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juuls · 3 years

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Podfics, podfics, podfics...

I'm looking to do some podfics of fics that have really hit me in strong (good) ways, and they're one of those I can't seem to track down in my usual manner (which is... probably on purpose, considering their received comments are set to be moderated and that they likely put up with a toooon of bullshit from people with Opinions.

(Keep reading to see which fics I'd love to podfic and why, and how you can help me find them!)

Also. Recs. Lots of really awesome fic recs, specifically for Tony-centric readers and those who really hit it off with Civil War Team Iron Man!

Does anyone know the Tumblr or Discord of: @TheSovereignofReality or @Wix from AO3?

Anyway, I'm a fan, and I just wanted to discuss maybe doing one podfic on a trial sorta thing, and then maybe doing a couple of my other major faves or a series of fics. As of my last major read-through of their fics, my favourite was definitely Mutantkind (this fic is so kickass, I love Logan). Not trying to spoil anything for any of this or the other fics, but taking up the chance at exploring the links between the X-Men and the Avengers (more Tony and even Pepper and Rhodey and such) was such a great move. A power move in so many ways, and I'm also really really eyeing the Transcendent Souls series that leads into the author's OC-linked series, Lennie Alice, and it all sounds like it's phenomenal and I just want to READ it, who cares about podficcing it??? I mean, I do, but most important of all: I'm just a fan who sees shiny fics all in a pretty series-row that I hadn't gotten around to yet (too busy reading Ramblings for the 10th time and wincing with each successive hit to the gut. Ouchies. But poor Tony too, woW. That one just hurts. In a cathartic way (even though I love Peggy, it's fascinating to explore these things!!)

Like Disney's "What If?" series if they weren't too scared to explore the really interesting things that make people tick and feel betrayed even decades later.

All of these authors, above and below, sure know how to throw those punches, and I like that.

I do have other podfic projects on the go, as well, yes, but spring is a great time for me and I get a lot of projects done pretty well on the regular. The Night King has been vanquished and the sun shines upon us again and offers me much Vitamin D and happy-stuff. :) :P

Doing a fic by @Wix would be awesome too, but I'm also not sure of their handle, unfortunately. Plus I've rarely spoken to them! Believe it or not, I can be shy. xD But there are so many of Wix's CW Team IM fics that I would just love to podfic and really sink my teeth into for the absolute wreckage and carnage that some of these characters would be feeling. Righteous anger, true anger, when you know you're right, when you just think you're right and the world crumbles down around you.... god I would love to really act those fics out and make people feel, just like we do and more when we're actually reading Wix's awesome body of work. It could be a real experience, and I would love to be able to help share that. All else fails, I'll just give these last two a message in their comments. ;)

And maybe @rayshippouuchiha might be interested in chatting with me about doing a (second) podfic of Hide a Heart of War? There can never be enough podfics of awesome Stuckony (or any ship, really), but I do also have my eyes on another few of yours that you don't have podficced, m'dear. :) I mean, Sore Must Be The Storm (wow, I relate to that title---and the fic itself---hard) would be really cool to do if the second chapter was up, (wing fics! CW Team IM! Woo!) Or the ever-so-classic "Assassination Attempts Are Not Flirting Toni" tag that epitomizes The Devouring of Hearts (which is hoestly epic and I am going to go re-read asap) or The (Not So) Great Pretender (it has a TextToSpeech podfic but those are hard for some people to follow along to --- I know my hearing issues mean I can't catch all of it, sadly, and none of it clearly! =/). Let's talk, if you're cool with me doing one of yours?? :) I would be so thrilled!

And @not-close-to-straight I cannot forget about you (ever) in this season of big eyes and planning out podfics all excited-like. Has anyone ever approached you about podficcing the entirety of your 3-part series Of Gods and Men that is ThunderIron, ThunderIron & FrostIron & Thorki, and then is PURE ThunderFrostIron with a super. special. twist. at the end omg???? Can we talk about that sometime? Whenever is good for you, if you're at all interested? Because there is NOT enough ThunderIron in the MCU, because I love Tony, because there is not enough FrostIron with Thor and Loki being awesome (usually), and then especially because there is NEVER enough poly ThunderFrostIron for my tastes and I just cannot when it comes to these fics. I just really would please love to podfic it, out of all your awesome fics this one just strikes right deep at the heart of me.

So. Um. Yeah.

This was going to be a quick "do you know this person!?!?! I'm desperate!" kind of Tumblr post, but it turned into me somewhat begging and complimenting at the same time, and it sounds totally shameless but I also haven't slept for about 48+ hours properly and I am in severe pain so the mania tends to be the Fourth Horseman of the Apocalypse with all that.

So. Yeah. Just let me know what you think, preferably via DM here or on Discord (Juulna#0508) or Ask or whatever. I'm happy however. And these are YOUR fics, I have zero claim to them whatsoever no matter how I may strongly relate to them or love them or think they should have their own awesome experience with me spitting angry lines back when required in response to pure sass. I would love to try/do it all. :) Spring and Summer is my podfic season, and I'm going to have a lot of fun with current and potential projects alike!

Ta, loves. And thank you for considering me for podficcing these awesome works! If you want a recent example of a fairly quick (and porny, hah) oneshot I did, I think you'd like what I did with @tsuki-chibi's The Shirt [fic]. Check the podfic out here, and then give the original author love because it is a DAMN FINE fic (and I want the shirt, hah).

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hoedameron · 3 years

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i owe y’all two posts about my most recent gifsets, huh??

so, the above gif was me working with different sizes i can use for pson because as y’all know, it is not immune to the two black bars above and below the frame. i wanted to find a crop that can get the entire scene instead of following that trend of bigger gifs. i really like the coloring on this as well like MWAH i think it’s a coloring from 2013.......scream yes i’m old school i escaped the retirement home y’all tried to put me in.

it was like, halfway through the episode where i whipped out my laptop to work on the gifset. sadly i missed a LOT of what happened because i was so caught up in the scene that i wanted to gif that everything was just...in one ear and out the other. i will definitely have to come back and rewatch it because i know i missed some crucial bits. i chose to gif that scene between gil and malcolm because 1) i love their interactions i think they are so precious and i love to see their dynamic in motion and 2) it was the funniest thing to me at that time. i knew it could also have a range for people who may not see prodigal son and get them interested like “oh, this man has trauma AND is funny about it? where can i watch?” because we are out here trying to renew this show <3 but the most important reason was that it was a pure family moment where they’re honest with little judgment (gil has rights to judge okay i say that! he wants better for his son).

okay, typically i don’t mess around with text based gifs. i try not to make them because i ALWAYS have problems with centering the text...and this was one of them. do y’all wanna know how many TIMES i uploaded that set? at least three times until fourth times the charm. the first time i deleted because i realized one of the gifs didn’t match the coloring for all the frames plus the text wasn’t aligned for both of them. the second time, i fixed the coloring problem but i still had the text problem and i wasl ike DAMN >:( so i went back into photoshop (keep in mind i am only fixing one gif so it can be centered with the other) and did it so old school with putting my finger on the text box then switching over to the other gif to compare. i KNOW there is DEFINITELY an easier way than what i did but in that moment i didn’t know any other way. so i uploaded it the third time and thought “okay, it’s done!” but....i tried finding my gifset in the tag and it wasn’t showing up so i was FRUSTRATED beyond belief because it happened on the previous attempts as well. so i deleted it then reuploaded again thinking this is fourth times the charm....much to my surprise, i didn’t show up in the tag. i was literally almost about to toss my computer on the ground like a dumb bitch. however, i decided that there were a few notes so i would just...leave it be and if it didn’t show up, well, it didn’t show up. i left that gifset in God’s hands.

for some odd reason, tumblr just...doesn’t update the tag ?? the work finally showed up some time later and all that frustration was through. i could’ve released that set like twenty minutes earlier than i did if i wasn’t having all these problems with it -_- anyways, the coloring was simple. i have a tried and true coloring that i think goes really well with pson because the lighting is AWFUL and funny enough, once again, the coloring is from a 2014 psd it’s like ....they knew they foretold a prophecy that these shows will remain the same in terms of lighting. thank you to deviantart for hooking my ass up love youuuu <3��

another thing is that i KNOW the gif moves WAYYY too fast. i should’ve thought about changing the speed if i weren’t in such a frenzied mess between uploading, deleting then reuploading pero i wasn’t thinking at all. i also used a different sharpening because i thought it would quicken up the gifmaking process pero FUNNY ENOUGH it didn’t even fucking matter if i was out here taking almost 30 minutes to drop my gifset screammm. pero it do be like that sometimes so! and the caption...i am so glad y’all liked that because it was the first thing to mind and i didn’t really wanna use another toss away quote i just wanted to match the humor of it. if i can’t be funny in the tags then i will be funny in the captions :)

#thank you for all the love on that set!#y'all's tags cracked me UP like please become comedians i will support your netflix special

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lululawrence · 5 years

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lululawrence’s Fics Posted in 2019

Master Fic Masterpost / Buy me a Coffee?

2019 was a bit crazy, but I’m so proud of the fics that I’ve been able to write and publish this year! There were quite a few of them, so here they are in order of when they were published. I hope you enjoy!

Hey Look, Ma (9k) - Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson

“I’m so sorry,” a deep voice said.

Louis made sure he’d only dropped his hat, reached down to pick it up, and was dusting it off when he finally looked up.

“It’s alright...mate…” Louis had seen this man before. He was gorgeous. He lived somewhere in the area, because Louis would often pass him on the street heading home from the tube or the nearest bus stop.

And now, here he was. Standing in all his fluffy, curly haired glory in front of Louis, apologising for nearly bowling him over.

“I really am sorry, though. Let me get you a coffee to make up for it?”

Or the one where Louis is a hybrid who agrees to go on a blind date with his neighbour's colleague's son the same night he literally runs into his dream man. Surely this isn't going to end well... or is it?

Charisma (5k) - Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson

Harry was smiling, and maybe blushing a little as well, as he accepted the phone back. “Thank you,” he glanced down at his phone and then said, “Louis.”

Smiling happily at the way Harry had said his name, Louis watched him leave the room. The further away he got, the more confused Louis was. Yes, Harry was gorgeous, but how the hell had he forgotten that Harry was also the man who had caused him to almost have a major accident earlier because of his haphazard driving? How had he allowed Harry to distract him with his charm to the extent that instead of giving the man a lecture, Louis accepted the offer of a date?

Well. Whatever the reason was, Louis wouldn’t forget when Harry called. Louis would give him a piece of his mind then and see if Harry still wanted to go out with him at that point. Because yeah, Louis was not mad enough about his overreaction to Harry, both on the road and at the event tonight, to turn that opportunity for a date down. He wasn’t stupid.

Or the one where Harry feeds on awesomeness (possibly literally). Louis is awesome and also angry. They’re probably going to fall in love.

Drabbles for Harry's Birthday Drive 2019 (25k) - Various Pairings

Each chapter is a different drabble dedicated to a person who donated to Harry's birthday drive! The prompt requested as well as the pairing are in the author’s note for each chapter as well. There are multiple pairings due to various pairings being requested by the donors, so please pay attention to that information in each chapter! Pairings include Harry/Louis, Zayn/Liam,, Grimmy/Louis, Greg/Louis, Zayn/Louis, and Niall/Shawn.

It’s the Climb (25k) - Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson

Louis stretched out his back and turned around, startled to see the most beautiful man he’d ever encountered in his life riding towards him on a horse.

He had to still be asleep. This was one of those super weird dreams people had where the knight in shining armor (or in this case, red sleeveless flannel) literally rode up to them calling their name.

The Hannah Montana AU where Louis is a world famous punk rock singer with a stage name of William and Jay drags him back to Tennessee for the summer. In her attempt for Louis to get back to his roots, he just so happens to reconnect with Harry, and things never go quite as Louis expects them to.

It Was Only a Kiss (16k) - Various Pairings

I participated in a kiss prompt drabble challenge on Tumblr, and ended up writing thirty-three drabbles! Because of the amount all for one challenge, I decided to post them on AO3 to save them. Each prompt exists on its own without relation to others, so pick and choose as you like.

If You Want To Be Loved (0.5k) - Greg James/Louis Tomlinson

Greg can't sleep. For once, he doesn't really mind.

(Something’s Been) Hiding In My Heart (26k) - Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson

“My eyes must be deceiving me,” Harry said in his slow drawl. His voice was deeper than Louis remembered. Maybe some things had changed after all.

“They aren’t deceiving you. I’m here because I need you to finally sign these papers,” Louis said before he dropped the stack of paper on the hood of the car and held out a pen to Harry. “Just do it, Harry. Get it over with and then I’ll be out of your life forever, alright?”

Face blank of all emotion outside of a sneer Harry said, “You’ve gotta be shitting me.”

“God,” Louis groaned. Harry just couldn’t let this be easy. His pride wouldn’t allow it. “You know, I never really understood that phrase, but no. I am not ‘shitting’ you. Just sign the damn papers.”

“Ya know, I don’t think I will,” Harry said before turning back to the front door.

When the screen door slammed behind him, Louis realized Harry didn’t have anything else to say.

Or a Sweet Home Alabama AU where Louis comes home to finally get his divorce from Harry finalized so he can move on with his life. Alderford holds its own set of challenges when he returns, but by facing his past maybe he can find the healing he so desperately needs.

You Try To Be Everything (I Need) (36k) - Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson

Wars, and rumours of wars, were nothing new for the world in the twenty-fourth century. The fighting had evolved over the years, and rarely did it involve traditional weapons. A group most widely known as the Southern Powers gained strength amongst portions of the western European continent and spread quickly.

There was a fight the Southern Powers didn’t expect coming from the north of England, though. Resistance came in the form of an organised underground; a group comprised of people with the Touch that did the best they could to enforce a line that would not be crossed. Slowly, that line was moved from the Channel to boundaries further and further north. It seemed only a matter of time before the Southern Powers took over everywhere.

Until that time, people did the best they could to live their lives in some semblance of normality. For Louis Tomlinson, that sense of normality was about to change when his best friend, Harry Styles, goes missing.

Louis embarks on the journey of a lifetime where he uses his newly developed abilities to search for his friend, even when it takes him to places he never thought he would see while surmounting trials he never could have imagined.

You Turned Up (Like a Friend of Mine) (10k) - Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson

Louis padded downstairs, feeling incredibly thirsty. He filled up a glass of water and was about to take a drink when a loud knock sounded at the door accompanied by some yelling and ringing of the doorbell.

“What the hell?” Louis muttered, setting his glass on the counter and rushing towards the door.

As he got closer to the door, though, his mind stopped whirling because the voice was one that was etched forever in his mind, but one that he never thought he would ever hear again.

“Why’s the door locked? Did you seriously go without me? And who’s car is in the driveway? Lou, I knew you’d be late to get me. We’re going to miss-”

Louis whipped the door open, sure that he was just imagining things. There was no way…

Except there was. Standing on the front step was the curly haired, boy-faced Harry Louis had last seen ten years ago today.

Or the one where Harry disappears on graduation day only to show up on Louis' door looking exactly the same ten years later. Through a series of strange events, maybe they can finally figure out that they're destined to be together, no matter what.

Stealing Flowers (4k) - Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson

When Louis finally arrived, he walked in and grabbed an apron. Without even saying hello, he immediately approached Jesy and said, “Sexy Stranger steals flowers.”

She kept pouring the Tanqueray shots she had lined up in front of her, but her face screwed up in confusion. “I’m sorry, he what? Did you finally talk to him and that was what you learned?”

He nodded to another couple of tourists and welcomed them to the Way Station as they eagerly made their way to the Tardis restroom.

“No, I didn’t actually talk to him, but—”

“Then how do you know he steals flowers?”

She was wiping down the bar and stacking the empty glasses to take back to the dishwasher when Louis realized maybe he should help too. After all, he was there to work, not just talk to her about his maybe crush.

“I saw a poster.”

Or the one where Louis pines after the Sexy Stranger on the Subway and almost asks him out. That's when the strange posters start showing up around Brooklyn.

Yellow, Is It Me You’re Looking For? (3k) - Greg James/Louis Tomlinson

Standing in the mess Greg’s shift had left behind, Louis decided he would start small. He’d organise the paint colour cards that displayed the names and then get started on the sample tins. It wasn’t until he started opening the boxes of colour cards that Louis started to wonder whether Nick had been the one to name the paint after all.

Yellow, Is It Me You’re Looking For? was along the top left corner of a mustard yellow card. Nick was as big a fan of puns and music as anyone, so while it was unorthodox, Louis didn’t think too much of it. Part of the appeal of Annie’s Hardware was that they didn’t take things too seriously while always maintaining professionalism.

The names that followed did leave Louis to wonder if Annie knew exactly what the chosen paint names were, though. The Colour Of My Tears When ‘FRIENDS’ Ended for a soft white, Barneys Blood for a pale purple, and Blond. James Blond. for a sand tone had Louis convinced that it was a different co-worker who had renamed the colours.

Or the one where Louis has pined after Greg for what seems like ages, but when Greg renames the company's paint colors, something might finally be ready to give.

Like a Lighthouse On The Coast (I Need You) (19k) - Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson

Louis placed his order with the server and was about to type up some possible lyrics when he heard the music being piped in go silent and a throat was cleared into a mic.

Oh God no. If Louis had known there was going to be live music, he would have chosen somewhere else. Why did they have to ruin what was truly the perfect ambiance for Louis with some sub-par wannabe singer-songwriter?

“Hello, I’m going to sing some songs for you tonight. I hope you like them.”

The voice was deep and smooth, slower than Louis had expected. It made him want to look up at the singer rather than cower into the corner of his booth.

So he did. The man didn’t look nervous at all, but he didn’t look like the cocky asshole Louis had been expecting either. Louis continued to brace himself as he took in the simple Ramones shirt and jeans the man was wearing, when something Louis hadn’t been expecting happened.

The man began to play his guitar, and he was good.

And then, the man began to sing.

Or the one where Louis has all the pressure of his sophomore album and none of the inspiration, but maybe all he needs is someone like Harry Styles to turn all that around.

Oh Honey, Honey (4k) - Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson

Louis hated honey. He didn’t like the flavour, he didn’t understand why some liked it in their tea, he hated when it was put on sandwiches or cake or anything really. But, standing stock still in front of a rather large display of honey in that 24-hour Tesco, Louis found himself grabbing the largest jar of “100% pure London-local honey” and adding it to his trolley, simply because he knew it would make Harry smile.

Louis always wanted to make Harry smile.

Or the one where Louis pines after Harry, Harry is passionate about helping save the bees, and a late night shopping trip gone wrong doesn't end quite as horribly as Louis imagines.

You Don’t Care About Me (One More Night) (60k) - Nick Grimshaw/Louis Tomlinson

“Nick. You’re into guys. What should I do?”

Nick snorted. “You think just ‘cause I’m gay, I know what you should do?”

Louis blinked at him and Nick admired his eyelashes against his will. “Well. Kind of, yeah.”

“That is not how this works,” Nick said. “Besides, it’s not like you can just go and suck someone’s dick to be sure you like it the way I did. You’re too famous to try it my way.”

Louis’ expression changed to one of awe. “That’s how you figured it out? You sucked some random’s dick?”

Nick shrugged. “Yeah. Basically. I mean, I knew for pretty damn sure before that, mind you, but that did solidify the matter for me.”

“I need to suck a dick,” Louis said, turning to look at the wall of Nick’s room.

“You could suck mine, if it would help,” Nick offered before he could stop himself.

Or the one where Louis pines for Harry and Nick helps ease his way into figuring himself out through a friends with benefits sort of arrangement. Things quickly turn complicated.

A Taste of Honey (3k) - Greg James/Louis Tomlinson

Louis opened the door expecting someone with Deliveroo. Instead his gaze lifted so he could look at a very frazzled, incredibly fluffy haired Greg James who was inexplicably holding out a very large jar of honey.

“Hello, Gregory,” Louis said slowly.

Shifting around, Greg stepped forward and held the honey out towards Louis again. “This is for you.”

“Erm, alright,” Louis said before carefully taking the heavy jar from him. “Thank you?”

Greg flashed a wide grin, nodded, and then without another word walked back out the front door of the building.

Or the one where Louis has been pining after Greg ever since he started his job. Greg randomly showing up at his flat with a jar of honey might be just the push Louis needs to finally talk to the man.

Just Like Honey (3k) - Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson

Louis opened the door and he looked so soft and beautiful. He was in a ratty pair of grey joggers and that was it. Harry had never seen him look so good.

When Harry finally raised his eyes from Louis’ chest, he realised Louis had likely said something.

“Uh,” Harry said, clearing his throat. “Sorry, what did you say?”

Smirking a little, Louis crossed his arms and popped his hip. “I said, ‘Hello, Harry. What brings you here so late on a Saturday?’”

Then his brain kicked in.

“Right, fuck. Hi, Louis. I just wanted to give you this.”

Louis’ brows creased as Harry held the honey out to him. Taking the jar from Harry, he said, “Honey?”

Nodding, Harry said, “Yep. Hope you have a great night!”

Fisting his hands at his sides in frustration, Harry left the building as quickly as he could.

Honey, Honey, How You Thrill Me (3k) - Greg James/Harry Styles

Harry knocked once more before coming to the conclusion that knocking for longer than that was rude.

He’d just decided to leave when the door opened.

“Fuck, you were asleep, weren’t you?”

“Well, it’s past 8, so yeah, basically,” Greg said with a yawn.

God, he’d been asleep for over an hour. Harry was the worst.

“I’m so sorry. Here. Take this and get back to sleep. I’m so incredibly sorry for waking you up,” Harry babbled, shoving the jar of honey into Greg’s hands.

Greg looked at the jar then back up at Harry, still not saying anything. Probably because his brain was still asleep just like his body would’ve been if Harry hadn’t been a fucking idiot.

“Sorry again!” Harry said before giving a lame wave and rushing off to the nearest tube station.

Or the one where Harry pines after fellow Radio 1 DJ Greg James but doesn't know how to start a conversation with him...until he gets the needed inspiration.

Our Love is Timeless (6k) - Niall Horan/Shawn Mendes

He rinsed out his shampoo and began to scrub at his body. Turning around to rinse his back and wash his front, Shawn was not prepared to be met with a cursing blond Irishman.

Letting out a rather loud, high pitched scream and covering himself as best he could, Shawn backed up into the wall behind him, which also turned off the shower.

“Thanks, mate. Was hoping not to get my clothes entirely soaked,” the man said as he began stepping out of the shower stall. “Say, what year is it?”

“I...what?” Shawn sputtered. “You just show up, fully clothed, in a stranger’s shower and your first question is what year it is? How the fuck did you get in here? Why my shower? Who are you?”

“Well, yeah. I guess so. I’ve not quite got a handle of the whole time traveling thing yet.”

Or the one where Shawn falls for Niall, who just happens to be a time traveler. The course of true love never did run smooth.

Like Honey to the Bee (3k) - Nick Grimshaw/Louis Tomlinson

Nick didn’t even remember knocking, but suddenly the door he also didn’t realise he was leaning on opened and he started falling inside Louis and Harry’s flat.

“Fuck,” Nick blurted as he tried to right himself. He was caught by Louis, which was great because he was exactly who he wanted to see and he didn’t really fancy dropping a massive jar of honey on his doorstep.

“Nicholas?” Louis asked.

Nick couldn’t help it. Hearing Louis call him by his full name made him shiver. He usually hated it, but there was something magical about Louis Tomlinson that made the usual negative association suddenly become an incredibly positive one.

“I brought you honey,” Nick blurted as he handed Louis the jar.

“I can see that,” Louis said, sounding confused. “Thanks?”

“Of course! It’s what friends do, yeah?”

Or the one where Nick has been trying to find a way to get past the banter stage with Louis for ages, and honey might be just what he needs to finally do so.

Rings and Things (2k) - Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson

Niall: I know you’re a lesbian and all, but this is fast even for you

Or the one where Harry wakes up after a night of drinking to find her bed isn't empty and there's a ring she's never seen before on a very important finger.

The Only Thing That Keeps Me Grounded (28k) - Nick Grimshaw/Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson

“Shit, I definitely missed the last train.”

“Oh no,” Louis lamented. “I’d offer a ride, but I’m part of a carpool and we’re full already. I’m so sorry.”

“Really, it’s fine.” Then, what Louis said sank in. “Wait, I thought you were here alone?”

“Oh, I am. I’m the only one dancing here tonight. The others were working. In fact, here’s Nick now.”

It felt like slow motion as a tall, lanky man with incredible hair came walking over towards Louis. He smiled before pulling Louis into him and giving him a quick kiss.

“Nick, this is my new friend Harry. He just moved to the area and he’s amazing at swing. Harry, this is my husband, Nick.”

Fuck.

Or the one where Harry moves to Washington DC to be a nanny and never expects that his past struggles with love will be brought to a head. He definitely never expects the solution to it all will be the man of his dreams that just so happens to be married to the other man of his dreams.

A Halloween M(ass)hap (1k) - Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson

Harry was never going to forgive Niall. He’d been so distracted by his roommate’s cleaning and fussing while he had been looking for the perfect trousers for Liam’s annual Halloween fancy dress party that he’d not realised the black leather trousers he’d chosen to complete his vampire look were arseless.

Of course there was a no return policy, so he’d done the only thing he could do in order to not waste the money he’d already forked out online for the damn things: he added a cape.

Surely, nothing could go wrong.

I Wanna Love (Like You Made Me Feel) (28k) - Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson

By the time Harry and Louis are eighteen years old, they've known each other all four years of high school. Through those years, they never have a real chance to spend time together just the two of them. The summer after graduation gives them that chance, and it changes just about everything.

Ten years later, Louis returns home feeling like a failure after losing his job and not knowing where to go next. He never expects to run into Harry again, much less rekindle their friendship. Could this finally be their chance to finish what they started all those years ago, or did they really miss their chance at love?

Swipe Right for a Clean Flat (3k) - Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson

Harry was done. He was over this shit. He literally only asked his flatmate to do one chore, and that was the washing up. He couldn’t even handle a few plates and cups. Harry obviously overestimated him.

Louis wasn’t that bad. It was just that he only did the washing if he was going out to pull and wanted to bring someone home. If the dishes were put away, that was how Harry knew to vacate the premises. There was no way he was going to listen to yet another girl moan Louis’ name while Harry laid in bed and wondered what it might be like if only Louis liked men.

Glaring at the full sink and debating washing up himself - again - Harry finally turned and stalked to his room.

“Dire circumstances,” Harry muttered as he picked up his phone and unlocked it.

Or the one where Harry and Louis are flatmates and Harry is tired of Louis not doing the washing up. He figures signing up on Tinder as a hot girl might be just the fix for this issue.

You’re a Nightmare, I’m a Disaster (7k) - Nick Grimshaw/Louis Tomlinson

As Nick scanned the shelves, his eyes caught on a bright blue binding. Snooki, it read, A Shore Thing.

“Oh my God,” Nick mumbled, trying not to laugh as he picked it up. He’d watched bits and pieces of Jersey Shore way back in the day.

Without bothering to look any further around the store, he headed up to the counter where Blue eyes was watching him. Nick cleared his throat nervously and set the book on the counter and the man immediately flashed him a look of disdain.

“Seriously? Out of everything we have available, you chose the book we special ordered for a customer?”

“Well, it can’t be that bad if someone specifically requested it, right?” Nick said, trying to keep a teasing tone.

“Why do you think we still have it if it was a special order?” the man asked with a scoff. “They returned it after reading something like three pages.”

Nick frowned at the book. “Well that doesn’t seem very fair.”

Or the one where Nick is a writer, Louis works in a bookshop, and things don't exactly start off on the right foot, but they might just end on it.

The Goat Guy of Bethlehem (26k) - Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson

“What a pretty little thing!” a voice cried, catching Harry's attention.

Harry looked up, assuming it was a merchant talking to Gemma or some other “citizen” of Bethlehem, but when he did, he found a woman with bright eyes and long dark hair walking over to him.

“Me?” He wasn’t sure what to expect from any of this since she wasn’t a merchant he had met before.

“Yes, you! I think you’d make a very good husband for my son. Are these your parents?”

“Uh, yes?” Harry said, almost like a question. Robin and his mom just watched on with amusement, much to his chagrin.

Turning to Anne and Robin, the merchant woman said, “I’ll give you six goats for the marriage of your son to mine.”

Or every year, Harry and his family attend a church festival called Bethlehem. Harry's freshman year of high school Bethlehem expands, bringing in new vendors, including one that just might change everything for Harry. But first, he has to see if Anne and Robin are willing to part with him for the price of a few goats.

#mine #my fic masterpost #yearly masterpost #2019 masterpost #my fic #my fic rec #fic rec

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lornahansonforbes · 3 years

Text

Prologue

If you’re reading this today, then you know I’m dead, dead to you as you are to me, and that should make you so very happy.

I gave it all up sitting at a red light.

This last piece is the final chapter of “The Emesis Tray of Feelings,” it’s a trilogy.

The trilogy contains one play, “Hot Neon Lights” and “Patina on the Edge,” which is a series of monologues and now this, “It Didn’t Happen,” a one act play.

The first installment, “Hot Neon Lights,” tells the story of two events. Act One is a very messy breakdown followed by the fourth and final attempt of my taking my own life. I failed four times. Act Two is about six to weeks later and the family meeting with the psychiatrist where they decide if I should be locked up in hospital or go cold Turkey. There was no option, no Grey area, only black and white.

“Patina on the Edge,” is a series of monologues that highlights moments of grand and glorious to being a homeless junkie who was sucking dick, meanwhile being a thief and a shitkicker was a great way to being truly infamous. Lofty goals. It parallels the story that’s laid out in “Hot Neon Lights.”

“It Didn’t Happen.” is a one act play with four scenes. Scene one, the night of the breakup and a month after the breakup. Scene two, a phone call about the breakup. Scene three, a group of friends who just saw the two aforementioned plays and are in a bar talking about what The New York Times will say about “Hot Neon Lights” and “Patina on the Edge.”

As you read this, do know that this is like Ivory Soap, ninety-nine and forty-four one hundredth percent (99 44/100%) true.

Several people have been merged into one character and not vice versa.

You should know that I died alone and bitter that I was never truly loved by anyone except by my dogs, Zoey, Chase, Auggie, The Brother Levi, CoCo and Harry; and my three cats, Rasselas, Othello and Belle Kitty.

I sadly cannot think of one person, past or present, who ever truly loved me.

I suffered with Bipolar Depression and Anxiety for a large portion of my life. The three guys who I stupidly referred to as my boyfriend, I see now that they barely tolerated me as did my family.

I don’t give a shit. You and whomever can say what you want about me and pepper it generously with Drama Qween. You do know that but I can only tell you what my perception was and how I saw things, but as usual, you’re right and I’m wrong. Fuck you, your opinion is paying for my funeral and you had the option not to read this.

Lastly, all the things I’ve written starting in the 1980’s and in between has been thrown out and erased etc. Yeppers. All gone. I kept it all but as of this entry, I threw it all out.

Since I’ve submitted to various outlets and people yet only to learn I’ve been ignored.

But you can find me on Tumblr and not on Tinder. Good luck with that.

Post Script:

I’ve told stories about how I lived and how I overcame. “You should write a book.” Motherfucker, don’t play with me. You ain’t gonna fucking read it. Why even bother existing? I’m done. If you really want to know, actually pick up the phone and call me. Bye, Felicia.

I forgot to tell you that someone asked me not to give up writing. Sorry but I’m not gonna change my mind about cutting off my nose to spite myself.

Scene One

The late summer sun was slowly going down as we approached the corner of Melrose and North Robertson.

Granted it was nearly 8:00 PM, the sun was still blazing away. I turned to look from the passenger seat to see people milling about waiting to go inside but also the paparazzi was there gawking and snapping pictures.

She slowed the car down for just a millisecond and then took a sharp left turn. Then Sister Mary of the Perpetual Parking Spot smiled down upon us and she pulled in and parked the car.

The restaurant sign read Ty’s Thai Tie Dye, an Indochina Conglomerate. We went inside and were seated way in the back. It was a jungle, flowers, potted trees and Passion Flower vines everywhere. The sun broke through like mosaic tiles.

Dinner was delicious and uneventful. She was now pulling up in front of my modest flat.

“Darling, I’m sure we’ve had a wonderful evening but I feel that my husband is all over us these past few weeks. I’m just so sick and tired of seeing his Gold Audi here and there every time we go out. Why can’t we agree to disagree with the fact that I’m who I am and you are you we aren’t able to carry on like this anymore. I know that I should break it to you gently, but let’s rip the fucking Band-Aid off, it’s over. Don’t speak. Let’s go our separate ways with our splendiferous memories and as the cliché states, when you do speak of me, be kind,” she blurted out without looking at me.

It took me a moment and then I watched her Black Jaguar Vandam Plas glide away and disappear. Nearly comatose, I fumbled for my keys and took those first tentative steps towards the front door. I saw my cat in the window and her deep gold eyes. We looked directly at each other. I got in my car only to pound the steering wheel with tears in my eyes.

“You ungrateful bitch,” I screamed so loud that my ears were ringing worse than being a rock concert.

I drove into the night with flashes of our tongues lashing about like in some porn as we tore our clothes off each other. She was moist. My turgidity.

I landed at Pfeiffer Beach and I saw a Sandpiper. Fuck my life. The sound of the crashing waves and the sun rising. Stumbling back to my car I spied that CHP had paid a visit with a bright orange parking ticket tucked neatly underneath the wiper blades. God damn it to hell.

When I turned the car over, the radio was blaring, some static but nonetheless it jangled my nerves.

“Now, I am strong enough. Now, I’m strong enough to accept change. Yes, my darling, if you want to live in another place, I can understand it. It’ gonna hurt for a little while, but I can understand it, but before you walk out that door, touch me in the morning,” this woman’s anger and hurt were front and center. We were simpatico at that moment. We were both in a world of hurt and she like me, we were not feeling it.

I tapped a button on my car radio and my playlist replaced her voice as I pulled into traffic on Route 1 South heading home leaving Pfeiffer Beach in my rear view mirror.

Whoever that female voice was previously on my radio, I felt like Kathy Bates and I was swinging that sledgehammer and I left her there to suffer.

Normally I’m not that guy who “gets in touch with their feelings.” It’s just not in my DNA and when I do “get in touch,” it’ll be like a Gatling gun. Crumpled up like a wad of paper, riddled with bullets and left to die gasping for breath in a pool of blood.

This morning I got up and was meandering around my neighborhood. I have absolutely no idea how it happened but I stopped into a local coffee shop and got a Chai Latte. I usually get a green juice with pomegranate and Acai.

I was in a deep, deep funk since I had dinner with my friend and she dumped me. Who was she to me? My girlfriend; friend with benefits: fuck buddy; mistress or just another conquest? Whatever it was, it was good and it lasted but it wasn’t like this hadn’t happened before and so this came to pass and now in my mind I heard Louis Prima singing, “…everywhere I go.” If I really wanted to hear that song, I’d rather find the David Lee Roth remake.

Apparently I got my steps in this morning without some contraption attached to me or some app on my phone. I plunked my narrow behind down on a concrete Jersey barrier and I looking at the waves crashing onto Dockweller Beach. I know it’s not Malibu Beach just a short drive North and it certainly wasn’t Malibu Beach in Boston. From that vantage point, you’ll see the highway and Sister Corita Kent’s artwork in the distance.

Seriously what the fuck, yo? Processing, tabulating, analyzing, and parsing the events of being dumped. I know I saw the data, but what did it reveal? Was it actually that simple or was I looking at the galley’s for the unabridged Cyrillic version of Tolstoy’s tome with copious notes in the margins. Could I decipher The Daily Jumble? Was I looking at some foreign language? Was I experiencing some sort of dyslexia? Sigh! Could I really clean this mess with a piece of used snotty paper?

I’m solving Pi!! Yeah, yeah!! That’s the ticket!!

I clenched my hand around my paper cup and almost spilled my Chai latte. I was fucking pissed.

“Ungrateful BITCH,” that right I said it and I said it with such furious anger venom was dripping of my fangs.

What a difference a day makes. Bull-fucking-shit. Something felt dissimilar yet had I seen the same thing from a different vantage point?

At that exact moment I heard one of those thumper cars approaching blaring something I didn’t understand anything but I did hear, “Baile, baile con El General” and just like that the car was gone. Was Joy Division only for headphones? This is Los Angeles not Colby College.

Perched on the Jersey barrier, I wasn’t contemplating why lint gets in my navel. I couldn’t dodge raindrops. Had I tabled my ego? Were my expectations quickly quieted? Was it like that thumper car; was I blaring or amplifying some sort of acceptance of defeat? The hounds had been released at the same time as I gave up my control? I can be that Type-A personality, driven and getting in touch with my feeling resided in an abyss somewhere, but the fuck if I know.

I felt dampness. Where am I now? Am I on the Maid of the Mist or standing underneath Niagara Falls? God damn it to hell!! I was crying. I normally don’t do that. I clenched my jaw so tightly I had TMJ.

“Mission Accomplished,” I think was actually the last time I did cry, but that was for my furry friends, Mickey & Minnie and then it was Stanley & Blanche. Do I get ahold of the anger in me? What the fuck? Maybe a word, a smile, an hour of happiness? NETX??!! I picked up my phone. I scrolled through my contacts. In a parallel universe, I called you a thousand times when I know I did not and I never will call you.

A boisterous and vociferous colony of seagulls appeared just a few yards away from me. Fuck. Hitchcock.

My paper cup is empty. I knew I had to dispose of it. Recycle, reuse, repurpose or like this affair, would it end up in a landfill? Just another thing to be unceremoniously and recklessly tossed away. It’s just a thing.

With a great exasperated sigh, eight months, two weeks and a day. That’s how long it lasted without me actually keeping track of it. Don’t go there. Don’t judge me. Men and women silently judge me and you but I can only assume they leave something on me so I don’t catch cold. Oh, shit. We had seen other naked. She fucking hurt me. Okay, I’m not that person, who’d scrawl, No Sale, on a mirror if I found a check and a note that read, “Last night was dope.”

My phone beeped, a text message letting me know I had to drive to Pacoima.

Gotta bounce. Later. Onto embrace the new challenges ahead and channel them into existence.

Scene Two

Part Three.

A Hello, bleep.

B How did you know it was me?

A I’ve known for a long time and plus it’s out there.

B Why did you say that?

A What did I say exactly?

B Don’t give me that bullshit. I saw it.

A I told you about how I felt but then I felt around in the dark and I didn’t know how that single cell actually started to feel like encouragement.

B What I said was to do it for yourself and not me.

A I did it for you first and then afterwards I got to me.

B You took more than you should have and you took it to another place. Also that’s not how it went down.

A It’s how some people work. As I told before, give me a thing to work with and I can easily create from there.

B I only told you about a sixteenth of what happened.

A But that was enough for me and those three sentences told me everything I needed to know. Fuck bleep, I told you recently about my Bipolar Depression and how I grapple with it hour by hour and mostly by myself with no assistance or guidance from anyone.

B I appreciate that and your candor but it makes me crazy. But fuck bleep, I know how mentally exhausted some people feel being in your orbit.

A Bleep, dude, we’re trying to get to that place in the day where we can say, I’m still here. First we get out of bed unassisted and the rest is gravy.

B Why such labels? I mean I know most of the names but you know I’m a tee shirt and jeans.

A Without inferring or intimating the slightest thing, I had a good feeling that who she is and most likely she has her own money but she doesn’t dismiss her husband’s money.

B I have my own money too but I’m not going to be seen eating on North Robertson.

A Possibly I’d see you at one place on Melrose or on Alameda and they’re not that far from where I put you. Then again, there’s a place around the way and you can walk there. I pay attention to things like that ever since I saw Russell Simmons ex wife Creamora eating at raw restaurant in LA a few years ago.

B Wow. How did find that out?

A She had a reality show and they showed her eating there and as a woman of color, she nearly lost her mind. One of things they served was a pizza but it wasn’t a New York pepperoni pizza all hot and gooey with cheese. I yelled at the TV, Gurl, I’ll take a slice. I’m in.

B Wait a minute, bleep. You told me you have issues with food.

A I do but sometimes I’ve got to throw caution to the wind and suffer with each delicious bite.

B So that’s why you fabricated that restaurant.

A Well, kinda sorta. When I was in LA, I found a great little Thai place a few blocks away from The Dolby and if I remembered the name I would’ve told you about it. They’ve got some amazing vegan options.

B This is one of the things I find about you, you know some of the most trivial things and it’s fucking scary.

A Bleep, I just hope I don’t actually lose my mind. I’d hope that you or someone else would put me down if dementia or Alzheimer’s effected me.

B Don’t say that. I sometimes like it when you remember what happened way back when.

A I’m not sure what’s going to happen but I’m still here regardless.

B I’ve got to ask why you said I cried.

A Bleep, you are but one of many Taurus men I know and if they do actually cry, it’ll be in the shower and they’d never admit to knowing how to cry. They might well up with tears but never cry in front of anyone ever.

B That’s fucked up.

A Taurus men do write but never about their feelings nor do they own a diary or journal. If that April born man exists who shares their feelings, they are a very rare breed of man.

B Well writing isn’t my thing.

A You sound exhausted.

B I had to compose myself and all the while I cursed your name.

A Oh it’s because I hit a nerve?

B You’re the last person I’d ever, of course, I think of to wax philosophic and then admit it to someone else let alone admit it to myself.

A Bleep, motherfucker, I’m completely aware and yet I’m not living under the delusion by pining away waiting for you to ask.

B No, it’s not that but does fall in the same zip code and then I used one word, empath. You dug as deep as you could and I’m like, fuck, man, I’m on the phone with you.

A Bleep. Bleep. I’ve known ever since your old EarthLink email and I never and I wouldn’t unless you asked. I told you before I see things that I don’t necessarily understand and with each message, I just end up seeing something.

B I gathered as much. There’s my Nou-Nou. Come up. It’s okay. Come on, Nou-Nou. Move your lard ass, Janx. There you go. All better. Rumple, not a word. You stay right there and let Nou-Nou get some.

A The kittehs!!

B Don’t distract. I’m not sure if you have a malignant will or you gave me something to think about.

A I can’t apologize more. I’m truly very sorry. I riffed on an idea and here we are.

B Life isn’t over as you think of it just because you’re alive. There’s more.

A That’s why I told you that I wouldn’t write again. Stirred the pot.

B You’re a dick.

A And your point is? A cunt? I’m The Dowager Empress and that’s all there is to that.

B You’re so full of shit.

A We’re not going to snap at each other like two terriers.

B Is this what we’ve been reduced to? Bickering just for arguments sake?

A You’re the one with the brown eyes, so you could possibly be full of shit. I’ve got green eyes, pea green with jealousy.

B You said some shit and it hit me. What’s that thing you usually say? Oh yeah, it’s a punch in the face you can’t take back.

A Bleep, dude. Most people want that moment in life where someone grabs ahold of you and pleads with you not to leave. It’s been played out in the movies, but not in our lives, right? I don’t know the life you led but I’ve had three boyfriends and each one of them dumped me. I’ve cried and played all the sad songs. You could have possibly done the same thing but let’s face it fucking Cher said it best, we all sleep alone.

B Whitney clapped back and said I’d rather be alone than be unhappy.

A True. But I had the near perfect relationship with The Beast. More than 40 years together. We both had separate lives and we were celibate lovers. We had each other’s back we did everything for love but we never did that. I knew that he wasn’t some Sir Galahad to love from afar, motherfucker was two legged boa constrictor. I’m okay with dying alone and unloved.

B That’s really a fucking bleak future. Well insert a happy go-lucky cliché here followed by Shady Pines. I can’t with you, bleep.

A I know that we’re estranged but don’t divorce me or fire me just yet.

B Okay.

-The curtain comes down and the audience breaks out in an uproar of applause and cheers-

Scene Three

E What was that we just watched?

CI wish I knew.

E 90 minutes of a conversation that never happened?

D Clearly you’ve missed the point of it. Two guys who knew each other since high school and they meet up years later. One guy had a bad break up and the other guy was now, as he said, a widower.

C Excuse me?

E Yeah excuse me. I don’t see it. Okay high school is one thing but forty years later, they’re talking like that?

D Okay let’s go for a quick pop at The Stone and we’ll go home afterwards.

E Which stone?

C I think that the closest one is Rosetta.

D No. That’s by Park Avenue. I think this one is Killarney but is it Kilkerry? Fuck. It’s right here at 8th Avenue.

C Don’t make thing of it but look over getting of that cab, Miles Silverberg.

E I know that name.

D Murphy Brown.

C It is him. Not bad looking but not my type.

D Bitch, your type is anyone who can make the letter O.

C You should talk. You’re still paying off that asbestos abatement from the last one.

D The two of you are practically virgins again, but then again Father Frank doesn’t give confessionals.

C/E Fuck you.

D Oh look, we’re here.

E I’ve always wondered exactly how many bars in Manhattan are actually Irish bars.

C Probably a few but I’m not sure. There’s only one Blarney Stone and I think it’s in Lower Manhattan not here in Midtown. I’m thinking that anything above 23rd Street is either owned by The Vara or Lyons’ Brothers.

E Damn.

D Hello, Merrick. We like a bottle of your best Shiraz and three glasses. We’ll be over here. Thank you. Yes, Merrick, yes you’re all that but put a ring on it.

E Why won’t you just fuck him and get it over with?

D We like this game. We just love to flirt with each other. No harm, no foul.

C She’s been playing with Merrick for years and he loves the attention.

E I wonder what The Times says tomorrow.

D This is the the last chapter of the trilogy. Uh…

C First was Hot Neon Lights, second was Patina on the Edge and now, It Didn’t Happen.

D I can’t get it out of my head that one scene with the mother fighting with the dad. She was so mad at him, she put out a cigarette in her hand.

C Oh fuck yeah, that was fucking brutal.

E Can someone get that mad?

D She’s his mother and momma bear wasn’t having it.

C True but I’m not sure about the pretentious names. Trenton Burroughs English and Daniel Charles Snyder. But you know what? They’re actual people. I found out that Trenton is some how many times removed from the Queen of Norway and Daniel is a surgeon with Doctors Without Borders. AND the most fucked up thing is that they don’t know each and have never met.

D You know what’s even more fucked up than? There’s an actual family here on the social register here in New York with the last name, Frankenstein. Google that.

E Thank you, Merrick. Ladies, a toast?

C Yes please and don’t be stingy.

D Miss Thing, leave some for the rest of us.

ALL 3 Cheers! Give my regards to Broadway!!

E Hot Neon Lights was excellent, though I thought the two fantasy moments were beyond me.

D Why?

E Is that what you’d expect from dropping a hit of acid?

C Not all the time. It’s different from person to person. I did it once and I had goosebumps most of the time and I saw these white penny tiles dance like waves and I was surfing.

D I went to see a midnight showing of Eraserhead in college and I hate that fucking movie. Sigh. I cringe whenever I hear, Eraserhead is dead. I wanna punch someone in the face.

E Damn and I said I was traumatized by seeing Gina Gershon’s pubic hair in Killer Joe. I’m sorry but on the silver screen in a crowded theater. I shudder to think.

C A straight guy cringing at the mound of Venus? What happened? Did you see your mother in the shower?

E It’s not that deep. My face is one thing but on a forty-foot screen? Shit was scary.

D Yeah that is unforgettable. Besides that, was the movie any good?

E I don’t know. I mean William Friedkin directed The Exorcist. Both are going to fuck with your head, period.

D Oh yeah he did but what was really fucked up was in Patina on the Edge when he told us how his father and stepmother thought that they were watching his life story on the silver screen.

C What fucked with my head with my head was when he told us that he actually went to M Street and those stairs. I saw the picture and it was daytime and the caption read, Here laid Father Merrin’s body. Regan MacNeil astro-projected his priestly self right out the window. Rest in Power, Mercedes McCambridge.

E What?

C Yeah. Gimme a second.

D You’re obsessed much?

C I couldn’t believe it myself and I took a screenshot. Look.

E Damn. That’s really fucked up. Here.

D Oh my God! That is fucked up.

C I know reality stranger than fiction.

E It wasn’t science fiction or was it tonight?

D Whatever it was, it was some great writing. He can tell a story.

C What did you get out of it?

E I’m thinking that after seeing Hot Neon Lights, Patina on the Edge and tonight’s It Didn’t Happen, I think they should have a face to face and make a decision if they’re going to be actual friends and figure out if they want to be celibate lovers and in a platonic marriage.

D Fuck that bullshit. It’s obvious that they are actually going to have a contentious relationship and they’re not going to find each other sitting together chatting it up in Shady Pines. The only thing that they can have is a hidden mutual respect for each other and the rest of us can only imagine that since neither one of them will admit to anything. He’s a whore and he’s a prude. They don’t know what they want, but can they be friends in any iteration of the meaning. We’ll never know.

C Well…unrequited love can keep you going. Okay I’ve got unrequited love too but I see mine as that song, All American Boy by Steve Grand. I just love that song and I’m obsessed with the media calling it Brokeback Breakout and he’s like the Gay Cowboy. That’s really a bad cliché but it’s even worse to know that not every fag wants to suck the quarterback’s dick. Yeah let that big man on campus get a pot belly and go bald, and at the 40th high school reunion you’re still in a size seven like me and what’s even worse is that all the girls want to kill me.

D Do let me know when old and bitter arrives.

E Oh c’mon. It can’t be all that bad. You’re supposed to live off a compliment for two weeks, but I always hope for the best. I mean I like my family and we all get along.

C Well how nice for you but I doubt it. It’s like Homer isn’t going to strangle Bart for the umpteenth time.

E Back to the other moment in Hot Neon Lights, what was up with that Diana Ross scene?

D That was explained in Patina.

C Yeah. He went to the Diana Ross Live at Caesar’s Palace show on two hits of mescaline but I think the point was like she said, I am and I’m going to be.

D Powerful.

E Didn’t he also explain how he could actually touch the guy on the flying trapeze at the circus. Apparently he likes dropping acid.

C Patina had that whole conversation about “Gee whiz. Boy I was drunk last night.”

D Yeah it was consensual but I’m not sure if they were that drunk or that high.

E I know right but he did fuck that girl after an eight ball.

C Oh yes! He was up to THANGS!!

D Indeed he was but that failed threesome was even funnier.

E Give the guy a break. I’m not sure if he wanted to fuck the husband in front of his wife or fuck the wife as the husband was going to fuck him.

C YES!! The bamboo chair hanging from the ceiling. If I was in that same situation I have no idea how to proceed.

E True, true, but I’m glad he told us from the jump, we’d never believe it actually happened. My mind hurts.

D Look gentlemen, the bottle is empty and we all have to go to work in a few hours. Let’s table this for the next time. Until then.

E Okay but it’s Romeo & Juliet with social media at The Public.

C That’s got to be something else. We’ll text after we read the review in The Times.

ALL 3 Good night, Merrick!!

1 note · View note

shakespeareanwannabe · 4 years

Text

Engineering the Future

Hi everyone! So this is my second Supernatural fic, the first one I cross-posted here on Tumblr, though I have written a couple of other things on this wonderful series. So here’s the thing: this is a bit of a project that I’ve been working on to keep myself writing even when I feel like I have nothing to say.

So here’s the deal: I’m going to write one one-shot per episode. Multiple friends say that I’m driving myself to drink, but so far it’s been fairly smooth sailing. If you guys have any ideas about certain episodes, I’d be happy to hear them, but know that I’ve got a list of prompts for three quarters of the episodes, so I may not write your prompt. But I’d love to hear your ideas. Just, no Wincest or Destiel because I honestly don’t ship either of them (no hate please, it’s just the way I feel. And no, I don’t hate anyone who does ship them). Just brotherly love here!

This chapter is tagged to episode 1x01, Pilot. Hope you all enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural. This is a work of fiction based on characters from The CW’s Supernatural, created by Eric Kripke.

To completely plagiarize someone else, “Being his real brother I could feel I lived in his shadows, but I never have and I do not now. I live in his glow.” Who said that? Why was his relationship with his brother so important? Doesn’t matter. This isn’t about him. This is about them, and the moments we don’t get to see.

***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** *****

Dean had imagined this day since that balmy July evening when a rickety tin door had slammed shut and seemingly separated his family forever.

Depending on his mood, there were several different scenarios that would play out. When he was at the bottom of his third bottle, he would imagine showing up at his front door, having him open the door, stare at him, then shut it again without a word. The second bottle was kinder, allowing them to pass on the streets, perhaps nodding at each other before the one went on with his normal life, leaving the other to thank a God that he didn’t believe in that he had at least seen him one last time. The first bottle didn’t give him enough hope to even attempt to dream up a reunion with his little brother.

The fourth bottle was Dean’s favourite. He would get an excited phone call and drive all the way to Stanford just so that Sam could tell him he was getting married face to face. They would settle into a table at some hoity-toity bar or into a booth at some frou-frou café and would talk as though no time had passed. The natural lighting would fade to black and neither of them would move. Topics of conversation would wax and wane until they found themselves in the same companionable silence that graced the majority of their childhood together.

Sam would eventually sigh sadly and mutter something about having to be in court early the next morning, to which Dean would make a crude joke that would have Sam blushing behind the ears as he laughed. Dean would walk him to his car and deal with the chick-flicky hug bestowed upon him by a drunk and/or over-caffeinated Little Brother. As they pull apart, Sam would get all shy and red again as he stammered through saying that he hoped Dean would be his Best Man (because screw this Brady kid that introduced the happy couple). Dean would laugh, hug his brother, completely deny the tears in his eyes, and say “Who else could fill those shoes, bitch?”

Dean would hang around in California for a couple of months and relish in being stationary for the first time since he was four. He would meet Jessica, automatically start calling her Jessie, and plan a small bachelor party for Sammy and his college pals before taking his kid brother on a kick ass, blow out ‘Brochelor’ party in Vegas to make up for every birthday, Christmas, and any other calendar holiday that they had missed out on. On the day of the wedding he would straighten out his brother’s tie, all the while denying that he had asked the guy at the store how to do so. He would give the kid the picture of Mom that he carried around in his wallet with the explanation that she needed to be there with him on this day. He would stand up next to his little brother during the ceremony, give the most awesome speech ever written during the reception, and dance with his new sister-in-law when the time came.

While he and the other, less important guests waved the happy couple off (he had even given them the Impala to borrow for their honeymoon road trip up the Pacific Coast Highway) he would get a phone call from Dad, saying that he had finally pinned down the son of a bitch who had killed Mom, and that he needed his son there with him. Dean would hotwire a car and go. He’d stand side-by-side with his father as they ganked the sucker, turn, and shake his father’s hand before walking away from the life.

He’d stand hat in hand on Sam’s doorstep when they returned from their honeymoon, praying that his baby brother still had room for his older, less intelligent but far more handsome brother in his new married life. Sam would laugh and pull him into a hug, ensuring him that of course he would always need his big brother. After all, he and Jessie apparently hadn’t come home from their month-long vacation on their own, and this kid was gonna need a really cool uncle to bitch at when his/her parents were giving them a hard time. Any nephew of his was gonna be educated in the ways of the Impala, rock music, and the Dean Winchester Scale of Burger Perfection. Any niece of his would also be educated in these things, but he would need to be there more for Sam when the boys came snooping around, because what was more intimidating than two guys over 6-feet tall who had marksmen’s abilities?

Dean would maybe become a cop, or a mechanic, or maybe even a firefighter, but one thing he would do for sure is protect his family. He’d gank any evil bastard that came within a thousand miles of that two story, white picket fenced house on Normal Boulevard.

Maybe he’d settle down, maybe not. All that was important to him was that his Sammy was happy.

That was all that would ever matter to him.

So, when it came down to it, Dean would have traded everything he had for it to have not happened like this. Never like this.

***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** *****

Sam had imagined this day since that first night alone at Stanford.

At first, he’d dreamed that Dean would show up, kick his roommate out, and curl up in the twin bed approximately six feet away from him. Dean would go to the registrar and apply to the school and get in, obviously, because his big brother was a genius. He’d probably take engineering, because Dean could do things with machinery that Sam could never have dreamed about. They’d watch each other’s backs on and off campus, and when one of the dorm rooms ended up being haunted, they’d take care of it, as though they had never been off the job. Dean would go on to open his own body shop, while working side projects like helping to rebuild homes for people who lost them in fires or natural (and supernatural) disasters. Sam would become a kick ass lawyer and help the law protect people. He’d help Dean on the weekends at the shop or with the houses, because they were brothers and why wouldn’t he? They’d still go out and watch the stars when they could, and they’d make sure to go to the first game of every season for the Jayhawks. They’d make a weekend of it. Just Sam, Dean, and the Impala. Of course, Jess would be fine with it. She’d love Dean as much as he did, because what wasn’t there to love? Eventually, he and Jess would get married and Dean would be his Best Man (even though Brady would throw a fit about it, but Dean was right, he was better off without douchebags like Brady in his life), then go on to be the best uncle to the kids they would have. Dean would meet a nice girl and they’d settle down too, and soon it would be Winchester Weekends, filled with barbeques and Little League games and dance recitals and tinkering with the Impala while drinking a cold one together and hiding from their wives and kids.

A few months in, the dream changed. One of the kids in Sam’s classes had a brother in the military, who surprised her by showing up during lecture wearing his fatigues and announcing that he had been honorably discharged and was staying home for good. She’d broken down into tears and hugged him until the professor had just wiped his eyes and dismissed the class, claiming that he didn’t want to bring the room down by talking about the Battle of Yorktown in 1781.

Sam started imagining that something similar would happen to him. Dean and Dad would kill the thing that had killed Mom, then Dean would stroll right into his Economics class wearing his torn jeans, steel toed boots, band shirt and leather jacket (the uniform of one of the longest living hunters out there, and the youngest to boot), acting as though he owned the joint. Sam would launch himself into his brother’s arms, not even minding that that cute girl Jessica sat only a few rows behind him, and bury his face in his brother’s shoulder to hide his tears. Dean would clasp him around the back of his neck and whisper that he and Dad had gotten the damned thing, and that he was quitting the life. Dad would keep hunting with Uncle Bobby, Pastor Jim, and Caleb as back up when needed, but he was out.

Dean would help him hook up with Jessica, because he had seen the way they looked at each other, and Dean couldn’t stand the lovesick puppy dog eyes anymore, then the rest of the daydream would stay the same. Engineering, lawyering, cars, court cases, house building, Jayhawks, star gazing, the Impala, wives, kids, all culminating in the two of them sitting side by side at some Old Folks Home, the lines between what they knew and what the world knew blurred by old age and one too many hard knocks to the head courtesy of any one of monsters of the week that they used to hunt. They’d sit on the front porch, drinking whatever alcohol they could get their hands on, loudly debating the proper way to kill a wendigo (Sam would say iron because he knows his big brother’s mind is fading and he needs him to stick around a while longer because Jess was already gone and he wasn’t quite ready to go and he doesn’t want to be left alone, not again).

No matter which scenario he dreamt up (defending Dean in court, forcing him into retirement when a werewolf gets the better of him and his left leg is basically useless so Sam brings him home with him, or even something as simple as Sam just picking up the phone and asking him to visit (because it’s DEAN, and there’s nothing he won’t do for his little brother, and Sam knows it), there was one common thread that remained the same, and that was that the time they had spent apart held no consequences. They would just fall back into being brothers, knowing that if they were back to back or side by side they would be fine.

That’s why, when Dean bursts through the bedroom door and drags him out of the burning brownstone, Sam couldn’t bring himself to fight at full strength. Dean was there. As much as Sam wished it had been any other scenario he had dreamt up (and not the nightmare that had been plaguing him for weeks), he knew that his big brother was there. And since when had there been any problem that Dean couldn’t solve? He could’ve been an engineer, after all.

***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** *****

#supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #crosspost #in his glow

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scripted-dalliances · 6 years

Text

Faithless Fairy Tale

Title: Faithless Fairy Tale

Word Count: 5432 words

Summary: Laura and Sweeney get a happy ending. (Canon up until the last episode.)

Author’s note: I haven’t posted to tumblr in six million years and it shows by the fact that I still don’t know if I even posted this right, and if I mess up I’m sorry and just tell me. All of this is Neil’s and it’s pretty obvious I’m only playing in his sandbox. *There are a few direct lines from the book, between Laura and Shadow, freakin’ important ones I hope they one day put in the show.

Despite what one might presume given…well, his everything. Mad Sweeney does better in the company of women than he does men. Sure, he can drink and fight with the lads, take the piss and make them do the same with a dirty joke, but when it comes to the grit of his bones and silence of the night, its women that make him feel more at ease.

Its just the nature of his being really, women believe in the likes of fairies and leprechauns more easily than men. It is their kind that want something a little bit wild and uncontrollable, and free. Its really only a woman who could understand and appreciate a dual nature. Not good nor evil, not nice or mean but ever changing in opinion given the direction of the wind.

Men. Men wanted firm rules. Give and take, all the details finely written down like a bloody equation.

I pray this much, I sacrifice this much and in return by this time I shall have received my list of demands or else some other bloody God gets my belief.

Men wanted Gods of War. Gods that kept their dick hard and Gods to take away their pain.

Leprechauns were by nature then, seen more as little devils. Annoyance that were more likely to steal and trick them than to help.

So its hardly a thought given to him, that when all settles down. When the three of them fall into a routine of travel; making pit stops every five hours it seems to either piss, eat or pray, he keeps closer to the bitch dead wife rather than the Genie Rubber.

“Why are you on my side?” Laura bitches, the second he sits down. The worn red seat of the ancient Waffle house is at best, a fucking bench with a whisper of a pillow above it. His weight makes it whine and crack, like a living beast about die.

“Shut up and order. Oh, that’s right you can’t because you’re dead, so how about you shut it anyways or else you can go back to the cab and rot.” He bitches right back, only to get her tiny fist shoved into his side. Clearly she is holding back, as he does not fly across the room, but it does make him keen like a whelp and curl up to protect the rest of his insides. “Fuckin hell!”

“Tell me to shut up one more god damn time, Ginger minge and I swear I will give you a very unwanted vasectomy with a fucking fork.”

Across the table, Salim with his wide doe eyes and soft heart begs them to stop.

“Please, we are in public.” He says, like he is their mother and they are just two rowdy kids as opposed to what they really are. A 6'5 leprechaun and 5'1 dead woman about to fist fight in a Waffle House at three am.

It continues on like this, him without thought keeping to her, even when she breaks his bones and insults everything about him seven ways from Sunday. Like she’s got a stick up her pert little ass a mile long and just as wide with his fucking name on it.

He can’t say he doesn’t probably have a matching one with her name on it.

He pays no mind to it, but of course she does.

“Is it the gay thing?” She questions apropos of nothing. They had been sitting, watching Salim pray on the side of the road from within a little coffee shop. Its shit, the coffee but they have amazing doughnuts that Sweeney eats several of.

“What is?”

“Why you never seem to want to be near Salim.”

He tilts his head toward her, “I’ve just spent three days stuck in a fucking mini piece of rolling shit with the man, with hardly a breathing inch between us. If I was any fucking closer, I’d be inside the bastard, and it’s my fucking name he’d be thanking five times a day.”

She waits a beat before answering.

“So do you want him to be? Are you jealous because of the God thing or the sex? Or is it a weird combo where you are just a repressed homophobe with God Issues?”

“…What the fuck.” He whispers in ancient tongue. “Did they pickle your fucking brain, dead wife?”

“Just an observation.”

“Oh. Is it now? JUST A FUCKING TERRIBLE ONE.” He roars, the patrons of the shop sleepily look over but ignore him after a second. He shoves a doughnut into his mouth and chews through his anger. “I ain’t jealous, Gods are fucking high horsed pricks. Fuck the lot of ‘em. And I ain’t got nothing against any bloke who can take it up the arse with a smile, not my slice of cake but you don’t live as long as I do and not get curious.”

Laura smirks, as if he has confirmed something for her. Like a child, he has the sudden need to steal it from her and horde it.

“-and before your pickled brain can get too many rotted ideas. No. Salim isn’t the ugliest bugger I’ve laid eyes on, but he isn’t making me twitch down below.”

“Gross.”

“So are you, dead wife.”

She rolls her eyes but continues. “So what is it then? You always seem to hang out with me, and we both know its not my winning personality.”

Sweeney takes a sip of the shit coffee and looks out the window to Salim. “Does it matter? Maybe I just want to keep track of you. You and my coin.”

“That’s not it. For one, we both know if I wanted to lose you I could. Two, you can’t keep track of shit, example A.” She gestures to herself, “-and its weird.”

“Is this your shit way of saying you don’t want to be friends, dead wife? And here I thought we were on our way to braiding each others hair and trading friendship bracelets.”

“Fuck off.”

“Heaven above, you have no idea how much I wish I could.” He sighs deeply, wishing he had such a choice. That she didn’t have his coin, that she didn’t look like-

But she does. She fucking does and maybe that’s the part of it. Laura Moon is the haunting mirror of Essie, the color of their hair different, and skin not as freckled but there she sits. Just as mouthy and unwilling to bend against the course of nature as ever. The only difference being that Laura did it out of pure stubborn will, where Essie had done it out of faith. Faith that had brought him with to the new world, and just looking at Laura reminded him of that fact. Made it feel like there was a hole in his chest, missing something vital.

The worst part was that, given different circumstances he wouldn’t have minded. In another reality, where she had a beating heart and no husband to chase, he would have chased that feeling. Stupid as it was, as mean as she could be. He would have tried to fix the feeling with crass words, rough sex and shades of affection. Try and figure Laura out, what she believed in and try to make her believe in him, as a lover or a man.

He thinks in a different life, he would have been happy to try.

-but they aren’t in that world. No, instead she’s dead as a fucking door nail and he’s just the unlucky tool that did it. Her piece of shit husband the reason why, even if he didn’t know it.

Instead, the hole in his chest just gets infected by guilt. With what feels like several bleeding centuries of it. From the loss of Essie, to the own sad truth of what he has become and even if she is a cunt, Laura hadn’t deserved to become a pawn in some God’s half assed plan. She wasn’t meant to die, scraped across pavement like roadkill with a man’s cock in her mouth.

“Come on, he should be done soon.” She says, drawing him out of his thoughts.

Sweeney nods, finishes his drink and follows her out. Salim is just packing away his rug and hat as they approach the cab. Laura making a beeline for the passenger seat (is if her tiny legs could somehow beat his stride if he put his mind to it.) And he once again attempts to shove his frame into the back seat. As always he fails. Curled up, with his knees bent, his boots still push against her seat.

If he was in mood. He’d kick it.

Kick it like a fussy toddler on a six hour flight.

-but decides he likes how his balls are attached to his body and keeps himself in check.

They lose Salim, the cab and the helpful buffer between within seconds. In hardly a days drive from that, Sweeney finds himself face first in a fucking window with an red, white and blue popsicle up is his arse like it’s fourth of the fucking July.

And his coin.

His fucking coin had, by the grace of gravity knocked right out of Laura’s corpse. His problems solved, he had it back. Not freely given per say but his once more never the less.

But then he looks down at her; once more smeared ungracefully and undignified on the road, this time dry and hollow. Her chest split open, showing him the pale white curve of bones that protects her heart and lungs. She is flayed open, and he should want nothing to do with her.

Still he does not walk away.

He roars, stomps and loses his god damn mind. All in his ancient tongue, all but lost to time, to the heavens above.

He isn’t evil. He isn’t.

(He puts it back, because there is a hole in his heart, a renewed sense of self and it’s the biggest middle finger to fucking Odin he can think of. He doesn’t want a new start, doesn’t want to be absolved of this sin and mistake, he wants Laura to have her revenge, even if it means she’ll probably wring his neck. Even if it means his own death. He’s done being a fucking coward.)

He puts the coin back into her and they continue their journey.

“What do you believe?”

“Everything.”

Death has done a lot of damage to Laura Moon’s insides. She feels empty, like there is a growing hole in her chest -but not physically. No, physically she can feel the cold, the dry pull of limbs as they move with every step. She can feel the odd heavy weight in her guts, of fluid never fully drained and of maggots growing. Making it feel like she has to puke or shit, but not really. She is in her body, she feels it, but it’s obvious to even her that the decay is setting in.

She thinks about Mad Sweeney and his stupid words. Yer meat will slide off your bones

She hates that his words manage to stick, place a bit of fear in her. She hates that even for a second, she believes him.

-but the truth is, she is coming apart at the seams.

Can there even be a resurrection if she’s a pile of moldy meat?

Laura watches Easter break out the big guns, watches in passive disillusionment as the woman draws life out and back into her, like breathing. Watches as she seemingly turns into a bundle of brightly colored flowers as the Earth turns hollow and dead as Laura herself; and all she can do is feel is pissed off. A Goddess of this power, who could have brought her back to life, can’t. All because she wasn’t just dead. No not just murdered.

She was a fucking sacrifice. A lamb slaughtered for an uncaring God.

So she politely clears her throat, to get their attention.

“I’d like to have a word with my husband.”

Shadow smiles up to her, like she’s a gift for all of three seconds,before his expression falls. As if remembering something.

(And it pierces her heart, like a bullet, because she isn’t stupid. It doesn’t matter what those gods of death had said. He’s not grateful for her return, he’s not able to forget or forgive her sins. He isn’t her puppy any more. Confessed by the man himself.)

Wednesday takes one glaring look at her, and then to Mad Sweeney behind her and butts in like he’s reading from a dramatic play, “Might have to take a rain check on that m'dear. As you can see, things are heating up, might not be too good for you…considering your,” He pauses, eyes going over her appearance, as if he can taste the rot on her, “-let’s say delicate condition?”

“I’m dead, not fucking pregnant you asshole.” Laura spits out.

“Laura-” Shadow attempts to call out to her; but he does it in that stupid soft voice of his, the one that she’s so familiar of. The one that is to calm her, to gently tell her to reign it in and not start a fight. He’s used it at her family’s dinners whens he got to mouthy with her mother over something stupid, and it’s the last straw.

She will not stand by and let him protect this asshole god from her wrath.

She starts walking down the steps, hears Sweeney follow, and makes her way to the group. Intent on ripping them all a new hole, physically and mentally. First Wednesday, then Shadow and then maybe the rest of them too. Sweeney as well. Fucking everyone.

-but she gets about a foot away before Wednesday gives her a smirk.

“What is it that you really want, Laura. Your man or your life? What are you really afraid of? Death or being alone? What is it that you believe in, that makes you chase Shadow?”

“Fuck you, I want both, I love him. His love brought me back!”

The old man’s devil of a smile, grows wider and she can see his two colored eyes sparkle with amusement. He is laughing at her. It makes her want to break every bone in his body, slowly.

“Did it?” He questions, looking back at Shadow curiously, “Did you?”

Shadow, looks like he’s a deer caught in the head lights. He opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out and Laura’s rage turns into dust. The bright light he seems to effortlessly shine with starts to dims. Flickers like a candle in the wind and all she wants to do now is cup her hands around it, protect it.

Please. Please don’t go out.

“I…I gave her the coin, but I didn’t-” He admits slowly, confesses each word with a stutter before it all comes out. “I didn’t know it would bring you back Laura.”

The light goes out.

He gave her a gift he didn’t mean to give, it’s not his love that keeps her on this plane of existence, it’s a fucking mistake. She’s been following him blindly, just like Salim and his Jinn, just like him and his Gods but here she is. Before him, and the truth is a little less like heaven and more like the hell she probably deserves.

She doesn’t really know what to do with that.

“He killed me Shadow,” She spills the secret with a lot less gravity than she thought it deserved, but now she’s not even sure he’d care. “He might have ordered Ginger minge over there to do it, but it’s him that wanted me out of the way. It’s him that sent you to prison. That ruined my perfect plan. He is the reason our lives went to shit.”

Shadow glares -there’s just enough righteous fury in his eyes to make the light flicker back on, but then Wednesday is once again talking and swaying the breeze.

“Am I?” He questions, and Laura goes to kick him.

“Shut the fuck up, with your stupid questions. Yes, yes you are!”

-he moves out the line of her kick too fast for her to track.

“Ah. So. It was me then who planted that dangerous plan to rob your place of work?” No. That was Laura. Fed up and bored with her life once more. “It was me, that asked you to get Shadow involved?” No. That was Laura again. “It was me, that after a year and a month…a baker’s dozen of months, that caused you to start fucking Robbie? That pushed you to bend over and suck his dick?”

Her own words, phases and classless tone comes back to haunt her. She doubts that Shadow told the bastard any of this, and knows that it’s just him. As a God, reading her sins like they are printed on her face. The truth of her actions, that still would have damned her even if she was still alive. That was all Laura, screwing herself over.

“Tell me. What would have happened if you had lived that night. If you hadn’t of died.” He opens his arms, looking to the crowd now as if they have the answer. Everyone is silent, old gods and new, even Shadow. Laura feels suddenly, like she’s on the chopping block. Like she’s once again, sitting before the God of Death, and being told to weigh her heart against a pure white feather.

She already knows the answer.

“Tell me Laura Moon -Laura McCabe. Who used to try and suffocate herself in a hot tub with bug spray when no one was looking, when her husband didn’t make her feel any more -what was your life going to be?”

It’s in that moment, that Laura realizes she’s too dead to cry. There’s nothing to give, even though there’s a growing crack in her being. Wednesday’s rips her apart, with his accurate accusations. Spilling not her blood, but her secrets. The one she never thought she’d ever have to share.

“Oi, you fucker!” A voice finally rings out, Sweeney’s roar. He dares to venture into the fray. Pointing a finger at the Norse God, “You are on trial here, not her. Whatever her life might have been, good or fucking terrible, that was her right. It was her fucking life to live! You bastards,” He glares out to all them watching and sneers, “Old Gods. New Gods. Fuck the lot of you. Same pricks, different fucking names that’s all. All greedy, all selfish. When was the last time any of you did anything fucking productive? You scramble and you fight, and you demand worship, like any of you deserve it. Well, surprise. You fucking don’t. None of ya, and all this is,” He waves his arms out, striding forward to Wednesday to spit directly into his face, “All this bloody is, is a war to find out whose the bigger cunt to a bunch of dumb mortal motherfuckers who don’t fucking need you.”

Sweeney laughs, “They never have, and that’s why they forget. That’s why, you can suck the life out of his whole damned planet-” He points to Easter, with a grin , “Like a toothless whore, and it won’t matter. They’ll just assume it’s nature. It’s the planet dying. They’ll fuck off to space before building you an alter, love. And maybe they’ll have their gadgets and their little stories on the box, but once again they’ll be focused on survival. Those things will be pushed into dark little boxes of the old times, won’t they?”

“He’s…got a point.” Techno Boy Wonder says in reply, he isn’t exactly eager for this war. He just wants his kicks, his slice of pie and then honestly, to fuck off and mind his own business again. “Why are we fighting them. Like really. If it doesn’t matter if they win or lose, then what does it matter if we fight? This is twenty-first century. No one is going to start plucking out eyeballs for the old geezer unless they’re already crazy.”

Media is slower to reply, but even she softly admits, “And then they’re nothing but mad men. Delusional. Cults do have a nasty habit of burning out before too long…”

-and just like that. The tides and winds are changing.

“There won’t be a war.” Media decides. Grabbing her hat off the ground. “Too much trouble. This was…impressive.” She says to Easter, “but he’s right. Without our meddling, they’ll figure it out. Call it something else. Cover it up and forget it.”

-and just like that, Media and Technology Boy leave.

Easter too, sullenly walks back into her home. Her earlier joy fading with every step.

It’s not a fitting end, but it’s an end never the less.

There’s a fight of course, a violent one, but it’s just between Mad Sweeney and Odin. Laura breaks it up by slicing Odin’s head off with his own blade. Just as he was about to snap Sweeney’s head off.

It’s not really important, because honestly, Laura doesn’t want it to be.

He’s better left forgotten.

“You didn’t mean to bring me back.”

“No.”

“You don’t want to see me.”

“It wasn’t that,” Shadow hesitated, “No. I didn’t want to see you. It hurt too much. At first I just thought…I don’t know what I thought, but looking at you, it hurts.”

Laura bows her head, it’s not surprising. This talk with Shadow. It’s simple and blunt, like a hammer doing it’s job, and nailing in her coffin once more. It’s time to bury what is between them, because it’s pretty clear even if she wasn’t dead, their marriage was.

“I want to bring you back. I don’t want you dead.” He tells her, but it’s not with passion as so much guilt. He wants to right a wrong, not get her back. Not fix things because he wants to be with her.

She is, of course hurt by this fact. Splinted between knowing she’s lost such a good man because of her own stupid fault and the growing sense of fuck it, you never really wanted him, did you? You were bored with him before you died, before he went to prison. You were just holding on to something you didn’t deserve, a Goddess with a single mindless devotee.

“I love you,” She said, dispassionately. “I know you loved me. You spoiled me, gave me everything…and it would have been enough. Should have been.” Admitting it is easier in death, because what does she have to fear? Wednesday was wrong. She doesn’t fear the nothing that comes after death, and even when she was with Shadow she was alone. Laura doesn’t fear anything, just as she doesn’t believe in anything. All she wants is something in her life that doesn’t make her feel like she’s dead. She wants to feel her blood pumping inside her veins, not just because her heart is pushing it but because something is causing it to. “I wasn’t unhappy with you Shadow, I was unhappy with life, and I suppose in a way I guess that does include you even if I never thought of it like that. It’s only in death that I can admit that to you without holding back. And that’s the truth of it. I was always holding back.”

“You could have shared. I would have-”

“You would have told me you loved me. You would have told me it’s okay. Maybe taken the step to get me to a doctor, who would have medicated me to hell and then I would still be this. Dead on the inside.” She points out, “I’m not a nice person with a lot of issues. I’m broken, Shadow and that’s just who I am and you’ve always been too good of a man to say so. That’s why I think…I think I followed you, I believed in you. Or rather I wanted to. I mean, I don’t believe in any Gods or that shit…but I knew you were a good man, and you could do something. Anything to fix me.”

“…You still don’t believe? After everything you’ve seen today?” Shadow asks her, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the kitchen counter. Easter had all but disappeared into her rooms. Leaving the trio to themselves. Sweeney was recovering in the living room while they had gone off to talk.

Laura shrugged, indifferent. “Nah. I mean. Ginger Minge out there said it didn’t he? Doesn’t matter what they are or aren’t, they’re still pricks. And anyone can be a prick, so it stands to reason anyone can be a God. Seems kinda like that’s a shit existence any how.”

Shadow cracks, smiling just a bit. “I suppose it does…but what about you? You’re still dead, Odin might have been the only one to bring you back…”

“Actually, I’ve got a theory about that.”

“Let’s make a deal.”

Sweeney attempts to open his eyes, but really his face is bruised and swollen he only manages to see out of one. And all he gets for his trouble is the smug mug of the bitch dead wife. He frowns.

“Fuck off.”

“I mean it. Let’s make a deal, Lepercunt.”

“I also mean it. Fuck off.”

She pinches the skin between his wrist and his hands, causing him to scream so loud the house windows rattle.

Laura smiles. The bitch.

It goes like this.

“I’ll believe in you if you believe in me.”

“That’s not how it fucking works, dead wife.”

“Oh yeah?” She questions, standing before him. Despite being half his fucking height, she manages to make him feel nervous. “How does it work, because I’m going out on a limb in saying that you’ve got no fucking clue. Hell, I’ll gamble and say, none of you dickwads do.”

Maybe. But he doesn’t tell her that. Just glowers and mutters under his breath in another language how he can’t believe his fucking luck. Lack of luck.

“You told me you were a king once. Don’t you want to be one again?”

Sweeney stays silent, giving her any words is like selling his soul. Maybe he owes it to her, but fuck her, he’s not giving it without a bit of a fight.

“All you need is someone to believe. Really believe, and maybe a new story right? A reinvention. A rebirth.”

He catches on, what she is selling ain’t new, but fuck him…it sounds good.

“A resurrection.” He adds.

There is a new story.

One of a man, of a bird, of a saint and a trickster. Who came to America on broken wings and lost his crown, his coin and belief. (Oh yeah, Americans love a good immigrant story, of someone who lost everything and got it all back, Laura laughs.)

A hundred years, give or take, he spends wandering like a curse. Each road familiar, each day a repeat of the last. He makes deals with the devils, with the angels and even the ghosts but none of them change anything for him. All his pain, all his luck good or bad, doesn’t matter. It’s fleeting and he starts looking for an end.

He finds the end in a girl.

He murders her, leaves her dead on the side of the road because a mean ugly God told him to. Told him this was an important piece to bury, to shove out of the way for the grand end the once king was looking for.

-but the dead girl, she doesn’t stay where he puts her. She leaves the comfort of her grave, she tracks the sun and the moon until she finds him and once she finds him, she puts her hands around his throat and demands life.

The man who was once a bird, whispers to her he has none to give. None to share. All he has is the name of the God who wanted her dead. The girl takes it, though no heart in her beats or blood in her veins and she has nothing but luck of the damned on her side; she finds that God.

Hidden behind the shadows of the moon and sun, he stands and judges her.

In any other story, she and the trickster would be punished. She would have been struck down for her disobedience. For thinking she could get her way, just because. The trickster would have been killed, just like he wanted.

In any other story, neither of them are heroes and therefore their story ends with death as punishment. The bitter lesson of what happens to the boys and girls who don’t follow the rules.

-but that isn’t this story.

In this story, the girl doesn’t have a drop of fear in her and so she spits in that God’s eye. She blinds him, steals his blade and cuts him right out of the sky. The girl, who is just a girl and nothing more, kills a God.

She sheds her death, her mortality and becomes a God Slayer; something feared by those who rightfully should, and unknown by those who don’t.

It’s in her new embrace, that she brings the faithless man’s story to an end.

Because now he believes.

So she gifts him with a new crown, one of bronze and steel. She gives him wings not of a bird, but of hope of a new world. She takes his heart as payment, but fills it with something stronger than just faith.

She fills it with love.

“That’s a bit sappy.” Laura muses. Bright and warm, more so even before all this. Next to her, Sweeney fiddles with some precious trinket -that he promptly shatters between two fingers. He is still getting used to having his strength back.

The God of Death, Anubis as she now knows looks up from his brother’s book. Where their new story is written. Ink fresh to the point it’s still semi-wet.

“Gods and mortals alike, like a good love story.” Is all the man says. He is not pleased per say by the events. He still feels like he’s been cheated, after all. Laura McCabe should have died and vanished into the nothing of the world. It had been his job, and for whatever reasons, that had not come to pass. Not by his own lack of powers, but because the budding of hers.

She’s not a God. She is not holy or known enough to garner attention of mortals…

but she is something new.

Free of the restrictions dealt by most, she is a story now. Told between Gods like a promise. She can not be killed, she can not be reasoned with or bribed. She is an end and a beginning and there is something simple and absolutely terrifying about that truth.

All she needs is Mad Sweeney; not because of love, but because of everything else. He is now the start of her story as much as he is the end. He makes her, unmakes her and cycles between the two. He is her murderer as much as he is her savior. Without him, there is no life, no death and no story.

Doesn’t mean she’s nice to him, though. Why would she?

“Come on, Fire Crotch. I want Burger King.”

“They have shit fries, Wife.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Laura waves him off. A gold band around her finger catches the light. It’s a matching one to his own. A melted down version of the coin, split between them. Forged into rings by some God too afraid to tell them no, and given back to the other in a ceremony of marriage. Not a pledge or a vow to some other God, but to each other.

Laura puts her sunglasses on, and slides her arm between his. She’s strong enough to still throw him across the room, but now he’s strong enough to take it. She likes that. Seems fair.

“Come on, husband, let’s get the fuck out of here before I get bored.”

He laughs, “I can always throw you into the fucking river, wife. Try and drown ‘ya like old times. Would that amuse you? A little of tickle of death?”

“Little tickle of death? Sounds like a good name for your dick.”

His laughter turns into a bark, “We both know what I pack ain’t little, wife.”

They leave the funeral home, bantering like this all the way until Anubis can’t hear them any more. After which he sighs deeply in gratitude.

They exhaust even death.

#madwife #mad wife #mad wife fic #american gods #american gods fic #mad sweeney #laura moon #mad sweeney x laura moon #dead wife #laura x sweeney #madwife fic

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johnny-boy-17 · 5 years

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STAR VS THE FORCES OF EVIL or The Art Student’s Awakening (A Review)

Oh hey, it’s another review by me that nobody asked for! Ok, this one is actually gonna mean a lot to me since this show is pretty much the reason I even started posting things on this site to begin with (thank you and curse you Tumblr), so I need to get it all off my chest.

Short version: It’s really fuckin’ good, and y’all should check it out. The ending could have used a little more finesse, but it’s still pretty damn good.

Long version: *gasps for air*

Ok let’s start with the story. Yeah, it’s certainly a rollar-coaster. What starts out as a fun little-romp-of-the-week type of story...

...becomes this tale of power corruption, racism battle, and a tale of trust in one another and unity among the people.

Whether or not it handles that well seems to be half and half. On one hand, grace under fire this show is not. It does seem a little rushed in the last season, and you can really tell it wanted to be a bit longer, flesh out ideas, but didn’t have time for it (I blame the Mouse on that).

I mean I dunno about you, but a show that introduces time travel right the fuck out of nowhere in a medium never seems to end well, this show is no exception.

That and they reeeeeaaaaaally try to knock you unconscious using a hammer with all the prejudice allegories.

On the other hand, good characters can make a shit story seem like high-class art. And good characters this show has in spades (no eclipsa-related pun intended).

Firstly, Star Butterfly herself. It seems stupid not to start with her. And... yeah she’s a really fun protagonist. Not only is she basically Sailor Moon hyped up on too much nose candy, but she has an incredible story of growth to go with. She starts as a fun-loving monster battler that’s too eager to run away from her problems to this teenager facing the looming shadow of adulthood head on and ready to ditch her past of monster-ism(?) for good, never to let such discrimination see the light of day again. Not to mention Eden Sher just absolutely brings this character to life, even if it’s just little things she says like “yeah totally totally totally” or “we got burger juice on the wall rug.” Something in her performance just absolutely friggin’ works wonders. I’d say she’s probably one of my favorite protagonists out there that “the big D” has come up with, but my favorte character they’ve created in a looooong time? That award...

... goes to mother-fuckin’ Marco Ubaldo Diaz. I cannot BELIEVE how much they won me over with this guy. I think it’s because I saw so much of myself in this guy to the point where I am convinced he’s my long-lost brother. This B0I starts out as this paranoid play-it-safe ‘nother brick in the wall type who just wants to get through his teenage life without any kind of trouble, and by the end is a guy who’s ready to shrug off getting impaled by an evil unicorn being ridden by a corrupted version of Star’s half-demon ex just to get him to snap out of it (it just now dawns on me how fuckin’ batshit this show is). I just love how as he’s easing up on his paranoia, he learns to stop taking himself so seriously and let loose every now and then. Adam McAruther deserves praise for playing this guy, and I don’t know who could ever play this guy like he did. If no other takeaways for this show were to be, it’d be that Marco is in a lineup of my favorite fictional characters of all time.

Now I sense some ears (ok fine all ears) are waiting for me to talk about the two together, so I’ll touch on it once, and make an entire post on it later: It’s great. It’s pleasing to the eye, it’s wholesome for the soul, it makes them both into better beings, the opposite attracts thing is done beautifully, the chemistry could make Bill Nye proud, and I think their ending was as good as it could be for them... though I do hate how long it took to get there.

OK LIGHTNING ROUND GO (can’t get ‘em al, so sorry):

-Tom: I like the guy, definitely a more relatable and visible character arc and his design is neat.

-Jackie: I wish my lesbian venice beach girl got more appreciation, but I luv her none the less.

-Janna: I luv my strange bisexual filipino witch-wannabee (you know what I said is true don’t deny it)

-Moon: Never really gave her full trust, but was not disappointed by her in any way, despite various actions in the end.

-River: I liked him in the beginning season, sorta trailed off by the end.

-Kelly: Not sure why she was there, but she was cool.

-Eclipsa: We stan that queen! Loved the fact that her motives were so grey, and you every could tell if she was going to turn out to be truly bad or not.

-Globgor: We stan that king! I adored how he actually was a threat back in his day, but now regrets everything he ever did then (plus him size shifting in fights is creative as hell), wish we could have had more of him, but it’s cool that we got any at all really.

-Glossaryck: I loved him, true chaotic neutral god. He was such a troll, and he has my respect (and to think all he wanted to do was die).

-Ponyhead: I hope that sack of shit gets donated to a glue factory.

But what is a good story without good villains? Well, this show wants to have a ton of good ones, but nothing really sticks to the wall too well, though they do leave an impact.

LUDO: This is how to do a comedic villain right. You have fun with him in the beginning, and then you make him into a legit threat the next, and by the end give him a redemption arc so as to let him go back on his old ways without soiling his actual good moments as an antagonist. He was the one who surprised me the most.

TOFFEE: Ooooohhhhhhhhh everybody loves this lawyer-lizard B0I and so do I. This guy’s plan was 1: not evil at all, 2: his methods were borderline black and grey, and 3: it was still going on in the background of the story of the entire show since his arival. His personality was cool, suave, persuasive, manipulative, downright terrifying sometimes, and he was just so good at it. While everyone certainly wishes we had more of him, what we got and how long le lasted just cements him as probably one of my all-time favorite villains ever really.

Ms. HEINOUS/METEORA: Oh shakespeare where art thou? Such a wondrous work this tragedey is. Heinous just starts out as a villain who pushes the patriarchy so you can say “fuck that shit,” tries to steal youth for herself, wants to kill Marco for ruining her perfection, y’know yahoo. But the moment you realize her name is Meteora, and what her past has been like... yeah, this is a fuckin’ shakespearian villain for certain. It gets to a point where you begin to agree with what she’s doing, and you’re glad thing turn out all right for her in the end, but god-damn she was such a captivating force to go up against. Scar can suck one compared to this.

MINA LOVEBERRY: I wanna say this was a good attempt at an Aku-type villain (humor and terror in perfect balance), but yeah she could have been handled better. For what we did get with her though, I’m content with it. It’s just funny to see hobo-usagi here just hulk out and talk with a southern accent about what is essentially senile racism n’ shit. There are hints to a tragic past that led to this, and that was nice, but overall not exactly a swan song.

In fact, that’s kinda how the whole ending was wasn’t it? It was serviceable, but nothing big to write home about. I could have definitely used a little more polish to flesh out some things, but we got left with enough to tide over I suppose, though I so wanna see more.

I mean, look at this new world we were left with! Could you imagine a new season just exploring that? It sounds like so much fun! However, the crew have this “leave them wanting more mentality (ha! hope you were paying attention to that foreshadowing!),” not to mention I have seen the creator Madame Daron Nefcy encourage all the creative fans this show has to do all sorts of stuff (of which we seemed to have wasted no time and not even waited for the show to end to start doing *glares at the fan-made-starco kids everywhere*).

Really, at the end of it all, I’d compare this entire series to a friend doing a cannonball from a high-dive. First, you’re amazed that they decided to climb the ladder. Second, you’re in awe of the guts their showing to prepare for the jump. Third, you gawk as they actually did jump off into the water from the height. But fourth, you see them underwater and watch them un form the ball and into a weird janky zero-gravity water thing swimming up for air, not to mention you remembered they didn’t swan dive. But that doesnt mean the plunge was all that bad, you enjoyed watching all the steps to it, didn’t you?

Overall, the score I shall leave it at would be... 7.5/10, and an easy thumbs up approval. It’s ending and other aspects have a lot to be desired, but the story and characters are too good to ignore.

Check it out if you haven’t already (probably binge it), and to Madame Nefcy (if by some stroke of a miracle you see this) thank you so much for creating this show. I am so glad I saw it despite my gripes, and I’d gladly see it again.

#star vs the forces of evil #svtfoe #My Shit Reviews

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izukillme-moved · 6 years

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*cracks knuckles before typing* Here we go: Fic/Drabble anything that you are comfortable with. 1. First of all, Jelray (because Jelray): “It doesn't matter if we can't describe it–we both feel this way.” (taken from a Tumblr prompt) 2. Gratsu: “And that is why I come to you over everyone else. That is why you are my boyfriend.” I can and WILL give more since I am bubbling up with ideas and at the same time can't save myself by writing them since I'll probably ruin it.

Okay, so here it is! I’ll edit and post the Gratsu later because I really wanna post this aah!!

The first time Gray sees Jellal Fernandes, he knows he isdone for.

He meets Jellal through Lyon. Jellal works at the library Lyonfrequents every so often when he feels he’s thumbed through his book collectiontoo many to pick up one from it. When Gray’s local library closes down, as atired college student (read tired corpse), he is obligated to go to this‘amazing library’ that Lyon describes as having a really good selection ofnovels, research books, magazines and whatnot.

The instant Gray lays eyes upon Jellal, he knows exactlywhat that evil glint in Lyon’s eyes was.

Damn it all! hecurses the silver-haired devil that is his older sibling.

For once, for once,he thought his brother would be nice and kind and show him to a library wherethere are no stunningly hot boys to distract Gray, he thought he could ignorethe look on Lyon’s face, passing it off as his usual smug smirk, but no. Lyon’s not that nice, and Grayshould know that by now.

Jellal is tall, half an inch taller than even Gray himself. He’sgot natural blue hair – now Gray wouldbe sceptical, but one of his ex-boyfriends and current best friend has naturalbright pink hair, so yeah - and a strange red tattoo working its way down theright side of his face. Oh, and did Gray mention that Jellal has the mostbeautiful, kindest brown eyes that seem to hold the entire universe in them,constellations, asteroids and all? His smile is like the sun, and it lights up Gray’sworld every time Jellal so much as looks at him.

In short, this boy is perfect, and Gray does not knowwhether to kill or thank Lyon for this gift from the heavens.

He decides to hold off on both, preferring to maintain thathe is in no way interested in how pretty Jellal is, or how his brown eyessparkle just so when the light hits them.

–

“Ugh!” Gray grunts as he searches through the racks for a book;he knows he saw it here yesterday. itcan’t have gone, there aren’t many people who even know who Stephen Hawking or RichardFeynman or Michael Faraday are, let alone like their –

“Are you looking for TheDreams That Stuff Is Made Of?” a kind voice comes from behind him.

Gray turns around, almost losing his balance, and issurprised to see Jellal, a small blush on his cheeks, holding in his hands the verybook Gray has been wanting for so, so long.

“Yes, oh my god,” he says in surprise, reaching out to takeit. “How did you-”

“Not many people like this book, it’s been checked out exactlythree times,” says Jellal, hand scratching his neck. He gives a small chuckle,and Gray knows that he would pay good money to just listen to that one sound forthe rest of his life. “I love physics, and I thought I would try it,”

Gray’s jaw drops. “Me too,” he says. “It’s so interesting!”

“You really think so?” Jellal’s pretty eyes widen, and hesmiles. “That’s awesome. We should talk sometime. I guess you know my namebecause it’s on my card,” here he laughs a little, and it sounds like the pealof bells in heaven, “but I never caught yours,”

“Gray,” Gray says, breathless. “I’m Gray Fullbuster.”

Jellal smiles in amazement. “no way. Ultear’s littlebrother?”

“You know Ul?” Gray questions in surprise.

“Yeah. She’s my best friend’s girlfriend,” grins Jellal.

“Wait, what?!” Gray leaps up. “You’re Erza Scarlet’s best friend? You’re that Jellal? The one she just won’t shut up about, the guy who tookcare of her till her real family located her? I should have known, Jellal isn’ta common name,”

“Yup,” Jellal says with a proud smile. “Erza’s mentioned youa couple of times to me. There was a lot of winking and suggestive smilinginvolved,” he says thoughtfully. “She has a tendency to act really weird attimes.”

Gray blushes to the tips of his ears and looks away. Heknows exactly what Erza means whenshe looks like that.

“Anyway, I should be getting back to work.” Jellal says witha little smile, handing the book out to Gray. “It was nice meeting you, GrayFullbuster!” And he runs off.

Gray stares after Jellal’s retreating back, the spot wherehis fingers brushed against Jellal’s burning oddly.

Damn it all, he curseshimself. Damn you, Jellal Fernandes.

–

It has been exactly three months, sixteen days, ten hoursand forty-five seconds since Gray met Jellal.

Not like he’s counting, of course. Certainly not.

Not like he wheedled out Jellal’s birthday (Jellal did thesame, he might add) and wrote it into his phone calendar – it’s the fourteenthof November – so he can wish the guy a happy birthday.

Not like he likes him.No, not at all.

Jellal now regularly makes it a point to say a hello to Grayand ask him how he’s doing every time he drops by.

(Which is becoming more and more frequent. Of course, Grayrefuses to admit that it’s for Jellal – he stubbornly maintains that it’s becausethe books at his own local library aren’t enough for him anymore, but even he struggles to believe that nowadays.)

Gray makes it a point to blush a little and stammer out, “Thanks.I’m doing okay, how about you?”

And then Jellal will inevitably launch into a story aboutErza’s friend Millianna and her cats – “terrible, nasty creatures,”, Jellal rants– a story Gray would have heard from Erza not an hour before, but he findshimself listening avidly, hanging off of every word that comes out of Jellal’s mouth.

“And then – and then the stupid thing nearly ripped apart asweater I’d been working on for almost a month,”Jellal yells exasperatedly, clutching fistfuls of his pretty blue hair. “I’m makingit for someone really special, see, and I can’t afford any more expensive yarn!”

“I didn’t know you knitted,” says Gray. He really didn’t –but it isn’t that surprising. Jellal is the kind of guy who seems like he likesknitting, and baking cookies, and all that sort of grandmotherly thing.

What is surprising is that Jellal is poor. His polite, cultureddemeanour and excellent grooming wouldn’t tell you that. But, well, it shouldn’tbe so surprising – Gray himself comes from a large business family, and is currentlystudying to be its next head, but you can’t tell by looking at the scruffy messhe is. Gray almost offers to buy Jellal some more yarn just in case, but biteshis tongue. It might come across as very rude.

“Not many people do,” Jellal says with a little smile. “Ifeel like I can tell you anything, though.”

Gray’s breath hitches.

“Y – yeah,” he says nervously. “Yeah, sure.”

–

It’s ten am on the fourteenth of November, and Gray standsoutside the library, chewing his lip, holding the little wrapped gift in hishand.

Should he be doing this?

Probably not.

Is it a thing that friends do for each other?

Are he and Jellal even friends?

Shut up, me.

Gray takes a breath in and pushes the doors open. It’s toolate now – he can’t turn back, and he won’t.

I’m going to do this.

He walks in and sees none other than Jellal, lifting a cupcaketo his mouth to take a bite. Gray can tell it’s strawberry on instinct, knowingwhat kind of cake Erza likes to give her friends on their birthdays. It has alittle number twenty on it, and Gray smiles a bit – that’s cute of her. He knowsshe baked it herself.

“Hey,” Gray greets.

“Gray?” Jellal sets his cake down. “Hi! How are you doingtoday?”

Gray shoves the gift at him and attempts to smile. “Happybirthday.”

Jellal gasps. “You remembered?”

Gray shifts in place. “Well, yeah? Is that a question?”

“No, but-” he pulls the wrapper open, long fingers carefulnot to tear it. It’s cute how he is so meticulous about it.

Friends can be thought of as cute. They can, Gray insists to himself.

He is brought out of his thoughts as Jellal gasps, eyes flyingwide open. He stares disbelievingly at the brand-new (second-generation, butGray feared buying the new fourth-generation one would be going overboard) iPodTouch in his palm.

“Gray – I can’t accept this-” he begins, pushing it backtowards him. “It must have cost you a fortune, how even-”

Gray cuts him off with a slight blush. “It’s not a problem. Youmentioned you like Linkin Park. It has all their albums except The Hunting Partybecause you don’t like that one. What are friends for, stupid? Just accept thegift.”

Jellal looks in awe at the iPod. “Thank you, Gray, but-” Heputs it back in Gray’s hands.

“Jellal, take it. It’s really not a problem. Trust me.” Graysays firmly, closing Jellal’s fingers around the touchscreen device. “Theearphones are in the case, too,” he adds, pointing at the neat little pile ofwrapper on the desk. “Try it out – I hear the sound quality is amazing.”

Jellal stares at him unsurely. “Gray-”

Gray grabs the box with a roll of his eyes, pulls out theearphones, plugs them into the iPod and shoves one into Jellal’s ear.

“Pick a song,” he whispers, putting the other one into hisown ear.

Jellal hesitates, but turns the iPod on, shuffling throughthe song list. He stops and smiles at one name, then presses the ‘start’ button.

Gray’s eyes widen as the first bars of his favourite songbegin to play in his ears.

“Castle of Glass,” he realises.

“’Cause I’m only a crackin this castle of glass,” Jellal sings along. He has the voice of an angelas well.

They spend some time listening to all Jellal’s favouritesongs – which happen to be Gray’s as well. Iridescentis a particular hit with the both of them.

“So let it go, let it go,” hums Jellal.

(If he’s being completely honest, Gray is more listening to Jellalsing along in bliss than anything.)

And they stay like that for a long while, until Gray realiseshe has to meet Lucy for their English project. They’re assigned partners, andshe’ll kill him if he’s late.

“Jellal, I have to go. I’m meeting a friend for a project, I’mreally sorry!” he says with a bow of apology.

Jellal’s eyes widen. “Don’t you dare apologise, you’ve givenme the best gift you could,” he says vehemently. “I – I can’t thank you enough.”

Gray smiles a little awkwardly and runs out of the librarywith a “You’re welcome!”.

Jellal Fernandes has himso screwed.

–

Fast forward to the twenty-fifth of December, Christmas.

And also, Gray’s nineteenth birthday.

Gray grins as his cousin Juvia whirls him around one last timebefore going off to dance with her girlfriends, Levy and Mirajane. “See you!”he calls after her, and she turns back to shoot him a smirk.

“Waiting on someone?” Erza asks, sidling up next to him witha suggestive smile. “Someone by the name of Jellal Fernandes?”

“No,” Gray says. “And that wasn’t subtle at all, Erza.”

“Mm, I know.” Erza grins. “But dense idiots like the two ofyou don’t get subtlety, so…”

“I invited him, but he said he might be a bit busy.” Graysays hastily. “Said not to wait on him. So that’s exactly what I’m not doing.”

“Would be a shame,” says a familiar voice from behind him.

Gray turns in shock to see Jellal, holding a lumpy wrappedpresent in his arms. The wrapping has flying reindeer and a little Santa on it –it must be old Christmas paper, but it’s the effort that counts, and Gray can’tstop a small smile from painting itself onto his face. He’s excited, he realises, something he hasn’tbeen all night – happy, yes, for his closest family is here, but not excited.

“You came,” Gray breathes. Erza has slipped off to god knowswhere, but Gray is glad she isn’t here, to be honest.

Jellal laughs. “Took me a while. Nice place you got here. I seenow why the iPod wasn’t a problem.”

And the way he says it, so light-hearted and friendly unlikea lot of others, warms Gray’s heart.

“Yeah,” he says quietly.

Jellal looks a little ashamed of himself, handing the giftto Gray. “It’s not cool, like anything you’re probably used to,” he says uncomfortably.“But, well, this is the most I could do. Sorry.”

Gray rolls his eyes and takes the gift. “It’s fine – it’sreally nice of you to even get me a gift, Jellal,” he says.

Gray holds the lumpy package tentatively. It is soft and pillow-like,and he can almost guess what’s inside. He takes his time to unwrap it,unwinding each piece of cheap Sellotape slowly and carefully.

Once he is done, a beautiful cream sweater spills into hisarms. Gray kneels and puts the wrapper on the floor, holding up the lovelyknitted article of clothing. It has an exquisitely detailed snowflake, in varyingshades of blue – is that silk – in thecentre, and two simple bands of the same blue silk near the wrists andneckline. It’s knitted even better than most of the luxury brands you’d see instores, and Gray clutches the fabric to his chest. It must be custom-made – it’s absolutely beautiful, and Gray wants toput it on immediately.

“This must have cost you so much-” he says in shock. “It’sgot to be custom-made, you wouldn’t see anything so amazing in a store-”

Jellal shakes his head with a smile. “I knit, remember?”

Gray’s jaw drops, and he recalls a certain conversationbetween himself and Jellal.

“And then – and then the stupid thing nearly ripped apart asweater I’d been working on for almost a month,”he’d ranted, and then explained why it was so important.

“I’m making it for someone really special, see,”

That special someone…

Was him.

Gray shakes his head.

“You went to all that trouble, spent money on real, actualsilk – for me?!” he says in utterdisbelief.

Jellal rubs his head. “It wasn’t that much trouble,” he answers.“Really, Gray, it’s not much at all,”

“Shut up,” Graysays, staring at the masterpiece in his hands. “I’m wearing this right now.”

And to prove his point, he shucks off the suit jacket he’sbeen wearing all night and slips into the cosy comfort of the sweater instead. Itfeels even more amazing than it looks, and Gray lets out a sigh of pleasure.

Jellal stares at him, and Gray cannot fathom why until –

“God, I can’t take this anymore,” he breathes, and suddenlyhis hands are on Gray’s hips, pulling him closer, and then he smashes his mouthinto Gray’s.

Gray makes an ‘Mmph!’noise at first, startled by the sudden kiss, but soon melts into it, kissingback with equal vigour. Jellal’s hands trace Gray’s hips, coming up to rest inhis hair, and Gray’s hands draw patterns on his back, pulling him closer,closer, closer till there is no room between them anymore.

The kiss is soft and sweet and loving and fiery andpassionate all at the same time. Gray’s insides are on fire, and his heart isburning with something he cannot place.Sure, he’s been kissed, has kissed others before, but not like this. Never likethis.

“Shit,” he gasps when they finally break apart for air.

Jellal’s cheeks are red. His eyes are wide. His tattoo isalmost invisible with how much he’s blushing.

“I’m sorry – I shouldn’t have done that. I crossed a line. Ihave to go. I better go.” he gabbles and runs off.

“Jellal – wait!” Gray shouts, trying to chase after him,hand outstretched. But Jellal has melted into the huge crowds, and Gray cannot spothim anymore.

He sinks onto the floor, clutching fistfuls of his newsweater.

–

The next day, Gray marches into the library to see Jellal lookingsadly into a book – the same physics book, TheDreams That Stuff Is Made Of.

He walks straight up to the older boy and grabs his collar.

Jellal looks up in surprise. “Gray-” he begins.

“No,” Gray half-shouts. “I’m not letting you run away. It doesn’tmatter if you can’t describe it – we both feel this way. I’ve liked you fromthe minute I saw you. Your cuteness and your personality didn’t help matters.”

“I – what?” Jellal looks absolutely furious. “There is noway someone like you deserves someone like me. I’m not good enough. I bet youhated that kiss.”

“I don’t know how it felt – it was too short for me to tell.”Gray says. “Kiss me again and I’ll tell you exactly what I think.”

And he doesn’t wait for an answer, pulling Jellal’s body towardshis. Melding their lips.

The kiss is eternity itself to Gray, and when they finally resurfaceto breathe, he says in a daze, “That was the best kiss I’ve ever had.”

“What-”

“Go out with me, Jellal.” Gray’s daze is gone now. He leanshis elbows on the desk and stares into Jellal’s eyes. “Go out with me.”

“Okay.” Jellal mutters.

–

“And that is the story of how Gray and Jellal ended up gettingmarried like the idiots they are,” Erza announces proudly, lifting her glass. “Tothe grooms!”

They all drink, and the newlyweds share a shy glance.

Jellal places his palm over Gray’s.

He smiles, and Gray smiles back.

Meeting you was thebest thing that ever happened to me.

Hope you liked it!! I will be editing and adding the Gratsu soon enough, hopefully that doesn’t turn into a 3k thing like this did xD@tardisthroughthefandoms, you’d asked me to @you, so I did haha

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ladywinchester1967 · 6 years

Text

Mr. and Mrs. Winchester

Pairing: Dean x Female Character

Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Female (Dean’s Wife)

Warnings: Language, SMUT, quickie sex, robbery (for a good reason).

A/N: Based on THIS POST it’s a continuation of my comment, but I changed a couple of things around so that it was cohesive and made sense. Unbeta’d, as usual, all mistakes are mine. Pictures and gifs are NOT, I found them on Pinterest and tumblr.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

This was one of those stakeouts I knew we were dreading, but in our line of work, it was a necessary evil.

The Winchester Brothers and I had been tracking a cursed necklace. Made of opals that had been soaked in the blood of virgins, it promised to grant the wearer immense wealth and power, but as with most things, no one ever reads the fine print. The wearer was cursed to die in horrific ways. The horrid history of the necklace was well documented, which of course meant it attracted a wealthy clientele to it. Jody Mills, a Sheriff in Sioux Falls that we were close with, had tipped us off to the necklace’s whereabouts so we decided to put on our best outfits and bid for the necklace so we could get rid of it or lock it away in one of our boxes.

Sam; dressed in a snappy navy blue suit with his chestnut brown hair perfectly combed, went ahead of Dean and I. Dean looked as dashing as ever; the grey suit with matching tie and crisp white shirt he wore perfectly brought out his green eyes and set well against his tanned skin.

His grip tightened on my hand as I took a misstep in the heels I was wearing.

“You okay there?” He chided me gently.

“I’m fine,” I insisted “these are a little higher than what I’m used to.”

I had on a pair of black stilettos, where I was normally more comfortable in wedge heels. The wine red dress with lace overlay perfectly accentuated my skin and matched the blood red lipstick I wore.

I’d gone bold and wore black, winged eyeliner and styled my hair in curls.

“Gotta say,” Dean muttered in my ear as we flashed the fake invitations Sam had crafted for us and we strode into the party like we owned the place “I easily have the best looking date in this place.”

I looked around, most of the people attending were decades older than we were. I already looked young and had been mistaken for a teenager more times than I cared to count.

“We’re married,” I told him, a blush rising on my cheeks “you’re supposed to say that.”

“I only tell you the truth.” He said and planted a kiss on my cheek as we made our way to the bar. Sam made an appearance a minute later, after Dean secured a beer for himself and a glass of wine for me.

“No sign of the necklace yet.” Sam said

“Probably keeping it locked up until it’s time to bid.” I pointed out as a man handed each of us a booklet showing us the items up for auction that night.

“So we bid for the necklace, get it and that’s it?” Dean asked “Seems a little too easy when the bidding prices start at fifty thousand dollars.” He pointed to a tiara in the booklet that had once belonged to Mary Tudor.

“We don’t actually have to cough up fifty thousand dollars,” I reminded him “I’ll bid for it and when I win; one of you creates a diversion while the other grabs the necklace and then it’s a hop, skip and an Impala ride back to the bunker.”

“It’s solid, but we still have to plan for the unexpected.” Sam countered

“Which is why I distract with my womanly assets, if you catch my drift.”

My dress showed off JUST enough of my cleavage and legs, plus the boys always teased that I could flirt my way to world power if really wanted to. Dean chuckled as the three of us moved into the main room of the mansion, on display were some of the items up for auction. Next to the tiara, was a hat worn by Napoleon, a piece of music handwritten by Beethoven; the list seemed to read off like a “who’s who” of history all in one room.

“And these people will pay THROUGH THE NOSE for it.” I told Dean as we came up to a ruby and emerald encrusted bracelet. He hummed in agreement as I admired the bracelet, his hand lightly brushing my hip. I felt the corners of my mouth slide upward as his hand snaked around to my lower back and he leaned into my ear.

“All this money and fancy shit in this room,” he practically growled, his fingertips running over the small of my back “and all I can think about is getting you outta that dress and naked under me.”

I nearly spit out my wine, such brazen words in close proximity to people who probably hadn’t thought about sex since hoop skirts were in fashion! I gingerly wiped the corners of my mouth and looked up at him, he was grinning ear to ear, with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

With a jaw line sharp enough to cut glass, JUST the right amount of scruff and those green eyes set, I struggled to maintain my composure.

“That look,” I thought “he could make me come just by staring at me like that.”

His hand barely brushed my backside before a shiver of anticipation ran down my spine.

“May I help you?” I asked, my mouth going into a grin.

His fingers ran up my back, barely grazing my skin; the only barrier being the thin lace overlay that covered my shoulder.

“Oh, I think I can help myself JUST fine.” He said. His tone was gravely but there was no hesitation in it as he gave me the legendary Winchester smirk. The one that made a girl’s knees turn to jelly and turned them into a writhing mess.

“Can’t keep your hands off me, can you Mr. Winchester?” I asked, taking a sip of my wine. I reached forward with my free hand, catching his jacket in my hand. He leaned into my ear and said

“No, Mrs. Winchester, I can’t.”

Damn him, he had me eating out of the palm of his hand!

I flashed my eyes up at him and gave him a grin.

“You wanna get out of here?” I asked, nodding elsewhere into the house.

He tipped the last of his beer into his mouth, droplets of it lingering on his gorgeous mouth.

“Hell yeah.” He said

I knocked back the rest of my wine in a very unladylike fashion and said

“Let’s go then handsome.”

We gave our glass and bottle to a passing waiter who offered to take them for us as we walked back to the bar. It was mostly empty by this point and I spied a staircase. I squeezed Dean’s left wrist and nodded up the stairs. He looked and then his eyes met mine, giving me a subtle nod. My hand briefly brushed over the back of his, my fingers grazing the thin band on his fourth finger, making me grin like a fool. I sauntered up the stairs, putting an extra sway in my hips, knowing full well that his eyes were glued to my ass. Once I reached the top of the stairs, I went straight down a hallway and looked for an unlocked room. It took some doing, but by my fifth attempt, a door popped open and I stepped inside. I felt around for a light switch and found one; this room looked like it was used for storage, as there were shelves full of banker’s boxes on them. I quickly texted Dean my location and I waited. I was practically bouncing with anticipation when the door easily and quietly opened and he slid inside, quickly shoving a chair under the handle and shutting the light off.

“What happened?!” I hissed as I felt around for him in the dark.

I felt his hands grab mine and he said

“Got caught looking for you,” in my ear “had to make a security guard go night night.”

“I can’t take you anywhere.” I teased as my lips found his, warm and soft; always eagerly waiting to kiss mine.

“Shoulda known that from the start.” He said breathlessly as we wrapped our arms around each other, wrapping into another heated kiss. My tongue pressed and swirled with his, making a connection that was both familiar and exciting at the same time as his fingers dug into my ass.

“I wanna take my time,” he moaned “but we’re on the clock.”

“A quickie this round,” I told him as I pulled back and then unbuckled his belt “then you can ravage me later.”

I heard him chuckle as he hiked my dress up over my hips.

“Oh, I plan on it.” He told me as we furiously kissed, our hands and mouths seeming to cover every inch of skin we could get to. He backed me into a shelf, his mouth attacking my neck as I pushed his jacket down off of his broad shoulders. He hiked my dress up, the fabric bunching up around my chest, I unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, then turned around, grinding my ass into his hardened length.

“Mh,” he said and gripped the meat of my backside “just like that.”

I yanked my dress up a little higher as he pulled my panties down and I heard the familiar drop of his pants hitting the ground. I spread my legs a little wider and his substantial length slid inside me, both of us sighing. He gripped my hips and fully sheathed himself, hitting my sweet spot. I cried out and snapped a hand over my mouth to keep from crying out too loudly.

“Fuck,” he said quietly “so fucking wet sweetheart.”

He started to pound into me, the sound of his skin cracking against mine and the rustling of fabric coursing through the small room.

“Oh fuck!” I moaned as I gripped the shelf hard, it felt like being consumed by fire, the heat from between my legs filled the rest of my body while his grunts in my ear and breathless promises of what he was going to do to me later only added fuel to the fire.

“Dean, oh god Dean!” I cried out

He pulled out and spun me around. In one fluid motion, he picked me up and slammed back inside me, my back against the shelf. I wrapped my legs around his waist as he kissed me, nailing my sweet spot with such accuracy, it nearly brought tears to my eyes.

“That’s it,” he moaned against my chest as my thighs clenched around him and my nails dug into his shoulders “fuck sweetheart, you’re so fucking sexy.” His hands held my face as I snapped my hips into him and I could feel him smiling as he kissed me “so eager, you wanna come sweetheart?”

“Please,” I begged as I kissed him “please Dean, make me come.”

“Mh,” he said between another blistering kiss “you know how much I love it when you beg for me.”

“Please Mr. Winchester?” I asked, pulling out the last stop I could think of. That was one of the sentences I KNEW would get him good and fired up. It was like a switch flipped and he pounded into me hard as he moaned into my mouth. I was right there at the edge, squirming and moving my hips with his as best as I could. I slipped my hand between our bodies and furiously rubbed my clit as I felt his movements falter and he cried out against my mouth, spilling into me as he gripped me hard. I let go, biting his lip as I exploded around him. Our labored breathing filled the room as we heard what sounded like a troop of people walk past the door.

“Did you see which way he went?” One voice asked

“No, but I know exactly what he looks like!” The second voice shouted.

“Can’t have gone far, search every room in the house if you have to!” The first voice instructed.

We waited until it sounded like they were gone before either of us spoke.

“I think that’s our cue to get the hell out of here.” Dean said as he pulled out of me.

“This is exactly why I can’t take you anywhere.” I told him as we put ourselves back together. For the first time, I noticed a blueish glow in the darkened room and I asked “Is your phone ringing or something?”

I heard him reach in his pocket and grab his phone. He switched on the flashlight and said “No, why?”

His face had a thin sheen of sweat on it and red smudges of my lipstick all over his mouth and cheeks.

“Cut that light off.” I told him and he did. Once my eyes had adjusted to the darkness again, I followed the blue light to the back of the room and saw it was coming from a very small crack in the floor. “Dean, look at this.” I said and pointed it out. I crouched down and felt around until I found a tab with my fingers and pulled up. Inside was a glass case that held the necklace. Encrusted with black diamonds and nine dark opals ranging in size; I could practically feel the dark energy rolling off of it. I reached for the handle to the case when we heard the door to the room rattle.

“Fuck.” Dean swore as someone furiously jiggled the handle.

I quickly opened the case and shoved the necklace into my purse.

“Got it?” Dean asked and I nodded. “Window.” He told me and we rushed further back into the room toward a window as the door got kicked in. Dean quickly shattered the window, glass raining down on the floor, making an alarm sound. He jumped down a few feet before opening his arms to me. I glanced back as two guys twice my size ran toward me. I secured my purse and jumped out of the window and safely into his arms. Once I hit the ground, I took my shoes off and we ran for the back of the property. We tore through a grove of trees, roots and brambles scraped and cut my feet, before hanging a sharp right and jumping a low, stone wall into the next yard. Dean grabbed my shoulder and motioned toward the road where his Impala was parked.

“They’re not gonna let up,” he told me “we have to move.”

“What about Sam?!” I hissed as we heard thunderous footsteps approach.

Dean quickly scooped me up and we hid in the shadow of a large oak tree.

We heard a low whistle that sounded like a bird and we waited as the footsteps came to a stop. I knew that whistle and looked up at Dean, who answered with a whistle of his own.

Another pause, and the same whistle answered and I peeked around the trunk of the tree to see a familiar outline in the shadows. I sharply tapped the back of Dean’s hand with my fingernail and signaled for him to look. He did and hissed

“Sam?!”

The tell tale crunch of leaves followed Sam’s face showing in the moonlight.

“That alarm went off so I’m assuming you got the necklace.” Sam said in his sassiest tone.

“Correction, I got the necklace.” I said and held up my purse “let’s get the hell out of here before someone finds us.”

As soon as the sentence left my mouth. We heard more people walking and shouting things at each other.

“Hop on Thumbelina!” Dean said and turned his back to me.

I jumped on him, piggy back style, and held on as he as Sam navigated down the hill and back to the Impala. Once we were inside and down the road, I threw the necklace into a warded box and locked it tightly.

“There!” I said triumphantly “We lock this away in the bunker or one of our lock ups and we’re solid.”

“Great work back there everyone.” Dean said as he pulled on to the highway.

“Dean, what’s all over your face?” Sam asked, finally getting a good look at Dean. Sam swiped a finger across a red smudge in’s Dean’s face and Dean grinned when Sam showed him his finger.

“My wife’s lipstick.” He said proudly.

From the back seat, she laughed and Sam groaned loudly.

“I’m never going on a stakeout with you two again!” He exclaimed.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

How was that?! Are you guys okay?!

Kind feedback is always appreciated and welcomed. Please share, like and follow (pretty please?!) as always; all my boxes are open and I do requests!

The Squad:

@waywardbaby @waywardnerd67 @familybusinesswritingbro @ain-t-bovvered @mrswhozeewhatsis @girlborninstorms @dacleverfox @emoryhemsworth @bobasheebaby @salvachester @myinconnelly1 @mogaruke @imma-winchester-addict @theworldiscolorful @dean-winchesters-bacon

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#dean winchester #sam winchester #dean smut #dean winchester smut #lady winchester writes #supernatural #Supernatural smut

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betweensceneswriter · 6 years

Text

“Chemistry Test” part 2: I Suppose That Means I’m Coming with You

Lallybroch Library Prompt Exchange!

This is all your fault, @shadylainey!

Click Here: Previously on Chemistry Test:

Master Post here on Tumblr

Prompt #33 Modern AU: Claire auditions for a role opposite Jamie who has been cast as the male lead in a TV drama.

Um, NSFW. Yeah.

“Well, then,” Jamie met her eyes as boldly as she was looking at him. “I suppose that means I’m coming with you.”

“Glad you’re doing it willingly,” she smiled. “You look a little too big to throw over my shoulder.”

Jamie laughed as they got into the car. Claire shook her head, then sat with her eyes closed. In fact, both of them rode completely in silence, despite the Uber driver’s attempts to engage them in chit-chat. The hotel wasn’t far, just seven or eight minutes away, but the ride felt interminable.

Claire paid the driver and Jamie grabbed her suitcase out of the trunk, handing her the backpack. “You came straight from the airport?” he asked incredulously, glancing at the baggage tags as they walked toward the hotel entrance. “No down time? No character prep?”

“No,” Claire said, shaking her head. “I just daydreamed about it on the way here. I’d played that scene out so many times in so many ways in my head by the time I met you that it was nothing to act it out. I just… felt it.”

“Wow,” he said, wide-eyed. “No drama school?”

She shook her head slowly. “Just an active imagination…” she explained as they waited to be helped at the desk.

Jamie shuffled his feet as Claire checked in, only looking up in surprise when she said “The room is for Beauchamp. Mr. and Mrs. Beauchamp.”

“Oh,” the clerk glanced up, and then up even further as she noticed how tall Jamie was. “We weren’t expecting your husband, Mrs. Beauchamp... Did you want an upgrade to a king-sized bed?”

Claire met Jamie’s eyes playfully. “What do you think, babe? The studio is footing the bill.”

He smiled at the clerk, which made the young woman blush. “That’s kind of you to ask,” he said. “We would like that, wouldn’t we, love?” He put his arm around Claire, and squeezed her to him. God, she was soft and luscious.

Receipts printed and keys programmed, Jamie followed Claire to the elevator. They stood several feet apart as they rode it to the fourth floor, silent.

They walked down the hall silently. They opened the door silently. And when the door was closed behind them, they stood staring at each other.

“I can’t believe I just propositioned you,” she said finally. “That is not me at all. I think…”

“You’ve changed your mind?” Jamie asked, his heart sinking. “We don’t have to do this.” His calm, kind tone belied the way his body was screaming for release.

“I want to,” Claire said. “I just need you to know I’m not demanding anything from you. I wouldn’t want you to feel…” She was blushing.

“Pressured? No, this is fully consensual.” Jamie nodded earnestly, but then his forehead furrowed. “But, Claire, I don’t want you to imagine I do this with every actress I work with.”

She raised her eyebrows.

“Not even many of them…” Jamie explained weakly. “Okay, never. I’ve never done this after an audition.”

“You’re Scottish?” she asked with a smile, completely changing the subject. “I noticed what sounded a little like an accent during the scene…”

“Aye, I am…” The interruption gave Jamie another split second for his better judgement to kick in. “Oh, lass, we’re doing this ass-backward,” he admitted.

“I don’t think so,” she said lightly.

“What do you mean?” Jamie was confused.

“Well, it’s for science of course,” she said, cheekily winking at him. He raised his eyebrows in response.

“You know Sinking is TV-MA,” she explained. “That’s going to mean nudity, simulated sex…”

“Boobs and butts,” he responded, nodding his head wryly. “Chances are, I’m going to have to get waxed and spend hours at the gym… not to mention giving up crisps and whisky.”

She ogled him curiously. “Really, Jamie? You felt quite firm to me.” She blushed as she realized her unintentional double entendre.

Jamie laughed.

“We will need to be comfortable enough to touch…” Claire offered, “so we should be familiar with each other. And I'd much rather our first touches not be in front of the camera.” She reached out and took his hand in hers, turning it over and tracing the life lines.

Jamie closed his eyes, focusing on the sensation of her soft fingertips on his skin.

“We can take it slowly now,” she said. “Until we’re ready again, at least… Just stand there.”

So Jamie did, as Claire helped remove his shirt, gently stroking the skin she had bruised earlier. Her fingers traced his shape lightly—the hollow at the base of his neck beneath his Adam’s apple, the cleft between his pectorals. She traced his nipples with her thumbs. She walked around to his back and slid her hands up the contours of his muscular arms, over his shoulders, and down his sides, not stopping at the waistband of his slacks, skimming over his ass. She moaned slightly.

“My turn,” said Jamie, opening his eyes and turning to face her.

She was wearing a sweet little dress with a myriad of tiny buttons on the bodice. Claire did not close her eyes. She looked at him with an air of incredible innocence, her eyes liquid and trusting as he unbuttoned the dress, even smiling at him when the buttons seemed to be taking forever to unfasten. He met her eyes when he was done. She was not wearing a bra.

She nodded, and he gingerly reached inside her dress.

“Oh, God, Claire,” he said, closing his eyes. She was warm and heavy in his hand, her nipple a hard nubbin centered in his palm.

“It’s a perfect fit,” she whispered.

Jamie was done with slow. He was done with waiting. His cock was reaching for her, straining against his fly, as he grabbed her and crushed his lips against hers.

She was ready, too. As they kissed, she hiked up her skirts and pulled down her panties.

This time he placed his hand deliberately, slowly gliding into her wet folds, his breath catching as he felt exactly how ready she was. And the sounds she made, the wee little squeaks and low moans, the way she panted and gasped at his touch. He might have been firm before, but now he was aching, nearly throbbing with arousal.

She touched the front of his pants, searching for his zipper, and she gasped at his size. “Damn,” she breathed, gripping the button to undo it and then sliding the zipper downwards.

His slacks were hanging off his hips and her hand was on him, gripping him firmly. “Do you have a condom?” she whispered.

Jamie sucked in his breath at the realization. “Fuck,” he groaned. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”

“No, Jamie. We won't be,” Claire said, sadly letting go of him, her fingers reluctantly relinquishing their bounty. “Not without protection.”

The End…

Just kidding…

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck,” Jamie chanted, buttoning his slacks. Claire had his shirt ready for him to dive into when he’d zipped up. He thankfully hadn’t taken off his shoes, so he grabbed one of the key cards and raced out of the room.

Not waiting for the elevator, he took the stairs down two at a time.

The clerk was helping two customers before him, so Jamie impatiently paced as he waited. He shook his head in bemused disbelief. When he was a teenaged virgin, he had carried a condom in his wallet constantly, as unlikely as sex was to occur for a slightly nerdy, bespectacled redhead. As an adult, he was generally well aware of the times when sex was likely, so he’d learned to go on dates prepared. Generally auditions did not require a condom supply. Fuck.

The clerk was ready to help him, yet another bleach-blonde actress wannabe, working at a hotel while she awaited her big break. She looked at him strangely as he approached the desk.

“Jamie Fraser?!!!” she exclaimed. “You were in that movie. That one with that chick… You know, the one from SNL…”

“Kristin Wiig?” he offered.

“Yeah!” she exclaimed. “You were awesome in that! She must be a blast to work with.”

“Aye,” he said, coming closer to the desk and lowering his voice. “You wouldna happen to have any condoms for sale, now, would ye, lass?”

He’d worked so long with a dialect coach to get rid of the idiosyncrasies of the highlander speech patterns, but when he was stressed he couldn’t help it.

“Oh, yeah,” she grinned, going back to the cupboard behind the desk and returning with a small box.

“That’s five dollars,” she said.

Jamie reached into his back pocket, and suddenly remembered the small table by the entry to Claire’s room where he’d stowed his keys, phone, and… wallet.

He was going to explode. Right here in this lobby… The universe was trying to tell him something. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“Can ye charge that to room 411—to Claire Beauchamp?”

She looked at him strangely, but then smiled knowingly. “Oh, using an assumed name, are you?” she grinned conspiratorially. “It’ll be our little secret.”

She handed him the box which he shoved into his pocket. Then he began the long trip up to Claire.

“Well, that erection is long gone,” said Jamie to himself as he stood at the door. It took him three tries to get the card to work. He was slightly surprised Claire didn’t come to open the door for him. She’d been turned on, too.

He didn’t understand. Until he stepped inside the room.

What's in there? Seriously, I have no clue. Someone want to tag team this? Just kidding. I'll figure it out. They'll do the nasty yet, even if it kills me. #justcantwritesmut # betweensheetswriter # Claire x Jamie #Rose x Jack #

On to Chapter 3

#just cant write smut #sorry #delayed gratification #claire x jamie #sam x cait #rose x jack #the gender swap #betweensheetswriter #OLPrompt Exchange #The Lallybroch Library #Outlander #Fan Fiction #Prompt 33 #uh-oh

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destielreclists · 7 years

Note

Hey! So I really love this pairing but I’m not a fan of AUs and it feels like AUs are everywhere. Any good canon-compliant or even just canon verse with a twist stuff out there?

Hey, Anon. I remember when I wasn’t a fan of AU’s, too. Needless to say I was desperate for any SPN Verse I could get my hands on.

Moral of the story is: don’t worry, boo. I gotchu.

Some of my personal Supernatural Universe faves would be:

The Consequences of Falling by: Fayjay (e, 37.1k)

The Girlfriend Experience by: rageprufrock (e, 15.3k)

Hands, From Which All Things Are Built by: MajorEnglishEsquire (t, 14.6k)

Hummingbirds by: strangeandcharm (e, 25.4k)

Some Assembly Required by: narrow_staircases (m, 46.9k)

And then before I give you more recs, here’s a list of resources (tags) you may find helpful:

Supernatural Universe Tag on:

destielreclists

destielfanfic

dailydoseofdestiel

destielfanficgaloreficrec

destielfanfictions

destielfanficrecs

On DeanxCas Fic Fecs:

non-AU tag

bunker fics tag

On Archive of Our Own:

bunker [related] tag

hunter husbands tag

canon compliant tag

post-canon tag

canon universe tag

Now here are some more fic that comes to mind and that I thoroughly enjoyed (plus a few that aren’t strictly SPN verse, but also aren’t AU? - you’ll see what I mean…):

Are you there Dean Winchester? It’s me, God. by: bunnymacool

Dean Winchester has grown used to God dicking around in his life the last couple years. But this crap? This takes the CAKE … or pie, rather. Now he’s been thrown a whole new curve-ball. The kind that has ended the Civil War in Heaven … but resulted in Raphael taking over, and hunting for Dean’s ass on a silver platter. Not to mention dealing with Balthazar acting like a self-righteous prick, Sam having some big damn epiphany on his big brother’s sexuality, and Cas eying him up like he’s the world’s juiciest cheeseburger. All that mixed with the chance to fix it all and set everything to rights … but only if Dean is willing to sacrifice himself. Again. Seriously, if he ever meets that bastard God he’s gonna- … oh hey, Chuck! What are you doing here?

Circadia by: imogenbynight

4-01 is a monster undeserving of a name.

In a facility known only as Circadia, he serves a life sentence in punishment for terrible crimes he cannot remember, and is told to be grateful to have forgotten what those he left behind cannot.

Meanwhile, convinced that he is nothing but a poisonous presence in the lives of those he loves, Dean is attempting to track down Gadreel when Sam calls with bad news: Castiel has disappeared without a trace.

The Day The World Went Away by: pyjamagurl

After being reunited with Sam and leaving Lisa, Dean is finding that adjusting back into the hunting lifestyle is harder than he thought it would be. When a particular hunt goes badly, he gets knocked out, only to awaken five years in the future. Things are definitely different; Castiel is a hunter, Sam is married and things between Dean and Castiel have gone somewhere Dean really hadn’t expected. And somewhere in all of this there is a lesson to be learned.

A Distant Mirror by: zatnikatel

Dean finds that his heart is racing, and his throat is suddenly thick. He swallows once, almost gasps it out, his need to know.“Show me.”The words are scarcely out of him before Castiel’s fingers are tapping softly on his forehead, and the air is suddenly oddly heavy with something; with age, with knowledge, with a gust of wind that buffets the curtains, with a crackle of sounds, with the scent of salt, and copper and—

Dry Clean Only by: PersephoneSmee

There were only two hunter-friendly drycleaner-laundromats in the US, and My Little Warsh House in Okeana, Ohio, belonged to Harry Mencher. In the aftermath of Cas’s Leviathan possession and disappearance, life and laundry must go on.

Feel by: zatnakitel

You feel me…you always will.

The Fourth Wall by: entanglednow

What happens when a few certain hunters, and a one angel of the Lord become just this side of obsessed with *gulp* Supernatural fanfic? Nothing short of greatness… depending on which of the three you’re asking.

Head full of Doubt, Road Full of Promise by: nurfherder

When a witch’s spell goes awry, Dean transforms. However, even after the dust settles, we can’t change the things we’ve done or revealed about ourselves. It’s time to look inside and figure out who we really are, and who we really love. Completed Work. (Original story as seen on my tumblr, nurfherder.)DeanCas, multiple characters, semi-AU after Season Five. Only first part gender-bend. Christmas time.

How Still My Heart by: cadignan

Charlie hadn’t been waiting for the call, but it’s not exactly a surprise to hear from Dean.

“Cas? You want me to find Cas?”

*this fic is available to registered AO3 users only

How To Romance a Human by: cloudyjenn

Castiel consults Cosmopolitan magazine in order to win Dean’s heart.

Keeping Faith by: zoemathemata

After the apocalypse is over, Dean and Cas become a family when they take in a little girl.

A Night at the Museum by: swordofmymouth

AU. For anyone who’s seen 5.04 all the way through, and wondered what happened afterward, in the Year of Apocalypse, 2014 – this is that story.

*this says AU, but I think canon divergent is a more accurate description as it’s written in the SPN universe.

Not Usually A Good Thing by: cloudyjenn

Five ways Castiel made Dean feel.

The Pillow Verse by: anythingtoasted, clockworkrobots, inplayruns, outpastthemoat

This is a story of the things that happen after the fall.

A canon-based domestic!fic shared universe set in the Men of Letter’s bunker, The Pillow ‘Verse follows Dean, Castiel, Sam, and their small cohort of rabble-rousers through stories of love, nest building, family, and healing following the 8x23 Supernatural finale Sacrifice.

Redemption Road by: darksilvercat, daymarket, dotfic, electricskeptic, jackvelvet, murron, nanoochka, nyoka, peroxidepest17, shane_mayhem, squeemonster, swordofmymouth, takadainmate, tiptoe39, zatnikatel

With Castiel having set himself up as the new God, drunk on power and volatile as a nuclear reactor, Dean, Sam, and Bobby find themselves on the run from the jealous, capricious monster wearing the face of their friend. Desperate for protection and wary of his brother’s mental state since Castiel unlocked Sam’s memories of Hell, Dean knows Castiel must be defused before he can wreak further havoc in Heaven or on Earth. Although Bobby advocates for destroying Castiel by whatever means necessary, Dean is convinced the Cas he once knew still remains, buried somewhere beneath the mass of poisonous souls and calling out for help. Determined to save the angel who once rescued him from Hell and redefined his purpose in life, Dean himself must resist the allure of the false deity vying for his obedience, and come to terms with the knowledge, long-suppressed, that his feelings for Castiel run much deeper than brotherhood. It is this bond, and the dubious distinction of the Righteous Man, that will ultimately grant Dean access to where Castiel’s grace languishes in Purgatory. However, what Dean brings back with him is broken, angry, and only half-angel, certainly not the Castiel he remembers—and nor is it the only thing that returns to Earth with them…

The Shattered One by: MissAnnThropic

When it struck Castiel, he was in mid-flight. It dropped him out of the sky like a sparrow buffeted by gale-force winds. Castiel set down the first place he could find. He ended up standing in a field in Switzerland, swaying on his feet and staring down at his body, dazed by what it had just done.

*There is a sequel to this, but I stopped reading about half way through so I can’t recommend it officially as I haven’t finished it. It’s called The Unbroken Ones if you’re interested.

The Story Of You And Me by: the_diggler

Dean wakes up in bed next to a very human Castiel, and a journal in his own handwriting that tells him it’s two years in the future. The house looks a lot like Bobby’s, and Sam lives there too… He just can’t remember how they got from angels falling in the sky – to comfortable domesticity.

While there is much in the journal Dean doesn’t remember, there is much of their story he’s always known. And as he settles into the routine of his new life and relationship with Castiel, it quickly becomes something he doesn’t know how to live without.

Thursday’s Child by: strangeandcharm

Thursday’s child has far to go.

Tripping by: Hatteress

That time the universe decided Dean belonged with Cas and wasn’t afraid to pull out the big guns to make it so. Big guns in this case being obsessive fangirls, archangels turned tricksters and overly enthusiastic cupids. Welcome to Dean’s life.

the world is ours to take by: casfallsinlove (tumblr link)

Dean was right about the heater; it’s one of the only things that works properly in this room, thirty years old as it is, and his skin prickles with the welcome heat as he strips off his jacket and t-shirt, shimmies out of his jeans. Down to only his underwear he stifles a yawn and crawls back into the nest of blankets Cas has created. His spot is long since cold but Cas’s body is a furnace and he nestles his way in until he can rub his frozen nose on the back of Cas’s neck.

And finally the not AU’s not SPN verse ones:

Yellow Moon by: coffeeandcheesecake

King of the Road by: loversantiquities

Kiss You When It’s Dangerous by: zoemathemata

Happy reading!

#spnv #ask #Mod list

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eeejay-blog1 · 7 years

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A lil rant in between PT sessions

Being bored as fuck, I’ve been trawling around Tumblr looking for posts and users with conditions similar to mine (thanks to y’all who follow back) and I keep coming across this “pee your pants” bullshit

No one’s ever said it to me personally, hallelujah

But do you know what it’s like to endure incontinence as an adult?

From age 5 to age 19, my daytime bladder control was 100% on point. I could make the 5-hour drive from home to college, drinking two water bottles and an energy drink, and not stop for a single restroom. I made it an entire 8-hour shift at work without pissing once (mostly because the restrooms there were nasty) and didn’t even realize it until I drained what felt like a gallon afterward. “Urgency” was a word without meaning; sure, I could tell when I needed to piss, but there’d be another 2 or 3 hours before it really started to get annoying.

The first few times it happened to me, it was late and I’d been drinking a lot, so it wasn’t all that unexpected. Sensed an urge, figured I could wait a bit, ended up figuring wrong. Plus, I’ve had issues at night basically my entire life, so I wrote it off as “ah shit my body’s so drunk it probably thinks I’m asleep right now.” My friends obviously gave me hell for it when they realized what happened, but they were wasted too so we all bore it in great stride. After it happened at a (thankfully poorly-lit) frat party, I resolved not to go beyond two drinks per hour, and that was the end of that for about a year.

Gradually, the sensation of needing to go would hit me with shorter and shorter notice. I was still working out a lot at this point, pounding more than enough water and taking creatine daily, so I rationalized it as a side effect of extra fluids. A few extra trips to the restroom per day wasn’t really a big deal. Then at work one day, I felt an urge about 5 hours in, still one hour away from my next break. Looked around for my coworker to have her watch my desk and listen for calls, but she’s helping some cashier with a coupon or some bullshit. No big deal, I could wait a sec. A minute or two goes by, she’s still with the cashier. Another minute, now the self-checkouts are having some issue so off she goes. Suddenly, a creeping sensation goes down my leg (not uncommon when I hunch over the desk and flex my back) but it feels familiar. And warm. I look down and bam, there’s something dripping onto the floor. I try resisting, stopping the stream so I could attempt a mad dash to the toilet, but that works for about five seconds before it starts up full force. My mind is a fucking cacophony of “how the fuck is this happening? why does my body hate me?” Thank god for dark jeans, a desk about waist-high, and the paper towels we keep behind it, because I was able to clean up the puddle and dispose of the evidence before anyone noticed. My water intake also meant it didn’t really smell like much, and I was able to take my jeans off in my car on break to air them out.

Needless to say, that made me a thousand times more cautious. Setting timers on my phone, making sure I piss every 3 hours at minimum, and being a slave to that schedule worked for a month. Then, sitting in a 2-hour class where I just pissed before it started, the urge monster rears its ugly head a little past halfway through. I get up and hastily shuffle out of my row, dash out the door and down the hall. Look around the corner into the restroom, the urinals are occupied but I think I see a free stall. Doesn’t matter, bladder thinks the restroom floor is fine. By the time I was able to get into the stall and whip it out, there was nothing left to piss; it was all on the floor and my shorts. I literally had to wait in the stall for fifteen minutes until everyone was gone, so I could air out my shorts under the hand dryer. A couple guys came in while I was doing that, and between the puddle on the tile and the state of my shorts, I guarantee they had an idea of what was going on. I didn’t hear any chuckles or commentary, but that damn well may have said something and I just ignored it in my mortified dissociated state.

At that point I knew protection was necessary, something every adult in the same leaky boat never wants to admit at first. There’s a learning curve to it; pads and sheaths had nowhere near the capacity I needed, pull-ons and anything from a store brand could handle 3-4 hours of use before I’d need to find somewhere to change. High-capacity absorbents are bulky, expensive, and make you feel like everyone can tell what you’re wearing. External catheters mostly solve that, despite getting uncomfortable (imagine wearing a condom all day), but a leg bag can only hold so much before it needs to be emptied, or else the sleeve pops off and I’ll have the same problems as before. And yes, all of those products will leak at some point, so there’s a certain degree of constant paranoia and feeling around your thighs for wet spots. Not to mention the paranoia of making sure your shirt is cut low enough, your pants are sitting high enough and fit loosely enough, etc. There’s a definite stigma on everything except the catheter, where you’d be just as embarrassed to have someone see what you’re wearing as you’d be to have them see you piss yourself unprotected.

Nowadays (which means pre-surgery, since I still have yet to find out how everything really runs in that department now), my symptoms leveled off at getting an urge every 2-3 hours or so, having a 2-minute window in which I can get to a restroom, and letting everything loose. When I’m home, the toilet’s close enough that I can safely make it, but any trips to unfamiliar or public places bring a whole lot of uncertainties. What type of protection to wear? How long will I be out? Are there places to change? Will someone notice? Will I leak? Ultimately, incontinence turned me into a bit of a shut-in, where work, friends’ places, and the beach are the only places worth all the hassle.

Bear in mind, if you’re peeing your pants, you probably want to see a doctor. That usually leads to urodynamics. Basically, they shove a tube in your dick to drain it. Then they fill it back up til you’re about to burst, then drain it again. There’s cameras, pressure gauges, a whole lot of poking and prodding from the inside. It hurts. You will piss (hopefully only a bit of) blood afterward. I’ve endured it 3 times in my adult life (with a fourth scheduled at my follow-up) and it doesn’t get easier.

And here’s some other things for you to consider before you say “pee your pants”:

Urostomy (hole in your side and a bag hanging on your belly)

Mitrofanoff (using your appendix to make a hole in your side that you have to catheterize to empty)

Clean Intermittent Catheterization (using a catheter every 4 hours for the rest of your life, yes that means waking up in the middle of the night)

Foley Catheter (a literal balloon in your bladder with a tube running out that sits there for days at a time)

Vesicouretural Reflux (not being able to drain all the way, so piss travels back into your kidneys, which can literally kill you)

So, before you say some dumb shit that isn’t even funny, consider all the hell that people who actually pee their pants have to go through. It’s not lighthearted. There’s no humor in any of it. It would be an absolute dream if I never pee my pants again, but given how long it’s been happening, that’s not likely, so consider how someone like myself feels when they hear it. Just my two cents on the matter.

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nickireadstfc · 8 years

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The Foxhole Court, Chapter 1: Angsty With A Chance Of Extra™

In which we are introduced to Neil Josten, the angst-iest protag since OOTP!Harry Potter, and we meet his new friends: Coach Wymack, a Certified Hufflepuff, Andrew Minyard, a kitten who thinks of nothing but murder all day, and Kevin Day, a Big Deal. Everyone is blessed with a healthy dose of Extra and Dramatic™. Hernandez is also there, I guess.

Sounds good? Then it’s time for Nicki to read The Foxhole Court.

So a while ago I made this post demonstrating my absolute confusion over what the fuck The Foxhole Court is (What is the court everyone’s talking about? Why so much orange? What is that weird ass sport? What is the court???). Since then, I’ve had countless anons trying to explain the plot to me and/or urging me to read the damn books.

So here I am. Reading the damn books.

Disclaimer: This is, first and foremost, 100% inspired by/based on Mark Reads ‘Harry Potter’ which I truly believe is one of the most hilarious and well-written things you can find on the Internet. Mark, I owe you everything.

Let’s fucking go.

Neil Josten let his cigarette burn to the filter without taking a drag. He didn’t want the nicotine; he wanted the acrid smoke that reminded him of his mother.

What the hell. Two sentences in and I can already tell that Neil is extra. Like, seriously Super Extra™. I get that it’s meant tragically and refers to past trauma and all, but oh my god. This is some Augustus Waters type shit.

For the record: I love it.

(Please do not ever take anything I say at face value. I’m a sarcastic piece of shit and I can already tell I’m going to love this series. Please.)

So apparently, Neil’s dad is in prison and his mom is dead. He is also an actual homeless dude who sleeps either in an abandoned real estate or just in his school’s locker room. What the fuck, that is the saddest shit I’ve read all day. No wonder is angst levels are through the ceiling. Someone care for this kid.

His neighbors rarely left the comfort of their couches and daily soaps, but every time he came and went he risked getting spotted. If people realized he was squatting they’d start asking difficult questions.

Okay so this is my bilingual brain talking, I know squatting means something else here, but I just imagined Neil idly doing his squats in his appropriated backyard.

No shit, dude. I’d start asking questions too.

This is the point where we finally get some info on what the fuck Exy is.

Exy was a bastard sport, an evolved sort of lacrosse on a soccer-sized court with the violence of ice hockey, and Neil loved every part of it from its speed to its aggression.

MURDER LACROSSE! Yay!

Why is it called Exy though, is what I’m wondering. Because that is a dumb ass name. Endanger and eXplore Yourself? Extremist Youngsters? Extremely Yellow?

The last one is a joke. We all know that they’re fucking orange.

What I’m also wondering is how the hell that sport came to be. It evolved from lacrosse, sure, but like… How? Someone just thought “Hey, I want my lacrosse to be a lot more MURDEROUS so I’m gonna play it on a BIG ASS FIELD with VIOLENT ASS PLAYERS”?

Then again, someone also thought to just play golf but with tiny weak balls and clubs, and today we have mini golf. So there’s that.

Now it’s time for the entrance of someone who’s shaping up to be my first favourite character: Coach Wymack.

“Bullshit,” Neil said. “No one recruits from Millport. No one knows where it is.”

“There’s this thing called a map,” the stranger said. “You might have heard of it.”

That’s his first line. That’s his first line. I love this guy.

I continue loving this guy because he offers Neil a way out of his shitty living situation: Hey, come play with my team of rejects, homeless dudes, juvies and addicts! We might be so shitty we’re gonna get kicked out of the Almighty Exy League if we don’t deliver, and our players have regular actual suicide attempts, but at least we’re getting a lot of media coverage! Oh, you’re on the run from your murderous dad and trying to lay low? My bad.

What a dude.

Next up, another character introduces himself in a wonderfully defining way: Andrew Minyard, who likes Neil’s hot bod so much he decides to smack a racquet into it.

“God damn it, Minyard. This is why we can’t have nice things.”

I agree. Chill out, my man, no need for violence.

(I have a slight feeling “No need for violence” is not exactly the Foxes’ team slogan.)

Surprisingly, Neil turns out to be a massive stalker fanboy as he exactly knows who Andrew is and has been collecting newspaper clippings on him for, like, years. No biggie. I can already smell the shippers lurking in the distance.

Spoiler alert: I also know that those two will end up Banging™ at some point because tumblr told me. It’s seriously the only thing tumblr told me was for sure happening.

What can I say. We love our gays here on this hellsite.

However, Neil’s ability to easily follow all the drama that was going on in Exy World also adds to the questionable existence of Exy. A sport has to be around for some time to get that kind of news coverage.

Example: My best friends do competitive cheerleading, which has been around for years and years, but it’s still a minority sport here in Germany. They have massive tournaments and fierce competition between teams, yet no one gives a shit. Only like, two teams even get any news coverage, and certainly not enough to make this level of stalking possible.

I’m calling bullshit artistic freedom.

(I don’t actually mind too much because I live for the drama. Also, Palmetto State Uni is fictional as well, so who gives a shit.)

It’s time for another wonderful character introduction: Meet Kevin Day.

We don’t know much about Kevin yet except for the fact that he’s a Big Deal in Exy World and Neil sorta hates him. They go way back, apparently.

Kevin was sitting on top of the entertainment center along the back wall. He’d pushed the TV off to one side to give himself more room and covered the space around him with papers.

Again, this may be me bilingual brain talking, but. How am I supposed to understand this?

Papers, as in newspaper that he’s been reading? Like “Oh god, you guys were taking so long being Emo and Persuasive out there with your contracts I just had to read something to save myself from actual brain death”? Or papers, as in actual sheets of paper that he just spread around himself for dramatic effect??

Either way, it’s Extra and Dramatic and I love it.

He and his adopted brother Riko Moriyama wrote the numbers one and two on their faces with markers, tracing them over and over every time they started to fade. Neil didn’t understand it then, but Kevin and Riko were aiming for the stars. They were going to be famous, they promised him.

Literally what level of E X T R A.

I cannot stop laughing at this.

What a nerd.

Also: Riko! I’ve heard that name before. I think he and Neil don’t exactly wear friendship bracelets. I think.

Does he wear friendship bracelets with Kevin?

Intrigued for more. #findrikosfriendshipbracelet2k17

Kevin is also probably kind of an idiot. Like, you watched a man get murdered with this guy and yet you don’t recognize him with a little bit of hair dye on? Either Neil is Hannah Montana or you’re just a massive dumbo.

(Or he’s just pretending not to know him for Plot Related Reasons, which is the most likey answer. But let’s go with Hannah Montana for now.)

“Your opinion has been noted and duly dismissed” Wymack said.

Fury, anyone?

“You need one of us to talk to your parents? (…) Are they the ones who hurt you?”

Have I mentioned I love Wymack.

“You know the people I look for. (…) Foxes are Foxes for a reason and they know we wouldn’t sign you if you didn’t qualify. That doesn’t mean they know specifics. It’s not my place to ask, and I’m sure as hell not going to tell them.”

Okay but have I mentioned I love Wymack.

Coach Wymack was quiet for a minute. “Did you think I made the team the way it is because I thought it would be a good publicity stunt? It’s about second chances, Neil. Second, third, fourth, whatever, as long as ou get at least one more than what anyone else wanted to give you.”

Okay but HAVE I MENTIONED I LOVE WYMACK.

Holy fucking shit. I cannot get over this guy.

This is the most Hufflepuff thing I’ve read in probably forever. Like, he deserves a badge. A Certified Hufflepuff badge. Which is, in my opinion, the highest honours you can give someone. What the hell.

Obvs, Neil signs with the Foxes after that shining, glittering star of a motivation speech.

Next up: University! Murder lacrosse! Childhood trauma! Fun gay times!

(Side note: I feel like that’s a good description of the series as a whole.)

I seriously cannot wait.

#the foxhole court #tfc #the raven king #the kings men #nora sakavic #nicki reads tfc #findrikosfriendshipbracelet2k17

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