#and breaking the whole dynamic down until its JUST “he fucked the triangle”

[trashbag-usa]

how do i say that i think the humor in the BoB is justified and that it doesn't throw off the insidious tone of the abuse narrative (in fact it enhanced it in some cases) but also that i think the humor may be what is leading yall with less than great media literacy to throw the horrific abuse that makes up 99% of billford out of the window and boil everything down to "lol silly old men got divorced #toxicyaoi"

[sibillascribbles08]

If you could take creative control of ninjago what would you change

Christ...

WELL

Actually no idk where to start with this there’s so much anon there’S SO M U C H I guess I’ll do a run of MINIMAL changes tho (for as long as I can)

I don’t think I have to change much in the first two seasons, thankfully, since the writers actually sat down to think about what they were writing at the time but g o d did it go to hell afterwards

Season 3 - This Zane focused season is going to be ZANE FOCUSED DAMN IT. We’re focusing on his loss over his Father, having salt rubbed in the wound by having his father’s work turned into an evil army, and being faced with the fact he’s obsolete compared to it all. He keeps trying to stack up numbers to win, recalculate things, and it’s why his line at the ending ACTUALLY has impact. The thing that sets him apart from the nindroids, his ability to love, is what allows him to defeat the Overlord.

Jay, Cole and Nya love triangle is DESTROYED. Pixal, Zane and Cole is the new love triangle and later OT3

Season 4 - The explanation for the other EMs being around is far less stupid. Garmadon establishes that oh yeah all of your parents had elemental powers and even talks about a few of them because holy SHIT. Cole mentions his mom because he should have done that a g e s ago. Is this supposed to be a Kai season doesn’t feel like it. Open the season with better explanations of why the ninja split. Emphasis the fact that Kai blames himself for what happened to Zane, and continues to do so throughout the season. Add that to why he’s so desperate to save Skylor from her dad (not willing to lose someone else). We still lose Garmadon, Kai and Lloyd have a talk at the end of the season. Also ZANE IMMEDIATELY GOES TO GET PIXAL A NEW BODY WTHHH????

Season 5 - Idk this season was pretty good over all I think. A bit better lore established into the cloud kingdom, hints that they don’t actually control fate they just think they do. Explain where the FUCK NIMBUS CAME FROM?? Water can still beat up ghosts but idk feel like there should be some other factors involved, some magic. Kai and Zane figure out they can make water a LOT sooner. Also why doesn’t Kai just set the preeminent’s house armor on fire??? Should have. OH I did forget since this season is supposed to be for NYA GETTING HER WATER ELEMENT how about she actually GO WITH THE NINJA AND DO SOME SHIT SOMETIMES??? I don’t mind her training, specially Ronin helping her but like??? Wtf why not have her ENGAGE, idiots.

Season 6 - I’m the weirdo who actually likes season 6 but that doesn’t mean it’s not without its issues. I don’t mind Jay wondering about where he stands with Nya but his behavior throughout the season has to stay consistent. When he agrees with Nya he needs to let it go he needs to LET IT GO. IT LITERALLY SHOULDN’T BE BROUGHT UP AGAIN UNTIL THE LIGHTHOUSE. He also needs to linger more on his birth father (and besides he should have suspected he’s adopted since season 4 cause he knows neither of his parents had lightning powers). Zane doesn’t ignore Pixal’s warning about Nadakhan but if she’s off somewhere else idk how she gets threatened I’m sure Nadakhan could figure it out. OH and time can still reset and stuff idc but like, Jay and Nya need to talk about it and they need to GO BACK FOR ECHO. EVEN IF THEY DON’T FIND HIM THERE.

Day of the Departed - just wish it was longer tbh, but major changes: Why do the ninja not seem to care that cole is FADING OUT OF EXISTENCE and Lou should be a lot more worried about his son.

Season 7 - I mean, it’s mostly a trash fire, but I think it’d be a lot more enjoyable if they actually had good sibling dynamics going on. Acronix following his brother because he always has, but starts questioning their plans as things go. At first their relationship is much better, which is why they best Kai and Nya, but by the end that flips over. Actually have Kai and Nya having an ISSUE. Kai thinks their parents could have been traitors, Nya seemingly doesn’t care because she’s so wrapped up with her samurai x stuff being stolen. They end up fighting and don’t make up until the boiling sea. ALSO GIVE RAY AND MAYA A BETTER FUCKING EXCUSE FOR BEING GONE THEY COULD HAVE FUCKING SHANKED KRUX WHEN HIS BACK WAS TURNED GET OUT OF HERE HE HAD NO LEVERAGE.

Also Machia isn’t dead okay she’s just in the past she WILL COME BACK

Seasons 8 and 9 I’d say are pretty solid honestly? My minor changes: Garmadon isn’t Garmadon he’s a fucking fake get out of here with that shit THE REAL GARMADON WOULD NEVER. We actually learn where Mr. E came from I don’t even care if it’s just Harumi and UV talking about how they found him in a scrap heap and got him fixed just give me something. Stop treating Dareth like SHIT. Ronin and The Commissioner plan a jail break long before they’re let out in season 9. Teen Wu is a lot less... air headed. Like seriously he seems to have more logic when he’s a child it doesn’t add up. I’m not saying he has to remember everything but wth?? Oh, and Mistaké isn’t dead fuck you.

Season 10 - ............................................ delete it and start over. Literally, hate all of it, get it out of here. Four episodes for villains you built up like FUCK in the last two seasons??? All of them fucking as big as people???????? cowardly, weak, uninspired, I don’t want it I’m just going to have to redo this whole gd season. A) Oni leader is a QUEEN now and she can be up to 30 feet tall no I do not give a FUCK B) Fake ass Garmadon is revealed to be a different oni entirely he was an agent for the queen the whole time but never finished his mission C) She can still paralyze a bunch of people but man Lloyd you’re going to need more than a shiny tornado to fight her off. D) In fact you need to summon your other great grandma so the two of them can get over their divorce spat. E) Where’s the mask of vengeance bring that back into play. F) Mistaké shows back up to help. I suppose plot wise it can?? Mostly run the same but I think they’re going to have to run much farther than the city with how fast she spreads her reach. Also she’s weak for Lloyd because he’s the smol great grandson and he has to use that to his advantage to slow her down. Mistaké makes something that can unparalyze people and they get some of their allies back before the finale thank god. Faith isn’t just in a coma the whole GD time.

Season 11 - Fire half? Good. I need a much better reason why the ninja go to the never realm tho because wow did they just make everyone out of character in that last episode. The ninja have no reason to just ignore Wu and shove him out like that. Wu has no reason to NOT NOTICE LLOYD IS BREAKING INTO HIS ROOM WHEN HE WAS KICKING THE NINJAS ASSES IN THE FIRST EPISODE. Ice half?? ... h Yeah no they should have known Zane was the emperor from the start LMAO. Or at least suspected the possibility. The decades of time passing??? Deleted. Maybe give it a year. Idk why it’s just Lloyd snapping Zane out if why aren’t the other ninja involved like p l e a s e. Also kill Vex with an ice spike, thanks.

Season 12 - Over all I liked what this season had going but there... should have been more. And that ending felt so crunched together like damn... Unagami was a p cool villain at least BUT idk, despite all the focus on the plot so much of it didn’t feel tangible enough. Even if we’re going to focus more on the video game world I want to see more of what these NPCs are up to. Should have tossed in a couple of filler episodes. Also can someone just kill the Mechanic too SMH (and they should have tied Wu up in something sturdier how did he not just break out of that WHATEVER)

Suppose I’ll stop there I haven’t season season 13 yet.

Oh, the timeline itself needs some fucking work too. At least establish Wu and Garmadon’s sudden aging. At least establish how old Zane is (I’d believe he was built 40 years ago but I find it hard to believe he was active for all of it). Establish that yeah the FSM really did basically fuck off like idk 14 years ago and idk why the show acts like it was so long ago it couldn’t have been based on the other facts we know have Wu learn that his dad is a bitch ass motherfucker and he needs to ditch.

Honestly there’s more but like................. this is the simple version

[solanospetra]

The thing is the fandom was not that bad maybe because I didn’t really care for jtv fandom it was a different kind of show I didn’t care who Jane ended up with as long as they were all happy but somehow I ended on jafael tumblr acct and through that I got into the fandom and your tumblr cause it looked lit but now it’s like everyone is fighting over the stupidest things or there done with the show like you and jafael and petramos or johnmulaney its like there’s you guys and then the rest of the

fandom.. everyone seems so tense the fandom wasn’t that bad then again I really started seeing the how the fans reacted around s4 before that this show was more like odaat it was a way to escape all the crap going on in my life it was this light whimsical show even if Villadero or jafael didn’t end up together the show was so much more than that now the recent epi is about raf and Petra fighting they finally reached a good place let them be happy at least and let Jane Petra and raf be good co parents. S3 was good cause of this dynamic. Who would’ve thought that I would be looking forward to their scenes after what happened to michael. Now it’s like raf doesn’t care about his kids especially the twins Petra is the only parent they have you could’ve just made them someone else kid if we weren’t going to see any scenes between raf and his daughters I don’t know if you can’t tell from this rant how frustrated I am.

There’s a lot to unpack here so it’s all going to be under the cut.

Fandom wise, it’s been worse, and one of the reasons I hated the decision to bring Michael back was because the fandom had just started settling down again. Literally, anything prior to season three was constant fights. but I will say I saw a lot more Jane gifsets back then than I do now and that makes me sad. I’m gonna be honest and tell you up until a week ago I had everything extremely curated because as soon as the finale aired the ship wars erupted again, and like you I wanted to enjoy my fandom experience. I follow a handful of people from the JTV fandom because I want to enjoy (whatever that means now) tumblr not roll my eyes every thirty seconds. That being said, if it feels like we’re done with the show it’s because we got let down so fucking hard. I gave it a chance, I said I wasn’t going to make a definitive statement until the end of the triangle arc because I had some kind of hope. I’ve probably been done with the show since the whole gaslighting thing, but I waited, hoped they would do Petramos justice only to be let down again. Yet, here I am, eight episodes to go and still hoping Jane The Virgin will pick up and make me laugh, and cry, and gasp, and scream and just make me excited for the next episode. I can’t lie though, I am tired. I had high hopes for this season, and it’s been one big let down after another.

Yeah, as someone who is also deeply entrenched in the ODAAT fandom, the season 5 fandom of JTV is no where near what the ODAAT fandom was, probably because Mike & Gloria were more conscious about the story they were telling for the entire family and not as focused on who Lupe was going to end up with. Where ODAAT made Lupe’s love life one aspect of her, JTV has made her love life the thing that defines her. That wouldn’t have been bad, I could have lived with that if they hadn’t chosen to bring Michael back for no fucking reason. The ODAAT fandom is headcanons, cute fics, art, and no gifsets bc ppl hate me. The JTV fandom is either angry, tired, trying to make the best of it, or all three.

“S3 was good cause of this dynamic. Who would’ve thought that I would be looking forward to their scenes after what happened to michael.” But what if they hadn’t killed Michael? What if instead, we could have seen their new friendship develop? JTV could have owned the found family trope, two romantic rivals who came to respect each other, and are now friends? Jane and Michael and problems married couples face? That’s what made 3A good, it was about different dynamics, where they all stood with each other. They could have dug deeper into Petra’s trauma, how Emilo’s will affected Rafael emotionally instead of financially. Xiomara and Bruce, I’m still annoyed at how quickly they forgot Bruce and married Xo and Ro off only to give me BS storylines like last weeks. 

Although I don’t like parts of 3B, mostly the return of Petra/Rafael, it was the parenting aspect that was so fun to watch. Jane and Rafael as bros sign me the fuck up! I love the bro dynamic of Jane/Rafael, and I hate that now I watch them and knowing that they’re gonna turn it into something romantic, mostly because it isn’t done well. 

Look, I can talk all day about Rafael, he’s been done such a disservice since S2. All of Jane’s SO’s have tbh, I mean, what did we really know about Michael aside from his “bad” past, his anger issues (sorry to break it to you but our boy clearly has issues in S1), the fact that he’s a cop, and that at some point he became goofy. I think we learned more about him as Jason than we did when he was Michael. Again, maybe if they hadn’t killed him off for no reason other than they could, he would have been more fleshed out.

I see, you, I hear you, and it sucks that you don’t have that escape anymore.

[roughlybarnes]

Girls Girls Girls - Bucky Barnes

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: smut, oral, choking, spanking, unprotected sex (dont be a prick cover your dick), (other kinky ass shit)

Request: Heyyy can I request a Bucky x reader where they both like each other and don't know it lol typical... and the reader has to go on an undercover mission in a strip club and Bucky and Sam go there to keep an eye on her. Sam knows Buck likes her and secretly pays for his lap dance and if it could all end in some rough® smut like choking, knife play, spanking and stuff like that haha If it's too much you can get rid of the parts you don't like hahah THANK YOUUUUUUUU

( this gif ugh! )

This mission was just like any other. Get in, get information, get out.

You were clad in a black lingerie set. The top was tiny, triangles covered you. The bottoms werent doing much either. Over it, you had a tee-shirt.

“Y/n, one last time, are you sure you’re comfortable with this.” Steve said over the ear piece.

“Steve, im fine. Im going in now.”

“We have Bucky and Sam in there, anyone starts trouble, thats your backup.” He announced, for the 3rd time.

You rolled your eyes and exited your car, walking in the back door of the club, dropping your bag down and pulling off your tee.

Bucky and Sam spotted you, Buckys eyes dragging up and down your body. Sam nudged Bucky. Telling him to chill.

Some guy walked up to you. He was a bit pushy and asked for a dance. You couldnt blow your cover so you had to agree. You led him to one of the rooms and did the best you could.

“Baby, you sure do know how to move that thing dont cha?” He complimented.

Shaking your head slightly, you turned around, dancing for him a bit more before pointing out the song was over.

After the man you walked around, talking to a few people around the club. Learning what you need to know. No one had noticed that you didnt belong, which you were thankful for.

The other girls didnt seem to mind either, they were busy doing their own thing.

“Hey! You!” A brooding man called.

As you turned toward him, your heart raced, assuming you’d been caught.

“Go to the third room on the left, some guy requested you specifically.” You furrowed your brows but listened to the man, making your way to the room.

When you entered, you saw Bucky. A look of relief washed over your face.

“You requested a dance?” You questioned, still not breaking your act.

“I think Sam may’ve. You dont have to if you dont want to.” He said rather quietly.

“Well, sir, its my job.” You winked and smirked.

A new song came on and you were ready to go.

You walked up to Bucky, placing one hand on his chest and pushing him back until the backs of his knees hit the red velvet chair. You pushed him down and turned around. Swaying your hips, you moved to the beat. You strutted back before dropping and facing him.

On your knees in front of him was a sight to see. You could see his flushed face in the dimly lit room. You had your hands on his knees, slowly dragging upwards until they were at the tops of his thighs.

Abruptly, you stand up and turn once again. You let yourself fall back into him, guiding his hands to your hips before grinding down on him. You prided yourself on your ability to wind and grind so thats what you did. Slow, steady movements.

His eyes beamed down on your ass so hard you could feel them. His hands guided your hips moving at the right angles and pace.

Deciding it was enough of the winding, you straddled him and moved your hips quickly. Your sweaty bodies moved together at a euphoric pace.

“Oh y/n.” He groaned, throughing his head back with his swollen lips parted.

“Can you please turn off your coms if youre going to do that.” Tonys voice came through unexpectedly.

Immediately, you hopped off of Buckys lap.

The two of you blushed furiously. You helped him up and he awkwardly made him way out of the room.

“Sorry, guys.” You muttered.

“Tony youre such a cockblock.” Scolded Sam.

“Jesus fucking christ just shut up.” said Bucky quickly.

All you did was laugh at the three.

You got back to collecting information, not forgetting about what had just happened.

Bucky watched you closely the rest of the night, until you had to leave. You grabbed your bag and raced home.

-

You walked straight to Buckys room, discarding your shirt and bag on the floor in the hall.

Natasha walked by.

“Just keep it quiet.” She smirked.

You blushed furiously and collected yourself before knocking.

Bucky opened the door, wearing only grey sweatpants.

“Hey Bucky.”

“Y/n.” He cleared his throat.

He grabbed you by your waist and pulled you into his room, kicking the door shut. His lips connected with yours fast and roughly.

The whole dynamic had changed. His nervous submissive act was gone. The kisses were harsh. He bit your lips softly. His hands ran up and down your body, getting toward you ass before squeezing.

“Jump.” He commanded in between kisses.

You did as told, wrapping your legs around his waist.

He pushed you into the wall and kept one hand on your butt, and the other above your head on the wall. The two of you went at it for a while until you wanted to change.

“Bed.” That was all you had to say.

He tossed you on the bed and.

He took a seat next to you, patting his lap so you could bend over it. You did so without any questions.

Your ass was up in the air and you wiggled it a bit to gain his attention. Buckys metal hand held your hips still while the other rubbed circles on your butt.

His hand left the area and you were drooling waiting for contact. A hard smack hit you once, your face turned red. You wimpered at the pain lightly. He repeated the movement again, and again.

“Thats it babygirl. You know, today, your little teasing. It left me rather flustered.”

He struck again.

“And I could tell you thought you were in control.”

Another slap.

“But you know whos in control now, dont you?”

One more.

“Yes, sir.” You said.

“Good.” He tossed you on the bed next to him.

He stood, and you practically raced to your knees. You wasted no time kissing his torso sloppily before reaching his waistband. Your eyes met his for approval and you bit your lips.

You pulled down the pants and boxers. Immediately beginning to stroke his almost fully hard cock. You licked his tip, stroking the rest. He groaned lightly. Your teasing was killing him.

His hands made a makeshift ponytail and he pushed you farther down on his pulsing dick. Your eyes watered as you choked slightly. You hollowed your cheeks and took him as far as you could, and then some.

As your eyes met, he thrusted himself foward. The pure innocent look you gave him nearly sent him over edge. He pulled your head back by your hair.

You fell back on the bed as he took the garments off from around his ankles. You discarded your own bra and waited for him to take off your panties.

He dove down on the bed. Kissing and sucking on your neck, leaving marks for sure. He trailed down toward your thighs. He left sloppy kisses the whole way before meeting your core. He tore off your panties and went to work.

He nipped your inner thighs and made more marks. He was marking what was his.

“Look at this pretty little pink pussy.” He rasped.

“Please.” You were practically dripping at his words.

His tongue lapped you. His lips like magic. You could feel his scruff against you.

“Tell me what you want baby, use your words.”

“I want you inside of me.” You whined.

You didnt have to tell him twice. He climbed up and lined his cock up with your entrance. He thursted himself all the way in.

Your head tilted back, your back arched and your eyes rolled. You almost screamed. Both of your moans filled the room as he fucked you like you’ve never been fucked before.

His hand made its way to your throat, grasping gently.

“Harder.” You squeaked.

He gripped harder. You were completely immersed in the feeling. If it werent for his hand, you’d be sure the whole tower could hear you.

His grunts and groans, the sound of your skin, and the headboard hitting up against the wall made the whole scene pornographic.

He pulled out, letting go of your neck and flipping you over, pushing your head into the bed. Bucky put one hand on you hip and lined himself back up before ramming into you.

You screamed at the new angle.

“Oh god, Bucky!” You shouted.

He continued his fast pace, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. His hand made its way to your clit.

“Bucky- im gon- im gonna-“ You stuttered out, trying to form a coherent sentence.

“Let go, baby.” He groaned

“Fuck!” You shouted, coming undone around him.

He pulled out and you quickly turned to suck him off.

You took him all the way, despite how tired you were.

“So good.” He moaned.

His hips bucked foward and his cum filled your throat. You swallowed his load.

The both of you fell back onto the bed, not bothering put on any clothes. You passed out just the way you were

[savinscripts]

CHAPTER 4:

❝ Alcohol may be man's worst enemy, but the bible says love your enemy. ❞

Once they were at the motel, stuff dumped Fane looked between the pair and rolled his eyes. Earlier frustrations returning at how their behaviours so quickly seemed to one-eighty. Showered and freshener up Fane rubbed his fingers through his hair. “Well, I’m calling in those drinks now, don’t know about the rest of you. But today was too close for my liking.”

“S’pose I owe you,” Carrington said after a few beats of silence.

Fane glanced at Faye “you coming?

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m comin’.” Faye pulled herself away from the window and the view of the ocean to follow after the two men. Down in the bar, she made her way to get the first round, using the money she’d won from Carrington. Stiff ones, local brew, and more alcohol content than a bottle of nail polish remover.

She coughed a little bit as she sipped on her first one, choking on the burn of the liquor as it trailed a path of fire down her throat. But it settled warmly in her belly, and she made herself drink the rest quickly. Turning her glass upside down on the table, Faye glanced over at Carrington. “Wanna wager on another game?”

Carrington huffed. “And lose what little money I’ve got left? No thank you. I’ll sit this one out.” He didn’t, however, accuse her of cheating him the last time. Which was a small improvement. Taking his own drink, he tipped it back, grimacing at the burn just as Faye had done. “Why don’t you ask Locke? I’m sure he’s much better at pool than I am.” There was a tiny dig to the words. Subtle, and very easily missed of one wasn’t familiar with Carrington’s ability to turn almost anything into a back-handed jab.

Faye just tipped her eyebrows before turning to Locke. “Well? Wanna lose like he did?”

When the drinks arrived, Fane took his and drew it in. Unlike the others who drank immediately, Fane held off from taking that first sip thinking back over the day’s and nights events coughing on his first sip. Though he could already feel the headache even probing that mess inside his head was starting to bring on, and Fane ended up rubbing his temple idly before raising the bottle to his lips taking a healthy swallow wincing against the burn of it down the back of his throat.

Jesus what was in that stuff?

He’d been studying the bottle when Faye spoke up, and his eyes lifted over to her upturned glass and then to her. “Depends on the game,” Fane shrugged taking another long pull from the bottle feeling some of the adrenaline from the bluff earlier still hum through his veins. Though Carrington’s backhanded jab earned a slight deadpan look his eyes narrowing just a fraction, “you’re right Winston, I’m probably much better at most things than you are, probably because I actually have a personality besides being a dick and… oh yeah, being a dick.”

Carrington huffed in response and Fane slid out of his seat and heading for the pool table “go on then, I’ll play you. What’s the wager?”

“Do you?” Winston said back in nearly the same tone. “Hadn’t noticed.” He turned back his own drink, wincing as the other two had at the quicksilver burn of the liquor. It tasted like rubbing alcohol mixed with petrol. Though it would get the job done, no doubt. His huff didn’t go unnoticed by the others, and he watched as Locke and Remy got up and went over to the pool table. He most certainly didn’t watch them any longer than he had to, or let his eyes drift anywhere but their faces.

Faye glanced at Carrington before joining Fane. “How ‘bout… you win, you get the bed tonight? No bullshit from me, hm? I win… same?” As far as wagers went, it wasn’t all that great. But Faye was running short on cash at this point, after securing the things she needed to get out of the country. She wasn’t destitute, but funds were a bit thinner than she liked. And she wasn’t all that creative if she wasn’t trying to leech someone for everything they had.

Carrington simply watched, brooding from his chair. He wanted to warn Locke that Remy was a cheat. A swindler who would do whatever it took to win. But he didn’t. He kept his mouth shut, other than when he was pouring alcohol down his throat, and watched the game unfold.

Fane rolled his eyes at the retort taking a healthy sip of his drink, “nice to see someone’s got their attitude back.” Either way, he was left where he was to sulk with his drink better that than listening to his quips or whatever he had to say about anything else right now. Fane wasn’t sure how much longer he could listen to any of it without wanting to bash his skull in against the wall. Though granted, some of that frustration was pent up from the last few days. The memory of how warm Faye’s hands were sliding over the tight muscles in his back while she pinned him down with her hips. The warmth of sharing a bed with another person or persons. Not to mention watching the others in the car earlier.

It was all adding up to general frustration that he didn’t have a very decent outlet for.

Unlike some members of the crew, he wasn’t about to be a dick about it though. Not to mention it was reminding him how goddamn lonely he’d been up until now. The bar was stuffy, and Fane could already feel his brow beading with sweat mopping it away with his arm. “I win I get the bed and would you be willing to consider loosening out my back again?”

Moving to the table Fane slotted a coin in, letting the balls rumble out into the dispenser before setting them up in a triangle which he set aside. “Ladies first,” he gestured for her to strike the cue ball and break the pack while he sought out another cue glancing over to where Carrington presently sat watching.

“Likewise.” Carrington fell silent after that. The need to talk after being crammed in a car and/or a hotel room with two people that managed to get under his fucking skin at just the right angle to truly frustrate him was nearly absent. He’d had just about enough of this whole… group dynamic. It was a means to an end. A way to stay alive until they could figure out how to get Monarch off their back. A fact which never alluded him: that they each had targets on their heads, regardless of things going silent on the other end of the problem. So if a shitty attitude was what his outlet - seeing as how a thirty second wank in the shower did fuck all - for his anger and frustration, then so fucking be it. The others could deal with it. So he sipped his drink and pretended not to watch the others.

“Deal,” Faye told Fane. “Though if I win, you rub mine? Hm?” She grinned at him as he racked up the balls. AFter chalking the tip of her pool cue, Faye took a line up, closing one eye as she aimed. The white ball cracked loudly against the others, sending them in all directions. An orange solid rolled into a side pocket. “Looks like you’re stripes, darlin’.” Faye sank one more before missing on her third. “Go’head. Show me how its done.”

Faye returned his amendment and Fane gave a nod, “sure, it’s only fair,” considering she’d agreed in kind. To refuse would be ungentlemanly and also generally unfair in his opinion. You never asked for something that wasn’t going to be returned in kind, and if he lost, well, what was another night of sleeping on the floor. He was practically accustomed to it now. Maybe he’d even look in the mirror at some point and see floorboards imprinted on his back as a nice reminder of their newfound bond.

It was easy enough to ignore Carrington while he sulked, but a part of Fane wondered if this really was breaking point. If this was going to be where it all fell apart when they were so close to getting out. He needed everyone to keep their heads, needed them to pull together not fracture apart like it was just so easy to let everything slip through their fingers. He’d have to find some way to bring the other man around, though right now he was at a loss for what to do or say.

Faye sunk an orange and then another before it was his turn, taking another sip of his drink that by now was settling warmly in his belly Fane chalked the end of his cue and assessed the table for the best strategy. Leaning over he rested his hand on the table, cue-stick on his fingers as he lined up a clean shot of a yellow-stripe straight into the pocket. This was followed by the red-stripe and then the blue, unfortunately his next attempt to hit a ball was angled just a fraction wrong and the white ball bounced off the side just missing his target. Unlike Carrington, Fane merely shrugged seeing no point to get in a tiz over a game. “Your go.”

Perhaps it was because Carrington also expected everything to go to pot at zero hour. It wouldn’t be the first time. Any moment now the doors would burst open and men with guns with storm in, razing the entire place to the ground in a firestorm of hot lead. Or maybe there would be a bomb under the bed or in the bathroom when they got back upstairs. Though that risked harming the manuscript. No. Monarch wouldn’t be so messy. When it happened, it would be quick. Probably they’d be seperated somehow, to determine which one had the relic. Then the ones that didn’t have it would be tortured for information. And if they gave it up, they’d get a bullet in their skull for their efforts. And if they didn’t give it up… well, these sorts of people had ways of making even the most hardened soldier weep for his mother.

Carrington would kill himself before he let that happen. Pressing a hand against his eyes, he gritted his teeth against the surge of rage and frustration that welled up inside him. By the time he’d worked himself up enough to actually get up, he’d had more than one drink as the other’s played their game. Fuck this. He needed something to hit.

Sliding back from the table, he got up and moved away without a word. Not that the others had any choice but to notice as the chair scraped over the floor and the bottle rolled off onto the floor and shattered. It was apparently so common that the rest of the crowd barely batted an eye. Even when Carrington shoved through the masses, cursing and shoving anybody that looked at him wrong. Eventually, he staggered out into the street, narrowly missed getting hit by a car, and just started walking. Praying for someone to try and mug him.

Back inside, Fane had just told Faye that it was her go when Cari got up and teeter-tottered outside. She paused in taking her shot, sighing to herself before trying to focus once more. The shot went wild, and she missed. “Fuck,” she cursed. “Go.” She waved a hand at Fane, turning back more of her drink as she tried not to glance at the doorway that the other man had disappeared through.

Perhaps Fane should’ve been more worried about himself than he seemed to let on. The thing he’d noticed was, in fact, that of late his thoughts turned more towards the welfare of the others. Whether it was making sure they got their sleep such as on the nights were Carrington would stubbornly try to stay awake and play sentry. Or the nights Faye stumbled in pissed out of her mind and making sure she made it to bed without too much issue. The thing was, where Carrington might be willing to kill himself before letting Monarch do whatever they would to extract their information from his head, Fane invariably found himself wondering if it was more likely he’d die protecting them than saving the skin on his own back.

Very likely in this occupation, and yet, something about the fact that he at least had something worth protecting to that degree settled him more than it perhaps should. Odd, what being given something you’ve lacked in a lifetime would do to you.

Still, Carrington’s departure caused Fane to watch him in his peripherals frowning at the glisten of glass left behind where the bottle had toppled. He let Faye take her turn but it seemed they were both distracted by Carrington’s departure as on his next turn Fane ended up potting one of her balls. With a curse he turned back his drink and shook his head, glancing towards the door once more as though half-expecting the other man to come back in. The minutes ticked by, the game going on with a few more balls sunk until Fane sighed under his breath when Carrington still hadn’t come back. “I should go and check on him-- You can take the win” Fane was generally a pretty gracious loser anyhow plus they would hopefully be on a plane tomorrow so needing a bed would hopefully no longer be an issue.

Slipping the bag off his shoulder he handed it over “keep that safe,” he said in reference to what was contained within. She would know. “I’ll bring him back.” Lightly he touched her arm keeping a hold of his bottle as he headed for the door out of which Carrington had vanished, looking left and right wondering which way to go before picking one at random and hoping for the best.

Further up the road in one of the alleyways where Carrington had turned, stopping to lean against the wall as the world spun a group of five young men stepped out of the shadows behind him. A couple brandished pocket knives which glinted in the scattered light amongst other assortment of make-shift weapons including a baseball bat, all intent on fully taking advantage of this drunken tourist and taking what he had as their own. Only fair in a world such as theirs. The advanced, and Carrington started to laugh as he stumbled into a trash-can half-toppling over it.

“Oh-- I was-- I was waiting for a good fisticuffs,” the youths looked amongst themselves not understanding the foreigner but not caring either way as the first came at him with the bat.

Fane, hearing the commotion hurried up though his own drink slowed his typical inhibitions. Arriving just to see Carrington in the middle of grappling one of the boys with a knife. Carrington’s face was bloodied as were his knuckles, two of the boys were on the ground. The other two giving just enough distance to look for an opening. “Oi, wankers,” Fane called not really thinking much about what he was planning on doing until the two guys turned and Fane realised quite quickly he didn’t have anything to defend himself with. Great. They turned their attention from Carrington and started advancing on him, until the first tried to rush and catch Fane by surprise. It half-worked and Fane dodged tripping him, but not in time to miss the second guy’s fist as it cracked him hard across the face. Dazed, he leaned against the lid of the trash can and spat some blood onto the ground using the distraction to wrap his fingers around the handle of the lid. Hefting it up and slamming the metal into his assailants temple sending him stumbling away while Carrington finally managed to incapacitate his own assailant.

Carrington had it all well in hand - that’s what he told himself at least - when Fane decided to show up and ruin the fun. They’d got the jump on him, little bastards, rushing him together and thinking to overpower him and get him to go down. But vicious streetrats that they were, Carrington was a trained killer. Soaked to the gills in rice wine, but still able (mostly) of taking care of a band of lowlifes.

It was over in a matter of minutes, the last one going down as Carrington struck the younger man with the base of the bat he’d tried to concuss Carrington with a few minutes prior. The kid fell into a heap, out cold, but alive. Carrington slung the bat as far as he could towards the buildings at the far end of the alley. It vanished over the roof. He laughed drunkenly to himself, staggering back and nearly tripping over one of the downed men. “Oh, that’s my fault. So sorry…” he snorted. “Let me… let me help you up…” He gave the kid that had bloodied his face a swift kick in the leg. Had he been sober, he might have landed something more solid. As it was, the blow glanced off, sending Carrington staggering up the alley again. This time towards Fane. He wiped blood out of his eyes, breathing hard as he braced himself against the alley wall. “I don’t need... a babysitter. Go back to Remy… let her… swindle you again.”

He laughed drunkenly, gesturing at Fane. “You’ve got red on you, mate.” And out his own mouthful of blood before heading back towards the street.

Unlike Carrington, Fane wasn’t well versed in terms of hand to hand combat so while Carrington made rather short work of his attacker it took Fane substantially longer to smack down the first with the make-shift weapon of the trash-can lid. The second wasn’t quite so easy, and it took several attempts to dodge the swipes of his knife some cutting through his arm, a couple of his punches hitting Fane in the face and one lucky blow glancing his ribcage until Fane all but spear-tackled the guy. Shoving him up off the ground and slamming him down before landing punch after punch until he was breathing heavy and the other man’s head lolled to the side.

He sat there for a few moments, adrenaline shooting through his system and heightening everything on top of the buzz the alcohol he’d drunk earlier dulling the ache of the injuries he’d sustained. His blood practically sung with the glee of getting in a fist-fight, he didn’t typically make a habit of them. His chest rose and fell in short shallow pants as he climbed to his feet, blood and sweat trickling down his brow as he turned to watch Carrington toss the bat off to God only knew where. When he kicked the guy, Fane did nothing other than wipe his mouth on the back of his arm grimacing a little at the sting the act brought about.

They were of a height, the pair of them though Fane had an inch or so on Carrington. He might’ve been brushed aside even by Carrington’s demeanour. “Oh fuck off, didn’t even get that far...“ because he’d come out here and ended up doing this instead. He stared at Carrington dark eyes intense and unmoving in the shadows. “No shit,” he muttered but as Carrington tried to brush by, Fane reached out surprisingly fast, snagging his shirt and yanked him back sharply before promptly and very bodily shoving him into the brickwork not caring about getting in his face if he made his point clear. He was mad, genuinely so at the sheer stupidity of this act and danger Carrington had put himself in. Whether he could handle it or not wasn’t the point, or maybe it was. Fane didn’t quite know but what he did know was that he’d been worried, his fingers wound tight in the front ofCarrington’s shirt and he shook the other man viercely “the fuck’s your problem man? What the fuck was that? What the fuck is this-- god awful attitude. Do you have a goddamn death wish?”

Back in the bar, Faye had given over the pool table and ordered a water. They’d been gone at least half an hour. Maybe a bit more. The pack was slung around her shoulder and then tucked into her lap where she sat at the table Carrington had vacated. She chewed her lip, debating going after them. Debating what to do if-

Faye shut her eyes, taking a deep breath. They would come back. They had to come back. If not for her then… then for the manuscript. Unless- she pushed that thought aside too and shoved up from the table. Tossing a few bills down to cover their tab, she went back up to the room, locked the door, stored the pack beneath the bed, and waited.

Back in the alley, Carrington fully expected to go on his way despite the knock down drag out brawl he and Fane had just been a part of. He expected to go back to the room and fall asleep on the floor because some people were selfish brats and didn’t know how to share. He expected to be extremely hungover on the plane ride tomorrow, and to be violently ill at some point along the way.

What he didn’t expect was to be slammed bodily against the wall of the alley. He grunted as the air was forced out of him when Fane slung him around. One hand snapped up to grab Fane’s wrist. But to his credit, Carrington schooled his expression into one of dazed neutrality, even if his heart was nearly beating out of his chest. The pulse in his neck thrummed like mad beneath his sweat-slick skin. His breathing was harsh and ragged, and sweat dripped from the ends of his hair and onto his shirt where Fane held him so forcefully.

The questions went unanswered for the span of several heartbeats. Carrington’s grip on Fane’s arm was much tighter than any drunk should have been able to achieve. He could feel the other’s man’s blood racing through his veins as he squeezed tightly.

“Fuck. Off.”

On any other night, perhaps Fane would have let him go. But after the last few days of his attitude steadily growing worse and worse until whatever the hell had happened last night when they had all shared the bed. To his attitude this morning and now… this? Fane was losing his god-damn mind to his exasperation with them all acting like children. Something needed to be done, it needed nipping in the bud and if Faye and Carrington weren’t willing to grow a pair and do it themselves apparently sorting everybody else’s issues came down to him. Typical really.

Ignoring the grunt and rush of air out of Carrington’s booze soaked mouth, Fane didn’t care about getting in his face either. He was fed up and he was going to get a handle on this before it spun out of control. The pressure of Carrington’s fingers around his wrist was near painful but Fane’s eyes merely stared him down not giving an inch even as Carrington’s chest heaved between them. His own grip on Carrington’s shirt was tight, knuckles pressed into his stomach as he kept him forcefully trapped against the wall. Carrington was strong, but Fane was just a little broader and bulkier not to mention a fraction taller. Shifting him would require more effort than Carrington seemed willing to put in right now.

“Oh, so that’s how you want to play it huh?” Fane’s eyes narrowed just a fraction, “going to try and be the tight lipped soldier boy? Not going to answer me when I ask you what the fuck you think you’re doing pulling adumbass stunt like that? And there was me thinking you would be so good and talented with your mouth” Fane’s lips twisted into a wry smile “disappointing.” He huffed, his own breath smelling of distilled booze “well, news-fucking-flash for you, I’m fed up. I’m fed up of your god awful attitude you hear me?” he shook Carrington again for good measure and make sure his point sunk home a bead of sweat tracking down his face. Pausing long enough to watch Carrington who, to his credit didn’t quite give much but it was easy to tell he was riled. “I’m done letting you act like a petulant brat who can kick off just because he feels like it, I’ve stood it to a point but now I need to know I can trust you to have my back. I need to know I can trust you. I can also tell you’re frustrated,” Carrington could deny it all he wanted but Fane would hardly believe him. “So, we’re going to fix that,” he paused letting this sink in to Carrington’s head “even if it means that I have to damn well jack you off myself right here in this alley, if that’s what it takes to get your shit together then I’ll damn well do it. Understand?”

Fane was far beyond the point of subtleties right now.

It was true. Carrington could have possibly gotten away. Broken Fane’s hold on his shirt with a blow to his elbow or neck. Or perhaps the knee. Incapacitated him just enough to stumble away drunkenly. But to what end? Another brawl in the street? Another black eye? More blood to spit into the dirt? Carrington weighed his options, and found them lacking when it came to getting away. So he stayed where he was. Stayed where he was and tried to ignore the near painful grip Fane had on his shirt. His fist pressed firmly against Carrington’s stomach, which rose and fell with each rasping breath.

The muscles of Fane’s forearm were tight as steel beneath Carrington’s own grip, and slippery with sweat. The words that flowed so easily from his mouth - words that were far more forceful and didn’t ask but told - stunned Carrington into momentary silence. His face showed his surprised, though there was still the glimmer of resistance in his blue eyes. It wasn’t in him to back down completely. To give over control. To submit.

No matter how much he wanted to.

So as Fane laid out the way it was going to go, Carrington remained silent. He remained silent and still, body tense and… waiting. For whatever was going to happen next. Unless you had spent the last couple of months living side by side with him, you would never notice the shift in his demeanor. The way his eyes turned from angry to… pleading almost. The way his mouth, always so tightly pressed, fell open just so. The way his body pushed subtly towards Fane’s -the smallest of pressure against his tightly closed fist - as he finally asked Carrington a question.

And most of all, the smallest of movements - a flex of the jaw, a subtle dip of his chin; a nod of understanding - that said more than every word Carrington had spoken in the last two months.

In all honesty, Fane didn’t care if his grip hurt Carrington right now. The pressure Fane applied into the other man’s abdomen just a reassurance that he was very much solid and here even if it was uncomfortable it was also a reminder that what he said went right now. Both of them had been pushing him to this point, and if they wanted someone to take control they’d just have to put up with the consequences of that fact. His grip was unwavering, not even the pressure of Carrington’s fingers which would likely bruise in the morning moved his arm an inch. The back of Fane’s shirt clung to his spine as he breathed in shallowly, the silence dragging out between them both.

And for once, he managed to break through that facade Carrington wore so carefully guarded. The surprise widening startlingly blue eyes a small victory. Fane saw the differences, subtle as they were but he’d spent the last few weeks studying his company carefully. Learning to the best of his ability how to read them, to assess and judge their actions to a point and the hinge of Carrington’s lips opening just so had Fane licking his own subconsciously. Wondering, not for the first time what the other man’s mouth would taste like.

There was no verbal answer, but what Fane received was good enough for him. “Good,” his eyes glimmered darkly no hint of remorse or reconsideration there, invested entirely if it meant sorting out some of Carrington’s issues “and while I’m jacking you off I’m going to fuck ‘n’ fill you so deep you’ll be leaking on the walk back…” Nothing more needed to be said, leaning in and covering Carrington’s mouth with his own in a kiss that was deep and long and full of sinful promise. His hands in the meantime eased a little on the material of Cari’s shirt instead hiking it up just so he could get to the skin beneath, sliding a flat palm up and down over the planes of his abdomen enjoying the warmth of Carrington’s body the alcohol in his system giving him more confidence to touch the other man entirely as he wished to and having no shame in scraping his nails right along the waistband of Carrington’s jeans until pale skin was flushed red.

As far as issues went, Carrington’s list was long. Starting from before he was a teenager. A dead father, a mother who loved him more than anything, but could never keep a job. An abusive step-father. The results of his mother’s attempt to keep a roof over their heads. And the list went on. Which was why Carrington joined the military the moment he turned eighteen. His mother had passed away the year before, and he barely finished school (only because she would have wanted him to) before enlisting.

So to say there were abandonment issues there was an understatement. Add on a heaping pile of bitterness, a need for affection and intimacy that was nearly beaten out of him by his step-father - ‘boys don’t cry, you pathetic shit.’ - and it made for a well-crafted outer shell that had been nearly impenetrable for the last decade and a half or so. But the moment it cracked, the very second that Fane’s words and actions - his refusal to back away from the abrasiveness Carrington used as a shield - slipped their fingers into the breach, something shifted.

Carrington’s grip on Fane’s arm grew even more firm. His breathing was more shallow and came faster. And when permission had been given - not that Fane was going to take no for an answer - and promises made, Fane slotted his mouth over Carrington’s. It was all the soldier could do not to moan out loud.

It was hesitant at first, a bit of resistance that had yet to leave. Years of playing the game, holding up the shield that had kept him safe. But kept him alone. After a moment he yielded, his mouth opening beneath Fane’s as he panted. The firm press of large, warm hands over his belly made the muscles flex and tighten. But now that they had begun, now that the dam was breached so to speak, there was no stopping it. Carrington reached for Fane’s belt, hooking his fingers over and in and pulling him flush. He still didn’t say a word, but his hands trembled as they moved beneath Fane’s shirt, slicking away sweat as they traced the contours of his body. There was no mistaking his arousal. It already pressed firmly against his jeans, straining towards a release that had been building for months. That he’d wanted but not been able to let himself realize until now. Until someone else had done it for him.

It was almost frenzied, the way his hands pulled at Fane as they kissed. Searching, wanting, needing whatever he was willing to give. Fingers worked frantically at his buckle as they sought out the warm hardness beneath. Out of all of it, Carrington spoke one word. It was just a breath of air as he said, “Please…”

They all had their own host of issues, not that they had ever discussed them but it was a given amongst the three of them. If you didn’t ask it didn’t get brought up and you all went about your days. Fane knew there had to be a host of reasons behind why Carrington was the way he was, and he would be lying to say he didn’t want to know. He did, very much, but getting to that point proved harder than he’d anticipated. One thing Fane was good at though, was finding the cracks in people’s armour. Finding the weak points and turning them to his benefit and their disadvantage if he so wished. But this-- this was different, and as Fane worked his fingers further into the chinks he found himself infinitely curious and becoming almost, dare he say it, protective of the stubborn hardass.

Where most would back off at the rebuttals and remarks Carrington tossed out, Fane only saw them as a challenge and a warning flag that there were things that needed tending to. Getting to this point had been a god awful uphill battle though. He could only hope this would change things for the better and not make things weird or different. Carrington’s mouth was warm and slowly grew more lax under the firm insistent press of Fane’s kiss his tongue delving just a little to test the waters and making a content noise when Carrington’s own hands sought out skin. Slightly nervous, and Fane wondered how long ago-- if at all Carrington had done this. Judging by what Fane had seen earlier, Carrington had certainly been with women before but it wasn’t as if they talked about these sorts of things.

The hook of Carrington’s fingers were insistent, dragging him flush and Fane threaded his fingers through Carrington’s hair as he took his time to explore his mouth while his fingers sought out the tremouring skin beneath his shirt. Unabashedly popping a few buttons of his shirt to reveal more of his midriff. The press of their hips left no mistake of their respective arousal, and Fane barely hesitated in grinding his hips a little into Carrington’s creating a glorious friction. He shifted slightly moving to mouth at the other man’s jaw as he felt his own belt loosen though the material hung off his hips still. His hands caught Carrington’s though, before he could go delving mostly because he was the one calling the shots right now. “No, not yet,” his voice was gruffer now as he slid a hand over the front of Carrington’s jeans palming the stiff bulge in a lazy fashion with his hand while his lips moved along the line of Carrington’s jaw until he nosed his hair just by his ear before he spoke again hand slow and insistent if a little softer as he gripped the other man through his jeans squeezing just a fraction.

“Tell me,” his voice lowered to a purring rumble soft despite the obscenely contrasting choice of language “you ever let anyone bend you over and pound that gorgeous ass of yours open?” Fane pressed a kiss to the skin just behind Carrington’s ear, nosing the spot a moment later it was meant both as a way to rile the other man, but also a way to inform his own advancements from here. “Or do I have the luxury of being the first?” To know and be able to judge what the other man would or wouldn’t be able to handle.

His intent here, after all, was to take care of him. Fane planned to make good on that assurance.

There were only a handful of people in this world that had ever wanted to know Carrington Bishop. Other than knowing what he could do for them. What he could gain for them. How they would profit from knowing him. His father, his mother, his best mate in the service. Three people that had truly cared. Out of thousands that he had crossed paths with over the years.

So Fane’s stubborn refusal to leave Carrington to his drunken haymaking gave him pause. Why? Why did it matter if he got the shit beat out of him in an alley in some third world country? No one would miss him if he just… never came back. Everyone that might’ve done was gone. A long time ago. Weren’t they?

Carrington’s expression was partly pleading, partly confused, partly weary submission. He was tired. To his bones. Of running. All the time. Of trying to stay just one step of ahead of the next new thing that was out to kill him. He’d scraped loose by the skin of his teeth on several occasions. His body was a testament to that. Scars, some small, some large, littered his body. Each telling a small part of the story of a boy who’d been running away nearly his whole life.

But now… now he wasn’t running. Now he was staying right where he was, beneath the warmth of Fane’s mouth on his skin and his hands under his shirt. But surely the spell would break. Surely Fane would realize the mistake he was making. That Carrington wasn’t worth it. Wasn’t worth his time. Wasn’t worth-

He sucked in a breath as a firm hand slid over his hardening cock beneath his jeans. Christ above… But his hands stilled at Fane’s belt, contenting themselves with stroking the curve of his hips. The words fell from Fane’s mouth like honey. Thick and warm and sinful. Carrington swallowed thickly, shaking his head minutely. “No. No one.” He’d been with plenty of women. Made a fair lover if opinions were true. But he’d never been another man. He’d been curious, but never found the courage to move past that curiosity. His stepfather had been the nasty sort. Racist, homophobic, misogynistic. And all around pig of a man. He’d beaten it into Carrington from the time he was twelve that anything but a man and a woman together was wrong. It would get you sent straight to Hell. At first he questioned it, but eventually Carrington grew tired of the beatings he took. So he stopped. He nodded. He kept his head down. And the moment he turned 18, he was gone. The military had been no better. Young men trying to prove that their cock was bigger than the man next to them. No room for sissies or homos they’d said. Again, Carrington kept his head down and went about his life.

“You’re the first,” he breathed against Fane’s neck. He was punchdrunk by now, all but reeling from the miasma of sensation he was experiencing for the first time. And as much as he was confused by how he felt, he knew it felt good… it felt damn good… and he wasn’t going to stop it.

There were certain sorts of people in the world Fane held a very high disdain for, and while Fane recognised that there was damage Carrington carried. Damage he sustained at some point in his life to cause him to be the sort of man he was today, Fane could hardly ever fathom quite what he’d had to endure. And perhaps one day he would learn the truth of it, he hoped they got to that day, a point in time at which Carrington truly chose to trust him with the truest version of himself. He would be lying to say he didn’t lie awake some nights wondering about Remy and Winston, who were they? Really? Underneath the bravado and cutting witticisms. He wanted to know what made them tick.

But Fane didn’t care simply for curiosity's sake alone, it was a deeper need for connection. A deeper need to connect with someone on a deeper level than simply engaging in a conversation with them. He had vague recollections of his parents, something terrible had happened to his mother… What, he could never quite remember, too young to truly remember but enough to drive his father to obsess over his work in trying to save her soul. To bring her back. Because there had to be a way to bring her back. Had to be some truth to the legends and myths.

Insane . Lunatic. Madman. Driven to insanity by the passing of his wife.

All words whispered behind his back, all the words Fane grew up listening to. Until the day it had become too much, or that was how the story went. All Fane did remember was opening the door to the office after a fierce argument about how work was all that mattered to him, about why did it matter when it wouldn’t bring her back, because his mother was gone but he was still here. Was that not enough for his father? The last words yelled by an angry and upset child who only wanted his family back together. Except, when he had gone to apologise he’d found his father’s body slumped over the desk, brains splattered over the wooden panelling and a smoking gun on the floor near his hand. It had been ruled a suicide. How could it be seen as anything but? A mentally ill man who refused to seek help. Andthe whispers came again after that, only a matter of time,if only someone could have seen it coming, that poor boy I wonder if he’ll end up the same way.

They all had their traumas, and perhaps it was his own close-brush with it that left him acutely aware of the cracks in others. That made him so stubbornly obstinate towards seeing anyone else self-destruct. He’d done nothing once. If he could stop that happening again, then to some degree perhaps he’d consider it a good deed. Not to mention he was starting to give a damn about Remy and Winston. Frustrating as it was, but it was the truth and Fane wasn’t sure he would be able to keep up worrying about whether or not that would be the final time they walked out the door never to be seen again. When he’d gained so much from them and he could only hope they from him in turn. Fane didn’t seek to profit, but to protect the people he’d come to care for.

Fane recognised the look in Carrington’s eyes, had seen it too many times in the mirror himself to count. Perhaps to that end, he was following in his father’s footsteps… Though it worried him that it might end the same way. For now, Fane chose to focus on Carrington. Raising a hand to hold his face, to look him in the eye and without so many words say it was going to be fine. They were going to be fine if they stuck together.

The shallow inhale of air brought a smile to his lips, his body warming under the lazy exploration and grip of Carrington’s palms. With the admission that no one had done this however, Fane put a few inches between them his expression thoughtful as he scrutinised the other man’s features. “Hmm,” his fingers brushed once more over the front of Carrington’s jeans making a soft appreciative noise low in his throat at the thickness he felt cupped in his hand, rather enjoying the act in all honesty and even more curious about seeing Carrington up close in proper fashion. “Well, this wouldn’t be the situation I would’ve picked for a first time,” Fane laughed lightly the noise barely an exhale in Carrington’s ear “but I’ll work with it. It also means I’ll have to be very… thorough.” A crooked grin split his lips as Fane made short work of Carrington’s belt, one-handedly flicking the button of his jeans free and easily loosening the zipper having been in this particular situation more times to count. Shoving the material aside just enough to slip his hand inside the front of Carrington’s jeans and boxers features growing rather bright as his fingers brushed the stiff length of Carrington’s cock feather-light before thin fingers wrapped around the girth giving a few lazy tugs certainly not disappointed at what he found. But just as much as Fane wanted to keep touching him he wanted to make this worthwhile, Fane raised his free hand to brush Carrington’s face stealing another kiss.

“Kneel down, hm?” it was easy enough to let his own jeans fall from his hips and Fane pushed his boxer-briefs down enough that the weighty length of his own cock bobbed free. “M’gonna need the help of that lovely mouth of yours now… So precise, but you’re going to be nice ‘n’ sloppy tonight yeah? As wet as you can get me, I promise I’ll return the favour.”

“A dirty alley is hardly my first choice either,” Carrington huffed, though there was a nervous humor in his words. A strained compliance with Fane’s wishes that he was holding onto by a thread. His cock ached where it pressed against his jeans, and when it was finally given room, the sound that rushed out of him was one of utter relief. But it bled into a moan as Fane’s hand wrapped around his length and slid over the hardened flesh enough to make Carrington grip his waist a bit more tightly.

His mouth was even more lax than it had been, and his knees felt a bit weak. And as Fane’s mouth moved against his again, Carrington found himself kissing back with more confidence than he had before. It was a subtle shift, and not one that took away from what Fane was doing, but it was enough to brighten the flush of his cheeks and turn his expression from something dour to something… wanting.

Carrington blinked at Fane as he asked him to get on his knees, but after the span of a moment or two, the hesitancy passed. It was a show of trust, to be in such a vulnerable position like this. He knelt slowly, eyes turning from Fane’s face to the way the other man’s cock hung heavily in the air between them. Taking Fane’s words as permission, Carrington reached up and brushed his knuckles over the underside of the swollen flesh. It bobbed gently, and he wrapped his hand around it, testing the weight and girth. His own cock hung heavily, the tip slick and leaking, as he finally leaned forwards and took Fane into his mouth.

“Glad we can agree on that,” Fane’s words were a little breathy but no less confident than before not to mention having Carrington very much in hand felt awfully good. “God I’m going to have you on a counter sometime… So’s I can look at your eyes rolling back in your skull.” What a pretty sight it would be, Fane certainly thought so. Not to mention the thought of painting Carrington with his own spend as he came. The thought just sent heat straight to his already aching cock.

The confidence was a positive sign, one that Fane took and encouraged with slightly firmer touches and a harder press of his lips. Ever encouraging Carrington to give him more. To give him everything he had to offer. To trust him. And that was what Carrington gave him when he asked for it. “M’not gonna hurt you,” he assured sensing the other man’s hesitancy, a hand brushed the side of Carrington’s face “need to make sure you’re prepared.” Even now, Fane was able to be considerate enough to think about Carrington’s needs, Fane had done this plenty of times before with younger and slightly older men so it was hardly a new ballpark to traverse.

He watched from under hooded eyes as Carrington sank down, the sight of this proud man reduced to his knees sent a pleasant rush through him that shivered up his spine. Fane made no move to push, letting Carrington settle himself though a sharp inhale through his nose sounded at the brush of his knuckles against the rigid flesh. “That’s it,” Fane moved to card his fingers through Carrington’s hair encouragingly his knees feeling a little wobbly as he was taken in the warm grip of Carrington’s palm “just--” he exhaled shallowly stomach muscles flexing and jumping in anticipation “do what feels right.” He was mumbling quiet words of encouragement that faded off into a low gasp as his cock was taken into the generous and hungry heat of Carrington’s mouth his hands moving to tangle encouragingly in Cari’s hair his hips stuttering in the effort not to buck into the warmth. It took the other man a few tries to grow accustomed to just the right movements but it didn’t take too much until the veiny shaft of his cock was shining from the due diligence given “just - ah - fuck, just like that. Don’t forget your hands.” His head rolled back a little, dazed his fingers digging a little into Carrington’s scalp. “You’re so good,” he praised breathlessly petting Carrington’s hair affectionately while he worked at the job Fane was instructing him in “doing just what I asked you to. Ugh-- m’gonna split you open so easy now.” His hips jerked as Carrington tested the waters, alternating between licks and sucks and the occasional brush of his hand all of which Fane encouraged rather vocally.

Until he felt a familiar ache boiling in his belly, and he grunted waiting for a moment of Carrington to lean back a trail of saliva and precum linking them both. Fane noted how the other man’s eyes were blown dark in desire “so good, so so good, c’mon, up y’get.” Fane took a moment to steal a kiss, lightly biting at his lip before his hands went to Carrington’s hips manhandling him a little more firmly to face the wall. “Turn round,” Fane didn’t quite care if Carrington had to use the wall for support, interested in making sure he enjoyed this. Smoothing the skin of Carrington’s back under his shirt with his hands but they were intent on properly yanking Cari’s trousers down gripping and groping at the taut muscle of his pert ass not even bothering to hide the pleased groan at getting a feel of him. “God your ass is gorgeous, you’re gorgeous” Fane didn’t care for what happened to his clothes or how dirty they might get, dropping to his knees he sucked two fingers off until they were covered thickly and he wasted no time at all in rubbing them against Carrington’s hole using his palms to spread Carrington wide open and sparing no attention. He let the man have a moment, holding him there before his head dipped and his tongue moved to help his fingers work at making sure he was prepared. He worked sloppily, the slight bristle of his short beard no doubt increasing what the other man was feeling and Fane could only hope he was enjoying this as much as Fane presently was because there was hardly anything better.

Carrington’s palms pressed flat against the rough brick of the wall as Fane turned him around. His chest rose and fell as he panted, desire and lust and need spinning him ever higher, making him want more. Chasing away his fear and his anger and his distrust. Because he did trust Fane, in his own way. Months of never being let down, of having someone at your back, even if you didn’t get on all the time, was an eye-opener. The trust might not be 100% yet, but that was to be expected. Trust took time, after all. And for people such as Carrington, Fane, and Faye, time was really all they had right now.

The touch of Fane’s hands against his back left him moaning. The other man’s touch drifted lower, and Carrington winced slightly at the new sensation of fingers rubbing slick and warm against his ass. It wasn’t unpleasant, not in the least, just different. He knew he should relax a bit, and when Fane went to his knees, adding his tongue to ease the slide of his fingers, Carrington felt his knees go weak. “Fucking hell… ah.... Fuck…” His forearms braced him now, his head dipped between them as he lost himself in the debauched act of what Fane was doing. He pushed back against the pressure, wanting more. His cock was so hard it was painful. Slick with precum and bobbing against his belly with every press of Fane’s fingers. He felt like he could cum just from that. The thought of being seen - or even caught - in what they were doing never crossed Carrington’s mind. He was done for. At the mercy of the man fucking him open with hand and tongue.

Fane was acutely aware of Carrington’s movements, he hadn’t had quite so much to drink and the fight had worn a lot of the booze from his system. Though he was finding himself to be growing quite drunk on listening to the moans and whines he was getting out of someone who was normally so stoically silent you might’ve forgotten he was there if not for the fact you could see him. Fane was also aware of the fact that there was another reason to this, beyond his own desire and his own curiosity. He knew something drastic needed to shift in the hopes of finding some point convergence and solution to Carrington’s attitude. Did he think it would be a one-job fix? Not at all. But he was willing to take the time to try and start the process off.

Plus, it didn’t hurt that he got to enjoy this in the process. Ultimately, it was a win-win if it worked and Fane very much hoped it did.

At first he worked lightly, not pressuring simply spreading and making sure Carrington was decently covered to begin with. Only once he was satisfied with that fact did Fane let his tongue help ease the friction the soaked tips of his fingers starting to probe just one to begin with and after working past the tight ring of resistance letting Carrington grow accustomed to the new feeling did a second join it working deeper into his body, crooking, twisting and scissoring as the man entirely at his mercy started pushing back after the initial surprise. Fane pressed a kiss to his lower back “s’good, that’s it. You’re doing so good,” the groans dripping from Cari’s lips made Fane’s own glistening cock throb with need, but Fane persevered thrusting his fingers a little faster occasionally using a bit more spit until he felt the ring of muscle start to loosen and the other man tremble and shudder. “Look at you,” he crooned affectionately “so hungry for it.” Fane was utterly and singularly minded despite how his mouth watered for more of a taste of Carrington’s own impressive length. There was time yet, for now Fane kissed Carrington’s hip once more licking some of the salt off of his heated skin, soft affections interspersed to help ease him into growing comfortable chin propping there as he glanced up his fingers crooking again “you tell me when you feel ready darling.” Fane was utterly beholden to what Carrington wanted and would work to the other man’s comforts and needs. “Tell me when you’re ready ‘n’ what you want,” his fingers slowed a little when he spoke then needing to know the other man recognised that he cared about what Carrington felt comfortable with “I want you to feel so good, want you to feel giddy with how much you needed this.”

There were no words that Carrington could utter that would have been understandable at this point. The overload of sensation, of something new and a bit frightening but God’s above it felt good, had taken what was left of his senses. Fane’s praise was like oxygen to a drowning man. A liferaft in the middle of the storm. It was all Carrington could do to not beg for more. But his body and his voice spoke for themselves. Pressing back against the slide of Fane’s hand where it tested the limits of his body.

His cock was painfully hard by now. He whimpered as it throbbed, leaving a wet trail where it bobbed against his stomach as he moved himself against Fane’s fingers. He almost reached down and took himself in hand. But if he did that he wouldn’t last half a minute. He was so tense, so tightly wound, so frustrated and pent up, that when Fane gave him another order, to speak when he was ready, Carrington barely hesitated. “I’m ready…. Christ…. Ah… I can’t… I can’t wait… any longer... “ He pressed towards Fane again, gritting his teeth as he fought to stay on his feet. “I just want you… I want this… please…”

Fane’s fingers continued to breach him, crooking and driving in deeper and more firmly as Carrington grew more responsive to the act. “Look at you, God look at you, you’re gagging for it aren’t you?” He nosed against Carrington’s skin “who knew the tight-laced soldier boy was such a slut” the praise continued to flow from his lips, silky-smooth between soft kisses and affections branded searing hot into Carrington’s skin. The previous tension in the man giving way to a certain degree of permittance to enjoy this, to enjoy himself and let himself be lost in this. More than once he dragged a guttural groan from the depths of Carrington’s throat along the pressure of him pushing back. Not to mention how raw and stripped down he sounded when he finally said he was ready. Fane let him rock back as much as he could, though every twist of his fingers seemed to draw forth a shudder that rippled through the man attempting to stand before him.

It was an impressive sight.

Nosing into Carrington’s skin and dragging his tongue over an old scar, Fane slowly worked in a third finger for good measure. “Don’t worry darling,” he shifted then, pushing off his feet to wrap an arm around Carrington’s midriff to help keep him up and kiss in the dip of his shoulder. “Not much longer, just need to make sure you’re ready for when I fuck you proper.” As promised, he yanked Carrington’s shirt down his back exposing the expanse of his shoulders just because Fane wanted access to his skin didn’t make Carrington wait. His own cock was straining, glistening from Carrington’s earlier attentions and Fane took himself in hand dragging the swollen head against the other man’s slick, tender hole releasing a low exhale of air against the crook of Carrington’s shoulder. He let him have a chance to stop this, if he wanted, but when no such request came Fane pressed up behind him removing any remaining space until his chest was flush with Carrington’s back. Idly he wished he’d gone to the effort of yanking his own shirt off, and he’d only half-pulled Carrington’s down to expose his back. It was enough though, enough to feel the banded tightness of his muscles and sweat-slick skin. Perhaps another time he’d take his time to strip the poor man down before having his way with him. For now though, Fane kept his arm wrapped around Carrington’s thin torso keeping him braced steadily against the wall while the other helped guide the head of his cock past the lingering resistance of muscle stretchingCarrington’s ass wide around his prick with a choked moan. “ Fuuuuuck me, you feel so good.”

It took a few slow rolling cants of his hips to edge the full length of his cock home entirely, each one inching deeper while one hand remained splayedacross Carrington’s stomach. Grunting against his shoulder. “Jesus fuck--” his head tipped and pressed into the damp heat of his traps resting in him entirely and growing used to the tight squeeze of muscle “you feel that? Look at you taking it so well, you-- ah-- sure you weren’t made for this?” His hips started to rock then, fingers splayed across Carrington’s abdominals to press him back as Fane breached him starting to fuck him with slow gliding strokes. He was straining with the effort of forced control, wanting to try and draw this out but they were both so close. He slowly took his time to build up to a more driving pace breath short and sharp against the other man’s neck, fucking him in earnest not caring what noises he was making in Carrington’s ear because this felt fan-fucking-tastic.

Carrington whimpered, and the sound was both filled with lust and an overwhelming sense of greed for what Fane was about to do. He knew there would be pain, there always was with these sorts of things (or so he assumed), but he relished it. He wanted it. Needed it. Needed to be used and fucked and filled to the breaking point by someone that knew how. Someone that knew what he needed and was willing to give it to him. The pressure of Fane’s hand to his stomach made his cock twitch, leaking a sticky trail down the shaft as he pressed against the touch. When the pressure of fingers was replaced by the thick, swollen head of Fane’s cock, Carrington nearly sobbed with relief and anticipation. It was all he could do not to press back, not to beg for it like a whore. He just kept his face pressed to his arm, braced against the wall of the alley. And when Fane pushed home, the pressure a bright heat that sent waves of ecstacy rushing through his entire form, Carrington moaned out loud.

It stung, but Fane had prepared him well. After a bit, he relaxed even further, groaning obscenities into the humid air. He was a man of few words already, and none came out as Fane fucked into him over and over. Other than a few that were forced out here and there. Trembling, guttural cries of pain mixed with pleasure with relief.

Unable to help himself with Fane’s mouth grunting obscenely against his shoulder, Carrington reached back to grab at his waist, digging his nails in. Fane was being gentle, going slow, and for awhile that was what was needed. But as they drew closer… so close now that Carrington was going to come if he so much as touched his aching cock.

“Harder….” he breathed, turning his head into Fane’s. “.... harder….”

Fane was well aware there was often need for some gentling and encouragement to begin with, he held no illusion that it wouldn’t hurt some even with the lengths he’d gone to in order to try and prepare Carrington. But that would never entirely remove the stinging ache that came when you first experienced something like this. So, Fane controlled his desire to utterly pound the man to pieces taking his sweet time to push and build Carrington up with a steady rhythm. All while holding him close with the press of his fingers and warmth of his palm holding just above where the other man’s cock bumped against his taut stomach smearing a sticky trail over his skin.

It would’ve been so easy, to take him in hand and get him off there and then. But Fane was drunk on the obscene cries and moans he was dragging from Cari’s throat above the wet slap-slap-slap of skin against skin. Carrington’s attempts to push back on each thrust urging him on, hungry and desperate for more. Yet Fane wanted to drag out their respective gratification. Wanted to hear more of those noises. Fane had picked up his speed anyhow, but the dig of Carrington’s fingers caused him to grunt, eyes screwed shut as he buried his forehead and rubbed his sweaty hair against the hard line of the man’s shoulders panting shallowly with every snap of his hips.

Carrington’s head turned mouth open invitingly and Fane leaned in to steal an open-mouthed kiss while his hand snaked around and his fingers locked around Carrington’s leaking cock. His grip twisted and thumb rolled over the blunt head to rub the slit there before withdrawing to circle the head again, simultaneously he began to drive his hips harder and deeper hitting that spot that would make the other man see stars all while feeling how Carrington’s body yielded under the fresh barrage. Carrington slipped against the wall with the force and sheer single-minded determination Fane was fucking into him with now nails clawing Cari’s stomach scarlet while the other hand roughly started jerking and tugging on his cock thumbing the ridge with deliberate attention. The rhythm from earlier was falling by the wayside by now, Fane’s motions growing more urgent and erratic by the second. Licking a stripe against the arch of Carrington’s shoulder, Fane nosed his damp hair before on a particularly sharp and hard thrust bit down on the banded muscle above his scapula. “Go on you little slut, let’s see you cum all over my hand like the whore you are.”

Pain was something Carrington was used to. Something he’d grown accustomed to over the years. His own comfort never mattering to anyone other than himself. Even past lovers had never tried to be soft with him. They only saw him as the hard, sharp-tongued, tracker who got shit done and then went about his way, prize in hand. The occasional one had tried to get to know him. But for all the wrong reasons. Because he was an enigma that didn’t bare his soul and his secrets to someone just because they were paying him. His ability to be bought only went so far. It was the one vestige of pride he still had left. To keep his own council. To never give anyone the ability to hurt him with something other than a knife or a gun or their fists.

So the pain that preceded pleasure was welcome. It was a new sort of pain. One he wasn’t sure if he really wanted until it had been given to him in the right way. By the right person. And for all his acerbic, closed-off nature, Carrington wanted someone to want him. Not for what he could do. Or for what he gain them. He wanted someone to want him for nothing more than the person he was at the end of the day. Weary, untrusting, clinical, precise… lonely. If someone could see all those things, accept them, then maybe they would begin to see the man beneath.

None of that was on his mind at the moment, however. The only thing he could think was that if he’d died right now, with Fane’s cock buried inside him, he would die happier than he’d ever been in the last twenty years. The thick, wet slap of their bodies against one another was obscene. As were the sounds that rolled from each man’s mouth with each cant of Fane’s hips. Carrington stood, legs spread wide for Fane, the warm air and their efforts making sweat drip from his hair. It ran down his back, his belly, coated his arms and the curve of his ass.

His cock strained for attention, the head red and slick and swollen. When Fane reached down and touched him, Carrington’s entire body shuddered violently. He thought he’d cum right then, but as Fane started to swipe the sticky fluid around the head, he realized he hadn’t. “Fuck… fuck… fuck… fuck.. ahHHhhh…” Meaningless words, forced out by the way Fane buried himself inside Carrington. The pace picked up, and he turned his head, catching the other man’s mouth briefly before he started to lose control.

It was the catch of teeth against his skin that was the final straw. That pushed him over the edge. The near frantic pace of the man fucking him… his hand pumping his slick cock, calling him a whore… demanding such filthy things from him…

His stomach tightened as his head fell back. “Ohh christ… ohh fuck… ohhh…. Ohh… AHHhhhmmmphhhh…” Hot spend arched in a thick stream from the weeping tip of his cock as Carrington came hard. Some of it hit the wall, some of it dribbled out onto the ground. But the sound he made, and the way he fucked into Fane’s hand even as the other man worked him frantically… he nearly sagged to the ground when the aftermath started to shudder through him. He didn’t even care as his cock started to soften ever so slightly. It stayed half-hard, leaking still as Fane continued to keep up a punishing pace towards his own release.

If there was one thing the three of them understood, even if they never would admit it. It was the desire to be wanted for more than the obvious, they each in their own respective way sought to be understood for the person they truly were. Not who they sold themselves off as. Appearances always were false, or that was Fane’s opinion. People sold the photoshopped versions of themselves, with the ugly bits deliberately blurred or left by the wayside to appear more appealing to the world. To be accepted, to be wanted. But that was part of the things that came with living with people, you couldn’t airbrush out the imperfections, you saw them and you either came to accept them for what they were or you rejected them and perhaps denied yourself a relationship with that person in the process.

As it was, Fane’s intention tonight had been entirely separate to what had ultimately come to pass. His view of the man had changed in the space of an hour. He’d been angry, pissed even but the only thought crossing his mind presently was how beautiful the other man looked as he gave in entirely. His hard exterior shattering to something Fane wasn’t sure how to describe but ultimately revealing a softer interior that needed handling with care, needed nurturing and protecting which was exactly why Fane started slow. You couldn’t jump the gun with something like this, and Carrington had all but admitted he was putting his faith in Fane by doing this. By giving in to this. Fane wasn’t the sort to betray that trust. He would have perhaps continued that way, nurturing Carrington’s desire and lust until he was built so high it was all he could do but to let himself shake apart in his arms but the tracker had other things in mind. Wanted something different, and Fane’s only thought was to give him what he wanted.

Fane’s clothes were sticking to his body, the humidity of the night combined with the sheer amount of effort and determination he put into what he was doing to Carrington meant his brow by now was glistening. Carrington was running with sweat too, which only meant he slid more comfortably the more Fane pressed into his back and grasped at his belly feeling it tighten and flutter with every pant that Carrington puffed out.No doubt the sight of them would look obscene should people come to investigate but he couldn’t give any fucks about that. Not when the man in front of him was willingly laying himself bare, letting Fane strip back the armour and dig his fingers in to explore the truth beneath in a slow caress of his palm against tight muscle and bone. For the second or maybe third time tonight he wished right then that he had a better light, wanting to admire and truly explore the man giving himself over entirely. Another time, gods he hoped there would be another time for him to do that.

Fane adjusted then, bracketing the arm that had been pressed securely to Carrington’s stomach around his collarbones then, pulling him flush and clutching him close. Not to mention allowing him support until Fane was through with him. A shudder ran through the tracker’s entire body as he seized and gave himself over entirely to the undeniable and Fane continued to pump his cock, milking it for everything it was worth until he was certain there was nothing more to be taken. “That’s it,” Fane’s hand eased a little but still kept hold of Carrington’s cock stroking it lazily as he nosed against a spot just behind the other man’s ear feeling the warm thickness of Carrington’s spend oozing through his fingers and over his knuckles “look at you,” he whispered voice and breath ragged as he slowed the punishing rhythm he’d set prior “look at you, gorgeous little cockwhore leaking all over my hand.”

A low growling groan left him as Carrington continued to arch and push his hips into the tunnel of Fane’s hand, it was too much and the desire that had been boiling in his veins left him to yank Carrington’s ass back. Snapping his hips in a vicious roll; pushing hard and fast for a few relentless thrusts his muscles straining and trembling with the effort until he tumbled over into oblivion. Coming hard with a rolling noise of relief as he filled Carrington up, Fane’s belly tightened, his body quivering with the effort as his hips rolled in a slowing slightly staccato pace fucking Carrington as full as he could before it would eventually leak down the man’s thighs. The tension leeched out of Fane’s body, leaving him leaning heavily against Carrington’s back face buried against the arch of his shoulder his arms wrapped loosely around the other man’s frame as he started to regain some thoughts from his short-circuiting mind. His cock was growing soft but Fane made no effort to move just yet, only turning his face into the crook of Carrington’s neck mouthing the skin in a lazily contented fashion. “You ‘kay?”

Carrington felt the hot rush as Fane found his own release. His cock throbbed again, even though it was softening, and he groaned at the sensation. At the feel of Fane’s body hard and tense behind him, his arms holding him hard enough to bruise as he spilled himself hard inside of the other man. He held himself up by his arms, even though he wanted to fall to his knees. Fane’s weight made it harder to stay upright, and even though his arms shook, Carrington stayed as he was. They were both breathing hard and covered in sweat, blood, and cum. It was a debauched sight, and one Carrington would be lying if he said he wouldn’t have wanted to see for himself.

Fane’s mouth on his neck sent goosebumps racing along his arms. “Yeah…” he panted. “I’m okay.” A few more moments to recover a bit more. “Are you?” He turned his head just so, to look at Fane where he rested so heavily against his back. “Can you walk back? I don’t think I can carry you. Not after that.” He huffed a small, genuine laugh. Though it was slightly uncertain. Because what now? Carrington didn’t think they would go back to how they had been. Honestly, he didn’t want to. But as big a step as this was, it was just one step. There were still so many others to take. And they were a mystery to him. Other than getting a shower, and then sleep.

“What shall we tell Faye?” he asked, reluctant to move from his position. “She’ll be pacing a rut.”

It was genuinely a mess, but Fane couldn’t bring any part of himself to care about it right now. “Mm, m’good,” he said in return against Carrington’s neck eyes screwing up as he rested there for a few moments more. “Awh, you saying-- I’ve worn you out? I thought you soldiers were s’posed to be full of stamina,” Fane’s words were teasing however and the sound of Carrington’s laugh warmed him bringing about a smile. Eventually, though rather reluctantly he pushed back from where he rested against Carrington’s back legs feeling a little wobbly but not enough to topple over just yet.

Moving to lick his hand clean before he set about pulling up and fixing his jeans Fane made a low noise of approval as he looked at Carrington. Feeling a familiar hunger returning despite what they’d just done. There was no helping it really. Still, on the topic of Faye he sighed. Raising a hand to scrub it through his hair, “the truth,” though at Carrington’s slightly alarmed look he amended slightly “we tell her we got jumped, it’s true so it’s not wrong.” As he said this, Fane glanced at one of the few cuts he’d received earlier from his wrangle with their attackers wincing as he prodded it.

“You’re right though, we should probably… Go… She’ll be worried.”

Pulling out his phone, Fane had a thought and thumbed out a text before sending it off.

[TEXT]: Found him, headed back, don’t worry.

Carrington was mildly shocked as Fane said to just tell Faye the truth. But then he eased when he amended things. He wasn’t quite sure he was ready for her to know what had happened between her and Fane yet. He knew her well enough to know that she would find a reason to see it as them joining forces. Instead of what it actually was. And he understood that. In part. They all had issues with abandonment. And right now, the woman was probably pacing the floor wondering where they’d got off to, and what it meant. Other than she knew Carrington had left the bar piss drunk and Fane had come after him. A day earlier, and he would have thought her selfish. For making it all about her. But wasn’t that what he’d done tonight? Made this all about himself? The getting drunk. The fight. The argument with Fane that had led to-

Other things.

“Yeah. She will be.” A thoughtful look passed over his expression as he righted himself, but he didn’t expound on it as they turned towards the room.

Back in the hotel, Faye was pacing. They’d been gone an hour. How long did it take to wrangle one scrawny, drunken British man? She’d almost decided to go looking for them when her phone pinged. Grabbing it up from the bed, she saw the text from Locke.

“Jesus Christ,” she sighed. “You scared the hell outta me.” Not that she would say that were they actually here.

Txt: About time.

Txt: Not worried. See you soon.

Unsent text: be safe.

She tossed her phone back on the bed and moved off to the bathroom to scrub her face. What was wrong with her? Of course they were coming back. They wouldn’t just… leave her. Would they? At least not while she had the book. Maybe she should offer to carry it for a bit. So they couldn’t make a break for it while she was-

“Stop,” she told herself, slamming her hands against the sink. Splashing more water on her face, she went back to the room and sat down in the chair by the window. Their knock came on the door a few minutes later, and Faye stood as they came in.

“Jesus fucking Christ… what happened?” There was no disguising the shock on her face, or the worry that came with it. She’d just been trying to tell herself she wasn’t worried, and had even lied over text. But there was no mistaking the look that she gave the two of them as they shut the door behind them.

[TEXT]: He’s heavier than he looks, who knew, too many tea and scones.

[TEXT]: Yeah, see you in a bit.

Tucking his phone away, Fane waited for Carrington to sort himself out and make himself somewhat more presentable. Pulling is knife from his boot he retraced a couple of the cuts from earlier until they were spilling fresh rivulets down his arm and smearing some of it over his shirt. Decent enough he supposed. The walk back was quiet though Fane occasionally glanced at Carrington who walked a couple of paces ahead of him wondering now if things would change.

They arrived back at the room a while later, and after knocking Fane waited until the door was open before stepping in rubbing his eyes tiredly and stifling a jaw-cracking yawn with his hand. He recognised Faye’s concern well enough, “making friends,” Fane’s words were a little dry but the humour was real despite it all “or in other terms idiots picking a fight… You know, average night out.”

Faye came over and didn’t think all that much about taking first one man’s face and then the others between her fingers. Turning it this way and that to inspect the shiners and cut a bit more closely. “Why did they jump you?” she asked. “Were they locals?” She was afraid that they were Monarch soldiers, or even locals paid by Monarch to find them. Though they’d had no trouble so far honestly.

“You need to let me clean those up,” she said to Fane about the cuts on his arm, and Carrington the ones across his stomach. “They’ll fester. And the last thing you need is an infection in a place like this. You’ll just as soon die in a hospital as you’d get help.”

She rummaged around for their first aid kit and set it on the bed. “Come on. Sit.” She didn’t care who went first, just that they let her clean and bandage the wounds.

“Because someone was piss drunk and looked like an easy target,” Fane said with a quiet exhale as he let her turn his face this way and that trying not to wince as she prodded and pressed to inspect the damage done. It wasn’t too bad, or so he thought. He ached a little from where a couple of the knives had gone a little deep but otherwise nothing too horrendous. Fane glanced over at Carrington who seemed rather quiet as he sat there, lost in thought likely over what had happened tonight.

“Let us get washed first, then you can patch us up?” Fane suggested quietly not planning on leaving getting sorted but also knowing it would likely be easier once they were both clean. Not to mention the fact that they were both still a bit of a mess from their earlier activities even though they’d tried to semi-sort themselves out on the walk back. “Winston-- hey, Winston,” it took a couple of tries to stir his attention, “go get washed up hm?”

Carrington, to his credit blinked before pulling off his boots prior to his getting up and near silent trip to the bathroom where the shower could be heard running a little while later. Fane merely sat, propped back on his arms as he glanced at Remy “sorry for how long it took,” Fane’s voice stayed low when he spoke “he was a bit of a state.”

Faye didn’t say anything as Fane explained how they’d ended up getting their asses kicked. She merely frowned. Both men seemed fine. Other than the obvious. They let her inspect them, so she just nodded when Fane suggested they get cleaned up first. She stayed sat on the bed, watching Carrington as he moved off to take a shower. Faye watched him go, taking his silent cooperation for drunkenness and getting the hell beat out of him.

When the shower started up, Faye scrubbed a hand through her hair. “It’s fine,” she said. She didn’t admit she was worried, though her actions probably spoke all on their own. She picked at her nails, chewed short as she’d waited on them to return. “Want me to take a look?” she said about his own wounds. “Can at least see if anything needs stitching.” Her voice had returned to it’s usual casual tone, even though her mind raced along towards every eventuality.

Fane still wasn’t entirely sure what to think of everything that had happened tonight. He’d gone out thinking one thing and come back thinking… a lot of others. Carrington had grown quiet not to mention significantly more cooperating to what Fane asked of him. Though whether that was shock settling in from what had happened or a genuine willingness after what Fane had done for him, he wasn’t quite sure of that either. There were a lot more questions than answers he had now.

His eyes flickered to Faye when she once again insisted she was fine, “even so, I’m sorry.” But that was the last he had to say on the matter, if Faye wanted to act like she wasn’t fazed then he wouldn’t question it. “Look?” he’d momentarily forgotten what they were even discussing. “Oh, right,” he shrugged slightly “can do if you want? I don’t think it’s that bad… Granted I haven’t really looked.”

Carrington shut the bathroom door behind him, turning the sound of the others’ voices to a dull murmur. He moved like he was in a daze, and in a way he was. The full impact of what had happened in the alley - both the fight and the… after, though more the after - had yet to hit him. What it would mean. What it should mean. What did it mean?

He turned on the shower and stripped down, leaving his filthy clothes in a pile before stepping under the scalding hot water. Turning his face to the stream, he let it beat down, stinging at is ran over the cuts and scrapes that littered his body. He ached, bruises flaring under his eye and across his cheek. But he also ached in other places. But that particular ache was a good one, he realized. He didn’t think on it and regret anything. That didn’t mean he wasn’t… confused. Or unsure of where to go from here. The dynamic between him and Fane had already shifted. At least for the night. Because Carrington was still in a bit of shock. A sort of dazed euphoric confusion that his prior drinking didn’t help.

He moved mechanically, washing himself, rinsing, and then turning off the shower. He dried off, brushed his teeth, and wrapping a towel about his waist, moved back to the main room. Perhaps he should dress beforehand, but all his clothes were in his pack. He moved to where his things were and shuffled through, finding what he needed. A few of the cuts he’d received still oozed, the heat of the water dilating his vessels and making the bleeding start up again. Carrington didn’t notice. Not until someone touched his arm.

“Hey,” Faye said. “Can I look at those? Or… let Locke do it?” She tried not to notice anything but the wounds that needed tending, but it was rather hard with him standing right there in just a towel.

“It’s fine,” Carrington said, scooping up a shirt and pants before moving to sit on the bed. He sat the bundle of clothes in his lap. “They’re not deep.”

Faye just hummed as he sat down. “This one looks like it might be,” she said, probbing one of the cuts. “Jesus, what were they usin’? Broken bottles?” The slash was jagged, but as she dapped it with a piece of gauze, she saw that it was mostly superficial, thank goodness. “Tell me you’ve had your tetanus shot recently?” she asked, holding the gauze to it to stop the bleeding.

When Carrington emerged from the bathroom in a cloud of steam filtered by a hazy orange backlight that illuminated the other man’s damp skin Fane had to fight back the urge to get up and touch him. Reminding himself that they had company now not to mention he wasn’t sure how either of them would react to that display. Plus, Faye got up to go over and inspect him leaving Fane to lounge on the bed and get his head together and well out of the gutter. Hearing his name mentioned when Carrington refused Faye’s assistance he sighed sitting up to pull his boots off and toss them aside somewhere in the room with a thud.

Pushing up to his feet from the sink of the mattress he stretched out his back trying not to let his eyes linger on the curve of Carrington’s spine or outline of his scapula under a tall thin frame. Which wasn’t helped when Carrington came over to sit in nothing but the towel on the bed and Fane rolled his eyes. “Stop being a stubborn ass will you?” the words were quiet and firm but not unkind as he moved to press a hand to Carrington’s shoulder just above the spot he’d sunk his teeth into earlier that was perhaps bruising up a bit too. Carrington tensed initially but eventually relaxed. “Let her help you.”

Carrington’s eyes were fixed on the floor just beyond where his clothes were propped in his lap. But after Fane’s encouragement and the soft touch he rubbed his arm before relenting. “Bottles, knives…”

“Don’t forget the baseball bat,” Fane’s voice echoed from where he’d stepped away towards the bathroom stripping off his shirt in the process and tossing it in the corner. “M’gonna get washed.” With that, he shut the door, stripped, scratched his stomach before stepping under the stream of water with closed eyes letting it simply wash over him for now wondering what was going to happen now. Would things change from now on? They already had started to shift… but not in a negative fashion. They would be in another country tomorrow, they’d have to see wouldn’t they?

[pluckyredhead]

Daredevil 101: Fall from Grace

And we’re back! It’s time for the death of Matt Murdock (again). Also, a lot of 90s-style grimacing. Most importantly, ELEKTRA RETURNS!

Content Warning: Some extremely racist (specifically, anti-black) imagery behind the cut.

When we last left our hero, he had returned to New York, regained his memory, and patched things up with Foggy. And aw, they’re being so cute:

YOU GUYS FOGGY MADE A MODEL OF THE OFFICE SO THAT MATT COULD FEEL WHERE EVERYTHING WOULD GO. AND JUST LOOK AT THEM CUDDLING OVER THAT SIGN. I’M CAN’T.

Now up there I mentioned 90s-style grimacing, and I just...I feel like if you’re not familiar with the aesthetic of comics in the 90s nothing can really prepare you, but basically, picture a lot of veins and teeth, flowing hair, everyone wearing armor and wielding two swords and six guns, POUCHES, and very questionable anatomy. This cover is a pretty good example:

No, I cannot explain anything that’s happening here. Just accept that the next few posts are gonna look like this until we round the horn into the late 90s. We’ll get through this. It’ll be okay.

(That art, by the way, is by Scott McDaniel, who is responsible for most of this post. The writer is still D. G. Chichester.)

Despite that cover there’s not a lot of Frank in here, but I do have something behind the cut for the Fratt fans:

That’s real gay, Frank.

In between fellatio metaphors with Frank, reestablishing Nelson and Murdock, and trying to patch things up with Karen, Matt also tries to protect a Haitian immigrant from a convoluted protection racket and winds up tangling with a “voodoo priestess” villainess named Calypso. Here’s where that content warning comes in:

Like honestly what the actual fuck. I don’t even have words for this bullshit.

Anyway, that’s obviously Calypso on the bottom. At the top is Hellspawn, a doppelganger of Matt created during Infinity War? I literally just had to look this up because large parts of Chichester’s run are incomprehensible and I honestly had no idea where he came from - I thought Calypso created him, but apparently not. Anyway, it’s during this plotline that Hellspawn encounters and becomes obsessed with Matt.

I’m skipping a lot here but I want to get into the meatier plot as opposed to the more episodic storylines, so we’re going to scoot ahead to “Fall from Grace,” which is what I used for the name of this post because it’s the most major event here. Again, this story falls under the category of “unnecessarily complicated Chichester nonsense riddled with cameos, crossovers, and incomprehensible McDaniel-scribbled fight scenes” and I’m not going to get into the details of it because...like. It’s such nonsense. Even the simplified version I’m about to share with you is going to make no sense. (I don’t hate Chichester, who I think writes a really interesting Karen, but his character stuff is much better than his confusing plots.)

SO. The plot revolves around a defunct, shady government program wherein they created a chemical called About Face that altered people’s appearances, put it in glass balls, and sent telepaths out to secretly drop the balls in heavily populated areas, where they would break and...change people’s faces??? It makes NO SENSE. One of the balls never broke, and the guy who broke it - a telepath named Eddie - ran away, horribly traumatized by his experience with the government, and has hidden as a street person for the past few decades.

Now it’s become clear to multiple interested parties that there’s one remaining ball of About Face somewhere in the subway system, and they’re all after Eddie to find out where it is. Matt discovers this and steps in to protect him:

What’s Eddie running from? Oh, just Hellspawn, and also maybe how veiny Matt’s chest is:

I’m concerned about your neck, Matthew.

While all this is going on, the Bugle is temporarily shut down because of *handwave* plot stuff, idk, but Ben freaks out because all of his in-progress articles are on the Bugle computers, which he now can’t access. He asks a Bugle intern named Sara to help him out:

omg those references

Unfortunately for Ben - and Matt - when Ben’s not looking, Sara stumbles across an unpublished article that Ben has idiotically saved to the Bugle server: the one he wrote about Matt being Daredevil, before he decided not to publish it. Oops!

Meanwhile, as we saw above, Matt’s classic suit has taken quite a beating, so he decides that he needs a tougher look:

Parts of it or armored, or the whole thing is, or something? Armor was very on-trend in the 90s. Anyway this is not a good sign, any time Matt is in black and it’s not Charlie Cox in skintight army surplus you know the story is going downhill.

Matt is so busy with Eddie and the virus and his new threads that he’s neglecting his day job, and Foggy has gotten tired of the same old patterns:

I find this page fascinating, because this arc is the only time it’s implied that Foggy knows Matt is Daredevil before, uh, Foggy officially finds out Matt is Daredevil. (And it’s made clear when that happens that he had no suspicion beforehand, so this aspect is dropped.) But also, Matt is being SUCH a dick here! “I’m responsible for more important things that you don’t know about”? If Foggy didn’t do your paperwork you wouldn’t be able to pay for that fancy armor, bucko. And you can’t lie to Foggy and then blame him for not knowing the truth.

Anyway I just love Foggy’s “Don’t forget your CANE” and Matt storming out and knocking a wastebasket over with his cane all “HOW DARE YOU I AM SUPER BLIND,” even if it never went anywhere. (Though Foggy does go talk to Karen after this and ask her to talk to Matt about...the other aspects of his life that he and Matt don’t talk about. So Karen gets involved in this dancing around the subject too.)

Meanwhile...*sigh* So. Okay. Remember how I said there were a bunch of people after the About Face virus? Well, they include government agents, bounty hunters, Hellspawn, A VAMPIRE, and the Hand. (The Chaste is bopping around here too, trying to stop the Hand.) The Hand sends an elite sect called the Snakeroot after About Face, plus these two:

This is sleazebag former SHIELD agent John Garrett, and Elektra’s “dark essence” Erynys. Garrett kind of explains their deal up there, but the short version is: after killing Elektra off in Daredevil, Miller still wanted to write her, so he did a miniseries called Elektra: Assassin. I’m not a fan of it, despite stunning art from Bill Sienkiewicz. We’ll see this next time, when I cover the Man Without Fear miniseries, but basically the more Miller wrote Elektra, the more he wrote her as sort of this fascinating, dangerous fetish object instead of as a person. Even though she’s ostensibly the star, Assassin is narrated by Garrett and is told through the lens of his fixation on her. It’s pretty gross.

Anyway, Elektra’s trying to stop a demon called the Beast from installing one of its pawns as president of the US (insert political commentary here), so she uses the psychic powers she occasionally has to get Garrett to help her. The story ends with her victorious and Garrett mostly cyborg parts, but now, during the Fall from Grace arc, the Hand is able to use the traces of Elektra left in Garrett’s mind from her possession of him to create Erynys, a separate being who embodies all that is dark and evil in Elektra. She wants About Face, which will enable her to be a full human being and not just an offshoot of Elektra.

Understandably, she’s a pretty upsetting figure for Matt to run across, especially since he thinks the REAL Elektra is still dead. (She’s not, as the reader knows.)

And that’s not the only bad news for Matt, because Bugle intern Sara has taken the story that Matt is Daredevil and gone to the tabloids:

Matt’s teeth are so dismayed!

Obviously Matt’s friends all see this story too, and Karen for one is not about to let it stand:

I LOVE NINETIES KAREN!!! She is so tired of men and their ridiculousness, she has shit to do and papers to throw! And again, Foggy’s still carefully talking around the whole thing, which I still find fascinating - but in the clinch, he’ll always be here to save Matt from himself.

Matt, meanwhile, has another shock waiting for him:

It’s Elektra! Bald Elektra! How very Sinead O’Connor.

(If you’ve forgotten, the Hand attempted to resurrect Elektra after she was killed by Bullseye and Matt was able to purify her soul with the power of his love (hence her white costumer), but thought the resurrection itself failed. She’s basically been meditating on a mountain ever since.)

While Elektra fills Matt in on where she’s been, Ben and Foggy team up to save Matt’s secret:

Sara basically ignores Foggy and his restraining order and barges past him and Ben with a camera crew to find...an ordinary apartment, filled with the kind of accommodations a blind man might need, like foam bumpers on the sharp edges of furniture and a Braille subway map. Humiliated, she departs.

Meanwhile, Matt and Elektra are still catching up as they try to keep anyone else from getting to About Face before they do:

If you can look away from Elektra’s weird seamless naked plank-butt there, basically she’s upset because she was finally at peace meditating up on that mountain (and also when she was dead) and now she has to, like, be alive and deal with the forces of evil and confront her own evil nature and UGH. Matt is not threatening to punch her there but reminding her of how much she loves punching??? Sure.

Despite all this embracing, Matt goes straight to Karen and tells her that Elektra’s back, but he knows who he really wants to be with:

WHEEZE! WHEEZE AGAINST EACH OTHER’S CHINS!!! No, seriously, despite the crappy art and the tiresome love triangle and the hilarious childishness of that crayon heart drawing, this is close to the healthiest Matt and Karen have ever been and I’m happy for them. I love their late 90s dynamic.

With Karen thoroughly kissed, Matt suits up again and heads back into the fray. (It’s important to note here that Karen doesn’t know a) about Matt’s new costume or b) about Ben and Foggy’s successful dismantling of the “Matt is Daredevil” story.) They finally find the About Face virus, and Hellspawn tries to take it to make himself...a real boy, I guess? A real demon boy? Idk.

Hellspawn uses the About Face, but Erynys kills him before he can do anything with it - and then Elektra kills her before she can use the About Face, thus reabsorbing Erynys’s evil into herself. Or something. THIS COMIC IS A MESS.

The weirdest aspect, though, is that in death, Hellspawn’s About Faced corpse turns to...Matt Murdock. He is an absolute spitting image of a dead Matt, which gives Matt an idea. Remember, Matt doesn’t know that his secret identity is a secret again, and as long as it’s out there, the people he cares about are in danger. Plus, like, Matt Murdock’s life is really hard and stuff?

So he bundles up the Mattcorpse and dumps it off at a police station or something, and Matt Murdock is declared 100% Dead and Probably Not Daredevil. Giving this story something of a downer ending:

If I’m not mistaken, this is the third time Matt has faked his death, counting Mike Murdock and that time he crashed a plane with a Matt dummy in it. MATT. WHY IS THIS A THING FOR YOU.

Anyway, tune in next time for a detour into the Frank Miller/John Romita, Jr. miniseries Daredevil: Man Without Fear, followed by Black Armor Matt making more bad decisions!

[broadway-book-badger]

May Reads

Hello from exam hell! 5 down and 1 to go for my final exams of the first year at uni. I actually can’t believe that that’s my first year just about done, considering how slowly it seemed to go at first when I was struggling to find my feet. Time definitely flies when you’re having fun!  A week on Sunday I’ll be coming home for the summer, well, for like 5 days before I go off to America for the summer. Speaking of which, this might be my last long and rambly post for a while. I’m not planning on taking my laptop away with me, and tumblr mobile is shit, but we’ll see how it goes. I might try to keep doing my monthly life update/book posts, but without pictures etc, just because I enjoy doing them and don’t really care if nobody reads them. I don’t actually know how busy I’m going to be and whether I’ll have time, so yeah - until I post again!

I’m excited for my trip, but its come round far too quickly. Still I’ve got all my stuff planned for travelling once I’ve finished working, and I get to play piano for some really good shows while I am working at the camp, and I can’t wait! I was in a concert last night too, getting back into all my musical theatre stuff - because I wasn’t busy enough! Nah, I figured it would give me a nice little break from revision, which is slowly killing me, but I’m almost there!

In the month of May I managed to read 4 books, which is pretty good going considering exam hell. Admittedly, there were a few train journeys where I just read the whole time, and in several cases I just had to sit and read because I knew that no more work was going to get done until I finished the book... Anyway, my thoughts on what I read are under the cut, and major spoiler warnings apply to all of them because there are important plot points that will be discussed.

1) Ruin and Rising by Leigh Bardugo

It feels like a really long time since I read this, even though its only been a couple of weeks - I need to back to writing stuff down when I finish a book so that I can remember things that I wanted to say! Never mind... So, I’ve finished this trilogy. As I think I’ve said before, its pretty decent YA fantasy, not one of my favourites, but I did enjoy it. Part of me wonders if I would have maybe enjoyed it a little bit more if I’d read it a couple of years ago, before I’d read quite so much of certain tropes. Sometimes I wonder if I’m starting to outgrow YA a little bit, but then I’ll read something else YA and love it, so I guess it really just depends on the book.

Although I enjoyed it, I do have a couple of frustrations. I don’t think Alina’s the most interesting of main characters, and all the love triangle angst was super annoying, although those are criticisms I know I’ve had with other books in the past. I thought the whole Saint/cult thing was kind of weird, and the Darkling and Alina’s attraction/connection continued to be weird and uncomfortable to me. I feel sorry for Nikolai; I really like his character, just not as a love interest to Alina, but he went through some shit in this book, and is now the King, and I just hope he’s ok and gets some kind of happy ending eventually. There were also some nice moments with some of the other side characters; Genya, Nadia and Zoya (off the top of my head).

I liked that the firebird wasn’t the third amplifier, because that would have been a little bit too easy - having it be Morozova’s daughter and passed down through her line was cool. I thought that Mal’s tracking skills might be some kind of Grisha power - so I count that as being technically right. Although, I thought they were going to find some kind of loophole to him having to die, like “he’s metaphorically given his life to her so that’ll do” kind of thing. I was not expecting Alina to stab him! Although he didn’t die, but they both lost there powers, which I thought made at least some kind of payoff, and was a fitting end to Alina wanting the amplifiers to get all the power. I thought the epilogue was cute where they went back to Keramzin and the others came to visit them and stuff. Now I can read Six of Crows!

2) Strange the Dreamer by Laini Taylor

Wow, did I love this book. Laini Taylor has one of the most beautiful writing styles I’ve ever come across, super poetic and just lovely. I was expecting great things from this book, although I wasn’t entirely sure what to expect going into it, and let me tell you it did not disappoint. Unlike Daughter of Smoke and Bone, this is entirely set in a fantasy world, one which I just loved. The mythology is pretty interesting, although all the stuff with the Gods taking the citizens of Weep was pretty dark and messed up.

Our main character, Lazlo Strange, is just perfect. He’s so precious, and kind and just wants to know everything and find magic and I love him so much. Especially how he looks tough, but his nose was actually broken when a book of fairytales fell on it - I think that tells you everything you need to know about him really. I love a lot of the other characters too, Calixte was cool, and Eril-Fane and Azareen were quite interesting, but I really loved the Godspawn. Sarai is also great, and the Muse of Nightmares is such a good name, and I liked Sparrow, Feral and Ruby too. Minya is creepy as hell, and horrible, but she’s kind of complicated and I think she’s a good villain.

One of the issues I had with Daughter of Smoke and Bone was the insta-love between Karou and Akiva in the first book. I feel like you could possibly make a bit of a case for this being slightly insta-lovey too, but honestly, if it was, I didn’t mind it all. The relationship between Lazlo and Sarai was just so cute and lovely, and all the descriptions of them exploring Lazlo’s incredible dreams were just beautiful. I’ll say it again, Laini Taylor is one hell of a writer.

The only problem now is that I have to wait for the sequel, and I have no idea when it’s coming out. That ending was not ok. I was waiting the whole way through the book to see how the prologue was going to fit in to the rest of the story. I wasn’t sure if it was something that had happened in the past, like when the Gods were killed, or if it was a moment that everything was building towards. When I realised it was the second thing, I was hoping that it wasn’t going to be Sarai, but then she had all the plums in her pockets and I was like, shit. They never actually got to meet properly, face to face! And then the bit with Minya controlling her and using her to get Lazlo. I have so many questions that I need answering, especially about that plot twist involving Lazlo. Like, if he’s a Godspawn too, but he’s older than the others, so somehow he must have gotten out of Weep as a baby, way before all the shit went down there, but how and why? And why did he only turn blue when he used his powers? Also, where the hell is the plot going to go in the next book and how will it all get wrapped up? I have to know!!! When is it coming out??? 

3) Lord of Shadows by Cassandra Clare

I’d like to start by saying WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK WAS THAT?!?! Just needed to get it out of my system. I will come back to that in a little bit, but I’m going talk about some of the other stuff in here first. I’d been looking forward to this coming out for a while; I love the Shadowhunter books, they’re a hell of a lot of fun to read.

I continued to love all the faerie mythology added to the world in this one, and especially loved that they got to go to faerie itself and have some cool adventures there. My love and emotions for Mark Blackthorn have definitely continued if not grown, and I did grow to like Kieran a bit more too. While I went into this shipping Mark and Cristina, and I still do, I’m really interested to see how the love triangle will play out. I sort of can’t believe I just wrote that. Normally I HATE love triangles, but I kind of like both sides of this one so I’ll be interested to see what Mark chooses in the end. Hell, I’d be down with “a hot faerie threesome” to quote Emma! Speaking of Emma, I was so frustrated by the rift between her and Julian. I know why she did what she did, and I thought that the friendship between her and Mark was really sweet, but I was just like Tell the Poor Boy the Truth! Please!!!

Another dynamic I loved in this one was the relationship between Kit, Ty and Livvy, and how they got to go off and have their own little adventures and solve mysteries and stuff. I’d say I’m looking forward to more of that, but... Again, I’ll come back to that. Kit really grew on me over the course of the book too, and I loved all the little callbacks to the Infernal Devices, especially when they were in the London Institute. Although, how the hell is Bridget still alive??? Although, I am super concerned for the Wicked Powers now, as I assume that that’s when Clary’s visions and whatever’s happening to the warlocks is really going to come into play. 

We finally got to learn Diana’s backstory, and what she’s hiding. I don’t know what I was expecting, but that definitely wasn’t it, and I thought it was really great. And her relationship with Gwyn is so cute too - “Now I know you’re the bravest woman I’ve ever met.” Dru also got to have some of her own development and adventures, and I know I’m not alone in wondering who Ash is. I know a popular theory is that he’s Sebastian’s demon baby with the Seelie Queen. My friend Emily told me this theory before this book came out, and I wasn’t sure, but I’m not going to lie, it does have some merit. That, or Ash is the Unseelie King’s heir who got kidnapped all those years ago. We shall have to see.

Final point before I come back to the big one. Zara Dearborn is such a bitch and I hate her. Originally I thought her engagement to Diego was going to be because she was pregnant, but I’m glad that turned out not to be the case. But yeah, her bigoted, self-righteous behaviour is just awful, as is the fact that she has all this support, but you can’t deny that it’s very topical at the moment given current events if nothing else. Some of the characters gave her some epic burns and put-downs though which were very much appreciated. I hope something terrible happens to her in the last book because she absolutely deserves it.

Now, the deaths. I knew before I went into this that 4 characters were going to die. Here’s what I thought of each of those scenes. Jon Cartwright - He was kind of a knob in Shadowhunter Academy, but he was alright really, especially compared to the other centurions, and I was quite sad to see him go, especially like that. Arthur Blackthorn - I’m not going to lie, I didn’t think that the odds of him surviving the series were very good, and I was right. Still, it was sad to see him go, especially since he sacrificed himself for his family like that. Also what the hell - Malcolm came back? And Annabel?! Finally, the big two, that I did not see coming at all. I’m not going to lie, there was a hell of a lot of shit went down in that last chapter, a lot of big things happened in a very short space of time. As soon as one person had a knife out in the council hall, I though, oh shit, is this going to be like the Red Wedding? And honestly, Shadowhunter Red Wedding is a pretty apt description of the end of Lord of Shadows. I felt quite sorry for Annabel, until she fucking murdered Robert Lightwood and Livvy! I was not expecting Robert to die at all, and it was made worse by the fact that there had just been the bit where you could see how proud he was of Alec, and yeah... And Livvy!!! I thought that the odds of the entire Blackthorn clan surviving the series were slim to none, but I still had hope that they might. Yeah, nope. It was just so sudden, and Helen had just come back so they were finally all together, and Julian holding her in his arms, and then the book ended. It just ended there. I think I sat there in pure shock for a good 5-10 minutes after I finished it, just in a state of AAAAAAAHHHH! WHAT DID I JUST READ?!?!

So yeah, I have a lot of questions that need answering in Queen of Air and Darkness, which we have to wait 2 YEARS for. I’m excited for the Last Hours, but this was just not ok. I’m very worried about what Livvy’s death is going to do to Julian - he already has this dark, ruthless side where his family is concerned, which I’m not going to lie, I quite enjoy reading, but I’m afraid that this is really going to tip him over the edge and he’s going to do some bad stuff. I also wonder what Emma and Julian are going to do about their situation, because Emma clearly can’t go into exile now, and I don’t think(?) they’d take the Seelie Queen’s deal, or maybe Dark!Julian would. Then all the stuff with the Cold Peace, and the Cohort and the warring faerie courts is all coming to a head, and I honestly have no idea how it’s all going to get wrapped up in one book (it’s going to be a bloody enormous book), but I’m so excited to find out! 

4) All The Light We Cannot See by Anthony Doerr

I love a historical novel, and World War 2 is one of my favourite eras to read about, although I’m not 100% sure why. I first heard about this book as something to try if you liked The Book Thief, which I very much did. I don’t know if I liked this quite as much as the Book Thief, but I still really enjoyed it, and felt all the emotions. Given that it’s a WW2 book, compared to the Book Thief I was expecting it to be sad, and it really was in places, but there were all these little moments of happiness in amongst the bleak and sad bits that were just really lovely.

I enjoyed how it was two parallel stories, and followed both characters from when they were young, right through the war and afterwards. I haven’t read much set in occupied France, so I found all the resistance meetings in the kitchen and the siege in Saint-Malo quite interesting. I thought that Marie-Laure was such a great character, and how even though she was blind, she still managed to do so much. She loved her books and learning and managed to play her part in the resistance and survive all the bombing, and I loved that she went on to get a doctorate in molluscs and travelled the world and everything.

Werner’s story on the other hand, was so heart-breaking. Like, he was just a kid, who wanted to escape the mines and he happened to be really good at maths and fixing radios, and then he got caught up in all the Hitler Youth Academy stuff, and got sent to the front far too young. And he did some terrible things, but I think because you’d followed his story for so long, you felt so sorry for him, because it was such a difficult situation that he was in. I know I was really rooting for him to do the right thing, but because of everything that had happened it was sometimes difficult for him to know what the right thing was, and I think it would have been incredibly difficult to rebel and get away at that point. I mean, what happened to Frederick was probably one of the saddest, most awful parts. 

Following the 2 parallel stories, as well as the one about the guy trying to find the diamond for so long, I was wondering if/when they were all going to join up with each other, especially when you found out that it was Etienne’s broadcasts that Werner and Jutta used to listen to when they were little. But yes, I really loved that Werner saved Marie-Laure, and the scenes where they were together were really sweet, like I said before about the little moments of happiness. But it was too short-lived. I was hoping that maybe they would find each other again after the war or something, because I knew it skipped ahead to the 70s and then 2014. I’d been doubtful that Werner was going to make it earlier on in the book, but at that point, I thought he might. I was wrong.

I’m glad at least, that by saving Marie-Laure, and not taking the diamond, that Werner sort of redeemed himself a bit, and managed to make something right. But then, he stood on a land mine. After everything he went through, what a way to go. Werner Pfennig hurts my heart guys. I did like that after the war, Jutta took her son to France and managed to find Marie-Laure, to try and get some closure. I think her complicated feelings about her brother make a lot of sense, and it was good to see, although not the happiest. I really liked the writing style of this, and thought it was a good, emotional story, and you can see why its won some of awards that it has.