#they did indeed go full monty | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

howdy-cowpoke · 11 months ago

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TIMING: Early December LOCATION: Monty’s Farmhouse PARTIES: Monty & Gael SUMMARY: Considering what is going to be their last hangout for a while, Gael goes over to Monty’s where he can get everything off his chest and erase any secrets he might’ve been keeping from him, intentional or otherwise. CONTENT WARNINGS: none.

—

Even after all this time, all these months, and everything that had happened between the first interaction and now, Gael still felt bittersweet every time he pulled up in the dusty driveway of the dairy farm in his little ice-blue convertible. The road was dark, the air chilled and the sky overcast as it tended to be in the colder months as he removed himself from the car, his breath from a heightened body temperature puffing out as his brown eyes looking almost wistfully up at the building. It was so familiar, yet he always felt like he wasn’t quite as welcome as Monty had emphasized. That was far from his first trip out there - indeed, he tried to visit at least once a month just to catch up and hang out with the cowboy - but melancholy– no, it was sorrow.

Sorrow hung onto his thinned frame; he never quite recovered his physique from his stint out in the woods, not to mention he wasn’t really hiking, working out, going anywhere or doing anything. And after the most recent set of full moons, the final driving force that cemented the idea in his mind that he wasn’t welcome anywhere anymore, Gael looked up at the cozy house for what seemed like it would be the last time for a long time. The weight of leaving still felt somewhat unreal and more than once he reconsidered. He had friends there, even if he felt like he’d failed all of them. He had people that he liked and that liked him. He had semblances of a pack, with Alan and Alex more than willing to help. He knew he had a unique friendship in Felix and their similarities with shifting. There were the college-aged kids that he’d gotten to know, who made him laugh and all had aspirations, dreams, talents. And yet, here he was, reaching the front door as his breath danced in front of him, reaffirming to Monty, arguably his oldest and closest friend in Wicked’s Rest, that he was leaving because of his inability to tackle the problems that suddenly found themselves staring him in the face. Tentatively, with a shuddering exhale though one couldn’t have been sure if it was from the cold air or the emotions that tugged on his lungs, Gael rang the doorbell.

—

It seemed that no matter what Monty did or said to try and convince his friend that he was wanted and seen, the man was determined to pull back and figure things out his own way. It wasn’t wrong, and Monty couldn’t fault him for wanting to disengage, considering that was all he’d done for decades. Still, he was sad to know that his friend would be going away for a while, but tried not to let that show when they were together. No reason to make it any harder than it surely already was. Gael had to do what he had to do, and it would be wrong of Monty to not support his friend in his decisions to better himself.

So as he opened the front door, knowing who waited on the other side, he wore a warm smile. Mirabel, Señor, and their mother all lifted their heads from where they were napping, the two young cats jumping down from the couch to pad curiously over to the front door. Monty ushered Gael inside, glancing down at the felines as they recognized their real owner, meowing and rubbing up against his legs.

With the door safely shut, Monty permitted himself the melancholy that came with knowing this would likely be their final interaction for a while, and before Gael could become distracted by the cats (because who wouldn’t), he pulled his friend into a tight hug. It was an action that had once made him desperately uncomfortable, but over the months of knowing Gael, had instead become a source of genuine comfort. His friend felt smaller in his arms now than he ever had, and it only inspired the cowboy to worry about him more than he already was. In spite of this, he kept the smile on as he pulled back again, leaving one hand on the professor’s shoulder. “I’m glad you’re here,” he said to the other in Spanish, giving his shoulder a squeeze. “Is, ah, there anything that I can get for you?”

—

He knew the cowboy was going to have that same gentle, warm smile on his face that he did every time Gael showed up so the werewolf reciprocated; it was tired and made the hollow quality of his cheeks more noticeable but it wasn’t by any means empty. On the contrary; regardless of how he felt, regardless of what was weighing on his mind or making him want to pull away because he had never grown accustomed to sharing the burdens he carried with others, Monty’s general presence always had such a welcoming warmth to him, which he supposed was ironic considering he was a zombie. And the thoughts that he was a zombie certainly crossed his mind when he was told - he pictured a slack-jawed, drooling, unthinking creature with milky white eyes and a shambling gait. Monty wasn’t any of those, though. At least, he did everything in his power to prevent that. His eyes were dark and sparkled. His heart was still but it was so much more full of life and love than seemed possible sometimes, whether literally or rhetorically. And as Monty opened the door, greeting the professor with that warm smile, immediately pulling him into a hug, for just a moment Gael completely forgot why he was there. The thoughts that he was going to leave fled from his mind, similarly to how they’d done when he told Alan. Every person he told, every person who told him that he didn’t have to, gave him pause. Time had come to a standstill with each of those moments, feeling like he was thrust into a game show where the camera had paused on him while he made a decision, only he never knew if it was the right one. That was how Gael felt now as he, in turn, wrapped his arms around Monty. He felt his cats mewling up at him for attention but there would be time to focus on them. At that moment, as the thoughts of leaving disappeared, he felt Monty. His room temperature skin. His non-beating heart. The complex musculature of a working man and how… full it was despite being a walking corpse. It was like a puzzle had been solved, just slightly too late. Gael welcomed the embrace though, only pulling away once Monty had - how far the cowboy had come since their first interaction. How similar they really were, how foolish the professor had been all those months. “Thank you for having me over; sorry it’s such short notice.” He replied in Spanish before he snapped his fingers, trying to keep an overall light tone to this initial interaction, at least, before having the inevitable breakdown as the gravity of what he was doing crashed down on his withered frame. “Y’know, I should’ve brought some alcohol. Like, super spicy stuff for you.” He laughed. “Water. Water would be good.” He offered instead, placing a hand atop Monty’s and supplying it with some of his excess body heat before looking down at the cats. “Hello my kittens! Give me just a moment to settle then you’ll get pets, too.”

—

“It's no problem, my friend,” Monty responded in turn, laughing at the suggestion that he should've brought booze. “Perhaps next time, ah?” If there was a next time. The somber thought nearly brought a frown to his face but he fought it off, instead giving Gael's shoulder a squeeze. “Come.” He led the way to the familiar kitchen, the remnants of whatever Daisy had been doing in there that morning strewn about. She was something of a whirlwind, sometimes, but Monty didn’t mind it. He actually preferred it because without her (and now Kaden), the house had never felt very lived in.

Moving a spool of twine from the kitchen table to a nearby basket, rewinding it as he went, Monty cleared away a couple more things before getting a glass from the cabinet and filling it with water for his guest. Passing it off, he nodded his head at the porch through the window. “Let’s sit outside, it’s nice right now.” It was a warm afternoon for the time of year, and as the cowboy led Gael out to the chairs that faced out toward the yard and distant barns and pastures, he grabbed a thick, short branch that was clearly being carved into something.

Taking a seat, the zombie removed the knife from its sheath on his belt and started to chip away at the piece of wood. He glanced up from it to look at Gael, giving him a soft smile.

“Do you know where you will be going?”

—

“Next time, for sure.” Though he couldn’t have been sure if there would be a next time. Gael cursed the rate at which information had been ignored and subsequently forced upon him; would it have been easier if he had come to terms with everything sooner? Should he have been more open and accepting of others, despite trying his best to be when he was told about them? So, with these thoughts in his head and no certainty on which ones to consider further - he could speculate all he wanted, but everything up until this point was in the past - Gael followed his oldest friend in town through the nostalgic house. He wished the positive memories of the quaint, warm farmhouse weren't spiked with the distressing ones; the first meeting, the mornings he showed up after. …Now. And even then, it was different than before. He caught Kaden’s scent on occasion, flitting in and out of the air like a wisp. Denver, Dallas, everyone else, they all carried unique traces about them. It was almost a shame that Gael was so slow to realize what he was, so insistent that he wasn’t a monstrous animal that murdered things without provocation. Through the kitchen they went, pausing as dark eyes found the sun that came through the window if only to have something to look at that wasn’t following Monty’s figure as he absently cleared some space. A glass of water, requested so he had something to hold, was given to Gael and as though he and the zombie had the same thought, the latter suggested they sit outside. That worked - the reluctant werewolf’s body temperature, always seeming to run just slightly higher than average on a relaxing day, felt like it was threatening to singe him as his emotions ran rampant through his mind. He sat in the seat parallel to Monty, his brow twitching as he could feel the mottled scar on his lower back being pressed against the wooden slats. The cowboy had taken to carving, and Gael kept his gaze looking out to the rest of the ranch, leaning forward and holding the glass in both hands as he placed his elbows on his knees. “Nope.” He replied first to Monty’s inquiry, trying his best to keep his tone from getting too… emotional, he supposed. “No idea. Thinking about visiting the family down in Arizona.” He paused. “Told my kid that I’d help her find some answers for what’s been going on in her life.” He ultimately decided to share this with Monty - the two didn’t have many secrets between them anymore, and the werewolf had reached a point where Ren wasn’t something he felt like he should’ve had to hide.

—

Nodding as Gael answered, Monty looked contemplative. “Arizona will be good… you should see family.” And it sounded like there was some family he was taking with him. That was good. Monty didn’t like the idea of Gael being alone, so he was glad that there was someone close to him that would be by his side.

He chipped a few more pieces away before speaking again, his tone and the way he held himself with a calm confidence conveying how genuinely pleased he was to hear about this development, and how he didn’t doubt for a moment that Gael would make an excellent father figure for anyone who needed it. “This kid, she is lucky to have you,” he responded thoughtfully. Obviously Gael would have been worried about putting her in danger, so he felt it was safe to assume she knew — about him, and also how to protect herself. There seemed no shortage of those types in this town, anyway. He wouldn’t prod for details though, instead leaving the door open for Gael to pass through if he so chose. It was enough that he told the cowboy about her, and about his plans to leave and figure himself out. Monty didn’t need or want much more than that. As long as Gael was happy, he was happy.

He leaned back in his chair, gaze on the horizon for a few beats. There was something he wanted to say, but he worried that it was too selfish. This journey didn’t involve him, and he shouldn’t play any part in how it was to unravel, but…

“I hope… that you discover what you need to… quickly,” he offered with a breathy chuckle, knowing how it sounded. “I will miss you, Gael. But I am proud of you.”

—

“I’m lucky to have her, if anything.” Gael laughed, the smile lingering on his face longer than the laugh did in the crisp air. He could function on his own, despite how often he didn’t want to. All the times he tried not to think of them as wasted because something fell through, all the ambitions that he had that he’d never see come to fruition. He could function on his own, he told himself until he thought about how close he was to dying out in the middle of the woods. He thought about the look on Alan’s face. He thought about the conversations he had with just about everyone who mattered that didn’t… pretend he didn’t exist. He supposed Regan wouldn’t be there when he got back. It didn’t matter. Right now mattered. And the werewolf leaned back from how he was sitting in the chair himself, keeping his dark gaze looking out as it had been, feeling rather like a cowboy himself at that moment as he heard the rhythmic shaving from Monty, holding his glass of water. He inhaled the scent of the farm, Monty’s smell mingling in with it. The whole place smelled of him, whether that was psychosomatic or not. “I hope so, too.” The same gentle smile easily found itself back on Gael’s face, though he resisted the urge to look over at the zombie. “I’ve gotten rather fond of everyone here. I just…” He faltered, his brow twitching as a pang of guilt involuntarily prodded at him despite how hard he tried not to let it. He had to remind himself that this wasn’t a choice that he made lightly. He had killed a woman. And instead of accepting it and working with Alan and Alex, he was… chasing an idea, a fantasy. Or was he just running for the first time in his life? “I’ll miss you, too.” Of course he would. He’d probably miss Monty the most; a quiet, unrequited crush that dissolved under the weight of eternally owing the cowboy for the support, the trust, the secrets that he knew the zombie held longer than Gael himself was willing to acknowledge them. “Wait ‘til I come back before you be proud of me.” He scoffed, a light, playful sound that accompanied his smile turning sheepish. “I just hope to find something. You get it. You know how it feels to suddenly… not be what you were before. What you were so used to being.” Gael blinked, lowering his gaze and pinching the bridge of his nose. “It feels… so strange. Like I don’t know who I am anymore.”

—

Monty could understand Gael’s hesitation, his uncertainty that this would accomplish anything. He could understand it better than most. “I know it is scary. I know it might not feel like the right thing to do, or it might feel like the only thing to do… there is no right answer, Gael. And so there are no wrong answers, either. You will find your way, of this I am certain. How that happens… it may take a few tries, yes? A few stumbles along the way. That is okay.” He set his project down in his lap to reach across the small space between them and put a hand on Gael’s arm, coaxing his hand away from his face. He offered his friend a sympathetic smile and nod, giving his arm a gentle squeeze.

“You are still you,” he assured him. “This new part of you… it does not subtract. It just adds. You are still you, you are just now more complicated than before.” He thought of Alan—someone he’d not known before the realtor was a werewolf, but who he imagined was not all that different from what he was now.

“Your new family, she will help make this easier. Not because she knows anything you do not, but because she knows your deepest truths. This… this is what Alan and Daisy offered to me. This is what helped me become a person again. What helped me feel something like myself again.” Better than before, if he really thought about it. Someone with a desire to do good and be a positive impact on the world. The fact that it was driven by guilt for the wrongs in his past seemed irrelevant to this conversation, since he didn’t want to add to whatever guilt Gael was already carrying over the accident. “And no, I will not wait! I am proud of you for taking this step, my friend. I will always be proud of you, because you are always trying to act in ways that benefit others, that lift them up. That is something you should be proud of, too. This journey is just about how to keep doing that and figuring out how to manage the things you cannot control. You will find a way. I know you will.”

—

No right answers meant there were no wrong answers. Gael had mentioned that Monty knew how he felt, but sometimes, in that painfully human way, he had temporarily forgotten how well Monty knew how he felt. He’d only been dealing with it for a hundred more years. He felt the zombie’s cool hand on his arm and the gentle guide to lower his hand with the purpose of looking at Monty this time. The zombie’s warm expression, betraying the logic that he was undead, meeting the werewolf’s own that always seemed welling with tears, a brow that was consistently knitted in the middle with an unspoken concern. As Monty spoke, Gael was reminded of how the things he said could’ve been reflected back at the people he spoke about these matters to. It was so easy for him to discredit everything he’d done up until that point because he was convinced that whoever he was before that night in the woods had died. Yet, when he applied that to Monty, or Alan, or Daisy or Alex, the thought didn’t make sense to him. Of course they were still them, it seemed obtuse to think otherwise. But Alan had been a werewolf for over a decade. Zombies were essentially frozen in time when it came to age. ‘More complicated’ felt like an apt description, though he still felt the pull of thinking less of himself. The Wolf didn’t add anything of value to him. It decreased his self-worth. It felt like it should’ve been so easy to just remove. It was so easy to remember before he had to worry about it. The werewolf wiped his eyes with the heel of a hand and he managed another scoff with a laugh at his own emotional vulnerability. He supposed that didn’t change, at least. “You’re right. You’re right a lot.” He replied. “But hey! I finally got you to admit that you’re a person, which is much better than a decorative houseplant.” Gael added playfully, placing one of his hands over the zombie’s gently. “Her name’s Ren.” The shifter said after a moment of silence. “I don’t know if you met her. She’s small and has wild red hair. She, uh… saved me from this monster that was living in a really deep puddle.” It sounded utterly ridiculous now that he was saying it aloud. “And that’s not a metaphor. …Entirely. There really was this puddle that was like… abyssal. And it housed like a mutated alligator-looking thing.” He moved his arms in an attempt to mimic what the thing looked like and about what size it was, which he was sure wasn’t actually helping. Another pause. “...Isn’t that all any of us can do at the end of the day.” There was a soft sigh as Gael calmed back down. “Just figure out how to manage the things we can’t control. For some of us it’s a dependency. For others it’s a monster. Some of us are born with it. But isn’t it so human, trying to find out how to control it?” His other hand subconsciously found the necklace that Emilio had gifted him, gently pressing a thumb against one of the points of the nails that formed the cross. “Can you promise me just one thing?” He asked, turning his gaze to Monty once more.

—

Monty sucked in a short breath, taken aback by his friend’s astute observation—he had upgraded himself to personhood at some point over the last few months, hadn’t he? His lips parted to protest but then he thought better of it, instead just chuckling and shaking his head. “Ah. So I did,” he conceded, offering Gael a shrug. Sometimes he was so busy worrying about other people’s trials and tribulations that he forgot to recognize his own strides in improving himself and his life. He would be remiss if he didn’t at least let Gael know that he played a part in that. “You inspire me to be better. To… appreciate what I have. I am grateful for that.”

He hadn’t met Ren, but he hoped he might get the chance some day. If not, at least he knew she had Gael. “A puddle?” he parroted the other, looking as surprised as he felt. Still, he couldn’t discredit what his friend was saying, laughing when the werewolf spread his arms to try and suggest the size of the beast—after all, Kaden had gotten dosed with hallucinogenics by a frog, of all things. Frankly it sounded entirely plausible. “Gosh, I’m glad she was there, then! That does not sound like it was a fun time.”

He nodded along at Gael’s observation of humanity, finding it to be very true. His gaze fell to the necklace as his friend fiddled with it, then back up to his face when he felt the other’s gaze on him. “Of course, anything,” he responded without hesitation, straightening up in his chair as he waited to hear what Gael had to ask of him.

—

“Psht, we’re all grateful that you’re here; if you weren’t, I probably wouldn’t be, either.” It really was so much easier for Gael to focus on others, even if it wasn’t what the other person wanted. He wasn’t the only one who had grown over the past few months; Monty had maintained his kind, gentle demeanor while being able to find love, let himself accept physical affection, make decisions based on what he wanted to do, stand up to someone like Emilio. It warmed Gael’s heart to see anyone grow, no matter how minute it was. And he was thankful that Monty had so many people in this second life, that he had those chances to be who he wanted to be, to be a person who could love, do the things that made him happy. But then he thought about what he wanted to ask and the context that Monty was a zombie, and for a moment, he fell silent. His eyes didn’t swell with tears this time as he thought about how he wanted to word his request and he contemplated abandoning it altogether, but the contemplation was evident on his sunken face. “On the off-chance that, I dunno, something happens to me and I can’t come back, can you take the memories of me with you?” The words came out, possibly not making sense but Gael was sure to explain a little further just in case. “I know, it’s selfish, but… There’s something a little… tragically comforting in knowing that even when you die, someone will be there to carry your memory.” He explained, fiddling with the cross to give his hands something to do. He felt childish, as though he were actually asking for something as silly as a dollar for some frozen ice. “Like I said, it’s selfish. That’s not fair to you; you didn’t ask to be effectively immortal.” He exhaled. “And, I mean, I do plan on coming back! It’s just… I thought, when I was out in the woods for a couple of weeks, I thought…” The words were getting caught in his throat on occasion. “I thought, when I died, that…” He couldn’t finish the thought, as it turned out. The thought that that was it, that he was just another thing there and gone, to be lost to time. That no one would know he was gone, that no one would think he deserved to be mourned or searched for. He realized how foolish he sounded, maybe, or how selfish it was. In any case, the rest of the sentence died in his mouth and he gave Monty a look, sad but not teary-eyed. Regretful and almost as though he knew the answer but there was some selfish part of him that needed to hear it come from the zombie.

—

He wasn’t sure exactly what he’d been expecting, but this wasn’t it. Monty frowned in a concerned sort of way, but just listened quietly while the other explained his thought process. He could understand it, the sentiment in Gael’s heart and why he felt the need to ask for such a thing, having had the same thought himself. Before he was doomed to walk this earth forever, of course. He set aside the knife and the thing he was carving, getting to his feet only to crouch again in front of the chair Gael sat in. He stole the glass of water from Gael and then took both of his friend’s hands in his own, looking up at him with a determined expression.

“The ones that matter stay with me. The man whose cruelty started me on the path of being a kinder and more compassionate person, even though the last time I saw him was in 1904, he remains a part of me. And you…” He huffed out a sigh, shifting his weight almost anxiously, giving Gael’s hands a squeeze. “I was going to carry you with me whether or not you asked me to. It is not selfish to want to know that you had an impact.” It was hitting him harder now—the knowledge that his friend was leaving for some indeterminate amount of time. It didn’t matter how much Gael insisted he would be coming back, because neither of them knew when, and there was still always that possibility that he wouldn’t. Monty would never voice this fear aloud, he wouldn’t want to give it any kind of credence, but it was there in the back of his mind. Crouched like a predator, making him fearful and upset.

“You have, Gael. More than you can know.” His calm, even tone had become somewhat constricted, like it was becoming more difficult to speak. And it was, because it broke his heart to think that there was any possibility that Gael felt like this might not have been true. “You mean so much to me, you…” Frustrated and feeling like the words weren’t doing a good enough job of saying what needed saying, Monty rose to his feet and pulled Gael up out of the chair, grasping him in an even fiercer hug than before, his composure shot to shit in one fell swoop. His eyes stung with tears as he stared at nothing in particular beyond Gael’s shoulder, and he just held on like the next time he let go, that would be it.

—

Just as it was easier for him to focus on others, it was also easier not to get emotional as his studious, contemplative expression was effortlessly shifted into one of… he wasn’t sure as Monty crouched in front of him with a steadfast expression. It didn’t feel right, it never felt right. Gael was the one to match others in height, change himself to match them; not the other way around. It never felt right. Just like it never felt like he was making the right decision whenever he left. There was always someone or something worth staying for and by making the choice to leave, he was leaving those people or things. Monty was in front of him, assuring him that he wouldn’t be forgotten, in that childish way he needed to be assured - the lack of permanence that when someone left the room, they left reality. Of course Monty would remember him, it was so dumb of Gael not to think that. Or was it haughty? Was it more selfish to ask someone to carry that weight or to assume it would be? He didn’t know as the cowboy’s words faltered, standing, pulling him to stand and taking him in another embrace. This one was tighter, yet less restricted. Exposed, shining through the facade of politeness, emotional restraint. Gael knew that Monty would be okay - he’d been okay for a century. The man was much hardier than the werewolf himself would’ve ever thought months ago, and that thought itself just went to show how Gael really hadn’t been there that long. Still though, despite the negative thoughts tugging on his mind, the shifter easily reciprocated the hug, closing his own eyes as he once more felt the nuances in Monty’s body and how alive he felt despite knowing better now. “I’ll miss you, brother.” The words were muffled into the cowboy’s shirt but he made sure they were audible nonetheless. He’d never had a brother before. He’d had friends that he felt filled the role, of course, but they either left him or he left them. Just as he was doing now, with Monty, with Alan. Gael loved quickly and easily, sometimes too easily, and that got him in trouble. But he never regretted it. He never regretted loving deeply, broadly, he never felt pulled thin by it as he thought about everyone in his life, everyone he took with him despite his own limited time on earth. Did he love Montaña? Yes. He did, even if he didn’t feel it appropriate to say so. Brothers, with aches and troubles and things inside them that turned them into monsters. Things that tested them, things that made them realize what was important. He was so glad that Monty had those people in his life. But letting go, even if for a little while, felt so insurmountably difficult sometimes.

—

“I’ll miss you too, mi hermano,” Monty reciprocated softly. He knew that what he was feeling was mostly pity for himself, for having to let the other go. Since opening himself up to a wider circle of friends, this was the first one he’d had to say goodbye to. He hadn't realized it would be so difficult, even with the promise of a reunion on the horizon. The friends and family he'd lost over a century ago had been so abrupt and confusing and traumatizing that he'd not really had the time or clarity to process it, but here? Now? He was all too aware of the ache this was causing and he wished, desperately, that he could provide whatever answers or solutions or experiences that Gael needed to feel comfortable staying. But he couldn't. He knew that. This was not his fight and he had to let his friend make this choice, even if he didn't like it. He supported Gael, but that didn't mean he had to be thrilled by it.

Dried leaves pinwheeled across the yard as the wind kicked up for a few seconds, rustling the branches of the nearby trees and coaxing Monty to lessen his iron grip on his friend. “You come back to me,” he began softly, still not fully pulling away, “and I promise I will always be here for you.” He was immortal, frozen in time. Gael was not. Gael would grow older, he would enter stages of his life that Monty would never be able to experience, and eventually, he would be taken from the zombie. They all would, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t do whatever he could for as long as he could to make sure they were looked after. “When you and Alan and all of my friends are… are discovering the joys of bingo night, I will be here.” He couldn’t imagine moving on from them, that just wasn’t who he was. “So come back.” Now he straightened himself up, moving so he could see Gael’s face. “I really need to know how much taller than you I will be once you start shrinking.” A grin lit up his face in spite of the way he felt, or perhaps because of it.

—

The werewolf wasn’t aware that his own grip seemed to tighten slightly, that same childish feeling like it was the last time he was going to be able to do this even though that was defeatist. Then again, maybe part of him felt like maybe Monty would be able to feel it then. “I will.” Gael assured, finally opening his eyes that glistened in the soft morning sun. They were unfocused, but present as he returned from the moment, even managing a smile as they talked about the prospect of Gael growing old. It was humbling, in a way. Gael had never thought about death in such abstract concepts before; ghosts were in religious text but zombies sure weren’t. Before, it was considered a natural part of life - to live, grow old with the people you love, then move on to whatever came after but… would Monty have an after? Was this Monty’s after? It made the shifter realize just how limited his own time was - over forty years old, having been turned into a werewolf a little more than a year ago. Turning his life on his head, his one life, his one shot. It was difficult to think that that was all he got, and he was relegated to being forced to deal with this parasite inside of him. “Of course I’ll come back.” He reassured, leaning back so he could see Monty’s face in turn. “Even though I’ll probably still be around your height.” With that, Gael gave the cowboy a gentle, playful push. “And you’re older than me! You’ll always be older than me, don’t give me this shit about bingo!” He laughed, wiping his eyes though his face was still red from the emotions he was determined not to let overwhelm him. “As you sit in your chair and carve your wood looking out over the prairie.”

—

Monty withdrew as he was pushed, crossing an arm over his chest to grasp at his own shoulder and letting out a breathy laugh. “¡Oye! Who knows, maybe I will be discovering the joys of bingo with you!” he offered, still grinning. His arm moved to swipe at the tears with his sleeve and he found himself thankful for this intermission from the uncomfortable disquiet that was knowing this would be the last time he saw Gael for a while. And that being the case, he didn’t want it to be all doom and gloom.

He dropped his arm and reached his hand out to Gael instead, giving his friend a warm smile. “Come on. You’d better say hello to Manzanita while you are here, I think she misses you,” he encouraged. They could walk and talk—he had a feeling that movement would help alleviate some of the unavoidable anxiety, at least in his case.

—

“Good, maybe bingo would be less boring with you there to wake us up every once in a while.” Gael joked back, internally thankful that he wasn’t the only one who got teary-eyed during this exchange. Not that he was embarrassed, but there was something… he felt bad thinking it but there was something human about knowing that zombies could still cry, or at least show some semblance of crying. The scientist did always desperately grab at those connections, feeling like any that were severed as a failure on his part. He wouldn’t fail this time. He wasn’t running away. This was another challenge, something else for him to overcome. He had Ren by his side, he had Alan and Monty, Felix and Alex, Cass, Elias, all the people in that weird little town that he’d gotten to know. Gael wasn’t sure what he would find but he was determined to find it. He could feel his resolve, cliche as it sounded, hardening inside of him, reinforced by the conversations he had. Monty had been dealing with being a zombie for over a century, Ren was learning to be a human after spending her 20 years as a weapon. Alan had been a werewolf for ten years. Gael could learn. None of the people he cared about gave up, he wouldn’t either. The werewolf took Monty’s hand, nodding with a gentle smile of his own. It was melancholy, but in no way hollow or even tired, not this time. “I’d love to see ‘Nita; I’ve missed her, too.” He knew their conversations would ebb and flow, wax and wane as the emotions wove themselves around the words exchanged between the two but they could handle them. And Gael would remember them and his promise to come back.

#. thread ;#. with ; gael cordova #. i see you ;

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firstpersonnarrator · 6 months ago

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More positive reviews come rolling in: The Arts Desk (X)

Withnail and I, Birmingham Rep review - Bruce Robinson’s 1987 film makes for a theatrical hit

“Robert Sheehan’s portrayal of Withnail was an absolute scream – and certainly no shallow imitation of Richard E Grant’s performance.”

Rehearsal image: @therepbirmingham IG

“All-in-all, this production of Withnail and I was a triumph and the standing ovation that the cast received was certainly well deserved. Indeed, the show proved to be far from the mistake that it could have been but a real celebration of British theatre in front of a packed audience.”

Full review (X)

Let’s put our cards firmly on the table here. I am a big fan of Bruce Robinson’s cinematic masterpiece about two out-of-work actors who live in Camden Town in 1969 and escape to the countryside for some rejuvenation, and must have seen it multiple times since it was released onto the big screen 37 years or so ago. Clearly, I’m not the only one, for Withnail and I has since achieved serious cult status – to the extent that it’s something of a surprise that it’s never been the focus of a dodgy Hollywood make-over or even been turned into a rock opera by the likes of Ben Elton.

Therefore, it was with some trepidation that I approached the initial run of a live theatre version of this classic comedy at Birmingham’s Rep. However, the fact that it had been adapted for the stage by Robinson himself and was to be directed by the great Sean Foley did offer significant hope. That said, there were still two major aspects about the production that gave a degree of concern: who was going to be cast as the self-absorbed and over-confident, yet cowardly Withnail and how was the predatory Uncle Monty and his unwanted sexual fixation on Adonis Siddique’s Marwood going to be portrayed? After all, mainstream attitudes towards the LGBT+ community have shifted considerably since the film first appeared in the late 1980s, when the Thatcher Government was still doing its damnedest to demonise gay men and lesbians with their Section 28 legislation.

I need not have worried. As Robert Sheehan’s portrayal of Withnail was an absolute scream – and certainly no shallow imitation of Richard E Grant’s performance that launched his film career and created an enduring source of comedy banter, if not a minor character-focused cult. Malcolm Sinclair’s Uncle Monty was similarly a fresh creation and considerably less flamboyant than Richard Griffith’s cinematic portrayal of the part. If anything, Sheehan was significantly more camp than Sinclair in this version.

Of course, the eminently quotable lines from the film’s script were all in order, with many fan boys and girls in the audience mouthing them as they were spoken by the actors. The infamous “We want the finest wines available to humanity. We want them here and we want them now!” even got its own cheer from a good proportion of those in the house.

While the original film has quite a small cast and all the characters, including Danny the Dealer and the imposing Presuming Ed, were represented without having to amalgamate any roles, reproducing various scenes – such as strolling or staggering over the bleak Northern countryside to and from the Crow pub – just wasn’t possible on the Rep’s stage. However, Alice Power’s excellent set – which often consisted of translucent screens and projections – more than made up for the limitations posed by an indoor theatre. Similarly, punctuating the show with a live band covering “A Whiter Shade of Pale”, “Sunshine of your Love” and other tunes of the time, resplendent in hippy garb and fronted by the energetic Sooz Kempner, was a genius move.

All-in-all, this production of Withnail and I was a triumph and the standing ovation that the cast received was certainly well deserved. Indeed, the show proved to be far from the mistake that it could have been but a real celebration of British theatre in front of a packed audience.

#robert sheehan #adonis siddique #withnail and i #birmingham rep #theatre #theater #british theatre #cult movies

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spiritsoulandbody · 6 months ago

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#DailyDevotion Jesus Is The True High Priest In The True Temple Above.

Heb. 8 Now, this is my main point. We have such a High Priest, and He sat down at the right of the throne of the Majesty in heaven to serve as Priest in the holy place and in the true tabernacle set up by the Lord and not by men. 3As every high priest is appointed to offer gifts and sacrifices, this One, too, had to bring some sacrifice. 4If He were on earth, He wouldn't even be a priest, because there are priests who offer the gifts demanded by the Law. 5They serve a copy and a shadow of what is in heaven, as God told Moses when he was going to make the tabernacle: "Be careful to make all of it like the pattern you were shown on the mountain.” Well if you hadn't known what the author's main point was until now, at least for the last few chapters, you know it now. We have such a High Priest who is innocent, holy, and sinless who lives forever and serves forever. This High Priest is Jesus. He is the one who has sat down at the right of the throne of majesty. At the right hand of God, He serves as our High Priest, perpetually putting forth His blood before the Father's eyes, covering our sins and declaring it to be the propitiation for our sins. The Temple High Priest was appointed to offer gifts and sacrifices. Of course there were a number of "junior" priests who did a lot of the work of the temple and sacrificed the various sundry sacrifices brought by the people. These offerings, gifts and sacrifices were prescribed by the Law and were offered up by priests appointed by the Law. Jesus also had to bring some sacrifice, but not to the Temple on earth. He is not a priest for earthly service. The Law provided for those. He comes to be declared a High Priest by the oath of God to offer up heavenly sacrifices in the Temple above. He serves us and the Father as our High Priest in the true Holy Place and Tabernacle of God in Heaven, set up by God, not made by human hands. He offers up His body and His blood before the Father in Heaven who accepts them as the atoning sacrifice to make propitiation for our sins. The priest below only serves a copy. The author brings to mind these passages from Exodus: Ex. 25, 40 "And see that you make them according to the model you were shown on the mountain.” Ex. 26, 30 “Set up the tabernacle according to the plan you were shown on the mountain." I'm reminded of the Monty Python movie, "Quest for the Holy Grail," where Arthur's servant replies to the comment of how awesome Camelot looks with, "It's only a model." Indeed, the Tabernacle Moses built, the Temple Solomon built, and the Temple after the exile were only models of what Moses saw in heaven above. They were only a copy and shadow of the reality above. It's a little interesting that the Israelites were revealed this principle centuries before Plato and his cave were discussed. It was centuries before the idea of the logos from Greek philosophy came into being where the chair, the book, the lion and tiger etc., are just imperfect shadows of the real ones above. Our High Priest, according to the order of Melchizedek, Jesus Christ of Nazareth is the true High Priest who offers Himself in the heavenly Temple of the Almighty where He intercedes for us, for our salvation, presenting and pouring His blood upon the mercy seat of God our Father, declaring us innocent, justified, sanctified and glorified. Merciful God the Father, always look upon the blood of Your Son, Jesus Christ, listen to His intercession for us and have mercy upon us, pouring out Your grace upon us that we may be presented to You with clear and pure consciences. In Jesus' name we pray. Amen. Read the full article

#Christ #Christianity #devotion #faith #heavenlytemple #HighPriest #Jesus #LCMS #Lutheran #Melchizedek #Messiah

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daniels-rwby-blog · 2 years ago

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IT'S BEE O CLOCK BABY

Still a good intro, Bit of back story, some falling nice.

That clock is important

Ruby's moody and Jaune the voice of reason

Jaune is my reaction to meta cat

cat your annoying weiss and me

ascension is death called it,

AND THE TWIST BOIS

so lewis died

weiss is now the best character don't at me.

holy crap this is the metaverse, like it's a writer's out for the whole show.

okay so we have the bees together working out the little ship issue we have going on (man i hope monty had a list of canon ships) and the backstory, really a tale from remnant about the ever after, as i thought the twist is that morals are totally wack, i love the tape FX btw. and yeah the herbalist seems more important or at least a pawn of the cat, which seems to be jaunes point, the cat rules this world, its the cat's playground and alex bought it, alex dealt with the cat and escaped.

also those mirrors and summer and weiss seeing atlas, thats gonna need a breakdown.

Jaune still isn't saying the full story tho, he's holding something back.

and now thee bee elephant:

so this is about as blunt a way to do the bee's as i could think of, the compliments bridge yangs movments are perfrect here, emotion is so well carried and her spilling out about blake is adorable

THE BLUSHING THE FLAG THE COLOR NOOOOOOOOO ITS TOO CUTE its the GARDEN FROM THE SONG

HOW DID HE KNOWWWWWW

This is one of the best scene’s i've seen from rwby, not just cause it’s my ship but because it feels like the show as come, at least half circle upon itself, while it left the realm of cutiepie highschool drama years ago, the core of it, of 4 friends, it's never left. And now it's back, although friends isn't the right word.

and thus the S.S bee wins over. in not the best way or the way i wanted

But yeah i like how nonchalant it is The bees are free and the show is essentially now part over, 2 of the title characters are completed in "friendship" BY is indeed bi. All that's left is ruby; the story of motherhood and doing the right thing even when the odds are against you, and Weiss who's learnt her lesson so many times over it's hard to count. But we're done now, the bees have kissed the ship is a relationship and the GF jokes can start, its phase 2 of the SS bumblebee and I really hope it gets mentioned in the show (the ex-ship name). Kinda wonder if Monty had planned this (seems like he did not gonna lie) but there was time for black sun to have it, but ultimately CRWBY kicked in their teeth. Here's my message to Blacksun or anyone who’s not happy about BB. This is RWBY, a show that while at its core is a fight anime about 4 girls, in a wacky world of monsters and God’s, finding themselves and their friends in the midst of it all, it always had a second message… Be yourself. Wiess tries to become her own person rather than the rich heiress. Ruby tries to be a huntress and later a leader and later still whatever this is. Blake and faunus are an analog for minorities and fitting in. Yang is the “just being physically strong doesn't mean you're good mentally”. This show is about change, finding your place and I don't think that having a Gay ship means any less. In fact it seems fitting. And regardless of all the other gay media you may point to and tell me that RWBY shouldn't have to conform to it, i'd like to point out this show is a decade old (ish)! This ship was there from day 1, and now it's over, its cannon and that's it.

For my fellow Bee’s, it's done, we can have our few weeks (heck the whole rest of the volume) but we have won. The signs were always there, it is now our job to become the defenders, we must gather our memes, our evidence, our mighty clips; and we must, it is our destiny to use them to back up CRWBY, to defend, not our opinions in hate filled fury, but the Show we love with dignity and respect, we need to tone it down once our victory lap is done and keep a level head as we show the world all the hints and love filled moments that led up to, what i hope is one of many Bee Kisses.

Also all the fan art OMG its so cuuuuuteeeeeeeeeee!

Thanks, y'all for reading, and sticking with this show to see out the bees, I'll have a breakdown of Ruby's mental fuzz at CR and what that means coming up. Make sure to read my other theories and DFTBA!

#rwby theory #rwby shitpost #rwby vol9 #team rwby #rwby #shipping #cannon #hey shippers be nice please #thessbeeisdeadandimsohappy

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faggghaggg · 2 years ago

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#Hugo Weaving #Aussies Without Cossies #charity event #1998 #they did indeed go full monty

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slashingdisneypasta · 4 years ago

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Ram Sweeney x Reader || Headcanons

Topic: Dating HC's

Notes:

*Sigh*... I write regularly write for creeps like Freddy Krueger and Offenderman... and am one of the few tumblrs that write for Sheriff Hoyt romantically... and yet Kurt and Ram are my real guilty pleasure characters.

Anyway I hope someone other then me wanted this XDD I'm gonna do a Kurt one too.

Warnings: Some NSFW but not explicit.

Your song: The Way I Loved You (Taylor Swift)

He respects my space and never makes me wait

And he calls exactly when he says he will

He's close to my mother, talks business with my father

He's charming and endearing and I'm comfortable

...

But I miss screaming and fighting and kissing in the rain

And it's 2:00 a.m. and I'm cursing your name

So in love that you act insane

And that's the way I loved you

Breakin' down and coming undone

It's a roller coaster kinda rush

And I never knew I could feel that much

And that's the way I loved you

You two as a TV/Movie/Book couple: Bianca Piper and Wesley Rush (The DUFF)

Having the kind of relationship that no one else understands at all. Like, you have nothing in commen except commen history and your feelings for each other (Which are, on the other hand, totally clear to everyone) but when you're together you're always laughing and being affectionate.

Being in an on and off relationship throughout middle school and highschool- but never and I repeat; Never, is anyone permitted to mess with you at all. Because Ram always considers you his, even when you arent together.

So yeah, you always have 2 (Ram, and Kurt) large football star bodyguards at your disposal.

Being very playful together.

SOOOOoooooo much PDA. Including: Making out in the hallways and at school events like football games (You dont care who sees), sitting in his lap or at least squished close to his side at lunch, him throwing you over his shoulder to carry you places, him giving you piggy back rides, him picking you up and twirling you around, him just standing behind you with his arms around your waist and his chin rested on your shoulder when he's bored (With everything but you), his arm being over your shoulders as you walk together, you wiping peanut butter on his nose to get a rise out of him and then running away so he'll chase you, you peppering his face with kisses to make him laugh, etc.

Having a turbulent relationship. Because while, when all is well you two are like peanut butter and jelly and seem like the perfect highschool sweethearts, when you arent it's because Ram has gotten really jealous over something and called you a terrible name (Skank, whore, slut, bitch- any of those) or you understandably got irritated by his bullying and/or being a perverted, sexist asshole and you have huge, blow out fights in the middle of school and by the end of the period the whole student body knows about it.

You give him the silent treatment and the cold shoulder after those (If you didnt break up, that is) and he sends Kurt to give you messages.

When you make up its because he sincerely apologises although he doesn't 100% understand what he did wrong which becomes part of the next fight.

As you've been together so very long, he is basically part of your fucking family. He's so familiar and casual with your parent/s and/or sibling/s. They love him so much that, whether you're with him at the time or not, they allow him into the house and your bedroom with a cup of tea and snacks. (Its the 'American dream' popular-boy / football-star thing.)

So yeah, sometimes when you're mad at him or he wants to get back together (Which generally you want to do, to. You honestly have the same biological timer. Its like, 3 weeks pass by of being broken up and then ding ding ding! You both get the feelings its time to get back together and start sharing grins in the hallway and talking to your friends about eachother) you'll just find him waiting for you in your room when you come home.

Hanging out a looooooot with Kurt. Movie nights at your place, hanging out at the mall together on weekends sneaking out to see them at the football field at night time, etc. When you're sad, they'll both turn up wherever you are to cheer you up, too! Goofballs.

This does not mean there arent times where Ram shoo's Kurt off, though, when you two want some alone time together (*Eyebrow wiggles*) because of course. I'm just saying, you're a close-knit group.

When you are alone together, not much changes from when you're around others honestly XD You're still just as playful and affectionate. You just, you know, also have sex.

When he's down, you rusk your graceful image and climb through his bedroom window to be there with him. You dont fuck, you dont even really kiss. You just climb into bed with him and he'll tuck you under his chin and close his eyes. Legit old married couple. And you two sleep- by morning, he usually feels better and refuses to let you get out of bed with him.

"Five more minutessssss, babe!" He whines, holding you against him and pressing kisses to your head. You know he'll just say that again in 5 minutes time- and over, and over, and over again.

"Oh- no. I've been caught in this trap before Ram. We have school, so we have to get up. Come on!" You push firmly at his stomach (or abs) with your fists; not that that does much as he just just groans or gathers your little wrists in one big fist to stop you (Either way he certainly doesn't even flinch). His eyes are still closed. You sigh.

Now you have two choices, you can either give in and snuggle back into him for the rest of the morning, or threaten to send an attack towards his groin and he'll literally fling himself outta bed. Like "OH LOOK AT THE TIME- Kurt's gonna be waiting for us outside. Lets go!"

There are also mornings that you wake up with him (No sad Ram the night before necessary) and are all too happy to stay there with him. You just adorably nod into his chest, eyes still closed and making the cutest half-asleep morning sound when he asks if you wanna stay here a bit longer and he happily pulls the blanket over both your heads; shielding you both from the real world for a while.

OKAY MOVING ON FROM THAT FLUFFINESS.

You are also the only person who has any sort of control over him and Kurt. Like you can take them down a few pegs with just a look.

You two do date other people when you're broken up but its clear to anyone watching that these are just nice place holders for eachother. Neither of you are ever as happy with others as you are with eachother. You're ridiculously in love, actually.

Ypu were the first one to say I Love You, and he immediately called Kurt for guidance XD

Places you've had sex (Because it is always the full monty with Ram): Both your bedrooms so so so many times, the school bathrooms, his car, Kurts car (Kurt was NOT pleased.), the back of the football field, under the bleachers during a game or pep rally (he was benched for being too violent) + under the bleachers during practise + under the bleachers when the football field is deserted, the back of the school, the faculty parking lot at school, Kurts and Heather Chandler's houses (Parties. Basically a Westerburg High party is not complete without Y/N L/N and Ram Sweeney breaking in someones bed), his parent's car, the woods, cow pasture (a picnic blanket was used), and finally some mall changing rooms.

You leave him messages on his answering machine. He listens to every one of them (Which means something because he doesnt listen to anyone elses, unless he's gotta get through them to get to yours).

Him being SUCH a jealous asshole (With everyone except Kurt).

HIM STANDING UP TO THE HEATHERS FOR YOU.

#PromKingAndQueen

Having Kurt "Smartest guy on the football team," Kelly be your (Occasionally, live in- yes, he has slept over with the two of you on the floor so he could break up fights) couples councellor. Often his advice is 'fuck it out' but he also comes up with oddly wise shit sometimes. Mostly he's just very exasperated though. Like, its obvious you two are gonna end up together- stop bothering me with this shit. Let me get some pussy for myself guys please-

You two getting a bit frisky on movie nights with Kurt and he throws stuff at you. He just starts bringing a pool noodle (That he drew an angry face onto) along with him and hitting y'all with it whenever he feels its necessary. Cuz I mean, on one hand, of course he's happy for his bro Ram that he's getting his dick wet, but on the other- ITS FUCKIN MOVIE NIGHT, PULL YOURSELVES TOGETHER FOR T W O S E C O N D S (Oh the irony- it does indeed escape him). He'll park his ass right in the middle of you two if you keep it up.

If he had survived, you and Ram would have broken up after graduation and spent college apart, before bumping into each other again back home as new (Improved. Especially him) people that fit together better now and ended up getting back together for good.

#Ram Sweeney x Reader Headcanons #Ram Sweeney #Ram Sweeney x Reader #Heathers #Kurt and Ram #Kurt Kelly #Headcanons #Heathers Headcanons #Heathers x Reader

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grechsblog · 3 years ago

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Blender AU but how I thought the ferals handle the animatronics trio

Tommy to Monty - P A R K O U R in Monty Golf. And probably yells "SEE YOU LATER ALLIGATOR" whilst Monty got rekt

Kris and PLAYER to Roxy - Not straight up hit Roxy, and Kris ride the race cart Queen style while touring the whole Raceway with max speed, and PLAYER keeping eye on Roxy. Probably ate and drank the junk food while driving before jumping out in the most unexpected way.

Gregory to Chica - This lil' genius collects most of the notes (the bags) and know what crap is gonna happen inside his head. How to lure Chica? Noted. Hesitation with the hydraulic press? None. Got dragged into the dumpster? Cue panic PLAYER.

OH YES! Yes! You're really figured how did I planned all that to happen, didn't you?

Tommy, indeed, goes after Monty. Despite mentioning that he's a tiny bit scared of neon green, for obvious reasons, he's curious. About what, you ask — well, he never seen any reptiles before, did he? Plus, Monty Golf is not very open space so he's the only one that can gain full advantage of environment (but the rest of the party still did try to switch with him)

Roxy is the second dangerous on the list they made, so it's a no-go for Gregory. He was clearly outvoted for that, so that left Kris and Player to deal with (and it's a race! They were professional in races)

Gregory was bummed to be left with the most interesting of animatronics, but figuring out how to catch and win her was fun. Until he falls into the dumpster. To that point in time, the gang all got Fazwatches so was notified immediately that "hey guys I'm in trash. please pick me up"

They all panicked.

#blender au #I'm gonna write this out later but shhh #you didn't hear it from me

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fitz-higgins · 3 years ago

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“Monty & Henry were in love here”, 1912

Somewhere near the Presumpscot River, Maine, there is a tree with a faint carving on its bark that says, “Monty & Henry were in love here”. It was left here in the summer of 1912 by two lovers who found their little haven in this quiet forest. And indeed, they were happily in love here, and they also were camping, swimming, catching trout and afraid of bees together.

Their visit to Maine was mostly decided upon because Monty was in the mood for having some lobster. And not just any lobster, but the best. “Why not go straight to the source of the best lobster in America?” was his logic, and so they had packed their bags and took the first train to Portland, booking into a hotel late at night and smiling politely at the curious looks from the concierge. Days were spent finding the best lobster in town (‘Enery, their cat, thoroughly enjoying this unexpected bounty of seafood), but soon, yearning for time where they could be truly alone, Henry talked to some locals in the midst of studying their accents and discovered a camping site not far from the city. And here they were now and it was more beautiful than they imagined.

Truth be told, their little journey wasn’t that perfect for Monty, he mused as he held one side of the tent while Henry hammered down a peg. It was raining on their way here; his muscles were aching after walking and carrying two bags for so long; ‘Enery went out to hunt, no doubt, to bring them yet another dead gift; Henry was struggling with the tent; and the place was full of insects. You see, Monty is particularly afraid of spiders, but he also dislikes insects of any form, shape and size. So, while he was waiting patiently (or not) for Henry to set up the tent, he did his best to refrain from complaining. At least Monty could watch Henry at work, something that he always loves, and no insects or spiders could change it.

But… afraid of bees together, you ask? Yes. Only Monty is afraid of spiders, but bees are Henry’s greatest fear. And when the tent was finally ready, ‘Enery appeared. Well, not just appeared. He rushed inside, chased by what seemed to be an entire beehive. Thankfully, Henry managed to close the tent before any bee got inside as well. And so, locked in the tent, they were indeed afraid of bees together.

Though Henry was afraid more, perhaps. He curled himself up to look as small as possible, holding the equally frightened ‘Enery close to him. But when the bees zoomed to the wall closest to him, he crawled over to Monty. “What if we’re stuck here because they won’t leave?” he asked in fright. “God, I hate this place now. I wish we never left the hotel.”

And this was when Monty couldn’t hold back his complaints anymore. “I know!” he exclaimed in great relief. “We've been walking for god knows how long, with all those heavy bags, in this goddamn heat and rain, surrounded by bloody gnats and mosquitoes, only to hide from a bunch of mad bees in a tent that is about to fall apart!” Having fired it all off in one breath, Monty paused, then added, “And I forgot our torches in the hotel.”

Despite their dramatic reaction (Henry even offered to push himself outside as an offering to the bees), it wasn’t so bad in the end. Eventually, the bees left, and it was safe to come out once again. They collected firewood, with Henry “accidentally” overlooking several suitable branches for Monty to find. Because Monty, ever so eager to be useful, but being an urban fellow, isn’t very good at distinguishing suitable wood for the fire. At moments like this, Monty could forget about all his grumbling and complaints and actually like being in the great outdoors. After all, it was just him, Henry, their dear cat and nature, and they could forget about the outside world. “Like at home, but bigger,” Monty concluded.

When they returned to their camp, talking about favourite cakes and plans for their first Christmas together, this was when Monty took Henry’s pen knife to engrave the quiet message to the world that stayed on the tree trunk for decades. “I saw tourists doing it sometimes…” he explained, showing his work to Henry. “But I’ve never seen two male names written together. So I thought I’d change it. If the tree doesn’t get cut down because of this writing, people can see it many years later. Nobody will know who those Monty and Henry are, or were, yet they will know that they loved each other. Maybe this is the best possible way to show the world our love. That we are here.”

Carefully touching each letter, Henry felt as if they were engraved on his heart. “We are here and we are as real as the tree upon which this is written,” he said with his eyes glistening, as if daring the world to disagree. He heard no roar of disapproval, of course, only the sound of birds singing in the trees nearby and the gentle stream of the river.

With this little manifest of their love, the rest of the day went better. Monty and Henry adorned each other with flowers, like they always do when having a picnic or camping. And doing so, they called each other a fairy king – this title always makes Monty’s heart beat faster in delight. They took countless photographs, eager to leave dozens of little reminders of this wonderful day. They both tried the Maine accent and then Henry even caught a trout with nothing but a makeshift fishing rod. This was a nice addition to their sandwiches and bits of lobster for ‘Enery. And after all this, after swimming and talking, joking and teasing, Henry, Monty and ‘Enery went to sleep in the tent. Henry was clearly the centre of gravity for ‘Enery climbed on his chest and Monty, as usual, snuggled against his lover.

“It is quite nice being a bed for you both in a way. For our family,” Henry noted.

And kissing his shoulder, Monty mumbled sleepily, “You’re the best bed in the world. As well as the best husband.”

[Art by the wonderful @vairiart]

#1910s #mlm #gay history #edwardian era #monty and henry #stories and scenes #blog: arts

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angelofrainfrogs · 3 years ago

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Welcome Home, Superstar: Ch. 11

Fandom: Five Nights At Freddy’s: Security Breach

Description: After defeating the glitchtrap virus and learning the truth about who—and what—he is, Gregory faces another big task ahead of him: learning what it’s like to be loved by the family he’s never had. It will take time to befriend the animatronics who previously hunted him, but with the help of Freddy, Gregory knows he can overcome anything the world might throw at him next.

Chapter Summary: Monty was promised a round of golf, and Gregory is happy to oblige. Unfortunately, some unpleasant memories are lurking underneath the surface of the happier ones Gregory’s been making, and it only takes one small incident to bring him back to that fateful night.

Rating: T

Read on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/37561549/chapters/95691619

The day passed normally for the animatronics, although patrons of the Pizzaplex would swear that everyone seemed a little bit... happier than usual. Once another successful day of performances and parties was complete, Freddy said goodbye to his friends and, after giving Monty a fist-bump and promising to be at the golf course within the hour, he returned to his room to find Gregory playing next to his box full of toys.

“Hello, superstar!” Freddy exclaimed, smiling brightly and holding out his arms.

“Freddy!” Gregory exclaimed, rushing towards the animatronic and jumping into his embrace. “I missed you!”

“I missed you, too!” Freddy replied, spinning them both in a circle before pulling Gregory in close for a hug. “Are you ready to try some golf tonight?”

Gregory giggled as he was spun around, smiling widely. “I'm ready! I got a lot of sleep too!”

“Wonderful!” Freddy smiled, then placed Gregory on the ground and took his hand. “Then you will surely have enough energy to play the entire course!” Not wanting to waste any time, he led Gregory out of the room and towards Gator Golf, sending a short message to let Monty know they were on the way.

“Was your day fun?” Gregory asked as he swung their arms back and forth, his smile remaining bright and cheery.

“Oh yes!” Freddy replied, thinking back on all he'd done that day. “Let me see... The band played a total of four shows of varying lengths, and I hosted three birthday parties. In-between, I spent my time in Fazer Blast; I even faced off against Roxy at one time, per special request from a birthday girl!” Freddy chuckled at the memory. “Roxy lost but took it well, although she demanded a rematch sometime in the near future.”

“Woah, that's a lot!” Gregory said, not realizing how much work the animatronics did. “But it sounds like fun… especially when you get to do stuff with your friends!”

“It is indeed.” Freddy smiled down at him as they rode the elevator that would deposit them into the golf course. “And soon, you will be able to join me—or anyone else that you wish!”

Just as Gregory was going to speak up, the elevator doors opened and Monty jumped out in front of them with a wide grin.

“HELLO!” the gator shouted, laughing loudly as he noticed Gregory flinch back. “Finally! It wasn't the best greetin’, but maybe next time it'll have more... umph to it.”

“Monty, please!” Freddy chided, narrowing his eyes at the gator's laughter. He placed a comforting hand on Gregory's back as the boy instinctively hid behind his leg. “How many times have I told you that it is rude to scare people? Especially children?!”

“For like the billionth time, Freddy, it wasn't to scare... It was to surprise and GREET,” Monty explained before crouching down to pat Gregory’s head. “Oh yeah, I'm definitely gonna make you a little mini-me!” He stood again, gesturing for the pair to follow him into the golf course.

“Oh goodness...” Freddy grimaced at the thought. One Monty was enough to handle...

Once Gregory recovered from the initial shock, he gripped Freddy’s hand tightly and began to slowly follow the gator, wary of any further jumping he might do. Freddy allowed him to take the lead, wanting the boy to get some quality time with Monty, just as he'd done with Roxy—though, of course, hopefully less fatal. As they walked, Freddy thought about all the other things that he’d like to arrange for Gregory: some cooking lessons with Chica, more games with everyone as a group, meetings with the animatronics Gregory had yet to re-introduce himself to, and more time to focus on exploring his powers… and that was just the beginning. Freddy grinned to himself—they had quite a busy life ahead of them, it seemed.

As they arrived at the first hole on the course, Monty handed Gregory and Freddy a golf club, each picked specifically to match their size.

“Now listen, squirt, this game is all about focus and concentration!” Monty explained, grabbing his own golf club and holding it over his shoulder. “All you gotta do is hit the ball into the hole in as few shots as possible! We go one by one, hittin' the ball until everyone's made it in. Simple, right?!” He picked up a bucket full of golf balls and held it out towards the two, letting them pick whichever color they wanted.

Gregory hummed, grabbing a bright red neon ball and examining it closely. “It’s cool they glow in the dark!”

“It is due to the neon lights,” Freddy informed him, selecting a bright purple ball and holding it up for Gregory to see as well. Once everyone was ready, Monty gestured for the two step back and set his ball down on the tee.

“Now, make sure you swing appropriately! Not too hard, but hard enough to get close to the hole!” he explained to Gregory, looking back at him before swinging the golf club, sending the ball careening across the green before it slowed to a stop on the other side. “Also, form is super important! Copy what Fredbear does—he’s got pretty good form, too.”

Freddy stepped up to the tee next, making sure Gregory watched as he swung. He hit the ball at just the right angle to send it soaring towards the goal, stopping only a few inches short of getting a hole in one.

“Oh, so close!” Freddy lamented, shaking his head. He moved to the side and gestured for Gregory to step up to the tee next. “Your turn, superstar!”

Gregory watched Freddy hit the ball, smiling softly as he figured it'd be a lot easier than what he was seeing—how hard was it to swing a stick, after all? Once it was his turn, he marched up and positioned himself just as Freddy did, holding his club up before taking a swing… and missing. He tried again with the same result, and after the third attempt Monty decided to intervene. Just as the gator stepped up to help, Gregory swung once again, managing to hit the ball this time!

…Along with Monty as well.

“Oof!” the gator exclaimed, dramatically spinning around before collapsing onto the floor, lying flat on his back. “Heh, nice shot, squirt—although I'm definitely gonna have to get you back for that smack on the snout!”

“Oops…,” Gregory murmured, peering down at Monty with wary curiosity. “Are you okay?!”

“He is fine, do not worry,” Freddy reassured the boy, walking over to examine the gator as well. There was a golf club-sized dent in the side of his snout, but that was the only physical damage they could see. Freddy held out a hand, hauling the gator to his feet with a laugh. “You should know by now not to get in Gregory's way!”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re right… but I thought he needed help!” Monty explained, with a loud laugh, clearly not actually offended by the mishap. Satisfied that he was alright and not wanting to give Monty time to dwell on the topic of being damaged any further, Gregory rushed off to find his ball, which had surprisingly landed close to the others’.

“As Monty said earlier, the goal is simply to get your ball in the hole. We take turns hitting them in the same order we started in, so Monty will go first,” Freddy said once the animatronics caught up to him, gesturing for the gator to make his move.

“Yes!” Monty cheered as his ball immediately fell into the hole. He picked it up and then turned to Gregory, jerking his head towards Freddy. “Now, you’ve gotta know that Freddy is probably the next best guy around to play golf with—he gives me a real challenge! Roxy can't play for crap!” This last sentence was shouted in the impossible hope that the wolf could here from wherever she was.

“Thank you, Monty,” Freddy sighed, realizing it was pointless to call him out on his language. He stepped up to his ball and hit it lightly, sending it right into the hole. “Second try as well! Alright Gregory, it is your turn again!”

Gregory hummed as he carefully lifted his golf club, aiming his shot as he’d seen the animatronics do. He took a careful swing, not too hard but just hard enough to send it into the goal. Monty let out a celebratory yell, lifting him up and tossing him in the air.

“Way to GOOO!” he cheered, catching Gregory and setting the dizzy boy back down.

Of course, Freddy rushed over as soon as he saw Monty move. He trusted the gator to catch the boy, but his parental instincts kicked in on their own and he held his hands out just in case Monty miscalculated. Gregory was perfectly fine of course, if a bit unsteady on his feet.

“Are you alright?!” Freddy asked, stepping close in case the boy wanted to lean on him for support.

“Mhm! Just dizzy!” Gregory replied, looking up at Freddy as he hugged onto his legs. “Sun already dropped me, but it didn't hurt at all.”

Monty waved a hand, patting Freddy's little top hat. “See? He's perfectly safe! Stop worryin’ so much Fredbear! I won't hurt him or nothin’!”

“I do not think you will,” Freddy reassured, gently pushing Monty’s hand away. “I am sorry, but for some reason I just cannot seem to stop myself from worrying whenever there is the barest potential threat to Gregory's well-being... However, I do trust you with him, despite how I may act, and I apologize if it does not always come across that way.” He patted Monty on the back, smiling, then quickly frowned as he registered what else Gregory had said. “Wait—Sun dropped you?!”

“Aww…” Monty smiled in response to Freddy's claim, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and causing the bear to pitch forward slightly with the force of the action. “I trust you too, Fredbear! Geez, you're such a softie!”

“Yeah! Not too high, though,” Gregory explained nonchalantly as he grabbed his ball and moved onto the next area.

“I did not think Sun would be able to do such a thing...,” Freddy muttered, mostly to himself, then shook his head with a sigh as Monty released him. “Let us continue the game, shall we?”

“I need to get you guys your own personalized golf clubs,” Monty commented as the group moved on. “We could make our own secret club or somethin’!”

Freddy laughed, following behind the pair. “That would be fun! I am guessing Roxy is not allowed to join?”

“No! She can't unless she proves herself worthy!” Monty said as he stopped at the next hole. He quickly set his ball down, making sure neither of the others were too close before swinging.

“You two are always competing at something...” Freddy commented, with a sigh setting his ball down as well. He lined up the shot, took a swing... and got a hole in one! “Look at that; the first hole in one of the game!”

Gregory jumped around excitedly, before hugging onto Freddy’s legs again. “That was so cool!”

Monty grinned, nodding his head quickly. “See? Ol' Fredbear does a great job at golfing, don't he?!”

“Oh, that was just a lucky hit,” Freddy said with a grin, ruffling Gregory’s hair as the boy clung to him. “But this is fun, Gregory, is it not?”

“Yeah, it's lots of fun!” Gregory said, letting go of Freddy to take his turn. This time, he made sure to hit the ball when no one was around him. He only had to hit it three more times until he finally got it in. “Yesss!”

“Great job, superstar!” Freddy praised. He nudged Monty’s shoulder and nodded his head towards Gregory. “I think he is doing quite well for his first time; he might be able to win against you before you know it, Monty!”

Monty chuckled, nodding his head. “He'll be a pro!” He grinned down at Gregory—it was clear the gator had certainly warmed up to the kid compared to a few days ago. “Ready for the next hole?!”

Freddy nodded, happy to see the two of them getting along. Gregory had made his way into Monty’s heart much faster than Freddy expected, and Gregory seemed a lot more comfortable around the gator, too. Yes, he still flinched when Monty was being particularly loud, but that instinct would hopefully dissipate in time.

As they approached the next hole Monty stretched his arms out, then gently patted the top of Gregory’s head before taking his next shot. “You'll tear up this golf course in no time, squirt—and together, we'll take down Fredbear!”

“We shall see about that!” Freddy replied with a grin. He hit his ball and managed to knock Monty’s out of place, farther away from the hole. Freddy shrugged, still grinning. “Oh dear… tough luck, Monty!”

“Ooh... You're an evil bear sometimes, y’know that?!” Monty said, narrowing his eyes at Freddy. The pair watched Gregory hit his ball, although it remained the farthest away from the goal.

“This game is hard!” the boy whined, squinting to see how many hits he had left.

“It just takes some practice,” Freddy said, patting his back. He didn’t feel the need to remind him that the animatronics were programmed to be excellent golf players... “Keep working with Monty, and you will be as good as us in no time!”

Gregory quickly nodded his head, placing his hands on his hips with all the shimmering confidence a child could muster. “Yeah, I have plenty of time to get as good you guys!”

“You sure do, squirt!” Monty nodded, giving the kid a harsh pat on the back. Thankfully, this only caused Gregory to laugh as he was nearly knocked over, and soon Monty’s own chuckle joined in. Freddy had a feeling that soon, Monty and Gregory would be quite an unbreakable set.

As the trio made their way through the course, Freddy couldn’t help but think about Gregory’s comment: the boy essentially did have all the time in the world, at least as far as they knew, and there were so many things for him to learn. Despite Gregory’s unfortunate way of getting to this point, Freddy was glad that he now had a whole family to look after him for the rest of his afterlife.

Eventually, the game ended with a tie between the animatronics. Gregory, of course, had the worst score. He didn't seem to mind though—he’d had fun nonetheless.

“Can we all play a different game?” Gregory asked as Monty put their golf clubs away.

“Of course we can!” Freddy agreed. “What would you like to do?”

“I played a game in the daycare called hide and seek with these boys, and it was actually pretty fun! I figured you guys would be good at it too!”

“Oh!” Freddy perked up with interest at the mention of Gregory interacting with other people. “You were able to play with other children?! Did you make any new friends?”

Gregory went silent for a moment, soon shaking his head. “Well, no... They couldn't see me.”

Monty stared down at him for a moment, then gave Freddy a side-eyed grimace.

“Wow... That's really sad,” the gator said with his usual tact, smiling and pointing a thumb to his chest. “It's okay though—who needs human friends when you have ME?!”

Freddy mentally kicked himself for acknowledging one of the unfortunate aspects of Gregory being a ghost. He quickly lifted the boy up and tossed him in the air to distract him from any negative thoughts that might have wormed their way into his mind.

“Well, as Monty said, we are your friends and we would love to play hide and seek with you!” Freddy said after catching Gregory on the way back down. He gestured to the golf course with one arm. “I think this is the perfect place for it, too!”

“Sounds like fun!” Gregory replied with a bright grin, giggling at the after-effects of being thrown into the air.

“Since you thought of the game, you get to decide who should be the seeker first!” Freddy added.

Gregory thought to himself before pointing at Monty, clarifying: “Since he's probably gonna hide better than us…”

“Now you know that's right, squirt!” the gator said with a loud laugh, placing his hands on his hips.

“Good choice; Monty is very good at camouflage!” Freddy added with a nod. “Alright then, we will hide as soon as he begins to count down!”

“I'll count to... Thirty!” Monty said, then turned around and covered his eyes. Once he started counting, Gregory looked around and quickly ran to hide.

Freddy did the same, finding a dark corner behind a fairly tall fake plant. He crouched for extra coverage, then watched Gregory until the boy ran out of his line of sight. Gregory, in turn, soon found a wooden structure near one of the holes with just enough space for him to fit underneath, and he quickly crawled into the tight space just as Monty reached the end of his countdown.

“Ready or not, here I come!” Monty shouted, uncovering his eyes and beginning his search. As he came closer, Freddy tried to make himself as small as possible, hoping the gator would walk right past. However, Monty instantly spotted him with a laugh.

“Fredbear, your eyes are as bright as ever!” he mentioned as he made his way over towards Freddy and held out a hand. “I almost thought they were floatin’ golf balls 'til ya blinked!”

“Oh! I had completely forgotten!” Freddy replied with a chuckle, allowing Monty to help him up. “I do not know where Gregory went, so I will keep an eye out with you!”

Freddy followed along behind the gator, letting him take the lead as he was still technically the seeker. As Monty jumped around a corner, hoping to catch Gregory by surprise, a nagging feeling started in the back of Freddy’s mind. There was something about this situation that felt a little… off. However, Freddy had just been accused of worrying too much, so he reasoned that this was simply another one of those occasions and pushed the feeling down. They were meant to be having fun, after all!

Gregory remained hidden, listening to the pair approach. Because of his position, he was restricted to only the sight of their legs as they walked around. As he watched Monty stalking closer, he couldn't help but be reminded of what happened that night—

—The gator’s heavy footsteps were coming for him, and Gregory held his breath, terrified of being caught—

—“Hey, little guy!” the low voice shouted as Monty spotted him darting towards a new hiding spot. Gregory needed to move or else he wouldn’t make it—

—The ground shook as Monty landed in front of him, sharp claws reaching forward and a gnashing snout coming right for his face—

—Another reset—

Gregory was completely lost in his memories, and he was terrified… So much so, in fact, that the lights on the structure above him began flickering wildly.

The lights instantly attracted Monty’s attention. He stopped in his tracks, scratching the top of his head in confusion. “Huh; I've never seen that before…”

***

Masterlist of chapters on Tumblr here!

Please check out The Superstar Series on ao3 for all fics in this series: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2726401

#fnaf #five nights at freddy's #fnaf security breach #fnaf sb #gregory #monty #montgomery gator #glamrock freddy #fanfic #fanfiction #ao3 #angelofrainfrogs #welcome home superstar #the superstar series

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ri-ahhh · 4 years ago

Text

good times

things come to a head, as it were. part 3 in this lil trilogy.

warnings: kinda long, almost all smut, probably one of the dirtier things I’ve written in a while

A/N: once again, I apologize this is so long and there’s no keep reading break. Even if tumblr did work on my laptop, my cat chewed up my charger and it’s dead so.. yeah. Sorry again.

***

The next afternoon finds you and Grayson in his car, munching on a lunch of Monty’s and sitting in otherwise companionable silence as Cudi’s album plays quietly from the speakers.

You had slept like a rock the night before. The heat from Grayson’s body in his almost too-comfy bed beneath the fluffy comforter, with his arm slung around your waist to keep you close to him all night, had lulled you off to sleep faster than you can ever remember having done before.

The orgasm might have helped, too. But it was him that had kept you safe and cozy and warm enough to wake up feeling like a new woman.

Enough so that you let him coax you awake in the middle of the sunrise this morning, his eyes puffy but cheeks full as he grinned down at you sleepily and pushed a rogue chunk of hair out of your face. That gruff morning voice convinced you to do the unthinkable — leave the bed and go on a morning jog with him.

“Fine,” you had grumbled, not sounding nearly as sexy as him with your raspy, unused voice. “But you owe me.”

Grayson chuckled, and you felt the dip in the mattress as he stood up and stretched. “Owe you what?”

You cracked an eye open and watched him, the thick muscles all over his body elongating as he lifted his arms over his head with a big yawn. He’s just wearing his underwear, and you’re suddenly very conscious of the fact that you’re similarly dressed in a pair of his boxers and his hoodie he had given you after... everything.

He says your name, and your eyes zip to his handsome face; away from where they had been admiring the perfect curve of his ass in those skin-tight briefs.

“Huh?”

He’s full-on smirking at you, and frustratingly you can feel the flush creep into your cheeks despite yourself. You groan and bury your face in the pillow. “Shut up.”

To your surprise, the bed shifts again as he climbs back onto it on his knees. You turn your head just in time for him to dip down and press his lips to your temple gently.

“I said you can tell me what I owe you after we’re done with our run.” He yanks the covers back, and your disapproving whine turns into a giggly yelp when he smacks your ass lightly. “Chop chop, little onion. Let’s go.”

The run wasn’t bad, even though you had to borrow a pair of shorts and some tennis shoes that were a half size too small for you from Kristina. He let you pick the playlist to play through the speaker on his phone, and you actually enjoyed the rush of crisp morning air around you. But after putting you through a watered-down version of his calisthenics workout after the run, you decided that what he owed you was a nice, juicy vegan burger to replenish yourselves.

“You know what I just realized?”

You’re halfway through sucking a big bite of ice cream off your spoon when he breaks the comfortable quiet between you. Your brows raise in question, and he casually throws another fry into his mouth before continuing, eyeing you through the side of his sunglasses.

“After all we’ve done lately... we’ve never even kissed.”

That throws you for a loop. Your gaze drifts unseeing out the windshield as you consider his observation. Now that you think about it, you can’t recall that happening, either.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” you say, pulling the now-clean spoon out of your mouth. You scoop a bit of whipped cream onto it, and slip it in again as you look up at him with a smirk. “At least, not on the lips.”

He gives a little huff of laughter through his nose, accepting the bite of ice cream you offer him. There’s a brief moment of silence as he sits back in his seat a bit and swallows. “We should change that.”

You’re hunting through the cup of milkshake to find the perfect chunk of Oreo when he says it, and you jerk your head in surprise. “Oh.. yeah?”

Grayson nods and smiles. “Yeah.”

You swallow. Why are you suddenly so nervous? “Now?”

He shrugs. “Now. Later. Doesn’t matter. I just think we should.”

“Why?”

What a dumb question, you tell yourself, mentally giving yourself a face-palm. Grayson seems unfazed by it, though, and just keeps looking at you softly as he sucks a bit of salt off his thumb before crumpling up his napkin and stuffing it in the paper bag.

“Just doesn’t sit right with me that I’ve licked your pussy and not — well, your other lips.”

“Grayson!” He’s unbelievable, saying stuff like that so casually. You reach for his tea and take a big chug, feeling your face heat up while he laughs heartily.

“What? It’s true!” He snatches the drink back and takes his own sip, pushing his sunglasses to the top of his head. “Are you forgetting that the first time I saw you naked was when you masturbated for me? Don’t get shy on me now, babe.”

You pout at him, annoyed,because he’s right. You don’t even have an explanation for why you’re being like this; one of the reasons you and Gray always got on so well from the beginning is because you had basically no filter with each other, both comfortable with talking about everything from bathroom habits to hookups. But there’s a level of intimacy you now share with him that does, indeed, have you... well, shy. Anxious.

Excited.

Grayson must sense a shift in your energy, or maybe he just notices the way your eyes suddenly can’t stay off his lips, try as they might. He sits the drink in the cup holder, and you both subconsciously shift in your seats to face each other better. His hand reaches out and cups your cheek, his long fingers curling around your jaw and into your hair, his thumb brushing your lower lip gently.

His hazel eyes dart to your mouth, then back to your eyes, and there’s a mutual movement the both of you make toward one another, so that neither could claim or decide who moved first. But suddenly his lips are planted softly on yours — much softer than you would have anticipated for Grayson to be. They’re firm for a second as you both process the moment, but it’s definitely you who quickly lets out a little gasp and shifts just enough so his full bottom lip gets trapped between yours.

His breath is warm as it escapes through his nose, and there’s pure electricity when he pulls you closer with that hand on your face that slides to the back of your neck. Your own hand clutches at his arm as the other uses the console for leverage to push yourself towards him, too, all while you take turns sucking and nipping each other’s lips.

Your mouths are slippery when you finally part for breath, however much later that is. You both sit back in your respective seats, chests heaving a bit as you smile to yourselves and consider how amazing that first kiss was.

“Gray?”

He looks at you, brow raised but swollen lips lifted.

“I don’t want to stop.”

Grayson’s eyes darken, heat smoldering in his gaze as he lets out a deep breath, reaching for your hand. “Fuck. C’mere, please.”

You shake your head, even though your body is screaming to give in to his request and scramble into his lap. “Too busy outside,” you point out, nodding to the hustle and bustle of LA right outside the window.

Grayson sighs again and interlaces your fingers together. “Buckle up, then. Let’s go home.”

He doesn’t have to tell you twice, and before you know it he’s putting the car in drive and taking off down the road.

“Too bad we’re not in the Tesla,” you say slyly, unlocking your hand from his so you can rub your palm across his lap. You grin when you feel the start of his erection beneath the thin shorts he’s wearing.

“God...” Grayson takes your hand again and kisses the back of it before tangling you’re fingers again and holding them together over the gearshift. “Next time, baby, next time.”

Your heart thrills at the thought of a ‘next time,’ but for now you concentrate on making it home for this time.

By some kind of miracle, there’s hardly any traffic on the way back to the house. The air is electric between you the whole time, and Grayson barely has the car in park once the gate is shut and you’re in the driveway before he’s unbuckling and throwing himself at you.

You welcome his kiss with a moan, sliding your fingers through his thick hair as you welcome his invading tongue past your lips. It slides against yours with practiced ease that has you positively melting into your seat — which you’re made aware you’re still trapped in by the locking of the seatbelt when you try to lunge at him to get even closer.

Grayson grunts, and presses the little red button for you as he rips his mouth away, then leans across your body with his eyes locked on yours the whole time to open the passenger door.

No words are needed; the look you two share does enough talking. You both scramble out of the car, holding hands as soon as you meet again. Grayson leads you to the front door as you hurry behind him, and you follow him past the threshold closely. Luckily, there’s no one between you and his room to stop and ask questions or pass judgments, and the click of his bedroom door is the final barrier you need before you’re on each other like wild rabbits.

You reach hastily for each other’s tops right at the same time, and you both smile quickly. He lets you go first, raising his arms above his head so you can whip his t-shirt off with relative ease, even though you have to go on your tip-toes. You barely get the chance to admire all those smooth muscles before you’re blinded by the fabric of your own shirt.

“I’ve wanted this for so fucking long,” Grayson says lowly, admiring your tits in your sports bra for a second before he’s removing that, too. You smile shyly and help him rid you of the constricting garment, throwing it across the room once it’s cleared your head.

“Me too.” He’s pulling out your ponytail next, letting your hair cascade around your shoulders freely. You step back and kick your shoes off while he does the same, tugging off your shorts and underwear as well before jumping back into his arms once you’re both naked.

Grayson groans and hoists you up, and your legs lock around his waist as his lips find your neck. His dick, already completely hard, gets trapped between your hips and his belly, and you rock into it slowly. You sigh with modicum of relief it brings, and your eyes roll back when he bites down at the junction of your shoulder. You thread your fingers tightly into the hair at the back of his head to hold him there. “Fuck... Gray..”

He grunts in response, turning to walk you to the unmade bed you had both vacated just that morning. You cling to him as he lays you down, unwilling to let him go far even though he’s quite literally completely on top of you. He puts enough space between your torsos so he has room to gaze down at you beneath him. Hair fanned out on the pillow, dark red marks already rising to the surface of your skin, breasts full and heaving.

“So beautiful,” he says, sliding a hand up your side, stopping to squeeze your waist, which makes you squirm, before cupping one of your breasts in that calloused palm.

He’s the beautiful one, really. His eyes are soft and sweet, glowing a certain shade of green you’ve only seen a couple of times by now. His muscles bulge, his lips extra pink and puffy. His dick stands tall and thick between you.

He’s almost too much, too perfect. But you can’t let this go any further without making sure he knows what you really want of him, more than anything.

“Gray,” you say his name again, getting his full attention. You grin demurely up at him, and reluctantly take his hand away from where he’s squeezing your tit pleasurably. Eyes locked on his, you kiss his warm palm before murmuring. “I don’t want to stop.”

He looks a little confused, and his thumb strokes your cheekbone slowly. “I know, baby. Isn’t that what we’re doing?”

You nod, taking a deep breath. “Yeah. But I just — I don’t want to stop ever. I want to be able to have you all the time. Whenever.”

Grayson keeps staring down at you, and you blush furiously even as a smile breaks across his handsome features. “Are you saying you want to be together? Like for real?”

You sigh in relief, and hold his hand still so you can nuzzle your cheek against it. “Yeah. I - you know I suck at words.”

Grayson chuckles and lowers down to his elbows, his mouth so close to yours you can feel his sweet breath against your lips. “I do. It’s fucking adorable.”

Your smile turns wider for a second, but in the next you bite your lip and you wrap your arms around his neck to keep him exactly where he his. Your fingers dip down to blindly trace the lion tattoo on his sinewy back. “Do you - I mean, do you want the same?”

His expression softens, and he stares down at you for a moment before answering you with a gentle kiss.

“Absolutely,” he mumbles against your lips. “Didn’t I just tell you: I’ve wanted it for a long time now.”

“Let’s not waste any more, then,” you whisper heatedly, the drive to become completely consumed by him glaring up in your chest, your belly, your pussy once more.

Grayson seems to be on the same page, because the kiss he meets you with this time is hot and heavy and has you grinding into each other with thick moans and hands all over one another.

You wiggle your hand in the minute space between your bodies to grasp his dick, which is already slick from your juices. You watch his face as you give him slow, steady pumps, swirling the precum around his slit and twisting your fist at the head.

“Want this dick inside me,” you whisper, a fierce edge to your voice that has him biting his lip with a groan and his hips thrusting hard into your hand.

He shakes his head, whether in disbelief or an answer to your demand, you’re not sure. “Lemme eat your pussy again.”

Any other time, you would already be pushing on those broad shoulders, but not now. “The last couple weeks have been enough foreplay, I think. I want all of you, right now.”

He stares deeply into your eyes, as if he’s checking to make sure you’re sure, and you nod at him.

Grayson sighs and slips his hand down to join yours, wrapping around your slimmer one to guide him inside you together. You both inhale sharply, and let go of his cock as he sinks deeper, eyes locked once again while he slides home.

“God... damn,” he whispers harshly, tucking his hand behind your neck and dragging you up the short distance to meet his mouth.

You whine in return against his lips and hitch your knees higher up his waist, rubbing his back comfortingly as you both acclimate to him being inside you for the first time. He’s already stretching you out better than anyone has before, made even more intense by the fact that it’s Grayson in you, on you, around you.

“Fuck me, baby,” you beg sweetly, the pet name slipping past your lips with surprising ease.

You nip and suckle his earlobe, moaning loudly when he obeys and pulls out almost completely before pushing back in to the hilt slowly.

Grayson builds a rhythm like that, steady and perfect as he follows your cues to give you exactly what you want. When you whimper for him to fuck you harder, he sits up just enough to hook your knees over his elbows, then leans down over your body once again to thrust into you with an even better angle with better leverage.

“You want it like that?” he asks shakily, his voice gruff and full of sex as he pumps in and out of your pussy with dangerously smooth, even strokes that have you crying out his name in answer. Your hands claw at his thick, round shoulders, nails digging into the snake head and the bird feathers inked into his golden skin “Fuck, your pussy feels so fucking good. So fuckin wet, baby.”

You force your eyes open and stare at his flushed face, admiring the sweat clinging to his chest and brow and the way his chain dangles between you. One of your hands leaves his shoulder and hooks a finger into the silver, using it to tug him down for a deep, wet kiss that has your toes curling in the air.

The angle change has you gasping against his mouth, your lips dropping open against his as you tell him desperately, “Right there, right there...” and slide your hand between your bodies to rub the perfect slow circles on your clit.

He must feel you getting tighter around him, because he groans into your open mouth, sliding his tongue inside to meet yours sloppily. “Oh my god, baby, you gonna cum? Huh?”

You let your loud, breathy cries be his answer, until your moaning out his name as you clamp vice-like around his dick.

Grayson’s hand knocks yours out of the way when he feels it falter, and he takes over for you so you can ride out the bliss without distractions. He slows his thrusts inside you, until your breath has calmed down some and the flutters of your pussy fade away.

You open your eyes to find him enthralled by your blissful features, and smile up at him tiredly. Grayson lets your legs fall from his arms, and you wrap them instead around his waist, your hands finding the sweaty planes of his back. “Holy shit...”

“Yeah?” Grayson smirks down at you. His hands find your breasts and squeeze them, his thumbs rubbing your nipples, before letting one hand travel up to your jaw. He slips his thumb past your lips, letting you suck on it with pure seduction in your eyes as your hips twitch beneath his.

“Your turn,” you murmur, arching your back when he sits up to his knees and takes hold of your waist. You thrust your arms beneath your pillow, letting your tits bounce enticingly with every hard thrust he gives you in search of his own release. His eyes flit impatiently between where his glistening cock is disappearing over and over inside your swollen pussy, to your chest, to your pretty face begging him with both eyes and quiet whispers to let you have it.

It doesn’t take long for him to let out a guttural growl and pull out quickly, jerking off over your stomach as he shoots ropes up your torso. You hum contently and take over for him, thoroughly enjoying the warm liquid white streaking up your skin as you watch him fall apart.

Grayson collapses next to you weakly, chest heaving as he comes back down to earth. You grin and slide over to snuggle up to him, kissing his pec when he throws a heavy arm over your shoulders to hold you there as best he can in the moment.

You give him the time he needs, until he’s turning his head and coaxing your lips to his. You indulge him for a moment, then pull away with a low hum.

“We should shower,” you suggest with a happy sigh. You look down at your tummy and breasts, chuckling. “Your cum kind of got everywhere.”

Grayson laughs. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

You smirk and grab his hand, using his own finger to collect a streak that’s managed to stay almost completely on your skin, scooping it up and sucking it into your mouth with your eyes on his. You give him a wink.

“Won’t be the last, either.”

#dolan twins #grayson dolan #blurb #g blurb #smut #grayson dolan smut

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belphegor1982 · 3 years ago

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For the WIP ask: untitled dead parrot fic?

Yaaayy 💖

So this one started as a giant nod to the famous Monty Python skit (as will become obvious), but then a little later down the fic it evolved into showing the state of the Black Pearl with one captain (Sparrow) and a half (Barbossa) and the tensions aboard the ship post-AWE. The inspiration petered out for that one essentially because I still can’t find a way to wrap it up and the voices are gone :( But here’s a chunk bit of what I’ve got so far!

Over a Dead Body (title in progress)

(...)

It was Marty who found him crumpled near the foremast, wide-eyed and unblinking. He stopped dead in his tracks and stared, slightly unsettled.

“Oh bloody hell,” he muttered, bending to check if there was any sign of life, however small, left in the body. When he was absolutely positive that his find was stone cold, he grabbed the first pirate he could lay his hands on.

“Oi, Pintel – c’mere, will ya!”

Since Marty, in spite of his diminutive size (or perhaps because of it) had a death grip no-one could escape, Pintel did the sensible thing and followed him under the foresail, dropping the swab he’d been using to clean the guns with Ragetti. His curiosity piqued, his one-eyed mate glanced at them, and, typically, followed Pintel.

The corpse was a sad sight. Pintel cocked his head to the side while Ragetti’s mouth fell open. Marty disappeared in search of the captain, or failing that, the first mate.

Pintel crouched down and prodded the body with one hesitant grimy finger. Ragetti winced.

“Don’t,” he whispered, his long scraggy fingers twiddling with his swab in the usual way that made Pintel think his brain had actually nothing to do with it. “Maybe ’s still alive.”

“’Course it’s dead, ye daft old softie.” Pintel’s voice was its usual rough, but it was lower, with a quiet sort of undertone to it. “Wouldn’t be lyin’ there with its eyes open, for one thing.”

“Yeh know, there’s animals what sleeps with their eyes open,” the gangly pirate pointed out, sounding a bit more sure of himself. “Maybe that’s one of ‘em fings we’re not s’pposed to understand. Myst’ry of nature, so to speak.”

“Don’t be an arse. Look, if you put your finger there –”

“’M not touchin’ it!”

“Don’t tell me yeh’re afraid of a dea–”

“Little blighter might bite me, is why.”

Pintel’s shoulders sagged, and when he spoke again, the unusual gentler undertone was quite gone from his voice. “Look, you silly bugger, its heart’s not beatin’! You know what that means, dontcha?”

Ragetti shrugged, his head still down. “It’s a small heart. It don’t beat like ours. It’s wossname – fainter.”

“Fainter?! I’ll give ye bloody fainter! It don’t beat, thasswhat it is! You got more stupid ideas ‘bout why it only looks dead?”

The lone blue eye flicked around a few times, as though indeed searching the air for something to say. The more uncertain and sheepish Ragetti looked, the more smug Pintel got. When nothing came, the stocky pirate turned back toward the small corpse with a satisfied, there-you-go-I’m-right expression on his face.

“So, how d’you reckon it –”

“Maybe it’s pinin’.”

“What!?”

Ragetti’s gaunt face was creased in thought again, his one eye squinting from both the sun and the much-engrossing process of justifying denial. Pintel just stared up at him incredulously, gaping openly.

“I’m just finkin’… We ain’t make for land in a while. Maybe it’s pinin’ for the rainforest. Must come from there, I guess. So maybe it’s missing trees and stuff. Or, y’know, maybe it ‘ad a mate in that forest and it’s all sad now and everyfin’.”

“Pinin’!?”

“Yeah, pinin’.”

Pintel let out a sort of angry bellow as he sprung to his feet and drew himself to his full height. Granted, it wasn’t much, but it was enough to make his old mate, though much taller than himself, recoil suddenly. He picked up the small body and shoved it in front of a cringing Ragetti, roaring, “No, it’s not pinin’, yeh great big twit! It’s not doin’ anything right now! It’s dead! Deceased! It’s snuffed it, kicked the bloody bucket and it’ll be feeding the crabs in a minute! If ya really wanna be a pain in the arse about it, yeh can fink it’s gone to whatever heaven you want and it’s singing in bleedin’ invisible bird choir now! It’s a dead parrot!”

Funny how a lad so tall could make himself so small if he really put his mind to it. Over the years, Ragetti had become quite the expert at that.

When Pintel finally stopped hollering, his old friend’s mouth opened and closed a few times, but no sound came out. In fact, as he gradually became aware of as he cooled down and he could actually do something else than pant heavily and glare daggers at the younger pirate, it seemed that the entire ship had gone silent. A little bit too silent.

Eerie, he thought.

Glancing around himself and Ragetti out of the corner of his eyes, he could see now every single crewman staring at him, each with a different level of shock on his face. And, sure enough, following the direction of his bulging-eyed mate’s wordless gape, he saw Cotton.

And he realised he was still swinging the dead parrot in his hand.

“Erm.” Pintel blinked a few times, racked his brain for something intelligent to say, but any attempt at speech died before it reached his lips. “Huh. Er.”

The old mute pirate seemed even more mute than usual, if such a thing was possible. His face might have been carved out of wood for all it moved. There was nothing remotely threatening in it, or even angry for that matter, but it made Pintel wish very, very hard that he were elsewhere right now. Possibly the other side of the planet. Even the giant waterfall at world’s end didn’t seem far enough.

Pintel felt something tugging gently on his fingers, and became aware that Ragetti was trying – probably doing his damnedest to be as inconspicuous as possible; typical of the lad, that was – to prise the corpse out of his hand. He let go gratefully, and the scrawny pirate handed the dead parrot to Cotton, with as much tentative respect and deference as though it was the body of a very dear, old friend – which it very likely was, come to think of it.

“Sorry,” he mumbled – so quietly that Pintel barely heard, and he wondered whether Cotton had. For some reason it seemed important. Even though Ragetti had not been the one brandishing his dead parrot like a cutlass to prove a point. For once the pirate was grateful for his mate’s annoying propensity to apologise for whatever reason. He wasn’t sure he remembered how, himself, when it counted.

All he could do now was avoid the old mute’s piercing eyes and shuffle his feet a little bit, most likely doing a striking impression of Ragetti being all shy and defensive. Which was bloody ironic, if he thought for ten seconds about it.

_______________________

Man, I miss these idiots ^^ Poor Cotton, though...

#pirates of the caribbean #sometimes I write #my idiots #those two I swear

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travllingbunny · 4 years ago

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I was thinking about something... Am I the only one who thought while watching 7x08 of The 100, the backdoor pilot Anaconda "Did Jason Rothenberg write Bill Cadogan as a more charismatic and more powerful self-insert?" Maybe subconsciously? Maybe that was one of the reasons why that episode was well-written, he was writing about something he knows a lot about. I noticed the similarities of the Cadogan family dynamics to the Lightbourne family dynamic from a season before (such as both men being called out for being megalomaniacs/narcissists).

It also strikes me that all the main villains of the last 2 seasons have been megalomaniac privileged white men - Bill Cadogan, Sheidheda, Russell Lightbourne. And even in the other season - we can add the two Wallaces (and the Wallace family dynasty was referenced in Anaconda, too, with the mention of President Wallace’s administration). In season 5 the most villainy villain was McCreary, as a sociopathic manchild who destroyed the Earth because he couldn't have it all for himself. In the entire show, the human Big Bads of all seasons have been entitled white guys. (The other Big Bads were a computer program and a nuclear disaster, and season 1 didn’t have an overall main villain but many minor ones.)

I normally wouldn’t find anything strange about that - it’s an obvious and safe choice for a villain - but the specific character traits of the megalomaniac, egotistical, power-obsessed and entitled white men of these last couple of seasons and especially season 7 and Cadogan, have really made me think that there may be something subconscious going on there on Rothenberg’s part (probably not intentionally, as that would entail way too much self-awareness).

And there’s also another pattern I’ve noticed this season in particular (though it did not start this season, but now it’s really been maximized). When I wrote my review of 7x12, I was still giving the show the benefit of the doubt and trying to find the positives as well as the negatives, but there was something that had been making me increasingly uncomfortable throughout the season, and I couldn’t help mention that the show finished the last season with the Brainwashed into a Cult Jordan storyline, which was then dropped and ignored in season 7, but only to be replaced by the Indoctrinated into a Cult storyline for another man of color, this time the show’s second protagonist/male lead.

There is pattern of men of color constantly being portrayed as followers, manipulated and/or brainwashed, usually by white male villains. Even those MOC who still have a mind of their own and aren’t background characters (I think that’s only Gabriel at this point) are not leaders. (Gabriel may do his own thing, but he’s not in charge and agreed to be a Disciple.)

Jordan was brainwashed last season by an annoying Devout guy, a minor character called Trey . That didn’t end up having consequences except for Jordan spouting pro-Prime propaganda and getting hated by the fandom, and was retconed/ignored/dropped in season 7, except for Jordan continuing to be manipulated by the Devout (Trey and Alyssa) and Sheidheda (as Russell).

But after dropping that storyline, the show had Bellamy - who was a leader and a damn good one - indoctrinated into a cult and a follower of Cadogan. Then murdered. I really don’t want to talk anymore about that horrible plot and death scene. I was deeply uncomfortable with the plot to begin with, but was hoping that the show would do something that makes sense and is respectful to Bellamy’s character. My ideal version was that his friends and particularly Clarke get through to him and he realizes that individual love is not bad, but that his visions and beliefs weren’t entirely wrong, and that he turns his back on Cadogan and his interpretations of it. We know how that worked out.

Nelson was a leader, but was manipulated and used by Sheidheda in a way that didn't even make sense, preying on Nelson’s emotions and impulsiveness. Later murdered.

Sheidheda’s main follower was Knight of Sangedakru. There were some minor hints he may have been rethinking his loyalty and fans speculated he may turn, but nope.

Reese Cadogan was the child loyal and subservient to Bill, desperate for his father’s approval. And Bill thinks he may have been killed by his sister (because he can't imagine another reason he didn't bring him the Flame - in his mind, he couldn't have possibly broken away from his influence).

Miller and Jackson are background characters, in spite of having been on the show since season 1. Miller's most important arc in the last few seasons was having been a loyal follower or Blodreina. Jackson spent most of his time in the previous 6 seasons as Abby’s sidekick.

Even if we go back to previous seasons... Not to go over the minor characters like Shumway (season 1 minor villain- a follower of Diana Sidney, manipulated and murdered by her). But even Jaha, who was a strong leader, love him or hate him, was a brainwashed follower of ALIE for a full season.

Monty and Lincoln were characters of integrity, but were never put in charge. Lincoln was also a brainwashed slave/monster for half a season - but at least he got to get a revenge on his brainwasher Cage Wallace. Then he got murdered the next season.

I’d have thought Bellamy was an exception once the show seemed to have stopped trying to impose the idea he was a “follower” and let him be a really good leader in the later seasons.... And then season 7 happened. (I used to argue the line about him being a “follower” rather than a leader was just something a villain used to taunt him and that was not meant to be gospel truth, but guess what, the latest season has decided to confirm that ALIE!Raven’s taunting was indeed the truth, including that about Clarke being poison to everyone close to her and bringing them all death...)

The only exception was Pike, and he was made to be more hated than any of the white villains who were much worse in terms of motivations, actions and having a sympathetic qualities/backstory to explain their actions.

#the 100 #racism #bellamy blake #jordan green #reese cadogan #thelonius jaha #lincoln kom trikru #charles pike #nate miller #bill cadogan #sheidheda #russell lightbourne #paxton mccreary #cage wallace #anti jason rothenberg

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pawprintsmoon · 4 years ago

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Wanheda in Sunnydale; the Commander of Death

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27060634

The first time Clarke the Vampire Slayer tried to dust the mysterious vampire, they did not exchange words. It must have been an off night for the Slayer, because after their fight the undead woman ran off into the night unharmed.

The second time they met, the vampire got away again. Right before disappearing, she had let her face relax out of it’s fighting wrinkles. She had the most hauntingly green eyes and the most infuriating little smirk. Clarke committed her face to memory, for there were not many vampires who could continue to best her. This was easy, for the vampire’s face was so memorable that Clarke saw it in her dreams for the next several nights.

Just as the vampire was about to get away for the third time, Clarke called after her: “Who are you?”

She turned slowly back to face Clarke, looking down at her from the large grave she was unceremoniously jumping over to leave.

“Why, Slayer?” she asked softly. “Are you afraid of me?”

“Of course not.” Clarke glared and gripped her stake tight. Then after a small sigh she said, “But I’ll admit that you are a formidable fighter.”

“Oh stop, you’ll make me blush.”

“Oh yeah? With what blood?”

“Why haven’t you killed me yet?” she asked, ignoring Clarke’s response.

“Well the undead can’t really be killed.” Clarke rolled her eyes. “You’re already dead, genius. Looks like your brains don’t match up to your fighting skills.”

“Come now,” the vamp feigned a look of hurt, “you’ll hurt my feelings if you’re not careful.”

“I’ll hurt more than your feelings if you’re not careful!”

“No, you won’t.” The Vampire turned away slowly to meander away through the graveyard. She called over her shoulder, “I know you have a soft spot for me, Slayer.”

Clarke fumed, but let her get away a third time. There was more patrolling to do and her watcher wouldn’t be happy to hear she’d wasted her night on one inconsequential vamp.

The next time they met the fight was brief and Clarke had her cornered against the stone wall of a crypt. Right before she was about to drive the stake into the vamp’s heart, however, her forehead wrinkles smoothed out to make the vampire look human. In Clarke’s moment of hesitation she spoke.

“I’m Lexa,” she whispered. Clarke froze, except her labored breathing from the combat. “You asked who I was, remember?”

Of course Clarke remembered. She didn’t move a muscle and neither did Lexa. Lexa didn’t need to breathe, of course, but she was choosing to and Clarke could feel the cool puffs of her exhales.

“That’s just my name though,” said Lexa. “There’s much more you could know about me.”

“I don’t want to know anything about you,” snarled Clarke, pulling back her arm to stake Lexa through the heart. Just as she did so, Lexa grabbed her attacking wrist and spun them both around so that Clarke was the one pressed against the crypt wall.

“Well,” Lexa said softly, “I’d like to know more about you.”

Clarke pushed her away and followed through with a kick to the stomach that made Lexa roll to the ground. She rolled back up however, ready with a punch. So they fought and Clarke convinced herself that her hesitation meant nothing. But when Lexa got away a fourth time she knew she ought to be concerned.

The resulting conversation with her watcher, Marcus Kane, consisted of instructions to meditate and reassess her feelings. He said that it was not the first time that a Slayer had been attracted to a vampire. Clarke immediately denied any such attraction to the monster and simply trained harder than ever. Perhaps she could sweat it out. The possibility that certain vampires could have souls lingered in her mind, however. So did Lexa’s green eyes and sarcastic remarks. Over and over again Clarke and Lexa would meet in the graveyard, pretend to fight, and never end up with real bruises or cuts.

One night in late October, Clarke was in the tunnels underneath Sunnydale defeating a Haxil Beast when three more gigantic demons joined them. Just as Clarke was considering retreat, Lexa appeared with two long and lethal swords. In seconds one of the demons was dead and oozing puss on the tunnel floor. With no time for questions, Clarke accepted Lexa’s help, and together they took out the remaining demons.

After the fight and before they could speak. Lexa disappeared into the night leaving Clarke with a thousand questions. The Slayer immediately went to the Magic Shop to share her concerns with her watcher, Mr Kane. Immediately they hit the books. Clarke was just starting to feel guilty about not thanking Lexa for coming to her aid, when Mr Kane showed her the records of Lexa’s past. She was known to the demon world as ‘The Commander.’ A pretentious and narcissistic title.

His interpretation of the horrors that Lexa had committed, suggested that Clarke should avoid upsetting her. Raven and Monty agreed that it would be useful to keep a vampire on their side and even Bellamy and Octavia were prepared to follow their advice.

Grudgingly, Clarke agreed as well. These horror stories were more than enough to remind Clarke not to be attracted to monsters.

And yet.

And yet…

The months went on and Lexa continued to show up just in time to fight at her side. Often Lexa would appear with helpful information when Clarke was leaving the Bronze late at night, or patrolling among graves. She would always come with information about the Big Bad -a dangerous and mad woman with inhuman powers and mysterious origin. Her power was the Apocalypse causing type.

“Clarke. You need to know this…” or “I’m here to help you Clarke.” More than once Clarke would ask, “Why are you doing this?” and “How do you know all of this about Alie?”

Lexa never gave a straight answer until the night before Clarke was going to face off with Alie, who Lexa had informed her was a god separated from her home dimension. Clarke and her friends had laid out an insane plan and now it was just time to wait. In the morning they would save the world but tonight everyone went to their respective houses to sleep. Lexa insisted on walking Clarke to her house.

“Why are you walking me home?” Clarke asked as she allowed Lexa steps to fall in sync with her own.

“To protect you.”

“I’m the slayer, I hardly need protecting. You could have walked Monty home instead.”

“Monty got a ride with Raven, Clarke.” The slayer shivered at the way Lexa always announciated the ‘k’ at the end of her name. “And you’re the slayer. Alie is most likely to come after you.”

Their footsteps made the only noise for a moment before Lexa whispered, “I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

“Why?” Clarke all but yelled. The stress of tomorrow’s plan exacerbated the constant frustration that was the Commander. “Why are you helping me?”

“Just trust me,” Lexa replied, voice still soft. Those eyes. So soft and sincere and not at all like a demon.

“Why would I trust you? You are death itself.” Clarke wanted to punch the vampire. Or lunge at her in some other way.

Lexa apparently shared that urge because instead of answering, she pulled Clarke into a hard, passionate kiss. Clarke’s body responded as her mind buzzed with white noise. It was rough and thrilling. Lexa’s hands were exploring the skin just under the hem of her shirt before Clarke pulled away.

“No.” Clarke shook her head. “No. Being a good kisser does not equate to being trustworthy.”

“So you think I’m a good kisser, then?”

“I think you’re probably a good liar and you definitely have secrets and you should go back to your crypt.”

“I am a good kisser.” Lexa smirked, moving closer to Clarke, hands still on her waist. “You’re good too.”

“Please…” Clarke’s suspicious mind wondered if the vampire was really saying that she tasted good. The still buzzing part of her mind was vaguely thinking that Lexa tasted good. Then Lexa took several steps away and the California air felt cold.

“Right.” Lexa nodded, suddenly serious and impassive. “I’ll see you tomorrow. We will send the goddess back to the City of Light. Do not worry.”

Clarke wanted to apologize, but she also didn’t want to apologize. So she turned away and walked home alone.

Early the next morning Clarke and her friends went out to an empty construction site to defeat Alie. Just after Raven failed to close the portal to Alie’s home dimension (the City of Light) everyone discovered why Lexa was called the Commander. Try as she might, Clarke could not completely corner the powerful goddess. Only when Lexa finally stepped in and commanded Alie through the portal. They all shared the victory, but Lexa had exhibited a special power that nobody could explain.

Faced with a full team of armed and curious demon-fighters, Lexa revealed the most important secret. Before becoming a vampire, she’d come from a long line of demi-god from the City of Light. Clarke couldn’t quite pretend to be surprised.

“Wait,” said Raven, her eyes wide and staring at Lexa. “If you’re part god, that means... you have a soul. The goddess part of you would have protected your soul when you were sired.”

Clarke felt as if her heart had stopped beating. She searched Lexa’s face, desperate for confirmation. The Commander’s silent nod pushed her heart to back into beating, hard and full of adrenaline.

The moments were too long until they were alone again and Clarke’s pulse pounded inside her the whole time. Finally, the sun set and Clarke and Lexa were alone in the Magic Shop.

“You have a soul?”

“I do.”

“You didn’t tell me.”

“I didn’t want to distract you,” Lexa explained. “I know you would’ve cared for me and I didn’t want to be a weakness for you.”

“It was a lie of omission.” Clarke did indeed feel somewhat weak at the knees. Last night Lexa had asked for trust, and now Clarke was tempted to give it. “If you ever lie to me again-”

“I won’t.” Their eye contact was infinite. “And it would be a lie if I denied my feelings for you now. I understand if you can never want me. I may have a soul, but there is still demon in me. There is goddess too. I am not human, and you are so beautifully human.”

Lexa knelt down before her, a promise on her face. The magic of this moment was tangible.

“Because of my power and lineage, I am known as the Commander,” Lexa said softly. “But last night you told me that I am death. You were right. But you, Clarke, are the chosen one. The Slayer. The Commander of Death. I am death. And I swear fealty to you.”

Clarke offered Lexa a shaking hand and pulled the vampire to her feet. Everything she was thinking could not be put into words. So instead of speaking, she stepped toward Lexa and reached up to caress her cheek. Lexa leaned closer, all hesitation and desire.

When their lips met, everything softened. When Lexa reached up to run her fingers through blonde hair, it was as if Clarke was spun of glass and she was afraid of breaking her. When Clarke’s lips opened to taste the Commander the hunger that stirred inside her was incredibly human. When that hunger became too intense, Clarke pushed her against a table and tossed aside all caution.

Fingers dug into hips and roamed under shirts. Books were pushed off the table to fall open on the floor. Clothing was abandoned along with all inhibitions. Two bodies explored each other, discovering pleasure through their closeness. Two girls with the weight of the world on their shoulders floated as light as air. This time Lexa didn’t run off into the night, but stayed in Clarke’s arms until morning.

(At which point they snuck off to Lexa’s cozy candlelit crypt because they were still at the Magic Box and even Slayers, gods, and vampires prefer beds over tables. They spent the entire next day in bed, actually. They deserved it, they had just saved the world after all.)

#clextober20 #7DaysofClexa #Day5 creatures of the night #I really had no idea I was going to write this #the 100 #Buffy The Vampire Slayer #femslash fanfic #day5 #clexa #no beta we die like ben #crossover life

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