#to be fair everything is like 95% complete now
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i have been cleaning practically non stop for like. 3-4 days. like minimum 5 hours a day cleaning. normally more like 12. and its pretty awesome because im doing it of mh own will and my room is finallg clean anf stuff #yayyyy but also. oh my god. my entire fucking body hurts. and despite cleaning for minimum 3 days straight not a single god damn room in my house is clean. man. man
#to be fair everything is like 95% complete now#my room just needs clean clothes put away and 1 load of laundry done. mh bathroom just needs the mirror clean. the kitchen....#it just needs a bunch of dishes hand washed the problem is my parents never put their shit away so all the counter space is taken up#living room is clean technically i guess#hashtag me win#probably have like... 2 and a half hours of stuff left to do at most? but deer lord#because i didnt finish cleaning the downstairs today my dad will probably get mad at me for that. despite everything#but WHATEVER!!!! ITS 5AM!!!! MY ENTIRE BODY HURTS!!@ I WANT TO SLEEO#i still need to put the sheets on my bed u_u
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i think im gonna ask my therapist to get me an appointment with the private psychiatrist she suggested
#yesterday was kind of the wake up call#for a few days ive been feeling very little… still feeling bad but like sort of numb and i keep questioning wheter i actually need meds or#not which .. in any case i will not decide but a specialist will but anyways#and i was looking through book fairs and how to get appointments with publishers to show ur portfolio and just generally feeling like the#most incompetent person ever and also like i will never get anywhere because my style isn’t exactly what u see in most illustrated books#95% of which are childrens books…… and those styles are just different#anyway i digress#my grandma called and she was like what are u doing and i told her how stressed i was and i just started crying mid-sentence and i told her#i dont know where to bang my head anymore its too difficult and confusing and i feel like im just not good enough and im tired of trying to#keep it together.. she knows im not well mentally#like i was SOBBING#and she was like u shouldnt think like that u have to be patient keep trying and contact those publishers and whatever#and i get that she was trying to motivate me but i just told her flat out i. am. unwell. i dont know what to do anymore with this brain#and i asked her to please not tell me how i should think because i cant#and i know my grandad was there with her because he always is and he heard and like an hour later he came to my house to pick something up#and he was like ‘earlier i heard things i dont like’ aka me being depressed out of my mind#and then he said ‘we should talk about it sometime’ and proceeded to completely change the subject to his gums problem because he was going#to the dentist….ok#and the funny thing is things like this where people acknowledge that im struggling but proceed to say nothing about it keep happening#like i have a friend that i talk to very often and we say p much everything to each other but now shes working so she takes weeks to reply#and i told her i was doing VERY bad and of course she has her problems too… and she hasn’t replied to me in like three weeks or so#and she sent a text basically saying im dorry i havent replied yet i want to have time to do it well and hear how youre doing but hear this!#and proceeded to tell me stuff about her work and whatever… which is fine but dont tell me u care about how i am if u cant even check in#when u do have time because clearly u can send texts…#anyways im rambling good morning i already cried and its not even 9 great !!
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— ˚₊‧⁺˖THE LIGHTNING ON TRACK | THE PRE-SEASON TESTING
fandom. formula one & mcu
about. it's pre-season testing time!
content warnings. smau & written parts, written in 3rd person & lowercase, not edited & proofread
word count. 1.1k
notes. we're dipping into the season, slowly but surely... this took me some time to finish, i literally didn't know what to write for testing ://
"we are here in bahrain, pre-season testing for all teams in 2025, welcome everyone!" croft greets the whole world, as live footage is shown across the devices. the camera spans over the whole track, to each individual paddock until stopping at the final one, in blinding white.
"the season is starting with a bang, for the first time in formula one, we will see a stark owned team on the track! in white and chrome they are, an iconic design and everyone is eager to see what the stark manufactured cars can do!"
"how right you are, david! welcome, i'm will buxton and i have someone of interest with me here. right here, in front of the stark racing garage- y/n stark, number 95, one of the drivers for stark racing. so, y/n, tell me, how are you feeling? are you ready for the first time in the car?"
"hello will, thank you for having me. well, it's not quite the first time in the car, we had a testing back in miami at the end of january, but it's something different to be officially here now. but i'm feeling confident- we have our data, the predicted numbers and we think we'll be able to achieve them."
"so, no major upgrades or changes planned?" y/n shakes her head with a grin.
"do you really think i'm going to answer that question? ask me again, when we're done." will laughs at that, nodding his head in understanding.
"understandable, but i will hold you onto that! gonna knock on the garage doors three days later." y/n laughs again, head thrown back. "but, y/n, how does it feel to be on the paddock? have you met the rest of the drivers yet? made any new friendships?"
"well..."
"can you turn that off?", carlos gruffly asks his teammate, who just waves his hand at him as answer. with a groan, he stares at the tv, showing the first driver interview of the day, y/n stark. her voice washes over him, empty answers of being excited to properly meet everyone and maybe even bond with a few drivers.
"i don't know why you're so obsessed, perceval." charles immediatly splutters, waving his hands to deny the accusation.
"i'm not! but it's so interesting! tony stark is literally here, aren't you at least a bit excited? arthur said that y/n is like him!"
"what, arrogant? self-centered?"
"carlos! stop being so negative! i meant like- a genius! someone who raced with her back in f3 is friends with arthur, i forgot his name, but apparently y/n constantly does calculations while she drives. that's why she's so good overtaking." carlos just sighs and leaves charles to whatever he's doing right now. he has no interest in this circus.
— ˚₊‧⁺˖ 🏎️ ˖⁺‧₊˚—
kevin watches the interviews from the sideline, completely satisfied with how everyone is hounding y/n and leaving him in peace. of course he had his fair amount of questions and interviews, but much less than his teammate.
it has been a whirlwind, ever since he joined the team. strange, for a while, everything seeming so futuristic, but now his glasses feel like a another part of his race suit he's putting on every day.
the team has been welcoming, open to his input, but it's very clear to him that y/n is their star driver and he's the support. and he's alright with it. of course, winning a championship would mean everything, but he knows he's not going to continue this forever. especially not when he has a kid, he's missing so much... something he dislikes, because family means everything to him.
this is why his contract is only for two years. if he wishes to continue and his results at the end of the season are steady, tony promised him a seat as long he wishes for. he is incredibly thankful for this offer, fully knowing that this kind of support doesn't exist in formula one.
"ready to go?", he asks, after y/n's press officer ushers her out of the mob called journalists.
"so ready to go", she grins. but they're not alone, the netflix camera's immediately surround them and capture their walk to the garage. people part from them, staring openly at the drivers. one of the most iconic footage later shown in the drive to survive documentary.
— ˚₊‧⁺˖ 🏎️ ˖⁺‧₊˚—
"so, here he goes, kevin magnussen for stark racing, leaving his side of the garage. the car is looking incredible, i really like the color!", comments crofty and the other men immediately begin to chatter as well. throwing in rumors and hearsay about the team, they expertly fill the silence of kevin doing his first lap on the track.
"last to leave the garage and on the track, all eyes are on stark racing- oh and there he goes, picking up the speed!"
"his tyres seem to have warmed up- woah! look at the smoothness! kevin seems to be home in his car, his struggles from the last season are nowhere to be seen", adds jenson, while the cameras continue to follow the white car with the number 20.
"and there he goes! on medium tyres, setting the third fastest lap already, this looks definitely promising." will shares his own thoughts, reminding the viewers that there is definitely a possibility of stark racing going at least one or two seconds faster.
"by the looks of it, the stark racing team seems to be satisfied- honestly can't tell much, the glasses are hiding too much", jokes another man and all of them laugh. "bloody starks, am i right?"
— ˚₊‧⁺˖ 🏎️ ˖⁺‧₊˚—
the testing days are filled with endless laps and data, followed by long hours of debrief. they've already proven that they're fast, slotting themselves on the upper half of the grid, sticking close to the more experienced teams.
speculations are thrown around, is stark racing sandbagging? of course they must be, while others think that this is the best they can do. neither of the drivers or the team principal lose a word on it, instead they repeat always the same statements.
"we delivered what we predicted."
"we tested our theories, confirmed or debunked them, so the past three days have been very productive."
"we're exactly there where we want to be and we know our next steps."
empty words and yet the journalists pounce on them as if they're the next headlines. the whole world watches with eagerness as stark racing finishes up their debut in formula one and they impatiently await the first race of the season.
taglist. @lilypadlover , @adorablezhui , @peqch-pie , @keyz-writes , @obsidianjewel , @aimixx , @themercyverse , @lem-hhn , @akiraquote , @kiiyoooo , @nichmeddar , @nothingfuninthislife , @minkyungseokie , @fionaschicken , @lyrasconstellation , @spideybv28 , @keii134 , @starssfall , @tpwkstiles, @fangirl-dot-com , @nichmeddar , @lady-laura-speaks , @nikfigueiredo , @hinamesgigantica , @brakingboundaries , @almostjollypizza , @yoremins , @raizelchrysanderoctavius , @celesteblack08 , @watermelon-sugars-things , @lighttsoutlewis , @radiantdanvers , @vellicora, @sterredem , @hiireadstuff , @jolixtreesunn , @mypage-myfandoms , @nelly187 @greeneyesandsunshine , @fulla02 , @welovediaaxx , @whyamireadingthis , @67-angelofthelordme-67 , @blueberry64857959 , @winchesterwife27 , @six-call , @skywalker1dream , @mellowarcadefun , @cherry-piee , @peterholland04 , @motorsportloverf1 , @renarots , @msbyjackal , @woozarts , @leclucklerc , @yl90
crossed off tags mean i can't tag you!
DO YOU WANT TO JOIN THE SERIES TAGLIST? please leave a comment on this post or send a non anonymous ask!
ARKHAM MAID 2024
#f1 x reader#f1 fic#f1 smau#f1 social media au#f1 female driver#female driver#fem!driver#f1 fanfic#kevin magnussen x reader#— ˚₊‧⁺˖ lightning on track#— ˚₊‧⁺˖ creations
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My thoughts and Opinions on Mass effect 3 first playthrough. (No spoilers please, but this will contain spoilers as it is my experiance)
So. first of all, i know its been a while. but I've been busy with life guff annoyingly. i did start this game after finishing ME2, however... i was influenced a bit to not like this game by nerdcubed as i heard he didn't like this game. which is fair. that's his opinion. so that didn't help. When I played it, i quickly understood why he didn't like it and how all the joy of it was sucked away (and also all the combat was completely trivial) so i took a long ass break from the game. tried it again. this time, i saw that there were difficulty options. Which I'm going to blame the game for never prompting this. i know there are games that don't prompt you at all about difficulty but 95% of games i play do prompt this. so i didn't look for it in the first place. after finally being granted full freedom, i quickly got a mod to just have unlimited fuel because I like that. i do love the new feature of you can only scan a few times before the reapers come for ya. its not hard to outrun them, but its given me a few clench moments of running away. Something the game added which i like and dislike is the weapon weight system. now how it works is that you can only carry a certain weight of items with you through missions. the more weight you have means the less you can use your powers and for a Vanguard, that sucks. but i get why this was done as it adds more strategic thinking and planning involved. but i don't like the weight of some weapons. like, personally, i like running with only 3 weapons. A pistol, and AR, and a Sniper. but snipers are far too heavy to be worth it. so i kinda breeze through at close to mid range. i would be much happier with full choice. i would be fine countering this with what i stated before. but the problem there is that its never clear what kinda environment or enemies I'm facing so i can't properly plan ahead. and i can always rely on my AI teammates either. a small feature i do very much like is that while walking around on the citadel. you can find some people arguing about how best to help the war effort or who is more in the wrong but listening in on the conversation and choosing to interject. for example, you can find this couple arguing about how to best help the war. 1 is saying that they should join the military and take up arms, talking about their friends getting out their weapons that were mainly jsut for show. the other is unsure about the idea. I chose to support the unsure one and Shepard suggested that they could volunteer at medical areas to help there. and they were both down for that. it rewards the player with a small boost in numbers too. its a little thing but i very much like that. also, after trying to dodge DLC spoilers and trying to work out what order I'm supposed to do everything in. i now have all but the citadel dlc spoiled for me (except the ending) so if you're looking to do them and play this game. just do it any order as the dlc was built to be played mid campaign it seems. but the DLC missions are Eden Prime, Dr. Bryson's lab on the citadel, and some other place i haven't unlocked but i know its at the citadel. too.
#no spoilers#commander shepard#mass effect#mass effect legendary edition#sheperd#ME3#LE3#Mass effect 3
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Title: Have A Drink On Me
Series: Holler Me Home, part 11
Author: BJ
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: Explicit
Pairing: Dean Winchester/You, Dean Winchester/Reader
Synopsis: The first case after Our Heroes make their big decision leads to considerations of the future, the past, what it means to be a Hunter and a killer and a lover and a partner and a part of something greater than yourself.
Tags: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, ABO, Omegaverse, AU, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Alpha Dean Winchester, Omega You, Omega Reader, Alpha Sam Winchester, Episode References, S12E16 Ladies Drink Free, Mick Davies, Omega Mick Davies, British Men Of Letters, Claire Novak, Alpha Claire Novak,
AN: Continuing adventures in AU land. This one is S12E16, 'Ladies Drink Free.' All recognizable intellectual properties are owned by their respective creators and holders of any copyrights or trademarks. This is a not-for-profit work of fan art and protected by Fair Use.
---
You’re trying not to snap. You’re really trying. But you’re starting to wish you’d ridden Eddie for this trip instead of sharing Baby’s backseat with Mick Davies, snow and all. Instead of stretching out and going to sleep, you’re slumped up against the window trying to distract yourself with your nephew’s Twitch stream of . . . whatever game he’s playing right now. Davies had tried to break the ice with you earlier when he saw the cover art for Piece Of Mind on your phone’s screen, by offering the startling revelation that “The Trooper” was inspired by The Charge Of The Light Brigade. Your patience already running low, you’d told him, rather tartly, that you already knew. And that Maiden’s lyrical influences include Samuel Coleridge and Frank Herbert and the Church Of England hymnal. He’d taken the hint and left you alone, burying himself in paperwork.
Closing your eyes, you reach for patience. Davies is behaving like a man well aware he's doing something significantly beyond him, and is feeling the strain. You have to give him credit for that awareness at least, and the desire to correct it. That doesn't change the fact that he has zero in-country experience, and of all the things you'd pick to break a Hunting cherry, a werewolf hunt would not be your first choice no matter how book-smart a guy might be on the subject.
Teamwork, you remind yourself again. Teamwork makes the dream work. Hunting is a little like writing; the only way to do it is to do it.
Paulie signs off and you pull out your earbuds. Next to you, Davies is listening raptly to an analysis of Martin Luther’s 95 Theses. “Did you have to let him listen to his podcast?” you bitch.
Dean points at Sam.
“It's educational,” Sam bitches back. “And besides, I've been wanting to listen to this one.”
Davies turns off the lecture, and your aching head sighs in relief. “You know, monks like Martin Luther are among the earliest Hunters. He even wrote parts of that book you're holding.”
You did know that, and you also know that's completely discounting the entire Greek Orthodox Church’s history, along with the activities of the Ethiopian church. There’re also several Islamic warriors who were based in North Africa and the Eastern Arabian deserts who would qualify as Hunters by any reasonable definition, and who the hell knows what’s going on in northern Asia and China? You resist the urge to be a wiseass, though it’s surely a strong temptation.
“What?” Sam twists around and stares at Davies. “This lore dates back to the 16th century?”
“Yeah.” Davies shrugs. “Well, in Europe, everything’s old. Though we do have our fair share of new tricks for dealing with wolves-- sulfate gas, silver nitrate lethal injection.”
“Take a handful of silver bullets over any of that fancy crap,” is Dean’s counter.
“Agreed,” you add.
“Yes, well,” Davies sighs, “thanks to that ‘fancy crap,’ Britain's last werewolf outbreak was in the twenties. We rooted them out, bitten and pureblood alike.”
“Wait a second-- you killed them all?” Sam echoes your thought. “Even the ones that weren't hurting anyone?”
Davies’s eyebrows arch up. “Sorry?”
“Your research into lycanthropy didn’t cover that?” you ask. “Some people are able to live with the change.”
“Yeah,” Sam says. “I mean, we have a buddy got bit. Nothing but beef hearts ever since.”
“And you trust him?”
“More than we trust you,” Dean says bluntly.
“Well, killing is a fundamental need for werewolves,” Davies says.
“No, eating is a fundamental need for werewolves,” you correct. “And that’s doable with enough cardiac tissue. Just needs to be from a warm-blooded vertebrate, far as we can tell. Chicken hearts will do, you just need a lot of them."
Davies looks a little surprised but rallies, “Be that as it may, monsters don't just stop being monsters.”
“Well Garth did,” Dean says.
“Get two-thirds of a beer in him Garth’s downright cuddly,” you say.
“Oh, turn here,” Mick says, pointing to a driveway. Dean signals and pulls up to a . . . hotel. Like a real hotel and not a tin shack with cable TV. The sign out front reads Wild Elk Lodge.
Your collective jaws drop. Scuzzy cash-only roach traps are so par for the course when you’re not traveling with the RV you barely notice them. “Um . . .”
Characteristically, Sam has more words. “This place, uh, seems a little--"
“Shabby?” Davies actually sounds a little apologetic. “Yeah, three stars was the best I could do. Least our bean counters will be happy. Booked us all suites.”
“Wait, you . . . We're in separate rooms?” Sam asks, and he sounds like his birthday came early.
“Yeah, of course.”
Dean shoots a look at you, and you gulp. Circumstances usually prevent any kind of fun while you’re on the job. Nice big bed and no Sam snoring two feet away equals--
Davies catches your look and . . . blushes? A vague suspicion you’ve been having all day crystalizes and you suddenly know something about Mr. Mick Davies, Man of Letters.
---
"Mind if I join you?"
You look up from your drink and nod at Davies. "Sure, step into my office."
Climbing up on the barstool, Davies signals the bartender. "Two of whatever the lady's having." As the bartender pulls down the bottle of Laphroig, he makes an impressed face. "Interesting choice."
"Don't tell the guys this," you admit, "but I hate the stuff they keep in the decanter back at the bunker."
"Slainte," Davies says. You tap your glasses and sip. "Ah. Speaking of the boys, do you know where they might be?"
"Sam's probably stealing some time in the exercise room since we're hitting the ground running in the morning."
"And Dean?"
You laugh. "Probably at the pool doing cannonballs in his underwear. If there's a waterslide we'll never see him again."
Davies pulls out a cigarette case. "D’you mind?"
You shake your head. "Actually . . ." you hold out your hand and Davies spots you one. You pull your lighter out of your pocket and light both.
"I didn't know you smoked," Davies observes.
"I usually don't," you say, "but two cigarettes will cover your scent better than one."
He glances away. "How did you know?"
"You've been taking scents ever since you walked in. Besides, I use the same neutralizers. It’s why you wanted to join me isn't it? There's at least one Alpha sitting around the corner."
"Three." Davies motions, his cigarette clamped between his first two fingers. "That big fellow right there. The ginger in the uniform. And our friend drinking tequila like it's water. I know how to make rude Alphas take No for an answer but it's attention we don't want."
"No we do not."
"So," Davies drags over an ashtray, "you and Dean?"
"What you don't have that in your dossiers?" you ask.
"No, actually. Official information on American Hunters in general is challenging to come by. Covering your tracks seems second nature. Winchesters in particular." Davies chuckled. "It even got to be a game with some of our cleverer researchers. They'd make up stories to explain the outlandish contradictions tied up in their paper trails."
"Really? Spill," you tell him.
"Well once," Davies says, leaning in close like one of your mom's friends sharing something scandalous, "we caught their car's registration on camera, at the exact same time, in two different cities! Jordan was convinced that a shapeshifter had somehow shifted into the car and driven itself!"
"If that's what I think it is," you say as your mind makes a connection, "that was a hacker friend of theirs laying false trails. The boys had to leave the country for a couple weeks."
"Ah there, you see? Data's useless without someone to put the bits together. And a man with your Dean's reticence when it comes to committed relationships, well," he spreads his hands, "we didn't expect to find him committing to a bonded mate."
Your eyes go slitted, the way they do whenever someone starts sniffing around your Alpha.
Davies does a double-take over his drink. "Oh no! No I'm not trying to imply anything. Dean's an attractive Alpha but he's not remotely my type. Neither is Sam. Too tall."
"The Men of Letters don't have a problem with you being Omega?"
"No," Davies shrugs. "I know it doesn't always look that way to outsiders, but we're firm believers in the aristocracy of talent. Once we find talent, we do what we can not to waste it. Being an Omega is a manageable inconvenience with the proper planning."
You cough out a smoky laugh. "Sorry. It's just I never in my life heard somebody refer to it as a 'manageable inconvenience'."
"Well why not?" he asks. "You've managed to make a go of it. And you were totally alone most of the time."
"I had help." You explain about the drug study.
Davies puts down his cigarette and calls for another drink. "My God. I've read that study!"
You turn red. "I hope you didn't get the illustrated version."
Davies turns red. "There wasn't anything, well . . . personally identifiable. Mostly imaging scans."
"How long have you been with the Men of Letters?" You listen as Davies tells you about being recruited off the streets, his upbringing and education sponsored by one of the deacons at Kendricks Academy. "Wow," you say, the liquor loosening your tongue a little. "The way the guys talk about the Bevel bitch--" Davies chokes on his drink. "Shit! Sorry!"
"Don't be," Davies says, coughing into a napkin and chortling. "Lady Bevel's of an older mindset. Her family's one of the original founders of the Men of Letters, right back to the time of Edward VI. Very authoritarian."
"It's not like you can argue with the results," you say.
Davies is quiet for a moment. "Can I share something with you?" At your nod, he says, "It's true, we haven't had any monster related casualties since after the war. But it's all rather small potatoes compared to open warfare between Heaven and Hell. Since your boys averted the Apocalypse, it's felt like the rulebook's been thrown out completely."
You nod. "Suddenly the system stopped working."
"Precisely. The weakness of bureaucracy, it doesn't handle surprises well. Our analysts did a logistical study about what might have happened if the Devil's Gate in the Orkneys opened the way the one in Wyoming did. The results were . . . sobering. We want to take a more active role in keeping the world secure from the supernatural. We're just," he grimaces, "still trying to figure out how that should work. But," he says, lighting another cigarette, "that's enough about me. What about you?"
"What, I don't have a super secret file?"
"Incomplete. Been driving me a little mad if I'm honest."
Davies listens as you tell him about Peg, the sextant haunting. "Peg caught her foot and tore the hell out of her ankle. She was stuck in town for weeks. I spent a lot of time with her when she was rehabbing-- helping her around the house, running errands, all that good stuff."
"And the whole time she was training you," he puts it together.
"Mmm-hmm. You wouldn't've known it to look at her, but Peg was a champ at getting people to pour their hearts out to her. You know what I wanted to do before I Presented?" Davies shakes his head, looking fascinated. "I wanted to join the Marines."
"You are having me on!"
"I shit thee not. I had dreams about being the first woman on the Joint Chiefs of Staff. It was a family thing as much as anything. My great-uncle was in the North African and Italian campaigns in World War II. Monte Cassino."
"Nasty business, that was," Davies notes.
"Yeah. Anyway, Peg left but she promised she'd come back for me after I finished high school. She insisted on that."
"And did she?"
"Yep." You smile to remember it. "She told me she watched me graduate from a tree in the Palmers’ back yard, through the scope of her favorite sniper rifle. She took me out of town that night and I was her partner up until she died."
"What of?"
"Would you believe it? Peritonitis, from a burst appendix. She thought maybe she’d gotten some bad bratwurst. By the time we pulled our heads out of our asses and got to a hospital it was too late." You shake your head. Even years later, your heart breaks to think of it. "She singlehandedly killed each and every vampire in Las Cruces, Texas over a two night meth and vodka binge, she tracked and killed one of the last babayagas, she survived the fall of the Iron Curtain and managed to smuggle herself out of Sarajevo two hours ahead of the Serbs. Fucking appendicitis."
Davies sighs. "Katherine Marlowe. My sponsor when I was recruited by the Men Of Letters, she disappeared some years ago. She had a soft spot for orphans, maybe because she couldn’t have children of her own. Closest thing to a mother I ever knew."
"God I'm sorry," you say, putting a hand on Davies’s arm. "What happened?"
"Well by then she'd retired from most active work but you know the job. You never totally walk away from it. She spent her time researching and tracking down magical artifacts, the stranger the better."
"Indiana Jones by way of Savile Row? I like it."
"God she would have hated that," Davies laughs, but there's an edge of melancholy to it. "She's actually Lady Bevel's aunt on her father’s side. I think she collected us orphans partly to spite the rest of the Marlowes."
"You know," you say, "here's a problem as I see it."
"Mmm? What's that?"
"Well the primary points of contact between us and your organization so far have included you, Lady Bevel, and Mr. Ketch. A middle manager-- no offense."
"None taken."
"A pain fetishist, and a hitman. All with very different philosophies as to handling potential allies, and all equally convinced they're fully sanctioned by your organization's leadership. It suggests a disunity of opinion that's concerning. To an outsider."
"That's a rather astringent read of the situation," Davies tells you a mite coldly.
"And the fact that none of you have any real in-country Hunting experience is not going to win you any credibility with most Hunters. Bobby Singer-- rest in peace," you cross yourself, "had the respect of every Hunter he ever worked with because he was never afraid to go in and kick ass. Loyalty meant something to him. It does to most of us."
"Well why do you think I'm here?" Davies asks. "Meeting people like you, like the Winchesters, working with you, trying to show how much better the world can be if we work as a team."
"Well, that's my point. What does working as a team mean to you?" you ask. "Because if it means you give orders and people like us do the dying, that’s not going to work. This isn't the Army, and we are not soldiers."
Davies puts his drink down and faces forward for a few minutes, tense and brooding. You've hit a nerve somewhere. When he looks at you again, there's a pinched look on his face. Confirm nerve strike. "Did it occur to you that maybe the respect of yourself and your colleagues is something I want purely on its own merits?"
"Yes it did.” You’re nobody’s psychologist but it doesn’t take a genius to see the Tom Hagan effect in action. Being an Omega would make that even worse. “Why do you think I’m talking to you like this? I want this to work. Sam does too.”
“And Dean? Unless I’m very much mistaken, he’s the one I need to convince.”
“Just don’t play him. He’ll figure it out and when he does . . . Dean doesn’t always make the best decisions when he’s upset.” Your lips burn with the magnitude of that understatement. “And if he tells you something’s not kosher? Believe him. Dean’s got the sharpest intuitions I’ve ever seen.”
“I’ll take that under advisement.”
“You do that.” Butting your cigarette, you hop down off your barstool. “If you’ll excuse me Mr. Davies--”
“Mick. Please,” he says.
“Mick. I think I need to go fish my Alpha out of the pool. Good night. Thanks for the drink.”
“My pleasure,” he smiles.
You leave feeling a little better about the whole enterprise and follow the signs to the pool. Dean’s doing the redneck thing; a pair of boxer shorts standing in for trunks as he swims a lazy backstroke through the water. You take off your boots and socks, roll up your pantlegs, and sit down with your feet dangling over the edge. The water feels wonderful between your toes and you can feel the long day slipping away. It’s its own small happiness, just sitting at your ease watching your Alpha enjoy himself.
“You know, put you in a tail and a seashell bra you’d make an awesome mermaid,” you say as he catches sight of you and paddles over.
“Ha-ha.” Dean puts his feet underneath him and stands to just under your nose. Over your laughing protests, he wraps his soaking wet arms around you and cranes his neck for a kiss. Smacking his lips, he asks, “Whiskey?”
“Had a couple with Mick. We had an interesting conversation.”
Dean cocks an eyebrow at you. “How interesting?”
“Not so interesting I’m not looking forward to not sleeping in my own bed tonight.”
Dean has to take a second to parse that out. “Isn’t that like a triple negative or something?”
“I dunno, I skipped most of freshman English.” You cup Dean’s jaw, slide your hand down his wet skin to the still livid marks of your claiming bite. Dean shivers, stealing another kiss.
"So," he says, leaving your lips with a little farewell peck, "interesting talk?"
"Well first of all, Mick's an Omega."
Dean's eyebrows pop up. "Really. That's interesting. Do I need to warn Sam?"
"Mention it. Don't make Mick feel weird. I don't know about the organization, but the guy himself really is trying."
"Yeah but he's a fucking amateur. Amateurs are meat in this job."
"I know that Dean, but-- I mean, look at this," you gesture around. "Not having to support ourselves on mail fraud and dumb luck would make this job a snap. Might mean more of us could settle down, have a home base. Maybe not the full apple pie, but . . . the apple crumble life?"
"I still don't like it. You're the one who keeps saying beware Englishmen bearing gifts."
"Yeah, still looking for the hook in this nice juicy worm. If their idea of the perfect hunter is fucking Ketch--"
"You really don't like him do you?"
"Ketch is Bad. Like, capital-B Bad. And I don't like the conclusions he jumped to about you." You think a minute. "I don't like that these people are leaning extra hard into the Brains versus Brawn dichotomy. Sam kicks plenty of ass and you're a damned smart guy."
Dean grimaces. You spare a thought to curse John Winchester, for that involuntary grimace every time someone dares to give Dean a compliment. "Yeah. I didn't like the Final Solution vibe I got off Mick when he was talking about werewolves either."
"Me neither." You let the thoughtful quiet hang for a minute, then put away the subjects of Mick Davies and the Men of Letters for the night. "So. You done dog-paddling or . . ."
"I'm not done doing nothing," Dean drawls, a slow grin lighting him up.
Oh the little motherfucker-- "Oh no, no no," you warn, trying to scootch back out of snatching range, "don't even think about it, fuckstick--"
Dean's arms lock around you and down you go into the drink.
You come up sputtering. "Fuck you Winchester!" You catch up as he swims away and the two of you spend a productive few minutes behaving like five year olds on an Red Bull high.
---
Later, after receiving a stern dressing-down from the hotel's night manager and a solemn promise to remember you're adults, you two slosh to your rooms. Outside his door Dean yawns. "Honey? Y'know I'm kinda tired-- I've been driving all day and I didn't sleep good last night--"
You put your hands on your hips. "If this is your way of telling me you're gonna lay there and make me do all the work," you toss your head and turn on your heel, "good night, Winchester."
Whaddaya know, he's magically not tired anymore. With almost economical grace, he unlocks his door with one hand, yanks you off your feet with the other, and the two of you land inside his room with a splat.
---
The next morning after a raid on the breakfast buffet, you join your boys outside as they wait for the valet.
"Those pillows, right?" Dean gushes. "The little chocolates that they put on? I mean, I'm ruined, Sam. Those limey sons of bitches ruined me. I even took a swim."
"You brought a swimsuit?" Sam asks.
"Nope," you tell him.
"Ugh. He didn't," Sam groans.
"Yep. How was your night? Sleep okay?" you ask.
"Yeah. Full king size bed," Sam says, looking a bit dreamy. For a guy of Sam's height, that's not a small matter. "I read through more of Mick's lore books-- listen to this, it's crazy. So apparently, back in the '30s, they were working on this treatment for werewolves. This, like, blood therapy."
"Plasma therapy," Mick corrects, joining you with his ever-present briefcase. "Useless, I'm afraid. So how were your accommodations?"
Dean the Grouch is back. "I've had better night's sleep in my Baby." Taking the keys from the valet and slipping him a tip, Dean grumbles, "Get in. Let's go." As you join Mick in the backseat, you hear him say to Sam sotto voce, "Not gonna give him the satisfaction."
Mick looks over at you. Unlike the men, you're in work clothes layered up for the outdoors, a stocking cap covering your head. "Four FBI agents are a bit much," you say. "I'm gonna look at the attack site and see if rabid Lassie left any sign. See if we're dealing with a lone wolf or a pack."
"Good thinking," Mick says. "If the police are still there?"
"Yeah, here," Sam says, passing an ID wallet back to you. "Hot off the press."
"Thank you." You flip it open and see your own face scowling back at you under a badge. "If anybody asks, I'm Daria Fleetwood, Wisconsin DNR."
---
Nobody asks, and the crime scene is empty when you get there. It's also pretty thoroughly trampled over. Walking carefully, you examine likely hiding places, spots in the trees where someone could observe without being seen. You find tracks from a woman's square-heeled boot, and snagged on a bramble branch you find a strand of hair. Long, fine, shining gold in the winter sunlight. You're pretty sure it belongs to the person crunching around like they've got lead in their shoes, circling you slowly and staying almost out of your sightline. Another werewolf come to the scene, checking up on the cops or just to have a gloat?
When you hear a hammer click back you swing and catch the stalker's arm, twisting their weapon our of their hand and pointing it straight back at them. Yep, there's the head that produced that strand of golden hair. The head belongs to a-- "Jesus Christ, what are you twelve?" you blurt.
Striking blue eyes glare at you. "You're not a cop. What are you doing out here?"
"Hunting a werewolf," you say easily, playing a hunch, "same as you."
Hunch pays off, as Blondie's face goes slack with shock for just a second. She also looks . . . familiar? Something about how her mouth shapes itself when she frowns and the deep blue of her eyes. "There's no such thing as werewolves."
"Uh-huh," you say. "Tell you what-- when I unload this revolver, if I don't find silver I'll buy you a good steak dinner. Is it a bet?" Blondie deflates, puffing out a disgusted sigh. "That's what I thought." You uncock the weapon, open the cylinder, and dump the bullets into your hand. Silver rounds all right. You flick the cylinder back shut and offer the weapon, butt first.
Blondie takes it and stuffs it into a shoulder holster under her coat. "Who are you?"
You introduce yourself, taking the handful of bullets and make sure the kid can see the silver touching your skin. "See? No pain, no blisters. Not a werewolf. Hold out your hand." You dump the bullets into her outstretched palm and note the lack of reaction. As your new friend tucks them into her pocket, her phone rings. "Put it on speaker when you answer," you tell her, and it's not a request.
"Fuck you," she says. An Alpha’s snarl, and a strong Alpha scent of vanilla and cinnamon.
"Not into girls. Do it."
Rolling her eyes like she just can't even, the kid digs into another pocket. "Agent Beatrice Quimby."
"Oh thank God," Dean's voice comes over the speaker in a thick Canadian accent and you bite your lips to keep from giggling. "There's a bear, it's the size of a freaking TANK! I think it wants my pick-a-nick basket!"
The kid does that eye roll thing again. "Hi Dean."
"Hi Dean," you echo and the kid's jaw actually drops. "How'd it go at the hospital?"
"Um . . ." you grin. Rare to catch your Alpha off his feet. "It went okay, until Hayden's mother said she got shaken down by a blonde claiming to be Fish and Wildlife. Know anything about that Claire?"
And that's how you meet Claire Novak.
---
"Claire what are you doing here?" Sam asks as you flop on the loveseat next to Dean. You lean into each other, just for a moment. Wolves touching noses, taking in each others' scents.
"Same as you. Werewolf case," she says, trying to play it cool and missing by a few inches.
"She pulled a pistol on me when I was looking over the crime scene," you explain.
There's the eye roll. "Yeah, real impressive-- I had you cold," she scoffs, trying to get a little dignity back.
She's not going to get it back from you. "No you didn't. I heard you stomping around the whole time. Credit for at least wanting to make sure before you took your shot."
Claire scowls, and yeah, you can see the resemblance, see Castiel’s vessel in the shape of her mouth and her beautiful blue eyes. "So. You bring your girlfriend on Hunts now Dean?"
"Watch it kid, I've been Hunting since before you were born," you warn her. “You really should have your hair tied up and covered if you're in country."
Mick arrives from the bar with two hands full of bottles. "Beers all around," he says.
"Who're you?" Claire asks. Manners were clearly not part of whatever training she's had.
"Oh-- Mick Davies. Men of Letters. British." He offers his hand and, looking thoroughly nonplussed, Claire shakes.
"Long story," Dean says at her quizzical look. "And like, Downton Abbey boring, so . . ." as Claire reaches for a beer Dean plucks it from her hand. Holy hell how old is this kid?
"Okay," Claire sighs. "Anyway, I've been on this a day. And guess what? The girl, Hayden? Her story about what happened the night of attack? One big lie."
"Her mom said the same thing," Sam confirms.
“Where was she?” Dean asks.
“She was at the local dive bar, getting trashed. It’s about half a mile from where she got attacked. I tracked her phone and asked around and--" she grins at the grownups around the table. “Bartenders love me. It’s a gift.”
“What’d they tell you?” you ask.
“The guy I talked to was a scumbag. Tribal tat, motorcycle, grabby,” Claire continues.
Dean’s jaw goes tight. “’Grabby?’”
Patiently, Claire says, “I'm a big girl. I handled it.”
“What about the hospital? How’s Hayden,” you ask.
“She’s a little knocked about but she’ll be all right,” Mick reports. “She said she heard her brother scream, and when she ran towards him she was ambushed by a large man wearing black clothes and a mask.” Mick glances over at a giant clock decorated with elk horns. “Right. Think I’m gonna call it a night.”
Glancing at his watch, Sam notes, “Dude, it's 5:30.”
“Yeah,” Mick replies, “but my report's due at 6:00 sharp. All work, no play.” To Claire he gives a distracted smile. “Nice meeting ya.”
“So,” Claire observes when Mick’s safely out of earshot, “your foreign exchange student’s totally lame.”
“Yeah. He's Sam's best friend,” Dean tells her, ignoring Sam’s bitchface and exasperated sigh. “They’re like nerd soul mates.”
"We're hoping he's trainable," you say.
"Anyway," Sam changes the subject, "why are you alone?"
"Jody's busy with sheriff stuff. And she said to call if I found anything." Right. Your big sister instincts say Lie.
Sam sees it too. "So you called her."
"You called first," Claire says. "And she's great, by the way. And so is Alex. So," she changes the subject back, "should we go to the morgue?"
"Take it easy, Clarice. Morgue's closed," Dean says.
"By the way," Sam says, looking the girl up and down, "when's the last time you had a hot meal that didn't come from a Gas-n-Sip microwave?"
"Not that there's anything wrong with that," Dean says.
"It's been a while," Claire admits.
"Well--" Dean hands Claire a menu. "Go nuts. It's on, uh, Harry Potter."
"Cool," Claire says with a laugh.
"And when's the last time you slept in a bed? One you didn't have to worry about tiny livestock in the mattress?" you ask. "I got a suite I'm not using and this hotel has a laundromat. You can get a tubsoak, do your wash."
"Hell yeah," Claire says. But then she thinks it through a little and gives you and Dean a look. "Ew. Seriously?"
---
"Swanky," Claire observes, unshouldering her duffel.
"Yeah," you say. "Pro tip-- never pass up an opportunity to do laundry." You toss Claire a pill bottle full of quarters. She catches it easily. Good reflexes.
"Yeah whatever," she scoffs.
You give her a look. "And learn how to say thank you. Believe it or not this job runs on relationships."
"You know," oh fuck, you gave her something to get pissed at, "I'm really damn sick of people lecturing me on how to do my job. Especially after they steal my gigs."
"We didn't steal shit," you counter. "And people are more likely to treat you like an adult when you behave like one. Hayden's mom had you pegged for a phony the minute you opened your mouth. You're lucky she's too worried about her kid to report you to the cops."
"Right. I'm gonna take advice from Dean Winchester's breeder."
In three easy moves, you've got Claire on the floor with a knee in her back and her arm twisted up to her shoulderblades. "Watch your fucking mouth, girlie-o. I've been taking down scarier things than a mouthy Alpha teenager since you were in diapers."
"Let me go!" Claire cries.
"No. You're going to calm down, you're going to apologize, and you're going to get in the habit of listening when someone's giving you friendly advice. Sam and Dean might have reservations about giving you some wall-to-wall counseling. I do not." You jerk her wrist up to emphasize your point.
Claire's not a complete idiot. When she realizes she's staying put until you let her up, she goes still. "All right," she surrenders. "All right, I'm sorry."
"Sorry for what?"
"I'm sorry for calling you a breeder."
"And?"
"What?"
"And 'I promise to listen when people are trying to help me be better at my job, because people care about me and don't want me to fucking die.'" That's the rub, you know. Claire's got the same problem the boys have; somewhere they picked up the rock-solid belief that they don't matter enough to care about. In spite of all possible evidence to the contrary.
Claire struggles with all her strength. When she runs out, she lays panting underneath you. "All right," she says again. "Fine. I promise to listen when people are helping me, because they care about me and they don't want me to fucking die. Happy now?"
"Provisionally," you say, letting go of her arm and getting to your feet.
Glaring at you with every bit the fool's pride one might expect of a young Alpha, Claire rolls over and stands. Still, there's a glimmer of intelligence under the attitude. Whatever else she might be, she's a survivor. "How did you do that?"
"Your contempt for Omegas," you answer. "You assumed I wouldn't get physical with you, because of your age, my designation, and the fact that you're friends with my mate. Here's another pro tip-- allowing contempt to rule your judgement will get you killed one day. The Omega," you point at yourself, "got the drop on you twice. If the werewolf we're tracking has any experience with Hunters at all, you're meat."
"Wait-- mate?" Claire asks.
You show her the marks. "Mate."
Claire's attitude recedes and she stares at you. At your buzzed hair and ratty turtleneck. You stare right back. "Wow," she says, with a little laugh. "Just-- wow. Dean Winchester the turbo-slut--"
"Watch it kid or get real used to the taste of floor."
"Sorry," she says, not sounding very sorry. "Is the lecture over?"
"One more thing," you say. "The day you stop learning how to do your job better, write out your will and your If And When letters."
You head to the bathroom and strip out of your work clothes and put on some shorts and a tank top. You weren't kidding about taking every opportunity to do laundry. When you come out, Claire's sitting on the bed sorting her clothes. Her eyebrows go up when she sees you. More specifically, when she sees your scars. You look down at yourself, and up to meet her eyes. "Ask if you want to know."
"Okay," she says, so you give her the scar tour. The insouciance fades a little with every mark you point out, until she's listening raptly. You tell her about Peg, about those first times in the field when you were so scared you threw up every night and barely slept. "In retrospect I grew up pretty sheltered," you say. “I was a tomboy when I was a kid but I wasn't prepared to hunt things that could hunt me back."
"Yeah," Claire says. She tips her head to one side and you can see faint white puncture marks. "Vampire. He was targeting Alex and took Jody and me as bait."
You nod. "I'd show you my bite mark but I was tied up and the fucking pervert took it from my femoral artery." You point to a spot high on your inner thigh, covered by your shorts. "I almost bled out. Thank God, Francois got me to a medic in time. Three units of B-neg, a shitload of Sprite, and two days bed rest. Fuck vampires."
"Yeah," Claire says, lighting up with a laugh. "Fuck vampires."
---
And that's how the evening goes. You and Claire do your laundry together, talking a little when the mood takes you or sitting quietly, you reading the local paper and Claire messing around on her phone. She's a charming girl when she drops the attitude, and you can tell she's craving the company. Sam and Dean join you just after you put your clothes in the dryer. You take control of the TV and tune in to the local news. The attack is being chalked up as a wolf attack, with no mention of Benjamin Foster's missing heart.
"Still think we should've hit the morgue," Claire grumbles.
"You've already been made," you point out. "You get caught breaking and entering, that's attention we could do without."
"She's right," Sam says around a yawn. "The body will still be there in the morning."
"Just because you old farts need your sleep--"
"Hey!" Dean says, stung.
"Who said anything about sleep?" you say, grabbing Dean by his shirt and hauling him to his feet. You snag your bag of clean laundry on the way by.
"Totally whipped," is Claire's judgement call.
"Oh yeah?" Dean bends you backwards and lays one of those full-bodied, take-no-prisoners kisses that sends you from zero to slicked-up mess in ten seconds.
"Are they always like this?" you vaguely hear Claire ask Sam.
"Jesus Christ yes," Sam groans.
---
What started as an attempt to put Claire’s nose out of joint turns into something else PDQ. In Dean’s room, shirts fly everywheres. “Please baby,” you pant into Dean’s mouth. He hasn’t let go of your lips for more than little sips of air.
“Yes,” Dean grunts. He winds his arms around you and balances you just right as you hop and wrap your legs around him. Whoever told you your libido would ebb after bonding lied. Oh how they fucking lied.
Yelling as your claws cut into his back, Dean tears at your shorts until they’re reduced to scraps and elastic strings. You fumble his belt apart and his pants open, totally deaf to Dean’s plea to hold on a second. His cock hardens to steel in your hand, like an animal you can command. “Good cock,” you pant.
“I got a good cock?” Dean pants back, laughing.
“Best cock,” you tell him. “So fuck me with your good cock.”
“Hell yes, I’m gonna fuck you with my good cock,” Dean tells you, falling on the bed with a whuff of pillow top and billowy duvet. “Gonna fuck your good pussy with my good cock."
You toss your head back as he suits action to words, shoving into you thick and hot. Dean’s lips are everywhere, caressing every little bit of your face including your eyelids and up into your buzzed hair. You arch back into the mattress. God, the perfect deep fuck of your mate inside you. He sucks at the fang cuts over your mating gland and you yell and hope to God the Wild Elk Lodge has good soundproofing or Mick’s getting an earful.
“Not gonna last,” Dean says and yeah, his eyebrows are kinked the way they get when he’s already riding the edge.
“’Sokay,” you tell him, “gimme your fucking knot Alpha, I want it, give it to me already.”
Dean takes a second to rebrace himself and catch his breath. “Hang on honey,” he grunts, and you hang on.
---
You're in the shower the next morning when a text comes over both yours and Dean's phones. A second later, you hear Dean swear. "What is it?" you ask, peeking around the shower curtain.
"Hayden. She's dead."
"What? How?"
"Don't know. Sam just hung up with the doctor. They don't know cause of death yet."
You rinse, dry, and head for your room. You use your keycard and find Claire still dead asleep. "Hey Novak, up and att’em." You show her the text as she blinks awake. To her credit she's alert in a snap and reaching for her clothes.
"Here." You hand her an eyeshadow palette in pale browns and a fistful of bobby pins. For your part, you throw on a silk blouse and trousers and complete the look with a brunette wig.
Claire looks you over and nods her approval. "Very soccer mom."
"Thank you." Your Glock goes in the holster at the small of your back. Throwing on a jacket, you hold the door for Claire as she steps into a pair of low pumps and heads out. She did a good job; the neutral makeup and business casual ages her up a few years, turning her from a high school student to a twentysomething professional woman who takes good care of her skin.
The guys are already waiting between the Chevy and Claire's little rustbucket. "Ladies," Mick greets you.
"Morning. What do we know?" you ask.
"Not much," Sam says. "She was recovering well yesterday, but around one in the morning her mom found her body."
"Jesus," you say.
"Yeah,” Sam agrees. “But here's the weird part-- her room was torn up. Somebody knocked over the IV pole, Hayden's body was on the floor, the window was cracked."
"What the hell?" Claire says.
"You know that's a wonderful question," you say.
---
"Thanks for coming by so quickly," Dr. LaPere says. "Ms. Foster gave us your number."
With the five of you, the room feels uncomfortably crowded. Thank God, the staff is so harried they don't question the abundance of officers of the law outside what's supposed to be their jurisdiction.
Hayden, a lovely brunette in life, lies pale and cold on a gurney. Your heart twists with pity. Three days ago, her mother had two children.
"You have any idea what happened to her?" Dean asks
Dr. LaPere sighs. "Autopsy's tomorrow, but it could be an arterial embolism, cardiac arrest."
You frown. "She's a little young for heart issues."
"It gets weirder. When we admitted her, she had defensive wounds to her arms. Now . . ." he lowers the blanket covering Hayden from the chest down and picks up one of her arms, "they're gone." The doctor's beeper goes off. He glances at it, frowns, and says, "Just give me a second."
"Of course," you say as he leaves. The door whuffs shut behind him.
You all wait until you're sure he's out of earshot. Claire goes first. "Okay seriously now-- what the hell?"
Dean looks over at Mick. "You checked Hayden out. Did you notice anything weird?"
"No," Mick says, "but, uh, the girl could've had internal injuries or . . ."
"But somehow, her external injuries all healed?" Sam says. "No way. This is almost like, uh . . ." He thinks a second. "You know, what if she turned?"
"What, like, 'wolfed out' turned?" Dean asks.
"Explains the whole Wolverine healing factor thing," Claire says. You're looking at Mick when she says that, and you frown at the furtive look in his eyes. Something ain't right there.
Dean sees it too. "Yeah, no, but that'd be crazy because that means she would've been bit. And Mick here says that that didn't happen. Right, Mick?"
"Uh . . . uh, no, not-- not that I saw." You and the boys exchange a glance. Right, that's not suspicious at all. Neither is the thing you see on the dead girl's chest, out of everyone else’s sight line. You don't point it out. See how the situation develops.
"Are you a hundred percent sure?" Sam asks.
"Unless I made a mistake," Mick confesses.
"Hell of a mistake," Dean says.
"Dean . . ." Sam begins.
"No, I told you we shouldn't have dragged him along. I told you!" Dean snaps.
"Don't!" Everyone in the room turns to look at Claire. She glares back, an equal amongst colleagues. "Whatever got Hayden is still out there."
"She's right," you say. "So the night of the attack, the wolf kills the brother for his heart, nails Hayden, and then, what, runs for the hills?"
"That doesn't make any sense. Maybe he let her go," Sam thinks out loud.
"On purpose? Why?" Claire asks.
"Perhaps he didn't want her dead," Mick chips in. "He wanted her turned."
"Right. Which means this wasn't random," Sam adds the next bead.
"Which means it would've been somebody who knew her," Dean ties it off. "Friends, family."
"Or someone from the bar," Claire adds.
"Okay," Dean says, taking command. "All right, Sam-- you and Claire, you go talk to the girl that she was supposed to be crashing with, and us and amateur hour will hit the bar, see what shakes loose."
---
Outside, Sam takes a look at Claire’s ride and sighs. You hide a smile. The poor man's gonna have to ride with his knees up around his ears in that thing. You pull your bag of spare clothes out of Baby's trunk and, crouched down in the seat to avoid prying eyes, swap your blouse for a turtleneck and your blazer for your denim jacket. Just a blue collar slob on her day off looking to have a drink or five. A stocking cap goes over your wig.
"Dean," Mick says as the three of you walk up to the bar's front door, "what happened back there . . . my mistake, it won't happen again."
Dean’s not in a conciliatory mood. "Better not." He hangs back as Mick reaches for the door, only to see Mick pull his arm back with a grimace. "Problem?"
"The old carpal tunnel," he says, clenching and shaking out a fist.
"Well, allow me, your lordship," you say, pulling the door open. "I'm gonna hang back, do a circle of the building."
Mick thanks you and walks through the door, but you stop Dean as he turns to follow. "I saw a needle stick in the middle of Hayden’s chest," you mutter.
"I knew it," Dean growls, just as low. "I fucking knew it."
"Play it cool for now," you say. "We'll put him through the wringer later."
With a nod, Dean goes inside. You do a lap around the building, but nothing jumps out at you. You do catch sight of surveillance cameras covering the front parking area and the back alley. Going inside, you ignore Dean and Mick grilling some tattooed jackass and belly up the bar. From the nervous look on the bartender's face, he's already spent a few minutes getting a Dean Winchester Special Glare. "Vodka and cranberry juice, please." You glance at the patron beside you and get out your phone. "Hi. Ever seen this girl around?"
The canvass is a bust and the manager's not in, so no looking at the security camera footage. Frustrated and disgusted with yourself, you wait outside for the guys to finish up.
They're only a few minutes. "Found the guy Hayden'd been seeing on the sly," Dean reports. "Total douchebag. Definitely fits the profile."
"Did you get a chance to slip him some silver?" you ask.
"No, we're gonna have to do that later."
"So that's the plan? Come back tonight?" Mick asks.
"Yeah. Nice work in there, by the way," Dean says.
"Thank you," Mick replies.
"Yeah, that alibi-- I almost bought it," Dean says.
"Sorry?"
"Gun," Dean tells you. Quick as thought you snatch Mick's weapon from the small of his back and Dean arm-bars him against the nearest wall. "See, here's the thing about sixteen year old girls, especially sixteen year old freshly minted werewolf girls-- they don't just die. And you've been acting sketchy all day."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
You jab Mick in the shoulder and he yelps in pain. "Care to explain why the needle stick from her IV was gone, but not the needle stick in her heart?"
The uncertainty and little-kid dread falls away. Mick straightens his back and looks Dean in the eye for the first time all day. "I did what needed to be done."
"And that means?" Dean asks.
You grab Mick's injured shoulder and squeeze. "Answer him, Mr. Davies."
"Last night, I injected her with silver nitrate," he confesses, groaning in pain.
"So you killed her?" Dean demands. "She never hurt anybody and you killed her."
"Well, she attacked me," Mick defends himself. "She tore up my shoulder. And . . . I had orders."
"No. You had a choice," you say.
"Did I?" Mick demands. "Killing monsters is what we do. Or maybe palling around with demons and witches, you've forgotten."
"Don't you dare tell us how to do our job," you growl.
"Well, then do it," Mick says.
"You really think it's that fucking simple?"
Mick glares at you. "I really do."
"Yeah?" Dean asks. "I used to think the same thing. Well, here's a little tip. Things aren't just black and white out here. All you have is a case in front of you, like Hayden. A few months ago, there was this kid, this psychic. She was killing people, but she didn't mean to hurt anyone-- she was being abused and she was trying to call out for help! So we gave her a second chance because it was the right thing to do."
Mick retorts, "Well . . . that's your luxury. We have a Code."
"And just where does the saving people half of Hunting figure into that Code?" you ask. "Is that a priority or a happy side effect? Because that's not what we're trying to do here."
"And now Hayden's mom, she gets to bury two kids instead of one, thanks to you and thanks to your Code," Dean wraps it all up. "Nice work."
Dean's phone rings as you take shotgun. "It's Sam," he says. "You're on speaker."
Sam tells you.
---
Soaked with sweat and moaning in pain, Claire thrashes on the bed. You check her temperature with the back of one hand. "Fuck, she's burning up. Go fill the tub, we gotta get her fever down."
"No no," Mick corrects you, grabbing the extra blanket from the room's couch. "Keep her warm."
"Back off," Sam snarls at him, using his Alpha voice
"Look, I understand you're angry--"
"You killed a kid," Sam says, and oh hell, you can see the points of his fangs. Mick sees them too, and you can tell he's fighting not to cringe. Fucking Omega reflexes. "We're not angry-- we're done."
Holding herself and shaking, Claire asks, "How long have I got until--"
"It varies," you tell her. "Sometimes it takes a full moon. Sometimes it just takes time."
"Hey," Dean says softly, kneeling in front if the young Alpha. "Listen to me, Claire. Nobody said this was gonna be easy, okay? But you can live with this."
Claire shakes her head. "No way."
"Hey, look at me." When he has her undivided attention, he says, "So you have to stay locked down for a few nights out of the month. The rest of the time, you're you."
"Unless I break out," Claire says as you're thinking it. "Maybe some people can control this," her voice breaks on a sob, "but I can barely keep it together on a good day. So if there's any chance I could hurt Jody or Alex, or anyone, I'd rather die."
You heart breaking, you sit next to Claire and take her in your arms. She buries her face in your neck and scents you. You do your best to keep yourself soft, nurturing, not-scary, an older mated Omega offering comfort.
"Claire, there may be another way," Sam says, his words tripping over each other the way they do when he's thinking and talking at the same time. "There's-- there's the blood therapy that you talked about."
"I told you," Mick says, "it doesn't work. "
"It says right here," Sam finds a passage in the book in front of him and points it out, reading out loud, "one out of nine test subjects was cured. "
"Cured?" Claire asks.
"That study was on mice!"
Dean stalks towards Mick, and yeah, his protective Alpha mode is fully engaged. "You want to tell me what the hell he's talking about?!?"
Mick gulps. "We experimented with the blood of sire werewolves. And we found it was possible to reverse the early stages of lycanthropy. In rodents."
"So you never moved on to human trials," you say.
"Once," Mick reports.
"And?" you ask.
"The subject died, in agony. Sorry," he says to Claire, and to his credit he sounds like he means it.
"Yeah, well. Maybe second time's a charm," she says.
"Hey, no, no-- you don't get a vote in this," Dean tries to head the whole idea off.
"It's my life," Claire counters, her tone brooking no argument. "I get all the votes."
"You guys wanna back me up here?" Dean asks.
“Claire’s a grown woman and a Hunter," you answer your mate. "She's the one who gets to say whether or not this is an acceptable risk."
“She’s right,” Sam adds.
Outnumbered, Dean turns his anger on Mick. "I bet you think this is a great solution. Hmm? It works, or she dies. Either way one less monster, right?"
The human being Mick Davies actually is says, "I don't think there's any great solutions here."
"Dean . . . please? I can't--" Claire moans
“All right,” Dean concedes. “If we do this-- if . . . how do we get it done?”
“We need blood. Live blood, from the werewolf that bit her,” Mick reports.
“Who we lookin' at?” Sam asks.
“Tribal tat, back at the bar,” Dean says. “We shook him down about Claire, and right after, she gets bit-- that's not a coincidence.”
“Timing works out. Connection to both victims,” you note.
“Then we should go,” Mick says. “The full moon rises in less than an hour, and if she turns and feeds, our cheery success rate drops to zero.”
You make as if to rise, but Claire grabs for you, whining softly. “Don’t.”
“It’s okay, I’ll stay right here, it’s okay, shh,” you sit back down and let Claire cling, humming under your breath.
“You trust him?” Sam asks, ticking his head at Mick.
“Mick's a smart guy,” Dean replies. “So when I say that if anything happens to her, and I mean anything--”
“You'll kill me.”
“No,” you tell him. “The boys will bury you.”
Claire peeks up from your neck. “Sam, if you're not back--"
“We’ll be back,” Sam swears.
---
Claire can't sit still, as the change really starts to dig into her. She keeps sitting down, getting up, pacing, sitting down again, clinging to you, shoving you away. Her pale skin bakes with fever and runs with sweat. Her scent shifts to something . . . defiled. Spoiling meat, old blood. Does her designation speed up the process or slow it down? You don't know. Everything you know and everything you can do is useless here, if the object is to preserve life the way you claim it is.
Claire spies Mick’s pistol on the coffee table. Mick sees it and gets to it first.
“You don't understand-- it's happening!” Claire wails. “Give it to me!”
“No,” you and Mick say together.
“Then you do it, please! It's happening! And you don't understand how this feels!”
Mick raises his weapon, and you draw on him. “Make a move asshole. Make a fucking move.”
He doesn’t even look at you. “I know a man who would shoot you right now without a moment's thought,” he says. “And every instinct I have says he's right. That I ought to do my duty.” Your finger tenses on the trigger. You bet you’re faster than he is. “But . . .” Mick’s arm sags, “but my instincts haven't been so grand of late. Sit down.” He notices you, and, making sure to move slowly and telegraph his movements clearly, tucks his pistol into the small of his back.
Claire moans, curling herself into a tight little ball. She looks awful, pale and in pain. “Hey, hey--" you say, rubbing her back. You look up at Mick. “Is there anything we can do for her?”
Mick digs in a suitcase and comes up with a tangle of thick canvas straps. “Firstly, we're gonna restrain you, right? For all of our protection. Okay?” He puts down the straps and picks up a brown glass vial.
“Woah woah woah-- what’ve we got there?” you demand.
“Animal tranquilizer. Xylazine, to be exact With any luck, when you wake up, this will all be over,” he tells Claire.
“If I wake up.” Tears roll down her ghost-pale cheeks. “I gotta call Jody. She's gonna be so mad at me.”
You kneel in front of her, the way Dean did. “Where do you keep your If And When letters?”
Claire sniffles. “What?”
“You’re a Hunter kiddo. It’s a good idea to keep your affairs in order. A will with your next of kin, and if you’ve got a final message for anyone, have it written out.”
She bursts into tears. You hold her and let her cry. You don’t judge. You did the same thing when Peg confronted you with that nugget of advice.
“That’s one hell of a thing to say to her,” Mick snarls at you.
You ignore him in favor of holding Claire. Moving her hair aside, you check the bite wound. The punctures are gone, without a trace. “Shut up and get the fucking straps.”
All three of you leap to your feet as the door bursts in, shattered to kindling.
“MICK NO!” you cry as he goes straight for the intruder, a big guy in a black hoodie and a skull mask. The guy pitches Mick right into you and you go down hard, your pistol flying out of your hand.
The guy advances on Claire. Slowly, he pushes back his hood and pulls off his mask. “Fuck me,” you groan. It’s the bartender from earlier, the one who looked like he’d just taken one in the nuts after getting grilled by Dean. You see your weapon over against the wall and start crawling for it, cussing. Mick’s unconscious body has your lower half pinned, and the fucker’s heavy. A hard sound of flesh and bone and Claire goes down in a flare of golden hair.
You finally fight your way free of Mick and snatch up your Glock. You get one shot off which grazes the guy’s ribs. Before you can fire again he smacks your gun hand to the side and snaps a big hand around your neck.
God you hate it when the bad guys do the Darth Vader thing-- the bartender stands and lifts you by the neck until your toes brush the carpet. “Fresh meat,” he snarls through a mouthful of fangs.
“’Et go,” you wheeze, clawing at his wrist as black sparkles wash across your vision.
---
You wake up in the trunk of a car, hogtied. Motherfucker did a good job of it too, the cords have no play at all and you can’t quite reach them with your claws. You can wiggle and inchy-worm and even turn over a little. And that’s all.
The car stops just as you wrap your fingers around the trunk release. “It’s all right, honey, the pain will pass,” the bartender says softly as he opens the passenger side door and pulls out a groaning Claire.
Maybe he’s leaving you in the trunk for now? Maybe you have enough time to creep away? No choice but to go for it; you twist and pull hard as you can on the release handle and the trunk lid pops up. Good. Great. Air. Smells like the paper mill that’s still operating outside of town.
“Aw no ya don’t.” Picking you up easily despite your struggles, the bartender hauls you inside a rundown little tract house on a long block of houses just like it. The other houses are dark, the driveways buried in snow and plowed in. No one around for miles likely to call the law at a scream or a stray gunshot.
Inside it’s your basic drunk bachelor crashpad, looks like a landfill and smells like a bottle return hasn’t been cleaned since Clinton was in office. The bartender drags you to a couch and dumps you on it. You see Claire tied to the support column between the kitchen and the living room, pale as milk and twitching in pain. “You okay Claire-ree?”
She shoots you an annoyed glare.
“Okay, stupid question,” you concede.
“Shut up! Don’t talk!” the bartender snaps, rushing around the place with a duffel bag and throwing in assorted bits of rickrack. Claire curls up as much as she can and groans. The bartender goes to her, caresses her face. “I know this is sudden, but you and your friends, you should've let me have Hayden. She was miserable here. She . . . we had big plans.”
“Yeah?” Claire asks. “Was that before or after you bit her?”
“I had to know if she could survive the change. Not everyone does.” Claire tosses in her bonds, crying out. The bartender nods. “See? It hurts at first, but eventually, it's like the best drug ever times a thousand.”
“Right. Eat me, Teen Wolf,” Claire snarls.
“It's not like I want to do this,” the bartender says. He pulls up a chair and sits backwards. “My pack, we were happy. We didn't hurt anyone. And then hunters with weapons that I've never seen before, they show up and take out 20 of us, just like that. The ones that made it, we split up, but we weren't meant to live like that. A werewolf needs his pack. You'll see. I'm a nice guy."
"You know who says they're a nice guy?" Claire retorts. "Clingy, insecure bitches with mommy issues."
"The lady is wise beyond her years," you say.
"That's just the change talking. You'll feel better once you've had something to eat." He glares down at you. "I was gonna take you with us, nice juicy Omega. But you're mated, so we'll have to kill your mate first. It's one of them isn't it? One of those guys?"
"Oh you mean the guys who think of killing things like you as exercise? You're dead, boy, and my mate knows how to make dying last for-fucking-ever."
"She's not kidding," Claire adds. "I saw what happens when you rub Dean Winchester the wrong way. He was outnumbered five to one, and when it was over the other guys were in pieces."
"We don't have time to eat fresh," the bartender says. "I'm sorry, we'll have to save her for later." He heads for the refrigerator and pulls out a heart wrapped in Saran wrap. "You'll feel better once you eat something."
"Claire look at me," you say as the bartender peels the wrap off and pries Claire's jaws open.
"Try it," the bartender coaxes, shoving the heart in her open mouth. "You'll like it. Nothing better than human." He shoves harder and you fight to keep from throwing up at the sound of raw meat tearing apart. "As soon as I saw you, I knew . . . you're just like me. Alone. "
Claire hawks back, and spits the bits of torn tissue and blood right back into the bartender's face.
"Good girl!" you shout.
"Wrong," she tells the bartender. "I have a family, and they love me."
"Damn right we do," you add.
Yelling at you to shut up, the bartender drops his claws and fangs. But before he can make a move on you, Claire snaps the ropes around her like they're not even there and hits him from behind. Her fangs are down and her eyes have gone yellow, and superstrength comes as naturally to her as breathing.
The bartender's taller and almost twice her mass though, and it doesn't take long before he has her pinned to the floor. Almost the exact same way you did . . . God, yesterday.
"Claire look at me," you order. "Look at me!" Claire's terrified yellowed eyes lock with yours. "We are not the same as the things we hunt," you tell her, making every word distinct. "You hear me? We are not the same, and we must fight, every minute of every day, to prevent becoming so."
"Please, and you're so fucking civilized," the bartender sneers. "You kill helpless people that never hurt anybody, and in your world we're the monsters."
"You killed an eighteen year old boy, for meat," you retort. "Shove your moral judgements up you ass."
And that's when the door caves in, driven by a kick from Sam. Sam hits the bartender with a full body slam and they both go flying into a wall with a crunch. Dean's right behind him with a knife, and when he sees you he cuts you free with a few neat slices.
"You okay?" he asks.
"Fine. See to Claire," you say, working blood and feeling back into your numb limbs.
Dean helps Claire to her feet. "Claire?" Her head comes up, her mouth full of wolf fangs and her eyes shining gold and round. "Hey, easy, come on--"
She throws him into the wall. You leap onto her back but she grabs your arm and flips you to the floor. You roll out of the way just in time to avoid a punishing kick.
"Woah woah woah woah! Take it easy--" Dean tries again, deflecting a few clawing swipes. She manages a good one across his leg. Dean's trying his damndest to defend himself without hurting her but Claire's out of control and she's fast.
You grab a rope from the floor and throw it over her head, stopping just shy of enough force to choke her. You make yourself ignore her cries and hang on. "Guys--"
In the corner of your eye you see the bartender go down and Sam land on his back. "MICK, HURRY!"
Producing a syringe from God knows where, Mick stabs it into the bartender's back. The bartender whiplashes his head back, catching Sam in the nose and knocking him out cold. Mick grabs him in a sleeper hold but the bartender throws him off before Mick can get a good grip.
Claws rake over your side as Claire twists enough to reach, and you lose your grip. "HEY!" Dean shouts, and when Claire turns her attention that way Dean says, "Sorry kid," and lays her out with a punch in the jaw. The bartender lunges for Dean, and two gunshots ring out. The bartender drops, dead before he hits the floor.
Mick holsters his weapon and plucks the ampule full of blood off the bartender's back. "Find a vein," he snaps at you as he pulls a little zipper case out of his chest pocket.
"Right. Belt," you say to Dean and he yanks it off and hands it over. "Hold her down in case she comes to," and Dean rolls Claire to her back and drapes his torso over her hips. Sam's just coming around; he takes the situation in an eyeblink and holds down Claire's legs.
"She wanted this. Right?" Dean asks Sam.
"Oh yeah," Sam confirms.
You cinch Dean’s belt around Claire’s bicep. Thank God, Claire's got nice big veins. She's just starting to moan her way back to consciousness when Mick slips the needle in and injects the cure.
Claire's eyes blink wide. Her body convulses and everybody leaps away. Screaming in pain, she rolls to her knees and curls up in a tight little kowtow.
---
It goes on like that for the rest of the night. Dean sits backwards in one of the café chairs, blood crusted on his shredded pant leg. Sam gets out the scuffle with some bruised ribs and a monster headache. Mick's still favoring one arm from earlier and he's sporting a hell of a shiner. All three men look pale as cream, watching Claire writhing on the couch. You're bathing her forehead with cool washcloths and letting her scent your wrist. No idea if it's helping or making things worse, but you don't want her to feel you leaving.
"How long does this process take?" you ask Mick.
"I don't know!" he whisper-screams at you. "It could take hours or days!" You bite your lips to keep from asking, if Mick brought the tranquilizers and the silver nitrate. If this doesn't work you're going to do what you can to make sure Claire passes painless, going to sleep and never waking up.
Dean abruptly gets to his feet, muttering something about needing air. You could hate him in that moment, you really could. An Alpha has the luxury of display, you recall from the one comportment class your mother forced on you. An Omega must be made of sterner stuff.
Claire arches back as every muscle in her body seizes. She howls, long and agonal, and slumps back on the couch cushions.
You rest your fingers over Claire’s pulse. “Her heartbeat’s really irregular,” you report.
Mick nods. “Stand by to start chest compressions,” he says.
“Wait,” you say. Her jaw and mouth are shifting, subtly. “Claire?” you ask, as Sam yells for Dean and Dean bursts in through the ruined door. “Claire-ree, can you hear me? C’mon, open up those baby blues for us.”
Claire’s eyes flutter open. Pure blue, deep lakes and Midwestern skies. “You guys look like crap,” she croaks.
“You look worse,” you retort, and you and Claire share a painful little laugh.
---
With the resilience of the young, Claire’s back on her feet after a few hours sleep and a solid breakfast. “That girl is a walking miracle,” Mick notes the next morning as Claire stuffs her gear into her car.
“In many ways,” you agree. You and Claire had drunk a couple beers and gotten to talking as you'd worked together cleaning and dressing the claw marks on your side, the kind of girl talk you suspect she wouldn’t be comfortable having with the boys. In the process she’d told you about letting Castiel possess her, and watching her father begging to take her place. You’re still not sure how you feel about that; Cas is your brother now, but . . .
“Listen, uh,” Dean says to Mick, and you put away your brooding for now. “Thanks for the win back there.”
“So,” Mick says, sounding a little bit hopeful, “we’re good?”
“Not quite, but we’ll give you a second chance,” Sam replies.
“Just don’t fuck it up. There won’t be a third,” Dean adds.
“Okay,” Mick accepts.
“And we’re gonna want to know more about this Code,” you say.
Before Mick can formulate a response, Claire comes over. “Hey.”
“Hey. How you feeling?” Sam asks.
Claire smiles. She really is breathtakingly beautiful. “Honestly? I’m sort of craving a Milk Bone right now.” She swallows. “Look, um . . . what I said before . . . you guys are here when I need you, and that’s all that matters.”
“You gonna tell Jody what happened?” you ask.
“I don’t know,” Claire admits. You bite back your opinions; Claire already knows them and this isn’t the time for an argument. You stand by your remarks to Dean. Claire's a grown woman and has the right to decide how much she shares of her life.
“Well whatever you decide, we got your back,” Dean tells her. He opens his arms and Claire steps into them, letting him hold her close. Sam does the same; she looks tiny in his embrace. They’d make wonderful fathers, your boys, and it’s viciously unfair they’ll never get the chance.
You put your hand on Claire’s shoulder. She turns and throws her arms around you. “Here,” you hand her a card. “Anything you need, call me-- backup, expertise, someone to bitch to besides law enforcement.”
“I will,” Claire promises.
She looks over at Mick, who’s hanging back. She grabs him in a fierce hug. “Thank you,” she says.
Slowly, like a man who isn’t used to being touched, Mick’s arms go around her to hold her gently. “You’re very welcome, miss.” He touches the back of a knuckle to her cheek. “Take care of yourself Claire.”
“So!” Dean says as the four of you watch Claire get into her car, her phone held up to her ear, “that was fun.”
“’Bout as fun as a root canal,” you grumble. Baby growls up and the good guys pile in. “Homeward, Jeeves.”
---
“Oh God, fuck!” you cry out.
Dean’s beyond articulation, he's all animal grunts and moans. His hips snap into yours, burying all his cock inside you again and again. You force your knees apart so far you can feel tendons straining. Anything to get your mate closer, get more of him inside where he belongs.
As your arms collapse and your front end slumps over, Dean drags you upright. Those big, clever hands are everywhere. Everywhere he touches, the nerves fucking riot. If sex had ever felt anything near this good you don’t remember. You vaguely recall thinking, it was just a cycle, nothing you and Dean haven’t gone through already. You weren’t prepared for this. Your heat; it’s deeper, hungrier, now that it has a specific target. Not just Alpha. Your Alpha.
You cry out, “No!” when Dean suddenly withdraws.
“Wanna see your face,” he pants, flipping you onto your back. He pumps his cock once as he guides himself back to your soaked, slick pussy. You throw your legs up over his hips as he slides in, as he goes right back to fucking every single cell of your brains out. You cough out a giggle when Dean clonks his forehead to yours. “Shut up,” he heaves, holding your eyes to his with a hand on your jaw. They’re gleaming, the green deep and dark and beautiful.
You clamp yourself around Dean when you finally come, in a harsh burst of light and dark and just . . . force. Arms and legs and pussy, all of it holding him to you tight. “Oh baby,” you pant, almost weeping. That wasn’t a climax-- it was a fucking fusion explosion, the kind that ignites stars and sets galaxies whirling.
“Yeah,” Dean agrees, panting like he just got done sprinting around the world. “Yeah.” Careful of your knotted together bodies, Dean rolls to his back. You shiver as he shifts inside you. God you're so . . . blown away the aftershocks almost hurt.
You lie together in warmth and quiet, as Dean’s knot eventually collapses and your cunt lets him go. Dean fluffs at your cropped hair, making you giggle and kiss over his heart.
“It keeps getting better,” you say.
“Mmm?” Dean grunts.
“Every time,” you say. “I keep thinking, yep, this is the best sex I’ve ever had in my life. And it keeps getting better. How do you even do that?”
Gleaming with pride, Dean kisses you. “Grading on a curve?”
Giggling, you smack his arm. “Oh knock it off, your ego’s big enough.”
“I didn’t think it’d be like this either,” Dean says. “I mean, I thought-- I mean, the closest thing I ever had to, y’know, this, was Lisa. And . . . I . . .” Dean trails off, searching for words. “I cared about her, a lot. Wasn’t like this. Not even close.”
“She’s a Beta, right?” you ask. Dean’s nothing if not a considerate lover but there’s still physical challenges involved when a knot goes near a hole not designed for it.
“Yeah. And that’s-- it’s part of it, yeah.” Dean goes quiet, one hand warm on your back. You’re fine with quiet. Who wants to hear about The Ex four seconds after getting their world rocked to the molten core? “It wasn’t real though. Not really. I wasn’t . . . me, then. I wanted it to be. But . . . it didn’t fit right, you know? I thought-- I thought I could just . . . not be me, when I was with them.”
"What's so awful about being you?" you ask.
Dean recoils a little. "You're kidding right?"
You look into his face. "Dude it's not your fault the forces of evil want to take a bite out of your ass. Shit, I applaud their good taste."
Dean scowls. "That's not funny."
"It's a little funny."
"Not."
You sigh. "You're never gonna completely forgive yourself for that whole situation are you?"
"I shouldn't," Dean says. "I mean, I swore-- I caught Ben playing around with one of my shotguns once, and I swore-- I swore, as long as I was around he'd never shoot a gun. Then Sam calls and what do I go and do? I run off. If I'd really cared about him, I would've told Sam to stick it--"
You snort. "Yeah, that's never happening. Look," you say, and hope like hell you're not sticking your foot in your mouth, "if it hadn't been Sam it would've been something else. You can't . . . I don't think you could turn your back on the bad guys forever. That doesn't make you bad. Not being suited for normal doesn't make you a bad man, man. You did the best you could with the shit situation you got handed to you."
"So did Dad," Dean says. "And look how that turned out."
"Don't say that," you tell him. "You're not personally responsible for the shit state of the world and you did the best you could to mitigate the damage. Baby you gotta let the rest go. As much of it as you can anyway." You stretch up and kiss him, gently.
“Anyway, what I started to say was . . .” Dean trails off again. “Loving you . . . I mean, being in love with you . . . I mean, it feels like it’s something that just is. I don’t have to worry about who I am when I’m with you. Because who I am-- that guy loves you. I think he always did.”
“Referring to ourselves in the royal we now?” you tease. As the words leave your mouth though, a tear falls out of your eye and splats down onto Dean’s chest.
“Fuck, baby, don’t cry--”
“I’m not,” you sniffle. “Post-world-rocked blowback.”
“I rocked your world?”
“Knocked the building down. You’re a mighty mountain shaking Alpha of a man, Dean Winchester.”
That gets your face seized in a fierce kiss, Dean speaking with his body the way he does when the words won’t come. You answer him with yours as best you can, kissing along his jaw and down his neck. Love and family-- after years of living on the shallow sips of professional acquaintance, you’re knelt by an oasis drinking deep. Water and shade and flowers under the desert sun.
You smile against Dean’s mouth. Dammit, love’s making your flowery. But beneath the sweet metaphors and soft feelings is something hard and watchful, and it makes a decision right about the time Dean buries his head between your legs and has you for dessert.
---
In your experience, it’s always a table for two in a dim and quiet restaurant. The other person is always an older gentleman with courtly manners and dead eyes. He sips tea from a Russian style glass-in-metal cup. “You have been our friend for many years and never asked for anything in return. Then you ask for a very large favor and come to ask another.”
“That’s right.” Unnecessary talk isn’t welcome here. You’re an ally, not a confidant-- best for all concerned it stays that way.
The elderly gentleman takes a baranki as you decant more tea from the samovar on the table. The scent of citrus and sugar floats on the rising steam. “Steadfast friendship should be rewarded. Tell me what you need.”
You outline the situation, noting the lack of surprise in the elderly gentleman’s face. That could mean a lot of things though. Or it could mean nothing. The elderly gentlemen do not reveal their feelings, certainly not to you. “I need to know everything. Their leadership, their history. Their allies and their enemies. Assets and liabilities. Everything.”
“This is a very large favor,” the elderly gentleman notes again.
“Too large?” you ask.
“Perhaps. Perhaps not.” He studies you a moment, with the eyes of a scientist examining a cell as it dies on a microscope’s slide. “May I know why you agreed to collaborate with these . . . Men Of Letters if you do not trust them?”
“Because on the face of it, they’re right. Centralization and coordination would let us push back against the enemy in ways we can’t working alone. Honestly, I’m probably just being paranoid.”
“Your instincts have guided you true for many years now. They are worth listening to.” The elderly gentleman thaws, just a little. “You must love him very much.”
It’s a fact, that’s all. Peg’s friends need to know. “With every fiber of my being.”
The elderly gentleman nods. “We will do what we can for you. I must ask this-- does your mate know of your association with us?”
“He knows I have allies I haven’t told him about and that I do them favors,” you say. “I’ll have to tell him the rest someday.”
“You will warn us before you do.” It’s not a request and you nod. The elderly gentleman finishes his tea and rises, bending to kiss your cheeks. “Shchisleevava putee.”
“Spasibo. Do svidanya.”
You linger over your tea a while after he leaves. We must be what we are, else we become our enemies, another elderly gentleman had said to you once, the first time your impulse for pity backfired and people died. We are not the same as the things we hunt, and must fight every minute of every day to never become so, your own voice many times over the years-- in plea, in instruction, in explanation.
Your continued relations with the monstrous people is in service of an older, darker truth. One of the harsh things you and Dean share. The grease on the slippery slope, the bed under the road paved with good intentions.
There is nothing beneath me when it comes to protecting my family.
---
AN2: Russian: "Safe journey." "Thank you. Goodbye."
The Battle of Cassino was an attempt by the Allies to neutralize enemy positions around the historic Benedictine abbey on top of Monte Cassino, part of the larger campaign to capture Rome. To make a very long story short, it was a bloody affair that took four months and ended with roughly 75,000 total casualties. Allied forces finally captured the abbey on May 18, 1944. Rome itself fell on June 4.
Starting to go seriously AU, so the next installment might not be for a while. Don't worry, we're not done here. Not by a long shot.
#Dean Winchester/You#Dean Winchester/Reader#Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics#ABO#Omegaverse#AU#Dean Winchester#Sam Winchester#Alpha Dean Winchester#Omega You#Omega Reader#Alpha Sam Winchester#Episode References#S12E16 Ladies Drink Free#Mick Davies#Omega Mick Davies#British Men Of Letters#Claire Novak#Alpha Claire Novak#holler me home series#bj's fic library#supernatural
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26th January >> Mass Readings (Except USA)
Saints Timothy and Titus, Bishops
on
Friday, Third Week in Ordinary Time.
Friday, Third Week in Ordinary Time
(Liturgical Colour: White: B (2))
(Readings for the feria (Friday))
(There is a choice today between the readings for the ferial day (Friday) and those for the memorial. The ferial readings are recommended unless pastoral reasons suggest otherwise)
Either:
(The following reading is proper to the memorial, and must be used even if you have otherwise chosen to use the ferial readings)
First Reading 2 Timothy 1:1-8 Fan into a flame the gift God gave you.
From Paul, appointed by God to be an apostle of Christ Jesus in his design to promise life in Christ Jesus; to Timothy, dear child of mine, wishing you grace, mercy and peace from God the Father and from Christ Jesus our Lord.
Night and day I thank God, keeping my conscience clear and remembering my duty to him as my ancestors did, and always I remember you in my prayers; I remember your tears and long to see you again to complete my happiness. Then I am reminded of the sincere faith which you have; it came first to live in your grandmother Lois, and your mother Eunice, and I have no doubt that it is the same faith in you as well.
That is why I am reminding you now to fan into a flame the gift that God gave you when I laid my hands on you. God’s gift was not a spirit of timidity, but the Spirit of power, and love, and self-control. So you are never to be ashamed of witnessing to the Lord, or ashamed of me for being his prisoner; but with me, bear the hardships for the sake of the Good News, relying on the power of God who has saved us and called us to be holy.
The Word of the Lord
R/ Thanks be to God.
Or:
(The following reading is proper to the memorial, and must be used even if you have otherwise chosen to use the ferial readings)
First Reading Titus 1:1-5 To Titus, true child of mine.
From Paul, servant of God, an apostle of Jesus Christ to bring those whom God has chosen to faith and to the knowledge of the truth that leads to true religion; and to give them the hope of the eternal life that was promised so long ago by God. He does not lie and so, at the appointed time, he revealed his decision, and, by the command of God our saviour, I have been commissioned to proclaim it. To Titus, true child of mine in the faith that we share, wishing you grace and peace from God the Father and from Christ Jesus our saviour. The reason I left you behind in Crete was for you to get everything organised there and appoint elders in every town, in the way that I told you.
The following reading is proper to the memorial, and must be used even if you have otherwise chosen to use the ferial readings.
The Word of the Lord
R/ Thanks be to God.
Responsorial Psalm Psalm 95(96):1-3,7-8,10
R/ Proclaim the wonders of the Lord among all the peoples.
O sing a new song to the Lord, sing to the Lord all the earth. O sing to the Lord, bless his name.
R/ Proclaim the wonders of the Lord among all the peoples.
Proclaim his help day by day, tell among the nations his glory and his wonders among all the peoples.
R/ Proclaim the wonders of the Lord among all the peoples.
Give the Lord, you families of peoples, give the Lord glory and power; give the Lord the glory of his name.
R/ Proclaim the wonders of the Lord among all the peoples.
Proclaim to the nations: ‘God is king.’ The world he made firm in its place; he will judge the peoples in fairness.
R/ Proclaim the wonders of the Lord among all the peoples.
Gospel Acclamation Psalm 118:27
Alleluia, alleluia! Make me grasp the way of your precepts, and I will muse on your wonders. Alleluia!
Or: Matthew 11:25
Alleluia, alleluia! Blessed are you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, for revealing the mysteries of the kingdom to mere children. Alleluia!
Gospel Mark 4:26-34 The kingdom of God is a mustard seed growing into the biggest shrub of all.
Jesus said to the crowds: ‘This is what the kingdom of God is like. A man throws seed on the land. Night and day, while he sleeps, when he is awake, the seed is sprouting and growing; how, he does not know. Of its own accord the land produces first the shoot, then the ear, then the full grain in the ear. And when the crop is ready, he loses no time: he starts to reap because the harvest has come.’
He also said, ‘What can we say the kingdom of God is like? What parable can we find for it? It is like a mustard seed which at the time of its sowing in the soil is the smallest of all the seeds on earth; yet once it is sown it grows into the biggest shrub of them all and puts out big branches so that the birds of the air can shelter in its shade.’ Using many parables like these, he spoke the word to them, so far as they were capable of understanding it. He would not speak to them except in parables, but he explained everything to his disciples when they were alone.
The Gospel of the Lord
R/ Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.
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Saints Timothy and Titus, Bishops
(Liturgical Colour: White: B (2))
(Readings for the memorial)
(There is a choice today between the readings for the ferial day (Friday) and those for the memorial. The ferial readings are recommended unless pastoral reasons suggest otherwise)
Either:
First Reading 2 Timothy 1:1-8 Fan into a flame the gift God gave you.
From Paul, appointed by God to be an apostle of Christ Jesus in his design to promise life in Christ Jesus; to Timothy, dear child of mine, wishing you grace, mercy and peace from God the Father and from Christ Jesus our Lord.
Night and day I thank God, keeping my conscience clear and remembering my duty to him as my ancestors did, and always I remember you in my prayers; I remember your tears and long to see you again to complete my happiness. Then I am reminded of the sincere faith which you have; it came first to live in your grandmother Lois, and your mother Eunice, and I have no doubt that it is the same faith in you as well.
That is why I am reminding you now to fan into a flame the gift that God gave you when I laid my hands on you. God’s gift was not a spirit of timidity, but the Spirit of power, and love, and self-control. So you are never to be ashamed of witnessing to the Lord, or ashamed of me for being his prisoner; but with me, bear the hardships for the sake of the Good News, relying on the power of God who has saved us and called us to be holy.
The Word of the Lord
R/ Thanks be to God.
Or:
First Reading Titus 1:1-5 To Titus, true child of mine.
From Paul, servant of God, an apostle of Jesus Christ to bring those whom God has chosen to faith and to the knowledge of the truth that leads to true religion; and to give them the hope of the eternal life that was promised so long ago by God. He does not lie and so, at the appointed time, he revealed his decision, and, by the command of God our saviour, I have been commissioned to proclaim it. To Titus, true child of mine in the faith that we share, wishing you grace and peace from God the Father and from Christ Jesus our saviour. The reason I left you behind in Crete was for you to get everything organised there and appoint elders in every town, in the way that I told you.
The Word of the Lord
R/ Thanks be to God.
Responsorial Psalm Psalm 95(96):1-3,7-8,10
R/ Proclaim the wonders of the Lord among all the peoples.
O sing a new song to the Lord, sing to the Lord all the earth. O sing to the Lord, bless his name.
R/ Proclaim the wonders of the Lord among all the peoples.
Proclaim his help day by day, tell among the nations his glory and his wonders among all the peoples.
R/ Proclaim the wonders of the Lord among all the peoples.
Give the Lord, you families of peoples, give the Lord glory and power; give the Lord the glory of his name.
R/ Proclaim the wonders of the Lord among all the peoples.
Proclaim to the nations: ‘God is king.’ The world he made firm in its place; he will judge the peoples in fairness.
R/ Proclaim the wonders of the Lord among all the peoples.
Gospel Acclamation Luke 4:17
Alleluia, alleluia! The Lord has sent me to bring the good news to the poor, to proclaim liberty to captives. Alleluia!
Gospel Luke 10:1-9 Your peace will rest on that man.
The Lord appointed seventy-two others and sent them out ahead of him, in pairs, to all the towns and places he himself was to visit. He said to them, ‘The harvest is rich but the labourers are few, so ask the Lord of the harvest to send labourers to his harvest. Start off now, but remember, I am sending you out like lambs among wolves. Carry no purse, no haversack, no sandals. Salute no one on the road. Whatever house you go into, let your first words be, “Peace to this house!” And if a man of peace lives there, your peace will go and rest on him; if not, it will come back to you. Stay in the same house, taking what food and drink they have to offer, for the labourer deserves his wages; do not move from house to house. Whenever you go into a town where they make you welcome, eat what is set before you. Cure those in it who are sick, and say, “The kingdom of God is very near to you.”’
The Gospel of the Lord
R/ Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.
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Ok time to go through some more small things quickly because I'm getting behind.
Will You Snail?
More fun and interesting than I expected. I wasn't really sure what I was getting into beyond it being cheap and having tons of positive reviews, but it turned out to be a precision platformer where you play as a snail (and can wear another smaller snail as a hat), and it's about the fear of AI literally taking over the world and whether reality is really real. Also the AI is an asshole and spontaneously spawns bullshit spikes and lasers and stuff exactly where it thinks you're about to go so you have to contend with that in addition to just making it through each room.
I had a good enough time to finish the story and get somewhere north of 50% completion, but I don't really see myself doing the optional stuff like beating everything on the highest difficulty. The auto-difficulty kept me somewhere in the 2-3 range out of 4 95% of the time with very rare spikes to 4, and with me getting worse at stuff like this over time as my reactions get slightly slower, my vision gets worse, and my brain just gets generally weird, I don't really see a point in pushing myself harder just to frustrate myself.
Lara Croft GO
It only took me forever to get around to this one, which I probably would've forgotten about if someone didn't gift me a copy a few days ago. Basically you, uh, raid tombs. Big surprise, I know, but this time it's a turn-based puzzle game. I liked the puzzles enough and different mechanics they introduced enough to finish it because some of them were reasonably clever/satisfying, but I'm not sure if I'll bother with the extra ones after the credits roll. Toward the end after I got the hang of it I tended to finish levels without having to retry more than a couple times, but just knowing I'd have to start over entirely for every mistake or misclick makes it less enjoyable.
I'm pretty sure it's my second favorite Tomb Raider game now, and one of only two I've ever finished. The other was the 2013 reboot, which I thought was great. I tried the sequel to that and didn't really like all the changes they made to the formula because they all made it less fun for me, and I always thought the pre-reboot ones were just bad. To be fair I heard the later ones did get better and I never tried any of those, but the PS1 era games were anti-fun for me.
I'LL KILL HER
More of a digital comic book than anything, like a visual novel with an extreme emphasis on the visual part and no decision making. The art style was enough to get my interest to try it, and that's probably the main thing it has going for it. The story is...fine? Not super deep or original and feels like it maybe has some translation or non-native English issues sometimes, but it all fits together well enough in the end I guess. All of the content warnings for this one for stuff like abuse and domestic violence and suicide.
Cris Tales
Somehow this is the only one of these that I gave up on before finishing it. A lot of stuff in it is absolutely gorgeous (go watch the animated intro, seriously), and I was getting into the setting and some of the themes it was hinting at, and the time shifting mechanics are pretty neat both for exploration and combat, but I just don't really enjoy playing the game very much.
Society has advanced beyond the need for random encounters, but Cris Tales has not. Good thing it has irritatingly long load times for each one, at least on the Switch, and it has to do it again going back from the battle screen to the main overworld. And I really am not into how the combat encounters are balanced. Even basic trash enemies a few hours into the game can do absurd amounts of damage, like 40+ when your characters barely have over 100 hp. You can reduce that with timed button presses like Paper Mario/Mario RPG games, but the animations while pretty are really bad at conveying the actual correct timing for stuff.
Basically I like most things about the game except for actually playing it. Well, it's fine in towns I guess, but there's too much other stuff I'm not into for that to make up for it. Oh, and the voice acting isn't terrible or anything, but it's definitely worse than most things I've played this year with voice acting and didn't really do it for me. Also it has the most basic and obvious bug that I'm mildly surprised I've never seen in anything else: it counts the entire time the game is suspended while the Switch is asleep toward your play time. I apparently spent 60 hours on the game, when really it was about 3.
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MY THOUGHTS ON TBB 2×05 "Entombed"
Oh, how much fun I had watching this one! I loved the full-on Indiana Jones-y vibe it had! Just perfect! And even better with Hunter's tired dad™ mood 😂😂😂 I swear he and Din and competing for the Space Dad who heaves more sighs Award, and they're head-to-head.
And I like Phee here, more than I did in the premiere. She's growing on me.
But before I share more of my thoughts about Entombed, this review will begin with a rant about the fandom. I'll hide it below the cut, so anyone wanting to skip it, can do that.
I know what so many in the fandom are saying. That this was a filler episode, even more so than last week's. And I ask, what if it was??!! What's wrong with that? I don't know exactly when and why people starting disliking filler episodes. When a filler episode became such a bad thing?
Let me tell you something: filler scenes/chapters/episodes are an important part of storytelling. They allow managing the pace, the intensity, and impact of the story. The overall plot needs room to breathe, to let the subtle things told to sink in. If a story is intense 95% of the time, it loses its impact.
Fans seem to forget what's coming. We've seen the trailers. Next week, we'll probably see Gungi, which means revisiting order 66 (again), probably horrible massacres in Kashyyyk and/or slave trade, or something equally bad, so it's NOT going to be a lighthearted episode. And the next week after that, it's the 2 mid-season episodes, which means Rex, Coruscant, Palpatine, and I'm pretty sure the first run-in of the batch with Cross after Kamino. Yeah, that's going to be so much fun /sarcasm/.
I'm pretty sure that the same people that complains about fillers are who complain about rushed plots and underdeveloped characters, etc. All they want is that they tell the season's complete full-arc story in just one episode. You can't have both ways. It's impossible.
Either you have a rushed story from beginning to end, told only with the essential and ignoring great character development, and having only shallow connections, or a story that can slow down, so its characters can grow and make deeper connections with others.
Besides, those who say the episode didn't bring anything to the overall plot should pay more attention. The foreshadowing at the end of "Faster" and how the batch got to know more Phee in this episode are related.
I know, I know! Some of you might be having this meme in your heads right now
But hear me out.
Millegi warned Tech, Wrecker, and Omega about Cid, which seems to foreshadow that she will betray them in the near future. Maybe she will, maybe she won't, but if she does or dies or get arrested or get out of the picture for whatever reason, maybe Phee could become another, more fair source of jobs for the boys (like she offered to them go 50-50 in the treasure hunt). Perhaps she's the one who ends up betraying them and not Cid; or maybe Phee joins the rebellion along with them. I don't know. There are so many possible routes to go with her that's impossible to know which one will be at the end. But whatever that is, there's a reason for the boys to have worked with her directly in this episode that we don't know. We aren't supposed to know yet!
Or you know what? Maybe it was just that; a time to have fun. I think one of the themes for season 1 was survival. They did that, they escaped the Empire and are having a life on their own.
A theme for season 2 could be learning to have a life, not just survive, and sure this episode seems to show them to do something just for fun, to explore the galaxy and learn about things they've never seen before.
So for the love of everything you hold dear, have a little patience and enjoy the show. And If you don't enjoy it, stop watching! Nobody is holding you at gunpoint, so you watch it. So, just stop.
Well, with that out of my chest, let's get into the episode.
I love Wrecker and Omega continue with their amazing dynamic. I love them so much 🥰
Tech and Hunter less than impressed with Phee's embellished story is hilarious
Cute of Omega being excited to go treasure hunting. It seems she has taken the liking of it.
I like that mom and dad Hunter and Echo seems to be more in the same page right now, but Echo, my dear, it's just a tad hypocritical of you having doubts about accepting this job when it was you who kinda pushed it last time. I guess you learned your lesson 🤣
I didn't catch it in the first time I watched the episode, but (as Alex from Star Wars Explained in YT says) Omega is copying Phee (like she did with Hunter last season), and Hunter is jealous about it!! Omg!! That's so funny 😂 and so true.
Like I said before, I love the callbacks to Indiana Jones throughout the episode.
Ha! Even Tech is curious about the treasure now 🤣
I knew that creature was going to appear on ths episode
Oh no! They got separated 🫤
Hunter walking on those stone slabs made me so nervous, I was expecting something like that to happen. A booby trap was guaranteed
🤣🤣omg! Hunter is so so tired, so done
Don do it, Phre! Don't take it out! Don't! *Sighs* i knew it
What the hell!? It's the Mech?!! I didn't see that coming
Oh dank farrik!! It's what destroyed the planet before!
Dammit Phee don't fall down!!!
Phew! Thanks Hunter
Oh the poor droid! Nooooo!!! 😭😭😭
Hey! There's a continuity error there!! The window was broken, then it wasn't 🙈 Omega breaks it twice
Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhh!!!! Hurry up!!! No the marauder!! Noooooooooooo!
Oh thank goodness!!!
The scene with mech falling reminded me to the one in season 1 in Bracca and the ion engine
Hunter's dad instinct at its peak there too
Tech roasting Phee the professional... The best!
Well, a fun episode to soften us, so the blows in the next 2 weeks hurt twice as much.
#the bad batch#tbb#tbb season 2 spoilers#tbb spoilers#tbb s2 spoilers#episode review#tbb 2x05 entombed#a day late but here It is
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THE FRONT ROOM (2024)
Starring Brandy Norwood, Andrew Burnap, Neal Huff, Kathryn Hunter, David Manis, Mary Catherine Wright, Ellen J. Maddow, Mary Testa, Morgen McKynzie, Kerry Flanagan, Rueby Wray, Chasity Monroe Orr, Charlize Essence Orr, Scottie DiGiacomo, Toree Hill, Desi Ramos and the voice of Wendy Heagy.
Screenplay by Max Eggers & Sam Eggers.
Directed by Max Eggers & Sam Eggers.
Distributed by A24. Pictures. 95 minutes. Rated R.
That is 95 minutes of my life that I will never get back. Look, you learn early on in the movie reviewing world that you won’t like every movie you see. That’s just part of the gig. However, it’s a pretty rare stinker which makes you literally angry as you are walking out of the theater – I spent my time watching this when I could have been doing… anything else in the world?
Truth to tell, I went into The Front Room pretty naïve to what it was about. I had seen the trailer, so I had a basic idea of the storyline. (By the way, it turns out the trailer gives away a pretty significant late plot point which should have never been included in the ad, and it probably wouldn’t have been in a better film, or a better trailer.)
However, two things kind of intrigued me about the film. First of all, it was a horror film starring Brandy (Norwood), the 90s soul-pop singer (“The Boy Is Mine,” “Have You Ever” and “Sittin’ In My Room”) and TV actress (Moesha, Cinderella). It’s not even that surprising that she was doing horror, because she was in the two late ‘90s I Know What You Did Last Summer retro-slasher films. I was not even that big a fan of Brandy���s work, but it had been probably 20-25 years since I had seen her do anything of note. So, the attraction was more about me wondering whatever became of her. (Well, I did see her in a bad Netflix Christmas romance movie last year with Heather Graham and Jason Biggs on Netflix. But no matter how bad that film was, it’s Citizen Kane as compared to this.)
The other interesting thing to me is that it was being distributed by A24, a movie studio which is known for taking some real chances and releasing some truly eccentric films. Honestly, only about one in three of their films totally work – and lots of them are extremely strange – but they are always interesting and different.
Well in fairness, The Front Room is different. It’s even interesting, I suppose – I was never bored or distracted during the film. Of course, that was partially because I was constantly shocked that this movie could sink as low and be as heavy-handed and completely unrealistic as it was. I mean, I get it, horror movies aren’t supposed to make sense in real life (and honestly, this was not so much scary as it was disturbing and disgusting), but even by the loose logical standards of thrillers, The Front Room is built on some real whoppers.
And the bogeyman in this film is a 5’1” tall, extremely frail little old lady who needs two canes to walk.
The story… so to speak… is about Belinda (Brandy) and Norman (Andrew Burnap), a young academic mixed-race couple expecting their first child. (I mention the fact that they are biracial not because I care about it, but because that becomes a plot point later.) She is an adjunct professor at a local college hoping to get full-time status, he’s a struggling lawyer hoping that a big upcoming case will open the door for his dream job. They have bought their dream home, and they are struggling financially (she can’t even afford to buy paint for the baby’s nursery).
Everything changes when Norman receives a call from Solange (Kathryn Hunter), his stepmother. From the second that he hears her voice, Norman goes into PTSD mode; a simpering, deadened, frightened child. Solange tells Norman that his father is dying of cancer and if he wants to make amends with dad, it’ll have to be now. Norman refuses to go to see him, calling his stepmother a holy roller, evil and the bane of his existence. However, when dad dies, Belinda convinces him to go to the funeral, saying he’d never forgive himself if he didn’t.
At the funeral they are given a Faustian bargain. Solange would give them all of her money (it is never said exactly how much that was, but it was obviously a very substantial amount) if they would allow her to live with them, which was apparently dad’s last wish. They are torn – particularly Norman, who actively dislikes the woman – but with that money so many of their problems would be solved.
Therefore, they agree to it, and Solange starts to insinuate herself into their life and home. From the beginning she is a cramp on their lifestyles, her devout religiosity, her backhanded compliments, her insistence on imposing her will on the house and their new baby, her frailty and medical issues. Many of Solange’s snipes are small and petty – she insists on referring to Belinda as Belinder and Norman as Norman Gene (which reminded me of Marilyn Monroe every single time she did it). And it turns out that she is a proud daughter of the Confederacy, which of course makes Belinda uncomfortable.
Soon she is spitefully using her frailty as a weapon – I’m serious, you’ve never seen so much poop, pee and vomit in your life – to make Belinda’s life a living hell. Oddly, Norman, who was so afraid of the woman that he nearly faded into himself just weeks earlier, seems to settle into Solange’s chaos with a shrug. Also, it appears that Solange may have some sort of psychic power – she seems to know things she would have no way of knowing. She also may be less feeble than she seems (Belinda sees her walking without her canes at one point). And she is constantly bringing weird religious friends into the house who seem like cast members from a road company of Rosemary’s Baby.
Now, it may be a fool’s errand to point out the many, many plot inconsistencies which pop up here. For example, when Solange’s medical needs become too much for Belinda to deal with, why don’t they just hire a home health nurse? They suddenly have all of Solange’s money, they could undoubtedly afford it. Also, how does Norman go from despising and distrusting Solange to taking the old woman’s word over that of his own wife?
The biggest problem is Solange herself, though. The character is so over-the-top, so cartoonish, so completely unbelievable that she is nearly impossible to take seriously as a villain. Hey, I dislike holy rollers as much as the next guy, and I have my share of crotchety elderly relatives, but I don’t buy this character for a second. Frankly, it’s pretty ageist and anti-religious.
Then The Front Room uses the most cynical, amoral “happy” ending that it could possibly have grafted onto its diseased flesh. I actually cringed when I heard people clapping for this plot point at the screening I went to.
I cannot stress strongly enough how much I hated (yes, I used the “h” word) The Front Room. Avoid it at all costs.
Jay S. Jacobs
Copyright ©2024 PopEntertainment.com. All rights reserved. Posted: September 6, 2024.
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And we're looking at making the tumbler no we have the kit ready and we are talking to suppliers and others are making the kit so far we have 20 kit makers to do a decent job and there are about 50 who are making them and it's the real thing and we want to make the off-road version first but they're making the real thing so we're talking about the real thing and we're proceeding with the off-road version and yeah just up to 150 mph with the two-seater Can-Am or Polaris at 250 or 350 I think it's a 350 and it goes up to 200 miles an hour with the biggest motor and it is stealth it's semi stealth on the in the kit and it's really inexpensive but we're talking about the real thing right now soon we will start making our kit and sending it out. Right now they're making they've made about 300 million. Out of those kids there's probably 100 million that are made and it's a real Tumblr it's not the toy and it's not the other one it's the tumbler and that's a lot and yeah it's the morlock
-we're also talking about the Can-Am and the Polaris kit he says why not just issue it well we've got a lot of people making those and it is a serious vehicle now because of the modifications to the regular Can-Am on Polaris they modified like we said they lightened it up some managed to lower it a lot of them cut the cage down and took stuff off it and why the stance with the tires and rims and lowered the tire profile and now they say it goes about 180 on the road and about 150 off-road and tears it up unbelievably and doesn't roll over much and they can compete with other vehicles and they're buying them like madness eventually the companies can make the changes themselves
We're going to issue the kids shortly and does include all the instructions for lowering it and chopping the roll cage should fix it so it's perfect and also taking off all of the fairings and stuff lightning it and adding all of the panels in the exterior to secure them and the cockpit complete and what you have to get for tires and rims exactly the manufacturer's numbers and paint numbers and everything people want this kit and it is for 4x4 Polaris and Can-Am and things like that it's not for a gold car and so he says okay we're going to make the go-kart one and that one is really inexpensive the kid is still around $35 and that's the paperwork and it comes with all the templates and a list of things you need and we have manufacturers it is for an actual go-kart but you have to buy a new tires and rims and it's for a certain size go-kart and it has to have a certain motor these do not have suspension and it's for the tumbler and it's for the stealth car and both of them require a decent modifications to the frame and suspension that tells you where to buy it all in all the Tumblr fully built it has four wheel independent suspension and 8 horsepower motor and you would get all those things but the kids included cost about $2,000 including the go-kart and the motor which is not bad for a toy of that magnitude and the stealth car is a bit less about 1,800 but it looks so cool that you would want to eat the thing it only stands about 30 in high but the child can shut the door the roof door and it looks so awesome it looks like the one that Brad designed is for one person the Tumblr is too and it is so intense children all over the world are going to watch this thing like madness. We're thinking of making a plastic paintable Hull and we can deliver it to you white and you can paint it whatever color and it seems a lot of time and it's much much lighter it's about half as much weight but with the eight horsepower the tumbler goes about 55 mph off road and about 80 on the road and the stealth car go-kart kid you go about 40 off-road it's not recommended and about 95 on the highway literally we're going to see kids driving out on the highway. We're going to begin production of the kits for the toy cars he wants to make one to try and submit it to Walmart Target or other and see who picks it up and have them kind of compete over it and he wants to make the shell decent not like a piece of junk and with a nice seat and console and have an open and close and with a roll cage and we're going to go ahead and do that it's an awesome idea and it will be the best seller and the car looks massively cool and we're going to make it like brands and they're going to race it they're going to race this thing you're going to see it racing and they make these holes that you take off and on you smash they put a new one on and you get back in the race sometimes it's really quick I can't believe how well this is going the next option
-we went over the real thing this would be a kit for the Tumblr and for the stealth car but not for the Polaris and canam this would be a kid for the Corvette or a supercar they were waiting because people are making them already and we did talk about it a little it was the first item and we talked about the Polaris but this one we're going to hold off on so he wants to go on the go-karts and we got a taste of it and we'll hire our kids and tons of them so we're going to have a meeting now and we're going to run some tests but these will be great
We have a lot more going on but we're setting that up and Hera is having us do it is very pleased she's very organized and he likes it
Thor Freya
You did a good job and you did not almost mess it up which is normal sometimes but really this is great I understand what you're saying you couldn't tell I was helping but you assigned me to it and now I'm saying I was helping and it was great. These things are not easy but it's not too difficult to figure out where you are and where you want to be and he says this thing is going to be awesome to me and it was a good idea I say it is even the toy is good for a matchbox but really sometimes they don't want the toy if it's matchbox they think it's a toy and we went a little far but people will definitely want it when they see how fast the go-kart goes and we have all sorts of light kids and accessories and sounds and stereos radios and gear too people going to race these things can we get the hall it's going to be intense the outer shell is what we're going to sell too and we stamp them out so we're going to go to the guys and see what kind of stamp they can do and it'll be plastic and reinforced and we can pump out like millions in minutes I mean it's going to be so cool
Hera
Zues
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‘Vougue darling’
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- influencer!y/n doing her makeup for vogue and gets interrupted ☁️
———
“I’ll be quiet babyy” H whines begging to joined the girl in her video
“This is for vogue darling” she smiles plonking down her makeup bag into the sink.
“Stilllll”
“Jus’ wanna watch” he added, leaning his tall, muscular frame onto the door frame, y/n took one look at his pouty lips and tousled fluffed hair
“Fine” she murmured against his lips
“But you’ve got to let me get on” she continued pressing her lips to his.
The girl continues to lay out all the products she intends to use throughout the video and set up her camera on the windowsill of the bathroom window.
“Y’look pretty” he shyly implies
“Thank you baby” she blushes twirling in her light blue silk robe and pulling the white towel from her damp wavy hair
“I’m gonna start now okay, so get comfy”
He walks into the shared bathroom shutting the door behind him, pressed a kiss to his loves temple and sits on the closed toilet seat beside where she was standing.
“Hello everyone, it’s y/n y/l/n here,and um I’ve been nominated by vogue to show my makeup routine” she began
“And if you can’t tell already, I’m joined by my number one fan” she smiles motioning towards H
For most of the video H was absolutely in a trance of the girl, the way her face moved when she was applying products, to the way her soft voice spoke towards the camera, he wondered how he really got this lucky to have such an Angel.
“And this is another one of my favourite products, I’ve been using this fo-“
“I love you” he blurted
The girls cheeks heat and her mouth curls up into a small smile.
“Thank you H” she sighs
“Love you too” she gushes continuing with her video.
It wasn’t long until she finished up her video and sent it off too vogue, too finish it off, once she was finished she cleaned up all her products and was finally able to give her lover some attention.
“Did you think that went well?” She asked, still focused on clearing up.
“Darling, you did amazing” he replied, standing up and wrapping his arms around her waist, enjoying the natural scent of her.
“Hope so, it’s the biggest thing, I think I’ve ever done, y’know it being vogue and all”
“Don’t stress yourself out Angel, you did wonderful, m’sure your fans will love it” he confirmed, turning her around in his arms so he can easily access her lips for a kiss.
“How about you get comfy, and I’ll get dinner for us?” He asked
“Sounds good” she smiles kissing him once more.
——————
Within 2 hours the video was released and was already trending at number 3 on Twitter, screenshots from the video where gushed over by both y/n’s and Harry’s fans, many comments included: “ the way he’s looking at her!!” Or “soo jealous of them” this also included edits that the fans had made of the video
You felt as if your could burst, everything seemed to go perfectly, scrolling further on Twitter 95% of fangirls are frantic over the section of the video he said ‘I love you’ which even you found fair enough 3years into the relationship and butterflies would still erupt when he phrased that.
“Food will be here soon love, ordered your favourite” he claims seating himself almost on top of the girl.
“Thank you baby” she giggles keeping her eyes glued to the phone.
“What y’ laughing at”
“Cant laugh like tha and not tell” he pouts
“Just watch” she smiles handing over phone
The phone revealed a compilation on tiktok that had been fan made of all the times he gave the the girl heart eyes through the vogue video, they had just filmed, throughout the quick compilation he looked at her in complete awe and love, and the comments went frantic.
“Quite the lover boy hey?” She teases
“Cant not look, when such a girl is in-front of me love” he smiles kissing her temple.
“Plus it’s all for ‘vogue darling’” he teases thinking of the remark you made this morning.
He instinctively pulls her into his lap, keeping his arms around her waist and resting his head on hers.
“Just admit you love me, I mean, your quite cute at times y’know” y/n mutters once again on his lips
“At times? Thought I was cute all the time” he says acting offended
“Shut up” she laughs, kissing him more
————
#harry styles#harry styles fanfiction#fine line harry styles#harry styles au#h fluff#hs#harry styles fluff#boyfriend material#fic recs#soft#boyfriendrry#my fic#harry styles blurb#my fic writing#harry styles x y/n#fluff#hshq
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BnHA 326: What’s up Kids, It’s Me, Your Old Pal Stain
Previously on BnHA: Ochako shamed the U.A. Clown Mob into letting Deku go back inside his own fucking school by giving them an hour-long speech about how not to be humongous dickheads. Kouta and Gigantic Fox Lady saved the manga by being the only ones brave enough to give Deku a hug. Shouto was all “man, all this togetherness sure does remind me of that promise you made that we would handle Touya together which you immediately bailed on, doesn’t it, Dad.” Aizawa was all, “for the one and a half people out there who thought that my losing an eye and a leg might actually make me less sexy, I’m very happy to prove you wrong.” All Might was all, “[standing outside the U.A. fortress alone in the rain talking to someone or something??].” Like seriously, what was up with that though.
Today on BnHA: All Might is all “here I am in Kamino having a belated mid-life crisis because Deku abandoned me and I’m a terrible mentor and everything sucks and I hate myself.” Stain is all, “don’t make me come over there and give you a ten page speech about why you’re still the goat while menacingly holding you at swordpoint the entire time” because idk if you knew this guys, but Stain is pretty crazy actually. Anyway so he does that, and then All Might gets all emotional, and then the lady from chapter 92 shows up and gives All Might’s statue an encouraging pep talk, and then Horikoshi is all “and it even stopped raining lol can you believe this shit I’m not even a little bit subtle,” and he really isn’t. But I still got emotional anyway, because seeing people reassure All Might that everything he’s struggled for his entire life hasn’t been in vain just got to me okay. Horikoshi knows I am weak to the All Might feels and he just goes for the jugular every time, that bastard.
lmao. “in the neverending downpour, All Might is...” yeah, thank you, glad we’re getting right to that then
“All Might is driving 95 mph in his busted ass car in the pouring rain, is what he’s doing.” huh
so basically a day or two after his adopted child refused to accept the handmade bento that he packed with love, my man is out here acting like he’s got nothing to live for anymore. this sure bodes well for certain prophecies on which the clock is still ominously ticking down
his fucking face though omg. is it weird that I’m kind of hoping more people ambush him just because I think it’d be funny to see them get their asses kicked like the last bunch
(ETA: or maybe he will just stand there openly not giving a fuck and basically daring them to stab him!! get it together please All Might.)
side note, “anti-hero supporters” is such a strange way of saying ���people who hate heroes”, which I’m assuming is what they actually wanted to say?? this makes it sound like it’s a group that really loves antiheroes. “these Hannibal stans have been a real menace lately. time to go deal with them”
ha ha ha, fucking ouch
are you really gonna do it Horikoshi you bastard. are you really going to let that be the final encounter between the two characters whose relationship you once described as the vertical axis of the entire fucking story. are you really gonna?? huh??
huh
you’re telling me you were driving 112 mph and you still didn’t get there in time. you’re losing your touch old man. lol Todo’s ice is almost fully melted already, how late were you
(ETA: so apparently this is taking place after the end of chapter 325, meaning he went to U.A., hung out for a bit, saw the kids come back with his bedraggled half-dead protégé in tow, watched as they shamed the civilians into some long-overdue character development, and then was all “welp, time to go argue with the hero-hating faction or something because I’m feeling useless.” and Edge just let him go, just like that. though to be fair I have to imagine it’s pretty hard to say no to All Fucking Might.)
also belated lol at the fact that the kids were all “yeahhhhhhh we are definitely not gonna touch that thing, let’s just leave it here, he doesn’t need it anyway.” probably the right call to make since they couldn’t get a hazmat team on such short notice
fuck. ha ha ha fucking ouch part two
All Might please put that thing down before you get gangrene. also yeah, you dropped the ball, good for you to acknowledge it. nobody’s perfect and you did your best. but yeah you could have handled a lot of things completely differently. but I still love you
is Horikoshi really putting this flashback here. are you serious. what kind of fucking sadist
look, I swear I’m not one of those people that runs up and down the street shouting “DEATH FLAG!!” at every third panel lol. but this shit screamed Death Flag when we originally got it, and it’s screaming DEATH FLAG!!! even more now. like with the capital letters and exclamation marks and all. and that’s just a fact. I don’t like it but that’s how it is
ffkdjslk
“DID YOU READ THE SIGN??!” Horikoshi asks while zooming in maniacally because he thinks we’re blind or something. lol what
-- though actually, it only just occurred to me that this sign is actually written in English. I never really paid attention up until now and had been assuming it was written in Japanese and translated by the scanlators, but the writing here is clearly part of the original image. anyway so maybe that’s why he’s zooming in?? just to make sure everybody pays attention lol
okay fuck this
see, this is the whole problem right here. once again All Might is all on his own. Deku’s self-destructive angst spiral was fortunately brought to a grinding halt because he actually has support from his friends and family and teachers and classmates. but All Might never had that same kind of support, and it’s made all the difference between the two of them, and not in a good way. Katsuki wasn’t wrong when he said All Might and Deku were both cut from the same cloth. but now when it’s All Might’s turn to go all “I WALK A LONELY ROAD~~” once again, there’s nobody in sight
just, after forty plus years of him carrying this torch, I just wish someone would finally come along to let him know he doesn’t have to. all those things that he wanted to say to Deku are also things that he needs and deserves to hear himself. Aizawa was making a little progress there, but now he’s got his sad zombie cloud boyfriend situation to deal with, and we can’t expect him and his perfect hair to solve all our problems. someone else has gotta step up
oh my god
“you rang?” never mind I take it all back sob
omg why am I laughing. shit
this man truly has the best PR game in the series. we were truly convinced he was gonna suddenly become a good guy and defend All Might against the other villains or some nonsense. as if this wasn’t the same man who decided on a whim that Iida Tensei deserved to be paralyzed, and that his fifteen-year-old brother deserved to die for daring to be upset about it
lol even All Might is all “I genuinely never saw this coming” lmao
just want to say, for the record, I have always harbored a very sensible hatred toward Stain. feeling very vindicated right now. good job Past Me
adsfklwkfsdwgkj
ffffwefjslkg. ghsdlkg. dsfkkkslkjldwkjrg
STAIN: heard you talking shit old man
ME: smh that’s what I thought you’d say you dumb fucking Stain
STAIN: how dare you talk about All Might that way
ME: gljfljgk
(ETA: in hindsight I have no idea how I didn’t clue in sooner that he didn’t recognize him -- or, well, ~didn’t recognize~ him, to be more accurate lol. I think it was the whole “is that a slight against the heroes?” thing that threw me. Viz’s translation makes it much clearer that he’s offended on behalf of All Might specifically, not heroes in general. anyways.)
sob. so All Might is all “yeah I don’t blame you for not recognizing me in this sweet leather jacket”
good thing he still knows how to do this party trick
A+ reflexes on Stain’s part presumably pulling the sword back a few inches to keep this dumbass from impaling himself with his whole pufferfish routine. can you imagine if that was the gruesome death Nighteye foresaw. and he was just too embarrassed to say anything
lol anyways guess I was wrong about Stain everyone
way to fucking go, Past Me. you really biffed this one
oh wait
Stain sure is one wacky rollercoaster ride
oh fuck me lol I forgot how much I did not miss this
(ETA: “this here is the sacred ground where All Might gave up the last of his power and turned into a shriveled old man!! please ignore the part where I admit to knowing all about that, and yet pretend not to recognize said man when he’s standing two feet in front of me.”)
Past Me, I know we’ve had our ups and downs these past ninety seconds, but I’m really starting to think you were on to something. this dude has always been kind of insufferable. always acting like his high horse is a fucking giraffe when it’s actually a Shetland pony
dammit now he’s got All Might going off on a depressed monologue
oh my god my heart
shit
why the fuck does that hit so hard. he became a hero because he couldn’t bear to just sit back and let bad things happen to people who didn’t deserve it. I mean that’s basically the same as every hero ever, right? so why does it still hit so fucking hard every single time though. what is it about seeing someone so determined to stand up for other people and fight on their behalf. it just never loses its impact no matter how many times I see that determination mirrored in so many of my favorite characters
“I wanted to make the world a better place.” omg. but you did, though. like seriously, I feel like people are always dogging on him for not being 100% perfect, and fandom really doesn’t give him enough credit for everything he still managed to accomplish. this man came of age at a time when Japan was by all accounts a total shitshow, and singlehandedly managed to bring about an era of peace that lasted for four fucking decades. can you imagine having peace for that long?? that’s longer than I’ve been alive. shit
and he gave people hope. he inspired them and protected them and made them feel safe. and no, he couldn’t save everyone, because he’s only one fucking dude (and also because the whole time AFO was also out there desperately working to undermine him so that he could keep preaching his narrative of “heroes are bad actually”). but you know what he did do, is inspire multiple new generations of heroes who, if they can all manage to work together, will finally be able to accomplish everything he never could
so yeah. forty years of peace, and inspired the “that’s how we all became the greatest heroes” generation -- that’s a fucking win in my book. talk about having a net positive impact on the world. lol anyways now I’m all fired up and ready to fight anyone who tries to talk any shit about you, All Might
“but what if I talk shit about myself” okay listen up All Might I’m gonna need you to try just a little bit harder to work with me here okay. please calm down and stop blaming yourself for every single bad thing that’s ever happened in the world. do you remember that time Bakugou was blaming himself for Kamino, and you gave him a hug and told him it wasn’t his fault, and that he was only a boy, and that even though he was strong, even strong people can struggle with the burdens they place on themselves, and that you were sorry for not seeing that earlier? do you remember all of that? that’s what I want someone to tell you too, dammit. anyway please stop breaking my heart please and thanks
wtf
are you dead All Might
um
I don’t even have the slightest idea what’s happening lol
oh snap did he grab him so they could hide??
hold the fucking phone. don’t tell me this person in the background with the umbrella is here to actually do something decent??
oh my godddd
and here come the feels. oh boy. okay don’t mind me, I’m just gonna sit here sobbing over this fictional lady and her simple act of kindness in this weekly shounen manga that I care about way too much
FUCKING DAMMIT AND HERE’S A SECOND HELPING
DON’T MIND ME, I’M JUST GETTING DISPROPORTIONATELY EMOTIONAL OVER THIS WOMAN’S DETERMINATION TO HONOR A MAN WHO SACRIFICED EVERYTHING TO SAVE HER AND COUNTLESS OTHERS. I’M JUST HAVING SOME FEELS OVER HERE ABOUT HER HEARTFELT, DOESN’T-EVEN-KNOW-ANYONE-ELSE-IS-WATCHING FEELINGS OF GRATITUDE THAT COMPELLED HER TO COME OUT HERE AND MAKE THIS SMALL BUT POWERFUL GESTURE. I’M JUST OUT HERE GETTING ALL PROFOUNDLY WORKED UP ABOUT STATUE MAINTENANCE AND THE HUMAN RACE. NEVER MIND. JUST IGNORE ME AND CARRY ON
holy shit. I was not even remotely prepared. you can’t just do that to me. you can’t just leave all these death flags on my lawn and then suddenly shift gears to show me the best of humanity in a chapter where I was expecting the worst. that fucks a person up lol
OH ARE WE STILL GOING
my heart. you see that, All Might. your legacy is so much more powerful and meaningful than you think
...has. has Stain actually been giving All Might a pep talk this entire time
I give up lol. this dude is a fucking enigma
YAYYY
it may just be a metaphor panel, but I’ll take it lol. I missed them. nice to see the traffic light trio front and off-center. I know the whole “this is the story of how we all became the greatest heroes” thing had left some questioning whether certain characters would continue to play a central role in the narrative, and hopefully this will help to ease those concerns just a bit
anyway, so idk if it’s getting a bit chilly down there in hell, but damned if Stain didn’t just give an actual decent fucking speech
I have to say, earlier when I was whining about All Might not having a support squad, I really was not expecting Stain to be the one to come over and pat his head and reassure him that he made the world a better place
-- okay LISTEN
YOU CAN’T JUST COME INTO MY HOUSE AND HIT ME WITH THOSE ALL MIGHT TEARS AGAIN GODDAMMIT THIS ISN’T FAIR. my god. first 317 and now this
holy fucking shit
“I’m just gonna pretend like I haven’t been stalking him for two days and didn’t see the entire Deku bentogate thing go down, and then I’ll give him the whole big speech that I rehearsed, and then I’ll turn around and be all ‘BUT IF YOU’RE A TRUE HERO’, and then I’ll toss him the super-secret AFO wifi password that I stole from Tartarus. god I’m such a badass. fucking give myself chills”
so basically what you’re telling me is that this whole time my “what’s up kids” characterization of Stain from this shitpost has actually been 100% accurate. just want to make sure I’m understanding this right. okay then
“and then I’ll dramatically spin around and be all NOW COME KILL ME BITCH”
it must be so much fun to write Stain. drawing this coked-out maniac who talks like a chatbot that was trained to speak by reading Alan Moore monologues. that must be a trip
anyway so All Might is still crying, the awesome lady from chapter 92 is admiring her handiwork totally oblivious to the batshit insanity going on fifty meters to her right, and it’s finally stopped raining lol
“THE RAIN WAS A METAPHOR YOU SEE” yes, yes, we got it lol. thanks for that Horikoshi. don’t think we needed any help putting the pieces together on that one but I appreciate the effort
so that’s the end! and as I mentioned in another post, I had the count off by one chapter, but next week should be cliffhanger week! so break out your U.A. Traitor bingo cards, friends and fiends. either that or something else happens that I’m completely not expecting at all. which, based on my success rate with Stain predictions, I’d say is more than likely lol
mmm but anyway, so now that the Hug Deku 2021 campaign has finally come to an end, what’s it gonna take to get a hug for my struggling bento-preparing jacket-rocking world-weary death-flag-waving husband who is the worthiest man to ever live and deserves the fucking world, goddammit
#bnha 326#all might#yagi toshinori#stain (bnha)#bnha#boku no hero academia#bnha spoilers#mha spoilers#bnha manga spoilers#makeste reads bnha
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Inspired by Taylor’s To Apple, Love Taylor letter
To Ticketmaster, Love Molly (and many other Swifties)
I write this to explain why so many fans are disappointed in how Ticketmaster handled the presale for Taylor Swift's Eras Tour. I feel this deserves an explanation because Ticketmaster has been and will continue to be the primary seller for concert tickets when they are first released and key in creating ways for us to connect with our favorite artists.
I’m sure you are aware that many fans received an email saying that their spot in line was going to be boosted during the presale. I’m not sure you know that many fans who had this boost, as well as Lover Fest tickets, struggled to get tickets, while their accounts or friends/family member's who had non-boosted accounts got tickets way sooner and had better spots in the queue than boosted members. Of course, we are not saying this is the case for every sale but there are enough instances of this to cause one to raise an eyebrow.
Additionally, I’m sure your aware of the the thousands of tickets that are being sold by resellers looking to make a large profit.
I find it to be shocking, disappointing, and completely unlike any presale I have participated in for Taylor tickets for a tour. I particularly remember how well the reputation presale went and how few tickets were resold.
This is not about me. This is about the fans who are crying on TikTok, Twitter, Instagram, etc. that will not get to see their favorite artist. This is about the young adult who can finally afford tickets. This is about the older sibling who worked tirelessly to afford multiple tickets to take their younger sibling. This is about the fans who have seen an artist for every tour or the fan who was finally going to see Taylor for the first time. Now, they cannot, because resellers are already selling hundreds of tickets for thousands and thousands of dollars over face value.
These are not the complaints of one fan. These are the echoed sentiments of millions of fans, for many different artists, in my social circles who are afraid to speak up publicly because we feel like there is little we can do to change anything. We simply do not respect how Ticketmaster has been dealing with fans recently.
I realize that Ticketmaster is working towards getting tickets into the hands of actual fans. I think that the reputation verified fan program was beautiful progress. Here is a statistic from it "the Verified Fan system has been effective, according to Ticketmaster, as about 95 percent of tickets purchased through it are not resold." That number is astronomically successful compared to the number of tickets already being sold for exorbitant amounts, just hours after they were purchased.
I say this with love, reverence, and admiration for everything else Ticketmaster has tried to do to help fans, but, why move away from these successful elements of the program when the percentage of tickets staying in fans' hands was so high? I hope that we, the fans, can join you in the progression toward a verified fan that seems fair to those who actually want to attend the shows. I think this could be the platform that gets it right and revolutionizes ticket sales.
But I say to Ticketmaster with all due respect, it’s not too late to change this policy and to actually remain "committed to getting more tickets into the hands of fans fairly." We aren’t asking you for free tickets, we just asking that fans actually get to buy them first.
Molly
#eras tour#taylor swift eras#ticketmaster#taylor tickets#the eras tour#taylor swift tour#swifties#taylorswift#taylor swift
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Mely’s 007 Fest 2022 Masterpost
This year was such a lovely Fest experience. ✨ I really enjoyed being a co-captain and our team was absolutely amazing. ❤️ Even though I didn’t get everything done that I wanted to (which just means moving those to next year’s Fest), I had a lot of fun. 😊
Fanfiction
Balloons - Q/Alec Trevelyan - G
Dark Side of the Paw - Q/Eve Moneypenny - G
Fine Morning - James Bond/Vesper Lynd - G
Mayhem is Never Unnecessary - 00Q - G
Pay Up - 00Q - G
Within Reason - 00Q00 - G
For the AO3 Tags prompt table’s prompt ‘Mission Fic’
For Polyamory Day
Trapped - 00Q - G
Based on the following prompt: Q is trying to take a picture of his cats, who have decided to claim Bond's lap as their new territory. Bond is not sure how to respond to the fluffy monsters.
For the Scavenger Hunt #95: It's take your civilian to work day! Collab on a fest creation with a member of Team Civilian!
Postcards - 00Q - G - 7/7
For the following prompts:
Epistolary fic, any character or pairing. Letters, emails, memos, texts--anything in a written mode of communication counts.
"Now that's something you definitely should not try at home." (Auckland)
After this last mission Bond has a new least-favorite country. (Rio)
For all the Cities prompt table’s prompts except for the Free Space prompt.
00Q Tinyfics - G - 10/10
Fluff & humor was written for the following prompt: Why Q doesn't wear suits.
Angst was written for the following prompt: Use this generator to get a random Hozier lyric, then write a fic inspired by/using that lyric. — my lyric was ‘no grave’
Slice of life was written for Angel for the following prompt: A stay-in day cuddling with Q's cats. Would be nice if it's set in winter, where they could get warm and toasty near the fireplace.
Outsider pov was written for Characters of Color Day.
And this completes the AO3 Tags prompt table for me, too.
Louder Than Q - Eve Moneypenny/Bill Tanner - T+
For forger from the following prompt: ok ok so moneytanner move into the flat next door to 00Q. it’s not… we’ll soundproofed. What do they hear?? That’s my prompt
For this prompt: A fic that begins with "I've made a terrible mistake."
Also for this prompt: MoneyTanner. Seriously. Anything where Moneypenny and Tanner are in love.
Beautiful Things - James Bond/Alec Trevelyan - G
For cal from the following prompt: how about: ' "Blowing things up is usually his expertise" "My expertise and your hobby" ' ?
For Agent Day
The Bond Way - G
For NTS from the following prompt: Q, R, M, and Moneypenny in Q branch budget meeting. 👀 How does it come down? What trickery did Q do to get more funding? Did M spotted it, or pretend he didn't notice?
Not Fair - Eve Moneypenny/R - G
For Storm from the following prompt: how about: secret relationship/marriage 😁
For Q Branch Day
Lucky - James Bond/Felix Leiter - G
For Soup from the following prompt: how about “a penny for your thoughts”?
Also for the AO3 Tags prompt table’s prompt ‘everybody lives/nobody dies’.
How to Surprise a Spy - Eve Moneypenny/Alec Trevelyan - G
For Oliver from the following prompt: I’ve got "there was what in the cake?" "how do you surprise a spy" "terrible choice of password"
Rainbow - 00Q - G
For Merc from the following prompt: how about 'summer rain' or... 'rainbow'? or both combined?
Also for this prompt: A fic featuring a conversation in a language other than English. You can do it however you like, whether it is Bond in the field, Q talking to his counterpart at another agency, or characters practicing their foreign language skills, etc.
Fake It (Till You Make It) - Alec Trevelyan/Bill Tanner - T+
For Felix from the following prompt: How about fake relationship with some nice idiots to lovers in the mix?
For the Cities prompt table’s prompt ‘Free Space’ which was Zagreb, Croatia for me.
Also for Scavenger Hunt #92: Pick 2 or more characters. Using this generator, generate a set of dialogue. Use it in your fic or artwork.
My set of dialogue is this:
Tanner, tending to Trevelyan’s wounds: How would you rate your pain?
Trevelyan: Zero stars. Would NOT recommend.
Headcanons
Felix is Ace
For Queering the Characters Day
Q’s Newest Moomin Mug
For Headcanon Day
Sometimes Q Gives Bond Mugs, Too
Q Loves the Taika Series
Q’s Newest Mug
Bond Likes Japan, Too
Some of Bond’s Surprises Are Local
Bond’s Retirement Plan
Scavenger Hunts
#1, #45, #45 x2, #48, #50, #73, #83, #88, #95
Watchparties etc
Our Flag Means Death, 5 episodes
Fic Readalong
London Spy, 1 episode
Casino Royale ‘67
00QAD Fandom Chat Night
Comments
111 comments
Others
Beta work x 3
This for Villain Day
+ other bonuses
Total: 825 points
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26th January >> Mass Readings (Except USA)
Saints Timothy and Titus, Bishops
on
Thursday, Third Week in Ordinary Time.
Thursday, Third Week in Ordinary Time
(Liturgical Colour: White)
(Readings for the feria (Thursday))
(There is a choice today between the readings for the ferial day (Thursday) and those for the memorial. The ferial readings are recommended unless pastoral reasons suggest otherwise)
Either:
(The following reading is proper to the memorial, and must be used even if you have otherwise chosen to use the ferial readings)
First Reading 2 Timothy 1:1-8 Fan into a flame the gift God gave you.
From Paul, appointed by God to be an apostle of Christ Jesus in his design to promise life in Christ Jesus; to Timothy, dear child of mine, wishing you grace, mercy and peace from God the Father and from Christ Jesus our Lord.
Night and day I thank God, keeping my conscience clear and remembering my duty to him as my ancestors did, and always I remember you in my prayers; I remember your tears and long to see you again to complete my happiness. Then I am reminded of the sincere faith which you have; it came first to live in your grandmother Lois, and your mother Eunice, and I have no doubt that it is the same faith in you as well.
That is why I am reminding you now to fan into a flame the gift that God gave you when I laid my hands on you. God’s gift was not a spirit of timidity, but the Spirit of power, and love, and self-control. So you are never to be ashamed of witnessing to the Lord, or ashamed of me for being his prisoner; but with me, bear the hardships for the sake of the Good News, relying on the power of God who has saved us and called us to be holy.
The Word of the Lord
R/ Thanks be to God.
Or:
(The following reading is proper to the memorial, and must be used even if you have otherwise chosen to use the ferial readings)
First Reading Titus 1:1-5 To Titus, true child of mine.
From Paul, servant of God, an apostle of Jesus Christ to bring those whom God has chosen to faith and to the knowledge of the truth that leads to true religion; and to give them the hope of the eternal life that was promised so long ago by God. He does not lie and so, at the appointed time, he revealed his decision, and, by the command of God our saviour, I have been commissioned to proclaim it. To Titus, true child of mine in the faith that we share, wishing you grace and peace from God the Father and from Christ Jesus our saviour. The reason I left you behind in Crete was for you to get everything organised there and appoint elders in every town, in the way that I told you.
The following reading is proper to the memorial, and must be used even if you have otherwise chosen to use the ferial readings.
The Word of the Lord
R/ Thanks be to God.
Responsorial Psalm Psalm 95(96):1-3,7-8,10
R/ Proclaim the wonders of the Lord among all the peoples.
O sing a new song to the Lord, sing to the Lord all the earth. O sing to the Lord, bless his name.
R/ Proclaim the wonders of the Lord among all the peoples.
Proclaim his help day by day, tell among the nations his glory and his wonders among all the peoples.
R/ Proclaim the wonders of the Lord among all the peoples.
Give the Lord, you families of peoples, give the Lord glory and power; give the Lord the glory of his name.
R/ Proclaim the wonders of the Lord among all the peoples.
Proclaim to the nations: ‘God is king.’ The world he made firm in its place; he will judge the peoples in fairness.
R/ Proclaim the wonders of the Lord among all the peoples.
Gospel Acclamation Philipians 2:15-16
Alleluia, alleluia! You will shine in the world like bright stars because you are offering it the word of life. Alleluia!
Or: Psalm 118:105
Alleluia, alleluia! Your word is a lamp for my steps and a light for my path. Alleluia!
Gospel Mark 4:21-25 A lamp is to be put on a lampstand. The amount you measure out is the amount you will be given.
Jesus said to the crowd, ‘Would you bring in a lamp to put it under a tub or under the bed? Surely you will put it on the lamp-stand? For there is nothing hidden but it must be disclosed, nothing kept secret except to be brought to light. If anyone has ears to hear, let him listen to this.’
He also said to them, ‘Take notice of what you are hearing. The amount you measure out is the amount you will be given – and more besides; for the man who has will be given more; from the man who has not, even what he has will be taken away.’
The Gospel of the Lord
R/ Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.
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Saints Timothy and Titus, Bishops
(Liturgical Colour: White)
(Readings for the memorial)
(There is a choice today between the readings for the ferial day (Thursday) and those for the memorial. The ferial readings are recommended unless pastoral reasons suggest otherwise)
Either:
First Reading 2 Timothy 1:1-8 Fan into a flame the gift God gave you.
From Paul, appointed by God to be an apostle of Christ Jesus in his design to promise life in Christ Jesus; to Timothy, dear child of mine, wishing you grace, mercy and peace from God the Father and from Christ Jesus our Lord.
Night and day I thank God, keeping my conscience clear and remembering my duty to him as my ancestors did, and always I remember you in my prayers; I remember your tears and long to see you again to complete my happiness. Then I am reminded of the sincere faith which you have; it came first to live in your grandmother Lois, and your mother Eunice, and I have no doubt that it is the same faith in you as well.
That is why I am reminding you now to fan into a flame the gift that God gave you when I laid my hands on you. God’s gift was not a spirit of timidity, but the Spirit of power, and love, and self-control. So you are never to be ashamed of witnessing to the Lord, or ashamed of me for being his prisoner; but with me, bear the hardships for the sake of the Good News, relying on the power of God who has saved us and called us to be holy.
The Word of the Lord
R/ Thanks be to God.
Or:
First Reading Titus 1:1-5 To Titus, true child of mine.
From Paul, servant of God, an apostle of Jesus Christ to bring those whom God has chosen to faith and to the knowledge of the truth that leads to true religion; and to give them the hope of the eternal life that was promised so long ago by God. He does not lie and so, at the appointed time, he revealed his decision, and, by the command of God our saviour, I have been commissioned to proclaim it. To Titus, true child of mine in the faith that we share, wishing you grace and peace from God the Father and from Christ Jesus our saviour. The reason I left you behind in Crete was for you to get everything organised there and appoint elders in every town, in the way that I told you.
The Word of the Lord
R/ Thanks be to God.
Responsorial Psalm Psalm 95(96):1-3,7-8,10
R/ Proclaim the wonders of the Lord among all the peoples.
O sing a new song to the Lord, sing to the Lord all the earth. O sing to the Lord, bless his name.
R/ Proclaim the wonders of the Lord among all the peoples.
Proclaim his help day by day, tell among the nations his glory and his wonders among all the peoples.
R/ Proclaim the wonders of the Lord among all the peoples.
Give the Lord, you families of peoples, give the Lord glory and power; give the Lord the glory of his name.
R/ Proclaim the wonders of the Lord among all the peoples.
Proclaim to the nations: ‘God is king.’ The world he made firm in its place; he will judge the peoples in fairness.
R/ Proclaim the wonders of the Lord among all the peoples.
Gospel Acclamation Luke 4:17
Alleluia, alleluia! The Lord has sent me to bring the good news to the poor, to proclaim liberty to captives. Alleluia!
Gospel Luke 10:1-9 Your peace will rest on that man.
The Lord appointed seventy-two others and sent them out ahead of him, in pairs, to all the towns and places he himself was to visit. He said to them, ‘The harvest is rich but the labourers are few, so ask the Lord of the harvest to send labourers to his harvest. Start off now, but remember, I am sending you out like lambs among wolves. Carry no purse, no haversack, no sandals. Salute no one on the road. Whatever house you go into, let your first words be, “Peace to this house!” And if a man of peace lives there, your peace will go and rest on him; if not, it will come back to you. Stay in the same house, taking what food and drink they have to offer, for the labourer deserves his wages; do not move from house to house. Whenever you go into a town where they make you welcome, eat what is set before you. Cure those in it who are sick, and say, “The kingdom of God is very near to you.”’
The Gospel of the Lord
R/ Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.
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seeing someone else.
BISHOP LOSA. MAYANS MC ┃ USEFUL LINKS
❝ request by @encounterthepast: Hello lovely Aurora, can I request angst prompt number 7 with Bishop please, thank you, 💕
❝ prompt: “Don’t you dare to lie to me again”.
❝ request by @arveeee: Hello my dear, so I was thinking, and there is one sentence to that can't go out of my head. So it is: "let me in" with Bishop (I know I'm boring). Well I believe in you, I love you , and I love your writing. Say hello to Arya.
❝ request by anon: Hi, Aurora. I love your writing sm 🥺 I was wondering if I could request an imagine with my man Bishop? I was thinking of something like the reader and him being in kinda like a friends with benefits situation, but she decides to break it offf because she’s really upset. And maybe Bishop doesn’t understand so she eventually explains to him that she wants more out of their relationship and he reassures her they are more and they always have been? Maybe leads to like soft/romantic smut? Thanks so much!
❝ request by @meteora-fc: hello hello! so, that new trailer huh?😵 would absolutely love if you could write me something for a stressed out bishop with the prompts "Stop ignoring me, it’s driving me crazy!" and "Let me help you make it better." Thank you tons!!💖
❝ words: about 1.4k.
❝ a / n: as always, don’t forget to comment and reblog if you liked it!
Another tequila shot goes down your throat, ripping it off as you almost smash the small glass on the table. Tossing your head back as you rest your back against the sofa, sitting on the floor, you take a look around you. The gloomy has taken over your house as the night has fallen a couple of hours ago. It's the fourth night you are trying to forget about Bishop and whatever you two had. But you can't dismiss from your mind his caresses —his fingers drawing patterns on your back, his lips touring your neck with delicate kisses as if he was afraid of breaking your skin, his mustache tickling your inner thighs, his raspy voice articulating your name in moans. It's the fourth night miserably failing, remembering the last time you spent together, the way he was holding his back pretending he wasn't sad because you were leaving him.
“Obispo, it's over. Don't make a big deal. We're just friends who occasionally fucks”. You scoffed somewhat annoyed because of him and his interrogation, but how could you tell him you were falling in love with him?
“I ain't making any deal, (Y/N). I just want to know what made you change your mind and keep a wide berth”.
“I'm seeing someone else”.
"Don't you dare to lie to me”. He growled, taking a step closer towards you with the intention of stopping you from picking up and packing the less stuff you had in his house.
“Think what you want”. You replied, rolling your eyes.
The first tear flows in the left corner of your mouth not appreciably at first, but then, some more until finding yourself crying. You miss him so much. You miss watching him sleep peacefully in the small hours, drifting slightly when you caress his cheek using your fingertips. Flexing your knees to your chest, you wrap your arms around trying to contain the loud sobs, hiding your face between them. How have you been so stupid to fall for him like that? The two of you made it clear from the very first moment. Friends with benefits. But after a couple of weeks, you started to notice that he used to push away any other woman that it wasn't you, he didn't spend much time in the clubhouse preferring to do it in your house —cuddling, watching movies, playing poker; kissing every single inch of flesh covering your anatomy.
Reality hit you the moment he murmured something like you're a miracle, thinking you were calmly sleeping between his strong arms and your back stuck to his chest, no distance among your bodies. You knew it was a thing produced by the alcohol running through your veins and it wasn't fair for you to fantasize about the idea he was catching feelings for you. So you just ran away, like a coward.
Some clumsy knocks on the front door of your house bring you back to reality. At first, you try to ignore them. It's not like you're in the mood for visits, knowing that probably it's Leti at the other side of the place, worried because you haven't replied to her text all day. But she insists and insists. And you know how stubborn she can be sometimes. Serving yourself another shot and drinking it in just one gulp, because you're too sober to endure another of her Ted talks about positivism and what he has lost, you stand up on your bare feet. Everything around you spins dizzyingly for a second until you can react, feeling every knock like a hammer hitting your brain.
“I've heard you the fi—”.
Opening the door to receive her, your vocals get frozen as you face Bishop in a deplorable drunk state. Just like you are.
“Let me in”. He barks, not being able to look at your eyes, trying to pass you away to the inside, but you stop him.
“Go home, Obis—”.
“I'm home, shut the fuck up”. He frowns taking a sip from a bottle of whisky you haven't noticed till now. “You think you can kick my fuckin' ass outta your life by saying you're seeing someone else? You think I'm fuckin' stupid, queri— Were you crying…?”
From anger, his tone of voice falls to one lower and lower, as the concern and the worry cover his annoyance completely. Throwing away his drink to somewhere over the grass of your yard, he holds your face onto his palms. His touch causes you to tremble. His warm touch causes you to break into aching sobs, panting as you can't breathe properly. All this time you've been thinking you have missed him, but you didn't have a real idea of how it feels until his fingers have been laid on your wetted skin.
Bishop comes closer to you, touching the tip of your nose with his. You can smell the mixed scent of cigarettes and whisky emanating from his cracked lips, it doesn't bother you, tho. “Don't kiss me, please”.
Until this precise moment, he has loved your begs and pleads to his bones, but now he hates them more than anything he could ever hate in his life. It breaks his heart. He can't deal with your rejection one night more.
“Why…? Why can't I kiss you?” He asks desperately at the edge of his tears. “Please, stop ignoring me, it's driving me crazy. I can't even take care of my own shit without you by my side”.
Your knees feel weak at his words, still believing he only says that because you're just a good lover, the best in the sheets, as he told you once.
“I… I…” You babble nervously, trying to not place your hands on the laps of his leather kutte to finally push him into the needed kiss you've been craving for the last four days. “I love you”.
And why the confession doesn't take him by surprise? Why doesn't he look confused? Why does it seem like he already knew it? Bishop can't help but draw a fleeting grin across his face.
“Do you think I came here, falling into pieces, just because it feels like being in Heaven when I'm deep inside you?” He whispers, clicking his tongue slightly. “I didn't believe you when you told me you were seeing someone else. But the minimal thought I could have about it made me lose the less sanity I have”.
You blink stupefied at his own confession about his feelings. Your fingers tour his abdomen up in slow motion, starting to have some faith in his words.
“Mi amor…” Bishop mumbles in soft giggles shaking his head. “I adore you, mi amor. I don't want anything else than to share my life with you, and only with you”.
He doesn't wait for a signal from you to kiss your lips, he just takes what it's his. And you can't hold back a painful gasp, expelling in it all the sorrow you've been carrying for the last four days being separated from him. Your hands grip his shirt in two fists, pushing him as much closer as the two of you can be, about to melt in the same figure. All this time you have been trying to not love him, to forget him; and you were just delaying the inevitable. You are made for each other, that's a fact. Your lips fit to perfection —your bodies, your hearts.
“Tell me you love me”. You whimper against his mouth, causing him to smile because of your need of making it real by these simple three words.
“Love isn't enough to express what you make me feel”.
Bishop bends down without prior notice to wrap his huge hands on the back of your thighs, urging you to jump onto him and surround his waist with your legs. You haven't forgotten how good his warmth takes over you when he holds you like that, walking inside your house and kicking the door close. Guiding his steps across your place and its hallways, he reaches your dark dorm barely illuminated by a post light outdoors. He lies you down on your bed —a bed that has welcomed you for the last eight months in every kind of state. Drunk, tired, happy.
Now, you're a mix of them. Drunk in tequila, tired of crying, but happy for having him back for the rest of your life.
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#mayans mc x reader#mayans mc imagine#mayans x reader#mayans mc#bishop losa#bishop losa imagine#bishop losa x reader#obispo losa x reader#obispo losa
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