#some language

Stan wouldn't have fought to get his brother back from the portal if he didn't love him, even when they were both at their absolute worst. The core of their schism was a terrible mistake that exploded into something even worse from their father being an asshole. Caryn and Filbrick had no faith in Stan being a success, and put a shitty amount of pressure onto Ford. They were literally high school kids.

You're trying to tell me that we should blame Ford for not recognizing abuse from Bill, when he suffered at the hand of his father with it? Hell, you can even see Caryn wasn't wanting to stand up against her own husband....If you're in an environment like that regularly, then it's not abnormal and obvious.

Ford of course saw Bill as a muse in the beginning. He challenged him, and complimented him, for a time as a partner of the mind and science. There was unspoken trust....For a time.

When consent began to disappear, and Ford was in too deep, then he recognized abuse, and his Muse was a Monster. He probably saw Bill as someone to "impress"...Much like his father in the beginning. But when mental and physical violation happened, and Ford was not in control, it's SA. In any relationship of any kind, you should be able to say no without fear of repercussions.

Ford isn't a villain because he didn't recognize abuse immediately, and Bill made it one sided love where he just wanted Ford to be a cooperative vessel and pet in the end. I truly think Bill wouldn't care about Ford once he drained him mentally. The monster destroyed his own home and family...Why would a human being be anything special to him? Humanity is merely a grain of sand in Bill's timeline. Ford would be a blip eventually.

Ford had every right to be mad returning home. Thirty years, nearly 13 of those in which he missed with a great niece and nephew he immediately adores, and a brother that is upset he doesn't get an apology. There is a time and place for that.

But, you can't expect a perfectly fleshed out character with Ford when he was only included in maybe 10 episodes total. Read the books again. Research and go through media of all kinds with SA, and compare them. I hope that most don't have to relate to SA, but can grasp that a victim is never "asking" for it, like everyone that hates Ford seems to think. His form of consent with Bill was shaking hands in the end. Many times, Bill clearly disregarded that, and acted like Ford deep down wanted it.

In the end, Ford would have gladly destroyed Bill if he knew he could on his own without giving him the equation, but coming back around to it, Stan probably recognized abuse in Ford with Bill, and didn't want Ford to suffer anymore, and to be able to get 30 years more to be among those that actually loved him.

Story Description: “A snake like yourself shouldn’t be here.”

Characters: Milk Tea Cookie, Bittersweet Mocha Cookie, Affogato Cookie & Dark Cacao Cookie

Story Warnings: Angst, Betrayal, Near Death Situations, Strong Language.

Note: This is a sequel to the first story! Milk Tea belongs @sugaaaaaaaar hope ya guys enjoy!

So.  Here’s the deal.  This story started off as a fun little Christmas distraction and ultimately I may leave it as that.  But until I make up my mind, until I can figure out if my muse is going to stay cooperative, if inspiration is going to keep flowing, if you lovelies might be interested in reading more or not, I’m not going to mark it complete.  Just a heads up.  

Now that we got that established, a few quick words about this fic.  

It’s a post finale fic.  Kind of.  What I mean by that is, should I continue it?  It’s potentially going to expand beyond the nifty little unexplored year-long time jump Kang and Co. left us with as a parting gift, the same time jump I neatly slotted this story into.  It may morph into a different animal altogether.  Whatever does or doesn’t happen with this fic, I guarantee you I’m not gonna stomp on your hearts unless I kiss it better eventually.  M’kay?  

So.  You got that?  You still wanna read the story?  Cool beans.  

Without further ado----

“Shit, shit, shit.”  

 “Language!”

 Judith’s pointed rebuke is quickly lost in the scramble of Daryl’s preoccupied thoughts as he bustles around the kitchen.  The place looks like Ground Zero.  Like a literal bomb of flour and sugar exploded in it and hell if he can find anything.  Not the timer that’s buzzing insistently.  Definitely not the silver wrapped package he’s safeguarded half the never-ending day only to misplace it sometime in the last ten, fifteen minutes.  Daryl yanks open cupboards.  He rifles through cutlery drawers and peeks beneath RJ’s abandoned comic book.  He gives the Ass Kicker approved “decorating station” a brief once-over but the damn oven mitts seem to have vaporized along with the last shred of his good sense.  Temporary insanity.  That’s the only explanation for the fool thing he does next.  “SONUVABITCH!!!”  White hot, throbbing pain immediately has him clutching his hand to his chest, a litany of quieter expletives whistling through his clenched teeth like little aftershocks.

 “Oh, Uncle Daryl.”

 Judith’s face is pale and pinched with worry when it appears in his squinted line of vision. RJ hovers fuzzily nearby, slack jawed with horror.  But it’s her, Carol, gently tsking at him as she reaches for his hand that Daryl hones in on.  “When’d you get here?”  

 “Just in time for that impressive show.  I thought you’d be happy to see me.  Not literally tossing your cookies.”  

 Daryl huffs a would-be laugh.  It’s tinged with pain, echoes with embarrassment as she peels back his sleeve, unfurling his fingers and frowning at the angry, inflamed skin of his palm.  She inspects his wounds with tender efficiency, that old familiar concerned furrow drawing her brows together.  He loves and hates that groove in equal measure so he touches his uninjured hand to her crimson sleeve.  “Hey.”  When her blue sky eyes light upon his face, he issues a gravel-laced reminder.  “Tried to tell you I couldn’t bake.”  

 She smiles at him.

 It’s just a tentative twitch of a thing at first.  They’re still navigating the wreckage of too many harsh words delivered in festering hurt and anger, still tiptoeing their way through what feels like their last second chance, the one that sticks.  Her smile’s barely even a flicker.  But it’s enough to ease the ache that’s lived inside of him since that dusty Georgia highway. He smiles back.  “I did.”  

 She ducks her head then and fusses with his sleeve.  “You did,” she concedes softly.  “Forgive me for thinking you knew the basics.”  

 “The basics?”

 “The basics,” she reiterates as she peeks up at him with eyes that have started to dance just as merrily as the twinkle lights the kids outfitted their tree with, eyes that glow with soft affection as she teases him.  “Hot things are hot, Daryl.  Kinda thought you knew that.”  

 The infectious curl of her lips and the pink dimpling of her cheeks widen Daryl’s smile by degrees until his cheeks hurt and he laughs freely when his second-favorite little wiseass chimes in.  Never has an implied Dumbass been delivered so fondly.  

 “Yeah, Uncle Daryl.  Hot things are hot.”  

 “Ain’t fair, you two ganging up on me.”  His protest is weak, even to his own ears, and goes ignored.  He doesn’t bother to pretend he’s disappointed, just soaks all of it in.  The world’s been trying to end on them since the day they met.  It’s been unflinching and cruel, stealing so many they’ve loved.  It almost wrenched the little girl they both love so dearly away from them.  It almost took them away from each other a thousand times over, be it grief swallowing them whole, a hail of bullets striking them down, or walkers threatening to tear the flesh from their bones.  He shakes the chilling thought off, bone weary of almosts and regrets, and makes a gruff plea.  “Can somebody find that timer?  Throw it out the window when you do.”  

 In a flurry of giggles, Judith and RJ leave to do just that.  

 Or at least, that’s what Daryl assumes they do because it’s mercifully quiet sometime later when Carol takes his hand in her own again and coaxes it open.  The cloth she dabs his palm with is cool but doesn’t compare to her soothing touch and he barely breathes as she softly shushes him.  His gaze lingers on the freckles that finely dust her skin.  He finds himself entranced by the faint flutter of her eyelashes against her cheeks. When she nearly catches him in his act of admiration, he resolutely focuses on her hair instead and belatedly realizes she’s replaced the braid he’s come to expect with the short silver curls of yesteryear.  Henry’s voice suddenly threads through his consciousness and a peculiar tightness seizes his throat as he meets the shimmery shine of her eyes.  “You cut it.”  

 “Andrea always said you were observant.”  

 Her mouth twists into something aching and uncertain.  Words meant to tease hang heavy between them like the glittering tears she stubbornly refuses to cry.  He’s on the edge of a precipice here.  He’s certain of it.  As reckless as she’s ever been with her life, she’s been twice as stingy with her heart. Maybe, finally, she’s tired of playing it so safe.  “It suits you.”  

 “Yeah?”  

 “Yeah.”  

 “I thought. I just.  We get to start over.  I want to. I want to try, Daryl.  If that’s still something you want.  Do you still—”

 Her voice breaks painfully over the words he spoke to her so long ago.  Unable to trust his own voice in that moment, Daryl nods.  He reaches for her and the cloth falls away forgotten.  She nuzzles her damp cheek into the palm of his hand and kisses the abused skin when his thumb collects the tears that have valiantly conceded defeat.  He wants to tell her she’s the most beautiful being to walk this godforsaken earth. He doesn’t.  Life’s too fucking short; doesn’t mean he wants to spill the contents of his heart all over the damn place like those misshapen lumps of dough with an audience and that’s what they have, a captive one.   He cuts his eyes toward the two littlest Grimes hanging on their every word then back to Carol.  He winks. “Think we can salvage some of them cookies?”  It turns out the joke’s on him.  

 Carol bites back a giggle.  “What Dog didn’t gulp down.  Maybe.”

 His head turns on a swivel with Judith’s and RJ’s to the mutt still licking his chops across the room.  The opportunistic sonuvabitch sits up straight and smiles, smiles, showing them all his teeth, and the woman so close to being in Daryl’s arms loses it. The kids do, too.   “Guess the damn things were a little on the done side.”  

 “A little?”

 “Fuckers looked like hockey pucks,” he admits sheepishly.  

 “Language!”

 Judith’s censure is sputtered this time, all but strangled by her giggles.  For his part, for somebody sporting the oven mitts Daryl had searched for futilely on his hands like a goalie’s gloves, RJ just looks borderline bewildered.  

 Daryl catches Carol’s eyes again.  They’re happy, bright, and soft all at once.  “You brought backups didn’t you?”  

 “You know me, Pookie.  What do you think?”  

 “Do, don’t I?”  

 She takes the hand he offers her and their fingers interlock like reunited halves of a whole.

 The ache within Daryl intensifies but it’s the good kind of ache.  The kind he didn’t know until he met her.  The kind that comes from loving someone so damn much and hoping, believing, they just might love you back just as much.  Even still, he won’t overwhelm her with the entire contents of his heart in one magical night.  He’ll gift it to her one piece at a time, starting with the silver wrapped package he spies lying beneath the rubble of their cookie making. He’ll kiss her on the cheek underneath Ass Kicker’s strategically placed mistletoe, even if his lips long to meet her smile instead.  He’ll ask her to stay here with them and leave that lonely apartment of hers behind once and for all.  And one day?  He’ll journey with her beneath an endless river of stars.  He’ll do all those things.  But first.  “You ready to do this thing?”  

Apart at the Seams – Part 2

Summary: This is a continuation of the Shane Walsh x Lori Grimes Walking Dead story. This picks up where the last one left off. Everyone has had to abandon the Atlanta camp and the CDC route did not pan out for our group. They encounter the Greene farm in this second half, and the strain and stress of two different leadership styles between Rick and Shane cause division amongst them all. The fallout is different than the way it played out in the TV series, and this is where I’ve written the major shift in the narrative. Shane works to convince Lori to choose him, the strains of her marriage to Rick take their toll, and the group is not as passive in choosing whom they think the right leader is, and the direction they want to follow.

Notes: Once again, there are some slight modifications to scenes and dialogue from the tv series, where some scenes are consolidated, some changed slightly or moved, and some dialogues given to different speakers. Medical events are more realistic, and the infamous barn scene and Otis’ pivotal scene is different. Virus transmission in this story follows the rules of the first two seasons of Walking Dead. Walker’s bites, scratches, or any body fluids will lethally transmit the active virus to living people. Also, walker behavior is similar to the behavior of zombies in the first two seasons with walkers having the ability to jump walls, open doors, and use rudimentary items.

Tags: The Walking Dead, Shane Walsh, Lori Grimes, Rick Grimes, Carl Grimes, Shane Walsh x Lori Grimes, slow burn, not explicit but definitely ‘R’ rated, some descriptive gore for killing walkers, some descriptive violence against living humans, use of weapons, guns, knives, some language

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters (Anime & Manga) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Kaiba Seto/Yami Yuugi, Kaiba Seto/Yami Yuugi | Atem, Atem/Kaiba Seto Characters: Yami Yuugi | Atem, Atem (Yu-Gi-Oh), Kaiba Seto Additional Tags: Fluff, rivals teasing each other, Moody Teenage Boys, long lines, Seto Kaiba being grumpy, Mild Innuendo, AU, High School AU, altered character ages, Prideshipping, ygopridecember, YGOPridecember2020 Series: Part 17 of Pridecember 2020 Summary:

Being stuck in a long line brings out Kaiba's conspiracy theorist side, and also gives him an opportunity to tease his rival, who also happens to be his boyfriend. Small prideshipping drabble fic for YGOPridecember2020.

Prompt: Standing in Line

You can read it here or on AO3 either way is fine it’s really short

Ages:

Seto - 17

Atem - 16

September 1998

               “This is unacceptable.”

               Seto Kaiba stared down the long, long line of duelists waiting to be checked in for the annual Duelist Kingdom tournament. He and Atem were currently bringing up the rear, and it was clear the administrative personnel were overwhelmed.

               “They need a check-in area specifically for elite-level duelists,” he grumbled.

               “Seto, you didn’t compete last year and the year prior I knocked you out in the quarterfinals,” Atem said. “You can’t expect special treatment.”

               “Don’t remind me,” Seto hissed.

               The line inched forward by two feet. Seto sighed and rolled his eyes.

               “Pegasus had enough resources to buy the shares of KaibaCorp needed to weaken Gozaburo’s hold on it, but he can’t hire competent employees to process a simple tournament check-in?” Seto scowled. “I’m suspicious.”

               “You’re always suspicious,” Atem huffed. “It’s borderline paranoia, honestly.” The line crept forward a few more feet. “What if I told you not everything has some big secret hidden beneath it, or a hidden agenda?”

               “That’s awfully naïve coming from someone who gives the impression of wisdom beyond their years.” Seto rested his hands on Atem’s shoulders and gave a gentle squeeze. “Maybe they’ve gotten to you.”

               “Who are they, Seto?” Atem asked.

               “They don’t want you to find out.” Seto kept his hands on Atem and gently guided them forward as the line moved ever closer to registration. “That’s why they keep their identity hidden.”

               “Seto!” Atem said, exasperated. “You’re just being ridiculous now.”

               Seto smirked, amused with just how easy it was to push Atem’s buttons now.

               “You never know,” Seto said. “It could be an elaborate ploy by the Illuminati to keep us on edge and unfocused so that we lose. Maybe they want another duelist to win the tournament.”

               “Oh my fucking hell,” Atem said. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “You wear me out sometimes.”

               “Are you upset because I’m vexing you with malformed conspiracy theories or because you’d rather I be wearing you out in other ways?”

               Atem felt his face beginning to burn and stayed silent. The line crept along again and Seto pushed them forward.

               “Seto!” Atem scolded. “I can walk on my own just fine. We won’t get there any faster if you push me.”

               “Maybe I’m just trying to give your tiny legs a break by contributing extra inertia.” Atem craned his neck and glared up at his boyfriend, who was now sporting a toothy grin.

               “You are such an ass,” Atem hissed.

               “You’re just nettled because you know I’m going to defeat you this time.”

               “Not if you rattle as easily as you did the last time we dueled each other,” Atem shot back.

               “That was two years ago, and I’m stronger now,” Seto said. The line shifted yet again, and Atem pulled Seto forward, sending him slightly off balance. They recovered quickly.

               “This line has barely moved,” Seto groused. “It will be midnight before we get registered.”

               “You are so moody,” Atem murmured.

               “Says the one who’s clearly been miffed for several minutes. You’re very tense.” Seto discreetly began to massage Atem’s neck.  

               “I’m nervous,” Atem said. “I’m always nervous before a tournament.”

               “I’m not,” Seto replied. “I don’t need to be when I’m confident in my abilities as a duelist.”

               “Given your track record maybe you should be nervous, especially since I’m going to defeat you yet again.”

               “Now who’s being arrogant?” Seto asked. “We haven’t dueled in months. You don’t know any of my strategies.”

               “But I know you,” Atem said. “And now I know you more intimately, and you’re easier to read.”

               “Who says I haven’t figured out how to read you?”

               “I’ve always been better at having a poker face, Seto. We both know this.” They took a few more steps and were now a third of the way closer to the registration desk.

               “Your taunting skills have atrophied.”

               “So have yours.”

               “It appears having amorous feelings towards one’s rival tends to do that.”

               There was a groan at the registration table. An admin was frantically clicking a mouse connected to a laptop. She called over another tournament official.

               “The internet is down,” she said. “I can’t register anyone.”

               A collective groan ripped through the line. Seto and Atem sighed.  

               “This is the worst,” Seto lamented. He wound an arm around Atem’s shoulders, rested his chin atop his head, and leaned forward slightly. “At least I have a shelf.”

               “Seto!”  

               Seto chuckled. Atem tried to wiggle away but Seto's grip was firm. "Just wait until I hit my growth spurt," he grumbled.

CHAPTER TWO Ao3 LINK

CHAPTER ONE: FFNET | Ao3

Preview:

"I didn't ask for this life, you know."

"What life?"

"This. Moving around every couple years. Watching everyone around me wither and die or settle down while I live in the shadow of my father's organisation."

"You speak as though you've been a part of it yourself."

Madeleine scowled. "No. I'd rather die than allow myself to be mistaken for one of your operatives."

"Operatives?"

"Oh God, don't pretend like you don't know what I mean. You're another one of SPECTRE's dogs. That's what this is about, isn't it?"

"Do you expect to engender any pity from me by acting this way, Dr. Swann?" Something changed in his eyes; the same readability that wasn't pleasant. Madeleine grit her teeth but did not answer. "You dislike your father's methods but took his dirty money to get ahead. And you think this makes you an object of sympathy?"

"What's your point?" Madeleine snapped.

It had only been a couple of days since Mitsune and Kihta had returned to their home within The Mist. Both of them were exhausted from the journey, barely moving or showing any signs of life save for leaving the home for any food or supplies they might need. Kihta was fast asleep when Mitsune woke up from his sleep. It wasn’t over nightmares or strange dreams. Mitsune was only restless from not knowing what exactly happened in Yangxia.

He kissed Kihta on the forehead gently before getting out of bed, putting on some comfortable attire, and headed down the street in the middle of the night, peering from the taverns and homes still alit. His trip brought him down to a bench sitting along the beach, the stars overhead twinkled above. The waves brushing against the shores were soothing to his hearing as he sat with his hands in his lap, watching the midnight ocean.

He closed his eyes, focusing on what happened before when he fought the monstrosity in Yangxia. When he opened them, he looked to see the shadow figure that helped him, sitting on the bench beside him. He peered to the facial features now that whoever it was had their face visible. They looked almost like Mitsune, tall, strong, and wearing enormous spiked armor. However, he did look much older than the young dark knight.

“Who are you?”

The figure looked to the ocean as he spoke to Mitsune, smokey dark trails of violet and crimson wisping energy rising from his form, “Tokimoto Yumishi.” “And should I know this name?”

The man kept staring to the ocean and both of them were quiet for a long moment. He finally spoke up once more, “I don’t have much time to speak so I will make my appearance brief before I visit once more.” He peered to Mitsune, his face was almost a copy of Mitsune’s save for the paler skin and dark violet hair, “I’m your grandfather, or what was left of him before he passed on into the lifestream.”

Mitsune, surprised, stared into the spectre’s eyes and examined his facial features, “What about the rest of our family? Why do I have the powers I wield?”

“There is a reason for your power, Mitsune. It’s something you need to learn of now that you’re ready to.”

Mitsune tilted his head slightly, concern  was starting to rise in his voice, “Then why has all of this happened?”

The spirit looked to the ocean solemnly. Shame seemed to pour out from his lips, “When you were just a newborn, I placed a blessing upon you. Some, many, may even call it a curse. It granted you great power that would build over time, eventually to help rid the world of voidsent and terrible creatures. To understand the enemy is to use their own power.”

This left Mitsune speachless for a few moments as he listened to Tokimoto. He started to clenched his right hand and his heart started to pound in his head. “Our family had been in a long line of demon slaying warriors, in many shapes, forms and abilities. There are some unfortunate effects of this blessing. Voices from those before might come through your mind in vestigial speech, voidsent might be more drawn to you, among other things…”

“You thought that passing it to a newborn child would be best?!” Mitsune started to shout angrily at the spirit and rocked back and forth ever slightly as he sat on the bench, “Are you out of your god damned mind? Why you do this to me? Why would you do this to your own family?!”

“Because I had to, Mitsune.” He stared to the beach as the both of them became quiet once more, the waves crashing against the sand and rocks, “That monster you fought killed your grandmother and almost our entire family before I sent it back, but not before it struck me with a blow that I could not recover from.”

Mitsune was still taken aback at being cursed by his own grandfather. He rubbed his head before putting it in both of his hands as he leaned over, “Who is left of our family?”

“Your father, your mother, brother, and sister were all saved. Where they are if they still live I do not know. Do you remember that night as the village, Mitsune? Surely you do…”

Mitsune looked back up. That horrible fire and burning village was clear  within his mind and that charred smell of burning timber, straw, and flesh was seared into his memory. He let Tokimoto continue.

“That was the night it came for us all. That was when I sent it back. However it was not alone. It had help and it threatened to kill us all. You were seperated from everyone and I know they couldn’t find you afterwards. They assumed the worst. I knew better. I made you strong enough to evade them, to ward them off until you became powerful.”

Tears fell from his eyes and onto his clothing as they dripped from his chin, “I was the youngest of my siblings and you chose me from all three of us. The fact you did chose any of us is bad enough but to a newborn child that is sealed to that fate?”

“Your mother and father would have none of it. I explained to them the monsters didn’t care if they were demon slayers, they would come after them anyway from the blood we carry. They would have none of it. I promised them the line would end with me.  But then you were born into this world, Mitsune. You had aether within you, more power than I had seen anyone in our line ever have before. I saw it as a way to end what I could not. I did what I had to, Mitsune.”

Mitsune bit his bottom lip in sadness, confusion, and in complete disbelief. However, he did know his powers were far beyond many that he battled alongside and against. Even Siggurd, before he succombed to the monster that possessed him, saw the boy as a powerful warrior who could use powerful dark magic on a whim. Something to combat the darkness seeping into the world. He pulled his head out from his hands and leaned back on the bench, staring to the ocean. 

“Then you had better teach me everything I need to fucking know.”