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castiel-left-his-mark-on-me · 4 years ago

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I wish I knew what The Plot-verse Jen and Mish are doing for the wedding day <3 I like to think that Dani is having a small argument w Jen over what he should or should not do regarding the fan (and chad and samantha) wedding.

And just like that ... you have me writing more Cockles in The Plot-verse.

They got in late last night. Dani and the kids are still asleep, but Jensen is just too excited stay in bed. It’s been far too long since they’ve seen each other, and he can hear Misha hobbling around in the kitchen—something he really shouldn’t be doing just two days after a hip replacement.

But when he walks around the corner, seeing the man standing by the stove—skin glowing gold in the morning sun, Jensen waits just a minute longer before going over to bitch at him for being on his feet, because he doesn’t get to see this sight often enough. The man he loves … right here, finally within reach.

“Good morning” he says eventually, walking up behind Misha just as the man is reaching for the coffee pot. “What the fuck are you doing walking around?”

Misha laughs, leaning into Jensen as Jensen’s arms snake around his middle. “Makin’ coffee. I figured everyone in the house needs it after staying up so late.”

“I don’t think the kids do.”

“Not directly, no; but if they want me not to beat them with my crutches—they’ll want me to have my coffee.”

Jensen rolls his eyes and smiles. “They’ve been giving you grief?”

Misha finally rotates in Jensen’s arms, looping his own around the back of his neck before kissing him. “They’re animals.”

“Just like their dad” Jensen snickers, nuzzling Misha’s nose.

Misha scoffs in feigned offense. “I’m an angel … didn’t you know?”

“Yeah, yeah” Jensen muses. “Well, Angel. You need to go sit down. I’ll make the coffee.”

With a frown, Misha groans. “I don’t want to let go of you just yet. You’re quite an attractive crutch, and I need the support.”

Jensen squeezes the man tighter, breathing in the smell of him—a rather pungent smell. He probably hasn’t showered since the surgery; but he’s still his Mish. He’s still his home, his constant, and Jensen will never not want to fill his lungs with the man. “I’ll always let you lean on me, no matter what.”

Misha’s face softens, and his eyes widen as he looks him over. “Aw … what’s gotten into you? You’re so mushy today. I love it.”

Jensen finally tugs the man back, repositioning him so he’s braced against his side and Jensen can help him to one of the kitchen chairs. “Well, it is Valentine’s Day” Jensen chuckles, setting Misha down softly. “Also, I’ve missed you—a lot.” He leans in and kisses those pink, chapped lips, but when he pulls away again, Misha’s eyes are even wider.

“Shit.”

Jensen furrows his brow. “What?”

“It’s Valentine’s Day?”

Jensen chuckles. “Yeah. Why? You forgot?”

Misha swallows thickly and then nods.

Jensen rolls his eyes and then kisses him again. “Don’t worry about it. Just having you within kissing-distance is gift-enough for me.”

Misha half smiles but his gaze turns far-away, like he’s deep in thought.

“You didn’t get anything for Vicki, did you?” Jensen surmises after another moment later.

Misha eventually shakes his head.

Jensen straightens back out before turning towards the kitchen counter, knowing that the man will truly need coffee now if he’s going to start worrying so early in the morning, but maybe Jensen can help with that too. “It’s not a problem, Mish. I actually ordered flowers for both Dani and Vick… they should be getting here any minute. Just pull the card off and give her the other bouquet” he says, taking the coffee pot out of the machine and moving to the sink to fill it up with water. He raises his voice to talk over the noise. “And if you’re really worried about it—I also got two small things for Dee, so you can have one of them for Vick … I don’t know if she’d like it though. Vintage tees and headbands aren’t really her thing.” He shuts off the water and glances towards the man sitting at the table—who is now trying to stand up yet again. “Jeez—Mish!” He sets down the pot and scurries back over to the table to push Misha back into the chair. “Will you stop? I can handle things in the kitchen, alright? Just stay put!”

But Misha only reaches up, taking a fistful of Jensen’s t-shirt in his hand in order to yank him down and kiss him hard.

Jensen stumbles a little, but he catches himself on the edge of the table, quickly melting into the kiss a moment later, losing all comprehension the moment after that.

“You …” Misha starts when he finally breaks away, “are an extremely thoughtful man.” He kisses him again, harder still—slipping Jensen just enough tongue to make his body arch.

Jensen bites Misha’s lip as his sweatpants begin to tent; but he forces himself to pull away—knowing there’s nothing either of them can really do right now, and he really doesn’t need blue balls before noon. It’s a shame though, because he could spend all day tangled up with this man and never tire of it.

Misha smiles at him, face lighting up with many things that he could say, but doesn’t have to, because Jensen knows them all. “I love you—and thank you … for the flowers, that is. I’ll give those to Vicki; but you keep the gifts. We don’t normally do too much for Valentine’s day anyway; but I do usually get her flowers and cook her dinner.”

Jensen pulls away a little more and then leans his forehead against Misha’s, looking into those ocean-blues, feeling them calm him with their waves of warmth. “Well, that’s why we’re here, babe. To help you cook … help with the kids. Help you and Vicki manage while you heal. I got you, so just sit back and relax, alright?”

Misha nods against him, giving him one last peck before Jensen slips away to tend to the coffee—but Misha gives his ass a quick slap just before he’s out of reach. “Damn … I wish I could get on that.”

Jensen looks back over his shoulder and gives Misha a wink. “You and me both.”

***

The Coffee brewed and breakfast cooked—a filling array of waffles and eggs and spicy gourmet sausage that Misha had stockpiled in preparation of Jensen and Danneel’s visit. In fact, the man had loaded up on all the Ackles favorites—from beer, to games and toys for the kids, to all their favorite meals and snacks. He took care of just about everything they could possibly want or need; which makes the fact that he’s fretting over forgetting Valentine’s day all the more hilarious to Jensen.

“I can’t believe I didn’t get you anything!” Misha whines for the twentieth time today as he looks over the bracelet Jensen just gave him.

It was hand carved, ash and oak, with lines of black onyx inlayed between the woods, creating almost a braided effect. The craftsman said it was symbolic of two differing souls coming together to become something entirely new. And the onyx represented that new reality—black like the endless universe, reflecting all the light and love that shines within it. It was perfect, and Jensen felt that he was fated to find that bracelet—having accidently stumbled upon the tiny shop after taking a wrong turn when trying to find a gas station near their new cabin in Colorado.

They had decided to buy the place only a few months back—inspired by Misha’s purchase of Faith Ranch. So now, their families have two properties to go to be alone together. Faith Ranch and Serenity Lodge.

Yeah, the names are a little corny, but Jensen feels like they’re pretty fitting whenever they’re all finally together. The serenity he feels seeing all their kids playing … the faith he has in the future when he watches Misha and Danneel and Vicki all laughing with one another – it’s perfect; and he feels so very blessed that they have those places to run away to now. To be together and to be themselves.

In fact, the original plan was to have Misha and Vicki and the kids come up to Serenity to stay with them as Misha recuperated from his surgery, but with the winter storms and all the new frost hitting the area, Misha’s doctor said that Colorado was probably not the best environment for a man with stiff joints and limited mobility. So, Jensen and Danneel changed their plans and headed towards Washington, knowing that ultimately—it didn’t matter where in the world they were, as long as they were all together.

The kids had all gotten up with the smell of breakfast, and once they shoveled in their food—they were all begging to go out back and play—meaning that the adults’ peaceful morning of gift giving and quiet coffee-drinking came to a speedy end. So, Danneel, Vicki and Jensen spent twenty minutes after breakfast trying to wrestle all the little ones into jackets and long pants and winter boots, which was quite a feat, even with three sets of hands, they were still outnumbered. Arrow and Zepp kept pulling off their jackets because they said they were too hot. JJ and Maison kept torturing West with annoying, made-up songs that all seemed to end with the same line “West smells like poop”; which ultimately made West retaliate with pokes and tickles and name calling—and that of course caused the girls to run away and scream at the top of their lungs, which of course meant that the three adults were chasing them all over the house—just trying to finish dressing them so they could finally kick them outside.

Misha sat back and laughed as he watched all the commotion go down, for once—seeming to enjoy the fact that he was immobile and unable to help.

Eventually however, the kids did get dressed and were set loose in the yard, leaving the grownups to watch them from the sunroom, drinking their second and third cups of coffee in somewhat relative-peace. The glassed-in space was warm and bright, and filled up with the scent of roses and gardenias. The two beautiful bouquets that Jensen had ordered (one of which, Misha did end up commandeering) are sitting on the coffee table between them all, adding just the right amount of color to the room.

Misha leaned against Jensen’s side as he scrolled on his phone; and Danneel and Vicki sat in the chairs across from them, talking about politics and lamenting over the current state of the senate, while Jensen just sat there quietly … smiling to himself because he hasn’t felt this happy in a while. His family is all together. The coffee Misha got was his favorite, and he has a belly full of waffles and sausage. This is quite possibly, the best Valentine’s Day he’s ever had.

“Fuck!” Misha yelps suddenly, bolting upright with a groan. “It’s our wedding today too?”

Jensen crinkles his eyes as he stares at the side of the man’s face, cracking a smile because—surely, the man is losing his mind. “What?”

Misha is still staring at his phone, scrolling furiously through—what Jensen thinks is Twitter; but Misha is moving too fast for him to be sure. “Apparently—it’s Dean and Cas’s wedding day today.”

Vicki and Danneel stop their conversation to gawk over at him too. “What?” They both ask again in unison.

Misha finally looks up from the screen, and then around to all three of them. “It’s our wedding day!”

And Jensen is rolling his eyes now. “We heard you the first time, Mish—but we’re gonna need you to explain it now.”

Misha shifts in his seat, wincing as his sore body twists in his hip-brace. “Remember that whole Chad-thing I was telling you about?”

“Chad? Chad who?” Danneel asks, and Vicki snickers to herself, obviously remembering something about all this, but Jensen is drawing a blank.

“Lindberg—he played Ash on Supernatural. I’ve only ever met him at conventions though. Nice guy.”

“Funny guy” Jensen adds on, starting to recall Misha mentioning the man at some point last week.

“Very funny—so funny in fact, he has written this whole additional arc for the show, set in Heaven, where he and Ellen are running the Roadhouse again, and of course … the fans are eating up.”

Jensen laughs. “I’d expect nothing less.”

Misha nods before continuing. “Yeah, well … it all started on Dean’s birthday … a party at the Roadhouse seemed to be the event. Both Chad and Samantha Ferris made this whole story out of it; but now, I guess the story went on to include Dean and Cas’s wedding … on Valentine’s Day, no less. Looks like Chad is going live in a little bit to talk to fans about it. He and Samantha are making it a whole thing. And now ‘DeanCasWedding’ is trending on Twitter.”

“That’s adorable” Vicki chuckles.

“So adorable! Oh my God! You guys should totally join in!” Danneel squeals.

That makes Jensen’s eyes go wide. “No way! Not gonna happen.”

Danneel’s smile somersaults into a pout. “But why not? You guys would break the internet!”

“Yeah, and that’s exactly why not. I’ve been pretty quiet about the finale; so, I don’t think the first time I really break my silence should be about our characters’ supposed marriage. That’s treading a really thin line in our contracts.”

“It’s just a silly story by one of the past actors. I don’t think it’s that big of a deal” Vicki offers, but now Misha is the one shaking his head.

“No, Jensen’s right. The simple act of us participating in something like that might be an invitation for the network to extend our NDA’s. As harmless as it would actually be to them and the canon of the show, our direct participation in it would raise too many eyebrows” Misha finishes, but now both the women are frowning.

“Well, maybe there’s something subtle you could do. Even if it’s just liking some of Chad’s tweets or something.”

“Maybe” Jensen offers, already thinking that that probably won’t happen; but who knows. He’s feeling rather soft today. If applied right, he can probably be pressured into just about anything.

“Mommy!” Arrow screeches, and the sound is immediately followed by Maison’s dubious laugh.

Both Vicki and Danneel look at one another before sighing and setting down their coffee cups.

“I’m sorry. Our daughter loves to torment those around her. She gets it entirely from her father” Vicki says, tossing a pointed look at her husband.

Misha gasps. “Who … me?” he mocks.

Danneel laughs as she looks at him adoringly. “It’s good-hearted torment, I’m sure.”

“Is there such a thing?” Vicki asks before moving around the chairs towards the screen door to the backyard.

Misha fakes a cry and then burrows his face into Jensen’s neck. “She’s so cruel, Jensen. Hold me!”

Jensen busts up laughing, but he does as he’s told, wrapping his arms tightly around the man’s body. “Shh—it’s okay, baby. I got you.”

Vicki smirks at the two of them nestled together on the couch. “You can have him. I’ll just take your wife off your hands.” And with that, she loops her arm with Danneel’s and pulls her out the door.

“Sounds good to me!” Danneel chirps, skipping along beside her as they go to check on the kids.

“Hey! I tend to like my wife!” Jensen yells, but Vicki just flits her hand in the air and waives him off.

“Hmm” Jensen grumbles. “Those two better not forget about us.”

Misha laughs, kissing his neck right after and it shocks goosebumps up all over Jensen’s body. “Don’t worry. They’ll remember we’re here as soon as the kids get too crazy.”

Jensen smiles. “True enough.”

They fall silent a moment, melting into each other’s warmth as the outside chill seeps in through the cracked back door, but the contrast only seems to make their closeness feel more intense.

“So—do you think you’ll do it?”

“Do what?” Jensen asks, mind already wandering towards all the future days that could be like this one. Their families—together, happy and full of love.

“Do you think you’ll actually like one of Chad’s tweets or whatever?” Misha finally pulls back a little so he can look Jensen in the eye.

Jensen sighs and then shrugs again. “I dunno, man. I’m just really hesitant about anything having to do with the show right now, even if it is just a silly makeshift fan-fiction put together by some of the past characters. I just don’t want to start picking at that scab, you know?”

Misha sighs as well, and then nods—leaning his head back onto Jensen’s shoulder as he scratches beneath his leg brace. “I get it. It should be harmless and all in good fun, but these things can snowball pretty quickly.”

“Exactly.”

“It is fun to think about though.”

“What’s that?”

“Dean and Cas—tying the knot.”

Jensen huffs a laugh before gathering Misha’s hand in his own. “Yeah. That would’ve been a fun scene to shoot.”

“Dean—all nervous at the end of the aisle…” Misha says dreamily.

“Cas, picking apart all the wedding traditions—talking about their archaic and barbaric origins” Jensen laughs.

“Charlie, punching him in the arm and telling him to stop killing the romance.”

Jensen nods. “She so would! She’d totally do that. Oh, and you know Bobby would be crying.”

“Oh yeah... and Sam would probably tear up a bit too.”

Now Jensen shakes his head. “Nah, Sam would just be making a smirky little bitch-face as Dean cried.”

Misha grins wide against Jensen’s shoulder. “Oh God … Dean would be bawling his eyes out.”

“He’d be marrying the love of his life … so yeah, of course he’d be bawling his eyes out!”

“You think Cas is the love of Dean’s life?” Misha asks, pulling back again suddenly to wonder at the side of Jensen’s face.

Jensen turns to him, a little surprised by the question. “Sure … don’t you?”

Misha’s face shifts into a cautious smile. “Well … I mean, I know that Dean is the love of Cas’s life. Obviously … the show admitted as much; but we never really talked about what you thought Dean’s take on the whole thing would be. We talked about the confession scene itself, and Dean’s reciprocation and how it was a long time coming for the show; but never what it might’ve actually meant for our two characters … if they ever had the chance to actually do something about it, that is.”

Jensen straightens out on the couch, being careful not to move too quickly and accidentally jostle Misha’s still fragile body. “Well …” he begins, trying to get back into Dean’s mindset, something that used to be as easy as flicking on a light switch for him; but now—with months and months having passed where he hasn’t been Dean Winchester, he’s finding it’s a little harder to get there, “I guess… since Dean is in Heaven now, he’d finally let his guard down. He wouldn’t be so hell bent on keeping his distance, because he’d know he finally doesn’t have to worry about losing everyone he loves; and that includes Cas.”

“But … a wedding?” Misha laughs; however, Jensen doesn’t miss the hopeful uptick to his voice.

“It’d take some doing … but yeah. I think Dean would eventually pop the question. He’d drive Cas around Heaven for a while, listening to some tunes, eating some good ass food. And then they’d find some beautiful lake somewhere, sit on Baby’s hood … and Dean would just know, ya know? So, he’d throw his arm around Cas’s neck and say ‘Cas—what the fuck are we doin’? We should just get hitched already’ and then he’d kiss him like there’s no tomorrow.”

Misha smiles, eyes scrunching up with his grinning cheeks. “I suppose in Heaven, the concept of tomorrow isn’t really a thing.”

“Yeah, time works different in Heaven … isn’t that what the script said?”

“Something like that” Misha mutters, inching himself up to reposition the leg he has propped against the table. “So … we’d be super corny and get married on Valentine’s Day?”

“Why not?” Jensen laughs. “Dean does enjoy a good Rom-Com moment. And we all know he’s about as corny as they come.”

“True” Misha chuckles. “Well, in that case …” He sits up straight and sobers his face, narrowing his eyes a little before he turns a serious gaze in Jensen’s direction. “Happy Wedding Day, Dean” he says—in his deepest, raspiest Cas-voice.

Jensen starts to laugh, but quickly stops himself so he can get into character—half smiling, looking away … bashful, but still intense. “Back at ya, Cas.” He clears his throat as he looks around the room, trying to think of what Dean would say next … but then it hits him. Dean wouldn’t say anything. Without a second thought, Jensen leans forward and reaches out towards one of the bouquets, pulling out a long strand of Baby’s Breath … quickly breaking it in half and twisting the stem around itself, finally tucking the ends between one another to make a small, vined circle. And then, turning slowly in his seat, he grabs Misha’s—Cas’s left hand and holds it between them, slipping the make-shift ring onto his finger.

Misha looks down at it a moment, breaking character as his voice cracks in a sigh; but as he looks back towards Jensen—a slight sheen of tears in his eyes, he falls back into the angel’s grace, eyes seeming to glow blue in the morning sun, shoulders squaring on the wings of the day. “I do” he says raggedly, sounding choked up, but still like a tried-and-true angel of the lord.

“Me too” Jensen rumbles, voice just as deep before finally leaning in to kiss his angel’s lips; but soon enough—their Heaven falls away, as do Dean and Castiel, leaving just the two of them, real and mortal and alone in the sunroom of Misha’s home.

A flowered ring on one hand.

Each other’s hearts in the other.

Two families growing together in the grass and sun.

And a real-life paradise, alive and thriving all around them.

Yes … Jensen thinks, this is indeed the best Valentine’s Day he’s ever had.

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katehuntington · 5 years ago

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Title: Ride With Me (part six) Fandom: Supernatural AU Characters series: Reader, Dean Winchester, Bobby Singer, Ellen Singer-Harvelle, Jo Singer (Harvelle), Benny Lafitte, Ash Miles, Garth Fitzgerald IV, Castiel Novek, and many more. Timeline: 2008 Pairing: Dean x Reader (eventually) Word count: ±1900 words Summary series: Y/N is a talented horse rider who is on her way to become a professional. In order to convince her father that she deserves the loan needed to start her own farm, she goes to Arizona for six months, to intern at a ranch owned by Bobby and Ellen Singer. Her future is set out, but then she meets a handsome horseman, who goes by the name of Dean Winchester. A heartwarming series about a cowboy who falls for the girl, letting go of the past and the importance of family. Summary part six: Y/N is getting lost in the feelings that she’s developing for Dean, and it doesn’t take long before Jo takes notice. Warnings series: NSFW, 18+ only! Fluff, angst, eventually smut. Swearing, smoking, alcohol intoxication, alcohol abuse. Mutual pining, heartbreak. Crying, nightmares, childhood trauma. Description of animal abuse, domestic violence, mentions of addiction. Financial problems, stress, mental breakdown. Description of blood and injury, hospital scenes, character death, grief. Music: Check out ‘Kate Huntington’s Ride With Me playlist’ on Spotify! Author’s note: Thank you @kittenofdoomage and @girl-with-a-fandom-fettish for helping me. You girls are awesome betas.

Ride With Me Masterlist

Okay, maybe the tequila last night wasn’t such a good idea. Neither was that margarita the previous night, or the drinking game the night before that one. Or was it the other way around? Y/N cannot seem to recall, but today is Friday, so at least tomorrow she can sleep her way through the headache. Never ever did she drink as much as she did this week. Normally that would bother her, especially considering she’s not here on Spring break. But when the drinks are offered in a time when she needs a little something to stop thinking about that damned Dean Winchester, she couldn't care less about the increase of alcohol consumption.

She found the balance quite quickly, too. Intoxicated enough to let go of the complexity that comes with growing fondness of the head wrangler, but sober enough to stop herself from doing anything stupid. The consequence is, however, that on this morning ride, her brain feels like it’s trying to expand beyond the size of her head. Thank God her stomach isn't acting up, because Joplin is trotting under her nervously. Seems like Y/N is having trouble finding the ‘walk’ button this early. The hot-blooded mare fails to respond when her rider asks her to slow down by saying ‘ho’ with a calm voice, but when Y/N breathes out, relaxes her legs, and shifts deeper in the saddle only by a fraction of an inch, the black horse transitions to walk.

“Good girl,” Y/N compliments her.

Three days without riding were more than she could handle. Meadow needed some time to recover from the long journey and to get used to her new home, but Y/N needed to restrain herself from climbing on the mare’s back anyway. She imagined this was a glimpse of what it would be like to kick an addiction cold turkey, going into withdrawal from the lack of her drug. As if not being able to train her own horse wasn't enough, it took another extra day before Y/N got onto any horse at all. It wasn't until yesterday morning that the supervisor decided that she deserved a shot at proving herself as a wrangler. She had to earn that by mucking, shit scooping, cleaning tack, and turning horses in and out. Which she gets, of course. Dean and Bobby wanted to see what she is made of before they let her ride one of their animals. But boy, was she frustrated. She even got to the point that Garth almost caught her muttering a promise to herself that if she had to clean up some horse’s massive dump one more time without a reward, she would be out of here.

Yesterday she finally got to accompany a few guests on a trail. It was amazing to feel the horse move under the saddle again, the experience of the communication that she established within a second, and how the perfect fit on his back felt like home. Apparently, she did well, because on this morning ride, she is allowed to come along too.

Content, she looks ahead at the large group of inexperienced riders, who find their way down the hill with some difficulty. The respect Y/N holds for the trail horses has grown, because their patience and ability to keep their clumsy passengers in the saddle hasn't ceased to amaze her. Bruce, a draft horse mix, has halted several times already, waiting motionless until his overweight German load has pulled himself back into the saddle after slowly tipping to one side. It's quite entertaining to watch.

As she smiles at what’s playing out in front of her, the sound of hoofsteps close by on the rocky surface reaches her hearing. When she glances over her shoulder, a beautiful buckskin is just about to transition to an easy walk after catching up. Her eyes glide up until they meet his rider.

“So, how are you this morning?” Dean wonders, a playful smile on his face. It takes a short moment for her to answer, taken aback by her body’s response to the sight of the wrangler. A whirlwind starts to twist in her stomach, yet the headache suddenly doesn't seem as tormenting as it was a minute ago. “I'm okay,” she claims. He grins. “Sure about that? You had quite a few drinks last night.” “I can handle myself,” she returns defensively, narrowing her eyes at him a little. “Oh, I’m sure you can.”

He chuckles, the warm and low sound rumbling deep in his throat triggering Y/N to peek at him from the corner of her eye. Was that a nervousness she detected? Did she just make him uneasy? He looks down, his lips drawn in a small smile. The sun from the east outlines the sharp lines of his jaw, edged by a scruff; apparently he didn't take the time to shave this morning. Boy, is she glad he didn’t.

“Okay, I'll admit,” she says, trying to take away his insecurities. “My stomach might be a little… unsettled.” Y/N isn’t lying, although alcohol has nothing to do with the butterflies that came to life inside of her. He doesn't know that, thankfully, yet he keeps a hold of his intern’s gaze for a little while longer, reading her. As if Dean’s horse wants to help love a little, the Quarter sways closer to her horse Joplin, the two of them now riding stirrup to stirrup. His knee slightly brushes against hers every other step and despite that it's barely a touch, she’s highly aware of the physical contact.

“Don't throw up on your horse if you want to leave a good impression with me. Believe me, it ain't pretty,” Dean half jokes, half flirts. She throws her head back in a laugh. “Don't worry, I won't. But please don't tell me you have seen that happen.” “More than once, I'm afraid,” he remembers, turning in his saddle to face his younger cousin. “Ey, Jo?” The blonde cowgirl, who is about thirty yards behind them, throws him a confused look, since she hasn't picked up a word of their conversation. Puzzled, she watches, inducing the riders further up to laughter. “No way!” Y/N cries out. “I ain’t kiddin’,” Dean sniggers. “I'll save that story for another time. Y’know, when your stomach isn't ‘unsettled’ by the same tequila that started Jo’s tale.”

He spurs his horse, who canters forward to meet the group of guests up ahead. She observes Dean as the morning sun portrays the cowboy and his horse in a romantic light. Out here, away from the city, the Arizona landscape would have anyone believe that they traveled back to the time, when the Wild West was still the real deal. Cacti surround them, peculiar mountain peaks shaped by ten thousand years of wind erosion obstruct the far edge of the world. And in this perfect portrait rides a handsome cowboy, one with his horse, clouds of dust in their wake. An amused smile allows a glimpse of Y/N’s true feelings to shine through. There it is again, that tingly sensation in her belly. Sure, Dean. Blame it on the tequila, she thinks to yourself.

“What the hell was that?” Now that Dean left his spot next to her, Jo has caught up, gently pulling the reins as she sits back to bring her horse’s pace down. Feeling caught, Y/N looks at her, brought off balance by the spite in the cowgirl’s voice. “What do you mean?” “Oh, c’mon, Yankee. I wasn’t born yesterday, and neither were you. You just completed your master in business, don't act like you're stupid,” Jo counters. “You and Dean, what’s going on?” The cowgirl eyes her in shock, her jaw dropping unpleasantly surprised. Was it really that obvious? How is she going to talk herself out of this one? “I - I don't--” she stutters, blood rushing to her face. “There - there's nothing--” She’s not sure if it’s her shameful expression or the fact that she lost her tongue, but Jo knows enough. She closes her eyes and sighs deeply. “Y/N…” her friend starts, a mixture of disappointment and pity present in her voice. “Please don't go down that road. He will hurt you so bad you're gonna wish you never gone on that flight that got you here.” Now the intern sighs too. Denying will not do her any good. Jo is smart enough to see right through it. “Listen, I really like having you around. You're good company, you're a hard worker, you're great with the horses, and I don’t wanna lose my sis,” the ranch owner’s daughter says genuinely. “I would hate to see you leave because of my heartbreaker of a cousin. I've seen this play out so many times already, don't walk into that trap.” “I think that ship has sailed,” her friend admits out loud.

The words startle the woman who speaks them just as much as they stun Jo; she didn't intend to share that with her new friend already. But now that the comment is hovering between them without a way to take it back, a part of her is glad it’s out there. Dean has been about the only thing on her mind since she first saw him. Not being able to talk about that with anyone was driving her mad. She needs to vent to someone, someone she can trust.

Shocked by the bombshell that Y/N just dropped, Jo turns her head to orient her big eyes towards the man in question. That son of a bitch.. “Well, that didn't take long…” The cowgirl shakes her head, then looks her in the eye after her confession. It's clear she feels sorry for her friend. “I'll talk to him.” “No! Jo, please don't. Look, I didn't forget about your warning and I’m surely not going to act on these... feelings,” she guarantees, barely able to get out the word. “But I can't shut this off. It caught me by surprise as well.” “He tends to have that effect on women,” Jo mutters. “I won't do anything stupid,” Y/N assures her. Jo glances at the intern from under her hat. “Promise?”

She looks backs at her new friend. Honestly, she isn’t sure if she’s strong enough to resist Dean, but this agreement might help her stick to the plan. The plan to complete her internship successfully and return home to start her own ranch. It's all she ever wanted, it has been her life goal for as long as she can remember. Is she really going to let some cowboy stop her from fulfilling that dream? A very handsome, sweet, and utterly irresistible cowboy, but nonetheless. She will reach for the stars and she will have her wish, nothing will stand in her way, not even him. And so a reassuring smile forms on her lips.

“I promise.”

Well, the cat’s out of the bag. Thank you for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to like or reblog my work, shoot me a message or buy me coffee (Link to Kofi in bio at the top of the page).

Read part seven here

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grigori77 · 5 years ago

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2019 in Movies - My Top 30 Fave Movies (Part 2)

20. FROZEN 2 – so, another year, then, and once again Disney doesn’t QUITE manage to net the animated feature top spot on my list, but it’s not for lack of trying – this long-awaited sequel to the studio’s runaway hit musical fantasy adventure is just what we’ve come to love from the House of Mouse, but more importantly it’s a most worthy sequel, easily on a par with the much beloved origin. Not much of a surprise given the welcome return of all the key people, from directors Chris Buck and Jennifer Lee (who also once again wrote the screenplay) to composer Christophe Beck and songwriters Kristen Anderson-Lopez and Robert Lopez, as well as all the key players in the cast. It’s business as usual in the kingdom of Arendelle, where all is seemingly peaceful and tranquil, but Queen Elsa (Idina Menzel) is restless, haunted by a distant voice that only she can hear, calling to her from a mysterious past she just can’t place … and then she accidentally awakens the four elemental spirits, sending her homeland into mystical turmoil, prompting her to embark on a desperate search for answers with her sister Princess Anna (Kristen Bell), ice harvester Kristoff (Jonathan Groff), his faithful reindeer companion Sven, and, of course, living snowman Olaf (Josh Gad). Their quest leads them into the Enchanted Forest of Northuldra, a neighbouring kingdom, ruled by simple, elemental magic, that has remained cut off from Arendelle for decades, where they discover dark, hidden truths about their own family’s past and must make peace with the spirits if they’re to save their home and their people. So, typical Disney family fantasy fare, then, right? Well, Frozen 2 certainly dots all the Is and crosses all the Ts, but, like the original, this is no jaded blockbuster money spinner, packed with the same kind of resonant power, skilful inventiveness and pure, show-stopping WOW-factor as its predecessor, but more importantly this is a sequel that effectively carves out a fresh identity for itself, brilliantly taking the world and characters in interesting new directions to create something fresh, rewarding and worthwhile on its own merit. The returning cast are all as strong as ever, Menzel and Bell in particular ably powering the story, while it’s nice to see both Groff and Gad getting something new to do with their own characters too, even nabbing their own major musical numbers; there’s also a welcome slew of fresh new faces to this world, particular Sterling K. Brown (This is Us, Black Panther, The Predator) as lost Anrendelle soldier Mattias and former Brat Pack star Martha Plimpton as Yelena, leader of the lost tribe of Northuldra. Once again this is Disney escapism at its very best, a heart-warming, soul-nourishing powerhouse of winning humour, emotional power and child-like wonder, but like the first film the biggest selling point is, of course, that KILLER soundtrack, with every song here a total hit, not one dud among them, and there are even ear-worms here to put Let It Go to shame – Into the Unknown was touted as the major hit, and it is impressive, but I was particularly affected by Groff’s unashamedly full-bore rendition of Lost in the Woods, a bona fide classic rock power ballad crafted in the fashion of REO Speedwagon, while the undeniable highlight for me is the unstoppable Show Yourself, with Menzel once again proving that her incredible voice is a natural force all in itself. Altogether, then, this is an absolute feast for the eyes, the ears AND the soul, every inch the winner that its predecessor was and also EASILY one of Disney’s premier animated features for the decade. So it’s quite the runner-up, then …

19. ONCE UPON A TIME IN HOLLYWOOD – since his explosion onto the scene twenty-seven years ago with his runaway smash debut Reservoir Dogs, Quentin Tarantino has become one of the most important filmmakers of his generation, a true master of the cinematic art form who consistently delivers moving picture masterpieces that thrill, entertain, challenge and amuse audiences worldwide … at least those who can stomach his love of unswerving violence, naughty talk and morally bankrupt antiheroes and despicably brutal villains who are often little more than a shade different from one another. Time has moved on, though, and while he’s undoubtedly been one of the biggest influences on the way cinema has changed over the past quarter century, there are times now that it’s starting to feel like the scene is moving on in favour of younger, fresher blood with their own ideas. I think Tarantino can sense this himself, because he recently made a powerful statement – after he’s made his tenth film, he plans to retire. Given that OUATIH is his NINTH film, that deadline is already looming, and we unashamed FANS of his films are understandably aghast over this turn of events. Thankfully he remains as uncompromisingly awesome a writer-director as ever, delivering another gold standard five-star flick which is also most definitely his most PERSONAL work to date, quite simply down to the fact that it’s a film ABOUT film. Sure, it has a plot (of sorts, anyway), revolving around the slow decline of the career of former TV star Rick Dalton (Leonardo Dicaprio), who languishes in increasing anonymity in Hollywood circa 1969 as his former western hero image is being slowly eroded by an increasingly hacky workload guest-starring on various syndicated shows as a succession of punching-bag heavies for the hero to wale on, while his only real friend is his one-time stunt double, Cliff Booth (Brad Pitt), a former WW2 hero with a decidedly tarnished reputation of his own; meanwhile new neighbours have moved in next door to further distract him – hot-as-shit young director Roman Polanski (Rafal Zawierucha), riding high on the success of Rosemary’s Baby, and his new wife Sharon Tate (Margot Robbie). Certainly this all drives the film, along with real-life events involving one of the darkest crimes in modern American history, but a lot of the time the plot is largely coincidental – Quentin uses it as a springboard to wax lyrical about his very favourite subject and pay loving (if sometimes irreverently satirical) tribute to the very business he’s been indulging in with such great success since 1992. Sure, it’s also about “Helter Skelter” and the long shadow cast by Charles Manson and his band of murderous misfits, but this is largely incidental, as we’re treated to long, entertaining interludes as we follow Rick on a shoot as the bad guy in the pilot for the Lancer TV series, visit the notorious Spahn Ranch with Cliff as he’s unwittingly drawn into the lion’s den of the deadly Manson Family, join Robbie’s Tate as she watches “herself” in The Wrecking Crew, and enjoy a brilliant montage in which we follow Rick’s adventures in Spaghetti westerns (and Eurospy cinema) after he’s offered a chance to change his flagging fortunes, before the film finally builds to a seemingly inevitable, fateful conclusion that Tarantino then, in sneakily OTT Inglourious Basterds style, mischievously turns on its head with a devilish game of “What If”. The results are a thoroughly engrossing and endlessly entertaining romp through the seedier side of Hollywood and a brilliant warts-and-all examination of the craft’s inner workings that, interestingly, reveals as much about the Business today as it does about how it was way back in the Golden Age the film portrays, all while delivering bucket-loads of QT’s trademark cool, swagger, idiosyncratic genius and to-die-for dialogue and character-work, and, of course, a typically exceptional all-star cast firing on all cylinders. Dicaprio and Pitt are both spectacular (Brad is endearingly taciturn, playing it wonderfully close to the vest throughout, while Leo is simply ON FIRE, delivering a mercurial performance EASILY on a par with his work on Shutter Island and The Wolf of Wall Street – could this be good enough to snag him a second Oscar?), while Robbie consistently endears us to Tate as she EFFORTLESSLY brings the fallen star back to life, and there’s an incredible string of amazing supporting turns from established talent and up-and-comers alike, from Kurt Russell, Al Pacino and a very spiky Bruce Dern to Mike Moh (in a FLAWLESS take on Bruce Lee), Margaret Qualley, Austin Butler and in particular Julia Butters as precocious child star Trudi Fraser. Packed with winning references, homages, pastiches and ingenious little in-jokes, handled with UTMOST respect for the true life subjects at all times and shot all the way through with his characteristic flair and quirky, deliciously dark sense of humour, this is cinema very much of the Old School, and EVERY INCH a Tarantino flick. With only one more film to go the implied end of his career seems much too close, but if he delivers one more like this he’ll leave behind a legacy that ANY filmmaker would be proud of.

18. CRAWL – summer 2019’s runner-up horror offering marks a rousing return to form for a genre talent who’s FINALLY delivered on the impressive promise of his early work – Alexandre Aja made a startling debut with Switchblade Romance, which led to his big break helming the cracking remake of slasher stalwart The Hills Have Eyes, but then he went SPECTACULARLY off the rails when he made the truly abysmal Piranha 3D, which I wholeheartedly regard as one of THE VERY WORST FILMS EVER MADE IN ALL OF HUMAN HISTORY. He took a big step back in the right direction with the admittedly flawed but ultimately enjoyable and evocative Horns (based on the novel by Stephen King’s son Joe Hill), but it’s with this stripped back, super-tight man-against-nature survival horror that the Aja of old has TRULY returned to us. IN SPADES. Seriously, I personally think this is his best film to date – there’s no fat on it at all, going from a simple set-up STRAIGHT into a precision-crafted exercise in sustained tension that relentlessly grips right up to the end credits. The film is largely just a two-hander – Maze Runner star Kaya Scodelario plays Haley Keller, a Florida college student and star swimmer who ventures into the heart of a Category 5 hurricane to make sure her estranged father, Dave (Saving Private Ryan’s Barry Pepper), is okay after he drops off the grid. Finding their old family home in a state of disrepair and slowly flooding, she does a last minute check of the crawl-space underneath, only to discover her father badly wounded and a couple of hungry alligators stalking the dark, cramped, claustrophobic confines. With the flood waters rising and communications cut off, Haley and Dave must use every reserve of strength, ingenuity and survival instinct to keep each other alive in the face of increasingly daunting odds … even with a premise this simple, there was plenty of potential for this to become an overblown, clunky mess in the wrong hands (a la Snakes On a Plane), so it’s a genuinely great thing that Aja really is back at the height of his powers, milking every fraught and suspenseful set-piece to its last drop of exquisite piano-wire tension and putting his actors through hell without a reprieve in sight. Thankfully it’s not JUST about scares and atmosphere – there’s a genuinely strong family drama at the heart of the story that helps us invest in these two, Scodelario delivering a phenomenally complex performance as she peels back Haley’s layers, from stubborn pedant, through vulnerable child of divorce, to ironclad born survivor, while reconnecting with her emotionally raw, repentantly open father, played with genuine naked intensity in a career best turn from Pepper. Their chemistry is INCREDIBLY strong, making every scene a joy even as it works your nerves and tugs on your heartstrings, and as a result you DESPERATELY want to see them make it out in one piece. Not that Aja makes it easy for them – the gators are an impressively palpable threat, proper scary beasties even if they are largely (admittedly impressively executed) digital effects, while the storm is almost a third character in itself, becoming as much of an elemental nemesis as its scaly co-stars. Blessedly brief (just 87 minutes!) and with every second wrung out for maximum impact, this is survival horror at its most brutally, simplistically effective, a deliciously vicious, primal chill-ride that thoroughly rewards from start to finish. Welcome back, Mr Aja. We’ve missed you.

17. SHAZAM! – there were actually THREE movies featuring Captain Marvel out in 2019, but this offering from the hit-and-miss DCEU cinematic franchise is a very different beast from his MCU-based namesake, and besides, THIS Cap long ago ditched said monicker for the far more catchy (albeit rather more oddball) title that graces Warner Bros’ last step back on the right track for their superhero Universe following the equally enjoyable Aquaman and franchise high-point Wonder Woman. Although he’s never actually referred to in the film by this name, Shazam (Chuck’s Eugene Levy) is the magically-powered alternate persona bestowed upon wayward fifteen year-old foster kid Billy Batson (Andi Mack’s Asher Angel) by an ancient wizard (Djimon Hounsou) seeking one pure soul to battle Dr. Thaddeus Sivana (Mark Strong), a morally corrupt physicist who turns into a monstrous supervillain after becoming the vessel for the spiritual essences of the Seven Deadly Sins (yup, that thoroughly batshit setup is just the tip of the iceberg of bonkersness on offer in this movie). Yes, this IS set in the DC Extended Universe, Shazam sharing his world with Superman, Batman, the Flash et al, and there are numerous references (both overt and sly) to this fact throughout (especially in the cheeky animated closing title sequence), but it’s never laboured, and the film largely exists in its own comfortably enclosed narrative bubble, allowing us to focus on Billy, his alter ego and in particular his clunky (but oh so much fun) bonding experiences with his new foster family, headed by former foster kid couple Victor and Rosa Vazquez (The Walking Dead’s Cooper Andrews and Marta Milans) – the most enjoyably portions of the film, however, are when Billy explores the mechanics and limits of his newfound superpowers with his new foster brother Freddy Freeman (It Chapter 1’s Jack Dylan Glazer), a consistently hilarious riot of bad behaviour, wanton (often accidental) destruction and perfectly-observed character development, the blissful culmination of a gleefully anarchic sense of humour that, until recently, has been rather lacking in the DCEU but which is writ large in bright, wacky primary colours right through this film. Sure, there are darker moments, particularly when Sivana sets loose his fantastic icky brood of semi-corporeal monsters, and these scenes are handled with seasoned skill by director David F. Sandberg, who cut his teeth on ingenious little horror gem Lights Out (following up with Annabelle: Creation, but we don’t have to dwell on that), but for the most part the film is played for laughs, thrills and pure, unadulterated FUN, almost never taking itself too seriously, essentially intended to do for the DCEU what Guardians of the Galaxy and Ant-Man did for the MCU, and a huge part of its resounding success must of course be attributed to the universally willing cast. Eugene Levy’s so ridiculously pumped-up he almost looks like a special effect all on his own, but he’s lost none of his razor-sharp comic ability, perfectly encapsulating a teenage boy in a grown man’s body, while his chemistry with genuine little comedic dynamo Glazer is simply exquisite, a flawless balance shared with Angel, who similarly excels at the humour but also delivers quality goods in some far more serious moments too, while the rest of Billy’s newfound family are all brilliant, particularly ridiculously adorable newcomer Faithe Herman as precocious little motor-mouth Darla; Djimon Hounsou, meanwhile, adds significant class and gravitas to what could have been a cartoonish Gandalf spoof, and Mark Strong, as usual, gives great bad guy as Sivana, providing just the right amount of malevolent swagger and self-important smirk to proceedings without ever losing sight of the deeper darkness within. All round, this is EXACTLY the kind of expertly crafted superhero package we’ve come to appreciate in the genre, another definite shot in the arm for the DCEU that holds great hope for the future of the franchise, and some of the biggest fun I had at the cinema this past year. Granted, it’s still not a patch on the MCU, but the quality gap finally seems to be closing …

16. ALITA: BATTLE ANGEL – y’know, there was a time when James Cameron was quite a prolific director, who could be counted upon to provide THE big event pic of the blockbuster season. These days, we’re lucky to hear from him once a decade, and now we don’t even seem to be getting that – the dream project Cameron’s been trying to make since the end of the 90s, a big live action adaptation of one of my favourite mangas of all time, Gunnm (or Battle Angel Alita to use its more well-known sobriquet) by Yukito Kishiro, has FINALLY arrived, but it isn’t the big man behind the camera here since he’s still messing around with his intended FIVE MOVIE Avatar arc. That said, he made a damn good choice of proxy to bring his vision to fruition – Robert Rodriguez is, of course, a fellow master of action cinema, albeit one with a much more quirky style, and this adap is child’s play to him, the creator of the El Mariachi trilogy and co-director of Frank Miller’s Sin City effortlessly capturing the dark, edgy life-and-death danger and brutal wonder of Kishiro’s world in moving pictures. 300 years after the Earth was decimated in a massive war with URM (the United Republics of Mars) known as “the Fall”, only one bastion of civilization remains – Iron City, a sprawling, makeshift community of scavengers that lies in the shadow of the floating city of Zalem, home of Earth’s remaining aristocracy. Dr. Dyson Ido (Christoph Waltz) runs a clinic in Iron City customising and repairing the bodies of its cyborg citizens, from the mercenary “hunter killers” to the fast-living players of Motorball (a kind of supercharged mixture of Rollerball and Death Race), one day discovering the wrecked remains of a female ‘borg in the junkyard of scrap accumulated beneath Zalem. Finding her human brain is still alive, he gives her a new chassis and christens her Alita, raising her as best he can as she attempts to piece together her mysterious, missing past, only for them both to discover that the truth of her origins has the potential to tear their fragile little world apart forever. The Maze Runner trilogy’s Rosa Salazar is the heart and soul of the film as Alita (originally Gally in the comics), perfectly bringing her (literal) wide-eyed innocence and irrepressible spirit to life, as well as proving every inch the diminutive badass fans have been expecting – while her overly anime-styled look might have seemed a potentially jarring distraction in the trailers, Salazar’s mocap performance is SO strong you’ve forgotten all about it within the first five minutes, convinced she’s a real, flesh-and-metal character – and she’s well supported by an exceptional ensemble cast both new and well-established. Waltz is the most kind and sympathetic he’s been since Django Unchained, instilling Ido with a worldly warmth and gentility that makes him a perfect mentor/father-figure, while Spooksville star Keean Johnson makes a VERY impressive big screen breakthrough as Hugo, the streetwise young dreamer with a dark secret that Alita falls for in a big way, Jennifer Connelly is icily classy as Ido’s ex-wife Chiren, Mahershala Ali is enjoyably suave and mysterious as the film’s nominal villain, Vector, an influential but seriously shady local entrepreneur with a major hidden agenda, and a selection of actors shine through the CGI in various strong mocap performances, such as Deadpool’s Ed Skrein, Derek Mears, From Dusk Til Dawn’s Eiza Gonzalez and a thoroughly unrecognisable but typically awesome Jackie Earle Haley. As you’d expect from Rodriguez, the film delivers BIG TIME on the action front, unleashing a series of spectacular set-pieces that peak with Alita’s pulse-pounding Motorball debut, but there’s a pleasingly robust story under all the thrills and wow-factor, riffing on BIG THEMES and providing plenty of emotional power, especially in the heartbreaking character-driven climax – Cameron, meanwhile, has clearly maintained strict control over the project throughout, his eye and voice writ large across every scene as we’re thrust headfirst into a fully-immersive post-apocalyptic, rusty cyberpunk world as thoroughly fleshed-out as Avatar’s Pandora, but most importantly he’s still done exactly what he set out to do, paying the utmost respect to a cracking character as he brings her to vital, vivid life on the big screen. Don’t believe the detractors – this is a MAGNIFICENT piece of work that deserves all the recognition it can muster, perfectly set up for a sequel that I fear we may never get to see. Oh well, at least it’s renewed my flagging hopes for a return to Pandora …

15. AD ASTRA – last century, making a space exploration movie after 2001: A Space Odyssey was a pretty tall order. THIS century, looks like it’s trying to follow Chris Nolan’s Interstellar – love it or hate it, you can’t deny that particular epic space opera for the IMAX crowd is a REALLY tough act to follow. At first glance, then, writer-director James Gray (The Yards, We Own the Night) is an interesting choice to try, at least until you consider his last feature – he may be best known for understated, gritty little crime thrillers, but I was most impressed by 2016’s ambitious period biopic The Lost City of Z, which focused on the groundbreaking career of pioneering explorer Percy Fawcett, and couldn’t have been MORE about the indomitable spirit of discovery if it tried. His latest shares much of the same DNA, albeit presented in a VERY different package, as we’re introduced to a more expansive Solar System of the near future, in which humanity has begun to colonize our neighbouring worlds and is now pushing its reach beyond our own star’s light in order to discover what truly lies beyond the void of OUTER space. Brad Pitt stars as Major Roy McBride, a career astronaut whose whole life has been defined by growing up in the shadow of his father, H. Clifford McBride (Tommy Lee Jones), a true pioneer who led an unprecedented expedition to the orbit of our furthest neighbour, Neptune, in order to search for signs of intelligent life beyond our solar system, only for the whole mission to go quiet for the past sixteen years. Then a mysterious, interplanetary power surge throws the Earth into chaos, and Roy must travel farther than he’s ever gone before in order to discover the truth behind the source of the pulse – his father’s own ill-fated Lima Project … this is a very different beast from Interstellar, a much more introspective, stately affair, revelling in its glacial pacing and emphasis on character motivation over plot, but it’s no less impressive from a visual, visceral standpoint – Gray and cinematographer Hoyt van Hoytema (who, interestingly, ALSO shot Interstellar, along with Nolan’s Dunkirk and his upcoming feature Tenet) certainly make space look truly EPIC, crafting astonishing visuals that deserve to be seen on the big screen (or at the very least on the best quality HDTV you can find). There’s also no denying the quality of the writing, Gray weaving an intricate story that reveals far greater depth and complexity than can be seen at first glance, while Roy’s palpable “thought-process” voiceover puts us right into the head of the character as we follow him across the endless void on a fateful journey into a cosmic Heart of Darkness. There is, indeed, a strong sense of Apocalypse Now to proceedings, with the younger McBride definitely following a similar path to Martin Sheen’s ill-fated captain as he travels “up-river” to find his Colonel Kurtz-esque father, and the performances certainly match the heft of the material – there’s an impressive collection of talent on offer in a series of top-quality supporting turns, Jones being just the icing on the cake in the company of Donald Sutherland, Liv Tyler, John Ortiz and Preacher’s Ruth Negga, but the undeniable driving force of the film is Pitt, his cool, laconic control hiding uncharted depths of emotional turmoil as he’s forced to call every choice into question. It’s EASILY one of the finest performances of his career to date, just one of the MANY great selling points in a film that definitely deserves to be remembered as one of the all-time sci-fi greats of the decade. An absolute masterpiece, then, but does it stand tall in comparison to Interstellar? I should say so …

14. BRIGHTBURN – torpedoing Crawl right out of the water in the summer, this refreshing, revisionist superhero movie takes one of the most classic mythologies in the genre and turns it on its head in true horror style. The basic premise is an absolute blinder – what if, when he crashed in small-town America as a baby, Superman had turned out to be a bad seed? Unsurprising, then, that it came from James Gunn, who here produces a screenplay by his brother and cousin Brian and Mark Gunn (best known for penning the likes of Journey 2: the Mysterious Island, but nobody’s perfect) and the directorial big break of his old mate David Yarovesky (whose only previous feature is obscure sci-fi horror The Hive) – Gunn is, of course, an old pro at taking classic comic book tropes and creating something completely new with them, having previously done so with HUGE success on cult indie black comedy Super and, in particular, Marvel’s Guardians of the Galaxy movies, and his fingerprints are ALL OVER this one too. The Hunger Games’ Elizabeth Banks (who starred in Gunn’s own directorial debut Slither) and David Denman (The Office) are Tori and Kyle Breyer, a farming couple living in Brightburn, Kansas, who are trying for a baby when a mysterious pod falls from the sky onto their land, containing an infant boy. As you’d expect, they adopt him, determined to keep his origin a secret, and for the first twelve years of his life all seems perfectly fine – Brandon’s growing up into an intelligent, artistic child who loves his family. Then his powers manifest and he starts to change – not just physically (he’s impervious to harm, incredibly strong, has laser eyes and the ability to disrupt electronic devices … oh, and he can fly, too), but also in personality, as he becomes cold, distant, even cruel as he begins to demonstrate some seriously sociopathic tendencies. As his parents begin to fear what he’s becoming, things begin to spiral out of control and people start to disappear or turn up brutally murdered, and it becomes clear that Brandon might actually be something out of a nightmare … needless to say this is superhero cinema as full-on horror, Brandon’s proclivities leading to some proper nasty moments once he really starts to cut loose, and there’s no mistaking this future super for one of the good guys – he pulverises bones, shatters faces and melts skulls with nary a twitch, just the tiniest hint of a smile. It’s an astonishing performance from newcomer Jackson A. Dunn, who perfectly captures the nuanced subtleties as Brandon goes from happy child to lethal psychopath, clearly demonstrating that he’s gonna be an incredible talent in future; the two grown leads, meanwhile, are both excellent, Denman growing increasingly haunted and exasperated as he tries to prove his own son is a wrong ‘un, while Banks has rarely been better, perfectly embodying a mother desperately wanting to belief the best of her son no matter how compelling the evidence becomes, and there’s quality support from Breaking Bad’s Matt Jones and Search Party’s Meredith Hagner as Brandon’s aunt and uncle, Noah and Meredith, and Becky Wahlstrom as the mother of one of his school-friends, who seems to see him for what he really is right from the start. Dark, suspenseful and genuinely nasty, this is definitely not your typical superhero movie, often playing like Kick-Ass’ deeply twisted cousin, and there are times when it displays some of the same edgy, black-hearted sense of humour, too. In other words, it’s all very James Gunn. It’s one sweet piece of work, everyone involved showing real skill and devotion, and Yarovesky in particular proves he’ll definitely be one-to-watch in the future. There are already plans for a potential sequel, and given where this particular little superhero universe seems to be heading I think it could be something pretty special, so fair to say I can’t wait.

13. STAR WARS EPISODE IX: THE RISE OF SKYWALKER – wow, this one’s proven particularly divisive, hasn’t it? And I thought The Last Jedi caused a stir … say what you will about Rian Johnson’s previous entry in the juggernaut science fiction saga, while it certainly riled up the hardcore fanbase it was at least well-received by the critics, not to mention myself, who found it refreshing and absolutely ingenious after the crowd-pleasing simplicity of JJ Abrams’ admittedly still thoroughly brilliant The Force Awakens. After such radical experimentation, Abrams’ return to the director’s chair can’t help feeling a bit like desperate backpedalling in order to sooth a whole lot of seriously ruffled feathers, and I’ll admit that, on initial viewing, I couldn’t help feeling just a touch cheated given what might have been if similarly offbeat, experimentally-minded filmmaker Colin Trevorrow (Safety Not Guaranteed, Jurassic World) had stayed on board to helm the picture. Then I got home, thought about it for a bit and it started to grow on me, before a second viewing helped me to reconcile all everything that bugged me first time around, seemingly the same things that have, perversely, ruffled so many more feathers THIS TIME. This doesn’t feel like a retcon job, no matter what some might think – new developments in the story that might feel like whitewash actually do make sense once you think about them, and the major twists actually work when viewed within the larger, overarching storyline. Not that I’m willing to go into any kind of detail here, mind you – this is a spoiler-free zone, thank you very much. Suffice to say, the honour of the saga has in no way been besmirched by Abrams and his co-writer Chris Terrio (sure, he worked on Batman V Superman and Justice League, but he also wrote Argo), the final film ultimately standing up very well indeed alongside its trilogy contemporaries, and still MILES ABOVE anything we got in George Lucas’ decidedly second-rate prequels. The dangling plot strands from The Last Jedi certainly get tied up with great satisfaction, particularly the decidedly loaded drama of new Jedi Rey (Daisy Ridley) and troubled First Order Supreme Leader Kylo Ren/Ben Solo (Adam Driver), while the seemingly controversial choice of reintroducing Ian McDiarmid’s fantastically monstrous Emperor Palpatine as the ultimate big bad ultimately works out spectacularly well, a far cry from any perceived botched fan-service. Everyone involved was clearly working at the height of their powers – Ridley and Driver are EXCEPTIONAL, both up-and-coming young leads truly growing into the their roles, while co-stars John Boyega and Oscar Isaac land a pleasingly meaty chunk of the story to finally get to really explore that fantastic chemistry they teased on The Last Jedi, and Carrie Fisher gets a truly MAGNIFICENT send off in the role that defined her as the incomparable General Leia Organa (one which it’s still heartbreaking she never quite got to complete); other old faces, meanwhile, return in fun ways, from Anthony Daniels’ C-3PO FINALLY getting to play a PROPER role in the action again to a brilliant supporting flourish from the mighty Billy Dee Williams as the Galaxy-Far-Far-Away’s own King of Cool, Lando Calrissian, while there’s a wealth of strong new faces here too, such as Lady Macbeth’s Naomie Ackie as rookie rebel Jannah, Richard E. Grant as suitably slimy former-Imperial First Order bigshot Allegiant General Pryde, The Americans’ Keri Russell as tough smuggler Zorii Bliss and Lord of the Rings star Dominic Monaghan as Resistance tech Beaumont Kin. As fans have come to expect, Abrams certainly doesn’t skim on the spectacle, delivering bombastic thrill-ride set-pieces that yet again set the benchmark for the year’s action stakes (particularly in the blistering mid-picture showdown between Rey and Kylo among the wave-lashed remains of Return of the Jedi’s blasted Death Star) and awe-inspiring visuals that truly boggle the mind with their sheer beauty and complexity, but he also injects plenty of the raw emotion, inspired character work, knowing humour and pure, unadulterated geeky FUN he’s so well known for. In conclusion, then, this is MILES AWAY from the clunky, compromised mess it’s been labelled as in some quarters, ultimately still very much in keeping with the high standards set by its trilogy predecessors and EVERY INCH a proper, full-blooded Star Wars movie. Ultimately, Rogue One remains THE BEST of the big screen run since Lucas’ Original Trilogy, but this one still emerges as a Force to be reckoned with …

12. JOKER – no-one was more wary than me when it was first announced that DC and Warner Bros. were going to make a standalone, live-action movie centred entirely around Batman’s ultimate nemesis, the Joker, especially with it coming hot on the heels of Jared Leto’s thoroughly polarizing portrayal in Suicide Squad. More so once it was made clear that this WOULD NOT be part of the studio’s overarching DC Extended Universe cinematic franchise, which was FINALLY starting to find its feet – then what’s the point? I found myself asking. I should have just sat back and gone with it, especially since the finished product would have made me eat a big slice of humble pie had I not already been won over once the trailers started making the rounds. This is something new, different and completely original in the DC cinematic pantheon, even if it does draw major inspiration from Alan Moore’s game-changing DC comics mini-series The Killing Joke – a complete standalone origin story for one of our most enduring villains, re-imagined as a blistering, bruising psychological thriller examining what can happen to a man when he’s pushed far beyond the brink by terrible circumstance, societal neglect and crippling mental illness. Joaquin Phoenix delivers the performance of his career as Arthur Fleck, a down-at-heel clown-for-hire struggling to launch a career as a stand-up-comic (badly hampered by the fact that he’s just not funny) while suffering from an acute dissociative condition and terrible attacks of pathological laughter at moments of heightened stress – the actor lost 52 pounds of weight to become a horrifically emaciated scarecrow painfully reminiscent of Christian Bale’s similar preparation for his acclaimed turn in The Machinist, and frequently contorts himself into seemingly impossible positions that prominently accentuate the fact. Fleck is a truly pathetic creature, thoroughly put-upon by a pitiless society that couldn’t care less about him, driven by inner demons and increasingly compelling dark thoughts to act out in increasingly desperate, destructive ways that ultimately lead him to cross lines he just can’t come back from, and Phoenix gives his all in every scene, utterly mesmerising even when his character commits some truly heinous acts. Certainly he dominates the film, but then there are plenty of winning supporting turns from a universally excellent cast to bolster him along, from Zazie Beetz as an impoverished young mother Arthur bonds with and Frances Conroy (Six Feet Under, American Horror Story) as Arthur’s decidedly fragile mother Penny to Brett Cullen (The Thorn Birds, Lost) as a surprisingly unsympathetic Thomas Wayne (the philanthropic father of future Batman Bruce Wayne), while Robert De Niro himself casts a very long shadow indeed as Murray Franklin, a successful comedian and talk show host that Arthur idolizes, a character intentionally referential to his role in The King of Comedy. Indeed, Martin Scorsese’s influence is writ large throughout the entire film, reinforced by the choice to set the film in a 1981-set Gotham City which feels very much like the crumbling New York of Mean Streets or Taxi Driver. This is a dark, edgy, grim and unflinchingly BRUTAL film, frequently difficult to watch as Arthur is driven further into a blazing psychological hell by his increasingly stricken life, but addictively, devastatingly compelling all the same, impossible to turn away from even in the truly DEVASTATING final act. Initially director Todd Phillips seemed like a decidedly odd choice for the project, hailing as he does from a predominantly comedy-based filmmaking background (most notably Due Date and The Hangover trilogy), but he’s actually a perfect fit here, finding a strangely twisted beauty in many of his compositions and a kind of almost uplifting transcendence in his subject’s darkest moments, while his screenwriting collaboration with Scott Silver (8 Mile, The Fighter) means that the script is as rich as it can be, almost overflowing with brilliant ideas and rife with biting social commentary which is even more relevant today than in the period in which it’s set. Intense, gripping, powerful and utterly devastating, this truly is one of the best films of 2019. If this was a purely critical Top 30 this would have placed in the Top 5, guaranteed …

11. FAST & FURIOUS PRESENTS HOBBS & SHAW – summer 2019’s most OTT movie was some of THE MOST FUN I had at the cinema all year, a genuinely batshit crazy, pure bonkers rollercoaster ride of a film I just couldn’t get enough of, the perfect sum of all its baffling parts. The Fast & Furious franchise has always revelled in its extremes, subtle as a brick and very much playing to the blockbuster, popcorn movie crowd right from the start, but it wasn’t until Fate of the Furious (yup, the ridiculous title says it all) that it really started to play to the inherent ridiculousness of its overall setup, paving the way for this first crack at a new spin-off series sans-Vin Diesel. Needless to say this one fully embraces the ludicrousness, with director David Leitch the perfect choice to shepherd it into the future, having previously mastered OTT action through John Wick and Atomic Blonde before helming manic screwball comedy Deadpool 2, which certainly is the strongest comparison point here – Hobbs & Shaw is every bit as loud, violent, chaotic and thoroughly irreverent, definitely playing up the inherent comic potential at the core of the material as he cranks up the humour. Dwayne Johnson and Jason Statham take centre stage as, respectively, DSS agent Luke Hobbs and former SAS black operative Deckard Shaw, the ultimate action movie odd couple once again forced to work together to foil the bad guy and save the world from a potentially cataclysmic disaster. Specifically Brixton Lore (Idris Elba), a self-proclaimed “black superman” enhanced with cybernetic implants and genetic manipulation to turn him into the ultimate warrior, who plans to use a lethal designer supervirus to eradicate half of humanity (as supervillains tend to do), but there’s one small flaw in his plan – the virus has been stolen by Hattie Shaw (Mission: Impossible – Fallout’s Vanessa Kirby), a rogue MI6 agent who also happens to be Deckard’s sister. Got all that? Yup, the movie really is as mad as it sounds, but that’s part of the charm – there’s an enormous amount of fun to be had in just giving in and going along with the madness as Hobbs and the two Shaws bounce from one overblown, ludicrously destructive set-piece to the next, kicking plenty of arse along the way when they’re not jumping out of tall buildings or driving fast cars at ludicrous speeds in heavy traffic, and when they’re not doing that they’re bickering with enthusiasm, each exchange crackling with exquisite hate-hate chemistry and liberally laced with hilarious dialogue delivered with gleeful, fervent venom (turns out there’s few things so enjoyable as watching Johnson and Statham verbally rip each other a new one), and the two action cinema heavyweights have never been better than they are here, each bringing the very best performances of their respective careers out of each other as they vacillate, while Kirby holds her own with consummate skill that goes to show she’s got a bright future of her own. As for Idris Elba, the one-time potential future Bond deserves to be remembered as one of the all-time great screen villains ever, investing Brixton with the perfect combination of arrogant swagger and lethal menace to steal every scene he’s in while simultaneously proving he can be just as big a badass in the action stakes; Leitch also scatters a selection of familiar faces from his previous movies throughout a solid supporting cast which also includes the likes of Fear the Walking Dead’s Cliff Curtis, From Dusk Till Dawn’s Eiza Gonzalez and Helen Mirren (who returns as Deckard and Hattie’s mum Queenie Shaw), while there’s more than one genuinely brilliant surprise cameo to enjoy. As we’ve come to expect, the action sequences are MASSIVE, powered by nitrous oxide and high octane as property is demolished and vehicles are driven with reckless abandon when our protagonists aren’t engaged in bruising, bone-crunching fights choreographed with all the flawless skill you’d expect from a director who used to be a professional stuntman, but this time round the biggest fun comes from the downtime, as the aforementioned banter becomes king. It’s an interesting makeover for the franchise, going from heavyweight action stalwart to comedy gold, and it’s a direction I hope they’ll maintain for the inevitable follow-up – barring Fast Five, this is THE BEST Fast & Furious to date, and a strong indicator of how it should go to keep conquering multiplexes in future. Sign me up for more, please.

#frozen 2 #Once Upon A Time In Hollywood #crawl #crawl movie #Shazam!#Alita Battle Angel #ad astra #Brightburn #star wars the rise of skywalker #joker #joker movie #hobbs and shaw #2019 in movies

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littlemonstersau-blog · 5 years ago

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The Feels Awaken, Interlude 2: One Rogue Thought

Written by @jkl-fff

PART I - PART II [Interlude] - PART III - PART IV [Interlude] (you are here) - PART V [FINAL]

——————————————————————————————–

Bill, putting DVD back in case: Well, now you’ve seen ‘em all (until they finish the new ones, of which only Renegade 6 will be stupendous, and that largely thanks to everyone dying—much pathos by meatbag standards, much comedy by mine). So … Whaddya think, Fordsy?

Ford, taking in a deep breath: I think … I think I’m personally going to make a working lasercutlass (with SCIENCE!), drive to wherever the hell George Dufas lives—

Bill, helpfully: That would be Skyjogger Ranch, not too far north of San Francisco. I know, because I know lots of things.

Ford: Alright then, I’m going to drive to Skyjogger Ranch, and then I’M GONNA SHOVE MY HOMEMADE LASERCUTLASS RIGHT UP HIS SCRIPT-SPEWING ASS AND ACTIVATE IT!

Stan, startling awake in easy chair: Wha?! Huh?!

Ford: THAT WAS THE BIGGEST WRECK OF TRAINS THAT WERE LOADED WITH ASS-SHIT THAT I’VE EVER SEEN! [rises to his feet, stamps around, gestures emphatically] AND I’VE BEEN TO SEVERAL DIMENSIONS WITH EXTREMELY SHODDY RAILWAY INFRASTRUCTURES AND BOOMING, FERTILIZER-BASED ECONOMIES! MEANING SEVERAL DIMENSIONS WITH FREQUENT AND NOTABLE WRECKS OF ASS-SHIT-LOADED TRAINS!

Stan, rubbing eyes: Yeah, we picked up on your meanin’ there. [yawns, scratches self] What time’s it, anyway?

Bill, grinning at this development: What’d you think of the acting?

Ford: WOODEN! FLAT! LIFELESS! LIKE THIS FLOOR!

Bill: All George Dufas’s fault. Those were all highly acclaimed, highly trained actors, and highly gifted actors. He insisted as Director they act like they didn’t know how to. Like I said before.

Ford: WHAT?! WHY?! RRRAAARRRGHGHGH!

Stan, yawning: Moses, it’s past midnight already …

Bill, egging it on: Heh. And the depiction of non-human meatbags?

Ford: MOSTLY INFURIATINGLY RACIST CARICATURES OF HUMAN MEATBAG CULTURES—er, “human cultures”, I meant just “human cultures”—AND BLANDLY UNIMAGINATIVE OR INSUFFERABLY ANNOYING (LIKE JERKJERK)!

Stan, heaving himself upright: Hey, Sixer?

Bill: Hehehe! George Dufas’s influence again. And the use of the Force? The lasercutlass duels?

Ford: THE FIRST WAS SO UNDERUTILIZED AS TO BE FUCKING POINTLESS, THE OTHER SO OVERDONE AS TO BE SHITTING BORING! THEY MADE SWORDFIGHTING WITH LASERS BECOME BORING! HOW?! WHY?!

Stan: Sixer?

Bill: Hahaha! Still George Dufas! And the script?

Ford: THE SCRIPT?! WHAT SCRIPT?! THAT WAS USED, BARGAIN-PRICED TOILET PAPER! RRRAAARRRGHGHGH!

Stan: Sixer!

Ford: WHAT?! … Er, sorry. What?

Stan: It’s past midnight. Meanin’ it’s bedtime. You comin’ or what?

Ford: Gah! I couldn’t possibly sleep now! I’m too enraged!

Stan, shrugging: Well, I am. So … keep the nerd-ragin’ at, y’know, an “indoor voice” level of volume. ‘kay? [kisses him goodnight, shuffles out]

Ford, momentarily taken aback: Um … Where was I?

Bill, helpfully: The script. Which was also George Dufas’s fault. Basically, the whole prequel trilogy is a case study of what happens if you give a man who had one or two good ideas in the past— when there was an entire team of more talented people to shoot down his one or two thousand bad ideas and sculpt the few good ones— complete creative control of a project.

Ford, remembering how disgusted he is: No, it’s a case study of what happens if a tornado picks up a barn full of diarrhetic animals— A LITERAL SHITSTORM—hits a warehouse of blank paper, then some fuckwattle decides to gather up the pages and use it as a script! It made exactly 0.0 sense as a story! According to SCIENCE! itself there wasn’t even a measurable amount of sense made in this story! And, believe me, I understand that writing isn’t easy, but they had … How long exactly to work on the scripts?

Bill, promptly: Almost exactly16 years to work on the first one, then almost exactly 3 years for the second one, and another 3 for the third.

Ford, trembling with self-control: S-sssixteen years for one script? And that mmmakes … t-t-twenty-two years total to come up with … with that p-pile of hot, fffffuck-juggling shhhhhhhhhhhit … [loses it, explodes] OH MY VARIOUS ENTITIES OF COSMIC POWER FOR WHOM THE TERM “GODS” COULD REASONABLY BE USED AS A SHORTHAND, EVEN IF IT IS SOMEWHAT MISLEADING!

Stan, from the other room: Indoor voice!

Ford, stomping around: WE COULD COME UP WITH A BETTER PLOTLINE FOR A PREQUEL TRILOGY IN ONE NIGHT THAN THAT MOVING BAG OF NEGATIVE FUCKGUZZLE DID IN TWENTY-FUCKING-TWO FUCKING YEARS! AND Y’KNOW WHAT?! [takes Bill by the shoulders] WE WILL, GODSDAMNIT!

Bill, disbelieving: Really? You wanna do something with me?

Ford: AND IT’LL HAVE COMPELLING CHARACTER ARCS, AND SUBTLY DEEP WORLDBUILDING FOR THE GALAXY, AND THE FORCE’LL BE SHOWN—

Stan, from other room: IF YOU DON’T KEEP IT DOWN, STANFORD PINES, I’LL COME OUT THERE AND SHOW YOU MY FORCE RIGHT UPSIDE YOUR FOOL HEAD!

Bill, excited: Mabel left a bunch of … of arts and crafts stuff upstairs. We can use those for this! I’ll just … just run and get them! Hang on! [scampers up the stairs]

Ford, suddenly alone: … wait a minute … [stops short, looks around deserted room) What the freeze-dried hell am I doing?

Stan, grouching back in: What you’re doin’ is bein’ a pain in my ass—a loud pain in my ass!

Ford, almost panicking: No, I’m … about to write better plots for the prequels? With Cipher? I think?

Stan: And? What’s the problem?

Ford: And I don’t … I can’t trust him! That is the problem!

Stan: You can’t trust him to help write what is essentially gonna be a Cosmos Conflicts fanfic? [rolls eyes] C’mon, Sixer, it’s not like he could write anything worse than what we just watched. You were just goin’ on about that.

Ford, faltering: No, I mean, he’s still planning to takeover! No one can trust him, so what am I—

Stan: Just be the scribe yourself; that way, you maintain creative control of the fanfic and he can’t take it over.

Ford: I mean the planet! Er, the galaxy! Gah, no, the dimen—

Stan, deadpan: Oh, yeah, that’s a real dilemma right there. Can’t have Farth Bill takin’ over that nerdlinger galaxy, or we’ll hafta write a whole ‘nother generation of whiney Skyjoggers masterin’ the Force to confront him.

Ford, irritated: Damn it, Stanly, you know what I’m talking about!

Stan, rubbing eyes: Look, I’m gonna share some Old Wisdom™ I learned as a professional conman with you. And which, in fact, you yourself told me rather recently. [lays hands on brother’s shoulders, looks him in the eyes] You don’t hafta trust someone to work with ‘em, ya dumbass. And don’t hafta trust ‘em to be nice to ‘em, neither, ya dumbass. Or even to like ‘em, ya dumbass. You can do all that, while still not trustin’ ‘em … ya dumbass.

Ford, blinking owlishly: … What? I told you that? But—

Stan, slowly: Listen, I didn’t trust Bill at the start of the summer, but I still talked to him. Still interacted with him and was nice … ish and such. And only a week after? I had him workin’ for me. [gestures dismissively] Yeah, he caused some trouble at the start, but I didn’t lock him up ‘cause of it. I was patient with him, I showed him I’d work with him, and I showed the l’il bastard he can’t beat me at my own game— I always got an eye on him, so he can’t get anything major past me. And now? He’s just like any other employee I’ve ever had (except for Soos) … Slacks off and shoplifts about the same amount, too.

Ford: … And you’re bragging about that?

Stan, smugly: Heh. Yep. Think about it, Sixer. For him, that’s huge progress.

Ford, reluctantly: I guess, but—

Stan: Listen, you don’t hafta trust Bill. Okay? You know already he’s up to something (or so you’re convinced, anyway), so he can’t trick you. You’ll be suspicious of absolutely everything, so he won’t be able to get something past you in the middle of, say, writin’ your stupid, nerd fanfic. Or talkin’ ‘bout an anomaly. Or just havin’ a civil conversation every now and then. Okay? This gettin’ through that metal plate in your skull? I mean, it should be able to since—not to put too fine a point on it—you suggested it to me not too long ago.

Ford: I don’t … need … to trust Cipher … to be nice to him …

Stan: Exactly. And—Moses on a moped!—his name is Bill. [turns, goes to leave, pauses in doorway] And for fffffuck’s sake, keep it down while you two do whatever. Some of us are tryin’ to actually sleep.

Ford, standing lost in thought: … can’t believe it … so simple … really have been a silly, old fool not to see it all along …

Bill, returning: Sorry that took so long. I got buried in an avalanche of Mabel’s spare sweaters while digging this stuff out. [unloads an armload onto the table, pulls up paper and pencil] Where do we start, Fordsy?

Ford, a little overwhelmed: Um … honestly, I’m not sure …

Bill: Hmm … Well, what’re the big problems that gotta be fixed? Let’s start with that. What made you mad in the movie?

Ford, after only a split second of thought: Midi-chlorians firstly. Those go, because the Force is a mystical power-energy thing— damn it all!—and not some sorta bacterial infection!

Bill, making a note: Good. Good. How about that Rule of Two? Speaking as a megalomaniac, I can say it’s stupid to only have one agent working for you. You’d get nothing done!

Ford: Um …

Bill: What? Oh, Yog-Sothoth’s sixth soleus, that was a joke.

Ford, deciding to believe that: R-right. Um … None of that immaculate conception or prophecy crap, either. That’s gone. Came out of nowhere, served no purpose, we don’t need it.

Bill, making a note: What, you don’t like the idea of Space Jesus? How about rewriting the romance so that it doesn’t just … happen, y’know? So that there actually is a romance, and not just two straight characters who bone ‘cause they’re the opposite genders?

Ford, getting excited: Moses, yes! And rewriting Otherkin so he isn’t some whiney kid who just … just does stuff because the plot needs some action! We could do that for all of them! We could make it all as great as it deserves to be!

[hours and hours of excited fanboy collaboration transpire …]

#little monsters au #bipper #stan #ford #stancest #a bit #also a lot of swearing #the feels awaken #writing #fanfiction #also this is the chapter that was left out of the illustration lottery #by pure chance #only one more to go!#submission

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izzy-b-hands · 5 years ago

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Silver and Shotguns

Prompt: Gun

I’m watching Buzzfeed Supernatural, and this happened as a result. That is all the explanation I have, aka yes this is Eugene and Snafu fighting off something supernatural and terrifying, and yes it is kind of a random one shot to drop on a Sunday evening, but…yeah.

A quick note that I’m actually not really comfortable with guns (for a variety of reasons, not least of all involving an ex-stepdad who worked at a prison, but we don’t have time to unpack all of that.) However, due to the prompt and the plot, guns are used and mentioned in this fic, so if they really make you uncomfortable, I’d say maybe skip this one. I tried to keep all weapon talk within my own comfort zone, but that zone is different for everyone, so like I say, if you think it might upset you, then no harm in skipping this piece.

Also kinda still winging the interior of the house, because I’ve rewatched all the scenes where they show the Sledge house and…man I need more shots to better establish it exactly. So forgive me if I took a bit of liberty with the set up of it (like I know it looks like a ranch from the outside but then during the scene where Sledge’s father is outside his room, they look to be on a second floor???). If nothing else, I’ll try and keep my headcanon version of it straight lol.

My love to all who read/like/reblog!!

It sounded like a gunshot, loud enough to drag him out of a deep sleep, shoving Snafu hard to wake him up.

“Someone’s downstairs.”

Snafu looked up, eyes barely open. “One of the cats?”

“Someone broke in through the back door; I just heard it; I’m sure of it,” Eugene replied, his heart about to beat out of his chest. It hurt, being so alert and on edge, every muscle tensed.

Snafu sat up, and gently held onto his hand as they listened. “Maybe it was just somethin’ outside. I’m not tryin’ to doubt you, but I don’t hear-”

The sound of glass shattering downstairs interrupted him, and like that they were both out of bed, yanking on trousers, boots that had been set by their bed pulled on before they started to creep out the hall to the stairs.

“Let me go first,” Snafu whispered. “Got my kabar.”

He did, gripped in one hand. Eugene had no idea where he’d had it, but he knew where his was. He withdrew it slowly from the side of his boot, and showed it to Snafu.

“That’s my baby,” Snafu smiled. “Still though, scoot. I’m goin’ first.”

He rolled his eyes, but smiled as he let Snafu slip in front of him as they slowly started down the stairs, stepping just so on each step, knowing where to avoid so the steps wouldn’t creak under their weight.

A growl stilled their steps.

“What sort of animals y’all got around here again?” Snafu whispered.

“…are you about to tell me you think a bear, or a mountain lion, or a bobcat or somethin’ has broken into our house?”

“You got a better idea about what that was?” Snafu was still whispering, but fiercely as he nervously looked down the rest of the stairs. They were about halfway down the staircase. If whatever was down there came through the sitting room at that moment, it would see them easy as anything.

“No, but it didn’t sound like an animal breaking down the back door. At least, I didn’t think so,” Eugene mumbled, his free hand holding onto Snafu’s bicep in case he needed to pull him back up the stairs in a hurry.

“Not like either of us would really know for sure what that sounds like,” Snafu said. “Unless you and your parents just had bears breakin’ in every other night? They just conveniently forget to mention that?”

“Shut up,” Eugene hissed as he listened. “No, we did not have bears breakin’ in to our house most nights. But humans don’t growl like that!”

The click of claws on the wooden floor made them both jump.

“Queenie! Get your ass up here; we got a goddamn bear or some shit in the house and you’re explorin’,” Snafu whispered as loudly as he seemed to dare, handing Eugene his kabar as he darted down the rest of the stairs and picked Queen up.

“C’mon. Let’s go make sure the rest of them are up here, get ‘em locked in a room to be safe. Then we’ll keep checkin’ this out, okay Snaf?”

But Snafu didn’t turn his head, didn’t move a muscle as he held Queen tight in his arms, staring out from the hall into the sitting room.

“Merriell?”

That did it. Snafu was suddenly running towards him, then right by him, Queen whimpering fearfully in his arms.

Eugene climbed back up the stairs quietly and watched as he dumped her into their room, then darted down the hall, retrieving two more cats from the hall bathroom, then another two from the guest room, then ran to pull him into the bedroom as well.

“Snaf-”

Snafu shut him up with a look, the same sort of look he’d worn during the worst of the shelling and fire they’d been under, his eyes wide and fearful and looking like he was a thousand miles away, lost somewhere in his mind.

Snafu closed the bedroom door, then locked it, then started to drag the armoire in front of the door.

“Let me help,” Eugene whispered as he set their kabars on the bedside table and moved to push the other side of the armoire. He could feel the cats watching them from their hiding spot under the bed, and it made it all the more tense. The cats weren’t scared of much, surprisingly. They couldn’t be left outside because they’d more than once ran after creatures two times their size that had tried to amble over the fence of the backyard. If they were scared now…

It made his heart skip a beat in the worst way.

“What did you see?” Eugene asked Snafu, willing his voice not to shake.

Snafu shook his head. “Can’t have seen it, ‘cause it can’t be real.”

“But you saw somethin’,” Eugene replied, pulling him to the bed, and holding him close as they both sat. He was shaking.

“You’re gonna think I’ve snapped,” Snafu said. “Hell, I think I have.”

“Just tell me. You know you can; I’m not gonna think you’ve lost it,” Eugene said. He meant it, but also he just really wanted to know what the hell sounded like it was coming up the stairs.

“A werewolf,” Snafu whispered. “I’m gone, I must be, but…you shoulda seen it, I swear that’s what it was. Least seven feet tall, covered in fur, and those claws…”

Eugene took a breath. “Where’s the gun?”

“Downstairs, same spot as always,” Snafu whimpered.

A growl outside the bedroom door pulled them back to the reality of the situation, though it hardly felt like reality.

“We can’t stay in here,” Eugene whispered. “Go get the cat carriers, get ‘em in, and hide ‘em in the bathroom for now. Don’t want them runnin’ around in danger.”

Snafu moved quickly but quietly, pulling the carriers from the closet, and dragging the whimpering and whining cats out from under the bed one by one.

While he did, Eugene tucked his kabar back into his boot, then went to the window and opened it. There wasn’t much roof to walk on, but it would have to do.

“What are you doin’?” Snafu asked as he finished placing the cats in their carriers into the bathroom, then pulled their other dresser in front of the door.

“We need the gun. Now, I’m not gonna say if this thing really is a…y’know. Not because I don’t believe you, but because I didn’t see it. Might be a real sick bear or somethin’, who knows. Either way, we need the gun. Can try and scare it off, long enough to run to the car,” Eugene replied.

“And then what?”

“Then…I’m not sure. Maybe it’ll follow us, and we can get it away from the house. Or maybe we can go get Sid, some reinforcements to try and shoot whatever this thing is down,” Eugene sighed as he carefully climbed out of the window and onto the shingles of the roof. Even in his uniform boots, it was hard to get a grip, and he could feel his legs shaking with the effort.

“Get back in here!” Snafu reached a hand out the window, but Eugene shook his head.

“You gotta keep it near the bedroom door, or at least on this floor. I’ll climb down the drain pipe, get the gun-”

“And climb back up the damn house carryin’ a gun?!” Snafu interrupted angrily. “You’re gonna get your fool ass killed!”

“You got any other ideas?”

Snafu looked away at that. “No. But I don’t like this one, not at all.”

“Me neither. But we gotta do somethin’,” Eugene replied. He took a deep breath, then slowly started the climb towards the drain pipe, his hands aching with the effort of holding onto the edges of the shingles, feeling them slice into his skin. He was horribly aware of where the ground was, and was suddenly incredibly grateful his parents hadn’t built a house that was three stories.

The drain pipe was cool, smooth relief in his hands as he slid down it, and carefully walked through the doorway of the broken back door, wincing at the crunch of broken wood and glass beneath his boots.

His hands shook as he went to the kitchen and pulled the gun and ammo from their respective cupboards, loading the gun carefully but quickly, shoving the rest of the bullets into each of his trouser pockets.

The house was eerily quiet except for the sound of claws scraping on the floor upstairs, and Eugene hoped desperately that whatever was up there hadn’t actually gotten into the bedroom. Their armoire was thick, as was the bedroom door, but the backdoor looked like a fucking truck had hit it, so who knew what the creature could do to anything else.

The clamber back up the drain pipe was terrible. There was no other word for it. He had managed to tuck the gun into the front of his trousers so his hands would be free, but it made him nervous as hell. The safety was on, and there wasn’t anywhere else to put it really, but it didn’t mean he didn’t envision it accidentally shooting part of his cock off. Granted, there was something scarier to worry about, but accidentally shooting his cock off was still number two on the list of current fears.

He made it back across the roof faster than he thought he would, motivated half out of fear of the gun moving and falling and half out of the idea that whatever was in their house had gotten to Snafu.

He climbed back in through the bedroom window, and found Snafu alive. Scared, and attempting to drag their bed in front of the armoire with one hand, his kabar in the other, but alive.

“Got it,” he said as Snafu turned, shoved his kabar back into his boot, and ran to him, wrapping him in a hug so tight it hurt. “Careful, I didn’t have anywhere else to put it-”

“Jesus fuckin’…Eugene!” Snafu hissed as he pulled away from him and saw the gun. “Give me that. No corpsman here to treat you if you shoot the damn thing off. Not sure they’d know how to treat it anyway.”

Eugene pulled it from his waistband and happily handed it over. “I know, I know. I didn’t like it anymore than you, I promise. Half afraid the damn thing would somehow fire, then there I’d be.”

Snafu nodded as he checked the gun for ammo. “Mhm. Werewolf in the house, bleedin’ from your pecker, waitin’ for me to rescue you. Hell of a situation.”

“Speakin’ of rescue. I figure we can either try and fight our way out and get around it, or just both go out the window, and maybe sneak round the house. Might not have to use the gun then, if it doesn’t realize we’re out of here until we’re almost to the car,” Eugene said.

“You realize the only reason it didn’t run back down when we heard you walking down there, was because I was up here yellin’ at it through the door, threatenin’ it and makin’ sure it was focused on tryin’ to get at me instead?” Snafu asked.

“…I didn’t, actually. Knew you might be makin’ noise, but not that,” Eugene replied. “Thank you.”

“I always got your back, darlin’. What say we get the fuck outta here and get some help, so we can get the kids out of here too?”

Eugene nodded. “Window?”

Snafu nodded right back. “This is a nice piece, but it won’t do much to that fuckin’ thing. No way we’re gettin’ through it, so we’re gonna have to go around.”

“Great. You get to tuck that thing in your pants this time,” Eugene chirped as he made for the window, trying to ignore the clear sound of claws scraping deeper into the wood of the bedroom door. He hoped the bathroom door and the dresser in front of it would hold until they could get back with help. He’d never forgive himself if the thing got to the cats.

The careful crawl back across the roof and down the pipe felt longer than before, and he half expected to drop down to see the creature staring at them and waiting by the torn apart back door.

But it wasn’t, and they were able to charge around the house to the front lawn before a deep howl echoed from the house.

“What in the fuck-” Eugene couldn’t keep himself quiet as the front door broke open in a burst of wood slivers, the door knocker and knob flying onto the lawn. The thing was as tall as Snafu had said, covered in grey and black fur, stood on two legs with paws that ended in claws as long as the kabar he held out towards the creature, as if that would do anything at all to protect him.

“Keep movin’!” Snafu commanded, and fired at it once, twice, still running behind Eugene. Accuracy hardly mattered, there was no way a few shots would take the thing down. But it made it stop and roar with anger, just long enough of a break for them to dive into the car.

Eugene felt the tires skid on the gravel as he drove them past the creature, Snafu half hanging out of the passenger window, aiming the gun at the thing even as they drove away from it.

It was only once they were a good ways down the road that Snafu settled back against the seat and put the safety back on.

“That was a werewolf,” Eugene heard himself say as he drove, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. “How the fuck was that a werewolf?”

Snafu shook his head. “Got me. But if it isn’t a werewolf, then what the fuck is it?”

“If that thing is a werewolf…then who is it?” Eugene asked.

“Hm?”

“In the movies, I mean. It usually…is a person. Just not during a full moon, or whatever. So, let’s run with this particular insanity, and say that’s what’s really in our house right now…who is it?” Eugene asked again, half afraid of what that answer might be.

Snafu seemed just as terrified, only scooting closer to him on the seat as they continued on their way to Sid and Mary’s.

As they pulled into Sid and Mary’s driveway, he checked the mirrors again. But it seemed safe, the thing, for whatever reason, hadn’t followed them.

Snafu was ahead of him, out of the car and banging on the door hard. “Sid! Mary! Let us in, please! Quick-like, if you don’t mind!”

After a few moments, Sid opened the door, his hair a mess, one eye still shut as he rubbed it. “What the fuck are y’all doin’ here at this hour?”

“We can explain, but later. I need you, and anyone else who’s half a decent shot to come back to the house with us,” Eugene instructed as they pushed their way inside.

Sid shut and locked the door behind them as he watched them pace. “Okay. You guys got a bear or a bobcat or somethin’ out there? Told y’all to get a closed fence so nothin’ could get in through the front yard. Hell, your dad shoulda put one in years ago, honestly.”

“I wish it was a bobcat,” Snafu huffed.

Eugene nodded. “It…look, we can explain once we get there. Tell everyone the thing is a bobcat if it’ll get ‘em here. But we can’t take it out on our own. And we need silver bullets.”

Sid stared. “Sure, bud. I’ll just go get my supply of those. Now, I want to help-”

“Then help us,” Snafu interrupted harshly, his hands tapping on the gun as he carefully held it.

“I will, but you gotta understand how this looks. Y’all are half naked, bearing weapons, at two in the fuckin’ morning, talkin’ like you’re gonna go fight off some monster,” Sid continued.

“It is. I know you don’t believe us, and I don’t blame you, but I saw it,” Eugene said. “It…looks like a damn werewolf.”

Sid nodded slowly. “Okay. Tell you what. I’ve got more than a few guns in here, and a few silver bullets. Those are meant to be part of an antique set, but if it’ll make you feel better, we’ll bring ‘em along in case we need ‘em, okay? But I’m not gonna call anyone else just yet.”

“He thinks we’ve cracked,” Snafu nearly sobbed. “The cats are gonna be dead, and that thing is gonna come on down the road lookin’ for us, killin’ who knows who else on the way.”

Sid sighed, and Eugene could feel how frustrated he was. He didn’t blame him, but at the same time he wished he could will him to understand.

“That’s the best I can offer. If we need more help after I go out with y’all, then we’ll go get it, I promise.”

Mary had come down the stairs, and was watching them with a curious expression on her face. “You boys want another hand? I can-”

“No, no, you stay put,” Sid interrupted.

Mary glared at him, and strode down the rest of the steps until she was standing directly in front of Sid.

“Sidney Phillips, I did not learn how to use a gun at your request, only to never get a chance to actually use one. You need an extra set of hands, and half the time, I’m a better shot than you. So simmer down,” she said. Without another word, she strode away again, grabbing a key from the top of a doorway as she went.

“That’s the key for the uh, the gun safe,” Sid mumbled. “Guess she’ll help get that stuff ready.”

“If you don’t let her come along, she just might clock you with the butt of one of ‘em,” Snafu chuckled. “What a woman.”

Sid sighed, and ran after her, muttering about changing into some of his old uniforms and boots for safety’s sake, while Eugene bit back his laughter.

He only lasted until he was out of the room. “Maybe all we need is Mary.”

“Might very well be,” Snafu replied. “Bet you ten bucks she really is a better shot than he is.”

“I’m not gonna take a bet I’m gonna lose,” Eugene smiled. It felt good to smile, even if fear was still nipping at the back of his mind. He almost hoped they’d get back home, only to find they’d dreamed the whole thing.

Sid and Mary came back dressed to fight, Sid’s old and somewhat tattered uniform shirt hanging off of Mary. But she was grinning, an armful of a variety of guns that she happily loaded into the trunk of the car before piling in back with Sid.

The ride back was a silent one, which made the fear creep back into his mind. It was far too quiet as they drove onto their driveway, and he didn’t like it one bit.

Sid and Mary each bore a rifle loaded with the few silver bullets Sid had, and he and Snafu had borrowed a shotgun each, their own gun left on the front seat and their kabars safely back tucked into their boots.

“Guys,” Sid said softly as they walked towards the remnants of the front door. “What the fuck happened here?”

“We fuckin’ told you,” Snafu sighed. “And now I gotta pay to replace the front and back doors, ‘cause I can’t bill the werewolf fuck for it.”

Sid shot Eugene a look, but he only shrugged in reply. He would see for himself soon enough.

They didn’t have to wait long. He figured it must have smelled them, with the way it tore around the house from the backyard, running on all fours. It growled and huffed as it watched them.

“Holy fuckin’-” Sid started, but was cut off by a shot.

Mary’s eyes were wide, but her aim was true.

The beast howled angrily at the wound, and started towards them as Mary got off another shot.

Sid dropped his gun as he picked Mary up and ran for the car, despite her protests and attempts to shoot even as he ran.

The shotgun shells didn’t seem to do much in comparison to the silver, only confirming the absolute nonsense in front of him. A werewolf had taken over their home, and maybe eaten their cats, and his best friend was so damned scared he was running away.

“Sid! Get back here!” Eugene called as he fired again, reloading the shotgun with shaking hands. The shots at least stopped the beast, but only for a moment before he’d start running towards them again.

“Get out of the way!” Mary’s voice called from the car. She was laid on top of the hood, a sniper rifle set on top of it.

“What in the fuck…” Snafu muttered as they ran backwards towards the car, stopping only to get a few more shots off at the encroaching beast. “You ever shot one of those?”

“Nope,” Mary shouted back, and Eugene could hear her voice waver. “I mean, once before, but only at the range. And not at a werewolf.”

“You got this, baby!” Sid shouted from the backseat, another of his rifles pointed out the window. “I’m…I’m just gonna-”

“Yeah, yeah, you stay in the car, ya baby,” Snafu spat. “All ya done is made yourself a tinned fuckin’ sardine for him.”

“Shit!” Sid yelled.

“Yeah, so get the fuck outta there!” Eugene called. “I’m scared too, but c’mon man!”

“Will y’all move out of my fucking way already?!” Mary screamed, and they moved back rest against the car.

The beast was thundering towards them, digging up grass and sod as it ran, growling, with salivia dripping off of its fangs.

A shot rang out and it dropped.

There was only silence for a moment, then a soft whine from the creature.

Three more shots rang out, and then it was silent for good.

“Holy shit,” Mary murmured as she slipped off of the roof. “Did I kill it?”

Sid climbed out of the backseat and wrapped her in his arms. “Yeah. I think you did.”

Before Eugene could volunteer to check it, Snafu was running ahead of him, carefully circling the beast before quickly leaning in to feel for a pulse. His heart stopped until Snafu stood back up, a triumphant grin on his face.

Then, the grin dropped. “Who the hell did we just kill?”

“What are you talkin’ about?” Sid asked as they walked over to join him, staring at the corpse that was rapidly returning to a human-like state.

“He couldn’t make it through a horror movie if his life depended on it,” Mary sighed. “I told you. Last monster movie I saw had a werewolf, and it was just a regular man that turned into the werewolf. But they had to put him down because he wouldn’t take the cure, and he was killin’ people.”

“Oh shit,” Sid murmured.

“Oh shit indeed,” Eugene agreed as he knelt down to look at the face of their aggressor. It felt uncomfortably close to the war, like any moment Snafu would start digging gold teeth out of its mouth.

But he looked just as horrified, leaning down to see the face.

“No idea who the hell this is,” Eugene sighed. “But he’s dead on our lawn. What the hell do we do now?”

“We bury him, and hope to god nobody comes lookin’ for him,” Snafu replied. “Shame we don’t have a swamp nearby…”

He couldn’t help but turn to look at Snafu, feeling Sid and Mary’s eyes follow his.

“Oh for fuck’s sake. Don’t look at me like that. I just always heard about people doin’ that back in New Orleans, that the gators would eat up whatever or whoever you dumped in there. Don’t know if that’s actually true,” Snafu sighed. “Y’all hid a corpse before, that you can be judgin’ like that?”

“Fair point,” Sid said. “I mean…not like we can just go take him to the police or anythin’. Probably should, but how the fuck do we explain what happened?”

“No police,” Eugene said. “I don’t like any option here, but I also don’t like that this asshole tried to eat us, so…”

“I’ll get a shovel. Y’all can drag him to the backyard,” Snafu said as he started towards the backyard, moaning and mumbling about the landscaping that would need to be done on the yard.

There was no way to make it a quick burial, but he wanted it to be sort of respectful. Presumably, whoever it was hadn’t known what he was doing.

“We oughta say somethin’,” Eugene mumbled as they stared into the hole they’d dug. It was deep, maybe deeper than it needed to be, but then again he wasn’t really sure. There’d been no way to bury bodies on Peleliu due to the coral, and he hadn’t seen much of the burials done once the bodies had been dragged to the few spots that allowed for digging.

“…I’d hope you were less of an asshole when you weren’t a werewolf,” Snafu offered. “Sorry we had to kill you, but you were tryin’ to kill us, so…yeah. Also I gotta spend how many weekends now repairin’ all the damage you did to our house and the yards.”

“If we knew where the hell you had come from, we’d have tried to get you back home,” Sid muttered. “I mean, woulda had to drop you somewhere random probably, but we woulda tried.”

“I do feel bad for killin’ you,” Mary sighed. “But you were trying to kill my friends and me and my husband. You can’t just go around doing that, even if you are a werewolf.”

“You did a really good job, darlin’,” Sid said. “Hell of a shot.”

“I’d say thank you, but that doesn’t really…feel right,” Mary replied with an awkward clear of her throat.

“I should have somethin’ to say,” Eugene said. “But honestly, I’m so fuckin’ tired, and confused by this whole goddamn thing. I mean, what if there are more of you? What if someone comes lookin’ for you? I…rest in peace, you scary motherfucker.”

“Amen,” Snafu muttered as he started to pile dirt back into the hole.

Once it was all said and done, they offered Sid and Mary the guest room before heading back to their room. Where the front and back doors had been was still wide open, but what else could they do? The doors were in literal splinters. The flooring, both the carpet and hardwood, was gouged from the werewolf’s claws. Their bedroom door had cracked, but not broken open thankfully.

It did break as they forced it open, causing the armoire to drag against the wood floor as they made their way in.

“Forgot we did that,” Snafu sighed. “Whatever. Another project, why not.”

The sound of the hall shower started, and Eugene led Snafu by the hand to their bathroom. “They’ve got the right idea. I feel…gross. Beyond gross.”

They showered together, in part out of comfort but also to keep each other awake. As it was, he couldn’t be bothered to finish drying off or change into night clothes after. They freed the cats, who were safe but still scared, from their carriers and let them run back under the bed. He flopped on the bed with Snafu, still wet, their towels wrapped around their waists, and passed out.

The next few weeks were unsettling, as they waited to see if any missing persons matching the man that had been the werewolf came up. But nothing ever did, though occasionally during a Sunday dinner with Sid and Mary, they’d comb through the papers from nearby towns that they’d driven around to collect, to see if there was any sign to confirm that their shared secret night had really happened.

It seemed nothing every would though, and to Eugene that almost made it worse. Sure, they had each other and Sid and Mary (and a corpse buried in their backyard) to prove it had happened, but not knowing where the thing had come from, and why?

It only made it harder to sleep at night, on the horrible off chance that another might somehow be waiting in the dark. And if werewolves were real, then what the hell else might be?

#text post #LeeH writes #Sledgefu #not gonna lie this felt a little weird to write #but my brain was real insistent on it #and at the end of it all it was fun to write as well so #the weird shit I had to google for this one tho #also this developed so much over the course of writing #I did not anticipate it getting to this length tbh

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turtlegotmy-leg · 5 years ago

Note

buttery,honey,watermelon,plush (I love doing these. You can’t stop me :P)

Buttery — favorite snack?

You want me to choose??????

If we talking snacks, probably uhhhh I mean I love carrots in ranch dressing 😉

Honey — favorite term of endearment?

Ok before I read this ones question, I wanted to make the joke “Honey?” “Yes?” 😂

But I dunno. I never really get those. Maybe “love”? But otherwise I just love to be called by my name 😝 it’s weird I know shut up

Watermelon — do films ever make you cry?

I don’t actually. I’ve kinda trained myself to cry as little as possible, so unless I’m really struggling, I probably won’t

Plush — how many stuffed animals do you still own?

I mean, I don’t really talk about this cuz I’m self conscious, but I have a few in my room, one on my bed, and a shit ton in the garage because my room is too fucking small. Otherwise, it would be loaded 😅

#ask #the-gay-awkward-ash

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michaelkayauthor-blog · 5 years ago

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Esparanza - A Horror Short

There are all kinds of secrets in this world. I’ve always said it and the things I’ve been through prove it true. Esperanza, Texas is one of them. I’m not supposed to talk about Esperanza, I’ve been promised very bad things will happen if I do, but I’ve never cared much for threats. See, I’m sitting here on a quiet beach in Mexico sipping a margarita with enough Pesos to keep me in cheap tequila for the rest of my natural-born life, but I still owe a certain oil company a big fuck you. What better way than spilling the dirty secrets they paid a lot of money to hide?

I used to work a rig out in Middle of Fucking Nowhere Texas. Fifty miles from the border and three hundred from anything resembling a decent meal. Me and eighty-five other roughnecks spent 9 months out of the year holed up in a shit hole company town named by the foreman in a moment of sarcasm. Esperanza, a town that you won’t find on any maps. Not really a town at all. It was just a bunch of disposable barracks thrown up around a company-owned general store and a ramshackle bar with one dirt road running down the middle.

For three years I lived there, and I was an old-timer by Esperanza’s standards. Not a lot of men came back after Christmas, and each year the company would offer big bonuses to pull in the next crop of fools looking to stash enough away for that little house with the white picket fence by pulling black gold out of a wasteland. Every freshie had his story, the reason he’d signed on to the gig. A woman he wanted to impress, a ranch in Montana he had his eye on, or a kid to put through college. No one came to Esperanza without a reason. No fewer than a dozen men died in the three years before everything went to shit, and I always figured their kids would rather have a father than a death benefit.

Of course, the fact men die for oil isn’t a secret to anybody, so let’s jump straight to the meat of this little tale. June 14th, 2011.

Rumors had been going for months that the company had found something big. Court battles, a challenge by the local native tribe, and a slew of inspections had finally ended in an official announcement. We were about to tap the biggest oil reserve discovered in Texas since the booms of old, and they wanted it done fast. Old wells were capped and half the men reassigned to digging wells and setting up new pumpjacks just forty miles outside town.

I was sitting in Mary’s, the only bar servicing the needs of Esperanza’s lonely drunks when the well collapsed. The whole building shook with the force of it and through the dirty tavern window, I could see a cloud of dust rising up from the direction of the new wells. We were all trained in handling disasters, forced to take a refresher class every six months as part of a compromise with OSHA, and the town set into motion in an instant. I was half-drunk, but I made my way to the company office and pull on an old gas mask that smelled of dust and mold. By the time I got to the waiting truck filled with off-duty oil men, it was already half full.

Most the men were unprepared. They were half asleep and half-dressed, only a handful wearing the masks they needed to make their way through the cloud of dust and debris that filled the air as we raced toward the collapse. Can’t say I was surprised by that, all the training in the world won’t prepare a man to act in a real emergency. Half the kids I rode out with were straight out of school, vocational or otherwise, and the other half were drunk old men hoping this’d be their last year digging holes and putting life and limb on the line so some foreign investors could buy another private jet. I was in the latter group myself, but I hadn’t had time to get a good drunk going. Pretty sure that accidental sobriety saved my life, without it I doubt I would have remembered to grab my own mask.

The truck pulled to a sudden stop as we hit the dust cloud billowing out from the collapse site. Most the boys started hacking up a lung, those of us with masks just sat there looking dumbfounded. It maybe wasn’t the brightest idea to drive right into the middle of a giant cloud of Texas desert sand like we could rush in and save the day. We didn’t make it a foot further, and I dropped to my knees in the bed of the old work truck when the driver high-tailed it out of there, going in reverse halfway back to town. No way I'll ever forget what he said when we got back.

“There’s things out there,” He told me when I ran up to him demanding to know why we stopped, “Things out in the dust.”

I was about to shove his ass back in the seat of that truck. I’m no hero, but I had friends in that collapse, and I wasn’t about to leave them out there if I could help it, and my first thought was that the driver had seen men out there covered in dirt and blood and panicked.

Then, one of the boys at the back of the truck collapsed, blood pouring out of his nose. Two more followed him to the ground. Everyone was in a panic then. I rushed over to the first kid who collapsed, his nose was bleeding and his eyes rolled back in his head so far all I could see was white. I’ll never forget the sight of that twenty-two-year-old boy convulsing in the dirt, his hands clawing uselessly at the ground. I had him by the shoulders trying to hold him still when he bit his own tongue off and sprayed blood all over the lollygaggers standing around in a stupor and across the face of the gas mask I hadn’t took off yet.

No point in sugar-coating it now; that was too much for me. Next thing I remember I was behind one of the barracks puking my guts out. I must’ve run off in a panic myself, though I don’t remember it. After I was done losing my head and my lunch, I made my way back toward the parked truck. The men who’d collapsed had already been carted off to the clinic where a nurse - the only medical expert in hundreds of miles - could have a look at them. A little later the foreman came on over the loudspeakers and told everyone we were officially closed for business until further notice. The foreman mentioned at the end that rescue workers were called in to deal with the collapse. I barely registered it, I was already in bed trying to sleep off the vision of that young man’s tongue flopping around on the ground.

Screaming woke me up from my nightmares that night. It was a woman’s scream, and that narrowed it down pretty fast. I jumped out of bed and ran out into the dark in my boxers and a wife-beater heading toward the clinic. Stepping through the door I saw the blood, it was sprayed across the walls and dripping from a single lamp sitting in the corner, casting the room in a reddish glow. That was the first time I saw one of them.

He was an older man, pretty sure his name was Jack or John or maybe James. Something with a J. He was thin and wiry, a tough old man who had spent his life in one kind of field or another. We’d shared drinks a couple of times, but never talked beyond that. I remembered his eyes, though, bright and clear and sharp. He had been one of the men who collapsed right after we got off the truck. Only it wasn’t really him, I’m certain of that. The thing that was crouched in the middle of the room had grayish skin, even in the dim light, and it stopped gnawing on some soft, dark piece of the nurse’s guts long enough to stare at me. Blood caked his lips, and black pieces of flesh were caught between his crooked teeth.

I backed out of the open door behind me, and he watched me as I went. I could hear men heading toward me. I wasn’t sure what to do, so I slammed the front door to the clinic behind me and leaned against it. The buildings were meant to be temporary, and the clinic was basically a small trailer with some pills and a bed in it. As long as I held that door closed I knew he couldn’t get out.

“What the hell’s going on?” the foreman, Doug Crawford, asked as he got there. Doug’s eyes were wide and deep bags were already settling in. It was just past two in the morning the day after the collapse, June 15th.

Eleven men had shown up with Doug, coming to the source of that first scream. As I sat there on the small steps leading up to the front door of a room where a nurse was being eaten, I tried to come up with the words. I didn’t have to; I was saved that effort by screams that erupted from the other end of town.

I don’t know all the details from there; I know screams rose and were cut short. Doug and I looked at each other for a long time. Finally, he turned away and headed straight for his office.

“You,” I told a kid standing with his mouth open, “You make sure this door stays shut. Nothing comes out.”

He stood there looking at me like I was stupid. I didn’t have time to explain everything to him, and I still wasn’t sure how to start. Instead, I just grabbed him by the shoulders and pushed him toward the door. “Hold that shut, that’s an order.” The kid nodded; not that he understood what was going on, but I think he was happy somebody was telling him what he should do.

By the time I caught up to Doug he was already unlocking the gun case in the foreman’s trailer. Officially the guns were there in case we ran into any animals, but rumor around town was that it was just in case any cartel boys decided we were easy pickings this close to the border. Either way, I was glad to see them. Doug fumbled with one of the half dozen rifles as he handed it to me.

I liked Doug, he’d been foreman since the town opened and he was always fair. All that aside he was a Massachusetts boy who had fallen into the job when his business went tits-up. He didn’t really know the desert, and sure as shit didn’t know how to handle a gun. Me, I was born and raised in Texas. Learned how to handle a gun years before I learned to handle a woman. If you ask my ex-wife, I learned to handle guns a damn sight better. I was loaded and ready to head out before Doug finished collecting the rest of the guns. Outside we armed as many men as we could with what we had and told them to sit tight.

“We’re gonna check things out and come back. Try not to accidentally shoot your balls off while we’re gone,” Doug told the men gathered around the trailer.

We made our way across town. No need to go into the gory details though; and there were plenty. Most of the men who went out with us to try and rescue those workers had gone crazy in the night. I saw a twenty-three-year-old kid named Russell chewing on the arm of a sixty-year-old man like he was gnawing on the best ribs he’d ever had. That was the first one I put a bullet in, a single .223 soft point square in the forehead. Doug threw up on his shoes when Russell went down, and if I had anything left in my stomach I might have joined him.

Every man we found alive we sent back to the trailer. All told six men joined the ten we’d left there. The boy I’d left at the clinic was gone when we got back there, and I never saw him again. The trailer was empty, the nurse’s body wasn’t there either.

Mary’s was dark when Doug and I made our way through the half-open door. Mary’s was a converted aircraft hangar with a long bar across one wall and a kitchen in the very back. The lights were dim, and smoke poured out of the swinging door that led to the kitchen. I went to check on the cook and Doug watched the door. The smoke was pouring out of the deep fryer, but the kitchen was empty. I pulled the basket full of charred nuggets that might have been tater tots in another life and turned around to head out.

By the time I heard Doug scream, it was already too late. Mary must’ve been behind the bar, hiding, waiting. Or maybe it takes time, and she just hadn’t woken up yet. You’d have to ask someone else to explain that, Christ knows I wasn’t trying to study the damn things. Either way, I stepped through the swinging door and she was there latched on to Doug’s thigh. Her teeth went right through the denim like it was paper and blood was already pooling on the floor. He lowered his gun and blew her brains out, took her head clean off at that range.

Like I said, I liked Doug. I’m not proud of what came next, but Mary hadn’t been part of the crew that went out to save those men. I could see where Mary had been bitten clean to the bone on her upper arm, though. Maybe she’d bled out, and hadn’t turned until after she was dead. That thought keeps me up at night now, wondering if I had a choice, but it didn’t even occur to me then. Probably wouldn’t have mattered anyway. Doug was down, leaning against the bar with his gun across his legs with blood pouring out.

“Don’t,” Doug was pleading under his breath. He realized before I did what came next.

“If I don’t, you turn into one of those things. You don’t wanna go like that.”

“I don’t want to go at all,” he wheezed.

I don’t remember pulling the trigger, but I must’ve done. I remember Doug’s body, though, leaned up against the bar with his brains decorating the wood paneling behind him.

I stayed in Mary’s that night, and in the morning men in moon suits and guns came in and dragged me away. I was isolated, quarantined, poked, and prodded. I was released August 18th and paid a hefty sum if I agreed to disappear permanently. I might have argued, but some very stern men in very expensive looking suits made it clear that if I tried to go public they’d see to it I ended up a permanent resident at one of Dallas’ fine mental health facilities. Probably wouldn’t be hard to do to a man screaming about a zombie cover up even if these particular suits didn’t seem more like government spooks than oil money men. I did the smart thing and took the cash.

Officially a mine collapsed and released a toxic cloud of methane gas. No one who knows the real story is talking. I’ve tried to get in touch with other survivors, and with Doug’s family. No one is talking, no one will even listen. They’ve either been paid off or intimidated into keeping their mouths shut.

They sold the land to the government as part of a new military testing ground. No satellite images, no planes overhead. Nice and neat.

Or it would be, if not for the rumors you hear from coyotes, men paid to smuggle people into the states, over the past few years. I’ve kept tabs, paid the right people and asked the right questions since I made my way south of the border. Rumor has it that across the border in the land of the free the desert has gotten a lot more dangerous than it used to be. It’s not militias with guns or border patrol agents that has them scared.

It’s Los Muertos. The Dead.

#horror #short story #zombie #writing #author

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animalkingdom-an0nymous · 7 years ago

Text

Come Home

Disclaimer: No gifs or photos are mine unless stated otherwise.

Subject: J X Y/N

“We can’t tell Smurf that Y/N makes better meatloaf than her.” Craig spoke around a mouthful of food, chewing loudly.

Everyone, even Pope, laughed. Well, everyone except Baz. He glared at me from across the table and I ignored him, snuggling in closer to J’s side while he curled his hand over my hip, holding me against him.

“Nah, but I’ll be telling everyone that she got Craig to eat a fucking salad.” Deran took a swig of his beer, smirking across the table at his brother.

Craig threw a slice of tomato at him. “Hey, fuck you! It was doused in ranch.”

“Still counts as a salad.” Pope confirmed with a nod.

Baz looked at the three of them, mouth in a firm line. “Jesus, will you guys shut the fuck up?”

I looked around the table at the Cody men. They were all leaned back in their chairs, well fed and slightly buzzed on whatever their poison was. I’d just served them a nice meal, made easy conversation, and not once did anyone bring up the job that was about to be done.

I’d made it clear to J that I didn’t want to know anything about the family business. He was my boyfriend, the love of my life, and I’d always be there to care for him before and after a job. But I wanted to know the bare minimum. I’d rather be left in the dark than find out how dangerous of a situation it was. If I spent every day and night worrying about J and the jobs he pulled with his family, our relationship would never survive. I’d get too paranoid, he’d get too frustrated. I loved him too much to risk our relationship like that.

So, we made a deal. I’d make all of them a nice dinner, stay at the house that night to watch Lena, and the boys weren’t allowed to discuss any job details at the dinner table. It had been that way for over a year and I couldn’t remember the last time one of them slipped up.

Smurf, of course, never would have allowed me to have that much control. But she was serving five years after pleading guilty to manslaughter, making a deal that if she confessed she would only serve the minimal amount of jail time. So for the next four years, things would go my way and she’d stay locked in her cell.

Everything was going smoothly. The boys considered me a part of the family and J kept referring to me as his little housewife. I told him to stop, I said that I hated it. But it was a blatant lie. I’d be lucky to be the little housewife of J Cody.

After all this time, it seemed that the only person who had a real issue with me was Baz. Not that it mattered, I liked the man about as much as he liked me. I was polite, smiled at him when he glared at me, and never excluded him from meals. But after finding out that Baz told J he was nothing more than the product of rape, I never looked at him the same. I could never respect a man who could go around saying things like that. He was a father, for fuck’s sake.

I could feel his eyes on me and looked over to find the man I probably hated most in this world looking at me in a way that screamed pure, unbridled hatred. I smiled before turning back to J and kissing his cheek. “Help me with the dishes?”

He looked down at me for a moment before smiling and nodding. Craig laughed before draining what was left of his beer. “Yeah, help her with the dishes, honey.” He turned to his brothers. “Yo, I’m out for a bit. I’ll be back.”

Baz was already shaking his head as Craig walked towards the garage. “Hey! Hey, Craig… no coke.”

In response, Craig flipped him off over his shoulder.

“Seriously,” Pope followed suit in his monotonous tone. “No coke.”

Deran leaned back in his chair and briefly looked up at the sky before standing and following his brother. “Fuck. Fine. I’ll be the one to make sure he isn’t too high. Again.”

I stood, laughing and leaning forward to gather some of the dishes off the table. J did the same, standing slowly and sliding his hand up the back of my bare thigh. I jumped, nearly knocking my glass over, and Baz gave me a hard look.

J had been doing stuff like that all damn day. Touching my legs and running his hand over the curve of my ass when his uncles weren’t looking. At one point, I was standing on tiptoe reaching for something and he came up behind me, slid his hand between my legs and cupped me. From behind. He was an absolute animal today, but he was always like that the day of a job.

I’d come to the conclusion that that it was a nervous tick. He was antsy, couldn’t stop thinking about what they were about to do. He’d need a distraction, just for a little while, and well, that distraction was usually always a good, hard fuck.

But I just didn’t have it in me today.

“J…” I trailed off as he we loaded the dishes into the dishwasher. “I don’t want to have sex tonight. I’m sorry. I’m just tired and -”

He was already shaking his head, leaning forward to pull me against his chest. He wrapped his arms around my shoulders, holding my head against him while I took a deep breath. “You’re having anxiety?” he asked.

I nodded. “This is just a really big job, you know? I know I said I don’t want to know anything about it, but maybe this one time…”

“No. We agreed from the start that you wouldn’t ask and I wouldn’t tell.”

“What if something goes wrong?”

J pulled back, cupping my face in his hands, his brow furrowed. “Why are you talking like that, huh? Nothing is going to go wrong, Y/N. Trust me.”

Of course I trusted J. He was one of the few people I trusted with my life. It was the what ifs that I didn’t trust. What if someone saw them and tipped off the police? What if Craig was too fucked up to play his part properly and something went wrong? There were so many possibilities, so many risks. There was a huge part of me that wanted to tell him not to go, but I knew I couldn’t put him in that position.

You knew what you were getting yourself into, I thought as I looked up at him, leaning forward and giving him a firm, hard kiss. “Come home to me.”

He smiled against my mouth. “I’ll always come home.”

We finished loading the dishwasher silently, working side by side to clean up the kitchen. Baz had gone to tuck Lena in and Pope was nowhere to be found, probably skulking around around silently. It was close to midnight, close to when they needed to leave, and my anxiety was rising fast. Feigning exhaustion, I tugged on J’s hand, tugging him into the bedroom with me and closing the door behind us.

“You want my shirt?” he asked, already tugging the soft, black material over his head. I loved to sleep in his shirts, especially if he’d been wearing it throughout the day so that it smelled like him.

“You know me so well.” I laughed, pulling my own shirt off and reaching behind me to unclasp my bra. J watched silently while I shimmied out of my shorts, leaving me in nothing but a simple black thong. When I looked up and saw the hard look in his eyes and the clench of his jaw, I was confused. I’d gotten changed in front of him a million times and it stopped warranting a reaction like that six months in, so what was his problem? But then I remembered…

I told him I didn’t want to have sex.

“Shit!” I reached out and grabbed the shirt before spinning around and throwing it over my head, pulling it down so that it fell to the bottom of my ass. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to tease.”

J nodded, his jaw still clenched and that same intense look still in his eyes. “I know,” he responded, his voice rough as he stepped forward and closed the gap between us. He gripped the back of my head and yanked me forward, pressing his lips against mine and pressing his tongue against the seam of my mouth.

“J…” I breathed, letting him in, our tongues tangling for a minute. My palms pressed against his chest as his slid over my shoulder blades and down my back, cupping my ass and pulling me against him. I pulled my mouth away, my breathing ragged. “We-”

“I know,” he mumbled, his lips moving over my neck. “I’ll stop, I promise. Just give me one minute, okay? Just one minute.”

I could feel his heart pounding, feel the way he was amped up and tense, anxious in his own way. J’s hands squeezed me harder and I winced, my head falling back as his teeth closed around my earlobe, a moan falling from my mouth. “Shit…”

He gave a rough groan before letting go of my bum, his hands grabbing my face roughly and pulling back to look at me. “I love you.” His lips were on mine before I had the chance to say it back, but the desperation of the kiss left me feeling like I was on fire. I responded with the same urgency, my hands roughly tugging at his hair while his teeth nipped at my bottom lip.

Maybe we could have a quickie. I was suddenly aching for him, wanting his hands on me and his cock so deep I could feel him in my stomach.

I was about to propose the idea of a quick, hard fuck when Baz walked in without knocking. “J, we gotta- shit!” He pressed his forehead against the doorframe, a disappointed sigh falling from his lips. “We need to leave. Finish kissing your girlfriend and let’s go.”

“Okay,” J mumbled quietly, not even turning around and looking at him.

Baz closed the door and it was just the two of us again. We stared at each other breathlessly and he smiled at me lazily, love-drunk and hazey. “Let’s finish this when you get home?” I suggested with a raised eyebrow.

“Bet your ass we’re finishing this when I get home.” He laughed and leaned down, giving me one more kiss before pulling away, backing up slowly with my hand still in his. He brought my knuckles to his lips, kissing them softly before turning on his heel and leaving me alone with my racing thoughts and a racing heart.

I sat in the backseat while Baz ripped me a new one from up in the front.

“Listen, kid, I don’t care what you do on your own time. But you need to get your fuckin’ head in the game. Are you serious about this job or not?”

I closed my eyes, breathing deeply. Just eat it, I told myself. A few more jobs and you’re out. “If you didn’t think I was serious you would have just left without me, right?”

Baz slammed on the brakes in the middle of the darkened neighborhood street. He turned around to glare at me and I looked right back at him, my face impassive. “If you’ve got something to say then fucking say it, J. Don’t mumble.”

Craig was sitting to my left and flicked Baz in the ear. “We’re all here, man. We’re all ready to do the fuckin’ job. Let’s go.”

Baz stared at me for another minute and I blinked at him. Whenever he used to look at me I’d try to see the similarities between us. When I was a kid, when my mom wasn’t too fucked up to carry on a conversation, she’d tell me that I reminded her of her friend Baz. But I didn’t see it.

I wasn’t like anyone in my fucking family.

My anger simmered, just under the surface, as we continued to drive to the bank. I clenched my jaw, looked out the window, and ignored Craig when I heard him sniffing something next to me.

“I said no fucking coke, Craig!” Baz said, slamming on the breaks again. I lurched forward, slamming my hand against the passenger seat headrest.

Wordlessly, Pope turned in his seat to glare at me. “You mind?”

Baz was reaching behind his seat, knocking the little baggy out of Craig’s hand. “Do you know how much that shit cost me?”

Deran was laughing from his place in the back and I sucked my bottom lip into my mouth, hating the fact that they could sometimes actually get a decent fucking laugh out of me. It was usually Deran, maybe Craig. I wouldn’t miss any of them when I left. They’d done too much shady shit, fucked my mom over and left her to rot. But of everyone, my fondest memories would be with the two of them.

“Keep pumping the brakes like this and you’re going to get us busted before the job even starts.” Deran reached forward and slapped Baz on the shoulder. “We’re good. Let’s go.”

The rest of the ride was mostly silent with Craig sniffing and mumbling about the fact that no one ever trusted him to do shit on his own. I pulled my phone out of my pocket, wanting to shoot off a quick text to my girl before I turned my phone off.

J: Get some sleep. I’ll see you when I get home. Be good.

Drumming my fingers against my thigh, I looked out the window. I wondered if I’d miss California. Maybe not. Probably not. A new life with Y/N is all I ever wanted. We could start over, move the fuck on, be normal. A normal shot at a normal life without the drugs, the guns, the jobs. It was all just a means to an end for me. In a few months, we’d disappear and we’d never come back.

Y/N: But what if I want to be bad for you?

Y/N: 1 Attached Image

I turned slightly, angling my phone away from Craig and Deran before opening the text. It was a picture of her. She was leaned back against the pillows, her mouth forming a pout, my t-shirt covering her body. The shirt was pulled up slightly, revealing the tiny fucking thong she wore, her legs open wide and bent at the knee.

Jesus fucking Christ. I clenched my jaw, inhaling through my nose. Y/N was determined to kill me. The way she’d kissed me earlier, like it was the last time she ever woud, had left me harder than a fucking virgin. She always got so needy and I loved it. Loved the way she’d press her body against mine and tug my hair. She was so fucking beautiful.

J: Do you know what I’m going to do to you when I get home?

We pulled into the abandoned driveway of a house down the street from the bank. Turning off the car, Baz and Pope turned around. One final rendezvous before we all went our separate ways.

My phone buzzed and I was quick to open the text, not expecting another picture to flash across the screen. It was another selfie, except this time the shirt was gone completely. As was the scrap of underwear she’d been wearing. Y/N was holding her phone above her head, looking innocently at the camera while her free hand cupped one, perfect tit. She had one leg bent, the other pressed straight down against the mattress. Her bare pussy was spread, just a bit, teasing me. My cock was hardening in my jeans and I cleared my throat, looking up when I felt someone’s eyes on me.

“Mind putting your phone away and joining the class?” Baz asked dryly.

Saying nothing, I tucked my phone back into my pocket and nodded.

“Alright, here we go. Craig, you handle the security guard. Look at me, look at me.” Baz stopped talking until Craig looked him in the eye. “You do not shoot him. You do not beat him so bad we need to put him in the hospital. Hit him once, knock him out, zip tie him, and lock him in the janitor’s closet.”

He turned to Pope. “Wait here. Don’t turn the car on until one ten. I don’t want any cops driving by and wondering why there’s a car idling in an abandoned house. We’ll be out by one thirteen.”

Baz droned on and on about everyone’s job, but all I could think about was Y/N laying in bed, naked, and waiting for me. I couldn’t wait to bury myself inside her, fuck her until she made that little whimpering sound in her throat. Fuck. My cock was pressed between my thigh and the denim constraint of my jeans and I felt like I couldn’t fucking breathe.

“J.” Baz snapped his fingers in front of my face and I jerked back, looking over at him. “Are you with me or not?”

“Yeah, man.”

“Once Craig and Deran are in, Deran will let you in the back. Stay close to the fence until then, okay? I don’t need the cameras catching you. Once he opens the door you’ll have five seconds to get from the dumpster to the side of the building, so you better haul ass. You get me?”

I nodded. “Yeah. I get you.”

He looked at me for another minute and I silently challenged him. The bastard that helped ruin my mother. She was a junkie, a broken junkie that I didn’t miss. But she was still my mom and these were the people who abandoned her.

I’m doing this for a reason, I thought again before opening the door and hopping out, cutting through the backyard and slipping through a hole in the fence. The April air was cool and I pulled my hood up, walking through the short expanse of woods to get to the back of the building. My phone vibrated in my pocket and I grabbed it, remembering that I never responded to her photo.

Opening the text, I saw that she’d sent yet another one. This time her hand was no longer on her breast, it was between her legs, fingers pushing into the wettest pussy I’d ever touched. Y/N’s mouth was in the shape of an O, eyes squeezed shut.

“Fuck…” I growled, reaching down and adjusting my cock. She was determined to fucking kill me tonight.

Fuck it, I thought and called her, pressing the phone to my ear. Deran wouldn’t be opening the back door for another six minutes and Y/N was driving me crazy. I needed to straighten her out, tell her that she needed to stop.

“Hi…” Y/N sounded breathless and it was like a punch to the gut. She wasn’t sending that picture for show, she’d really been touching herself.

“What the fuck are you doing?” I growled through gritted teeth and looked around, staying as far back against the fence as I possibly could.

She giggled- fucking giggled- and the sound went straight to my dick. “I don’t know what you mean. I was just trying to give you a little incentive to come home to me in one piece.”

I barked out a laugh, loving when she was brave enough to get a little playful. “Trust me, babe, you’ll be getting my piece as soon as I walk through the door.”

She was quiet for a moment and I ran a hand across my hard-on. “Are you using your fingers right now?” I asked, my voice low.

“Yes,” she whispered breathlessly.

My heart slammed against my ribs and I bit back a groan. God, Y/N was the love of my fucking life. I didn’t even think she understood how much I loved her. She had no clue about the stash of money I’d hidden in the garden of Smurf’s house. I was going to get us out of this life and we could start over somewhere else. Maybe Boston. North Carolina. Chicago. Somewhere where she could study her art and I could work. I’d take care of her, us. We’d never fucking come back to Oceanside.

“Don’t come,” I whispered, squeezing myself through my jeans.

“J, please.” Her breathless pleas came through the phone and there was a part of me that wanted to allow her to finish. I knew I could get her there, whisper some nasty shit and she’d come undone for me. But I wanted her to wait for me.

“No.” My response was firm as I pictured Y/N writhing around on my bed, in my sheets. I knew that her hips were lifting off the mattress and her teeth were biting into that pretty little bottom lip while she tried not to come. “Wait until I get home.”

“That’s like two hours from now.” She whined and I laughed.

“You should have thought of that before you decided to start this little game.”

She laughed through the phone again and the sound was so seductive that I almost told her to finish herself off. “You started this little game before you left tonight. And this is payback, baby. You get to picture me coming around my own fingers, wishing it was your cock.”

“Y/N…” I warned her, inhaling sharply. “Knock it off.”

She moaned and panted and the sound was fucking music to my ears. “J, please. I’m so close. I’m so, so close.”

“Don’t you fucking dare.” I warned her again, looking towards the back door of the bank just as Deran shined his flashlight through the window, giving me a ten second warning. “I have to go, babe. You’re gonna pay for this when I get home.”

I hung up before Y/N had the chance to respond, getting ready to run as soon as Deran opened the door.

My feet pounded against the pavement.

Five…

Four…

I was halfway there, my lungs burning as he waved me over.

Three…

Two…

Fuck, I wasn’t gonna make it.

One.

I managed to stay awake until two thirty when my eyes finally drifted shut. I hadn’t heard from J since our brief, heavily sexual phone call. I’d wanted to come after I hung up with him, feeling the orgasm build low in my stomach. But I didn’t, knowing it would be that much better when he got home.

I’d walked around the house aimlessly.

I drank a glass of wine.

I watched some bad reality tv, finally falling asleep curled around J’s pillow, completely naked with a thin beige sheet covering me.

I usually woke up when he got home, my body somehow sensing him as soon as he walked through the door. But I must have been tired tonight because I didn’t hear a thing. I didn’t hear him unlock the front door and set the alarm behind him. His footsteps were quiet as they padded down the hall to his room. I didn’t even stir when he pushed the bedroom door open, the hinges squeaking lightly.

In fact, I only woke up when I felt the sheet moving slowly down my body, exposing my bare back and bum. Blinking slowly, I became aware of the mattress dipping behind me and I sat up, turning quickly to push away whoever was trying to get into bed with me.

J blinked at me in the darkness of the room, covering my hands with his as they pushed against his chest. “It’s just me,” he whispered.

“J,” I gasped, adrenaline pumping through me as I became more aware of my surroundings. “It’s just you. Shit, you scared me.”

“Sorry,” he responded, not sounding apologetic in the slightest. He looked down as the sheet pooled around my waist, revealing my breasts.

“How’d it go?” I asked quietly, reaching forward and running my fingers through his soft hair.

J closed his eyes briefly, taking a slow, deep breath. “Good. Probably would have been better if my girlfriend wasn’t sending me nudes while knowing I was on a important job.”

I bit back a smile, my fingers stroking over his neck and tracing his mouth. “I think she was just trying to be supportive… maybe a little slutty.”

At that, J laughed and leaned forward, wrapping his arms around my bare back and holding me against him. “I like it when she’s a little bit of a slut for me.”

Our lips met, tongues tangled, and my hands made quick work of discarding the dark hoodie and shirt he wore. It seemed that the more time went on the more desperate I got. Whenever J returned from a job, I always needed my hands on him. It was as though I needed to make sure that he was really there, back home. WIth me. So much could have gone wrong but J was back, wrapping himself around me and sucking the sensitive skin of my neck hard enough to leave a mark.

He pulled back, pulling his bottom lip into his mouth and inspecting his handiwork, sliding his thumb over the dark spot on my neck. J’s eyes always darkened when he marked me. It was like some primal part of him liked leaving a mark on me. He’d never admit it, but I knew J liked when we went out and one of our friends would comment on a hickey. He liked showing that I was HIS.

J’s thumb slid from the mark on my neck and over my collarbones, fingers tracing up the column of my throat. I sat there quietly, letting him touch me however he wanted. J had this glazed look in his eyes, almost like he was high, as his fingers wrapped around my throat completely, pulling me forward with a gentle tug.

“J,” I whispered shakily. He’d never done that, never choked me. Not that he was even choking me now, it was just his hand around my throat. J had a thing for pulling my hair and he was absolutely obsessed with my breasts. But of all the things we’d done, his hand around my neck had never been one of them.

“Do you want me to stop?” he asked. His face was almost blank. I could sense his nerves and as I slid my hand across the smooth expanse of his bare chest, I could feel his heart racing. He was just as worked up as I was.

I shook my head slightly and he kissed me again, flicking his tongue against my top lip. His free hand slid up my leg, starting at my knee and pushing the sheet up, caressing my inner thigh as he moved. When his fingers slicked over my clit, I stopped him, shaking my head.

“Just fuck me,” I whispered, moaning when I felt his fingers flex around my throat. “Just fuck me, J.”

He paused for the briefest of moments before letting go of my neck and ripping the sheet off me, pushing the blankets off the bed. I was naked, so exposed, and J was still wearing his jeans and boxers. I reached my hand forward, fumbling with his belt buckle and yanking the zipper down, shoving my hand into his jeans, under his boxers, and wrapping my fingers around his shaft. J groaned, his forehead dropping to my shoulder while I stroked him. He sucked and bit my soft skin while I pumped him, his hips thrusting forward with every movement.

“Fuck.” J abruptly stood, kicking his white Vans off, before shoving his jeans and boxer briefs down his legs. His cock was hard, precum leaking from the tip as he crawled onto the bed. I watched as he propped the pillows up against the headboard before leaning back against them, crooking two fingers at me in a come-hither motion.

“Ride me tonight.” J’s voice was low as I swung a leg over his hips, holding myself over him.

“What’s the magic word?” I teased, kissing his chin, his nose, his forehead.

“Now.” He nearly growled the word, his palms gripping my hips and holding me still. I held myself over him for another minute, gripping his cock in my hand and holding him still before sliding down, a moan falling from my mouth as he slowly invaded me.

“Fuck. J.” I whimpered, my hands gripping his shoulders as he sat up a little straighter.

“All the way.” He stroked his fingers through my hair. “Take me all the way.”

I moaned, sinking down onto him, our foreheads pressing together.

“You feel so fucking good.” I moaned brokenly, rocking against him.

J’s jaw clenched under the light touch of my fingers and he began to move me back and forth, his face tense. “Bounce. Bounce on my cock.”

I did what he told me to, lifting my hips and dropping back down, crying out every time I landed against his thighs. J was so deep and stretched me so fucking good. At one point, he rested his hands on my thighs and just watched me bounce, relaxing and letting me do all the work. I didn’t mind. In fact, I liked it. I liked the way J gave up just a little bit of that control, letting someone take care of him for once.

He was looking down at the place where we were connected, his cock coated in my juices. He gave a low, dark chuckle. “Look at how wet you are.”

My thighs were burning but I kept going, slamming down on him harder. I was chasing my orgasm, needing to come. Fuck, I’d been needing it for hours. I was so fucking close.

J looked at me, eyes heavy lidded. “You gonna come for me?” he asked, hands sliding up and cupping my breasts. He pinched my nipples between his thumb and forefinger, pulling lightly until I gasped, my body stiffening.

“What? You like that?” He asked with a smile, doing it again, this time a bit harder. I spasmed around his cock, a string of moans falling from my lips.

J thrust his hips up, wrapping one arm around my back and holding me still. “Come all over my cock. Do it, Y/N.”

I moved against him, needing friction, needing more. Before I could even get the words out, J was flipping us over so that I landed roughly on my back. His hips pistoned into me as I dragged my nails over his ribs and down his back, scratching roughly. He gave a sharp thrust that made me cry out. I didn’t know if it was pleasure or pain as my body stiffened, my back arching while he held me still.

“Are you okay?” he whispered in my ear, giving me a gentle kiss on the cheek.

I nodded, not even caring if it hurt a little. “Keep going,” I whimpered against his mouth, lifting my hips and urging him on.

He tried to hold himself still but his hips stuttered anyway, his cock pulling out nearly all the way before he thrust back in. “Y/N…” he trailed off, out of breath and close.

I licked from his collarbone to his jaw, loving the salty taste of him. “Choke me again?” I whispered nervously, afraid of his reaction. “Just a little?”

J pulled back, looking down at me. He opened his mouth and then closed it again, taking one hand and closing his fingers around my neck, the thumb and middle finger pressed just under my jaw. Something about it made me feel small, delicate, and I gave a small moan when he squeezed. Seeing my reaction, J began to pump into me faster and harder, his hand squeezing tighter and tighter every few seconds.

The pressure was building and I knew I was on the verge. I could barely breathe, J’s fingers squeezing around my neck tight. His cheeks were flushed and every word out of his mouth was a curse. I knew he was enjoying this, loving the way I needed him.

“Fuck,” I barely got the word out, tapping his forearm so that he’d let go. He did, immediately, and I came with a gasp, my body going stiff as a board as he relentlessly pounded into me, chasing after his own release.

My nails raked down J’s back as he came with a loud groan, burying his face in my neck where he bit and sucked so hard I flinched and tugged his hair. He kept thrusting, my small cries spurring him on as he emptied himself inside me.

J didn’t lift his head right away, catching his breath while I stroked my fingers over his back, soothing the scratches I’d left over his skin. His breathing evened out and I wondered if he’d fallen asleep. Eventually though, he stroked his fingers down my side, tickling me so that I jerked and wiggled underneath him.

“Joshua Cody!” I howled, my legs closing around his waist while he tickled me. “Stop! Please, fuck. J!”

He laughed, bracing his hands on either side of my head and holding himself above me. He looked down at me for a minute, not saying anything. “Can I ask you something?”

I nodded my head, tracing shaped onto his chest. “Anything.”

“If you could go anywhere, where would you go?”

I was caught off guard by the question. What did he mean? Anywhere i the world, the country? Anywhere in Oceanside. My confusion must have been written all over my face because J gave me a soft smile and tried again. “If you could go live somewhere that wasn’t California, where would you go?”

I thought about it for a minute. God, I wanted out of there so bad. I wanted to get away from my family, wanted to get J away from his. The ultimate dream was to get away and start fresh somewhere new, but it would take years to save up for that.

I thought about it for a minute and then smiled. “Maine.” I bit my lip, looking up at him shyly. It wasn’t a glamorous answer in the slightest. “There’s this little island called Vinalhaven. It’s so cute, like something out of one of those brochures.”

J looked at me for a moment. “Vinalhaven.” He repeated the word, almost like he was tasting each letter. Then he smiled at me. “Maybe someday we’ll go.”

#animal kingdom #animal kingdom tnt #finn cole #j cody #fic #smut #josh cody #finn #ak #jc

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vespaertine · 7 years ago

Text

shit my groupchat has said - an ask meme

this ask meme is very long, and very nsfw! there are currently 88 starter sentences, and more may be added. apparently, when you scroll up in discord far enough, your computer will lay down and die. anyway, have fun with this, and feel free to change things up or add your own to the list!

“that’s so southern of you.”

“we’re close enough friends that i can just post tit pics and it’s no big deal.”

“i’ve become she-woman man-fucker.”

“why would i want to fuck him? he looks like a thumb.”

“the highlight of that trip was having very loud sex at a family resort.”

“do you ever just read something and immediately wish the hag would come of of her cave and just kill you?”

“i have a feeling that you aren’t about that, judging by the spaghetti dog.”

“your mom is the ultimate wing man.”

“her dress looked like a fancy latex sex dungeon get up.”

“she looks like a raw squid.”

“i’ve got 20 barrels of grog and some bombs.”

“my brand of romance is accidentally meme-ing while nearly sexting.”

“...the rest of the brain is devoted to stupid, ape stuff. like eating.”

“you’re the soft butch we all need in our lives.”

“bobby flay better not fuck my grandma.”

“fucking help me fend off the straight boys.”

“i’m attracted to the fish prince.”

“can you girlfriend her and have her send me some edibles? thanks.”

“this is the world’s okayest pie crust.”

“i’m proof that aquarians have god complexes.”

“i just realized that it’s a full moon AND mercury is in retrograde.”

“we all fuckin’ weebs.”

“i just need lobster when i get to the east coast, and then i’ll be gucci.”

“we all just wanna get topped and loaded like a bacon cheese baked potato.”

“fucking. unicorn skin armor.”

“war ... playing with anime tiddies.”

“you’re out here making me gayer than i already am.”

“he had a dirty foot kink and it kind of made me want to die.”

“i’m getting a bad dragon soon. i’ve waited all year for tax returns.”

“you look like the butch of my dreams.”

“Ayyee our periods are aligned!”

“i don’t have enough alcohol in my system for this.”

“it’s awkward when an ex of yours likes your nudes.”

“somehow golden showers came up in the radio room yesterday.”

“this is why you should keep multiple boyfriends.”

“i want him to kick me out of bed and into a wall.”

“cannonballing a dick would hurt so bad.”

“you’re not a real gamer unless you’ve eaten todd howard’s ass, thanking him for his 6th release of skyrim.”

“i’m not into that, but i’ve got an open mind.”

“the sparkle dog community is wild.”

“no offense but i want all of the aliens to raw me.”

“i don’t need a man. i need a swamp demon from the bayou.”

“as a furry, i have seen dark things that no man should see.”

“shut up i’m pissing. fuck i actually really have to pee.”

“that boi got the entire trans-alaskan oil pipeline in his shorts.”

“i would have fucked him, but then i heard him use the word ‘bro’ unironically in a phone conversation.”

“accept the granite.”

“my panties have been destroyed. vanquished.”

“apparently social justice summons me.”

“take a swig of some 90% isopropyl alcohol. down the hatch.”

“i always get my way ... except for the times i don’t.”

“i think i saw him have a mini funeral with his pot stuff over the trash can.”

“i die when the cornbread is in me.”

“mothman seems like the type of cryptid who waits until marriage and just wants to take you out for ice cream.”

“i’m a bowser fucker.”

“this candle is rainbow for gay intent.”

“you can catch me spooning sangria right out of the pitcher.”

“i see absolutely no downsides to prison.”

“if you decide to go with tax evasion, you get sent to a fancy federal prison.”

“do you want to see something galactically stupid?”

“hog tie me in the middle of the target wine isle.”

“i sucked his dick and he nutted in 2 minutes flat.”

“if you want the puss you’ve gotta, like, do something.”

“i went to the gym with a bottle of water, and returned home with a bag of chips and a coke.”

“i’m here, i’m queer, and i’m a little bit sad.”

“i feel like at this point we need to move out into the middle of the forest, dump everyone, and start a coven.”

“these are naturally flavored ranch chips. as opposed to unnaturally flavored.”

“i’ve had panera once and i don’t even remember the experience.”

“no, i don’t smoke pot. it’s for the aesthetic.”

“who knew that raccoons and walruses were so closely related via dick bone.”

“the aura of that google docs is so cursed, my internet went offline for a minute when i tried to open it.”

“ye olde condom and nutella life hacks.”

“can you hold on to a bull with a rope tied around its nuts for 8 seconds? i don’t think so.”

“he ain’t allowed in my vuvuzela.”

“get your applesauce injected intravenously.”

“we’re the sister wives, without the husband.”

“somehow i ended up listening to three days grace and this lyric video is done in comic sans.”

“if you can find andy warhol’s diary, he legit talks about having pubic lice for like five or six pages.”

“you had me at ‘victorian lesbians’.”

“there’s something so romantic and quaint about letters, my dude.”

“i love how decadently filthy this is.”

“just let my sad, writhing, angry body glide through space for eternity.”

“tell him to try dipping his nuts in milk.”

“welcome to the femslash fun swamp.”

“i just got like 8% more gay.”

“not gonna lie ... i wanna date mothman.”

“i just read a discussion talking about getting trapped in the fairy realm after having a fairy nut in your mouth.”

“four dads at home depot? no. four moms in a sunroom of a suburban home having an orgy.”

#ask meme #rp ask meme #rp inbox meme #roleplay meme #starter meme #*

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hgfstreamchats · 5 years ago

Text

Much ado about monkeys

I'm not late! Not in the slightest! hello! Hello there! Thousands? Really? So this isn't some kind of. Zoo fostering program. Nope. It's just a logical extension of the term 'furbaby' This is facial trauma waiting to happen. But... monkeys. I mean, they're not domesticated nah, nah, these little monkeys aren't the face rippers. They ARE The monkeys that can learn to steal and wield weapons tho ......This was supposed to be filler as we all filed in, but the full movie's available. It sounds like EXACTLY the kind of freakshow that's suitable for movie night! Perfect! Tomatoes will wait. They'll wait and they'll like it. You just can't compete with monkeys. I hope it tells us where they're even getting the monkeys.... well, THAT'S not a disturbing sentiment! From someone who cares whether monkeys live or die, no doubt. they're terribly cute but this entire thing is making Twilight Zone music play in my head. Right?

check DailyMotion One second. There's things to skip forward/back ten seconds Either side of the pause button in the middle whyyyy does every other line sound like it's out of the trailer of a horror movie Oh, yeah, it's very important to make sure your PET MONKEY's gender presentation is, uh, socially acceptable For their blankets and stuff Unicron forbid! Because they definitely understand and care about that But he does want an exotic animal to treat as a baby. !!! I mean. I like they're able to satisfy these feelings and are aware of their own limitations. I just. These are the types of monkeys that form monkey gangs in cities? JESUS This is healthy and fine. I mean, literally, there's an epidemic of monkey thieves banding together in some cities She laughs the laughter of the damned. ikr "to make her look more like my daughter" Oh, yeah, I can definitely see the resemblance I can't tell if self-deprecating or worrying ewwwwwwww she IS a monkey, though These monkeys uniformly look upset. they do not comprehend ANY LEVEL of this This certainly looks legitimate. What a depressing environment This is horrifying. HER SMILE IS HORRIFYING If this doesn't feature an attack at some point, I'm rioting. Why do they put them in clothes It's, definitely about making them look more like little people, right? They have fur! HEY! GUESS WHAT! MOST SMALLER MONKEYS ON:Y LIVE UP TO 25 YEARS At which point this charade comes to a merciful end! Well, one of them said her oldest kid was forty-something, so she must be sixty or so herself So it really could be for the rest of her life! could indeed--provided she lives out the maximum lifespan and nothing terrible happens "wow, I can't BELIEVE this restaurant won't let me bring my pet monkey" How dare those diners not want Ebola Reston? An animal psychic. He's eating plastic. I would say go to a vet but honestly I would not expect most vets to deal with exotics. not to mention, how the fuck do you EXPLAIN that you're raising a monkey like a human baby to a strange vet Oh, dear Unicron. ...I think the goy was actually an orang; they don't have tails Actually I have to wonder if they'd try taking them to a doctor-for-humans instead do you... do think doctors have procedure for that? I bet some do I don't like the way the narrator is encouraging this.' The narrator sounds disapproving to me so, the way this tone is set, it equally feels like it could be a horror movie or a feel good movie, so I feel there's going to be some horrible twist in the second half. Oh, yes, please. OH BOY I would give them the ticket just for that. I wonder if the camera crew had anything to do with it. Or if that was a recreation thing Right. Give it frosting. Did they take its teeth out? "six real children" yeah, the narrator knows it's a freakshow I feel like there were other ways to deal with that When Impact grows up and moves out, I know I plan to adopt a small, sentient wild animal and ruin its life. I can't help but think you're thinking about someone specific Be sure to take it to restaurants with you and tell everyone it's your kid, too! If they complain about the smell of organic waste, I'll sue. Ewwwww. I'm trying to settle on which is the most disturbing. whyyyy does she sound so unhinged Was this the last letter she sent before she changed her name and started blocking her calls? Oh, well, then! Amazing. "The plan is to load her up on sedatives and nail her feet to the cage." THIS SEEMS DANGEROUSLY UNREGULATED "it also brings her into contact with children" oh, good! know sometimes they'll take their teeth out and I'm 90% sure that's what's happened here. Jeez, that's depressing ewwwwww That's a joke, right? ...Oh god, it's not a joke But they... aren't training her for that? She's *diaper clad.* I demand a monkey attack! They were very vague about the will. Betcha it says "EVERYTHING TO THE MONKEY" They foreshadowed monkey attacks but did not deliver. Ha! This is fine. To the pit with it, I'm playing the other documentary. I've tasted blood and I *need* more. This is a beautiful train wreck and I can't look away. Oh, here we go! WELP Much better! "companion for life" Okay, phrasing Oh my god Ohhh my god. can't afford a monkey baby Haha, no red flags here! "THIS IS FINE" Somebody call CPS By the Allspark, this is amazing. I love Earth so much. Jesus. It's not just humans who pull this shit either, other animals from other species are on record who prefer to raise other species to their own. A LION of all things kept adopting gazelles. Sounds normal and fine for all parties! OH, no :< "they're basically like infants! infants that can climb and that like to bite and claw and that will freak out about your relationships, and that you will never ever be able to fully communicate with" At least these are outside. yeah, THAT'S what's bothering the monkey about this, being teased. I hope these two end up maimed. See that KINDA makes it sound like.... I mean...... His real family's back in that cage. ..... His...has to... Abandoning "Gilded Earth" was a mistake. Callus. HOrror movie violins There's a case of Hepatitis lurking somewhere in this scene. "yet" "oh, yeah, I figure he's gonna maul me someday" Gotta feel sorry for these kids That's a tiny cage, too Jesus This keeps getting worse. ... "In other words, not goddamn cheetos" The vet's face. Everything about this is awful. Really. I mean, is it really. And I don't even like monkeys. The outpost roof doesn't like monkeys. "no matter what I do to them" jesus goddamnit This is a nightmare. Jesus this almost sounds like an ABYSMAL waste of time and money! You think?! Breakdown's asking what I'm laughing at. Show him! Now he's laughing. Oh, sure, don't listen to the vet, who told you explicitly to stop feeding her people food all the time! Just PRAY. Of course you won't, Spaghetti. This is going to end with at least one dead monkey, isn't it? The vet: "okay, just don't feed her pasta" 2 hrs later: SPAGHETTI TIME And ranch! the MONKEY COMMUNITY is UNDER THREAT. what a TRAGEDY I KNOW right? "it's OUR choice to endanger our children by keeping wild animals" "We need to protect our deity given right to kill as many monkeys as we want!" Sealand. Oh, please, please do this. I beg you. Alright, I know what we're closing out on. Oh my god oh, wait, Ihave one more, lemme see if it's on youtube Hahhahahaha Ewwwwww okay,youtube search, malcolm in the middle monkey jesus first clip at the top god Her face it gets better ....... HAH! God WELL God I do believe you demanded monkey attacks, earlier This is everything I dreamed of and more. Well, this was glorious. That was a wild ride And thank you both for joining me on it! Thank YOU for hosting! how could miss that dumpster fire *how could we It was a dumpster fire to be treasured. Good night! Goodnight! good night!

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rainbow-calliope · 8 years ago

Note

2, 4, 6, 8, 10! 1, 3, 5, 7, 9!

[risky asks]2. screenshot the tabs you have open

relish my blandness~

4. do you have a nsfw blog?no, BUt, I’ve been toying with the idea of making one just for, like, reblogging art and fanart and junk, cause I follow some pretty nice blogs with those [insert ‘ok’ hand sign emoji]

and also been toying with the idea of drawing some of my own on the side,, maybe,,,,

6. screenshot the first page of your search history

i honestly had to google how to even get this so like;; shrug??? there was the takeout thing too but I’m waiting on that to actually like, work. to sum it up for real tho, its a lot of looking up people who may or may not be dead and a LOT of Subnautica 'where is this/how do make this/why is this broken’

if there was a better way to do this please feel free to tell me, I was so lost..

8. how often do you take showers?not as often as I should probably.. but I just took one before starting this so ha!! take that, hygiene!!

10. if you draw or write, show some of your really old workoh my god uh hang on I.. have both..

hmm, well there’s this old thing from my good ol’ One Piece days:

circa 2009~ish? one of the last things I’d traditionally inked and actually liked!! The coloring is eck cause I had just gotten my first tablet around then so meeeh (also the eyes I KNOW but all i knew were to copy anime styles back then;;)

–and uh, this isn’t REALLY old by common standards, but its my favorite TF2-FemMerc!OC laden-zombie au and i haven’t touched it in about 2 years

[Erin=small, feisty short haired Scout]

Erin toppled over as she jerked out of her sleep, the car hissing to a stop. “What happened?” she yelled, leaning over the rim of the truck bed, as Pauling practically kicked open the passenger side door and scrambled out.

Mags and Erin watched as she fumbled with the hood of the car, which was steaming hot, but finally wrenched it open. Erin hopped out of the truck bed as Pauling muttered to herself, coughing through the steam that was billowing out of the engine block.

“Transmission’s shot,” Pauling said in a deadened tone, and Erin just frowned tightly, as Mags covered her tired face with her hand. Miss Pauling stood back and just stared at the exposed and steaming engine, running her oily hand through her loose bangs. “Along with.. everything else, it looks like..”

Mags let out a heavy sigh, as she slung her rifle over her shoulder and stepped out of the truck. “Looks like we’re walking, then,” she said plainly, reaching back into the truck bed to grab their packs.

Erin looked at her aghast, as Pauling was still glaring down at the truck and holding her forehead in her hand. “Are you kidding me? How much further is it?”

“About 10 miles, give or take,” Mags said flatly, digging around in her pack for something, and Erin scoffed.

“Ten miles? Are you crazy? It’s already getting dark. We’re practically breakfast already,” Erin said angrily, waving her arm out at the road behind them.

“Then we’ll have to walk quickly, won’t we?” Mags said sharply, shoving another pistol and a box of ammo into Erin’s hands, who scoffed at her, and Pauling finally slammed the hood of the truck shut. Mags stepped over and handed Pauling her own bag and shotgun, and she took them without protest, as Erin just shook her head and started loading bullets in the pistol in her hand..

“She’s right, we don’t have much of a choice,” Miss Pauling sighed, checking to make sure her own shotgun was loaded before she strapped on her bag. “There’s no point in complaining..”

“I’m not complaining, I’m just pointing out the futility,” Erin muttered, but Mags had already started off down the road, and Erin let out a heavy sigh as she shoved the pistol into her holster. “Whatever…”

3 hours later, none of them were in any higher spirits, save for the fact that they were glad that, surprisingly, they hadn’t spotted any un-dead fiends at all. They had gotten lucky before, however, and they were pretty far from the town, where the fiends were more likely to hunt for survivors or scavengers searching for supplies.

Suddenly, Mags started jogging a bit faster along the road, and as Pauling and Erin looked around nervously they saw why; they could finally see the speck of a farm in the distant brush and tree spotted fields. They scrambled to keep pace with the older woman until they finally reached a busted iron gate, with wooden signs tied and wired all around it, with the words “Keep Away,” and “Trespassers will be shot on sight.”

“Expecting company?” Erin said blithely at the unfriendly notices, but Mags was frowning down at the red letters illuminated by the moonlight.

“No,” She said in a dark tone, and pulled her rifle over her shoulder as she glared down the dirt driveway to the supposedly abandoned ranch. “I didn’t put these here.”

“Squatters, you think?” Pauling suggested, also arming herself. “I mean, you really can’t blame them with what’s going on..”

“Well, whoever they are, it’s still MY house, and I’ve got no problem shooting back if they have a problem with me,” Mags said testily, kicking the broken gate out of her way and making her way past it down the driveway. Erin and Pauling exchanged curious glances with each other before following, both clutching their weapons tightly, feeling a different kind of sense of urgency and trepidation than before.

They hadn’t gotten halfway down the long dirt driveway leading to the large farm, before a creepy mechanical clicking and beeping reached their ears, and as they all raised their weapons at the unseen intruders, there was a sudden crunching of dirt and gravel coming from a small clutch of trees to their right. For a moment, as a large, misshapen figure pounded towards them, they thought they had finally been set on by a fiend, but the creature’s eyes lit up with two bright red lights.

It was a robot– a Heavy Weapons model Grey Mann robot, to be specific. Before any of them could fire a shot at the surprising intruder, however, there was another loud round of whirring and beeping, and popping up from hidden panels in the ground lining the driveway were half a dozen modified sentry guns, all trained on them.

“Well shit,” Mags blurted out, as the three women huddled closer together, not sure whether to aim their guns at the sentries or the Heavy robot, but the robot just trundled to a stop in front of Mags, leaning down to seemingly get a closer look at her.

“This here’s private property,” a very un-robotic, un-Heavy sounding voice came from the open mouth of the robot, and as Mags squinted at it’s face, watched it’s red-lit eyes zoom in and out at her like camera lenses; was someone controlling it remotely? “Unless you got an emergency, I’m gonna have to politely ask you ladies to vacate the premises. I don’t want any trouble.”

“That’s too bad, because you’ve got it,” Mags snapped back, shoving her shotgun barrel up under the metal chin of the robot as she glared into its camera eyes. “This happens to be MY personal property, and I’ll shot anyone or anyTHING that thinks it can take it from me–”

“Oh, is it, now?” The static laced voice replied sceptically, the bot looking around at the three of them.

“Look, we don’t want any trouble, either!” Miss Pauling pushed her way up to Mags, lowering the shotgun in her hands, as Erin just stared around warily at the half dozen sentries that were still trained on them, but had yet to fire. "Our truck broke down at the end of the road; we were just heading here to get some supplies–“

"Now, wait a minute– Miss Pauling?” The voice transmitted from the Heavy robot interrupted, it’s camera eyes whirring loudly as it’s head turned to the shorter woman. "What in the blue blazes..?“

"Wait a minute..” Pauling looked up at the bot in surprise, before a dawning look came over her face, and she whipped around and stared at the red sentries still aimed at them. “… Engie??” Pauling blurted out, as the familiar Texas drawl finally struck her, and she stared back at the robot’s face again. “Dell, is that really you?”

“The Engineer?” Erin blurted out, still glaring around at the sentries. “Well, that explains a couple of things..” she said hotly, but at her words, the sentries powered down, though did not retreat underground.

——aaand that’s all I feel like cramming onto this post fic wise. There’s 72 unfinished and plot-hopped around pages of this, and not so well written, but I’d forgotten how much I like it!!

[REALLY risky asks (watch out!!! super Risky)]

1. if you had to hug anyone who would you hughmm, you!! or a cat (they’re both pretty high up there)

3. whats your favorite color?Teal! or Aqua, whatever it is! I dig all the colors tho I mean, the proof is in the url

5. do you like a warm bed or a cold bed?Waaaarm, I’ll sleep under 4 blankets even if its broiling, just point a fan at my face and I’m good

7. favorite song you cant stop listening to?Currrently it’s Pop Culture by Madeon! And pretty much anything Daft Punk

9. do you like to use correct grammar when you type or just type all lowercase?shrug city yo, depends if I can brainthink at the moment– i mean if its fic or for school or w/e then yeah, duh, but go looking in my tags and you’ll be lucky if i even spell things right, let alone cap anything

#preludeinz #ask meme #long post #honestly i've spent the last 2 hours going over my fics to find something to put here #kind of nostalgic #i forgot how much i liked that stupid zombie au #still need to draw actual pics of all my oc merc ladies #i've only ever drawn the quasi canon ones

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