#i liked playing with hair in this piece. dante’s cut it short. it’s one small way she’s violated rose on top of everything else

[frogs-in3-hills]

fma 03 bad ending 👍

[occasionaloneshots]

Ring- zNation

younger brother! 10K, wife! Georgia, female reader 

CW: Mentions death, explosions (all canon related) some-what angst, minor swearing

In which she only knew he was  her brother when he recognized an old ring and she didn’t truly recognize him until weeks later. 

Word Count: 1644

    The urgent steps of the short haired woman quickly caught the attention of her wife, leather jacket flying up behind her slightly as she walks. The other woman’s eyes follow her, eyes lifting from the speech she was editing. “Georgie?” She jumps up from her seat, “What’s wrong?” “Talkers at the welcome center. They’re hungry and the center doesn’t have any bizcuits.” The dark haired woman blows a kiss to her wife as she speeds out of the building. Sliding the pencil and speech into her pocket (Y/N) stands up from the table, heading for the double doors that her wife ran out of moments before. A new set of arrivals wasn’t something new for Altura, this happens pretty often, and (Y/N) has desperate hope every single time one does. 

       Head of Pacifica security heads over to the quarantine station of the bigger outpost. She knew it was a slim chance, yet every time there was new arrivals she had the need to check for the boy. Twisting the ring on her right finger, the woman waited patiently for the truckload to return her wife and bring in a new shipment of dirty, tired faces. Her nervous eyes search the area around her, a few welcome committee members give her a gentle smile, others shaking their head in exhaustion. Eight years of apocalypse couldn’t shake her belief that her family is out there. Anyone other than Dante and Georgia would call her hopeless for still believing but (Y/N)’s intuition had never failed them. If her gut told her they were still out there, the two would believe her until the end. 

       Nervous summersaults enter the girl’s stomach as a vehicle comes into her sight line. “Don’t get your hopes up,” the woman whispers to herself, toying with the piece of metal on her finger. A kind voice speaks to a doctor, telling him that he and his friends had to go through quarantine before gaining citizenship. (Y/N)’s eyes search the group, one face catching her eye. He was too far for her to tell for sure, but the woman swore she recognized him. Georgia leaves the group, making her way to the woman. “One day playing with your ring like that is going to make it get stuck,” she chuckles, kissing the worried woman on her forehead. Shaking her head, (Y/N) leans into her lover’s side, “I’m just  nervous.” Rubbing a hand up the soft material of her wife’s sweater Georgia frowns, “Did the feeling go away?” “No, no, I’m still sure someone is out there,” she bites her lip, “I just, feel like I know that guy, the dark haired one you just brought in. I can’t place him though like it’s been years since I passed him in a crowd or something.” 

       “After he gets through quarantine, you and I can go talk to him together okay?” “That would be great,” she pulls the speech out of her pocket, handing it and the pencil to the woman on her side, “You need an opener, a joke or something to get people’s attention.” “You are an angel,” George laughs, pressing another kiss to her forehead.  “I try,” she teases, smiling over at the woman. “His name is Ten Thousand, if that helps.” “That’s a number, not a name. What was he before the apocalypse? A government experiment?” 

      (Y/N) waiting patiently for the quarantine process to end on the new arrivals, it felt like someone had their eyes on her the whole time. The feeling made her stomach feel like it was churning, the nerves killing her. George’s hand on her back lead her over to the group. She learned that the doctor Georgia was speaking to wasn’t a doctor but more of a therapist turned drug dealer from a small conversation. The short woman with him, Sargent Muller was a sweet girl, a fellow marine from before the world fell apart. The whole time she spoke to them, she twirled the ring, cutting eyes at the boy. He was glaring at her hands watching the metal and gems spin. 

        “Where the hell did you get that,” it was the first thing he said  and it felt as if he spit it at her. “Pardon?” The girl tucked herself into her wife’s side, the voice made him even more familiar but the anger in his tone was something she didn’t expect. “Where did you get that ring? You steal it off a corpse or something?” His face was full of disgust as he snatched her hand up. The stranger stared at the silver flower, eying the center gems. 4, his birthstone, his ma’s. his pa’s, and (Y/N)’s. “It was a gift from my mother, thank you,” She scoffs, yanking her hand back. For the first time she took a good look at his face. She knew those eyes anywhere, they were her mother’s, the scar in his eyebrow from where he got hit by a hunter’s knife as it slipped from her hand. And suddenly, she didn’t have to trust the feeling anymore, her brother was most definitely alive. George moves to step between the two, not liking the way the stranger roughly snapped her wife’s hand up. She’s shocked to feel the other woman shove her to the side, hugging the man suddenly, “Tomcat!” The male’s body jolts at the impact, pushing her off slightly, “(Y/N)?” She slumps her shoulders, affected by the rejected hug from her once clingy brother, “Yeah, it’s good to see you.” 

                                                          -----

     (Y/n)’s back is pressed against the side of the building, trying to ignore everything happening in the building. She feels guilt already building  in her stomach for being out in the grass while the woman she loves gives a speech she promised to be there for,  but being in there feels impossible. Hot tears burn her eyes as she stares into the distance, eyes unfocused. “Hey,” the voice catches her attention, her eyes refocusing on the frame that appeared before her, “You missed an amazing speech you know.” “Yeah, she’s good at them, you should hear her when she has to give a speech on the spot,” her voice is slightly hoarse as she looks up at him. “So uh,” he waves to the ground beside her, “Mind if I join you?” “Go ahead, 10k,” she lets out a half-assed chuckle. 

    Hearing his chosen name in her voice stung like venom as he sits down beside her. “You know, in fourteen years of living with you, I don’t think I can ever remember you crying, (Y/n/n).” She sniffles, smiling at the old nickname, “Well, you were the clingy family softy back then and I was the heartless one, remember?” “You were never heartless.” “Fourteen year old you felt different. You know the last thing I said to you was ‘the world won’t end while I’m gone’. It’s almost hilarious the way the world works like that,” she toys with the hem of her shirt as she talks. “Yeah, and I told you eight months might as well been eight years, look where we are now.” She laughs, leaning into his side, “What the hell happened to us?” “The real question is, why are you out here? I don’t know much about Georgia, but she seems pretty good to you.”

      “She’s amazing, too good to everyone sometimes if we’re all honest. All about trust and second chances. Georgia can really give you insight into your own humanity you know? I lost mine for a while, then there was her.” He nods, “Yeah I think we all lost ours a some point.” “Not her though, and I’m so proud of her, but the idea of walking back into that room made me feel sick.” “You know he can’t hurt her again, right?” She nods, her head falling back, “I know, but last time I was in there I was laughing with Dante, we were planning a double date to celebrate that the vote went through until he had to leave. Now he and Marge are dead, my wife has a black eye and a busted lip, and I couldn’t protect either of them, or you.” “My hand wasn’t your fault, you weren’t here. You didn’t kill Dante, or torture George. That’s not your fault.” “No, Ten, how long were you alone out there before your team found you? You lost Ma and Pa and I was with Lieutenant Dante looking for his wife states away. I should have gone looking for you the moment the apocalypse started, fuck my orders.”

       “You knew Dante a long time?” “I did, he was my Lieutenant until we got separated in Colorado four years ago. I just headed North from there, found Georgia, and trusted my gut that I would run into you instead of looking for you.” “Stop blaming yourself for me being alone, I grew up (Y/N). And we found each other eventually.” She fought a laugh, the person she knew as her brother was lost, she would have to find comfort in the new person who occupied his body. She never expected him to be the kid she left alone years before but she never imagined he’d be like this now. “I guess we did, Tomcat.” The dark haired male laughs, standing up and offering her his hand, “Now, let’s get you to your wife. You need to properly introduce me to my sister in law.” She laughs, taking his hand, “Thanks for being cool about that by the way. Pa would have lost it the moment he saw us together.” “We always had each other’s backs, it was the ruling of not getting in trouble with Pa,” the boy laughs, pulling her up from the ground. And for that moment, he was Tommy. 

[hunnywrites]

We Fell In Love In October: Part Three: The End

Summary: Billy and Teddi celebrate Halloween in 1986.

A/N: Happy Halloween everyone! The end of the mini series is here! This was a bit more fluffy than I had intended, but is that really a bad thing? Hope you enjoy!

“Will you quit unbuttoning your shirt?” Teddi asked with a huff. “He doesn’t have it unbuttoned in the movie, Billy.” She reached forward and buttoned up the remaining buttons on Billy’s dark blue plaid shirt. Billy was pouting down at her.

“If I button them all I look like a fucking dork,” He argued. He turned to look at himself in the full length mirror that sat in their bedroom, adjusting his red jacket with a frown. 

Teddi had gone to goodwill once a week for the last two months until she finally found all of the pieces for their costumes. Billy had finally caved and agreed to be Jack and Wendy Torrence from The Shining. Considering the incident with the mindflayer had made Billy go full Overlook, Teddi thought it would be a funny choice (plus, she had actually hit him with a baseball bat). 

Billy and Teddi stood side by side, looking back at their reflections. They looked older, Teddi realized. Like somehow they were peering into their futures. “...We look like we should own a farm.” Billy muttered.

Teddi let out a snort, softly elbowing him in the side. “We’d make pretty hot farmers.” she joked.

“Obviously.” the doorbell rang. Teddi hurried out to the front door, and Billy could hear her greeting all of the trick or treaters and complimenting each of their costumes as she handed out candy. Billy picked up his flask, stashing it in the pocket inside his jacket and heading out to meet her. 

He would have been perfectly happy lounging out on the couch with a stack of horror movies, ordering a pizza and handing out candy. But there was a Halloween festival in town that Teddi had been looking forward to all month. So he agreed to wear the couples costume and pig out on funnel cake and caramel apples. 

Billy didn’t miss the girl with short, golden brown hair dressed as Madonna at the door. He didn’t need to see Teddi’s face to know the girl reminded her of El. The group of kids thanked Teddi and ran off. Teddi shut the door, turning back with a glazed over look in her eyes. She quickly smiled when she saw Billy watching her. 

“You can always call her when you get home, you know.” he said, wrapping an arm around her. 

“I know...maybe. I don’t wanna annoy her,” Billy knew that wasn’t possible. “We should head out before the trick or treaters start to pick up.” she suggested. Maybe it was time for them to take a trip up to visit the Byers. Maybe he could call Joyce and surprise Teddi. Tell her they were going somewhere else entirely. 

The pair headed out to the Camaro and Billy flicked on the radio. He groaned when Teddi’s Halloween mixtape came on, the Monster Mash playing loudly. She giggled beside him, running her fingers through his curls, tucking some behind his ear and laying her head on his shoulder. “It’s one night, Hargrove.” she reminded him. 

The Halloween festival was bigger than Billy had been expecting from a town like Hawkins. It reminded him a little of the boardwalk back in San Diego. The janky rides and colorful food stalls. He was hit with a wave of memories. All the dates he’d taken to the boardwalk to make himself look good. He liked to win whatever girl he was taking out that week lots of those cheap stuffed animals to impress her and help seal the deal when it came to fooling around in the back of the Camaro afterwards. He’d be lying if he said it didn’t make him a little homesick. 

“Billy, look,” Teddi said, excitedly grabbing his hand and squeezing it. She was pointing over at a ride called Dante’s Inferno. It was some tacky dark ride that Billy guessed was supposed to be some sort of torture chamber in hell. It had two levels to it, and a large, red demon that grinned down evilly at anyone approaching the ride. “We totally have to go on that. It’s so lame.” she laughed. 

It was lame. The car was almost too small for the two of them. It had ratty old green seats and grotesque faces carved into the sides of it. Billy guessed it was enough to probably scare some kids, but it all looked almost comical to him. Teddi linked her arm with his tightly as the car took off with a jolt. Billy looked over at her, smiling at the nervous but somehow still excited expression on her face. 

Billy didn’t really understand much of what they saw inside. There was a track of loud, howling wind and evil laughter playing on loop. Every few feet a generic, “scary” animatronic would light up and go off as they passed. Billy reached over and tickled Teddi on the side a few times, timing it with the animatronic to scare her. She fell for it each time, squealing and jumping before slapping his hands away. “You’re such an asshole.” she laughed, trying to squirm away from him. 

They were both laughing as they stumbled away from the ride. Billy slowed to a stop, his eyes narrowing as he looked at the scene in front of him. “...Isn’t that your boss?” he asked, looking over at Teddi. She frowned and looked over. There was Keith standing over by the ticket booth. He was dressed as Jason Voorhees, shifting nervously and looking around as if he were looking for someone. 

“Yeah...huh. I can’t believe he’s he-...oh my god. Is that Cheryl?” she didn’t need to ask. It was definitely Cheryl Burns. She was dressed as the Queen of Hearts. Her strawberry blonde hair was swaying back and forth as she sauntered over to Keith, giving him a seductive smile that Billy was all too familiar with before running her hands up Keith’s chest. 

Billy and Teddi looked over at each other, speechless. “...Am I finally going insane, or does Cheryl Burns have her leg wrapped around Keith and her tongue down his throat?” Teddi asked, blinking wildly.

“Well...to be fair he’s probably the only guy in town that she hasn’t slept with,” he said, attempting to joke. He was way too weirded out to find it funny. “Forget the Mind Flayer, that is the weirdest thing I’m ever gonna see,” he said with a shudder. “...How come you don’t kiss me like that in public?” 

Teddi let out a loud scoff, rolling her eyes and glaring over at Billy. “Why don’t I kiss you like your ex girlfriend?”

“Technically she was never my girl-” Teddi cut him off by putting her hand over his mouth.

“Please don’t finish that sentence.” she groaned.

Billy wrapped his arm around Teddi and pulled her close, burying his face in her neck. “C’mon, Larsson. You’re not allowed to be pissed at me tonight. It’s our anniversary.” he said with a grin.

Teddi raised her eyebrow, trying her best not to smile. “Oh is it?”

“Of course. Two years ago today you fell in love with me at Tina’s Halloween party, remember?” he turned Teddi around to face him, smirking down at her as his hands rested on her lower back. 

Teddi couldn’t fight her smile anymore. She wrapped her arms around Billy’s neck, grinning up at him. “Technically I fell in love with the kissing. It took me a little while to fall in love with the rest of you.” she teased. If you asked Teddi the moment she’d fallen in love with Billy she wouldn’t be able to tell you. It felt like she had woken up one morning and realized she was in love with him. 

“Technicalities,” he scoffed. Billy leaned down to kiss her, his hand weaving its way up through her hair. It was longer than it had been when they met, and it was back to its natural sandy color. Teddi smiled against his lips, pressing herself closer to him.

“Maybe you’re right,” she sighed happily. “God, I hate how charming you can be sometimes.” that was a lie. Teddi linked her fingers with Billy’s pulling him over to the colorful and brightly lit food stalls. The smell of funnel cake batter and powdered sugar was making Teddi’s mouth water. 

“I was thinking...maybe we should go on a road trip,” Billy suggested after they had purchased their dessert. Teddi ripped a chunk of dough that was almost too big for her mouth and ate it. “We’ve been talking about it for awhile.” he reminded her. 

Teddi eyed him carefully while she munched on her funnel cake. “Yeah, but where do you wanna go?”

Billy shrugged, taking a bite for himself. He licked the powdered sugar off his fingers while he thought. “...You let me worry about that part,” he finally said. He’d never been very good at lying to Teddi. The more simple the lie was the better the chance he had at keeping her off his trail. “What do you say, Larsson?”

Teddi didn’t take long to think it over. She didn’t need to. The two of them had been talking about taking a nice, long road trip for over a year. It was long overdue. Time for just the two of them. “Just tell me when,” she said with a shrug and a smile. 

Teddi ended up convincing Billy to go on a few more of the rides. Each one seemed even cheesier than the last. They ate fair food until they nearly got sick, and took turns sneaking drinks from Billy’s flask. Billy won Teddi a small army of those tacky, cheap stuffed animals from the game stalls. On the way back to the car she could barely keep the large pumpkin, dracula, little devil and a genuinely creepy looking teddy bear in her arms. 

“Thanks for going, Billy.” she mumbled sleepily, her head resting on his shoulder. 

“Any time, Weird Girl,” he didn’t think she heard him. Teddi was already asleep, most likely from a sugar crash after all the junk food. Hawkins was pretty quiet. All of the trick or treaters had gone home for the night, and the only people Billy saw out and about where a few costumed adults stumbling out of house parties. 

He pulled into the driveway of their little house, where the pumpkins they had carved were still glowing on the porch and got out of the car. Billy opened Teddi’s door, reaching over her to undo her seatbelt and easily picking her up. All of her prizes fell out of her arms and onto the floor of the Camaro. Except the evil looking teddy bear, Billy noticed with a groan. “C’mon, Larsson. Bed time.” he mumbled, carrying her inside. 

Teddi took a deep breath in as she woke up, squinting as she took in her surroundings. “I gotta make a phone call, okay? You gonna be alright getting yourself in bed?” he asked. She rubbed the backs of her eyes roughly and nodded before he set her down. Billy disappeared into the living room. Teddi was too dazed to hear what he was saying on the phone or wonder who he was talking to. 

She made quick work of changing into her pajamas, leaving her costume in a pile on the floor before crawling back into bed and hugging the bear Billy had won for her close. She was asleep again by the time Billy made his way back into their bedroom. Joyce had picked up on the second ring. Billy could hear Will and El in the background talking animatedly about some movie they were watching. When he told her his plan, Joyce had been all for it. She told him they could stay in Johnathan’s room for as long as they wanted since he was away at school, and she promised to keep it a secret from Teddi. 

If you asked Billy the moment he’d fallen in love with Teddi he wouldn’t be able to tell you. One minute she was driving him up the wall and the next he felt like he’d do anything to keep her happy...she still could drive him up the wall. There wouldn’t be any changing that. 

Billy changed and slid into bed next to Teddi. He grimaced down at the black teddy bear in her arms, with its red eyes and fanged smile, and wrapped his arm around Teddi’s middle. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Happy Halloween, Teddi.”

[nekolatte]

Chapter 3: Play Along

Preview: “I can get there myself. Do I look like a damsel in distress?” “I meanー” “Stop."

When Leon woke, there was an odd taste in his mouth and his chest felt split open, though a cursory glance showed no additional damage since yesterdayー the bandages only a soft pink where the wounds had been worst. He had to give credit to Dante: the man knew his stitch, and he thought he knew why.

The coat pooled around his waist looked like it had seen quite a few battles. A bit frayed but carefully maintained, old patched with new that it was nearly indiscernible. The leather so smooth to the touch that Leon found himself touching it more than he ought to; it was certainly a unique piece, the stitching intricate in a way that didn't seem normal. And now that he got a better look at it, there was the faintest hint of a pattern to the redー looking almost like reptilian scales. Deciding it was too odd to give it any more thought, Leon reluctantly pulled it off himself, and folded it so it wasn't in a messy pile on the couch.

Trying to sit up was a challenge, though Leon pushed through with a grunt of effort, and took proper stock of his surroundings. The place looked worse, somehow, though maybe Leon only noticed now that he wasn't suffering from a mild concussion. There were books everywhere, scattered like a tornado had torn through, which he had to frown a bit at, considering how old some of them looked. Pages brittle and yellowed, spines broken and intricate gold-lettering faded into ineligible smudges. He tried to reach for one closest to himself, but paused when a sharp pain stabbed into his side, forcing him to retreat.

Rubbing over the sore spot, Leon willed the pain to subside while he took to cataloging the area again. Piles of miscellaneous tucked into corners looked like trash, but Leon could pick out the shape of odd trinkets that didn't look valuable but certainly important. There were various statuettes in varying degrees of neglect, artistic style he couldn't quite pinpoint. Things he would see in museums or seventh grade history books, mostly. He also saw a vanity mirror with a large crack right through the middle, and a box of old record tapes. There was a hairbrush and a scarf made of a fiber that didn't look plant- or animal-based.

If he hadn't known Dante was somehow connected to the things Leon fought yesterday, he would've written the man off as an eccentric hoarder. All this together pointed at something specific, but Leon was still missing clues, and he was reluctant to admit that he was snared by the mystery of it all. His thoughts strayed back to the man in question, and as if summoned by Leon's wandering thoughts, Dante appeared through a swinging door, looking as startled as Leon felt.

“You're awake.”

Leon continued to stareー because, while intellectually, he knew Dante was the muscled type, the coat had somehow hid the extent of it. It made him seem taller but shapeless; with it gone there was, well, shape. Broad in the shoulders and narrow at the waist, toned to high hell that he strained the shirt he was strapped into, and left Leon both mystified and completely jealous. A jealousy he hadn't felt since high school when the seniors were already settling into their new strengths and physiques, and Leon was still a scrawny freshman with an oddly pitched voice and thin arms.

Leon pushed the thought out of his head before Dante could even have a chance at reading it on his face, though the man had picked up on something, because he was looking down at himself.

“Nope, wearing pants.” Dante seemed to say more to himself than to him before looking back at Leon. “What? Do you not remember who I am?”

“Dante.” Leon said it carefully, as if making all this more real just by uttering it. He suddenly felt tired and regretted getting up. The couch, surprisingly, had been comfortable and Dante's coat had been warm. “How long have I been asleep?”

“A day, more or less.” Dante made his way over and leaned against the edge of the desk beside the couch, eyeing Leon carefully. Leon couldn't decide if it was out of suspicion or worry. “How are you feeling?”

Leon paused, pensive, and found he wanted to answer honestly. There was nothing to gain by telling Dante he was fine, except to write himself off as a stubborn liar the second a sharp pain brought Leon down. He had to gain the man’s trust; present himself as a cooperative prisoner until Dante showed his true colors. Hopefully by then, Leon wouldn't be held together with twine and a prayer. “Like I ate coal. Like I’ve been run over by a truck. Like I need to be somewhere else; like all of this is some fucked up dream. I’m exhausted, in pain, and hungry enough that I might start eating the pages in some of these books you have thrown around. Like my head is stuffed with cottonー and I keep seeing feathers whenever I blink. I… I think I remember dreaming about an owl but it felt so real.”

Dante hummedrealng and low in his throat, but shrugged in the end. “That's weird. Think it meant something?”

“I’m not sure…” Leon frowned, not certain what he found unsavory about Dante’s reaction, but decided not to press. There were other matters he wanted to deal with first. "Do you have a bathroom in this place?”

“Oh, yeah.” Dante gestured vaguely towards the rest of the building, and moved to stand. “Upstairs; want me to carry you?”

Leon stared, a brow rising towards his hairline. Dante only grinned at himー all boyish charm and innocence that triggered an odd feeling in Leon. He had this sudden thought of ruffling snowy-white hair, and quickly shook himself free of it. He knew Dante hadn't done it on purpose, but still glared.

“I can get there myself. Do I look like a damsel in distress?”

“I meanー”

“Stop. Just tell me where to go.” Before waiting for a response, Leon took great pains to stand, feeling like his entire chest was on fire and the base of his spine was oddly twisted. Dante was there suddenly, hovering ー concern on his face that in no way seemed fake. It unnerved Leon, so he pushed Dante away with a weak hand. “You pick me up and I punch you.”

“I was only suggesting because it'd be faster.” Dante’s humor couldn't entirely hide his lingering worry, though he made no move to actually touch Leon. He just stayed close.

“And I still have my dignity.” Which was starting to look useless when he needed help by the halfway point up the stairs, legs trembling like a newborn foal. And he really shouldn't have felt comfortable with someone's hand on the small of his back, but the leather of Dante's glove was warm and smooth, the latter contrasted by twin points of rough pads that had him breaking out in goosebumps.

Thankfully, it wasn't mentioned, and the short distance up the rest of the stairs and into a dark hallway was done in relative silence. And by relative, Leon meant he didn't respond to a single thing Dante deemed fit to utter. It was all nonsense filler, probably to distract Leon, but there was nothing that could make him forget the slow throb that ran just under his skin. He couldn't remember being this worse for wear before, and he'd certainly suffered enough hell to warrant it.

“Do you ever stop talking?” He found himself cutting Dante off, less out of irritation and more his inability to let a conversation go without tossing a quip or two in.

It didn't sound that way to his own ears, but Dante didn't seem to mind one way or another. Or, more likely, didn't care, as he steered Leon into a room. It was obviously the master bedroom, with a connected bathroom and an oversized closet that still wasn't big enough to hold the clothes spilling out. All women’s, in varying stylesー strewn everywhere in a similar chaos to that in the room below.

“Trish won’t mind if you use her bathroom. Cleanest out of the two.”

Clean was not the word Leon would've used, but nothing seemed to be growing on the walls or floor, so he didn't pay any mind to the various towels, clothes, and beauty products left strewn everywhere, and reevaluated his preconceived notions that women were always neat and organized. They could be just as sloppy as men, apparently.

Dante used his foot to knock the toilet lid down to help Leon sit down on it, Leon too thankful to finally have a chance to catch his breath to argue that he could've done that himself. He took a moment to rest while Dante fidgetedー obviously wanting to do something for Leon but not knowing what. Leon got tired of that quickly.

“So, do you follow all your guests into the bathroom?”

Taking the hint with a huff and a cheeky smirk, Dante turned to leave. "You should take a shower while you're here; I'll find some clothes for you."

"Are you saying I smell?" Leon called after the man, but Dante didn't deem it worthy of response. Just a pointed salute Leon could only see from the back and a request to "holler" if he needed anything.

Something Leon was definitely not going to do, even if it hurt getting his limbs to move the way he wanted them to. But he was soon relieved and stripped bare, taking care to unwrap the bandages so he could get in the shower. There would definitely be scarring, the wounds still angry and redー bruising spread like a topographic map across his midsection. No wonder it hurt to move.

Climbing into the tub and under the heavy spray of warm water, tense muscles loosen and grime rinsed off in waves. The water around his feet had gone from an alarming shade of red to a dull pink in just a matter of moments, and with great pains, Leon brought the vibrant color back when trying to wash his hair. The blood, which he was skeptical of calling it that, had congealed and stuck to his hair like gelatin, falling in tiny lumps every time he ran his fingers through.

The feel and smell had his empty stomach violently revolting, and every time he hunched over, his bruising flared and forced him upright again. There was no comfortable way to get through this, and Leon's arms got tired before he could get all the gunk out. His legs followed soon after, giving out entirely as muscles quivered and knees buckled. It was thanks to his quick reflexes that Leon managed to keep from falling completely on his ass, grabbing the shower curtain and tearing it off metal rings on his way down.

Landing in the ceramic tub shot a wild pain up his spine, and Leon couldn't stop the yelp of pain that followedー enough of a holler to have Dante barging in shortly after without knocking. He looked startled, concerned again , and Leon had a moment to realize the blood dripping out of his hair probably didn't look comforting.

Grunting through the pain, Leon tried to stop the hands from scooping him up. “It's not mine. I slipped, that's it. Didn't bang my head.”

Dante didn't look convinced, but he did look like he was close to laughter now that the immediate danger had passed. Be it Leon's withering glare or his own sense of politeness (Leon bet the former), he said nothing, kept his laughter to himself, and shut off the shower with a pointed twist of the wrist.

“Going to let me help you now or did you want to injure yourself further?”

“Do I have much of a choice?” Leon gritted through his teeth, taking Dante's offered hand to sit himself up, shower curtain pointedly settled over his lap and arm angled to try and conserve an ounce of modesty. His would-be-protector laughed then.

“You're not packing anything I haven't seen before, pal.”

“Let's try to keep something private for the honeymoon.” Leon hoped to make his point across with a glare that Dante seemed to accept with a roll of the eyes and hands raised in surrender. He sat on the edge of the tub, turned the faucet on instead of the showerhead, and looked around for something.

Dante pulled out a plastic container that once held bath salts from under the sink, rinsed it out, and filled it up again to dump the contents right on Leon's head. He had anticipated it but still felt no less humiliated by the turn of events.

"You usually this moody in the mornings?”

"Do you give all your guests complimentary baths?" Leon bit back while trying to keep the dirtied water out of his mouth.

"Only the pretty ones."

Once Dante got a lather going in his hair, and the smell of lavender replaced that of rot, Leon finally felt a little more human and not just a water balloon filled with feeling. The way Dante's fingers ran through the strands, blunt nails massaging into his scalp, definitely helped ease Leon's mood. He couldn't remember the last time anyone did this for himー touched him with purpose andcare. Because Dante could've done a half-assed job of it to get it over with, but he was being thorough and Leon was helpless to it.

He privately wondered if there was a service like this somewhere.

"Head down." The barest of pressures had Leon following the order without question, eyes and mouth closed as more water was tipped over his head. Fingers brushed through again, working out the soap, and like Leon had been helpless since the start of all this shit, he was helpless to the deep, rough groan scratching the back of his throat.

Shoulders went tense and eyes opened despite the steady drip of soapy water. Somewhere above, Dante had gone still tooー fingers still in Leon's hair and bucket steadily dripping what water remained inside.

Before Leon could think to fake an injury to try and explain the reason for the noise, there was a poorly concealed snort that soon bubbled into chuckles and outright laughter, too loud in the small bathroom as it echoed and made Leon miserable in fantastic new ways. He could feel the heat of a blush crawl over skin, could even feel his ears burn, and shied from it by covering his face in both palms.

If the laughter had ended there, maybe Leon could've salvaged whatever dignity he had left, but Dante had to get up and excuse himself from the room, only to laugh more loudly in the main room. The sound carried, and Leon wished he really had died of his injuries. Would've been better than this humiliation.

It felt like such a long time after when Dante finally managed some semblance of control over himself and reappeared, face red and tears in his eyes. He took one look at Leon, not having been able to move from his spot in the tub, and he turned tail with the sound of another wheezing fit. Leon barked over it to be heard.

"Can you just give me a towel!"

"I'm sorry; I'm sorry." Dante reappeared againー all bright smiles and friendly cheer. "Let me just finish and then I'll leave you alone."

Taking up the bucket again and filling it to the brim, Dante seemed to have gotten over his fit, but Leon would not he tempted in putting his guard down. He glared on ahead, resolved himself not to enjoy the drag of blunt nails, and was completely prepared for Dante's airy comment.

"You really enjoyed that, didn't yー"

Ripping the container out of Dante's hand, Leon threw the water into his stupid, smug face and was satisfied by the sputter and curse than followed. Fair hair was plastered to Dante's forehead, dripping almost sadly onto the tiled floor, but Dante himself was still smiling, if a bit ruefully.

"I enjoyed that," Leon said as he threw the plastic aside, trying and failing not to ooze satisfaction at such a petty attack. He should be above such actions, act like the mature adult between them, but it wasn't fair that Dante got to have fun at his expense.

"Fair enough." A lazy chuckle rumbled between them, and Dante lifted his hands to push them through the wet patch of hair to slick the mess back.

The transformation was startling, enough to dampen Leon's brief mirth into curious confusion. He'd never seen someone turn into a completely different person just by rearranging their hair, and Leon continued to stare despite knowing he shouldn't. He paid close attention to the shift of muscle and easy grace that seemed to come naturally to Dante as he stoodー a show put on by someone comfortably aware they were being stared atー and was transfixed when Dante pinched the collar of his ridiculous shirt and tugged on it to further expose the sliver of chest. Beads of water slid over pectorals and Leon watched them go.

The washing cloth tossed at Leon stopped his ogling.

"Finish up while I go get the clothes I threw all over the hallway when you shrieked like a banshee and scared me half to death."

Though teeth gritted and his annoyance came flooding back, Leon was a bit startled to find he didn't really mind the jab. It felt like bait, certainly, but in hope to get Leon to play along. Like a dog nipping at the ankles because it wanted attention. Leon knew he shouldn't feel anything but weariness around a stranger like Dante, and yet a little part of him had allowed it.

When he looked back up with a retort on his tongue, Dante was gone.

[im-fairly-whitty]

Cecilia de Verde

A “No-Murder AU” Ernesto Love Story: Fanfic for Pixar’s “Coco”

[The death of Ernesto’s father cuts short Ernesto and Hector's doomed music tour before anyone gets poisoned, making them both return to Santa Cecilia so that Ernesto can care for his mother and rethink his life’s trajectory. Ernesto meets a sweet but sassy girl with a green hair ribbon who seems to be able to see right through his ego, and now he can't get her out of his head. ]

Part 1: Verde

It had been two months since Ernesto’s entire life plan had been completely smashed to pieces.

He sighed as he swung himself down off his horse, his boots hitting the dusty old cobblestones of the dusty old plaza of dusty old Santa Cecilia.

He looped the reins over Dante’s grey head and securely tied them to the plaza hitching post. At least when his father had died two months earlier his shady “friends” hadn’t made off with the family horse before Ernesto returned home. All his father’s prized fighting dogs and massive stash of alcohol, yes, but Ernesto would have gotten rid those the moment he returned anyway.

He patted the horse’s neck before turning to stroll into the plaza, weaving through the loose market-day crowd. He pasted on a relaxed smile as he nodded and waved to the all-too-familiar faces around him, passing the mats lining the street that were spread with all sorts of colorful foods and goods. The late October morning was cool for now, but everyone was already staking out areas that would be shaded when the hot Mexican sun came out in full force in a few hours.

As he neared the pavilion in the middle of the square he saw a lone teenager was already sitting inside, plucking away at an old guitar. Ernesto stifled a grimace upon recognizing the half-strangled tune of “Un Poco Loco,” but at least it meant this next part was going to be easy.

“Hola muchacho!” Ernesto smiled widely as he ascended the cement steps of the pavilion, making sure the guitar slung on his back didn’t smack the green metal railings on either side.

The teen looked up, jolting out of his song with a twang of guitar strings when he saw Ernesto.

“Señor Santiago!” He said, a crooked grin spreading across his face. “H-Hola! I was just playing one of your songs, I really like your music.”

Ernesto and Hector had only barely started getting traction when they were abruptly called home for the funeral, but Santa Cecilia was backward enough to still think they were famous anyways. It was a useful card to play around town, even if it chafed at Ernesto every time he used it to think how far they hadn’t gone.

“Muchas gracias, it’s always nice to meet a fan.” Ernesto said pleasantly, not allowing himself to show how nettled he was to be called by his father’s name. “And please, I go by De la Cruz.”

“Oh, of course! Señor De La Cruz.” The boy said.

He was still sitting on the floor of the pavillion. Alright. Time to be more obvious then.

Ernesto pulled his guitar strap so that the instrument swung up in front of him, letting the boy see its polished surface. It was a much more expensive instrument than his dinged one. A real, professional guitar.

“Would you mind if I took it from here?” Ernesto asked, walking into the gazebo and pulling the guitar’s strap off before the boy could respond.

“Oh, uh, sure.” The teen scrambled up with his own scuffed guitar as Ernesto walked in. “Do you usually play here?”

“Every time I come to the plaza.” Ernesto said brightly, pulling a pick from his pocket and setting about tuning the instrument. “And keep practicing your guitar, you’ve got potential, amigo.”

“Thank you Señor!” The teenager said, his face brightening as he backed out of the gazebo. He waved as he walked away, having conveniently forgotten that he’d just been kicked out in the glow of having been complimented.

Ernesto sighed as soon as he was gone, his smile dropping away. Most of the other “musicians” in town had gotten the message that the gazebo was Ernesto’s, but he still had to enforce it every now and then. It was ridiculous, you left town for a few months and everything slid into chaos.

He leaned against the green metalwork railing and began picking out a tune, starting off with one of Hector’s early wordless melodies to warm up. Escaping to the plaza to play had become his escape whenever he needed to catch his breath. Settling his father’s affairs was unpleasant work, unearthing memories Ernesto had buried two years ago when he’d been forcefully thrown out of the house.  

He’d moved on, had launched into his plan of becoming a new man with a vengeance, never expecting to return home, in this life or the next. And yet, here he was.

The feeling of doom that had always hung over his childhood home had mostly dissipated now that it was just Ernesto and his mother living there, but he’d found that the urge to escape it was still deeply ingrained in him.

The plaza gazebo was the perfect escape too, it had plenty of room to clear his head, but also still had a crowd around to appreciate his music. Even if it was a thin and uncultured one.  

He continued to play, warming up to a more energetic arraignment. He smiled and nodded to the townspeople that paused to listen, close enough to see him, but still walled back by the metalwork of the gazebo.

Playing during market days was also a good reminder to the whole town that their two musical sons were back and ready to be hired for whatever quinceanera or birthday or other musical need they had. Ernesto played the guitar for free in the market, he was not a desperate busker, but everyone knew that if they wanted to hear his voice they could hire him and Hector anytime.

Ernesto looked up to watch the colorful chatting crowds beyond the bars, but was surprised to see someone had come up the steps, leaning against the archway instead of keeping the usual distance. He didn’t recognize her, which was odd since she looked only a little younger than him, and she was resting a bolt of cloth on her hip. He couldn’t help noticing that her white and green dress somehow matched her soft smile.

Ernesto smiled back and kept playing, assuming she’d turn and leave soon like the others. But she stayed, all the way until the end of his song.

“That was nice.” She said, pulling a coin from her pocket.

“Gracias Senorita,” Ernesto tipped up his guitar to rest from playing for a minute, “but you can keep your coin, I don’t accept money for street playing, just events.”

“But, you’re a musician.” She said, her smile looking puzzled. “Don’t you have to eat?”

Ernesto bristled just a bit, but kept it from showing. Just because he was a performer didn’t mean he was desperate for every spare peso a passerby could stoop to bestow on him. Hector may have a family to support, but Ernesto had plenty saved from their tour to tide him over. He wasn’t a teenager playing on the street corner, he was a professional.

“This music is my gift to the community,” he said, grandly sweeping an arm to gesture at the square around him. “I give it to them freely. Besides, I have to play. The music isn’t just in me, it is me.”

That usually got a good reaction, but she just cocked an eyebrow.

“That’s one of the most ridiculously showy things I’ve ever hear someone say.” She sounded like she was stifling a chuckle as her smile widened.

Ernesto frowned, feeling wounded. He quite liked that line, he’d spent a lot of time coming up with it. And who was this girl anyway? It wasn’t often that there was someone in this small town that he didn't at least vaguely recognize.

“Well it’s true,” he said, “My music partner and I are successful professionals, we can afford to give back to the people.”

That was stretching the truth just a bit, but this was an emergency.

Then her eyes widened in realization, “Oh! I think I understand, you must be Ernesto!”

Ernesto smiled. Good, he was back in his comfort zone if she knew his reputation.

“I’ve heard a lot about you.” She said, her smile looked knowing and amused.

Or not.

“Oh? And what have you heard?” Ernesto said, taking the bait she was obviously offering. He unconsciously propped up his guitar in his lap again, like a shield.

She laughed at him, not unkindly. “That you have an ego bigger than this whole town.” She replied, struggling to control her grin.

“Well, it’s not that big of a town.” Ernesto said without thinking.

It wasn’t helping that her smile was as sweet as piloncillo, which somehow made her barbs more painful. Why didn’t she take him seriously like everyone else? And who had been talking about him having an ego anyway? He wasn’t proud, he was just unusually talented and handsome, everyone knew that.

“Well, it’s bigger than the last place I lived.” She hitched her bolt of cloth higher up on her hip. “Good luck with your coinless music, músico.”

Ernesto was still scrambling for a good comeback as she turned and lightly descended the cement pavilion steps. He only had time to see the glossy green ribbon woven into her braided hair before she walked behind a fruit merchant stall and disappeared from sight.

Before quite realizing it, he was standing, clutching his guitar and looking at where she’d gone.

And good luck with your small town sensibilities, small town girl. That’s what he should have said, that would have shown her who the real wit was.

He idly tugged at the lock of hair that always curled on his forehead, the fingers on his other hand tapping the guitar’s neck as he thought.

No, that was a dumb comeback. He could do better than that.

He sat back down on the cement, his body pretending he was going to start playing again. Good luck with your, your bolt of cloth? Your green hair ribbon? He really didn’t have much to work with. Not that it mattered. What did he care if one pretty stranger didn’t believe he was amazing? Her opinion didn’t control his life, he didn’t need her approval.

Several minutes passed before he realized his hand was still suspended over the guitar strings, not having played a single note.

He grunted irritably and stood. Alright, fine, so his focus was wrecked, that didn’t mean anything. He was still his own man with his own confidence. He just needed some closure, and to be prepared if such an attack ever happened again. Señorita Verde ribbon wasn’t from around here, but Santa Cecilia wasn’t much of a place for short stays. She might come back to the plaza another day, and if she did, he would be ready.

He slung his guitar strap back over his head and walked to where Dante was hitched up. If it as a witty comeback he was looking for, there was a certain gold-toothed music partner of his that he knew he could rely on for help.  

[Read Part 2: The Name of the Enemy]

-----------------------

Here we go again :)

So excited for this story to play out, I’ve realized while writing this that the only thing more emotionally terrifying than revenge is falling in love. *evil cackle* If you want to see me in full revenge-story mode check out my other Ernesto fic ”For Whom the Bell Tolls,” which takes place one year after the movie ends.

Be sure to follow me or [#Cecilia de verde] to get the next chapter as soon as it comes out in a few days. Like and reblog, looking forward to reading your comments!

- Wit

[dyke-remy]

Live And Let Die, part 6

Part 1      Part 2      Part 3     Part 4     Part 5 

Description: Agent 008 and Agent 009, professional spies for the MI6 with liscense to kill. Partners in both work and love. After an agent goes missing the partners have to once more go out into the field. (It’s a James Bond AU)

You don’t need to know anything about James Bond to be able to read this fic, trust me

Tw: Accidental misgendering here and there, some light torture

Words: 3611

Remus woke up in a cold sweat. His body ached and his head seemed to be banging in rhytm with his heart. He was staring into a grey concrete wall but it was weird because the ceiling looked like the floor and the floor looked like the-

Oh. Oh he was hanging upside down. He strained himself to look upwards and there was indeed rope all around his limbs that tied him to the ceiling. He could barely even move his fingers, much less his head.

"009?" He called out. He tried not to sound too worried but failed miserably.

"008!" Remy exclaimed back. To both of their's relief it didn't sound like they were far apart.

"I'm right here. Are you okay?"

"It doesn't matter but yes I'm tots 100% good"

"It matters to me!"

Remus swung a bit back and forth in the air and to his surprise his head struck something else. "009 are you-"

"That's me alright" Remy leaned their head back so they felt each other's warmth.

For a few moments they stayed like that without saying anything. As long as they could touch each other, as long as they knew the other were there, everything felt safe.

"You're okay right? Nothing happened after I blacked out?" Remy asked.

"Nothing too bad...but...I....I think I might have been hit by Jaws. Didn't see his face though"

Remy let out a quiet gasp "Jesus fuck. The bitchy brat got Jaws and everything on his side huh"

"I'm not a brat!" Virgil's voice came from somewhere Remus couldn't see.

The agent felt hands grab his shoulders and force him around. He saw Virgil with his back turned to him, he was turning Remy around the same way so the agents were looking at each other. The enby was tied to a steel chair. There even was a rope around their neck so they could barely turn their head.

"You gonna torture us? Gonna torture us with your lil baby hands?" Remy asked with a shit eating grin. In response they got a back handed slap to the face.

Remus tried to glance around. They were in what looked like a garage that had been turned into an improptu torture chamber. Tools (knifes, hammers, guns) laid on a table and next to it stood Theo, the bodyguard.

His eyes stagnated on Virgil. His hands began to shake.

"Where you hiding your lil Jawsie now tho? Aint so scary without him" Remy continued to tease.

"Do you seriously think the two of you pose enough of a threat to need Jaws here" Virgil rolled his eyes "I'm sure he's in his box or something-"

"You- You're-"

Remus' voice was shaky as he stuttered it out. He was staring at Virgil as if he was looking at a ghost.

"I know you"

Virgil glanced at him before looking over to Theo. He let out a few dry chuckles and the bodyguard laughed along.

"You're- Virgil- You're the kid- you were there when Ro- my brother died"

A sick smile spread over his lips "Of course I was. And you're Remus. And Roman is dead"

He expected the agent to lash out. To scream and shout and try to claw his way out of the ropes just to hurt him. Virgil knew he was the reason the previous 009 got killed. It was the only logical reaction.

"I'm sorry" The genuine, nearly tearfilled, tone on Remus' voice caught him off guard "You were just a kid. I'm sorry we weren't able to help you. We- I saw how your dad treated you. Me and my brother wanted to get you out of there I promise"

The teenager took a step back. He closed his hands into fists. His nails pierced into his skin until blood dripped out.

Remus lowered his voice and tried to keep eyecontact with him "We can help you now though. If you unbound us we can knock out that big stupid bodyguard and take you somewhere safe. No one will hurt you again. I'll make sure of it"

Virgil stared at him with rage in his eyes. He grabbed onto the agent's jaw and forced his head closer. "Your brother dying was a good thing"

Remus tried to say something back but it was as if his mouth had stopped listening to his brain.

"Y'know when I was younger I would always cry like a baby whenever I saw my dad kill someone" Virgil continued in a low voice "But your brother looked so Pathetic when he died that I never cried over another death again. That was the only thing he was ever good for. Just a maggot to look disgustingly pathetic before being crushed to death"

"Shut up" Remus growled out.

"And wow! Running away like a coward was a truly amazing move! The moment you left your brother started to sob. That bastard begged my dad to let him live and everything! He just kept going until-"

"Shut up!"

"-Until his voice was so hoarse and he was so close to death all he could do was keep crying out for you. I don't even think he was aware of it! It was all just sobs about hugging you and your mom until he died! Just as he deserved!"

"HE DIDN'T DESERVE ANYTHING LIKE THAT!" Remus yelled out "HE DESERVED A LIFE MUCH MORE THAN I DO! YOU DON'T-"

"Darling. Darling look at me" Remy said calmly.

Remus stopped and glanced over at them. Tears were welling up in his eyes. "I deserve to die more than he did-"

"Babe that doesn't matter right now. Virgil is just trying to get you emotional so you'll be more likely to say what he wants you to say. Just follow my breathing okay? In for 4. Hold for 7-"

"Out for 8. I know. I know" Remus forced out between short breaths.

"It's okay babe just-"

"You shut the fuck up!" Virgil shouted "Theo make him shut up!"

The bodyguard promptly went up behind Remy and forced their mouth open. They tried to bit his hand but was stopped when a piece of barbed wire was pulled around their head so the largest part of it laid dangerously in their mouth.

"Thanks" Virgil took a deep breathe to try and not explode with annoyance "So Remus. 008. Whatever. You got the privilege of hanging upside down because you were such a heartless Bitch and killed 3 of my spiders! That's like killing 3 baby puppies you monster!!"

He went over to the table filled with tools and picked up a crowbar. It looked a bit too heavy in his hands. He rolled up the sleeves of his hoodie and took a firm grip on the weapon, clearly ready to swing it at the agent.

"Your brother's life was worth less than my spiders, you realize that right. So you'll pay for it" He lifted the crowbar above his head "This is for-"

"Sir!" Theo interrupted "You're holding it wrong. You'll easily hurt your wrists unless you shift your right wrist and move your left hand a bit up. It'll hurt the cretin more as well"

Virgil sent him a small smile and shifted how he held the crowbar "Thanks"

He slammed it into Remus' ribcage.  "This is for Max!" The next hit landed on the side of his hip "This is for Dante!" The last one landed on his arm "And this is for Charlotte!"

He lowered the crowbar while letting out heavy breathes. His black hair had fallen in front of his eyes and his mouth was twitching upwards into a smile. Remus didn't even seem bothered by the hits. It really had felt like being hit by a kid. If anything the reminder of his brother's death hurt more than Virgil beating him ever could.

"So now when we all agree that your brother deserved to die and all 00 agent's lives are worthless we can continue onto the interrogation! Theo please let the maggot speak again so I can beat the answers out of both of them"

Theo made sure the barbedwire dragged into Remy's skin as he dragged it out of their mouth. Their teeth were colored red from blood. They immediately tried to spit the blood into Theo's face and let out a fake moan when he slapped them in return.

Virgil dropped the weapon on the ground and instead pulled out two rings from his hoodie pocket "So I found these matching rings on your fingers and with my deducting skills I've come to the conclusion that they are rings made for 00 agenst and therefore super impor-"

"Ehm sir I believe those are wedding rings" Theo interrupted.

"But- but they're guys" He pointed at the agents as if Theo had missed it somehow. Virgil slumped his shoulders forward and grumbled something under his breathe "Anyhow! They're still important! So if you two don't tell me the info I want I will smash them with a hammer!!"

"You want info on how to deal with acne or something?? 'Cause girl it looks like you need it" Remy replied.

Virgil's cheeks went bright red "Shut up! What I want is M's real name! And Where MI6 keeps all their documents and files because I know you have info about me and my dad there and I want to destroy it!"

"M's real name is Gilbert Dickface!" Remus loudly announced. He forced a fake smile on.

"That's not a real name you...you....idiot!"

He held out his hands while an angry grimace played on his face. Theo happily handed him a large hammer. The teenager laid out the rings on the table and made sure the agents were looking at them before smashing them to bits.

Neither of them even winced. Remus' mom was literally a jewel smuggler. This just meant they got to have yet another romantic ring choosing date.

"Want to try some malachite stones this time 009?"

"I would love to 008"

Virgil pouted and dropped the hammer on the floor. He picked up a knife instead. He grabbed onto Remy's jaw and pulled their head close.

"Alright you're going to tell me or I will cut up your stupid Remus"

Remy had a smug smile on their face "Sure Jan"

"Can I request a cooler torture scene?" Remus asked "Maybe a shark pool....red laser table.....giant hotel slowly being put on fire....Being strapped to a rocket and launched into space without a space suit if I don't say the info sounds cool! Just some suggestion! Totally brainstorming here!"

Virgil hit him over the face with the back of the knife. "Maggots like the people at MI6 don't deserve to have info about me or my dad. I want it gone as soon as possible so tell me!"

"Your bitch of a dad can go shove a cactus so far up his ass it comes out of his nose!" It'd hadn't been that hard for Remus to put together that if Virgil was the kid who'd been there when Roman died then his dad had to be the leader of Enfuel...Aka the man who'd murdered his brother.

"Shut up!!"

"Girl Isn't that like the opposite of what you want us to do. Real bad interrogation you got going on otherwise. Can't even call this torture"

"I'll hurt Remus if you don't stop saying such stupid things you maggot!"

"Maybe your daddio should have sent out someone better to interrogate us. I mean like no offense girl but you aint exactly threatening. You're as short as like a 12 year old and your voice is cracking like supa intensly"

Virgil didn't even bother to reply. He sent them an angry look while cutting the knife deep into Remus' shoulder. The agent tried to focus on the sight of Remy to ignore the pain.

"Sorry babe" 009 said.

"It's okay dear. I've had worse. I'll just get another sick scar!"

Remy looked over to the teen "What I'm wondering more is how the hell you know 008's name but you don't know mine"

Virgil stagnated and glanced over to Theo. His smile grew a bit, showing off his sharp yellow teeth. Theo broke out into a laugh. A cold and controlled one. The kind you could imagine hearing before being shot to death.

"Oh you can't be serious" Theo exclaimed between chuckles "How can you expect your husband to be a 00 agent and not be known among the underworld when he's the son of James Bond!"

Remus froze "Exscuse you I don't acknowledge that cunt as my parent! I've never even met the guy! I was raised by 1 mother and her many many girlfriends and wifes! If anything you should know my name 'cause of my link to the Octopussy conglomerate!"

"You mister should be happy I don't know you because you're an octopus pussy or whatever" Theo replied "Literally every professional henchman I've met at least knows someone who's been fucked over by the Bond bitch before he disppeared. I know at leats 2 guys! One of which is dead because of him!"

"Exactly!" Virgil added "Honeslty when Theo told me about this Bond guy I thought you would be harder to catch. But nope! Easy as murdering a baby!"

"I'm glad I'm nothing like my 'dad'!" Remus spat back "For one I'm gay so I won't go around and imprenate women I don't give a shit about! And secondly I'm ace so I won't be impregnating anyone!"

"I literally do not give a flying fuck!" Virgil replied "All I care about is getting you two to talk"

Virgil's eyes darted around the room before stopping on Remy. He stared at them as if his eyes would pierce through their skull.

"You know what-"

His stare was cold as he stabbed the knife deep down into Remus' thigh.

It was enough to make Remus let out a whine. He bit his tounge and gritted his teeth to keep himself silent. Blood was already running down from the wound. He could hear it dripping down onto the floor.

"Since you clearly don't care if I hurt him-"

Virgil left the knife in the agent's thigh. He moved his hand into his hoodie's inner pocket and took out a pistol. He held it up against Remus' forhead. The metal was cold against his skin.

"I'll just kill him if you don't tell me the adress of where all of MI6's info is"

Remy glanced at Remus. He was starting to look lightheaded from hanging upside down and the slow blood loss. They bit back bile that had formed in their throat from seeing their love in pain.

"You'll just kill him anyway" They replied coldly "And I doubt your bitchass could even-"

Theo hit them at the back of their head so hard it left them dizzy. He pushed past them and grabbed onto the barrel of the gun. With a twist of his wrist he'd forced it out of Virgil's hand.

"I do the killing"

"I can do it!! I'm not some wimp! They're just things in our way anyway! Their deaths mean nothing!"

Theo hunched down slightly so they were eye to eye "Kid. Go. To. Jaws. I'll come get you in 20 minutes. You can choose what's for dinner afterwards okay?"

"Even waffles?"

"Even waffles yes"

Virgil rolled his eyes "Fine. But if you don't come back with their maggot blood on your hands I'll let Jawsie chew them up!"

"Sure kid" Theo moved to ruffle his hair but Virgil had already turned to storm out of the room.

Theo waited until the sound of footsteps were further away while slowly rolling up his sleeves. Normally Remy would have made some crude joke but the numb look in the man's eyes as he checked the gun made them bite their tounge. It wasn't that he'd killed before, they all had, it was that he saw it as just another day of work.

"The address please" He said coldly. The gun was pressed to Remus' temple.

"It's up your ass!" Remus chuckled out. His eyes were blood shot from hanging upside down.

Without hesitating Theo picked up the crowbar and slammed it into Remus' ribs. He hit hard enough so even Remy could hear a bone break in two. The agent bit into his cheek to keep himself quiet but pained whimpers still slipped out.

"For every thing either of you say that isn't the answer I want I will break another one of his ribs. And once I'm done with the ribs I'll move onto the fingers. You get the deal" Theo warned.

Remy gripped onto the wooden arm of the chair so hard their knuckles turned pure white. Their legs were desperatly straining against the ropes.

"You're favoriting him! You're getting your rocks off to hurting the 'son of Bond' or whatevs. Just- just don't just- You can hurt me instead!"

Theo shook his head "Didn't I just tell you what would happen-" He hit the crowbar into the agent's side once more. Remus couldn't stop a hoarse yell from leaving his mouth. "If I didn't get my answer!"

The bodyguard playfully poked at the agent's broken ribs. Remus did a feeble attempt at biting his hand which only resulted in Theo punching him so hard he got a nosebleed.

Remy glanced between Theo's stone cold expression and Remus' bloddy face and vacant eyes. They gritted their teeth together in thought.

Remus let out shallow breaths as his bones ached. With each gust of wind that rocked him back and forth in the air his ribs cracked and hurt. When he closed his eyes all he could see was Roman.

"Okay okay gal I-I-" Remy began.

Theo gripped onto the crowbar.

"WAIT NO STOP!" Remy's voice was shrill and desperate "I'll say just- just- I know once either of us says somethang you're probs gonna kill one of us and keep the other to try and I dunno torture more info out of? keep as inscurance-"

"Get to the point. I don't have all day. I have a traumatized teenager to look after"

"008 has been an agent longer than I have. He knows more. So- please- just- if you're gonna shoot someone just shoot me instead. Please" Remy begged.

Remus' eyes widened. He tried to fight himself free from the restraints "No! No! Don't hurt them!"

Theo looked between and seemed to think for a moment before turning towards Remy. He grabbed a handful of their hair and forced their head back. The barrel of the gun got pressed against their neck, his hand laid dangerously on the trigger.

Remus kept screaming for him to stop. To not hurt his lover. To please just kill him instead. Tears were rolling down his cheeks.

"Say the address" Theo said with a cold tone "Don't worry. I won't hurt your husband more than I have to. Even if he's the son of Bond, I can't imagine how I would feel if someone hurt my wife"

Remy shone up into a sly smile "Oh trust me, you won't have to apologize"

They thrust their entire body back making the chair jolt back too. Theo let go of them out of surprise. Remy took the chance and used the momentum to move themself forward. They put all their power on their toes and lunged forward.

Their forehead crashed into Theo's head. The bodyguard stumbled back as Remy, along with the chair, fell down on the ground.

Remus took his chance. Adrenaline was spearing him on as he swung forward in the air and bit onto Theo's right ear.

He didn't let go even as Theo fumbled his handss around. Remus forced his teeth down and ripped his ear straight off.

Theo let out a pained scream. Remy pushed their hands against the ground to make themself and the chair move to slam right into the back of Theo's knees. He fell down on the ground.

Remy didn't even give him a chance to get up. They landed the chair over his head. A whimper was all that got out before Theo passed out. Blood was running from where his ear used to be.

The agents looked at each other and smiled. Remus spit out the ear and it morbidly landed on the ground.

Remy managed to crawl over to the nearest knife. Their wrist nearly popped out of it's socket with the way they had to bend it to cut the ropes but it was worth it. They quickly cut the rest of the ropes and got up.

"I'm so glad you're okay honey. I love you" Remus beamed.

"Love you too. With all my heart"

They held onto his shoulders as they cut the ropes so when he fell down they lightened his fall. He tried to stand up but his knees buckled umder him. The knife was still stuck in his thigh and it felt like needles were being pressed into his ribs. Choked back whimpers left his throat.

the couple held onto each other in silence for a few seconds. Remus cupped their cheeks and kissed thier forehead while crying. Remy tried to send him a warm smile but couldn't help but worry about his injuries

"Should we kill him?" Remy whispered while glancing over at Theo.

"He has a family. We can't. We should-"

Remus never got time to finish the sentence. Loud footsteps came from the other side of the door.

[itskateak]

Oceans and Stars - Chapter 7

Story Summary: A story of how Bucky Barnes falls in love with oceans, stars, and the woman who gave him the reasons to.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Velika Dante King (Fem!OC)

Chapter Summary: Velika has been on the frontlines. She finds herself camping on the beach of the Ocean at the Edge of The World. 

Words: 2K

Warnings: Mentions of war, mild language, 

A/N: Whenever I write Tzion’s character in relation to Velika,the phrase “baby girl” just happens. Don’t ask me to explain, please. It’s just a character thing with her now.

Masterlist

                       ⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅ 

𝓛𝓲𝓿𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝔀𝓲𝓵𝓵 𝓵𝓲𝓿𝓮. {𝐿𝒾𝓋𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝓁𝒾𝓋𝑒}

"We're making camp, soon," Velika called back to her unit, hiking her bag higher on her shoulders. The grass was tall and she nearly tripped as some wound around her boot. She cussed and ripped through it. She hated the plains with a burning passion.

 It hadn't been bad in the beginning, with short grass that stretched on for miles. Then the grass started to get taller and now Velika was nearly up to her chest in plants.

"Need me to carry you, Vel? Almost losing you in this forest." Her old friend, Tzion, asked as she caught up to her, a teasing lilt to her voice. The large ex-general sauntered casually next to her, over a foot taller than Velika herself.

"Shut up. Not all of us are taller than the trees." Velika shot her a playful glare. "The Ocean at the Edge of the World is about four miles down this bluff. Should be space for us to settle down for the night and wait for instructions."

"You ever been to the Ocean?" Tzion checked the area, her head swiveling as she scanned for any approaching enemies. She was Velika's right hand in their unit, making sure that their backs were watched and everyone's ideas were heard and taken into account. She was a fantastic leader and worked well with her old friend.

"I've never been this far into Hell," She admitted, avoiding a hole in the ground. "I popped out on the Other Side and Baphomet had to bring me over here through the northern gate."

"How long ago was that?"

"Uh, like...four hundred years? Three hundred? I haven't been keeping track." Tzion snorted and shook her head in amusement. They fell quiet, content to just walk and stay attentive to their surroundings. 

The war had lasted eleven years already. Time moved differently in Hell, meaning that they'd been fighting for roughly two Earthen years. It certainly wasn't the longest war she'd been in, but it was still hard. Her body was tighter, leaner, and constantly sore. She felt like she was constantly being watched (she was, by her unit), constantly threatened (she was, by pretty much everything around them), and constantly holding the weight of the world on her shoulders.

Velika shifted Bucky's dog tags under the collar of her armor. She hadn't taken them off since she'd left. She'd also stolen one of Bucky's shirts to wear under her armor. It was the red one that he didn't wear much anymore so it was the perfect one to swipe without him missing it too much. It still smelled like his cologne, miraculously, and it brought her comfort on the darkest and roughest days.

The others had given her small things to carry with her, too. Wanda's ring was on the chain with Bucky's tags. Tony and Bruce's tech was ingrained in her armor. But Tony also gave her the deck of his favorite playing cards. Steve had gotten her a sturdy bracelet. Peter had written her a letter talking about one of his days at school, complete with little doodles and even a small note from Ned. Natasha gifted her a knife, even though she knew it wouldn't do anything against the angels.

The photos of the team, Peter's letter, and Tony's playing cards were tucked into her bag, which seemed to grow heavier with every step she took. Exhaustion was settled deeply in her bones and she was certain that no matter how much she slept, she thought she'd never feel rested.

The war was turning in their favor. It had been in their favor at the start, she hadn't known that until she saw the Four Horsemen riding towards their enemy. Death, War, Pestilence, and Famine were defending Hell alongside every demon, fallen angel, and other creatures that called it home. The Horsemen themselves were mostly Archangels, except for War. But this isn't about them.

"Four miles are nothin' compared to what we've already trekked," Tzion muttered with a sigh, falling back to talk with an ex-officer.

Four miles. In the grand scheme of things, four miles was a walk in the park. If the park was a war-torn battlefield where death could befall them any second.

Yeah, just a regular old walk in the park.

                       ⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅ 

𝓖𝓻𝓸𝔀 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝔀𝓲𝓵𝓵 𝓰𝓻𝓸𝔀. {𝒢𝓇𝑜𝓌 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝑔𝓇𝑜𝓌}

The Ocean at the Edge of the World was the most beautiful thing Velika had ever seen. The crystalline blue waters stretched on until the horizon, reflecting the dusky sky. Waves washed against black sand, tumbling stones and shells onto the shore. The beach was a mile wide from where the plains ended and went on for miles either direction.

"Wow," She breathed, dropping her bag into the sand. People milled around her, putting up tents and gathering firewood and grass to start fires.

"Just wait until the sun sets." Tzion nudged her before walking down the beach a little to set her tent up.

Velika dug through her bag, finding her stakes, and slowly started to get her tent ready. She was suddenly reminded of camping with Bucky while on the recon mission in the Caribbean. She bit her lip and pushed down tears, taken off guard by the wave of emotion. 

She missed them all terribly and she wanted to curl up in a ball and cry. She'd done her fair share of crying in private moments and she was sick of it. The tent refused to cooperate and she dropped it in frustration, the tears blurring her vision.

"Hey, baby girl, it's okay." Tzion was suddenly at her side with concern. "Take a breath" 

Velika clenched her jaw and drew in a deep breath, eyes closing. 

"I'll get this set up. Go for a walk. Take some time for yourself, baby girl. You've been leading us all day and you're stressed out. I'll get take care of this and take over for a little." Tzion rubbed her back and gave her a soft look.

"Alright. Thank you." Velika nodded and strode off down the beach towards the tidal pools for at least five minutes alone away from the prying eyes of her unit and the expectations.

                       ⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅ 

𝓢𝓲𝓷𝓰, 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝔀𝓲𝓵𝓵 𝓼𝓲𝓷𝓰.

"Okay, so, who do you have waiting for you back home?" Tzion asked before taking a swig of her beer. Where she had gotten the beer, Velika had no idea. She had mentioned something about a smuggler's cache a mile down the beach, but Velika really had no idea where she'd produced it from.

The people sitting around their campfire took turns talking, some showing photos and others telling stories. In the beginning, no one wanted to bond in case they died on the battlefield soon after. But after eleven years of fighting and losing very few, they all had started forming small groups and trusting each other a lot more.

Velika's brother talked fondly of the people that worked in the business he co-owned with his best friend (who he was definitely not in love with). His best friend also told stories of their staff, smiling at the memories and staring longingly at her brother.

The ex-sergeant of the Bellators (the highest legions in the warrior caste) showed a picture of a little girl with wild brown hair and a smile to match. Her mother was crouched behind the girl, hair wild as well and her smile nearly identical to her daughter's. The girl wasn't his biological kid, but he'd been her father figure since before she was born. 

Tzion spoke of a red-headed man she'd met who she helped save from the gallows. He was lanky and tall, and reportedly good in bed. She was still taller than him by a good few inches, but he didn't seem to mind.

"So, Veli. Who do you have?" Tzion called her out since she hadn't said anything yet.

"A whole team. It took a long time for me to find my place among them and actually trust them, but once I did...it was like finding a family. A really, really dysfunctional family." Velika laughed, taking a quick sip of her beer. She grimaced, but wouldn't complain. It was one of the better tasting things she'd had since they stopped in a village two years ago. 

"Anyone special?" Tzion gave her a pointed look over the campfire.

"They're all special. Here, hold on." She turned and dug through her bag, pulling her photos out. She passed them around, explaining who each person was. 

"Veli, tell them about Bucky." Her brother chimed in with a sly smile. 

"For the record, I hate you." Velika glared at him, but everyone had already turned to listen to her. She sighed and shrugged. "I don't know what there is to tell. He's a good friend on the team. Quiet, a little reserved at times, but he's good company. He sits with me when I can't sleep and we help each other when the nightmares get too much. He has a great sense of humor and his laugh is infectious. He doesn't smile often, but when he does, it lights his whole face up."

"He's smiling in this photo. Is that him, though?" The ex-sergeant leaned over and pointed to Bucky.

"Yeah. And that's Sam Wilson." Velika smiled despite herself at the photo. "They have a love-hate relationship. Prank wars between the two are genuine wars. One time, Bucky's arm got superglued to a piece of workout equipment and they had to remove it."

"They cut off his arm?" Her brother's best friend asked with wide eyes.

"His left arm is a metal prosthetic and that's the one that got superglued. Well, heat bonded on accident. He was so pissed and chased Sam around the compound for an hour. He came storming into the kitchen at one point and looked me in the eye like he was planning a murder and said 'where's Wilson.' I pointed the way and he ran out while threatening to throw Sam off the roof." Velika laughed, shaking her head fondly. 

"Sounds chaotic." Tzion snorted, taking another swig of her beer. "Did he give you anything before you left? I know the others gave you things to hold onto."

"Yeah, hold on." Velika tugged on the chain around her neck, drawing the dog tags into the firelight. "He gave me his tags from World War Two. I gave him my Praesidium tags. And I also stole his shirt." She pulled the collar of the red henley with a sheepish smile.

"Wasn't he the Winter Soldier?" The ex-sergeant asked warily. That familiar look of distrust in his eyes.

"Yeah." She tucked the dog tags back into her shirt and collected the photos. "But I was also Reaper."

"That's not that same, Velika. You didn't know what happened and you didn't have a choice." The ex-sergeant narrowed his eyes in concern.

"And neither did he. He fell off a cliff, lost his arm, and was brainwashed and controlled by Nazis for seventy years." Velika picked her bottle up and took a long drink. 

"Okay, I stand corrected. Apologies." 

"In any case, he sounds special," Tzion said, giving her a concealed knowing look. 

Velika stared distantly at the fire with a wistful smile. "Yeah, he is."

                       ⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅ 

Velika sat in the sand, arms wrapped around her knees. She stared up at the star-filled sky. The horizon blended and it was near impossible to see where the Ocean ended and the sky began. The stars were reflected in the water, which was still enough to appear glassy.

There were no constellations to make out, but that didn't stop her from trying. She connected the dots, making her own shapes and stories. A dolphin. A rose. A bunny with the full moon. Her hand played with Bucky's dog tags, fond memories of nights on the roof coming to surface. She missed them all, but she really missed Bucky.

Velika looked down at the photo of Bucky in her other hand. He was laughing at something stupid Sam had said, his eyes crinkled up and smile wide. It was her favorite photo of him and her heart skipped a beat. Her stomach fluttered and she smiled to herself. 

She returned her gaze to the sky with a new feeling in her chest. She realized what it was and although it scared her a little, she welcomed it.

Love.

𝓨𝓸𝓾'𝓵𝓵 𝓼𝓲𝓷𝓰. 𝓨𝓸𝓾 𝔀𝓲𝓵𝓵 𝓯𝓵𝓸𝔀.

Taglist-

[falsedescent]

1 In The Wee Small Hours by Frank Sinatra (Capitol) 1955

Actually, the very first 'concept' album. The idea being you put this record on after dinner and by the last song you are exactly where you want to be. Sinatra said that he's certain most baby boomers were conceived with this as the soundtrack.

2 Solo Monk by Thelonious Monk (Columbia) 1964

Monk said 'There is no wrong note, it has to do with how you resolve it'. He almost sounded like a kid taking piano lessons. I could relate to that when I first started playing the piano, because he was decomposing the music while he was playing it. It was like demystifying the sound, because there is a certain veneer to jazz and to any music, after a while it gets traffic rules, and the music takes a backseat to the rules. It's like aerial photography, telling you that this is how we do it. That happens in folk music too. Try playing with a bluegrass group and introducing new ideas. Forget about it. They look at you like you're a communist. On Solo Monk, he appears to be composing as he plays, extending intervals, voicing chords with impossible clusters of notes. 'I Should Care' kills me, a communion wine with a twist. Stride, church, jump rope, Bartok, melodies scratched into the plaster with a knife. A bold iconoclast. Solo Monk lets you not only see these melodies without clothes, but without skin. This is astronaut music from Bedlam.

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3 Trout Mask Replica by Captain Beefheart (Straight) 1969

The roughest diamond in the mine, his musical inventions are made of bone and mud. Enter the strange matrix of his mind and lose yours. This is indispensable for the serious listener. An expedition into the centre of the earth, this is the high jump record that'll never be beat, it's a merlot reduction sauce. He takes da bait. Dante doing the buck and wing at a Skip James suku jump. Drink once and thirst no more.

4 Exile On Main St. by Rolling Stones (Rolling Stones Records) 1972

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'I Just Want To See His Face' - that song had a big impact on me, particularly learning how to sing in that high falsetto, the way Jagger does. When he sings like a girl, I go crazy. I said, 'I've got to learn how to do that.' I couldn't really do it until I stopped smoking. That's when it started getting easier to do. [Waits's own] 'Shore Leave' has that, 'All Stripped Down', 'Temptation'. Nobody does it like Mick Jagger; nobody does it like Prince. But this is just a tree of life. This record is the watering hole. Keith Richards plays his ass off. This has the Checkerboard Lounge all over it.

5 The Sinking of the Titanic by Gavin Bryars (Point Music) 1975

This is difficult to find, have you heard this? It's a musical impression of the sinking of the Titanic. You hear a small chamber orchestra playing in the background, and then slowly it starts to go under water, while they play. It also has 'Jesus Blood' on it. I did a version of that with Gavin Bryars. I first heard it on my wife's birthday, at about two in the morning in the kitchen, and I taped it. For a long time I just had a little crummy cassette of this song, didn't know where it came from, it was on one of those Pacifica radio stations where you can play anything you want. This is really an interesting evening's music.

6 The Basement Tapes by Bob Dylan (Columbia) 1975

With Dylan, so much has been said about him, it's difficult so say anything about him that hasn't already been said, and say it better. Suffice it to say Dylan is a planet to be explored. For a songwriter, Dylan is as essential as a hammer and nails and a saw are to a carpenter. I like my music with the rinds and the seeds and pulp left in - so the bootlegs I obtained in the Sixties and Seventies, where the noise and grit of the tapes became inseparable from the music, are essential to me. His journey as a songwriter is the stuff of myth, because he lives within the ether of the songs. Hail, hail The Basement Tapes. I heard most of these songs on bootlegs first. There is a joy and an abandon to this record; it's also a history lesson.

7 Lounge Lizards by Lounge Lizards (EG) 1980

They used to accuse John Lurie of doing fake jazz - a lot of posture, a lot of volume. When I first heard it, it was so loud, I wanted to go outside and listen through the door, and it was jazz. And that was an unusual thing, in New York, to go to a club and hear jazz that loud, at the same volume people were listening to punk rock. Get the first record, The Lounge Lizards. You know, John's one of those people, if you walk into a field with him, he'll pick up an old pipe and start to play it, and get a really good sound out of it. He's very musical, works with the best musicians, but never go fishing with him. He's a great arranger and composer with an odd sense of humour.

8 Rum Sodomy and the Lash by The Pogues (Stiff) 1985

Sometimes when things are real flat, you want to hear something flat, other times you just want to project onto it, something more like.... you might want to hear the Pogues. Because they love the West. They love all those old movies. The thing about Ireland, the idea that you can get into a car and point it towards California and drive it for the next five days is like Euphoria, because in Ireland you just keep going around in circles, those tiny little roads. 'Dirty Old Town', 'The Old Main Drag'. Shane has the gift. I believe him. He knows how to tell a story. They are a roaring, stumbling band. These are the dead end kids for real. Shane's voice conveys so much. They play like soldiers on leave. The songs are epic. It's whimsical and blasphemous, seasick and sacrilegious, wear it out and then get another one.

9 I'm Your Man by Leonard Cohen (Columbia) 1988

Euro, klezmer, chansons, apocalyptic, revelations, with that mellifluous voice. A shipwrecked Aznovar, washed up on shore. Important songs, meditative, authoritative, and Leonard is a poet, an Extra Large one.

10 The Specialty Sessions by Little Richard (Specialty Records) 1989

The steam and chug of 'Lucille' alone pointed a finger that showed the way. The equipment wasn't meant to be treated this way. The needle is still in the red.

11 Startime by James Brown (Polydor) 1991

I first saw James Brown in 1962 at an outdoor theatre in San Diego and it was indescribable... it was like putting a finger in a light socket. He did the whole thing with the cape. He did 'Please Please Please'. It was such a spectacle. It had all the pageantry of the Catholic Church. It was really like seeing mass at St. Patrick's Cathedral on Christmas and you couldn't ignore the impact of it in your life. You'd been changed, your life is changed now. And everybody wanted to step down, step forward, take communion, take sacrament, they wanted to get close to the stage and be anointed with his sweat, his cold sweat.

12 Bohemian-Moravian Bands by Texas-Czech (Folk Lyric) 1993

I love these Czech-Bavarian bands that landed in Texas of all places. The seminal river for mariachi came from that migration to that part of the United States, bringing the accordion over, just like the drum and fife music of post slavery, they picked up the revolutionary war instruments and played blues on them. This music is both sour and bitter, and picante, and floating above itself like steam over the kettle. There's a piece called the 'Circling Pigeons Waltz', it's the most beautiful thing - kind of sour, like a wheel about to go off the road all the time. It's the most lilting little waltz. It's accordion, soprano sax, clarinet, bass, banjo and percussion.

13 The Yellow Shark by Frank Zappa (Barking Pumpkin) 1993It is his last major work. The ensemble is awe-inspiring. It is a rich pageant of texture in colour. It's the clarity of his perfect madness, and mastery. Frank governs with Elmore James on his left and Stravinsky on his right. Frank reigns and rules with the strangest tools.14 Passion for Opera Aria (EMI Classics) 1994I heard 'Nessun Dorma' in the kitchen at Coppola's with Raul Julia one night, and it changed my life, that particular Aria. I had never heard it. He asked me if I had ever heard it, and I said no, and he was like, as if I said I've never had spaghetti and meatballs - 'Oh My God, Oh My God!' - and he grabbed me and he brought me into the jukebox (there was a jukebox in the kitchen) and he put that on and he just kind of left me there. It was like giving a cigar to a five-year old. I turned blue, and I cried.15 Rant in E Minor by Bill Hicks (Rykodisc) 1997Bill Hicks, blowtorch, excavator, truthsayer and brain specialist, like a reverend waving a gun around. Pay attention to Rant in E Minor, it is a major work, as important as Lenny Bruce's. He will correct your vision. His life was cut short by cancer, though he did leave his tools here. Others will drive on the road he built. Long may his records rant even though he can't.16 Prison Songs: Murderous Home Alan Lomax Collection (Rounder Select) 1997Without spirituals and the Baptist Church and the whole African-American experience in this country, I don't know what we would consider music, I don't know what we'd all be drinking from. It's in the water. The impact the whole black experience continues to have on all musicians is immeasurable. Lomax recorded everything, from the sounds of the junkyard to the sound of a cash register in the market... disappearing machinery that we would no longer be hearing. You know, one thing that doesn't change is the sound of kids getting out of school. Record that in 1921, record that now, it's the same sound. The good thing about these is that they're so raw, they're recorded so raw, that it's just like listening to a landscape. It's like listening to a big open field. You hear other things in the background. You hear people talking while they are singing. It's the hair in the gate.

17 Cubanos Postizos by Marc Ribot (Atlantic) 1998

This Atlantic recording shows off one of many of Ribot's incarnations as a prosthetic Cuban. They are hot and Marc dazzles us with his bottomless soul. Shaking and burning like a native.

18 Houndog by Houndog (Sony) 1999

Houndog, the David Hidalgo [Los Lobos] record he did with Mike Halby [Canned Heat]. Now that's a good record to listen to when you drive through Texas. I can't get enough of that. Anything by Latin Playboys, anything by Los Lobos. They are like a fountain. The Colossal Head album killed me. Those guys are so wild, and they've gotten so cubist. They've become like Picasso. They've gone from being purely ethnic and classical, to this strange, indescribable item that they are now. They're worthwhile to listen to under any circumstances. But the sound he got on Houndog, on the electric violin ... the whole record is a dusty road. Dark and burnished and mostly unfurnished. Superb texture and reverb. Lo fi and its highest level. Songs of depth and atmosphere. It ain't nothin' but a...

19 Purple Onion by Les Claypool (Prawn Song) 2002

Les Claypool's sharp and imaginative, contemporary ironic humour and lightning musicianship makes me think of Frank Zappa. 'Dee's Diner' is like a great song your kid makes up in the car on the way to the drive-in. Songs for big kids.

20 The Delivery Man by Elvis Costello (Mercury) 2004

Scalding hot bedlam, monkey to man needle time. I'd hate to be balled out by him, I'd quit first. Grooves wide enough to put your foot in and the bass player is a gorilla of groove. Pete Thomas, still one of the best rock drummers alive. Diatribes and rants with steam and funk. It has locomotion and heat. Steam heat, that is.

[alchembee]

i cant rightly allow for these wonderful artistic descriptions to be hidden in the tags of this beautiful, emotional piece!!

#very normal about this idea i have misery in my heart. i’m sorry ed is just so emotionally whumpable. suffer my son#she was going to steal roses body to revenge fuck edward. GIRL!!!! WHY!!!!!! compells me though.#my horrible colonizer woman :)#i liked playing with hair in this piece. dante’s cut it short. it’s one small way she’s violated rose on top of everything else#that’s what ed is fixated on in this moment#but his own hair draws attention as well#we don’t see his face his hair is the only identifying factor. he looks like hohenheim. blah blah blah#but SHE can see his face in this moment.. and it doesn’t seem like she likes what she sees#yknow#???????#not pictured: the child they’re raising together :)

fma 03 bad ending 👍