#I saw that archived link what the actual fucking shit in hell were they thinking typing that?

[samuraisharkie]

ok I genuinely think @is-the-owl-video-cute has gone off the deep end. what makes you act like that on the internet for real. I don’t even have a real stock in this bullshit drama but they are just the most reactionary asshole to people? how can y’all look up to them they are genuinely so immature and pissy. they’ve been throwing a fit over users they personally dislike and using absolutely no proof at all to say they doxxed ppl. there’s like zero proof other than they don’t like them LMAO. can y’all log the fuck off please?? before someone actually gets hurt??

[rubberduckyrye]

So I saw your flowerfell post and it's actually true, it was ruined by shippers and they disrespected the creators wishes by doxxing them sending death threats and tons more, there is year old video on YouTube that talks more about it. I think it's called how shippers destroyed an au. I could be miss remembering the name of the video. Sorry 😔

Oii. You're gonna go make me watch that damn video huh? Just to prove a point? Mkay, I'll bite.

And you're going to regret getting me to bite.

First of all, this is the video in question you are referring to:

And immediately, the creator of the video proves to be wrong. And fuck you for making me give this video a view, because it really doesn't deserve it for spreading misinformation.

The original fanfiction, "Overgrowth," was posted to Ao3 by the user SociopathicArchangel, which you can find an archive of here. In before you suggest that SociopathicArchangel was a reposter of the fic, I want to point out that looking for their username on Ao3 brings up a shocking and alarming amount of people crediting them for the Flowerfell Fanfic. This is a bit too much of a coincidence for SociopathicArchangel to be a reposter, especially since Archangel doesn't have an Ao3 anymore.

Also, this video reading the fanfic credits Sociopathicarchangel. So you know.

The content creator who made this video refers to Sociopathicarchangel as... I think it's spelled, Lividicus??? Correct me if I'm wrong here, but I'm assuming Archangel changed their username. I'll be referring to them as Socipathicarchangel or Archangel for this ask though.

Disregarding that, if you are to look at the Archive.org link of Overgrowth--the original fanfiction was tagged as Frisk/Sans, or Frans. So yeah the argument falls apart when you actually look at fandom history. Flowerfell was a Frans AU. Whether or not the original creator intended it to be and their friend Archangel took it out of context is kind of moot point--the main explosion of the AU came from the fanfic made by Archangel, thus meaning the AU was a Frans AU. Or at least, gained traction from the fic which gave the assumption that it was a Frans AU.

This is important to note because the framework of this video is already severely flawed. So I'm not looking forward to seeing the rest of this hot garbage.

Oh I love how they didn't credit the actual composer of Secret Garden. They just showed a Fan PV on screen. Nice!!! They don't even say the composer's name for credit! Love (See: Hate) to see it.

About the kinning: I vaguely remember this drama when it started, and how the creator of Flowerfell was very Anti-kin. Which is. Uh. We see that as a shitty thing now, right? I know that having someone kin """Your""" character (Sans nor Frisk was never their characters to begin with) might seem a bit uncomfortable at first but like. Man, just leave fiction kins alone. They get so much shit for everything.

The evidence provided to prove that Kins were sending the creator hate for not making their Headcanons canon--I mean. Where's the evidence for that. Please show that. No? Okay...

I have absolutely no idea what the hell the OC stuff is about. People stole the og creator's OCs to use in their own stuff? Would love some context and evidence for that. But this video shows no evidence of these things what so ever. Ugh.

Anyway.

In the video, the content creator used this snippit from the fic to prove that Frisk was "Canonly a child in the AU" and "this was not a Frans AU"

Pointing out the actual context here--this snippit? It's talking about Toriel. Toriel, who had gone mad from seeing children before Frisk disobeying her and dying.

This is not saying Frisk is a child. This is saying Toriel has gone mad from seeing children before them die to the hands of other monsters.

Not really important, but this is just an example of why the content creator who made this video just. Is not to be trusted. They used this as "proof" Frisk was a child in the original Fic. Which is not the case.

And again. This video, as I'm going through it, is giving no evidence over anything that happened. Absolutely nothing. Go figure.

Also, listening to the clip that the content creator put in their video--I heard that. I heard that little flub. "An--asks we would get" I don't know, sounds like they were going to say antis there--as in, Anti-shippers maybe Hmmm. That is speculation, granted, but still. Worth noting it.

But also, now I have to go listen to the whole audio clip because it sure sounds like this wasn't a "poor Creator of Flowerfell was a victim in this uwu" but it sounds like Sane (I think is how you spell their name) became bitter, vindictive, and started fighting with people about their AU.

Like yeah, that's going to end well.

Anyway, onto the audio clip.

A lot of this is testimony so far. (And again, calling Frisk a child, that's not canon, I am Screaming) I don't think these people understand what fiction kinning a character means, because they are basically being Anti-kin right now. I don't know if there were actually any kins disrespecting the creators by saying they knew the characters better than they did, or if they were just saying "Hey!!! I am Flowerfell Frisk!!!!!" And these people took it the wrong way. I need references--aka, evidence that Kins actually were being disrespectful little shits, or shut up. Please for the love of god does anyone have any evidence. I am Begging.

Also the misconception that Sane owned Flowerfell because they created the AU is absurd. Please, for the love of god, if you make an AU of a canon franchise, unless you like, get super special privileges from the creators themselves, or are licensed to produce that content--you do not own that property. I am screaming into my hands. I am Tired.

I listened to the rest of the audio clip after that note because I knew it was going to be a very emotional audio clip. However, for as much as I feel for Psi (the person who recorded this audio) being stuck in the situation they were in... No, Shippers were never the main issue.

Here's what I think happened, after listening in and going over everything:

Flowerfell was created. Overgrowth was created. It got very popular as a Frans AU because it was tagged as a Frans AU on Ao3. Maybe some Fans got upset at the original creator because the Ao3 fic was tagged as the ship and the AU was not the ship, thus making them feel lied to, but from the sound of the audio clip it seems like the shippers and anti shippers were actually not that big of a problem. (Which is a surprise to me--antis are the ones who basically erased what actually happened from fandom history, like the content creator you referenced. They screamed "Anti" to me in that video at least) Even the thieves stealing and reposting art and the fanfic didn't seem to be the main issue here.

The biggest problem came about from Sane's paranoia of someone stealing their ideas and getting into arguments with fictionkins, and getting backlash from being frankly from what I can remember, very anti-fictionkin. And judging from the way Psi phrased things in this audio clip--yeah, I can easily imagine they were being extremely anti-fictionkin and that probably pissed a bunch of people off. And that, in turn, made them spiteful, which made Sane more bitter and spiteful because they didn't know how to deal with such a huge audience and a huge amount of backlash.

Either way, no, it was not the Frans Shippers that "ruined the AU." What ruined the AU was the fact that the main creator, Sane, didn't know how to handle such a large fanbase that was given to them overnight. They didn't know how to react or behave when fans were making them uncomfortable or being inappropriate. They were encouraged by peers to be spiteful and angry and only grew more bitter and paranoid because of it. As they became a worse and worse person, more fans started getting angry too, and wanting to take the AU for themselves since the creator was being a bad person for how they were treating their fans.

The AU wasn't ruined by the Frans shippers. It was ruined by Sane themselves--and by the people who were encouraging Sane's bitterness and paranoia. The only person who could ruin a creation is the creator themselves, after all. I'm pretty sure even Psi acknowledged that in their audio clip at the end--that it was all up to Sane.

So enough with the "Frans Shippers Ruined Flowerfell" Shit because that is not what happened from what little evidence I've seen/gathered. If you got actual proof that is the case, be my guest! But nothing concrete has been present to me thus far.

So yeah.

[ashtonisvibing]

"Fuck me before I die"

Fandom: Jacksepticeye Egos

Alternate Universe: Normalcy AU

Ship(s): Schneeplebro (Platonic/Implied Sexual)

Character(s): Henrik von Schneeplestein, Chase Brody

Warning(s): Alcohol abuse, mentioned depression, talks of suicide, smoking mention, vomiting

Originally Published: Oct. 26, 2023

Word Count: 3,283

Author's Notes:

so, you read the tags (i hope). you know that this is a very heavy one. and if you didn't, i'm saying it right here and now: this is a very heavy one. i'm pretty sure the dead dove tag applies to this one, so i'm using it. if there's any other tags i should use, as always let me know (still don't fully know what tags are available on here)

this is exploring chase and henrik's relationship to each other a little, even though it's during an extremely hard moment in chase's life. but hey, aren't the hardships the best times to explore characters and how they interact? : )

small and quick german phrases will be in german, but if there's any instance where henrik speaks a full sentence in german it'll be indicated by these [ ] brackets, just to make it easier to understand him.

pronoun check:

henrik: he/him

chase: he/him, they/them

Link:

if you liked what you read, consider giving this a reblog, please! it'll let more people see my work!

[plain text: if you liked what you read, consider giving this a reblog, please! it'll let more people see my work!]

The Normalcy AU MAsterpost

Full Story:

The nearly freezing rain beat against Chase's skin and made his clothes stick in the most uncomfortable way. He could barely see through the water dripping from his bangs, but in his drunken state he didn't care. He didn't care about anything, really. He could feel the effects of the whiskey he downed not that long ago but it didn't cure his numbness. Seeing his brother, Jackie, earlier didn't help. And he knew whom he was going to see now wouldn't, either. But that was his plan, wasn't it? Ever since Stacy came by to let him know.

"Chase, what the hell...? What...?"

"What..? Jus'... Tryna drink an' forget... An' all that..."

"Did you forget that you were supposed to take the kids today?"

"... Figured you- you wouldn't want me seein' the kids.. Cuz'a the beer an' shit.."

"I just... I thought that maybe you had tried getting help, like I asked.."

He still held the whiskey bottle he'd bought in his hand. He threw his head back as the glass opening touched his lips, hoping for even just a drop of the burning liquid. He didn't want to think about this morning. He didn't want to think at all. He wanted to forget everything for a little while. Forget how much he had screwed his life up in a few years. If only he had actually grown up, had tried a little harder. If only...

The burning neon light signing "Emergency Room" stung his eyes, needing him to shield himself by pulling his hat down further. He was finally here, now all he had to do was wait. So he sat against one of the pillars and did just that. Waited. Despite the sign on the wall telling him he wasn't allowed to smoke he still tried to find his cigarette pack in any of his pockets. When he realized he didn't have it he silently cursed. He could've sworn he picked some up with the whiskey. Next best thing was to just chew on his hoodie string and try not to think.

Don't think, don't think, don't think, don't think, DON'T THI-

"Chase...?"

Chase was jolted out of his thoughts by a voice. He looked up and saw whom he wanted to see. Henrik, an old friend of his. They hadn't seen each other in... Chase couldn't remember. Henrik went to medical school and that took up his time. Then his wife got pregnant and that took up his time. Then his wife gave birth prematurely and died, leaving Hen as a single father in med school. Then Chase's divorce that made him want to...

They just hadn't seen each other in a while.

Chase did his best to stand up, but he nearly tripped over his own two feet doing so. The only thing that kept him from tasting rain water and concrete was Henrik catching him.

"Gah- Verdammte Hölle, Chase, are you-" And then Henrik took a sniff, and the strong smell of whiskey wafting from Chase nearly caused him to turn away. "You've been drinking again."

"Man.. Really putting that brain to good-" Chase was interrupted by a hiccup. "Good use.." He could barely stand up properly as he chuckled a little. He didn't even realize he had left the bottle in its paper bag on the ground. "Got nothin' better t'do these days..." What else could he do? The only thing that kept him from spiraling was the burning syrup going down his throat and making his mind fuzzy. And when that fuzz went away, down some more. An endless cycle that he didn't see the point of breaking now.

"Wha's the point in.. In getting help..? Won't fix my shit life.."

"Yeah, because once you get help and back on your feet then you'll be the one to fix your life. And it's not like you'll have to do it alone."

"Pfft, no one's gonna help me.. No one gives a shit 'bout some... Some sad asshole..."

"Chase, that isn't true! You've got Jackie and your parents, you've got me-"

"I don't got you anymore... Fucked that up, i's all I do, remember..?"

"Chase..."

"- Chase!"

Chase was snapped out of his thoughts by a different voice yelling his name. He hadn't even realized he had sunk right back into his thoughts, but he was thankful that he'd been snapped out of it. "So- Sorry... Lots'a thoughts as always..."

Henrik let out a sigh as he looked around for Chase's car, although realizing just how drunk the other was made him grateful he didn't seem to see it anywhere. It meant he didn't drive all the way here while drinking. He didn't even really care what brought Chase to the hospital tonight, whatever the reason he needed to be brought home. Or maybe to Jackie so that he didn't keep drinking. "Alright, I'm driving you... Somewhere. Probably to your brother, I do not trust you to be alone." The doctor helped his friend to his side and wrapped the other's arm around his shoulders, his own arm wrapping tightly around his waist as they walked to keep him upright. "I could try and clear your apartment of any alcohol you have and you would possibly have some stashed in a secret cabinet."

"Want you t'come home with me..." Chase mumbled out as he watched his feet sway and stumble across the parking lot concrete. It didn't even feel like he was walking at this point, like Henrik was just pulling him along and he was pretending to walk. "Have a night of fun... Like we used to 'fore we met Stacy an' Maria..."

Henrik nearly dropped Chase at that suggestion. He knew perfectly well what "a night of fun" meant. Before the pair had met their now ex wives they fooled around together. A lot. It basically became routine for them to go home together for a hard fuck whenever they met up. Hen nearly considered it before he shook his head a little. "Chase you are far too drunk for that, you probably don't even know what you are ta-"

"Had this idea since this morning... Wasn't drunk then..." Chase knew if he told the truth Henrik wouldn't come back with him. He chuckled a little as he looked up at his friend, and the doctor was able to see just how shitty the other looked. He was soaked and pale and probably freezing, and judging by the huge dark circles under his eyes- and just how sunken they looked- he'd been getting barely any sleep lately. Hell, there's a chance he didn't let himself sleep, simply having his body force himself to pass out for even a few hours of rest. He was in horrible shape. "C'mon, jus' one last night... An' then I won't bother you again.."

That sentence... Concerned Henrik. He didn't want to think about what that could imply. It could simply just be that Chase wouldn't ask for any more favors. But...

"Alright, fine." Hen didn't want his friend to be alone tonight. He didn't know what could happen if he simply took Chase home and left him there. And taking him to Jackie maybe wouldn't be any better. Maybe being a doctor gave him a bit of a savior complex but he just had a feeling that he needed to be with his friend tonight. And if that included a quick fuck with a drunk man, then he could suck it up and deal. "But we are going to your apartment, I am not letting Robbie hear us." All the doctor got was a hum in response as he helped Chase into the passenger side of the car, getting in on the driver's side and pulling his phone out.

Chase didn't understand a word that Henrik was saying while speaking to... Whoever. It was all in german. Probably one of Hen's parents, telling them he wouldn't be home tonight. He didn't really care much as he watched water droplets fall from his hat and onto his lap. His hand gripped at... Nothing. "Shit, left my- My drink back there.." He tried to get out of the car but Henrik was quick to place an arm over his chest, giving a glare as he continued talking. Okay, he wasn't getting out of the car any time soon apparently. But he really needed that drink.

It took a few more seconds before the doctor put his phone away, replacing it with his car keys. "So long as I am with you you will not be having any alcohol." The engine revved to life once the keys were turned and they were off to Chase's apartment. Thankfully Henrik remembered the way there from the hospital. "I will keep you distracted all night if I have to."

Chase let out a snort and a chuckle. "Don't think my ass can handle that much dick.. Or are you gonna let me play with you tonight..?" His speech was getting less slurred now. That was good, it meant he was slowly getting sober. Henrik couldn't help his little chuckle at the other's words. He missed his friend's dirty humor, sometimes.

"Whatever you need me to do so you will stay away from the bottle."

Thankfully Henrik managed to keep the conversation going the entire half an hour they were driving. It never gave Chase a chance to go back into his head and think too much. The doctor knew that was the last thing his friend needed right now, was to think about anything else but the present moment. And it was nice to just... Talk. About anything and everything that came to their minds, about a new movie one of them saw recently or what they had to eat last night. He needed to reach out to Chase more often, even if it was just to talk on the phone for a few minutes. Maybe that could help the other get just a little better as well.

It took several minutes to get Chase out of the car and up the stairs to his apartment. It didn't help that he nearly tripped right back down the stairs a couple of times. But soon they were inside, and Henrik was immediately hit with the horribly strong smell of various alcohols, as well as the state of the apartment. Glass bottles, cans, and take out containers littered every surface area. Dishes that probably hadn't been used in weeks were stacked on the kitchen counter.

"[Jesus Christ, Chase, how are you living like this...?]" Henrik spoke under his breath as he looked around the disheveled apartment. All he got was a groan in response. Chase was barely hanging on to the doctor, his head hung low and tangled hair covering his growing pale face.

"Doc, I don'... Feel so good..." He mumbled before his body lurched forward with a retch. The doctor was snapped out of his shock over his surroundings and was quick to lead Chase to the nearby sink so he could vomit any contents that were in his stomach. This certainly wasn't the first time Henrik had seen someone puke their guts out, he'd become desensitized to it thanks to working in the medical field. So he was able to look over what was in the vomit, disappointed that it was purely liquid. Maybe he just hadn't eaten in the past few hours, but knowing his friend's mental state...

Henrik turned the faucet on to wash away the rest of the vomit, grabbing a paper towel and wetting it to help clean Chase's mouth. "Alright, because of that we are not having sex tonight.. I'm assuming you have not eaten at all today, so I am going to order us some take out and we will watch movies together." The other man let out a small groan as he shook his head, letting out a few coughs to make sure everything was out of his system.

"Uh-uh... Gotta stick with the plan..." Chase chuckled a little as he moved his hair out of his face. "Gonna be the last chance you'll ever have t'fuck me, man..."

Henrik could feel a pit form in his stomach at that sentence. In other circumstances, that sentence could be taken as a good thing. Chase could be seeing someone else, or he was moving across the country. Anything else would make sense in a different situation. But here? While his friend was hunched over the sink, his life seemingly becoming more of a mess? The doctor could hear his heart in his ears from how hard it was beating. "What do you mean by that, Chase..?"

"Gonna off myself t'night.." Chase hummed a little as he stared into the sink drain. The dark hole at the bottom of the silver dish felt like it was growing more and more and soon it would just swallow him whole. "Had a whole plan and everything.. Go hang with Jackie for a while, then bring you back here to get-" He heaved a little before he went back to talking. "-get my brains fucked out. Or fuck your brains out, either was cool.. And then I'd be gone..! Once less screw up in the world..."

It felt like Henrik's heart completely stopped. He knew it hadn't, he knew what a heart stopping was actually supposed to feel like. His heart was still technically beating, but in the moment it seemingly just... Stopped. The entire world around him stopped as Chase's words sunk in. He made this entire plan, one last day of fun with the ones closest to him, and then...

Henrik felt like he was going to puke.

How did any of them not notice how far gone this man had become?

"Chase... What..." The doctor ran a hand through his hair in any attempt to stabilize himself, to keep himself as calm as he could be right now. He needed to be calm for Chase. "Why did you never say anything..? If you are feeling that low one of us could have helped you. Is it money that is the issue? I can cover any therapy bills that you may ne-"

"Stacy took the kids." Henrik was interrupted by his friend's low voice. His stare into the sink was so intense he could have set it on fire by now. "Caught me drunk this morning. I was supposed to take the kids but... C'mon, they don't wanna be around their sad dad." Chase finally looked up at the doctor. His dark blue eyes, once holding so much spark and excitement... They truly looked dead. Completely dull. "So she took 'em. Something about... I dunno, doing it for my own good?" He let out a snorted chuckle. "Lot'a good that did, huh..."

"Chase, you can't keep doing this! You're gonna drink yourself to death!"

"Isn't that what everything wants? Finally, the dead beat's actually dead... Don't gotta watch 'im spiral anymore..."

"....... I'm taking the kids back to my place. You're not allowed to see them until you get some sort of help."

"Wh-"

"Those kids love you to fucking death, Chase! You seriously think they want their own father dead?! I just-..."

"Stace..."

"... I know how much they mean to you. That's why I'm doing this. Get sober, get help, anything. Just... Stop drinking yourself into a hole. If you won't do that for all your friends, maybe even your own brother, then do it for them. Give them their dad back. Please..."

Chase was snapped back into reality by Henrik shaking his shoulder and calling out his name. He looked up at the doctor... And he didn't expect the expression he'd see. The other's face was pale, tears already starting to fall down his face. What was he crying for? "Hey, doc, what's with the long fa-" He was immediately cut off as arms pulled him into a tight yet shaky hug. Oh, this... He hadn't felt one of these in a while. Sure, of course Jackie gave him hugs. But... This one was so emotional. Henrik held him like he might vanish right then and there if he let go. Chase needed to take a few moments before his own arms wrapped just as tightly around his friend, nuzzling his face into the crook of the other's neck. The doctor's hand ran itself through the other's hair.

"Chase, ki-" Henrik needed to take a pause at that word. "Killing yourself is not the answer to losing your kids... You should be trying to get better..." The other man gave a dry, hollow chuckle in response.

"I... I don't think I can, doc..." He pulled his face away as his own tears started to form. He didn't want to start crying on his friend. "What the hell am I supposed to do, huh? Just quit cold turkey? I mean- Fuck, how long would it even take..?? What if Stacy's never happy with my progress or whatever.."

"Please, do you really think she would do that to you..?" One of the doctor's hands reached up to gently cup Chase's cheek, earning a tired sigh from the other man as he leaned into the touch. "She knows just how much you love your children.. She is taking them away because she thinks they are the only thing that will get you to recover. The rest of us have tried everything we could, and that has not worked. What else is there to do..? Because there is not a single chance that we are just going to leave you to die. We will all help you in any way we can. Just please, try to get better..."

Sometimes you don't realize how badly you need someone to hit you with reality until it happens to you. Chase wanted so badly to ignore Henrik's words. To keep telling both of them that he wasn't deserving of anyone's help, that at this point he was far too gone. That he should just be rotting six feet below by now. But he wanted to get better so bad. He didn't want to keep laying on the couch drinking until he passed out, and have the cycle just keep repeating. He wanted to see his friend and family again. He wanted to see his kids laugh and smile, he wanted to crack jokes, he wanted to look at the world and not see grays.

He wanted to get better.

Chase only gave a noise in response as he leaned more into Henrik's arms. At this point he was just so tired that he could barely do anything else, only limply wrapping his own arms around the doctor for any sort of closeness. That's what he needed so badly right now. Just to be close to someone that apparently cared about him. He was glad that that person was Henrik right now. And they just stood there next to the sink for what seemed like hours, even if it had only been mere minutes. Just standing there in each other's arms and taking in the air around them. There were so many things that both of them wanted to say, but after Henrik's words the silence was needed so much more. And in all honesty, both of them just needed some rest, even if it was simply sitting down together.

"Hey doc...?" Chase spoke up after another minute, his voice just barely loud enough for Henrik to hear him.

"Hm...?"

"You mentioned take out... Could we get pizza...? Haven't eaten all day..."

Henrik couldn't help his small chuckle as he nodded, leaving a small kiss on the other's head. "Sure... Does pepperoni sound good...?"

"Sounds amazing right now..."

[senfena]

Cold War: Remedy, Chapter 3

A/N: The first chapter of Remedy can now be found on ao3! I'll add chapter 2 and 3 soon but for now, here's the link to the first one:

The truck slowed to a halt. "You sure you're not forgetting something, Bell?" Adler asked you. Confusion rapidly washed over you, as you stepped out of the car and looked towards a gigantic wall of radio towers in the distance. You all were supposed to be going to Solovetsky right now. What was this place, and how did any of you get there? You all regrouped near the gate. "There's nothing here." Mason spoke, bewildered. "This can't be the right place." "We didn't see anything on our side either." Adler wondered. Suddenly, Woods quickly strided towards you. "It's her!" He berated you, taking an aggressive posture "She fucking lied to us!" You felt disoriented, and started to fill with dread. This can't be right, you would never do this to them.

"That true, Bell? You pull us out to the middle of nowhere Russia so Perseus can detonate those nukes?" Adler demanded. He sounded so enraged, and everyone was looking at you bitterly. You looked over his shoulder and saw Park, staring daggers at you. You felt like a child, sinking into yourself as your brain tried to decipher this. "No, no, of course not!" You tried to squeak out. "I'd never do something like this! It's like you said, this isn't about you or me, it's about millions of others!"

Those aren't the words that actually leave your mouth, though. "You were a fool to trust me." You said, full of snark. "Typical American arrogance." "WHAT?" You attempted to scream, aghast. "I had no choice but to trust you!" Adler shot back. "No, Adler, that's not what I said!" You tried crying out as loud as you could, but it didn't seem to make a difference. "What a waste." He shook his head. "You actually could've done something with yourself, kid." "I tried! Russell, please, I tried!" You again attempted to yell out, to no effect.

"I bet on the winning horse." You spat back at Adler, full of smugness. "There's no winner here, Bell! You've just dragged everyone into the loser column with you!" He roared at you. You began to break down, whimpering to yourself as tears began to stream down your face. "This isn't real. Please, please, this isn't real, this isn't real." "I'd let you walk back to Perseus, but I think I'll spare you the regret instead." He snarled at you. "At least he never robbed me of my identity." "Apparently we didn't do a good enough job." Mason and Woods simply shook their heads in disappointment. Wait, they knew? And they didn't care? What the hell was going on? Adler snarled as he cocked his rifle. "No, Russell, Russell, PLEASE!" You pleaded in tears, wishing with everything that he'd hear you, the real you. "Time's up, kid." He swiftly aimed his gun at you. "RUSSELL, PLEASE!"

Bang.

___________

March 16, 1981

Your eyes opened in an instant, as you sat up and quickly screamed out in panic. You saw someone uneasily place a hand on your shoulder, and as you were hyperventilating you looked over to your left and saw Park. "Woah, woah! It's okay, Bell!" She tried to calm you down. "It's just a nightmare." Your breathing began to slow, and as the adrenaline stopped flowing so quickly, you felt pain around your stomach again, and you instinctively put your hand on it. It doesn't seem like you repulled any stitches, but nonetheless, sudden movements probably aren't a good idea right now.

You looked around and saw you were in the bedrooms in the safehouse, lying on your bed. There were 4 bedrooms, each with 2 beds in the corners away from the doors. When you first arrived, you got lucky with not having to share a room with anyone. Adler and Sims shared one, then Mason and Woods, and then Park and...Lazar. Shit. So much had happened in the last day or so, you barely even had time to process it. You started to wonder if he knew what had been done to you. Would it make you care about him less? Probably not. He was always so kind to you, encouraging you to take a break and rest up on the late nights when you were stressing yourself out over encrypted files, offering you leftovers of his food when he noticed you hadn't eaten the entire day, and now...he's dead, because you weren't...You tried not to think about it, at least for now.

You noticed Park was sitting in a chair. How long had she been there? You felt too afraid to ask, to even look her in the eye. The way she was staring at you in that nightmare, like she was trying to kill you just by looking at you, it was haunting. You curled into yourself again before you trembled out to her "I'm sorry...I didn't mean to…to startle..." "It's alright, Bell." She sounded so comforting, and out of your peripheral view, you could see that she was smiling. You didn't get it. You were one of Perseus' top agents, fully aware of his plan to blow up half of Europe, and even after that, one of her friends was dead because of you, and you just tried to shoot her boss. Why was she being...so nice to you? You hung your head and began to sob.

Park rubbed her hand up and down your shoulder, attempting to console you. "Must've been some nightmare." She remarked. All you could do was nod your head. "Do you want to talk about it?" She queried. What would happen if you did tell her? Would she get scared of it? Maybe they'd decide that they actually do need to kill you. You shook your head side to side. "Okay." Park accepted, patting your shoulder a couple times as she stood up. "Well, I want you to try not getting out of bed unless you need to for the next few days. You're going to need a lot of rest." She advised you. You sniffled and wiped the tears from your eyes, but more kept coming. You nodded again.

"Alright. Did you need anything to drink, or eat that I can get for you?" Park asked. Thinking back on it, when was the last time you ate? Probably right before...Havana. "Yeah, please." You managed to choke out. "Okay, I'll be right back." Park replied. As she turned to leave, something in the back of your head signaled to stop her. "Wait, Park?" You spoke up. She turned back to you, standing in the doorway. "Yes?" You looked up slightly, staring at her shoes. "If he tries to come in here…don't let him. Please." You appealed, voice quivering. "Of course, Bell." She affirmed, stepping out to make you some food. You lay back down, head turned to the side, still weeping. Volkov's voice echoed in your head; "...damaged goods." The tears started to flow quicker again.

Fuck. Maybe Adler had a point shooting you.

___________

10 Hours Earlier

"You…" you mumbled as you rapidly lost consciousness. "...piece...of sh…" You weren't able to finish your sentence. Park lifted up your shirt and unwrapped your bandages, hoping for the best. No such luck, you did pull a stitch. "Shit." She muttered. "She pulled a stitch! Sims, doc, get her back on the gurney!" She commanded as she handed your limp body to Sims and the medic. As they carried you back in to the office to fix your stitches, Woods yelled out "Okay, I need an explanation for this right fucking now! Park, what were you just gonna say?" He demanded. "Actually," Park turned to Adler "I think I'll let him explain." She chided, slowly advancing towards him. "Woods and Mason found her on the cliff. She said your name right before she passed out, and from what just happened, it's a pretty solid guess that you shot her. So why?"

Adler donned his sunglasses again, stamped out the still lit cigarette on the floor that you inadvertently sent flying when you punched him, and lit a new one. He took a drag, then started; "Mason, Woods, you remember that Perseus agent we found still breathing back at the Trabzon airstrip? That's her." Woods' and Mason's faces were flummoxed, and Park hung her head in shame. "We tried interrogating her," Adler continued "but she wasn't giving us anything. So we tried something else: implanted memories. We reinvented her, and she led us right to Perseus." The room was silent for a minute. Mason's entire body was shaking. He took a few steps forward. "But...why shoot her?" He quizzed Adler with a rageful, trembling voice. Adler looked to the ceiling and took an extended drag, before finally looking back at Mason. "She served her purpose." He answered flatly.

The levee had broken. Mason's entire vision was blood red. He'd gone through what you now had, the worst kind of hell anyone could experience. Nobody deserved to go through that. And even after putting you through that, Adler decided to kill you afterwards? Like you were just some piece of litter? "Must die…" Reznov echoed in Mason's head once more. "YOU SON OF A BITCH!" He went into a full charge at Adler. "Mason!" Woods went into a sprint after his friend, trying to stop him before he did something he couldn't take back. Woods knew well enough that Mason might not have total control of himself right now, he'd seen him talking to Reznov a couple times even after killing Dragovich.

In any case, Woods wasn't quick enough before Mason tackled Adler to the ground, sending his sunglasses flying again. He put his left hand around Adler's throat, and brought his fist down on Adler's face with the other. "SERVED HER PURPOSE?!" Another punch, causing Adler's nose to bleed. "YOU FUCKING SNAKE!" He went to go for a third punch, but Woods grabbed his sleeve and collar and pulled him off Adler, sending him to the floor. "Mason, calm down!" Woods grasped his shoulders and tried to reason with him. "Yes, he's an asshole, but killing him isn't gonna solve anything!" Woods' words slowly brought Mason back to focus, as the red faded from his vision. "C'mon man, c'mon, breathe, you gotta breathe." Mason's breath gradually slowed. "Whatever happens next, Bell should be here for it. She's the one we need to focus on right now." Mason nodded along. "Yeah, okay." Woods let go and Mason rose to his feet. Adler did the same, and went to find a clean rag to wipe his face with.

"Alright, for now," Park spoke to the rest of the group "let's start archiving all of this. Chop chop." She clapped her hands together twice and went to the darkroom to gather everything inside, as Mason, Woods, Hudson and Sims did the same thing in different areas. Once Adler found a towel and made sure he'd stopped bleeding, he lit another cigarette, the third one in five minutes. He took a lengthy drag and held it as long as he could before exhaling. He looked over to the office, where your stitches were still being fixed. "Sorry, kid." He muttered under his breath.

[castthy-nightedcolour]

One- Shot: A Different Side (written as part of my series ‘don’t worry about a thing’ on AO3, link can be found at the bottom of the post as it won’t let me embed it)

Fandom: Good Omens

Characters: GN Reader, Crowley, a very annoying mouse

Warnings and Tags: snakes, animal death/ harm, swearing, uh oh we have a pest control problem, snake crowley, comfort , are they aren’t they

Summary: mouse traps, a skip full of rubbish and a broken down bus. not exactly your dream day, but your favourite demonic entity has a trick up his sleeve and behind his glasses to help you.

Word Count: 2778

Link to original: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31055930/chapters/81050182

If there was one word to describe your mood, that word would be vile. Tiny little irritants throughout the day had built to a simmering anger:

-Firstly, your bus into town had broken down about ten minutes away from your stop, meaning that you were forced to trek your way to the shops.

-Secondly, your trip to said shops wasn’t for any kind of retail therapy, but was instead to buy mouse traps. Your usually serene flat had been taken over by a little grey rodent who despite any humane efforts, was refusing to leave. You weren’t usually one for violence towards any living thing, but the little shit was out staying its welcome and had most recently been seen taking a bite out of a loaf of bread.

-When you did eventually get into town, it seemed to be the day for the world’s slowest walkers to take to the streets. Everyone was moving at about two steps per minute and you, being naturally speedy, were constantly waiting for gaps on the pavement to overtake. When you did manage to do this, there would be a whole new couple walking side by side, plodding along at a snail’s pace. You weren’t getting anywhere quick.

All in all, not your finest hour. This all came to a head on Oxford Street, or as you liked to call it, hell.

Your brain felt as though it were made of jelly, your temperature was rising, and someone stopped right in the middle of the street to check their phone. Slamming right into the back of them, you immediately let out something resembling a howl before running to your side off down Old Cavendish Street, somewhere slightly quieter. You leaned against the nearest wall, hot anger bubbling within you for what at the time, seemed like a life or death scenario of you getting out of town with the mousetraps, but in retrospect was just the culmination of various shitty things.

The last thing which you wanted to hear was any sign that you were being perceived, but a teenage boy riding past you on a bike shouting an obnoxious ‘WAHEYYYY’ at you was enough to tip you over the edge. You bashed your head back on the wall, feeling acid tears of anger falling, pedalled down your face by your short temper. Then, another shout came towards you from across the street.

‘Y/N? Is that you?’

You were ready to push yourself off the wall to lunge at this person until your brain caught up with recognition. Tilting your head forwards, your suspicions were confirmed when you saw floppy, ginger hair bouncing over the street atop a leather-clad frame. The sunglasses perched on his nose brought you a feeling somewhere between relief and fear.

You and Crowley had a relationship which can only be described as ‘are they? Aren’t they?’

You sure as hell couldn’t tell if he had any romantic feelings for you, and he gave off vibes so mixed that they were jumbled by this point. People always commented on the electricity between the two of you whenever you were together, but you tried not to get your hopes up and usually just put this down to his magnetising nature.

He’d told you about himself, and you thought that he must have trusted you somewhat to be able to disclose that he was a demon to you.

Then again, maybe he was just overly confident.

In the state you were currently in, you couldn’t decide whether to run into his arms to scream, or run as quickly away from him as was physically possible.

Your body chose neither and just stood there, open mouthed and gawking as the tears continued to fall with no effort from your eyelids. Crowley examined you, peering over the top of his sunglasses to try and decipher the scene before him.

‘Don’t tell me someone’s upset you, because I will find them for you, Y/N’ he started, rearing himself up as he spoke. You jumped in.

‘No, no. Not upset. I swear. Just… pissed off. Massively, massively pissed off. Short fuse today, y’see.’

‘Oh. Well, I know all about that. I’m quick to anger at any given moment but then again, ‘s in my nature. What exactly are you doing down here?’

You looked to your side at the gigantic skip full of building waste, then down to your feet where someone’s puke sat. You looked back up to the demon.

‘It was a quick escape, one that was made before I slapped someone in the face.’

Crowley looked slightly taken aback, not expecting any expression of violence from you considering your usually placid nature.

‘Ooookay. Well, I won’t ask for details but, here.’ He leaned over slightly and brushed away some of the tears which were still running down your face. You could swear that you both stopped breathing for a moment as he touched you but then again, you weren’t in a fit state for rational thinking.

‘Thank you,’ you breathed out. ‘I’m all good, I promise. Just need to breathe.’ You gave a reassuring smile to the demon and noticed him looking down to your hand, holding a flimsy plastic bag containing the mouse traps.

‘What you got there? Looks interesting.’ He said, tilting his head to try and get a closer look. You brought the bag up to your chest.

‘Oh, mouse traps. There’s a little shit thinking that he owns my flat who’s probably currently in my bread bin. Thought I’d stop the problem while I could, considering there’s that saying about seeing mice. Y’know, for every mouse you see, there’s always another one somewhere. Can’t wait to clean that up!’ Your words had somewhat of a bite, being spat like venom.

‘Woah. You really are pissed, aren’t you?’ Crowley responded, half smirking. For some reason, this set you off again.

‘Yes. Yes, actually I am. Because y’know what? This day has been fucking horrific! I genuinely don’t think that I’ve had two consecutive minutes of peace since the second I woke up. I can’t relax because of the mouse, then there was the bus, and the walking, and the pain in my feet, and the twat who decided to check his phone in the middle of Oxford Street. Sorry, who the hell does that? I just feel like I’ve been left out of any plans that the universe had to let people go about their day without a care in the world. So yes, I’m fuming.’ You gave a huff before realising that you were now crying again. Crowley stood slightly dumbstruck, shifting his weight between his feet. You glanced off to the side, watching the shoppers propel themselves down Oxford Street.

The demon then spoke, his voice low and sincere.

‘Can I give you a lift?’

—

After what felt like a windswept journey in the Bentley, Crowley screeched to a halt outside your flat. Jolting forwards slightly, the plastic bag containing the mouse traps crinkled between your legs.

You’d calmed down quite significantly, but now felt a combination of complete embarrassment that you’d had such an outburst in front of the being that you completely adored, and absolute excitement that he’d even offered you a lift. This wasn’t helped when you heard him say,

‘Let me walk you upstairs. Check that you’re okay.’

You felt fizzy, and as the two of you trudged up to your flat, you felt as though you could lift off any second. As you unlocked your front door, Crowley leaned on the doorframe, peering in to the hallway as you threw your bag on the floor. You suddenly regretted this as when the bag hit the floor, there was a scuttle from under your bedroom door, and the little mouse took one giant sprint off towards the kitchen. You screamed in shock as the little bastard took itself away, and Crowley grabbed onto your arm. This made you jump for a second time.

‘Woah woah there, calm down. It’s just a little mouse, we’ll sort this,’ Crowley sweetly spoke, lulling your heart back to a slightly normal rate. You looked down to his arm resting on yours and couldn’t help but smile slightly.

Crowley had a look on his face which would have read from ten miles away as one with a scheme brewing.

‘Look Y/N, I’m going to do something here which I don’t do very often, and all I’m asking is that you don’t freak out,’ the demon announced.

You couldn’t help but make a sarcastic joke.

‘What’s that then, the housework?’ Smirking, you looked up at Crowley who glared at you through his sunglasses.

‘Fine, you don’t need my help!’ He huffed, obviously taking the piss but you couldn’t help but tease him back into good spirits.

‘No no, sorry Crowley. What have you got for me?’

‘Snake.’

You stood there for a second, trying to make any sense of what he just said and burning up slightly as you wondered if this was perhaps his way of flirting.

‘A… a snake? You have a snake?’

‘Yes. Well, no. Well… yes. Look it’s complicated, can I just show you?’

Uh oh. Maybe this was him flirting.

You thought for a second before hearing an almighty crash from the kitchen, and from down the hallway you saw an entire loaf of bread fall to the ground, followed by a small army of mice. Again, you let out a scream as Crowley slammed the door shut behind the both of you.

‘How fucking many are there now?!’ You exclaimed, turning to face Crowley who was now quickly shifting between his feet. He suddenly grabbed your shoulders.

‘Look Y/N, tell me quick, do you have a phobia?’

‘Of mice? I think that’s pretty evident Crow-‘

‘No, of snakes. Are you scared of snakes?’

‘What is it with you and these snakes?’ You laughed. The demon then stood dead still and stared right at you.

‘Stay still. Don’t freak out please. I promise this will help.’

Before you knew it, Crowley’s hands had disappeared off your shoulders and he seemed to disappear entirely from before you. Confused, you looked down at the floor.

What you saw took your breath away for what felt like forever.

Rows and rows of black scales suddenly lined your hallway, flowing from side to side as the form made its way towards the kitchen. This didn’t take long, considering the snake’s body seemed to run on forever, there must have been at least 10 metres of the creature occupying your apartment.

You’d never really considered Crowley’s powers before. While you were aware that he was a demon, this thought didn’t control your every interaction with him. He was just Crowley- your friend Crowley- your possibly more than a friend Crowley- your Crowley. Shapeshifting had never been part of the picture.

But it was so, so beautiful.

Moving.

And snakes were never your favourite but this was just something else.

Squeals of mouse terror came from the kitchen as a massive shadow rose up throughout the whole apartment. Crowley was sitting up on his body, his head pointed towards any mouse that he could detect and a razor sharp stare in his luminescent eyes.

Your favourite part of this whole scenario was laying on the floor in front of you- Crowley’s sunglasses, sans Crowley for the first time ever. You smiled as you bent down to pick them up, your feet planted to the spot due to the inherently overwhelming nature of what was happening. You ran your fingers over the frames feeling the heat that was stored in them.

There was something so human about the lingering warmth to the metal, but that thing that made it so distinctively Crowley was the fact that the heat never seemed to fade.

The floor seemed to move as the scales once again shifted, with Crowley turning round to come back towards you. Cold fear seized your entire body, despite the oddly comforting and protective energy of this gigantic creature. His yellow eyes were right in front of your face before you’d even managed to properly react to him moving towards you.

You blinked and the Crowley that you knew and … ahem… was standing in front you, a live mouse swinging from his hand by the tail.

‘Consider those rodents dispatched.’

The mouse in his hand was thrashing wildly from side to side and while you hated the little shits, you couldn’t help but feel sorry for it. You went to protest but no words came out of your mouth.

You’d just witnessed something- something that couldn’t exactly be described as a miracle but to you- maybe?

Crowley noticed the panic in your eyes directed towards the mouse and realised what he needed to do. The mouse disappeared in another of your blinks.

There were so many pressing questions on your mind, but you only managed to actually articulate one of them.

‘Please tell me you didn’t eat those mice, Crowley?’ Your tone was somewhere between intrigue and massive concern.

The demon scoffed, ‘I prefer oysters normally, Y/N. No, I didn’t eat them. I can assure you though, they won’t be back any time soon.’

Palpable silence hung between the two of you. You naturally seemed to hold out Crowley’s sunglasses to him, staring directly into the eyes which served as a reminder of his other form as you did so.

Crowley went to slowly take the glasses off you, but in a snap decision, you snatched them back. Crowley wasn’t exactly thrilled by this.

‘Hey, don’t play games with those. They’re my-‘

He didn’t stand a chance of finishing his sentence before you jumped in, with your subconscious mind taking a grasp on your mouth. Maybe this was a trick of Crowley’s, but at least some of it came from your heart.

‘Do it again. Turn back.’

The two of you stared at each other as a smirk took over the demon’s face.

‘Really? It seemed to terrify you, dearest.’

The cockiness in his voice only persuaded you to carry on pushing.

‘Not at all! No no, it was just... well it was a shock at first. Obviously. Like who the hell else can do that? But no, not terror. It’s intrigue. I swear.’

You made sure to assert yourself in your voice as your brain convinced you that you would never rest again unless Crowley turned back into a snake. It was almost like the sheer shock had morphed into utter obsession in a matter of seconds.

And maybe you just adored every part of Crowley and him being vulnerable in showing a new side to you? Well...

Again, you blinked and he was gone for a moment, before the black reptile rose up to meet your gaze. He hadn’t continued to question you.

The presence was unexplainable, physically so big in the space but even just the idea of him just seemed to fill up every corner of the place. Moving the sunglasses into your right hand, you tentatively raised up your left.

‘Can... may I? Can I touch?’ You softly asked, mimicking a petting action in the air. Somehow, Crowley let you know that it was okay, pulling your hand towards him with some kind of magnetising energy.

Your fingers lightly brushed the scales on his head and you took a breath so deep you almost triggered hiccups. The texture was confusing, it almost seemed like it was shifting forms by the second- smooth then rough, hard then feather soft, but still always cool as marble. You fully rested your hand down as you glanced along the entire body, once again filling up the entire hallway.

‘Crowley, this is beautiful. I mean that.’ You whispered, transfixed on what you were seeing.

Then, the unimaginable happened. Your hand which had ended up resting on the snake’s head suddenly felt warm.

Was... was he blushing? You decided to test the water slightly more.

‘I didn’t even imagine that anything could be so magnificent but, well. Here you are. So gorgeous.’

Sure enough, another flush felt through your hand.

‘Crowley, are you blushing?’ You giggled. The heat on his face then took another rise, this time enough to hurt you slightly. You drew your hand away instinctually, but with a smile still on your face.

This was now a day worth noting. The day that started with a mouse in a bread bin and some unfortunately placed anger, and ended as the day that you made a snake blush.

And of course, he made you blush too.

A new side of Crowley. One that you couldn’t help but adore.

[eryiss]

Ship: Freed x Laxus

Rating: Matrue [Guns, Violence, Unnamed Character Deaths]

Prompt: Savage, Deadly

Summary: Perhaps having an affair with Russian spy in the middle of the cold war wasn't a good idea, particularly when Freed worked for the American Secret Service. But it was fine, America and Russia were never going to actually fight. Killing those they saw as traitors, however, was apparently a different story.

Notes: This is the forth Fraxus Week submission, hosted by @fuckyeahfraxus. This story has gunshots, death and description of blood, so be careful if those might affect you. If that's not something you worry about, I hope you enjoy it.

Links: Event Masterlist ||| Archive of Our Own, Fanfiction

A War to Be Ridiculed

Year: 1963

Location: Moscow, Russia

When their affair had started, Freed had been paranoid. He'd picked up the habit of looking over his shoulder, trying to see if another American agent might have discovered his behaviour and was trailing him to get evidence against him. At the time, the paranoia had seemed justified: an American secret service operative sleeping with a Russian secret service operative in the middle of an international stalemate between nuclear superpowers was hardly something that would be celebrated.

The paranoia had died out fairly quickly. Now Freed's main concern was how he'd spin his meeting in the quaint little café as a business expense.

Russian pasties were divine, but pricey.

His bosses would have a fit if they knew what he was doing. Hell: half of America would brand him a traitor if they knew he'd even thought about Laxus in that way. But America seemed to throw a fit over anything for the past few years. A Russian so much as coughing unexpectedly seemed to be enough provocation for an international incident.

Ridiculous, the lot of them. Freed was just thankful that he'd found a way to profit from them.

"What can I get for you, sir?" A waiter asked.

"Just a tea," Freed requested, leaning back in his chair. His Russian was perfect both in accent and in syntax. "I'm waiting for a guest; I expect we'll be eating when he arrives. He'll have a coffee when he gets here."

"Of course."

The man left, and Freed spared a glance towards the door. He had gotten there early, he knew that, but he was starting to get impatient. His job – when he chose to do it – was a stressful one. It was what he had signed up for, of course, and the thrill of it was truly exhilarating. But sometimes the pressure of it all got on top of him, and he had come to grown fond of these meetings in their infrequency.

It was a twisted situation, he supposed. He was sent to Russia on a two-year undercover operation, trying to uncover all information that the enemy forces had on their attack plans. For the first few months, Freed had been diligent in his actions, only to find that Russia had as much on them as they had on Russia. Nothing.

Propaganda was a fascinating thing. Everyone back home seemed to think the bombs would be dropping any moment. They wouldn't. Both sides were shit-scared of doing anything.

Once Freed had discovered this, he had reported back to his commanders and had been told to remain there for the rest of the mission and continue gathering intel. Three more months of gaining the respect and trust of Russian diplomats and governmental workers had led to nothing of interest. Both countries were entirely focused on their defensive measures in case the other country attacked, so nobody had any intention on actually attacking. It was a big, boring stalemate that would never actually come to blows.

It was getting rather tedious, and then Laxus came along. A thrilling, beautiful enemy with stunningly blue eyes and a sense of menace and distrust that drove Freed wild.

Their meeting had been a setup, it was obvious. Freed's rise in Russian society had been suspicious, and so the Russian government had wanted to better understand him and the threat he posed. Freed's alias had been a businessman wanting to help the government and in return get investments, Laxus' alias was that of a rich man wanting to invest money and get a return. Freed had known what Laxus was doing, and Laxus had known what Freed was doing.

Still, pretending he was in the dark about Laxus' true intentions was fun. They both spun lies, tried to catch the other out, and there was the constant reminder that they both had weapons concealed, and the person who slipped up first would end up dead where he stood.

The thrill was brilliant.

Their third meeting had been where Laxus had taken things further. He'd worn a suit so snug nothing could be hidden if you were determined to see it. Freed had gotten chills from the sight of it, and he couldn't remember if he was more excited by the curve of the man's ass or the outline of his gun against his chest. Laxus was silently proposing advancement in their roleplay: increase the danger and increase the pleasure.

Freed almost thought it might be an interrogation tactic, a way for Freed to spill his guts once sated. After their night together it was clear Laxus saw the war in the same way Freed did. Pointless, without risk, and something that should be mocked. He wanted Freed; he didn't want information.

You went submissive if you wanted intel. That night, Laxus had been anything but.

And so, their affair had begun. At first it was just sex, with the occasional meeting of their businessman and investor character to keep up their charade. Then, as time went on and they got more comfortable, their meetings became more public, and their facades dropped slightly. They could only meet once a month or so – they had to do their jobs, of course – but it was the most fun Freed had had in years.

Eventually, the quaint little bell above the door rang, and Freed looked to see the object of his affections walking in. Say what you want about Russia; they knew how to breed a handsome man. Broad shoulders, stern features, trim waists, and large thighs. What more could a man ask for?

Freed watched as Laxus spoke to the host of the café, before being guided to sit opposite him. Freed stood and shook his hand as if they were colleagues, and they underwent their normal childishly competitive hand squeezing ritual. Laxus relented first this time, taking a seat at the table after Freed motioned for him to do so. The host left them alone, and it took a moment for Laxus to break the silence.

"So," Laxus rumbled in his beautifully accented, deep voice. "You've not been murdered."

"I'm afraid so," Freed smirked. "Nor you, it seems. We should congratulate ourselves."

"We should," Laxus agreed, mirroring Freed's expression. "How so?"

"I'm sure we're both creative enough to think of something," Freed purred as he saw the waiter approaching with their drinks.

Under the cover of the tablecloth, he brought his foot to slowly glide against Laxus' calf. He raised it higher as the man placed the two drinks on the table and asked if they wanted anything else. Freed allowed Laxus to answer, putting pressure on the part of his thigh his foot found rested at. Laxus didn't stammer or blush at the action – he was a professional, after all – but Freed knew he was just a little bit more tense. He spoke calmly and dismissed the waiter, glaring at Freed once he was gone.

"You wanna get us caught?" He growled.

"If we got caught, it would be entirely your fault," Freed hummed. "Keeping a straight face is rather standard for what we do."

"I'll get you back for it," Laxus promised.

"I certainly hope so."

Freed raised his teacup to his lips, then halted.

He sniffed as subtly as he could, then slowly brought the teacup back down to the saucer.

Arsenic.

Someone wanted to poison him.

Instincts took over, and a list of questions needed to be answered. Who wanted to kill him? Who in the café was behind the attempt? Who outside of the café might be involved? Who had noticed he hadn't actually drunk anything? Where was the quickest way to safety? How quickly could he leave the country without anyone noticing? Was this anything to do with Laxus? Had Laxus been an informant, or was he in as much danger as Freed was?

As he watched Laxus raise his own drink to his lips, Freed quickly took a chance on the latter question. Before the drink could touch his lips, Freed pressed his foot firmly against Laxus'. The flirtatious teasing was now overpowered by strength, and Laxus paused. Freed glanced to the drink with only his eyes, then gave Laxus a meaningful look.

Laxus sniffed his own drink, then brought it back to the table without drinking.

Fuck. This was a setup for them both.

They had to assume everyone around them was involved. Freed had absently noticed how there was nobody younger than twenty in the café despite families milling around the square. He'd been placed at a table in the centre of the room as well, secluded and in the centre of attention. Likely everyone was an agent of some kind, and they all had been watching them from the moment he arrived. This was manageable.

"You must tell me about your sister's birthday," Laxus said, as if the revelation hadn't happened. "She's turning twelve, correct?"

Twelve. There were twelve agents in the room. That was passable, given some luck. But they needed to know the situation outside of the café as well.

"She is," Freed nodded, leaning back in his chair, casually glancing out of the window. He caught a glimpse of something reflective from atop the town hall, and sighed. "Her cousin is getting rather angry about it, apparently her mother couldn't afford the gift she wanted, and so they've been fighting. But you know how young girls are, always sniping at one another."

"I suppose so," Laxus agreed, body tensing slightly. "I don't know how I'd deal with them. I'd want to just leave the situation behind me, but sometimes even doing that means you'll get caught in the crossfire."

They agreed then. They couldn't just walk out.

"It is rather an impossible situation," Freed chuckled, idly toying with the teaspoon as if uncaring. "Sometimes it feels like you can't escape family, doesn't it?"

"Well I don't see any of my family here," Laxus laughed. He didn't recognise any agents.

"Nor do I," Freed agreed. "Thank heavens for small mercies."

They could be facing either Russian or American forces. They had to assume that, as they'd set up their assassination attempts when the two were meeting up, either side had come to know about the situation and saw them both as too big of a risk. Whoever wanted them dead, it would end up with them both on a most wanted list. This was bad.

Conversation without drinking could only last them so long. Eventually, any agents in the café would know their attempt had been discovered, and they'd act. No doubt they'd be armed to the teeth. A bloodbath was inevitable, they just needed to be smart, and they'd survive it.

"The food here is divine," Laxus commented, picking up his menu again. "The last time I ate here, I nearly congratulated the chef."

"Perhaps this time you will."

They'd be leaving through the kitchen then. The sniper was positioned so that he could shoot through the window, so probably they'd not be prepared for any kind of escape, certainly not one through the back alleys. So long as they could fight their way to the back, they should be able to outrun them and get somewhere safer. If even for a few moments, it was better than being in the jaws of their trap.

Just as Freed was about to continue the conversation, he caught something in the reflection of the window. A man tucked around the corner of the café's counter was looking directly at them both, hand scratching at his thigh where a gun most likely was hidden. Damn.

They hadn't finished a plan, and they were suspicious. But it was avoidable.

Freed, very slowly, wrapped a hand around his teacup and brought it up. Laxus watched, face unmoving but arms tensing. Freed tried to make his movements look loose and uncaring as he brought the teacup to his lips. He tipped it upwards, clenching his lips shut as tight as they could be. The hot tea bumped against his lips and stung – either from the arsenic of just the heat of the drink – and he swallowed as if drinking. He could only hope that had sated them.

"Good?" Laxus asked, voice a little stilted.

"Enough," Freed dismissed. "I do wish I'd ordered something a little stronger. Though I suppose it's a little early in the day for that." He casually looked over his shoulder to the clock, to see it was eleven fifty-eight. Perfect. "To think, in two minutes it would have been perfectly fine."

"It's a bastard, for sure," Laxus grinned, gently tapping his knuckle against the table in a sign of acknowledgement.

When the clock struck twelve, they'd go.

What followed was a tense minute and a half, where they attempted to fill the silence with general conversation. Neither man touched their drinks, but it seemed Freed pretending to drink his tea had been enough to convince them that their plan was working. They talked about nothing, though their eyes darted from place to place to make sure they wouldn't be attacked before they could move. The seconds seemed to stretch into an eternity.

Eventually, the bells of the grandfather clock rung, and they both spurted into movements.

They stood, chairs flying back as they reached for their weapons. Freed felt the wind of a bullet passing past him as he shunted himself to the left, and the back cushion of the chair exploded into feathers and dust. Nobody in the café screamed nor jolted; they'd been expecting it, meaning they were all agents sent to kill them. Good, no civilians made things simple.

Freed shot the man opposite him in the chest, a little to the left of his heart. The man staggered back, dropping his own gun as the sound filled the room. Freed quickly emptied another bullet into the man's skull. One down.

Laxus grabbed Freed's shoulders and shoved him back, banging him into a table. Freed watched slightly dazed as Laxus raised his own gun and emptied some shells into an elderly man and a young woman, who had been acting as a father and daughter. The man lurched back, falling against the window that had now been splattered in blood. The woman, who had been shot in the side rather than anywhere vital, tried to rush forward. She was holding a steak knife rather than a gun, and Freed quickly picked up a serving tray and struck her in the neck with it. He did so multiple times, before she stumbled to the ground, where Freed kicked her in the head enough times to knock her out. Either that or kill her.

Nine left.

When the window shattered again from another shot from the sniper's gun, both Freed and Laxus took refuse behind the counter. Wood splintered above them, and they could hear the sound of the other agents getting closer. Gunshots were near constant, blocking off their route to the kitchen and back entrance.

A lull in the shooting came, and Freed rose above the counter with his own gun in hand. He had expected that, with the number of agents involved, they wouldn't be as well trained as Freed and Laxus, and as such had to reload at the same time. Freed quickly shot the nearest agent, a woman in her fifties who was quickly spinning the barrel of her pistol. Freed's bullet landed between her eyes, and she staggered her final movements before falling to the ground in a lifeless pile.

Laxus, in an attempt to save bullets, picked up a sharp knife that had been put aside for cleaning, and threw it through the air. It struck a nearby agent in the cheek, and he stumbled back and grabbed at the deep, bleeding gash in his jaw. Not dead, nor incapacitated, but distracted.

Another agent shoved the bleeding man forward to get a better shot at Laxus and Freed, but Laxus acted faster. This time he did use his gun, and Freed almost winced as he saw the bullet slam into his face, eyeball exploding as the man screamed in pain. He fell to the ground, crumpling up and screaming as he rolled around the floor. Freed might have felt sorry for him, but he was an assassin, so mercy was the last thing on his mind.

An explosion of glass shattered behind Freed, and he winced as glass cut into his cheek. He grabbed Laxus' shoulder and dragged him down again.

There were seven agents unharmed and two badly injured. Feasibly they could kill them all, but it was a miracle they hadn't been hurt yet and their luck would run out. They had limited bullets available, and their impromptu weapons would progressively get less and less effective. They needed to leave and run, because if they didn't then logic dictated they would be killed. The kitchen staff seemed to have fled, so they were clearly not agents, meaning they had a clear escape route. They just needed to get across to the other side of the café without being killed.

"You go first," Laxus demanded. "I'll cover."

Freed nodded, and waited for another lull in the fighting. Knowing he needed to trust Laxus, he ran across the empty café without protection, ducking down to avoid the bullets flying towards him. He heard yelling and Laxus shooting, and hoped that Laxus was the cause rather than the victim. As he ran, he picked up the eyeball-less man's gun.

Once he was ducked behind the kitchen door, he tucked the agent's gun into his belt for later use and brandished his own gun. It was his turn to provide cover for Laxus, and he started by shooting at a woman with a pistol. She yelled and clutched her shoulder, though screamed when a bullet hit her forehead.

Freed shot as best he could as Laxus ran across the room and towards the kitchen. Freed only stopped when Laxus was inside, and the door had been slammed shut. Freed went to run, but Laxus placed a hand on his shoulder.

"What?"

"They'll pursue," Laxus grunted, moving a cabinet against the door.

"Yes, that's why we're running," Freed hissed.

"We need 'em dead. It's safer."

Rather than arguing, Freed decided that Laxus was right. They might not be top agents, but anyone left alive was a hazard to them. Three of them were completely unharmed and could track them. They needed to take any advantage they could get. Freed thought for a moment, before an idea hit him.

It took him a few seconds of routing through the kitchen to find what he needed: a gas canister for the kitchen's oven, and a blowtorch for their deserts. It was nasty and cheap, but it was a bomb. He removed his tie and quickly wrapped it around the handle of the blowtorch, holding down the trigger so that the flame would be constantly ignited. He then placed the gas canister against the barricaded door, which was being banged against by the other agents.

"The torch powerful enough?" Laxus asked.

"In time, it will be," Freed nodded, resting the lit blowtorch against the metal canister. "We need to go."

They did. They ran through the winding back alleys, utilising their maze-like qualities as best they could. They couldn't be sure who was following them and how close they were, so their paces didn't waver, and their determination kept firm. Freed felt his body aching but couldn't stop, not when stopping might mean their lives were over.

Faster than expected, they reached the edge of Moskva River. They couldn't see any bridges to cross it, and running along the river to find one was practically advertising their location. Going back into the alleys wasn't a possibility, and as such they could only do one thing. They climbed the barricade and jumped in.

The water was freeing cold, and it took Freed a moment for his muscles to acclimatise. He brought himself to the surface and saw Laxus had done the same. If nothing else, the quick submersion in the water had washed most of the blood off them both. They both began to swim to the other side of the river, Freed silently plotting how they'd hide now that they were both soaking wet. No plans came to mind, and Freed found himself hoping that Laxus had an idea.

"Boat," Laxus rasped, and nodded his head. "Look like yer struggling."

Freed didn't question the demand, and his practices swimming gave way to thrashing and panicking. He put on a façade of dread, deciding to yell when he knew the boat was getting closer. Laxus wrapped his arms around him as if trying and failing to save him. The two men in the boat noticed, and were rediverting their trajectory immediately.

When the boat was close, they climbed aboard it. The men peppered them with questions, asking what had happened and if they were alright. It took them a moment to see the injuries the two men had sustained, and their weapons.

Freed raised his gun and pointed it at them. It wouldn't work, but he felt like they didn't know that.

"We're going to need your boat I'm afraid," He demanded. Laxus raised his own weapon.

"And yer clothes," Laxus added; always thinking ahead. Two men in drenched suits might be somewhat conspicuous as they traversed the waterways. Two men in fishing apparel would be less so. "Quickly."

The men, fools that they were, took the threat at face value. With stumbling hands they began to strip and hand over their clothes. Within moments, Freed and Laxus looked like any fishermen that you might see on a river, and they'd given the poor men their suits in an act of mercy. They looked absurd and cold, of course, but it was better than finding themselves naked in the streets. Not once did Laxus or Freed remove their guns from their targets.

"You will tell the authorities you were drunk, fell into the river by mistake, and that you're incredibly sorry for causing a ruckus," Freed demanded, voice icy.

"And if you mention us, we'll kill ya," Laxus threatened.

Just as one of the men went to argue, an ear-splitting explosion shook the city. A plume of smoke burst upwards behind them, and the men watched in horror and fear. Freed and Laxus didn't react, and instead nudged their guns forward and looked at the men with feral grins as screams and shouting filled the city.

---

Year: 1970 Location: UNKNOWN

Freed woke to the sound of grunting, and the now familiar sound of an axe meeting wood. He padded to the window of the small cabin, opened it, and looked down to watch as Laxus split the firewood. The man really was a sight to behold; unbridled masculinity in all of its glory. His muscles flexed and the axe splintered the wood spectacularly, and even now Freed felt a twisted thrill at the knowledge of what that man could do when called upon.

He bathed himself in the cold tin bath, and dressed quickly. He attached his gun to his belt and walked to their shared kitchen. He placed a kettle over the fire and began boiling it, walking outside and into the forest where they now called home.

The gun was pointless, in reality. They were nowhere near either of their home countries, where no doubt they had been touted as traitors and been deemed as instant kill targets. They weren't on the same damn continent, but Freed had learned his lesson about becoming complacent. It didn't matter that they were tucked away in a Scandinavian Forest, with only a small town of people knowing of their existence; he would remain armed as to best protect himself and his lover.

Also, the gun was useful in killing the dear.

Laxus grinned at him as he approached, placing the axe down and running a hand over his sweat drenched face. Freed was undeterred, kissing the man he called husband slowly and smoothly. Laxus wrapped an arm around his waist and grinned.

"Sleepin' in again, huh?" Laxus teased, still speaking his mother-tongue in his beautifully harsh accent. "Because it was your turn to cut wood today, I think."

"It was," Freed agreed. "And yet you seem to be doing it."

"Maybe I'll find a way to make you do it."

"Maybe you'll have to."

Both men smirked, tight hand's grasped tighter, and Laxus pulled Freed into a brutally incredible kiss, one he greedily returned.

[itsmelaurel]

Begin Again

Summary: When your best friends move away for college, you think life is officially over. However, you find yourself making new friends including the blonde surfer from the other side of the island.

—————————————————

four.

After your first full week of school, you were drained. Thankfully it was Friday and you were ready for your last official kegger. Friday night football games start up next week which meant you could no longer attend the weekly boneyard parties. 

You felt like you deserved a fun night out with your friends especially after the disaster that was last weekend. The boys blew up your phone Sunday until you finally answered. Topper explained that they were going through rush which meant that all personal pictures were archived on their pages. Kelce said the older members would rag them even harder if they saw your picture. 

“They can be pretty rude when it comes to girls especially if it’s a girl friend or best friend.” Kelce said. 

“And the last thing I need to do is beat the fuck out of a member because they said something crude about you just to get under my skin.” Rafe explained honestly. 

“So y’all are sure you want to join a group that says offensive things about women just to get you riled up?” 

It was silent on the other end of the phone as if it was the first time they ever considered that. Not that it would change their mind. All of them were legacies and their families expected them to be members by the end of the semester. 

The whole situation made an already long week feel even longer. So when Sarah told you to come to the chateau to pregame before the kegger, you couldn't say yes fast enough. You were ready to get drunk with your friends and even more ready to see a certain blue eyed, blonde surfer again.  

The sun was starting to set by the time you got there. No one was in their usual spot outside and the house was pitch black inside. You double checked Sarah’s text to make sure you read it correctly. Yup, she definitely said meet here. 

The porch steps creaked as you made your way up to the older home. It was so dark when you opened the door that you hesitated before entering. 

“Guys?” You call out hoping they were in one of the rooms or maybe on the other porch. 

All the sudden, the lights flicker on and everyone shouts a medley of surprises. Confetti bombs are going off as your friends step out from their hiding spots. 

“I- I’m a little confused.” Your eyebrows furrow and you press your palm to your chest hoping it causes your heartbeat to slow down. It’s not your birthday and nothing spectacular happened lately. 

“It’s your gotcha day!” Pope shouts and you notice he’s holding a cake. A small, round hand made cake with light pink frosting. 

“My what?” 

“It’s your adoption day babe! Us pogues took a vote and decided it was time we officially added you to the group.” Kie explains before throwing her arms around you. Everyone crowds around as they all spout their congratulations. 

“You guys-” you begin but stop when your throat feels tight and bite down on your lip as hard as you can to prevent yourself from crying like a little baby. It doesn’t work because a few tears spill down your cheeks. 

“Fuck, that was less than three minutes.” Pope says while looking down at his watch. He, Kie and John B all pass Sarah twenty dollars each. You're about to call them out for betting on your emotions, but it’s completely forgotten when JJ wraps you up in a hug. 

“I didn’t bet on you.” He whispers against your ear while holding you tightly. You let your head rest in the crook of his neck. 

“Thanks, J.” You whisper quietly into his shirt before pulling away. “Thank you guys. This means the world to me.” 

“We love you bub!” Kie says as she flings herself at you again and the rest follow in a group hug. 

“So do I get a T-shirt or something?” You question after a moment of silence making everyone laugh. 

After eating cake and pregaming at the chateau, you find yourself sitting around the bonfire at the boneyard. The kegger is in full swing and it seems like there are more teens than usual. Sarah had convinced you to tell your mom you were staying at her house so you could both get shitfaced. She was already on the brink of black out, but you were only tipsy. 

“Let's take a picture!” She shouts, causing everyone around the fire to look at her. You put both of your cups down in the sand before leaning in for a picture. 

A hand lands on top of your head before it runs through your hair then cupping the back of your neck. You turn to see JJ standing next to you. The smile on your face was blinding as your eyes made contact. Blue to y/e/c.

He crouches down next to you on the sand “Wanna go for a walk down the beach?” 

When you nod, he reaches out a hand and helps you up off the log bench. His large hands engulf your small ones and unconsciously linking your fingers together. 

“Fuck” Sarah shouts out in frustrastion but your too wrapped up in the boy leading you away from the fire to notice. 

“What’s wrong?” John B questions as he sits next to her on the log. She’s staring down at her phone, typing furiously and bouncing her leg. A sign she is nervous as hell. 

“I accidentally sent the wrong picture.” She mumbles as she reads whatever response she just got back. 

“Fuck, I really messed up.” 

“Tell me what happened.” He grabs her face turning her towards him. Her eyes are glossy as she pushes the phone into his hands. He scrolls up a little, not sure what he’s looking for. It’s a text message with Kelce. The first picture she sent she’s looking at the camera, but y/n isn’t. Her head is turned to the side and a hand is sitting on her head. The second picture looks just like the one before except y/n is smiling brightly at someone outside the camera frame and he can tell the hand is now cupping her neck. The last picture is one of just her and y/n smiling. 

He scrolls through the messages to see what she said. 

Sarah: your fav bitches miss you

Kelce: whose hand is that

Sarah: fuck, I didn’t mean to send that picture

Sarah: this is the one I meant to send 

Kelce: that didn’t answer my question

Kelce: who is that

Sarah: shit THIS is actually the picture I meant to send 

Kelce: sarah, so help me god. answer the question

“This is so fucking bad. Y/n is going to be so pissed at me.” Sarah looks around for you, but you are nowhere in sight. 

“It’s not that bad. Who cares if someone’s hand is on her head-” John B tries but she cuts him off. 

“Rafe and Topper care.” 

“Because it’s JJ?” 

“Because they’ve both been in love with her since forever. I’m surprised they don’t jerk off together while thinking about her.” 

“Ew, I- I really didn’t need to hear that.” He scrunches up his nose and she finally cracks a smile. It’s small, but there nonetheless. 

“Sorry” she shrugs and lets out a loud sigh. “I guess they would also care that it’s JJ. You know they live for that kook versus pogue shit.”

He goes back through the pictures on her phone, zooming in on each to see if anything gives away that the hand and arm belong to JJ. He doesn’t find anything and passes the phone back off to her as it starts ringing. 

“You can’t tell that’s JJ at all.” He says as he watches her send Rafe straight to voicemail. 

“I bet her phone is blowing up- oh wait!” She picks up her purse, rifling through it before pulling out another iPhone. “She asked if she could put her phone and id in my purse.” 

“Then there’s nothing to worry about tonight. She has no idea that the picture has even been sent. Let her enjoy her last kegger and we’ll tell her tomorrow.” He pulls her into his side and she silently prays that he’s right. She can feel your phone going off in her purse and knows tomorrow is going to be rough. 

The moonlight was guiding you and JJ as you strolled down the beach. He had a tight grip on your hand as you walked in comfortable silence. 

“You look beautiful tonight.” He says while coming to a stop. 

“You don’t look too bad yourself.” You wink at him. 

He pulls you into his chest, letting his head rest on yours for a few seconds before leaning back. The moonlight was the only thing lighting up both your faces as you stared into each other’s eyes. 

He leans down, letting his lips hover over yours briefly before you close the small gap between the two of you. His lips press into yours softly at first, but it doesn’t take long for his tongue to swipe your bottom lip begging for entry. You let him in, his tongue dancing with yours as your hands wrap around his neck and move up into his hair, tugging gently as the kiss deepens. 

He reluctantly pulls back, attempting to catch his breath and leans his forehead against yours. 

“Fuck, I’ve been wanting to do that forever.” He breathes out. 

“You kissed me the other night.” You point out. 

“I meant like really kiss you. Taste you.” The double meaning of his words isn’t lost on you. 

“So why haven’t you?” 

“Well, you had three puppy dogs following you around for a while.” You roll your eyes at him calling your best friends dogs, but then his words finally register. 

“Wait, you wanted to kiss me before we hung out?” Your teeth sink into your lip at the thought. Of course you had seen the pogues around since you were younger, but you never thought they noticed you because they hated people from your side of the island. 

He steps back a little, taking his body heat with him and rubs a hand through his hair. 

“Baby, I’ve wanted to kiss you since I saw you win the marshmallow eating contest at the fall carnival in middle school.” He admits shyly and your jaw goes slack. 

You're not sure if it’s the fact he’s wanted to kiss you for over five years or that he remembers such an intimate detail about you, but his words have you jumping on him. His hands thankfully catch you as your lips mold to his. You pour everything into the kiss, hoping it shows him how much his words mean to you. 

How much he means to you. 

After a while, he pulls away and asks if you want to get out of here. You slide down his body as your feet meet the ground and you run like teenagers up the beach to John B's house. 

Never once does he let your hand go now that he has it. 

——

The sun is particularly bright the next morning and you find yourself rolling over to avoid it. The warm body next to you pulls you closer as you lay your head on his chest, his legs tangling with yours. 

Memories from last night play like a movie in your head. JJ peeling your clothes off, his large hands gripping your thighs when you rode him and the way he said your name when he came. Like it was a sacred prayer on his lips. 

The memories bring a blush up your neck and to your face. You're about to let your hand roam down his body, but a soft knock at the door stops you. 

“Y/n” Sarah whispers your name through the old wooden door. 

“Go away” JJ shouts half asleep, pulling you tighter against him. 

“I really need to talk to y/n” Sarah's voice sounds panicked causing you to sit up immediately, wrapping the bed sheet around your front. 

“No, don’t go. Just five more minutes.” JJs hands reach for you, but you playfully swat him away. 

“Somethings up, let me go see.” You get up and start to look for your clothes. 

“My boxers and t-shirt’s are in the top drawer.” JJ says casually, causing your blush to darken. 

After you're dressed, you step outside to see John B sitting in one of the chairs and Sarah pacing nervously. 

“What’s wrong?” Dread fills your stomach at the look on her face. 

“Maybe you should sit down.” John B suggests before throwing a head nod behind you. JJ wraps his arms around you from behind and places a tender kiss on your neck. 

“You look spooked.” He says to Sarah before sitting down on the couch, pulling you with him. 

“Remember how we took a picture by the fire last night?” Sarah questions and you nod. It’s not the brightest memory, but you do remember leaning into her side. 

“Well, I wanted to send it to Kelce. Kinda of like a we miss you but also look at us living life without you assholes. Last weekend still pisses me off.” 

“Okay…” 

“I immediately got a text back from him asking whose hand was in the picture.” She says and it only confuses you more. 

“Let me see the picture.” She hands you the phone, scrolling to where all of this starts. Your eyes widen as you scroll through the rest of the texts and pictures. 

“Shit” you mutter under your breath but JJ hears. He grabs the phone from you to see for himself. 

“I don’t see what the big deal is.” JJ tosses the phone back to Sarah and leans back against the couch. Your eyes find hers, both wide at her screwup. 

“Where’s my phone?” It dawns on you that you don’t remember having it last night. Sarah reaches into her purse and hands it to you. The home screen lets you know you have over 80 missed messages, calls and voicemails. Your heart sinks knowing what you're going to have to deal with today. 

JJ and John B both look like they want to say more, but you stand up before they can. 

“I’m going to head home to deal with this.” You say, heading back to JJs room to get your things. He follows behind you, closing the door and pulling you to him. You rest your head in the crook of his neck and breath him in. It’s comforting. 

“It’s going to be okay, ya know?” 

“I know, I just hate that I have to even deal with this.” Your voice is muffled against his skin. 

“Me too. I was really looking forward to taking my time with you this morning.” He wiggles his eyebrows and a giggle escapes your lips at his honesty. 

“But seriously, they can’t tell who it is in the picture. Just say it was a touron and be done with it.”

“You don’t want me to tell them it was you?” You question not expecting his solution especially after the other day at your house. 

“Oh, I do. Trust me. But I also don’t want you stressing over it.” He leans down letting his lips cover your ear. “I’ll still be your dirty little secret for a little while longer.” 

He tells you to not worry about changing, secretly liking the fact you were wearing his clothes. Sarah is waiting for you at the front door, deciding it’s best if she goes with you. 

JJ lays a sweet kiss on your lips before you climb into the car, making you promise you’ll call him later. 

After dropping Sarah off and convincing her you were fine, you made your way through your front door. You shout a hello to your parents before darting up to your room to shower and change out of JJs clothes. The last thing you need to be wearing when you FaceTime your overprotective friends is a guy's clothes. Especially if it’s not theirs. 

In the shower, the warm water rushing over you brings a little clarity. You’ve never been a liar, always opting for the truth even if it was painful. Plus, the anxiety that came from lying was not something you wanted to deal with. 

When you're done, you settle on the window seat and decide you should call Kelce. It rings once before he picks up. 

“Hello?” His voice is groggy and you have no doubt he was still asleep. 

“Someone must have had a rough night.” You joke.

“Y/n?” His voice is more alert and there’s rustling in the background. You can hear hushed voices before he speaks again. 

“It was a rough night. Looked like you had a pretty good night though.” His voice echoes slightly, alerting you to the fact you’ve been put on speakerphone. 

“Did you just put me on speakerphone?” 

He hesitates for a second “Uh, no. Why would I do that?” 

His obvious lie hurts. The four of you never lie to each other especially not for the sake of one of the others and especially over the smallest things. 

“Okay, do you want to facetime then?” You press seeing just how far he will take it. It’s quiet for a moment, but you can hear him mouthing something to the other boys. 

“I can’t, my phone battery is low. My phone would probably die-”

“So plug it into the charger while we talk.” 

“I have no idea where that’s at.” 

“Then call me back later when it’s just you and I’m not on speakerphone.” 

“It is just me, I’m the only one in the room.” The lie rolls off his tongue quickly this time, like he’s finally got the hang of it. 

“We don’t lie to each other, right?” It’s quiet and you think he’s going to admit to lying but he doesn’t. 

“Right.” Is all he responds with and it makes your stomach sink. You never thought you would see the day one of your best friends would outright lie to you like this. Not only lying, but doing it to benefit your other two best friends that are standing next to him.

“So, did you see our texts?” He questions no doubt being coached by dumb and dumber. 

All the resolve you had not to lie to them leaves your body and is replaced by anger. Why be honest with them when they can’t even be honest about the smallest things with you? 

“Nope, I haven’t. Sarah did fill me in on the obnoxious obsession over someone touching my hair though.” Absolute annoyance drips from every word. 

“Uh- who was it again?” His voice falters, no doubt caught off guard by your tone. 

“A touron, not that it’s any of your business.” You lie and it immediately makes your stomach hurt. 

“Did any-” he begins to question but you can’t take it anymore. 

“Look, I have to go.” Is all you say before hanging up the phone, powering it off and tossing it across the room. 

It’s silent for a moment as a heartbreaking thought hits you swiftly. 

Is this the end of our friendship? 

Author Notes: I know, I know.  I left out all the smut.  I think I will add it as an outtake at some point, but not sure when yet.  Also, if I missed your tag please let me know!

taglist: @dreamsndior @rafej-cambanks @prejudic3 @katiaw2 @sometimesicryintheshower @bibliophilewednesday  @edgymuffin @stargazingandmoon @rae131415 @httpstarkey @k-k0129 @sunshineitsfine44

[raendown]

Todays follower milestone gift fic is for @sparklemagpie with the prompt word importune. Can you tell I had fun writing this one?

Pairing: ShikamaruTemariTayuya Word count: 1966 Rated: T+ Summary: For the two women in his life Shikamaru will do whatever it takes. As long as they're happy he's happy. When they're not...well, when they're not you get situations like this one.

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

KO-FI and commission info in the header!

Just The Right Cherry On Top

Shikamaru would have told anyone who asked that it didn’t start off as begging. No one was really asking, though, and the shreds of pride still buried in the back of his mind somewhere told him that was a problem. If no one was asking questions that usually meant they thought they already had the answers. But they didn’t. They really didn’t. When it came to his two girls Shikamaru was smugly aware that he was usually the only one with answers. 

Well, answers to questions like ‘are you sure they’re not trying to kill each other’ or usually ‘how can you stand to live between that’. The questions about what might be going on in either woman’s mind were ones he didn’t even try to guess at. He knew when to back away from a problem he would never figure out. 

Right now he didn’t so much have a problem as he did have a disaster. He knew very well that relationships took work, that his work would be doubled when he agreed to marry both of the most important women in his life, and since he had not a day went by when he didn’t consider that work so very worth it. For the most part their days were happy. Blissful, even. Shikamaru was as flawed as any other human being but among his flaws pride wasn’t usually the one that tripped him up. Disaster only really happened when pride snuck up on the other two parts of his soul. 

Tayuya, as usual, was the first to start throwing insults. And of course Temari, when faced with a hot temper, flared her own with the kind of heat usually accomplished only with the most deadly katon. Standing on the other side of the kitchen with a frying pan in one hand and his face in the other, Shikamaru briefly wondered if there were any missions available that would take him far away until these two crazy goddesses sorted their own shit out. 

There weren’t. He checked. Discreetly, of course. 

After the first couple days of cold silence it became obvious that this was one of those fights they needed him to bring them back from, when pride and stubbornness and sheer petty spite held both of their lips shut, eyes refusing to meet, tempers refusing to back down. These were the kind of fights that reminded Shikamaru why the three of them really worked as a full unit, one single whole, any weakness in one covered by another. Knowing that never made it any less annoying trying to be the cover to their weakness. They might need him but in those moments they sure didn’t want to need him. 

“What’ll it take this time?” Shikamaru could hear the exhaustion in his own voice but that’s just what happened when he hadn’t gotten more than three consecutive hours of sleep for the past week. 

“Nothing,” Temari snapped. “Maybe this is just it!”

Drawing a hand down his face spoke louder than words how little he believed that. If he looked really close he could see the lines of aching tiredness in Temari’s expression that told him she didn’t believe it either.

“Right,” he murmured. “I’ll just go talk to her then.

And so he did, though it would be hard to express just how unsurprised he was to get a very similar reaction from Tayuya.

“Fuck that bitch and her high horse!”

“You could if one of you would say sorry,” Shikamaru couldn’t help pointing out. 

“Oh no fucking way! Not with a ten foot god damned pole!” 

“What if I said please?”

So that was how it started. Or got to the middle, really. Much to the contrary of what other people seemed to think, Shikamaru was not so whipped as to just fall on his knees and beg any time he encountered the slightest of resistance in their relationship. He had some self respect. In the face of these two boneheads, however, self respect was a concept he was more than willing to throw out the window in favor of a full night’s rest, something he would not be getting until their home saw peace again. 

One instance of saying please did nothing. Twice did little more than that. Somewhere around the fifteen ‘please’ he switched tactics and added a cherry on top. Tayuya rather harshly reminded him that she hated cherries and described in very colorful detail where he could stick his polite words. Clearly another tactic was needed.

As a smart man Shikamaru very carefully ignored all of Naruto’s well meaning suggestions like sending his wives flowers pretending they were from each other. Maybe that would have worked on someone like Hinata who was determined to look at the world and see the best in everyone but Shikamaru had married two people determined to look at the world through a cold lens of cynicism. Gods but he loved it. Loved the both of them. He just didn’t love the fights. Naruto meant well but the one and only time any of them had seen Hinata truly mad had been the middle of a battle against the reanimated body of a dead man handing Naruto his own ass. It was great for the two of them to finally find happiness. When he thought of their calm and sweet relationship Shikamaru sometimes just couldn’t help but wonder how they didn’t get bored with no one around to throw a plate or two. 

Since being nice about it didn’t do much his next step was to try being firm. This time he went to Tayuya first because if he could crack her then honestly he was pretty sure he could crack the whole world. His efforts in this round were about as successful as the first. 

“Go ahead and try to tell me what to do one more time, Nara.” Right up in his face Tayuya was all fire, in her hair and in her eyes and in every move of the arm currently jamming in to his chest. “I’ve had just about enough of being ordered around for one lifetime, you hear me?” Oh he did. He did hear her. He also heard the undertone of heat and it wasn’t until an hour after he left their home in the daze of post orgasmic bliss that he realized he’d been had. Maybe Choji was right and he did think with his dick a little too much. 

Going to see Temari hadn’t exactly had better results - although he’d known better from the start than to consider either one of them ‘better’ than the other in certain departments. After making it very clear how much she both enjoyed and scorned his attempts to law down some kind of law Temari rode him against the nearest walls and sent him off afterwards with a few choice words about how she really didn’t mind wearing only his marks on her skin from now on. Since he hadn’t been the one to bring that up Shikamaru saw through it right away. They missed each other, a blind man could see that. Getting them to admit it was the hard part. 

So that was a bust on trying to put his foot down but if he were honest Shikamaru hadn’t expected any different. The next thing he tried was bribery. After the harsh years both of his wives had experienced it was entirely understandable that they should enjoy being waited on hand and foot. Usually the offer was an irresistible one to them; hence why he didn’t make it very often, a special treat for special occasions when he needed to remind them just how precious they really were. When not just one but both of them turned him down this time Shikamaru had to take a nice long walk through the woods and feed the deer for a while, wondering if maybe the magic offer had lost its touch at last. Or if maybe he was the one that had lost his touch. It took a good long while and three different deer taking curious nibbles of his ponytail before he shook himself and stood up with a little more steel in his spine. 

Clearly this problem was running out of control and that meant bringing in the biggest weapon he had at his disposal. One didn’t spend a lifetime best friends with the Yamanaka heir without picking up some tricks. 

“Please?” 

“No.”

“Please please?”

“I said no, fuck off Shika.”

“Uhhh, please and please and please?”

Tayuya actually stopped walking to round on him with furrowed brows. “You get hit upside the head or something? This is- you’re acting like a damn child!” 

“Maybe.” Shikamaru clasped his hands together and lifted his eyes to the clouds above them. “How many times I gotta say please? Cause I will. Give me a number, I’ll do it.”

“For real?”

“Please, please, please, please, plea-”

Ignoring the baffled looks of anyone passing them by was a lot easier than ignoring the sharp voice that spoke from the doorway, rough at the edges under the heavy weight of defeat and sadness. 

“He might not look like it, but he’s really just a child in a man’s body.” Temari studiously did not look at her wife when Tayuya whipped around to stare at her, missing the ripple of yearning that went through all those well honed muscles. “You probably shouldn’t test it. He really will just keep going.”

“Sounds annoying as hell,” Tayuya ventured. 

Neither of them seemed to notice when Shikamaru fell silent, still, waiting with baited breath. 

“It’d probably be less painful if we just give in. He already did that to me for two hours this morning and I don’t know if I can listen to it for much longer without violence that I’m pretty sure I would regret.” The proud set of Temari’s jaw was that of a queen making concessions. The dark warmth of her eyes when they finally canted sideways was that of a wife who missed the touch of her beloved.

“Good fucking god, two hours? Yeah, hell no. I ain’t listening to that. Let’s just get this over with or something then.”

“For the best.”

Despite that agreement it still took about five solid minutes of staring wordlessly in to each others’ eyes before either of them made any more toward the other. In the end they moved at the same time, reaching out with the same hand, laughing in a fondly awkward way as their fingers entwined. The moment would have been utterly beautiful if Shikamaru hadn’t breathed in very deeply just to let it all back out in one great rush. 

“Finally,” he muttered. Both of his wives frowned at him. 

“Wait.” Temari narrowed her eyes as though only now realizing what she’d done. “How did you do that?” She didn’t seem to appreciate the sheer exasperation filling him up in place of all the soft pleading he’d been wearing for days now. 

“You don’t just hang around with Ino for this long without learning how to annoy someone in to giving up.”

Before either of his wives could say anything Shikamaru was spinning on one heel and marching out the door, grumbling under his breath while he rummaged around his flack vest for a pack of smokes. Troublesome women and their troublesome tempers. At times he really did wonder why he put up with it. Two sets of footsteps rushing after him was a good reminder, though he thought he would be well within his rights to make them do a little begging after all the trouble he’d gone through just to bridge the gap between their overinflated prides. Worth it, absolutely worth it, but damn if they weren’t trouble sometimes. 

[wayward-mikaelson]

Winter’s Doll--Chapter Three

Word Count: 2311

About: Nadia finally get’s to train with Steve and Bucky

Characters: Nadia, Steve, Bucky, Wanda, Natasha, Tony, Vision, 

Pairing: None

Warnings/Trigger Warnings: Language, Train-fighting, Dislocated shoulder,

A/N: Sorry this took a while to get out. I got into a funk and then had two story ideas.

*This work contains content for the 18 and up crowd

**Please don’t copy and paste my work anywhere. I work really hard on all of my stuff. 

***This work is also posted on Instagram (Excerpt ONLY), WattPad, and Archive Of Our Own

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*****Currently NOT taking any requests

Forever Tags: @hobby27 @donnaintx @myinconnelly1 @elansaidaris @magssteenkamp @440mxs-wife

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Chapter Two

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Nadia woke up that morning with a throbbing headache. Did she regret drinking that much? Yes, yes she very much. Did she regret her time talking and hanging out with Bucky? Nope, not one bit. In fact, Nadia enjoyed it every single second of it. The way she felt safe in his presence. The way he made her smile and laugh. Ditching her own party and just talking with someone like that was what she needed.

Nadia slowly rolled out of bed. The moment that she stood to her feet, her entire world started to sway and there was gurgling in her stomach. Fuck, she thought as she raced her way to the bathroom. Nadia slide on her knees to the toilet and just as she was opening it, she let everything from the night before out. She hacked everything up until her throat burned with stomach acid.

With a groan, Nadia sat back on her knees and hung her head back. This is going to be a long day, she thought. I wonder how Bucky is feeling. You stood up and then chuckled lightly to yourself. “He’s a super soldier, so of course he doesn’t feel like me,” Nadia said aloud as she started on her morning routine.

Once dressed in comfortable clothes and hair up in a hair tie and head band, Nadia opened the door to see Vision floating right there. Seeing him, startled her to the point that she almost let out a yelp. But she held back because she didn’t trust what sound came out of her mouth.

“You know,” Vision started to say tilting his head sideways. “A copious amount of alcohol will make you sick like that.” Shit, Nadia thought as he spoke. This is too early. “Maybe you should try and lower your intake from now on.”

Nadia blinked a few times and rubbed her face. “I don’t think so,” she said in a loud whisper. “Because I like drinking and I know too much makes me sick. But that’s the fun part about being human, you can ignore the fact that it does. And regret it the morning after.”

Nadia simply walked away from Vision without another word. Nadia walked her way towards the kitchen where she got a good whiff of someone making eggs and bacon. The smell started to make Nadia gag until Natasha held out a green drink.

“Drink up,” she said without making eye contact. “This will make you feel better. Disgusting as hell but you won’t be puking your guts out during training. Also eat this,” Natasha slid a plate of toast towards Nadia.

Nadia took the drink in her hand and glared at it as she turned the glass in her hands. “What is all on this drink?” she asked.

“Don’t ask, just drink,” Natasha instructed. “And also eat.”

Nadia made a face before bringing the glass to her lips. Trying not to breath through her nose, Nadia drank every last drop of the green drink. Natasha was right, that drink was disgusting. With each swallow, Nadia wanted to slam the glass on the table and puke it all up. The moment she was done, Nadia had shivers of disgust running down her spine.

“That was gross,” Nadia took the toast and slowly took a bite.

“Maybe, next time, it'll teach you not to steal my most expensive bourbon,” Tony’s voice enters the kitchen.

Nadia took another bite of toast. She could already feel the green drink and toast do it’s job. Yep, she thought, I am so going to order that glitter bomb. Maybe even two. “Maybe, new time,” Nadia walked towards Tony raising her eyebrow. “Keep it locked away or at least out of the open bar.”

Nadia turned on her heels and walked out of the kitchen and made her way towards the training facilities. Nadia wasn’t going to lie to herself, she was nervous as hell to train with Bucky and Steve. Given they were super human and could possible crush her very easily.

Nadia has seen footage of Steve fighting over the years on the news. He was quick and strong. Nadia knew of one his weaknesses. Bucky on the other hand, Nadia has never seen. She only had to assume that he was just as quick and strong, and plus he had a metal arm.

Nadia made it to the training facility to see that only Bucky was in there. He was writing something in a book. Hey looked really lost in thought because his eyebrows furrowed while he wrote. His hair was up again. He wore a t-shirt that defined his muscles perfectly. He also wore grey sweatpants. The whole look, looked really off for him.

“Hey,” Nadia approached Bucky. He looked up with is blue eyes and gave her a small smile. “What are you writing?”

Bucky closed his book and set it aside. “It’s a memory journal. I’m sure you’ve already heard about me,” Bucky looked down and Nadia could see some sort of sadness slowly creep into his eyes.

“Here and there,” Nadia sat next to Bucky. “It’s okay, I don’t really judge people on their past.”

Bucky turned to her. “That’s good to know,” he smiled. “Uh, Steve is running a little late so I can help you warm up before he shows up.”

Nadia let Bucky help her warm up for the next twenty minutes. He held up punching and kicking pad and Nadia showed him all the force that she held the small punches and kicks. Bucky’s face was surprised by how well she held herself. He would give her some minor corrections on hip and foot placement. Nadia noticed how gentle he was when correcting her hips. She felt the coolness of his metal hand. Even when he placed his leg between hers to push her feet slightly together, he was gentle as well. Nadia found it bit hard to concentrate but she was able to push it aside.

“This will help you move a bit quicker,” he said taking a step back. “I hope to see that when we spar.”

The doors opened and in walked Steve and the rest of the team. Nadia wasn’t used to having the whole team in watching her train. Maybe a few here and there, but she guessed that since she was training with two soldiers it would be an entertaining things to watch.

“Shall we get started?” Steve asked setting his water bottle down.

“Who am I sparing with first?” Nadia asked.

Steve and Bucky exchanged a look. Nadia knew the answer right away before Bucky spoke. “You’re going to sparing with the both of us. We won’t be going too hard on you, but we also won’t be going easy on you either.”

“At the same time,” Steve added. “So are you ready?”

Nadia was ready, she’d been in hand to hand combat training with a few fellow soldiers at once. But they weren’t super soldiers like Steve and Bucky. Nadia took a deep breath and bit her lips before giving her answer.

“Let’s get this show started.”

“Twenty bucks she takes them both down,” Sam Wilson said from his spot in the room.

“You’re on,” Nadia watched as Tony pulled a folding chair open and said down.

Nadia looked back at the two men in front of her and took a deep breath. Nadia scanned both men’s bodies. She looked for anything that looked like a weakness. Bucky seemed more planted firmly on the ground where Steve didn’t. Bingo, Nadia thought.

From the corner of her eyes, Nadia saw Bucky step to his right and saw Steve step to his right. Nadia was a small person. She moved quickly and knew how to maneuver her way in and out of people. It was what made her a really good asset to her squadron before being discharged.

Nadia quickly stepped forward between the men and dropped to the ground and swung her let out and managed to trip Steve. Steve fell on hard on his back, hitting the back of his head on the training mats. Nadia quickly rolled out of way of Bucky, who had actually anticipated that move. Nadia stood up and spun around in time think quickly and kick Bucky square in the chest. Bucky stumbled backwards.

“That was good, fast,” Bucky rubbed his chest with his metal hand.

Before Nadia could say anything, she felt her feet being pulled out form under her. Nadia fell hard on her chest, knocking the wind out of her. She was flipped to her back and Steve straddled her and attempted to pin her hands down but, Nadia grabbed his face and used what force she could and head butted him. Then she kneed him in the back Steve rolled over off her.

“She’s kicking Steve’s ass,” Natasha said.

Nadia ignored her. She kicked Steve over on his back and straddled him as she ripped the drawstrings out of his sweatpants. Before she could do anything, Bucky pulled her off Steve. Bucky, in no time, had Nadia up on the wall with his metal hand on her throat. He put enough pressure to where Nadia gasped. Nadia for a split second thought that what he did was hot.

“It’s okay, Doll,” Bucky whispered. “That’s all the pressure I’m going to apply.”

Nadia knew that was a mistake on his part. She smirked at him and Bucky tilted his head. Nadia kicked both her legs up until they landed on his shoulders. Nadia forced forced Bucky closer to her and the closer he got, the looser his hand got. Bucky had no choice but to let her go. This allowed Nadia to swing all the way onto Bucky’s shoulders.

Bucky’s metal hand came flying up, grabbing at Nadia’s shirt. Nadia, who still had the drawstring from Steve’s pants, use it to wrap it around Bucky’s neck. Not to tight though, this was training after all, but enough to have him notice and grasp at it. Bucky knelt down and Nadia flipped off his shoulders and rolled into a crouch.

“Nadia did what you couldn’t Nat,” Tony’s voice is teasing.

“Shut the fuck up, Tony,” Natasha snapped back. “Bucky was brainwashed when we fought. Nadie, just got the better end of the stick.”

Nadia noticed that Steve had moved to the side and was watching. Probably for the best, Nadia saw many weak points and blind spots in Steve. Nadia focused back on Bucky and she could tell that he was trying to figure out the best way to get the better of her.

Nadia looked at Bucky’s metal arm. He had the upper hand with that thing and she knew she had to figure something out to take it out of play. Nadia straightened her body up and began to walk slowly towards Bucky.

“We could call it,” Bucky said. He didn’t even sound out of breath. “Call it a tie or something.”

“Now why would I do that?” Nadia asked taking a deep breathe. She stopped a couple feet in front of Bucky. “I’m still having fun.”

Bucky chuckled and threw out his metal arm. Nadia dove down towards the mat but instantly felt Bucky’s cool metallic hand on her ankle. He yanked her back until their faces were a foot apart.

“Still having fun?” he mocked.

Nadia sat up and head butted Bucky in the face. The moment he let go, she hopped back onto his shoulder. The moment Bucky grabbed hold of Nadia’s legs and pressed them firm to his chest, Nadia knew that she made a mistake.

Bucky whipped both their bodies down on the mat. Nadia’s left shoulder hit first and she heard and felt a small pop. She yelled out and felt Bucky’s head roll away before she felt his hand on her.

“Are you okay?” he asked. The concern was very much heard in his voice.

“My shoulder,” Nadia groaned and bit her lip too distract her from the pain radiating around her shoulder.

Bucky felt around. “You’re shoulders dislocated. I’ll help you to the infirmary.”

Bucky help Nadia up and wrapped an arm around her waist. Nadia notice the whole team was standing up looking at her. No one said a word as the two of them walked out of the room and towards the elevator to the infirmary.

“You’re not that bad,” Bucky said pressing the button to the fourth floor. “You pretty much had me. I just kept going cause I’m pretty stubborn.”

Nadia laugh and then groaned at the new pain in her shoulder. “You’re not too bad yourself. My goal was to try and take your metal arm out. Temporarily.”

Nadia spent less than an hour in the infirmary. The doctor there pushed her shoulder back into place and gave her a sling and told her to wear that for the rest of the day. Nadia made a face and tried to protest but Bucky stopped her and walked her out of the infirmary.

“It’s better to just go with the flow,” He told her.

Once the elevator doors closed, Nadia pulled the sling off her and balled it up in her hands. Final day of training and Nadia get’s hurt. Not a bad way to end it. Now hopefully she can relax for the rest of the day or at least enough to make her new team mates comfortable.

“Unless I’m behind on military training and such, but you don't fight like a soldier,” Bucky turned to Nadia.

“That’s because I wasn’t just a normal soldier. Special Forces had this elite program that both my brother and I were in apart of. Technically it wasn’t supposed to exist.”

Bucky nodded in understanding what she said. “Well, you’re a badass and I’m glad you’re on the team.”

Nadia smiled. “Thank you.”

[celticheartedfangirl]

My OUAT Rewatch -- S4E22 and 23 -- Operation Mongoose, Parts 1 & 2

Link to Rewatch Review and Ranking archive

Bobby looks about as done with this season as I am.  I know Michael Socha was done with it -- literally -- but we’ll get to that later.

This is gonna be long.  So have a seat, pour yourself a drink or seven, and get ready.  I’m not holding back . . . . . . 

First of all, I debated about whether I should review this as one or two episodes.  I decided to go with one, and will do this going forward with any episodes that have the same title and are part 1,2, 8 million, whatever.  Trust me, at times it SEEMED like 8 million.

First thing I want to address is a bunch of fandom wank nonsense that came out of this episode -- namely the idea that RUMPLE wrote the story.  Let me make this perfectly clear:

Rumple DID NOT WRITE THIS STORY.  Isaac did.  Rumple told him what HE, personally, wanted.  Isaac took it from there.  Rumple didn’t write Isaac as a famous douchebag author, and he sure as hell wouldn’t have given fucking ZELENA a wedding in the story, he’d have killed her off in a painful but well-deserved death.  Ditto Hook.  So if you still actually think Rumple wrote this story, my recommendation to you is that you back out of this post now.  And you should probably stay off my blog in general.  Because frankly, I think you are wrong and stupid and we are not compatible in any way.  Got it?

Looking at YOU, some RUMBELLE FANS who actually did this shit:

https://celticheartedfangirl.tumblr.com/post/118193570842/i-am-stunned-to-see-some-rumbelle-fans-bitching

Okay, so there’s THAT.  Next . . . 

So this episode was A&E’s attempt at META.  And frankly, they SUCK at it.  It didn’t come off as funny, it came off as making fun of the fans.  No spoilers, ha ha ha .  . . . . . . for those not in the know, back when the show was airing, Adam’s go to answer to fans on Twitter was #nospoilers.  So the whole Isaac so thing was basically a dig at the FANS.  

So there’s THAT.

The entertainment media was shitting all over Rumbelle before the finale, which pissed me off enough to make this post:

https://celticheartedfangirl.tumblr.com/post/118484723732/when-and-why-exactly-did-rumbelle-become-the

And this comment:

https://celticheartedfangirl.tumblr.com/post/118467157702/ouat-finale-your-burning-relationship-questions

And then there’s THIS:

https://celticheartedfangirl.tumblr.com/post/118658755342/omg-ae-dig-the-knife-in-why-dont-you

Yes, in case you weren’t clear, dead is DEAD (we’ll revisit this thought in S5), Neal ain’t coming back, suck on it all of you who don’t like that!  Love, Adam and Eddy.  

Also, in other bullshit news, regarding who taught Henry to sail a ship:

https://celticheartedfangirl.tumblr.com/post/118655893997/henry-no-your-father-taught-you-that

And THIS:

https://celticheartedfangirl.tumblr.com/post/118660507567/what-the-fuck-they-left-rumple-on-the-floor-but

Revisiting May 2015 me is making current me stabby.  And I haven’t even mentioned the entire town of dumbasses herp-derping around and partying at Granny’s while Rumple is dying and could be a meat suit for the ultimate evil of all evils any second now.  Morons.  

Let’s talk about the stuff I DID enjoy . . . . 

Evil Snow was a riot!  

Bandit!Regina was fantastic.  

And this guy:

Gotta love Knight!Rumple!  

Also, I will admit . . . . . Hook was more useful in useless mode in the AU than he’s ever been in Hook mode outside of the AU.  Does that make sense?  

So there’s all of that.  Overall this 2-part thing was part good stuff, mostly hot mess, and a lot of middle fingers waved to the fans from the writers.  But tally comes later.  NOW is the time to address the Michael Socha issue:

Right about now, dearie.  Will Scarlett is gone.  You will never see him or hear about him again.

(Side note:  Made an error in my last review.  I honestly did not remember AT ALL that we saw Lily again in this episode, both in person form or in dragon form.  Which tells you how much of an impression that made on me.  Anyhoo, my bad.  I goofed.  NOW she’s gone for good.)

So what was the deal with Will Scarlett anyway?  

Well . . . . nobody knows.  We’ll probably NEVER know.  You see, Will Scarlett was one of the breakout characters from the spinoff Once Upon a Time in Wonderland, and when that got canceled, someone -- really not sure who -- thought it’d be an awesome idea to plunk him onto OUAT.  

There were many schools of thought on this, the primary one being that ABC wanted him for something and wanted to keep him on contract.  That was 2014.  I’m typing this in 2020, and there’s still no Michael Socha show on ABC.  So that was a load of horse shit -- or else Socha told ABC to fuck off and hightailed it back to England.  My money is on the latter.  

https://celticheartedfangirl.tumblr.com/post/115784240042/honest-question-why-did-they-bring-will-onto

But the issue isn’t even that they didn’t do fuck-all with Socha -- it’s the LIES that these assholes (they being A&E) told.  So here’s where my receipts come in.  You ready?  Got your popcorn?

First of all there’s this lovely article -- Will is mentioned by all of it is just glorious in general:

https://oncecrazy.tumblr.com/post/118843079631/the-26-things-the-castwriters-promised-would

What is so HIGHlarious about all of this is that almost all of the articles that existed about the whole Will Scarlett thing -- no longer EXIST!

The highlight is Zap2it -- which is a now defunct fan site that A&E liked to go prattle to.  

So Frick and Frack promised us we’d find out how Belle & Will got together.  I have this:

https://www.pinterest.co.uk/pin/424464333605771793/#

And I have this:

https://celticheartedfangirl.tumblr.com/post/113163777872/once-upon-a-time-belle-and-the-knave-are-a-new

I also have a bunch of people I KNOW can confirm they saw this interview full of bullshit before it got erased.  Please show yourselves!  

But fear not -- I have an ACTUAL receipt from Mr. Socha himself:

https://celticheartedfangirl.tumblr.com/post/140658788782/apparently-michael-socha-got-screwed-over-by-ouat

https://celticheartedfangirl.tumblr.com/post/140624375357/hes-a-good-bloke-i-saw-him-at-the-comic-con

I’m grateful someone had the idea to type it out, because sadly the link to that article was DELETED, which makes me think Socha got in trouble for that interview.  Because shortly after that, a more watered down interview with him was posted in its place and THAT is still up:

https://www.digitalspy.com/tv/ustv/a785951/michael-socha-confirms-once-upon-a-time-exit/

Interesting, no?

Whatever the case -- Socha got royally fucked over by OUAT, for no good reason.  His character was a plot device.  What a waste and what an insult to the man who just wanted to work.  Fuck these assholes.  

So anyhow, there are the receipts, and we are now at the end of the clusterfuck that was Season 4.  

Speaking of clusterfucks . . . . onward to Season 5.  

Lord, give me strength . . . . . 

Points tally:

40 points to start

10 points for Rumbelle kiss

10 points for Rumbelle hug

5 points for Swan Queen

3 points for Papafire, at least it got mentioned

5 points for Belle in character

5 points for Rumple in character

5 points deducted for Hook

5 points deducted for Zelena

I really can’t justify adding or deducting anything bonus.  Just get me out of this season, please and thank you.

Total points:  68

Follow #celtichearted OUAT ranking tag for more to come!

[feverwritingandtextposts]

Summary:

All the cool monsters make it to the front page of City S Newspaper. And Garou's going to join them, even if he has to kidnap a reporter to do it.

Look man I saw this funny AU post and i HAD to write this i was possessed. 

As usual you can follow the link to read it or read it under the cut below. 

"And so that's why i skipped the math class in my 7th grade- hey. Hey. Are you listening?"

Badd turned his head up to the voice, groggy and tired. He gave a non-committal grunt in response. The man clucked his tongue in annoyance.

"Hm. You're not writing anything down so-"

Badd raised an eyebrow at that, glaring down the man in front of him. Tall, imposing, with the most hideous hairstyle Badd's ever seen, the man loomed overhead, paused in his pacing to stare down at him.

"How the fuck am i supposed to write anything when my FUCKING HANDS ARE TIED?" Badd bellowed, fully sick and tired of this nonsense.

Personally, Badd had no clue why this bastard chose to kidnap him out of all the reporters out there. He's just self aware enough to know that he's not exactly the easiest person to get along with in general. If this dude really wanted the world to 'understand his monster aesthetic and goals through the newspaper' he'd probably get better cooperation from some mousy bumbling reporter that he can, actually, successfully intimidate.

Maybe Badd looked like an easy target because he'd been passed out after drinking with a interviewee. In his defense, the office promised to pay, and Badd was never one to turn down some day drinking.

Damn, what even happened to that guy... Did this fucker kill him when Badd got kidnapped?

The man, Garou or Gatou or Geko something like that, narrowed his eyes at him. It looked like he'd wanted to seem contemptuous and intimidating, but Badd thought it made him just look pouty, like an ill tempered child.

That dude's probably fine.

"You could've just said so then," the man snapped, reaching over.

Badd jerked back from him, the movement teethering him dangerously on the flimsy chair he was tied against.

"Ey ey, hands off bastard. This coat's Gucci and i dunno where your damn hands have been," Badd hissed.

Clearly offended, the man drew back, lips pulling back to show a sharp array of teeth. "I wash my hands you little shit."

"That's what all the crooks say."

The man looked stunned for a moment, face still stuck in that half angry half incredulous grimace, as if shocked that Badd was just being so deliberately uncooperative, when he'd gone to all this trouble of holding him hostage. Held aloft in front of him, the man's hands balled up into fists.

Briefly, Badd wondered if he was finally going to get punched.

Badd was kinda looking forward to it. Its been a while since he got punched anyway.

But instead, the man seemed to reign himself in, folding his arms and drawing up to his fullest height, lips drawn in a sneer.

"Your coat's ugly anyway. Gucci? You wasted your money on that crap."

Wow really? He's really gonna get his fashion sense roasted by a man in ratty joggers and old people slippers.

"Fuck you," Badd snarled venomously.

Gatou (no Gakou.. Garou?) raised an eyebrow, seemingly unconcerned.

"Are you mad? Over that?"

Badd struggled against his bindings, the chair screeching against the concrete as he moved.

"Seriously?"asked the man. "You weren't even that mad when you woke up tied to the chair."

Badd paused in his attempts to rip off the thick ropes to shoot the man a scathing look.

"Like hell I'm gonna listen to you insult MY coat when you're in those disgusting pants."

Now looking absolutely confused, the taller man looked down at his faded grey joggers.

"What's wrong with my pants? They're great for movement and kicking." As if to demonstrate that point, or intimidate Badd, he started kicking the air, each kick higher than before, the shock-wave blowing wind and dust into Badd's face.

Man, Badd hated guys like him. Just because they're hot they think they can care fuck all about fashion and still look good.

In this guy's case he'd be right but Badd's never gonna admit that.

Badd was about to tell him exactly where he could stick his ugly pants before the man slammed his foot down, loud and annoying.

"Wait, forget that, I still need you to continue writing that article. Where did I stop?"

Damnit, Badd was hoping he'd have forgotten that by now.

The man propped his chin against his fist, deep in thought.

Maybe if Badd was lucky he'd realise he'd told Badd every fucking insignificant detail about his (admittedly kinda sad) life story and let him go.

The man slammed his fist into his open palm in realisation. "I can't remember, so lets just take it from the start again!"

This man was going to give him a fucking aneurysm.

"What the HELL man! C'mon dude lay off it," Badd whined, writhing on the chair in annoyance.

"Maybe I'll be done faster if your sorry ass doesn't keep INTERRUPTING me," Garou snarled back, resuming his pacing as he prepared to re-recount his shitty life story.

The afternoon light that streamed through the high broken windows was starting to dim, casting long shadows across the abandoned warehouse they were in. The day was beginning to end. Zenko's going to be out of cram school soon, and she'd be waiting for him to pick her up.

It was starting to get colder too, Badd could see the puffs of air coming from his breath. Did Zenko bring her scarf?

"Hey man aren't you done yet? I gotta go soon, I need to pick my lil sis up," Badd called out to the slouching man, who had skulked a way off ahead, ranting about why elementary school kids have the propensity for cruelty.

Pausing in his tirade, he stalked back over.

"Fuck are you talking about? You're literally tied to a chair."

"Yeah I KNOW. That's why I'm asking if you're done, I need to go pick my sis up."

Shaggy white hair bouncing, Garou shook his head firmly. "What, no you can't just leave. I KIDNAPPED you."

"Yeah, I noticed. And how long are you gonna keep me here then? The fucking sun's already going down."

"Its only been three and a half hours," protested Garou, his thin face settling into its permanent scowl. "How are you going to write a good article about me if you don't know my entire backstory?"

Badd groaned loudly, head tilting back in exasperation. In front of him, the man didn't move, sharp golden eyes boring into Badd.

"If you be a good boy and listen, this will go by a lot faster, and you can be out to write that article and pick up your sister or whatever. Or, I could keep you here with me for much MUCH longer."

"Ugh..." Badd rolled his eyes at the obvious warning to behave. Really, did he LOOK like the type to just buckle down and keep quiet? After realising that Garou was still standing there, eyes alert and anticipating a response, he gave a resigned sigh.

"ALRIGHT, fucking hell, FINE," snapped Badd, a little too loudly, but the bastard smiled at that, lips pulling into a smarmy smirk that would have been ridiculously hot if Badd wasn't so ready punch him.

He really hoped Zenko brought her scarf. This was gonna take a while.

Luckily for the both of them, Badd was an expert in the sacred art of pretending to pay attention. Eyes glassy, he watched the man pace up and down, ever so often making a grunt or hum of agreement to whatever was being said.

Those pants Garou was wearing really DO look great for movement. They clung perfectly to that tight ass. Speaking of, now that Badd really got a look at him, this guy was toned to hell. He mentioned being 'the world's best martial artist' or something, but damn. That turtleneck he was wearing looked like it was on its last breath of life clinging to those muscles. Dude's lucky he's nice to look at because Badd'll be bored to death otherwise.

Night had fully fallen by the time the white haired man decided to pause for breath.

Badd hasn't been in the reporting biz long enough to be considered an expert, but he doubts that he really needed THAT much info from the guy to write an article on him. Usually, articles about villains are pretty short anyway.

Stuff like "Wanted: this bastard! Contact the Association if you have information" or "See this man? Better mind your own business and find somewhere to hide!". Short, sweet, to the point. Just what criminal warning articles are supposed to be. Where the hell was his supposed to insert the entire part about this loser getting beat up in elementary school? Badd's not a damn literary expert. He only got the job because of how hardy he was, and how dangerous journalist jobs can end up.

Maybe he can ask one of the interns to help him write it...

"Do you have all of that?" asked Garou (Badd's sure now, the fucker talked about himself as 'Garou the Human Monster' at least 11 times).

Badd nodded quickly, hoping to god that he was done talking about himself. Garou, perhaps having believed Badd's performance, perhaps simply needing a space to talk about... all that... seemed absurdly happy.

"Okay! You better write a good article!" Garou ordered, exuberant smile lighting up his usually swarthy face, making it look kinder and sweeter. Like how he might have been if he hadn't been weighed down by all that spite.

Huh, Badd thought, he was actually kinda cute.

"Right, don't move."

Never mind, scratch that.

Badd last remembers a throbbing pain on the back of his neck, as if someone had smacked him, and wakes up alone at a bus stop.

"Human Monster Gatou on the loose," read out Taero, swinging his legs on the park bench. Beside him, the white haired man peeled an eye open from where he sat slouched back on the bench, head propped up on the back.

"Whazzat? Kid, you're old enough to read properly right? Pronounce people's names right."

"Huh, but Uncle, that's what it says." Reaching over, Taero pushes the newspaper right into Garou's face for him to read it himself.

Golden eyes scanning the headline, Taero barely had time to sit back down before Garou shot up from the bench, snatching the newspaper out of his hand in the process. Wordlessly Garou stood there, newspaper crumpled in his grip, eyes boring into the page.

Taero knew that this Uncle was pretty prone to sudden and confusing mood shifts, but even for him this was kinda weird.

"It's pretty scary isn't Uncle? We should be careful," Taero says tentatively, peering at him from the safety of the bench.

"That's right. Real scary," muttered Garou, face absolutely murderous.

He can't believe that fucking reporter spelled his name wrong.

He's gonna kill him.

[crystallinecrimsonmoth]

Hello, peeps :3

Here is Chapter 29 of Future Serial Killer, I hope you enjoy it!

Please remember to comment, like, and donate to my Ko-fi if possible. Commissions and prompts are always open for both fanfiction and moodboards - please feel free to ask for either (I write for many ships so I’m sure I can accommodate your needs :3).

Tags: @carl-sweet-serial-killer @carlnegan

Future Serial Killer

Chapter 29

‘Are you insane?’

Well, that wasn’t the answer he was expecting.

Negan did his best to brush it off though, keeping the wide grin on his face as he gazed up at Carl, the black ring box still offered up in front of him.

‘What, kid? You never saw a marriage proposal before?’ He chuckled, hearing everyone else in the hall hold their breath at once.

The community hub was so quiet you could hear a pin drop as they all stared at the scene unfolding in front of them. It wasn’t like Carl would say no, or at least no one thought he would. The teen clearly loved Negan so it was a logical next step, even if it didn’t make total sense to get married during an apocalypse when the dead were wandering outside and could kill them both at any moment.

But Carl was still just standing there, one frail hand shaking at his side while he tried to think of an answer that wouldn’t come out as a squeak of shock. When he realised that wouldn't work and he couldn't think of any other way to express his feelings, his hand made its way across Negan’s face, slapping him so hard his jaw cocked to the side and pain radiated through his skull.

The man let out a little laugh, rubbing his hand over the skin that had been slapped, knowing it would bruise later.

‘Getting some mixed messages here, kiddo, you got any actual words for me?’ He raised an eyebrow at him, making Carl’s heart clench as he stared back into his eyes.

He didn’t know what to do. He had seen so many marriages fall apart in his short time on earth, especially in the hell they lived in now, and he and Negan had been so good for so long. He didn’t want marriage to mess that up.

Negan was still staring at him, dark eyes filled with just a little bit of worry now that Carl had been silent for a few minutes, and the teen saw him physically gulp when he got onto his knees in front of him, cupping his jaw in his hands and rubbing gentle thumbs through his beard.

‘I don’t want to screw this up with marriage, Neeg.’

The man’s eyebrows furrowed at his words, confusion filling in the cracks of his wrinkled face.

‘We won’t screw it up. Nothing will change that much, we’re just… making it official. And you get to wear a nice ring.’ The smile on his face was hesitant as he let Carl put his hands on his shoulders and squeeze to reassure the Saviour.

‘My parents’ marriage didn’t work, Negan. It failed miserably and I don’t want that to happen to us. This world ripped them apart, it isn’t built for happy families.’

Negan’s frown worsened at the younger man’s words and he thought about what he had said for a moment before shaking his head.

‘It can't rip us apart because it brought us together. If motherfuckers hadn't started rolling in their graves, we would have never met. The end of the world saved us! We don't need a happy family, darling, we’ll have a dysfunctional family instead. We’ll always be on guard, even when it’s completely safe and we haven’t had a death in fucking years because we built a brick wall around the Sanctuary to keep others out. We’ll call each other Scarface and Jackass, we’ll threaten to shoot each other every day. I don’t give a fuck about being happy, Carl, I give a fuck about loving you and keeping you safe. We could fight every fucking day but we’ll always come back to each other at night. We'll always keep each other warm in bed, no matter what. I'd die for you, Carl.’ His whiskey eyes were watering as he made the unplanned speech, wanting so badly to marry the teen that he would weep in front of the whole Sanctuary just to get him to say yes.

Carl was staring in disbelief, tears already falling from his one blue eye and blurring his vision as he leaned forward and put his forehead against Negan’s, stroking through his beard while the surrounding community still stood in utter silence, watching the event unfold.

‘We’ve always found our way back to each other, even when your dad took you away from me. I know marriage doesn’t mean shit nowadays and people might laugh when we call each other husband but I don’t fucking care! Marry me, Carl Grimes.’ He insisted, waiting with bated breath for his reply and feeling the crushing weight lift off his heart when the teen nodded, wrapping his arms around Negan’s neck and hugging him tightly.

Everyone started clapping around them when Carl nodded, the eruption of applause reminding the teen that they were safe. Part of a community that worked together, took care of each other, and fought hard for the life they lived there, regardless of how many outsiders got hurt.

That was the Sanctuary way. You protected your own, no matter the cost to others. That’s how they survived, and it was the only way to live safely.

Carl understood that now as he leaned back onto his heels, letting Negan take his hand. It was trembling so much he couldn’t even feel his fingers, all the blood having rushed to his head in order to comprehend the question that Negan had asked and the implications of them being married.

The man slipped the ring from the little black box in his hand onto Carl’s finger, the black and red gems glinting under the light of the hall around them. It fit perfectly, much to his surprise, but the teen could barely focus on the jewellery before he tackled Negan into another hug, kissing him until they were both panting for breath.

The couple just stared at each other for the longest time, their breath intermingling until Rose yelled out through the silence of the hall.

‘Alright, the serious part’s over with! Get a plate, we have a lot of cake to go around for our newly engaged couple!’ She grinned, making Carl’s eyes flicker to the counter and brighten at the sight of the chocolate cake.

He smacked Negan’s arm when he saw it, jittering with excitement and the aftershocks of all his nervous energy.

‘You made chocolate cake!’

‘Hey, woah, we made chocolate cake. He couldn’t bake a cake this good if he tried!’ Pyro, one of the bakers from the catering unit of the Sanctuary, argued from where he stood with the rest of the team, pointing at Negan with a friendly glare.

Carl couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him at Pyro’s argument and he nodded, offering a kiss on the cheek to the man whose face burned as red as his hair.

‘You’re right. Thank you, Pyro. I’m pretty sure we’d be eating burnt flour if the great King of the Sanctuary had made our cake.’ He smiled, laughing again when Negan made a scandalised noise and stalked over to them.

‘I would not have burnt the cake!’

‘You would have, but that’s okay. I love you for other things.’ Carl giggled, giving Negan a soft peck on the lips before thanking the rest of the catering unit with a kiss on the cheek, approaching the chocolate cake in question with a hungry expression on his face.

‘How do you feel?’ Rose smiled at him as he got to the table, offering up his slice of the cake.

Carl nodded, a big smile on his face now as he thought about what had just happened.

‘I’m getting married to the best-looking man left on earth, I’m very happy.’ He expressed, taking a bite of the cake and moaning at the taste.

‘Fuck, I haven’t had chocolate apart from that little square Negan gave me when I was sick since I was like fourteen.’ He purred like a cat, relishing in the flavour of the sweet treat as Rose laughed.

‘Yeah, he said you liked it. We only bring it out twice a year since we haven’t found a factory with the machinery to make any more yet. Negan brought it out for today since it was a special occasion so I hope you’re okay with strawberry cake for your wedding.’

The young Saviour nodded with enthusiasm, taking another bite of his cake slice.

‘I love all cake, that’s fine.’ He grinned, his lips and teeth stained with chocolate which Negan licked away when he approached the two of them, giving Carl a soft kiss and nuzzling his nose against his.

‘Hi.’

‘Hi to you too.’

They stared at each other for a moment, gazes both loving and lustful until Rose spoke up between them.

‘If I may, I suggest you move onto the engagement celebrations upstairs. No one needs to see you eye-fuck each other in the middle of the main hall.’ She smiled, passing them both to go to the kitchen and patting Negan on the back as she did.

The man smirked at his newly engaged fiancee with a nod to what Rose said, linking his hand with his and putting the other one on his lower back.

‘Shall we?’

Carl let out a little hum, reaching up and pulling Negan’s face towards his, kissing him roughly. The results of that motion landed them upstairs, the teenager panting underneath his older lover in a desperate attempt to get his jeans off.

Negan just chuckled, easing his hands away from his belt with gentle movements and focusing instead on ravishing every inch of his skin. He spent at least ten minutes biting, nibbling and sucking on Carl’s stomach and thighs, laving his tongue over the boy’s puckered hole when he finally got his denim shorts off and sinking his teeth into the flesh of his behind.

The resulting tug on his hair did not go unnoticed.

‘Don’t tease, Neeg.’

‘I’ll tease if I want to, princess, you just have to lie there and take it.’ The leader purred in response, drawing a drop of blood from one of the globes of milk flesh while completely ignoring Carl’s weeping erection.

This went on until he got bored of listening to the boy whine, and the rest of the night melded into nothing but a kaleidoscope of sweat and orgasms, Negan tugging at the young man’s long brown waves until he screamed and soiled the bed sheets with his release.

Once Carl was sated completely and panting into the fabric of their thick duvet, his older fiancee lit a fire to warm the room some more, wiping his lover down with a washcloth and tucking them both into bed under a blanket. He was thankful to have locked the door when they stumbled into the room at the start of the night, giving them total peace and security as the couple fell asleep.

[geirskogull]

Steel Reign - Chapter 5 - Sated

Caolan uses some reserved engineered emergency summoning magic to get things under control

Odin has a nice snack

Archive Link

Rating: M

Count: 1.4 K

Miral chirped, curious and mournful, as Caolan lead both he and Teacup to some rocks by the cave mouth. They’d stay here, for now. Away from the danger they saw enter this cave, and the friend they needed to rescue. They were to be a warning bell for the world, if Caolan failed to pacify Odin. He hoped it wouldn’t come to that, but the shrill cry of chocobos could serve as an effective warning bell. 

He’d watched the half formed primal stumble in there earlier, struggling against themselves, attempting to direct the body they shared two drastically different ways. Staggering, like a drunkard, into the dangerous wild. 

He’d been following them from a distance, trying to figure out how he was going to fix things. Help things. Caolan wished he could say he had come up with an answer. But he’d never been one for lies, at least when it came to his friends. His only hope was cornering an Odin who had found something to hunt, and was busy processing any large amount of Aether and attempting to use the same strategy he used to summon any of his Egi, but instead of tuning it towards their desired element or energy, attempting to attune it to something against his nature. Rest perhaps? What was the opposite of the Dark Divinity? 

He didn’t have time to ponder that question, he could hear the grating of metal upon metal deeper in the cave. Good, he hadn’t lost her. She had grown silent, however, and he’d have been lying if he said that didn’t worry him. He didn't have a single clue what he would do if she was consumed. 

Hells, he didn’t know what he’d tell people if she was consumed.

Deeper in the cave, he heard a shriek. Dropping any pretense that he was attempting to hide, he rushed forward further. Cursing himself that he couldn’t tell if that was man or beast. Praying it was the latter. 

 Zantetsuken’s blade glistened in the faint starlight, slick with the blood of the massive chimera that rested at Odin, at his new vessels feet. Odin held the blade in his hand, almost reverently, admiring it like one would a sculpture. All the while, she swayed. Woosy. 

Hunt... 

The cry in her mind grew less painful, but still remained present. Was the god yet hungry? Had this beast not been enough? Or was she losing herself, loosing this battle against her own body.

Gods, her side ached. No, it burnt like fire was running through her veins. She staggered hard against the rock wall  of the cavern, interrupting Odin from his moonlight reverie. 

“You yet fight.” His words came from her mouth. She hated that. Hated him. She swore she would bow to none if she could help it and yet here she was, being forced to bow.

“I will never cease.”  She screamed, determined, in a mind that was rightfully hers. She could almost feel him smile, behind his black plate half. Perhaps because it was her face, that which still looked like her, that did so. Even as pain wracked her. 

Odin had fought the Chimera unscathed.

She had not. 

 “Good,” Odin spoke. Her voice mingled with his, echoing through the cave. “That will serve you well.” He spoke to her like some errant child, in need of a firm hand to guide her. Her resentment grew tenfold at that realization. Struggling to stand from the wall, she attempted to will the sword away.

“Why do such a thing, we may yet still need it.” Odin corrected, the blade remained fast in his hand. She grimaced, trying yet again, only to meet the same results. He turned her body to face the cave entrance, or at least the cavern that lead there. “Such as the mortal you let flee earlier.”

Caolan swallowed hard, stealing his courage as he cowered behind a distant rock.. Had he actually been that loud, or was Odin just that sort of ultra powerful hunter that even his successful attempts to hide were failures in the eyes of the primal? No matter the answer, he had been spotted, and the moment of truth had arrived.

Now it was time to learn if his plan was going to sink, or if it was going to swim.

Stepping from behind the rock, his grimoire held tight in his hands, he prepared for the worst, even as the best seemed to be naught but a fever dream. 

“Danica.” He started, extending a hand towards the primal. He tried to keep his voice level, some part of him not wanting to show his deep fear in front of Odin. 

Caolan! Danica screamed in her mind. Why hadn’t he ran? She had urged him so, so hard to run. Odin sighed, displeasure coloring their voice.

“She urged you to run. She made me offer you mercy.” If the elezen was to describe Odin’s voice, it would be akin to the sound metal makes when it grinds against metal. Ear splitting. Loud. Echoing. Made his teeth ache to hear at such close a range. 

“I’m afraid I can’t just leave her.” He answered, a glittering attempt at a wry smile dancing upon his sore cheeks.

 Fool. Danica thought. Odin chuckled, even as Caolan opened his tome and focused on the patterns within. Swirling aether into magical shapes of both protection and harm. Titan-egi, better known as Nugget, manifested, standing beside his master with a stern, rocky glow. 

“Then pray tell, what do you intend to do?” Odin asked, Digging the blade of the damned sword into the ground. Leaning upon it. Apparently, her injuries were catching up with him. Caolan did not answer, but smiled, shaping the aether around him with intent that was beyond what Voss knew. What Odin knew. 

Odin sat down, upon the ground next to the Chimeras corpse. Gently kicking its head with his metal foot. Waiting for an answer that would not come, but somehow lacking the strength to stand and demand it at sword point as more and more of the charged aether surrounded him. Perplexed him.  

Genius. Danica continued to think. Even as pain grew sharper along her body, images too grew clearer. Smiles growing in earnest. Desire for blood giving way to the desire to rest.

“Clever boy and his magic tricks...” Odin murmured. Metal head growing heavy. Brilliant bands of purple and blue formed around one half of the kneeling god. Stripping away the black plate and leaving naught but bruised and injured person beneath. 

Clever boy, and his magic tricks... Watching the sword disappear in a burst of aether, Caolan let out a loud cheer. Jumping into the heavens and clapping his feet together. Nugget clapped his big stone hands together in time. 

Grasping Nuggets hands, Caolan began to spin. Near singing “We did it! We did it!” The rocky creature attempting to respond in its own attempt at words. Danica smiled. He had, he had done it. Raising the hand that had once been metal, she smiled. 

And then she collapsed. 

The sudden thump of a body hitting the sad, or well collapsing atop a dead chimera, snapped Caolan from his victorious japery. Eyes snapping with a frightful precision to his friend, freed from her bonds. 

“Fuck” he declared, scrambling across the caverns loose sand to her prone form. “Shit Damn fuck” Nugget floated after, almost worried, but soon found with a wave of  a hand his help would not be needed.

Danica, from the small pile of dust and gore she laid in, began to chuckle, wheeze and cough. That chuckle, quickly turned to tearful cries. As the pain of fighting the chimera, and the realization of her predicament settled in her broken form. How close she came to harming others. How close she came to harming more than just herself. 

“Dee, shit are you ok? Do you need a doctor? I’m not a doctor. I have a scarf. It's in use. Fuck.” Caolans words were a waterfall, it was amazing he managed to maintain any amount of composure before. Or perhaps that was why they came bursting forth now with little beyond the most basic thought attached to them.

He picked her up, gently and with a great deal of effort to not worsen any of the wounds he could see, and any he couldn't. Gods it looked like she took the chimeras ram horns to the gut, or perhaps the dragon maw? He didn’t want to think about specifics.

“Dee?” He whispered, when she did not respond. She gave him a bleary eyed look in return, as much as she could turn her head. 

“I’m scared Caolan.” 

Three words whispered, three final words. Before her world went black and she went limp in his arms.

[early-sxnsets]

Intimacy

Archive Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18672919/chapters/47304547

Chapter 12/13 of Proximity (The Collision of Lonely Men)

Word Count: 6171

Summary: Spring break brings an opportunity to get out of town, leading Simon and Baz to new and unsure parts of their relationship.

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s cloudy today, just like every other day this week.

Like the week before.

And the week before that.

Except today, unlike all the overcast days that came before us, we’re at least going somewhere. Getting away from the stacked towers and mixture of old and new of Watford Academy, and going up North--up to Baz’s family’s country house that apparently sits a short walk from a small town.

Some picturesque type of place, with all the charm of a cheesy little rom-com.

A place where nobody really knows us, beyond maybe seeing Baz when he was younger. A place where, if we hold hands and snog in public, it won’t have any significant bearing onto our daily lives.

A place, in short, where I can be out.

Because it’s never us, when it comes to this. It hasn’t been about us being out--it’s about me. In all my confusing self-sabotage, I’ve been chewing and chewing on the fact that this frustration over us has just been me all along. I’m the villain trying to hold us back here, and I really quite hate that there’s nothing to blame besides myself.

I’m the beast to conquer. It’s even worse that I rarely hold onto even a tiny thought, yet I’m clinging to this one.

It’s scary. It’s new. It’s scary because it’s new, and it’s newly scary. And at least, at least I’ve got Baz here with me, because he’s not scared. Not anymore.

He’s to the point of this stone-cold, face-forward fearlessness that he walked right out of our flat with his shirt half undone, sauntering up to his car as I’m leaning against it. I’m wearing his Ray Bands (he says I look cooler in him than he does, but I think he’s lying), feeling the Volvo hum against my backside as I wait and watch him step out of the building.

He looks fantastic as always, which feels strikingly unfair to the gloom that’s been hanging over us. I feel washed in it, dressing in greys and beiges while he struts out in a the poshest possible shirt--soft violet with maroon and deep green floral detailing stitched in. He lets it hang open over his chest, tucked nicely into his black jeans.

“Bold move,” I hum gently, watching him toss one last bag into the boot. “Didn’t think you’d go to unbutton it ‘til we got out of town.”

He smirks a bit, giving the top a good nudge as it slams back shut. “Yes, well. Saw myself in the mirror and I couldn’t quite resist.”

For a split second, I’m sure he’s considering stepping over and kissing me, but his face drops a bit before going around and getting into the driver’s seat. I follow suit, hesitating as I relax into the leather before reaching over and lacing our hands together while chewing on a bit of my bottom lip. His head turns, taking full notice of my apprehension, then snaps back wordlessly as he moves to shift gears.

It isn’t long before the area grows to be unrecognizable. Blurs of passing countryside peaks and the rolling of hills, disappearing into vague greens and twinges of yellow. It’s gorgeous, and a bit of a hike.

Baz doesn’t make much of a fuss when I put on my headphones, knowing full well I’d warned him about my car sickness before hand. He just pouts a bit, but takes my hand and lets me zone out until it’s over (which takes a full Killers album and half an Offspring album).

Once we start passing through, he nudges me gently, letting me snap back into reality to watch us slowly make our way through town.

It’s pretty. Floral, at this time of the year. Not incredibly lively, but not dead, nonetheless. A few shops--the usual types of spots throughout. Pubs, a tailor, coffee shop, a few spots to eat, etc.

All charmingly safe.

All charmingly secure--all somewhere I can do what I feel impulsively--without the barrier of peers to stop my mind from doing it.

I lean across at a stop, kissing his cheek softly and feeling his smile tug before flying back and settling back into my seat.

“What was that for?”

I shrug, staring out my side window dazily. It feels like a rush--a chemical burst in my head. I wonder if this is what happiness is supposed to feel like. “Felt like it.”

I catch him smiling secretively all the way to the house.

Which, to my surprise, isn’t really the “Little cottage” he made it out to be. Rather, it’s a quite sizable estate that probably costs more than I’ll ever make before I’m fifty.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Baz,” I start, watching him turn the ignition off and unbuckle. “How fucking loaded is your family?”

His smile drops, lips twitched a tad as he yanks the keys out. “A bit too much,” he says, stepping out and turning to grab out stuff as I sit stunned, staring up at the building while he unpacks and starts inside.

I join closely behind him as he’s turning the front key through the locks, pushing the door (that’s bound to be hand carved, by the looks of it) open and letting the scent of the old building hit us as we step further in.

Someone must’ve come through and cleaned recently. It’s absolutely spotless, and smelling of an odd mix of what I can only describe as Pine Sol and just the plain waft of ancient wood and stone.

“Room’s upstairs.” Baz pushes past me, carrying three of our bags up at once as he starts to climb the seemingly twisting and turning set of wooden stairs that sits beside the set of kitchen doors. I sort of bound up after him, curiously peeking into the suite.

It’s ridiculously grand. Like some fucking five star place you stay at because you’re dating some posh arsehole.

Except, it isn’t some five star place, it’s one of his family’s fucking houses.

“Shit, Baz,” I breathe, leaning against the doorframe. “Do you take all the boys you shack up with here? Romance the shit out of them before the cult rituals begin? When do I lose my bloody mind?”

He rolls his eyes, settling down our bags and checking himself in the mirror (never the surprise). “You’re the first, believe it or not,” he says, shockingly soft, which nearly makes me drop my phone.

At first, it doesn’t entirely process. It isn’t much of a joke--he isn’t laughing, and neither am I, but it doesn’t feel like it should be real. Because he has a lifetime of being the hottest fucking bloke in the room, and yet he expects me to believe that I’m the first bastard he’s actually brought around.

“You’re kidding, right?”

He turns, raising a brow. “When do I joke about this sort of stuff, Snow?” he asks, brushing past me and turning back towards the stairs.

I stay in the room, making my way to sit on the bed as I listen carefully to him unloading the car, locking it, and heading inside.

I can’t really believe it. He can keep saying it, over and over again, but it feels fake.

Nearly four months in, and it feels fake.

Not the romance, and not us, but the fact that he likes me. That this isn’t some elaborate move to get the upper hand, and I’ll end up looking like an idiot on purpose.

And it must show--at least. The fact that I’m thinking like this must show, as Baz stops in the doorway to frown at me.

“What?”

I blink, eyes feeling cloudy as I try to shake it off.

This is real. This is real. “Hm? What? Nothing.”

“You were spacing. You only space when you’re overthinking.”

“That’s not true.”

He raises his brow and makes my skin flush. “You rarely ever think to begin with, Snow. The rare occasion that you do, you try to make up for all the lost thoughts and pile them on at once.”

I exhale, feeling the bed dip beside me as he sits. His hand wraps around mine, making my throat feel even tighter. Fucking hell, he doesn’t make it easy. “I’m--” I stop myself. I can’t say it.

I look at him, and it all runs to the back of my head.

There’s so much I want to say. So much that should be said, should be shared, and none of it seems to be coming out right, so I sigh. And shrug. And look away, because I’m really shit at this whole thing.

I’m trying. I really am. I want to try hard for him, but it’s hard.

But instead, I opt for leaning against him as his head falls onto mine, leaving us in a strangled silence.

“Why do you like me so much?” It comes out almost broken, trying to push its way back into my mouth as the words leave my lips.

He’s silent for a minute, letting me stay resting onto him until he does speak. “What’s making you all--”

“I just don’t know why you like me,” I start, sitting up. “I mean, unless I’m just the first one to last this long.”

“Are you implying I can’t hold a relationship?”

“I…” Fuck. This wasn’t meant to be a fight. “Fuck--no. Shit. I’d just meant--I mean… I don’t know what you see in me to take me along and show me your life and--”

“Because I like you.” His hand stays tightly around mine, voice sounding borderline stern. “I like you, Simon. I see a future with you. You might drive me up the bloody wall on occasion, but I think you’re someone I want around me for as long as you’ll keep me.”

His words fill my mouth but don’t let me swallow down--like a mouthful of dry spices. It’s there--it’s part of a meal, part of my life, but I can’t seem to let it into my body. It’s rejecting--I can’t take it like this. I can’t take it without something to swallow it down with.

I turn to him, searching his face for whatever can help it stick--help it stay with me. Settle in just right, and all I can seem to find is his lips, open in what seems like concern, but become my target.

I launch myself in, hands settling onto his face and tugging his jaw closer as I kiss and kiss and kiss until I feel him settle, kissing me back and letting it stick. Letting me sweetly pry his lips open and slip my tongue into his mouth, feeling the tremble in his movements as he takes my sides and tugs me closer.

His words are something I find myself being cautiously unsure of, but his movements? His body? The way he responds with such delicate affection and careful appreciation? That I’m sure of.

When I can feel him moving under my hands--feel his body fall back onto the bed with a solid nudge, letting me throw myself onto his lap and stuff my hands under his shirt as he moans into my mouth, urging me onwards...

That’s what feels solid--tangible.

Actions are definite, while words can’t help but feel like tricks.

I’ve been told before that I was loved, and when I was ready for more, it hit us that we didn’t know what we were saying to one another.

That wasn’t love. It wasn’t even lust.

It wasn’t what I’ve got pressed to me now. It wasn’t a grown man being vulnerable. It wasn’t telling each other we’re scared or we’re not ready.

It wasn’t like how it is now; now it’s kissing him everywhere. Tugging at the smooth fabric of his shirt, telling him you want him, telling him you need him. Telling him he’s everything you’ve ever needed and more, because he’s what’s tangible here. He’s what I can feel, what I can hold.

He isn’t words, but actions.

He’s grabbing me, he’s tugging at my shirt, watching me hold myself above him as he works at my buttons and making my head spin out of control before I have to stop him, breath not coming out right anymore.

I feel his hand slide, cup my jaw as I gasp.

“What’s the matter?” he whispers, letting me relax. I can’t look at him straight on--everything’s spinning, especially his face. It looks concerned though. He feels concerned.

“It’s not--I’m--” my chest flutters, eyes falling back shut. “It’s so much. Everything.”

“We can stop,” he says quickly, but I shake my head, cutting him short.

I take a shaky inhale, then a shaky exhale. With another breath, he slowly moves to finish unbuttoning my shirt, pushing the sides open and letting me breathe properly for a minute.

It all settles back into place.

It all feels real, and then all at once, I’m in the moment.

Like the world was fizzling, then I was popped back into reality.

The room’s awfully light, and he’s got a terribly confused look on his face, but I just lean down and kiss him clear, letting him slide my sleeves off and toss the shirt aside. I go to finally take off his, but he stops me with a snug push of his face into the small crook of my neck. I exhale with him, sinking down against him and quickly checking my watch.

“It’s quarter after three,” I whisper, kissing his hair as his lips meet my neck and mouth starts to worry at some skin that he’s probably set on marking.

“Mhmm,” he hums, unaffected. I grin.

“What time was our dinner reservation?” I murmur, stroking his hair back. A few strands slip through my fingers while others fall away as his head tilts.

He pauses to think. “Six thirty, if I’m not mistaken.” He looks me up briefly. “Why? Got some better plans?”

I hum at his building smirk, swiping my thumb over the crease in his cheek. “Maybe. But I think we can be done and out by six, if we’re fast.”

He chuckles, head falling back into my neck. “What sort of plan do you have, then?”

My breath hitches, mind supplying one answer, and one answer only. “You,” I breathe out, tugging him closer.

He blinks, and I feel him go stiff. We shift a bit, settling onto the bed as he turns us over and holds himself on top of me. “What do you mean me?” he asks, and for once, it doesn’t feel like some teasing game. Like he’s actually asking me--like he doesn’t know.

Or maybe he does, and he’s just scared.

Because I’m sure as shit a bit scared to say it, too.

“I mean that I want you, Baz,” I whisper, smoothing a hand over his hair. There’s no real ceremonious way to say this without using a term that I think we’d both gag at (“Making love.” Sounds like something a gran might say). “I want you to, you know…”

His brows raise, lips starting a smile as his jaw hangs a bit open. “Are you… do you want to…”

I feel myself smile along, cheeks flushing as I groan. “Yes, Baz. That’s what I’m saying.”

“And you want me to…”

“What? Do you not like it that way?” Suddenly, it’s turned from cheeky to just embarrassing, and I want to hide away under all these pillows.

He’s quick to stop me, though, running a soothing hand over my side as I stare at him, watching him smile. “No--nono, don’t. I’m happy topping, if you want me to. I just… it’s a bit of a surprise, that’s all.”

“What? Why?”

He bites his lip, holding back what’s probably a laugh (at me, nonetheless). “Dunno. Thought me wearing florals was sort of a dead giveaway that I like it in the arse.”

Jesus, I must be beet red now. “I can top, if you want me to!” I blurt out, watching him break into a giggle. “I just--I thought--isn’t this part of the experience?”

He tries to calm himself, still holding up above me as I nervously watch him go off and giggle like a schoolboy.

“What?” I demand.

He shakes his head. “Do you think that you have to take up the rear to really be queer? Is that it?” he chuckles.

“I…” Not that it was particularly my first thought, but I’d figured this whole time that he’d want me to sort of prove it, somehow. He’d never say it, clearly, because he’s too proud to admit this short of shit, but I’d figured he’d be happier know that I’m really this much into him.

“Because you don’t,” he adds, settling down. “You don’t if you don’t want to, Simon.”

“But I do,” I say quickly, hooking around his belt loops for the added effect as I arch my hips. All in all, I do want it. I want him to hold me closer than he ever has before--I want him to make it clear that this is real. “I… I actually do, though. At least once.”

His brows raise, smirk falling back onto his face before he steals a quick, gentle kiss from my lips. “As long as it’s what you want, I’m happy with it,” he murmurs, pecking my cheek before starting to work back at my jaw, moving back down my neck and onto my clavicle.

I melt against him, fingers sliding back into his hair as my head rolls back. “I am,” I whisper, breathing out a short huff. “I’m ready--I want this.”

His lips spread into a smile onto my skin, making me shiver. “Tell me what you want.”

My hips shift and lift, letting his hands nimbly pull at my belt and trousers, managing to get them mostly off before I kick them away from my ankles. “I want you to take those magnificent fingers of yours,” I start, breath hitching mid sentence as his hand slips into my pants. “A-and--shit--I want them in me.”

He chuckles, and I feel something heavy curl in my stomach like a steel ball. Fucking hell. “Did your research?”

I blush, hard. “I… yeah. Yes. A quick google search… maybe a few videos…”

His head lifts, and he’s grinning like a loon. So much so that I give his hair a good tug and shove his face back into my gut.

“Fuck you,” I mumble, nose scrunching as I squeeze my eyes tight. “Wanted to get this right--wanted to get us right.”

“Well, did you research prepping, then?” he mumbles into my skin, and I figure I should loosen my grip on him.

His head stays, lips plastering open mouthed kisses onto the slight curve of side and the gentle slope of my stomach. It’s soft. Far softer than it was when I was fresh in uni. Far too soft for my liking, some days. Feels a bit like I’m slipping further and further from the person I was. Makes me feel foreign.

The way Baz kisses it, though, doesn’t make me feel detached at all. It makes me feel closer to my body than I ever was before.

My breath comes out in a slow, small groan, feeling his teeth skid around my waistband. “I-I did,” I manage.

He peers up. “Did you…?”

I nod. “Figured we might this weekend, so I’ve been watching what I eat and I… well… earlier today I... and…”

He grins even wider, watching me try helplessly ramble about my ways of making sure my arse is well prepped to handle some, ahem, handling. It feels all very mood-killing, rather than building friction, but he’s got that creeping smirk of his, so I know he’s at least enjoying it (to a certain extent).

“What?” I ask, pouting a bit. This is far too much of him teasing, and less of us actually shagging.

He shrugs, pursing his lips before patting my hip. “Flip over, love.”

I blink, then knit my brows together as I slowly turn, pulling off my pants in the process.

Granted, he knows far more about this than I do, so it would be best for me to trust him. Except, I’m not exactly sure where this is going.

I think I’m ready for anything, though. Emotionally, and physically.

Although, the “anything” crossing my mind at the moment wasn’t his tongue, licking a stripe down half my back.

I gasp, involuntarily going rigid as I take hold of the sheets and bury my face into the pillow in front of me. It’s some posh goosefeather one, with a decorative sleeve that’s probably hand stitched and shit, I’m probably going to wreck his family’s outrageously expensive bedding.

Which probably shouldn’t turn me on more, but it does.

It so fucking does.

Baz takes his time, nipping at my exposed bum as I shuffle, pushing a shoulder hard into the bed as the other arm reaches back and grips onto his hair. He hums, sending tingles down my spine as his hands take hold and spread me apart.

His tongue trails down, swiping delicately around the tight ring of muscles once, then twice, probing at me carefully before I feel the pressure of his tongue release. All I hear for a second is my muffled panting, then the tingling shock of his breath blowing against the newly wet and exposed spot makes me shutter and whine in a voice I’ve never heard myself use. “Oh!”

He dives back in nearly immediately, my hand clutching a good fistful of his hair as his tongue works careful circles. Slowly, his tongue presses into me.

I gasp, face sinking deeper into the pillows as my back arches, hips pressing back while he licks in with his tongue moving in lavishly slow cycles.

I huff, another involuntary whimper escaping my throat as I grind my hips back, nudging his head forward and feeling his hum run up through my spine. I shiver, then push, trying to ride the flickering of his tongue as I keen, huffing indignantly. “Fuck, Baz,” I grunt, “harder.”

He pulls off after a moment, sounding breathy as he nips at the sensitive spot near my side, leaving me to whine haplessly below him.

“What is it?” He murmurs, kissing up spots along my back. “Need something?”

I squeeze my eyes shut, balling my fists around the bed sheets as I unceremoniously wiggle my hips. I hear him chuckle at me, so I end him a quick glare. “Can you just get in me, already?” I snip.

He smirks a bit, and I can tell he just absolutely adores the power. Wanker.

I practically snarl, flipping over and pulling him down on top of me. He laughs, though, trying to push off.

“Hold on,” he chuckles, “give me a bloody minute. I--Simon--” he stops, moving to pry me off his neck as he continues to laugh. “I need to get us a condom. Hold on.”

I let him go, with a bit of protesting, and watch him sit up and walk over.

“Did you bring condoms?” I breathe, forgoing any of the awkward bubbling from earlier. It’s a bit hot now, thinking he was ready for this, too.

He pauses, then nods, cracking open the box he’s got and ripping one of a strip before grabbing the tube of lube from his bag. “I like to come prepared regardless,” he says, pushing the flap back over it (as if someone will see).

I raise my brows, and hoping I come off as more smug and cocky than needy. “Or hoping that you’d get lucky?”

He raises a brow, smiling a bit before leaning down and catching my mouth with his. I push myself up, steadying on my elbows as we snog for a good minute.

Eventually, he peels away, sitting aside and moving to undress.

I pull myself up fully, leaning back against the headboard and watching him strip. “How should we do this?”

He throws me a glance over his shoulder. “How do you want to?” he asks, wiggling off his trousers and pants before folding them and setting them aside (he’s fucking ridiculous).

I shrug, watching over his back. “What would be easiest?”

He turns around, sitting with our knees knocking as he thinks. “You want to ride me and see where that takes us?”

I shrug again, then nod, pushing away the hair plastered to my forehead. “Sounds good,” I breathe, exhaling slowly, then smiling. “Fuck.”

He quirks his brow, and I reach out, smoothing a thumb over his cheek.

“No, it’s just… it’s new. It’s good, but new.”

He relaxes, eyes closing. “Good.”

I chuckle and push myself across our laps, planting my lips onto his as pulling him close.

His chest knocks into mine, our legs slotting up awkwardly as we shift, my thigh rubbing up his cock as he lets out a low, rumbling groan. I rub it again, feeling him rock a bit into it before nudging me back and laying me flat as he pulls off, fumbling with the lube.

I shift, hips lifting as my legs spread and heart races at the sight of his lubed fingers. Fuck.

“Are you ready for me too…?”

I nod, shifting myself again before surging up and pulling him down against me. He nearly knocks over, steading himself while I clumsily pull him in and properly snog him. It’s not the most romantic, but it sure feels right. Awfully right. Undeniably, absolutely right.

Nothing feels more right than to have him kiss me, especially as his fingertips press around, middle finger slipping into me with ease. I groan, tugging him in closer.

I let his tongue poke and prod into my mouth, eliciting helpless groans as my face goes beet red. One hand slips back into his hair while the other snakes down his chest, taking a moment to stroke down his cock and feel him whine into me with each coaxing move.

He works his way through three fingers before pulling them out one by one, my hips rolling with each movement.

I groan, panting as he pulls away and lets us roll and reposition. It feels a bit odd, at first, as I hover above on all fours and watch him roll on the condom and pile on plenty of lube, but then we settle with my hips above his, arse grinding against his cock, and it all falls back into place. His hands travel then sit on my sides, thumbs stroking circles onto my skin as I suck in a breath, raising my brows at him. “It doesn’t really hurt, right?”

He breathes out a laugh, head falling back. “Are you really asking this now?” he manages.

I nod, blushing as I move to tease on top of him, guiding the head of his cock around the crown of my arse. “Maybe.”

I watch his eyes fall shut, hands tightening around my sides as I suck in a breath.

“Not terribly so, no. You’ll be sore after.”

I nod, chewing on my bottom lip. Right. Not a terrible cost for the action, I suppose. “Alright,” I mutter, settling my free hand onto his. I feel it slide, then link our fingers together. “Are you ready?”

He nods back as my eyes fixate on his chest, watching it move up and down before I slowly start sinking down, shutting my eyes along with it.

“Fuck,” I hiss, low and deep, as I sink deeper onto him. My knees wobble a bit, and all that’s running through my head is that he’s right--it doesn’t hurt that much.

Instead, it just feels like pressure, at first. A new tightness. A heat in my core as I settle my palms onto his chest and sink myself deeper onto his cock, carefully start to rocking myself up. I feel myself involuntarily gasping out into the air, searching to find his hands.

He rubs up my side, then down, grasping my hip as our fingers squeeze together.

I shift, starting to rock myself up and down.

“D-do you want me to--” I cut him off, nodding immediately and feeling his hips start to grind upwards, making me gasp and whine in a shaky, slow grumble.

I groan, lifting our hands off my skin and holding them both tightly while experimentally pushing harder, feeling my head spin and vision fizzle with it. “Fuck--fuck!”

His hips shift, then thrust up, sending me spiraling as I rock down to meet them.

I give him a few bounces, then grind back down, feeling his fingers squeeze mine tighter before one lets go, moving to my cock and closing around it. He gives me a quick questionable eyebrow raise, and I just nod, huffing out a vague “Please” before he starts stroking.

At first, I think I can take the stimulation, but the sight of him watching me sends me spiraling faster than I thought possible. And it’s all too much--too overwhelmingly there, pushing me off the deep end in seconds before I even know what to do besides ride it out, whimpering helplessly while spilling onto his chest.

He pulls me off, letting me sit against his hips as it comes back down.

Only issue left is his cock, flushed hard and throbbing against me.

I don’t even let him try to tell me not to, reaching back and stroking him carefully as I lean down and kiss everywhere--kiss his neck, his cheeks, his lips, his forehead, his eyelids. Kiss the slope of his jaw, the dip of his cheeks. Kiss the notch of his adam’s apple, and the turn of his clavicle.

I shower him in kisses, stroking him fast and hard until I feel him come, spilling out onto my hand and back (and probably onto these overly expensive sheets) as I grin, panting along with him and only having two words left for the both of us.

“Holy shit.”

He tips his head up to me, a broad smile spread across his face as he relaxes, rubbing my back. I sink into the touch, face pressing into his neck as I exhale. Shit. Shit. I need a shower. I need a nap. I need a round two--a lifetime of round twos.

I want to do that to him.

We relax, my nose pressing up against his jaw as his hands trace up and down my back. It’s serene, if only for a second, to hold him close to me. To feel his heartbeat against my nose, pulsing sweetly onto my skin as I breathe in, cheeks aching from smiling too much.

“Alright,” start, forcing myself up. He stares at me, raising a brow as I stretch. “Fuck. Shit. Alright. Got to shower.”

He pats around for his mobile, checking the time, then nodding. “Care if I join?”

I smirk, pushing myself off him and getting up. “Never thought you’d ask,” I tease, starting to head off into the bathroom.

There’s already soaps in there--posh ones. Some used, like the wash and shampoo, but the bar next to the sink seems pretty newly unwrapped.

Definitely was some maid that went through, then.

Which, of course, feels a bit odd.

Not too odd, since the Wellbeloves had one, but even the Wellbeloves weren’t this wealthy. This feels more “We’ve owned the country club before your bloodline existed”, rather than “I’ll give you 100p if you eat that weird looking grape” sort of rich.

Wonder what Baz sees in me, then. After all, I don’t have shit to my name (which is why I’m at Watford, really). That’s why I’m here.

I’m here because I didn’t have any of this.

I don’t know why he’s there with me, if he has so much money.

I sigh and pull at the faucets, letting them run until the shower stream’s steaming hot. Standing outside the shower’s door, I looking in through the glass and completely space out while focusing on this.

All I can think of is this.

How much better Baz could do--how much of a better life he could live, if he wanted. Of how he doesn’t need me (not that I ever thought he did), and if he didn’t want me, I could be a ragdoll tossed aside.

I close my eyes, head settling against the glass.

A hand closes around my hip, startling me back as he lets go. “You alright?”

“Hm?” I shake my head, rubbing my eyes as I sink back. “Yeah. I am.”

“You’re still thinking.”

I take a glance at him, doing a once over, before stepping into the shower.

He follows, pulling the door shut behind him.

“It’s the same thing,” I mumble, back to him as the stream flows over me. “It’s nothing too important.”

“It is if its wrecking your holiday,” he says pointedly, stepping beside me and nudging me a bit for the water. I let him, leaning against the tiles as he scrubs his hands over his face.

I swallow, studying the details of his arms, his hands, his face, his movements. Some being subtle rubs of his fingertips, others being the harsh pushing of his head. All making me feel dizzy. “I just don’t get it. If your family’s so rich, then why are you teaching? Why do you live on campus? Why don’t you just live as some playboy in London?”

He peers over at me, giving me a bored look. “You know why,” he says, and for some reason, it hurts. “I thought you knew me better than that.”

I stop, breath sucking in. “I…” He’s right. “I just…”

He stares over, lips twitching before he turns to grab soap. “I don’t want their money, or their lives. I want my own. I just reap the benefits of my upbringing, on occasion.”

I reach for him, hand brushing his waist. He lets me, but doesn’t move to reciprocate. “It feels like a waste.”

He snorts. “Then you don’t know my family’s relationship with money.”

“You’re right,” I say softly. “I don’t.”

He turns to me.

“I don’t know your family.”

His lips purse, then he exhales, offering a hand over to me. I take it, letting him pull me in as he starts to scrub soap over my arms.

“And I intend on keeping it that way.”

“What? Don’t want to be seen with a poor boy?”

He snorts. “Don’t want you to suffer the travesty that is my family for an extended period.” He kisses my forehead. “If you want to meet them, though, I’d be glad to set it up. It’s just beyond dinners that get excruciatingly lonely.”

I watch him through my eyelashes, chewing on my lip. “How so?” I whisper. I know what it’s like, childhood loneliness, but through a much different lens.

Alone with your thoughts, no books to write in, no real friends to chat with. Isolated socialization, barely learning to choke out words until you’re forced into school and not allowed to be silent.

“Long corridors,” he says quietly, hand trailing down my back. “Dark rooms, wall sconces. Suits at dinner. Being miles from anybody relatively friendly to play with, and when your cousins come to play, your father always talks business with their parents in the other room. Your father is always there. Your father likes when you’re cold and distant, because that’s what men in the family do. It’s right--it’s proper.”

I look up, and his face is borderline twisted, stuck in a snarl. I try to reach up, and he shakes his head.

“It’s lonely, Simon,” he whispers. “Feels like being suffocated slowly. Choking on your own spit.”

Choking. Drowning.

The death of childhoods and wanting something new--something fresh. Something unrecognizable.

“I know,” I mumble. “I don’t know in the same way, but I know.” I exhale, reaching for his face. He lets me, this time. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.” His eyes fall shut.

We’re still for a moment, watching one another under the beating of the showerhead before I muster it up. I push it out, swallowing back any apprehension from before.

“Baz?”

“Yes?”

“I want to be out this week.”

He goes silent, studying me carefully as I exhale and lean my back fully against the tile. It’s still cold, as compared to the heat of the water. It’s nice against my skin.

“I mean,” I start, watching his eyes travel. In a moment’s hesitation, I reach for his hand and squeeze it. “I want to kiss you in public, and hold your hand. I want to call you my boyfriend. I want everything that comes with being out while we’re here. Nobody knows us here, so what’s the harm in trying?”

He exhales quietly, raising a brow at me. “You’re really sure about that?” He’s quieter than usual, jarring me enough to be taken aback.

Still, I nod. “Call it a test run,” I whisper, bringing his knuckles to my mouth and kissing them sweetly. “A preparation for the real thing.”

[amwritingmeta]

S14 Finale: First Impressions

I got my grubby hands on the ep yesterday and watched it super late when everyone else had gone to bed and I was like clutching my face and stifling giggles of joy and just breathing OH MY FUCKING GOD (I shall never be able to actually use that expression again in the same manner but I did while watching oh YES) at the screen. :P

All I really want to put here is a screaming ghost face emoji and then a dancing lady in a red dress and then a crying his eyes out smiley and then idk like just all the expletives?

Yeah?

Because ummmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm HOLY FUCKING FUCK, BATMAN!

So happy. Ecstatic might even be the word!!

First impression —> Good.

So damn amazed at what they can communicate through a character performing one wordless action. Or an action attached to just one word. It’s... beautiful!!

And did we get a twist or what?? Our deus ex machina comes in and fucks shit up! I don’t think anyone saw him coming in to fix anything, right? But to have him come to subvert the very definition of a deus ex machina?? Aaaahhhhhhhh I CANNOT EVEN BELIEVE DABB!! BRILLIANT!!

Jack. JACK. What can’t I say about our boy? How delighted am I not at how he handled himself this episode and might I scream about his ending up in the Empty? I may have enjoyed the idea of him heading off to Heaven with Cas, but that may still happen. Jack in the Empty is such fucking wish fulfilment though, that I can’t even begin. 

And BILLIE IS THERE!!! 

And they need to talk!! 

Shall we all just jump on the supportive bandwagon of Jack as our New God (as per rectifying the Godstiel arc and, by extension of Cas’ faith in him, stepping in to fucking help fix Cas’ earlier mistakes?? JAYSUS PLEASE ALL THAT IS GOOD!!) Seriously, Jack gaining control of his powers and helping Billie reap God and taking his rightful place leading Heaven and bringing balance between Heaven, Earth and Hell... My heart can barely cope. *teary eyed*

Obviously with his father figures (yes Sam and Dean are still good father figures) (they just went a little wayward there for a moment) possibly probably teaching and guiding him.

Oh my God, Dean not firing that gun! I was so relieved. Serious fists-to-mouthage going on at that moment like omg omg please Dean, please. And when he uncocked it and THREW IT ON THE GROUND?? *squeaks* 

And, hey, God did hand-deliver the weapon to kill Jack and it was left in Dean’s own hands to make the choice whether to shoot it or not, but oh man! The fact that killing the representative of his inner child combined with that swallowed up toxic masculinity and everything this represents meaning Dean literally fucking killing himself was just... That was just... I can’t. *big wobbly* *so gorgeous*

And I just did not expect that they’d turn God - pardon, I mean Chuck - into the Big Bad. It’s EPIC.

Jeez, here I was thinking of Chuck as the good guy just trying his best. The epitome of the parental figure that has learned to let go and take a step back. The dad who might’ve created in his image in order to be worshipped, but who then went on to create humanity and realising his mistake the first time around (with the angels) imbuing them (us) with free will. With choice. Because his angels’ worship and loyalty were manufactured. And he wanted to be loved. Truly loved. 

Bah. Humbug.

It’s fantastic!! Because of course there was always the controlling side to God. The God that locked his sister away. That betrayed her. The dark side to him, that’s all about being obeyed, and doing whatever he wants because he can... And how he represents lying, manipulation, control. The stuff that needs to be rooted out. Yessss. *fingers crossed* (I cannot believe Chuck is our Big Bad!!) (he’s our BIG BAD for the final season!!) *gah!*

Anyway. I don’t think Chuck was actually built, in the narrative, to be this. This is Dabb’s twist. But it’s fucking perfect and I love it. And ROB!!! YAAASSSS! More of Rob next season. *adoration falls on the floor omgl* *no not oh my good lord* *ombl* *oh my bad lord* :P 

Also. Is Chuck bad? Or is he still writing his story? You know? I mean, total Big Bad vibe for good reasons, but... he’s a liar, after all. What exactly is the lie and what’s the truth? :P

Sam. SAM. Telling Dean off, and then speaking to God and seeing through his BULLSHIT and getting in a car and driving to stop Dean. *shivers of pleasure* More of this next season. Come on, Sam. You know you’re such a strong, smart leader. You know who you are!! You just have to let him out.

Man! I hope all this happens sooner than later.

Cas.

I have no words. I have NO WORDS!! When he turned and walked out of that room after Dean had challenged him with how God had just told them what had to be done and if it didn’t suit Cas then he could just go. OMFG OMFG HE LEFT. He just gave Dean that Look - and left to go find his son. *sobs*

Also, that shoulder bump between Cas and Dean earlier. I am really, really intrigued by how Dean and Cas’ relationship will start off next season and how the writers will explore it. But this. This distance. CAS STANDING BETWEEN JACK AND DEAN!! Potentially hugely important. Amazing. Fantastic. And good lord does it bode well for his individual arc.

Where that arc is headed? I feel he’s still emotionally linked to Heaven, and for good reason. His bad choices has absolutely devastated his home. It’s completely understandable that he’s not just going to shrug his shoulders and go, well, my home’s on Earth now. So the salvation, to me, lies in Jack. I mean. The setup is formidable, if this is where they’re headed. It’s beautiful. And emotional. And fitting. Because through his entire journey, Cas has learned the lessons needed to have actual faith in Jack, even when no one else did, and through this faith, Jack might turn out to be the one being that can restore Heaven to its former glory. And fix what Cas broke.

Oh, it would be... so satisfactory. It really would. The bringer of balance. The representative of Heaven, Humanity and Hell. Sitting on the throne of Heaven while keeping Hell in check. Leaving Earth to its dealings. The way it was done before S4 and the breaking of the first seal and the rising of Lucifer, which was all brought on by... God himself. Yeah. I mean. To close this narrative this way would be... Mh. Goodness.

Seriously, this is a rambling mess of first impressions, but oh, those first impressions were so good. I’m so excited. This finale was absolutely fantasmical and next season They Go Big. *no kidding*

I’m so happy they got to stay together. THEY KEPT THEM TOGETHER!! FOR THE SEASON FINALE!!! I’m so fucking happy!! No matter the tension between Dean and Cas, they’re, all three of them, together. What if that’s the tone for next season? Teamwork. Learning to communicate. More episodes together as a trio rather than spent apart, divided up?? *tears up again at the mere possibility of it all* 

What we surely do have is TFW, shoulder to shoulder, facing the end of the world. 

Apocalypse Now, here we come. 

Hot. Damn.

*I love this show*

I’ll write more meta asap (literally meaning As Soon As Possible) (life is misbehaving at the moment and hours are short and far between), but there’s so much meta to write!!

Also, welcome to Hellatus. 

If this is your first time, please know that there’s plenty of fan fiction and meta writing to get you through, and don’t forget to check out the archives. We’ve got fourteen seasons smack on the table ripe for dissecting. Blades at the ready. Sharpest ones, if you please. 

Aw. 

We’re gonna have So Much Fun! 

[letamreviews]

Top of 2019

With 56 films watched and 27 favorited in 2019, I composed a list of my top. By pure happenstance, the list is almost an exact third (18) of the total films watched. Be aware that I don’t have as much to say about some of these because I took no notes after.

Because I’d be biased towards them, I don’t count the National Theatre Live plays.

Since the list is likely to be altered between now and the end of February (to accommodate for films missed), check the Lettboxd list later on to see an up to date listing, but be aware that it intentionally lacks the details provided here.

EDIT (01/04/20):

Woke up this morning religiously re-reading this and caught some grammar errors. It’s almost like staying consistently well-rested is actually beneficial. While I’m at it, Blind Rating (BR) is how worthwhile the film is watching “blind” (or knowing nothing). The scale is 1 (worth it) to 5 (you must). ‘Eh is essentially a 0.5.

1. Midsommar (USA)

Saw the original and Director's Cut in theatres and discussed them with a group immediately after both times. I’m somewhere between really liking it and loving it. Still unsure. Hell of an experience with a lot to notice, debate over, and pick up on during the second viewing. Don’t even get me started on the Christian/Dani matter. Dat tension, tho. Blind Rating: 4/5

2. Us (USA)

Saw in theatres and discussed with a group immediately after. I’m digging the allegories and the way (I think) it reflects on society. Dem reveals, tho. Blind Rating: 4/5

3. Toni Morrison: The Pieces I Am (USA)

Saw in theatres and discussed with a group immediately after. Two things probably play a huge hand in this not being atleast 3 spots lower: my demographic and the fact that her older self constantly reminded me of my grandma and a certain middle school teacher. Regardless, it’s an entertaining, interesting, and lively documentary with its many personalities on-screen all giving their take on matters along with Ms. Morrison herself. Glad they managed to finish and release this 1.25 months before her death. Blind Rating: 0/5

4. When They See Us (USA)

Saw on Netflix over the course of a month. Y’all, this one hurt too much to watch again any time soon. Admittedly, part of the reason why it hit me so hard is because I could easily have been one of them. Dat ending, tho. Don’t forget to watch the Oprah followup When They See Us Now after. You’ll ball (again). Blind Rating: 3/5

5. Parasite (South Korea)

Saw an advance screening in theatres and watched a live post-film Q&A. I really like it. This hit me in such a way that it’s one of three films I’m writing an essay on. Planing on watching it a second time soon so I can finish with a sense of accuracy. This isn’t one that I would recommend looking at images for. There are some that will spoil the experience of the second half. Seriously, block the “Parasite” tag from your feed if you can. Blind Rating: 3/5

6. Luce (USA)

Saw in theatres and discussed with a group immediately after. This was is so~ good as a thriller and especially in regards to being Black in America. Wanted to watch it a second time but never managed to squeeze it in before it left theatres. Dem performances, tho. Dat tension, yo. Dat score, bro. Blind Rating: 1/5

7. Them That Follow (USA)

Saw in theatres and discussed with someone immediately after. I love it. Blind Rating: 1/5

A drama influenced thriller about a religious and somewhat self-isolating community that's effectively blanketing a realistic romance. (snip) —Letterboxd review

8. The Souvenir (United Kingdom)

Saw in theatres (partially because so many movie peeps were shitting on it). I love it, but I didn't fucking love it. Was tempted to see it again, but didn’t get the chance. Dat ending, tho. While it was a movie peep telling me the whole plot that caused me to gain so much interest in it [Cabin in the Woods (2011) all over again, amiright?], I must say that the less you know the better. It’ll make for... a more immersive experience. Blind Rating: 3/5

9. After the Wedding (USA)

Saw in theatres and discussed with a group immediately after. I thought I really liked it, but I love it. This was a trip down unexpected lane, le'me tell ya. The trailer is a spoilerful lie, but the Landmark's description is very accurate. People's experiences will have a heavy hand in how they react to it and feel about certain characters. The way they made this feel like a constant thriller was excellently done. Dat cinematography, tho. Go in knowing nothing more than what the previous link provides. Blind Rating: 1/5

10. Joker (USA)

Saw in theatres and discussed with a group immediately after. I really like it. Blind Rating: 1/5

(slight spoilers)

This was difficult to watch at times, but hella captivating throughout. Arthur's reasoning is believable, his sanity is questionable, and his life is indeed one hell of a joke. Like watching an extreme example of what happens when people on the lower end lose access to social programs. This can very easily be taken as a commentary on mental illness kept unchecked. More than that, it's a story about a guy who accepts his "crazy" and transcends poverty, circumstance, and societal bullshit... at everyone else's expense. (snip) —Letterboxd review

11. Miles Davis: Birth of the Cool (USA)

Saw in theatres and discussed with a group immediately after. I really like it. Captivating documentary in a very similar style to Toni Morrison: The Pieces I Am, but with Mr. Davis never joining the “talking heads” (as people like to call it) and instead being heard as a constant narrator of his own biography. Regardless of how I feel about him on a personal level, this shit was a great watch and the ending hit hard. Still need to get his autobiography, though. There’s a nostalgic factor for me here since I was partially reminded of my grandpa while watching it. Blind Rating: 'eh

12. Queen & Slim (USA)

Saw in theatres and discussed with someone immediately after. Fuck yeah, I enjoyed this one. Dat soundtrack and cinematography, bruh? 👌🏿 The throwback soundtrack, main characters’ racial group, and fact that they went to New Orleans definitely play a hand in why this one’s not atleast 1 spot lower. Blind Rating: 1/5

13. Dwelling in the Fuchon Mountains (China)

Saw in theatres during festival and attended discussion days later. I really like it. Was long, but in a good way. Similar to Ash is Purest White (2018) in that I kept thinking "please end here," but would be glad it didn't later. It's beautifully slothy and has absurdly long tracking shots. The cinematography during walking conversations is notable. Dat trick, tho. Blind Rating: 'eh

14. A Girl Missing (Japan)

Saw in theatres during festival and discussed with a group immediately after. Bruh~, this is a hell of a personal trial. Didn’t expect it to go the places it did. Blind Rating: 1/5

15. Dutch Angle: Chas Gerretsen & Apocalypse Now (Netherlands)

Saw on MUBI on phone. I love it. This goes over his childhood (for 8 minutes), career paths, photography of 9/11/1973's Chilean coup d'etat, the 6 months he spent on-set photographing Apocalypse Now (1979), and him as a person. What I didn’t expect was how much he would get into the details of things happening during that film’s development. Along with those details are interesting photos presented excellently in a way that’s reminiscent of manga at times. I like the way the photos take center point and are treated like the foreground. It’s like the director and editor forced themselves to remain aware that the documentary was showcasing 15% of the total slides housed in the Nederlands Fotomuseum’s archives in Rotterdam and that most of his Apocalypse Now photos were never seen. Dat score, tho [Ex Machina (2014) vibes]. Blind Rating: 0/5

BTW, it had its official (Dutch national) release by EYE Filmmuseum on 12/19/19 in the Netherlands, so maybe it’ll come to the USA soon. 🤷🏿‍♂️ Forgot to mention it’s been added as a special feature to the 40th anniversary 4K blu-ray disc of Apocalypse Now: Final Cut (2019).

16. Receiver (Ireland)

Saw on MUBI on phone. I really like it. A very interesting short film in three odd segments. First was disturbing; second was about activism, protests, and politics; third was about the person I assume the film was made for. All compose what I took as a film about the importance of having reliable sound and hearing. Needs to be watched alone with good sound quality (for immersion). Blind Rating: 'eh

17. Bacurau (Brazil)

Saw in theatres during festival. I really like it. This was some Most Dangerous Game shit with a hell of an ending. The whole game is an allegory of civilized people's obsession with hunting wild animals for "sport". I really like the portrayal of history here and enjoyed the racial matters it lays bare. I can only imagine someone watching this without knowing a thing. Kinda wish I didn’t even read the description beforehand. Digging the soundtrack. Blind Rating: 1/5

18. Little Women (USA)

Saw on 35mm and discussed with others on separate occasions. I really like it. This was just warming and sad. I felt for the main characters and actually felt satisfied with the way it ended. Considering the type of film, there are handful of typical things for me to complain about. That being said, the movie earned its stars back. I mean, did you not see their attic performances? Shit was dope. Blind Rating: ‘eh