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ezwra · 6 years

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A Hymn For Your Gods [NovaHD]

self indulgent torture lol ha ha yeet

quick warning for graphic broken bone description and weird kissing of the hostage idk

[Ao3 Link]

They’re fire and ice. Wild and unruly, cold and calculated. They’re strong apart, but together they are an unstoppable force. Aleksandr, the serbian glacier, an ethereal blue in the desert heat of LA; james, the wildfire, a rush of dry heat and energy, ruddy cheeks and tangled hair. They combine together almost perfectly, whether it be in the line of fire or tangled together under sheets with grasping hands and mouths against sweaty, blood stained skin. They would kill for each other, losing their weak grasp on their control and massacring anyone that dared hurt their counterpart.

Today was one of those days; however, they decided to use this to their advantage.

The latest man, average height with greying hair and an ugly scar on the side of his head, had caught aleks off guard, taking him down with a smoke bomb and a rusted crowbar. They had managed to capture him in the act, brett striking the man down before james could slaughter him where he stood, instead sending the vengeful man to aleks’ side. They dragged him back to a safehouse, off the grid in the middle of the desert, and tied him up securely in the basement, AC at full blast and the cold room only getting colder as night set in. The gas mask the man used is still around his neck, a crack in one of the lenses and a blood splatter across the front, and the crowbar is on the trolley a few feet away. The room is dark, dingy, water-stained lights not doing much to illuminate anything. The floor, previously tiled with white slabs, is covered with various shades of red and brown, the coppery stench still filling the room. The walls are still white, though, with the occasional splatter.

The door opens suddenly with a loud screech, hinges protesting and practically making the room shake with the harsh sound. James is the first to step in, face gloomy and stern, followed by aleks. He’s still in a bit of a state, face bruised dark up one side and an arm wrapped around his own body for support. James is still in his clothes from the job, a black tee with a leather jacket, patched up messily with amateur stitching, none of the threads matching the leather, and some blood stained jeans, faded at the knees and the seat, a loose thread hanging at the thigh. Aleks is now in more casual clothes; a pair of grey sweats with shallow pockets, phone poking out slightly, and a black vest, tattooed arms out in the open in all their bruised and bandaged glory. He’s barefoot, too, the padding of his feet against cold tile ringing out uncomfortably in the room, but he doesn't seem to care, the cold echoing his most comfortable space.

James steps forwards and pulls a second chair out, quickly returning to aleks’ side and guiding him over with a hand on the small of his back. It’s the calmest he’s been for a while, pressed close to aleks and doing his best to hide him from the man that tried to take him away- aleks settles a hand on his shoulder, smiling small and soothing, a look in his eye reading calm, he can't hurt me. James nods slow and settles the fire in his chest, quelling it to gentle embers, only there to keep his aleks warm. He settles in the seat, shifting to sit at an angle on the chair, before coaxing aleks into his lap, wrapping an arm around his waist to keep him steady and settling his chin gently on his shoulder, glaring at the man across from them.

Aleks is careful, he settles down and settles one of his hands over james’ where it rests on his stomach and wincing very slightly at the press of a warm hand against the tender flesh. He links their fingers, sighing out and rolling his shoulders before looking to the man again, eyes dark and icy as he talks, each word a sharp noise in the tense silence, “who do you work for?” The man says nothing, staring them down quietly. He’s obviously nervous, sweat beading on his brow and lip close to bleeding with how hard he’s chewing at it, fingers clutching at the arms of the chair and causing the aged wood to creak. Aleks can't help but commend his bravery, but he knows he’ll break.

They all do, eventually.

“It would be smart if you spoke now, you know. We would kill you much faster,” aleks’ voice is airy and casual, a sweet smile spreading across his face, “maybe we’d let you say goodbye to your family, too.”

The man sneers, “either way, you’ll sic your dog on me,” he gestures his head towards james, “he’s more like your bitch, with how he follows you around, a desperate boy looking for some order. Does he wear a leash when you’re alone?”

Aleks just sighs, shaking his head slow, “you think you’re so funny, don't you? No one’s laughing. First you hurt me,” james stiffens at that, arm wrapping tighter around aleks with a low growl, “then, you insult my jamie?” he strokes feather light fingers along james’ arm, nails dragging slightly against the grain of his arm hair, fingers catching slightly on the smooth scar tissue, “we can't have that, now, can we?” aleks looks back at james, eyes soft and mouth down turned into a small frown.

James shakes his head with a slow frown, leaning up and bumping his nose against aleks’ as a small act of comfort, intimacy in such a heartless room, love overflowing from the flames and into the ice, “no, we can't, doll…” he gently stands up, helping aleks with his hands on his hips and letting them linger against the pale skin before gently sitting him down, kissing his forehead with little more than a brush of lips against the sweat slicked skin, the warmth of james’ mouth sending a shudder through aleks. James strides over to the trolley carefully, boots ringing out in the small room, and studies each of the weapons carefully. They had been cultivated from many places; from traitors with fingers too fast on the trigger, from assassins with sharp tongues and even sharper knives, from hackers who were in over their heads with household objects and sheer determination. The crew decided that they shouldn't use their own tools during interrogation, during torture. As they say - you should keep business and pleasure apart.

But james can't help the rush of bliss that comes from the way the man trembles in his seat at the sight of the crowbar, the same one he had used on aleks mere hours before. His fingers wrap carefully around the rough metal, rust coming off on the pads of his fingers in reddish brown smears and flaking off to the floor. He walks back over, dragging the curve of the metal bar against the man’s cheek and reveling in the soft whimper, looking to aleks for orders, for guidance.

Aleks smiles sweetly in return, ice cracking under the heat and letting a refreshing stream of water flow, “make him hurt, my love. Hurt him like he hurt me, like he hurt you.” james’ fingers tighten around the metal and he doesn't hesitate before swinging the metal down harshly onto the man’s chest, the cry of anguish sending a low thrum of pleasure through him, deep and bassy. Aleks watches on quietly, studying his flame and watching it turn to a violent beast, the crowbar coming down over and over against the man’s body. The final strike, shattering the man’s left forearm and causing the bone to break away cleanly, breaks the man in a similar fashion.

“Fake AH! I work for Fake AH!”

Aleks hides his noise of disgust, shaking his head and standing slow. He walks over carefully, stroking over james’ arm as he passes before settling in the man’s lap, straddling him elegantly and gently bringing his hands up to the man’s neck. He strokes along the warm flesh - not warm like james, instead warm and tacky with fear and sweat and adrenaline - and croons sweetly, leaning down and pressing their heads together. The man leans into it, sobbing softly in pain as he presses eagerly into the gentle touches, craving the sweet words and tones.

This is what aleks is good at, wearing them down mentally if james can't break them physically. The ice a formidable opponent to the strong mind. Aleks brings his hands up to hold the man’s face, smiling soft and gentle as he wipes the tears away before pressing a sweet kiss to his lips, both mouths tasting of copper, yet one lined with the indescribable and addictive taste of fear. He separates slow, thumb brushing along his bottom lip and wiping some blood away, “baby, we can't have you lying, can we? That’s not very nice…”

James watches on, the fire burning stronger as he watches the man give in to aleks’ vices. Aleks is his, always has been and always will be, no matter the situation. The pleasure that comes with the man’s blatant fear, though, makes it all worth it, “n-no, please, i- uh- i'm telling the truth! I'm not lying!”

Aleks tuts, leaning in close and pressing a comforting kiss to the man’s jaw and spreading them down along the tight chords in his neck, taking a knife offered by james and smiling a little against the man’s skin, “you see, baby, i can tell you’re lying…” he gently slides his hands up the man’s shirt, unbuttoning it smoothly as he goes and pressing his palms flat to the strong chest, too smooth for his liking, not thick and hairy like his james, “the golden boy raised me up, made me who i am today, gave me my best weapon...” the first press of the knife, just the flat side, cool against his skin, “the king pin taught me to love my crew, gave me my first tattoo and held my hand though it…” he twists the knife, the blunt end creating a white line where it causes the man’s skin to strain slightly, “the vagabond and mogar taught me to control my anger, to let it fester before unleashing it, they helped me at my worst and encouraged me at my best…” he turns the blade to the sharp side, ghosting it along the man’s ribs and tracing subtle shapes, “brown man, rimmy tim, beardo… they all lead me here, they made me who i am now, and yet…” he adjusts his grip on the knife, kissing the corner of the man’s mouth with a soft sigh, “you claim you work for them. Why should i believe you?”

The man sobs desperately, quaking in his seat and using his good hand to grip the arm of the chair, “i'm sorry, i'm sorry, i don't know who they worked for, they just hired me, it was a hit, i didn't-” he gasps and goes silent when the tip of the knife, cold and sharp, presses against his neck, the knife shifting slightly with his thrumming pulse.

“Another lie.” aleks is slowly beginning to lose his patience, twisting the knife and watching the single drop of blood rise up and travel along the knife before dripping off onto the man’s pants. The ice is beginning to crack, tremors shaking the foundations, “why can't you be good for me, baby?”

All the man can do is sob and pant a breathy i'm sorry over and over, tilting his head back and squeezing his eyes shut. James watches quietly, studying aleks and the way his back bows slightly, the hand with the knife tight in its grip shaking gently, the other hand gripping the back of the man’s chair. He steps forwards, standing behind aleks and gently moving him to rest against his abdomen, settling a gentle hand on his chest with a soft hum. Aleks looks up at james quietly, letting his walls down for just a moment; he's tired, the painkillers are wearing off and he’s slowly growing breathless, but he uses that to his advantage. He leans into james’ warmth, grinning soft at the man, “baby, i know you’re sorry, we’re gonna make sure you are.” his innocent tone greatly contrasts the words that flow out, too sweet and sticky like grenadine.

For the first cut, aleks moves the blade down to the fleshy part of his abdomen and cuts slow and shallow, then bringing the knife back across the same line in a saw motion, “sing, baby. Sing a choir song for me, nice and loud…” the man grits his teeth, determined, his chest heaving as he sucks in shallow breaths.

Aleks frowns at the silence, furrowing his brows. James lets out a low snarl at this, fire licking gently at ice as he kisses aleks’ temple before stepping behind the man, threading a hand in his greying hair and tugging harshly so he faces aleks, voice sharp and foreboding, “he said sing,” james digs his thumb into the shattered bones of his left forearm and pressing the upper half down, separating the bone further before pinching the lower half, “so you’d better sing, or i’ll make sure you never fucking talk.”

The howling wail the man lets out brings a bright smile to aleks’ face, one that assures james he would do anything to never see it wiped away from his handsome face. He grips the man’s arm tighter, skin starting to split where the bone pierces through, blood trickling out before pouring out along the arm of the chair, adding fresh crimson to the dull reds and browns on the floor. Aleks watches with a hungry look, eyes meeting james’ and, despite the pain lancing through him every few moments, aleks falls even more in love with the crazed man before him.

He laughs soft, sweet like honey and just as sticky, capturing both men in front of him in a trap of bliss, “that’s it, baby, such a pretty tune…” he takes the knife away from the messy groove in his stomach, dragging it up the man’s body before slicing the skin of his chest gently, “and as much as i love it, we need the truth from you. We’re gonna continue like this until you tell the truth,” he leans forwards, mouth brushing the shell of the man’s ear, “or until you bleed out; we’re not gonna get tired, cause hurting you makes my jamie happy, and if he's happy, i'm happy…” he moves his arms around the man’s neck, dragging the knife along and creating a deep cut trailing along his shoulder and around the back of his neck.

James hums, kissing the back of aleks’ hand with a low grumble, “i'm certainly very happy…”

Aleks nods, smiling sweet against the man’s temple and shuddering at the meek whimper, “so… who do you work for?”

The man shudders, hiccuping before whispering his answer, trying his best to move his head but unable to due to the tight grip in his hair. Aleks smiles so sweet and beautiful, sighing out happily and kissing the man’s forehead before taking his face into his hands, “thank you so much, baby, now i can go rest up…” aleks stands slow, shuffling over to the trolley and placing the knife down after cleaning it off, then turning to james and shuffling closer before pecking his lips soft, hugging his neck. This is more tender, more loving and kind than with the man, more honest, “you’re free to have your fun now, jamie, m’gonna go lay down for a bit, my chest hurts…”

James nods slow, kissing aleks’ jaw soft, mouth ghosting over the mottled bruises, “you sure you don't want me with you? He can wait until tomorrow, and i don't want you alone…”

Aleks leans into the gentle touches before wincing, sighing again and nodding, “yeah, honey. You have your fun, but don't take too long,” he grins, soft and sweet, before stepping away, turning around and walking to the door. He steps out and shuts it after himself, lingering briefly to listen to the begging and pleading for mercy, then retreating off to bed for rest.

The ice is cold and the fire is hot. The ice is melted by the fire, the fire is put out by the water. They are each other’s weakness, yet they wouldn't change it for the world.

#my writing #my fic #novahd #sfw #kinda?#violence #torture #blood #gore #fake chop #fakechop

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thisloveforyourmom · 6 years

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Sudden Silence, Ch.1

Hey guys! I’ve recently been collaborating with @the-cockbite-syndicate and a bunch of other content creators to make content for a BRAND NEW cow chop au, so here’s my chapter one! If you read/liked Sygyzy, be prepared for another wild ride. Here it is!

Sudden Silence

Chapter 1: Noise

There are a lot of things that James Wilson was prepared for. Tattoos, for one thing. Calligraphy. Stray marks. Paint. Sharpie. Even scars, honesty.

But here he is, sixteen years old, watching black ink blossom across his skin for the first time, and he realizes he wasn’t prepared for Japanese.

He thinks it’s Japanese, after googling “asian languages” and clicking ‘images’. The characters seem to line up the way they should, not quite as complex looking as Mandarin and not as spaced out as Korean, but without a Japanese keyboard or the ability to understand pictographic characters he can’t tell what it says. He writes ‘what?’ on his own skin with a ballpoint pen, and the only reply he gets is to see the characters smudge like they were wiped and then wash away.

***

James is twenty-two, and Los Angeles is a bigger city than he ever could have imagined or, really, even wanted. His apartment isn’t bad, but it isn’t exactly good either, and the traffic is terrible in a way that no traffic should ever have to be. Even six months in, he’s still unsure about the decision to move, but he’d assured his mom that LA would have plenty of opportunities and that she shouldn’t worry about him all the way in Pennsylvania, and damned if he was about to come running home across the country just so that she could tell him that she was right. She’d done it enough over the phone, the first month or so when he’d been missing her the most, and then James had remembered that he thrives on spite and he’d made it his goal to succeed.

He has a job at a “gourmet starbucks”, which is just a starbucks that serves special ice cream lattes and pays an hourly rate with two digits, and it’s not the job he plans to keep but it pays the bills on his apartment with enough left over that he can start an internship sometime soon. The first couple months, he works with Aleks, and as his most frequent coworker he quickly becomes James’ first and only friend.

Aleks then exposes him to Brett, who’s all dry wit and seems to know how to get under Aleks’ skin even better than James does, and they very quickly form a mutual respect once Brett stun guns himself in the leg and James drinks--well, drinks is a strong word--a blend of protein milk and mealworms.

Then Aleks gets a better job, one that pays him more and doesn’t require him to smell like coffee 24/7, and when he leaves Trevor and Aron take his place. It’s shocking, really, how every new employee at this liquid sugar store seems to fit seamlessly into the group they’re forming, but within a couple weeks Aron moves away and Trevor springs for amateur photography and Jakob and Asher take their place on the morning shift.

And then, two months later, Jakob swaps to the night shift, Asher joins Trevor, and James gets promoted to manager before he finds himself leaning against the counter at 5:30 AM, staring at a Japanese man with a headband and and a nametag that says ‘Sasuke Uchiha’.

He’s got pin straight black hair, cut choppily as if he’s done it himself, and he stands just a little shorter than James. Giving him the onceover, the first things James notices are the wristbands, and the second is the way he stands, as if he’s ready to move in any direction at any time. He’s skinny, but muscular, and he’s got to be around James’ age but there’s a certain maturity about him that makes him seem much older.

They stare for a while, and part of it is the fact that James got up at five in the morning to open, and part of it is the fact that past a a basic greeting this new guy hasn’t spoken once.

“So how do you say that?” James asks eventually, and maybe he’s just not a morning person, but ‘Sasuke’ only stares for a moment or so.

“Sa-su-ke,” he eventually says, sounding it out with something that’s almost contempt, and James was going to sigh but he’s caught off guard by the way that this new guy’s voice sounds. Not what he’s putting into it, probably, but...it rings a bell, of some kind, only James can’t tell what. “Welcome to hell,” he says, instead of thinking about that, and he whips a washcloth off the counter and at Sasuke. He catches it, unfazed, and James doesn’t know why Sasuke’s composure annoys him, but it does. “You’re new, you scrub the tables. When that’s done, work the register until the hospital crowd stops coming in, and then I’ll show you how to use the machines. Until then…” James yawns. “Don’t fucking bother me.”

***

Sasuke’s only been working there for a few hours, but James can’t stop stealing glances at him. Sasuke is definitely attractive, but 5’9” with a permanent bored look has never exactly been James’ type, and he can’t figure out why he’s so interested. But he is, and he keeps noticing things that he’d never care about in anyone else. Sasuke moves almost a little too smoothly, like a dancer, and he’s got abnormally fast reflexes. He always keeps his wrists covered. He hasn’t spilled any coffee on anyone yet, and James gets the feeling that if he did spill it, he wouldn’t care all that much. Everything only adds to the weird air of mystery surrounding him.

God, ‘air of mystery’, he sounds like a fucking author with a crush and that’s not what this is. He’s curious, is all. That’s it. This person is new, and he does things a little weirdly, and James hasn’t seen it before so he’s curious and if he’s going to dissect that it won’t be now.

James tells himself that until he’s distracted by Aleks coming in before work. He ushers Sasuke away from the register, because Aleks is a hassle to deal with on his best days, and if James is there Aleks isn’t going to let him hear the end of ignoring him at the register anyway. Sasuke doesn’t say anything, just nods and goes to make a latte or something--and James was kind of shocked at how quickly he picked up that particular skill, he’d said he hadn’t done it before, but he’d learned pretty fast how to foam milk without getting it everywhere and how not to overtamp the espresso machine--and maybe James was just an idiot but it had definitely taken him a couple days to master the production of caffeine.

“Are you going to take my order, or are you too busy staring at that new guy?” Aleks asks, and James snaps his attention to the bottle blonde standing at the counter.

“I wasn’t--” he starts, but the look on Aleks’ face tells him that he’s either explaining himself, getting relentlessly teased, or both, so he just sighs. “He just looks kinda familiar, is all, stop giving me that look, you fucker.”

Aleks pauses for a moment, and the slow smile on his face is all James needs to see.

“That’s fucked up--”

“Not Aron familiar, you asshole, what the fuck do you want from this stupid hipster fucking Starbucks,” James groans, and Aleks only laughs. He doesn’t order, just offers his card, but that’s okay because if James didn’t know what he wanted by now he’d be a really pathetic friend.

He writes russian asshole on the cup, and then gets back to actually making coffee while Sasuke takes his spot at the register. It’s a hard battle not to yell cocksucker instead of grande white chocolate mocha, but he manages, and if he gets back to stealing glimpses of the new guy once he’s gone then there’s no one around who cares enough to notice.

***

Sasuke sticks around, and James shouldn’t be surprised because this is his job, but it still seems strange for whatever reason. Like ‘coworker’ isn’t the word he should be using to describe him. Either way, within the week, he’s working more efficiently than Jakob ever did, and probably poisoning less customers, and James can’t deny the efficiency he’s brought. His role in the store is already growing, and with it for some stupid reason, James’ interest in him.

There’s a lot he didn’t notice on the first day. Sasuke takes care with each individual order, as if he thinks they’re important beyond the scope of the job, and at one point James catches him looking around after he messes up a name and James quickly looks away. When he peeks again, there’s a small smirk on Sasuke’s face, and James can’t fight the smile coming to his own.

James’ initial fascination just...doesn’t wear off. It’s stupid, and Aleks notices it every time, and because he has no morals he points it out to Brett, and while he sternly denies their suspicions that it’s a crush, it’s like he sees something new every time he looks over. By Friday, he’s almost disappointed for his days off, and he doesn’t get it. He hadn’t cared half as much about Trevor or Jakob or even Aleks, but something about this guy just...draws him closer. Pulls his eyes away from whatever he’s doing and into some bullshit people-watching session where there’s only one person being watched.

He can’t help it. He wants to, but he can’t. He finds himself noticing the little things, even if they’re the same little things he’s noticed time and time again. How he moves, the way his bangs are cut. The way he asks for someone’s name. But this is not a crush, so he’s resigned himself to finding out as much as he can just by watching his new coworker and hopefully whatever this is--not a crush--will stop.

***

“Taste my wrath, James,” Brett calls, laughing in that little, stupid, infuriating way of his, and James almost throws his controller across the room.

“Fuck off,” he yells as he falls off the level for the fifth fucking time, and the moment the race ends he drops the controller in favor of leaning back with his head in his hands. “I don’t wanna play this game anymore.”

“You’re just a sore fucking loser,” Brett laughs, and fuck Brett because he’s got first in the Prix. “Wasn’t me. That was Trevor.” James still hasn’t moved, but he’s more than happy to move the blame.

“Dude, what?” Trevor asks, but before he can get an answer James stands up and stretches, going to the kitchen and opening the fridge. “Oh, dude, get me a Sprite,” Aleks calls, and he’s second in the prix so fuck him too, actually.

“No. I’m done with your games.” He comes back with a shitty ten ounce can of Sprite anyway, but immediately regrets it when he sees the look on Aleks’ face.

“If you’re done with the game, we could just talk about your fuckin’ boner for that new guy--” James doesn’t let him get far. “It’s not a boner, you fucker, first of all, and his name is Sasuke.” It’s too immediate, and there’s just a little too much aggression in it, and Aleks only leans back with his eyebrows raised. Trevor, from across the room, does the opposite, and James can feel the attention in the room shift entirely to him god damn it. “I mean, I’m not, uh, well versed in these subjects, but--”

“Shut the fuck up, Trevor, you can’t listen to this conversation,” James says, throwing a throw pillow at him and then using the other one to cover his face when Brett starts in. “You’ve been talking about him in the groupchat for like, a week, dude,” he says, and James only groans. “Shut up, you baby. It’s a crush.”

“He’s interesting,” James moans, and Brett just laughs.

“I know a lot of interesting people. You didn’t stare at any of them for 8 hours a day.”

“If I had to stare at you for 8 hours a day I’d kill myself.” “So you like staring at him.” God, Brett’s an asshole sometimes. James pulls away the pillow and starts to tell him that, but something on his face must give something away because Brett throws his hands up before he can. “Jesus, okay, calm down,” he laughs, and James just stares for a moment before pulling the pillow back over his face and groaning again.

***

They drop it, and James thinks it’s because they can tell they’re pushing something and he doesn’t like that there’s something there to push. At the same time, his whatever-this-is with Sasuke isn’t going away, and might even be getting worse, and judging by the look Aleks gave him Monday morning, if he doesn’t acknowledge it soon his friends are going to kill him.

Nothing comes to a head until Wednesday morning, where one of them is greeted by a platinum blonde and for the first time in two weeks it isn’t James. “Sasuke!” Someone calls, and both their heads turn at the sound. James quickly looks back to his customer at the register, but his ears are open to the conversation going on beside him. “Why did you come?” Sasuke says, and that one sentence holds more emotion than James has ever heard from him.

“Because you’re my friend, idiot,” the blonde replies, and then there’s a scoff and a laugh. “I’m an adult--” “I wanted to see how you were doing,” the blonde says, and it sounds...more subdued. Serious. There’s a moment where they don’t speak, and it’s filled by the sound of Sasuke turning on the ice machine. Then it goes off, and one of them sighs.

“I’m fine, Naruto.” Sasuke sounds tired, but not...ungrateful, and when James sneaks a look over he can see ‘Naruto’ smiling slightly. “Good.” Apparently that’s all he needed to hear, because he then starts in on a coffee order, and the look of pure exasperation on Sasuke’s face is enough to make James stifle a laugh. “Go to the register and order like a normal person, you loser,” he says, and Naruto makes a thoughtful sound for a moment.

“Fine,” he says, and James can see a flurry of motion out of the corner of his eye. “Naruto--” “This is payment, what kind of a friend won’t even make his friend a coffee, it’s a ransom headband--”

James doesn’t know what’s going on, but it’s getting closer and closer to him, and he turns to look just in time--

For Sasuke to spill hot coffee on him while trying to reach over at whatever Naruto’s got in his hand and time seems to stop.

He should be angry, probably, but really it isn’t hot enough to bu--okay, yeah, it’s hot enough to burn, but for some reason he doesn’t care. The sliver of skin where their arms brushed against each other feel electrified, as if they’re burning with black flames, and James doesn’t know why he chose black ones but it just seems to fit.

Sasuke’s eyes widen, and then meet his, and then for one long, slow moment, the world around them fades away, and all James can really focus on is the fact that Sasuke is pressed against him, burning and electric, and that he doesn’t ever want this moment to end.

And then it ends, and the seconds fade from minutes back to seconds again, and when Sasuke pulls away James is left holding the cloth away from his skin so that his torso doesn’t get burned too badly.

Sasuke just stands there, with his eyes wide and a mostly empty coffee cup in his hands, and for a moment everything is silent. And then Naruto jumps in with an obscene amount of concern for someone that he’s never met. “Are you okay?” He asks, reaching across the counter with some napkins and dropping Sasuke’s headband next to the register. Sasuke doesn’t reach for it, still just standing there, and James is still dazed enough that it takes him a moment to reply. “Wh--oh, no, yeah, yeah, I’m fine, I guess, I’ll just…” He stops. “I’ll just need a new shirt or something, yeah,” and he can tell from the way Sasuke relaxes slightly that he was expected a whole lot more anger. Well, James can’t really blame him, considering how he is normally, but it’s really hard to be angry when...well, when it’s Sasuke.

It’s only hard for James, though. “Sasuke!” Naruto practically yells, and Sasuke jumps some, finally blinking away that deer-in-the-headlights look. “You have to take him to get a new shirt.”

“Woah, wait a minute, it’s really fine--” James tries, but neither of them are listening. They seem to be having a silent conversation, and it looks like Naruto’s winning.

“Fine,” Sasuke finally concedes, and then turns to James. “After work?” He asks, and he’s not meeting James’ eyes, but he’s not sounding as...sullen as James had expected him to. Sasuke looks almost shy, and it’s...really cute. James realizes that he’d been staring for a moment, and shakes it away. “I--yeah, after work, that’s...fine…” He says, and then he has to turn away to help the next customer because the line is getting longer and also if he lingers in that moment any longer he’ll combust and fuck, fuck, fuck it’s definitely a crush.

(“I have a date”, he texts in the groupchat next time he gets a break, and then, “I’m fucked.”

He looks at his arms, and the rest of his body. Bare as they’ve always been.

Fuck.) @naruto-chop

#james wilson #cow chop #aleks marchant

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theunknown-ericfanfiction · 7 years

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Chapter 37.

Unexpected: Part 37

The Unknown Chapter Index.

Unexpected Chapter Index

“Of what are you so worried about? ” Eric said holding Morgan by the waist, she was changing Aleks to leave the apartment. The little one’s big blue eyes were staring back at her, his gums biting on his index finger.

“A lot of things, first of all, we don’t take him out anywhere for a month and now we take him out outside of the compound? Weren’t we supposed to do this in phases?”

“We didn’t already do that, and besides we have taken him out for a stroll in the compound”

“Yeah you’re right” she said looking down at Aleks “and then there’s the Christine situation, that woman makes me want to punch her and I know I’m supposed to be cool and clam, but I can now technically deck her, and if she forces me to I won’t have an excuse not to”

Eric chuckled in her ear and kissed her neck

“Especially since she summoned this meeting, it means she wants to chew you for something” she continued, taking Aleks from the changer and holding him against her chest, Eric’s eyes locked to his little ones as Aleks looked at him from over Morgan’s shoulder.

Eric lifted his hand and touched Aleks head and neck, giving him a kiss in the forehead.

“Aleks will be fine, and if anything I can hold Aleks while you hit her”

Morgan gave him a little worried smile from over her other shoulder and covered Aleks with a blanket

“We’re gonna have to take turns holding him, he’s getting too heavy”

“No worries baby, that’s why I’ve been working on these” he said, flexing his muscles at Morgan while she turned to him and squeezed one

“Mmm” she moaned seductively at him as she kissed him, her hand moved down to his chest, feeling it below his shirt “my man is getting hot” Eric pulled back a little to raise an eyebrow at her “hotter”

He smiled and kissed her again.

“If you’re in the mood when we come back I can put an end to your dry streak” she muttered in his lips

“I’ll be in the mood, one way or another.”

Eric held her by the waist and led her to exit the apartment.

They took one of the trucks to go to Erudite HQ, since Eric didn’t want Morgan to jump in the train with Aleks and then have to walk him from the station to Erudite.

“I think 90% of the time you’re with us, he spends it looking at you” Morgan said next to him.

Eric tore his eyes from the empty road to look at Aleks, who smiled when he saw his dad looking at him.

“He’s so cute” he said pinching his cheek and looking back at the road.

Eric parked near the building and exited the truck, Morgan hopped off from it, receiving a scolding look from Eric. Morgan passed on Aleks to Eric’s arms as she fixed her jacket and closed the truck door.

“Do you know what the meeting is about?” She said taking Aleks back in her arms and walking to the main door

“City security is what the memo said”

Morgan scoffed

“The fuck does she know about city security? that’s what we as a faction do. I’m hating this already, do stop me if I start talking to much”

“I like to see your badass bitch from hell side once in a while” Eric said holding her by the waist and opening to door to the lobby. They were greeted and taken to a conference room in the main floor.

Morgan was quickly surrounded by the Amity leaders that attended the meeting, along with the Abnegation ones, who all just looked and awed at her baby boy. Morgan portrayed a proud smile as she answered the questions, one that was quickly dropped from her face as soon as Christine entered the room.

She addressed them to take a seat, Morgan sitting next to Eric and placing Aleks on her lap

“Now would be a really good time for you to make a fuss, so I can get the hell out of here” she said looking down to match Aleks’ eyes

“You could have staid back” Eric said relaxing on the chair and linking his hands on his stomach

“What kind of leader would I be if I did that”

Eric gave her a quick glance before Christine started talking

“Good evening to you all, and thank you for coming, I want to make this short, as you all know a few days ago a settlement on the west side of the city began to form, as per Dauntless warning there is a frequent watch on that side, or I would like to think there is”

Morgan smiled and shook her head taking Aleks from her lap and placing it on Eric’s. Eric could see Morgan’s smirk and her hands folding together on the table. Giving a quick glance to Aleks to make sure he was fine, he looked back at Morgan

“And by that you mean… you want more reinforcements for a threat we don’t know if it is an actual threat? If it was spotted a few days ago, then we don’t know for sure who they are, maybe they’re from the department”

“Or maybe they’re from this resistance they’ve talked about so much, I think you should check in with the settlement”

“And risk it being a threat and they take our coming as an advance of confrontation?”

Christine sat straight in her chair to match Morgan’s rigid stance

“Your job is-”

“My job” Morgan interrupted “is to protect the people in this city, I’m very aware of that, and that’s what I’m doing, protecting the people of my city includes my faction, my soldiers are not expendable. So I would like to suggest you to shut the fuck up about subjects that you have no knowledge about.”

“We have reached an arrangement with the department, the threats that concern us are the ones that cross the fence, outside of it is their territory.” Eric said, holding eye contact with Christine as he lightly tapped Morgan’s arm to make her stand back

“Yes” she gave a humorless smile “the territory with the same troops that you were supposed to train and those from whom we’ve heard nothing about”

“You haven’t heard nothing about them because that matter doesn’t concern you” Morgan said looking away annoyed.

In that meeting she only learned that she thought everything was fine, but there were a lot of things Eric hadn’t told her.

“Why did the training ceased?” Christine demanded to know

“They only want Morgan to train the troops, they weren’t very fond of my style. And she was obviously busy”

Morgan looked down at her lap, now clearly pissed, she didn’t know if she was pissed at Eric, or at Nita, or at the world.

“I tried to tell them the training technics didn’t differ. They though the opposite and drew back on the deal” Eric said looking briefly at her to find her holding an angry frown at him.

He wasn’t going to get laid that night.

“I want my city protected, I suggest we launch a program to start building underground shelters to prevent any casualties if and when this happens, we will start to work with Amity to increase our food supply to take to the shelters for storage. In the meantime, an evacuation protocol should be started”

The other leaders gave a nod while Morgan took a deep breath and stood up from her chair, being followed by the rest.

When everyone was clearing out Morgan took Aleks back in her arms and looked at Christine

“I hope you take my suggest into consideration, otherwise I will have to take drastic measures to ensure you don’t fuck with my work”

Eric gently pushed Morgan by the low of her back towards the door.

Every time they went to Erudite the ride home was as quiet as a graveyard. Aleks was quietly breastfeeding, his eyes closing slowly, being lulled to sleep with the rock of the truck as they returned to dauntless.

“Morgan” Eric said looked at her, she hummed at him to continue talking “I haven’t told you about-”

“So I don’t worry and want to help, I know.”

“And you’re mad because..”

“Because I could have talked to Nita and told her to keep sending the troops for us to still train, it doesn’t matter I wasn’t there. You trained me, isn’t that better than me? And also what the fuck? A settlement? Why didn’t I hear from this?”

“Because-”

“Don’t tell me it’s because of Aleks, I can know this things and not freak out. Aleks is out, he’s here, and I’m not vulnerable or helpless or weak”

“I never said that”

“You act like it”

Morgan sighed and looked out at the road, they were nearing dauntless by now.

“And are we not going to talk about how you shut me out of this meeting, I’m the head leader” it was Eric’s turn to be mad

“Oh fuck off” Morgan said rolling her eyes and checking that Aleks was still sleeping when she removed her breast from his mouth, Eric parked and Morgan exited the truck

“Don’t tell me to fuck off” he said jumping out of the truck and slamming the door shut.

“Yes, fuck off Eric. You’re the ‘leader of dauntless’ here, but as soon as we enter Erudite territory you bitch out”

Eric’s eyes quickly hardened on Morgan’s.

“I do not bitch out” his voice dropped to a dangerous tone. Morgan turned around with a 'yeah right’ and walked to their apartment.

She left Aleks in his crib and walked to the living room to continue the argument with Eric.

He cornered her in the kitchen counter when she walked to it

“You’re my wife, and I love you Morgan, but it pisses me right the fuck off when you down my authority”

“When you’re with her, your authority is already down Eric. What do you want me to do? Sit around and watch her put a hand in you ass and puppeteer you around?”

“She doesn’t…”

“My god” she said rolling her eyes and looked away

“Morgan you don’t understand”

“Yes, I’m aware of that because you’re not telling me shit. I’m only working with what I can see, Eric, and this is the only way I see to prevent her taking advantage of you, because you don’t seem to be able to say no. If you want me to stand down, just say it”

Morgan locked eyes with him, waiting. Eric crossed his arms at his chest and looked away.

“OK then” she said giving him a nod. Morgan could see from miles away Eric’s jaw tensing

“Morgan I have no-”

“Choice? I can thing of some very good ones out of the top of my head, like telling her to fuck off from your business, that’s a good option”

“Erudite put me here, in this leadership position”

“Did they told Max to give leadership to you when he was done with his?” Eric looked away from her and rolled his eyes

“No but-”

“Did they kill the people you had to kill to get here? Did they alter your performance results in the tests?”

“No” he said, frowning at her, he had never mentioned his track to get to leadership to Morgan.

“Then they didn’t do shit to get you here. You did” she said pointing at his chest “and yes, when I was outside they told me about your thing with Erudite before you came here, this 'informant’ deal, but that deal was when you were a leader, and now you need to redefine what are you willing to do with them, not for them. And if we have to go to war for this we have a fucking army, what are they gonna do? Stab us with syringes?”

Eric couldn’t help to laugh under his breath at that, making Morgan smile.

They stood there facing each other, until Eric walked a short step to her and held her, his hands going up her back to her shoulder blades.

“You’re so fucking irritating sometimes ” she said hugging him back, Eric hid his face in the crook of her neck.

“I’m so glad I married you” he said, then kissed her neck.

“I’m so glad you married me too” Eric chuckled and held her by the neck, looking down at her, then her lips

“Am I still getting any tonight?”

Morgan smiled and looked up

“Maybe, if you’re a good boy” she kissed his lips and pulled away from him “are you going to work?”

“Maybe, why?”

She shrugged her shoulders

“I was going to lay down while Aleks sleeps, are you feeling like cuddling?”

Eric rolled his eyes and walked behind her

“Fine, only because you make it sound so appealing.”

#unexpected #eric fanfic #eric divergent #eric dauntless #eric coulter #eric #fanfic #divergent #dauntless #jai courtney #gal gadot

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partyatmyhaus · 7 years

Text

I’ll never get your bullet out of my mind, baby.

Still blaming it on Apollo.

They are as old as the Earth itself. Born from legend and mystery, separated when the Gods threw them to the Earth- they all find a way back to each other.

Immortal!Haus

READ IT ON AO3

There are many versions of “The Legend”, however the most common goes as such:

The eldest will be lonesome for a while

But when he meets his love, his heart will truly smile

He will bare the design

Filling it in over time

Violet he will be, the most cunning of all

For his shape and size having no real value at all

Careful and graceful- always at his best

He will keep his cards close to his chest

The woman will be as brave and true as any hero can be

With flames that only will grow- she will be the key

She will try to hide away, when push comes to shove

But she will learn you cannot hide from true love

Cold as winter and hard as ice he will be

But also as kind and friendly you will see

He is the way to get her to stay

Through this he will open the gateway

Glimpses into the future will save a life

He will truly always be a knight

His color will be black

But love in his heart- he surly will not lack

Tough he will appear- but tragedy he has seen

His power a great deal of magnitude, but do not be fooled he is obscene

A joker- set to make everyone smile

For them, he will always go the extra mile

Underestimated and quiet, this one will be

But his touch will grant him the ability to see

He will be the last to be found of the six- a beautiful token

But be careful, he is broken

Once reunited again- truly enchanted

The last gift will be granted

He’s working in some general store; he has been for…6 months? 9 months? A year? (he doesn’t remember anymore). At this point the years have started to blend together, and he can’t be bothered to care anymore. [He thinks it’s 1908, but for all he knows it could be 1976].

He has a shitty apartment, in some shitty town he still doesn’t know the name of, which has equally shitty weather. He works a shitty job, with shitty hours and at this point the highlight of his life has been the keeping up with the news of the Paris Olympics (He really tries to ignore the taste of bile he gets in the back of his throat at the mention of Paris).

“Adam.” The voice of his co-worker, Aleks (along with a gentle toss of a pack of cigarettes), snap Adam back into reality. A reality where he was just starring at the wall besides the cash register for Lord knows how long.

“Hmm?” Aleks rolls his eyes at the reply from Adam, but Adam honestly really doesn’t give a shit. This seems to be a trend lately. And by lately, he means for the past…ya’know forever.

“Your shift is over. Go home man.” And with a nod to the boy, Adam is grabbing his hat and already unlocking his door to his apartment before he really knows what he is doing. As soon as Adam is in the apartment he knows something is off, something is different. You don’t live for nearly 5 goddamn millenniums without picking up on some basic things such as ‘noticing the fact there is a pair of flats on the floor beside the door’.

But again, after nearly 5 goddamn millenniums you also start to pick up on the fact, you’re not gonna fucking die, and at this point you’ve been through worse than whoever has made themselves at home in your apartment.

“How long have you been here?” Adam doesn’t even linger as he passes the figure curled in his armchair, he just goes right into the kitchen to make himself some coffee, already pulling a second mug out with his own.

“About an hour or so.” The voice makes Adam almost, almost drop the mugs but he keeps his hands steady and his shoulders squared and he must have it wrong because there’s no way it’s her. She’s not a part of his life anymore. She had made sure of that.

“Hello, Adam.” And only then does Adam turn around to the figure now in the arch way of his kitchen.

“It’s been a while hasn’t it?” She continues and Adam is dead set on not showing how much he cares that she’s here. That she found him, that she came back.

“It certainly has been.” Adam pauses and lingers before letting the name slip out, “Elyse.”

“I’m married now.” They’ve been sat in mutual silence for a few hours now. He on the couch, mug empty on the table, a book open on his lap (she always did get annoyed at being ignored). Adam ignores the sting of the colored in part of his tattoo- the sting of her mark.

He only gives a hum in reply. He stopped caring about her a long time ago (is what he tells himself, at least).

“He wants to meet you.” That, that gets Adam’s attention making him sigh and look up from the book.

“Why are you here, Elyse?” The mug is still steaming in her hands, the gentle glow of red from her palms makes Adam want to recoil (he remembers how much damage can come from those frail hands). She has a blank look on her face, the carefully placed mask that Adam had taught her to perfect.

“I missed you.” She says it like it is nothing. Like it’s as simple as ‘the sky is blue’ or ‘you need milk’. It stirs something up inside Adam and it’s not a good feeling- it’s a feeling that makes him want to find a way to hurt her as bad as she hurt him when she left. When she abandoned him in the middle of France, leaving him to think her dead. Leaving him to assume her gone forever after a century of being together.

“That’s interesting.” Is all he replies. And Adam can see out of his peripheral vision the red tint grows wider around her hands and he smirks without meaning too. It was always fun to rile her up, easy too. He turns back to the book and he knows there’s more- Elyse never did anything without at least 5 motives.

“He’s one of the others.” The façade drops and Adam doesn’t give a shit about the cat and mouse game anymore, she has the upper hand and they both know it.

“Take me to him.”

His name is James. And he is undoubtedly, 100% the other side to Elyse’s coin. He is busy making snowflakes appear from his finger tips and onto the nose of their dog, when Adam first sees him.

“You still name your dog Benson?” Is all he can ask to Elyse, 5 fucking millenniums and finally he’s found 2 out of the 6 people that are supposed to complete him. 2 of the 6-other people born from the same legend he was.

“Of course,” She chuckles before adding, “That is something I will never let go of.”

Adam and James get on well, really well. And before really meaning too-Adam is falling back into having a life with other people- socializing on a day to day basis after God knows how long.

(Elyse will tell him later that it in fact 1924, and not 1908.)

James tells Adam about his life, and his adventures- and it’s one night that they conclude that Adam and James had met before- they just never touched. They had met in in New York in the early 1800’s (“It was the place to be, I don’t know.”). While Adam was working at a newspaper stand and James as a traveling salesman.

Adam had meant to take it slow, but as soon as James found out who Adam was- Adam was being hugged and being filled with the familiar sizzle of the tattoo fading in more. Now next to the light red color in the off center left-hand side of his mark, a soft and warm pastel blue appears.

It takes another decade [8 years really] for them to find another ‘counterpart’ as James had starting calling them, (“The term soulmates is so clunky don’t you think?” [Adam doesn’t want to argue]).

3 working together was much faster than working on your own- and luckily, as the God’s had allowed it. They didn’t just find number 4, they find 4 and 5.

Or as they preferred to be called: Joel and Lawrence.

(Somewhere in that decade Adam stops paying for his own apartment, and stops using the spare bed at James and Elyse’s.

Somewhere in that decade Adam falls in love).

They pack up and leave for Chicago pretty much as soon as they find out where the other 2 are (Adam had given psychics such a hard time, but goddamn he was glad he went along with it this time). They all got lucky- having not trusted the banks and keeping their money with them when the depression hits, and he’s glad he decided to work some shitty job even without needing too.

They plan ahead and know it will take over a week to get to Chicago (Adam finds out it was Nevada he was living in for all this time), but luckily James was even more well off than Adam was and had his own car. So, they were free to travel at their own pace.

(Not even his own car, he went out and bought a brand-new car the day before they left. The black 3-Window Buick instantly gets named ‘Canary’).

Canary takes them all the way into Chicago but somewhere in between they stop for the night and go to the movies- where Adam becomes introduced to a cartoon Elyse found her fancy with called ‘Looney Tunes’.

“Look they’ve got a new character! That Pig.” She says as the reel starts “I wonder if he’ll stick around.”

(The next morning Elyse will tell him the pigs name is ‘Porky Pig’ and for some reason it makes Adam chuckle).

When they roll into Chicago Adam can’t squash down the urge he has to keep James and Elyse out of danger. It wasn’t exactly an unknown fact that Chicago was a big violence city- and the psychic had only been able to get them so close; the rest was up to them.

Adam knew it was ridiculous- they can’t die but still, no matter who you are- or how old you may be; it takes a lot to let someone (or someones) you love walk into danger.

They end up finding a house about 2 hours outside of Chicago- mostly for peace of mind. It’s big enough so when James introduces himself and his wife, along with his brother no one questions it.

Adam hopes the day for him being able to hold James’ hand in public without threat of prison or “treatment”. (Days like that make Adam miss Oscar, and his smartass mouth).

After living in Illinois for 3 months they find Joel. The psychic had been able to give a vague description for each of them.

“They are both male. One naturally has hair curlier than most dolls, and the other has…has eyes that seem to see forever.”

And from the second Adam see’s the man, he just knows. He can just feel it somewhere from inside him, from his soul- reaching out towards this lithe boy in a suit that cuts him just right. And when Adam manages to catch his eye- the smile he gets make him swallow all his doubt about finding their ‘missing pieces’.

Adam brings Joel back to the café where Elyse and James had sat for lunch, Adam being careful to not touch the curly haired man. The summertime breeze washing over them and Adam doesn’t remember feeling this good during any of his lifetimes.

And when Adam sees Elyse’s face when she realizes who Adam found, well that feeling just gets better.

Joel takes them to Lawrence soon after they’ve got pleasantries out of the way. The man basically bouncing during the walk to their home.

“So how did you know it was me?” Joel asks, and Adam sees a flash of light go through his eyes and Adam finds himself playfully rolling his own eyes- while James starts to explain.

“How did you know it was me?” Adam asks, and he stops- and Joel just laughs.

“Well when the person you love most in this world, bolts up out of bed at 3 AM telling you about how ‘the other 3’ are close. You start listening as he tells you about clear blue eyes,” Joel gives James a pointed look at this, “Sunray golden hair,” A turn to Elyse, “And a soul so tortured it makes Van Gogh look like his life was nothing.” Joel ended that with an eyebrow quirk and a stare at Adam.

“…Did he really say that?” Is all Elyse can ask, and she wants to reach out and comfort Adam but she can’t. Their already in a dangerous territory.

And Joel throws his head back and laughs, “About you two? Yes. About you?” Joel looks at Adam and winks, “No. He said something much more romantic.”

Adam tries to hide the blush at the drop-in Joel’s voice at the word romantic and keeps following the bouncing fluff of black curls.

When they get to the shitty, falling apart apartment building- Adam sighs. He is glad they got a big house, because no way were their counterparts staying here.

(And based on the look James gave him, he was thinking the exact same thing).

When they get up to the door and it swings open to a man with some serious bedhead and a smile on his face (despite the tears on his cheeks), Adam feels something click.

“My name is Lawrence and I’m already kind of in love with you.”

Lawrence and Joel had packed their apartment the morning after Lawrence got his vision of them being close.

“I saw a house, with us all in the kitchen…” And he lingers before adding, “Along with two other figures. But all I remember about them is red hair and a wheezy laugh.”

It’s not much- but it is something.

Joel and Lawrence move into the house that day and James tells the neighbors that they’re boarders from Idaho- and it seems to do the trick because pretty soon after that, the neighborhood quiets down with the chatter and gossip of their lives. (Instead it becomes all about Mrs. Bunarb who is getting a divorce. The horror!)

They wait until that evening for Adam to finally touch them, and they all watch as the tattoo gets colored in- however instead of coloring in right next to James’, it first goes to the ends and colors it there. A light purple (“It’s violet.” Joel corrects him later), while Lawrence’s fills the start of the tattoo with a black.

“Why didn’t it keep coloring the tattoo in like it had been?”

It’s about a month into Joel and Lawrence living there that Adam figures out two things. One: Adding them into their weird ass relationship took no time what so ever. And two was to figure out who Joel was in terms of their ‘prophecy’. Honestly their story/prophecy/legacy had been translated and transcribed so many times he didn’t worry about it much, but he was grateful he had bothered to look up the ‘newest’ translation.

[Back in Nevada curiosity had gotten the best of him one day and he had headed to the library, found the newest rendition of the poem and kept it in his wallet ever sense].

And the only reason Adam confirms who Joel is (he had a suspicion), is because one night, Adam can’t sleep and is making his way downstairs when Adam sees Joel through the crack in his bedroom door- where Joel has one of Elyse’s skirts on and right before his eyes Adam sees the curves appear and Joel’s’ curls extend to below his shoulder blades.

‘One will be the most cunning of all

Shape and size having no value at all’

Adam has no idea why he pushes the door open, or why he takes a step into the room and does what he does- but he thanks himself later.

Adam just wraps his arms around Joel, feeling the surprise intake of the others’ breath, and looks at the two of them in the mirror. Joel all soft curves and flowy lilac skirt, and Adam a mix of muscle and soft skin and only in his boxers.

It’s nice.

Adam doesn’t say anything, not even when Joel turns around and starts to cry into his chest- Adam just scoops him up and curls onto the bed with him. They lie in comfortable silence for a long while, until the sun comes up and Joel can hear the shuffling of feet. But Adam doesn’t move, and even though he knows Joel is awake, instead he readjusts so that the skirt isn’t hiked up- and is lying flat on Joel’s legs like it’s supposed to, and presses a kiss into the mess of a hairstyle Joel had.

Then, that fall- the war starts (well…the US joins the fight and the news becomes wide spread) and Adam feels more intensely than he has ever felt about anything before. The neighbors start to whisper about ‘the Jew boy’ living with them- and it makes his blood boil. The newspaper report always reads with an uncaring tone- and Adam wants to scream. The radio station skips over the tragedy, almost if we don’t talk about it it’ll go away- and Adam wants to hurt something.

Many nights he is woken up to Lawrence yelling- then describing what exactly was happening. The fear, the pain, the process. And it breaks Adam a little more every time.

By December they all decide to help.

Joel no longer has his adorable crooked nose, or fluffy black hair- now instead a short button nose with flat blonde hair. It kills Adam to see him putting so much effort into something he shouldn’t have to hide.

The war ends (too many years later, in Adam’s opinion), and they leave Holland and find a new home back in the states- this time Washington. It takes a long while for Joel to not instantly change his appearance when they leave the house, and everyone tries not to show how much that still stings.

(Joel will never admit it but during the war he really longed for dying sometimes- it just wasn’t right).

They buy a house in the woods of northern Washington- a small town with less than 400 people- them all silently agreeing that the last two would find them easier if they managed to stay in one place.

Washington is rainy and the world is just starting to embrace a new decade. 1949 is fun for all of them, many parties and the whole nation seems to be celebrating. They get a television (much thanks to James and his never seemingly depleting income), and they all find time to watch The Goldberg’s together- all squished onto the slightly beaten couch in their new house.

Living in a secluded area ended up being the breath of fresh air they all wanted, being able to give lingering touches without fear of someone walking by the house, being able to draw loud moans out of each other without fear the neighbors recognizing that the voices weren’t just James and Elyse.

(Slowly Joel becomes Joel again, and they all let go of the breath they didn’t realize they’d been holding).

The 50’s start and so do the new trends, and Joel seems happier than ever. Rambling on and on about the newest dresses and skirts- always getting a laugh from Adam and James (but never in a harsh way- in a simple way that ends with a kiss to the boys’ forehead and a loving smile).

It’s 1954 when they meet Bruce.

Adam and Lawrence are the only two that seem willing to rise when the sun does- which usually leaves them to do the early Saturday morning grocery run. (Adam always complains about having to do it every week, but he loves the planned one-on-one time with Lawrence).

It’s a Saturday- much like any other Saturday, when a man- head low- bumps into Adam. And instantly Adam feels the sizzle on his skin and grabs the mans arm in order to keep him from leaving and blurts out,

“Tough he will appear- but tragedy he has seen, His power a great deal of magnitude, but do not be fooled he is obscene, A joker- set to make everyone smile, For them, he will always go the extra mile.”

The man looks ready to cry.

“Bruce. I’m Bruce.” And Adam is sure a grocery store has never become such an important place in anyone’s life.

Bruce had been living in Washington for about 30 years- avoiding the busy cities and trying to find a way to rein in his powers- the cities too busy with too many voices.

(“I can normally choose when I want to listen and when I don’t but…sometimes if there are too many voices I can’t block it as easily. I’ve basically had a headache for the past 200 years…you know until I moved here.”)

Adam and Lawrence bring him home- as if he’s a lost puppy, not the second to last missing piece of their fucked up puzzle. And once they’re in the door Adam smirks and calls out,

“We’re home! And we found something special!” Adam laughs quietly to himself as he places the bags on the counter and can hear Elyse and James start to pander about what it possibly could be from all the way upstairs.

“Is it bigger than a breadbox?” Joel calls jokingly, and Adam can hear footsteps starting down the hall- those fuckers hadn’t even gotten out of bed yet.

“It’s green.” Is all Adam calls back and Lawrence laughs before dropping a kiss onto Adam’s head and unpacking the groceries.

“Green? Is it more fucking celery? We didn’t even eat all of it last ti-” Lawrence doesn’t have to turn around in order to pinpoint when Joel puts together who they found. A second later two other set of footsteps stop in the doorway and Lawrence laughs to himself- he had seen this coming, but why ruin the surprise?

“Bruce.” Is all other man says before giving the three in the doorway a smile, “My name is Bruce. And man, you all are a hard bunch to find.”

Bruce moves in over the next month, all of them trying their damnest to not draw attention to themselves. Small towns, mean little to do- which mean gossip is a big thing for most everyone.

But soon enough snow starts to fall and James is more active than he is the rest of the year. He teaches Bruce how to make the ‘perfect’ snowball (and then teaches him to how perfectly aim it at Joel and Adam).

The best is when their all home, curled up into the bed they had made large enough to fit them all (3 queen size mattress’ seem to do the trick), and Bruce found a permeant spot in-between Lawrence and James.

“I love you.” Adam feels stupid when he lets it slip. They’re not doing anything romantic- or special even. Elyse and himself are cooking dinner, while Joel sits on the counter flipping through a fashion magazine Lawrence had brought home for him. Lawrence is sitting on the floor- Joel’s feet swinging next to his head, and James had Bruce sitting on the kitchen stool next him and Adam had looked up- seen all of his counterparts and it just…clicked.

Adam has instantly widened his eyes and stared down to where he had been cutting up tomato’s- waiting for someone to say something. And, as normal, Joel was his saving grace.

The black haired male didn’t even look up from his magazine, “We love you too, you odd-ball.”

And just like that everything was normal.

After dinner they end up on the couch, their television playing some show no one is listening to and Adam has had a little bit too much wine so he can’t bring himself to not ask,

“Why did you and James’ get married?” He asks Elyse but it gets everyone else’s attention- and he’s glad to see he’s not the only one who had been wondering.

“Because if we didn’t,” James starts to laugh as he picks up discarded wine glasses, “She was going to jail.”

(Elyse explains that she had been running a Speakeasy and met James- and once the police got onto her tail, she convinced them she was just an innocent little ol’ house wife. She had agreed to marry James because she had assumed she would just outlive him and it wouldn’t matter. After a year or so of playing pretend they fell in love- and subsequently told each other their deepest secrets.

“How stupid I was. Now I’m stuck with him.”)

Adam gets another shitty job, in the town square at the antiques store. James and Elyse get jobs in the bank (James as a teller, Elyse as the receptionist). Bruce keeps his job as a writer for the newspaper, and Joel swindles Lawrence into buying stocks for them.

Lawrence also picks up the habit of going on ‘adventures’ sometimes for weeks on end, but always coming back with something he claims will be ‘important later on’

(James always gives him shit because why will a flyer for ‘The Quarrymen’ and a piece of paper with the signature of “Alfred Hitchcock” ever going to be important? Or how is a brochure from ‘Martin Luther King Jr.’s’ sermon ever going to come back?

[Lawrence always just winks and adds the miscellaneous items to the box in the attic]).

Joel plays house wife- and they all love it. Coming home to the sound of Elvis Presley from the radio and Joel from the kitchen. Sometimes the smell of apple pie hitting them all in the face as soon as the door opened.

All in all by the end of the 1950’s, they were pretty happy- pretty content.

But all too aware of the gap in Adam’s tattoo.

The gap right in the middle.

There are nights where Adam doesn’t sleep, and neither can Bruce. And they wind up curled together on their couch, Adam half heartily watching the show on the television and Bruce tracing the blank spot on Adam’s bicep.

“It took me a long time to figure out what it is.” Adam says one night, he whispers it- almost as if what he is saying is a secret. And Bruce looks up at him with a small smile.

“It’s ivy wound to look like each of our initials.” Bruce mumbles and Adam smiles at him before kissing the top of his head.

“Without any color, it was just a bunch of lines. Took me up until we met Joel to figure it out.” Adam admits and gently tussles Bruce when he hears him laugh.

Its quiet for a long while after that before Bruce, stops tracing and looks up at Adam.

“It’s an M.” And Adam looks at him, before following his eyes to the center of his mark.

“His name starts with an M.”

“Joel I swear to God if you do not stop singing that god forsaken Lollipop song in your head, I will end you.” Bruce has his head down on the counter, but his voice still holds a growl and Joel pouts from his spot on the counter.

“No mind reading in the house!” He protests and James rolls his eyes at the two of them and goes back to flipping through their mail.

“I heard that James.” Is all Bruce mumbles and James laughs. And Elyse drops a kiss to the back of Bruce’s head.

“Why do you all have to think so loud sometimes?” Is all Bruce whines out and Lawrence laughs before throwing out a:

“To make up for the lack of thought you have.” Bruce just makes a sound in the back of throat, but not rising to the bait- and they all realize he must really being hurting and it’s in that moment Adam gets an idea, and Bruce whips his head up from the counter and looks at him.

“Yes. God please.”

It takes a few weeks but by the end of it, there’s a reasonably sized shed at the very end of their property- sound proofed to the best of their abilities and the next time everything is too much Bruce goes to the little shed- and comes back a few days later looking so much better and Adam makes a mental note to build a frame for the small bed they had placed inside.

The sixties come and Elyse laughs as he watches how invested his boys get over The Ed Sullivan Show (it just now becoming available to them). She finds it adorable how James will always stay up late with herself and Joel to watch The Andy Griffith show- despite his claiming to hate it.

Adam grows to love his job in the antiques shop- and he falls in love with the history behind it (It being owned by an elderly man who opened it after his wife died. (“She always had an eye for the classics.”)

And during his shifts he starts to notice a man come in, he never touches anything- and never speaks to Adam but comes in like clockwork. Every Tuesday and Thursday at 1:09 to 1:20. Adam gives up trying to make conversation about the 5th attempt- assuming the man is deaf or mute or simply not a people person.

This goes on for about a year, and out of nowhere the man makes it apparent he’s listening to Adam’s one sided conversations. He eventually brings in a note pad and asks Adam about trunks, and Adam looks at him and asks his name- but the man just gives a sad smile, and leaves through the door- 1:20 on the dot.

The man doesn’t come back for two months, and when he reappears Adam feels a sigh of relief.

“Where you been, cat?” Adam asks, he’s busy wiping down the front case when the man walks in and Adam stops when he sees the man just makes a beeline for him- and before Adam really knows what’s going on the man is placing his hand over Adam’s and the sizzle is back.

“Matthew, I think. I think I was called Matthew.”

Matthew refuses to come home with Adam that night- Adam can tell he’s terrified of something, but Adam doesn’t push it. He gives Matt their address and can’t stop himself from giving the smaller man a hug.

Adam feels him tense for a long moment before he can feel the light touch of the hug being reciprocated.

That night Adam goes home, and avoids everyone else. He wears long sleeves and avoids Lawrence’s disappointed gaze.

This doesn’t last long because by the end of the month- on one of the rare days they all are home- a knock comes to the door and Adam let’s Joel answer it without thought.

“Uh.” Is all Joel can say before Matthew is pushing his way inside and finding Adam’s eyes and letting out a sigh of relief.

“Guys…This is Matthew. He…his color is white.” And as soon as Adam says it, and everyone realizes what he’s said- Adam’s arm is bursting into flames and he vaguely recalls yelling as he falls to the floor.

And just before the pain is too much and he passes out he remembers the last line of the poem- the one still tucked into his wallet.

‘Once reunited again- truly enchanted The last gift will be granted.’

Adam wakes up, however long later- to the blurry figure of Joel and Matthew, standing over his bed with equally worried looks on their faces. Adam wants to laugh- Joel always looks ridiculous when he makes that face- but instead all he does is cough.

“Oh, thank the Lord.” Is all Joel manages to get out before giving Adam a kiss, “You’ve been out for weeks, Adam. 2 weeks actually.”

“There’s…something else.” Matthew adds and Adam looks at him in confusion. What else could their be? It clicks in Adams head a moment later

“The last gift?” Adam watches as Matt nods and then lifts his shirt up and along his ribs, a matching ivy pattern is there, but now at the end a budding flower- the top pedal with an ‘S’.

“His name is Sean, and he appeared in the house right after you passed out.”

[And when Joel had said ‘appeared’ - he really did in fact mean appeared. As in as soon as Adam had hit the floor, the boy was standing in the middle of their living room- more confused than they were].

Adam meets Sean the next day, the boy in the kitchen-humming along with Joel to whatever song was on their radio. Adam had stopped in the doorway- and had felt as if his breath had been taken from his lungs.

“Goodmorning.” Adam says it softly, and tries not to yell when Sean turns around- widens his eyes then…then disappears. Right into thin fucking air.

“Uh.” Is all Adam can say- he’s still rooted to his spot in the archway, and Joel just rolls his eyes.

“God dammit, Spoole.”

Adam learns that Sean is the embodiment of their souls- the pure and kind parts of them (that parts that had seemed to dwindle and become calloused over time). He knows how lonely Adam was- walking through decades before finding Elyse. He could tell them all in detail what Bruce thought of them, without the other saying a word.

He was a part of their minds- he knew when Joel was trying to protect himself with deflection and snarky humor. When Bruce would need to hang out by himself for a few days, Sean always seemed to have a blanket and a smile ready for whenever Matt stumbled in- shaking and tense.

The 60’s end with Lawrence dragging them to Woodstock, and they all laugh at Sean’s horribly bright yellow shirt that he wakes up wearing. (They never learn where it came from). The 70’s is the decade they move to a new house- a fancy mansion in “East Egg”- as James insisted on calling it. They live just a few hours outside of New York, and spend most days lounging in the garden and making use of all the new bedrooms.

The 70’s start with all of them piling onto the couches watching the first ever episode of All My Children. The decade is spent full of kissing in wildflower fields and wild smiles.

The 80’s is full of big hair and louder music- much to Joel’s distaste. Adam, Lawrence and James end up getting into the punk scene, and while Joel might hate the music- he certainly does not mind the leather.

The 90’s are filled with them joining to the streets, marching and protesting- using their voices to defend what they know is right. Surprisingly it’s timid, quiet Sean that starts them going. Signs made and black paint smudged under his eyes- looking ready for a fight.

They start the new century drunk, all twisted together in the custom size bed Matt made them. The new century starts with hands touching anything and everything near them, with loud moans and -in Matt’s case- rope burns.

They start the new century the way it was always supposed to be-

Together.

#shiphausot8 #shiphaus #immortalhaus #immortal haus #my fic #polyhaus

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alekmb · 7 years

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The Silver Lining of Charlottesville

With the current political climate and my own left ideology it was a bit challenging to write the title above, but I am sure you are interested to hear me out. Hopefully you are a little concerned maybe even angry at the above title, but let me explain myself. For a very long time I have had a hard time understanding why so many people consider themselves “conservative.” I’ve understood that the Republican base was made of mostly Christians, white people, and the rich. I know the conservative electorate is way more diverse and complicated than the previous sentence, but it’s hard to argue that the GOP does not rely on those voting groups to elect them time and time again. I understand that there are many white Christians living in America and most of them are fine people. They have their key issues like abortion and gay marriage that Republican leaders try to push on such agendas leading the country to a more Christian ideal. I can understand that this mass group of traditional Evangelical Christians is large enough for a party to have a base, but it shouldn’t have as strong as a base to win elections. Not anymore. As for the rich voting Republican, they are mostly “single-issue” votes which is taxes. I should note though that plenty of Americans that are exploited through a capitalist economic system, defend said system, in the name of freedom. Freedom from the big, bad government, our democracy. Unfair wages, outsourcing of jobs and policies that benefit the rich is just normal life as it should be.

I know people don’t feel the same way about Republicans as I do, but I have a feeling more and more will see it my way. I’ve always thought of the Republican base as being mostly white-Evangelical and racist people. Not everyone in the GOP base is a flat-out racist, but you might want to pay attention to how every conservative analyzes Charlottesville and who defends Trump. You might realize that although these people were not there at Charlottesville, they do support racist culture even if it is just to “preserve” our history that we claim we “want to learn from.” I for one don’t believe that so many American’s become instant history buffs when it comes to removing Confederate monuments. They are racist buffs. I feel very comfortable saying all of this. Not all conservatives supported Trump and his comments on Charlottesville, but it is alarming how many of them are failing the very easy test of denouncing Neo-Nazis and White Supremacist. It’s an easy test for us on the left, but you really need to give it some thought on why it’s not so easy for them. I feel that many who call themselves “economic conservatives” or “progressive conservatives” or any sect of the ideology that they are more definitively associated to, are a little queasier about being labeled a conservative. Many of these conservatives can sit by and maybe even work along with people who voted for Trump for change, health care or our economy, but to bring back white nationalism? Who wants to be with those assholes?!!

Well apparently Trump. Donald J. Trump has failed the very easy to ace test of denouncing Neo-Nazis IN A CLEAR AND PROFOUND WAY AND QUICKLY!!! It’s not just him though. Many in his own administration are sympathetic to white nationalist. Steve Bannon, Trump’s chief strategist is one of them. I don’t think we should be too surprised that his administration failed this test, let alone if they received a C-. I am actually watching Fox News these days to see who else will pass or fail this simple test. Many on Fox news are passing it with ease from a teary-eyed Gianno Caldwell to the almost teary eyed and make-up ruining Kat Timpf to Dana Perino and Juan Williams challenging the very dumb Jesse Watters who failed the test. In some ways it gave me hope that not ALL conservatives are hateful racist or even racist sympathizers, but still my racist suspicion of the right has been confirmed when so many on that side seem to not get a lesson most of us learned back in kindergarten.

My hope going forward is the left to use this moment in history to paint social conservatism as this country’s epidemic or plague that must be eradicated and to never return. I actually get excited that Trump and his administration show their true colors about these black and white issues because it will be so much easier for the left to point back at history and say; “Yes that is what you stood for here’s the quote that proves it.” Trump failing the Charlottesville test is not a good thing for the GOP going forward and all this open and blatant racism I hope will make people feel about the Republican party as I have a had for a long time. Hopefully more and more people will come to the conclusion that right-wing politics is not the right direction this country needs to move in especially when we are becoming more diverse and secular. I don’t know, anyone feel like moving to Nazism?

As right-wing politics becomes more and more aligned with white supremacist values, this country eventually needs to reject social conservatism much like the people who were the original Nazis have tried to forget their regrettable past. Today I saw a tweet from Tim Heidecker playing as his right-wing secret agent-character Jack Decker say this: “I’m in Berlin, where’s the Hitler statue?” A smart, simple and good joke that illustrates my point, there aren’t any and for good reason. We still have monuments of hate and it’s been far longer than the 1940’s. Any Republican sticking their neck out for Confederate monuments is castigating themselves as the American Nazi. How can the left use this time in history to springboard the U.S. back in the right direction? We got a lot of ground to cover.

THE PROBLEM

The problem is…. There is no leadership on the left to further expose this component in conservative ideology. The component in which whites come first and after that their work is done. I hear no leaders on the left taking advantage of the right’s ugliness. No strong condemning, no shaming, no exposing the cancer of white nationalism that is taking over the White House. Just a recycled Papa John’s slogan and shrugging their shoulders and asking us “Have We Seen the Other Guys?” That’s it? That’s your leadership? That’s how you’re going to paint a dark cloud over the Conservative establishment that could potentially drive future voting generations from these assholes? I know how we on the left feel about the right, but believe it or not it’s not as obvious of a choice for middle-voters, struggling families and for people who have lost all confidence in Washington.

There’s just this great void on the left and it’s driving me mad. Pelosi and Schumer have got to move over for Senator Corey Booker and others like him. He’s a leader that inspires. Those other two are so Washington I don’t even get excited about them. Left leadership doesn’t need to alienate conservative voters, but it does need to paint an alternative picture of what America can be. They need to put out a message that is so inclusive and positive that in contrast to the evil shit Trump and the party he represents, that any DECENT person would turn to the left. All the tax conservatives and hopefully even some all-moral Christians will have to turn away from the Neo-Nazis and the party they adopted. The only voice on the left is within the media. I have to become inspired or give hope to by the New York Times or the Washington Post as if maybe they will establish their own political parties one day. I doubt that so WHERE THE HELL IS THE LEFT?!!!! The God-Damn sugar-coated Republicans also known as DEMOCRATS!!!

I understand many of you are shaking your heads at me saying “no Alek, you’re wrong, the world is not black and white, and not all conservatives are racist.” I agree with that, but the left can still make it clear to Americans that the more conservative leaders we elect the more likely this shit will happen. This is not a lesson we should be learning again today. That racial supremacy in any form is a horrible thing let alone when whites do it. The left doesn’t need to yell about how horrible the right is, but be leaders for something. Gain some God-damn charisma!! No more “we’re going to pass some sensible, by-partisan gun-control legislation for all Ameri…..ZZZZzzzzzzz.” How about, and I stole this from Jim Jeffries and his show; “GRAB THOSE GUNS!!!” As a liberal I’m becoming discouraged from this very apparent intensity gap between the left and the right. At lease you now where the right is coming from: hate. The left: leadership with soft stances, shrugs, pc talk and old pizza slogans? My God, I’m this close to personally endorsing Booker and Michael Moore of all people for the 2020 ticket, at least they stand for something. At least then we would have some teeth and conviction. You know…. Leadership.

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modernpolymath · 7 years

Text

Eurovision Semis #1

a.k.a. Aria’s running commentary.

Intro:

Mel, I don’t know how you’ve kept getting these assignments, but please don’t stop. I know GBBO isn’t around anymore, but please don’t leave just because you are now our default entertainment presenter.

Ukranian rap/hip-hop artist? Eyesore? I’m confused.

Okay so top of head braid ponytails are a thing now? Is this a trend I’ve missed out on.

Who are these three guys? I don’t think I could pronounce their names if I tried. Having three presenters is weird enough, not having a male-female double act is just wrong. I still think they missed a trick with not bring Verka back. EPIC FAIL UKRAINE.

#eurogenius The term is accepted.

I wonder if they actually speak French, or if he just learned these phrases.

“And the odd horsehead.”

Their smiles are REALLY WIDE.

And we’re off!!!

Sweden:

First act to ever start backstage? I mean sure, why not.

I can’t get over these super 90s suits. The haircuts and the mock turtlenecks. Also his suit is purple? Props for diversity though.

And I just gotta say: didn’t we move past the treadmill performances when OK GO did it like 8 years ago?

WHAT IS WITH THE OKAY SIGN????

I think Sweden is trying to go retro and reclaim their former glory.

Georgia:

I LOVE THIS ALREADY. Her hair. Her cape. Her dress. Red and fog and minor keys. YES.

That eye make is on point. Wink on point.

CAPE IS OFF. THE CAPE IS OFF.

I think she can actually sing...? Or not. She does well until the refrain, so I don’t know.

FIRE FIREFIREFIREFIRE We have our first fire!

I really want to like this song. And I think I do.

OH SHIT, it looks like she stole the UK’s ball graphic.

EPIC END.

“Several key changes and a cloak.” Mel knows whats up.

Australia:

“Which I don’t feel bitter about in any way.” Say it Scott. We all hate them.

OH MY GOD he’s in the graphics in the background. OZ!! I think you figured out how Eurovision works. Sorta. Hot guy who can sorta sing, over-do it on the effects

I am distracted by his lack of socks.

This song needs something more.

MORE FIRE

When I meant more, I didn’t mean riff Issiah, you’re not a strong enough singer for that. So In that, good job Aussies, you put forward an appropriate contender this year. You have learned your place.

“Another sockless man on stage.” MEL KNOWS WHAT’S UP.

Albania:

What’s with all the ballads this year?

Her eyes are so big.

Albania’s feeling like the white, purer version of Georgia.

Wind machine. We have wind.

I’m not sure she can walk in this dress.

Whoa? Did we move from sort of clock to a futuristic floating world? Don’t get it, but sure.

At least this song picked up more than Oz did. But it still needed to drop the beat or something. It just stayed so constant. Meh.

Belgium:

It’s so Mumford and Sons. But wow, the audience is so into it.

I am not entirely sure she’s singing more than 2 notes.

This song is good but your staging sucks.

UGH all of these ballads need to pick it up mid-song. They’re so monotonous. This one in particular.

She should have sung in her head voice the WHOLE TIME.

She seems like a super sweet girl who is maybe a bit overwhelmed.

Montenegro:

YES YES YES SLAVKO

WAIT IT’S DETATCHABLE?!??!?! I am slightly less impressed now.

Nevermind. OMFG I love this entire thing so much already.

This whole thing is so Eurovision.

PANTS PANTS PANTS

Rock it to the stars. Yes let’s do that. These pants need to shining down on us at all times.

This overhead shot of him laying down on his face is amazing.

It’s cheating if you twirl your braid with your hand! THERE WE GO.

I get the feeling this is probably a better to watch on TV than in the audience.

“Absolute quality.” MEL KNOWS WHAT IS UP.

Finland:

This postcard posing is so Finland.

Fog so much fog this year.

First singer who is actually singing and singing to the way their song is written.

I still don’t get this song though... I mean I kinda get it, but the lyrics with the composition doesn’t make sense to me. Also is this a Eurovision song? Maybe?

IS THAT A BURNING PIANO?!??!?! No, just a bit of fog, but I’ll count it.

We’re red and angry now.

I do honestly like this song, and she may be one of the best signers in the competition.

Azerbaijan:

OH MY GOD I LOVE THIS POSING AND LOOK SO AMAZING YES YES YES

Azerbaijan, super props for making up for your rather sucky act last year.

This act is amazing. It is so out there, but it’s also so amazingly perfectly Eurovision? In a way that Germany’s last year was not but tried to be this.

They are committed. Is she seducing a man with a horse head? Are these people actually members of the band, or just prop men? I don’t know but it’s working.

Consistency and thematic integration A++ for Azerbaijan.

“Only at Eurovision.” “We have told Finland their piano is on fire.” CALLED IT.

Portugal:

“That means if you think she’s rubbish tonight you cant even tell him.”

Oh, we have a mini-stage!

What.... what is this?

Don’t get me wrong, I love jazz and lyrical contemporary music. I go to jazz clubs for fun. But I.... what is this? What happened to Eurovision this year?

Okay, but he’s adorable. And I 100% love the audience for getting into it with him.

Is this ballad year though?

“Pure art alert.” True story. I feel like this is Australia 2016 all over again: Portugal came back to win and forgot that this is not an event you send your best artist to.

Whatever, I’ll take it.

Greece:

Ooofffff, harsh entrance girl.

This is traditional Eurovision right here.

I don’t even have anything to say about this act other than it’s a back to basics. Half-naked men, electric upbeats, high notes, dancibility, light shows, some odd staging gimmick.

Yup.

Poland:

VIOLIN

Here’s our quintessential be yourself, be stronger, ballad.

WIND MACHINE

This is very Rise like a Phoenix.

Could she be bound any tighter to get some cleavage out of her though?

Have I won ESC Bingo yet?

UBER WIND

Moldova:

EPIC SAX GUY

Violin and sax and tuxedos.

This song will so get stuck in my head for the next 3 days....

EPIC SAX GUY

This leg move can’t be good for your hips though.

Because I can’t get it the beat out of my head, it’s probably going onto the finals.

Iceland:

Damn girl. You’re postcard is A+++++++++++. Be my friend. “In her spare time, she likes to bathe in unicorn tears.” YESSSSSSSSS

This is like Jessie J meets Madonna meets Gwen Stefani. And I’m kinda of digging it?

Capes are in this year.

Her shoes are AMAZING

Iceland is my lady crush of ESC 2017. It’s official.

I so wish this staging was more epic though.

WAIT WAIT WAIT HERE IT COMES

Laser show, lighting breakdown. Where’s the wind????

Awesome. Yes, more please.

Czech Republic:

Wait, isn’t their country now Czechia or something??

I appreciate this outfit?

CZE is probably winning best use of lighted floor award tonight.

I think this song would have been much better received earlier in the night.

She can sing though. Which is always nice.

Cyprus:

“Lots of sockless behaviour this evening.” MEL KNOWS WHAT IS UP.

This song has promise, despite your ankles showing. But maybe that’s a positive to show off your footwork?

LOOK IT’S RUSSIA’S BLOCKS FROM LAST YEAR!

Camera work is good on this one.

Okay the silhouette thing is cool.

Sorry CZE, Cyrpus just stole your staging award. This whole performance is really well thought out and maybe a bit too good for ESC? I’ll allow it.

Armenia:

Okay, I was going to count Armenia out 20 seconds in, but then the beat picked up and the camera jumped. Good.

This has got to be so much better on TV than in person.

I kinda dig this song. My pole dancing self would totally rock to this.

FIRE

Dancing is good.

Slovenia:

He’s cheeky.

I do like this song, I’ve heard it before. It just get weirds at point. Like maybe there should be the opera guy in here somewhere?

You know, it’s basically like a Josh Groban song.

Latvia:

Group act, bring it!

WHAT IS THIS

Neon. Crazy eyes. Insane hair. I don’t get this outfit. I don’t get this song. I don’t get this staging. Am I missing something?

Oh, well here it is. Maybe this is it.

Nope still don’t get it.

My TV stream is confused by what to do and how to render all these lights and colours. Pixelation central.

I just don’t get it. Is this Georgia all over again for me?

Voting:

These guys are too stiff. Please just stop trying to be funny.

OH MY GOD - bringing it back to the OMFG new scoring rules and how fucking stressful that was. I am so ready for it again this year.

I am still not over the political FU that has happened over this song and over Eurovision. I mean, on the one hand it’s just a song competition, but on the other, shit man, this is why Eurovision has a ban on political songs. That said the Drama has been delectable.

VERKAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA YES. Okay, but still. Ukraine fail that this wasn’t your host. I will never forgive you. Yes yes, Jamal’s great, but we really want Verka and laughs. Ukraine you’re not keeping it fun enough.

“Wazitgutenuf.” I swear, I am normally good with accents, but wow, Aleks is taking this to a whole new level of speed and incomprehensibility.

Moldova - duh, of course.

Azerbaijan - I am so glad, I am so down with this whole thing.

Greece - eh, sure, it’s traditional, but I thought others were better.

Sweden - I dunno, this feels like a thank you more than deserved.

Portugal - I am secretly really happy?? He’s adorable.

Poland - nope, sorry, no. You were fine. Iceland was WAY better.

Armenia - okay, sure, but I don’t think you’ll hold up.

Australia - fiiiinnnnnneeeeee.

Cyprus - totes, 100% well deserved.

Belgium - ugggghhhhhhhhhhhh, I want to like this song, but it was as shitty performance.

Montenegro was robbed in that you know this is what Eurovision is about and really he should have gone through on that alone. Ultimately, it wasn’t a strong performance though....

I’m pissed about Iceland. She should have been there.

At least some of the crazy and stupid slow songs didn’t make it.

BRING ON ROUND 2!!!

#eurovision #esc2017 #i am not disappointed #but i am questioning why everything's so somber this year #i get the world is shit right now #but isn't that all the more reason for light fun and happy europop?

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ezwra · 6 years

Text

Making Soup

the first entry for my clusterfuck au! it’s fake chop and i iterally had the idea like. 4 hours ago and never stopped writing. this is the longest thing ive written for a while

[Ao3 Link]

The day James is hurt, for the first time since they started their little… thing, is a hard day for Aleks. When james walks into the warehouse, covered in blood - a majority of it belonging to him - and barely conscious, Aleks couldn’t help the blind rage that took over him. The day had been normal for Aleks, until now, cleaning his guns and knives, going on a stake out with asher and anna near the edge of town, fucking around and messing things up for Brett with Jakob and Trevor. It’s a good day, much better than the boring days spent alone in the warehouse, or stake outs alone. He’s eager to return home, with or without James, and settle down with some strong coffee and a random show playing quietly in the background. This plan is ruined when James, in all his dramatic glory, bursts through their main door and promptly collapses to the floor.

Aleks is the first to him, having been near the kitchen at the time grabbing a beer for himself and Trevor, and instantly drops his beers, hands gentle yet desperate as they lift James up with some struggle, dragging him to the small medic station Anna works out of, working him into a bed carefully while Anna works at cutting off his shirt, “Jesus fuckin’ Christ, dude, who did you piss off this time?”

James’ grin is short lived, as toothy and bloody as it was, quickly turning to a wince and a broken shout when Aleks presses his hands against his chest, ribs bruised and cracked to the point of agony with each breath he takes, “S’nothin, dude,” Aleks moves his hands away with a heavy frown, checking over the rest of his body as he continues to talk, Brett finally joining them in the little room, “jus’ a scuffle, m’pretty sure they got off worse than me.”

Aleks rolls his eyes, cursing soft and pressing his hands against the stab wound on the meaty part of his abdomen to staunch the blood, Brett leaning over carefully as he speaks for Aleks, “So they’re dead, then?” Aleks looks up as Brett waves his hands away, taking over the knife wound, before continuing to check down his body with anna.

James’ words are pained, beginning to slur as he croaked a hoarse reply, “Dunno, think i got one…” his head tips back slightly, eyes blinking slow and dazed, “maybe two…”

Aleks frowns and curses as Anna moves closer to his head, clicking her fingers in James’ face and huffing, “James, focus for me. How’s your head?” James frowns and doesn't answer, closing his eyes and wincing, flinching away slightly when Anna shines a bright light in his eyes, watching his pupils.

Aleks’ hands are shaking by the time he’s cut through the left leg of James’ ratty jeans, exposing a bullet hole that’s steadily leaking blood. It’s clean through, so aleks just focuses on wrapping it in an old towel and stopping the blood. The loud shout that James lets out, muscles tensing and body stiffening up before he collapses onto the bed weakly, rattles aleks to his bones, his breath coming out shaky as he does what he can to help.

Eventually, though, Anna kicks them both out and sends for asher. Aleks understands, considering their lack of medical knowledge, but he resents her for it; he’s desperate to help James, to be there through the pain, and the thought scares him. He hasn’t felt like this before, and it’s rattling him slightly. “C’mon,” Brett’s voice is soft, his own eyes scared and his skin slightly pale, “let’s go get cleaned up.”

Aleks can only nod.

He follows brett to the kitchen area, quietly letting Brett wash up first as he stares down at his hands, the sticky blood shining a bright crimson in the light, the areas where its pooling in the creases of his palms reflecting back his own pale face. He frowns, clenching his hands to fists and watching the blood collect before dripping to the floor, brows furrowing and body tensing. Aleks turns when brett finishes, washing his hands up before tugging off his hoodie, the sleeves stained dark with james’ blood. He scrubs roughly, cleaning thoroughly under his nails and at the creases of his knuckles, silently praying for the water to finally run clear off his skin, squeezing his eyes shut and hoping, begging-

“Hey,” Brett’s voice grounds him almost immediately, firm and commanding yet soft at the same time, “he’s gonna be fine, dude. Anna knows what she's doing.”

Aleks closes his eyes, sighing out slow and deep before shutting off the faucet, nodding weak, “you’re right.” he dries his hands off messily, the paper towels scratching slightly at his skin, before walking over to the armoury area. The armoury is split off into sections, each member having their own due to everyone’s wide range of skills; aleks’ is recently finished, weapons still shining with the fresh paint job. The only weapons with any sort of wear are a pair of golden pistols (which james had called tacky when he first saw them, the asshole), and a single hunting knife, the handle worn down slightly from years of use (the guns were a gift from Gavin, the first guns that ever belonged solely to him, that no one else ever used. The knife was given to him by Ryan, the first sign of any affection from the man when he was sixteen, a gift he still hides from gavin to this day); he picks up the pistols first, fitting them both into the waistline of his sweats easily, then grabbing the knife with its sheath and a shotgun, a gift from james that matched his own, the barrell dark grey and the handle an aged wood, shiny with laquer. He picks up the fitted body armour, hanging against the wall, before turning around and bumping straight into jakob.

The man looks slightly hesitant, his mouth a deep frown (aleks can't help but notice how unnatural it looks, too used to seeing his bright smile, and now he knows he has to do this) and his brows furrowed roughly. Eventually, he reaches a hand out, and only then does he notice the set of plastic ties in them with the small earpiece on top, he looks back up when jakob starts to talk, “make them hurt.”

Aleks frowns heavier, hesitating before taking the ties and nodding. He pats jakob’s arm, gaze firm, before slipping past him and out of the armoury, clutching the earpiece tight in his hand.

The first place he decides to go, after getting in his car, is to his own apartment. He drives there quickly, resisting the urge to run red lights and carefully parking outside his apartment building. He runs inside, skipping the elevator when he notices how many people are inside, instead taking the stairs two at a time and making it to the top floor in record time. He fumbles his key out of his pocket, fiddling with it before unlocking his door, slipping in the earpiece, “jakob?”

“Yeah, hang on.”

Aleks goes to his bedroom, abandoning his weapons on the bed with the body armour and dropping his blood-stained sweats, quickly tugging on a pair of tight jeans, gritting his teeth and struggling slightly with the belt in his rush, “you got any idea who they might be?”

There's a pause on jakob’s line, just rapid typing as aleks rips his shirt off and pulls on the body armour he carried in with him. Then he grabs a button up, the seams along the side having been let out to fit the armour under it better rather than having a slightly pleated look, and pulls it on messily, “it's not really a big crew, about twenty people, maybe twenty-five. They're spread out across the city, one base is pretty close to you, then there’s maybe two or three others, and the main place.”

“How many at the closest base?”

“Six, but there’s a couple rooms i can't see into. There's two cars, max total of eight people.”

“Unless they put people in the trunk.” aleks loops on a utility belt, sliding the two pistols into the holsters and clipping the knife on in its sheath. He carefully loops a second holster on, grabbing a box of shotgun shells from his bedside table and loading the gun.

“Would they put their own people in the trunks of their cars?”

“They were dumb enough to fuck with us,” he cranks the gun, frowning heavy, “so probably.”

There’s a snort on the other side of the earpiece, “dude, that was so fucking cringe-”

“No way, dude, that was cool! I'm so fucking badass-”

“It was too cliche-”

“Oh my god, jakob.”

After no small amount of bickering, aleks manages to finish gearing up. He takes the elevator this time, if only to draw less attention, and makes his way to his car outside. Aleks rubs at his face carefully, eyes lidded and tired as he locks the car once he's inside. He hesitates slightly, hands gripping the wheel, before entering the first address into his gps.

“You good to go?” aleks can hear the underlying question that jakob doesn't ask- can you do this alone?

“I'll be fine. Let's just get this over with.” he pulls into gear, carefully driving and following the directions on his gps. He hesitates, the leather of the steering wheel squeaking slightly as he grips it tighter, before sighing out, “is he okay?”

Jakob sighs, “i haven't heard anything yet, he’s still with anna and asher.”

Aleks nods quietly, despite jakob not being able to see, and parks up a few blocks down from the house. He psyches himself up a little, rolling his shoulders and huffing slightly, before getting out of the car.

“Four on the bottom floor; two in the kitchen, one in the living room and one in the garage. Two upstairs from what i can see, one in the bedroom and one guarding that room. Might be someone important.”

Aleks nods with a small mutter of thanks before walking up to the house; he doesn't bother with a fast and quiet approach, walking in through the back door and into the garage with his shotgun in hand. He blows the man’s brains out before he can react, watching the messy splatter and listening to the startled shouts in the kitchen.

“Two coming towards you, one has a knife, the other has a pistol.”

Aleks stands near the door, catching the first man through the door by surprise with a blast to the side, sending him to the floor in agony. The second man is luckier, only skimmed barely by a few pellets, and he manages to get a punch in on aleks. His fist glances off of aleks’ body armour, sending him stumbling slightly with the momentum, before aleks takes out a pistol and brings him close, arm looped around his neck to hold him in a tight choke hold, gun pressed to the base of his spine, his voice a low snarl “how many people are upstairs?”

“I-i don't know- two- maybe three-”

Aleks doesn't hesitate, emptying three rounds into the man before letting him fall with a dull thud to the concrete floor, head slamming against the ground with a sickly crack. He loads his shotgun as he walks through into the kitchen area, the fourth person stood in the kitchen with wide eyes, his hands shaking as he points the pistol at aleks. He frowns, eyes lidded and sharp.

“Put your gun down.”

Aleks complies slow, noticing the knife block on its side on the counter. He grips the counter tight, pulling himself up slow and exaggerated before quickly wrapping his fingers around the handle of the smallest serrated knife; he manages to throw it at the man, piercing his shoulder with a loud shout, but not before he can fire a round and hit aleks square in the chest.

The pain is… intense, for lack of a better word. Aleks stumbles back weakly, the crumpled bullet remaining in his body armour, and brings a hand up to his chest. A seemingly endless pain pulses through his chest, but the adrenaline assists aleks in picking his gun back up and making his way over to the other man, shooting him twice in the chest with his pistol. He takes a moment after that, leaning against the counter with a shaky pant, but he isn't given much peace before a bullet whistles past his head, glancing off the counter and hitting the wall. He ducks down carefully, removing the clip from his gun and checking before pressing it back in, huffing.

“Theres two people at the top of the stairs, i still can't see if there’s anyone else. Be careful.”

Aleks sighs out, nodding slow, “you think i could hit them both from here?”

“Honestly? No. unless you pull some Wanted shit you’re not gonna be able to hit them.”

Aleks laughs, nodding as he carefully moves around to a different area of the kitchen, “who’s Wesley and who’s Fox?”

“Oh my god, i can't believe you actually remember the fucking characters.”

“It was a good movie!” aleks sits up and shoots, smirking to himself, “i think i'm Fox.”

“No way, james or gavin is fuckin’ Fox. You’re Wesley.”

Aleks groans, rolling his eyes, “fine, whatever. But brett’s definitely Sloane,” aleks goes back down once he’s taken out one of the men, reloading his gun, “instead of cloth he's got a boner for his fuckin’ plants, man. You have to agree with me here.”

“I’m gonna have to watch the movie again, now. Fuck you, man. I've already got trevor on my dick about movies, now i've gotta watch your weird hitman movie.”

Aleks laughs, and it’s almost like things are normal again, like he’s back at the warehouse with trevor and jakob, and james is watching fondly but as if he could kill them at a moment’s notice. The reality of the situation hits him like a speeding train, though, and he quickly stops laughing, instead leaning up and shooting at the last man on the staircase. Once he’s down, aleks makes his way up slowly, frowning soft and checking through the rooms quietly.

He hasn't totally been expecting the woman in the last room, considering how silent the house was, but the adrenaline that’s pumping through him means that when she goes for a surprise attack, jumping out from her hiding spot behind the door, aleks manages to hear her movement and turns sharply, swinging the shotgun and clubbing her over the head with it and knocking her out cold.

“Overkill.”

“Whatever,” the previously joking tone is gone from aleks’ voice now; he leans down and uses the plastic zip ties on her arms, tying them tight before hoisting her up and over his shoulder, “you know if anyone can pick her up from the nearest safehouse?”

“I’ll see if we can spare a newbie, you gonna interrogate her?”

“Interrogation, torture, it’s all the same.”

Jakob lets out a sigh before typing, aleks can imagine the way he’s rolling his eyes, “abbie’s on her way there.” aleks nods and carries the woman down to his car, dumping her on the backseat and getting in the driver’s seat before carefully driving away. Once he’s left the woman at the safehouse, practically dropped on the floor next to the couch, he makes his way to the car.

“Next place?” his phone buzzes nearly immediately, and aleks doesn't hesitate before putting the address in.

“How’s your chest?”

“Hurts like fuck, thanks for reminding me.” aleks drives along carefully, humming soft.

“You should probably avoid getting hurt, james’ll get suspicious.”

At the reminder of james, aleks slumps down slightly in his seat, sighing tiredly, “just two more places after this, i’ll be fine. And it’s not like i'm fuckin’ bleeding out anyway. Don't worry about it.”

Jakob sighs again, “sure, whatever.”

“Sigh any more and the others are gonna fuckin run out of air, inconsiderate,” aleks smirks, parking a few blocks away again, “how many people?”

“Gimme a minute,” aleks nods and listens to the quiet clack clack of jakob’s keyboard, cleaning his guns carefully and wiping the blood off the handle of his shotgun, “one downstairs in the living room, two upstairs; one in the bath and one in the bedroom. Do this quiet and we might be able to do it pretty fast.”

Aleks nods and gets out carefully, holstering his guns in favour of his knife this time. He crouch-walks into the living room quietly, leaning up behind the back of the couch and quickly dragging his knife along the man’s throat, pressing his other hand against the man’s mouth to keep his loud gurgling muffled, blood flooding over both of aleks’ hands. Once he’s dead, eyes dull and the shine leaving his eyes, aleks makes his way upstairs, taking the stairs two at a time. He goes to the bedroom first, managing to take the man out much faster with a quick stab due to the better angle. On the way to the bathroom, he wipes his knife clean and pulls out his shotgun instead.

“You gonna Kurt Cobain her?”

“Too soon,” aleks mutters, standing and leaning against the door frame before kicking the door open a single bullet glancing his arm before he shoots her in the chest, blood gushing into the bath and turning the colour to a sickly red.

“Too soon? Man, its been, like, twenty years. Move on already, emo.”

Aleks just laughs, taking the gun dangling from the woman’s hand and taking the ammo from it, “whatever, man. I grew up with that band, you’re, like, ten. Fuck off.”

“I'm twenty-”

“Same thing.”

“-and i know bad emo music when i hear it.”

“Yeah, and i'm sure you know good music when you hear it too,” aleks walks downstairs, ignoring the growing bloodstain on his shirt, “by the way, tell me when your career as a soundcloud rapper takes off so i can put in the good word with james and have you fired.”

“If ‘put in the good word’ means ‘stick your dick in him’ i'm sure you've done it enough-” aleks removes the earpiece, blushing bright red and huffing as he turns it off. He puts in the third address when it arrives, accompanied by the endearing message u lov me really ¯\_(ツ)_/¯. He doesn't bother replying, instead driving to the next base.

It’s across the city from where aleks is now, nearly a two hour drive- three, if you count the rush hour traffic- so aleks distracts himself with music. Eventually, he gets a little lost in his thoughts, ranging from how am i gonna know how many people there are to why am i doing this so desperately for him? The second thought stumps aleks, causing him to lose focus and nearly rear end some soccer-mom van. He apologises as he passes, shrinking slightly under the woman’s steely gaze, before driving away.

Has this become more than sleeping around?

Aleks chews his lip before deciding it’s a question for another day, parking near the house and quickly checking over himself. There’s a deep gash on his arm from where the bullet glanced him, and the steady throbbing under his body armour tells him more than he needs to know. Otherwise, it’s mainly scratches from plaster and the dull ache in his right foot from kicking in the door earlier.

Aleks doesn't focus too much on the injuries, quickly wrapping his arm with some spare gauze in the glovebox, before getting out of the car and walking up to the house. He scouts around carefully, peeking through windows and listening close. He works out that there’s four people, he can see two downstairs, and one went upstairs earlier with the promise to check on jackson. Aleks doesn't need any more information other than that, so he goes in quietly after picking the lock, sneaking in through the hallway.

He’s pretty successful, until his phone rings.

There’s a split second of peace between the three of them, in that moment. The two men look over with raised brows before seeing aleks and instantly frowning, aleks doesn't hesitate to leap over the island in the kitchen and hide behind it, cursing and answering his phone.

“Yes? Hello?”

“Wow, rude, i guess i wont tell you how james is.” brett’s reply is the only respite he gets in this moment, relief seemingly weighting his bones.

“No, dude, i'm sorry, i forgot to put my phone on silent and just got fuckin’ caught.” there’s a hiss of sympathy over the phone, and aleks smirks weakly before sitting up and shooting at the men over the counter.

“Sorry man, just thought you’d want an update.”

“Yeah, ‘course i do. How is he?”

“He’s a little out of it,” brett’s voice rings out over the phone, his voice tinny and distant compared to the earpiece, “he doesn't know about your little… vengeance mission, yet. We’re gonna wait until he’s recovered to tell him, or he’s just gonna hurt himself.”

Aleks nods carefully, kneeling down behind the kitchen counter for cover as he reloads his pistols, phone held to his ear against his shoulder, “yeah, okay, thats fine. Is he able to talk?” brett hums a little, and aleks listens to the quiet footsteps as he sits up and shoots at the people behind the couch. He hears a small aleks wants to talk to you, dude as the phone is moved away from brett, before shuffling echoes in his ear.

“‘Leks..?”

Aleks grins small and relieved, sighing tiredly before leaning back down behind cover, assault rifle rounds piercing the wall behind his cover and causing plaster to rain down on him. One of the bullets manages to pierce a pipe, causing water to spew out and splatter all over the floor, “hey, bud, how’re you doing?”

James huffs over the line, and aleks smiles fondly, if not a little tired, “tired, hurty… i thought you were in the warehouse today…”

Aleks curses when a bullet hits the granite counter near his head, leaning back up and shooting. One of his bullets manages to hit a man on his way down, going in and out his skull with a messy spray of viscera and blood against the wall behind him, “yeah, i was, but i'm out now.”

“What’s that sound?”

Aleks pauses a little, scouring his brain for a quick lie, “i just knocked some pans over, i'm in my kitchen.” he leans up and shoots the last man, quickly standing up and going to their bodies. He checks them over, taking spare ammo from one and a half empty pack of gum from the other (who passes up free gum? And besides, after this he’ll definitely need it).

“What’re you making?”

“Soup,” this lie comes a little easier, considering how he’d seen a can in the kitchen with the can opener still hanging off of it. He carefully makes his way up the staircase, peeking down both ends of the hall.

“Soup?”

“Yeah, buddy,” aleks quickly shoots the man in the first room, frowning and closing the door with a grimace when he notices the headphones on and the way his laptop is balanced precariously on his lap, “you like soup, right?”

James lets out a noncommittal hum, and aleks grins as he imagines him tilting his head back and closing his eyes, “yeah, s’real good. ‘Specially minestrone…”

Aleks raises a brow, opening the next door and checking around the empty space, “really? I always took you for a chicken noodle guy, maybe tomato.”

“Minestrone is basically tomato, right? Just with… bits.”

He laughs soft, going back out into the hall and checking the last room; there’s one man, in the shower in the ensuite, and he takes his time to scope the room before putting his guns away, “i guess so, man, like, croutons ‘n’ shit. Ive seen it with these weird little pasta bits in before, though.”

“Yeah, but the best one is with, like… fresh cut vegetables. Cut up celery and onion…”

Aleks hums soft and nods, opening the bathroom door slowly. The shower is empty, steam filling the room, and the punch that connects squarely with his face disorients him badly. His phone clatters to the floor as he struggles to right himself, feet slipping on the wet floor. The second punch is expected, and aleks manages to catch the fist before it collides with his throat, twisting the man’s arm and kicking him away before rushing to put james on speaker, “sorry, dude, dropped my phone, you still good?”

“Yeah, ‘leks… it sounds like that soup is getting the better of you…”

The confusion on the other man’s face gives aleks the opening he needs. He grabs him by the hair, his hand nearly slipping straight out due to how slick it is, before slamming his face into the wall, cracking his nose, “nah, don't worry about it. I’ve got it under control. You like cabbage in your minestrone?”

James makes a soft blech sound before speaking, “no, that’s gross. Do you? That’s, like, a russian thing, right? Borcsh?”

Aleks takes one of the ties from his pocket, quickly wrapping the man’s wrists. He picks up his phone on the way out, dragging the man behind him, “i mean, i guess? But that doesn't have cabbage in it. Shie does, but i don't really like cabbage.”

“What soup do you like?”

“I like Okroshka,” he dumps the man in the trunk of his car, slamming it shut after, “cold soup.”

“Did your mom make that for you? In russia?”

Aleks pauses, frowning heavy as he turns and leans his back against the car, “does your mom make you soup?” aleks is all too glad for james’ drugged-up state, eyes closing as he dodges the question.

“Hell yeah, she,” there’s a small hiss on the other side of the phone, aleks recognises it as pain, “she made me this real good soup, called it her magic soup when i was a kid, but i know it’s this, uh… its kinda like beef soup? Lots’a meat and potato, s’good with bread…”

Aleks nods slow with a sigh, eyes lidded, “get some rest, james. I want you nice and healed up so you can take my bomb-ass soup later.”

James hums quietly and passes the phone off with a quiet here, brett and aleks can hear the shuffling of bed sheets as he listens to brett walk out, “really? Soup?”

“Well, it was the first thing i saw,” aleks rolls his eyes, “but now i guess i gotta make soup when i get back.” brett hums, hanging up after telling aleks to be careful and getting a dismissive sigh in return. He just gets into the car, slipping his earpiece back in and starting up the car, “you ready to be nice now, jakob?”

“Fuck you, i bet your soup is shit.” jakob’s answer is immediate, and, despite the words, the grin echoes in his words and aleks can't help but laugh.

“Don't worry, it is, i haven’t made soup since… forever ago.” aleks drives along carefully, entering the last address.

“I'm gonna have to try the soup you bring in, ill spit it in your face if it’s bad. Your fuckin’ russian shark soup, too, what the fuck is that about?”

“Okroshka? where the fuck does shark come from?”

“Yeah, sounds gross. Distinctly slavic and sharky. What’s in it? Poison?”

Aleks laughs, rolling his eyes and rubbing his chin, “vegetables, potatoes, egg, spices, and you serve it with this beer called golden kvas as a dressing but i had a buddy that would put it in the soup-”

“So it is poison!”

“Basically, and you eat it cold during the summer with dill pickles and sour cream.” aleks grins fondly, turning onto a freeway, “you can put in meat too, and sugar.”

“Do you sing the communist anthem while you eat it?”

“I don't think that’s a thing, dude.” he checks both ways and waits for the green before driving forwards.

Things get a little hazy after that.

The first thing aleks realises when he comes to is that there’s a car headlight shining through the driver’s side window. The second thing is that his car, his new car, has just been brutally t-boned, the paint work is ruined and the body is barely salvageable. The third thing is jakob is practically screaming in his ear, but the sound is milky and muffled compared to the loud ringing in his ears; he drags himself out of the car with a broken cough, gritting his teeth and cursing before drawing his pistols, the crowd that had gathered around the accident site quickly dispersing with loud screams.

“-leks! Aleks!” jakob’s voice rings out a little clearer now, and it causes aleks to wince heavy, head throbbing dully, “holy fucking shit, aleks, oh my god, how are you not fuckin’ dead? Jesus christ, get somewhere safe, i'm sending brett-”

“Don't,” aleks croaks, standing fully and wincing at the pain in his side, leg bleeding slow, “don't worry, ive got this. But that ‘no injury’ dealio is certainly out the fuckin’ window.”

Jakob’s laugh is hoarse and shaky, “y-yeah, okay, fuck… there’s five men in the car, all of the guys from the last base. We’re running home base, man.”

“Have you ever even played baseball?” aleks smirks weak, crouching behind his now-ruined car, “you’re so lanky, you look more like a runner.”

“The fuck is a runner? I just played video games, man.”

Aleks laughs slightly, rolling his eyes before leaning up and shooting at the closest man. He goes down quickly, a clean bullet between the eyes, and aleks nods to himself. He crouches back down, shifting slightly and wincing before leaning up over his cover and shooting again. He hits the woman’s arm, but she doesn't go down, instead giving covering fire. Aleks picks up his shotgun when the third person gets close enough, the blast ruining their left leg at close range to the point of no return, sending the man crashing to the ground with a howl. Aleks puts him out of his misery with a pistol bullet to the head.

He turns back to the woman, shooting at her until she shifts too much, a bullet glancing the top of her head when she bobs up out of cover slightly. It seems to be enough, since it sends her to the ground with a loud thud.

“There’s one guy coming up on your other side, the other is hiding behind their car.”

Aleks nods, carefully moving to the other end of his car. He briefly remembers the man in his trunk and winces in sympathy before shooting at the closest man and taking him down. It’s finally one on one, and aleks can't help but be relieved. The pain is dulled slightly by the adrenaline, but its not magic, and every movement sends flares of pain up his left side. Aleks draws his knife, closing his eyes and sighing before rushing up to the other car.

The man hiding there had been expecting that, aleks realises as his knife is knocked from his hand and his body is slammed against the side of the car. Aleks’ yell of pain is cut off by the hand gripping his neck, and for once aleks is able to get a good look at one of the men he’s been killing.

Hes average height, barely taller than james, with dull grey eyes and deep acne scarring along his jaw. There’s a small smattering of stubble along his jaw, and his hair is pretty long. Aleks uses that to his advantage, leaning up and tugging at it hard enough to rip some out. The howl the man releases jars aleks slightly, ears ringing and brain rattling as he’s dropped to the floor. He sees his pistol, new scratches on the side from how it fell to the floor, and reaches for it rapidly, shooting the man faster than he can shout.

It’s silent, now, and aleks hates it. He stays laid on the floor, one hand gripping his pistol and the other on his chest, heart racing and head pounding. He can feel his pulse all throughout his body, every ache and pain amped up to a hundred.

“Aleks? You good?”

“Order postmates,” he mutters, voice hoarse, “i can't make soup right now. Minestrone.”

Jakob laughs, but agrees. Aleks stands slow and careful, wincing and picking up his scattered weapons before going over to the trunk of his car. When he opens it, regret fills his body. The man that was previously inside is… barely a man. Aleks shuts the trunk.

Aleks puts his weapons away carefully, strapping each one onto his body, before walking along slowly to the nearest street sign. There’s a wave of relief that floods his body when he realises he’s only a few blocks from the warehouse, so he decides to walk there.

“What’s the prognosis? You gonna need major work done?”

Aleks thinks about it, looking down at himself, before shaking his head, “nah, it’s not too bad. Mostly bruises, nothin’s broken. I really need a fuckin’ shower, though.”

Jakob laughs, “i'm sure we can arrange that for you.”

By the time aleks reaches the warehouse, james is still fast asleep. He’s patched up quickly by anna while jakob regails the entire story with wide eyes, gesticulating wildly with a bright smile. Aleks manages to break away from the group, scouring the kitchen before finding the can of soup and heating it up, taking the bowl to james and setting it on his bedside table, sitting down carefully next to his bed. He regrets not being able to make real soup for him, but what he doesn't know wont hurt him.

#my works #my writing #novahd #immortalhd #uberhaxornova #fake chop #cowchop #clusterfuck au #my fics #blood #gore #violence #soup? soup #alsojakob #brett hundley #oof i was proud of the comedy scenes but... action is not my forte

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