsteps as she ripped herself from her father's chest.

“What was I supposed to do?! Chuck her out the window with me when I chased down and killed the guy that shot her?” Wade hissed back before the footsteps stopped close to them.

“H-Hey, Mr. Wilson,” Peter said awkwardly, smiling shyly as he held two steaming mugs. Wade rose a brow as he looked at the boy, eyeing the mugs.

“Hey, Peter.” Wade forced a smile at the teen before reluctantly letting Y/N go and let out a soft sigh.

Y/N was quick to pull herself from her father’s arms and walk over to her boyfriend, sniffling as she gave him a small smile before taking a mug of hot chocolate.

“Thanks, Pete. I’ll be back in the kitchen in a sec, okay?” She said quickly, Peter giving her a reassuring smile and encouraging nod before he moved in to quickly kiss her cheek, awkwardly making his way back to the kitchen where his Aunt May resided.

Y/N turned back around to be met with Wade’s look that definitely looked smug.

“So you two are honey buns-”

“Oh my God, shut up,” Y/N insisted harshly as she sipped her mug before placing it on a close by coffee table, Wade letting out a hoarse chuckle.

“Two honey buns in one package? That’s a steal!”

Y/N let out a harsh sigh as a small smile grew on her face before moving back to wrap her arms around him and rest her head on his chest.

“You’re lucky I can’t think of a good come back,” Y/N mumbled Wade letting out a scoff.

“It’s just lazy writing on her end,” he reasoned, gently patting his daughter’s back before she moved her head slightly.

“Who’s lazy writing?”

Wade just huffed and shook his head fondly, moving a hand to cup Y/N’s cheek before dropping another small kiss to the middle of her forehead.

“Don’t worry about it, sweetheart.”

#deadpool x daughter!reader #peter parker x reader #deadpool x reader #marvel imagine #marvel fanfiction #wade wilson x daughter!reader #wade wilson x reader #rachael writes

[lucifers-trash-stash]

Run From Me: Chapter Six

Summary: There aren’t many solutions to escape becoming a member of The Mad Titan Thanos’ harem. All you can try to do is to run and pray he doesn’t find you.

Word Count: 3,352

Chapter Warnings: Some violence

Run From Me Masterlist

After seeing Thanos yesterday, I’d been on autopilot for the whole day. When I ate breakfast with Elsy, Tuella, and Aphua, I listened to Elsy clamour away about whatever was on her mind while nodding politely and eating my food, not really taking anything in. Tuella seemed to notice my distant attitude and offered me a small smile, but ultimately left me be. 

I told them goodbye, and for the first time in a long while, I wandered back to my room. I flopped on top of the covers, laying there and staring up at the ceiling. I hated being in this room during the day, but now I took comfort in it. It made me feel like a prisoner, yet also kept me hidden from those that might want to talk to me. I wasn’t in the mood to deal with anyone; I needed to think. 

Closing my eyes, I stretched out my limbs on the bed, grounding myself. I still wasn’t certain how I truly felt about Thanos. It was a confusing mess; one minute I felt hot and bothered, and another minute I felt scared and hopeless. I crave his touch along my cheek, but his stare yesterday reminded me just how powerful Thanos was. He could murder me without a second thought. What if I didn't give him what he wanted? What was stopping him from going back on his word that he wouldn't hurt me?

No matter how I put it in my mind, I kept returning to that conclusion. That no matter what kindness he gave me, he still had so much more authority and influence under the surface. The fact that many of his women refuse to leave their rooms for fear of his might was proof enough of that. 

And yet… why did he still fascinate me? As afraid as I was, I was morbidly curious about him. He was intelligent, and a part of me wanted to pick his brain, try to figure out why he is the way that he is. Another part was interested in knowing how sex with him felt like. I wasn’t a virgin, I knew a few things. But how did he compensate for smaller partners? It was probably much more than simply a tight fit, and I almost wished Elsy had gone into more detail about his… attentiveness. That way I wouldn’t be sitting here spending my time thinking about it and further digging myself deeper into the hole of my embarrassing carnal desire for him. 

I rubbed my palms against my eyes, trying to focus on something else. My thoughts ran back to the Edgar Allan Poe book in my bag. I was so flustered yesterday that I hadn’t bothered opening it back up. How could I focus on such grim prose when all I could think about were Thanos’ eyes? His cool, grey eyes. 

Sighing, I sat up in bed and began to pace around the room. I really wasn’t sure what I was doing, mostly just trying to keep my mind occupied. Wandering over to the window, I stared outside. The vast expanse of the universe always interested me as a child, but I’d never imagined actually being out in the thick of it and certainly not being captured by the Mad Titan that wanted to cull it. With my forehead pressed against the cool glass, I let my eyes glaze over for a moment as I took it all in.

A knock at my door yanked me out of my daydream, and I shook my head to pull myself together. I inhaled deeply, fully expecting a guard to be standing outside and requesting for me to see Thanos in his room. But when I opened the door, it was a much smaller and more petite figure. 

In the doorway, Aphua stared at me expectantly through her sapphire blue hair. Her shawl today was a dark turquoise, hiding her body underneath. I often wondered if she was naturally cold-natured or if she just preferred these clothes. 

After a brief moment of awkward silence, I realized I should probably say something. “Oh, Aphua, how are you doing? What’s up?” I asked.

Before answering, her hands emerged from her shawl, holding a small parcel in her hands. She held it out, pushing it towards me and into my hands. Confused, I peeled the fabric back, revealing a half sandwich and a few slices of ripe Yaro root. 

My brow furrowed, and I looked up at Aphua. Before I could ask what this was for, she said, “You missed lunch. I didn’t want you to go hungry.”

I blinked. It barely felt like any time had passed since I came to my room. Had I really missed lunch? Aphua’s silver-eyed gaze didn’t seem to me like she was lying, so I figured I really must have spent all that time spacing out and doing nothing. 

“Thank you,” I told her, giving her a grateful smile. Aphua’s head tilted down to look at the floor, but I could have sworn I saw a small smile on her lips as well. She left without another word, and I watched as she shuffled back down the hall and out of sight. 

Closing the door behind me, I took a bite of the sandwich. Nothing like an Earth sandwich since it was Gordgan meat instead of ham and cheese or egg salad, but close enough. What I wouldn’t give for a bag of Doritos or a juicy, greasy McDonald’s burger or even a nice bowl of homemade chicken noodle soup from my mother. That last thought made me sad, so I ate my sandwich and turned my attention to my bag. 

Setting the rest of the food on my bed with the sandwich still clenched between my teeth, I pulled out one of my journals. I plucked the photo of my family out of the pages and propped it up on my sheets so I could look at it. Mulling over the memories in my journal, I took another pensive bite. It helped to reread the images of the past even as much as writing them down did. They were more real that way, more at the forefront of my mind. Trying to imagine what my father would say to me in this situation. After a moment of turning that thought over in my mind, I realized that he probably wouldn’t have a good answer for how to deal with simultaneously hating and lusting after a giant purple behemoth that would put Andre the Giant to shame. Mom probably wouldn’t be much better, and I smirked at imagining her trying to come up with solutions like she always did. No problem is too big, she’d always tell me, it can be broken down into smaller pieces and dealt with that way. 

Perhaps it was an issue of breaking things down into smaller components. I bit into a ripened Yaro root slice. Thanos was one big issue that could be dealt with in smaller ways. Keeping on his good side was one way. Would it be easier to deal with him if I obeyed him, gave him what he wanted? Right now I was still untrustworthy, and it seemed he had an eye on my every move. 

With a huff, I fell back against the bed and threw an arm over my eyes. I didn’t want to consider that was my only possibility of getting out of here. But what else was there? If I put my head down and did what I was told, he would eventually ignore me for long enough time for me to plan an escape. Except that wasn’t me.

I let myself drift for a while, letting my mind take me to other places. Every fluttering of my eyes opening and then closing again felt like minutes instead of hours. A serene calmness swept over my limbs, and I laid there, floating out in an empty space. 

I wasn’t sure what had woken me out of my stupor. Out of nowhere, sudden inspiration flit across my mind and I shot up in bed. I stared into space, suddenly aware of what needed to be done. I couldn’t sit here like this, trying to decide what I should or shouldn’t do. I needed to act. I had to find out once and for all where the escape pods were kept. That would be the first step in a series of many steps I would have to take before I could get out of here. If I didn’t do this now, I would forever continue to make excuses as to why I couldn’t.

Quickly slipping on my boots and throwing my jacket on and my bag over my shoulder, I crept to the door and poked my head out into the hallway. Not a soul was roaming outside, so I slipped through and shut the door behind me quietly. Trying to compose myself, I took a few deep breaths before making my way toward where I knew the restricted area was. It was the only place on my map that I hadn’t plotted out so that had to be where all of the important planet destruction activities went on.

I knew there was a chance I would be caught almost instantly, but I was going to take the risk. It was better than what Thanos could do to me if I stayed. Seeing his simmering rage was something I never wanted to experience again. Even if he didn’t, just knowing the possibility that he could easily hurt me was something I didn’t want to chance. Immediate death is better than a lifetime of mistreatment.

After a few more winding passageways, I was here. The cut off point. No one was around this particular hallway, but I knew that what lies beyond would be crawling with Chitauri and other assortments of alien guards. I had to be stealthy, which I had become accustomed to in my many years of planetary travel. But while that was easy to do when those environments were rich with foliage to blend into and other nooks and crannies, that was rather hard to do on a massive ship with long, smooth hallways with no places to hide. I just had to pray that I wouldn’t get caught before I could sneak into one of the control rooms. 

As I slowly proceeded, I made mental notes of which passages I was taking so I could log them in for later. If there was a later. At this point it was do or die, and I had to keep my wits about me now. 

Soft talking came from somewhere behind me, and my body began to tense up. It would be a matter of time before they turned the corner and found me. Frantically, I pushed the entry buttons on the doors that lined the walls, but all were locked and wouldn’t budge. Fuck! I had barely accomplished anything!

I didn’t want it to end like this. Against my better judgement, I scurried a bit quicker down the hallway, continuously looking over my shoulder for the source of the voices. I kept slamming the buttons for each door I walked past, but nothing happened. My heartbeat was deafening in my ears, and I tried my best to focus, but to no avail. 

Hoping to hide behind the corner of the next hallway, I quickly turned without checking to see if the coast was clear. That’s when I slammed against an armored chest, gasping and trying to scramble backwards. But it was too late, and a hand gripped my wrist tightly, causing me to wince. 

Two Chitauri guards stood before me, leering down at my form. I knew that the Chitauri were a merciless species, eager for any opportunity to torture, maim, and slaughter anyone that stood in their way. Trembling, I watched in horror as the one that held me spoke in chitters, “Where do you think you’re going, whore?”

“I’m not a whore!” I sputtered, trying desperately to regain control of myself for long enough to get out of this mess. “I just turned down the wrong hallway was all! You expect me to figure out where I’m going when the hallways are a fucking labyrinth!?”

The other Chitauri guard scoffed. “You shouldn’t be getting lost in the first place. Your only job is to spread your-”

“Don’t you fucking say it you piece of shit!” I grunted as I tried pulling away - failing again - and driving the heel of my foot against his ankle. His boots were armored though, so the effort was futile. 

He began to say something more, but another voice interrupted, “You’ve become quite predictable, haven’t you?”

The three of us turned our attention towards Maw, who slowly approached from an entryway behind the guards. My eyes widened as I gazed inside, realizing just how close I was to some sort of control room. Thanos was nowhere to be found, but it was obvious from the aliens at their respective stations and the technology lining the walls that this was one of the many control rooms that would be required to power such a massive vessel. I would have been more in awe of the set up if I wasn’t in this predicament. 

“We found one of the Lord’s whores wandering around,” the guard that held me spoke up, shaking my wrist as I struggled to regain my balance. 

“I can clearly see that,” Maw coldly snapped as he narrowed his eyes at the two guards. “Let her go. You’ve already tossed her around enough and if you do any more she will receive bruises. I don’t think I have to remind either of you what happened to the last guard that left bruises on his property?”

Without hesitation, the guard released me from his tight hold, but I was about to stumble backwards from tugging away too hard. I braced myself for an impact against the ground, but instead I felt a force hold my back steady and straighten me up, no doubt Maw’s doing. 

“But we must return her to-”

“I’ll take care of it. I wouldn’t trust the two of you to transport her safely considering how you manhandle someone who could hardly be perceived as a thinking organism, let alone a threat.” The two guards exchanged chastised glances before following their orders and walking back to the control room, leaving me alone with Maw. 

“Fancy meeting you here,” I said, attempting casualness with a lopsided smile, trying to weasel my way out of more reprimands. I should have known better.

Unamused, Maw laced his fingers in front of himself, looking down at me. “My patience with you wears thin, Terran.” His hands then unclasped, one sliding down my back as he urged me to move, pushing me back down the hallway from where I’d come from. The action and his touch sickened me, and I shrugged his hand away as soon as he allowed me to. 

“For a woman who is constantly spouting off that she can take care of herself,” Maw began, using his power to make my legs stop and therefore focus my attention entirely on him. His fingers brushed against my cheek, tilting my chin up to meet his gaze. “You play the damsel in distress rather well.”

“Do not,” I spat at him.

“Really?” His voice drawled in a hum. “Because it seems that through our each and every encounter, you’re constantly needing help. And we provide it to you because we understand how difficult it must be to adjust here.” Maw leaned closer, his head dipping down towards mine. I flinched instinctively, but with his hand gently gripping my chin - careful not to leave bruises - I couldn’t pull away very far. Trying to throw off his magic was just as futile. As if I were an amoeba under a microscope, he tilted his head to the side as he stared down at me dispassionately. “But there will come a time, Terran, when our kindness will dry up. Your little games will cease to be amusing, and Lord Thanos will punish you accordingly. As he should have done far sooner.”

Maw suddenly let me free from his grasp, and I stumbled back a few steps before regaining my footing. With a snide smile crawling up his lips, he glanced down at me and continued, “I certainly think he will. Before this you were just a nuisance, but now you were trying to escape. Perhaps I should tell you of what Thanos does to those who try to run?”

My heart thudded harshly in my chest as I tensed up. I had fucked up bad this time. I could only hope Thanos’ punishment was swift, so I might be able to quickly recover and come up with a better plan than the idiotic one I had just tried to enact. What was I thinking, running around blind? In the moment it seemed rational, but with Maw and his smug grin staring me down, I knew this was the dumbest decision I could have made. 

After regarding my expression for a moment more, he turned away and my legs were suddenly back in my power. I shifted slightly as Maw gestured with his finger to follow him. “Come along now. The longer you stand there silently dreading your Lord’s punishment, the longer it will take to atone for your pitiful attempts at fleeing.”

I trailed behind him, staring daggers into his hands, held behind his back. “At least I tried.” 

Maw scoffed. “If you call strutting straight into a guard infested location ‘trying’ then I suppose you did accomplish that which was otherwise a failure.” Out of the corner of his eye, he looked over his shoulder at me. “Really, do you Terrans truly believe that struggling in a hopeless situation is commendable? Fate is inevitable, Terran, you will do well to learn that fairly quickly, lest you fall into more trouble than you are worth.”

I held my tongue. There was no point in answering him. I had lost. I had to accept that fact and move forward. Otherwise Maw would be happy to stand there and berate me even further. I suppose in a way I had to take his advice. There was nothing left for me to do except to keep my head down, get my punishment from Thanos, and move on from there.

When we arrived at Thanos’ room, Maw almost walked right in without knocking, so giddy with the idea of tattling on me that he almost forgot his own strict manners. He ushered me forth beside him, and I saw Thanos turn in his chair to glance at the two of us. He sat up in a more formal position as we stopped before him at a respectful distance, his stern glance bearing its weight down on me. 

“My Lord,” Maw began, drawing Thanos’ gaze to his subordinate. “I regret to inform you that I found your newest acquisition attempting to leave our ship.”

I tried to choke back a snort. Regret, my ass. Overjoyed, more likely.

Thanos’ steely eyes returned to me. He assessed me for a moment, before finally speaking. “Well?” He asked expectantly, “Does Maw speak the truth?”

I forced myself to lock my gaze with his in challenge. “Yes, Master, he is correct.” I spat the word at him, trying to make my displeasure clear. 

Thanos inhaled deeply for a moment. Without looking away from me, he ordered in a firm tone, “Thank you, Maw. You may be excused. My human pet and I are to have a short discussion alone.”

Even though I was watching Thanos carefully, I could almost sense the smile that curled along Maw’s face as he turned and swiftly exited the room. As the door clicked shut behind me with a foreboding finality, I felt the dread begin to settle in my gut.

I was alone with the Mad Titan, and I had no idea what he would do with me.

#run from me #thanos #thanos x oc #thanos x ofc #thanos fanfiction #thanos fanfic #my fanfiction

[darkcolinodonorgasm]

oh, oh, hey, hun! I'd love it so much, if you did a CS piece with Person A notices that Person B hasn’t been wearing gloves, even in the drastically cold temperatures they’ve been experiencing. So Person A takes on the task of knitting them a new pair. :))))

Oh my goodness! I’m so sorry if I made you wait so long!! I had to focus on my CSSS so I could finish in time but here it is! It’s pure fluff, sorry if it’s not hurt/comfort lol 

Not so fun fact: my pc actually shut down when I was near the end, but you’ll understand why this is funny when you read it.

I also hope you like cats, because I needed a bit of cat fluff in it ;)

Warmingup my hands, my soul, my heart

If youwere to take the subway every morning to go to Harvard, you’d see professorEmma Swan with her nose always buried in a book, book that changed at leasttwice a week, genres varying depending on what came out or what she wanted toreread – lately, rereading was something she cursed because it prevented herfrom reading new books and lengthened her “to read” list.

Sometimes,there was just an ereader in her hand, probably because the actual book was acollection of stories or it was just too big to be comfortably carried in herbag. It was also a tester of sorts: if she loved the book, she’d buy thephysical copy the day she finished it, otherwise it would go on her black list.

The onlyperson with a book mania worse than hers was her colleague, Belle French, aresearcher of antique manuscripts who also could boast a ginormous library. Thefirst time Emma stepped inside, she actually wept at its magnificence.

EmmaSwan seemed to function on autopilot, always getting up with the sun save forthe weekends – unless she had obligations of sorts –, feeding her black cat Coal– name that stayed after she’d adopted him from the shelter – and fixingherself a cup of strong coffee, putting so much sugar and milk in it itcouldn’t even be called coffee anymore. She then washed herself and dressed upin comfortable but formal clothes, always assuring she had contacts on but alsothat she wouldn’t leave the house without her glasses, lest she found herselfwith a nasty headache come late afternoon. The walk to the subway was prettyshort, allowing her to linger a bit at home when the days started to get coldand she didn’t want to leave the bed. Once she stepped on the train, though,with her earphones on and a book in her hand, she would lose herself into thepages, falling straight down the rabbit hole and into a new land, whether shewas standing or sitting.

Truth tobe told, not much was enough to catch her attention, she just seemed to knowwhen her stop was, but that probably was part of her mind counting the stopseven when she lost track of time and space. So, if your question is “does sheever miss her stop?” the answer is no, Emma Swan never missed her stop, nomatter how engrossed in a book she was.

That is,until last spring.

It wasthe middle of March and she was so lost in a new novel she could almost smellthe scent of orange trees described in the book it took her eight pages and adifferent scene to understand she wasn’t mad and there was something smellinglike oranges – delicious, sweet oranges – but, unless someone had changed theirbody wash or perfume, or someone had brought a crate of fresh oranges on thetrain, no one who’d taken the subway as long as Emma had could smell likeoranges. Unable of shaking the from her mind, Emma did something she usuallydidn’t: she lift her eyes from the book, letting her gaze wander until it seton a total stranger several feet from her.

Themoment her eyes fell on him, Emma’s mind seemed to shut down completely, likewhen your laptop shuts down unexpectedly and you just don’t know why – but hey,at least it isn’t the blue screen of death, so – and her brain was trying tocome back to life, especially so it could tell her to breathe, her lungsscreaming in pain.

The manwas utterly beautiful, painfully so,honestly: fair skin and strong jaw covered in a gingerish scruff Emma wanted feelunder her fingertips – and, well, somewhere else, too – but she wanted to buryher fingers in his dark chocolate mousse hair, too. Only during the hottermonths she wold discover he had a tuft of chest hair peeking out of his shirt,which would increase a need she usually didn’t give in to. Though he kept hiseyes low, reading something in his lap – a hugebook but probably not a novel, perhaps something about science – Emma was 110%sure he had striking blue eyes. In a book, a man like him would have the bluesteyes ever, something she’d deemed impossible right until he lifted his eyes tocheck his surroundings, probably making sure he’d not missed his stop.

At thatpoint, Emma’s brain was screaming something along the lines of “404 logic notfound”, because no one she ever met had eyes as beautiful as his, not unlessthey were famous who still were part of the category “people Emma had nevermet”. Therefore, logically, people with such piercing eyes did exist, but Emmahad never been so lucky to meet them. Until now.

It wasas if some perfect character had come out of a novel – oh boy, she’d find outhow much similar to a gentleman the man she couldn’t shake from her head wasonly months later – and she couldn’t help but staring at him for the whole ride,mouth slightly agape as her eyes never left him, falling more than once on his– definitely – kissable lips as they silently formed the words he was readingwithout emitting a sound. More than once, her hands itched still clutching theforgotten book, wanting so bad to run through his dark locks and move them awayfrom where they fell over his forehead and eyes.

Alas,much like a good book, even in real life time runs out, and Emma’s ran out whenthe man closed the book and got up, looking down at the watch on his left wristbefore rushing out the train’s doors.

Thescent of oranges lingered for a bit, keeping Emma under the man’s spell forlong minutes until she felt someone tap on her shoulder. She whipped her headaround, looking at the old lady sitting next to her, a knowing look on her facethat Emma didn’t like one bit.

«I’msorry, dear, but wasn’t that your stop?»

At thelady’s words, Emma shook herself out of her reverie, noticing she had indeedlost her stop.

«Fuck.»

That wasthe first time she saw the man of her dreams, the perfect incarnation of everybookworm’s secret desires. It was also the first time she was late – or atleast late according to her schedule that saw her having a coffee and abear-claw from the cafeteria with Belle.

Fromthat day on, the fascinating stranger took the train every morning two stopsafter hers, he too with a book always in his hands, strong masculine hands shewanted to feel on her body, just like his mouth and that beard of his…

Shelusted after him for months, despite her efforts not to, because there was noway that man was still single – no ring around his left ring finger meantnothing – and this just because of his looks. Perhaps he was an asshole – an asshole who read more maths and sciencebooks than actual books? Really, Swan? – or a serial killer – now yes, a serial killer would read science.

Thefirst time she heard him speak was April, when he apologized to a lady forhitting her after the train made some of the passengers stumble. Fuck, he’s British. That was somethingshe’d not considered and made her wonder how his voice would sound in thebedroom.

She missedhim after classes ended, when she enjoyed a few weeks off snuggling with Coalon her bed with a mug of hot chocolate, whipped cream and cinnamon and a goodstash of books so she wouldn’t need to leave the house. Soon after, because shehad once again signed up for summer lessons, Emma found herself seeing himagain, and she wondered what kind of job he had. One of the hypothesis she’dcome up with was that her stranger was a student at the MIT, but he didn’t seemto be studying those books he carried, instead he seemed to be enjoying them,just like she enjoyed hers.

Thesummer passed pretty quickly, too fast for her liking, especially when, since herstranger showed up, Emma had started to look at him from over the top of herbooks, making her deconcentrate and now she struggled to read two books in oneweek. What a bummer.

Ofcourse there were days on which he wouldn’t show up. On those days, Emma wantedto pout like a child. It was irrational how much she’d come to care about thatman, a man that would probably – surely – never be hers. Honestly, Emma was atwar with herself, not only the primal part of her wanted to approach him, evenjust for a chat, but the scared part of her always won. In the past, Emma hadnever dated much, probably because the first boyfriend she ever had sent her tojail for his crime, so excuse her for her trust issues. That and the fear ofbeing told he wasn’t interested kept her away from him.

WhileBelle understood her, Mary Margaret and Ruby did not. Not only they tried topush her to talk to him, but Ruby had gathered intel on him once Emma had toldher he probably went to the MIT. From that small theory, Ruby managed to findout he did in fact go at the MIT but was a professor himself. Emma had managedto let her drop the topic: if she were to find information about him, it wouldcome from the man himself. If.

Thingschanged in November. Well, they actually changed in the middle of December, butstill.

It wasstarting to become really cold, winters in Boston always pretty awful forsomeone like her: thick coats instead of leather jackets, beanies to cover herears, scarves to try and cover her nose, though she always ended up lookinglike Rudolph, and the worst thing ever: gloves.

Emma hated gloves, she hated not being ableto feel what she touched, but after that first winter spent in Boston when shealmost went to the hospital because her fingers threatened to fall off, she’dstarted to wear them.

So whenshe saw the man that smelled like oranges not wearing any kind of gloves, noteven the ones fingerless, Emma started to worry. He probably had neverexperienced a winter in Boston, or if he had, he was lucky to still have hisfingers attached to his hands.

In hermind, Emma worried about the status of his fingers – also because he thenwouldn’t be able of using them on her and she really liked the idea of thosefingers all over her and possibly insideher. She was decidedly lucky mind readers didn’t exist, otherwise she would endup feeling more ashamed than she already did.

The ideacame to her mind during one of her classes, when she heard one of her studentsmoan about receiving yet another itchy sweater from her Aunt on her birthdaybut she couldn’t tell her to stop knitting them because she loved her Aunt.Emma wondered if said Aunt actually knew her niece didn’t like those sweaters.

Meredays later she realized she shouldn’t have joked about it, not when she ended upcoming home with brand new knitting needles and way too much red wool. Manualsweren’t her thing, not really, but with the help of a few good tutorials – and maybe a desperate call to Granny – Emmalearned how to knit gloves.

It was adisaster. And there wasn’t too much wool at all, just what was necessary tocreate a passable pair of gloves. They weren’t bad looking, and they did pass Granny’s inspection, so now thehardest part was giving them to the mysterious professor.

The perfectoccasion presented itself on December 13th, when, due to some electricalproblem, the train would be late. It was almost a blessing, since she wasrunning late and she didn’t want to spend another minute in her study, as muchas she didn’t want to spend another minute in the cold, but she couldn’t haveeverything, could she?

Sheheard his curse before she saw him, his voice sending pleasant shivers down herspine as heat pooled in her belly. Turning around, Emma saw her stranger ran ahand through his hair, something she was dying to do too. Deciding to approachhim in the unstalkerish way, Emma said: «First winter in Boston?» Why, Swan, very unstalkerish.

The mansnapped his head up, blue eyes boring into hers and for a moment the snowseemed to melt away around them. It took him almost a whole minute beforeanswering her. «Aye, though not the first tube to stop working in the middle ofit, unfortunately.»

An Englishman indeed, she thought holding back a smirkat the noun he’d used. Emma looked around, noticing many people around thembecoming impatient by the minute. «Uh, we could split a cab, perhaps?» At hisarched eyebrow, which reached ridiculously high in her opinion, she rushed toadd: «If that’s alright with you, of course. It’s not like we wouldn’t go inthe same direction, right?»

God, Emma, you’re terrible at this. She could see Ruby smacking her forehead and shook her head with a long sigh.

«What ifyou were a serial killer?»

At that,Emma’s smile widened. «Did I say I wasn’t?»

His othereyebrow reached his hairline as he sinfully licked his lips. «And what wouldyour modus operandi be, exactly?»

Emmashrugged. «I could simply show you.» She winked, nodding towards the exit,internally sighing in relief as he followed her. Once outside, Emma turnedaround. «Wait a minute, what if youare a serial killer too?»

The wayhe grinned darkly should be deemed illegal. «I didn’t say I wasn’t one.» Aftera moment, he held out his hand. «Killian Jones, Naval Science professor at theMIT.»

Emmacursed the gloves she was wearing as she squeezed his hand, unable of feelinghis skin beneath hers. «Emma Swan, Literature professor at Harvard.»

Killiannodded, not letting go of her hand yet. «That kind of explains the absurdamount of books. Though I shouldn’t judge,» he said, his cheeks tinging a cuteshade of pink while his nose and ears were bright red due to the cold.

It’s now or never. «This might sound strange, but, uh, I’vegotten these. For you.» Emma knew the ground wouldn’t open up below her andswallow her whole unless it was a catastrophe, but one could always hope.Holding her breath, she held out the wrapped gloves.

It tookhim a bit to take the package and carefully unwrap it. Emma had not the courageto look at him, her eyes fixated on the ground. «Did you make them?» Killianbreathed in disbelief, his tone making her look up at his amazed face.

«Uh,yeah. I can do better, but it’s the first time I-»

«I lovethem,» Killian cut her off, looking her in the eyes. God, they are so damn blue. «I’m honoured, really.»

Emmacouldn’t help the small smile that bloomed on her face, her cheeks tinging redand not just because of the cold. «I didn’t want to assume,» she explained,«but you were, like, the only one on the train without a pair of gloves and Ididn’t want you to actually lose your fingers because you never experiencedBoston’s winter.»

Killianchuckled, holding up his hand and caressing her cheek with his knuckles, slowlyenough to make her feel how much warm his skin was.

Her eyeswidened in disbelief. «You- you liar!»she exclaimed and liar was definitely too much, but he didn’t shy away fromher, probably because her words held no bite. «You didn’t tell me you were afreaking human furnace.» His eyebrows reached impossibly higher. Thinking abouther last words, Emma nodded. «Yeah, yeah, so much for not wanting to assume,right?»

Helaughed at that, his warm fingers lingering onto her chilly cheek. «It’s quitecute, Swan, I must admit it. Now, before you turn into an ice statue, may Ioffer you a cab ride home? I insist, Swan,» he added when she was about to openher mouth to protest, «you gave me such a wonderful and thoughtful gift, theleast I can do is offering you a passage home.»

«Aren’tyou a gentleman,» Emma commented, feeling insanely cold when he pulled his handaway to wear the gloves she’d made him.

«Love,»he drawled, his voice low, and suddenly it was too hot to even breathe, «I’m alwaysa gentleman.»

Emmalicked her lips, and noticed with pleasure the way his gaze followed the tip ofher tongue. «Then, milord, lead theway.»

Thefirst time she invited him home for a cosy dinner date was a week later, afterwinter break started. Problem was, Emma had not accounted for Coal to find hernot so intelligently hidden stash of wool five minutes before Killian showedup.

Killianmet Coal as he tried to free him from the strands of orange wool, the cat tryingto free himself on his own, which led to an even messier situation.

«Yousaid you were good with knots!»

«Aye,but these ain’t knots, these are the devil’s work!»

A pause.«How the hell do you know what Coal’s middle name is?!»

Killianhuffed a laugh at that, but little did he know the little hellion’s middle namewas actually Devil.

Thatnight, after a nice dinner and a movie, Emma leaned forward and kissed Killianfor the first time, Coal’s growl in the background as he slept curled onKillian’s lap as if he knew what they were doing.

Theymoved in together a year and a half later in a bigger apartment not so far awayfrom where they both used to live, almost halfway from where their oldapartments were.

Theystill read tons of books and Emma still knitted sometimes, and of course Coalstill glowered a bit, though now it was also aimed towards Emma since the pesthad grown fond of Killian, especially when he’d started to bribe him with toys.

Oh, andCoal still loved the balls of wool hefound, but soon Emma and Killian discovered he unfortunately loved Christmaslights, too…

#cs fanfiction #cs fic #cs fanfic #captain swan #captain swan fanfic #captain swan fanfiction #my fic #emma swan #killian jones #effulgentcolors

[kurlykayaker]

Reflection. 4-2-19

Tonight - marks the first day, that I have ever shared some deep, deep poetry with a room full of people I do not know; I did not know one single person in that room and I arrived to the location alone, unaccompanied by a friend. (Looking back, maybe a stupid idea? Haha) It was unplanned. I was studying there and decided to “just do it.” “Fuck it, I thought. What do I have to lose?”  And in some ways, in the back of my head, whenever we make some decisions, we have everything to lose. I entered that coffee shop - slightly moody, tired, and unmotivated to study; but the tones and vibes of the place always motivate me to study, to work harder - and to stay calm. I shared 3 poems total - one about the boy with Down Syndrome (on here), and two other trans related poems- both pretty intense (re: how you see me, and 11-7-2014).  I was nervous and I imagine that’s something I could get past if I wanted to keep sharing my poetry at events like this. I used to get very nervous just talking to people and giving speeches, but lots of college and time has weathered me well. I guess I thought sharing my poetry would feel liberating? That somehow, the deep dark intensity of what I’ve experienced in life would melt through the Earth and turn into something more beautiful?...As indicated by the question marks, I did not feel that. I did not feel that.   I stayed a bit awhile after reading, to listen to other people share.  I’m a big believer in courtesy and I think leaving right after I read would an act of selfishness.  Eventually, I did leave and a bucket full of feelings kind of washed over my semi-nervous being.  Guilt, an awkward surge of indulgent guilt and maybe shame?  For sharing such deep emotions - with power and eloquence- when most people don’t have to go through such things.  I asked myself, “Why did I impose these feelings on others?” A knee-jerk reflex. (Nerve root L3-L4, Quadriceps muscle).  Haha.  Seriously, though.  The only “safe” places for me to share such emotion is on an “anonymous” website like this, in a counselor’s office, sometimes on the phone with a family member,...and on night walks with myself and the presence of my father.  I guess it is no surprise that I feel an overwhelming amount of self-indulgence about a) sharing these emotions and also b) the intensity and depth of them. There’s been a lot of beauty that has come from writing pretty much everyday, but there’s also been a lot of tenderness, vulnerability - which I can handle.  Perhaps at some point, especially with trauma, we arrive to a point of pain?  In physical therapy, we talk about pain so much - nociceptive pain, phantom limb, musculoskeletal, referred - and we do talk about psychosomatic pain to some degree too.  Psychosomatic (which I don’t like this word usage) - possibly the hardest to “treat.” As my post yesterday was pretty heavy-dark-intense, very similar feelings of social isolation/being “alone” (in my context of the word) emanate from me tonight - sitting on my couch, short-clad, fan blowing - listening to calm music, taking some deep breaths. Have you ever cried dry tears?  Tears that come, but no fluid. Since being on testosterone, this is a common thing for me. It’s hard to explain. Often times, mid-way or multiple mid-ways, I get caught up in a Netflix series. I haven’t had a moment that like in the semester.  Partly, I am a) writing and working out more - (choosing more wholesome “well being” activities), but also I am b) really really enjoying my classes this semester -especially Chronic and Progressive (a neuro class) and pediatrics. Before deciding on PT school, I was between 3 professions - a) counselor b) a nurse and c) a physical therapist (in no particular order). I chose not to be a counselor, because I felt that working so closely with other people’s emotions would spark my own - in a negative aspect. I wouldn’t be able to keep myself safe emotionally and mentally.  Sometimes, I think I regret not being more open to the career?  It’s a mixed regret. After working in an ER for 5 years now, and seeing how *some* physicians treat nurses, I knew it wasn’t for me.  Once again, maybe I could have learned to go on autopilot - some?  <<I don’t think that’s possible for me.>> Haha (if you know me) Here we, are - option c.  I like that my future career affords me the ability to a) use science-based techniques and principles to help someone reach their goals - some of them very visible when they reach them b) moments to offer mental and emotional support (while not the crux of my job) and c) neurologically, an avenue for recovery, compensation, and prevention (there are terms we use in my neuro class).   It’s the fundamental science aspect of counseling - rehabilitating neuro patients; (Re- I firmly do believe that psychology is a science.)  A physical therapist is helping their brain literally make new synaptic connections. A PT is helping a patient believe in themselves - sometimes learning a completely new way to do something.  Sometimes, these goals can be met in relatively brief treatment sessions - sometimes, they takes weeks and weeks of long treatment sessions.  Regardless, I’m in and I’m devoted....and that brings me such inner motivation and joy to know that this could be so rewarding for me. (Re- my second full time clinical is in an inpatient neurological setting). When I was 13 years old- the semester after my dad passed, we had to write an English paper about “how if we could go back in time, how we would change something.”  It was like a creative paper based on past facts. I recall writing a paper about how I would have gone back in time, drove my parents’ car to my dad’s house, and got him to the hospital - for emergency care.  I remember rereading that paper as a high schooler and being amazed that little 13 year old Jordan understood - on a fucking deep level - what suicide was and how serious it was. When I was 15 years old, I thought I wanted to study English in college. My father had a Ph.D. in theology, my mother has a Master’s in Divinity and my stepdad does as well.  Smart fucking family, that loves words and God- basically. Haha.  I recall despising my English sophomore teacher; she was strict, she cut the room with her strained voice and constant frown.  We constantly had pop quizzes and she loved to remind us how hard it was to get a college scholarship unless we worked hard.  I felt the need to impress her?  Maybe?   We had to write a research paper our sophomore year; it was the first “research paper” we would do in our high school career.  I wanted to chose something that was interesting and meaningful to me, but at that time - I hated most science things.  What did I chose?  I wanted to write about Selective Serotonin Reuptake Inhibitors (SSRIs) and their impact on teenagers who were suicidal (re: increased risk of suicide during first few months of taking).  I recall my crabby uptight teacher looking at me and my topic and saying, “Are you sure you want to do this?  That’s pretty heavy.” All I did was nod, and say, “Yes.”  I laugh at that 15 year old kid; despite my overly shy, diffident personality, I knew what I wanted when I wanted to do it.  My mother stands by the same statement.   I suppose the reason this came up organically for me, is because suicide is more common than we realize.  The number of patients that come into the ED with suicidal thoughts- is a lot to say the least- of all ages (as young as 9 years old and up to 80+).  And, I and you, don’t have to be a mental health counselor to help someone.  We don’t have to go through a Master’s / Ph.D. program and get a license to be a positive influence on someone. Forms of trauma -> Brain injuries, Spinal Cord Injuries, unexpected neurological illnesses that occur for the myriad of reasons we don’t completely understand yet. The weight, the gravity, the intensity, damn.  Then, THEN - teaching them how to stand up again, how to use the toilet in a new way, how to get dressed, how to walk with these weird ass crutches (aka Loftstrands), how to not give a shit when you’re out in public (easier said than done), helping them understand what’s going on pathophysiologically without being a fucking robot.... I picture my father holding my hand and telling me to keep going...   because it’s so weird to be this close to being done with PT school - 1 year left (mostly clinical) and still have moments of such emptiness.  I guess I thought the feelings of “being alone” and feeling empty wouldn’t be *as bad* or perhaps less intense?   .....My mother says, “it’s an ebb and a flow.”  This is the one phrase I like, because having kayaked the whitewater rivers of the Earth and rafted, I identify with it so much (there’s really a literal meaning). there’s been so much ebb my kayak barely floating on this dry river, running into rock upon rock, the bank of the river is many feet worth inward, because the river and i     haven’t seen rain / for so long, “flow, flow, what is flow again?”, my heart asks. flow shouldn’t have to equate to working my ass off to get an 87.5 on a neuro exam, flow - organic, raw, rooted flow in the world we call “life” should bring moments of downpour happiness, excitement, connection so much of artificial flow is motivating myself, someday hoping i can find flow outside myself #oldsoul-lostmillenial