#so much wild shit happened that night it seems like a fever dream

[babymorte]

my shirt is tetris 😀

[immadatdisney2]

Whumptober Day Two: You try and backstab me?! (I'll just have to stab you first)

Varian had had all sorts of crazy dreams over the years.

From fever dreams to crazy nightmares- oh, and that one time where the creepy ghost girl (that just so happened to be a crazy demon of Zahn Tiri) snuck into his dreams and told him the secret for the final incantation and gave him slight phasmophobia. 

But none of these could compare to the dream he’d had last night.

 The room seemed to go on forever in all directions, bookshelves that looked like they were reaching for the heavens and tables covered in beakers, open books and papers with scribbled notes scattered around the room. 

“Where am I?” 

 “Varian!” He turned around and saw a woman standing in the center of the room, (or…maybe he was in a library?) Her fiery red hair was barely contained to the top of her head in a messy bun, her teal dress rumpled like she hadn’t changed in a hot minute… she looked familiar, but from where?

She cupped his cheeks in her hands “Oh my son, you're as beautiful as the day I lost you…” 

Wait, son?!

“I wish I had the time to tell you everything sweetie, but this spell isn’t going to last much longer and I have to warn you of this” she started pacing around the room, snatching books and papers in a frenzy. 

“Wait M-mom, if you could have talked to me- talked to Dad all this time… why did you wait ‘till just now?!”

He followed her, thinking she would stop and look at him for a second (Y’know, considering this was their first time meeting in 18 fucking years!) but she just kept grabbing and tossing random books and papers frantically. 

“I’ve only just harnessed enough power for this, the Library is really doing everything it can to keep me- all of me- trapped in this hell… but that doesn't matter right now” 

“S-so what did you mean, a warning? What are you warning me about?!” She turned to face him, eyes wild and frantic with the jumble of papers slipping from her arms and to the ground “

Hugo isn’t who you think he is. You can’t trust him Varian, don’t let yourself get hurt again” 

He woke up in cold sweat, fear and shock trembling through his bones. 

What the hell was that… Did… did he just meet his mother? Like, for the first time, and was the only thing she bothered to say was “Hi child I haven't seen in almost 20 years, your best friend/ kinda crush isn't who you think he is!” 

Isn’t who you think he is…

Isn’t who you think he is…

Isn’t who you think he is…

The words kept ringing in his ear, embedding themselves into his mind. Did this mean… was Hugo going to betray him? 

No no, that would never happen! Hugo was his friend- his best friend, he wouldn't…

You’ve been betrayed by friends before… who’s to say it couldn’t happen again…

No. This was what happened with Cass, she let herself be manipulated without any actual proof and it all went to shit. His friend wouldn’t do that to him, Hugo wouldn’t do that to him.

Besides, how could he know that was actually a vision of his mom? The weird dream was probably just a side effect of the new sleep tonic he’d taken earlier. 

He was a scientist, and scientists couldn’t make any conclusions without having solid evidence. He was just gonna go back to sleep (AKA go work in the lab until dawn) and move on with his life in the morning, he just needed to ignore it. 

Just ignore it. 

Turns out “just ignoring it” wouldn’t work. The weird dreams, well they weren't just a one time thing. They came almost every night, changing a bit each time with what he and his mom would talk about but always ending with the same terrible terrible sentence “Hugo isn’t who you think he is… he will betray you!” 

And yes, he tried just not sleeping to avoid the dream but he’d either crash and burn the next night from exhaustion (and drain his coffee supply during the day) or Nuru would make sure he went to bed. 

Hugo had also started acting more and more secretive after each trial, he knew he was hiding something. And he didn’t want to believe what it was…

With each new dream and the day they would finally enter the Library creeping closer, it was growing painfully obvious that his mom might be telling the truth. 

He sighed, pushing the thought aside as his head hit the pillow. He had to get some rest for when they opened the gates tomorrow… and after all, why loom over the thought when his dreams would just do it for him. 

The room was messy and slightly dark- like usual- and his mother was sitting his her favorite chair on the far side of the room, next to one of the many crowded bookshelves and a fireplace.

She was looming over a book, reading furiously and constantly pushing back strands of her red hair that had escaped her bun. 

She didn’t seem to notice Varian was here and was just mumbling some gibberish under her breath and she scribbled down notes so he went and gave her a light tap on the shoulder, she flinched but soon smiled when she saw his face.

“Oh Varian! How are you pumpkin?” After many times of doing the spell that let her into his dream, Ulla sometimes couldn’t tell the difference between this and the real world.

 “Hi mom, we finally completed the trails and are opening the gates to the Library tomorrow” Her face lit up and she slammed the book she was writing in closed.

“That’s wonderful!” she held his face in her hand, an action Varian had grown very fond of over their visits. “I can’t wait to finally see you- really, see you- again… and, Hugo?” 

“How many times do I have to tell you Mom! He’s not going to betray me!”

He couldn’t decide whether he was saying that for her to believe it… or for himself…

For her… definitely for her…

She sighed sadly and her eyes said she was pondering what to say next “I really hoped I wouldn't have to show you this… but you’ve left me no choice” 

Before he could ask what his mind started flowing with visions

A young Hugo…stealing for Donella and saluting for her…

Hugo taking the fire totem and handing it over to Donella…

Hugo joined their team once Donella ordered him to…

Hugo, copying each and every one of his notes and hanging them over to Donella 

Hugo sneaking away from camp to report to Donella 

Hugo…

Hugo… 

Hugo…

He awoke in cold sweat… but this time instead of fear, he felt only anger.

How could Hugo do this! This must be why Donella always seemed to know their next move, why she was always to step ahead no matter what Varian did! All because of Hugo…

I told you…

“What do I do now Mom?” 

Get him first! 

A dagger that he didn’t remember leaving on his windowsill gleamed in the moonlight and without thinking, he grabbed it and ran.

Hugo’s room was empty, nothing there but the small sleeping figure of Olivia. 

The woods, go to the woods!

 Running through the dark woods he felt an evil and strange sence of anger surge through him, it didn’t even seem human, he’d never felt anger like this- not even when his father got trapped in the amber. 

But it didn’t matter, all that mattered was revenge… 

He found Hugo leaning on a tree, and his blonde friend traitor jumped when he saw Varian, clearly not expecting anyone else to be there at two in the morning. 

No one but your boss, you lying rat!

 “Goggles, what the hell are you doing out here so late- well more like so early I guess” 

“I could ask you the same thing Beanpole” A nervous look flashed across Hugo’s face but it was quickly masked by his usual casual demeanor. 

“Well I-” 

“Don’t even try and hide it, he- I know everything”

 “He- what are you talking about Var? And what is going on with your eyes?” Varian’s leg flew towards Hugo’s stomach, knocking him to his knees with several choughs.

 “What the fuck!” 

“You’re working for Donella, you were going to betray him!” 

Hugo’s face went white, how did he know… and what was going on with his voice, and his eyes. His eyes seemed to be glowing.

 “My son has been hurt by people like you for far too long… I won’t let Donnie win again”

Donnie? As far as he knew only one person had ever had the guts to call his boss by that name…Varian, who wasn’t acting like Varian, pulled out a dagger and used it to point Hugo’s chin up to face him.

His eyes were definitely glowing with an evil electric blue that were not the eyes Hugo had grown to love…

“It’s a shame though… my pumpkin did really love you, but after this it won’t matter. We’ll be together again, I’ll finally be there to protect him from traitors like you” 

He felt the knife pierce through his scream and a sharp cry ripped through his street. Blood was staining his clothes and pain was radiating through his body. 

He crumpled to the ground begging for Varian to snap out of it, to help him! But his love only grinned evilly and wiped the dagger with his cloth.

 “Oh and if my Donnie finds you still alive, say hi for me, won’t you…”

[trelkez]

Ah, Ted Lasso. This episode was 90% mess, but that 10% sure does know how to hook me.

I wish I could go back in time to the self who went into Ted Lasso thinking it was tightly plotted, top tier stuff and say, "this is a ridiculous show, but you should watch it anyway. You'll love the characters. You will get so much found family. Just don't get too attached to any plotlines or expect anything to make sense ever, and you'll be fine." That would be a reasonable expectation for this show! Unfortunately for me, we're down to the final three episodes, so it's a bit late for me to recalibrate at this point. I am, alas, still invested in the plotlines. 

So let's get into 3.10, because … wow, is there a lot to get into.

I'm rewatching the episode as I write this (just in case I forget any of the batshit turns it took and/or parts of it turn out to have been a fever dream), so I'm going to tackle it roughly in order. 

1. Richmond's ten game winning streak

Where are we at in the season? Does anyone know?

Remember when this show had season arcs organized around some kind of football-related goal? Avoid relegation, make it back into the Premier League. It seemed logical that the goal of this season would be to win the league, but I guess we're going to get there by putting the team on cheat mode in the background and then shoehorning in some "will they or won't they" football drama at the end, which is actually very in keeping with the overall theme of this episode.

2. Nate quit West Ham off-screen

I'm so glad the guy in the apartment on the other side of my living room wall was out for the night, because I literally shrieked "WHAT?????? WHAT???????" when that "Nate Shelley Out at West Ham" graphic went up.

I didn't get to Nate in my 3.09 writeup, and it's just as well, because anything I wrote before that graphic would have been immediately rendered pointless. Nate quit West Ham off-screen. He quit off-screen.

I am going to reach way, way back to the Nate Shelley I liked in season one and say: that Nate did not deserve this shit.

It has been obvious throughout this entire season that the writers weren't interested in telling the story that season two set up. They didn't especially want to dwell on or in the toxicity that bottomed Nate out last season; they didn't want to do the harder narrative work of actually building back an unlikeable character through a slow but steady redemption arc, even though they've spent entire seasons doing exactly that with Jamie. Instead, they said, "yeah, but Nate isn't really That Guy."

Does the show regret what it did? It sure feels that way. It feels like, in the pursuit of telling a story about a good guy on an ego-fueled descent, the show went way further than it meant to and has now decided to backtrack on that by treating the whole thing like a guy waking up from a bender and going, "I did what last night? Why did I do that?" That wasn't really Nate who did those things, that was Drunk Nate! He did five shots of narcissism and got blackout drunk on jealousy, and he woke up in the morning with a new job. What wild shenanigans will ensue? 

So, sure. The only way any of it makes sense is if none of it meant anything. Fine. Even then, what was the point of sending Nate to West Ham and throwing all of Rupert's smothering, menacing glitz at him only for NATE QUITTING HIS JOB AND WALKING AWAY FROM RUPERT AND WEST HAM to happen OFF-SCREEN so they can CATCH US UP ON IT via FAKE SPORTS NEWS INFOGRAPHIC??

If they didn't show it because they felt the real rejection was in Nate going home to his girlfriend, that is very poor storytelling in a season that started out with the most literal Rupert is Palpatine visual parallels imaginable. If they're trying to say that the real climax of Nate's story isn't in rejecting Rupert, but in the amends he makes with the people he hurt, then why did they drag the West Ham stuff out until the tenth episode??? Why is all of this being left for the end, when none of the West Ham stuff has ultimately mattered at all, and pulling the plug on it earlier on could've left a lot of room for handling Nate's healing process at a slower, more organic pace?

Ultimately, this is a story about a good guy who lost his way a little and wound up hanging out with a bad crowd, and now he has to apologize his way back into the hearts of his real friends. The storytelling along the way has been wildly incoherent and had brutally terrible pacing, but if you completely disregard how we got here and pretend season one Nate just woke up from a West Ham bender, there's still time to enjoy the endgame.

3. Isaac is team captain again!

So – Isaac went into the crowd and wasn't banned for the remainder of the season? Let's close our eyes for a moment and imagine that the football gods looked upon Isaac's actions and said, "yeah, that seems legit, let's give him the smallest possible set of consequences." He was sent off with a red card. For assault. But the football gods are treating punching a fan like having a go at an opposing player! Cool. That's still, what, three games?

So even if we assume he only got a three-game ban, and keeping in mind that Richmond isn't in the Champions or Europa leagues and the FA Cup is just – not happening, I guess? So they probably don't have a ton of midweek games, which means that it's been … weeks.

But wasn't the win streak at eight games last week? So – did Isaac just – not get a ban? At all? 

Nope. No. Self, you are a Ted Lasso Doylist now, remember? Nothing that happened last week was actually about Isaac in any way, so why would there be ongoing consequences for him from that storyline? Deep breaths.

Isaac is one of my favorite characters in this show, and I'm not particularly interested in there being ongoing consequences for him from whatever that was last week, so – this is fine. Don't question it. We float on an ocean of vibes. Everything is great.

4. Why?

Why did we just take a beat for microaggression with Ted being shocked Bumbercatch is Swiss? Is this really where we're at these days, comedy-wise?

I'm genuinely not sure that anyone involved here knows how to write Ted without making him completely exhausting to be around, anymore. Is that on purpose? Let's pretend it's on purpose.

5. Do we think Nate is capable of being involved in something like that?

"Nah." – the writers, who are pretending they haven't seen season two

6. Jade

I like her so much, but I am 99.95% sure that's because she is being written to be likable, with no other discernible qualities. Who is she? What motivates her? In a season full of long episodes, was there really no time to show her existing when Nate isn't in the room? Did no one in the writer's room stop to wonder, "hey, is it at all dicey if that woman in the restaurant who dislikes Nate suddenly falls in love with him so he can be healed by the power of love?" Did no one say that out loud and hear how it sounds?

Anyway. Jade. Big fan. Looking forward to hearing all about her hobbies and backstory in the ample time remaining.

7. Dani vs. Van Damme

I have a feeling this completely random side adventure into our purest angel having an asshole hypercompetitive side isn't going to land for everyone, but you know what? Sure. Why not. There are epic tales out there of teammates facing each other in the Olympics, the World Cup, etc. and trying to destroy each other and then going home like none of it ever happened. I'm totally onboard for this kind of plot in theory! They took it a little too far with Dani breaking Van Damme's nose, but as we've established, "they took it a little too far" is the story of this entire show. 

You know what would have improved this a lot? If it had happened near the beginning of the season and kicked off a recurring storyline in which someone else now has to face Dani on a spring international break. Shoved in at the end of the season (and probably the end of the series), it loses a lot of its potential, so the placement is … strange. Instead of being an ongoing character trait they could slowly build up and make funnier in the re-telling, it comes out of nowhere and immediately goes to 11. But otherwise, why not.

8. Beard gets it

Beard is the only one who watched season two. He gets it.

It would explain a lot about Beard and this entire season if Beard used to be a time traveler, so he's the only one in Richmond immune to changes in the timeline. Maybe somewhere just out of sight there's a genre show about time travel happening, and this football team just happens to exist in that universe – so the world of Ted Lasso is constantly being rewritten, but no one notices. Ted Lasso as a Doctor Who spin-off in which no one has ever met or heard of The Doctor. 

No one but Beard, anyway. Is Beard also the only one who remembers that Isaac went into the crowd last week?

9. Uncle's Day

10/10, no notes. Every time I think I'm out, this show uses Jamie Tartt to drag me right back in.

(Actually, no, one note: Jamie was joking about Isaac being his best friend, right? That was just to screw with Roy? I'm going to assume Isaac was the choice for that line because it's so obviously unlikely given how rarely they interact, and not because the writers think Jamie and Isaac are still BFFs. It would be very in keeping with this season for them to think Jamie and Isaac's friendship is just running on cheat mode in the background, but like – I'm going to assume. For my sanity. That it's just a joke.)

The funniest part of this scene winds up being that they accidentally made it look like Phoebe was having an "oh. oh" moment about Roy and Jamie. I had to rewind that twice to figure out that she was spelling it out in her head, and not like, catching on.

I would've understood if she had caught on. Roy stares at Jamie for 10.6 seconds before he says "I love it."

10. Super League? In this economy?

+10 points to Leslie for "I hate to break it to you, Rebecca, but those children are dead."

Unfortunately, -10 points to Leslie for "who cares why Rupert invited you?" Historically speaking, Rebecca should care. Rebecca is totally justified in wondering why Rupert invited her!

Why would Richmond be invited into talks about a Super League at all? Richmond? Recently promoted Richmond? Complete lack of international play Richmond? It's sus as hell. If I were Rebecca, I would absolutely assume this was some strange plot by my evil ex-husband.

(I'm not convinced it wasn't, in fact, a strange plot by her evil ex-husband. Something is going on there.)

Super League is about the richest teams banding together to shake off the chaff. As a Spurs fan, I fully, completely understand the concept of a team that isn't actually rich and successful trying to buy into an exclusive club – yes, Spurs were involved in Super League drama; no, you shouldn't ask me about their season or we'll still be here next week while I cry on you – and we are definitely already outside the tethers of reality when West Ham is at the table, but it, truly it makes no sense.

(And even if Rupert weren't the one extending the offer, "go check it out, what's the worst that could happen?" is naive at best. What's the worst that could happen? The media finds out that Rebecca was at a Super League meeting and now Richmond is being dragged into a shitstorm, whether Rebecca decided to buy in or not. Girl, do not go in there! If you don't want to join, don't join! Why is any of this happening! Get Keeley back in the building before someone runs into a PR problem they truly cannot back out of!)

11. Is the psychic's prophecy still a thing?

So … is the show going Tedbecca? After that weird flirty moment she had with Sam earlier, the matchbook almost calls back to Sam more than Ted, but the show did make a point of having Ted pull out that matchbook a few episodes ago, and here it's directly paired with his toy soldier. 

(Honestly, slow clap for everyone who did those green matchbook / green soldier gif sets earlier this season, I thought you guys were reaching straight into outer space with that one and apparently I was dead wrong!)

Ted and Rebecca have barely even talked to each other in the back half of the season. Every week I log on here and see shippers shriveling into dust, their crops unwatered. Is the matchbook/soldier thing a misdirect, or are they going to cram a significant relationship change into the final two episodes of the season after largely ignoring them in the lead-up?

I have no idea which way this is going to swing, and that's kind of terrible, because there are only two episodes left. There isn't time left to do any kind of meaningful build. There's only time for a sudden last-minute rush of drama.

When I put it like that, I think they probably are going to shove it into the endgame. Either that, or the houseboat guy suddenly shows back up out of nowhere. Whatever happens, it is going to have a "bet you didn't see that coming" flavor, because there isn't time for anything else.

12. Roy has an epiphany

What the fuck even is this?

Listen. It never made sense for Roy to have broken up with Keeley. It was clearly something they did as a way to inject some new drama. THAT SAID, they did it, and they committed to it for almost an entire fucking season, and TEN EPISODES ON a teacher with a crush on Roy makes a way-too-personal comment about how she hopes his mess hasn't caused any damage, and THAT'S what makes him suddenly realize he needs to apologize to Keeley? THAT? Just like. Boom. Realization sets in. Lightbulb visibly goes off overhead as he mutters "fuuuuuuck" to himself. A fully illustrated epiphany!

What the fuck does this show think it's doing having Roy suddenly realize that he probably hurt Keeley and needs to apologize? 

In episode ten?????

I don't know how much time has passed, because in Ted Lasso season three time is an illusion, but at minimum – months. Months later, he suddenly realizes he might have hurt his girlfriend when he broke up with her??? That isn't character growth. That is completely fucking absurd. They needed Roy and Keeley to get back together and pushed it too close to the last minute, so they did some schoolteacher deus ex machina. Of all the abrupt plot turns in this episode, this might be the second worst.

(There's a clear winner and this isn't it, but second place? It's a contender.)

13. What happened to the corporate pixie dream girl?

So the overall implication here, between this and Trent's rumor of West Ham workplace misbehavior, is that Rupert is probably headed for some workplace harassment trouble, right? If withholding the mystery of it all turns out to be why they didn't show Nate quitting in this episode, I'm going to scream. I will literally shriek with the frustration of a thousand bad plot decisions.

14. Nate's nostalgia journey

This is, sincerely, great stuff with the photo albums and the music and the journey into the attic. There is still time to enjoy the endgame!! Disregard how we got here!!

15. Rebecca vs. Super League

Just watching this scene made me feel like I've now put in enough time on Ted Lasso to be allowed by contract to take some PTO. Ted Lasso needs to pay me for my time while I recover on a tiny island in the Outer Banks. I've earned it.

So – they thought – having Rebecca scoldingly yell "what do you think you're doing? Just stop it!" while picturing aging rich men as little boys was, like … feminist? Someone involved in this process thought, wouldn't it be great if we empowered Rebecca by making her everyone's scolding mother, and no one along the way went, wait, what? 

But then it keeps going so that we can humanize Rupert, which – what? Why is this happening? Why do I know Rupert's humanizing backstory when to my knowledge, Jade was born inside Taste of Athens?

This is the most I have ever seen Rebecca care about football. It's a lovely speech, but where is it coming from? Since when is she this invested? The only thing that rings true about this is that Super League is an ugly money grab and many, many owners do not give a single shit about their team's fans. Someone wanted to write a speech about that, so we're getting it through Rebecca, just like we got that speech about deleting your camera roll through Isaac. 

Also – the food: I know that the food is a continuation of Edwin Akufo's whole thing with Sam, but it is a weird fucking choice to put so much emphasis on Ghanian food and then reduce it to slop thrown at Rebecca.

Beginning to end, we could've done without this entire Super League story and been just fine. It isn't like this 63-minute episode required extra filler.

16. 24

10/10, no notes. They really do pull me back in with Jamie every time. He revealed that 24 and I, like Roy Kent talking to a schoolteacher, suddenly realized that I ship it. Jamie wore Sam's number?? I'm going to vid this so hard.

17. Nate's dad

I did say there was a clear winner for the episode's worst plot turn.

Nate is sad at home for one episode and suddenly his dad does a complete turnaround after almost three entire seasons? It isn't like we heard a story one time about Nate's dad and now we're getting a reveal on what actually happened there – we've seen him a lot! Nate's entire motivation set is built on his dad and their relationship!

"I pushed you to succeed so you would have more opportunities than I did" is a completely legitimate story to tell, but this has been almost three seasons of disapproval so thick that it threw toxic sludge across the entire show. Nothing Nate has done has ever been good enough. Now we're at the end, and they want to heal it so that Nate can grow, so all of that is being retconned into, "I never cared if you were successful, I just want you to be happy," and suddenly his dad is a completely different person. Boom, fixed! Definitely not the kind of thing you have to heal from over time!

I say again: Nate's story deserved better than this. By pushing this all the way to the end, they've run out of room to take their time with it, so it's just being dropped in. What a mess this season is.

18. Rebecca, do NOT do it

This season is, in fact, such a mess that for a minute there, I believed that Rebecca might actually go for it with Rupert. 

I think, more than anything, I'm puzzled by the perceived necessity of this closure on Rebecca and Rupert. I get that they wanted to give us a taste of what brought Rupert and Rebecca together in the first place – to have Rebecca to see him in that old light again before taking a step back, so she could acknowledge the past in a way that helped her finally make a clean break. I get it. But … why? Was this really something lingering out there for her to overcome?

Rebecca's entire season-long conflict with Rupert has felt like intentional backsliding for the purposes of The Drama. If you imagine that she came into this season still very fired up and insecure about her ex-husband, the arc from "I want Zava so Rupert can't have him" to "I don't care about beating Rupert anymore" is fine. But … did she? Is that really where we left her in season two?

And why did an episode in which Nate quits West Ham spend so much time breaking up Rupert and Rebecca, who were already broken up, while Nate quit off-screen? 

19. What's left?

Two episodes to go! That's so much time in which to accomplish so many things!

I said to someone last week: you know, I thought this was headed for a "Nate takes over as Richmond's head coach" place, but there isn't enough time left in the season for them to do that, so I guess he's just going to be staying at West Ham?

Turns out they can do anything, because they're just going to drop in whatever at the last minute. Nothing means anything! We exist in a world without the constraints of plot and continuity! Everything is on the table.

So, what's left to shoehorn in?

- Manchester City has been inevitable all season (ask Arsenal how that feels), and we're probably going to get some stuff with Jamie's dad there. Jamie has been one of the only characters they've consistently done right by, so my fingers are crossed they don't screw that up at the finish line.

- Will Trent ever come out to the Diamond Dogs? Maybe being out in the workplace isn't his thing, but it feels like a missed avenue of storytelling to have Trent be right there in the coaching offices, in on all the gossip and sharing and advice, and not have whatever he has going on be a part of it. That would have been such an easy way to integrate queer identity into everyday conversation over a decent chunk of the season, instead of playing it almost exclusively for drama the way they have been.

- Still on Nate's apology list: Colin and Ted? If apologizing to Ted doesn't involve the believe sign somehow, I really don't know anything about this show anymore.

- Is Ted staying in London or going back to Kansas? A lot of people seem resigned to the idea that he's going back, and a lot of Tumblr is hoping he stays for Rebecca, but I wouldn't be surprised if it's some secret third thing. Two whole episodes! There's still plenty of time for them to drop a surprise twist on us. (If he goes back to Michelle, it won't be a surprise twist, but I will turn this car around.)

- Are we ever going to learn what was up with Baz's friend who got kicked out of the pub? I really thought we were headed for some bigger integration of Colin's story, wherein it turned out that was Baz's secret boyfriend or something, but … … …?

- Is anything going to come of Trent's book? I have $5 on there being an epilogue time skip in which we fast forward to the book release and see what the characters are up to (aka the "no seriously, this is it, the show is over" ending) and another $5 on the show ending on Ted in the airport and the book not ultimately meaning anything.

Two weeks until we find out!

[armin-supremacy]

How about the demon bros with an mc who flusters easily, and they all make it a competition to see who makes them fluster the most

ooooo! say less~

pov : operation fluster mc

pairings: brothers (separate) x gn!mc

format: headcannon

genre: fluffy fluff, slightly suggestive themes

this man

unlike the others, he's r u t h l e s s

leans more towards whispering suggestive words in your ears rather than actual touches

take much much pride in the fact one simple little comment can turn you into a mess

once again, smug asf

does it as soon as you're alone

only to waltz away like nothing happened

what a prick

and he knows it

that's what makes it fun

for shits an giggles, will on the one occasion do it when the others aren't looking

then will OPENLY out you

"mc are you running a fever? you're awfully red-"

his expression is filled with worry

but you both know he's enjoying watching you stutter an excuse

swears he's got this in the bag

he doesn't srry

half the time, he ends up flustered too

wack asf if you ask me

anyway

def will use this as an opportunity to touch you anyway he can

knows you have a weak spot when your neck is touched

"mc, you've got something in your hair. don't worry. the great Mammon will take care of it!"

BOOM

now you're flustered

holy shit it actually worked

his go to

that's why he most definitely does not have this in the bag

you smart cookie, you catch on quickly

hear me out on this one kay

would definitely freak out and hesitate

ya know, being a lil shut in and not the best in this 'area'

but

he's also smart

can use this to an advantage 😈

'accidental touches' when you're alone

makes sure his fingers are always brushing against yours when handing you something

"a-ah I'm sorry mc! i-I didn't mean to!-"

"Ah i-im such a clumsy g-gross otaku!"

really had to pep talk for this one but

'accidently' huffs just the teensiest breath against your ear when he leans over your shoulder to look at what you're showing him

and oh ho ho was the pep talk worth it

+1 for levi-chan <3

let's get one thing straight cause I'm not happy pride besties

Satan wins.

I don't accept criticism srry

he's so detail oriented

so observant

how could he NOT

knows just the right places to brush against to drive you wild

knows exactly what to whisper in your ear too

bestie you better stay strong I have faith in you

sike

always has that handsome shit eating smile when he succeeds in flustering you

"That's a cute blush you got there-"

most definitely finds an opportunity to have you pinned against a bookshelf in his room idc he DOES IT

finally he can touch you and tease you as much as he wants without being scolded 😈😈

a very close winner if Satan wasn't on the ball

man's knows how to drive a person wild

the compliments he usually showers you with become much more suggestive

"You look stunning mc!"

you don't know when he got so close

gently tilts your chin, which he found out you're a sucker for by accident oops

"almost delicious too. you'll allow me a taste, won't you?"

GIVES THE CUTEST FUCKING POUT

you almost cave

almost

you were too busy dying tho

okay okay he flusters you alot

but he genuinely does it on accident

and so nonchalantly

like, he really thinks of ways to actually make you flustered

duh it's a competition and you're part of the prize

of course he's gonna think of ways to win this

again the accidental

"Oh, mc you got some food there-"

leans over to like it from the corner of your lip

Ouran Host style

"can't waste it, can we?"

the cutest grin by God

goes back to thinking of ideas on flustering you

meanwhile you're right next to him

about to explode by how red your face has gotten

this little fucker

slips into your dreams

he may not seem like it, but he knows exactly how to get you how he wants you

like Satan, he's observant but more low key

so he's using everything he's noticed about you in said dreams

makes SURE you're flustered the rest of the day, constantly thinking about the night before

acts completely oblivious when you bring it up to him

and once you're embarrassed

oh ho ho

goes to walk past you but surprises you by leaning to your ear

"I'll try to be more subtle next time."

H O W-

~~~~~~

👀👀👀👀 so how'd I do?

[intergalacticwanderer]

(Fuck it, have a fic based on this post, I'm still laughing way too hard at the idea)

Beau had had plenty of hangovers before, but this was something else.

She came to with a disgusted groan, scrubbing at her face and having a rare instance of regretting her life choices. Usually a night of drinking wouldn't be that big of a deal, but somehow the night celebrating her stay on The Nein Heroez had devolved into a drinking contest between her and King, followed by typical Jester shenanigans, and then of course there was that weird ass demon organized death match-

Beau blinked several times. Huh. That last one was... huh. Booze induced fever dream? That seemed like the most logical answer, but that didn't explain her weirdly vivid memories of the thing, and wait, was she feeling kind of sore...?

"Beau! BEAUUUU!!! OhmyGOSHIhadtheCRAZIESTdream-!" A whirlwind of blue tiefling barged into Beau's cabin and she let out a second loud groan, clutching at her pounding head.

“Jes, c’moooon, why,” Beau said, throwing an arm over her eyes.

“It was so cool though Beau! It was this crazy death match and we were fighting this bird guy and some gnomes and there was so much stuff going on and Fjord turned into-”

“A T-Rex, yeah,” Beau said, finishing Jester’s sentence without really thinking about it. There was a pause for several seconds before Beau took the arm off her face and slowly sat up, looking at a wide eyed Jester. No fucking way. “And... I caught some bullets from a rich dude with a gun?”

“OHMYGOSH!!!” Jester shrieked, dragging Beau out of bed and out of the cabin before she could get a word in edgewise. “We have to find Fjord RIGHT NOW!”

It didn’t take long for the two of them to run into Fjord on the deck of the ship, the captain of The Nein Heroez looking slightly dazed and while not as hungover as Beau he was definitely still out of it. He ran a hand down his face as the two of them came over.

"Oh, uh, hey! Sorry, very weird night of sleep, what do you guys need?"

Jester beamed and Beau just knew that whatever dignity Fjord was trying salvage was about to die horribly.

"Oh, you know," Jester said casually, "I was just thinking about how cute your butt was hanging out last night." Fjord went stock still and Beau let out a strangled snort. "You should totally wear those again sometime, even when we're not in some crazy death match."

Fjord stayed still for several more seconds before slowly bringing his hands up to his face. "I take it that wasn't just a weird dream last night?" he said, voice slightly strangled.

"Or we at least all shared the same dream," Beau said, giving him a consoling shoulder pat. "And hey, you were still pretty bad ass, and T-Rexes are cool."

“What the FUCK?!”

Beau heard the muffled but LOUD shout from below deck and before she could figure out what was happening a half crazed Kingsley charged up the stairs, skidding to a halt in front of all of them and wild eyed, pointing accusingly.

“What did you fuckers do?! What was that death match, why do I have two names in my head now, WHERE ARE MY SWORDS?!”

“Oh fuck you Molly!” Beau responded, head throbbing, and she froze, shit, did she just-

“Well fuck you too Beau!” he said, giving the familiar reply with no hesitation and a toothy grin before his face scrunched up and he groaned. “I guess I'll have Molly as the middle name now, fuck! I’m still blaming you all for this, but fuck it! We’re still alive after that bullshit, that’s good enough for me!”

Beau’s mind scrambled to catch up with the sudden shift in reality but after a moment she decided follow her friend’s lead and just say fuck it.

"Dude I am JUST as clueless as you are, no idea." She hesitated and then gave him a light punch in shoulder, Kingsley (Molly? Both? What the fuck) rubbing his shoulder but still grinning. "And good morning to you too," she said.

"And time for BREAKFAST!" Jester yelled while throwing her arms in the air, everyone else wincing from their hangovers and the loud volume. "Don't worry, I can heal the hangovers if you really need it. But let's go eat!"

The four of them started on their way to the galley, Beau watching as the tieflings started a rapid fire back and forth conversation. She laughed when they stuck their tongues out at each other simultaneously, Fjord groaning, and once again she decided to say fuck it. Knowing what was going on or not, this was good enough for now.

***

("Wait, what do mean I was stuck in a rock?!")

(Part Two)

[wickedmilo]

THREE, MIRROR | MILO & BEA

PLACE: A coffee shop near the university campus TIMING: 10:37 PM SUMMARY: Bea notices Milo being the worst vampire in the world, and makes a begrudging effort to help him.   WRITING PARTNER: @beatrice-blaze CONTENT WARNINGS: Very brief mentions of substance abuse, mentions of emotional abuse

Milo’s mind was still reeling. From finally running into his killer, from being forced to accept the fact that he had allowed the man to escape Dani’s stake, from being given the chance to explore the space where he had lost his life, and really see it for the first time since waking up as a vampire. It was an awful lot to process, which was why he was feeling slightly idiotic, and simultaneously slightly desperate, as he waited in line to order a coffee. Of all the places he could be drowning his sorrows, searching for an answer at the bottom of the bottle, a coffee shop was probably the last place anybody would expect him to be. Maybe that was a part of why it felt so comforting; the unpredictability, the spontaneity of the decision. Also, he supposed, the mundanity. He was waiting in line alongside late night students, people working on screenplays, or trying to complete assignments that were dangerously overdue. He could hear scribbling notes, hear the tapping of keys, even the subtle whir of laptop machinery if he allowed himself to focus. But he wasn’t here for other people, he was here for himself. For the familiar scent of coffee. For the feeling of wrapping his hands around a hot paper cup. He could only assume that was what everybody sought when they visited a café after dark. 

He couldn’t count the amount of times he had stumbled into this particular shop with a bad hangover, or even still drunk. It had been a saving grace first thing in the morning. And it was proving to be a saving grace now. At least here he felt vaguely human, at least here he could pretend everything that had happened to him over the course of the past few months had been some awful fever dream he had finally woken up from. Something he could move past, and forget. Something he could wash away with the right combination of syrup, coffee, and oat milk. When he reached the front of the line, he placed his order, asking for far more syrup than he usually would in the hope of granting the beverage a stronger taste. A few more minutes of waiting, of forcing any unwanted thoughts to the very back of his mind, and he picked up his cup, making his way over to the wall lined with mirrors.  

It was a staple of any coffee shop trying to appear sophisticated. And he was so used to the décor that he didn’t stop to consider whether his favourite spot could still safely be his favourite spot. Pulling out the chair closest to the wall, he dropped down onto it, leaning back against the cool surface of the glass as he began to tap his fingers against the drink in his hands. It was a nervous habit, one he never could seem to shake. Taking a careful sip of his coffee, a quiet sigh managed to escape him at the dull, one-note taste. If only it would taste as strongly as it smelled. It didn’t seem fair that one sense had been heightened while he had essentially lost another entirely. Maybe if he mixed it with some blood? Could he do that? Would that work? So lost in his own thoughts, it took him far too long to realise he was being watched. Catching the eye of a stranger, when they didn’t look away he raised his eyebrows in a silent question. Apparently he wasn’t even allowed to wallow without being interrupted. 

Bea had gotten used to sleeping when it was light out in New York. The habit had still lingered after her return, her night owl tendencies too much of a hassle to break at this point. It helped to sleep in the light, to wake up gasping and be able to see everything in her room. There was no fear that the Hunter stood in the corner of her room in the light. The ocean could not flood her room. She could see that Adam’s dead eyes weren’t staring at her, crawling to her and telling her he needed to come back. The day rid her of her nightmares far faster than the night did. There were no corners to hide in. She was safe awake at night and safe asleep in the light.  

Usually after a show, Bea would find herself at the Stacked Deck, martini in hand as she gambled. She was trying not to drink on bad days, on the days where memories tore at her. Partaking in another vice, that seemed safe. Her mouth was dry as she stared into the steaming coffee in front of her. This wasn’t usually her first pick of a café, but it was the closest she had been to when her walk started to turn into wandering, aimless. These moods, they hit like waves, battering her over and over again, small moments of reprieve falsely claiming the storm was finally over. It exhausted her, cement added to her bones, trapping in the cold, dragging her down further into the sea. Water slipped into her lungs, coughing it up, inviting more in, but there was no release of consciousness, no, she was forced to live it all, feeling herself drown, over and over again.  

A hand gripped the back of her seat and Bea jolted with the motion, magic rushing to her fingertips as she looked for an enemy. It was some college kid, punchdrunk from hours spent in front of a laptop. Her heart hammered in her chest, her pulse screaming that she was alive, they were safe. Find five things you can identify in the room. That’s what her therapist had said, right? She couldn’t remember, but she began to count. “One, coffee,” She forced her eyes around the room. “Two, table. Three, mirror.” Mirror… She could see the mirror clearly, could see herself from across the room, all too sophisticated looking for the wild look in her eyes to fit, but not the man in front of it. He was a vampire, he had to be. She had stood in front of a mirror enough with Kian to know. His eyebrows went up and now she was too. A tide pulled her to him, pushed her to do what always made her feel safe and take care of someone else. “You’re in front of a mirror,” She said, her voice stronger than she expected.  

Milo hadn’t been expecting the woman to approach him, and he stared at her as she closed the distance between them both. It took far too long for her words to fully register, but when they did he felt an irrational surge of annoyance. “What?” He snapped. Why should she care where he was? What business did she have trying to tell him something he already knew? The mirror had always been there, it didn’t exactly feel like an important piece of information. But as quickly as his irritability had risen to the surface, it was replaced by a sudden realisation. Oh shit, he was sitting in front of a mirror. A jolt of panic shot through him without warning, uncomfortable, and disorienting. Had he really just announced to the entire coffee shop that he wasn’t human? As if hoping to prove he hadn’t been quite so moronic, he glanced behind himself to be met with the reflection of the woman, the shop, and absolutely nothing else. “Fuck- shit-” He muttered, scrambling to his feet, backing away until he was standing beside a window. No longer within reach of the mirrored wall, he still felt nervous, and unsteady. Only when he took a deep breath in an attempt to regain his composure did he fully understand what this stranger had done for him. But why? What had compelled her to care? 

Offering her a hesitant smile, still battling the anxiety clawing at his chest, he did what he could to calm down. Part of him understood there was a possibility this wasn’t the end. The person standing by his abandoned table could be a slayer who had decided to toy with him, or somebody who loathed vampires and was hoping to laugh at his lack of intelligence. But he couldn’t bring himself to care. He would deal with that later, for now he needed to focus on the present. “I-uh… thanks.” He muttered, rubbing awkwardly at the back of his neck. It was important to look unassuming, he knew that. Lest he be seen as a threat. But the sheepish demeanour came naturally to him, so he said the first thing that came to his mind. “It’s easy to forget sometimes… I just…” Glancing back down at his coffee, still sitting on the table where he had left it, he let out a quiet huff of frustration. “Hey- I don’t suppose you could pass that to me?” He asked. She was only going to say yes or no, he didn’t see the harm in pushing his luck. “That drink is… it’s me trying to stay sane. Apparently it isn’t working…” He added, gesturing vaguely to the mirror.  

Irritation rose swiftly in her chest as the man snapped at her. For a moment, Bea considered turning around and letting him suffer the consequences of his actions. The memory of her sister cradling Adam’s body swam to meet her anger, tempering her. This vampire was not Adam, but just like with Eddie, she had the urge to force him to take care of himself. Death had been a friend when she was the one reaching out to it. She understood who truly held the power now. No matter what she could do, there would be people who she lost. Death might be something she could circumvent herself, but that did not mean she would not witness the ramifications of it. She could still try to make others safer from it, even if after it took them, they refused to come back to her.  

Dull brown eyes watched as the vampire scrambled back from the mirror. “It shouldn’t be,” Bea said with reproach. She didn’t want this man to hurt, but she did not like him. She still remembered the taste of Kian’s disappearance in her mouth. She still felt the sting of rejection. The understanding of his goals with her, had come later in life. She had even truly realized that he had been using her until she spoke to her friends about their relationship. Abuse seemed like a terribly harsh word for it, but she could not think of something softer that described it correctly. Her lips pressed and for a moment she thought of saying no. She passed it to him wordlessly, eyeing him with suspicion. “Are you always so careless?” 

“Oh, come on. Like you don’t forget to eat sometimes, or put on lotion before you go out into the sun.” Milo countered. Self care, and self preservation consisted of so many little things, things that were difficult to remember when you were busy, or tired, or your life was getting complicated. Surely anybody could understand that. Pointedly ignoring the tone the woman had chosen to take, he was surprised when she handed him his coffee. It wouldn’t take a genius to see she was annoyed, maybe she too had come to the coffee shop for some kind of escape, and he was ruining it for her by being an all too present reminder of the supernatural. Focusing on her scent, on the sound of her heartbeat, she clearly wasn’t a werewolf, vampire, or zombie. So what was she? A spellcaster? A human who knew too much? “Thanks…” He said quietly, his demeanour softening. She didn’t owe him anything, and she had given him his coffee in spite of that fact.  

Hugging the cup to his chest, he watched her, unsure how they were supposed to move forward in such an unusual circumstance. But then she spoke again, and a laugh managed to escape him. He pushed his hair back away from his face, relief at only being caught out by one person was beginning to wash over him. Lowering his inhibitions, and making him all the more grateful for the stranger’s begrudging intervention. “Not always.” He insisted, feeling the need to defend his intelligence. “Sometimes…” Mirrors weren’t always an issue, and when they were he had proven relatively competent when it came to avoiding them. But he had an awful lot on his mind. He didn’t want to dwell on his many mistakes. He wanted to pretend, to enjoy the little bubble of safety the coffee shop felt like it was providing. “Look, it’s been a really fucked up week, okay? I just… I needed a break.”

Bea’s expression soured even further at the man’s reply, “Those things aren’t the same and you know it. I’m not going to have someone attempt to kill me if they notice I didn’t eat.” She didn’t know why she cared, maybe she didn’t actually but wanted the distraction, but whatever caused her to come over here kept her here, even with her mounting irritation. Hadn’t her therapist said something about this? She couldn’t remember it, not with her pulse roaring in her ears, but she knew that Miranda wasn’t going to be happy with her for butting into something again. She’d probably say that taking care of other people to ignore her own self care was a form of escapism or some shit. Bea wasn’t really all that willing to work on breaking out of that habit just yet, it’s what made her useful to the people around her.  

It was always a fucked up week in White Crest. There was always another building disaster. There was always something that ruined someone’s life. It was just how the town was. She bit her tongue and said nothing. Taking a moment, she looked away from the man, back to the mirror. She stared back at herself and her eyes lingered on the scar circling her neck. Wicked’s Rest always took something from the people who lived here, it was just how it went. She looked back to the man, “Find a place that doesn’t have mirrors to take a break then. Or one day a hunter will find you sitting in front of a mirror and they will try to kill you. They’ll make sure you stay dead too.” She certainly didn’t hate hunters, especially knowing the ones she did and how they were driven to make the world a better place, but she didn’t want to be a bystander to someone’s death.  

Milo was half expecting to win over the woman’s sympathy, convince her in some way to feel for him rather than see him as an idiot. The fact that his words only managed to irritate her further only managed to irritate him further too. Maybe she had a point, but he wasn’t about to admit that. “Whatever, I’m only saying it’s easy to forget the important shit. Especially when your life is a mess. So, bite me.” Taking a sip of his coffee, out of habit more so than in an attempt to calm down, he found the hot drink did manage to soothe him a little. It reminded him of why he was here. The desperation, and longing for an escape. He wouldn’t be able to find one while he was being yelled at by a stranger, that much was undeniable. Though he wasn’t sure how he was supposed to escape this interaction. This woman had genuinely helped him, he couldn’t bring himself to walk away from her. No matter how determined she seemed to ruin his night. 

Watching as she turned away from him, he saw her stare at her own reflection, but couldn’t follow her gaze without stepping closer, something he absolutely wasn’t willing to do. She would only berate him again, and he didn’t want to encourage her. “I used to come here a lot while I was studying.” He countered, glaring at her even as she ignored him. “Forgive me for wanting something familiar.” If he had chosen almost anywhere else in the cafe he might have been able to avoid the mirrors, but he hadn’t been thinking, too lost in his own pain. As far as he was concerned that was understandable, more than valid given the circumstance. Though his company would probably argue otherwise. “No shit,” he shot back. “I’ve met one or two, I-” He broke off before he could insist he knew what he was doing. How could he say that after such a ridiculous mistake? “I’m fine.” He answered instead. “Okay? I don’t need your help, or- whatever it is you’re trying to do here.” 

“You’ll have to excuse me if I decline that offer,” Bea sneered back. Maybe on another night she would have been kinder, gentle in her correction. The combination of bad night and an unshaken dislike for vampires was a potent one. She wouldn’t apologize for it, not when she felt she was justly annoyed. She took a deep breath in, Miranda’s voice ringing in her head. She had to keep her cool, they were still in public and she had a reputation to uphold. She kept her eyes off the mirror now, unwilling to see how her face had shifted as anger took over. She was better than this. She knew she was better than this. It was just that this vampire was in front of her and she could barely stand the proximity. The grief of her past had never truly been dealt with, pushed aside instead in favor of continuing on. That was the way of the Vurals, wasn’t it? 

Familiarity. Bea could understand that. She found that in the Stacked Deck and Coffee Plus after her death. A place to feel normal just for a moment. It was the most human thing a person could want. “Be more mindful about where you sit here then,” She conceded, her throat tight at the grim reminder that he was struggling with his own demons. A sharp smile took over her face, “You don’t need my help now, after I helped you.” That was the way of it though, wasn’t it? She never wanted help after she proved she needed it. She could, in a way, sympathize with that. “Look, I don’t like vampires, but I wasn’t going to let you get caught like that. I’m not in the business of watching someone make a fatal mistake, even if I don’t like them. That’s all I’m doing.”  

“You’re excused.” Milo countered, unable to think of a witty comeback. He was torn between gratitude and frustration. The fact that this woman had done something genuinely good for him, and then turned on him almost the moment he was safe, was pathetically causing his head to spin. Was it really too much to ask for a quiet night? He didn’t have the mental capacity to deal with such inconsistency. He had been polite, he had thanked her, and he had been met with a less than positive attitude. It didn’t feel fair. Raising his eyebrows as a few beats of silence passed between them, he watched the stranger as she turned away from her reflection. She was a difficult person to read, which only served to make the interaction feel more irritating, and unnecessary. “I don’t know whether it counts if you stick around to insult the person you helped.” He pointed out, although he knew she could argue against his statement. Regardless of whether she was being kind to him, she had stopped him from potentially becoming a target. Nothing she said now was going to change that. He and Deirdre hadn’t exactly parted as friends, but that didn’t erase the medical attention he had offered her.  

Letting out a huff of breath, unsurprised to hear she didn’t like vampires, he appreciated the reason for her behaviour. Even if said reason was bullshit. “I’m sorry, it’s not my fault you’re Team Jacob. I’m not about to fucking fall at your feet because you did me a solid in spite of what I am.” He awkwardly crossed his arms over his chest, careful not to drop his coffee cup. His confidence was rapidly fading as he realised he didn’t always like vampires either. When he met them for the first time, he felt nervous, and scared. It was a product of his history with them. It was only after getting to know them that he became comfortable in their company, maybe this was something they both had in common. “Okay, shit. I get it…” He muttered begrudgingly. Shifting awkwardly on the spot, he chewed on his bottom lip, steeling himself to be honest with her. “You think I like vampires?” He asked. “I was fucking killed by one… but that doesn’t mean you get to talk to me like you already know who I am. We’re still people. There’s still good and bad.” 

“Asking someone if they’re always careless isn’t an insult. My attitude towards you isn’t an insult just because it’s not immediately positive.” Bea could feel the heat in her blood, felt herself simmering under the surface. The world was unfair, so why did she have to be fair to everyone she met? She was kind when she didn’t have to, better than other people had been to her. It shouldn’t fall on her shoulders to carry on with optimism and generosity at all times. Shouldn’t she get to be as bad sometimes? You’re spiralling, she thought grimly. Miranda had told her she did that, where all of her thoughts started to go too fast to logically go through them. She wanted to go home, but what waited for her there. Felix was in New York, Nell at their parents’ house, Luce at the cabin. The house was empty and it was too late to call anyone over to fill in the gaps that ghosts had left. 

Bea’s eyes narrowed, “When you spend three years of your life getting used as a convenient blood bag, I’ll listen to your opinion on how I should feel around vampires.” The relationship she had held with Kian was complicated, but she had grown to realize that their love had been toxic. She had begun to understand that they had only lasted so long because he hadn’t felt motivated to find someone else only a year or so ago. Her throat tightened, she had assumed that he was like Kian, someone who had chosen this life. She had never forgotten with zombies that many of them didn’t pick this. It was harder with vampires. It was hard to look at him now, the stripped truth of what was in front of them almost too much to bear. She nodded, such a small movement that it could have been lost with a blink. An apology stuck on her tongue, thick, hard to move. She could type apologies, but speaking them, that was a very different story. “You’re right,” She conceded. “I let my bias get the better of me.”  

“It wasn’t what you said, it was the way that you said it.” Milo pointed out, although he strongly suspected the woman might already know. He wasn’t sure why he was even bothering to continue with this argument, but walking away felt too much like admitting defeat, like agreeing with her. “It is when you’re generalising.” He added, figuring it definitely counted as an insult if her mood was in relation to his vampirism. It wasn’t the first time what he was had managed to make somebody uncomfortable, and it didn’t seem to get any easier. But at least she was making it easy to be annoyed, at least she was making it easy to not feel guilty. Bex had been different, she had been soft, and regretful in a way that made him self-conscious, that made him want to apologise for being himself. His current company had an edge, one that as far as he was concerned, gave him permission to be less than content. 

Fully prepared to defend himself, he found his expression shifting once again when he registered what he was being told. There were so many details to her story that would change the context of it. Had she given blood willingly? Was it being taken by someone she knew? Was she being held captive? Or manipulated into sharing? But as quickly as his mind began to run through the possibilities, he was reminded of her obvious trauma. How it had happened wasn’t relevant. It didn’t matter. What mattered was how upset she clearly was, how deeply affected by the past. She had damage, same as him. He couldn’t exactly blame her for that. “I’m sorry that happened to you.” He said quietly, a frown creasing his brow. He had been used as a blood bag once, and it had cost him his life. He tried and failed to imagine how he might feel if he had been used for three years, if he was still alive, and vulnerable to another attack. He still felt vulnerable, though he knew nobody was going to drink his blood now. She couldn’t say the same. “Yeah, you kind of did… but it’s whatever.” He unfolded his arms, trying to assure her without letting her think she might have won. “That shit stays with you, I know it does…” 

Irritation continued to mount, but now it was focused inward. Bea did not lose control. She presented herself as a measured person, her actions had meaning. There was hard to find meaning with the pressure building between her ears. She had fallen from her path without realizing it, twigs broken from her blind tumble. Left behind her an ugly, broken mistake. Her jaw locked, unwilling to deny the truth of his words, unwilling to apologize or put herself in a worse position. She felt young again. At least there was no threat that she would break all the windows in the café, even as far she had fallen, she had more control than she did at nineteen.  

“It’s not,” She finally said. She had let him speak, let him apologize for what happened to her. She knew he deserved to be heard after she spoke to him as she had. “It’s not appropriate or kind of me to treat you the way I did.” The way, she knew, certain witches had in the past. The way her zombie friends had. “It’s not alright or whatever. I was wrong,” The words throttled her, the alarms in her brain begging her to shut up. She never enjoyed admitting she was wrong, it made her feel dizzy, out of control. But she was already there tonight, she was already spiralling, might as well dive in to fix something she had made. “I’m sorry too, for the little that it’s worth, that it happened to you. That you were killed.” She knew the feeling, the wrongness that came after that. She didn’t know how being changed into something else felt however. “White Crest isn’t kind. Just try to be careful and maybe it’ll avoid pressing its misery on you again,” She finished softly, weakly.  

Milo listened to the apology, taking a moment to really register the woman’s choice of words. He recognised the fact that she was trying, in the same way he understood how difficult it was to take responsibility for a mistake. He appreciated it more than he could say, so he offered her a hesitant smile, hoping to show her he was no longer offended, or upset. He was too tired to cling to so many negative emotions, too desperate to forget, if only for a little while. “You, uh… you don’t have to be so dramatic about it.” He teased, careful to gauge her reaction. He was attempting to lighten the mood but he knew there was a possibility of pushing her further away. He wanted to move forward, he just didn’t know how to. “Look,” he said, becoming serious again. “I know how it feels, I really do. Or part of it, at least. I also know that’s weird because I guess I’m like, one of them now. But I didn’t ask for any of this… You were used by a vampire, and I was used by a vampire. Different outcomes but it still fucking sucks...” Catching the ironic phrase the moment it left his lips he laughed quietly, unable to help himself. “I mean, figuratively but…”  

Falling silent when his company warned him White Crest wasn’t kind, it made him wonder what else she had been through, how else she might have suffered at the hands of his hometown. His memory flashed suddenly back to Dani, and his killer, to the moment he had allowed the person responsible for his death to touch him. He couldn’t do anything to suppress a shudder. As it always did when he truly considered what had taken place, anxiety began to claw at his chest, and he swallowed, staring down at his coffee so that he could collect himself before looking back up again. It was a strange conversation to have, and maybe not one he was ready for given recent events. But he pressed on. “I’m Milo. I probably should have said that earlier.” A soft sigh escaping him, he pointedly ignored the pain still weighing him down, remembering distinctly why he had come to the coffee shop in the first place. “Hey, I don’t suppose you want to, uh… start over? Maybe get another coffee and find a table that isn’t in front of a mirror?” He asked. He didn’t have anything to lose, but maybe, just maybe, he could gain a friend. A friend who partially understood the way the aftermath of his attack was still affecting him. 

A snort left Bea, an amused smile lighting her face, “Trust me, this is me not being dramatic. I’m usually far more over the top.” She knew how to make a show, knew the words to say to get crowd reaction, knew how to dress and act to get the attention in a room. Her calm was often everyone’s dramatic. She watched his face closely, knowing that these conversations were never easy to have. Personally, most people didn’t know the details of her relationship with Kian. They didn’t know her history or how she felt dirty after it was all said and done. She had never gotten close enough to another person with ties to vampires to compare notes, see how trauma was different on other faces. “I find a lot of people turn into the thing that destroyed them, your’s just couldn’t be stopped.” She had become a killer after the Hunter, had walked this world with the goal of making sure others knew she could end them if she so wished. She had picked that, this man hadn’t. “It does fucking suck, pun intended, considering what happened,” She repeated back, that small smile still on her face. 

Bea considered her options. She could just walk away, this had ended amicably enough, or she could give him a shot, accept company and let herself get pulled from the hole she had placed herself in. “I’m Bea or Beatrice, either work.” She always introduced herself that way, even though she rarely went by Beatrice anymore. Her mother had loved her full name though and so Bea had never stopped. Maybe it was time to. “I know a spot here where there are no mirrors, should be pretty safe.” She had never really stopped looking for those safe spots, not after three years of it. “I’ll get us more coffee and meet you over there?” She offered, guard still up, but willing to take some time to pull it down. 

Milo watched the woman, pleased to see a genuine smile light up her face as she spoke. He smiled too, unable to help himself, but it didn’t take long for the expression to fade. He tried to imagine a world where he killed people so callously, where he was willing to take a life because it was convenient, and made him feel good. He refused to let himself become that, he was never going to forget the trauma, the unrest his experience had caused him. It might actually haunt him forever. He knew he could be selfish, knew on the odd occasion he put his own wants and needs before the wants and needs of others, but never to such a scale. That wasn’t him, and it was never going to be him. “I really hope that isn’t true…” He murmured. Maybe his company was right, and becoming a vampire was enough. Maybe she wasn’t talking about the murderous tendencies that apparently came as part of the package. Humming quietly in response to the pun, he glanced back up at her and was surprised to find she was still smiling. It made him feel better somehow, the knowledge that she might actually be enjoying the conversation.  

“Bea...” He echoed, committing her name to his memory. He didn’t enjoy being given a choice, not when names could carry so much weight, and be so personal. It only made sense to use the first option he had been given. A laugh escaping him at the mention of mirrors, drawing him out of his thoughts, he was struck by how ridiculous it was relying on a human to show him where he would safely be able to sit. He felt like a child, although he knew he was in no place to complain about that fact. She was helping him, and considering how their interaction had begun, that alone seemed like an outright miracle. Following her gaze to a handful of tables, he nodded before catching her eye. “Coffee sounds good.” He agreed. “With oat milk, and as much syrup as they can legally give me.”

“Sometimes hope can be enough, if you follow it with determination.” There were moments where Bea looked toward Luce and saw hope in a manner she didn’t with many other people. It was a Vural trait to never go down easily, but Luce always felt like the most hopeful somehow. She was by far the least optimistic, yet somehow when hope was introduced to a situation, the eldest sister thought of the lightning caster. She couldn’t completely explain it, but it felt right in her chest. Luce didn’t let go of hope once she found it, she held fast, a dragon with her horde.  “Oat milk,” Bea nodded, heading over to the front. “I’ll convince them to give you some illegal syrup too, don’t worry.”  

Milo grinned at the mention of illegal syrup before turning away from Bea, making his way over to their new table. He felt okay, he realised. Not good, and definitely not whole, but okay, and that was undeniably the best possible outcome of the evening. He had been expecting the drink to help him. Had been expecting the solitude, and the quiet sense of normalcy to ground his overwhelming emotion. When in actuality it was the company helping him settle. Bea may have been cold, and short to begin with, but he was really beginning to like her. Maybe there was something in that. He had called Evelyn, hadn’t he? To help him when he was catatonic. Didn’t he usually call Orion when he was feeling particularly miserable, or confused? Even Macleod and James on the odd occasion had helped him to organise his thoughts. It struck him suddenly that he didn’t need coffee, he didn’t need to cling to his old life, or wallow in it entirely alone. He needed to find somebody to be with, somebody who could distract him from his thoughts, and allow him a sense of freedom. He knew the clubs now, he knew the substances. But did he know anybody willing to get on his level? If he looked in the right places, he strongly suspected White Crest might finally deliver. 

[concussed-to-pieces]

Whether It Works Out Or Not: Winter’s Cold, Part Two

Fandom: Red Dead Redemption 2

Pairing: High Honor!Arthur Morgan/Named OFC

Rating: Holy shit T.

AN: Thank you all so much for being here! Enjoy!

[Spoiler warning for the epilogue!]

Tag List: @huliabitch​​ @cookiethewriter​​ @pedrosbigdorkenergy​​ @thirstworldproblemss​​ @anonymouscosmos​​ @culturalrebel​​ @karmezii​​ @teaofpeach​​ @crookedmoonsaultpunk​​ @wrestlingfae​​ @zombiexbody​​ @nelba​​ @scribblenotes76​​ @toxiicpop​​ @mstgsmy​​ @misty-possum​​ @gallowsjoker​​ @midnightbeauty35​​ @lackofhonor​​ @renegademustelid​​ @missfronkensteen​ @newplanetshine

Part One: Strangers

Part Two: Friends

Part Three: More

Bonus One: A Brief Diversion

Bonus Two: Back In The Cage

Winter’s Cold, Part One

[!TRIGGER WARNING!: This installment contains emotional distress and self-loathing. Stay safe!]

The first time Arthur really felt...aware, like he was actually inhabiting his body instead of floating above and slightly to the right of it, he realized that he could hear chirping birds. A breeze stirred his hair; there must be a window open nearby. 

  It dawned on him after several moments that he could breathe. It still hurt, it pained him, but he wasn't hacking and wheezing every second. Dread flooded his soul then; either he was dead, or the law was in the process of meting out the rope for his noose. Bit of a raw deal for all those hellfire preachers if eternal damnation was only some downright mild discomfort (at least after everything else) and a lazy little breeze.

  His whole body still felt like it weighed too much to move. The idea of opening his eyes was a distant, faint notion; barely a fledgling consideration in the back of his mind. Arthur was more than content to lay just wherever it was that he had fallen, sunshine wavering in dappled patches across the insides of his eyelids.

  He dimly noticed that fabric was covering his mouth and nose. A bandanna, or some kind of mask? To keep him from spreading the infection, he surmised pragmatically. Through the material wafted a scent from his childhood, the alive smell of freshly-cured hay. Beneath it was the ever-present odor of manure, the crisp tingle of pine. So he must be in the mountains somewhere. 

  Odd. Last he knew, he was being shipped off to the city to be read his last rites. Had they decided to let him convalesce in the wilderness, drag him back from the clutches of death and then set his backside afore the law?

  Very odd indeed. But then again, justice had always been more of a performance than a true enforcement of moral integrity.

  I sound like Dutch.

  He drifted off again. Just thinking was exhausting, like wading through swamp mud.

  More medicine. Balm for his chest. A stew, lip of the bowl pressed to his mouth so he could slowly slurp it up. Rich, meaty broth, soothing his throat. How many days had it been?

  He couldn't even bring himself to move when he felt the familiar press of a flat blade against his neck. Hot water soaking into his skin, a warm cloth moving in circles to scrub away whatever grime was around his nose and mouth. The person was meticulous, sure strokes carefully ridding the man of the stubble he harbored on his face. How long had it been since he shaved?

  Christ alive, Arthur was tired. He couldn't decide whether he wanted to live or not. This caretaker, whoever they were, clearly wasn't letting him go without a fight. But he was so tired. 

  He wavered for what felt like a lifetime, hovering at the edge of eternity in the green fragrance of curing hay. It was safe here, at any rate. Nothing would harm him in this peaceful tomb. He could rest until he began to feel like he was in control of his body again, and one fateful day, Arthur Morgan finally realized that he wanted to see how much worse living could manage to be.

  His eyes opened slowly, squinting against the near-blinding illumination of sunset that played pink against the unfinished beams over his head. Lord, just doing that much had taken the wind out of his sails. Maybe he was already dead. 

  His eyes rolled shut wearily, blinking open again what felt like moments later to find the place dark. Night had fallen. Time was slipping past him, it would seem. There was a faint taste in his mouth: venison stew with wild carrots, if he had to guess. He didn't even remember eating.

  He squinted in the blackness, trying to force his eyes to adjust so he could at least take in his surroundings before he lost consciousness again. 

  Hay. Everywhere. He appeared to be in a loft of some kind, bales stacked neatly all around the tick he laid on. Night sounds filtered in through the open window, bats squeaking and the booming call of an owl telling him that the hour must indeed be late. 

  Arthur lapsed back into senselessness once more. He dreamed of hearing violin music and catching sight of a massive, pale buck through the window. It watched him from a far-off hillside, ears flicking back and forth to catch every sound. 

  He dreamed of Irene. Her smile, her eyes, the kisses in the tent that they had shared...

  Maybe, maybe sat like a block of lead in his gut. 'Maybe' was all he had ever had. A chance, a mirage. Pretty words from men and women who had made him feel useful, needed.

  So he had poured from himself until he was empty and it still hadn't been enough. 

  He was a fool. What was it that Irene had said to Jamie? "I'm not letting anyone else dig my grave and usher me into it." 

  Arthur, in contrast, had practically handed Dutch the shovel on a silver platter.

  I gave you all I had.

  …

  He was aware that someone was nearby, and he managed to open his eyes again for a brief moment. Long enough for him to hallucinate that it was Irene tending to him, Irene giving him whatever horrendous medicine it was and washing away the bitter taste with hot soup and small sips of tea. He must truly be long gone, mad with delirium or fever or the consumption that had wracked his chest until he felt paper-thin. 

  How would she even be here? How would that have even happened? There was no way. 

  Arthur almost loathed himself for choosing to live at that moment, because he was clearly missing a few more screws. He knew that some agues raged so strong they could burn the brain right out of a man and he feared that was the case with him. 

  Not that he'd had much brain to lose in the first place.

  Christ, he did wish she was here. He wished he could take her hand and never let her go again. 

  Allowing her leave that final time was a regret that had haunted him even more prominently than his bitter failure with Mary, for all that he knew there was nothing he could have done to make her stay with him. Irene had been on her own too long, flown too far and high to ever be tied down to some old, miserable bastard again.

  Mary had come to know him under false pretenses, and she had never truly reconciled herself with it. In a way, Arthur hadn't either. He had known she wasn't his from the very beginning, had known that he was playing a part or living a lie whenever he was with her. It never would have worked out, and it never did. 

  But Irene, despite their deceptive start, came to him with a certain honesty. The haphazard performance of masculinity had done little to hide her true nature, the kindness that she claimed to see in him so freely displayed in her as well. It also didn't hide the burdens she carried, though he hadn't understood the sadness in 'Frank's' eyes when they had spoken.

  The trials she had gone through...he at least had the gang, but she was wholly alone. She had endured, like a pine tree rooted on a crumbling and wind-whipped bluff. Storms of life howling all around and yet…

  And yet, when he had last seen her, she had held herself proudly in Lemieux's mansion, unshaken. The guts and wherewithal that had seen her thus far would continue, and Arthur had wished her nothing but the finest of luck even as he had sent her on her way. 

  …

  There were folded clothes on the floor beside him when next he stirred, and on top of them was a note. Arthur had no idea how long it took him to sit up, never mind move his arm, manipulate his fingers into picking the note up, unfold the note to read it…

  Lord, living certainly seemed to require a lot of steps. 

  Arthur,

Not sure if you'll really be awake today, but I've noticed you moving around a bit of your own volition. Left the clothes in case you feel up to getting dressed. I am uncertain if you'll recall, so I'll remind you that the waste bucket is in the far corner.

  The note was unsigned.

  Arthur huffed out a breath, clearing his throat experimentally. He reached for the union suit on the top of the pile, planting his face in the article of clothing with a groan as his head suddenly felt too heavy to support. "C'mon Morgan." He encouraged himself, the words thick in his mouth. Shit, how long had he been out for? It was like he had forgotten how to speak.

  Just pulling the suit up and over his legs was a task of Herculean proportions. Arthur doggedly kept fighting the urge to pass out, the desire to lay back down and let time zip by again. He had made the choice to live and by God, he would follow through with it even if it killed him.

  The longer he worked at getting dressed, the easier it became to keep his eyes open. Socks on over the suit, shirt, pants. His suspenders hung limp at his sides, but he did tuck in his shirt as best as he could after he relieved himself. 

  Boots. Boots, one tipped over on the space beside the ladder, the other within reach of the bed.

  Next, climbing down the ladder. Mercifully the loft was not particularly high. The whole barn seemed rather small as far as barns went, obviously originally built with one stall. A second one appeared to have been hastily grafted onto the building at a later time. 

  Arthur had to take a breather at the base of the ladder, clinging to it just to keep his balance. His knees felt like they were made out of jelly. Had his boots always been this damn heavy?!

  He floundered onward after a moment, grateful for his hat as he emerged into the blinding sunlight of the outside world. 

  Arthur rubbed his eyes, nearly losing his footing as he did so. He had already been uncertain of the reality of his current situation, and this idyllic scene in front of him wasn't helping matters! 

  A small paddock stretched out on the left, and a cozy-looking cabin was nestled into the green, flower-dappled glen alongside the barn he had just emerged from. Arthur staggered to the paddock fence for support, draping himself over it. From the shadow by the barn, a shape stirred. He forced himself to focus on it, his eyes widening when the horse meandered lazily out into the sunlight to graze.

  "Chase!" Arthur rasped, his voice rough and cracking from disuse. The mare's head jerked up and she looked around. His heart leaped in his chest when she whinnied excitedly at him, trotting across the paddock and bumping her nose against his chest. Arthur held her tightly, cupping her muzzle and scratching beneath her jaw. "That's my sweet girl, my good girl." He murmured, feeling foolish for getting choked up. 

  There was an explosive snort to his right and a familiar pink nose snuffled over his shoulder. Arthur squinted, turning his head to the side and realizing that it was Bluster. The horse whickered, mouthing at the sleeve of his shirt. 

  Arthur Morgan was speechless. He must be dead. How else could he have his horse, and Irene's horse besides? He sat there mutely for God only knew how long, just petting Chase with his eyes closed to luxuriate in the sensation of sun on his skin. 

  Behind him, the wind carried faint sounds to his ears, and he flinched when he caught a child's high-pitched squeal of laughter. Just where the hell was he, if he was indeed alive? What buffoon would nurse someone like him back to health, yet leave him unbound and unguarded? Something was very odd about this whole scenario.

  Arthur turned and leaned back on the fence, narrowing his eyes against the glare of the sun as he looked up at the ridge of the glen. There was an abrupt flash of motion to the left on the edge of the gully, and he watched a woman that he desperately wanted to recognize chase after a child. The little one was fairly shrieking with mirth, scurrying away from their pursuer until they flopped down dramatically and allowed themselves to be caught.

  It felt like his heart had left his body, the damn thing soaring and shattering all at once. A girl, it was a little girl, her hair the color of a pale buck. Irene scooped the child up, laughing breathlessly and tossing her into the air before spinning the two of them in a dizzying circle. 

  Irene.

  Arthur swallowed hard. Fate was indeed a cruel mistress if this was the vision he was greeted with upon making his decision to live! He continued to just slouch against the fence, silently observing the duo as they frolicked at the top of the ridge. Irene had flowers in her hair just like she had at the Mayor's little soiree, and he realized dimly that her dark brown curls were much longer. Just how much time had he lost?

  He finally mustered up the strength to wave at them and he liked to think that Irene went still out of happiness. In a moment she caught the child up and fairly bolted down the hillside, her skirt hiked around her knees as she ran. 

  "Arthur!" 

  Christ, Christ he wasn't ready for this. He wasn't ready for the sight of her with a babe on her hip, the agony of maybe, maybe that ripped at his insides. In another life, it might have been his child that she had been playing with. In another life, this might have been the home that they had built together.

  But instead, she had gone on and made a fruitful existence without him. He couldn't, wouldn't blame her for it. He had cut her loose, after all.

  Irene came to a halt inches away, her chest rising and falling from the effort of her sprint. "Y-You--you're up!" She panted, her smile burying itself in his ribs like a blade. Christ, his heart was too weak for this.

  The child in Irene's arms gawked up at him with crystal blue eyes and he tried to muster up a smile, startled when Irene embraced him tightly. He felt her fingers dig into his back, and then her shoulders quivered while she buried her face in his chest. "Oh no, c'mon now Miss Irene." Arthur said hoarsely. "I ain't worth all that fuss, it's okay."

  ...

  "Mama?" Anna asked tentatively. "Mama okay?"

  "Mama's fine, love." Irene managed to say, kissing her child's forehead. "Just very happy is all. You remember my friend Mister Arthur, right?"

  "Sick." Anna replied, her attempt at a fake cough making Arthur chuckle. "Better now?"

  "I'd reckon so, little miss." The man drawled hoarsely. God, that voice. Irene hadn't realized just how much she had missed him. She had seen him every day, of course, nursing him back to health, but he hadn't been conscious for most of it. "S'pose I have your mama to thank for that."

  Irene noticed him glancing over her shoulder, like he was expecting someone else to show up. "Your friend, Mister Trelawny--"

  Arthur chuffed out a breath through his nose, making Anna giggle. "Friend? Man's a cockroach in a waistcoat." He groused.

  "Yes, he mentioned that the two of you may not be as close as he posited. Nonetheless, it's thanks to him that you're here now, alive."

  "Really. Huh. So I am alive, then. I wasn't shoah. This place is…" Arthur gestured vaguely around. "S'beautiful, Miss Irene." His tone was melancholy. "Like a dream."

  "I'd like to think I chose well, Mister Arthur. It hasn't been easy, but the two of us have made it work." Irene said proudly, nuzzling her nose against Anna's. "My tough little frontierwoman."

  "Just...what, you an' the baby?" Arthur asked, his confusion evident. 

  "Yes. Who else would there be?" Irene replied with her own question, brow furrowed. Arthur blinked down at her. His eyes darted momentarily to Anna, and Irene bit her lip, wondering whether he would put it together immediately. 

  "I-I jus'...I figured there might be a third person, is all." Arthur stammered. 

  Irene couldn't help her sad smile, shaking her head at him and extending an arm. "Come inside, Arthur. It's nearly suppertime anyways."

  It was so strange, finally having him in the main room of her little house. She had thought about this scenario more times than she could count. Just the walk across the front yard thoroughly tired him out, and the man seemed more than content to doze in one of the kitchen chairs while she put the finishing touches on the evening meal. Obviously it would take time and care for him to regain even a fraction of his former strength. He had been bedridden, or something close to it, for nearly five months!

  Anna played noisily on the floor with a few carved horses that Irene had made for her when she was teething, their forms scored with scrapes and marks from the event. The child didn't seem apprehensive about the large man currently nodding off in the chair by the table, which had Irene feeling hopeful. Maybe, just maybe…

  "Dinnertime." She said softly, "put away your toys, love." 

  Anna pouted, holding up a finger. "One?" She bargained, clutching her 'favorite' horse to her chest. "One for Art'ur." 

  "Oh it's for Arthur now, is it?" Irene teased, wiping her hands off on her apron. "Go on then, you scallywag."

  The little girl fairly beamed, placing the horse with a laughable amount of care alongside Arthur's arm. Then, she impatiently bounced in place as Irene fetched the riser for her chair so she would be level with the table when she sat. 

  "Ah ah, go wash up! You know the rules." Irene instructed the eager child, sending her on her way to the porch.

  "She is just the cutest damn thing." Arthur mumbled, almost like he was talking to himself. His fingers idly played along the curves of the little horse by his fork. "How old is she?" 

  "A touch over two. She was born during the winter." Irene watched Arthur nod absently, and what she was about to say got caught in her throat as Anna toddled back inside.

  Arthur accepted the coffee Irene poured him with all the gratitude in the world, his eyes closing in enjoyment as he took his first sip. "Ah, that's good," he sighed. "Ain't nothin' like a decent cup of coffee. Feel like life is comin' back to me."

  "Well, don't forget to save room for dinner." Irene buttered Anna a little piece of bread and scooted it across the table to keep her occupied while she loaded two plates with corn, mashed potatoes and a spoonful of precious pork gravy from tomorrow's slow-cooking dinner. "Corn is Anna's favorite, right love?"

  Anna nodded, blue eyes wide as she munched on her bread. "Mine!" She announced sharply, scrunching up her nose when Arthur chuckled at her. 

  "Sweeting, be polite. There's more than enough for all of us, you know that!" Irene chided her daughter, rumpling the little girl's hair fondly after she placed Arthur's plate in front of him. "Always enough here." 

  Anna's plate, as usual, required a bit more preparing, so she brought it along with her own to her chair beside the child. Anna immediately started digging into the mashed potatoes as her mother carefully shucked the kernels off the cob in neat rows. "Th'nk y'Mama." Anna said through a mouthful of food.

  "You're welcome Anna, but slow down. No one will take it from you." With a touch of amusement Irene noticed Arthur visibly slow his pace in response, the man obviously used to wolfing his food. "Drink your water, Anna."

  Arthur ate mainly in silence, aside from a few appreciative grunts. He couldn't contain his laughter when Anna started to imitate his sounds, the man apologizing for his poor table manners. "Forgive me, Miss Irene, I've always been awful at eatin' in the presence of polite company." 

  "Mama says I'm a little piggy." Anna informed Arthur, seeming confused when he burst out laughing again. 

  "If you're a li'l piggy, Miss Anna, then I must be the biggest boar alive." He said once he managed to rein himself in. 

  …

  Arthur lingered on the front steps, the lantern in his hand ready to light his way back across the yard. He felt exhausted, stuffed with good food and more than ready to get a full night's rest.

  So what was he waiting for?

  Many thoughts had gone through his head during dinner. How beautiful Irene still looked, how good of a mother she clearly was. Anna was a precocious little thing, those blue eyes bright with the possibility of mischief. 

  Her eyes…

  Arthur didn't dare to hope that one of he and Irene's little diversions had borne fruit, if only because it would throw into question his oh-so-noble attempts at prevention. Had he truly tried as hard as he could to be safe, or was there always that selfish desire in the back of his mind waiting to be acted upon?

  He jumped guiltily when the door opened and Irene stepped out, half-turning to face her with a brittle grin. "Howdy ma'am. Little one safely abed, I take it?"

  "After a bit of deliberation, yes." Irene sighed, her posture weary. "She's very opinionated for someone who cannot manage eating a carrot unless it has been sliced into wheels. I do fear for the future, Arthur."

  The future.

  Arthur cleared his throat. "Irene, is...did we…?"

  She put a hand on his shoulder, silencing his stammering with a sad little smile. "Later, Arthur. Right now, rest is what you need."

  He wanted to deny that, but it was fairly impossible to do so. He was nearly asleep standing up as it was. "Tomorrow?" He bargained through a yawn.

  "Tomorrow. I promise."

Summer’s Warmth, Part One

[juliettecxi]

@fantasylitnet​ Quest 01 : Secret Courtier → @firestarsandseneschals​ 

Title: The Stakeout

Fandom: Carry on by Rainbow Rowell

Ship: Snowbaz

Genre: Idiots Enemies to lovers, Detective au, alternate universe, fluff

Warnings: Swearing, drug mention, sad attempts at portraying sexual tension, minor portrayals of gun usage and police work, kissing that’s mostly described with big words of passion, Not proofread (let me know if I missed anything.)

A/N: Here it is! and I hope you liked this mess!

Read on AO3

Summary: Two detectives on a stakeout, who hate each other with a passion, while being passionately in love with each other at the same time.

“WHAT! Why do you hate me!”

This was the first thing NYPD detective Penelope Bunce heard as she entered the bullpen. It seemed to be coming from the captain’s office. As she sat at her desk, she saw two heads, one with brown curly hair, and another with long black hair, moving wildly with aggressive arm movements.

Snow and Pitch were at it again.

“WHAT! Why do you hate me!” Simon Snow fumed at the captain, who let out a sigh and plopped back down on his chair.

“Sir, If I may.” said the voice of Satan’s descendant himself, Basilton Grimm Pitch. “Personally, I feel that detective Snow would be a hindrance in the smooth sailing of the mission, and you know how it could affect the whole operation.”

That son of a bitch.

“If I may sir.” Simon interrupted, receiving an annoyed huff from Pitch. “I believe what detective Pitch was trying to express with poor word choices is that he’s a pompous prick with no teamwork skills and disregards your judgement.” “That is not what I said Snow!” Baz turned and yelled, eyes wide. “And honestly.” he continued, “No one could ever work with you, you absolute moron, sometimes I wonder how Bunce gets through the day and manages to do anything with you as a partner!”.

 “I’m an amazing partner!” Simon retorted lamely.

Damn him and his inability to come up with good comebacks.

“Enough the two of you!” the Captain said sternly (Although to Simon it sounded like a cry for help. He couldn’t blame him, Baz was a lot to handle.) “You will go on this stakeout, together. And you will bust this drug deal. Take a department mandated car and be at the location on time, and if this fails because you two couldn’t work together for five, fucking, minutes.” He looked at them both. “I will not be easy on you.”

“Yes sir!” “Message received!” Simon and Baz said at the same time, and turned on their heel and left, nudging each other in the ribs as they left the captain’s office, and Simon heard the captain let out a sigh of relief.

Simon was washing his hands after using the toilet (he wasn’t an animal) when he looked at himself in the mirror. He needed a haircut. His thick brown curls were growing out, and as much as Simon would’ve totally rocked the Brian May look, it probably wouldn’t look good at work.

Oh well.

There was someone else who looked stunning in long hair. Baz. Simon dreamed of carding his fingers through it, and using it to pull him closer. He smiled. Why did he always yearn what he couldn’t have? Baz was a fever dream, someone who could only live in his imagination. Someone who didn’t hate him, and someone who loved him. Most people would say Simon should confess, he thought so too, but what was the point in confessing to someone who hated you with half his being? Simon was only pretending, but he knew Baz was genuine.

No. he could never know.

Baz looked up from his paperwork as Simon walked over to his desk next to Bunce and sat down. He said something to her, and she laughed. Baz sighed, and looked back at his work. 

Snow was someone who intrigued Baz, and had a special place in his head and heart. He hadn’t realized it at first, but all it took was a “Merry Christmas.” and a small smile from him, and Baz knew he had fallen, hard.

As someone who was shitty with emotions, Baz didn’t know how to interact with Simon properly without looking like an idiot, and had ended up giving the impression that he hated him. And Baz did hate him, hated him for making him fall for someone he couldn’t have. Hated him for making him fall in love with someone who felt the opposite of love and everything that went with it for him. But despite it all, he still loved. It was like an inextinguishable flame, and Snow would never feel the same, he hated him. Baz was only pretending, but he knew Simon was genuine.

No, he could never know.

Simon was in the gear room, picking the necessary tools for the stakeout. They were leaving in fifteen minutes, and he wanted to make sure they were prepared. “Hey.” said a voice he knew all too well. Baz stood behind him wearing an all black ensemble and it did things to Simon. 

He took in a deep breath. “What?” he asked, as nonchalantly and disinterested  as possible. “Aren’t you excited.” Baz commented and Simon looked at him in annoyance. “I’m sorry.” he said, and then “Baz! I’m so excited to be stuck in a tiny vehicle with you for the entire night, I can’t wait!” Baz did not look impressed, but then he smirked, and stepped closer. “Are you sure you’d be able to handle being in a tiny vehicle alone with me Snow?” he said and leaned in. Simon leaned back against the table and gulped.

He would’ve been fine with Baz being so close to him, but in different circumstances.

Like his Imagination.

“Cat got your tongue?” Baz asked, and smiled, saccharine sweet.

Simon scoffed. “I was actually wondering if this was what your hypothetical significant other would see. How unfortunate for them.” he said sweetly.

Hey, that comeback was actually quite good!

Baz scowled and placed his arms on the table, on either side of Simon. “Tell me.” he said. “Would you think this was an unfortunate face to see Snow?” All he had to do was lean in a little more, and their lips would touch. Simon’s face heated up. He pushed Baz away with his hand and grabbed the gear bag. “We leave in five.” he said, and walked out, leaving behind an unsatisfied and embarrassed Baz.

They’d arrived at their location twenty minutes ago, and things were going… smoothly. There was still no sign of their perp and both Simon and Baz were becoming very irritable and agitated.

“Chew louder why don’t you?” Baz sneered at Simon, who was munching on a protein bar. Simon turned to Baz, took a big bite of his protein bar, and chewed it slowly with his mouth open, making sure his chewing was extremely loud.

That little shit.

Baz tightened his grip on the binoculars he was using to look out for their perp, Jeffrey Carlson. He was a drug dealer and had become somewhat of a drug lord on these streets, and after months of tracking they were finally able to track him down, which was why Baz had the fortunate misfortune of being stuck in a car with Simon in the night, in front of one of those dingy New York apartment complexes, waiting to apprehend the criminal.

If only he could concentrate.

He couldn’t stop thinking about what happened in the gear room, and what almost would have happened. He let out a sigh and put down his binoculars.

“Hey.”, Snow’s voice cut through his reverie. “Yes Snow?” Baz said. “Why do you hate me? Or dislike me at least?” His eyes widened and he turned to Simon, who looked like he was regretting his question. “You know what,” Simon began, “Forget it, it was a stupid ques-” ‘I don’t hate you.” Baz interrupted, voice small. “It’s,” he took in a deep breath. “It’s complicated.” “So you don’t hate me?” Simon said, and Baz swore he could hear a little smugness in his voice. “Nope.” Baz confirmed, “Quite the opposite actually.” he said, with a nervous laugh. “So..you love me?” Simon said. 

What? There was definitely smugness in his tone now.

“Umm, Well.” Baz began. “I don’t hate you either.” Simon said suddenly. “It’s quite the opposite actually.” he said, and wiggled his eyebrows. Baz tried to look unimpressed, but couldn’t hide his endearment. “So, does that mean…” he leaned in closer, and placed a finger on Simon’s lips. “You wouldn’t mind if I-” They heard a dull thud from outside. “Someone fell from the first floor window onto the pavement.” said Simon, eyes wide and alert. They both turned and faced each other. “Carlson.” they said in unison, and got out of the car, guns and gear all at the ready.

Simon was eclectic. Baz didn’t hate him! He would’ve laughed out loud and jumped around if they weren’t chasing a wanted criminal, who seemed to be getting away. “I’ll go left you go right! We’ll corner him!” Baz yelled and Simon held his hand ups in an ‘ok’ sign.

Simon was still running in the direction the perp did. He finally reached an alley. It was empty. Simon did a full three-sixty, just to make sure. He turned around to leave, when a hand wrapped around his neck from behind and pulled him towards it. “Don’t. Move” the voice said. His breath was musky and slightly rancid. “Let me go!” Simon struggled, and he felt a knife placed under his chin.

Shit. Where was Baz?

Baz ran into an alley, hoping the perp hadn’t escaped. The perp and Simon were both there, which would have been great if he wasn’t holding a knife to Simon’s neck. 

“Come any closer and I’ll kill him!” yelled Carlson, eyes bloodshot and wild. Baz looked at Simon, who looked extremely frightened even though it was obvious he was trying to look brave.

“Let him go and nobody will have to get hurt.” Baz said, as calm as possible, only for the perp to tighten his grip around Simon. Simon on the other hand, seemed to try and signal something to Baz with his eyes. He looked in the direction he was pointing at. A metal pipe, right on top of the trashcan  Snow and the perp were standing next to. 

Baz took in a deep breath.

“I’m dropping my gun! Don’t do anything to harm him!” He gently placed down his gun and stepped closer. He was close, but not close enough. “Don’t move!” yelled Carlson, “Or your friend loses his neck!” Simon winced and Baz gulped.

So many things could go wrong.

“Carlson,” he began, ”What made you want to become a..drug lord?” He had no idea where he was going with this. Simon gave him a classic what the fuck face, and the perp just stared at him blankly.

Well, carpe momentum.

Baz reached for the metal pipe, as fast as he could. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing!” screamed Carlson, but before he could react, Baz swung the pipe as hard as he could, and hit him on the head, knocking him out. Simon quickly grasped the knife from Carlson’s lifeless hand before it could accidentally damage him, and stumbled forward before regaining his balance.

The adrenaline was still coursing through Baz’s veins, and before he knew it he was in front of Simon, pushing him back against the alley wall. “I’m going to kiss you now.” he said, and Simon barely had time to nod his head before Baz’s lips came crashing down on his. It was electric and invigorating, and felt like a thousand jolts of current. Simon’s hands reached up and curled around Baz’s neck, and Baz placed his in Simon’s hair, caressing it as they kissed. Simon tilted his head in an attempt to deepen the kiss, and Baz let him. Baz felt like he was flying, fast and high with no restraint, and he relished it all, the feeling of Snow’s mouth on his and the feel of his hair that felt like starlight on his fingertips.

All too soon the kiss was broken by Simon. “We should probably take him into custody before he wakes up again.” he said, and grinned, causing Baz to smile as well.

“Come on Snow.” he said, as he reached down to pick up Carlson. “The sooner we get home the better.” “Why?” Simon asked, smiling

He knew why.

Baz raised an eyebrow at him. “Let’s get going shall we?” he said, with a crooked smile, and off they went, back to the precinct, and then to Baz’s apartment, and the rest, was history.

A/N (2) : phew. That was a long one! Well I hope you liked whatever this was! And if you can, please let me know what you thought! I'd really appreciate feedback!

-Abby 💕

[themysteriousauthor18]

So I saw this post, and I thought the idea was really cool. Truth be told I am a wee bit uncomfortable with seeing Alastor being sexual, but that's just because I'm somewhere on the asexual spectrum. But that's just my personal opinion, but I do like the idea of regular Angel dropping into an AU were Alastor is a pimp.

I think it be cute and funny to see Angel’s reaction to this version of Alastor.

So being somewhat of a writer I couldn't help myself but try to write a one-shot of this. Hope you'll enjoy it. I don't really know anything else of how Angel got there or what the rest of the word is like in terms of the hotel or anything so, I'm just relying on my own head cannons for that and going off the artwork.

Artist of work above:

@staticapplesin​​ 

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Normally waking up, for Angel Dust, would always involve something that was the cause of disturbing his sleep in the first place. In the past, it had been his regular johns that left or the pain they inflicted on the night prior. But recently it was either Vaggie yelling in the lobby or the princess of hell herself knocking on his door. And sometimes if he was unlucky, it would be Valentino calling.

Those were the wost.

But this morning, when Angel awoke, he heard something he thought he'd never hear.

Silence.

It had taken him a few moments to register that it was in fact quiet in his room. And he assumed that perhaps he'd woken up in the night again and that was the reasoning. But the small bit of hells light peaking through his blinds and into his room suggested otherwise. It was always a little brighter out when it was daylight out in Hell.

His room was still a little dark though because of the blinds. And as Angel sat up he couldn't help but notice another thing.

It smelled weird.

Not weird in the sense that the room was old, hadn't been tended two in who knows how long. Or even that mild odor that always lingered. That would always make Angel's nose scrunch up.

No, it smelled....sweet? Almost like strawberries.

Unable to lay there a minute longer Angel pushed himself up in his bed. Finding that it was more comfortable than usual. Something didn't feel right..something felt, off.

He pressed the ball of his palm to his forehead as he squeezed his eyes shut. Realizing his head did hurt just enough to call it a headache. Was he hungover? A fever dream maybe?

Angel pushed the thought aside, he was too tired for this shit. He needed food at the very least. And if the hotel was quiet? Well, it just meant he could ease this headache away until Vaggie woke up trying to chew his head off.

Pushing off the bed, Angel's feet stepped over anything that could be cluttering the floors per usual. Although nothing did. As he opened the door to his bedroom, allowing the hallway light to fill his room he briefly caught his pig sleeping in his bed in front of his own.

When had he'd bought nuggets that?

Another stray thought to be pushed aside.

With his head hurting too much and his eyes heavy with the aftermath of sleep, he failed to notice the decor and layout of the building he was in. Heading down the hall to the left, he did not come to stairs but just into a decently sized living room.

As he rubbed his eyes, taking in the room he realized this wasn't the hotel.

"Musta ended up at someone's house.." He reasoned himself with. But that didn't explain fat nuggets being in that room. Or the lack therefor of a random john.

He didn't care right now. At the very least he needed coffee. His feet managed to carry him over to the kitchen separated only by the counters. Something that actually looked better than it sounded.

Tired mismatched eyes looked around for the coffee machine. As they landed on the pink and white-colored machine there was a small sticky note attached to the front of it. He leaned in, his squinting at the note to read it.

'Hey, Angie I know you'll be a little tired after last night. Shit was wild! I gotta head out because some of us have boring jobs. But I prepped the coffee just press the button. See you later, have fun. Good luck ;) '

Angel knit his brows at the note. So he was at Cherri's house? That explained things a little better. But he didn't see how her job was boring. The headache was probably due to last night. Whatever had happened.

He looked over the six buttons on the top of the coffee machine. Finally, pressing the 'begin brewing' button, he sighed in relief.

As he leaned against the opposite counter of the coffee machine he crossed his arms. He glanced down at himself briefly, noting he was still in his usual suit. One of which was a little torn in some places. None of them looked to be claw marks though, rather...burn marks.

The spider settled for holding off any questions until he got his caffeine. He closed his eyes once again, ignoring the mild pounding of his head. So much so that he was practically deaf to the footsteps coming near him.

And with the beeping of the coffee machine Angel's eyes jolted open once again. But as his gaze wandered, in the corner of his eye something caught his attention. He turned his head in that direction and immediately stumbled back, falling into the floor.

Out of everything that could ever happen in his afterlife. Seeing the radio demon, standing in front of him in only his boxers was certainly not something he expected.

His face burned with the color red. Okay, this had to be a fever dream now. There was no way Alastor would even come close enough to allowing something like this.

Angel remained on the floor, staring at the redhead. The demon in question only remained leaning his arm on the wall as he looked at Angel as if he were the crazy one.

"I'm surprised to see you up," the demon paused. His eyes tracing up and down Angel's body for a moment. "And fully dressed at that."

His voice...what happened to his voice?! There was no radio filter on it at all. He just sounded, normal. But to Angel, it sounded weird.

A million thoughts raced through Angel's head as he continued to stare at the redhead. The deer demon rolled his eyes pushing off the wall, and as he approached his hand moved prompting Angel to immediately cover his face.

He waited for something, anything. To be punished for whatever he'd done yesterday because dammit he couldn't remember!

But none of that happened.

"Angel darling, what are you doing?" Came Alastor's confused voice. And with the lack of a radio filter, he could actually hear the confusion in it.

Slowly Angel opened an eye, still finding that confused smile. At least he was still smiling, otherwise, he may have lost his sanity entirely. "Come on now, you can’t stay there all day." A laugh escaped him although it hardly sounded like Alastor's laugh. "Unless you'd rather go again?"

Go again? What?

Angel took Alastor's hand, assuming that this was Alastor and Angel hadn't finally gone insane.

With ease, the redhead pulled Angel up. It seemed his physical strength was still there. He watched the redheads eyes scan his body again. When had he ever looked anywhere but his face?

"What are you wearing?" He heard the man ask. Angel wasn't looking at him. He couldn't. "This certainly isn't one of my works. Well, so long as you change once we head to work."

We?

‘My works’?

"I can't have my darling wearing something as hideous as that." Angel huffed, he actually liked his suit. It was one of the first things he'd gotten from Valentino once arriving in hell. Back when the man wasn't using him as a punching bag.

Angel finally chanced a glance at Alastor who was pouring the coffee. The longer Angel stared, the redder his face got. The colors going even as far as the pink on his chest.

He's shirtless. He's pants-less! He's almost fucking naked!

His thoughts ran wild, and when Alastor looked over his shoulder he couldn't help the blood suddenly leaking from his nose. (He has a nose it's just very very tiny and hidden.) He turned away, trying to cover it.

All the while the redhead looked at him, confused but amused all the same.

"You are acting very strange today. I don’t think I’ve seen you that red since our first meeting." He said as he added some milk into Angel's coffee before handing it to the spider.

Still holding his hand over his bleeding nose, Angel took the cup but refused to look anymore at Alastor. He heard the redhead humming in front of him.

"Sorry to leave the bed this morning but you usually take very long to wake up." A low chuckle. "Not that I blame you."

Angel choked on his coffee. His heart was racing in his chest and ears. This wasn't real right? And if it was, what the fuck happened.

"I have to say though--" he heard Alastor beside him suddenly and the soft clank of a coffee cup being placed down. Before he knew it a claw was guiding his chin over to the redheads gaze. The look in his eyes, was that..lust?

"--While waking up to you in clothes is certainly a surprise." He pulled the spiders face closer. "I like you better without them."

Without much of a warning, the deer's lips were pressed hard against his. Angel's eyes grew wide as the gears tried to process it. But when the demon's tongue slipped into his mouth the gears broke.

Angel was stiff against the kiss as Alastor pulled back leaving a red-faced spider. His eyes curiously searched Angel's as he wiped a strain of saliva from Angel's agape mouth.

"Strange, that little trick usually has you back in bed with me for at least another hour." Before Angel could question anything the redhead's hand pulled away, claw lingered there teasingly.

"Well, if you wish to head to work earlier today than that is fine. I do have a few things I need to get done at the studio. Unfortunately, the day after New Year doesn't grant us the day off."

Alastor called, as he walked off towards the room Angel had woken up in. As he nonchalantly disappeared into that room Angel just stared.

He stared as his head pounded in pain at trying to process everything that had just happened.

"What the fuck.."

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I think I'm going to end it there. I honestly don't know what to think when writing pimp Alastor. Also with the morning scene I wasn’t implying that  Angel is dating Alastor but rather (since Alastor is in Valentino’s place) that Alastor fools around with whoever he pleases. This includes Angel Dust. And safe to say it isn't the first time Alastor’s slept with Angel dust in that Au (Again just my personal head cannon.)

There were a few things I had to just guess on, since he's filling in the spot for Valentino I wasn't sure if he had his radio voice anymore. Or his shadows? I knew for a fact that he probably didn't care about walking around in his boxers but I wasn't sure if he had some humility of walking around just newd. Also, I wasn't sure my mild asexual heart could write that and not die with Angel.

Thanks for reading!

[spooks-and-tea]

Entangled (Spencer Reid x femReader)

Summary: You don’t know how it happened. One moment you were watching Criminal Minds, and the next moment you were literally in the show. Can Spencer be the key to helping you find your way back home?

Warnings: minor character death, mentions of su*cide, bad explanations of quantum mechanics, sexual situations, the usual criminal minds-type content

A/N: wow I’ve been on this site for ages, nearly as long as Criminal Minds was on air, lol, but this is my first fic posted here. I plan to make this one into a few parts if people like it. If this has any relation to other fics it’s not intended. Literally just an idea that popped in my brain. I’ll also eventually add it to my wattpad .@ kittentastic

Word Count: 3,119

Chapter 1.  Chapter 2.  Chapter 3.  Chapter 4. Chapter 5.  Chapter 6.  Chapter 7. Chapter 8.  Chapter 9.  Chapter 10.  Chapter 11.

It was an average, lonely, autumn night. Halloween was nearing and you didn't have anywhere to be. Long estranged from the people you once called family, and friends, you were starting a new life in L.A.

Yeah, you were one of those small-town girls with big-city dreams. You wanted to be an actress, a dream your father had once encouraged. When he suddenly died, you had nothing left but a new step-mother who discouraged your dreams and was more than happy to disown you when you reached 18 years of age; a classic Cinderella story.

It had taken a while, getting yourself through university and saving up enough money to move out to L.A. Now you were 27 and living your dreams...partly. You worked at a coffee shop in Hollywood; a great way to meet people that could potentially cast you in a big production, but that plan had yet to come to fruition. Every audition would have someone else in mind for the part.

Today, you had finished yet another round of auditions for everything from small commercial bits to tv shows. You poured yourself a glass of red wine after finishing your microwavable meal-for-one dinner. Wine would always be your go-to drink after your dissappointing days, it was great at helping you sleep. You clicked on the tv and sipped your drink from your criss-crossed sitting position and soon found a Criminal Minds marathon that was just starting. It almost seemed like fate as tomorrow you had an audition lined up for the very same show.

You smiled as the bright, happy, Penelope Garcia came into the shot, followed by the rest of the BAU. You absentmindedly bit your lip as Dr. Spencer Reid came into frame.

Like a large percentage of the show's viewership, you found the handsome genius slipping into one or two of your fantasies. You may have daydreamed about the Dr. being a real person and walking into your workplace to order coffee and whisk you off your feet. You may have also woken up from a few dreams involving the handcuffs he was currently restraining an unsub with.

You wondered if you would get the part. Would it be odd having to pretend this dream-man was real? You'd hope you could contain your blushing around Matthew at least.

You finished your drink and stretched out on the couch, already feeling your eyes growing heavy. You found your mind wandering as you grew more and more tired, hardly paying attention to the episode. The last thought you had before you drifted off was, "what if Spencer Reid was a real person?"

Bright lights of assorted colors and shapes danced behind your tired eyes. You felt a tugging sensation that seemed to pull you from your core. It felt warm and safe, like it wanted to protect you. A hum grew louder and louder in your ear canal, followed by a crackling wind. It was like an electric storm. The smell of coffee and a woodsy vanilla filled whatever place you were in. It was odd, you knew this, but you weren't scared. Something told you this was right. Your body began to rise higher and higher until a loud snap echoed around you, shattering your surroundings.

"Whoa, sleeping on the job now Y/N? Did someone tire you out last night?" A woman's voice broke through the fog as your mind caught up with you.

Wait, am I still dreaming? That voice...it sounds like...

"Pretty Boy, you wanna check her for a pulse?"

And that is definitely...

"I-I don't think that's necessary."

You slowly lifted your head and opened your eyes wide. Your blurred vision slowly grew used to the bright indoor lighting. Your eyes widened as you saw none other than JJ, Morgan, and Reid. Yes, the fictional characters were standing in front of you.

How was this even possible? You had to be dreaming, or maybe you were forgetting and you were at a very strange audition. Yes, that had to be it, logically.

"Good morning Sleeping Beauty. Rough night? I didn't think Reid's Doctor Who nights were that wild, I might have to tag along and chaperone you two next time." Morgan greeted with a teasing smirk.

"How late did you two go for last night?" JJ asked, leaning against the desk that you had been sleeping on, and sipping her coffee.

She directed the question to you, but you didn't remember this dialogue in the audition script. When you didn't answer, Spencer spoke up.

"She texted me when she got home safe at 9:43pm. I made sure she left early as the rain was starting up. Now, of course, she could have stayed up longer, but we continued to exchange texts until she texted me goodnight at 10:15pm."

"Goodnight texts? Remind me and JJ here why you two aren't dating again?" Morgan crossed his arms looking between you and Spencer.

You blinked, taking a chance to finally look around. There were no cameras in sight. Above you was a tiled ceiling with office lighting. No directors or normal-looking crew members were around.

"Matthew?" You asked, directing your question to a stuttering, red-faced Reid.

Everyone turned their attention back to you. Reid, or Matthew, raised his eyebrow at you. And turned to look if anyone was standing behind him that you could be talking to.

"Who is Matthew, Y/N?" He asks, cautiously.

Oh my god. I must be dreaming.

You stood up and slowly reached out to Reid, who was standing closest to you. You gently poked his cheek. He looked almost afraid at your actions.

"Spencer?" You lower your shaky hand. He felt real, he was standing in front of you. You could smell his morning coffee.

"Yeah?"

"Pinch me."

"What? Why?"

"So I know that I'm not dreaming." You could feel his eyes prodding you, profiling.

"Maybe we should get you to a doctor-"

You grabbed his wrist and placed his hand on your upper arm.

"Pinch me. Hard."

Spencer winced as he did what you asked of him. He obviously did not want to hurt you. You felt your nerves fire off in pulses of pain where he pinched. You sharply inhaled and he immediately dropped his hand.

"Oh my god," you stammered, "ohmygodohmygodohmygod."

This is real. Spencer Reid is real.

You slid back down in your chair and looked at an open mouthed JJ and Morgan, staring at you in shock.

"What kind of kinky shit are you two into?" Morgan narrowed his eyes at Reid.

"This is no time for teasing Derek. I think she's suffering from a concussion." JJ reached out, concerned, feeling your forehead for a fever.

"She doesn't have any visible signs of bruising. Y/N do you remember hitting your head on anything, or experiencing whiplash today?" Reid, growing serious turned your chair towards him, raking his fingers through your hair to check your scalp for any tender spots.

For a moment you had to stop yourself from sighing, it just felt nice, and it was Spencer.

"No I'm-I'm fine, my head feels fine." You answered.

"What's the last thing you remember doing?"

You bit your lip, should you answer him truthfully? How would you even explain something so illogical.

"I-I remember. I fell asleep on the couch watching tv." In a different reality.

"Do you think it's possible you rolled off of the couch in your sleep?"

You frowned to yourself.

"It's possible."

It's never happened before, but you suppose it would explain things. This was definitely a hallucination. Maybe it was one of those Spencer-centric dreams.

"Spence, I think you should take Y/N to the hospital. I'll cover for you with Hotch." JJ suggested.

Spencer nodded in agreement while Morgan looked worriedly at you. JJ got up from the desk to seek out Hotch in his office.

"Do you have your keys?" Spencer asked, still looking you over.

"Um-" you checked your pockets and sure enough found a ring of keys in your pants pocket. You dropped them into Spencer's outstretched hand.

"Can you walk?" Spencer's voice went softer.

You shivered as you did whenever you heard that tone on the show. He could make a living doing ASMR with that voice.

You stood with Spencer's unneeded, but much appreciated, help. He seemed to have no problem holding your hands to help you, something you considered to be out of character for the germaphobic Dr. Reid. Then again, the show did not go this long without it's occasional inconsistencies. Was your subconscious hallucination really thinking these things out?

You followed him to the elevator with ease, taking in your surroundings as you went. As the elevator doors closed, Spencer frowned at you once again.

"Your pupils have been dilated since you woke up." He spoke.

Yeah probably because the attractive genius I've been dreaming of for years is vividly realistic and talking to me.

"Is that a sign of head trauma?"

"Actually yes, you could be experiencing a sensitivity to light as a result of your head trauma. If that's the case, then you're in luck because it's been raining all day."

You followed Spencer out to your car, or at least you thought it was your car. You didn't exactly own one before dropping into this hallucination world. You were saving up for one, but didn't really need it as you lived close to your job and took public transit when you needed to go further distances. This car was nice, you supposed the dream BAU job payed well.

Spencer drove you to the hospital and waited in the waiting room as you received a full check up and MRI. You hoped he wasn't too bored waiting. As the doctor returned with your results you asked if Spencer could come in to hear the diagnosis. The doctor asked if he was family and you lied saying he was your fiancé. The doctor really didn't seem to care and Spencer was allowed in. He looked confident, prepared to discuss anything scientific that you may not understand yourself.

"Well Y/N, after reviewing your MRI scans and testing results, I can confidently assure you that you are perfectly healthy. We can order some blood tests for you if you wish, but from the concussion symptoms you thought you had, and from the results I have in front of me, I don't believe they are necessary." The doctor said with a smile, probably just happy to be delivering some good news.

"That can't be right." You shook your head and frowned.

"Y/N was clearly exhibiting fatigue, light sensitivity, memory loss, and confusion at work. If she's not concussed, what is wrong with her?" Spencer asked.

"I'd say your fiancé is simply experiencing the effects of exhaustion and a lack of sleep. My advice? Take her home and let her rest."

Spencer firmly shut his mouth as the doctor said "fiancé."

The doctor turned to you. "If you'd like, I can perscribe you a sleeping sedative."

You shook your head "no." You couldn't believe it; you'd slept at a reasonable hour, and you didn't feel fatigued.

Everything was starting to feel so real. The warmth of Spencer sitting so close to you felt real. The rain that fell on your skin felt real. The medicinal scent of the hospital made your feel sick. You could only think of one final way to try to wake up.

"Spencer can you stop somewhere for me?" You asked as he drove you home.

"Sure."

"Is there a lake near by?"

"Yeah...you don't remember? You've jogged on the trails near it with JJ and Morgan."

"Can you take me there? There's something I need to do."

You were beginning to grow used to the worried look on his face. The way his eyes softened reminded you of a puppy.

Suddenly, a thought occurred to you. If this was a dream concocted by your brain, wouldn't Spencer be a bit more romantic? In your dreams he could range from a hardcore, post-prison, genius, bad boy to a nerdy romantic, but he was always, obviously, interested in you right away. This Spencer seemed to be your friend, just your friend. By now he would've usually confessed his undying love and maybe taken you in the back seat of your car. Yeah, you weren't the most creative person. What kind of dream was this?

You felt a blush coming on as Spencer side-eyed you. Your brain would never torture you with a long-con, would it?

Spencer took you to the lake, walking beside you without a word, most likely thinking you were going crazy and in need of sleep. You walked to the edge of the trail and looked down at the lake. It was a ways down, the point you were standing was more like a cliff. You determined that the water must have been about a 6 second drop down for someone your size

"Y/N, why did you want me to take you out here?" Spencer asked as he eyed the waters below.

You stayed silent as you took a few steps back. You took a deep breath, and before you could second-guess yourself, you ran to the edge of the cliff and jumped.

"Y/N!" Was the last, panicked thing you heard before the body of water came rushing towards you.

Your body submerged in the icy cold water and sunk deep down from the speed at which you fell. All you could hear was the echoing pressure of the water against your eardrums. This was your last resort. You knew if anything could wake you up, it would be this, your biggest fear.

Your father had drowned, he worked on a fisherman's boat and a storm had overturned the ship far out in the ocean. All that had been recovered was assorted pieces of the ship's wreckage. You'd never even had the chance to learn how to swim as the fear had already settled in before your step-mother could arrange lessons.

If you could drown in this confusing dream-world, maybe you would wake up in time for your Criminal Minds audition.

Your lungs protested as you let yourself sink. You closed your eyes and let your muscles relax. Your head screamed at you, telling you that you absolutely should not be doing this. Fear prickled at your skin. Why did this feel like you were actually dying?

A heartbeat later, you heard the water's surface explode above you, but you didn't have the strength to look up. Your brain processed something wrapping around you and tugging you up, but you could not open your eyes to see what it was. You held on to your last bit of consciousness as you breeched the surface of the water and felt the chilly air assault your skin.

Arms pulled you somewhere. Your body was dragged up something solid, the backs of your legs scraped against rocks. It must have been land. Hands applied pressure, pushing like a heartbeat against your center, you could hardly feel it. A hand held your mouth open while another pinched your nose closed. Lips pushed, rushed, against your own as air was forced back into you. The hand left your mouth and returned to pumping.

"Come on. Come back to me Y/N. Please." Pleading followed by more air.

The strange entity repeated the process once more before you felt everything come up, forcing you back to reality.

You coughed and choked up water and bile; the rain washed it all away. Your lungs were aching and your skin was ice cold. The only warmth was what lingered from the person's lips. A hand pat and rubbed your back, helping you cough up everything. When it was all over your whole body was shivering. Your muscles gave out and a pair of arms wrapped around you, holding you up.

"Y/N."

You weakly turned your head.

Spencer. He's still here. He's really here.

He was soaked, hair ringlets stuck to his face, and his eyes were rimmed red. He looked like an angel, hand carved by Michelangelo himself.

Your brain was trying to catch up with his words.

"Y/N, I need to get you back to the car before we both go into hypothermia. Can you walk?" He asked through chattering teeth.

Your throat was killing you, so you opted for just shaking your head "no" in response.

"I'll have to carry you then, okay?"

You nodded, doubtful he could, especially in his weakened state.

He stood, grabbing his bearings before scooping you up. You weakly held his neck and lay your head on his shoulder. Your pain was numbed, you knew, from the biting cold.

Spencer managed to carry you all the way back to the car, placing you gently in the backseat and turning the heat all the way up. He climbed in the backseat with you and began to remove his jacket and tie.

"We have to remove our clothes, they're soaking wet and we have to warm up. Do you need me to help you undress?" There was no hint of teasing or slyness in Spencer's voice. He was completely serious and you knew he was right.

"I-I can't. Everything is numb." You managed to croak out, wincing at the pain it brought your throat.

"Alright, um- I'll only remove your shirt and pants."

You nodded, weakly.

Spencer removed his own shirt before carefully lifting yours over your head. He made sure to keep his eyes on your face as much as possible and not linger his gaze anywhere else. Next he removed your shoes, socks, and peeled your pants down your legs. You managed to arch your back slightly to help him. Lastly, he removed his own pants and threw all the clothes in a pile on the floor of you car.

"I'm going to hold you now, if that's alright. We need each other's body heat." Spencer looked less confident now. You managed to nod a "yes."

If you weren't so close to death, you knew your brain would be shorting out at the thought of being held by a half-naked, and very real, Spencer Reid.

He helped you lay down across the seats and settled in next to you. He wrapped his arms around you and rubbed his hands along your shoulders and back in an effort to warm you and massage your tensed muscles.

A few minutes of this went by before you could finally move. You wrapped your arms around Spencer, holding him close as his body warmed your own, and you cried against his chest.

One thought repeated over and over again in your head.

This is real.

You worked for the BAU and Spencer Reid had just saved your life. 

Next Chapter

[footprintsinthesxnd]

Fever Dreams

So here’s my first Uhtred x Reader fix. I hope you guys enjoy it. My requests are still open so if any of you have some story ideas let me know. 😊

Pairings: Uhtred x Reader

Prompt: fever dreams

Warnings: smut, swearing

Your Lord was sick. He was very sick. Ever since he had met Skade his strength had dwindled. He was no longer Uhtred of Bebbanburg, the Dane Slayer, the infamous warrior. He was weak and he was dying. You had been travelling for a while when Uhtred suddenly collapsed, falling from his horse into the snow. You and Finan had rushed to his aid in a attempt to get him back onto his horse but it was no use. That was how you ended up here. Sat in the woods, huddled around a fire, waiting for Uhtred to pass into the next life. “He is not longed for this world.” Osferth said, returning from where he had been trying to feed Uhtred some broth. “He is no longer himself. He sees things.” “He sees someone.” Skade interrupted, from where she was sat tied up by a tree. “Who the hell gave you permission to speak.” You stood up, a marching angrily towards her drawing your sword. “If it wasn’t for you none of this would have happened. I should kill you now and be done with it!” You lunged are her but someone caught your arm, pulling you round towards them. “Let me go.” You snarled. “(Y/n) I can’t let ya do this. You know what the curse says. Ya can’t kill her like this, not now. What happens if she is the only reason Uhtred is still alive? What then? Your not going to sacrifice him like that. I know ya won’t.” “I wouldn’t be so sure.” I said, lunging toward Skade again but Finan once again held you back. “I know ya hurting (y/n) alright. Ya love him I understand but I won’t let you do this.” You froze as soon as he mentioned love. Yes you loved Uhtred with all your heart but you would never admit your feelings for him. He was a warrior and he had been with many women whilst you knew him. Not once were you one of those women. He never saw you like that. You were just like any other member of the group. One of the lads. You were never going to be a lady to any of them and so you excepted this. But it hurt. A lot. As a young girl you had the dream all young women have, that one day you would find the man of your dreams and settle down and have a family. This was not your path. When your village was massacred by Danes you went to Winchester for safety that’s were you met Uhtred and his men. You begged them to let you join them, saying you wanted to learn how to defend yourself. After that you fought many battles with them and fell deeper in love each day with their fearsome leader. Which is how you ended up in your current situation freezing in the woods waiting for the man you loved to die because of some witch. Finan steered you back towards the campfire, seating you between Osferth and himself. “Come on (y/n), have a drink.” Finan said, handing you a cup of ale. “Thanks,” you mumbled.

A few hours passed in comfortable silence around the fire, when Uhtred began to stir. You were the first to hear him, sitting bolt upright and staring across the clearing. “Uhtred,” you whispered, rising from your seat to sit by his side.You took his hand into ours. It was cold and clammy, sweat beading on his forehead. “(Y/n),” he grumbled, looking at you through half closed eyes. “It’s alright Uhtred. I’m here. I’ve got you.” “Don’t go (y/n).” He struggled against the furs he was under. “NO DON’T TAKE HER. NO STOP PLEASE (Y/N)!” He screamed. “Uhtred please,” you whimpered. Finan and the others had joined you now. “(Y/n) what’s happening?” Finan asked, concern evident on his face. “I don’t know it’s like he isn’t here.” “He’s having a fever dream,” Sihtric said, “I’ve seen many warriors suffer from it. The fever burns them out and they begin to hallucinate. What he’s seeing isn’t real, but it is to him.” “How do we stop it?” Osferth chimed in. “You can’t. You just have to wait.” You sighed, defeated. Uhtred began to stir again. “Please don’t hurt her. I love her. Take me not her. Please not (y/n). Not her.” Everyone turned towards you. “Did I hear that right?” Finan asked, confused. “He loves her.” Osferth repeated. “He loves you (y/n).” “No he doesn’t. He can’t. Not me. It’s never me.” You stood up, defiantly. “Don’t repeat what you’ve just heard. Like Sihtric said it’s a fever dream it’s not real.” “(Y/n)!” Finan called to you but you had already made your way back to your tent. Butterflies danced in your stomach as you were filled with hope that what he said was true. Did he really love you?

Within a few weeks Uhtred was back to his normal self, seeming completely unaware of what he had said while he was sick. He treated you like he always did, joking with you like he did with the rest of his men. It was what you were used to and yet it broke your heart even more. That night had given you a small glimmer of hope and yet life had snatched it away from you. Your friends knew this and tried to cheer you up as much as they could, up to their normal antics. You no longer cared for their games though and spent much of the time by yourself down by the river. It was peaceful there. The clear water lapping rhythmically at the bank, in time with your heart beat. You stayed there every day for, dawn til dusk before you headed back to your home. Uhtred had noticed this change in you and mentioned it to Finan one evening. Finan, knowing that you couldn’t stand much more heartache, played ignorant to the situation and Uhtred dropped the subject. Until a few days later when you were bathing down at the river. You had gotten up early and gone down to your usual spot by the river. No one would be around at this time so you stripped off your clothes, leaving them on the bank before climbing into the cool water. Although freezing, swimming in the river made you feel alive, it brightened your spirit and you loved it. Plunging your head under the water, you come up taking a deep breath and pushing your blonde hair out of your eyes. When you opened them, to your horror, you come face to face with Uhtred.

“Good morning (y/n),” Uhtred smiles at you cheerfully. He was sat on the low hanging tree across the river, legs swinging. “Uhtred... I... what are you...” you fumble for your words trying to cover yourself with your hands. “I just thought you might want some company.” He winked at you cheekily. You sighed, “Uhtred please just leave me alone. I’m trying to bathe.” You turned away from him going back to washing yourself. “I know. I also know that you have been avoiding me like the plague and as this is where you’ve been spending most of your time I thought I’d come and see you.” “Uhtred...” “What’s wrong (y/n)? Why are you avoiding me? What did I do wrong?” “Nothing you didn’t do anything wrong. Just… just go Uhtred. Leave me.” There was silence behind you for a moment before you heard the rustle of clothes. You could hear gentle splash of water. You didn’t dare look round. You couldn’t. You couldn’t face him. “(Y/n) please,” his voice was soft and comforting, something you usually sort. “Hey look at me.” Soft hands caressed your shoulders and you sighed, enjoying his touch. “Please,” he begged, taking a few deep breaths you turned round to face him. “Your so beautiful.” He smiled, gently running a wet thumb over your cheek. You closed your eyes, savouring the moment. His fingers began to run down your neck, dancing along your collar bone. “Uhtred,” you whimpered. “Don’t resist it (y/n) I know how much you want this. I want this too.”He smiled at you then. “I want you.” That was the last straw. You grabbed him, looping your arms around his neck, pulling at his hair. His strong hands found their way to your waist, lifting you up so you could wrap you legs around his toned, muscular body. “I love you (y/n),” Uhtred whispered. He looked vulnerable for the first time since you had met him. Stroking his cheek lovingly you put your lips next to his ear, causing him to shiver.“I love you too.” After that it became a frenzy of hands and kisses. Before you knew it you were led on the bank, your cloak underneath you and Uhtred on top of you. This had happened in all your fantasies but you still couldn’t believe this was happening. Uhtred wanted you. You wanted Uhtred. “Uhtred please,” you begged as he began kissing down your neck, nipping at your ear lobe. “Please.” You began grinding your hips against his, trying to create some friction.

He groaned like a wild animal, biting down harshly on your neck. “Don’t tease me (y/n). I don’t know wether I can control myself for much longer.” He whispered, looking at you with eyes full of love.“Oh Uhtred I don’t want you to control yourself. I want you buried deep inside me. Filling me with your seed.” Uhtred need not be told twice, he gripped your hips harshly, pulling you further underneath him. His finger slipped between your legs.“God your already so wet for me love.” He praised. He began pumping his finger inside you, creating friction. You moaned softly as he added another finger, stretching you. “Uhtred. Uhtred please...” you begged. “Please what (y/n) I need you to say it.” He grinned up at you. “I...I...oh... I...shit.” You sighed, unable to form a sentence. “Tell me what you need.” “Fuck me! Fuck me Uhtred!” You all but screamed. “That’s my girl.” Uhtred praised, kissing down your neck. He lined himself up to you, gripping his thick cock between his fingers. “This might sting a little.” He warned, “ if you want me to stop just tell me ok?” “Ok.” You nodded, to say you were nervous was an understatement but you had wanted this for so long you weren’t about to pull away now. Uhtred gave you a tender kiss as he pushed into you. His cock stretched you, causing you to wince. A single tear ran down your cheek. Once he was completely inside you he stopped. “(Y/n) are you ok?” Uhtred asked, concern evident on his face. “I’m ok just... just give me a second.” Uhtred hovered over you, placing gentle kisses along your collar bone. You could feel a tingling sensation in your stomach and you felt restless. “Uhtred please...please move.” At that Uhtred pulled out of you before pushing back into you slowly. The pace was excruciating but he soon picked it up and was slamming into you. Panting and moaning surrounded you, as the coil in your abdomen began to tighten. You scrapped your nails down Uhtred’s hard, muscular back. Groaning, Uhtred bit down on your neck sending shock waves through your body. “Ah...ah...Uhtred.” You whimpered, his pace relentless. You were panting, gasping as you gripped hold of his shoulders trying to anchor yourself. You felt Uhtred’s hand drift from your hips down your thigh before reaching between your legs. He pressed firmly at your bundle of nerves and you shouted his name. “Gods yes (y/n)” Uhtred continued to pound into you. He lifted one of your legs up over his shoulder so he could reach a different angle. “I can’t hold on much longer.” You cried. “It’s alright my love. You can let go. Let go for me (y/n).” With that the coil unravelled and you came shouting his name. After a few more thrusts Uhtred came with a roar, spilling his seed inside of you. You lay on the bank, trying to catch your breath. Uhtred kissed you softly, before pulling out. You could feel his seed running down your leg and were left feeling empty without him. “Gods (y/n) that was... it was...” “Amazing.” You breathed. “...something else.” He finished, “I’ve never been with a women like that before.” You looked at him puzzled. “Your not a v...” “No I’m not a virgin.” He laughed. “No I mean I’ve never been with someone like you. You are perfect (y/n). I don’t know why it took so long for me to admit it but you are.” He pulled you close to him, kissing you. “Well if I’m so perfect.” You grinned, biting your lip. “Then what would you say to round 2?” Uhtred grinned, “it’s like you read my mind.” He pulled you in for another passionate kiss and it was at that point you knew you weren’t getting any sleep that night.

Tags: @sihtric @beowulfsdottir @maggiescarborough @rileybots @finantheagile @bonaofsavoy @geekandbooknerd @lauwrite1225

[heli0s-writes]

As it Was II: His Girl

Summary: You haven’t always been his girl. Pairing: Steve x Reader, Bucky x Reader A/N: ANGST! Thank you for all the feedback and love! As it Was will be a 3 part series. Part 2 is told from Bucky’s perspective. See you next time for Part 3 :)

It’s always relief that washes over him first when he pulls into the road, seeing the house the same as when he left. The pinwheels, the mailbox, the swing you shove him into even though you know he doesn’t fit.

His playful girl with a stubborn streak.

It’s been two weeks without his girl and his home. He’s been on longer missions, but two weeks is two weeks too long, just as they all are.

The second emotion he feels is anticipation. Excitement for the embrace he’ll give and receive. The kisses, the fingers through his hair, the knowledge that you will be rushing downstairs and into his arms.

Sundown arrives late in the evening when summertime’s daylight spans nearly fifteen hours in the heat of June. The meadow buzzes alive in the breeze, ruffling winged insects through the tufts of wild grass and blown dandelions. His boots tread through the path, startling the idyllic soil beneath them.

There are no footsteps to herald his return, today; Bucky comes home to your back in front of the kitchen window. The door creaks open as he steps in, duffel bag in tow. He always imagines he would surprise you after these long trips, but that damn door and its loud hinges will never allow him the chance.

“Darlin’?” He calls, pushing it shut gently with his foot, “You alright?”

You turn, chin tucked into the hollow space of your collarbone and shoulder. The loosened braid of your hair sways over your spine, saffron half-wilted blossoms of Black-Eyed Susans gazing at him sadly.

The setting sun scatters against the window, streams through those sheer embroidered curtains you love so much, even though he says baby, they don’t do anything. His stubborn girl scoffs and fluffs then anyway.

He’s glad for those useless curtains now as the light illuminates your side profile. The corona of your shape from across the house makes him sigh in wonder.

His girl, wrapped in floating cream gauze. His girl, standing by the sink with oranges. His girl, soft and beautiful and bright, waiting for him.

You haven’t always been soft.

You haven’t always been his girl.

He knows something is wrong when you remain immobile, clutching the edge of the counter, abandoned cup of hand-squeezed juice and the carcasses of two halves next to the reamer.

“Honey? I’m coming over to you. Stay right there.”

You collapse in his arms before he gets the chance to lock them around. You smell crisp and clean, just a little briny with sweat from time spent outside. The jars on the counter and table are full again, this time accented with plucked sprigs of lavender and a small cattail from the pond.

“Oh, Buck,” You press your face into his shoulder, scrubbing your brow on the rough fabric of his jacket, “I love you.”

“Love you too.” He pauses, fingers prodding lightly over your body, searching for some physical aspect that might explain your ailment. Nothing. You hold tighter to him, letting your weight press down, and he supports you easily, nose rubbing the exposed skin of your neck.

“Where’s our little guy?”

“He’s sleeping. He chased ducks and then they chased him. Planted completely in mud. Bath time was… exhausting.”

Both of you chuckle at that. Little James, that precious boy had a rowdy streak in him, always too eager to rile something up— sometimes even his mother.

The laughter subsides as he continues to rub your back, waiting patiently for the other shoe to drop. Your heartache seeps into him, dampens his eyes and mouth, licking its way into his belly.

This happens, sometimes, because it’s bound to. The grief comes and goes, and when it arrives hard and grim, he cradles you in his arms regardless of how much he wishes his love is enough to keep you happy.

Today seems to be one of those days.

And it’s because you haven’t always been his girl.

He used to worry himself to sleep, straining to see your outline in the deep darkness of the bedroom. The house, sheltered by tree and leaves, lies so far away from the city that on a moonless night, he felt lost in a sea of ink.

The house once belonged to someone else. His place in the bed, too. The impression of a body larger than him, grander than him, a body you loved more than him. It would cradle him in its unsympathetic crease, and he would lie awake, listen to your deep breaths, soothe your nightmare sobbing, call your name when you would stutter Steve.

Steve. Steve. Steve.

The shadow that had hung over you both.

Steve was always ‘til the end of the line, until he wasn’t.

He wasn’t for Bucky, and he wasn’t for you.

Bucky had come back into the world five years later, found you and Steve elbow deep in the trenches of alien bodies and death—watched a love that had bloomed so fully continue to thrive, and it gave him hope.

Hope for himself, hope for the next day. Until it just… wasn’t.

Steve left Bucky, and Steve left you.

The cabin that evening had been illuminated by a single campfire in the front yard. The smell of burning objects and scorched kindling coaxed him forward. In front of the blaze, you stood, hair fixed into a tight knot. That shaved side he always liked glowed orange and red diagonal lines.

You knew, of course, way before he even arrived. You were always the quickest of them— alert, perched, could give Clint’s arrows a run for his money.

Hey.

He had never heard that gravel in your voice before.

In the flames were photographs, corners eaten away and twisted with heat until they turned black. Clothes, bed sheets, books, even the sketchbook— that old, leather-bound thing Steve always kept close to his chest. You had thrown them all in.

Wanna roast some marshmallows? Let’s get fat on sugar and chocolate. The world is safe.

A spark crackled in the fire the same time your voice did, but Bucky closed his eyes. Let you regain your composure because he knew you wouldn’t have wanted him to see you cry. Your voice was strained, full of resentment.

Everyone’s gone back to where they should be.

He smiled, lopsided and broken.

Not me. I’m here eatin’ marshmallows with you.

And then, joylessly, you had pointed to the dwindling pile of Steve’s fossils strewn about.

Throw some shit in. It feels good.

Your hand links itself inside of his as you tug him out of the kitchen and towards the living room couch. You place the glass into his palm, watch him drink the juice and kiss the corner of his mouth where a droplet remains. He loves it when you’re sweet, told you once it’s his favorite thing about you—that you can rot his teeth and hurt his stomach and he’ll still come back for seconds.

Thirds. Fourths. You scoffed, fixed on the anecdote of food, your appetite will bankrupt us.

He agreed then, kept the joke running.

“What is it?” Bucky’s hand finds your jaw, lifts it gently until he can see your eyes crawling with veins and lined in red, puffed, swollen. Crying again. “What is it, hon?”

Since James, you’ve started crying a million times more than he ever thought a person could—when he gets a fever, you cry. When he falls, you cry. He thinks it’s ridiculous, that you—his girl who can stab a man better even than he can—that when James cries, you cry. Darling, he is two and he will cry because a leaf dropped.

But you haven’t cried like this in months, almost a year—not like this, not split open and prolonged.

Bucky heart swells with dread when he thinks about why your face is raw with rubbing. “Is it?”

“Yeah.” You mutter, “Steve… he’s back. Stopped by earlier.”

His tongue feels like lead, sinking into his throat to strangle him. He hadn’t heard Steve’s name from your mouth in almost a year. The world had turned and turned without Steve Rogers, and when it seemed like both of you might have finally let go of the ghost, he comes back.

Where does Bucky start?

His girl, burrowed into his chest, tucked away in his arms, hides her face now. His girl, will she still be his girl?

It was only a few years ago that a new love sprung from the ashes of a dying one. And the corpse had lived a long life, full of memories that haunted you both. Bucky and Steve had quite a long life together, too.

He clutches tighter, rubs his arms up and down yours, squeezes like he is hoping you might just sink into his chest. Stay safe inside of him where the pain can’t find you anymore.

“Can we go to bed?” You sob suddenly, shaking in his hold, “Please let’s go to bed.”

He hated that bed for so long.

You used to lie in it for days at a time. He would come by and you would be upstairs in the loft on your side and staring out the window. Hey, Buck. The whole house smelled like earth and salt, as if you had flooded the wood with tears and it was still drying out.

Have you eaten? Have you slept? Have you done anything?

You only laughed dryly and burrowed deeper into the brand-new sheets, like everything else that used to be shared between two people. Do what? Go where? Sleep to dream of him? No, thank you.

Bucky had stomped downstairs, rummaged through the cabinets, found the half open bag of marshmallows from three weeks ago- stale and slightly stiff, and shoved handfuls of it into your mouth. You said we’d get fat on sugar. You better fucking eat this.

When both your cheeks were full and the sad tears turned into happy ones, he sat back with his arms crossed at the edge of the bed and huffed. And you’d spit the enormous, drenched, sticky pile out down your shirt and held your head in both your hands. I’m so fucked, Bucky. I’m screwed. I’m fucking screwed.

He didn’t know what you meant, because he was grieving too, but that string of panicked statements rang a thought more desperate than any he could have. Bucky didn’t feel fucked without Steve. Bucky felt… discarded. He felt… abandoned, forgotten, small. But he didn’t feel fucked.

It took two more visits, two more weeks, and an extraordinarily rainy night before you told him the truth.

There was shattered glass against the wall and your body slumped down on the opposite side of the kitchen. There was wracked sobbing, fingernails digging into your scalp and shoulder until he peeled them away pricked in red. Two months had passed, and you were pregnant. Did Steve know? Did you tell him? He would have stayed, if he knew.

Bucky had suddenly grown hopeful for a past that already passed. Steve would have stayed. Did the chance slip from you, to tell him? Did you know too late?

I had just found out. But then he told me his news first and … fuck him. Fuck him for leaving. Why would I tell him? So he could stay for a clump of cells and not me? So he could love an obligation and pine for a ghost? Fuck him.

And then suddenly, the clawing resumed, and Bucky wrestled to keep your hands away from your body, wrapping his legs over yours, holding you tight until your squirming died. He pressed his chin to the top of your head, gripped your back to his chest, and you both rocked on the floor. It’s gonna be okay. I got you. I’m here with you.

It rained the night you told him. It rained again when the boy arrived.

Nine months you carried him inside of you, hated him, hated his father, hated yourself.

Helen came to the cabin, because you couldn’t be bothered to leave. You were happy to die in labor, you had said with a grin. Bucky stood by her side, mouth set in a firm line and told you to shut the fuck up.

At that, you genuinely laughed so hard you had to cover your entire face with your hands and when you pulled them away, suddenly, Bucky thought that the glow some women get when they’re pregnant must have been twice as true for you.

The boy came with a clap of thunder.

Bucky had known carnage, but the birth was terrible and horrific and when you went pale with the loss, he swore that if you got what you wanted, he would die with you. Helen yelled at him to get the water, get the rags, and the bucket, and the needle. Wash the boy, wrap him, hustle, Sergeant!

The bundle thrust into his arms was softer than sand, wetter than water, crimson and sluiced with blood. Two blue eyes gleamed out of the swath of blanket and even though people say newborns are beautiful, he could only see a red and angry thing, tearing the life from you with the eyes of his old best friend.

Now his old best friend has returned for his old girl and his new baby boy.

And Bucky’s girl is still in his arms, pleading for him to let her rest.

“Okay, darlin’, let me clean up first. I’ll tuck you in.”

You grip his collar and tangle your hands in his hair, clambering to get into his lap. The skirt of your dress folds over all four entwined legs and you suddenly press your mouth to his in a blistering kiss.

“Let’s make a baby,” you sob distraughtly. “W-we… I-I want to make a baby with you, Bucky.”

He quiets your rambling, stills his own heartbreak for the sake of attending to yours, and returns your fever with softness.

“We’ve got one, hon’. He’s in bed.” He presses his forehead against yours and smiles, tries to make it look real so that you believe him, “Baby, we got a boy and he’s wonderful, even if he makes his mama chase him through mud.”

He loves that boy. He loves him like his own flesh and blood, and he’ll be damned if Steve thinks he can take him away.

Upstairs, a whine signals your attention, followed by a sound of choked crying before the wail of your son breaks loose. “C’mon,” Bucky urges.

He climbs slowly, waiting for you each step of the way. You linger, feet heavy along with your heart. By the time you make it through the doorway, Bucky already has James in his arms, rubbing his back, humming to him.

The boy fists Bucky’s hair, squeezing a handful in pulses, blubbering and singing a tuneless song. “Daddy’s home. Daddy, daddy. Sunnyshine outside.”

Bucky laughs, “James, it’s nighttime.” He kisses the top of James’ head anyway, “Can’t blame you, though, you’re too small to see out the window. We gotta teach you how to tell time.”

“Time t’ play?”

“No… time to go back to sleep.” Then, Bucky puts his head on top of James’ and pretends to snore loudly, the sound vibrating from his chest and into those golden locks. A shrill giggle escapes him and he pulls away just to come back and press his cheeks to his father’s face.

Bucky walks over to where you stand with your eyes pressed to the heel of your palms and tilts James up to your face. “Mama’s tired too, let’s all go to bed, yeah?”

Blessedly, the boy relents. He reaches over almost teetering out of Bucky’s arms and pulls on the thumb by your ear. “Night mama, love you.”

 On the edge of the bed, the old imprint has been pressed out. Bucky takes off his shoes, stretches his back and motions for you to come next to him. He kisses your fingertips and brushes the hair from your face, combs out the wilted wildflowers and you lean into his touch.

It’s been silent since James fell asleep. He can hear crickets and cicadas outside the window, woodland creatures coming alive in the twilight.

He watches the way your lips bend and fold inside your mouth to keep yourself locked away.

Sometimes your love is hidden inside a puzzle his hands are too clumsy to place together. There are pieces missing, he thinks, but still, he tries. Sometimes you blissfully help him with the task and sometimes you’re away from the table.

Tonight, you’re far from him. Lost somewhere in the memory and possibility of two hands many times more delicate than his.

Steve. Steve. Steve.

And he wonders if your heart will ever beat his name like that old rhythm it had known so well.

Your weight dips the mattress, and you lean your head onto his shoulder. “I love you.”

He hears it, but he never really hears it.

Not in the way it used to leave your tongue. Stevie, I love you. You giant idiot! You meatball, Steve! Full of ringing laughter right before you would crush your mouth to his, tug him by the collar into the dark of Cap’s compound bedroom.

The only flames Bucky knew were shared in moments of desperation, when the pain was too much and the fire was necessary.

James tucked into his crib, you crumpled on the floor. Bucky would sit by your side night after night, as he had been doing for the last thirteen months. It was dark, then, not even illuminated by a moonbeam.

You held on to his shirt, pushed him down, pressed both your hands to his neck and whispered. Thank you. Thank you. I love you. I love you.

The first kiss shared was wet and salty, tears slipping into the space between two open mouths. Teeth clicked, nails scratched, and you wouldn’t even let him pull away enough to ask if you were sure about it.

He knew you were beautiful. Seen it for years and years. But when you slipped off the shirt from your shoulders, the moon seemed to shine right out from your skin.

He worried himself to sleep next to you that night.

 “What do you want to do?” He asks now, pushing his fear away, “I’m here for you, whatever you want. Whatever is best.”

Your chin jabs his shoulder, “You are best. You are best for me, and James, and Bucky—d--” Tears roll down your cheeks, plop big, wet, crystal balls onto his arm. “Don’t you dare.”

For the second time that night, you crawl into his lap, straddle his waist, and his breath is punched out of his lungs in awe of your beauty. “I love you, idiot. Don’t ever say that to me again.”

“Alright, sweetheart,” he mumbles against your mouth, “I won’t.”

The flame burns tonight. You undress him with deft fingers, yanking his clothes, hissing when he pulls away to peel the shirt off— as if not touching him pains you. The dress stays on your waist, rucked up, its straps tugged down and the top pulled open to expose your chest—soft, heaving with love and agony.

Bucky. Bucky. I love you. I love you. I love you so much.

Desperate, again.

He’s not sure if you’re convincing him or yourself.

You tug his hair, grip his chest and back, kiss him until his head spins. The bed creaks softly, as if it doesn’t want to interrupt the sounds that your bodies create together.

He makes love to you, and even though he is bone tired from the mission and the drive, he doesn’t feel it until you tremble in his arms and slump against his chest. He doesn’t attend to himself until you’re underneath the covers, breathing deeply.

Then, Bucky lies down too, runs his hand through his hair and sobs into that inky night.

“Bucky?”

His heart stops beating in his chest. He’s frozen and caught.

You turn on your side, hand finding his damp cheek with some difficulty in the dark. “Baby,” you sigh, “Oh, Bucky...” A loud sniffle, a choke, and then your nose rubs against his. Your lips pat his tears away, kitten licks over the line of his sharp jaw.

“You’ve always been so good to me, baby. Always so good.”

 He’s heard those words before from your lips, after the boy came with the rain. Your eyes had fluttered and closed as Helen leaned against the doorframe, tearing off her gloves.

She’s okay, Sergeant. She’s just resting. You should, too.

He refused her, watched the baby in the makeshift bassinet as Helen unpacked her overnight bag in the guest room. He wiped your forehead with a damp towel, listened to the rain crash against the window, and sat down in the chair.

The room was a closed chamber trapping in the smell of wet pennies and sweat. He tugged the windowpane open and placed towels on the floor to catch the downpour. You woke with a yelp, jerked awake by thunder and a streak of lightning. It was only for a second, but Bucky held onto your hand, let you slip back to sleep.

Helen roused you both in the morning, let you hold the baby, taught you how to turn him on his stomach, how to settle him down, how to nurse. Bucky had stood up, ready to dismiss himself before he caught your wide eyes, terrified of the life in your arms.

He stayed as Helen guided your hand to massage the boy’s cheek. Little fists clenched the slipped-off hem of your shirt, his mouth opened, and you cried when he latched on.

The rain had subsided in the late hours of the night and the sun was rising high, streaming luminously into the loft. Helen moved to draw the curtains and give you some reprieve from the rays, but Bucky stopped her; you needed the sun and its warmth.

She nodded and agreed, and he slowly went to the bed and kneeled, looking up into your red eyes soaking your face.

Hey. He had smiled, wiping the trickling streams, Look. He nodded to the illuminated window, bent finger stroking the boy wrapped in cloth. No more rain, darlin’, it’s sunny out.

Outside was gold. Like the boy’s head. And you thought, like Bucky’s heart.

You’re so good to me. You cried, even though he quietly asked you to stop, because if you didn’t, he would start, too. You’ve always been so good to me.

Nine agonizing months and Bucky Barnes had been your rock and center and lighthouse in the dark.

Bucky, I love you.

It was a sunny morning when he wept and held his little family in his arms.

Next 

[suffering-and-happy-about-it]

Gasoline (Favored Ones, Part 20.)

Series description: Many things were surely fucked up in the year 2038, but no-one ever told anyone how all of it went down. What happened before a group of people left for Seattle to handle personal matters? Why did one girl refuse to leave all of it be? And why there were so many dead in the end?

Quote for the chapter:  “And I heard, as it were, the noise of thunder. One of the four beasts saying, 'Come and see.' and I saw, and behold a white horse.” - Johnny Cash

Part summary: When you arrived to Seattle, it was becoming more and more apparent that the things won’t go as planned at all. Especially when you had Tommy slipping between your fingers.

A/N: So, we’re slowly getting to the more important stuff. How you guys feel about it? 

Warnings: Mentions of blood, torture, killing, infected, mentions of WLF, angst, arguments, cuss words. 

Word count: 6.7K

Tagging: @nemodoren @xxgoldenhour @missdictatorme​​ @peakymarvels​​ @davnwillcome​ @pickleriiick​ @jodiereedus22​ @gladiosamicitias​ @tamkashi​ @eternallyvenus​ @avengerssstuff​ @fangirl-inthe-us​ @avery-miller​ @mikah-writes​ @mad-hatter-98​ @sadiaafrin99​ @flavorishy​ @mr-robot-x​

Series master list: H E R E

Joel Miller’s playlist for the bonfire occasions: H E R E

Youtube playlists: JACKSON DAYS | SEATTLE DAYS

Seattle, day first - morning:

The journey to Seattle wasn't as long as you expected it to be. It was barely two days on horseback - if you wouldn't get lost so much. Ellie proclaimed herself the leader of your group and well, it was what it was, he sense for orientation was bat shit bad. You've spent five days in total on the road - and given that you had to hunt and prepare some safe sleeping places, you were quite quick for a group of four people. Hunting was usually Joel and Ellie's thing - he was good with the bow, which you knew perfectly and Ellie learned how to hunt during a winter when she was with Joel.

Joel was a man of many secrets and some wild past, you've known that, but you thought that maybe, Joel just taught the girl how to hunt. Neither of them told you otherwise - that Joel was in pain, high fever with his hip drilled through with iron support protruding out of the ground. You didn't know many things, in fact - you still didn't have an idea that Ellie is immune to the Cordyceps fungus. Sure, you knew all about the chemical burn, tattoo, and once, when she was drunk, she told you about how Joel had to lead her to the Fireflies through half of the United States. Why? She didn't tell you. She just mentioned she was supposed to die there because of some vaccine - you didn't know for what. Sure, logically, you knew that shes talking about the fungus infection, but you never thought about it that much.

You've never asked her. Maybe it was some different decease? Maybe not? But you've never asked her about fungus and infected.

Anyway, while Joel and Ellie set on an evening hunt every day once you found a good spot, you and Dina made sure to check the spot for supplies, to secure the place, take care of the horses and to prepare the sleeping area. Against your wildest expectations, it was quite nice to have them around. You meant such close people whom you saw as members of your family. The old man and Ellie got along pretty well in the end - as far as it came to work and surviving, Joel and Ellie were an excellent team. While these two were the main characters of your group, you and Dina tended to stay put and to follow instructions these two gave you. Sure, you two were enough of a pain in the asses and characters as well, but there wasn't any need for you to express so far.

Nighttime patrols were sure a necessity - so you made pairs. Usually, you had the first patrol with Ellie to check on the surroundings, on which you played card games, and told each other dumb jokes, and Joel with Dina took your place shortly after midnight. So far, it didn't even seem like a revenge trip - it was more of a family-only secluded trip. But as soon as you saw the first cars on 99 leading in the direction of Seattle, you realized how close to the city you were.

What if the WLFs won't be there anymore? What if you'd come late? What if they will be there and you'll find them? How could you be sure that you'll find every person who was at the Baldwin mansion? How long will it take? And how high was the probability of all of you surviving? With a sigh, you tightened your arms around Joel's waist gently, leaning your cheek to his back as you watched the woods and wildlife around you.

"You good?" - Joel asked, quickly glancing at you over the shoulder. You picked your head up, looking at the highway in front of you.

"Yea, I'm fine. I'm just a bit tired, I guess. Hadn't slept much last night." - And it was true - you couldn't fall asleep properly because of the storm raging outside. Bolts of lightning were flashing behind the windows, thunders were shaking the ground and even if you were safe inside the sleeping bag, laying just a few meters from the fireplace, you couldn't fall asleep for shit. Dina, on the other hand, slept on the other side like a newborn baby with a small grin on her face.

"Some nightmares? Your leg? What's goin' on?" - Joel asked and you caught Joel's side tightly when Sadie jumped off of a small edge. While you had this serious conversation, Dina and Ellie were grinning and snickering as they rode at least ten meters in front of you. You grinned at Joel's caring mood, shaking your head after a small moment. - "Hey, you can tell me, you know that, rite?" - The man asked you after a moment of silence.

Sure, you could tell him that the proximity of the city is what is making you nervous, but all you'd get back is a question 'Are you sure that you wanna do this, baby girl?'. And with that, you didn't want to be bothered with. You could describe him the wild dreams you were having about Abby and the other WLFs and how much it was intensifying in the last few days as Seattle got closer. But Tommy was out there. Sure, Joel would agree to turn Sadie back to Jackson, but... His brother was in Washington city. Somewhere out there, alone and possibly dead or taken captive. Joel would go back for you, but you'd tear him apart if you'd make him choose between you and Tommy. At this moment, it was less complicated, because you wanted to find and save Tommy.

"Maybe I would sleep better if you'd come and cuddle me tonight, just a bit, huh?" - You grinned, running your tongue along your lips as you straightened, putting your chin on his shoulder as you watched the profile of his face while Joel kept his eyes on the road. But he let the rein go with one palm to smooth your thigh. And you'd be lying if you'd be telling that your sensitive spot didn't throb at that bit of human contact.

"That's exactly why we don't have patrols together, baby girl." - The man said and put his hand back on Sadie's rein, making her fasten up a bit. At that, you scoffed, mumbling a quiet 'funny'.

"Hey, let's turn to the woods here. Seems like a road and we'll see when it takes us, what do you say?" - Ellie cried in your direction suddenly. The man turned your horse to follow Shimmer and the girls. Both horses needed some rest as soon as possible - the road was long and tricky at times, plus they had to carry two people and their stuff on their back, so the poor animals were tired enough already. The whole group hoped that as soon as you'll ride into the town, there won't be such big need to use the horseback - and you'd be extremely lucky, you'd find some refuge to hide at, where you could make the animals rest a bit as well.

Yet instead of the city, everything you've been greeted with when you arrived in front of the entering Seattle, was a long wide wall with white graffiti on it, saying 'WLF - trespassers killed on sight'. Well, that was great. Joel stopped your horse next to Shimmer, looking at Ellie, who's eyes were already flying all over the place as she looked for a back door.

"Okay, okay. I see something. So, Joel, will you come with me? Y/N and Dina can search through the buildings here and take care of the horses while we figure it out." - The girl asked everyone. Dina opened up her mouth with a furrow, getting ready to oppose Ellie, so you spoke out before the girl. - "Great plan. You two take care of the passage, we'll look around." - You agreed with the girl, already jumping off Sadie's back. Slowly, you petted her neck and took the reins from Joel, watching the man getting down as well.

"You two be careful." - Dina sighed, smoothing Ellie's shoulder before taking Shimmer away as well. You did exactly what you told them you'll be doing. Neither of you could see the man or Ellie, but you still could hear them bickering, so you knew they're alright. Dina seemed to be the ideal person for you to confess about your fears. Joel would turn the house around in instant, Ellie would rant about the whole revenge thing. - "Spill the tea, honey. I know something's bothering you ever since you got up." - The girl asked you as she went through some unlocked wardrobes, taking a look at old work overalls.

"This will sound weird," - "Babe, you've already told me a shit ton of weird stuff and now, when I would be worried about you if you wouldn't be scared, ou think you're too weird?" - The girl answered as you went through some old WLF documents scattered around the tables.

"The closer to Abby we get, the more my heart wants to see Abby suffer, I can't sleep, all I think about is her. I want her to hurt the way I did. But my head... I think this is all a bad idea." - A whisper left you as you watched Ellie climb on the upper side of the gate, Joel being under her to catch her is shed be falling. They were still bickering and yelling stuff at one another, so you knew they're just fine.

"Do you want to kill all of them, or..." - Dina whispered, turning her face at you. But to your surprise, you shook your head almost immediately. You didn't want to kill anyone. Sure, your own goal was to find Abby, clip her wings, and to do her the same shit she has done to you, make her realize that you'll kill her if she comes for Joel... But you didn't want to kill her. What would be the purpose of that? You could make her realize that she should stay the fuck away from Jackson without having her blood on your hands. Unfortunately, Tommy was apparently on the other side of the spectrum. And Ellie was too. Yet Dina seemed to be getting uncomfortable with the topic. - "Y/N... Listen. I know you were a Firefly earlier and that they haven't sent you out, I know you killed only infected... But behind this gate, some bad people won't spare a single second with thinking about shooting at you. I don't want to be an asshole and even if your willingness to spare Abby's life is admirable, but if things go to shit... And they will go to shit... You will have to kill someone."

Dina slowly walked to you, licked her lips as her palms gently smoothed your shoulders. Honestly, killing someone wasn't the first thing that came to your mind when Ellie said We are going to Seattle. It made sense - Seattle was most likely inhabited by various groups and clans, cannibals, and hunters. All you could see was Owen, the woman, and her friends. Those were the people you wanted to see suffer, not killed, but suffering for sure. Yet the reality found its way to you rather quickly as the realization came suddenly.

Given how you reacted to the first kill, could you overcome the feeling of being sick of yourself? In the exact moment when you watched the arrow driving through the man's neck, you thought of yourself as of something else. Not someone, but something. You were disgusting, you weren't a human being if you could consciously kill another man, right? But Seattle was full of worse people than the group you've met near Jackson in summer.

"Listen, I know it's making you feel bad, but... Once you'll get into the adrenaline rush and when you realize that it's either you or them, you'll be fighting for your life as a true survivor. I am sure of it. They should be terrified of you." - The girl hugged you and closed her eyes for a moment, and after that, you left to search the other building. It didn't take you a long time before finding a piece of paper full of codes. - "Well, look at this beauty. You think it can help us?" - You asked Dina, showing her the paper - and just at the moment, you heard Ellie yelling something about code from the other side. As you yelled some numbers back at her, Joel and Dina got the horses ready, making sure you'll get them on the other side too. It was just a small moment when the gate got opened and you had run for it because the gate almost pinched you in.

"That was quite something. Everyone alright?" - Ellie asked, getting Dina a quick hug. It was weirdly terrifying watching you almost getting crushed by a gate. After checking on missing or hurt limbs, you continued your journey further into the city - and it didn't take too long before you stopped in front of another gate. Ellie got to the work immediately - you had the codes, you had a generator... Which didn't have fuel inside - the tank was emptied clean.

"Hey, guys?" - You asked and walked to a tear in the wall, leading into a big plain of green grass, collapsed buildings, and highways. Dina looked at a cupola in the distance, widening her eyes in realization. She pulled out a piece of paper, making you look at it. The paper was talking about some big operation WLFs got going on, about a name named Isaac and... Gas inside a courthouse and some dome. And the dome you were looking at at the moment. And... Then Dina pulled out a map you didn't even know she took somewhere in the process.

"What do you have here, girls?" - Joel asked and stepped next to you - Ellie was still thinking about the empty tank while you two were whispering something, trying to estimate the proximity of the things you were seeing to figure out on which street the dome was located on. And so far, you'd say you and Dina had some good estimations. - "I think we just found ourselves some gas..." - Dina snickered victoriously, waving the map in the air. - "But just from looking at the place, there's a lot of locations to scavage through, I would say." - You whispered, looking at the sights around you. There was a building which looked like... Some fancy one, a few stores, and a big truck in the water which caught your interest. - "We better split now to cover the area quicker."

Everyone gathered around you - and it was officially the first time since the trip started you got to plan something out. - "There's written we are searching for... Serevina Base, which should be... The hotel over there, right?" - You asked them, pointing the pen in its direction to ensure yourself. Ellie nodded quickly. - "But the generator is out, so we need to look for gas. Which should be in the Fedra thing just across the plain," - You pointed your hand in the direction. - "Or inside the dome there. Let's say that each group will take one of the spots and look around them. We'll let our horses out on plain sight in case one of us would get lost. If you do, search for the animal. When we'll be done, well gather around here and see what we'll have, and thing of a different plan. And if we wouldn't get back around dusk, the other group goes to look for them. Huh. Look at me planning." - You grinned at Dina, who just nodded. This was quite impressive - Ellie didn't understand half of what you've said, but Dina and Joel did.

"The game plan will be as follows - Ellie and I will look around the dome, you guys will go for the Fedra base and to the left side of the perimeter, 'kay? If anything goes bad or worse than that, leave the place be and run away. If everything goes well, we should meet halfway in the plain. I'll bring the map with me and we'll mark every usable place we can scavage later, okay?" - You asked everyone in the end, having the whole group nodding. Suddenly, you understood why Jesse was always giving you these speeches before you rode on a patrol. It felt good to hype the whole group up.

Just when you were getting Joel's stuff out of Sadie's saddleback, the man approached you. - "You should do this more often, girl. You're a natural." - He smiled gently, catching your palm in his to hold it for a small while. And you just stood next to him and moved your thumb on his. - "Be safe out there, 'kay?" - Joel asked you, leaning his forehead to yours, closing his eyes for a small moment. - "Make sure Dina won't get hurt and come back." - A whisper left your lips before you pecked his lips, giving him the revolver ammo you were searching for. After that, you hopped on Sadie's back, offering your hand to Ellie. As expected, she hopped on behind you and caught your waist, jolting around before she found the right spot to sit at.

"Is your ass settled, princess?" - A tease came out of you as you jumped to the grass, riding in the direction of the dome. The girl only chuckled, looking around after that.

"It's nice out here, I have to say." - Ellie admitted after a second of watching the wind playing with the grass. You could see a few hinds in the back with a big, strong deer and birds flying above your head. If something, Seattle looked spectacular in the sunlight, especially when the sky was almost cloudless.

"It's something different than Salt Lake and Jackson. Nice change of view." - You agreed, having Ellie humming at your response. Oh, shit, there you go - Ellie sure as her way about to ask some weird fucking questions and you didn't know if you're ready for any of them. - "He's too old for this shit, you know that?" - The girl sighed and leaned her chin into your shoulder.

Of course, you did realize that. Joel wasn't the youngest, that was the way things were. You didn't know what lays in front of you, what to expect of what's going to happen in Seattle. What if you'd have to run for your life? What if you'll have to walk steep hills on foot? Jumping from building to building? Jesus, you stopped your train of thoughts, what am I thinking about? Joel Miller had probably better physical conditions than you, except for some scars and sometimes jolting knees. You kinda forgot about how dangerous can he be since you've started seeing each other - but now, you hoped that all the stories Tommy and Ellie told you were true. He could suffocate a man with his forearm even in his early fifties and that was a thing you shouldn't forget at any time.

"I've never met any guy that would be at least half the tough as Joel is. I mean, maybe not even Tommy matches Joel's level and he had some wild stuff, I tell you that. I'll take care of the old-timer, I swear." - There was this unsettling quiet moment you and Ellie shared when you just trotted towards the building. The city was empty, almost wiped clean. Which was unsettling a bit. You'd expect way more cars in the downtown, maybe some signs of residency, anything... But it looked empty.

"I know... But it still weirds me the fuck out, dude. I won't be pretending I'm okay with this." - Ellie spoke out of the blue, making you freak out a bit. You were riding in the street leading between high glass-concrete buildings, so the only things you could hear were the wind howling and Sadie's stomping. Ellie straightened for a second, laughing at your reaction. - "Jesus, sorry for that."

"You think I'm okay with you and Dina? I mean, no offense, but I'm used to seeing her with Jesse. You two hit it off so suddenly, like, dude, I know you liked her for the longest time possible, but..." - "I see what you're talking about. I guess we'll just agree that were both a bit grossed out, but we're happy that the other one's happy, deal?" - Ellie asked when you turned right and rode in front of the tall dome - and to your surprise, it was a court.

"I think that makes the case rested." - You turned your head to Ellie with one of your eyebrows arched - but the girl didn't get the joke at all. So you threw your hand in the court's direction, having her gasp for air in realization. - "That was a poor one, babe." - Ellie snorted. Both of you jumped off Sadie's back, tying her rein to a nearby lamp to make sure she's visible if Dina and Joel were trying to find you. As a treat, you gave the animal an apple you've carried with you since Jackson and petted her nose before walking back to Ellie. - "And you fucking love the poor jokes I make, angel, so keep the whines to yourself." - "So you don't want to hear any of them?" - The redhaired girl teased you back and you laughed out loud, saying something similar to 'you're fucking gross'.

As you approached the building, you both started to get more and more serious. - "The place is probably filled with infected." - You said what you both had on your mind. Ellie spared you a quick look and tried to open up the door for you, but it was barricaded from the inside. - "Hey, ma'am, don't be scared. We're going to slay it, as we always do." - Your best friend chanted with a total dingus. After that, she slammed the door with her shoulder for the second time, massaging the shoulder afterward. - "We'll have to circle the building, see if there's any other way to get in. I mean, these fuckers got in, we can get in." - Ellie offered you a high-five and you did accept it.

You did find another entrance to the building, through an old window that could be opened up. At that moment, you weren't even nervous. It was a known fact that you and Ellie go on that patrols together because of various reasons - one being you couldn't shoot from a gun and a second one being Ellie clumsy with Clickers.

"See a few of 'em." - Ellie whispered to the vile silence. It wasn't exactly silence - it was inhuman silence filled with cries and clicking of the infected in the building. The good news were that you didn't hear low grunting of a Bloater or a Shambler, so this was a two-man job with which you could get over with pretty quick. - "You wanna do Clickers or Runners first? We have a plan B?" - She asked. You nodded, pointing at a plastic bomb in the pocket of you back. Slowly, you slid the knife out, listening to the sounds of clicking getting closer, and closer to you.

"There's our number one." - You grinned at Ellie and moved around the place. Safety first - Ellie loaded her gun and you did your best not to make too much sound. Clickers had a hearing three times better than a human, true, but it applied only if they were clicking in your direction - and as soon as you were hidden behind something, they knew shit - which resulted in the bitch laying on the ground in the next moment as you felt its blood soaking through your pants. You stopped for a second and watched a crying runner standing just feet from you. As soon as Ellie made sure it didn't see you, she jumped on its back and pushed her dagger into its throat.

Slowly, you maneuvred through the rooms, searching for supplies in the process, killing every infected on sight. True trouble started when you found yourself in the entering hall which had around four infected there. Ellie made sure that her gun is loaded and palmed a brick while you kneeled, slowly taking a bomb and a lighter out of your pocket. For a moment, you watched each other before Ellie threw the brick onto a nearby wall, distracting the infected with inspecting the sound. When you lit up the fuse, you counted to four and threw the bomb in there as well, turning away from the massacre.

When you looked on the spot after the great boom, the walls were burned and painted with blood and parts of the bodies. - "Yuck." - You grunted, looking at Ellie who was waiting if there won't be another infected in the area. But it was looking clear. - "Your bombs never stop to make mesmerized. She offered you another high-five and you accepted.

You, my friend, were looking disgusting. You've come from the patrols in a worse state, sure, but you always grinned when you saw blood on your jeans. How comes that someone like Joel or Tommy rarely got dirty? The must've been using some fucking magic. Your best friend didn't care about her appearance at all, she was looking around. - "Can't see any gas here, but the elevator shaft looks promising." - Ellie sighed and smoothed her cheek with the back of her hand, accidentally rubbing blood all over her damn face. At that, you let a sighed and motioned for her to go first.

"Looks alright down here, come... Oh, fuck!" - The girl cried out and you could hear first gunshots. Seriously, you had never got anywhere as quickly as at that moment. Without waiting around, you took the knife out, getting a runner off of Ellie. When that was over, you got out your gun which you rarely used, loaded it, and tried to hit at least something around you. It was a miracle you both got out of it alive, but the adrenaline rush made you look around with fear. You were still triggering the gun to fire, but the magazine was already empty. Which made Ellie giggle as she leaned her palms to her thighs while watching you.

"Good job, we're clear." - Ellie grinned, making you finally pull the trigger down. You kneeled as well, taking in a deep breath as you started to laugh too. This was a close call and the adrenaline inside your veins hit its all-time top, so as your brain relaxed, you were laughing like crazy. - "I thought you didn't know how to use a damn gun." - Ellie wondered and helped you on your feet.

"I never said I could use it either." - You bickered back, looking around. It was an old garage under the court, the whole place was dark and hard to orientate in, so you both lit up your flashes.

"This was fucking badass, babe. You'll be better than all of us one day... And... Look at this beauty." - The girl put her palms on her hips, smiling at the sight of a gas tank. There was a small red barrel for it too, which was just perfect.

"Go on, give it a whirl. I would prefer to leave this fucking place." - A sight left you as you put the gun back into the holder, making sure it's secured there. With a childish grin, Ellie picked up the small barrel and put it under the pipe, turned the lever, and... - "It's fucking empty." - She sighed, cursing under her breath. Well, that was a bummer.

"Let's hope that Joel and Dina find some. Come on, we can at least scavage a few stores on the way back." - You smiled at the girl, patting her shoulder. As you said, so you did. And you were quite okay with what you've found - enough stuff to make some more bombs, Molotoves, two cards which Ellie was collecting, ammo and some food. Those were good finds.

A few hours later, you met up with Joel and Dina again to share the finds and the intel. To your luck, Dina managed to find some gas in something called a synagogue while the old man securing the perimeter - and they also found a nearby used fireplace possibly used by Tommy. And they found some food and stuff as well. With the fuel, the generator was running in no time and you continued your journey to the Serevina base. You were moving forward slowly and with hesitations, having your eyes opened all the time in search of the WLFs. But the place was just full of supplies, dead bodies, and infected. And as you progressed thought the building, you only found more of these. Until you bumped into that room.

When Dina saw it, she covered her mouth and ran into the corridor to vomit, you stood there in shock, Ellie widened her eyes - just Joel kept his cool as he walked around the crime scene. There were two dead people, both tied up, one of them laid on the ground in gallons of blood, and the other one was tied to a chair on wheels. Whoever did this to them, he had to have a strong stomach and a strong hatred in him.

"Shit." - Dina muffled when she walked back into the room, cleaning her lips and mouth up with the back of her palm. - "The fuck happened here?" - She asked the same question you had on your mind. Ellie and Joel exchanged knowing looks before splitting to look at both the bodies.

"Tommy did this." - The redhead muttered and touched the face of the wheelchair man. Dina shook her head, walking closer to the body to look at it as well. - "This? No way." - The girl insisted. The man was crouching above the other body, watching it with his dark eyes. Ellie took in a small breath. Both the girls spared you a look as you walked forward. You did the same thing as Ellie - your thumb and index finger circled around the swollen jaw covered in old blood as you looked at the contours of his face, taking in every small detail your eyes were able to recognize. After a moment, you let his face go, looking away from everyone. A scoff you let out made Joel turn at you. He knew damn well this was his baby brother's handwork.

"It was definitely him." - You nodded to yourself, putting a hand in front of your lips. - "This is one of the ones that were in Baldwin when it happened." - You nodded, looking back at the people around you.

"And this one, kiddo?" - A raspy question made you aware that Joel is standing just a foot away from you, pointing at the body laid down in the blood. Slowly, you walked to the man, even crouching to take in his face. But soon, you just shook your head. -  "I don't recognize him. What the fuck was Tommy doing here?" - You asked the man. But Ellie was the first one to speak.

"He was using them against each other." - "How?" - Dina asked and looked at the bodies once more. With that, Ellie looked at the man who was now smoothing your back, ready to explain every small detail to you and her girlfriend. She pointed her palm at the body which was laid down. - "Joel told me about this. You ask this guy a question, but you don't make him say it, you make him write it down. Then you ask the other guy. And if the facts match, they're telling the truth. And if not..." - "You fuck 'em up." - Dina finished and Ellie hummed quietly.

Joel knew this method? This gruesome, brutal method? Was he using it on someone? As the man felt your shoulders tense up, he looked at the emotionless expression in your face and he stepped aside immediately, letting him have your own space. Jesus, how much you didn't know about him? Sure, he was a smuggler and he fucked up a few people here and there, what you've heard from Ellie's stories - but until that point, you thought he done it for the sake of her well-being. Guess what. You were wrong.

There was this strange, vile persona inside of Joel the whole time he was by your side - and even though you knew that, it took you by a surprise. How much he had done? How much pain did he cause? What other methods of brutal torturing did Joel know? And the worst thing you realized was that once you'll leave Seattle - you be the same as him. Your stomach was slowly turning upside down.

"This just happened, guys. He can't be far off. Come on." - Dina tried to cheer everyone up, yet it was met with a wall of blank stares. She nodded, again, and everyone got out of the room. You were completely lost in your thoughts as the others were doing the job - Joel's palm in front of your face woke you up from the trance and you hopped behind him. And he knew something's off when you didn't catch his waist.

"Girls, wait for us back there, alrite?" - Joel called out. With that, both of them nodded. Ellie and Dina were shaken as well, but you were looking lifeless, confused, and disgusted. The man breathed out and lowered his head, waiting for you to say something. A word. A cuss. Anything.

"You ain't good, don't tell me you are." - The man warned you just when you were about to ask him why you're not riding forward. - "It's disgusting and I know that, 'kay? But... I swear you don't have to be afraid of me." - Joel whispered, but truth be told, he was too afraid to look at you. At that remark, you scoffed ironically.

"Is this what you call 'I was struggling with surviving for a long time'? Listen, I knew you killed people before, I knew you stole shit from them, smuggled things for the Fireflies and survived a lot of stuff... But... Joel..." - You hopped off the horse again, walking around to somehow gather the shit together before speaking. Your lungs were begging for breath as it got shallow. Ellie watched you with worries in her face, but Dina made the girl turn away. - "It must've been hard for you. And I get it. But this shit? You were doing this... This fuckery to other people?" - You pointed back to Serevina. The man took in a deep breath. He was nervous as fuck - you could tell because his eyes were lingering all around except your face as his fingers played with Sadie's rein. When he was about to say your name to calm you down, you widened your eyes to stop him.

"No. You answer this question. Did you do things like that to other people?" - You asked again, still pointing to the hotel. Slowly, the man gulped and nodded. An unbelievable laugh left your throat. - "Did you do worse than this?" - And again, the man had nodded. Joel started to move his tongue inside his mouth uncomfortably, which made you aware of what he was going through inside. - "And did you ever, at least once, planned on telling me what you've done to others?" - With that, only the hollowing of the wind could be heard. After a moment, the answer was clear. Joel didn't even think of telling you.

Honestly, why should he? He told you he had done some terrible things in the past and you told him you'll not leave his side nonetheless. You told him you didn't care about that. But obviously, as soon as you saw first hints of Joel's true persona, you were starting to back off. Should Joel be wondering why? No. Not at all. It was understandable. But it was still hurting him.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Joel. This is some heavy stuff I should've at least had a hint about, don't you think?" - You asked, running your tongue on your lips.

"I told you what I am. You didn't listen to it if you ask me, girl." - Joel got off the horse too to remind you who was the man of the situation. He was also trying to make you back off with his hight and his eyes... These were as dark as an iron-colored sky.

"Am I the one who fucked up people to shreds? Who beaten them until they lost consciousness? Do I look like someone who killed another human person for the sake of business? Huh?" - You answered. Just when the man inhaled loudly, Dina jumped between you, pushing herself in between.

"I know... That this is a private matter of trust... But... Can you leave it for once we find some refuge? You can argue all you want there. Let's just... Go now." - She asked both of you. It took you a moment to calm down enough to hop on Sadie behind Joel, but you didn't catch his waist nonetheless. As you were thinking about what just happened, a loud bang sounded through the street.

You barely knew what was happening - in the pressure, you caught Joel's waist as he lost control over the horse. You couldn't hear anything and you screamed as Sadie ran into a shop window, breaking it apart. The horse was dead in the next minute, throwing you both on the ground under it. It was hard to realize what happened as you felt the warm blood under you as you fainted.

The road just blew up.

[princesskokichi]

kokichi meeting a mermaid s/o

all i used to write was fantasy aus a long time ago, so i got a little bit excited oops

i haven’t written fantasy in such a long time, it’s just romance nowadays - mod kokichi

- alright, to be fair

- this was not / his / world

- he didn't know where he was, but this wasn't his world

- when he was by the sea, playing in the sand as if he was a child

- he knew that something was off, even from the moment he woke up

- and then he met you by the sea, a timid and almost strange person

- you must've been swimming for a long time because he hadn't seen you on the beach at all

- even though the beach is completely empty today, for some reason

- you rose up out of the water, your legs dripping water for a few seconds, before they were perfectly dry

- he was a little confused at how your skin was so dry even though you just got out of the water

- perhaps you had waterproof sunscreen with a lot oil that just slicks off water, but you didn't look oily

- and you were wearing a whole formal outfit, including a satchel

- before he realized it, you two were making eye contact

- and then you rushed back into the water, as if you were supposed to be out of it at all

- but,, while he was staring at where you disappeared, a large tail broke the water surface as whatever animal with it pushed itself deeper into the sea

- that was,, weird

- no matter how weird it was, it wasn't the weirdest thing he saw today

- his phone wasn't working at all, and he couldn't contact shuichi or kaede

- and he swore, he SWORE he saw a large bird flying across his window

- but it wasn't a bird,, it just had the wings of a bird

- it was a person

- or a person with the wings of a bird

- so you running into the water in full apparel  was not at all the weirdest thing he witnessed today

- kokichi was a little upset, because he and his friends had made plans to play at the beach today before school starts back up the next day

- ten minutes later, while he was fuming that no one shwed up, you arrived out of the water again

- your skin repelled the water as before, and your hair was dry before you even reached him

- oh god, he was going to have to talk to you, wasn't he ?

- s / o : " hello ? who are you, and why are you dressed weirdly ? "

- kokichi scoffed. you just met him and you were saying he was dressed weirdly ? look at your own outfit, god

-kokichi : " i'm dressed in my swim suit. what are you dressed in ? "

- s / o : " my marriage clothes. "

- kokichi : " you're getting married ? then why are you at the beach and not the church ? "

- s / o : " church ? what would i have to do with the church ? "

- kokichi : " most people in japan get married at the church, duh. "

- s / o : " japan ? is that your tribe ? "

- kokichi : " its our country ?? where are you from ?? "

- you sat down beside him, looking at his little sand castle

- s / o : " i don't know where you're from, but this is ******. "

- kokichi : " oh. i'm pretty sure this is japan, but okay. "

- s / o : " here, i'll prove it to you. "

- fumbling around, you pulled a paper from the satchel you wore

- opening it up, he noticed that it was a bounty for a person

- s / o : " see ? some witch named kokichi is wanted for murder, here in ******. "

- kokichi : " huh,, that's,, uh, that's wild. what are they wanted for ? "

- s / o : " no idea. i just know the government wants them. "

- you stared at the picture, and then back up at kokichi

- s / o : " hey, you kinda look like them,, "

- kokichi : " oh, so i do. "

- s / o : " so, traveller from this " japan " that you speak of, what's your name ? what are you doing here ? "

- kokichi : " haha i don't think my name is very relevant. "

- he was very confused, please pardon him being so awkward

- he's been a part of weird situations, but this ?

- alright, this was teetering over the edge of what he knew and how to deal with it

- s / o : " then what are you doing here ? "

- kokichi : " i had a beach date with my friends. but i don't think that's going to happen very much anymore. "

- this kind of talk lasted for about twenty minutes ( i'm running rather long with my words so i gotta shorten the scenes a little )

- did you know that kokichi was the same witch as on the wanted poster ? yes

- did you particularly care ? no, not really. he seemed harmless.

- you two talked about a lot of things, even your marriage you ran away from

- you were a captive for a very long time, and were forced to marry someone you just met

- of course, you managed to escape, but when you came to the surface, you thought kokichi was there to catch you, so you ran away again, watching from the ocean

- midway into your story, kokichi spoke up

- kokichi : " speaking  of,, isn't it a little hard to breathe in the water ? "

- s / o : " why would it be hard ? can't you breathe in the water ? "

- kokichi : " i could, but only once. and then i'd never do it again. "

- s / o : " oh. i can breathe all the time in the water. air and water feel very different in my lungs though, so it's a little weird for the change sometimes. "

- kokichi : " why ? "

- s / o : " what do you mean, why ? "

- kokichi : " why can you breathe underwater ? "

- s / o : " uhm, to foreigners,, i think,, i think the word is, uhm, mermaid ? is that the word ? in my tribe, i was called a siamese fighting fish, or just the word betta. "

- kokichi : " oh. a mermaid. makes sense. "

- s / o : " what a strange reaction. have you never seen a mermaid ? "

- kokichi : " we don't have mermaids where i come from. "

- s / o : " we don't have you where i come from, either. but i don't react strangely to you. "

- kokichi : " you said i was dressed weirdly. "

- s / o : " oh, so i did. nevermind then. tell me more about japan. "

- kokichi spoke about japan, about the people there and the way of life. the good food ( although he tried to stay away from the whole concept of sushi, for your sake ). how school sucks sometimes, but you learn a lot so  you deal with it. how the park looks so pretty at night. pretty much everything.

- in the end, you decided to follow in his footsteps

- s / o : " can i accompany you ? to japan ? "

- kokichi : " i'm sure you could, uh, but why would you ? "

- s / o : " well, i'm the only one left alive in my tribe. if i come back to the ocean, i'll just get kidnapped over and over again. "

- kokichi : " why don't you just go to another ocean ? "

- s / o : " it doesn't work like that, dummy. "

- kokichi : " well SORRY for suggesting something, geez. "

- you laughed, standing up

- s / o : " alright, it's decided. take me back to japan with you. "

- kokichi : " i'm going to be pretty honest with you right now. i have no idea how to do that. i woke up today and was in your country. "

- s / o : " oh, so that's why you're considered a witch, kokichi. you're not from here. "

- kokichi : " so it may be. "

- s / o : " i would suppose,, you just go back to bed ? and then when you wake up, you could be in japan. "

- after agreeing with your terms, he took you to his little apartment

- you fell asleep in his bed, wearing his clothes, completely unaware that that was not the norm in japan

- but, you weren't in japan, so there wouldn't be much of a problem there, would it ?

- except his face was / very / red, which you thought meant he was getting sick

- eventually, you two somehow fell asleep,,,

- , , , , ,

- he woke up to the sound of his phone buzzing loudly, charged on his bedside table

- he reached his hand to grab it, but before he could, he accidentally smacked something in the face

- holy shit, that wasn't a fever dream

- kokichi : " huh ? s / o ? you're still here ? "

- he shook you a little bit, to wake you up.

- s / o : " if you shake me one more time i will personally send rain your way for fifteen years. "

- kokichi : " alright, sorry, geez. "

- did he,,

- did he just bring a mermaid from a different world to japan ?

- he looked at you as if you were the most amazing thing in his life

- no one was ever going to believe this one.

[riverboundao3ff]

Riverbound, Chapter 16

You are THE GUARDIAN and it is currently Sad Bitch Hours.

It’s not like you were expecting Zebruh to do a complete one-eighty, see the light, and join the rebellion, but you definitely weren’t counting on him trying to lock you in one of his rooms and almost give you a concussion in the process. Granted, you could have easily just zapped out, but still. Why wouldn’t he just listen?

Your arms hurt where his claws pierced your skin. With your luck they’d be infected by morning, if not sooner.

“You okay, robobuddy?”

Mallek’s striking blue eyes are soft and full of concern when you look up at him, and it fills you with guilt. This guy threw hands with an indigoblood for you and he’s asking if you’re okay?

“... Yeah. Just tired.” You lean against him, ignoring the drying salt on your face from your tears. “He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

“Nah. Just a little scratched up.”

You nod.

“No concussion?”

“I don’t think so.”

A loud whoop pulls you from your pity party and back into the real world, and you look up to see Diemen Xicali waving at you from down the sidewalk. Leaning on him is the little kid, looking a bit shocked by everything that had just happened but thankfully much less injured than two nights ago. Zebruh must have let her use a medicalizer to heal her broken leg; her calf is still bruised up but she’s putting weight on it. By her side is some kind of oversized rodent lusus.

“Guys that was crazy!” he shouts joyfully, hauling the poor kid with him as he makes his way over to you and Mallek. You two meet him halfway with the rest of the group close behind.

“He didn’t hurt you, did he?” Mallek demands.

“Not really. He just… wouldn’t let us leave. Said that we owed him for letting us take shelter at his hive. Also, his lusus is frickin’ terrifying,” Diemen complains. He hisses under his breath, which surprises you because you’ve never, ever heard him make a noise like that before.  “If I ever see him again it’ll be too soon.”

The girl is staring at you in the way little kids like to stare at things, so you smile and do your best to appear as non-threatening as possible. You’re a mess from getting roughed up by Zebruh, but Daraya is still holding her new black eye from getting kicked by a pissed-off horse lusus, so at least you’re not alone.

“And alien! I can’t believe you’re alive! I’d give you a hug, but…” Diemen pats the kid’s shoulder and shrugs.

“Don’t even worry about it. I missed you too, dude,” you tell him warmly. Man, the look on his face when you two saw each other in Zebruh’s living room was priceless. Luckily, Zebruh had been way too distracted by ranting about some new rustblood singer to notice you desperately signaling him to stay quiet, or else you would have totally blown your cover.

The rodent lusus squeaks, looking up to the girl, who startles and then nods. “T-Thanks for saving us.

“I was glad to. We all are,” you promise.

“As long as I never have to get kicked in the fucking face again,” Daraya mutters.

Lanque scoffs. “At least you didn’t get bucked off and thrown clear across the hive.”

“Oh, shut up--”

“Anyways,” you say loudly, “Good job tonight, everybody.”

“Would have been better if I got to rip Codakk’s bulge off and shove it down his THROAT,” Konyyl growls.

“Kinky,” Azdaja says. Tyzias snorts and Stelsa smacks her shoulder in disgust.

“Guys, there’s a kid present,” you remind them patiently before turning back to Diemen. “Let’s go get oblong meat products sometime, okay?”

“You bet!”

Mallek ends up going with him and the kid to make sure they get back to their neighborhood in one piece, and Konyyl and Azdaja split off after making you promise them you’ll be around for flavordisk dinner next wipe. Polypa does the same; apparently Tegiri texted her with an urgent request to come to his hive immediately. Knowing ‘Giri, the poor guy probably finished another sad-ass anime and needed somebody to help pick out a new series to watch.

The teals walk you and the jades as far as the city limits before turning back to go to class. Apparently, this was one lecture they all really wanted to attend because it has something to do with the history of several legislations passed concerning the limited income provided for lowbloods, specifically up to the olive caste.

“The more we know about systemic oppression, the more we can do to fight it,” Tyzias growls determinedly. “I’ll tell you later how many controversial questions I got to ask before I get kicked out of the class group chat.”

“That’s kind of badass,” Daraya says with a small smile.

“You’re risking your marks, babe,” Stelsa frets. “I mean, it’s admirable, I just worry.”

“My marks will survive. All that extra credit I did is gonna save my ass, don’t worry,” Tyzias assures her. Stelsa seems pacified for the time being, but as soon as her back is turned Tyzias winks at Daraya before strolling off with her matesprit and Tagora.

Daraya’s face flushes jade until her entire face is dark, much to your delight.

As soon as your other friends are out of earshot Lanque is on her like fleas on a stray dog. “My, my, Daraya, are you feeling well? Your face is so green!”

“I’ll teleport us back to the caverns so Lanque can take your temperature,” you jump in, smacking the backside of your hand to her forehead as if feeling for a fever. “You’re not nauseous or anything, right? No loss of appetite?”

Daraya smacks your hand away with a snarl and stomps off to the cavern trail, making Lanque laugh so loud it echoes off the mountainside.

You grin and chase after the younger jadeblood, coming up on her left side. “Come on, dude, tell me how it's going! Have you told her yet?”

“Shut up! No, not yet, I haven’t-- it’s gonna happen, Bombyx, don’t give me that look! We’re just… busy right now! I’m a leader!” Daraya hisses, trying and failing to squirm away from you and Lanque.

“Exactly why you should tell her as soon as possible! Imagine how much better you two might lead together if you were moirails,” Lanque argues.

“You two are perfect for each other,” you sing, grinning at her.

“And Stelsa likes you, which is a bonus.”

“Oh, yeah, I definitely wouldn’t wanna be on Stelsa’s bad side. Look, we just want you to know that we support you no matter what--”

“And that there’s no time like the present.”

You signal Lanque to hold off for a second and pat Daraya’s arm. “We just want you to be happy. You deserve it more than anybody.”

“Except for Wanshi,” Lanque interjects.

“I’d gladly kill somebody for Wanshi,” you agree wholeheartedly. “But are ya picking up what we’re laying down?”

Daraya looks unsure of herself, crossing her arms and hunching in on herself, just a bit. “Do you really think she likes me back?”

You look to Lanque for support, and he nods. “She most definitely does. You don’t see the way she looks at you when you have your back turned.”

Something like hope warms her dark eyes, and she walks with her head held a little higher all the way back to the caverns.

Sneaking back in is pretty easy-- you just zap yourself and the jades to Lanque’s room, the owner of which then kicking you and Daraya out so he can take a nap.

“Ugh. I was hoping I’d get some excuse to not come back here until tomorrow so I don’t have to I.D grubs. Shit takes forever,” she groans as you two walk along a stone path.

From what you remember, I.D-ing grubs involved giving them a sign, recording their weight and blood color, and setting them free in the main caverns to be chosen by a lusus. You’ve helped out a couple of times with Bronya in the past with I.D stuff. Of course she didn’t let you do any of the actual recording, because she’s a perfectionist like that and wanted to do everything herself, but she did have you hold fussy grubs to calm them down so she could work in peace.

“I’ve done that a few times with Bronya. I’ll help you,” you offer.

“Really?”

“Yeah, dude, let’s go.”

She seems a bit less grouchy after that, and even calls a particular plump indigoblood grub you come across a “mega-thick boy”.

Being in the main caverns has always been a game of Russian roulette for you, as drones came and went all the time and stayed on nearly constantly after a new brood hatches. For your own safety you usually just help out in Bronya’s secret nursery, but if you’re feeling extra brave like you are tonight then you take your chances. Besides, after what happened earlier you need to snuggle some babies to get that sweet, sweet serotonin.

You follow Daraya to a natural pocket in the cave wall, where a cluster of eggs was placed. To your delight, two are hatching and one little goldblood is already wiggling around on its back, squeaking irritably as it tries to roll over again and again, failing each time.

“Hang in there, buddy,” you say, reaching in and flipping them over to their stomach. They stop crying and blink up at you with giant yellow eyes. You chuckle and gently scratch under their chin, which makes them give a barely-audible rickety purr.

“Grab her for me,” Daraya says, searching through the nearby lockers before pulling out a scale, binder, and pen.

You scoop up the goldblood and hold her still as Daraya checks her over before scribbling something down in the binder. “So how do you tell which ones are male and which ones are female? They all look the same.”

Her thick brows furrow in confusion. “Uh, their scent? Boys smell a little like rainwater, girls are kind of smokey. Also, girls are bigger.”

You sniff the goldblood. “Smells like cave to me.”

Daraya rolls her eyes, but the corner of her lips are twitching up. “So if you can’t see in the dark, or hear that well, or smell, how are you even alive?”

“If I had a caegar for every time somebody asked me that I’d be able to buy a tank to shoot a big fat hole in Her Imperious Bitchface’s left asscheek.”

“A rebel can dream. Set her on the scale.”

You set the goldblood on the scale. Daraya records her weight and releases her into the wild, or at least into the main cavern.

“Good luck,” you call after her.

“If luck’s on her side, she might not need it when she grows up,” Daraya says, almost to herself.

You both fall into a routine with the next couple of grubs. There’s a rustblood, then a bronzeblood, and after a couple of minutes another egg hatches to reveal an olive. All three are recorded and set off into the unknown. Every time, you ask the universe to look favorably upon them, because there isn’t much else you can do at the moment.

If anything, let them be loved.

“You look like you need to fart,” Daraya tells you after she releases a particularly feisty cerulean girl. “Which means you’re thinking about something.”

You pout. “Yeah, well, your eyeliner is smudged.”

“I smudge it on purpose so everybody can really see the bags underneath my eyes and know that my last fuck has long since departed to the afterlife.”

“That’s valid. If you have to know, I’m trying to telepathically communicate to the grubs that I love them and that they’ll do amazing things when they get older,” you explain.

“... I was trying to be funny, but that’s actually really sweet.” She stares down at the squirming teal grub in her arms. “I wish I could do that.”

“Be telepathic?”

“No. Have enough love for everybody.”

You sigh, leaning back against the cold stone. Above you, bioluminescent fungi glows blue and white in the darkness. “Daraya, I think the fact that you’re leading a rebellion to make the world a better place shows that you’re more than capable of love.”

“But I’m doing it because I’m angry. I hate this place.”

“Why? Because it’s oppressive and unfair and traumatizing?”

“Well, yeah.”

“Exactly. When we’re strong enough to show Alternia who we are and what we stand for, don’t you think there’s gonna be millions of kids like you who realize that they deserve better? Or, if they already know, might finally have the courage to do something about it?”

Daraya sets the grub down and watches it scamper off. “You amaze me. Sometimes you do stupid shit like that one time you got really drunk with Lanque at a party and I had to stop you guys from jumping off the roof of somebody’s hive and into their pool. Sometimes you say stuff so incredibly deep and comforting it makes me think some great cosmic force sent you here to make everybody’s lives just a little bit better.”

You swallow back something hard in your throat. “To be fair, I can swim just fine.”

“Uh-huh. But Lanque can’t.”

Fuck’s sake, why can’t you just tell her? She should know what you are, what you’re capable of, the lengths you’re going, will go to save Alternia. They all should know.

Every single one of your friends so far have been completely overjoyed to have you back. The more time passes, however, the more you feel like you don’t deserve them anymore. You know that one day they’re going to find out. It’s only a matter of time before you accidentally let something slip or have to explain why you have so much power over the fabric of reality itself.

You open your mouth before you can wimp out, fully intent on telling Daraya everything, but when you turn to address her she’s staring down at the tiniest rustblood you’ve ever seen. The thing is no bigger than one of your feet. They’re on the scale, but Daraya isn’t writing anything down. She doesn’t even look like she’s breathing.

“Daraya? You okay?” you ask, concerned. Crap, did you give the poor kid an existential crisis?

“... He’s too small.”

You push off the wall and stride over to her. “Huh?”

She takes a short breath. “He’s too small. He doesn’t meet the weight requirement for male rustbloods. I… I’m supposed to…”

Realization hits you like a crowbar to the face. Your stomach rolls as you look down at this tiny baby, who’s chirping indignantly at being removed from his warm nest.

“He… but he looks completely healthy. He’s moving around and responding to stimuli and everything,” you get out.

“A grub can be healthy and still need to be culled. The Empire doesn’t want runts. Neither do lusii,” Daraya explains tonelessly. “The only reason Karako’s alive is because Bronya raised him herself. Even then, if he makes it to adulthood it’ll be a fucking miracle.”

The thought of Karako at the end of a culling fork makes you want to throw up. “Then I’ll take him to Bronya.”

“You do realize that he still might not make it?”

“Yeah. But that’s what we’re here for, right?”

Daraya nods and hands you the grub. “Don’t come here after you’re done. The drones will be coming back for the day soon.”

“Got it.”

You zap out of there and hope that teleportation won’t give the baby some form of developmental disability.

As you suspected, the lights are on underneath the door to Bronya’s nursery. Glancing up and down the corridor to make sure nobody’s around to see what you’re doing, you carefully tuck the grub into the pocket of your hoodie and knock.

Quiet footsteps approach the door from the other side. You wave at the peephole.

The lock clicks, and Bronya opens the door with a warm smile. Everything suddenly feels a little more manageable. “What a surprise! I’ve been hoping you’d stop by.”

“Hi, Bronya,” you say, stepping in and shutting the door behind you. “Sorry I haven’t been able to come by sooner. Geez, you vanish off the face of the planet for half a sweep and suddenly you’re everybody’s favorite alien.”

“Well, you can hardly blame them, can you?” Bronya tuts. At the table across from the slime pools, she types in something to her husktop before shutting it. “Wanshi cried for ages after you were gone. She was absolutely convinced you were dead in a ditch somewhere, the poor thing.”

“Aw, Bronya, don’t make me feel even more guilty.”

She grins at you. “Just teasing. I’m almost finished wrapping everything up for the day, but you’re more than welcome to hold the grubs if you want.”

“I think I’ll take you up on that. Unfortunately, I think I’m about to add even more to your workload.” With a sigh, you bring out the tiny rustblood and present him to her.

Bronya’s eyes widen, and in a flash she’s right in front of you, nearly making you crap your pants. You’d forgotten how fast trolls can move when they really want to. “He didn’t meet the weight requirement, I assume?”

“No. Other than that he seems perfectly healthy, he’s just…” You chuckle nervously. “He’s really frickin’ tiny.”

You hand him over to her before she can get too itchy about not holding him. She cuddles him to her chest with the softest expression you’ve ever seen. It makes you wonder about how some trolls thrive on nothing but violence but others live to take care of others. On Alternia, is it nature or nurture that makes a person?

“He’s beautiful.” She looks up at you with shining dark green eyes. “Thank you for saving him. I can’t name many others even in the caverns who would have done the same.”

“Daraya’s the one who found him, so… can’t take all of the credit.” Wow, is it hot in here or is it just you?

“Well, I’m glad she made a good choice, even if by our society’s standards it wasn’t the right one,” Bronya tells you as she sets the grub down in one of the slime pools. The other inhabitants, three other rusts, a goldblood, and two bronzes roll over and accept him into their cuddle pile without hesitation.

“Yeah. Sometimes the good choice and the right choice just aren’t the same thing,” you mumble, watching an indigoblood in the adjacent pool kick their little legs in their sleep.

Bronya nods. She looks tired as she sits down heavily at the table, and you want to tell her to go get some rest, but you can tell there’s something on her mind.

“Is there anything else I can help you with?” you ask.

She hesitates, looking almost ashamed before drawing herself upright and exhaling quietly. “... Actually, yes. I’m afraid you’re the only person I can trust enough to do this.”

You sit down across from her, looking her in the eyes to make sure she knows you’re being serious for once. “You can talk to me, Bronya. And I promise I’m not making pale advances or anything, because I’m already one-hundred percent taken.”

That gets a smile out of her. “Thank you. You have no idea how much I missed having a listening ear like yours.”

“My hearing might be terrible by troll standards, but I’ll try my absolute best.”

“... It started not long after you… disappeared. Daraya began acting… strangely,” Bronya begins. “She’s always been a bit of a lone wolf, but this was something different. She’d vanish for half a night, and then eventually she wouldn’t be back until the sun was coming up. She fell behind in her duties. Of course I did my best to be understanding, she looked up to you more than anybody-- she still does, even if she’ll never say it. We all missed you terribly.”

You nod. You’ve got an awful suspicion as to where this is going, but you don’t want to entertain the thought that Bronya would ask you to do… what you think she’s going to ask you to do.

“She got a little better with time, but that didn’t change her little vanishing act. I tried to get her to talk to me, which went as well as one thought it would. Then I tried to stop her from leaving. That went even worse.”

“Daraya’s got a hell of a temper,” you say.

“That she does. Then, a couple of perigees in, Lanque started doing the same thing. Leaving at odd hours, coming back smelling of strange places. Thankfully they finally got their act together concerning their responsibilities around here, which I thought would be a turning point for them, but… they just wouldn’t stop!” Bronya hisses, throwing her hands up in exasperation. “Clouds are white, the grass is purple, and jadebloods aren’t allowed to leave the caverns. Three simple facts of life, and yet those two insist on ignoring the latter!”

“Were they happier?” you ask.

Bronya blinks, confused. “What?”

“I get that ignoring their responsibilities must have been a massive pain in the rear, but what about after they figured it out? Did their mental health benefit from going to the surface?”

She looks down at you like you just asked her why the Alternian sun is hot. “From an outsider’s perspective it must seem harsh, I know. But a jadeblood’s purpose isn’t to be happy. It’s to ensure the continuation of our species.”

“So… do you want me to try and get them to stop? Because I’m gonna tell you right now that’s not gonna work. Both Daraya and Lanque are very strong and I am very small,” you tell her.

“Of course not. The thing is, they both trust you very much, possibly more than their fellow jadebloods. Which is why I want you to keep going with them when they sneak out, and then I want you to tell me what they’ve been up to this whole time.”

For the second time tonight you’re struck speechless.

“I know it’s a terrible favor to have to request of you. But I’m afraid I have no other choice. Lanque and Daraya’s loyalty and priorities have become completely skewed over the perigees and as head jade, it’s my duty to steer them back on course,” Bronya declares.

“... Right.”

A nobler version of you would stand up and angrily, but politely tell Bronya that there was no way that you’d ever betray your friends’ privacy like that. You would tell her that you value her as a friend and thank her for letting you stay and work here whenever you felt like. Then, you would explain that as much as you’ve come to respect her, you simply cannot do this for her.

What you do instead is to swallow back your sadness and say, “I’ll see what I can do.”

Bronya looks so happy and relieved you nearly make a break for it in utter shame. “Oh, thank you. Thank you so much. I knew that you’d always be brave enough to do the right thing.”

But the right thing isn’t always a good thing! you want to cry.

She sees you out after that, a comforting hand on the small of your back. She tells you to rest well and that everything is going to be okay.

The second she closes her respiteblock door you start to cry as quietly as possible. You walk down the corridor, and when you’re sure she’s out of earshot you take off running. Everybody else is already back in their rooms, which you’re grateful for so nobody can see your pathetic ass having an anxiety attack while sprinting like fucking Usain Bolt.

You want to go curl up in Lynera’s study and cry yourself to sleep, but you’re already keeping one too many secrets from the people you care about so much. You’re not going to be a coward about this, even if it means starting the shitshow to end all shitshows, even if it means losing one of your oldest friends.

You take a moment to catch your breath in a supply closet, and then you go find Lanque.

[sealers100]

A (brief) review of every Donald Sutherland movie (so far)

I’m not coping well with quarantine at all and no one else seems to be either (which makes me feel a bit better) So what started out of boredom back over christmas break has turned into a quest to find and watch every Donald Sutherland movie ever. Probably not my best idea since a lot of them are very old and hard to find and would need to be bought online (which isn't an option right now.) Don’t ask me why, this kinda just happened and I’m not gonna fight it. So stick around for an unprofessional review of a very professional actor’s long film career. 

(if anyone has any suggestions or knows where to find more hmu) 

M*A*S*H*

Ah talk about a movie that didn’t age well (but neither did Holiday Inn and we still watch that) I’m not here to bash on it for being problematic because apart from the way they treated Houlihan, I genuinely loved this movie. It had be rolling the whole time just like the show and I still catch myself whistling like Hawkeye all the time. Probably still like the show better and Alan Alda’s Hawkeye (sorry Donald) but its definitely been a go to when I’m having a rough day.

Kelly’s Heroes

I think this was the first movie of his I ever saw as a little girl and I remember being very confused. (since it didn’t match my dad’s military stories at all) so this ended up being the first one I went out of my way to hunt down and watch and sorry to Clint Eastwood but Donald stole this movie from literally everyone. He’s hilarious, he’s sexy, he steals the show and it’s definitely one of his more underrated movies (the movie itself is a bit long) which is a damn shame since he (literally) died filming this one. (if you don’t know the story, look it up its wild)

Alex in Wonderland 

Wow, who knew he could be such a convincing asshole! At least he becomes aware of it by the end of the film but I just felt so lost by the end. Like ,what did I watch, what happens now? Not one of my favorites but definitely interesting and a sure product of the early 70s. Overall, he does have a lot of good scene (a scene with THE Federico Fellini) that are sometimes light-hearted, dumb, cute, irritating, and just...what? The relationship between him, his wife, and children is probably the only redeeming factor since its pretty accurate for how his actions strain his relationships. I am gonna be honest though, I only watched this one to see him as a long haired hippie 😂 (sorry). 

Klute

Leave it to Jane Fonda to remind me why I’m bisexual (I wish she wasn’t always a prostitute) Although there was a lot more of her and a lot less of him, even though he is John Klute. I am an absolute sucker for those old black and white noir movies and this is no different. It leaves some feelings to be desired at times (Donald apparently felt the same way) but you can really tell there’s a fascinating chemistry between him and Jane (because there actually was) Overall the story was entertaining but the character’s themselves seemed somewhat drab. I wish we got to know more about them and had more scenes with more emotion apart from just the sex and love scenes. Oh well, it was still a pretty damn good movie and I’d definitely watch it again if I got the chance.

Lady Ice

Basically Magnum before Magnum was even a thing. Now just because a movie is bad doesn’t mean it can’t be entertaining. I love the whole Miami Vice vibe I get from this and again, huge fan of private investigators, detectives and dirty schemes. His acting might not be exemplary but I don’t even care. The movie is fun and not every movie has to be deep and meaningful. Nothing wrong with just watching a movie for the hell of it. And that moustache, it’s my kryptonite. 😆

Don’t Look Now

If you haven’t seen this movie, stop reading my bs and go watch it right now. (its free on crackle) This is such a good movie I could make a whole post on it alone. Donald and Julie Christie (I’m still not over her either) put so much into every scene, giving us such a beautiful relationship that’s been fraught with tragedy. Every scene is beautiful and eerie and enchanting Iloveitsomuch!!! I don’t wanna spoil too much because the ending turns everything on its head. I’m not sure if this is meant to be a horror movie but it really walks that uncanny valley with the whole setting of Venice in it’s off season, the dark corridors, creepy premonitions. I will spoil this, I love how for once, the man is the psychic instead of the woman, which is a trope that waaaaaay over done. AND THE SCANDAL! Okay sex scenes in movie isn't exactly scandalous but this one was surprisingly realistic (no they didn’t actually have sex) so everyone in the 70s pitched a hissy fit over it and I can’t understand why. It’s by far the most realistic and beautiful sex scene I’ve ever watch, hats off to Donald and Julie. God Bless Nicholas Roeg for this masterpiece, aaaaahhh just go watch it its so good!

Fellini’s Casanova 

Alright but bear with me on this. I think I had a religious experience while watching this movie. I was overly exhausted and had my eye on it for a while said ‘fuck it let’s watch something weird.’ This what actually started by quarantine marathon (how appropriate) and I can safely say, I think this is the most beautiful, most grotesque, most enchantingly beautiful and yet dark and bizarre movies I’ve ever seen. Donald makes such a convincing 18t century venetian lover and they really went all out with his appearance, acting and the scenery of the whole movie. Everyone in the film seems to genuinely enjoyed everything they’re doing (which says a lot they do some crazy shit in this one) and the whole time, everything is erriley whimsical, almost like a fever dream (which is what this film might have been I dunno). And the fact it spans the entirety of Casanova’s life, from his highest point to his absolute lowest decent into squalor just proves that Fellini holds nothing back AT ALL. Again, no spoilers (I don’t really think I can spoil this film) but there’s just copious amounts of sex and its just plain strange but if you find it in your heart to give it a try, please do. If you’re not sure about it that’s fine definitely not for everyone. However I highly recommend Fellini’s other works. (go watch La Strada)  

Invasion of the Bodysnatchers 

Hahaha oh man I can’t tell you how many times I’ve seen this movie. My friends and I in college had a horror movie night and this one seriously freaked out my roommate (i’m so sorry). I love me some sci-fi (I run a star trek blog) and this not only gave me lots of Donald but also Leonard Nimoy, (along with a very young Jeff Goldblum) so yes, this is now one of my favorite sci-fi movies (I did a film analysis on it too). I don’t recommend watching it in quarantine unless you’re into freaking yourself about a global pandemic. I will say, this movie is an anomaly  since I think it might be the only movie that is not only better than its remake, but also better than the book (which I also read) This one gives us Donald (and his moustache) playing of all things, a health inspector (I’m dying) whos put into some creepy scenarios of apocalyptic proportions. This is one of those horror movies that’s fun without being funny. It’s got plenty of drama and awkwardness between to characters while also reaching it’s cult classic status. All the actors in this film manage to give such a convincing performance that you can’t help but feel like you’re right there with the characters, which makes for a fun and terrifying ride. 10/10 would scare my roommate again.

The Great Train Robbery

Donald Sutherland AND Sean Connery? Sounds like a great pair right? Well they are, sort of. Okay this movie looks like a typical british drama, buuuuut I’m not so sure about this one. Donald is pretty great in this one and so is Sean, but I’m just very confused if it’s trying to be serious or funny? The plot itself makes sense and its pretty good but the execution is just...what? Oh well, Donald and Sean make an entertaining pair with their odd “train heist” I felt this movie would have done much better if it went for either one side or the other instead of jumping all over the place, and it played out much more like a soap opera. It’s not bad though but its not a favorite of mine. 

Bear Island

Okay I’ve been pretty nice so far, but this...the only real redeeming part of this movie is Donald and his beard. Which is such a shame because I feel like this could have been SUCH a good movie. The story itself is really good and enthralling but somebody somewhere dropped the ball. No, they didn’t drop it. They threw it off a cliff. Nothing about this movie makes sense, most everyone’s acting is subpar, and I don’t blame them because the script was probably the main offender of this film. Even Donald’s acting is uncharacteristically bad. I know shoot me, criticized his acting.  It’s just so strange to see what could have easily been a fantastic film. Someone send this to Philip Kaufman and ask for a remake because this one needs it. 

Ordinary People

Oh God, this movie. This movie means so much to me. Again, watched it with my roommate, we sobbed like children and its now a must see in our group. The fact that Donald wasn’t even nominated for an oscar for this film is a travesty. A story like this is something that in a way I’ve lived myself. Everyone’s acting in this film is superb and as someone who would know, yes, all of this is very really and very heart wrenching to watch. I don’t mean to get sappy or anything, but I have been Calvin Jarrett, I (and I’m sure others) have been that mediator who eventually is broken by the two fighting forces. Watching his eventual collapse is so surreal and wow this movie really broke me in some spots. Uhg god this movie, I wanna cry just thinking about it. I’d totally watch it but I’ll just spend the whole time wanting to hug him. 

Eye of the Needle 

If any of you know me personally, you’ll know I’m absolutely terrified of needles, so this might not have been the best movie for me to watch, but I had no idea what I was getting myself into. This whole movie is actually pretty fantastic. For once, Donald plays a bad guy, but you can almost root for him (if he wasn’t a nazi) I felt so conflicted because while yes I wanted him to take her away from her horrible husband, hes a damn dirty Nazi, and we don’t stan. Of course, Donald’s character is extremely charming but I’m left wondering if his character really did have feelings for Kate Nelligan. I have a feeling that I could really run with this story. This one is a thrilling story with a thick plot that tears its characters apart. I can’t help but love it.

Crackers

Fight me, I thought it was funny. Not really but this is one of those “entertaining but not really good” movies. Donald’s character is...well, he reminds me a lot of most of my exes. He’s just down on his luck, he’s not a bad guy. Yeah that sums up how I feel about his character. However, the movie overall is pretty damn funny. At least it knows it’s a comedy and it even has a sweet(ish) ending. I will say its not great, but there is a good scene with Donald falling flat on his ass which was so worth the whole rest of the movie. This one is still on my quarantine go to for when I just wanna forget about life for a while. 

Rosary Murders

So this little gem I kinda just watched on a whim thinking it would be some campy horror movie that was very pro-catholic and woooweee was I wrong. I loved this movie so much I ended up watching it twice, two nights in a row. It really was a thrilling movie with a plot thicker than pea soup, all while throwing some (slight) shade at the catholic church. This movie goes less for the horror side of things and more for the shock and drama and it does it well. Not to mention he makes one hell of a cute priest. I loved the hell out of this one and I’m glad i decided on this one the other night. I might even watch it again who knows. 

Pride and Prejudice

Everyone in this movie is neurotic as hell except for Donald Sutherland and Keira Knightly. Sorry I was never a huge Jane Austen fan but I admire her ability to write hell of a good slow burn and that exactly what this is. Hell most of you know what this movie is about so I’m not gonna talk about it too much. Its one of those movies everyone else seems to have seen and I haven’t so mom and I sat down and watched it together. She just laughed as I sat there yelling at the TV, waiting for an exasperated Donald to come on. His final scene though, so sweet. I did like how the movie showed a father daughter relationship that wasn’t toxic (not like the last one) but I was kinda over the whole song and dance after a while. I’m sure most people think its a really good movie but I just don’t get it. 

The Hunger Games (All of them) 

As I understand it, this movie actually means a lot to Donald, as it does to a lot of people, and that he really enjoyed working with Jennifer Lawrence, so that’s nice. Yes I’ve seen all three (four) movies, read all the books and I couldn’t think of anyone else to better play Katniss Everdeen’s antithesis than someone like Donald. I feel like this is one of those roles that was just made for him. He was such a scary and venomous villain that played so well off of the main protagonist. Uhg I really do love the Hunger Games Series, it was a huge part of my childhood, I just hate how the fans destroy people who love the main villain, like many fandoms do (looking at you star trek). I wish I could just enjoy these movies in peace without everyone being so polarized on them. 

Oh wow there’s definitely gonna be a part two but as of now, this is all I got. I’ve got a long way to go and (with the way things are looking here in the U.S.) I’ve got plenty of time to do so. I really do enjoy doing these kinds of things so if you want me to watch and ramble about any other movies (no, it doesn’t have to have Donald Sutherland) I’m gonna be in quarantine for a while, so let’s at least do something fun to pass the time. 😊