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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 month

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Second Chance 2

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Jonathan Pine

Summary: You move into your parents’ house as you try to rebuild your life, catching the attention of someone you never expected.

Part of the Brother’s Best Friend Universe

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

The next day, you acquiesce to your mother’s whims. There was rarely a time when you could deny her and the times you did, had her often reminding you of your ‘rebellious’ teenage years. You don’t bother to mention that wearing black and not wanting to hold her hand in public wasn’t much of a rebellion.

You just have to remember that this isn’t about you. Tandi doesn’t yet know the storm she’s marrying into. You’ll let her have her grace period before it truly sets in. It could be seconds, it could be months, but eventually, your mother will turn the screw.

You walk behind the pair through the crowded rows of the farmer’s market. They almost seem to forget you but that doesn’t bother you. You prefer it.

They stop at the soap booth and the battle of scent threatens to trigger a migraine. You hold your breath until Tandi finishes her purchase; some body scrub and a piece of soap that looks like a fruit parfait. Your mother opts for her own collection of cinnamon heart soap bars. You wonder where she’ll hide them as she only ever allowed white items in the bathroom; down to the soap and the shampoo.

“Do you have friends coming for the party then?” Your mother asks as they stroll along.

“Uh, yes, hopefully they can make it,” Tandi answers, “work and all that.”

“Of course, that’s understandable but it’s a very important event,” your mother chirps back, “do you have something to wear? You would look marvelous in rose.”

“I have some options,” your brother’s fiancee flick her hair back. “I was thinking it might be nice to do a brunch, rather than a dinner.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful. And of course,” your mother pauses, peering back over her shoulder as she recalls your mournful existence, “we can help.”

“That’s so sweet,” Tandi purrs.

“Well, you know, we haven’t much going on.”

You frown. It’s an obvious jab at your current predicament. It isn’t as if you haven’t been trying. You filled every open job posting you can find and haven’t heard back from a single one. Yet, your mother would never believe you to be helpless, just lazy.

“I’m going to find the bathroom,” you mutter but neither seems to hear or care.

You break away from them and delve into the crowd. You feel desolate in the roiling crowd. You don’t miss Ransom, or Hugh, or whatever he wanted you to call him that day, you just miss having someone else. Someone by your side to face the outside world.

He never really was that, was he? You just convinced yourself he was. He settled for you and you thought that was good enough. You made yourself believe you were good enough.

You find the bathrooms and hide inside. You don’t need to go, you just need to get your shit together. You take out your phone and put on your rationed data so you can check your emails. Junk, junk, junk… ‘Invitation to Interview’. Huh.

You quickly scroll and scan the email, not wanting to waste the data. It’s nothing special, nothing as glorious as your previous job. It’s a customer service role at the local travel planner, a vibrant business among the burgeoning retirement community. It’ll have to do.

You flip the switch to disconnect from the network and emerge to wash your hands. You make your way back into the market and search among the tides. You wander in circles until you find the duo. They sit at the cafe bar in the corner, drinks in front of them, and a set of half-eaten scones. They didn’t wait for you or even think to grab you something.

You shrug it off. You think you might have been wrong. Again. Your mother isn’t going to bulldoze this daughter, no, Tandi is going to be the daughter she never had. Jaydon always was her favourite; the infallible baby boy.

💋

You accept the invitation. The pay is barely above minimum wage and the role is tedious but it’s all you’ve got. You don’t tell your parents, not wanting to disappoint them. It would be better to surprise them with good news, not let them down with another failure.

You find the nicest skirt you could salvage in your hasty retreat from the city. You sneak out through the back as the rest of the house delights in their perfect fairy tale. You’d rather have a stuffy interview than to bear another day of fake smiling and dulled blades aimed at your throat.

The agency isn’t very far. The bus takes you to the core of the town and your heels click down the half-block to the storefront painted with palm trees and beach umbrellas. You peek inside before you enter and check the information on your phone just to be sure. You’re early.

A woman named Brenda greets you and tells you to wait in the seats meant for clients. You fidget as the clock ticks in the quiet office until she finishes with the old couple at her desk in the tight cubicle. They leave, happy, and she invites you back.

It isn’t anything beyond the usual; what will you bring to this job? When’s a time you had to be spontaneous? How would you handle a disgruntled customer? You recite the acceptable answers and at the end, she offers you the job. You don’t think it’s because you’re anything exceptional but judging by the two-hundred days the posting’s been up, there hasn’t been much interest. You both are ready to take the first thing that comes along.

She sends you off with a smile and you try not to let your fake one fall before you’re out of the office. Out of the sight of the windows, you let your shoulders drop and sigh. It’s good news, you got a job, but somehow you think your parents will find a damper. ‘How much does it pay? What do you do? Oh, that’s a starter job.’

Well, dad, mom, I am starting over. I fucked up. I built nothing but a disaster.

You round the corner and stumble as suddenly you hit a wall you don’t expect. You stagger until you’re caught by firm hands around your upper arms. You gulp and your eyes round as they meet another pair, blue and bold. Jonathan grins as he issues an apology and your own tumbles off your tongue.

“I wasn’t… looking,” you murmur.

“Quite alright,” his hands linger on your arms and you wriggle. “Neither was I.”

He laughs at himself and you look down at his hold on you. He squeezes before he lets go and drops his hands to his side. He tucks them into his pockets. He’s dressed effortlessly in a pair of gray slacks and powder blue pullover.

“Special occasion?” He wonders as he looks you up and down.

You peek at your skirt. It’s nothing special. Pinstripe, black, pencil cut. It doesn’t fit you the way it used to. You think Ransom noticed that too…

“Job interview,” you shrug.

“Oh, exciting. So when do you hear back?”

You rub your neck and sway. He’s just being nice. He’s always been polite, on the outside, but you saw the antics he got up to with Jaydon. He always had that charming grin for your mother but never hesitated to cause chaos with your menace of a brother.

“You don’t have to ask. Really. It’s not a big deal.”

“Mm, well, what if I genuinely want to know?”

There he is, that oppositional twerp. You blow out between your lips and smile, “I got the job. It’s at the travel agency so… big whoop.”

“Big whoop indeed,” he remarks, “I’d say we should celebrate with a drink but I’d also say you sound like you need one. Desperately.”

You meet his eyes again. You squint. Was he always this handsome? Or is that another trick of time? You pack on some love handles and you look chronically tired, but his lines only refine him, his age becomes him.

“That’s nice but I should head home.”

“Why? So you can listen to Jay brag about his convertible? Even I’m over that. He’d do better with something economic but he always knows best, doesn’t he?”

You scoff, “wow, sounds like you had quite the reunion.”

“Well, time changes us all,” he says, “but you always were more fun to drink with.”

#jonathan pine #dark jonathan pine #dark!jonathan pine #jonathan pine x reader #drabble #series #second chance #brother's best friend #the night manager

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grantspectortrash · 2 years

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Lover Boy

Pairing: Jake Lockley x Reader

Summary: Jake goes on a mission for Khonshu and he’s away for months. You knew the deal when you became his girlfriend, it would never be easy. Now, he's come home.

Warnings/tags: Mentions of Jake's mission like murder etc and a bit of angst at the beginning, but no other scary things! Just fluff, cuteness & little implied smut at the end (but not 18+ so dw)

Word Count: 1.7k

A/N: ok this has been in my drafts for WEEKS bc I just wasn't sure if people had left their moon knight era already but hopefully not. Enjoy babies <3 any requests lmk!!

Jake is in the shower. Your apartment has become a bombsite since he returned only two hours ago. His bloody clothes are strewn across your sofa, his bag - full of god knows what - is on your coffee table and a broken vase lays shattered on the floor.

In truth, the vase was your fault. Jake had been gone months on a mission he could tell you nothing about. You hadn't had contact with him the entire time and, quite frankly, you were beginning to wonder if maybe this time being Khonshu's bitch just hadn't worked out. The big bird had used Jake for all he was worth and that was it - end of the line.

So, when he knocked on your door as casually as a pizza delivery guy, you had flipped your lid. Of course you were happy to see your boyfriend, but you were also fuming. You had screamed at him, and hugged him, and kissed him and then thrown something at him.

He understood. He knew how hard this life was on you. And despite the yelling and the vase, he was happy to be home. Now, he's enjoying the luxuries of being at home, washing all the dirt and blood off his body and using your vanilla and jasmine scented body wash. And you're in shock.

"The vase. Clean up the vase." You whisper to yourself. Luckily there isn't even any flowers in the vase, so the clean up is easy. The only time there were flowers in the vase was when Jake was home.

You sweep up the ceramic pieces and tip them into the bin. You'll just have to get a new vase, whatever. It shouldn't even bother you, seeing those pieces all smashed up, but it does. And when you close the lid of the bin, you cry.

At first just quietly, then, great heaving sobs. It's a mix of relief and pain and all your emotions congeal into one. You think of how many nights you spent alone, worried sick out of your mind. You think of your last date with Jake, and how wonderful it was, before Khonshu appeared and ripped him away from you. You think of the guy that tried to hit on you at work and you had to reject him - "Why though? I never see your boyfriend. He obviously doesn't love you."

That comment had hurt, and there was nothing you could do about it. You carried your hurt around for months - to work, to dinner with friends, when you were alone. And now, you let it out.

You make your way to the bathroom and rap your knuckles against the door. The water shuts off immediately. You hear Jake shuffling about in there, and then the door opens.

In the months that he's been away he's grown a beard, and his hair is grown-out and wild. You hadn't seen him like this before, and it takes some getting used to.

He's got a towel wrapped around the bottom half of his body and his top half is still glistening wet. Drips of water fall from his hair onto his shoulders.

Jake takes one look at you crying and pulls you into a hug, "Come here, I'm here now. I'm home. Estoy en casa, understand?"

You nod into the crook of his neck. He's warm against your skin and you don't care about getting wet because your tears have already dampened your cheeks and they're beginning to pool in Jake's collar bones.

He pulls away and takes your face in his hands, gently wiping your tears from your face. "I couldn't be happier to be home, bebita. Please stop crying. You've got me now, I'm back."

"I know." You sniffle, actively ignoring his longing gaze, "I know."

"Look at me." He turns your face with his hand and you do as he says. You can't help but smile, and he gives you a smile back. It's something you've missed, seeing him look at you like that, and your heart melts. You reach up to touch his beard, all soft and damp from the shower.

"I can't believe how much you've changed. I've missed you."

Without hesitating, Jake scoops you up into his arms. You make a squeak of surprise, but just laugh as he carries you into the bedroom.

"I've missed you too." He winks at you and kisses you on the cheek before setting you down on the bed.

The room has barely changed since the last time he was there; everything was exactly where he had left them the night he had to leave, but one of his hoodies is on the bed - one that you wore to sleep practically every night.

Jake smiles at the sight of it, and puts it on. You start to protest, claiming it's yours now.

"Hey, it smells like you. And it's mine. I'm wearing it." Jake is firm, but there's a smirk on his face, letting you know he enjoys the fact you've been wearing his clothes.

He takes the towel off and puts on clean underwear and comfy bottoms. You watch the entire time, mesmerised.

"I'm so lucky to have you. I don't know what I would've done if-"

You don't finish the sentence, but you don't have to. Jake knows what you're trying to say. He sits beside you on the bed and takes your hand, placing a kiss on your knuckles.

"Don't, princesa. I will always come back to you. Nobody will stop me from getting back to you. Not Khonshu, not nobody. Yeah?"

"Yeah." You nod.

Jake slowly wraps his arms around you and shuffles towards the top of the bed so his head rests against the pillows. You rest against his chest. Your legs intertwine with his and he sneaks a hand under your top to feel your skin against his. You run a hand through his hair and brush your palm against his beard.

You stay that way for a long time, not even saying anything. Usually, when Jake came home after a mission he would pounce on you immediately. And you would love every minute of it. He was intense and sexy and everything you had missed while he was away, he would give to you. Over and over. But this time was different. Jake had never been gone this long and this time he was gentle. Caring. He was more vulnerable.

"What happened? While you were away?" Your voice is barely a whisper. You don't want to make him uncomfortable, but you also want to know.

"Bad things. If I say too much...Khonshu...he'll make my life worse. He made me do things, Y/N. More shit than ever and...it's fine, y'know? Better me than Marc or Steven." He sighs, running one hand over his face, "I have blood on my hands and it was a mistake. Khonshu is in some deep cagada and made me hurt the wrong people...kill the wrong people. Innocent people. And all that time...it was too much. Even for me." Jake whispers back to you, the entire time rubbing his hand against your back in slow circles.

There's a tightness in his voice, and you can tell he doesn't want to say anymore. Perhaps can't say anymore.

"Steven and Marc, they've had it rough." Jake is absentmindedly moving his fingers back and forth against your skin, and you can tell he's feeling agitated. "I'm giving them the time they need but fuck, it's bad, baby. So bad."

"You're home now." You don't know what else to say. "You're home."

One of your hands is in Jake's hair and the other rests on his chest. You can hear his heart beating and he feels warm against you. Without thinking, you roll on top of him and straddle him around his waist. You plant both hands on the side of his face, his beard scratching at the palms of your hands, and you kiss him. Hard.

"No matter what happens," You say, barely pulling away from him. Your lips graze each others as you talk, "I will always be waiting for you. I will always be here for you."

"Ah, mi querida, what would I do without you?" He's looking up at you with that gorgeous smile, perfect teeth and rosy lips surrounded by his new, full beard. You can't ignore how there's a new scar, fully healed, on top of his left eyebrow.

"You'd crash and burn, pretty boy. Crash and burn." You reach a hand up to tentatively run a finger against the scar, Jake catches your hand and hold's it to his own. He brings your intertwined hands to his mouth and kisses the back of yours.

"Pretty boy?" He raises an eyebrow, the one without a scar, and smirks at you. It makes you laugh, harder than you've laughed in months, and you finally realise he's home. No more crying yourself to sleep, no more wishing and waiting to hear from him. No more nights watching reruns of shows alone or cooking meals for one - he's home and you can finally laugh again.

"Yeah, pretty boy." You smile at him, and when you've finally had enough of straddling him, you slide off to one side and cuddle into him. He wraps an arm around you and plants a kiss on your forehead.

"Pretty boy, gorgeous boy, my one and only boy," You continue, poking Jake on the nose with every single example, "My lover boy."

You go to poke Jake again, but this time he grabs your wrist at lightning speed and suddenly you're moving - Jake's settling you down on your back and he’s hovering over you with that sparkle in his eye that lets you know he's glad to be home too. Glad to be with you once again.

"Lover boy, huh?" There's a playful smile on his lips and he dips down to place kisses on your cheeks and on your neck.

"Mhhm." Your voice is already breathy - you'd forgotten what it felt like to be underneath Jake, but it doesn't take you long to remember. "My lover boy."

He nips at the base of your neck then, an action that catches you off guard and leaves your heart racing. You decide then and there that you're not letting another minute go to waste. Jake is home and he is yours and that's all you ever need.

@later-gators12 @dopeqff @alicetweven @toracainz @bristark616 @insomniacfigure @allthingsvicf @leh2393 @minetticatinwonderland @elles-mind-palace @christineblood @fandxmslxt69 @sir-knight-slytherdor

#moon knight #moon knight x reader #moon knight fanfiction #jake lockley #jake lockely x reader #jake lockely x you #mcu moon knight #steven grant #marc spector

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cordeliawhohung · 6 days

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I saw a reblog of the anonymous ask someone sent you about using character ai, and someone responded saying something about how it’s disgusting to even ask that, which is a liiiitle harsh, but I digress.

The issue here, is that there are more people who don’t understand what AI is doing than people who do understand.

ChatGPT, Open AI, Character AI, Gemini, etc ALL steal from published works on the internet. It cannot be prevented, no one can stop it from happening.

I’m not an artist & I don’t publish my writing, but I do genuinely care about the artists and writers who are having their work stolen and receiving absolutely zero credit.

Please, please, please, do not put someone’s work into AI.

If you want to create a character, or a storyline & use character ai, by all means, go for it. But PLEASE, don’t disrespect or disregard these artists by feeding their work into an AI. It completely diminishes all of the hard work they put into their art.

oh boy, nothing like having a post you made in fucking january suddenly gain a fuck ton of attention lmao.

while i understand where you're coming from, i think you completely missed the main point of my response to that anon.

1: i literally explained that ai steals work to that anon. i said it's a pale imitation of what a real human would write. that it takes works that people put so much effort into and regurgitates it out. i told them not to put stuff into ai. i informed them, and i wasn't rude about it either. emotional, maybe, but i wasn't being rude.

2: the main issue i had with that anon, besides the ai grossness, was the insinuation that i'm not "creating enough content" for them. "the readers can interact more with the characters" comment from them really grinds my gears. even if ai didn't steal from creators, and it wasn't a godawful abomination, them wanting me to put my ideas and works into something that they can interact with that isn't through me completely disregards the entire purpose of me having this blog in the first place. which i ALSO explained to them. why would i want to put my work into a 3rd party source and not interact with my followers when that's literally my favorite part of creating? bonding and talking about the shit i put effort into? i had every right to be upset about that, and so does every other writer.

3: i have no control how people reblog my posts. so idk why you're coming in my inbox about what someone else reblogged, really, just to tell me everything that i've already explained to that anon. i know who you're talking about too, because they're a mutual of mine, and honestly, i agree with them. it's disgusting to suggest someone should put something into a third party source so they don't have to wait for me to "churn out works" or whatever. i know people aren't well informed. which is why i informed them on that post and left it at that. i also explained why it's frustrating to receive asks like that, to hopefully prevent them from doing that again.

also, while i have whoever is reading this, i'd also like to mention that the anon who sent that ai ask sent a response back (that i didn't bother to respond to because i wasn't trying to make this a thing) somewhat apologizing and said they asked me that because other blogs on tumblr were doing it too. don't do that. don't assume that just because some people are doing x thing, that means you can suggest it to someone else. it's rude, and comparing blogs is just frustrating in itself.

anyway. i will not be making this a thing. do not come into my inbox debating the ethics of ai or whatever, as i will simply not entertain it. (:

#core responds #fuck ai everything #fuck holding writers and artists to impossible standards #people have every right to be mad about it #and if they're a little rude about it i #really don't care

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memryse · 1 year

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Martyn didn’t tell anyone about the voices, not the first time around. He didn’t need that - didn’t need the Red Army, and certainly not his King, thinking he was losing it. They were at war, for crying out loud. Who cared whether there was a malevolent- spirit? entity? occupying his brain? It’s not like it was doing anything other than speaking cryptically whenever he lost a life or was on the verge of losing one, so he was relatively okay with sharing a bit of his brain space with It. Whatever It was. Maybe the others had heard It too, but nobody had said anything because they all thought they were crazy too (fair).

They’d talked about death, of course, on those long nights (there had been many, and little else felt meaningful to talk about, because death and dying was the whole point). Martyn or Etho would ask first, usually - what was it like when you died? Did you… see anything? And Ren would launch into a tale as dramatic as ever about his blood spilling on the altar as his Hand decapitated him, and Martyn would feel a little sick at the memory, and Ren would end the story sheepishly admitting he didn’t see anything. Just darkness, and then he was alive again. BigB would laugh and with measured optimism say he didn’t know, and that hopefully things would stay that way. And so they would go around the campfire like that, swapping stories of the… not the afterlife, but the in-between, perhaps, and when it came to Martyn’s turn he’d give a quick “Uh… nothing. Yeah, it was just- just total darkness for me too. Kind of boring, really, you’d think there’d be something.” No mysterious voices were mentioned, not by anyone, and Martyn wasn’t about to be the first.

The second time, It became Them. The first time could have been nothing, just his brain trying to rationalise death, but this time? Either he really was losing it, or they were real. Or… both, as it turned out one very rough morning after Grian killed Timmy and Mumbo. They were… different this time. Less concerned with his own deaths, more concerned with his kills. Kill, singular, really.

They tasked him with killing Grian, in exchange for Mumbo and Timmy back, and he failed. Miserably. He hadn’t minded trying - he welcomed the excuse, really, since Grian had been the one to destroy the Southlands to begin with - but. It didn’t matter. None of it did. He had been naive to think that it would be as simple as that. And there’d been something else, too. Something too much for his dying brain to comprehend, so much so that thinking back on it even as a green life in peak health made him simultaneously feel like his head was going to explode and like he was being spied on. So for a while, he just… didn’t. The third time was a sort of reprieve, in a way. He pointedly avoided thinking about Them at all, and to Their credit, They also did not bother him for once. Having Cleo in the back of his mind was quite enough stress. They weren’t happy - they weren’t even friends - but they had an understanding. He saw too much of himself in Cleo. Enough that he knew that if he told them about Them, they would believe him. She would believe him, and she would see right through him and pity him. And so he played the game. They lived, they survived for a time, and they died, and for once that was all there was to it.

He thought this time might be the same. The constant ticking was enough to drive anyone mad - cynical as ever, he figured that was probably the point, right. But more than that, the fourth game felt like it was designed for Martyn to lose. He wasn’t like Timmy (thank God for that) - he was a survivor. Not a winner, no, but a survivor. What good was that, though, when his time was running out either way? He thought he’d experienced desperation before: desperation to protect his king; desperation to bring Timmy and Mumbo back; desperation to get a kill; none of it compared to the ever-increasing desperation of running out of time, the hyper-awareness of exactly how long he had left to live. He had to get more time. Get more time, and perhaps win one of these damn things for once. Not that it would change anything… probably? He’d have to ask Scott. He’d asked Grian before, what it felt like to win, but all that Grian had said was that it felt like losing.

That night, as they enjoyed a (now blissfully unobstructed) nighttime view, Scott told him, “It felt like being free, for a moment. And then for an even briefer moment it felt like I was looking down on the world, like- like I was outside of it looking through a window, if that makes sense. And then I was dead, so it didn’t even really matter.”

“I might as well not even bother winning, then, I can just go up to Skynet when TIES aren’t looking and that’s basically the same thing.”

“Honestly? Yeah. Not worth it. But we might as well try anyway, because giving up is just kind of sad and I am not letting Jimmy outlive me. Besides, I want to win again out of pure spite, ‘cause whoever’s up there probably already hates me anyway for the boogeyman thing. Both boogeyman things. I don’t kill someone, I get smited literally out of the world for winning, and then when I do kill someone I’m ‘ruining the suspense’! These games are rigged!”

Scott doesn’t notice the change in Martyn’s expression - he’s too busy glaring at the sky to notice something dawning on Martyn’s face, equal parts realisation and apprehension.

“You think there’s someone up there, what, just watching us kill each other over and over?” Martyn asks, his voice measured.

“I mean, maybe? Someone’s gotta be running these - other than Grian, I mean. Grian’s in charge, yeah, but even he can’t change his timer, right? And sometimes even when nobody else is around, like when I’m just mining for diamonds - do you not get that feeling, like there’s someone watching you?” Scott replies.

He was only ever meant to watch.

A fragment of a fragment of memory flashes into Martyn’s mind, and the words spill out before he even consciously processes what it is that he’s remembering.

“Scott, I- I heard them once. Not even once, actually, it was more like, what- five or six times? They’ve never- you’ve never heard them?” he says, but the bewildered expression etched onto Scott’s scaled face tells him all he needs to know.

“Heard them? Martyn, they’re- they watch, that’s all they do, they don’t talk to us. I’ve never heard them. But,” he added hastily, “I believe you. You’re my ally, and there’s just no reason why you’d make that up anyway. What would even be the point, unless this is supposed to be your idea of a ghost story.” Which was as fair a reason as any for believing your friend slash bodyguard’s experience hearing unknowable beings in his mind, Martyn supposed.

“It’d be a pretty crap ghost story to scare you with, seeing as it only ever seems to affect me,” Martyn chuckled a little, his tension already fading away. “I’m gonna be honest, I’ve never actually told anyone about it before. Never really had anyone I could just sit down and talk to about it. No thanks to you last time around.”

“Yeah!” Scott said simply, in the tone of voice that Martyn can’t help but smile faintly at upon hearing it. “I’ve told you and Pearl like a million times, it was your own fault Cleo and I were better soulmates for each other. You’re not doing bad this time though, apart from, you know, trying to boogey me after we became allies. So I guess I can listen.”

Martyn didn’t tell Scott everything - admitting the context in which they had told him they could bring Mumbo and Timmy back was just a bit too embarrassing. But the rest he explained as well as he could remember - it almost felt like it had happened to someone else by this point, and maybe in a way it had. He wasn’t a Hand of the King, or a grief-stricken Southerner, or alone and hated by a soulmate simply because they were too alike. They were him, but not in the same way that the man stargazing on a manmade island with his friend was him. The memories felt borrowed, almost.

“…And you’ll tell me if they come back? Even if they want you to kill me and they’ll reset your timer in exchange or something?”

“Probably?”

“I let you kill me to give you time. You are not going to find a better friend than me on this entire server.”

“Alright, fine.”

(my friends and i were talking about how if martyn ever did decide to get anyone involved in the watcher lore, scott joining in would absolutely slay. ive never finished a full piece of writing in about eight years and i wrote this in one go and its 4am now be nice to me olease. and also for clarity this is mid session 4 before martyn actually hears the watchers again)

#limited life smp #limited life spoilers #inthelittlewood #smajor1995 #grian #mean gills #mem writes #<- AOUHHG #mean gills my sillies…

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bloggingboutburgers · 2 months

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hi! so, uh, I wasn't really sure where to send this, but you seem nice and (hopefully) have some advice. I'm aroace, specifically sapphic-oriented cupioromantic ace, and I think I have a squish on this one girl. or maybe mesh? idk. all I know is that I really like her and want to be close to her, I think the word for me is alterous attraction? or maybe platonic or aesthetic, because I think she looks really cool too. honestly, I'm not really sure what the heck I feel :') could be a crush, squish, mesh, or just wanting to be friends. uhh anyways, I'm not really sure what to do about it. idk, I guess I want to become closer to her?

anyways, sorry for bothering you. basically I was wondering if you have any thoughts on what im feeling, what I should do, and also maybe how you and your qpp got into a qpr with each other? if u dont mind.

oh! and congrats on you engagement, your 'no one can know I dont like sex' comics make me smile and also have helped me figure out myself! thanks.

Hey!! I'm so sorry I'm replying to this ask so late T^T Kinda buried myself in other projects of let myself get distracted for this blog for a lil while... Either way I hope I'm not too late TwT And don't worry, you're not bothering at all!! (Also thank you so much for the kind words, they mean a lot TwT)

I guess... Whatever you do about it is up to you honestly, as vapid as that probably sounds of me! Heck, maybe you've already taken some steps since writing to me too, late as I am...

I also don't wanna put a label on how you feel, because it's a very personal thing, but I'll say – honestly you don't even necessarily NEED to put a label on it, not yet or not ever (whatever works for you), if you're not sure how to call it. The most important thing is if you're vibing with what you are, besides that you don't owe anyone any explanation. Though I guess it's also understandable to want to know what to call it if you're gonna bring it up to her... But also (maybe I'm naive, but yeah) I think there's nothing wrong with just sincerely saying you don't know how to call things yet either, even to her. I feel it'd be fair to both of you still, personally.

As far as me and my QPP, I didn't do anything – they were the one who realized they had a squish on me and took all the steps originally to get it going 🙈 Which they told me was definitely nerve-wracking! But yeah, their handle is @civiart if you want to reach out to them too for more advice, or they can also answer further questions here on my behalf, they told me whichever is fine with them^^

But also in case it helps, I've actually drawn how it went down for us here in the past, and I tried to elaborate a bit on my own experience of a QPR here and here!

And sorry again for being late TwT I wish you the best though!

#anon #sorry i'm so late #aroace #cupioromantic #asexual

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son1c · 1 year

Text

they find a tamagotchi in this one

falling stars fic masterpost

Sonic didn’t sleep. He couldn’t–despite his own exhaustion, he knew it would be a huge risk to rest out in the open. So, he stayed up all night. He kept watch over Shadow until the stars began to fade from the sky, and the dark hedgehog stirred.

When Shadow awoke, he found himself tangled in a flower bed. He wasn’t pleased at the soil that fell from his quills when he sat up, but it could’ve been worse. Instead of seeing a lush meadow and bright blue sky, he could’ve been looking at the pale green walls of the haunted hospital. For that reason, Shadow decided to let it go.

Sonic looked up from the sunflower stem he was toying with. “Good morning, sunshine,” he said cheerfully.

Shadow frowned. “What did you do?”

“Nothin’ much,” was Sonic’s response. He spoke casually, his fingers still twisting the stem in his hands. “You did all the heavy lifting.”

Shadow noticed the dark circles under Sonic’s eyes, and understood. Not only had Sonic gotten them out of that ghost town, but he’d also sacrificed his own rest in order to ensure their safety. “I didn’t need to rest,” Shadow said, his frown deepening. “You shouldn’t have–”

“Yeah,” Sonic interrupted with a shrug, “but I did.” Finally, Sonic stopped fiddling with the sunflower in his hands. He had tied it to a bunch of other flowers, creating a floral circlet which he then plopped onto his head with a lopsided grin. “You had me worried back there, Stripes. When you dropped like that, I figured it was about time I took the night shift. Simple as that.”

Shadow wanted to get defensive. There was nothing to worry about, he was fine, and so on. But the truth was, he was a little concerned too. That searing pain was still fresh in his mind, and even though he was feeling better now, it bothered him not knowing what had caused it.

Of course, he had his suspicions… and that red hot energy–Chaos Energy, if that accursed ghost was to be believed–was his prime suspect.

Shadow folded his arms over his chest. “Your worry would be better spent on yourself,” he told Sonic pointedly. “Instead of a stranger.”

Propping his chin up with his hand, Sonic leaned forward and asked, “You really believe that?”

The clouds drifted lazily across the sky. There was no wind to fill the silence. Shadow knitted his brows, thinking over Sonic’s question carefully. But there were no answers to be found, since his memory was still a black hole, filled only with empty hallways and distant echoes.

In the end, Shadow responded by pushing himself to his feet. He shuffled through the flowers until he was standing right in front of Sonic, who was watching him intently. Shadow offered him his hand. “The world is a stranger to me,” he said. “You should understand that.”

Sonic took Shadow’s hand with a smile. Then, he pulled himself up. “From where I’m standing,” Sonic said, “you look pretty familiar to me.”

It wasn’t long before they were off again. Shadow headed in the opposite direction from whence they came, trying to put as much distance between them and the ghost town as he could. Hopefully, they’d be able to find a real town next, and not another horror show.

During the trek, Sonic slept soundly in Shadow’s arms. He didn’t wake until Shadow shook his shoulders several hours later. The sun was hanging high in the sky now, and the flowers had disappeared. Where there once was endless greenery, Sonic could only see dirt and heavy steel beams strewn about. It looked like a construction zone.

Crinkling his nose, Sonic said, “Looks like things have gotten pretty ugly.”

“Keep your voice down,” Shadow hissed. “We’re being watched.”

Sonic’s ears stood straight up. He looked around, but couldn’t see anything moving among the beams and orange cones except for a few ribbons of caution tape, which swayed slightly in the breeze. It was only when he looked down at the dirt that he noticed it–a dark shape hiding inside of a hollow beam about 20 feet away.

Whatever it was, it was small. And when it noticed Sonic looking at it, it retreated further back into the beam, its glowing eyes blinking rapidly.

Frowning, Sonic whispered, “Stripes, I think it’s… scared.”

Shadow narrowed his eyes. “Or, it’s bait.”

The figure trembled in the darkness. It didn’t look like bait to Sonic, but he could understand why Shadow might think that. After all, they’d already been attacked twice, and one of those times was by a building of all things. Even so, Sonic wasn’t about to turn his back on a frightened little creature.

Sonic turned to Shadow. “I wanna check it out.”

With an incredulous look, Shadow said, “What if it’s dangerous?”

Sonic countered with, “What if it’s hurt?”

Shadow pursed his lips. The intensity of Sonic’s stare read like a challenge. So, Shadow set him down.

Once he was standing, Sonic started to creep forward, toward the shadowy figure. Shadow immediately grabbed him by the arm and gave him a hard look, but Sonic just waved his hand. Compared to the parasitic paranormal threat they’d just faced, this thing was small potatoes.

When he reached the opening to the beam, Sonic sat down in the dirt. His broken leg made it impossible to crouch, so that was really his only option if he wanted to keep his eyes on the thing hiding in the darkness. It watched him with wide eyes, eyes that Sonic now realized were electronic.

“How cool is that,” Sonic whistled. “What’s a thing like you doing in a place like this?”

Shadow knelt beside Sonic. He peered into the beam with a guarded expression. So, it was a robot?

The little robot didn’t look at Shadow. It was focused entirely on Sonic, its glowing blue eyes still blinking rapidly. It was impossible to read its expression, since it had none, but it was clearly thinking hard about something. And after a few more seconds passed, it began to slowly inch forward toward the hedgehogs.

Shadow tensed, but Sonic grinned.

When the robot stuck its head out from inside of the beam, Sonic’s grin widened. “Check it out, Stripes! It’s a ladybug!”

Shadow didn’t know of any ladybugs that had claws attached to their arms. He also didn’t know of any ladybugs that rolled on a wheel instead of walked with their legs. But the little robot’s dotted red pattern was definitely ladybug-like.

Shadow was still tense. “It’s possible,” he said slowly, “that this robot is a worker here.”

Finally, the little robot looked away from Sonic. It stared at Shadow, unnerving him with its electronic gaze. But it remained silent. Maybe it was unable to speak?

“I dunno,” Sonic said, “it’s kinda small to be cartin’ around all this scrap metal. The way I see it, this little guy’s probably just lost.” He waited until the robot’s eyes were back on him before holding out his hand to it. “Don’t worry, buddy. We won’t hurt you.”

Cautiously, the little robot tapped Sonic’s finger with one of its claws. Then, it watched his eyes light up at the touch with confusion. The gears in its head were turning at mach speed. To the robot, it didn’t make any sense. None of this did. Its sensors indicated that this was Sonic the Hedgehog, but if that was true, then why was he acting like this?

When Sonic petted the motobug’s head, the poor robot just about blue screened from surprise.

“Blue, we should get moving.” Shadow suddenly said. Now that he knew the robot wasn’t a threat, he was starting to regret waking Sonic up.

The little robot’s antennas twitched. Then, it looked down at Sonic’s broken leg, and came up with an idea. Even though it was still questioning the validity of its scanners, it knew one thing for sure: Eggman wouldn’t be happy if it let the real Sonic escape.

So, the motobug tapped Sonic on the chest, and then motioned to its back. Get on, it seemed to say.

It took Sonic a second to understand, but once he did, he could hardly contain his excitement. Before Shadow could stop him, he climbed onto the back of the little robot. It was the perfect size for a Mobian rider.

“It’s not a worker, it’s a buggy!” Sonic said, snickering. “Now we’ll really be movin’! Yeah!”

Shadow looked like he was ready to send the robot to the junkyard. But after a few seconds passed and nothing bad happened, he had to admit that his reservations might be unwarranted this time. If the thing was going to transform into a giant mech bent on destroying them, surely it would’ve done so by now, instead of letting its engine purr when Sonic scratched the underside of its chin.

Exasperated, Shadow said, “Don’t get your hopes up. We haven’t seen the extent of its abilities yet.”

Sonic raised an eyebrow. Then, he looked down at the motobug, his eyes bright with excitement. “Whaddaya say, little guy? Wanna go for a test drive?”

The robot twirled its antennas and revved its engine. A race was the perfect excuse to give its processors time to sort out the mystery of the blue hedgehog’s true identity.

“Don’t hold back,” Shadow told the robot. Then, a small smirk appeared on his face when he added, “But know this–I won’t lose to you.”

Like a shot, Shadow took off toward the city skyline at the far end of the construction zone.

Sonic’s eyes widened at the cloud of dust he left behind. His heart beat fast in his chest, the challenge exciting him. He grabbed the motobug’s antennas and ushered it forward, saying, “C'mon, little buddy! Let’s show Stripes a thing or two about speed!”

The motobug chirped, and then sped off in pursuit of Shadow, with Sonic cheering the whole way.

#falling stars au #OH YEAH BABY!!!!!!! LETS GO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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strawberry-cowmilk · 2 years

Note

I have a request! MC's family is visiting Devildom for a few months. Family members keep things extremly formal between demons. Always refering them as "lord -//-" etc. The family also keep their distance whenever possible. Demons react!

Hi! Thank you for your request, I hope you like it! (I hope with demons you mean the brothers, diavolo and barbatos. Hopefully I got that right)

Mc's family is overly polite to the brothers, Diavolo and Barbatos

mc's gender is not mentioned, not proof read

content warnings: none

-----

Lucifer

he's not bothered by it at all

in fact, he would think your family would be rude for not referring to him as 'lord' or 'sir', but that's mostly the pride talking

although it's understandable, lucifer still thinks they shouldn't fear him

Mammon

'no, listen, it ain't 'lord mammon,' it's 'the great mammon!'

mammon brags about it every time your family actually calls him that

soon, they will forget why they were afraid of him though

Leviathan

he thinks there's somebody else named leviathan in the room

and of course, he'll get all shy when he realises your family is referring to him

he won't talk to them much, though

Satan

he doesn't care what your family wants to call him

as long as it's not some weird nickname or something like 'bestie'

eventually, after having known each other for a while, satan will get annoyed your family still addresses him so formally

Asmodeus

immediately lets your family know they can just call him by his name, no formality needed

if they still insist on calling him 'lord,' he won't mind though

umtil he finds out it's because they're scared of him

Beelzebub

'huh? me? okay'

and then he goes back to eating whatever is left in the fridge

beel sees your family as his own, and wants to get to know them better, but imagine being a mere human and a giant demon approaches you

Belphegor

like satan, he doesn't mind those names, as long as it's nothing awkward

but after a while, it gets tiresome and will feel forced

so, he lets your family know they can drop the act and call him 'belphegor', not 'belphie'

Diavolo

he is used to being called 'lord' or something like that, so he doesn't notice anything strange right away

until it's been a little while and they still call him that, others would be calling him 'diavolo' by now

so, he explains why he isn't a threat

Barbatos

it takes him by surprise the first time, him, a butler? being addressed so formally?

he believes it's just politeness at first, but then it becomes obvious your family is scared

barbatos doesn't do anything about it though, he lets them figure it out themselves

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larcenywrites · 1 year

Note

Hi! I absolutely ADORE your writing❤️❤️ I was just thinking back to that one scene in Iron Man three when Pepper gets home and Tony was all “I thought you’d be getting drinks with Killian.” And that got me thinking— Jealous Tony hc? 👀 Now, I completely understand if you’re busy, uninterested, or just not feeling like writing and that’s completely okay! Take care of yourself 💖💖

Thank you for your kind words ❤️☺️ aaahhh tony is so jealous, and for what?? At least it’ll have its benefits 😏

Jealousy Headcanons

Warnings: a few sexual references

💠Tony claims that he's not a jealous person. What would he ever have to be jealous about? He trusts you and your love more than anything! Sure, there probably is someone a lot nicer than him. And actually comes home at the end of every day. And isn't constantly getting hurt, or causing chaos in the house. No! You've talked about it! He knows it's fine, he's not insecure, and there's nothing to worry about!

💠Besides, who's so ballsy to try and flirt with Tony Stark's partner? With Iron Man's partner? Surprisingly, a lot of people >:(

💠Let's be honest, he'll be more threatened by another man than a woman 🙄 especially one on the same level as him

💠You're a responsible adult! He doesn't need to keep constant tabs on you, or keep you by his side. He's not one of those controlling assholes! But he can't help but make sure he can still see you from across the room, and make his way to your side as soon as someone gets a little too close or looks a little too happy or a little too hot

💠Hey, maybe they don't know who you are! Can't fault anyone for that or can he because it should be obvious you’re taken, and maybe you have the curse of being too polite or too oblivious... hell, maybe you just have a naturally flirtatious nature that Tony is just as guilty of at times! Either way, a hand is on your back and he's hurrying along the conversation with that overly polite smile. He knows you meant no harm, or probably didn't even realize... or maybe Tony was just reading to much into it and nothing was happening at all...

💠There's probably one very specific guy that Tony hates but can't really do anything about for whatever reason. He can't really kick him out of parties or kick him out of the conference room or get rid of him. He probably dislikes him for a multitude of reasons, and one of those reasons is that he can't ever seem to leave you be whether it's at a party or maybe even before a shareholder meeting at the company HQ. It's probably only a few times a year when you see him anyway, but you don't need anymore rich assholes in your life to do any sort of catching up with!!

💠He's honestly really nice! To you at, least. Tony could probably argue with that, but he's no better! If you're ever in conversation, Tony is at your side within the next minute, and the immediate tension can be cut with a knife.

💠"Mr. Stark," he'll cheerily start, holding out his hand for a tense handshake that doesn't last very long. "Always nice to see you."

"Yeah, it usually is." Neither of them are hiding their stern and sarcasm, but hopefully you can hide the amusement in your smile.

"I'm guessing now's not one of those times."

Tony merely takes a drink of whatever is in his hands and peers at him over the glass's rim. His competitor leaves with a curt nod and a courteous farewell, and with a glare that could kill on his back.

💠It's funny, but you should probably scold this behavior at least a little bit. He can't go around like this to everyone that talks to you!

💠Once you do bring it up, no matter how gentle or upset you decide to be, he'll play pitiful and pout about being called out. He just really hates the idea of someone bothering you, and the fact they have the nerve to try and flirt with you! And the idea of someone being better than him :( As much as you probably shouldn't, at least coddle him a little. Let him pout in your arms 🥺 because no one else gets to be in your arms but him and that makes him feel better 😌 But no matter how much you reassure him, he'll eventually cause a fuss again- especially after a few drinks… if you can avoid a person, just do it (and you might want to, anyway, if they actually are just flirting with you all the time).

💠But sometimes you literally cannot avoid a person, be it due to work, friends, or simply social graces, and it will drive him up the wall.

💠Oh, you're going out with friends? Uh, in a very casual way, which friends? He's only listening for that one name, just so he has something to be upset about, honestly. Or maybe you've had a lot of lunch meetings for the past few weeks, strictly business of course, but god it makes him so feral! Where did he take you? Did he pay? Did you go anywhere else? You didn’t get in his car, right? Of course, these questions are going to be asked oh-so casually, but you'll know exactly what he's getting at and why. Being sarcastic and joking about it only adds insult to his injury, and if you try to call him out on it again and make him out to be the bad guy (which, in a way, he is). The good news is, because now he feels like he should be competing in a competition he's already won, he's suddenly finding more time to take you on dates. Better, more expensive, prettier, romantic- surely sooo much better than wherever you went. He'll rent out an entire botanical garden, or the entire outdoor patio lit with cute string lights and adorned with your favorite flowers of your favorite restaurant (even if it’s another damn country)! Who else would do that? Not who's-his-face that's for sure 😒

💠You might come home one day, and he's decided to be all passive aggressive and pissy about it today. "You're home early," he casually observes, until chiming in with a not-so-casual snide remark. "I figured you'd still be out with what's-his-name." Oh, he knows his name, but he feels like he gets to... insult him? With name-calling? You guess? You can just play nice and give him the simple answer of no, but you not engaging with his antics honestly gets on his nerves. Bite back! That's just how he communicates when he's frustrated, so while he may sulk around afterward, you choosing to argue with him about his behavior honestly makes him feel better 🙃

💠You might be busy getting ready and you look a little too good. He's already upset you're going out, but no one else gets to see you so pretty 😠You can try all you want to smack away the hands on your hips or chide the lips on your neck, but he'll make sure you're late… or preferably he’ll make you miss out entirely 😏 Don't worry, he'll send that awkward apology text for you while you're still catching your breath next to him in bed 😇

💠When you do finally stop meeting with them or stop hanging out for whatever reason, Tony will act like he's won. As if you stopped because he was upset or something or he chased them off himself. At least now he isn't on your case about who's joining you on your outing or how fancy the restaurant is, but suddenly he's all smug smiles and overly cuddly the days after you mention it. Let him bask in his fake glory because god knows he doesn't have enough already 🤧

💠Heaven forbid you let any obvious flirting or touching go on for too long, or even worse: you flirt back, but if he finds out any of these mfs are your ex??? I hope you enjoyed walking because he's going to ruin you. He should have already ruined you for any other partner, but now he has to do it again. He’s going to make sure you know who you belong to now, and remind you of how good he takes care of you. No one else could ever treat you so well, or fuck you so hard until you've made a mess in his bed. You'll remember who's name you scream every night next time.

#tony stark #tony stark x reader #tony stark smut #tony stark imagine #tony stark one shot #tony stark drabble #tony stark headcanon #tony stark fic #tony stark fanfiction #iron man #iron man x reader #iron man imagine #iron man drabble #iron man fanfiction #iron man headcanons #marvel #marvel x reader #marvel headcanons

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lunarrolls · 10 months

Note

37. feeblemind with ashton and orym?

this prompt then proceeded to haunt me for an entire twenty four hours. i wanted to write some good ol’ mindfuckery, but my instinctual need to make the scenarios of these prompts make sense simply could not fucking justify a feeblemind being thrown at either of these guys. if you REEEALLY want that mindfuckery, masterqwertster wrote an ashton feeblemind/greater restoration ficlet on this same prompt list! HOWEVER. i did write something. i’m stretching the list a bit here, but i had the idea after hours of puzzling and i HAD to get it down. SO. hopefully this is a suitable replacement!

•

Feeblemind is an eighth-level enchantment spell on the bard, druid, warlock, and wizard spell lists.

You blast the mind of a creature that you can see within range, attempting to shatter its intellect and personality. The target takes 4d6 psychic damage and must make an Intelligence saving throw.

On a failed save, the creature’s Intelligence and Charisma scores become 1. The creature can’t cast spells, activate magic items, understand language, or communicate in any intelligible way. The creature can, however, identify its friends, follow them, and even protect them.

At the end of every 30 days, the creature can repeat its saving throw against this spell. If it succeeds on its saving throw, the spell ends. The spell can also be ended by Greater Restoration, Heal, or Wish.

•

“Do you ever think about that professor?”

Orym starts a little at the question. It’s been a quiet watch, nothing much going on tonight, and for the most part him and Ashton have been content to simply sit in comfortable silence while the rest of their friends sleep. The sudden inquiry comes out of nowhere, and Orym has to think for a second to answer it.

“Yeah, I do,” Orym says. “The lady in Yios?”

Ashton nods. Orym notices that they won’t meet his eyes—their gemstone gaze stares off intently into the distance. “Kadija. Kadija Sumal, that was her name.”

He trails off into silence, obviously working at whatever he really wants to say. Ashton’s jaw always tightens when he’s got something to say but isn’t sure whether to say it. Orym’s noticed that he usually errs on the side of silence if interrupted, deeming the sentiment pointless after a moment, so he waits quietly for his friend to chase the threads that tangle behind the glass encasing his opalescent mind.

“She—she was ruined, Orym,” Ashton says.

Orym is caught slightly off-guard by the tightness of their words, mirroring their jaw—it’s uncharacteristic of them to be openly bothered by someone they’d only met once.

“Ludinus just—“

They make a grandiose hand gesture.

“I dunno. He just—he just waltzed in there and—and broke her like it was fucking nothing, Orym. She didn’t do anything.” They blow out a breath and roll their shoulders, staring down at the ground with a familiar angry expression. “I’m not making any goddamn sense. Whatever. She just—she’s just on my mind, is all. Random thought.”

Orym sits for a moment, tilting his head and trying to recall exactly what had happened at the Seminary. Ashton had vanished for a while, off on some random mission with an acquaintance from a million years ago (which, honestly, Orym was surprised that hadn’t happened more often given the sheer amount of random and strange people Ashton seemed to know all across Exandria), and then reappeared on the steps. Together with Chetney, they’d blackmailed the lady at the front desk and threatened her with a ladle (which was very funny, honestly, Orym had been a little sad that the Crown Keepers hadn’t seen how he’d handled that, he had a feeling they’d approve), and then ventured up to the classrooms only to find Imogen, Laudna, F.C.G., and Fearne crowded into a small office room, surrounded by a chaotic mess of fluttering papers. Orym had immediately thrown himself into searching for clues, making sure Ludinus wasn’t coming back (though, at the time, none of them had any goddamn idea who that asshole was).

But he remembered Ashton’s impromptu interview of the professor. The blankness of her stare. The childlike placidness she displayed, sitting alone and small in that room.

Ashton had offered her water, asked her what her name was, been gentle and even kind to her. Orym’d almost never seen them like that—even when they were at their softest, admitting affection for Chetney and F.C.G. on the deck of the Silver Sun, he’d never seen them act that way any other time. Even though the professor’s name hadn’t stuck in his mind the way it clearly had Ashton’s, he remembered the moment very clearly.

“Are you worried about her?” Orym asks, attempting to mirror Ashton’s distant stare into the middle distance. “Or… something else?”

“No, no, not worried about her,” Ashton says. “That fuckin’ place was absolutely crawling with mages. She’s probably fine now. Just—I hate Ludinus for that.”

Orym swallows his own white-hot rage at the mention of the name. He feels his expression harden.

“She was just a teacher,” Ashton says. Orym sees their fists clench out of the corner of his eye. “And he shattered her. Completely robbed her. She didn’t even have a way of fighting back, didn’t fucking threaten him or anything. She was just briefly in his way.”

Another pause. Orym hears Ashton shift across from him, curling in on themself, a hand on their hammer.

“We only got away from the Key at all because of Keyleth,” Ashton says bluntly, “because of that asshole buff lady and the fucking wizard guy who knew about my head. If they hadn’t been attracting his eye, who the fuck knows where we’d be now. You saw how he broke them too.”

And, oh, did Orym see it. He sees it every time he closes his eyelids, every time he gets too comfortable.

“We can’t ignore this,” Ashton continues. “But I—ugh. Fuck. I don’t know.”

“You don’t want to be broken again,” Orym says softly.

“No,” Ashton replies, finally glancing down at him, “I don’t want you all to be broken. And he can just fucking shatter us like fucking eggshells.”

Orym considers this. Lets it wash over his skin like an ice bath. Breathes deeply. Ashton’s right on some level. Some rational, horribly pragmatic level. Ashton is often right on that horrible, annoying level. It’s one of their strong suits.

Orym can’t fish up the right words to comfort his friend because, well, for all he pretends to just be the muscle of the group, Ash is surprisingly insightful. He doesn’t like to be lied to. So Orym won’t try. He would hate being lied to, in Ashton’s place.

“You’re right,” Orym says simply, almost absently, “we’re fucked.”

Ashton nods bitterly. “Fucked.”

“But,” Orym continues, gesturing out to their sleeping friends, “they’re strong. They’re stronger than us. If we’re shattered, like Sumal, I think they’ll pick up the pieces. I know they will. Who knows what happens after that, but they’re strong, at least.”

Ashton sighs and shifts again, curling tighter, his glassy eye poking just above the ridge of his kneecap. “…right. Right. They’re the best of us. I’m just—worried, I guess.”

“Too much time to think, huh?” Orym teases, his gaze sliding over to them directly.

“It’s a dangerous fucking pastime,” Ashton quips. “Nothing good comes of it. No idea how you or Chetney stand it.”

“Did you just imply that Chetney thinks? As a pastime?”

“Oh, fuck off. If you tell him any of this, I swear—“

#cr #cr3 #ashton greymoore #orym #roll performance #charisma save #playing with orym’s godly passive perception in fics is so fun #this halfling Sees Everything. he knows so much shit about his friends’ nervous habits #i KNOW the spell that hit kadija wasn’t a feeblemind #it was probably a geas if i had to guess #BUT. it was close. and i wanted to write this so bad for some reason as soon as i thought of it #ashton’s so fun to write in uncomfortable conversations. mf talks in circles just like me fr #spelling disasters

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lcvejaem · 2 years

Text

𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐄𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐄 [L.DH]

”I’m ugly , why me?” “You’re beautiful in my eyes.” Liar.

Summary: In where Haechan only asked you out for a bet.

Genre: Angst, Fuck boy au [?]

Pairing: Fuckboy!Donghyuck x female reader

Words: 1.5k

Warnings (spoilers) : Toxic relationship, Haechan just dating you as a bet, break up, insecurities, swear words.

You weren’t one of the pretty girl nor were you one of the popular ones. You’re just you nothing special you had a few friends and that was about it. So when lee donghyuck one of the most popular frat boys asked you out it was a huge shock for everyone, especially to you.

Opening the door the strong scent of alcohol hit you, making you scrunch up your nose. Your eyes wandered about trying to find haechan. “Hey y/n you made it!” someone on your right spoke out.

“Yeah I did, thank you for inviting me Johnny!” You replied with a grin on your face.

“It’s no problem, have fun y/n.” Johnny flashed a smile and walked away.

You walked about the party and grabbed yourself a drink. ‘It hasn't even been 30 minutes and everyone's drunk’ you thought to yourself. Suddenly you felt arms wrap around your waist. You froze in shock till you smelt the familiar scent.

“Haechan!” You exclaimed.

“Hey baby.” Haechan replied.

“Where have you been I've been looking everywhere for you!” You asked turning around.

“I was with the boys no need to worry” He responded grinning at you.

“Well alright how about we play beer pong with them!” You suggested.

“Sure.” He said

You started walking to the beer pong table with Haechan gripping onto your waist. You knew his friends didn't particularly like you even if they didn't voice it out the way they acted said much more. They practically looked at you in disgust.

“Hey guys could me and ‘hyuck play? You asked hopefully.

“Yeah sure.” Renjun replied not even bothering to look your way.

“Thanks” You responded with a smile.

After the game which mind you was very hard as you were playing against Doyoung and Ten the 2 people who seemed to play this game religiously you had lost.

“Its fine baby, we’ll win next time.” Haechan said flashing a smile.

“Sure you will.” Doyoung said grinning.

“Haechan I'm gonna go get fresh air have fun!” you spoke out.

You walked to the balcony and checked your phone. Once you started dating haechan all the girls seemed to be jealous of you. Opening up Instagram you saw you had a few messages. You opened them. “I hope you die u ugly bitch” one said. “He’s only dating you for a bet.” another one said. “Haechan’s to good for you fattie” and with a sigh you closed the app. You didn't seem to understand what you did to aggravate all these people, but some of these messages really got to you even if haechan reassured you. You have stopped eating as much and started trying to do the best make up you could. ‘whatever’ you thought to yourself opening the balcony door to go back down stairs.

While going downstairs you bumped into someone.

“Watch where you’re going you bitch!” She screeched out

“I’m sorry.” You responded meekly and started walking faster.

You decided to get a drink for yourself to get your mind off of everything. Once you got drunk everything left your mind. Everything started getting blurrier and things stopped making sense.

“Y/n? Are you drunk?” someone asked.

“Irene, you came to the party?” You slurred out your words talking to your roommate.

“Yeah I did, well lets take you back you cant stay here in this state!” She spoke while shaking her head.

“Let me say bye to donghyuck at least!” You said.

“No y/n we are going home now.” She replied sternly.

Irene took you home and gave you a talk about drinking too much on the way.

“Y/n please be careful with how much you drink ok?” she finally said realising her words weren't going into your head.

“Okay Irene.” You spoke smiling.

Once you finally got home you went straight to sleep.

You finally woke up and checked the time.[11:39am] it showed. ’I have class but I don’t think I can go’ You thought. Your head was absolutely pounding.

“y/n? You ok?” Joys voice spoke out.

“Yeah I’m fine just a bad headache.” you responded weakly.

“Alright there’s some aspirin in the cupboard, i’m going to lesson and Irene went work so if you need anything call us okay?” she said.

“I will thanks joy.”

“Its nothing. Bye!” The last thing you heard was the door shutting.

With a sigh you got up to go to the bathroom to wash up.

After you finished doing all the things you needed you went to the kitchen to make some breakfast. You decided to just make some cereal. You got on your phone and started scrolling through tiktok, suddenly you got a notification.

[hyuck💕] hope your okay bby.

Smiling you responded [yn] I am thanks haechan <3

You then turned off your phone. Getting up you went to your room. You decided to just go to sleep

The next time you woke up it was already the next day. You decided you would actually go to college this time so you woke up at [8:00am] and got dressed, brushed your teeth and did your make up. You also decided to make breakfast for everyone so you did. Once Irene and Joy woke up they thanked you for the meal and you all ate together after that you left for college.

You saw Wendy and decided to walk to class with her.

“Why weren't you here yesterday it was soo boring without you!” She groaned

“Hungover.” You replied with a grin.

“y/n you shouldn't drink too much take care of yourself!” Wendy said hitting you lightly.

“I won’t don't worry about me Wendy.” you responded your grin turning into a smile.

“Alright y/n well here's your class, have fun.” You could practically see her sigh as she walked away.

Once you entered your class you sat down and the lectured started. You wondered why you’d taken film seeing as you had such a interest for makeup. You practically fell asleep in that lesson. Once you had finished you felt something grip onto your shoulder.

“How are you y/n?” A silky voice spoke out.

“Hyuck! I’m doing fine.” You responded smiling.

“That's great.” He responded returning that same smile, “There’s a party soon at XXX.XXX.XXX you should come.” Haechan then walked off.

‘A party hm?’ you thought to yourself. You knew it wasn't the best idea but who knows.

You walked in to the party and saw haechan. You decided to sneak up on him until you heard another voice.

“야아 Haechan when the fuck are you gonna break up with that ugly bitch y/n?” You heard Jeno speak out. ‘What the fuck does he mean?’ you thought ur smile dropping.

“Yeah man she is just a bet just hurry up and break up with her.” Another voice said, it seemed to be choi yeojun. You could feel tears welling up in your eyes.

“I don't know bro she's so fucking annoying and clingy, you guys better give me that 1000 dollars.” Haechan responded. Oh so that's what he thought of you annoying and clingy. You quickly wiped your tears and acted like you heard nothing.

“Haechan! I finally made it.” You said smiling.

“Hey baby how was the ride here?” He responded.

“It was fine, by the way could you come with me?” You asked.

“Yeah sure.” Haechan started to get up to follow you, you decided to go to the balcony.

“Haechan I just wanted to ask why do you wanna date me i’m ugly.” you asked him in a solemn voice.

“y/n baby you are beautiful in my eyes.” He simply responded reaching his hand out to caress your face. Quickly you slapped it away.

“You’re a fucking liar lee donghyuck. I know everything I know that I'm a bet I know you find me annoying and clingy. I’m sorry i couldn't be enough. Honestly fuck you for playing with my feelings fuck all of your friends to.” You shouted at him.

“y/n what the fuck do you mean?” he spluttered out.

“Dont fucking play stupid lee donghyuck I cant believe i fell in love with you.” You responded words feeling like venom spitting out.

“So you heard, huh well yeah you where all just a bet I never loved you. this is goodbye I guess.” he spoke out.

“Yeah it fucking is bye lee fucking donghyuck.” You walked away tears threatening to fall out. How could he? what was 10 months nothing to him? You couldn't believe you just let him play you like that. You decided to call Irene and tell her everything.

The day after your break up wendy, joy and irene where there to comfort you.

“Y/n you deserve better i am so sorry. He just got with another girl right after you guys broke up.” Joy said handing you chocolate.

“Its okay Joy fuck men.” You responded weakly, your eyes were now red from crying so much.

Wendy looked at you in shock, “No the fuck it isnt okay, i’ll kill him for you.” she said

“pfft dont worry wendy i’ll be fine dont do that.” you said laughing

“Give her some space guys!” Irene spoke at them. “But y/n don’t be sad he was a dipshit and hey, 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞”

#haechan angst #haechan lee #lee haechan #nct fanfic #nct dream fanfic #angst

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panthera-tigris-venenata · 8 months

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All my friends are heathens

A song–inspired piece of Writing about Audrey meeting some of the Isle kids with Anthony Tremaine.

Good news: I finally figured out a plot.

Bad news: That took me 2,5k words to do. So there might be a second part.

Enjoy?

Gods know why Audrey agreed to this.

(Actually, hopefully they don’t; however, the gods are nosey bitches. As are the fey. Audrey has had enough fey and magic for quite some time, thank you for asking.)

So she just wrinkles her nose as she sidesteps some flasks and a piece of cloth on the sidewalk.

„Why are we here again?“ she asks Anthony Tremaine, who walks besides her and who invited her along.

„Because you wanted to get to know my– you wanted to get to know other Isle kids, if I so recall,“ he says.

He’s correct, of course. She did want that, as a bragging rights if nothing else. That’s her go to excuse, anyway: „It’s good for my public image; the Isle kids need help. It’s my duty as the princess of Ulstred and Auroria to help them on their journey, just as our king does!“

A sound reasoning her grandmother shouldn’t argue with. (She does anyway.)

All in all, Anthony is correct. He just has no right to say that out loud.

„I meant,“ she sniffs and turns her nose up, „Why are we here?“ she gestures around the dark aley, screamed-out part of the Capital and the higher circles of society pretend doesn’t exist. Harsh notes can be heard if one listens, and raised voices; glass shards glisten under neon lights.

„Any problem, princess?“

„Yes! No– What are you doing in this part of the town, Lord Tremaine?“

„Why, Audrey dear,“ he smirks at her, „This place reminds us of home.“ Us – the Isle kids. He gestures around with the same fake smile and counts on his fingers: „Dark and rotten, just like home. This place sells alcohol for cheap, and with no ID. No one cares. Besides,“ his smirk widens, „It’s not like any other place would have us.“

Audrey has the decency to look sorry for that, and enough wits not to actually apologise. Instead, she sniffs hauntingly and says: „I see how it is.“

Anthony opens the door for her and holds it open: „Why, is this beneath you, Audrey Rose?“

„Absolutely,“ she agrees as she walks around him and steps into the bar; noises and smells assault her senses. If that alone wouldn’t stop her, his hand on her elbow would.

„You ready?“

„Yeah, of course. How bad could your friends possibly be?“

It’s not like they’d kill her. Right?

He shakes his head. „I don‘t think you understand. All my friends, as you call them – don’t do that, by the way, – are heathens. Only one of the bunch who has any sort of manners is Harriet, and, well. She won’t bother. So, for the love of whatever is dear to you, take it slow. And don’t make any sudden moves.“

No sudden moves. That’s not unnerving at all. Absolutely not.

„Let’s go.“ He offers her his arm as they walk down the few steps into the bar. Pub. Whatever. They weave through the tables and Audrey tries to ignore the sticky floors under her shoes; she looks down at it in distaste. Which is probably a good thing, because she misses the stares directed at her and how quickly the eyes snap away when Anthony glares at them.

All eyes but two pairs.

Audrey and Anthony stop in front of a table in the corner, because of course it’s the corner table. It makes sense in Audrey’s mind, something about Isle kids and watching their backs.

She raises her hand to wave at the people there, all of which are rather obnoxiously ignoring her, but Anthony swats her arm down. „Absolutely not–“ he hisses.

„Excuse me for trying to be nice,“ she hisses back.

„You’re excused,“ he says without missing a beat, and Audrey gasps at the audacity, not exaggerating in the slightest.

Then Anthony goes round introducing everyone: Harriet Hook, who just looks at her with icy cold eyes that she shares with her brother and that make Audrey click her jaw into place, earning her a small nod of approval.

Beside Harriet, Ginny Gothel, who blows her an air kiss and gets back to pulling at her curls; „Ginny–“ Anthony sighs at that, but moves along, introducing Mad Maddy next.

Audrey isn’t too sure if she wants to know why she’s called Mad, but she is quite certain she’ll find out anyway.

Last person sitting at the table is Sammy Smee, who actually nods at Audrey in greeting. Audrey smiles at them.

„Where’s Dulcia?“ Anthony complains, „She said she’d be there. Dulcia – my eldest cousin,“ he adds for Audrey’s benefit. She remembers both Anthony and Dizzy talking about some Dulcia, but hasn’t met her yet. Neither had Chad, probably, but that’s hard to tell. He’s too busy complaining about Anthony anyway; and Audrey hadn’t spoken with Queen Cinderella in quite a while. Ever since her Queen of Mean episode, to be exact.

She should probably do that, instead of meeting with vaguely stabby looking Isle kids in a bar with neon lights and a name that’s more of a curse than anything else.

She ignores that thought and instead sits at the chair Sammy pointed out for her just as Ginny pipes up: „Yeah, Dulcia’s over there, playing poker with the Gaston twins.“

„Dulcia!“ Anthony raises his voice, „Come greet our guest!“

„Can’t, cousin dearest,“ she shouts back at him, „I’m a bit busy right now, and I’m winning!“

„You’re playing with the Gastons.

„Shut up, Gothel; are you jealous?“

„Why would I be?“

Audrey tones out the rest of the conversation for her own sanity. (She didn’t need to hear that much crude innuendos in such a short time, thank you for asking.)

…And also because Harriet Hook is leaning towards her and staring at her, and Audrey finds herself suddenly quite afraid for her own life.

„Didn’t expect a royal visit today,“ Harriet Hook states, not bothering to make it sound like a question. She has a half empty glass of whiskey in front of her.

„Life is full of surprises, isn’t it?“ Audrey says idly and straightens her skirt. She should have listened to Anthony and worn trousers tonight, or at least a longer skirt.

Harriet just narrows her eyes at her, dragging her fingertip round the trim of her glass. She looks as if she’s just been grievously offended and Audrey doesn’t dare guess how. Harriet’s glare doesn’t lessen a bit when Ginny basically climbs into her lap to make room for Anthony who slides next to them, or when the two of them kiss. Or when Anthony kisses her cheek.

It would be almost impressive if it hadn't been so– Audrey finds herself making a face at the display.

„You’ll get used to it,“ Sammy says with a resigned tone as they clasp her shoulder for a brief moment, and Audrey doubts that, really.

„Get a room, you three!“ screeches Maddy, and now, that sentiment Audrey can get behind.

Unfortunately, it only encourages the three of them to make out more. Exhibitionists. In turn, that causes Maddy to screech more, both the trio and at any onlookers.

Ginny shows Maddy the middle finger, and says: „Only getting a room if you’re paying, sweetheart.“

„Absolutely NOT–!“

„Or the princess her could pay,“ Ginny suggests slyly, and honestly, at this point Audrey is tempted to agree.

„Excuse me?!“ she protests anyway.

„Yes, Ginny, have some manners,“ reminds Anthony, tugging at Ginny’s hair, and Audrey quickly looks away, „We have a royal visit.“

„You didn’t care about manners much few moments ago, Lord Tremaine,“ Audrey reminds him in the most haughty tone she can muster.

„Oh, I like this one,“ Harriet cackles, „She has a bite! But really, is she paying?“

Under normal circumstances, Audrey would be insulted over being talked about as if she weren’t here, however, she quickly decides, it’s better than being glared halfway to hell. She doesn’t deem it worthy of an answer, though.

Dulcia and the Gaston twins walk over and settle themselves at their table too, which hasn’t got nothing to do with the motion of possible free stuff, Audrey is sure.

„Move over,“ Dulcia nudges her cousin and Maddy, while the twins just steal chairs from a neighbouring table. Good for them.

One of them also moves his chair entirely close to Audrey’s for her liking, and she leans away a bit–

„Don’t even try that, Junior,“ Anthony snaps, and the boy moves to respectable distance.

„When will you learn that not everyone likes you, really, Junior?“ Ginny Gothel sighs, leaning further into Harriet, and great, now she and Dulcia are arguing again. Both Gaston twins look completely dumbfounded by the situation.

„You want a drink, princess?“ Anthony ignores the ruckus, and, why, yes. Audrey could do with a drink. She nods.

„Well, what do you drink?“

„What do they have?“ Audrey is fairly sure they won’t have her favourite drinks here. Or any cocktails at all, or champagne.

And sure enough, Harriet starts reciting the drinks-menu, which so far consists of various shots of rum and whiskey. She seems to have it memorised.

„Do they have any long drinks?“ Audrey interrupts her.

„Sure,“ the pirate Captain scoffs, and she’s definitely judging her, „I suppose they could make you some.“ She kicks back the rest of her whiskey.

Anthony nudges her to play nice, and she starts listing the drinks: Vodka-soda. Rum and coke. Vodka with juice, though she isn’t actually sure if they have juice. Gin and tonic.

„Could they give me pink gin and tonic?“ Audrey interrupts. Aesthetic, you see.

„Anything for the princess, sure,“ drawls Harriet, moving Ginny’s curls around her shoulder. Audrey feels judged again.

„I suppose you want a drink too, Captain?“ Anthony continues without missing a beat.

„You know what I want,“ Harriet smiles at him, more teeth than anything else, and Audrey looks away. Just in time, because they kiss again. Of course they do.

„I’ll try to get your pink stuff, Rose,“ Anthony says over his shoulder as he walks away. Audrey doesn’t bother yelling out her thanks over the ruckus around.

„You’re not drinking?“ she asks Sammy, as they’re the only one who doesn’t have a drink, or aren’t yelling at Anthony to get them one.

„Can’t,“ Sammy shrugs, „Not when this one is drinking. Gotta make sure she doesn’t murder anybody.“ They gesture to Harriet, hands mostly under the table, but she seems preoccupied again. „Or hurt herself. You know how it goes.“

Audrey doesn’t know. „Surely it can’t be that bad,“ she says anyway.

„Oh, you don’t know half of it,“ Sammy laughs, „She’s a Hook.“

As if that explained everything.

One of the Gaston twins nods, as if it really did.

„I mean, I know her siblings…“ Audrey trails away.

„See?“ gestures Sammy, and yeah. Maybe she doesn’t want to. Have they considered that?

They have not considered that. Obviously.

No one really cares how Audrey feels, but at least this time it isn’t personal.

„Anyway,“ Ginny announces to the table, „Going out, be right back. Maddy, Dulcia?“ She stands up, letting Harriet’s lingering hand fall down, and Audrey isn’t looking at that.

She’d like to know where are they going, though.

„Trois, go with them,“ says Harriet when the trio of the girls is already halfway through the room.

„Absolutely not!“ Ginny spins around to glare at the pirate captain and at Gaston the Third too.

„I said!“ snaps Harriet back.

„I don’t need a bloody bodyguard!“ yells Ginny. Said bodyguard gets no input at all, and Maddy and Dulcia linger by the door.

A knife plunges deep into the table and Audrey flinches away violently. She looks at Harriet’s hand on the weapon, white knuckles and all, and barely hears Ginny as she reluctantly allows Trois to come with.

Audrey blinks a few times: What just happened?

„So sorry about that,“ Harriet says, not sounding sorry at all, „Now, I heard something about my siblings? What did they do?“

„Yeah, but,“ Audrey struggles with her words and gestures around, „Where did they go?“

„They just went for a smoke,“ says Sammy Smee, unconcerned.

„Yeah, and they wouldn’t share, bloody bitches.“

„…Why wouldn’t they share cigarettes?“ asks Audrey, mildly confused. Smoking is not pretty, but it’s not a crime, and it’s something social. Not that Audrey would know, of course.

„Audrey, honey.“ Anthony gets back with their drinks, „They have weed at the very least, and the mighty Captain Hook here isn’t allowed that. Isn’t that right, Harriet?“

Sammy just solemnly nods while Harriet mutters something like „I hate you and I will kill you painfully,“ and yanks her glass from Anthony, downing half of it at once. He just kisses her hair before sitting down, and Audrey can’t help but stare at the entire scene, utterly bewildered.

„Hopefully they’ll be less snappy when they come back,“ Anthony says, and: „Didn’t have any pink stuff,“ as he slides a glass to her. Audrey takes a sip and almost chokes on the vile oleum-like liquid, earning a mean laugh from Harriet and a pat on the back from Sammy.

She drinks again.

„I’d like to hear it too, what CJ and Harry are up to,“ Anthony says.

„Well, last time I saw Harry, he tried to kill me,“ Audrey says. To be fair, she was very much trying to curse him at the time, so, she can’t really blame him. She tries not to blame him, at least. Before she can add the context, though, Harriet nods, sipping her drink again, and says „Yeah. Yeah, he does that,“ with a bloody smile.

And, excuse me? Is she smiling about her attempted murder?

„Excuse– Sorry?!“ Audrey sputters, „I just said he tried to kill me!“

„And I said he does that. Ma’s fault, totally, and Uma’s too. He’d fistfight a god if he thought he’d like it.“

Audrey is way too busy trying to process the words „Ma’s fault,“ to worry about anything else. Here she was, thinking that Captain James Hook was the dangerous parent, but apparently not.

„And Calista?“ Harriet interrupts Audrey’s thoughts.

„Hmm?“

„Calista Jane. CJ. Little, blonde, wears red, likes to threaten death to people?“ lists Harriet.

„Kidnapped the king at the Neon Lights Ball?“ adds Anthony helpfully.

„Yeah no I know who that is.“ Audrey shakes her head to get her thoughts straight, „She’s been over there for ages, she’s a menace– I think she keeps stealing my grandma’s tiaras.“

„Sounds like CJ, alright,“ mutters Sammy Smee, dodging a lazy blow at their shoulder by Harriet. „You know I’m correct, Captain.“

„They are, Ettie,“ agrees Anthony, sipping his own drink. He leans away as Harriet swats at his shoulder too.

„Anyway,“ Harriet leans closer to Audrey, „Any chance you’d be up for babysitting that menace?“

„Please, say yes–“ Sammy. If Audrey would have to guess, she’d say they’re the one forced to babysit CJ normally.

„Isn’t she like fourteen now?“ Audrey asks instead.

„Yeah, and? Would you?“

„…I’ll think about it,“ answers Audrey, because the night is young and because she still has her drink, and because honestly?

It’s not like she has anything better to do.

#disney descendants #harriet hook #anthony tremaine #audrey rose #tw alcohol #isle kids are not okay #I finally figured out a plot #so there MIGHT be a second part #ginny gothel #mad maddy #sammy smee #a trio of sex repulsed aces gets trapped in a room with a bunch of exibicionists. And if the younger two Hooks show up it’s gonna get worse #aro ace Audrey Rose #because she sparks joy like that and Im definitely not projecting or anything like that

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screechthemighty · 2 months

Text

As promised, the second update! Work on the next chapter is going pretty well, but I don't want to make any promises about when it will be out. Just...soon. Hopefully. Anyways, here's chapter ten!

the unknowable tomorrow | a tristamp fanfic part ten: meryl

cw: dehumanization via the use of "it", gun violence

citations: "i've got the world on a string" (songwriter ted koehler)

Meryl emerged to the golden light of sunset and the sound of raised voices.

“I know, I understand, but just listen…” Something about the voice’s tone set her teeth on edge. She couldn’t say what, but she’d be making a quick exit if someone talked to her like that. “It’s an emergency. And it’s not far. Two days, tops…”

“I can’t, I told you.” Meryl took off running at the sound of that voice. “I’m sorry, but there’s nothing I can do for you.”

“There has to be something…”

“I should really go. Brad’s probably looking for me – “

“Vash!” Meryl blurted as she rounded the corner.

Three sets of eyes locked onto her. Two adult men, tall, dirty, defensive, and Vash’s wide blue eyes. He looked like he might start crying from relief at the sight of her. “Claudia!”

It was obvious: whatever the conversation had been about, Vash wanted no part of it. Meryl had enough experience getting people away from creepy older men that she knew exactly what to do: walk over as if nothing were wrong, wrap an arm around him, big smile. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you!” she said. “C’mon, we’re almost ready.”

One of the men stepped in their way as Meryl started guiding Vash off. There was a desperate spark in his eyes that she really didn’t like. “Please,” he said, “we don’t know what’s wrong and we don’t have a Plant engineer – “

“He already said ‘no,’” Meryl said, firmly but politely. No sense in escalating too much. She could feel the weight of the Derringer against her hip. Would she have to use it? “Sorry, but we really have to go.”

The man’s face changed, going from desperate to furious. “It’s not fair,” he snapped. He didn’t try to stop them, but Meryl kept bracing herself for him to make a grab for them as she speed-walked past. “You get the only operational ship, all those Plants, now you’re going to hog it, too? You’re not the only one who could use its help…”

Vash flinched. Meryl felt her blood go cold. It. Had he really just called Vash that? Twice? Self-preservation was the only thing that kept her from stopping and demanding the man apologize. “Ignore him,” she whispered to Vash. “Just keep walking.”

“The rest of us need help out here, too!” the man continued. Meryl could sense him stepping closer. Her hand flew towards the Derringer. “You can’t just…!”

“HEY!”

Meryl’s gaze snapped back forward. Luida was pushing her way through a nearby crowd, and she looked furious. Brad was close behind, and he looked even more terrifying. “What did I tell you about bothering him?!” Luida snapped. “Huh?! I told you to leave him alone!”

“I…” The anger was gone from the man’s voice, replaced by nervousness. “We were just…”

“Just nothing. Come on, Vash.” Luida circled around to Vash’s other side and grabbed his hand. Suddenly and much more calmly, she added, “Hi, Claudia.”

“Hi.” Meryl glanced over her shoulder. The two men didn’t look like they’d moved; the fact that Brad had but himself between Vash and them probably had something to do with that. “Who are those guys?”

“Doesn’t matter. We won’t be seeing them again. Were you taking the caravan, too?”

Vash gripped her hand more tightly, his eyes sliding to her with a panicked look. “Yeah, I was,” Meryl said without hesitation. “You don’t mind if I hang around, do you?”

“Not at all! I’m glad to see you’re doing all right.”

Vash relaxed immediately, but not entirely. She could still see some tension in his body as they walked to a waiting cluster of vehicles and thoma. It wasn’t until they were all in the back of one of the cleaner trucks and had put a good amount of distance between themselves and the encampment that Vash finally relaxed fully. “They didn’t hurt you, did they?” Luid fretted as she checked Vash’s face.

“No, they were just pushy. One of them called me an it when he got mad, but…” Vash flinched suddenly. “Ow.”

“What’s the matter?” Brad asked. “Is it pinching again?”

“Yeah, it’s been doing that a lot today…can I take it off now?”

“Sure, kid.” Meryl had to let go of Vash’s hand so he could peel off the worn tan coat he was wearing. “I’m sorry. I really thought I had that figured out.”

The left sleeve came off, and Meryl’s heart jumped into her throat. “What happened?!” he said.

His arm stopped being flesh above the elbow. The rest had been replaced by a prosthetic. The material was similar to what she remembered, but with a duller look to it. He had lost his arm after all, and she hadn’t been there to help when it happened.

“It was an accident,” Vash said quietly. “I…I don’t want to talk about it.”

He looked so tired, suddenly. Meryl could only guess it had been bad, whatever it was, so she shoved her curiosity down. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” she reassured him quickly. “I’m just…I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Vash sat still as Brad carefully popped the prosthetic off, replacing it with a cap to cover the connecting parts. “Not your fault.” He went to itch at the arm, then snatched his hand away and stood up to walk to a cluster of luggage in the corner. “We’re going back home, right?”

“We’re definitely going back home,” Luida said reassuringly. “I think we’ve done all we can out here, and I want to check up on the Geoplant again.”

“Good.” Vash pulled something free from one of the bags. There was a flash of red as he shrugged on a long coat with one pinned-up sleeve.

Meryl knew that jacket. She could still remember it dangling from Vash’s upside-down body, framing his face with a crimson curtain.

He’d lost his arm. He had the coat. How much had she missed?

“Won’t be much I can do for this out here, I don’t think,” Brad said without looking up from Vash’s arm. “We might have to get you back into medical to mess with it some more. Will that be okay?”

“Can we wait a few days?” Vash asked as he sat back down next to Meryl.

“Yeah, no rush.”

Vash pulled his hood up and leaned against Meryl. He was so tall now that he couldn’t rest his head on her shoulder. “Thanks, Brad.”

He seemed a lot more relaxed now, and Meryl was happy for that, but there was a weariness to him that she’d only seen when he was an adult. Whatever the accident had been, it must have done more than take his arm.

Oh, Vash. I’m so sorry.

“I’m glad we found you again,” Vash whispered.

Meryl took his hand and squeezed it gently. “Glad to be back,” she replied.

Even if she was too late to help with his arm, maybe she could help with the fallout. She’d certainly try.

Vash fell asleep not too long into the ride, which gave Meryl the chance to get a few answers from Brad and Luida. She didn’t ask about Vash’s accident—it would be cruel to go behind his back to find out what had happened—but she did learn a little about how things had been going since she had last seen them. Apparently, between Vash taking it easier after her visit and a multi-month break after his limb loss, he was in high demand. It had been his idea to try leaving the ship again, but from the sounds of things, none of them had realized how high the demand, or how bad things were getting on the outside. Several settlements who had reached out previously were gone. People were getting more and more aggressive about protecting any resources they had…or taking them from other people. “No one’s tried anything with Vash, have they?” Meryl asked.

“We’ve had some people get pushy about him staying. That’s part of the reason we cut the trip short. We didn’t want to risk things escalating.” Luida’ shoulders drooped. “We never should’ve left him alone back there.”

“Don’t blame yourself,” Brad said. He’d kept tinkering with Vash’s arm throughout the conversation, as if he could somehow fix it out here anyway. “I think they had more help than we thought.”

Luida frowned. “You really think so?”

“Hell of a coincidence that they urgently needed both of us in two different places just as we were about to leave.” Brad shrugged. “Don’t think I’m being paranoid this time.”

Luida’s mouth set into a grim line. “Well, lucky you showed up when you did,” she said to Meryl. “Do you need anywhere to stay? We should still have room on the ship.”

Good question. “I’ll let you know,” she said. Meryl didn’t want to make any promises; for all she knew, she’d be leaving as soon as the truck stopped somewhere safer.

That wasn’t what happened, though. They kept on driving, even as the sun went down and the moons rose. Vash woke up from his nap with a lengthy, almost catlike yawn. “Are we there yet?” he mumbled.

“We’re almost to the charge camp,” Luida said. “We’ll see when we can leave from there.”

“Okay.” Vash’s still-intact fingers picked at the hem of his coat sleeve. “This is one of ours, right?”

“Yes, this is one of ours. We’ll be in good company.”

Vash’s fingers stilled at first. Arriving at the encampment and seeing people with guns set him right back on edge, and Meryl along with him. “Has it really been that bad?” she asked as they got out of the truck.

Brad tilted his chin towards the center of the encampment. The ribcage of a ruined ship sat among a cluster of tents and transports, with a rough building built into the structure. Judging from the amount of charging cables running from it, there had to be a Plant inside. “High-value target,” he said. “We haven’t been able to get her out of the ship housing, but that hasn’t stopped people from trying to run off with her.”

“At least she’s got company,” Vash said. “Can I go say ‘hi’ to her?”

Meryl noticed how wary Brad and Luida looked. “I’ll go with him,” she volunteered.

Luida put her hands on her hips. “This is just a social visit?” she said.

“It is. I promise.”

“Okay…if Claudia doesn’t mind.”

“It’s no problem.” Meryl held out her hand to Vash. “We’ll be safe with me.”

Vash flashed her a small smile as he took her hand. “Thank you.”

There was a strange energy to the encampment. Everyone was jumpy, only calming down when they saw and recognized Vash. The guards at the Plant structure let them in, but still gave Meryl a distrustful look. She had a feeling Vash’s presence was the only reason she was allowed in. “You’ve been here before?” she asked.

“We stop here a lot. It wasn’t always so…” Vash hesitated. “They’ll probably try to move her again if people keep trying to take her.”

They had to duck to get through the entryway. The main room wasn’t what Meryl expected. It didn’t have the same clinical, utilitarian feeling she remembered from other Plant storage facilities. There was art drawn on the walls and mobiles hanging from the ceiling. They were made of glass, metal, and other things that reflected what moonlight seeped through the cracks in the walls. A song started playing as they stepped in: I’ve got the world on a string, sitting on a rainbow…

“Hi, Doctor Carol,” Vash called.

A dark-skinned woman in a white ship uniform with a blue sweater thrown on top looked up from the radio. “Oh! Vash, hi!” Her curly, dark hair was streaked through with gray. Her face looked too young for that; either she’d aged well or the stress of life since the Big Fall had taken its toll. “I heard about your arm. I’m so sorry, honey.”

“Thanks. I’m okay, though, really.” There was his brave face again. Meryl wondered if Doctor Carol bought it, or if she knew better. “This is Claudia. We’ve just come to say ‘hi.’”

“I’m glad to hear it. Stay as long as you want. You know she likes the company.” Doctor Carol beamed at Meryl before picking up a tablet. “I’m going to keep working on this. Just holler if you need anything.”

“Thanks.” Vash lowered his voice as they approached the tank. “She’s been seeing what kind of music Plants like and if it increases energy output without adding extra stress.”

“Oh. Interesting.” Meryl examined the Plant’s housing. Normally, the tanks containing them could be swapped out, but the connector was visibly damaged. She wondered how much of that damage was from the crash and how much was from later attempts to move the tank. “Wow, she’s really stuck.”

Vash hummed quietly. He was standing in front of the tank, one arm wrapped around himself, staring up at the Plant bulb. His eye markings glowed faintly in her light.

He looked so tired.

“Vash?”

He wouldn’t look at her and his eyes were slowly growing distant. Meryl wasn’t sure what to say. She didn’t even know what was wrong. She rested a hand on the Plant’s tank and looked up at her. Any advice? she thought.

Nothing. Of course not, but she couldn’t help feeling a little disappointed. “Hi…ma’am,” Meryl said awkwardly. How did you address a Plant, anyway? “It’s good to see you’re doing okay…am I doing this right?” Meryl glanced at Vash, then back at the Plant. Two of the petals had parted slightly, revealing one large eye. “Oh!” Meryl smiled. “I didn’t think that would work.”

The light in the room shifted suddenly, becoming softer, dimmer but not too dark. Meryl felt the glass under her hand start to vibrate. The Plant unfolded more, her hands reaching out to touch the glass near Vash. The vibrations were rhythmic, fading in and out almost like a heartbeat. Vash kept his eyes on his feet at first, but eventually stepped forward. He rested his intact hand on one Plant’s hand and his forehead on the others. His shoulder rested against Meryl.

A sense of calm settled over the room. Meryl couldn’t even hear the music anymore, just the heartbeat. She leaned against Vash slightly and closed her eyes. She thought she could hear new music mixing in with it. It sounded like Vash’s song.

Everything is different now and I’m scared.

The confession was so soft that Meryl thought she’d imagined it at first. When she opened her eyes, Vash had turned his head to look at her. He’d grown so much, but he looked so young again. Just a child who needed reassurance.

“Change is always scary,” Meryl whispered back, “but you can find a way to make it through. Not giving up is the most important thing, and you’ve got people who can help you. Have you talked to Brad and Luida about this?”

“Kind of.” Vash looked away again. “It’s…complicated.”

“Like when you got sick?”

“Yeah. Like that.”

“Do you want me to help you talk to them again?”

Vash pulled his head away from the tank, enough to see where Doctor Carol was. The woman was staring at her tablet; Meryl couldn’t tell if she was really so wrapped up in her work that she wasn’t paying attention, or if she was faking to be polite. Vash didn’t seem comfortable, either way. “I’ll tell you later,” he whispered. “It’s a long story.”

Meryl felt the thrill of reporter nosiness at the prospect of getting some answers. It was quickly followed by worry at how serious this seemed. “Whenever you’re ready.”

Vash nodded and let his head rest against the tank again. The Plant’s face was almost right up against the glass, and the lights on her body pulsed in time with the heartbeat vibrations. Meryl had never seen a Plant so close before. Even the one from before had been an arm’s length away. This close, she could see the different shades of blue in her eyes, the mottled lighter patches along her wings that almost looked like scarring. Her markings were a different pattern than what she remembered on Vash’s face, but the longer Meryl looked at her, the more she started to believe the two of them were related.

“Hey, Vash,” Luida called. Meryl glanced over her shoulder in time to see Luida ducking in to enter the room. “Bad news, we’ll have to stay into tomorrow. The queue for the charger is backed up.” She joined them at the tank and smiled sheepishly. “Sorry we’re putting you to work so much.”

“She’s okay,” Vash said. “She’s still doing strong.” He met the Plant’s gaze one more time before backing away. “She feels safe.”

Meryl wasn’t sure how to describe what she saw as Vash’s markings faded. There were no other physical changes to him that she could see, but it felt like there was. Like with every step backwards, Vash settled back into his skin, becoming less Plant and more human…or humanoid, at least. Meryl rubbed her eyes, which seemed to chase that feeling away. Vash was just Vash, as usual.

And yet…

“Are you guys hungry?” Luida asked. “We can have a snack before we get some sleep.”

“A little bit. Claudia?”

The Plant had folded herself back up. Visually, the world had set itself back to what Meryl had known at the start of her journey.

But she knew now, what truth lay just out of sight.

“Sure,” she said, keeping her voice as clam as she could. “I could eat.”

Vash took her hand hesitantly as they left; Meryl gave it a squeeze in response.

There may have been more than met the eye in this world, but some things wouldn’t change. And Vash really was still Vash, no matter what.

They had to wait until after everyone had a light meal and set up some tents to talk in private. They met up in the back of the truck and sat with their backs wedged against some supplies. It was dark, but Vash seemed more comfortable that way. “So…what happened?” Meryl asked.

There was a pause. Meryl felt fingertips brush against her upper arm, in the place where the burn wound was. She braced herself for Vash to ask about it, but instead his hand just hovered there for a moment before falling away. “I know who caused the Big Fall,” he said quietly. “I know why it happened.”

And then he told her everything.

About how he was born a twin, discovered one day on Ship Five with his brother, Nai. About Rem, the woman who loved them and raised them but kept secrets. About how he and Nai had gone looking for answers.

About Telsa, the sister he never got to know, because humans had torn her apart in the name of research. His voice cracked when he spoke about her, and Meryl could tell there were details he was skipping over. She couldn’t blame him. What he told her was bad enough.

He told her that he had, eventually, decided to give humans another chance. Nai never could. He told her that Nai taken the passcode Vash had used to uncover the truth and used it to access the flight terminal and crash the Seeds fleet. He’d been running from a confrontation with Nai when Meryl found him and carried him from the wreckage. “He called me his accomplice,” Vash whispered, “since he knew the access code because of me. And I…”

Meryl remembered how Vash had apologized to her, how he’d tried to make her leave him behind out there to disappear.

Oh, Vash.

“That’s not true,” Meryl said. She’d planned on keeping her mouth shut and listening, but she couldn’t just let that be. “What happened wasn’t your fault. He never should’ve said that to you, Vash.”

Vash looked taken aback by how suddenly and fiercely she’d spoke. “I know,” he said. “I mean…I know that now. Most of the time. I didn’t back then, though. For a long time, I tried really hard to be helpful, to make up for it, but when Brad was able to…”

Vash hesitated again. “He found out?” Meryl guessed. She could just barely see Vash nod. “Was he…angry?”

Vash’s form seemed to shrink as he pulled his knees up to a chest. “I overheard him and Luida listening to the recording. They thought I’d given it to Nai on purpose, that I’d lied to them. And…I did lie to them. I’d told them Nai was probably dead even though I wasn’t sure. I didn’t want him to get hurt like Tesla had. I was scared, but Nico tried to help me escape -“

That name was almost as shocking to her as the part about Tesla. “Who?”

“Oh. I forgot. He’s a friend. He was staying on the ship when this happened. He said he’d keep me safe, but he had to stay behind so I could sneak off the ship. Once I was alone, I kept thinking about how angry everyone was and how if I hadn’t shown Nai the passcode everyone would still be alive and Rem would…” Vash sniffed, his voice suddenly thick with tears. “So I went to find him. To see if I could stop him.”

There was a lot to take in there. The name Nico was still echoing in Meryl’s mind, the implications exploding there, but all of that was overshadowed by a sudden realization. “Vash, did your brother cut your arm off?”

“It wasn’t because of the argument,” Vash said immediately. “Luida had followed me to him. He was angry at her, I was upset and scared, I didn’t want her to get hurt, and my Gate just…reacted. This hole opened up on my arm and I couldn’t close it. I didn’t even know I could do something like that. Nai cut off my arm to make it go away before I sucked everything up.”

“…that’s…not that much of an improvement.” Meryl didn’t like how quick to hurt Vash Knives was. Cutting off his arm probably would’ve been her last resort if it were her. Knives only seemed to jump to extremes. “I’m surprised he let Luida take you.”

“He wasn’t going to, but…I pointed a gun at him,” Vash admitted. “He looked upset at first, but then he…laughed and started taking about some stupid plan taking a hundred years, I don’t know…” Anger trickled into his voice. “And then he left.”

“He…cut off your arm. And then just left you there?”

Vash laughed bitterly. “Yeah. It was just like with that stupid chess board again.” He huffed. “Sorry. That’s a whole other thing.”

“Seems like there’s a lot of whole other things with him.”

“…yeah. I guess there are.”

He said that like it was an idea he was still getting used to. One of those changes he was so scared of, maybe. Meryl tried to think back (well, forward) to how Vash had talked about Knives when they were traveling together. He…hadn’t, not really. Knives had only come up in the vaguest terms of something Vash had to face, and he always sounded so resigned whenever he came up. So tired.

Here, now, he sounded frustrated, even a little angry. Interesting. When had that changed?

“Brad and Luida aren’t still upset with you, are they?” Meryl asked.

Vash shook his head. “No. They actually both apologized for how they reacted. We talked about everything that happened. They said I could leave if I didn’t feel safe with them anymore. I thought about it for a little while.”

“Really?”

“I know, I know, I was just…tired. I didn’t even know I was until we talked. I thought I’d go with Nico and no one would look at me like I was a freak or a monster again. No more trips and people trying to talk to me when I didn’t want to and no more feeling like I didn’t belong…” His voice broke again. “…and that all felt good. But I realized I’d be giving up if I didn’t that, and I didn’t want to give up. I still cared about that place. I didn’t want to run away. I wanted to make it better. So I stayed and…it has been better. It’s been a lot better.”

Meryl thought about her interactions with everyone over the past few hours—the fierce protectiveness in Ludia’s voice, the way Brad didn’t seem so grumpy and guarded, how Vash had asked them for a break without fear or hesitation. There was something about them that she hadn’t noticed before.

They almost looked like a family.

“I’m glad,” Meryl said. “Does that mean they weren’t the ones who suggested you come out here?”

“No, that was my idea. They actually tried to talk me out of it, but I wanted to, for the Plants. Nai was wrong about…a lot, but not all humans treat them well. He wasn’t wrong about that part. Even the ones who do need extra help, and I’m the only one who can do it. But it’s been so bad out here. It gets worse and worse every time. I don’t know what to do.”

Meryl had to think about that one. “I know you want to help,” she said finally, “and that’s very kind of you. But sometimes…a problem can’t really be fixed, you know? Especially by just one person.” If it could, she would’ve dragged Vash out of that tank in July herself. “You just do what you can, and what’s safe. That’s all anyone can ask of you and all you should expect of yourself.” Meryl wrapped her arm around Vash’s shoulders. “You don’t have to fix the whole world on your own, Vash.”

“…I know.”

She hoped he meant that.

They sat in silence for a little while. Meryl mulled over everything Vash had told her. She hadn’t expected so many answers in one night—or so many new questions.

Nico.

Had the white-haired assassin from the sand steamer called Wolfwood that, or was she misremembering?

Nico could be a shortened version of Nicholas. And he had been in the room when the portal had opened up. But why would he care about helping Vash now? What would he gain from it?

Why pretend to be his friend again?

“Hey, Vash? What does Nico look like?”

No reply. When Meryl looked at Vash, his eyes were closed, his breathing slow. His posture had become a lot more relaxed. He was fast asleep.

Oh, well.

“Goodnight,” Meryl whispered.

She could wait until tomorrow to get some answers about the Undertaker.

In hindsight, the strange sleep patterns caused by her time travel really worked out. Meryl already wasn’t that tired since, by her reckoning, she’d just woken up. The answers Vash had given her left her with a lot to think about. Combine those two things, and she was still wide awake when she heard movement outside.

At first, she thought that maybe one of the charging cables had opened up and Brad or Luida was getting them hooked up. But when she heard muffled voices—“No, it’s in here, I saw it”—she knew it wasn’t that simple.

Especially when a second voice chimed in—“Should we just take the whole truck?”—and she realized she knew it. It was the man from before, the one who’d wanted Vash to come with him. He’d found them somehow.

Meryl reached for her Derringer. Her heart pounded in her chest as the movement got closer. “…won’t get very far in it. Anyway, I think that girl was with it.”

“So? She’s five foot at best. What’s she going to do?”

It was petty of her and she knew it, but hearing that comment made drawing the Derringer a lot easier.

“I know, I know. I just don’t want to deal with any…”

The door to the back opened wider. The two men standing outside were backlit by the moons, but close enough that Meryl could see the stunned looks on their faces when they found themselves staring down the barrel of a gun.

That’s what I’m going to do about it, asshole.

“Turn around,” Meryl said. “Leave him alone.”

One of the men recovered more quickly than the other. “Put that thing down,” he said with the same voice you used on a spooked thomas. “Nobody has to get hurt.”

“You’re right. You don’t.” The man leaned further into the truck, prompting Meryl to turn off the safety. She was a little surprised by how easily the switch flipped. That was the only thing standing between those men and a bullet, and she’d removed that with casual movement of her thumb. “Get back.”

“We’re not leaving without the Plant,” hissed the man from before. “You can move or we can move you.”

“I’m not the one with a gun pointed at me, am I?” Meryl drew back the hammer of the Derringer. One more fragile barrier removed. “Vash isn’t going anywhere. That’s not happening. So, I want you to ask yourself one thing: is this worth your life?”

Silence hung heavy in the air. Slowly, the new man reached for something in his coat.

Vash screamed.

The sound was so loud and sudden that Meryl almost flinched. The only thing that kept her focus was the glint of something metallic in the new man’s coat, and the fact that he was moving further into the car.

The decision had already been made. She’d made it when she turned off the safety, when she pulled back the hammer, when she’d pointed the gun in the first place. Never point a gun at anything you aren’t willing to shoot.

Vash had taught her that.

Even pressure on the trigger.

He’d taught her that, too.

The pop of the Derringer came just as Vash paused to inhale. Meryl smelled blood, heard a thump as the man collapsed. Vash’s screaming resumed. It all happened so fast.

Shit. Shit, did I kill him?

People ran over, ones she recognized, and again her body reacted. Finger off the trigger, both hands where they could be clearly seen. Roberto had taught her that one, just in case military police ever showed up. She didn’t need it her; security was chasing after the man from before, and Brad was the one making a run for the truck. His face was pale as he scrambled inside, but his voice was calm, steady. “What happened? Who was shot?”

“Him, that man, he…” Meryl’s hand shook as she clicked the safety back. This time it took her two tries, like her body didn’t believe it was time for that. “Is he dead?”

The figure slumped in the truck’s entryway groaned. The action earned him a swift kick right back out from Brad. A barrage of curses answered Meryl’s question. He’s not dead.

She hadn’t killed anyone tonight.

“Easy, easy, you’re okay.” Brad scooped up Vash into a tight hug. “Easy.”

Vash’s screaming had cut off, replaced by quiet whimpers. It was chaos outside—security grabbing and dragging the man Meryl had shot away, more distant shouting, Luida calling Vash’s name—but it all sounded strangely muffled. Meryl lowered her hands, making sure not to point the Derringer towards anyone. She took a deep breath.

She’d shot someone.

But she hadn’t killed anyone. And Vash’s grip on her jacket let her know he was okay.

Slowly, Meryl started to feel like she could breathe again.

Both of the men were caught. Saying they were arrested felt like a stretch, since they were just hog tied and thrown into the back of someone else’s truck, but at least they couldn’t try to kidnap Vash again. Meryl’s bullet had caused a “nasty flesh wound” according to the person who’d looked at it, but he’d definitely live. Vash calmed down, but Brad was still visibly on edge, pacing back and forth as they waited for the truck to charge. Someone had generously given up their cable to let them charge faster, and everyone awake was on alert for any potential issues, but it would still be some time before they could leave.

“You’re really okay?” Vash asked again. It was amazing: he was the one who’d nearly been kidnapped, but he seemed more worried about Meryl. “You’re sure?”

“I’m okay,” Meryl repeated. She was a lot better than she had been, now that she’d gotten the chance to breathe. “I’m not hurt. That was scary, but…I’ve had scary before.” The Bad Lads had been pretty scary. Jeneora Rock had been terrifying. This, at least, had a happy outcome. “What about you?”

“Uhm.” Vash looked down at his hands. They were still shaking. “I just want to go home. I’ll be better then.”

“I feel you.” Meryl took both his hands and squeezed them gently. “You were really brave, though. And you’re safe now. Everything’s going to be…”

The hairs on the back of her neck stood up as a familiar feeling settled into her skin. Meryl glanced over her shoulder. The portal was just out of sight, partially obscured by the ship ruins. “…everything’s going to be okay,” she finished.

At least she could be pretty sure of that now.

When she looked back at Vash, he was staring over her shoulder. Had he seen it? Meryl braced herself for a barrage of questions that she might not have the answers to, but they never came. Instead. Vash met her eyes with a look of soft understanding. He pulled his hands away and hugged her tightly. “Thank you,” he said.

Did he know? How, and how much? Brad appeared before she had the chance to ask. “We’re charged up enough to get back,” he said. “Claudia, you coming?”

“Oh, I…I appreciate the offer, but something’s come up. I have to go. Another group is giving me a ride.” She hoped that didn’t sound too dismissive or suspicious.

Thankfully, Brad seemed to distracted by the need to get them out of there to notice. “Best of luck to you, then.” He rested a hand on Vash’s shoulders. “C’mon, kid. We’ve got to go.”

Vash was slow to let go of her, but there was a calmness to his eyes that hadn’t been there last time. “I’ll see you later,” he said.

Not calmness, she realized. Certainty.

Meryl didn’t know how he knew, but she was almost grateful. It made leaving him a little easier. “I’ll see you,” she echoed.

He was safe now. He must have been if she was able to leave. But Meryl still waited until the truck was a speck on the horizon before darting to the portal.

It occurred to her as she stepped through that she’d never gotten the chance to ask about “Nico.” Oh, well, she thought before the darkness pulled her down. Next time.

If it was Wolfwood, she just hoped he didn’t cause too much damage.

#fic: the unknowable tomorrow #trigun #trigun stampede #the sudden reduction of cws is kind of hilarious to me not gonna lie

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oldbutnotyetwise · 6 days

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When You Say Nothing At All

I want you to think about this seriously for a few minutes. What would it be like if you lost your voice and couldn’t speak anymore? It is something that we all take for granted almost from the time we are born. A young baby will coo, gurgle, blow bubbles experimenting with sounds and quickly realize that people around them pay attention to them when they do this. There is absolutely no doubt in any parent’s mind that a baby is very capable of communicating their displeasure from the moment of their birth. In time the baby learns words which slowly form the foundation of their language skills that under normal circumstances last until they die.

Maybe for the rest of today I would like you to think about what it would be like if you couldn’t speak. Every person you want to talk to, you can’t. Phone or video calls? Nope, you can’t make or receive them. You could use sign language or play charades or become a Mime, except your arms and hands don’t work very well.

ALS is in the final stages of stealing my voice from me. Whatever is supposed to be working, whether it be my vocal chords or the way my tongue helps to make sounds, they simply aren’t working anymore. When I do try to speak, I speak much slower, I focus on enunciating my words, what voice I have left is now much softer. So even if you can hear the sound coming out of my mouth there is a good chance you may not understand it. It sounds silly but I can now become exhausted just from talking. I mumble and slur what used to be words but now are quickly becoming indistinguishable sounds. I know what I want to say, the words are very clear in my head but by the time they leave my mouth its like they have gone through a blender and no longer make sense. I would like to think I was once a good conversationalist, but now I’m just a listener, hopefully a good one. I am no longer able to ask the probing questions that showed people I was really interested and helped bring their story out.

If I’m being honest, I knew that this day was coming. I knew that with ALS when the person starts slurring their words, they normally lose their ability to speak four to six months later. I am now coming up on that six month point. Even though I knew this day was coming, I find it very difficult to believe and accept that I will not be able to speak anymore. I find it hard to believe I sound like I presently do. Yes, yes I know, finally my friends and family will be able to get a word in while I am sulking in the corner.

So the other day Robin and I were out walking Kiwi, she went into store and Kiwi and I rolled down the street to a warm sunny spot to wait for her. A young man approached asking if he could pet Kiwi. I said that he could and then we began chatting. He heard the garbled words coming out of my mouth and I could read his face as he tried to determine if the garbled words might also be indicating a mental disability. I could see how difficult it was for him to understand me, and in the end I regretted having gotten into the conversation with him. Chatting one on one with people has always been something I enjoyed, just one more thing ALS has now taken away from me.

Robin was out the other day when my phone rang, I normally don’t answer my phone these days preferring Robin take the call, but as it was Sunnybrook Hospital calling I thought I had best not miss the call. They were calling to advise they were sending a form that needed to be signed, hearing me mumbling they then added my Power Of Attorney could sign it for me. Numerous other calls like this have come through since I’ve been going to the hospital, this time with my mumbling they added the part about a POA being able to sign for me.

Sadly, my communication methods are starting to resemble that of an obnoxious teenager who can’t be bothered to actually converse with his parents. I now point at things, nod in the direction of things, or maybe just look at things hoping that Robin will understand what I want. When someone is asking me if something is all right I now resort to the ever reliable thumbs up.

Now people in my situation have ways to communicate thanks to advancements in technology. I was told early on to ‘Voice Bank’… save my voice so when it came time that my computer would sound like me speaking. Sadly I just never got that done, by the time I started trying to do that it was already too late. There is also something called AAC which is Augmentative and Alternative Communication which includes boards with buttons to push which then say common phrases, or even Eye Gaze Technology, where your eye movement is able to communicate with your computer which can then speak or write for you. Presently my Text to Speech App on my phone has me speaking with an Australian accent. I’m trying to distract the listener from this broken old man in a wheelchair and make them think of me more along the lines of a handsome Aussie on a beach with a surfboard under his arm.

Robin and I have always gotten along very well. We used this rather unconventional approach to our relationship, we actually talked and listened to each other. We are each others best friends, and although we can certainly talk about the big things going on in the world, we are both much more interested in what is going on in our own little world. When we lived on the farm there were always things going on, she would tell me about her gardens, I would tell her about the things I saw on my hikes, we would slip into those easy conversations much like you might slip into a warm winter sweater, they just felt good. Those nice easy conversations that I loved are now slipping away from us. Having to continually repeat myself, and still not being understood makes me want to give up attempting to converse.

I am totally dependent on Robin for my survival. It is extremely important to me to make sure that I am able to tell her how much I love her, not only for who she is, but also for all she is doing for me. It is also so important to me that I can make her aware of how very grateful I am for everything she does for me. Yes you are right, she does in fact know how much I love her and how grateful I am, but it is still important for me to be able to say the words, just as it is important for her to hear those words….but I can’t say them, and she can’t hear what I can’t say…..or can she?

Through most of my later life when I was struggling with something I would “sit with it”. Not everything requires immediate action or response, sometime by just sitting with something a solution presents itself, or I am able to come up with a well thought out plan to deal with it. So I was sitting with my inability express my love and gratitude to Robin when an old Allison Kraus song came to mind. It was an old favourite of mine, and one I had played on my guitar many times…..and it gave me comfort.

When You Say Nothing At All

It’s amazing how you can speak right to my heart

Without saying a word, you can light up the dark

Try as I may, I can never explain

What I hear when you don’t say a thing

You say it best, when you say nothing at all.

Robin, Kiwi and I.

#als #gratitude #love #mute

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