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sexy-n-stressed · 11 months ago

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Deck the halls (Conner Kent X Male Reader one shot)

A/N: Hi everyone, so, this will be my first post on writing Tumblr, and a bit of a pivot for me. I have a history of writing fanfiction, but have decided to start writing one-shots (and smut….soon…) as I am terrible at committing to full-length stories. This is just a quick story, which I'm planning to follow up with in the next part. Also, it's Christmas for me today so yay fluffy Christmas?

Also, most if not all of my stories will be male readers, as I am a male and want to make stories for people like me who have struggled to find stories like this with male representation. That being said, all gender identities are allowed to interact with my stories, and I may accept female reader requests. So fire away!

Please send me story requests, and follow and comment so I know you're reading! Thank you!

Side note, in my version of things, Conner’s introduction happens like that of young justice but a fair bit later, meaning Dick Grayson is grown etc while Conner is still freshly….minted?

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Christmas was a time of snow, cheesy movies and overplayed sellout Christmas albums. And, as Y/N would find out, boys. Specifically Conner Kent.

The holiday had started innocently, with the newest adopted son of Bruce Wayne being invited along to a combined lunch with the Kent family, which was also apparently the family of Superman. Being adopted into a wealthy socialite family was one thing, especially after bouncing around the foster system among families in the Narrows, Gotham's seedy underbelly. Being adopted into the Batfamily was something else entirely.

With the whole new host of Vigilante siblings and father, came an immense amount of pressure to live up to the moral standard they had set. Between attending Galas, etiquette training, crime fighting and fitting into a family of ‘misfit’ angsty superheroes, the chances of failure kept building and it was obvious that everything was doomed to come crashing down.

Lately, you had been missing training sessions, forgetting to show up for the rich socialite events Bruce was forced to attend, even the ones in your own home, which was more of a haunted house anyway.

It was obvious that Bruce was less than happy, disappointed even in your behaviour, though he wouldn't voice it. Having just been adopted into the family meant that everyone was still walking on eggshells around you, not paying you much mind when you both were and weren't present, only engaging in simple small talk. It wasn't necessarily their fault, you had made no real effort to reach out or connect. A side effect of an unstable home life you guessed.

Arriving at the Kent family farm was like a deep breath. There were no looming crystal chandeliers, no extravagant staircases or dining tables and absolutely no overbearing elitists. You felt free among the cutesy knick-knacks and homemade furniture.

“Welcome!” A warm voice beamed as the thick oak door creaked open, laced with a typical southern drawl one would expect around these parts. The voice belonged to Clark’s mother, or ma as she liked to be called. A southern thing you assumed.

As greetings and gifts between the two initially standoffish families took place, a firm hand was pointed in your direction. Quickly shaking it, you remembered to force eye contact with Clark, or, Mr.Kent as you would confusingly call both him and his father for the rest of the gathering, regardless of any request to “Please, call me Clark”

The sturdy man emitted a soothing warmth, both from his comforting personality and from the literal solar warmth the man contained, powering his God-like abilities. It may have been snowing, but the Kent’s felt like a warm sunburst in the backdrop of a picturesque photograph.

Clark made a comment about speaking to you more later in the evening, most likely welcoming you into the family and wider network of connections Bruce held, and swept away to greet his other guests while preparing the most likely gargantuan amount of food about to be consumed.

Eyes sweeping the room, you looked for somebody to strike up a conversation with, both to follow the etiquette training rules of sociability and to escape an awkward, overbearing conversation with the more intense few present, such as Ma Kent. While you held absolutely nothing against the woman, her booming laugh and exaggerated body movements made you almost queasy with nerves.

You weren't waiting long though, as the boy you guessed to be Conner Kent, who you had been told not to ask about his relation to the Kents for some reason, dropped a cartoonishly large crate of apples behind you, with the stragglers rolling off into every direction.

Dropping to the floor, you began helping the boy gather the fallen produce, heaving armfuls of the crisp red apples back into the crate.

He seemed mad, muttering words you assumed to be swears under his breath as he practically threw the apples back into the crate, bruising them.

“At least it wasn’t eggs?” You awkwardly interjected. He stared at you silently, for what felt like an hour, before lightly chuckling.

“What?” The boy stared blankly at you, seemingly not understanding the joke.

“Well because if it was eggs then they would… break, y’know?”

“Oh!” He burst into laughter at the explanation, somehow enjoying the joke.

Still laughing, he stood up, brushing off his knees before extending a hand towards you. “I'm, uh, Conner..”

He subtly cringed as he spoke, stopping himself from saying the word Kent. You understood that all too well, not feeling right calling yourself a Wayne.

“I'm Y/N…” Your avoidance of the word Wayne seemed to strike a cord within him, and the two of you felt instantly closer. Shaking hands with Conner was like playing a thumb war with a gorilla. He seemed to force himself to subdue the intense Kryptonian strength he possessed.

“Thank you for your help” Conner spoke, standing uncomfortably in a way that suggested he was unfamiliar with social interaction. You, on the other hand, were just uncomfortable with it.

“You’re welcome.” came the awkward reply. “Need a hand with that?” gesturing towards the large apple crate. Did you seriously just ask a Kryptonian if they needed help lifting something? You were already blowing this lunch.

“Why would I need a hand? I have two” Conner confusedly responded, looking down at his hands to confirm he did, in fact, have both.

“No, like, help lifting that.” You once again pointed to the apple crate.

“Oh,” He sounded dejected, clearly upset with himself for misinterpreting that.

“No, no it's my fault. That didn't make any sense” you quickly spoke, moving towards Conner and beginning to lift the crate, to which he effortlessly heaved it into the air. You would feel embarrassed if the endearing tensing of his back and arm muscles wasn't completely distracting you.

The two of you walked the crate to the kitchen, as Ma gleefully rubbed her hands together while mumbling about making apple pie better than someone named Dolores ever could. The murderous glint in her eye told you she was not playing about her apple pie.

“Ma really likes her apple pie” Conner explained as you exited the kitchen. He stopped, before turning to you with an excited look.

“Would you like to see my room?”

A/N: Y/N may have W rizz. Also, the formatting of Tumblr is new to me, so if there is anything annoying with how this is laid out, let me know! Pease send Requests too! I'm excited to see what comes in!

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nana-glass-chillhop-radio-hour · 2 years ago

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Here's something I think about often with audio fiction: will we ever get to the point where we re-stage beloved productions? Like, no one would think it was weird to do your own production of Hamlet. But it would be very weird to do your own production of Friends. Lots of audio drama is under a Creative Commons license, does it allow for a live reading of the script on a streaming platform? Where do we draw the line between the original and a licensed reproduction? Where do we draw the line betwren the script (which is animated by the voice actors' craft) and the finished work of audio fiction with audio production? Is it different for different works of audio fiction that rely on SFX to share plot information to various degrees?

I've been puzzling on this since I listened to that live episode of the Silt Verses at the London Podcast Festival where they read episode 4 with 2 of the 4 original VAs reading the script, and how much the fans lost it at the show's creator, who is British, reading 1-2 lines of dialogue for Faulkner, who is normally played by a VA with an strong American Southern drawl. Fans loved the live show but the one thing they talked about was the wrongness of British Faulkner. (This reaction was surprising to me, as my background is in community theater, and there's absolutely no guarantee that anyone will be playing anybody on a given night. The show will go on, regardless of who can't make it due to illness or family emergency, and maybe you have an understudy or maybe you have a plucky chorus member who volunteered to do the part on zero notice, and you're just hoping and praying you don't have to feed them lines from the front row. If they look or sound like the other actor is the absolute least of your concerns.) They also had very minimal foley, and the actual episode has really nice soundscaping and special effects - but it all really worked! It was really effective! In some ways I like it better than the episode bc there are pictures of Meabh deBrun standing in front of a mic waving around her script like she's going to set it on fire and it fucking slaps!

So like, given all that - ship of Theseus wise, ethics wise, copyright wise, where does audio fiction (following the model of novels, TV, and movies) end and where do radio plays (following the model of live theater) begin?

There's a bit of a context collapse around audio fiction. Are they audiobook version of novels with full production? Are they TV shows without video and without studio producers to tell creators no when they want to take risks? Are they plays, recorded and soundscaped? How do fans engage with those three modes of storytelling differently?

A book asks the reader to imagine any sensory input of the story, whereas a film or TV show provides both sound and visuals. Audio fiction lives in the space between these two approaches. I think there's a unique power to that middle ground. I love how audio drama asks the listener to co-construct their sensory experience of the story.

Audio drama allows me to simultaneously experience 'This character feels real to me because I've heard their voice' and 'This character feels real to me because I've pictured them myself'.

What the characters are experiencing is both directly presented to me and left to my imagination. There's no page or screen between me and the story. It's there in my ears. It's there in my mind's eye.

There's a strange sense of intimacy to that, the intimacy of feeling like a fly on the wall during a conversation or of hearing a character speaking as if directly to me. Perhaps it sounds contradictory to say that experiencing a story only through sound allows me to feel uniquely connected to that story, but that's one of the reasons why I love audio fiction so much.

#audio fiction #the silt verses

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musingsbycaitlin · 3 years ago

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Hi! Random Writing Extract Alert!

hiya, I wrote this lil scene this afternoon/evening out of nowhere and I’m actually really proud of it. if you read it though you gotta do a southern american (texan drawl type beat) to get the full effect haha.

hope you like it!

tw: allusive mention of abuse, alcoholism, general bad vibes

extract:

Mornings on the farm taste like pigs’ blood. A sick curdling of iron lacquered across teeth and tongue. Sweaty clumps of soil buried in each pore like a squirrel in winter. Heath presses his finger into his gums and rolls each tooth root to ease the aching. They’re yellow now, fingers and gums, and each time he looks in the mirror he notes the putrid colour bleeding across his irises. He’s 14.

Daddy told him that at 7am the chickens would be needin’ their feed. Heath always did as Daddy said. Daddy was dangerous when provoked; Mummy proved that, Delaney proved that, Heath proved that. He teases his lips with brandy most evenings. Not full glasses, no ice, just a small sip every half hour. And he keeps the rifle next to his lounger all the while. Alcohol always tastes better with a gun, kid.

So, Heath gets up at 7am, feeds the chickens, wants to get back in bed but doesn’t, and begins picking the tomatoes for breakfast. Delaney joins him, night eyes hanging from their sockets. Her wild frame clumsily folds into the soil. Heath chews through his lip, turning them a similar red to the fruits in his bucket.

“What you sulkin’ for?”

“Thought you was working with Daddy t’day.”

“You ain’t got nothin’ to be sulkin’ about.”

Delaney takes the bucket from behind the shed and shuffles next to Heath. Plump scars claw across her knees, riddled with grit. She keeps piercing the skin of each fruit, allowing the flesh and juice to burst open, pooling at the bottom of her bucket. She squats, cradling a single tomato, and pokes with her thumb into the core. Studies intensely the liquid fizzing down her palm. Lips pursed, she cranes her neck downward, kisses the remaining intact skin, and drops it into her bucket. There are more ripe tomatoes than yesterday. This will need to go into Heath’s report.

“Don’t do that, Del!”

“I ain’t doin’ nothin’!”

“We got shit to do. You want Daddy comin’ out here?”

“I’m tired.”

“I know.”

#my writing #idk where this came from #but i love it #its got such a strong voice i feel #which is something ive been really working on #atlastracking #writeblr #writing extract #literary fiction #creative writing student

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limerental · 3 years ago

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ficletvember 2021 - day 19

yennskier wardlord!yen a/b/o just to challenge myself to write something terrible featuring omega!yen, alpha!jaskier, post-mountain angst and just nothing anyone reads this trope for

The private quarters of the Emporer of Nilfgaard, the great and terrible Warlord of the Southern Realms, were not as expected. It had none of the opulent and stiff decorations typical to a formal, wealthy home but instead was a space excessive in its comforts. The walls and ceilings were swaddled in colorful fabric that lent the room a muffled closeness to the air, and the floors were covered in plush rugs and cushions and the occasional low-seated table cluttered with platters meats and cheese and fruit. At the back wall of the room on a raised dias, sat a mattress piled in blankets and furs and pillows.

Sprawled perfectly nude in the sea of blankets with a wine glass in one raised palm, was the Emperor herself, the woman he had previously known only as Yennefer of Vengerberg.

"You may enter," drawled Yennefer. "Come here, bard. Hurry."

Just this morning, Jaskier had been trussed up in a dungeon convinced that he would rot there. He had been unceremoniously woken, dragged out of his cell and to a bathhouse where he was made to scrub himself pink, then dressed in fine linen and told he would soon be meeting the Emporer.

Paused inside the door as it shut soundly behind him, Jaskier considered the situation. In his memory, the woman before him was merciless and held no love for him. That very same woman had taken over an Empire and now helmed its war efforts and turned Nilfgaard's might back against its corrupt allie as peace talks were negotiated with the north in the hopes of bringing about a more lasting change.

Nevermind the fact that he realized most suddenly what he had been tossed into unaware. This was an Omega's nest. A nest fit for royalty.

Yennefer rolled her eyes at his hesitance.

"Approach, bard," she said, and for the first time, he recognized the lack of Alpha timbre in the dark swell of her voice. Imposing, yes, but without that unmistakable power.

"You're a--"

"Yes, yes, an Omega, why is that so surprising? You're a man of forward-thinking society. Don't tell me that you still believe certain stereotypes about my sex."

"No, I--"

"Do you think me weak? Unfit for rule? Heat-addled and frail?"

"I never said--"

"Then approach the bed, bard."

Jaskier's limbs obeyed without his full input.

"My apologies," said Yennefer, toying with the edge of a blanket slung low in her lap. "It is difficult to know who to trust these days."

The scent in the room as he drew close took on a more recognizable form.

"Your heat is--"

"Close," said Yennefer, exhaling through her nose. "Unfortunately, my body reacts poorly to suppressants. A side effect of my sterility. Commonplace in mages. In the past, I simply hosted an orgy and took what I needed." She said the words so simply, as though she had not just described a lurid sex party heavy with the scent of pheromones. "These days, I must be a bit more choosy. I know there are spies and assassins amongst my court, many of which are waiting to strike when I am indisposed."

"So, what am I doing--"

"You are an Alpha. One that Geralt trusted with this."

"Er… yes." It had been a long while since he last saw the Witcher, but yes, they had once trusted one another with such delicate matters as the cusp of their cycles. They had never spoken of it outside of those times, never put words to what it meant, and that Yennefer spoke of it so casually, as though he and Geralt were almost bonded, made his whole body feel warm.

"Oh, fuck it all, stop thinking so much, bard. Do you wish to share my heat with me or no?" she snapped, gritting her teeth, but in the next moment, her expression faltered and her shoulders slackened. Her voice when she spoke again has taken on a peculiar softness. "I don't wish to endure it alone. Not again. I had hoped to find him with you in the dungeon or at least some trail to follow but I… well, he seems to have disappeared from the Continent."

Without further thought to how foolish the decision was, Jaskier stripped from his clothes with haste and clambered into her nest. Either of them may regret this decision at a later date, but for now, his overwhelming instincts to soothe an Omega in their time of need won out over any urge toward self-preservation.

"You won't execute me if I disappoint you, will you?"

She hummed in consideration as she gestured for him to settle in her lap. He shifted down to snug his arms around her waist, face pressed into the pudge of her belly. It was not as odd or unnatural as he expected it would be. Not that he had ever expected to end up in bed with Yennefer, now one of the most powerful people on the Continent. Perhaps always had been. "Don't disappoint me, and you won't have to worry," said Yennefer.

She smelled sweet and pungent, like a fruit ripening. There was still some time before her heat truly began, and for now, she seemed to draw comfort from simple touch, her fingers trailing along his naked shoulders. She appeared lost in thought, humming some song without a true melody.

"I would know if he was dead," she said with a faraway look in her eyes and touched the place on her neck where a mating bond would sit. Jaskier rolled over to look up at her.

"Oh. Were you bonded?" he asked. "I didn't know."

"Not in the traditional sense," said Yennefer. "In Rinde with the djinn… I did not recognize it for what it was, for what he had done until that day in the mountains." Some of his conflicted feelings must have shown, because she made a face at him. "Oh, don't look at me like that. He may be my mate, but he has no claim over me."

"No, I only meant… it was wrong of him. Not to tell you," he said. He brushed his palm against her side. "Not to do it properly."

"How romantic." Yennefer sneered, but her voice was unsteady when she said, "Here I am with all the power I could ever want. I usurped the greatest power on the Continent and yet…"

As rarely happened in his life, Jaskier found he did not know what to say. So, he said nothing, gripping more tightly around the swell of her waist as they waited for the fever to come on.

#i simply dont like this <3 #my fic

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sheerfreesia007 · 5 years ago

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Fallin’ All In You (Pt. 3)

Title: Fallin’ All In You (Pt. 3)

Pairing: Agent Whiskey x Reader

Author: @sheerfreesia007

Words: 1,736

Author Notes: Wasn’t too sure about this one. I don’t think I’m very good at writing fight scenes. I’ve got quite a few more other chapters of this planned. Any feedback is appreciated!

You didn’t remember how it had all started you had been sitting at the bar with Whiskey minding your own business. He had taken you out to a late dinner after the two of you had finished your latest mission reports and handed them in. And then you had wound up at the bar not far from the Statesman headquarters each nursing a drink, Whiskey had chosen his namesake while you had ordered a hard cider. Whiskey had been in a flirty mood and kept his hand on your body since you both walked in. Either it was ghosting up your thigh or inching up your back to your shoulder. It made you dizzy with affection and to be able to give yourself some breathing room to get yourself under control you had moved to the old jukebox in the corner of the room. There wasn’t much of a selection you found it was all old country songs and you decided to pick something a little upbeat to distract yourself.

It wasn’t until you turned around with a grin on your face to look over at Whiskey that you noticed the tension that was growing in the air. There was a medium height beer bellied man standing next to Whiskey, where you had been sitting, talking to him with his hands on his hips. You could read the agitated state the man was projecting and Whiskey wasn’t much better you found when your eyes darted to him. Whiskey was glaring at the man with scowl on his face and leaning forward in an intimidating way.

“Don’ worry ‘bout them honey it’s jus’ man talk.” Came a southern twang to your right and you turned your head to stare at a tall scrawny man wearing a trucker hat who was leering at you. You felt disgusting as you watched his eyes take in your body and you instantly felt your body tense. “Nuttin’ to worry yer little head ‘bout.” He sneered as he moved closer to you.

“All the same I think I should get back to my date.” You said kindly as you nodded your head over to Whiskey, whose eyes were instantly on you once he heard your voice. You moved to walk around the man but he was quicker and grabbed your forearm effectively stopping you from leaving him. You stiffened even more and watched over the man’s shoulder as Whiskey stood from his stool. The man who was harassing Whiskey was becoming more belligerent and was stopping Whiskey from getting over to you. Your eyes darted to the man holding you back and glared hard, the man sucked in a breath in surprise and you leaned in real close to him still glaring. “I’m gonna only ask you once to let go before you regret it.” You whispered ominously to him and watched his eyes as they quickly changed from shock to rage. Well you did warn him.

“Why you lil’ bitch who you think yer talkin’ to?” he sneered loudly and angrily as his grip tightened. The silence after his question was almost deafening but you quickly reacted, your fist shot out and clipped him right in the nose and he reeled backwards letting go of you. Immediately the man’s friends were standing and rushing towards you and the fight was on. Working with your fists and feet you were able to keep the men back from doing much damage to you. They got in a few cheap shots but you were quicker and trained by Statesman so you held your own in this unfair fight of four against one. You had lost track of Whiskey until you felt a strong back crash into yours and you held firm so that neither of you toppled to the floor.

“Just me darlin’.” He said over his shoulder to you hurriedly as the two of you took stock of what you were up against. The men seemed to have a bit of stamina on them but you wearing them down. Just then one came darting out towards you and twisted your body you deliver an uppercut to his chin which made him reel back into his friends. Then two came at you and one had managed to grab you around your forearms holding you to his chest while the other started throwing punches.

Whiskey panted softly as finally laid out Bubba who was the largest of the group and the one who had approached him at the bar. The larger man lay sprawled out on the floor of the bar and Whiskey turned on his heel to see where you were. What he saw made his blood boil and instantly freeze, one man of the group had a hold on your forearms trapping your arms behind you as he held you to his chest. There was another man coming towards you with a sinister smirk on his face while raising his fists. And the other two were behind him just watching.

“I’m gon’ enjoy this honey. No one threatens me.” He sneered angrily. Jack took a step towards you to help when he watched as your booted foot lifted quickly and kicked out like a bucking bronco straight into the man’s chest effectively knocking him on his ass. He then watched as your head reared back and clocked the man holding you right in the nose and blood spurted out onto you. The man instantly let you go and began yelling as he grabbed his nose. The other men of the group moving closer to you but their bodies held a sort of caution now that they saw that you were fighting back.

“Maybe if y’all had manners I wouldn’t have to threaten you.” Whiskey heard you drawl out in a horrible imitation of a southern drawl. His grin almost overtook his face as he watched you dust yourself off and stand to your full height. You were breathtaking. He watched you raise your fists once again and take in the other men. “Who’s next?” you asked cynically as you all stood motionless. Whiskey felt his breath stutter in his chest as his eyes darted over your body. You were tense in a fighting stance, your hips planted as your feet stood at shoulder width apart and your fists were raised close to the sides of your face. There was blood trailing down the side of your face and he could see a bruise starting to blossom on one of your cheekbones.

Before any of the men could move to start fighting you again a loud shrill whistle rang out in the bar catching everyone’s attention. The barmaid behind the bar was glaring at all of them.

“I want all y’all outta my bar, ye hear me! Tuck pick up Bubba and Chase and git out!” she snapped angrily. “If I see any o’ you trying to get handsy with this her lil’ woman y’all have to answer to me. Ye hear?!” she shouted at them. The two men who weren’t injured quickly moved to pick up their friends and all of them scurried from the bar like the cowards they were. Whiskey moved closer to you placing a soft hand on your elbow to not startle you. He knew you had a mean right hook.

“You alright darlin’?” he asked softly. Before you could turn to him the barmaid caught your attention again.

“I’m awfully sorry that they can’ keep their measly hands to themselves sweetheart.” The barmaid said softly to you. Whiskey watched as a sweet smile graced your lips and his breath caught again in his chest. The way you effortlessly move from hard trained fighter to soft and sweet young woman amazed him and literally stole his breath.

“It’s nothing, I can protect myself. I’m sorry I was fighting in your bar.” You said sweetly to her and she waved the rag she was holding in her hand at you.

“Yer partner might wanna get you checked out. Yer bleeding.” She said smiling at you and nodding at Whiskey. Whiskey nodded his head and turned your body to him.

“It’s nothing Whiskey.” You said softly as you looked up at him. His eyes were darting all around your face taking you in. There was the blood on the side of your head trailing down your face and that bruise on your cheekbone. But he could now also see that you had busted your lip on the bottom left corner, that was gonna be bitch to heal, and a nick on the underside of your right jaw. Not to mention the collar of your shirt on the back was blooded from the man’s broken nose you gave him.

“Well if you won’t let me take you to medical at HQ, at least let me take you back to yer place to patch you up.” He said firmly and watched as you opened your mouth to speak. “If for nothing else than to appease my racing heart and worry that you’ll be fine.” He said quickly to curb that protest he knew that would come his way. He watched your pretty eyes soften slightly at his words.

“Worried ‘bout me, huh, cowboy?” you asked softly as you moved closer to him.

“Just slightly for your recovery. I know you can take care of yerself in a fight, I’ve seen it many times before. But I know that busted lip is gonna be one helluva wound to heal.” He admitted as his hands trailed up your sides gently squeezing. Your eyes sparkled warmly at him and he felt his body tense while he watched you lean close. Your hands traveled up his stomach as they pressed into him so you could lean up on tiptoe to get even closer to him. His body instinctively moved closer to you and his hands came to hold your hips gently to steady you.

“You just know all the right things to say to get your way don’t you?” you whispered in a voice that was tantalizing to his ears. Whiskey smirked softly down at you and lightly pressed his lips yours being careful of the wound on your lip.

“Only when it comes to you darlin’.” He drawled softly to you and watched the smile bloom on your face and for the third time in the span of minutes his breath was stolen from him again.

#my writing #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey #fallin' all in you #kingsman the golden circle

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eternalrosx · 4 years ago

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Human Guardians AU

Here is a little idea i came up with not too long ago. Since i don’t really feel to rp at the moment and still feel a little under the weather, i decided to put this up here. It’s a human AU where Gan, Bessa, Pennywise, Maturin and the Guardians life as humans in the mortal world, dealing with day to day struggle in their normal lifes.

Gan and Bessa are living in a fancy looking apartement in Bangor, Maine. Gan is a successful writer(just like his self insert Stephen King) while Bessa is a very successful owner of a flowershop with multiple branches all over the US. Pennywise and Maturin life with them, they are children with Maturin being eight years of age while Pennywise is around the age of four. The former Turtle Guardian goes to a private school in close proximity of their home, same goes for Penny who is enlisted in the kindergarden which is located in the same building on the first floor.

They all agreed to forget their former lifes and as deities and gods respectively, starting anew as humans which also goes for the Guardians which now i will talk about. It`s going to be a bit longer so please bare with me:

Shardik:

The former Bear Guardian decided to take a route in politics and is part of several activists groups, he also found a liking to the democratic party and is an avid fighter for LGBT rights and same sex marriage. This was partly because Shardik was gay himself so he wanted to get a lobby for all those who share the same sentiment as him. He doesn’t remember much of his former life aside of the knowledge that he once had a good friend called Maturin which whom he had a crush on. The specifics of this however are merely a fog for Shardik.

He has a pet turtle called A´tuin. Shardik has short brown hair, a shaggy beard and prefers spaceous clothes.

Owsla:

Owsla decided, after losing his memories as Guardian, to move into the mortal world, following Gan and Bessa’s example. He became a freelance reporter and teamed up with his former Guardian mate Chuchundra. Both life in a shared flat in Toronto, Canada. Owsla is an avid fan of polo and plays it in his free time. He and Chuchundra also share a vlog in which they document their daily lifes and struggles as reporters.

Owsla is big, slim and has blond, slicked back hair and a little goatee and rather prominent front teeth. He also is lactose intolerant

Chuchundra:

Chuchundra or short Chuchu(this is only used by Owsla)is like his former Beam Buddy Owsla a freelance reporter and always on the search for a good story to write about. He loves being out in nature and enjoys camping quite a lot. Chuchundra has a slight lisp and his voice tends to get up higher in pitch when excited. He is witty, fast thinking and always on the edge, exercising daily. Another hobby of Chuchundra is cooking, mostly with cheese, but in favor of Owsla, he also adds greens to his diet.

Chuchundra is quite small and has round slightly protruding ears which earned him a lot of mean nicknames from colleagues. He always wears a bowtie.

Navius:

Navius works as lawyer in his own law firm and is quite secluded in his lifestyle. He operates a vlog on Youtube and gives advice on juristic problems for free(for people who can’t afford a lawyer normally). He is kind, hard working and always on the edge when it comes to laws being broken. His love for order and cleanness is a huge part of his personality which also goes for his home. Immaculate and specless is the best way to describe his apartement in Brooklyn, New York. Hobbies includes hunting and bungee jumping.

He appears as middle aged, rather tall individual with slightly gray hair and a small potbelly. Navius always wear glasses. He also spots a goatee. His clothes are always tight fitting and spotless. Navius is a huge fan of Gan’s novels and has all of them.

Garm:

Garm works as police officer in a small rurual town. He has a deep rooted hate against criminals and politicians, especially for those who are constantly rising their own benefits while others have to suffer. Garm is part of a humanistic organisation that helps local unfortunates with food and water. He is tall, muscular built and is really fast. His hobbies include swimming, hunting and writing(latter is just a hobby though)

He lifes alone in a small house, only accompanied by a stray dog that decided to stay with him. Occasionally he visits bars and clubs in the next bigger city or enjoys a round of gambling in the local casino, he is rather unlucky however and not really has a hand for these kind of things.

Garm has dark brown shaggy hair and an olive colored skin tone. His clothings of choice are baggy.

Garuda:

Garuda works as airforce pilot and has quite the reputation of being firm, without mercy for his enemies. The reality however is different, he cares about others a lot and protects everyone that is in need. In his rare free time, Garuda enjoys a good cup of tea and books, he likes to read a lot when able to. His intellect is sharp and witty. He has his very own gym area in his house which he also uses a lot to keep fit.

Garuda is very proud and easy to rile up when his authority is challenged. He has a deep, rich voice that has a slightly southern drawl. He has a trained build, wide shoulders and is quite tall, around 6ft3. His hair is short, black and has silver streaks in it. He has a scar on his left eye.

Jasconius:

Formerly known as the Fish Guardian, Jasconius now lifes in Atlanta, Georgia,as therapist for troubled adolecents and has her very own practice which runs very successfully. She has a really pleasant personality and is very emotional when it comes to children and animals. Jasconius has high empathy which she uses in her practice. Her reputation of being able to help even the most severe cases made her a small celebrity in her profession. She is often in talkshows and gives advice to parents.

Jasconius always has an open ear for everyone and is an avid fighter for human rights, she engages herself on a voluntary basis in youth facilities and local schools. She has adopted two children and lifes with them in a little house with a beautiful garden. Her hobbies include painting and singing, she also is a member of a gospel choir.

Jasconius is medium built and has gentle green colored eyes. She has long, dark blonde hair which she wears in a bun most of the time.

Rocinante:

Rocinante is a successful athlete and works in a fitness studio as personal trainer. He is free spirited, optimistic and loves silly jokes and riddles. The former Horse Guardian also loves to travel and has been to many places around the world. His hobby is photography. He has a large collection of old antique vases and loves to collect rare items such as stamps or coins. Being a huge casanova, Rocinante loves to flirt with every woman that comes around and had quite a few flings already.

He runs a highly successful social media account and uses fundraisers to support local causes. Rocinante owns a small estate on the outer limits of Atlanta. He once published a book which had a short lifed success however and qiuckly vanished from bestseller lists worldwide.

Rocinante is thoroughly toned and has long legs. He is quite tall as well, sporting a whooping 6ft5. He has mahagony colored hair and sports a man bun.

Camazotz:

Camazotz is a freelance artist. He has a large collection of old paintings and is a fan of Leonardo Da Vinci. Making his hobby to his profession, Camazotz has his own atelier in Houston. He also loves photography, using his pictures as inspiration. Like most artists, Camazotz has a free spirited personality and needs freedom over everything. In the first couple months of his life in the mortal world, Camazotz suffered from mild depression and had to get used to this new world first. After a while however it vanished and he found an inspiring way to remodeling his new life on Keystone Earth.

He lifes in a small apartement in close proximity of his atelier. Camazotz is lean, medium build and wears thick glasses. He has dark black, spiky hair.

Babar:

Babar is the only Guardian that has still contact to Gan and Bessa, all the others kind of developed their own lifes and decided to start fresh. He remembers his old life sometimes in his dreams but as soon he wakes up, all is forgotten. Babar is working as architect in Portland. He likes to eat and to drink, his hobbies include playing chess and gardening. Babar is member of a book club and has a library in his house. Babar sometimes visits Gan in his home, always glad to see both the former God and his wife as well his former Guardian Buddy Maturin. His character is best described as loyal and kind with a tendency towards occult theories. He visits church regulary.

He has a sturdy body, a thick neck and a belly, he appears in his late 50s with balding grayish hair.

Aslan:

Pride and boastful like his animal counterpart, Aslan is often seen in talkshows and newspapers. He has a real estate company under his thumb which has one of the highest rankings in the business. Aslan has a mansion with a pool and has often prominent visitors like stars or politicians on his estate. He likes to keep beneficial relationships for him and his company which could be used down the line if needed. While a business man through and through, Aslan is not greedy as he spends a lot of his money for funds that help the less privileged. He is currently in a relationship with a fellow real estate colleague, they share bed and table. Aslan is proud of his fortune and fame and is not above in showing everyone who is interested, how to achieve what he did.

Aslan is 5ft10,broad built, he has long, unkempt hair and a full beard. He appears in his late 40s.

Maturin:

Out of all the Guardians, Maturin did a completely turn over and stayed with Bessa and Gan as their child, effectively losing his adult self, appearing as kid around the age of eight.

It was a decision that wasn’t easy for the former Guardian, but for the sake of rekindling his relationship with his estranged brother, Maturin agreed that his personality and memories got wiped clean just as former had endured after the crumbling defeat against the Losers to start fresh. He now lifes with Gan and Bessa and Pennywise in a large apartement in Bangor, Maine. Maturin visits a private school and has good grades, he likes science and collects bugs and critters. Ever since their mutual memory wiping, Pennywise and Maturin seem to have developed a healthy relationship. They like each other and spend time playing with each other. While being a good student, Maturin has quite the mischievous streak and likes to play pranks on others.

He appears as child of approximately eight years of age, has dark brown, touseled hair and green eyes.

#the dark tower #maturin #pennywise #still not feeling like rpying on here #human au #but maybe later

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blog-sliverofjade · 4 years ago

Text

Hearth Fires 1: Ultimatum

Pairing: Remi Denier x OFC

Summary: Lorel Maddox just wants to live as a human, run her bakery in peace, and forget. Unfortunately, the alpha of the local leopard pack has very different ideas.

Remi Denier doesn't know what to make of the female Changeling who wants nothing to do with him or the RainFire pack. He does know that he has a driving need to protect her. Even if it's from herself.

While they're embroiled in a battle of wills, there's a war brewing on the horizon. The outside threat could not only destroy everything they hold dear, but tear apart the fragile new bonds of the Trinity Accord, plunging the world into bloodshed to rival the Territorial Wars of centuries past.

Word count: 2056

Hearth Fires Masterlist

Beta read by the inestimable pandabearer

Lorel hummed along to the bluesy song that twined with the smells of dozens of sweet things filling the air. Swinging her hips slightly from side to side, she counted out the day’s totals to figure out what to bake tomorrow. The maple pecan cupcakes were sold out, as were the pear sticky buns. Maybe she’d switch it up for the weekend and make chai cupcakes and maple sticky buns.

As she tallied, she mentally designed an upcoming wedding cake order. The couple wanted silver accents, which was in vogue and nearly to the point of tired and overdone. Maybe arabesque flowers outlined in a royal blue and the silver? She could gild the edges of sugar paste flowers. Would it be too on the nose to mimic the flowers in the bride’s bouquet?

The door opened almost soundlessly. One of the first things she’d done was rip the bell off; the jangling was hell on changeling hearing. Finishing up the note she was in the middle of, she turned around to greet the customer.

“Hi, how can I help you?” The chirpy greeting died off as her nose caught up.

Spices like cinnamon, nutmeg, and vanilla had temporarily masked the threat that had snuck up on her. A threat that smelled like moss and oak, and a dominant predatory changeling male. Her blood turned to ice water. The power of him filled the shop and had her animal in a crouch, waiting to see whether she should run or would have to fight. She wiped her palms on her apron and plastered on a smile that probably more closely resembled a grimace.

The stranger scanned her with a coolly appraising eye from the top of her frizzy hair to her flour-dusted hands. She froze in place and avoided eye contact by focusing on his right shoulder while still watching him like a rabbit he’d decided was dinner. Fear spiked in her scent, strong enough that even she could smell it over the mixture filling the place, and he could probably hear the thundering of her heart. He turned, locked the door, and turned the sign to closed. Her cat was clawing at her to run far, climb high, but she was too busy doing her best impression of a deer in headlights to pay attention.

His presence, reinforced by his actions, could only mean he wanted one of two things: either he wanted her gone or he wanted her for himself.

“Ms. Cain, I’m Remi Denier, alpha o’ the RainFire pack. Please, ‘ave a seat so we can talk.” The bayou dripped like Spanish moss from his words. He pulled a chair from one of the bistro tables by the front window and gestured for her to take the other seat. He was laying the southern gentleman routine on thick.

“It’s Maddox now, and I’m comfortable right here.” The strained pitch to her tone gave lie to the statement. It did not bode well that he knew her birth name; she shifted her weight in preparation to dash out the back door.

“Ya won’ get very far, Ms. Maddox." His brilliant topaz eyes flashed gold in stark contrast to his mild drawl. The alpha, and he certainly looked the part at somewhere over six feet with line-backer shoulders, sat where he could watch both the front door and the one that led to the kitchen. He stretched out long, jeans-clad legs; he was making himself at home. On her turf. “I ‘ave de alley covered.”

“What did I do to deserve such an honour, Mr. Denier?” she asked crisply and folded her arms. While she wouldn’t stand a chance against a predatory changeling alpha determined to hurt her, that didn’t mean she would go down without a fight. She just had to wait for her opportunity.

“You’re in my terr’tory.” His eyes had gone leopard-gold. Shit. Heart hammering, she felt her cat settle into a crouch in preparation for a pounce. Adrenaline dumped into her bloodstream and she wanted to bare her teeth at the threat, but strangled the urge before her lips did more than twitch.

“No pack can control a mixed-race city, and your border ends at the Madison-Haywood line.” Their boundary was the next county over; she had made certain before she took over the bakery. The hard look in his eyes said without words that the cat didn’t care about semantics.

“RainFire does now. Say, could I get a cup o’ coffee?” His accent was so thick she could practically cut it with a knife.

“Sorry, I’m not in the habit of feeding strays.” The acerbic retort popped out of her mouth before she knew what she was saying. Swallowing, she dropped her hands to fist at her sides in preparation for a full shift and not just to hide the talons that had sprouted from her fingertips.

Remi Denier didn’t attack, didn’t even growl. To her utter consternation, he laughed. The sound was rich and filled the bakery like the tones of a brass bell. Her cat sat back on its butt and cocked its head in confusion.

“We’re small and growin’, jus’ expanded our claim last month,” he explained, spreading large hands wide. And she had purchased the shop five weeks ago, which was when she’d checked that no shifter groups had marked the area as theirs.

“I took over this place before that. I won’t be run off my land.” Said land wasn’t even an acre in total, and it was technically just the home she shared with her aunt since the storefront was on a lease, but it was hers. Every survival instinct screamed at her to stop challenging him, even as her animal was pacing in circles, waiting for the right opening to go for his throat.

“I never said not’ing ‘bout chasin’ you off. Jus’ like knowin’ who’s in my terr’tory,” he shrugged and hooked an arm around the back of the seat. The relaxed posture didn’t fool her one whit; one didn’t become an alpha without catlike reflexes.

“You already know that if you know my name.” She folded her arms again and leaned back against the counter behind her.

“Lack o’ criminal record don’ mean much.”

“Not much to know,” shrugged Lorel. “Raised by my human grandparents, some university, bounced around some, and then my aunt wanted to retire. But you probably knew all that already.”

“You were born into the RedRock pack.” Her stomach sank.

“I was just a kid, I don’t remember much.” She leashed the need to snarl at the alpha. She couldn’t expose any potential weaknesses; if he thought she was hiding something she’d never get rid of him until he uncovered it. Damn cats.

“Never joined another pack.” A statement, not a question. Meaning he already knew the answer, he just wanted to see if she would lie to him.

“Never saw the need.” Rounded shoulders rose and fell jerkily instead of in the fluid way they should have moved in feline changelings. Remi filed that away the same as he had the talons that appeared when she’d thrown out the crack about strays. It wasn’t the first time he’d been called that, and no doubt it wouldn’t be the last.

“Never felt need for family?”

“I have family.” Lorelei gestured around the bakery that had been her aunt’s. While she couldn’t make eye contact, the hard ice in her voice hinted at a hidden backbone, a reminder that submissive was not synonymous with doormat.

“But do they understand you?” That spine, which was already rigid, snapped so straight he worried it would snap under the strain. Judging by the white lines bracketing her mouth she probably wasn’t about to reply any time soon, but the lack of an answer was an answer in itself.

If he was a better man, he’d feel remorseful about baiting a woman so far down the hierarchy she didn’t even risk a glance at his eyes for fear he’d see it as a challenge. As it was, he only felt a twinge of guilt. The most extensive background check in the world couldn’t tell him how she would react under duress. Being cornered, no matter how temporarily, with a strange, dominant predatory changeling alpha was an effective stress test for most people.

“Unless you’ve got a sweet tooth, I think you’ve wasted your time, Mr. Denier.” Her folded arms shifted, pushing her breasts up even higher until they nearly spilled over the heart-shaped top of her apron. Instead of plain black canvas, hers was an ice blue that brought out the colour of her eyes, with cupcakes decorating the full skirt and ruffles of the same fabric edging the bodice.

“Hmm…” He gave her a slow once-over. Damn if she didn’t look like a treat herself with generous curves and freckles sprinkled generously over her creamy skin. “Not worth the cavities.” The cat laughed as her jaw dropped in affront at the deliberate provocation.

“I promise I’ll only stick to the woods in this county, and I’ll let you know if I have to cross through your territory,” she said firmly, recovering quickly from the barb. “I just want to run my business and not cause any trouble.”

Her cat was no doubt pissed he’d invaded her territory, but her eyes never flashed gold. Other than the tiny shift to claws briefly, her other half never surfaced; as an alpha, he could tell. If he hadn’t known beyond a doubt- and his nose never lied- what she was, he wouldn’t have guessed that she was changeling. A few slips on her part were to be expected under the circumstances, which was a large part of the reason why he was there in the first place; he needed to see how she reacted. But the sheer amount of control she had was bizarre for someone who had only lived among humans.

“How ‘bout you join RainFire?”

She gaped at him.

“No!” she cried once she realized he was serious. Remi waited for her to elaborate upon her refusal.

“Why not?” he asked when it was obvious nothing else was forthcoming. She continued to stare at him as if he were a few bricks shy of a load.

“Leopard,” she said slowly, pointing to him. “Ocelot,” she pressed one hand over her heart. Each word was carefully pronounced.

“DarkRiver has a jaguar and a lynx, we have a tiger. The old way of thinking was hurting more’n it was helping. No room for that in RainFire.” Lorelei seemed genuinely taken aback by that; she must have deliberately avoided any and all news touching upon changelings. “Is it because of what happened at RedRock?” Women typically didn’t respond well to his bluntness unless he was seducing them, and by her full-body flinch, Lorelei It’s-Maddox-Now-Thank-You-Very-Much was no exception to the rule.

“You want an honest answer?” Thin ginger brows climbed up her freckled forehead. When he nodded, she pushed off the counter with muttered “fine” and a deep sigh.

“I just want to be left alone and nothing you can say will change my mind.” Hands on her hips, her pink lips pursed into a bow that was probably poutier than she realized.

“You’ve managed pretty well on your own, sticking to mostly human areas.” When he stood and stretched to his full height her breathing and heart rate quickened, but otherwise she gave no sign of being intimidated. “How well do you think you’ll do now without pack to protect you? On your own, you’re prey for psy, changelings with a ‘tite more dominance on you, even humans if they're cunning enough.”

“Is that a threat, Mr. Denier?” Her face was a bloodless mask, yet she held his gaze with a hard stare of her own. The contact only lasted as long as it took a heart to beat, but he felt electricity shoot through his body. It wasn’t entirely sexual, despite his reaction. There was something off about her he just couldn’t put his finger on.

“No, but this is.” The scent of fear sweat filled his nose, stronger than before. “You’ve got one month to either join RainFire or leave town. Au revoir, Ms. Maddox.” With a shallow nod of his head, he strode out the door and into the warm autumn afternoon.

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headfulloffantasies · 5 years ago

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5 Times Jim gave Bones an Order

As captain Jim gives a lot of orders. Bones isn’t always happy to comply

Ao3

1.Normally, Bones’ strange Southern sayings were endearing. But after the one time Jim asked him to tone it down, Bones took it as a challenge and ramped up the drawl.

“In a pig’s eye.”

“Bless his heart, the rest of him is worthless.”

“The porch light is on but nobody’s home.”

“Slap me twice and hand me to my mama.”

Jim was dying. He was suffocating under the weight of all the turns of phrases.

After a long and grueling ordeal transporting an Andorian ambassador and his wife, Jim pulled Bones aside.

“Tell me what you really think of the ambassador?” Jim requested.

Bones sneered. “I wouldn’t cross the road to piss on him if he was on fire.”

Jim groaned.

“Who licked the red off your candy?” Bones asked.

“No more colloquialisms, that’s an order.”

“You can’t order me how to talk, that’s discrimination.”

Jim and Bones huddled behind separate crates as Klingon phaser fire rained down.

“How can one guy shoot so fast?” Jim asked.

“Jim!” Bones waved a Klingon phaser from his hiding spot.

Relief flooded Jim.

“Shoot him, that’s an order!” Jim shouted.

“I can’t,” Bones ground out.

“Shoot him or he shoots us!”

Bones stood.

Jim’s stomach clenched.

Bones spun the Klingon phaser in his hand and threw it, end over end, at the attacker. It nailed the Klingon right between the eyes. The Klingon dropped like a sack of potatoes.

Jim dove from his cover and fell on the Klingon, knocking aside his weapon and pinning his hands. It didn’t matter. The Klingon had lost consciousness when his head connected with the weapon Bones had literally yeeted at him. Go figure. Jim snapped a pair of cuffs on the Klingon.

Bones crept out of his hiding spot, his face ashen.

“Bones I gave you an order.” Jim grunted.

“And I took an oath,” Bones bit back. “Never to end any lives. I broke it once, I’ll never do it again.”

The weird mass of furry tentacles undulating in Bones’ arms gave Jim a warning growl when he tried to pet it.

“Say hello to Rosa!” Bones beamed. Pink and purple arms waved sedately.

Paranoia clawed up Jim’s back. “It’s not going to kill us in our sleep, is it?”

Bones scowled. “Don’t be such a baby. She’s harmless.”

Jim groaned. “Alien pets are not allowed onboard, Bones.”

“Not a pet,” Bones argued. “I’ve sanctioned her as a medical research animal. Cuddles are just a side effect.”

“If I make it an order, will you get rid of it?” Jim rubbed at his forehead.

Bones narrowed his eyes. “Just try it, boy.”

Bones was wearing a T-shirt. Bones was wearing a T-shirt on the bridge. Bones was wearing a T-shirt on the bridge that read in big bold letters “Space Slut”.

He’d completed the look with a pair of ridiculously huge dark sunglasses and flowered Hawaiian swim trunks.

Chekov fell out of his seat howling with laughter. Sulu smothered his giggles in his control panel. Uhura wolf whistled.

Bones cocked a hip. “Happy Birthday Jim.”

Jim’s grin spread from ear to ear. “Thank you Doctor McCoy,” he teased. “Doctor McCoy, you are out of uniform.”

“Yessir!” Bones snapped an insolent salute.

“Doctor McCoy, your punishment for breaking regulation is to report to engineering at nineteen hundred hours for the party and drinks.”

“Yessir!” Bones grinned.

“Now take that off, that’s an order.”

“Never on a first date.”

“Captain?” Nurse Chapel’s hesitant voice crackled over Jim’s communicator.

He fumbled it in his haste to answer. “Yes?”

“You’re needed in the medbay. Dr. McCoy is… um, you better come see.”

Jim snapped the comm shut and ran, full tilt to the lift.

The medbay doors didn’t open fast enough. Jim clipped his shoulder as he threw himself into the white walled room.

Nurse Chapel looked up in alarm.

“Where is he?” Jim gasped.

Chapel pointed mutely at Bones’ office.

Worry rose in Jim’s gut. Too many times he’d found his friends hurt or in despair. He wasn’t sure he could face it right now. Jim swallowed hard. He slammed his hand on the door command. It slid open.

Bones jumped. He sat at his desk, eyes wider than an owl’s.

“Jim?”

“What did you do?” Jim demanded, towering over Bones.

Bones frowned, eyes flickering between Jim and his workstation. “Nothing?”

Jim’s gaze roved over Bones, searching for hidden injuries. Nothing seemed wrong, but Bones’ breath came fast and his foot tapped spasmodically on the floor.

“Chapel called me,” Jim explained.

Bones hissed. He stood and marched to the door.

“Leave me alone, woman!” Bones yelled.

“Go to sleep!” Chapel shouted back.

More than a few patients jumped at the outburst.

Bones slammed the door shut again, paced back to his desk, stopped, and skittered over to the coffee machine gurgling in the corner.

“Bones?” Jim watched the jittery movements of his friend. “When did you last sleep?”

Bones shrugged jerkily. “Work to do,” he excused. He filled a coffee mug to the brim and downed the contents while Jim watched in horror.

“How many coffees have you had?” Jim asked.

“It’s in the low twenties.”

Jim’s heart seized in sympathy. “Are you kidding me?”

“What? I used to do this in college.” Bones turned back to the work at his desk. Jim noted the way Bones’ knee bounced.

“That was twenty years ago.”

Bones scowled. “I’m not that old.” As if to prove himself, he got up and refilled his mug again.

Jim snatched the mug away. “No more caffeine, that’s an order.”

“You can’t stop me,” Bones growled. He scuttled over to the coffee pot and clutched it close. “If I want to drop dead of a heart attack, that’s my prerogative.”

Jim sighed. “You do know I’m your captain, right?”

“Yes, but I’m insubordinate.”

“Jim!”

Jim leaped a foot in the air and took off running. The poor ensign he’d been speaking with watched with her mouth hanging open as the captain was chased off the bridge by the chief medical officer.

Jim ran all the way to the cafeteria before his wheezing lungs urged him to stop. He spotted Spock crossing the mostly empty room with a tray of food.

Jim zipped over. “Hide me!”

Spock raised an eyebrow.

“James Tiberius Kirk!”

“Too late,” Jim moaned.

Bones stomped over. Jim hid behind Spock.

“Spock, move,” Bones demanded, his eyes never leaving Jim’s.

“Spock, stay here, that’s an order,” Jim countered. Spock remained rigid.

“Do we have to do this every year?” Bones asked. “It’s one physical exam. You’ve had dozens of exams in the last six months, why is this so hard?”

Bones made to grab Jim. Jim danced around Spock in the opposite direction. Bones lunged. Jim dodged. Spock didn’t engage, except to raise his tray above their scrambling limbs.

“It’s a medical order, Jim,” Bones growled. “You and I both have to comply.”

“In that case,” Jim ducked another attempt to grab him. “I relieve you of duty.”

“And I declare you mentally unfit for service,” Bones snapped.

A hand that did not belong to Bones landed on Jim’s shoulder. He froze. Spock looked down on him impassively. “I believe the doctor has the logical high ground in this matter,” Spock said.

“Betrayed,” Jim moaned melodramatically as Spock passed Jim over to Bones. “Stabbed in the back by my own first officer.”

“Shut up, you loony,” Bones grumbled.

#star trek #jim kirk #james t kirk #bones mccoy #Dr Leonard McCoy #5 things #5 times #star trek aos #spock #bad coffee habits #fanfic #fanfiction #fandom

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solangelover · 5 years ago

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12 Days of Gifts: Day 12

A/N: IT’S LATE SORRY but I hope you like it cuz it turned out just how I wanted :) and it’s looooong

Read on AO3 or FF.Net

Prev | --

Nico got up early on Christmas morning. Today was the day. He actually had a planned gift for Will, not all these impromptu ones he and Will had been exchanging for the past week. Well, Will’s may have been planned, but Nico’s surely weren’t.

But he did plan his present for Christmas Day. Now that he thought about it, he briefly wondered if it was too much. After all, he’d been working out the details for months. But then he pictured the smile on Will’s face, and he knew it was the right decision.

—

“Will, get up!” Someone threw a pillow at the son of Apollo’s face, effectively jolting him out of his blissful sleep.

“Huh?” he asked as he sat up groggily.

“It’s CHRISTMAS!” Two of his youngest siblings jumped onto his bed and slammed him back into the mattress. He laughed and ruffled their hair, a pleased sensation washing over him. It was Christmas! His favorite holiday. And he had all his siblings around him, their random Christmas decorations about ready to fall off the walls and doorways.

It still felt like he was missing something, though.

Kayla trudged over to Will’s bed, picking up the youngest kid. “Get up and get dressed, dummy. Your surprise is waiting.”

Will looked up at her in question as he swung his legs over the side of his bed, the other kid crawling off to get ready. “My what?”

Austin popped up next to his sister. “You heard. Now get dressed and get out the door. We’ll take care of everything here.”

With one last confused glance, Will began getting ready for the day. He pulled on his favorite Christmas sweater—light blue with a melting snowman that said, “I’ll be back!”—and dark wash jeans. As he wrapped a scarf around his neck, Austin pulled him away from the closet and towards the door. “Okay, lover boy, that’s enough.”

“Wha—Austin!” Will sputtered. “It’s cold outside!”

“Not for long.” Nothing he said made any sense to Will. He was practically thrown out the door, sending him stumbling down the steps and straight into one Nico di Angelo.

“Nico!” Will turned red immediately, straightening up and trying to figure out what was going on.

“Geez, Solace, what are you doing?”

“I—I don’t know! My siblings just kicked me out, I think.” He frowned as he looked back at the now shut door to Cabin 7. “They said something about a surprise?”

He turned back to see Nico nervously fiddling with his skull ring. He stopped then, taking a deep breath and looking up at Will. “Um, I have a surprise for you. And, I really hope you like it...”

Before Will could even respond, Nico took his hand and, with a glance as his only warning, Will found himself pulled into darkness.

—

Shadow-travel was really weird. It felt like wind rushing past you as you run and tumbling through dark waters. It was also somehow nearly instantaneous. None of it made sense to Will. He found himself stumbling and nearly falling to the ground if not for Nico’s hands clamped around his arms. Will had to take deep breaths and instinctively latched onto Nico’s arms to steady himself.

“Sorry, you okay?” Nico asked.

“Yeah,” Will panted. “Just give me a sec.” Few more deep breaths. “Shadow travel?”

Nico nodded. “Yeah, I forgot that it’s kind of disorienting at first.”

Will had gathered himself enough to step back out of Nico’s grasp. “A little bit. Are you okay? Where are we?”

Nico smiled slightly. “I’m good. Compared to the Athena Parthenos, traveling with you is nothing.” He looked around, causing Will to do the same. “Um, surprise?”

Will could only gape as he took in his familiar surroundings. The wide road, neat houses, green trees, shining sun. Even in the winter, Austin, Texas still looked good, unlike the cold and dreary New York he had been accustomed to. The boys stood in the shade of a medium-sized, faded yellow house with Christmas lights strung around the windowsills. Purple and yellow flowers filled the bed of soil near them.

Will still hadn’t responded when they heard faint Christmas music coming from within the house. Will froze, but Nico grabbed his arm and dragged him toward the front of the house. He seemed very comfortable with the situation, which surprised Will a tiny bit. It was clear that the son of Hades had planned this, but Will still didn’t have enough time to process his thoughts before he was pulled up the front steps to the door. With only a second of hesitation, Nico knocked. They heard movement inside and a second later, the door swung open to reveal a beautiful blonde woman. Her hair was done up in a messy but stylish bun and she donned a soft Christmas sweater pulled down over faded jeans.

They stared at each other, and, again, Will was too stunned to speak. Luckily, she recovered before him. “Will?”

“Mom,” he choked out, and before he knew it, she had flung the screen door back and had him in a bear hug, which he immediately returned.

“Oh, honey. I’ve missed you so much,” she drawled, her Southern accent comforting Will to his core. He hadn’t heard it in so long.

“Missed you, too.” Will found himself rapidly blinking to keep his tears from falling, even though he could already feel his shirt dampening where his mom pressed her face into his shoulder. “Sorry I haven’t visited in a while—”

“Hush, none of that. I know you have important duties at camp.” She pulled back to look in her son’s face. “I’m a busy girl, too, you know.”

Will couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah, I thought you were on tour?” No matter how long it’s been, Naomi Solace was still a talented alt-country singer with loyal fans. It’s not surprising that Apollo fell for her.

She glanced to Will’s left and Will suddenly remembered that Nico was right there, fiddling with his skull ring awkwardly. “Your friend here made sure I’d be home a couple months ago.”

Will turned to in amazement to Nico, who smiled shyly in response. “You… you planned this that long ago?”

Nico looked away and nodded. “I know you haven’t been home in a long time, and you love Christmas, so…” he trailed off.

Will shook his head in wonder. The next thing he knew, his arms were thrown around the smaller boy’s shoulders, his face buried in his hair. He couldn’t believe how incredibly thoughtful Nico was. “Nico, I… thank you. So much.” Small but strong arms wrapped around his torso and squeezed in response before letting go. Will probably could have stayed there forever, but Nico probably felt awkward with his mom standing right there.

Will looked back to his mom expectantly and found she had been watching them fondly. He cocked his eyebrow as the silence stretched on. “Oh!” she suddenly moved. “Come in, come in! It’s not as cold as New York, I’m sure, but I’m absolutely freezing! I’ve got some food in the oven, but I can make some hot cocoa for you boys as we wait…” Naomi rambled on, her Southern hospitality kicking in full force.

Will followed her into the house, pausing to grip Nico’s wrist and pull him along when he hesitated in the doorway. “Let’s go, Death Boy. Don’t you dare think about disappearing on me when you planned this whole thing.”

Nico huffed out a breath. “Well, I don’t—”

“You’re not intruding,” Will interrupted. “My mom probably made way too much food anyway.” He smiled when he felt Nico relax a little in his grip, shifting to squeeze his hand for reassurance.

—

After their brunch, Naomi was chatting happily with Nico, who nodded along and answered her random questions as best he could.

“Hey, Nico?” The boy looked up in question. “Do you have your prism? I should check in on my siblings at camp.”

Nico felt his pockets and pulled out the small prism Will had given him last week. “I’m sure they’re fine.”

“You don’t know my siblings,” Will laughed as he politely excused himself from the table.

He went out into the backyard, holding up the prism to catch some of the sunlight that peeked between the clouds. Shining the light on the wall of his house, he dug out a drachma from his pocket and threw it in. “Oh Iris, goddess of the Rainbow, please accept my offering and show me Kayla Knowles at camp.”

The light shimmered to show Kayla trying to wrangle her younger siblings in their cabin. A few new toys, and some weapons, could be seen in their little hands. “Kayla?”

She whipped around, relieved at the sight of her older brother even if he wasn’t physically there. “Will! How’s home?”

“It’s great,” he said with a soft smile. “Thanks for doing this, Kayla.”

“Oh, it wasn’t me,” she shook her head. “It was all Nico’s idea. We just had to make sure you were okay to leave.” A pillow flew across the room behind her; she just sighed.

“Still, thanks. I really missed my mom.”

Kayla’s eyes softened. “I know. That’s why we all agreed to do this.”

A beat of silence, and then Will remembered why he really called. “Oh, wait! So, what about tonight? Did Nico plan this before I planned my thing?? Has anyone come yet???”

“Will, calm down. Honestly, we’re lucky both you and Nico coordinated things with us. I told him that you guys should be back for dinner. Austin is manning the infirmary and we told people to meet him there.”

Will sagged in relief. He really had the best siblings. “What would I do without you?”

Kayla rolled her eyes. “You’d never get your man, that’s for sure.”

“Kayla!” he screeched, his cheeks heating up instantly.

“Just enjoy yourself, Will. It’ll be fine.” She smirked and waved her hand through the message. Will sighed, sending up a quick prayer of thanks to Apollo for his family, and went back inside.

—

It was around 4 PM when Nico said something.

“Um, I promised your siblings that you’d be back before dinnertime,” he said to Will. He looked uncertain, and probably uncomfortable with pulling Will away from time with his mom.

“Oh, of course, darlin’! You’ve got other family to be with on Christmas.” Will remembered his mother’s reluctance when she first let him stay at camp year-round. To see her so willing to let him go meant she truly understood the importance of his role at camp with his younger siblings. “Even if you’re still my baby, I hope you’re taking care of all your brothers and sisters.”

Will stood and hugged his mom. “Yeah, I am.”

After they broke apart, she turned towards Nico, who bowed slightly. “Thank you for having me, Mrs. Solace.”

“Oh, sweetie, we hug ‘round here.” She pulled him in and kissed his head. It was so quick, Nico didn’t even have time to hug back before she held him at arm’s length. “Thank you, hon. I couldn’t have seen my baby without you. Come visit again soon! You’re always welcome here. Oh, Will!” She spun around and grabbed a CD case off the counter. “This is my newest album. Someone in your cabin liked my music, right?”

Will laughed as he accepted the gift from him mom. “Yeah, I think all of them.” They shared another hug, and Will wished he could stay in his mother’s arms not for the first time today. But he had people who depended on him. “I love you, mom. I miss you so much.”

“I know, baby. I love you, too. Visit when you can.” They both knew they couldn’t make any promises, their lives were too unpredictable for that. But it was enough.

Will didn’t want to freak out his mom, but she said that she knew Nico had some teleportation power considering how far they had come and Will hadn’t done it before. So, Will gripped Nico’s hand tightly as they fell into the shadows. He smiled at his mom before she disappeared from sight.

—

Nico stumbled out of the shadows and would have fallen to his knees had he not been holding Will’s hand. Even disoriented, Will could feel the darkness clinging to Nico.

“Nico!” Will gasped.

“I’m good, I’m good,” Nico reassured Will, his eyes closed against the sudden light. “Just dizzy.”

“Let’s go to the infirmary and get you some ambrosia.” They took another second to gather themselves before Will led the way to the Big House, still hand-in-hand.

Nico didn’t notice anything as they walked, too busy concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other. After downing a piece of ambrosia, he felt much better. Then, he finally took in his surroundings. “Where is everyone?” The infirmary was oddly empty, and he didn’t really remember passing anyone in the camp.

Will shrugged, looking out the open door. “Maybe people are at the pavilion for dinner already. Since it’s Christmas, dinner might be early so the campfire can be longer, or something.”

“Oh, yeah, I almost forgot it’s still Christmas.”

Will gazed at him fondly. “Yeah,” he said before bridging the distance between them and pulling Nico into a fierce hug. “Thank you so so so much, Nico. I can’t believe I got to see my mom today.”

Nico paused only for a second before gently laying his arms on the son of Apollo’s back in return. “You both seemed really happy.”

Will scoffed in Nico’s ear. “Happy doesn’t even cover it.”

They broke apart and looked at each other. Their eyes told of things unsaid: gratefulness, kindness, care. Love is the only word that could encompass everything. But neither boy was ready to unpack that yet.

The moment ended when someone noisily came into the infirmary. “Oh, you guys are back!” Austin exclaimed.

Will immediately went over and gave his brother a hug. “Thanks for today.”

Austin laughed and hugged back. “No problem, bro. I hope seeing your mom was nice.”

“Even better.” Will stepped back and pulled the album out from his satchel. “My mom sends her love.”

“Oh, dude,” Austin breathed as he grabbed for the disc. “Everyone is gonna freak.”

Nico watched the brothers interact. He couldn’t help the persistent feeling of loneliness he felt from time to time when he hung out with the Apollo kids. He wished he could see Hazel, or not think about Bianca, or something along those lines. Sticking close to Will, who always made him feel welcomed, could only go so far (pretty damn far, but still).

Austin cleared his throat loudly, catching Nico’s attention. “Well,” he said a little too loudly. “I think everyone is going to dinner already, so you guys better hurry up!” He gave Will a pointed look. “Kayla has the others there, don’t worry.”

Nico didn’t think the Apollo cabin was too difficult to organize and get to dinner, but maybe the holiday just made everyone a little more hyperactive than normal. Will nodded seriously, clapping his brother on the shoulder with a sincere “thank you.”

Austin left ahead of them, leaving Nico and Will alone once again. “Feel okay, Death Boy?”

Nico nodded and got up to join Will by the door. “Yeah, all good. I just realized I probably should’ve called Hazel earlier.”

Will cocked his head in sympathy. “We’ll make sure you see her later, then. Gotta get some food in you!”

They smiled at each other and headed toward the pavilion, which was a lot louder than normal. It was glowing warmly, the light of the day fading much earlier now that they were well into winter.

Nico was used to blocking out the noise of camp, but he couldn’t help but perk up at the sound of familiar laughter. He looked intently at the pavilion, still a little too far to make out any faces. As they got closer, one face popped out and shrieked, “Nico!”

The next thing he knew, brown curls filled his vision as he was tackled to the ground in a bear hug. Nico hit the ground and could barely catch his breath as he gazed up at the girl perched above him. “Hazel?” he wheezed.

“Surprise! Merry Christmas!” She beamed down at him, her expression full of joy and love that had Nico feeling winded from more than the hug.

“You—how—”

“Hazel!” An indignant voice Nico instantly recognized as Percy’s floated down from the pavilion. “We were supposed to surprise him together!”

She giggled as she helped her brother up, who still hadn’t gotten a full sentence out. “Sorry! Couldn’t help it,” she called back.

“What are you doing here?” Nico finally choked out, still staring at his sister in awe, though he distantly recognized that all his friends were present at camp.

Hazel smiled impossibly wider as she tugged her brother along. “It’s Christmas, silly! We wanted to surprise you and see each other.” Her eyes slid to the left, and Nico felt a weird sense of almost déjà vu when he realized Will was still walking along next to them, practically glowing with happiness. Didn’t he surprise Will just earlier today in a similar manner?

“You…?” Nico gaped at Will, unable to process words at the moment.

Will smiled at him as he always did. “I just asked if everyone wanted to come back for a Camp Half Blood Christmas party,” he shrugged. “I know you missed Hazel, and I figured, why not get everyone?”

“Aww, you missed me?” Hazel teased, and Nico turned red. “Will is downplaying it, though. He practically begged us all to come, even offering to pay for travel stuff. He went on and on about how it would mean so much to you, and to the rest of the camp, how it was good for your health, blah, blah, blah.” Now Will was coloring, though out of embarrassment or indignation, Nico wasn’t sure.

“So, you… did this for me?”

“I mean,” Will glanced away nervously. “Yeah. I-I did.”

Nico basically stopped walking, trying in vain to process his overwhelming emotions. Luckily, Hazel has always had a knack for knowing how to help him. She used her hold on Nico to spin him towards Will and nudged him forward. It was enough to spring him into action, instinctively raising his arms and wrapping them around the son of Apollo. He had been doing that a lot, lately, and he couldn’t say he minded that much. The hug was brief, but sincere, communicating to Will all the gratitude Nico could muster in the moment. He didn’t even know that his loneliness was obvious, and perhaps it wasn’t to anyone but Will.

Nico didn’t get any more time to think on it as more people approached him in front of the entrance to the pavilion. “Little bro!” was all the warning he got before he was swept into another bear hug, this time from both Percy and Jason. Nico grumbled and writhed on instinct, making everyone in the vicinity chuckle.

“Dude, I’ve missed you! I almost forgot how boring the mortal world was,” Percy said.

Annabeth appeared next to him to elbow him in the side. “I’d say your life could use a little boring, don’t you?” She smiled at Nico. “Merry Christmas, Nico.”

“How have you been?” He turned toward Jason, who had been between camps so often that Nico barely saw him in the past few months.

“Good,” he simply said.

“No fading into shadows, I presume?” The regal tone caught Nico off guard, and he spun around to see Reyna striding over from one of the tables. She wore a purple Camp Jupiter sweater and black jeans, a shocking change from her usual praetor uniform that Nico always pictured her in.

“Reyna!” They shared a quick hug that reminded Nico of the big sister figure and friend he found in the praetor. He really missed seeing her around.

Nico fell into easy conversation with everyone after greetings were finished with a small wave from Frank and nods to Piper and Leo, whom he always saw around camp anyway. It was almost surreal being with everyone in such a casual setting. No impending war, no godly interference, no fear of an attack; just teens hanging out and celebrating together.

They all ended up at the Hades table, and it was then that Nico noticed everything else going on in the pavilion. People milled about at every table, regardless of where they should have been sitting. Various Christmas decorations brightened the entire place, and laughter filled the air. It was the cheeriest Nico had ever seen the camp.

His eyes were drawn to a certain blonde healer laughing with his siblings. Will looked up and met Nico’s gaze with a bright and sincere smile, which Nico returned as best he could.

“He did all this for you, you know.” Nico turned to Jason, who gave him a knowing look.

“Well, it was kind of for everyone, right?” Nico looked around, but no one seemed entirely convinced.

“Nah, man. Don’t get me wrong, I’m so glad we got to do this. But when Will contacted me and Annabeth, it was really about making you happy.” Annabeth nodded along with Percy’s words, as did everyone else.

Nico felt his cheeks heat up and he looked down, unsure of what to say. He missed the shared glances above his head as everyone tried to decide how much they should say about this.

Hazel took the lead and reach over to squeeze Nico’s hand. “I’m glad you have someone like Will around.”

Nico glanced up and smiled at his sister before turning his head to peek at the boy with sunlit hair and sky-blue eyes. “Yeah, me too.”

—

“Will!” Nico called as everyone was headed to their cabins for lights out. The Seven and Reyna were all staying for at least one night and agreed to hang out tomorrow since many were tired from travel.

The son of Apollo glanced back and grinned when he saw Nico jogging toward him. He told his sister to make sure everyone got to bed and shooed her off before turning back to the son of Hades. “What’s up?”

“I just…” Nico trailed off. “Sorry we didn’t get to talk too much at dinner and stuff.”

“Oh!” Will looked a little surprised. “No worries, Neeks! The whole point was for you to spend time with your friends. I’m just glad you got to see them. You seemed really happy.”

“Yeah,” Nico rubbed his arm bashfully. “Um, thank you. For tonight. I had no idea you were planning this.”

Will smiled—he probably hadn’t stopped smiling for the past 12 days—and shook his head. “I could say the same about your surprise for me today.” He reached out and took Nico’s hand, pleased when he didn’t pull away. “I can’t thank you enough for taking me to see my mom.”

“Guess we both had big plans for today, huh?”

“Yeah, luckily my siblings made sure it all ran smoothly,” he laughed.

They were standing pretty close together now, gazing into each other’s eyes and trying to convey everything they were feeling. It was impossible to put into words their gratitude, not only for today, but for everything that came with their friendship. There was more there, way more, but neither knew how to touch on that just yet. They were on the edge of something big, yet it felt like the next step.

“Hey, Nico?”

“Yeah?”

“I really love spending time with you.”

A beat.

“Yeah. I love it, too.”

A/N: Ah guys I did it again, I failed to begin their relationship. Slow burn or do I just love friendship that much? Hard to say. But really, I am so impressed with how this 12 days turned out, I enjoyed writing it a lot and am actually proud of what I wrote! Thanks for reading and tracking along with me! Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!

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smokeybrand · 4 years ago

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Smokey brand Movie Reviews: The Devil is in the Details

I’ve been seeing a lot of chatter abut this Netflix movie, The Devil All the Time. It’s been getting mixed reviews but they skew mostly positive. What is really surprising is all of the buzz this thing has been getting. The word-of-mouth for this flick is mad profound. No less than six people that i know personally, have told me I'd love it. This thing was definitely on my list, Netflix has stepped their cinema game up considerably, but i have been distracted by other shows like The Boys, Raised By Wolves, and Ratched. The former two are weekly releases but i wanted to finish the latter completely before i took in any more new fare. Plus, Marebito is gnawing at me for a viewing. Still, i did finish Ratched and Marebito is an older title so i figure i might as check out this Netflix produced, Tom Holland vehicle for myself and see if the best Peter Parker can really step outside the MCU and impress, like his costar, Zendaya, does. Shout out to Zendaya on that Emmy win.

The Good

I love the direction of this film. It’s very controlled, very deliberate. This film started as a gook so there is already a story to be told, the trick is telling that story but in a way that not only represents the feel visually, but staying true to the tone of those pages. I’ve read this book years ago and never expected that it would get a film adaption but this one is pretty good at that. I credit this clearly to the deft touch of Antonia Gampos. He knows this story and he tells it well. Surprisingly, this is only his fifth directorial outing. Dude should be getting much more work after this though.

This is easily one of the most f*cked up stories ever captured on film. It feels like Silence of the Lambs in that sense but far more brutal and far less controlled. I remember the book being a great deal to finish, it’s just so goddamn cruel, and seeing that translated on film is just as brutal. I love it. I love when film challenges you like this one does. I love when there is real brutality displayed because humans can be brutal. I’m a card-carrying misanthrope so this narrative is par for the course for me.

This film is violently visceral. I mean there is gore galore but it’s never gratuitous. It’s almost always in service to the plot to prove how goddamn cruel the world within this narrative truly is. It can be shocking, it can be grotesque, it is definitely off-putting, but it’s never just for the sake of shock. I always respect when films show restraint with this kind of stuff. The gore is to accentuate not the other way around.

This cast is straight up lousy with talent. Jason Clarke, Sebastian Stan, Eliza Scanlen, Pokey LaFarge, Harry Meiling, and Haley Bennett, all turn in decent performances. It was dope seeing Mia Wasikowska in something new and Riley Keough can surprise when she has a role to chew on. They even incorporated the author of the original book, Donald Ray Pollock, as the narrator. I appreciate that nod.

Tom Holland didn’t disappoint. This dude is a real talent and seeing him in something completely different than the role that made him a star, Peter Parker, is f*cking jarring. It speaks to his range and a ridiculously bright future in this business ahead of him. His turn as Arvin Eugene Russell was staggeringly emotional. This performance, alone, should devastate any talk of type casting because kid can do it all. Seriously, there is level of barbaric malice that just infects the entirety of this the younger Russell’s life and Holland captures that underlying malice perfectly

Robert Pattinson keeps showing me why he’s one of the best in the business. The more he keeps turning in performances like Connie Nikas and Young, the more he distances himself from f*cking Edward. Reverend Preston Teagard is another one of those showings that proves Pattinson is a real actor and not some pretty face or, in the case of The Batman, a jaw for a cowl. It’s wild seeing BatPats as a fat-ass, sleazy ass, southern preacher with a disgustingly accurate drawl.

I would be remiss if i didn’t mention Bill Skarsgard as Willard Russell. Dude has been one of my favorite actors since his stint on Hemlock Grove, another Netflix property, and he’s been excellent in everything I've seen him since then. Mark in Assassination Nation, Pennywise in IT, Markel in Atomic Blonde; Dude was even part of the ill-fated X-Force in Deadpool, too, as Zeitgeist. Bill is riddled all over sh*t i enjoy and his take on the elder Russell is just another reason why.

The Bad

This thing kind of jumps all over the place with the narrative. You have to pay close attention because it does take place between two generations and several families. Everyone is interconnected, which lends itself to a novel but can be quite the burden to properly display on film. It can be a little much to keep up with everything but, if you can, if you take the time, it rewards you with an incredibly well constructed relationship tree.

It feels like a lot of this cast was wasted. There re so many great actors in this thing that only get a few minutes, a few scenes, to shine and it's a little bit of a waste. I'm not saying what they gave us wasn't excellent, i was just left wanting, just left longing for more. Seemed like a missed opportunity to me.

This thing is kind of a slog. It’s a little over two hours long and, while you watch it at your leisure, in your home, it’s still a rather large committed to demand from the common viewer, especially when there isn’t any real action to be had. I’m built for slow burn movies. I love atmosphere and purposeful film making like Alien, Blade Runner 2049, or The VVitch so this is right up my alley. Those films, however, are acquired tastes that not so many people in the general public have acquired.

As much as i can praise the overall narrative and how unapologetically adapted it’s been to film, this sh*t is not an easy watch. It is truly f*cked up and a real hard story to witness. While i, personally, believe the utter barbarism on display is riveting, I've sat through Irreversible and Raw a few times so my tolerance is pretty high to the horrid, i can see how people could be turned off by all of this f*cked up. This is a story of awful people caught in even worse circumstances. Every one who is even remotely decent, dies. There are no happy endings to be had here. This movie is an exercise in the worst of humanity so if you’re looking for a light-hearted romp to get your mind off the state of the world, this ain’t, bud.

The Verdict

I loved this film. It is an absolutely excellent picture from start to finish. The way it’s shot, the vision on hand, the adherence to the time period - all of it is masterfully guiding by the expert direction from Campos. Tom Holland turns in a brutally forceful performance that carries this film filled with one of the best casts I've seen in years. Seriously, this movie has an embarrassment of riches on hand and they use them to full effect, mostly. I enjoyed every second of this movie but i can honestly say, it ain’t for everyone. This is not a fun tale. This not a good time. This is one of those movies that leaves you disgusted with humanity and that might be way too much to ask of people, especially during this, the f*cking apocalypse in real life. If 2020 were a film, it would be The Devil All the Time. Sh*t’s that bleak and it asks a lot of your time to slum it in this sordid, bloodied, world. The performances and visuals are absolutely outstanding and the way the film has been crafted makes for great cinema but, f*ck, is it a monstrous watch. If you can stomach it, i give it the highest of recommendations but this thing can be excruciating to see.

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lifblogs · 4 years ago

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Blackout: Chapter 12 - Choking Ambitions

Rating: Explicit Pairings: Destiel, Samwena Characters: Dean Winchester, Castiel, Sam Winchester, Rowena, Crowley, Asmodeus, Ramiel Word Count: 40148 Summary: The world changed after the battle on Halloween, humanity stricken with fear, and a traumatized Dean and Castiel are left trying to pick up the pieces. With Sam now ruling Hell they'll stop at nothing to end his reign and bring him home, but Sam has plans of his own and his family are at the center of it all. READ THE PREVIOUS FIC, DEATHLESS CHAPTER 1 - Something Wicked This Way Comes | CHAPTER 2 - Secrets and Lies | CHAPTER 3 - Alcohol | CHAPTER 4 - The Virgin King | CHAPTER 5 - To Hell | CHAPTER 6 - Nothing | CHAPTER 7 - Bind, Torture, Kill | CHAPTER 8 - Indistinguishable from the Part | CHAPTER 9 - Green Eyes / TRA XX | CHAPTER 10 - We Are Monsters | CHAPTER 11 - Like a Dream I Can’t Escape

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“Next!” Rowena called, as two demons who’d already fallen under her knife dragged out a third. His tongue — or what was left of it — was bleeding profusely, blood dribbling out of his mouth. And the Devil’s Trap carved into his forehead dripped blood down into his eyes. The others who had been marked by her earlier on that afternoon had already gotten themselves cleaned up. The wounds were just starting to scab.

Of course, the demons didn’t know what they were lining up outside the throne room for. Some would love the torture they were receiving, but others were hopelessly afraid of more pain. Half the demon population was more interested in doling out torture than receiving it. But that left the other half desperate and trembling to have their blood drawn.

The next demon was brought in. Rowena had him chained to the floor. The chains were attached to a hook she’d had mounted in before the throne, and the chains were her own work, wrought of magic to keep the demons from escaping.

She wasn’t sitting in the throne, though she yearned to, but standing on the dais in front of it seemed to have an effect. They bowed before her, though she was not Sam.

The demon now getting chained was kicked so he was on his knees, and he eyed the blood on Rowena’s hands.

Head bowing quickly when he noticed her eyes on him in a disapproving manner he said, “You sent for me, Your Highness?”

It didn’t escape notice that he pulled slightly at the heavy cuffs on his wrists.

“Hold him,” Rowena said to the two large demons helping her, ignoring that the one in chains had even spoken.

He wouldn’t be able to say anything for much longer, so why would his words matter now?

Rowena descended the dais, smiling at him, knife drawn, hands and wrists bloodied.

With her victim held fast, Rowena opened his mouth, roughly delved her hand inside, and found what she needed. Gripping tightly, she sliced off his tongue. It fell as a thick, snakelike wad of pink flesh onto the floor, leaking blood. What was left in his mouth and throat was a bloodied stump, thrashing madly, as if searching for the missing piece she’d taken from him. Screams left him, wild tears, and he began to choke on his own blood.

Rowena rolled her eyes.

So dramatic.

Then she got to work on the Devil’s Trap in his forehead.

The screams and pleas and begging were incoherent. Without his tongue, there wasn’t much he could do.

And now, with the sigil, just like the rest, he would not be able to leave his body.

Ah, such perfect violence for creating perfect servants.

He was picked up and dragged off, the remains of his tongue kicked to the side to gather in a little, growing pile of them. Blood decorated gold.

“Next!” Rowena called again.

The next demon was brought in.

~~~

A man walked up from the shore of a lake, a fishing rod resting over one shoulder, and a tackle box with lures held in his hand. Hefted under his arm was a cooler containing two fish. They were both a decent size — more than a decent size. The trout probably weighed in at twenty-one pounds, and the herring was surely a decent seven-and-a-half pounds. Not a horrible catch, but the man had usually been able to catch more in less time. He’d been distracted lately.

Walking up the muddy path, his boots sinking into the earth, he began to whistle. “In the Hall of the Mountain King” was the song he chose, the tune coming to him without thought. The wind carried his tune back towards the lake, as it caught at his graying hair. His beard was graying too. But the man was okay with that. His looks hadn’t changed for at least a century. And when it did change, well, that was his choice.

Back up to his house, cooler and tackle box thunk, thunk, thunking against each other every once in awhile, the afternoon sun beginning to appear through the wisp of clouds.

The first sign of trouble was that his door was unlocked.

The man set the cooler, rod, and tackle box down on the porch, door slightly ajar now that he’d tried the handle.

Damn it, he wished he had a knife.

But no, he didn’t need one.

The man hadn’t been a general for nothing.

He walked into his cabin, one hand held at the ready in case he needed to defend himself, or at least kill whoever had decided to disturb his peace.

“You have three seconds to show yourself!” he shouted, voice carrying throughout his living room and the rest of the small dwelling.

A man with wavy hair nearly down to his shoulders, and a medium-long grayish beard, dressed in a stark white suit entered from the hall that led to the sparse, but homey, kitchen.

The man lowered his hand, recognizing his brother.

Asmodeus smiled, and said in a southern drawl that the man wasn’t sure he was a fan of, “Long time, no see, Ramiel.”

~~~

Asmodeus sat at Ramiel’s kitchen table, hands folded neatly before him. Ramiel could feel disdain washing off of him as he started making tea.

“Really?” Asmodeus questioned once Ramiel set the kettle on to boil.

He leaned against the counter and crossed his arms. “I’ve been focusing on keeping calm for centuries,” Ramiel told him. “This is one of the ways I do it.”

“You’ve gone soft.”

“No, I just don’t care for Hell’s business anymore. I assume that’s what you’re here about?”

“Yes. We have a problem.”

Ramiel sighed, and rolled his eyes, shifting on his feet. The kettle wasn’t set exactly in the middle of the burner, so he grabbed the handle and shifted it.

“I’ve heard whispers,” he began, “but I prefer to stay out of whatever it is that’s going on downstairs.”

“Even with a Winchester on the throne?”

Asmodeus had a smirk on his face, one eyebrow raised slightly.

Yes, Ramiel knew that Sam Winchester was on the throne. He had some claim to it, but that claim wasn’t stronger than Ramiel’s and his remaining brother and sister’s, even if Azazel had tried to set this up years ago.

“Do you see me getting mad?”

“No, but you should.”

“And why’s that?” Ramiel set about getting his tea cup, and then going to the little pantry he had to choose his tea. He settled for a refreshing peppermint, grabbed the bag of tea leaves, an empty tea bag, and a spoon. As he set to filling the tea bag, he went on, “I wasn’t bothered with Crowley on the throne. And I heard about that mess with Vadrach. Who knows, maybe the younger Winchester will provide some solid leadership.”

“He’s holed up in New York, and he’s obsessing over his brother.”

“How is that my business?”

Asmodeus got to his feet, and slammed his fists on the table. Ramiel didn’t even flinch, he just turned to him.

“Don’t you see? The throne has been taken from us. With our Dark Lord trapped in the Cage, Hell has grown soft and unstable. Anyone seems to think they can take the throne! Vadrach was just a stupid crossroads demon who got too full of himself, and Sam’s a spoiled brat who’s got the heart of a human! Are we really going to stand for this?”

By the time he was done yelling, Asmodeus was standing right in front of Ramiel. Too close.

“Are you going to let me finish with my tea?”

Asmodeus let out a growl, and shot his hand out. Without even touching the kettle, it crunched and squealed into a misshapen lump, water bursting from where the metal had ripped. It was flung across the room, and it smashed into the wall, sticking in the plywood. Not done with his tantrum yet, Asmodeus grabbed Ramiel’s tea cup, and smashed it into the cabinet above his head. Shards went everywhere, and Ramiel just shook them out of his hair.

Deep breaths, he told himself. Just take deep breaths.

Because if he didn’t, if he let himself get angry, he’d want to get involved, and he’d kill and rage and burn everything to the ground.

I don’t care.

He didn’t care. He wasn’t supposed to. He’d forfeited the throne. Though, it was still his by right. He was the oldest.

“Enough with your tea!” Asmodeus yelled.

That did it. Ramiel flared the fire still burning on the stove, and took a step closer to his brother, a finger pointing at his chest.

“You come in here, and you whine, and for what? All because someone else has the throne? We gave it up! It’s not ours. It’s his.”

“He’s not even possessed by Lucifer, so what makes it his?”

“He is Lucifer’s.”

“Yes, his pet. Pets don’t deserve thrones.”

“Then who does? You? Me?”

“Yes!”

Ramiel shoved Asmodeus aside, and he bumped back against the table.

“Get out.”

“What?”

“Get. Out. Of. My. House. Now.”

Asmodeus straightened his suit, and brushed his hair back. He twisted his hand, turning the fire off. “We’re not done here,” he said. “Please,” he said, tone softer now. “I need you. Hell needs you.”

“Hell isn’t for me anymore.”

“Then would you at least support my claim?”

Ramiel stood, chewing on the inside of his bottom lip as he thought about it. Taking the throne back for the Princes would make sense, but… Ramiel had given that throne to Crowley instead of ascending. He just… didn’t want. And even supporting Asmodeus’ claim would have things get ugly. There would be a war. It was too soon after what he’d heard had happened with Crowley and Vadrach.

Yet, there was an anger simmering in him at the thought of Sam Winchester on the throne. His brother was right. While the Winchester had a claim, it wasn’t as true as his own. Lucifer hadn’t set him up as his successor. He’d created Ramiel for that, for ruling his armies, for possibly someday ruling Hell should anything happen.

He’d given it up.

And Sam, Sam had been born, created to be Lucifer’s. His brother Azazel had aided in that. Dripping demon blood in the mouths of infants — it’d been his little passion project. Some good it’d done him. He was dead because of it, because he’d interfered with the Winchesters.

Did having his brother’s blood in him give him a claim? Yes, to some extent, and Azazel had been the next in line. Still, Sam Winchester wasn’t a Prince. He was just someone’s failed attempt at making a king. And he was a king. He’d become a demon, seized the throne.

“If I support your claim,” Ramiel said, “then things get ugly. Then demons will come to me and ask why I’m not the one battling for the throne.”

“You can be,” Asmodeus insisted.

“So what would be the plan? Hmm? We meet with a select few demons higher up in the hierarchy of Hell, and we tell them what my plan is — oh, excuse me, your plan — and we start building an army? Do we really want a repeat of Kenesaw?”

“So you know?”

Ramiel snorted, and shook his head. He went over to take the kettle out of the wall. Shit, he’d had that for years. It’d been so reliable.

“How could I not know?” he questioned. “Word about it is everywhere. Even the monsters are talking about it. So, I’ll ask again, do you really want another Kenesaw?”

“It won’t be another Kenesaw. The angels don’t have to get involved.”

“I’m sorry, have you met them?”

“Actually, no.”

Ramiel just rolled his eyes. The kettle came free with a loud crunch. He tossed it onto the counter, sighing. He should slit his brother’s throat for ruining his tea.

“Well, I have. They will get involved. They think it’s their holy prerogative, that God set us up as the adversary and them as the soldiers to be wielded against us. We did have a few angel free years, or so I’ve heard, but if we start building an army, they’re going to do the same. Amass weapons, possess more vessels. We wouldn’t just be fighting against those loyal to Sam Winchester, we’d be fighting Heaven too. It’d be a war on two fronts, and the whole world saw how ugly that is.”

“We could do it swiftly, then,” Asmodeus pointed out. “Forgo the army. We quietly turn those to our side, and we set a traitor in Sam’s midst. He can work with us to take him down. When he’s weak, we swoop in, and we seize control.”

“We?”

“Yes, we. I want this, but you should want it too. With Azazel dead at Dean Winchester’s hands, you’re next in line. And doesn’t that anger you? We lost a brother to those jumped up hunters! They deserve to pay. Dean took one of our brothers, I say we take his.”

Ramiel went and took a seat at the head of the table, head in his hands.

“What does Dagon think of all of this?”

“She has her own pursuits.”

What those pursuits could be, Ramiel had no idea. She’d always been so grossly devoted to Lucifer, so infatuated with him that she had many weak points. Planning outside of anything that had to do with their lord was somewhat of a challenge for her. She was blinded by wanting to be by his side, and after the failed Apocalypse, she had gone even deeper underground. So this, this news that she was finally starting to stir, it piqued some interest in him.

“And those are?” he asked.

“Does it matter? If she’s stirring, then change is coming.”

“It already came.”

“And why should we just sit by and watch? We’re more powerful than anything out there! We’re more powerful than our Lord’s sloppy seconds, more powerful than the witch holding his leash. Ramiel, please. You’re telling me you can just sit here, knowing that Lucifer’s property thinks he’s allowed to rule?”

It was a good question.

Ramiel didn’t like that Sam was on the throne, but he’d worked so hard for so long to not care, to stay out of this. Losing Azazel had already done too much damage to him.

“It’s not easy staying out of it,” Ramiel eventually told him truthfully, lifting his head up. “But it’s my pursuit, and I find comfort in that. So yes, I will just sit here. Do I want to? Not entirely. You’re right, Sam doesn’t have a true claim to the throne. But neither do we anymore. We gave that up, and I’ve worked a long time on letting that go. I think you should too.”

“You are weak,” Asmodeus snarled at him.

“Get out of my house. We’re done here.”

Asmodeus sneered, and then turned on his heel. He left, and the outer door slammed so hard the wood around it splintered.

Ramiel was left sitting in his mess of a kitchen, an itch starting to form.

No, put it aside.

But even as he went to go collect his fish to start cleaning them, he couldn’t put it aside.

Sam Winchester was on the throne. A deep, deep part of Ramiel that he’d kept buried under mortar and stone and adamant, was coming to life, whispering to him through the tiny cracks that had begun to form.

No, he told himself. No.

Yes, the voice whispered.

#Supernatural #Supernatural fanfiction #spn #spn fanfiction #Blackout #fanfiction #writing #my writing

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eddieeatsass · 5 years ago

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7 and 21 for reddie😎 only if you want to❤️

Sex Magic/Sex Pollen + Blind Date from this prompt list

This combo was so interesting, it really made me wrack my brain to figure out how to meld these two concepts together. My friend Jack actually helped me come up with this idea, so thank you for making us both push the limits of our imagination!

Read On AO3

The System had been in place for nearly a decade; the population’s first ever completely computerized dating process. A computer took in all of your data, scanning your life history, your future goals, your medical status, as well as having each client fill out a ten page questionnaire. All of that information was then used to narrow down everyone in their database, giving you your most compatible mate.

There were two experiences you could choose from; The Classic, which involved a regular blind date, and The Neo, which ended with the release of their patented pheromone gas. Clients who chose the later would get to experience the sensuality and intimacy that usually resulted at the end of a successful date. Clients were able to opt out at any time during the date, if they decide they do not want to go through with the final step. Despite that, however, the public still argued about the morality of the consent issues that could arise from this practice.

Because of this outrage over the program, The Neo got used less and less over time. What was once new and exciting had now taken a back seat to The Classic.

Richie Tozier and Eddie Kaspbrak were two of The Neo’s first clients in months. Of course, the company couldn’t tell them that they’d only been paired together because they were the only two participants available, so instead, Richie and Eddie went into a blind date expecting to find their computer generated soul-mate.

It was a bright, sunny Friday afternoon when Eddie approached the dating center. He was welcomed warmly, and after reading through and signing all of the consent forms and legal documents, he was lead to a room. The building he’d arrived at was nice, the lobby had been decorated in a way that reminded its clients of why they were there; to find love. However, the room Eddie found himself in was starkly opposite.

It felt like he’d walked into a hospital. Everything was white, and the air smelt of disinfectant poorly concealed with the artificial smell of roses. In the middle of the room was a small square table, already set up with a table cloth, a candle, and two plates of pasta that couldn’t possibly be fresh. To the side there was a bed, barely big enough to fit two people but obvious in its purpose. Eddie was just considering bailing on this whole thing when he heard the door open behind him.

He turned to see a tall man stumbling in, eyes darting around the room before settling on Eddie. He was accompanied by the same worker who had brought Eddie in moments ago, but she quickly left with a curt nod, shutting the door behind them.

The two men stared at each other for one very long, very awkward moment, before the taller man took the lead.

“Hi, I’m Richie, you’re soul-mate, apparently.” Richie stuck his hand out towards Eddie, a charming but shy smile revealing a set of slightly buck teeth.

Eddie grasped his hand, shaking it timidly before deciding Richie was decently attractive. Definitely the type of guy Eddie would try and pick up at a bar. He was pleased with the introduction so far.

“I’m Eddie-” His voice was abruptly cut off by the crackle of a speaker.

“You’ve got thirty minutes before the gas will be emitted. If at any point before that you wish to end the date, you may discreetly press the button beneath the table, at which point one of our staff will be in to get you. Thank you for choosing The System as your dating course of choice. Good luck at your happily ever after.”

The voice was monotone, the disclaimer obviously rehearsed and recycled for every new date they supervised.

Eddie was quick to stifle his giggle, finding the contrast between the person’s lack of enthusiasm and the idea of finding your one true soul-mate hilarious, but unsure of how Richie would take it.

Surprisingly, Richie laughed unabashedly.

“Wow, with an introduction like that, how could we not be excited.”

Eddie let his giggle bubble up, soothed by the knowledge that Richie thought this experiment was turning out just as ridiculous as he did.

“Do you wanna see how terrible the food tastes?” Eddie asked.

“Eddie, my dear, nothing would make me happier.”

The food was awful, but that much shouldn’t be a surprise. This was a dating service, after-all, not a restaurant. The meals were probably made in giant batches, left to sit out all day and only being stirred or re-heated when necessary.

They poked at their pasta more than ate it, focusing instead on the conversation that seemed to flow freely between them. So far, Eddie had found out that Richie had recently moved to the city, was an only child but had a friend named Stan who he considered a brother, was trying to become an actor, and had a pet turtle.

“So, Eddie spaghetti,” Richie said, pointing towards the neglected spaghetti with his fork and a self-satisfied smile. “What led you to sign up for this romantic excursion?”

There it was, the question Eddie had been dreading. He knew it was going to come up, but hadn’t quite figured out a way to explain without coming across as lonely and desperate.

The truth was Eddie had gotten to a turning-point in his life very recently, where he’d had to choose between his own happiness and the happiness of others. After years of letting his mother dictate his life, choosing his school, his career, his partner, his sexuality, he’d had enough. But how could he sum that all up without Richie thinking he was a loser?

“Uhm, I came out recently…” Eddie chose that route; not quite a lie, but not the whole truth.

“Hey, congratulations!” Richie cheered, clinking his glass of water with Eddie’s before taking a sip. The action caused Eddie to startle, unfamiliar with someone congratulating him on, well, anything.

“So, you thought this might be the best way to find that special man?” Richie winked, gesturing at himself comically.

Eddie nodded, a small smile secured across his features.

“What about you?” He asked, eager to turn the attention away from himself.

Richie raised his eyebrows, as if he hadn’t been expecting the question to be turned around on him.

“Oh, uh, well my friends signed me up for this actually.” Richie rubbed the back of his neck. “But, well I guess it’s because I’ve been moping around for the past few months. Bad breakup and all that, you know. They must have decided it was time to get me back out there, and thus, here I am.” Richie gestured to the room around them, bringing their attention back to the bed that sat tauntingly in the corner.

“Apparently sex is part of getting me back out there.” Richie added, trying to make a joke out of an awkward moment.

Eddie smiled a little sadly.

“Well, if this was your friends’ idea, you certainly don’t have to, you know, act on anything. There’s no pressure.”

Richie’s featured contorted, almost as if he was offended Eddie would even suggest Richie might not want to see this through with him.

“Thanks for the out, but I hope you don’t mind if I don’t take it.”

Eddie’s cheeks tinted pink, a bashful smile causing him to tilt his head down.

“You’ve got a cute smile.” Richie murmured, almost too quiet for Eddie to pick up, before he was suddenly changing the subject.

The half hour they had to talk went by quickly, but they still found the time to discuss their entry questions for the program. They found out that they’d answered almost everything entirely the opposite from one another, leading them to question just how the algorithm worked.

“I still can’t believe you’d prefer a night at an arcade over a horse-back riding lesson for a first date.” Eddie teased, rounding back to the first question they’d been asked on their entry questionnaire.

“Hey, I stick by my guns; horses are terrifying creatures and I wish never to meet one.” Richie joked.

“I’ll have to introduce you to my friend Mike. He owns a farm and they’ve got the most gentle horses you’ve ever met. They wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

The insinuation of meeting up again after this program didn’t go unnoticed. Richie’s grin widened before Eddie realized what he’d said, slumping a bit lower in his chair and bringing the water glass to his lips.

“You know, if you want.” Eddie added, hiding his own smile behind a gulp of water.

“Already introducing each other to the friends, huh? Why Eddie, I didn’t know we were that serious.” Richie drawled in a dreadful impression of a southern belle.

Eddie’s face was flushed, his heartbeat preparing to send him to the hospital, when the overhead speakers came to life once more.

“We are now commencing part two. Please get comfortable as the gas begins to take its effects. Under the bed you will find anything you might need to make this experience more enjoyable.”

The two looked at each other with mixed expressions, the tone in the room suddenly thick with anticipation. The faint hissing of gas filtering in could be heard, but after looking around they couldn’t find its source.

Richie was the first one to move, pushing himself away from the table and heading towards the bed. He crouched down, reaching under the low bed frame and blindly feeling around until his hand met a box.

Once it was pulled out in full view, Richie and Eddie’s eyes both widened. The box was filled with an assortment of condoms, different types of lube, and even a few sex toys that were still in the package, marked with bright price stickers that implied if they used them, they were purchasing them to be taken home after.

“Wow, this is really happening.” Eddie said from where he still sat stock-still in his chair.

“Only if you want it to.” Richie said firmly, turning to give Eddie a genuine look.

“I don’t think that’s quite how it works. Soon our hormones are gonna take control and we won’t be able to help ourselves.”

“Hey,” Richie got up from his perch and walked over to Eddie, kneeling down in front of him and locking on to his gaze. “I will not do anything you don’t want me to. I don’t care what kind of crazy sex magic this is, I can and will hold myself back, if you tell me to.”

The tightness in Eddie’s chest began to loosen at Richie’s assurance, or maybe it was loosening because of the gas. Either way, Eddie found himself feeling more at ease, more confident, brazen.

He rose from his seat and passed by Richie, beginning to strip his shirt off as he walked towards the bed.

Richie was frozen in place, heart beating quickly at the mere sight of Eddie’s back. He was all tan skin and freckles and toned muscles; Richie found himself wanting to trace every curve with his tongue.

When Eddie’s hands began undoing his pants, Richie shot up and strode over within seconds, stilling Eddie’s hands with his own.

“Leave some for me, w-will ya?” He tried to joke, dry throat causing him to stumble over his words.

They couldn’t tell if the heat in the room was rising, or if it was the heat in their bodies. What had felt comfortable moments ago suddenly felt stifling. Getting rid of each other’s clothes became both lust-fueled and an attempt at regulating their temperatures.

Eddie began finding himself noticing things about Richie he hadn’t before. His hair was not an even shade of black, but rather a meld of dark browns and raven tones. It curled up in ways that made you want to run your fingers through it, and it looked so soft it was tantalizing.

Richie was noticing similar details about Eddie, like the swoop of his tiny nose and the smattering of freckles that didn’t just dust his cheeks, but scattered across his forehead and down his jaw. Richie followed the freckles down Eddie’s body, eyes glazing over as he took in the delicious planes of bare skin. When his gaze finally settled on Eddie’s cock, pink and perky, he dropped to his knees automatically.

Clients had to be free of STIs to pass through, so Richie didn’t think twice before taking Eddie into his mouth. The warmth of him on his tongue matched the warmth Richie felt all over, and the weight of the cock grounded him. He found it easy to focus on that and nothing else.

Eddie let out an unrestrained moan, letting his head tilt back as his fingers wound into that tempting hair. It was just as soft as he’d imagined, and he found himself gathering as much of it as he could in his fists.

As wonderful as it was to look down and see Richie’s mouth formed around his cock, eyes shut as he sucked with fervor unlike any Eddie had ever seen (or felt), Eddie needed more. His body tingled all over, his hole throbbed for attention, and all he wanted was for Richie to stuff him so full he wouldn’t be able to walk out of this place without assistance.

“Are you okay with topping?” Eddie struggled through his syrupy thoughts, trying to form a coherent sentence.

Richie hummed questioningly around Eddie’s cock, sending a shock of vibration up his shaft that had him cursing silently.

“Richie, are you okay with topping?” Eddie tried again, this time gritting the question through his teeth as his fingers tightened in Richie’s hair.

He got the same response, and irritation mixing with arousal caused Eddie to yank on Richie’s hair, pulling his head back and leaving him slack jawed and staring up at Eddie.

“Are you going to fuck me?” Eddie asked, all composure gone from his tone, replaced instead with desperation.

Richie smirked, raising on shaky legs and pulling Eddie close. Eddie’s hands were still tangled in his locks, causing his arms to rest on Richie’s shoulders.

“Oh Eds… I’m going to fuck you so hard you’ll be wrecked for anyone else.”

Richie leaned in, capturing Eddie’s lips in the first of their kisses. It was messy, driven by passion and an intensity that nearly knocked them off their feet.

Richie began steering Eddie backwards towards the bed, keeping their mouths connected with melding tongues and swallowed moans.

When Eddie felt the mattress hit the back of his legs, he turned around and crawled across the bed on all fours, lowering his chest until it touched the bed so his ass was in the air. He reached back with both hands, spreading his cheeks and presenting his hole to Richie. It was such an unexpected lewd pose that it nearly had Richie choking on air. Eddie looked like a cat in heat, bearing himself completely to be at the mercy of Richie.

“You better make good on your promise.” Eddie challenged, his voice a bit breathless.

Richie grabbed a bottle of lube from the box provided and hastily joined Eddie on the bed, his excitement causing him to stumble momentarily.

Richie’s chest was tightening, a slow spring getting ready to launch him into the abyss of infatuation. He was already completely taken with Eddie, but now, with the addition of the pheromones, he felt completely consumed by his obsession over this boy.

Richie was quick to squeeze some lube out onto his fingers, surprised when the smell of cherries drifted up to his nose. He looked at the label on the bottle, seeing it was indeed marketed as cherry flavored, and made a mental note to test it later when he wasn’t so hyper-focused on getting as deep inside Eddie’s guts as possible.

Richie brought a single digit to Eddie’s hole, admiring for a moment how pink and pretty it was; like a small flower waiting to bloom. He teased around the ring of muscle, enjoying the way the skin twitched in response, before he experimentally began pushing in.

Richie was surprised as Eddie’s hole essentially sucked him in, pulling him through the warm channel until he was up to his knuckle.

“I… may have stretched before coming here…” Eddie admitted, wiggling back into Richie shamelessly.

Richie’s brain was spinning, partially from the gas but mostly from the sight in front of him. Eddie was taking him so well, so eager to be stretched open and fucked good, and boy would Richie deliver.

After a few pumps and twists of his finger, Richie was already able to add another. In addition to Eddie having already stretched himself, a side effect of the gas was that it relaxed you, loosening your muscles and making your body more pliant. So Richie was able to get three fingers deep in record time, having received not a single complaint from Eddie, but instead continuous encouragement and hip swivels.

At this point, Eddie was basically fucking himself back on Richie’s fingers, and Richie legitimately considered letting him get off just like that. However, Richie’s own length was feeling ignored, so he shelved that idea for another day.

Richie removed his fingers, soothing Eddie’s whine with kisses along his back as Richie reached towards the box for a condom.

“No, n-no condom.” Eddie panted, trying to pull Richie’s hand back towards himself.

“Wha- are you sure?” Richie asked, despite his heart rate skyrocketing at the idea of being inside Eddie completely bare.

Eddie nodded, accompanied with a little moan.

“I want to carry your load inside me for the rest of the day.”

That’s all the encouragement Richie needed to convince him. He let his forehead rest between Eddie’s shoulder blades for a moment, letting out a shaky breath as he tried to compose himself so he didn’t cum then and there.

“You are going to kill me if you keep saying things like that.” Richie huffed out.

Eddie wiggled his ass back against Richie once again, only now that Richie was hunched over him, Eddie was grinding right back into his lap, the thick head of Richie’s cock catching on Eddie’s rim every few seconds.

“Then shut me up.” Eddie challenged coyly.

Well, Richie might only last a few seconds, but at least they’ll be a blissful few.

Richie drew back his pelvis, lining himself up with Eddie and pushing in without hesitation. The resulting moan was wanton, filling the room with a small echo that bounced off the walls. Richie momentarily wondered if these rooms were soundproof, and tried to think back to when he’d been walking through the halls. Had he heard anyone? Were there people listening to his most intimate moments right this second?

Eddie’s tight heat clenching around him was enough to shake those thoughts from his head. If they wanted to listen, then god bless them, because Richie would put on a show.

He pulled his hips back before pistoning forward with a vigor that knocked a choked moan out of Eddie. Richie quickly set a tempo that had Eddie unable to keep quiet, making sure to angle himself in a way that he found Eddie’s prostate, and keeping himself aimed towards it with every thrust.

“Fuck fuck hhhhhnnnnnngggg- so full.” Eddie groaned, reaching one of his hands down to his abdomen and pressing in, as if he might be able to feel Richie within him.

“So tight.” Richie responded, petting down Eddie’s back.

“I don’t know if it’s the g-gas but I don’t think I’ve ever been fucked this g-good- oh my god yesssss right there.”

Eddie was meeting Richie thrust for thrust, the sound of skin slapping together the only thing that could be heard apart from their moans.

“That’s not the gas- fuck- it’s all m- mmmmmm- all me, baby.”

Normally Eddie would hate a cocky response like that, but right then it went straight to his cock, causing it to twitch and release a heady string of pre-cum. He could tell he was going to cum soon, could feel the tightening in his balls and the constricting of his abdomen.

“I’m gonna cum, Richie- ‘m gonna- ahhhhh-”

Richie reached a hand around to Eddie’s front, grasping his cock in a gentle hold and giving it the attention it craved. Within seconds Eddie was spilling over Richie’s deft fingers, soiling the bed beneath them with waves of his release.

It took Richie another few minutes to cum, fucking into Eddie’s overstimulated hole to chase his own high. Eddie didn’t complain, didn’t wince away or whine, he just stayed open and willing, a vessel for Richie to get off.

When Richie finally finished and pulled out, Eddie collapsed on the bed, too far out of his mind to care that he was laying in his own cum, or that Richie’s was dripping out of him.

Richie lowered himself down beside Eddie, catching his breath as he let his eyes wander over the man’s lithe form. He wasn’t sure what the protocol was after having sex-gas initiated intercourse with a stranger. Did you cuddle? Kiss? Was he allowed to ask him on another date?

As the gas induced haze started to leave their minds, they became more and more aware of the state of them.

“Do you think they have showers here?” Eddie’s voice chirped up after a long silence. It was smaller than before, shy, maybe, which Richie thought to be endearing after he’d been begging for Richie to destroy him mere minutes ago.

“I hope so. I’m not too keen on the idea of walking home covered in my own spunk.”

Richie heard a small giggle, and when Eddie turned to face him he just about stopped Richie’s heart.

The smile on his face was radiant, shining up into his eyes and directly into Richie’s soul. Richie nearly missed his next few words, too busy falling so hard he thought he may get a concussion.

“I’ve always hated that word. Spunk.” Eddie repeated it, scrunching his nose up in disgust.

Richie wasn’t aware of his hand moving until it was curling a lock of Eddie’s hair around his ear, fingers drifting down to his cheek bone and along his jaw. Eddie’s face fell into a new expression, surprised, but also inquisitive and searching.

Richie let his hand settle on to Eddie’s neck, thumb grazing back and forth over his jaw. He locked in to those hazel eyes before slowly, carefully, leaning into Eddie’s space and placing a gentle peck on his lips.

Eddie responded with a light press of his own lips, eyelids fluttering shut only for them to pop back open when the kiss ended before he was ready.

“Eddie…” Richie took a breath, stilling himself before continuing. “Will you go on a date with me? A real date?”

Eddie bit the inside of his cheek, trying to keep his grin from showing through. He tried to calm his heart down before responding.

“On one condition.”

Richie raised an eyebrow.

“The food has to be better than that slop.” Eddie nodded towards the table where their forgotten dinner laid.

“Of course, Eddie Spaghetti.” Richie smiled before recapturing Eddie’s lips.

#reddie #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #reddie fanfic #reddie fanfiction #reddie smut #reddie lemon #reddie fluff #reddie blink date #reddie prompt #it #it fanfic #it fanfiction #my posts #my writing #constantreaderfool #ask

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vierschanzentournee · 5 years ago

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1 and 3 for the bookish questions? 🥰👀

hayley i have literally no idea when you sent me this sorry but THANK YOU SM!!

1. What is your favourite book and/or book series of all time?

Okay I have two (2) favourites series and I could literally talk abt them all day so like. Sorry in advance.

They’re both by the same author, Sebastien de Castell (who’s releasing the first book in a new series... soon? July, I think!), who I clearly owe my entire life to!

The first is the Greatcoats series, which was his first, and has four books - essentially, the Greatcoats were once travelling magistrates who enforced the King’s Law in the nation of Tristia, until a bunch of assholes (the Dukes) rise up against the King, overthrow and execute him, and leave the Greatcoats a) unemployed and b) hated and reviled throughout the country. They’re narrated by Falcio val Mond, First Cantor of the Greatcoats, and also the world’s stupidest man, who somehow manages to be both incredibly endearing and supremely irritating, and for whom I would absolutely give my life if he wasn’t so keen to die all the time. Before his execution, the King (whom Falcio absolutely adored) gave each of the Greatcoats a special order (there were 144 of them, so I’m not sure how he had time, but whatever) - Falcio’s is to find one of the King’s charoites. Unfortunately, he has no idea what the fuck that is, he’s broke, his best friends Kest and Brasti aren’t even sure why they stick with him anymore (actually, that’s unfair to Kest, Kest is extremely loyal to Falcio above all else for the whole series), and THAT is where the first book, Traitor’s Blade, begins! (SPOILERS from here onwards!) Falcio finds his charoite about halfway through the first book in the form of a 13-year-old girl called Aline - the same name as Falcio’s wife, who was brutally raped and murdered by a local Duke when they were 20. At the end of the book Falcio realises Aline is in fact the King’s daughter (although, to be fair, Brasti realised it first) and the rest of the series is essentially Falcio trying to protect Aline (major spoiler: this does not work and she dies halfway through the last book and I cried SO HARD) and fighting back against various groups that threaten Tristia and the Laws he worked so hard to uphold back in the day. Along the way, he gets a girlfriend (who becomes Saint of Mercy in the third book and was, somehow, once possessed by the memory of his dead wife Aline), reunites with various former Greatcoats who hate his ass to varying degrees (but like, lovingly, for the most part), has extremely cute emotional bonding moments with Kest and Brasti (like the time Falcio was poisoned and was paralysed for longer and longer every time he woke up and Brasti decided to put a coffin over him one morning for funsies! I love him very much), and collects, by my count, at least 4 children (or at least people he cares for in a Very Paternal Manner).

The second series is called Spellslinger, and it has six books because life is good and SdC writes fast (side eyes @ Scott Lynch). The premise is this: Kellen comes from a people called the Jan’Tep, whose entire society essentially is built around the magic they wield. When Jan’Tep children turn 16, they must take their trials to become mages - if they fail, they are sent away from their family to become a part of the Sha’Tep, who are pretty much the Jan’Tep’s slaves. Kellen’s problem is this: he’s, like, two days away from turning 16, and he has pretty much no magic. All Jan’Tep have six “bands”, representing the different elements of magic: iron, silk, sand, breath, blood, and ember - there’s a seventh element too, shadow, but Jan’Tep children are not banded in shadow, as it’s considered evil. Sparking a band basically means you’re able to wield the element of that band - to pass your mage’s trials, you need to have sparked two. At the start of the first book, Kellen still hasn’t sparked any. His father is a powerful clan leader, his mother is a talented mage, and his younger sister Shalla is a prodigy with unheard-of talent, and yet Kellen, despite everything his parents have tried, has little to no magic, and seems destined for a life among the Sha’Tep. The book opens with Kellen’s first trial, his duel, which he’s just about managing to bluff his way through until Shalla (fucking Shalla) realises he’s cheating, and, in some wild attempt to make him find some power or something, literally stops his heart. He’s saved by a mysterious red-haired woman called Ferius Parfax, who speaks with the equivalent of a Southern drawl and is just kind of wildly competent at pretty much everything. I’m now at risk of literally just rewriting the entire first book here so: Kellen spends more time with Ferius, although it’s discouraged, continues to fail his mage’s trials, uncovers a Sha’Tep rebellion conspiracy fuelled by a rival Jan’Tep clan leader, and, crucially is counterbanded by his parents - that is, his parents fill his bands with molten metal and magic sigils which mean he’ll never be able to spark them. This is a horribly painful process, emotionally and physically, to which Kellen never agreed, and he’s literally strapped down to a table for days - he discovers that his grandmother banded him in shadow, a strictly forbidden practice, and that he has the shadowblack, considered a terrible affliction which probably hints at some terrible inner darkness, although throughout the first book the main effect for Kellen is just some dark markings around his left eye. With the help of a violent squirrel cat, with whom Kellen can somehow communicate and whom he freed from a Jan’Tep cage several days ago, he manages to escape before his parents counterband his breath band, and he sparks it - it turns out that he was actually as powerful as Shalla, but the things his parents made him take to “cure” his weakness were in fact suppressing his power. Long story short, the counterbanding and the shadowblack kind of... end his hopes of a normal life in Jan’Tep society, and so he runs away with Reichis (the squirrel cat) and Ferius (who, as it turns out, is Argosi - a traveller who kind of... not quite predicts things, but notes the likely course of events in the world around her) to become an outlaw - specifically, a spellslinger, an outlaw mage who has a little magic, a few tricks, and their hopefully sharp wits to live by.

Tragically, Kellen’s wits are not very sharp, and he spends the next five books being kind of terrible at being an outlaw, crying after every single fight he’s in (verbatim, “I always cry after a fight”), developing a very sweet mentor-student/parent-child relationship with Ferius, reuniting with his childhood crush Nephenia (who had to leave the Jan’Tep for... reasons), becoming best friends with the squirrel cat, getting separated from Ferius for two books, and tearfully reuniting with her in the final book, after which she prompty nearly dies.

So. Uh. I’m super sorry, I was UNAWARE of exactly how much happened in Spellslinger (like, the first book, which is also titled Spellslinger) in particular, and I just really love talking about them! I’m an absolute sucker for found family dynamics and characters learning to appreciate both themselves and the people around them, and both series are absolutely full of that!

3. What is the oldest book you have ever read? (Based on its written date)

I’m currently reading the Odyssey for my school’s epic reading group (as in, a group for reading epic literature, not just... it’s really cool), so I suppose it’s that!

#long post #LONG LONG POST #the greatcoats #spellslinger #ah damn i post them on my other blog usually #hay-bale

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boundpredator · 4 years ago

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One Night Stand

{TW: murder, mentions of abuse}

One manicured finger circles the rim of her martini, her engraved brass ring glinting despite the poor light of the bar.

"I must say, you are the most beautiful woman in this entire bar." The older man smiles, his salt and pepper hair giving his age away more readily than his botoxed face does.

She flashes a smile, her perfect teeth bared in what he perceives as her interest. "I do believe you're just tryin to butter me up, sugah." The pad of her finger dips into the glass, a drop of the clear liquid beading on her skin before she continues tracing the rim.

The man smiles, leaning in. She can smell the whiskey, heavy on his breath despite the full tumbler in his hand. He’s probably been drinking for hours, but that doesn’t change anything. "I can't help it. Ever since you walked by, I've had the most ungentlemanly thoughts." The brunette‘s pleasant expression doesn’t flinch as the palm of his hand begins to slide up her bare leg, his fingertips playing with the hem of her skirt.

This was the moment she had been waiting for: grabbing the sloppy mess he calls a tie with her left hand, her clutch dangling from her wrist, she pulls him to her. Lips finding his ear, she whispers in a heavy southern drawl, "First we finish our drinks, then I'm gonna let you live out each one of those thangs you been thankin 'bout." Right hand hovering over his drink, her thumb presses a tiny latch on her ring. The top, engraved with a dagger, flips open and the fine white powder falls into the amber liquid in his glass. A twist of her wrist causes the poison ring to close again just as she pushes him back. The lusty haze in his eyes lets her know he'll be downing his whiskey and GHB probably before she even brings her own glass to her lips.

Her eyes never leaving his, the brunette picks up her martini glass, taking a sip of her water, wrinkling her nose as if it carried the sharp bite of alcohol. Cocky grin in place, the man swirls his whiskey in the glass before turning it up, downing every drop. The woman simply smiles.

"Looks like you're anxious to get me upstairs." Abandoning her drink, she stands and heads to the elevator. Whispering to herself, "Three, two, one."

When she finishes her count down, have can hear his clumsy stagger directly behind her. "Hold on, baby, you need me and my key."

She can't help but roll her eyes, still smiling. "Of course, sugah. Just lead the way." Taking his arm, the green eyed woman watches for any sign that the drug is taking its effects.

Once inside the elevator, it's a matter of seconds before his hands are all over her, roaming her body. Suppressing the nausea that punches her in the gut, she plays along. A soft moan here, a tug at his shirt, all the right signals to promise him the time of his life once in the room.

Her efforts pay off as the door opens and his near lifeless body slumps against her. Pulling his arm around her shoulders, she half carries and half drags him to the room she already knew was his. The smell of his rancid breath combined with the heft of his weight causes her to stagger. Anyone watching would believe it’s just a drunken couple trying to make it to their room. Looks are usually deceiving like that. Leaning him against the door, she pulls her lip between her teeth as she searches his pockets for the key card. Pushing it into the lock, she quickly pushes down the knob. It's hard to hide her satisfaction at how his head bounces on the cheap carpet of the hotel floor.

"Oopsy daisy!" Ginning wide, she steps over him before grabbing his arm. She steadies her grip on his forearm, so the delicate bones of his wrist don’t separate, and drags him inside. Grateful for the automatic locking door, she smirks. "You could have waited to go to sleep on the bed, dear."

Bending at her knees, the woman hooks her arms under her unconscious companion's shoulders. With a loud grunt, she heaves him onto the bed. Though he outweighs her considerably, she has enough faith in her nightly squats routine to move him. Methodically, she undresses him, dropping his clothes into a pile beside the bed. It’s not easy to make it look like a man undressed himself, but it’s a skill she’s developed. Quickly wiping the buckle of his belt and any other buttons that may have caught her prints. She knows she has to work fast.

He may not be dead, but that was only temporary. Diego Montez was known for three things. His association with the mafia, his heroin addiction and his taste for women. This was the image he presented to friends and family alike. Few people knew of his child trafficking, or that he carried, by her estimates, one hundred thousand dollars from his underground venture with him from place to place. There had to be ledgers and notes on his sales and associates. The man was a shrewd business man. There’s no doubt he would record everything, and in a hotel room, there was only one place he would keep his stuff.

Dropping to her knees in front of the closet, she slides the door open. With a smirk in place, she opens her wristlet. Pulling out a black card, she's careful to not to tangle the cord hanging from it. One quick swipe and the tiny computer attached to the other end quickly scrolls through the numbers zero through nine before they find the right four digit combination that causes the little door to swing open.

"And they said digital locks would be harder… it was harder when you had to listen to the tumble and click."

Her quip ends suddenly when she sees her haul. Nine stacks of cash, four inches high and all the little tools he needed to chase the dragon. With a giggle, she claps twice. "He made this too easy." As she unloads the cash, there’s a treasure waiting on her. Two books: one full of numbers and the other serving as the key to unlock the code of numbers. While the money is a nice surprise, these two little books are far more valuable. With them, she can take down an entire web of pain…

As she approaches the unconscious man with the lethal dose of heroin, she can already read tomorrow's headlines "Suspected Underboss Found Dead From Overdose."

The night had gone better than she expected. A potential one hundred thousand dollar haul ended up being a nine hundred thousand pay off with an escape route /and/ a virtual map of evilness. If only all her targets made her calling this easy. A needle in pervert, eight hundred thousand dollars at a battered women and children's shelter and a hundred thousand more in her own bag finds her catching the next bus out of town the following dawn. The emerald eyed murderess doesn’t know where this bus is going, not that she would care even if she knew. She had her destinations in mind. She just had to connect the dots to get there.

#story #macavico #original character #in my Fanny Pack

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sheerfreesia007 · 5 years ago

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Fallin’ All In You (Pt. 18)

Title: Fallin’ All In You (Pt. 18)

Pairing: Agent Whiskey x Reader

Author: @sheerfreesia007

Words: 2,499

Warnings: Mentions of violence, blood, fighting, knives, firearms

Tags: @cosmo-bear, @two-unbeatable-beaters, @randomness501, @sevvysaurus

Author Notes: I know I had a previous chapter that had fighting in it and I probably should have included a warning for it and I’m sorry. This chapter I wanted to explore more of the fighting scene and see if I could write a fighting scene with detail. Let me know what you think.

Whiskey is only mentioned in this chapter like in the last chapter the reader was only mentioned but I like seeing the two sides of the relationship when they’re not together. This the 2nd to last part of the angst arc, then it’s back to fluff which I’m excited for. Thanks for reading!

Gif Credit: Google

It was an easy mission. You and Tequila were sent down to Florida because there was word that a new informant broker had landed and the agency wanted to know any information that he had. Only problem that the agency came across was that the broker was like a ghost, no digital footprint at all and that was starting to scare I.T. You and Tequila had effortlessly found him based off some rumors going around about his meetings. And you had figured out rather quickly that he was using old espionage techniques in lieu of the more technologically advanced ones that the agency was so used to. You were actually quite excited to meet with the broker just to learn some of his techniques, especially with HAM radio you had seen him with once.

What wasn’t so easy was that when you and Tequila had stopped to grab a nicer lunch to celebrate the success of the mission in a fabulous Cuban restaurant not far from your hotel you had been spotted by an old target named Sahara. The restaurant had been lively as the two of you had been seated at a small table on the patio to take in the warm air of southern Florida. You and Tequila were laughing contentedly at a little kid that was making faces at Tequila who then made silly faces back at the kid. Just the feeling of tranquility that was flowing through you was setting your whole body and mind at ease.

“So, have you talked to Whiskey lately?” Tequila questioned with a relaxed smile directed at you. You shook your head softly and the smile fell off your face rather hurriedly. You were worried about your relationship with Jack. He hadn’t been around HQ when you and Tequila had been called away on the mission and you hadn’t gotten a chance to say goodbye to him like you normally did. You had left him a voicemail on his cellphone but you hadn’t heard anything back according to your cellphone screen. “What’s the matter?” Tequila queried softly with concern.

“I left him a voicemail the night that we left because he wasn’t at HQ. But I never heard anything back.” You explained as you showed him your phone from across the table. You felt a little helpless because you wanted to speak to Jack and you wanted to fix your relationship, but if he didn’t want to talk to you then how could you fix your relationship. Tequila took the phone from your hand and frowned down at it.

“Sweetheart, you forgot to reset your phone after that last update from I.T.” Tequila announced knowingly. You looked over at him hopefully as his fingers danced across the phone screen and you watched as it rebooted in his hands. When the phone came back to life and showed the picture you had taken of Charcoal a few weeks ago your eyes quickly noticed the notification of a missed phone call and a voicemail waiting for you to listen to. Your spirits began to lift and Tequila nonchalantly handed the phone back to you with a bright smile. “Jack knows what he’s got when he’s got ya sweetheart. He’d be stupid to just give you up over a silly fight. Plus if he does give you up over that fight then he’s not worth your attention.” Tequila confessed firmly staring at you in the eyes.

Suddenly you felt a searing pain lance across the top of your hand and you hissed in pain as your eyes darted down to your hand and saw a shiny silver throwing knife sticking out of the top of your hand. Your eyes widened and instantly you and Tequila were in motion. Tequila flipped the table to become a shield for the two of you and the patrons of the restaurant all began yelling and screaming in chaos to get away from the danger. You yanked the knife out of your hand before scanning the restaurant as you ducked behind the table with Tequila. You spotted Sahara Ahmed an old target that you had dealt with a few months ago that was an arms dealer supplying to the wrong group here in America.

“It’s Sahara.” You gasped out to Tequila as you held your injured hand close to your body. Pulling up the tank top you wore you used the throwing knife to cut a strip from it and you handed it to Tequila so he could tie it tightly around your hand. “Thanks.” You said gratefully.

“You know I got your back sweetheart.” Tequila said casually before he turned and peered around the table. “Alright looks like she’s holed up near the bar. I see at least three bodyguards. I’ll get the grunts you go for Sahara?” he described the scene to you and you nodded silently. You prepared yourself to quickly dart out from behind the table by pulling your desert eagle from its holster on your ankle. “Go!” shouted Tequila and you were sprinting around the tables into the main part of the restaurant. You didn’t bother to check on Tequila because you knew his skill set and knew he’d be more than capable of taking out the bodyguards.

Your eyes quickly surveyed the main room as you took cover behind a pillar. Sahara was taking cover over by the bar and you watched her peer over the bar top and instantly spotted you. You flinched back behind the pillar as gunshots rang out in the room and you felt the bullets hit the pillar behind you.

“Long time no see agent.” Came Sahara’s silky voice as she cooed at you from across the room. You peered around the pillar again and saw her long dark curly hair from over the bar top and you aimed effortlessly at her hairline. You took a shot and heard her scream. “You fucking bitch!” You waited and then heard running footsteps and you peered around the pillar again. You saw Sahara’s teal dress swiftly moving through the swinging door that you figured led into the kitchen.

“Tequila! I’m going after Sahara.” You yelled out to your partner before you moved from the pillar. You lifted your injured hand up to the earpiece that you still had in your ear and called into Communications. “Comm10 we’ve got hostiles at the Cuban restaurant. Tequila’s handling three grunts and I’m following Sahara Ahmed.”

“Copy that Curaçao. Be advised all staff are out of the kitchen and restaurant.” Came the answer from your communications liaison in your ear and you knew Tequila heard it too.

“Copy that.” You responded softly as you made your way over to the door. You peeked through the window at the top of the door and didn’t see Sahara at all. You pulled your desert eagle close to your body and pushed the door open slowly. Suddenly a large wooden chopping block came flying full force at your face and you ducked quickly. The chopping block missed you but you felt a hand grab at the front of your tank top and dragged you into the kitchen effortlessly throwing you to the floor. Your desert eagle flew across the floor and you scrambled to get back up onto your feet.

Just as you got to your feet you felt a hard swift kick to the back of your thigh that was meant for your knee and you stumbled forward into the long prep table that sat in the middle of the kitchen. Your hands scrambled across the table and grabbed a frying pan that was sat there. Whirling around you were prepared for Sahara’s attack. She was wielding a large chef’s knife and began trying to stab and slice at your body. You successfully deflected blow after blow until she was able to step closer to you and nicked you right below your shoulder bone. Hissing in pain your uninjured hand grabbed at a container filled with hot black beans and you flung it at Sahara. She screamed in pain as the hot beans hit her skin burning her.

“You little bitch! I’m going to end you.” She snapped angrily and began moving quicker with the knife. Again the frying pan came to your aid and you used it to deflect the knife as you advanced on you. You mirrored her steps and backed up towards the back wall where you had noticed more frying pans hung on hooks. When you were close enough you kept Sahara distracted and reached back for a frying pan. Your hand closed around the handle and you forcefully brought the pan down on the side of her head. Effectively knocking her out, her body slumped to the ground and you stood there breathing heavily for a second.

Tequila burst the kitchen door and you looked up instantly holding the frying pans out defensively. It took Tequila a second to wrap his head around what he was seeing and when he finally did he began to laugh loudly and uncontrollably. You huffed annoyed at him as you still tried to catch your breath from fighting Sahara. She had gotten better, you admitted to yourself.

“Oh Cur.” Tequila drawled out jovially. “I can’t wait to tell Whiskey about this look you got going.” He teased with a wide and bright grin.

“Shut up Tequila, it’s what I could find while Sahara tried to gut me with a knife.” You huffed out in annoyance at his teasing.

“It’s a good look.” Tequila admitted as he walked over to you. He found your desert eagle and quickly handed it to you as he got close enough. You smirked at him and flipped the frying pan in your hand smoothly.

“It’s a good weapon.” You admitted and the both of you began laughing loudly together. As the two of you got a hold of yourself you wiped away the tears that leaked out of your eyes. “The agency will want to interrogate her. Find out how she got out because I put her behind bars last time.” You explained nodding over to Sahara’s prone body. Tequila nodded knowingly and crouched down and picked up Sahara nimbly and slung her over his shoulder.

“Her grunts have been disposed of but we’re going to need a clean up crew in here.” Tequila enlightened you as he shifted Sahara on his shoulder.

“I’ll call it into Comm.” You said nodding your head as you walked towards the kitchen door and held it open for Tequila. He nodded and walked out of the kitchen passing you with a wide smile.

“A frying pan.” He scoffed softly in jest and you laughed again.

“Hey Rapunzel did it in Tangled. I just made it look badass.” You smugly declared and Tequila barked out a loud laugh.

“That you did Cur, that you did.” He drawled out with a grin. You pressed a finger to your earpiece to alert Comm10 again.

“Comm10 Sahara and her grunts have been taken care of. We’re going to need a transport for Sahara as well as a cleanup crew for the restaurant and the grunts.” You advised professionally. Your eyes fell on the dismayed restaurant owner and you walked purposefully over to the owner. “I am so sorry about your restaurant.” You began speaking to the owner and watched as his warm brown eyes looked at you in awe and shock. Just then Comm10’s response came into your ear and advised that both the transport and cleanup crew were five minutes out.

“No, no. You protected us. I am forever in your and your partner’s debt. No one was hurt and you two were able to stop these villains.” The owner said thankfully. He grasped your hand tightly and kissed it softly. “I can’t thank you enough.”

“It’s part of the job.” You acknowledged professionally. You stayed with the owner for a few more minutes trying to calm him down before Tequila walked in with the cleanup crew.

“Hello sir. This hear group is going to set your restaurant back to the way it was before and clean up anything that was broken during the fight. We really do apologize for messin’ up your nice restaurant.” Tequila drawled out in that southern charm he had down pat and you smiled warmly at him.

“Agent Curaçao?” came a voice behind you and you looked over your shoulder to see one of the cleaning crew over by the table Tequila had overturned to protect you. The man was holding your phone and you immediately remembered that you had a voicemail from Jack waiting for you. You rushed over to the man and thanked him as he handed you your phone. “I’m sorry agent but it’s destroyed.” He said sorrowfully and you looked down at the phone in your hand. He was right it was destroyed, the screen wasn’t just cracked the whole phone looked like a pancake. You sighed softly and nodded your head.

“I’ll just have to order another one.” You stated dejectedly and walked back over to Tequila who was still talking to the owner.

“Now I know your restaurant is gonna be down and out for a little while but would you happen to know where my partner and I could rustle up some good grub? We haven’t eaten in hours and if I know my partner as well as I do she’s gonna turn into a little gremlin within the hour if I don’t feed her.” Tequila teased warmly as he slung an arm around your shoulder. You grunted at him and jabbed him in his side which he gave no response to and just grinned widely at you.

“Of course. The best Cuban food besides my own restaurant mind you is just down the block it’s called La Olla. Tell them I sent you and they’ll comp your food to me.” The owner advised and you nodded at him smiling thankfully.

“Thank you so much.” You thanked him warmly and Tequila quickly led you out of the restaurant and down the block.

“Everything alright Cur?” Tequila asked as the two of you walked down the sidewalk to the Cuban restaurant. Both of you eager to get some food into your bodies. You sighed and showed him your phone. “Aww, I’m sorry Cur. But by the looks of it they’re gonna pull us outta here sooner because of Sahara’s attack so you won’t have to wait that long to see Whiskey.” Tequila reasoned trying to cheer you up. You smiled up at him and leaned into his side.

“Thanks Tequila.” You murmured to him softly and he hugged you close.

“Let’s get some food and then get back to the hotel so I can clean you up and stitch your hand. Then we can relax until take off.” He planned and you nodded to him letting him take control of the planning and leading you down the block. You couldn’t wait to get home.

#fallin' all in you #my writing #agent whiskey #agent whiskey x reader #kingsman the golden circle

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