#SHES BACK AND BEAUTIFUL OH MY EVERLOVING GOD

[seresinhangmanjake]

Hellooo. I hope you are doing well. If you still take drabble requests, could you write something about the morning after their first time together in Signed Away? Or if you are more in the Oh, Baby mood, something about the first night/morning after Honey returned to Jake with Eve?

Only if you want to do any of this, of course. No pressure.

Have a lovely day ❤️

Hello! I hope it's ok, I went with the first night after Honey returned with Eve for Oh, Baby.

Words: 827

First Night Home: Dad!Jake Seresin Drabble

That little thing belonged to him. 

And god, was she little. 

Much smaller than he remembered babies being. Tiny fingers. Tiny toes. Tiny bowed lips with a dot of a nose. Just a little thing wrapped up tight in her little crib. And she was his. His and yours—something lovely born of you both. 

He could watch her for hours. Simply stare, waiting for a soft exhale or slight wiggle of one of those itty bitty arms. She was so real and so sweet, he’d held her in his arms, and yet, sitting two feet away from her, he still couldn’t quite believe he had a daughter. 

“It feels odd, doesn’t it.”

Jake turned his head to find you in the doorway of his guest room, your hands squeezing a towel around your damp hair. He could easily remember the last time he saw you like that. Freshly showered, bare-faced, with his t-shirt hanging down to your thighs. One of many memories he’d refused to let go of. 

You took a few steps closer to the crib Jake had set up hours before. 

“When they first laid her on my chest,” you began, your eyes landing on your sleeping baby, “I thought I would suddenly know how to be a mother. I figured everything would simply click and feel so natural.” Your knuckle ran lightly over a silky, rose-tinted cheek. “But it didn’t. Took a few days for it all to really soak in; to understand that she was…mine.”

As you spoke, Jake stared at your silhouette, your form made up of luscious curves that was hidden under the cotton fabric of his shirt. They were fuller now that you'd had a baby. Beautiful in the aftermath of bringing your shared child into the world. 

He wished he could've seen the way you had changed. To see your belly grow and your breasts swell. To see you glow the way he'd heard soon-to-be mothers often do. He didn't like to imagine how perfect it would've been. But having you in front of him now was enough to wash away some of the pain of missing that time. Though it didn't erase everything. Certainly not the regrets, nor the disappointment in himself for not having found you after you'd left. 

“Honey," his voice was soft, "I wish you hadn't been alone."

“I had my mother, lovely as she is,” you lightly snorted. Then eyes meeting his, you said, “But I wish I’d had you. Being by myself in the hospital was—"

"Your mom wasn't with you when you were having our baby?"

"No.” You shook your head and draped the small towel over the edge of the crib before crossing your arms. "I didn't tell her when my water broke. I just called an ambulance. Surprisingly, Eve came rather quickly so there wasn't time for my mother to question where I was when she got back from work. I let her know once Eve was born."

Brows pinching, Jake sat up a little straighter in his chair. His nails wanted to dig into the faux leather. "Why didn't you tell her before? Fuck, Honey, wouldn't it have helped to have her with you?" 

The thought of you scared and alone, with tears streaming down your face as you were forced through such physical and mental exhaustion crumbled the edges of his heart. What you needed was a hand in yours for you to squeeze the everloving life out of, someone to brush the damp hair back from your brow, to kiss your temple and whisper encouraging words to keep you going. Instead, you’d had no one. Not a single soul that loved you by your side. 

"Jake," you sighed. There was a hesitant upturn of your lips that didn't match the sadness in your gaze. "If it wasn't going to be you beside me then it wasn't going to be anyone. That spot was reserved for you, and I should've let you have it. Anything else would've felt…wrong."

“Honey—”

“It’s too late,” you said. “I know my mistakes. And no matter how many times I’ve wished I could go back and reverse them, I can’t.”

He immediately reached out and wrapped your hand up in his, pulling you closer so his lips could press a kiss to your palm. “I don’t want you torturing yourself,” he whispered between one kiss and another. 

A fresh sheen coated your eyes, shining even in the dim light of the room. “Maybe one day,” you said, that half-hearted smile back on your face. “Will you sleep in here? If you’re comfortable. I, um…” you glanced at Eve, “I’d like it if we were all together tonight.”

“Of course, Honey,” he said. Because as much as it sounded like a plea from your lips, there was nothing he wanted more. In no universe, under any circumstances, would he have denied you. Never would he give away a chance to be with his family.

---

Tags: @wkndwlff @kmc1989 @sagittarius-flowerchild @demp @oliviah-25 @rosiahills22 @xoxabs88xox @matisse556 @hardballoonlove @ssa-sadboi @lynnevanss @pono-pura-vida @tgmreader @amgluvsbooks @ravenhood2792 @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @abaker74 @novagreen04 @multifandomlover4life @mayhemmanaged @memeorydotcom @ryiamarie @ateliefloresdaprimavera

#jake seresin #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin x reader #top gun maverick #jake seresin fic #top gun #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin fic #top gun hangman #jake hangman seresin x y/n #tgm #tgm fic

[biographydivider]

...I couldn’t not. Thank you to @somerandomdudelmao for breaking my heart.

April knew - from the second she saw him, the sound of rain lashing down on the New York sidewalk filling her ears. She just knew.

“Are you lost, little frog?” she asked, as she let go of her Mommy’s hand, taking a few steps into the alleyway - ignoring the shouts for her to come back, to be careful. She wasn’t going far, after all. She was a big girl, now - she was gonna be six on Tuesday! And someone might need her help, and Mommy always said to help people when you can.

A green face peeped out at her from inside a ginormous purple hoodie. He shook his head, and April came a little closer, tilting her head to try and get a better look.

“You’re not lost? Then where’s your family?”

“I’m not a frog. I’m a soft-shelled turtle,” her new friend replied, dragging his sleeve across his face to wipe away the tears. “The tax-o-nom-ic name is Trionychidae.”

“That’s a big word!”

“It is. And...I don’t know where my brothers are. We’re not meant to be up here.” The turtle-boy took in a long, shakey inhale of breath. “I went off on my own. I wanted to look at the clothes.” He pointed to a window across the street, filled with shiny, sleek letterman jackets. “I lost them. I ran back over here, but the cars were scary and...” He shook his head, like he was drying to dislodge the sound. “Now Waph’s gonna be worried about me, an’ Papa will be sad.”

April scrunched up her nose; putting on her Thinking Face always helped her. “You know what my Mommy says I gotta do when I’m lost?”

The turtle-boy shook his head. Raindrops spattered from his hood onto the floor.

“You gotta find a helper person. Like a lady with a baby, or a someone who works in a store. I’ll be your helper person!” She grinned, showing off the gap where her first baby tooth had fallen out. “We’ll find your family, little turtle.”

“My name’s Donatello.”

“Donna...Donate...Don...hm."

“My brother Leo calls me Donnie.”

“Okay! I’ll call you Donnie, too.” April slotted her hand into his, and the entire world fell into place. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep you safe!”

...

You need to go back. Quickly.

It was a funny feeling; pre-grieving your best friend. Looking at him every day and knowing, in your gut, he’d be gone soon. Waiting for the dam to break, craving the release of all this gut-wrenching pain but knowing, after that, comes the forever-ache of missing him. Wanting to crush his stupid bones in a hug and beat the crap out of him at the same time. Hearing him talk about ‘after’ like he’d know if she didn’t respect his wishes (donate his tech, keep his plants growing, remember Casey’s birthday and where D had stashed his gift) and he would take away Friendship Points deservingly. Trust Donnie to gamify the afterlife. But when that message came, and April knew, deep in her bones, it was time, she wasn’t ready. How could she ever be ready?

She often found herself thinking back to when they were kids. Little kids; when she realised, within thirty seconds of being around him, that Donnie needed a friend. A very best, best friend. Then, at her very first sleepover, watching him beat the everloving heck out of Leo with a sofa cushion (how was she to know ninjas-in-training would take pillow fights so seriously?!) that no, what he needed was a big sister. Someone to keep him in line, to stop that big beautiful brain from spiralling into insanity. And April had always wanted to be a big sister. She’d always rushed to Donnie when he needed her and in return he’d kept her safe from malware and from the Krang and from ever, ever feeling alone. She was his helper person. And he was hers, always.

She always thought she’d be there when it happened. She thought she’d be holding his hand.

As April bolted back to base and threw the main doors wide, her boots squeaking and slipping on the tiles as she ran towards the sound of three - oh god, only three - of her brothers, their voices indistinct but panicking, she felt her pace slow, her feet grow heavy and tired. She couldn’t. She couldn’t run towards a future without her brother.

What was that thing Donnie used to talk about when he wanted to be insufferable while they ate their pizza and scrolled through Netflox? Schrödinger’s cat. Alive and dead. Well, as long as she didn’t reach the source of all that noise, Donnie was still alive. Something else had happened; he’d just fallen, that was all. He’d fallen and Leo couldn’t help him up and somewhere, buried deep inside those awful cries of ‘Donnie? Donnie can you hear me?!’, that shrill noise Leo was making was laughter. Laughing at his twin, embarassing him once again just like he always did. But as soon as she reached the end off the hall, reality settled into its chosen trajectory.

Donnie was lying in Raph’s hands. Limp. Mikey was curled up in a tight ball, eyes wide and blank and staring. And Leo wasn’t laughing; he was screaming. Screaming for a medic, for help...for his Dad...

And April knew - from the second she saw him, the sound of rain lashing down on what was left of New York filling her ears, her brain, her broken heart. She just knew.

#rottmnt #cass apocalyptic series #rise april #rise donnie #I love that she didn't get to say goodbye #and by 'love' I mean it shattered me into a million bits #so naturally I had to make it worse

[allegra-writes]

The Intervention

Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

General audiences

Warnings: none

The Request:

Peter and Reader hanging out at the compound. They fall asleep together and Tony finds them. They insist they are just friends but have feelings for each other, even if themselves don't know it yet.

Tony ships it.

For @sovereignparker

MY MASTERLIST

Tony Stark was at his wits end.

He, who had built the first iron man prototype in a cave, invented time travel, and pretty much single handedly defeated Thanos and his army, didn't know what to do. And it was all your fault. Well, yours and Peter's, actually.

At first it had been… kind of cute. Endearing. The way you both were so obvious yet so oblivious. You and Peter had grown really close after the blip, a little too close, in fact: Always hanging out together, watching movies or playing video games, or just doing nothing. Tony had never seen Peter spend that much time at the compound before. And he was sure you definitely didn't use to hang at the lab so much before either. 

Then had came the most noticeable signs, like you wearing Peter's hoodies and Peter sporting one of your hair ties on his wrist. Peter's ringtone for you was "Uptown girl" for fucks sake! (some stupid punk-pop cover, cause his protegee had no taste apparently).

It had all reached its zenith during that mission in Bahrain, where the enemy had managed to land a solid one on the quinjet and the whole team had been stuck on land for the night. They had been forced to pile up in this cheap hostel, all six in the same room. And there were enough beds for everybody but you and Peter had started fighting over the top bed of the bunk and it had been vicious. Until you both had agreed to share it, that was. 

Every single one of the Avengers had been convinced you guys were a couple after that, including Tony. But the thing was, Peter Parker was shit at lying. And he insisted you and him were just friends, and he did look like he was telling the truth. So Tony had started looking through the security cameras, watching hours and hours of footage of Peter and you together. Pepper had scolded him, telling him what a horrible invasion of his firstborn's privacy it was, but the thing was there was nothing private there: No making out, no pda, NOTHING. Not even pecks on cheeks or hand holding. 

So he had resigned to the fact that you and underoos were completely platonic. 

Strangely enough, he had felt… disappointed.

"That's not strange at all, Tony. You love Peter like a son. Y/n dating him would be the perfect way for him to officially become a part of this family" Damn Pepper and her way to psychoanalyze him.

"Yeah well, apparently, when I wanna do that," Pepper raised an eyebrow at his husband's use of 'when', not 'if', "I'm going to have to adopt him. Cause I have to do everything in this house!"

The redhead rolled her eyes and went back to her book, leaving Tony to his brooding, blissfully ignorant to the ideas already taking shape in the billionaire's mind. 

But for the first time in his life, nothing Tony did seemed to work. He had tried sending you notes from a secret admirer, but you knew Peter's handwriting. He had tried pairing you both at galas and balls, but you both had disappeared with Harley and that crazy socialite Kate Bishop for an impromptu shooting competition. He had even tried locking the both of you in a closet, but since the vulture guy incident Peter had developed claustrophobia and a panic attack wasn't very inducive to romance. Steve had drawn the line at sending you undercover as a couple on a fake mission. 

"He just doesn't want to lose the bet" Clint had told him. Tony was too afraid to ask.

That's why he wasn't even surprised to find the both of you, asleep together on the couch that sunday morning. Oh no, what he was, was completely fed up. He walked past you, straight into the kitchen where the rest of the team was having breakfast, like a man on a mission, standing in front of the coffee maker, capturing every one's attention. He turned around, meeting Rodhey's eye. 

"It's time"

That was all he had to say for the Avengers to leave their plates and cups where they were and stand up, following the man of iron back into the living room. They formed a semicircle in front of the couch, with Tony standing tall (or as tall as a man who was 5'7 could stand while surrounded by gods and giants and supersoldiers) and assertive in the middle. 

Peter's tingle must have sense something was amiss because the boy immediately stirred.

"Oh, hey, mister Stark" He greeted, rubbing his eyes, voice hoarse from sleep and low, obviously trying not to disturb you, "sorry, we must've fallen asleep watching the movie.."

"Cut the bullshit, kid" Tony interrupted, unsmiling and straight to business, "this is an intervention"

"Wh-what?"

"We care about you and y/n very much," Clint continued, not giving him time to react, "but we can't go on like this any longer"

"This situation is hurting all of us, especially yourself, kid" Cap took over. Whatever this thing was, they had obviously rehearsed it, "There comes a time in every boy's life when he has to stand and take responsibility of his feelings like a man"

"So this is us, giving you an ultimatum," Bruce chimed in, "either you tell y/n how you feel…"

"Or we do" Thor finished. 

What. In the everloving. Fuck? 

"Guys, we're not… it's not… I-I'm not" Peter sputtered helplessly, very aware of what a light sleeper you were and how awkward things between you could turn if you heard this conversation. You were even shier than he was, even though you hid it better, and he didn't want anything to ruin your friendship, you were too precious to him. "I am not in love with y/n!" He whisper-yelled at last.

Tony crossed his arms, turning defensive.

"Why not? Is my daughter not good enough for the amazing Spider-Man?"

"What? No- I mean yes, I mean…" Peter sighed, rubbing his face with the hand not wrapped around you, still keeping you close to his chest throughout that whole… intervention debacle, "Your daughter is brilliant, and kind and amazing, and with all do respect mister Stark, she… well, she's hot! But not like in an objectifying kind of way, more in a she's really beautiful and I'm not blind kind of way and I don't care what the press says she is perfect and any body who can't see it is either blind or an idiot. If anything, I am not enough for her, but even so, I still want to be by her side because she's… because I…" Peter's rambling came to a halt, the boys eyes opening wide in horrified realization, "... Oh my god, holly shit, I'm in love with her, aren't I?!" 

A chorus of "finally" and "duh!" and "it was about god damned time" filled the living room, as Tony repressed the urge to roll his eyes and instead smiled kindly at the teenager holding his older daughter in his arms. He used to think that the day he saw something like that he would have felt dread, or anger, or at the very least protectiveness. But he felt nothing of the sort: he felt… calmed. He knew you were in good hands. Maybe that was what was making the difference. 

He patted the boy on the shoulder,

"Glad we could have this talk, underoos. Come on, team, I feel like getting donuts for breakfast. To celebrate, you know? Let's go get the jet!"

The room got emptied as quick as it had been occupied, leaving Peter stunned, his head a whirlwind of emotions. He was in love. With his best friend. With the most perfect girl he had ever seen.

With a girl in fact so perfect, so out of his league, he might as well have been playing a different sport. 

His heart sank into his stomach, killing most of the butterflies nesting there, and severely maiming the rest. He was screwed. There was no way you would like him back, just… none. He looked down, maybe your peaceful sleeping face could bring some calm to his disturbed brain, you usually had a soothing effect on his nerves.

But your face wasn't peaceful, or sleeping. No, you were looking back at him with a thousand different emotions flickering behind those pretty doe eyes of yours.

He closed his eyes, as if that alone could deny the reality of that moment, the moment his world was sure to fall apart.

"You heard all of that, didn't you?" 

"Yeah," You murmured, voice catching slightly in your throat, "yeah I did"

"Great. Awesome" he pinched the bridge of his nose with his free hand. He didn't want to ask this, he really didn't. But he had to know the answer. "Now what?"

Frozen in place, he felt you crawl over his body, until you were nose to nose with him.

"Now? I think now… we kiss" You breathed against his lips.

His heart skipped a beat. Right before starting running, galloping wildly, like an untamed horse.

Yeah, he liked that idea...

The end.

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #tom holland #peter parker fanfic #tom holland x reader #tom holland imagine #peter parker fluff #avengers fluff #fluff and crack #fluff #tom holland fluff #irondad #irondad fluff #stark! daughter #stark!reader #peter parker x stark!reader #fanfiction #peter parker fanfiction #fanfic #fluff fic #cute peter parker #cute tom holland

[huniebunny]

Things you Do

Ch.1 || Ch.2 || Ch.3

Hello! Welcome to my second series for my TF2 universe with my OCs, The Spotter and her son, Cheche! Spotter is sort of an administrative role who trains teams from all across America under the orders of the Administrator. The current team she’s training is known as New Gen. This team is formulated and trained to fully replace the original Team Fortress.

[Warnings: None applied]

[Word Count: 1386 words]

“Does this lady ever shut up?” Scout muttered under his breath. Spotter, or Skates as she told them to call her, just went on and on; it started to get on his nerves. He flinched as a sharp finger poked his side. He glared at the new Spy who walked beside him. Spy merely smirked back.

“Now you know how we felt back on the bus.” Scout grumbled as Spy glided past him. He crossed his arms and slowed down until he was at the back of the group.

Pssh, they don't know what they're on about. I'm the awesomest dude to know! Scout thought to himself. He looked around the base since he had all the time in the world to do so. A quick glance into the dining hall, he continued walking then stopped. He backtracked and looked closer into the kitchen.

Holy crap, who is that? A really hot guy stood there by the stove. The tank top hid nothing to the imagination about those muscles. Scout looked at his own muscles… or lack there of in comparison. Damn, he thought this would grow his ego, not destroy it. 

Looking closer, the guy had curly hair, just like Spotter's. Scout huffed. There's no way those two are related in any way. 

The guy looked back at Scout's huff before smiling. JesusChristthat'sabeautifulsmile. A blush took over Scout's face and he ran off to catch up with everyone else, too embarrassed to say anything or pay attention to anything the guy could have been saying.

He held his face, staring wide-eyed at the floor. What in the everloving hell was that? There is no way I just thought his smile was beautiful. But it was - And he ran into something. Scout groaned, holding his nose.

Quick footsteps ran up to him and gentle hands pulled his own from his face. Scout grimaced as the same gentle hands prodded his nose. He looked up and his eyes widened at the guy from the kitchen. The guy focused on the bruise which gave Scout time to observe more. Heat returned to his cheeks at how close they were.

Dark tanned skin… A hard set gaze…. The intense gaze sent a shiver down Scout's spine. He's…

Stormy eyes lifted and… he was saying something. Fuck, what was he saying!

Scout blinked. “Uhhh, what?”

The corners of those icy eyes crinkled as a smile spread across handsome features. “Well-” Oh, fuck. “-You're only bruised. It'll go away after a few hours.”

The guy stood up, taking Scout's arm and helping him up as well. Scout pulled his arm back to him and rubbed the area the guy touched. Then, a hand is held out to him. Scout looked up once more. The guy's smile widened.

“The name's Cheche. You're the new generation Scout, yeah?” Cheche? How… cute.

He shook Cheche's hand firmly. “Uh, yeah.” His tongue stuck to the back of his teeth. God damn it, why can't he think of anything else?!

Something rubbed along the back of his hand and Scout realized that they still hadn't pulled away from the handshake. He pulled his hand away frantically, stuffing them in his pockets. He looked everywhere except at the cute guy in front of him. A blush lightly coated his freckled cheeks but he could swear that it glowed.

“I should… head back to the group,” he mumbled.

Cheche laughed and motioned for Scout to follow. “Come on then. They're probably outside already.”

Scout followed. Cheche re-quoted Spotter's tour as they went up to the bedrooms and communal bathroom. Scout had a terrible feeling about the bathroom. Apparently they skipped Spotter’s usual prank with the stairs. The bad feeling sunk even further as Scout recognized the pattern of the whole spiel. There is no fuckin way- They made it outside with everyone else.

“¡Mijo! ¿Pensé que estabas terminando la cena?” Spotter called, interrupting her own speech.

“Yo soy, máma. I was just leading this one out here.” Cheche answered, wrapping a muscled arm around the Scout’s shoulders. Scout’s stomach churned. They are.

Cheche pushed Scout toward his team with a smile. “Well, I better head back.” He turned back to base before pausing. “Oh, and feel free to admire me. I don’t mind.” He saluted the team before finally walking back.

Spotter clapped her hands. “¡Todo Bien! Now that everyone is here, time to figure out rooming. But, due to the limited space, you all will room in two’s. And one of you will room with mijo. Any ta-”

Scout immediately raised his hand, near popping his shoulder. Dread and regret crawled up his back as she looked directly at him with a wide smile. “Perfecto.” No, it wasn’t.

He stood just outside the bedroom that he'd share with Cheche. He gripped his case tightly before pushing the door open. And met with lights.

Fairy lights, as Scout knew them. The faint bronze glow illuminated the room well. Records and photos covered the shelves on one side of the room. A guitar even sat at the corner by the unmade bed. On the other side of the room, a neat bed and empty shelves met him.

Scout sighed in relief. He didn't have to sleep with Cheche. But… that bed sure looked comfortable… Scout shook his head. He'll sleep on worse for sure. Scout put down his case on the neat bed then began unpacking. Well, it could have been worse. I could have roomed with Spy, the pretentious prick. Scout picked up a frame, smiling at the photo. If you could see me now, pops.

The creak of the door had Scout scrambling to hide the photo then lean on his case as if he had nothing else to do. Cheche blinked then laughed softly. A blush rose across freckled cheeks as Scout looked away. “I see you are unpacking. Everyone is preparing for dinner right now.”

Scout nodded with a tight smile back. Cheche left, the door shutting behind him. A relieved sigh left Scout as he sank to the floor. This was not okay. He shook his head and stood. He needed to unpack.

The night came and Scout couldn’t sleep. No, not because Cheche snored or anything; instead, he slept half naked. Entirely aware of the bed across from his own, Scout hid his face under the tough pillow. He won't survive this. There was no way he could. But he shouldn't be so worked up about this! He never bothered before! What makes Cheche special?

Scout sat up, holding his pillow to his chest, and peered into the other bed where Cheche lay. His bottom lip caught in his teeth as he watched that toned chest rise and fall. Really, what made him special? Scout hardly knew the guy! But, the more he stared, the worse his situation hit him. This was going to be a long year….

The next few days were rough; Scout thought he’d die doing any of this. He couldn’t keep his balance on the goddamn skates. He couldn’t go as fast as the others; He sent the bird to Spy who glided past. But, he adamantly refused help, especially from Cheche! He would struggle and embarrass himself long before he would accept any help from Cheche! The guy would take glances to Scout though which pissed him off. He could do this just fine!

Cheche rolled up by Scout who still struggled to keep balance. He watched Scout for a while before he asked, “¿Necesitas ayuda?”

Scout fell, yelling. He groaned and sat up. He glared at Cheche. “The hell is your problem?!”

“I only asked if you needed help,” Cheche responded then held out his hand to help Scout up. “Seems like you do.”

Scout grumbled and tried to get up by himself, ignoring Cheche’s offering hand. “I got it..”

“Do you? Cause I promise; Some of this is harder than it looks and I don’t think you realize that.” Cheche grinned as Scout eyed him warily. He pointed to Spy, who tried to follow one of Spotter’s more intricate moves and failed spectacularly. Scout couldn’t help but grin then laugh.

Cheche offered his hand again. “So, are you going to let me help?”

Scout stuck his tongue in his cheek then took Cheche’s hand. “Yeah, whatever.”

#things you do #team fortress two #tf2 scout #Cheche Jin

[the-twelve-guardians]

Regain Your Starlight

A Discord text game inspired by Philippine folklore

How you wish you could return home to the night sky.

You are a STARMAIDEN, and you've just lost your WINGS after a night of frolicking along the waters of LAGUNA LAKE. As such, you are unable to reunite with your fellow Stars until you recover your wings.

You’re standing on the shore of the lake. It’s the middle of the night. What do you do?

>retrieve arms

Thankfully, your arms are still intact. You take the form of a beautiful native maiden, with a star-shaped mole underneath your eye to signify you are BORNE OF THE NIGHT SKY.

>retrieve wings

Obviously, you can't! You've misplaced them. You remember leaving them right here, on this shore of the lake! Or was it that other shore? No no. Hmm.

>==>

You decide to seek refuge in the parish of a nearby TOWN, which you learn is called KUBLIHAN.

"May I assist you, miss...?"

It's a young SACRISTAN, an assistant helping around with the tasks of the church. It seems he was in the middle of sweeping the floors and counting the money in the coffers. He introduces himself as CRISANTO.

What do you tell him?

>just a normal human maiden who has lost something

"Hmm, alright then. Although... I can tell you're different from most women. I don't know, just my intuition."

>adopt

"Why are you here so late at night? Have you no family?" you ask him.

"My mother lives on the far reaches of the town. I stay here on most nights. It's alright, I can visit her tomorrow, as I don't have work!" he says cheerfully.

>==>

It's the following day. Crisanto says he'll accompany you back to the bay to search for what you've lost, as his mother lives along the lake!

Before you arrive, you pass through a dark neck of the woods. The sunlight doesn't seem to shine through the tree branches, and there's a chill in the air and a scent of something rotting.

"Heeheehee. You shouldn't have come here, boy."

A withered crone in a black shawl shows herself, and points a bony finger toward you two.

Crisanto jumps, and hides behind you.

"Ahhh! It's Barang the Witch! Please, do something!"

>stand protectively in front of him

You do so. Crisanto cowers behind you, clearly afraid of the witch.

>do we know any magic???

>look around for any potential smack-witch-object

You can do magic, sure, but it's incredibly weak. Basically, you can take existing moonlight and fashion it into something physical, but it's the middle of the day!

There's a BRANCH nearby, if you can keep her distracted long enough to get to it.

>KICK

>AND KICK HARD

You give her a swift KICK. By the light of the moon, you'd have punished her by now!

You nod to Crisanto, and he fetches the branch. You give Daluyong a good smack, which renders her unconscious and thus down for the count. You then flee back to the safety of the forest's edge, where Crisanto reunites with his mother.

"Mother! Oh, oh, it was so scary! But she saved me, Mother!"

"Oh... how wonderful," Crisanto's mother says as she turns to you. "What is your name, dear miss?"

"Sara," you tell her.

>save

[ Bookmark added. ]

>head back to daluyong and beat the everloving crap out of her while you still can

You return to the forest, but she's gone! That wily witch.

You instead head back to the town parish. Crisanto informed you that the gossipy SISTER MINANG could tell you who's who in town.

When you get there, the church is empty. It's suddenly sweltering hot inside, and there's a dry wind that enters the windows. One of the statues of the saints moves. It's the Sto. Niño, an image of Christ as a young boy. He has porcelain skin and coarse, curly hair. He's also dressed in an elegant gold and crimson robe.

He yawns.

"Well, that nap took forever. Oh dear, is that a crack? That's new. Oh, and this outfit."

The Sto. Niño turns to you. "Ah! It seems I have a devotee today. How do you do, fair Star? I'm El Niño, the Heat Haze Wind."

...h-hi

>god?

"Small G, please! Hehe. I used to go by Santonilyo, but then those pesky conquistadores went and turned me into a saint! So I just go by Santo Niño nowadays. What year is it? Ah, 1895. Man, that was a long nap. Are these islands like, still under Spanish rule? Sorry, I'm babbling. Hahaha."

You inform him of your current dilemma. He says he's willing to help, but he can only move when exposed to direct sunlight. Otherwise, you'll have to carry him.

>stay somewhere open with sunlighty

>can we destroy the ceiling to let in a LOT of light?

"Why didn't I think of that!! You're pretty smart."

The sunlight seems to shine even brighter, until the ROOF of the church caves in. You're able to get out in the nick of time, holding El Niño's tiny hand in yours.

"Oopsies," he says.

You're now in the middle of the town square. As it's the middle of the day, everyone is taking their midday nap (siesta).

>==>

After some time, you decide to take El Niño somewhere safe, and transfer him to a nearby grotto. That way, when the sun sets and he reverts back into a statue, he'll at least have a place to stay where people can find and worship him.

It's now the witching hour. You hear a guttural growl, and turn to find a nun.

"So... so hungry... Need... flesh..."

Before your very eyes, she grows bat wings, and looks at you with crazed eyes.

"Sister Isidra!" El Niño says. "I always knew there was something fishy about her. She's a vampire!! We need to do something. Oh, by the way, since it's sunset, my powers are limited and we have around fifteen minutes before I turn back into a statute. Good luck!"

>STICK SMACK

You charge at her with a STICK, but it proves useless. She instead snaps it like, well, a stick!!! Dammit.

El Niño tries to use his powers, and summons the Heat Haze. Cracks form around the earth, and there's a sweltering wind. Alas, it doesn't do much.

"Oops, guess it's time," he says as the sun sets. "Did I tell you that vampires get stronger as night falls? You'd best be getting outta here."

>==>

You stall Isidra until the MOON comes out. Yes, you can use your powers!!

Unfortunately it's waning. Therefore your powers are nigh-depleted. You hold out your hands a bit, but all you can manage to muster is a ball of moonlight as hard and dense as a large rock.

>scream: why the fuck the moon so weak? Git good, moon what are you, moon moon?

>FLEE WITH THE POWER OF SALT

You decide to FLEE, throwing some SALT at Isidra. You keep forgetting that Crisanto's mother packed you a lunch of SALTED FISH. That counts, right??

Isidra lets out a shriek of pain. You book it back to the forest, and find Crisanto's home.

"Miss Star! You've come back," Crisanto's mother, SINTA, says. "Did you eat my packed lunch?"

"Vampire. On her way," you tell her, wheezing. You're exhausted from all that running.

>==>

Isidra finds you, and starts flying towards the hut!

"I'll take care of this, dear."

Sinta does some chants while dancing around with a candle on her head. She takes her loyal ROOSTER, which starts to crow. A miniature ball of FIRE appears, and heads straight toward the Vampire. It screeches in horror at the light, and flees.

>==>

"That was something, Sinta! How were you able to do that?!" you ask her.

"Well, back in the day before I gave birth to Crisanto, I was something of a shaman," she says. "Don't tell him, though. I wanted to give him a good life, free of the shackles of the magic world."

>hug her

>thank you!!

>cry a lil

"Thank you so much, Nay Sinta! I was so scared!!" you say.

"No need to thank me, dear. We're all people in need, at one point or another."

You get a good night's sleep, and head back to the town church to assess the damage done. Hopefully you can help with repairs, as the town curate, PADRE BENEDICTO, will be angry.

As you arrive, there's already someone there. It's a snobbish-looking young woman in a frilly dress.

"Oh dear. Who brought the riffraff? Pedro, fetch me some water please," she says, fanning herself. Sinta tells you this is the wealthy Doña Ambrosia, a cruel and spiteful woman. She's the richest person in town, and looks down on everyone.

What do you do?

>save

[ Bookmark added. ]

>is there water anywhere near?

There's a river flowing a little ways west. You could easily walk to it and be back within half an hour.

>do we have any containers to store water?

Sinta brought over a bowl made of banana leaves that she's woven together, and bound with magic. It will never leak.

>start walking towards the river

"That Doña Ambrosia is a real snob, huh?" you ask Sinta.

"She sure is. You know, I heard she even threw a plate at one of her servants! I don't see why poor Pedro puts up with her. That's some real devotion."

You take some river water, and put it in Sinta's banana bowl. What do you do next?

>sinta, on a scale of one to ten, how amazing would it be if i brought ambrosia this water just to dump it on her head?

"Yes, I'd like that very much! And I know a way we can do it."

You and Sinta go back to where Ambrosia is, and volunteer to give her water. You rush over, bowl in-hand, and Sinta pretends to trip you as a prank! As intended, you spill water all over Doña Ambrosia.

"ARGH! You simpletons, unable to even get me some water! My uncle will be hearing about this!!!" she says, storming off.

You're still a long ways away from finding your wings, but you're HAPPY. Being a human is nice.

[ End of Session 1. ]

#philippine folklore #philippine mythology #star maiden #()stories #original story #starlight

[just-my-sickly-pride]

The Night Comes Down || Brian May x fem!Reader x Roger Taylor

summary || one of the first rules you’d ever made with brian, your friends-with-benefits, eight months ago, was that anyone could back out of the arrangement at any time, for whatever reason, and then everything would go back to normal. back to how it was. and that’s fine. you have no problem with that. you’re fine. you’re so fine. it’s... fine.

rating || no smut, but some implied explicit content. warning: there is a brief scene where reader is being heavily pressured into kissing someone at a party.

word count || 9.7k

author’s notes || all good things must come to an end! so i’ve been working on this series for over a year. how did that even happen?? anyway yes this is the end of the try series. no it’s not a happy ending. i debated back and forth for a long time whether to end the series or not, but it felt too weird not to. and i couldn’t figure out any reasonable ‘happy’ way for it to end. a big big big thank you to everyone who’s stuck with me for this entire journey, or part of this journey, or even if you’re just tuning in now - thank you! and if you’re still somehow invested in this little ’verse after all this time, don’t abandon me just yet 👀 p.s. i think i’ve ironed out most of the timeline issues but don��t look too closely. this series is not my proudest in terms of continuity

masterlist

tag list: @the-huttslayer​ @scorpiogemini @redspecialty​ @supersonicfreddie​ @killer-queen-xo​ @a-night-at-the-0pera​ @rogerscupboard​

     Part of you had known it was inevitable. Another part of you liked to pretend that it wasn’t. But it was.

    It still felt like it had come out of nowhere, though.

    Brian was watching you cautiously, adjusting the grip on his laptop and workbook. “Did you… want to say anything, or…?”

    “Um…” You blinked a couple times, and shook your head. “Uh, no, I’m just… surprised?”

    “I feel like I’ve mentioned her a few times,” Brian said.

    “Once or twice, maybe,” you said. “I didn’t know that you and her…”

    “Yeah.” Brian scratched the back of his neck. “Yeah, we hooked up, like, two weeks ago, and then again a few nights ago, and we’ve been talking every day, so.”

    “Oh.” It sounded twisted, wonky, but you forced a smile onto your face, wondering why you felt so… uncomfortable hearing about this. “That’s great. And you like her?”

    “Yeah, I really do,” Brian said, and his voice sounded warm, and he had a little smile on his face, and something ugly and strange twisted in your gut. “And I want to take her on an actual date, but obviously, I’d feel a bit weird about it if I still had, y’know. A, uh, side arrangement. But you’re all right?”

    “Of course,” you said brightly. Side arrangement. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be? That’s great, Brian, really. I’m – really glad you’ve found someone.”

    “It’s been a while, that’s for sure,” Brian said with a chuckle.

    “Are you going to tell Rog?”

    Brian frowned a little. “Um, no, I don’t think that’s necessary. I never had – anything with him. And he’s already met Dani, so.”

    “Oh!” Ah, Christ, that had sounded dreadful, even to your own ears. “Where– Where’d he meet her?”

    “The other day.” Brian gave you a sheepish smile. “The morning after. She ran into him in the kitchen.”

    You pushed a strained laugh out of you. “Oh, right, yeah, great.”

    Brian chuckled as well. “Yeah, it was a little awkward, but what can you do, right?”

    You swallowed, and nodded. Your face hurt from smiling.

    “You’ll love her,” Brian said. “She’s wonderful. She’s so smart, and funny, and she’s so pretty. I mean, so pretty. Absolutely beautiful. Completely knocked my socks off when I first saw her. Can’t believe she fancies me.”

    “Great,” you said. You were saying great too much. “She sounds–” Don’t. “–so great.”

    “She is.” Brian beamed. “You’ll have to meet her soon.”

    “I’m sure I will,” you said.

    “Yeah, I’m sure,” Brian said. He sighed happily. “Well, I should head off.”

    “Yeah, course,” you said. “Me too.”

    “I’ll message you,” Brian said. “We can arrange a dinner at the flat or something.”

    “Can’t wait!”

    Brian smiled, nodded in satisfaction, and then said, “All right, see you later.”

    “Bye!” You turned around and hurried away, in the opposite direction you needed to go.

    Hmm. Huh. Right. Okay. So. Brian just. He just.

    You went to the food court and sat down at the first available seat you could find.

    You took out your phone and immediately went to message Veronica.

    Brian just

    Your thumbs paused.

    He just what? He just found someone he wanted to date, and ended his arrangement with you. On paper, not that big of a deal. It was part of the unwritten contract of it all: any person was allowed to end things for whatever reason, and there would be no consequences. A rule you had written yourself, all those months ago.

    Side arrangement. Side piece. Dirty secret. Not as good as the real thing. Not as funny or smart or pretty or wonderful or beautiful as Danielle.

    You froze. Whoa, where had that come from?

    You weren’t jealous. You couldn’t have been jealous. You’d never wanted to date Brian. You still didn’t want to date Brian. You didn’t have a crush on him, and you never had. Brian didn’t break up with you.

    So what the everloving fuck was going on in your head right now?

    You put your phone away. Nope, you couldn’t go crying to Veronica for no damn reason. This had always been bound to happen, and now it had, so you just needed an hour or so to process it, and then things would be fine. You’d go back to normal.

-

    Your idea of ‘normal’ seemed to greatly differ from Brian’s.

     You didn’t hear from him for a week. Whereas before you’d talked every other day, he went almost totally radio silent. Every meme or message you sent was either seen and ignored, or responded to with a vague Haha or a thumbs-up.

    You met up with Roger on your usual catch-up night, but you hadn’t gotten very far into anything before he stopped and said, “You’re not really feeling it, are you?”

    You made a face. “Sorry.”

    “It’s fine.” He passed your shirt to you, and he fetched his from the floor and slipped it on. “So… Brian has a date tomorrow night.”

    You frowned. “He does?”

    Roger nodded. “Yeah, he didn’t tell you about it?”

    You looked down at your hands. “Um, no. He didn’t. I haven’t heard much from him, actually. After he… ended… things.”

    “Whoa,” Roger said, climbing onto the bed. “Wait, really? With you?”

    You nodded, and suddenly felt your throat close over. But you were not going to fucking cry about it, Jesus Christ. You swallowed it down, and gave Roger a mild look of interest. “Yeah. I didn’t even know he liked Dani, and then I ran into him at uni last week, and he just sort of said, ‘Hey, while I’m here,’ and then that was it. But I didn’t know the date was tomorrow night. He didn’t tell me.”

    “I’m sure he was just distracted,” Roger said. “He gets like that with a girl he likes.” He shook his head. “Damn, he must be serious about her.”

    “Yeah, must be.”

    Roger paused, and then said, “Are you… okay?”

    You shrugged. “Yeah, of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?”

    “I dunno, it’s a pretty big… thing to have ended.”

    “No, I’m fine,” you said lightly, giving him a smile. “We’re still friends. And I’ve still got you, right?”

    “Yeah,” Roger said, although he didn’t sound entirely convinced.

    “Yeah. So I’m good.” You sighed, willing away all the gross mess of emotions you were feeling. “I’m not really feeling going all the way, but making out sounds good, if you’re down.”

    Luckily, that immediately distracted Roger, and he didn’t ask any further questions. And you poured everything you had into your kisses, hoping it would distract you, too.

-

    You were hoping things would settle down for you, emotionally, over the next two weeks or so.

    But that didn’t happen. Everything grew to be so much worse. Exponentially. You didn’t know whether you hated Brian, or Dani, or hated them as a couple, or if you just hated yourself. You couldn’t bear to be in the same room as the two of them, and you hadn’t spoken more than ten words to Dani. The thought of trying to be friends with her turned your stomach. She wasn’t particularly annoying, and she wasn’t a bad person in any way, but just something about her face and her voice and her fucking presence in your life just infuriated you.

    You couldn’t get the idea out of your head that she looked like a mouse. Or a rat. Small pointy nose, big dark eyes, slight buck teeth. She was curvy, and at least a foot shorter than Brian, although it was hard to tell with the heels and platforms she always wore. Her hair was browny-blonde and long and thick, and she wore it slicked back in a pony, like Ariana Grande. Her ears glittered with delicate piercings. She liked to draw on freckles.

    She was pretty. For a rat.

    You did your best to hide how you felt about her. You thought you should’ve gotten a freaking Oscar for how well you hid it. At least from Brian. On the rare occasion that Dani wasn’t by his side, you let him talk about her, and did your best to seem encouraging.

    There was a part of you – a bigger part than you wanted to admit – that believed they were going to break up soon enough. Then things could go back to normal, and this weird hiccup could be forgotten.

    But they didn’t break up. They stayed together.

    And so you ended up ranting about it all to Veronica. You knew you were really going on about it, and somehow you kept finding things to say about the situation when you knew there was nothing really more to say. Veronica listened, to a degree. But her advice was sensible and responsible and mature and you really didn’t feel like being any of those things. You wanted to throw a goddamn tantrum.

    So you turned to Roger. Thank God for his high sex drive.

    He wasn’t completely clueless. You had an air of desperation about you that you knew he could sense, and knowing that was almost enough to make you draw away from him, too.

    Almost. But he always took such good care of you. It was selfish to keep asking him to meet up, but you felt like you would explode if you didn’t.

    About a month after Brian and Dani had started dating, you and Roger were making out on the couch. It was rough, as sex frequently had been these past few weeks, and Roger’s grip on your waist was bruising as you rocked against him. Things were moments away from moving to the bedroom, when the front door opened unexpectedly.

    You quickly looked up, a deer in headlights, and your stomach dropped.

    “Oh, sorry,” Brian mumbled, ducking his head.

    “No, it’s fine,” you said, and you’d tried to go for nonchalant, but your voice came out too sharp.

    Roger tilted his head back. “Hi.”

    “Hi,” Brian said. You watched as he kicked his shoes off and chucked his keys on the kitchen table.

    “Sorry,” he said again, shooting you a quick glance. “I’ll just, uh…”

    He hurried to his room.

    There you were, looking already thoroughly debauched, on his couch, in Roger’s lap, and Brian had just ducked his head and ran.

    You stared after him, your heart twisting around itself. He hadn’t even… He didn’t…

    Once, he would have taken one look at you and pounced on you. He would’ve begged to kiss you, would’ve torn your clothes off.

    Now, he acted like he’d walked in on Roger having a one-night stand with some girl he’d picked up at a bar. He acted like he’d never even been attracted to you at all.

    Was it really so easy for him to move on? Were you really that forgettable?

    “You all right?” Roger asked, his thumb touching your bottom lip.

    You snapped to look at him. Shit, how much had you let on? “Yeah,” you said with a smile. “Just lost in my thoughts, nothing important.”

    “You sure?” Roger asked.

    You bit your lip and nodded. “Mm-hm. How about you take me to your room and fuck all those stupid little thoughts out of me?”

    Roger paused for a moment, like he wanted to say something more, but your tongue darted out, lapping at the pad of his thumb, and you kept your eyes on his as you licked his thumb into your mouth. You watched, half excited, half relieved, as his eyes glazed over, his gaze fixated on your lips around his thumb.

     It sickened you to even think about it, but you definitely had a little voice in the back of your head that hoped Brian could hear Roger fucking you.

-

    “We should hang out,” you said to Brian. Just over a month, now. Final exams were breathing down everyone’s necks. It didn’t help your situation. “I feel like I never get to see you anymore. You’re with your girlfriend all the time.”

    You’d run into him at uni. That was almost the only way you got to see him these days. And he no longer hugged you hello or goodbye, just kept a firm, amicable amount of distance between you.

    He didn’t often look you in the eye these days, either. He shifted about whenever you talked, like he wanted to be somewhere else.

    “Mm, yeah, maybe,” he said.

    You swallowed down the hurt. “How about a movie night? Or we could just hang out, just the two of us.”

    “Um.” Brian scratched his nose. “I’m pretty busy at the moment. Maybe we could do a group thing? That’d be fun. Me and Dani, John and Veronica, you and Rog.”

    You frowned. “Me and Rog?”

    “Yeah.”

    “We’re not together.”

    Brian shrugged. “I just thought– Well, I think it’d be nice. You two suit each other.”

    “We don’t want to be a couple, Brian. What are you on about?”

    “I just think it’d be good for you, that’s all. Being in a relationship is, well, really nice, and I think maybe you and Rog should at least give it a go.”

    You were gobsmacked. You wanted to throw something, yell a stern reminder of, Hey, are you fucking stupid? Do you not remember the past eight months of our lives where you seemed perfectly content to not be in a relationship? Remember how many times the two of us were hounded by our friends about dating? You fucking hypocrite.

    But you didn’t say any of that. There was an unspoken rule that neither of you ever brought up your old arrangement. It was as if it had never existed.

    Most of the time, it seemed like Brian wished it hadn’t. Like it was some embarrassing secret.

    “Well, we don’t want that, so you can mind your own business,” you said. “And where does Freddie fit into your little equation, anyway?”

    Brian shrugged again. “He could bring a date along as well, I don’t know.”

    “We’re not going on a– a quadruple date. Jesus.”

    “Just an idea,” Brian muttered.

    “You can still hang out with friends without your girlfriend, you know.”

    Brian sighed. “Okay. Well.”

    You sighed as well, gathering yourself. You tried again. “What about a party, or something? We haven’t been to a party in forever.”

    Brian hesitated. “Well, one of Dani’s friends is having a party this weekend.”

    Not exactly what you’d meant. “Maybe a little group of us could go?” you suggested. “If Dani’s all right with it? That could be fun.”

    Brian nodded to himself. “Yeah,” he said mildly. “Yeah, that could work. I’ll ask her.”

    “Great,” you said with a smile that you most certainly had to force onto your face. You began making a quick retreat, not waiting for him to formulate an excuse. “Text me, okay?”

    “Yep,” he said, and you could tell he was already forgetting about it completely.

    But, to your surprise, that weekend, you got a text from him. Dani said it’s all right if you and the others want to come along.

    Your lip curled. It hardly sounded like Brian wanted any of you there. great, you replied. pres at yours?

    I’ll actually be having pres at Lachlan’s, Brian sent. He’s one of Dani’s friends. But I’ll send you the details of the party and I’ll see you there.

    But no one else wanted to come.

    “No thanks,” Roger grumbled. “I’ve met some of Dani’s friends. They’re all complete wankers.”

    “But I don’t want to go alone,” you whined.

    “Ask Freddie. He’s always down for a good time.”

-

    I can’t darling, Freddie texted. work early the next day. they said if I turn up hung-over or still drunk one more time they’ll fire me

u don’t have to get that drunk, you replied hopefully. just drink a bit and then go home early

    then what would be the point of going lol?? Freddie sent.

-

    “Sorry,” Veronica said. “Studying.”

    You sulked. “You can’t afford to take a break just for a couple hours?”

    “No. And, honestly, I don’t want to enable whatever thing you’re going through right now. I think getting drunk around Brian would be a bad idea.”

    “I’ll be fine,” you said. “I just want an excuse to hang out as friends, okay? That’s all. It’s not enabling, it’s supporting.”

    Veronica made a sound that told you she disagreed. You huffed and gave up. What did she know, anyway?

-

    “Hey, Dea–”

    “I’m not going to that party tonight,” John cut in smoothly, not even looking up from his textbook.

    “But–”

    “I’d rather sever my own foot.” He glanced up at you, giving you an apologetic half-smile. “Sorry. I just can’t stand being around Brian and Dani. They’re insufferable.”

    At least that you could agree with.

-

    everyone else is busy, you texted Brian. You bit your lip, debating whether to ask, but, damn it, fuck it all – can I come to lachlan’s pres and go with u guys?

    It took him two hours to reply. Yeah, sure.

    You felt sick. This was a bad idea.

    It was by far too much trouble for what it was worth to get to Lachlan’s. You were terrified of turning up before Brian and Dani, so you arrived two and a half hours after when you were meant to be there.

    That was better. It was easier to rock up when everyone was already pissed.

    And they were very much pissed. Lachlan answered the door. He was tall and stocky, with brown hair and blue eyes. The sort of guy who looked like he’d played some kind of contact sport in high school, probably football, but now didn’t have a regular training schedule, and so was slowly losing the muscle he’d once had, replacing it with beer and burgers. The sort of guy who’d lose all of his hair by the time he was thirty-five, and get married so he’d have someone to get his beers for him when he was watching the game with the boys. The sort of guy who wanted kids because he liked the thought of telling people he had a couple of boys, rather than actually wanting to be a father.

    Or maybe you were making a snap-judgement.

    You introduced yourself, and he gave you a lopsided, skeezy grin, letting you into his place. “You here all on your own?” he asked.

    Your shoulders tensed. “No,” you said. “I’m a friend of Brian’s. Dani’s new boyfriend.”

    “Oh, yeah, sure, I know that. But you don’t have anyone to bring along with you?”

    “Not tonight,” you said vaguely. “Busy schedules. Finals aren’t too far away, and all that.”

    “Yeah, sick,” Lachlan said, looking you up and down. “Well.” He gestured with his beer to the crowd. “Make yourself at home.” He shot you another grin that made your hands grow clammy. “I’m glad Dani brought you along. Can’t wait to get to know you.”

    You gave him an uneasy smile in return, and frantically looked for Brian and Dani. You found them – Dani was sitting on Brian’s lap, yuck – and fled from Lachlan.

    “Hi,” you said.

    “Oh, hey,” Brian said, and you could tell right off the bat he’d had a bit to drink already. His hand was splayed over Dani’s thigh, holding her to him, and you couldn’t bear to look at it. “Thought you weren’t gonna come.”

    “I’m just late,” you said. “Hello, Dani.”

    She gave you a polite smile, but didn’t try to engage in conversation.

    Brian didn’t even notice. He squeezed Dani a little bit closer. “Well, you gonna drink?” he said.

    Yes. Yes, you were. You held up your plastic bottle filled with Sprite and too much vodka. “Yep.”

    Brian gave you a thumbs-up.

    Dani turned to him. “Just need to go to the bathroom, baby,” she murmured, tapping his hand.

    “All right, baby,” Brian murmured back, and you only just stopped yourself from making a face. The word baby sounded clunky, uncomfortable coming from Brian. “Be careful.”

    Dani leant in for a kiss, and you turned away, uncapping your bottle and taking a decent swig, grimacing at the burn. 

    Brian didn’t like pet names. You knew he didn’t like pet names. And yet this ‘baby’ thing had sprung out of nowhere, and it drove you up the fucking wall.

    You listened until the sound of Dani’s heels against the floorboards faded before you spoke. “‘Be careful’,” you muttered.

    “What?” Brian said.

    “She’s just walking to the toilet,” you said. “Not like she’s gonna get assaulted on the way.”

    Brian looked mildly annoyed. “I just don’t want her to trip and fall over and hurt herself. She’s a lightweight, and she’s wearing heels. I’m just… trying to be a good boyfriend.”

    You sighed. “Yeah, okay,” you said, not wanting to hear a word of it. You took another hefty swig of your drink. “I think I’ll, um, join the rest of the party.”

    So much for hanging out with Brian. You wanted to be near him, wanted to talk to him, but you couldn’t bear it for more than five minutes.

    You knew what it was – you wanted to talk to him how you used to. But you couldn’t do that anymore. Instead you had some weird, watered-down version of the Brian you knew.

    You joined in half-heartedly with a few drinking games, but quickly discovered that you weren’t really in the mood for getting smashed anyway.

    Brian and Dani stayed in their own little corner, giggling and whispering with each other, kissing and cuddling and being generally disgusting.

-

    You didn’t even think they’d bother coming to the actual party. But they did, and the group of fifteen or so people in Lachlan’s sharehouse all staggered along the street for about ten minutes to get to the main event.

    You’d managed to get along well enough with some of the girls, and Lachlan wouldn’t leave you alone, so you had no choice but to socialise. Which was good, in a way, because you lost Dani and Brian as soon as you walked into the party.

    Not that you particularly liked the girls you were talking to. Everyone just had such a weird vibe, like they weren’t sure if they could be bothered to talk to you, but also felt obliged to make you feel welcome. They kept bursting into laughter and you had no idea why, and no one bothered to explain the jokes. But then they complimented your outfit and asked you how your day had been, and they listened with encouraging nods and wide eyes of interest when you answered. Until someone said something that they found more interesting, and then they turned away from you when you were halfway through a sentence. It was off-putting, to say the least; you couldn’t seem to find your footing.

    Lachlan, however, was the icing on the cake. The sour, out-of-date icing on the stale cake. He flirted with you incessantly, either not picking up your clear signals that you weren’t interested, or just ignoring them. The others weren’t helping, either, egging the two of you on. A whole lot of wink-wink-nudge-nudge that you were not enjoying at all.

    You should’ve just gone home. You didn’t know why you didn’t just leave.

    But, for some reason, you stayed. Maybe you hoped that Brian would see your discomfort and come and talk to you – not that you’d seen him for the past hour – or that this strange group of people would want to talk with their friend Dani, and you’d be able to swoop in and catch up with Brian without Dani hanging around awkwardly.

    Whatever it was, it was a stupid reason.

    And then came truth or dare.

    You didn’t want to play, but you were roped into it regardless. There was a rule, you found out, that you were allowed to back out of one truth or dare, and you had to drink if you did so – but only the once, so you had to choose wisely. Someone dared you to show everyone what underwear you were wearing.

    Needless to say, you drank instead.

    You could tell that no one was very impressed with any of the dares or questions you came up with, even though your friendship group loved your questions and dares. This group seemed to like the brainless shit – if it was gross, or sexual, or nasty in any way, they were all over it. Barely anyone chose ‘truth’.

    Then it was Lachlan’s turn, and he turned to you. He grinned, and your stomach sank to the floor. “Dare you to kiss me,” he drawled, and the crowd gasped and ooh’d dramatically.

    You didn’t even hesitate to snatch up your cider, but Lachlan quickly said, “You’ve already drunk, you can’t do it twice.”

    “Well, I’m doing it twice,” you snapped, and took a swig.

    You received jeers and boos for that, and Gina, the girl beside you, took your beer from your hand and said, “You can’t do that!”

    “You gotta kiss me, that’s the rules,” Lachlan said above the sounds of everyone else.

    “I don’t want to,” you said, your voice wavering.

    “You have to,” said Savannah. “You have to, you have to, it’s the rules.”

    “Come on,” said – whatever her fucking name was. “Stop being such a pussy, just get it over with.”

    Lachlan was starting to look a bit pissed off by now. “Fucking hell, just come and kiss me,” he said. “Don’t be a bitch about it.”

    Your heart was pounding in your chest, and you could feel your hands starting to shake. “Jesus – no, all right? I don’t want to,” you snapped.

    The room felt too loud, too stuffy, too overwhelming.

    “Lachlan, just think of something else,” you said.

     “Okay, fine, whatever,” Gina complained. “Just do something else.”

     “No, I gave you a dare already,” Lachlan said sourly. “It’s not even that big of a deal, like, I don’t even know what the problem is.”

     “If she doesn’t want to-”

     “That’s the fucking rules,” Lachlan said, throwing his hands in the air like you were the one being unreasonable. “Is that not the fucking rules? Goddamn.”

     “Okay, then just kiss him already,” said whatever-the-fuck-her-name-was, waving you over. “Whatever, just hurry up.”

     “I’m fucking bored with this shit already,” Savannah said. “Just kiss him or don’t kiss him, whatever. God, this party sucks.”

     “It doesn’t suck, she’s just being a bitch,” Lachlan protested.

     “Don’t call me a bitch,” you said.

     “I’m just teasing,” Lachlan said, crawling over to you. You shrunk away from him, your heart beating like a cantering horse, and he grabbed your wrist. “One kiss, c’mon,” he said, his voice light and friendly, like you were happy to play along.

    But you weren’t happy to play along. You didn’t know if everyone was too drunk to notice your obvious discomfort, or they didn’t care, but this was crossing the goddamn line.

    “Fuck off, Lachlan,” you said, trying to pull your wrist back. You’d wanted your voice to be tough, to be assertive, but it was small and weak, and then Lachlan leant in for a kiss.

    You turned your face away. “Lachlan–”

    “Just fucking kiss me, for God’s sake, woman,” Lachlan growled, and grabbed your face with his other hand.

    You pushed his hand away, and, without thinking, blurted out the one word that your panicked brain told you would stop everything in its tracks: “Nickleback.”

    “What?” Lachlan said, and, good fucking God, of course that wouldn’t work, you were such a fucking idiot, and now you had no back-up plan, nothing else to do, and that word was supposed to stop things, why wasn’t it stopping things–

    But then Lachlan was gone, and you felt a hand grab your other wrist and yank you up from the floor, and you unthinkingly leant into the body the hand belonged to as you were led from the room and into a bedroom, and the noise around you became muffled as the door closed behind you.

    Then Brian was setting you down on the bed and sitting beside you. In an ideal world, he would have wrapped his arms around you and you would’ve been able to breathe again, like in a movie, but instead there was an awkward amount of space between you as he gingerly asked, “Are you all right?”

    You barely even snuck a glance at him. You were humiliated by what had just happened, humiliated by needing him to rescue you, humiliated by your desperate craving for his touch, his comfort. You stared at the floor, curling in on yourself, and you nodded silently. Your hands still shook from adrenaline, and you could hear your heartbeat in your ears.

    Brian sighed. “I’m sorry about them. I didn’t know…”

    You shook your head. “It’s fine,” you mumbled.

    Brian said nothing for a while, and then he reached over and patted you on the back. So achingly unfamiliar, and you felt your shoulders grow even more hunched than they already were. You didn’t think he’d ever touched you like that. Like you were a complete stranger.

    You ducked your head, squeezing your eyes shut. Don’t you dare fucking cry.

     There was a soft knock on the door, and Brian said, “Yeah?”

    You glanced up to see Dani poke her head in, and you quickly looked away again. “Hey, baby,” she said.

    Your stomach crawled.

    “Is everything okay?”

    “Yeah, it’s fine,” Brian said.

    “All right,” Dani said. You could feel her hovering awkwardly.

    Brian said your name, catching your attention, and then said, “I’ll just… let you have some time to yourself, all right?”

    You said nothing. You did nothing. And Brian stood up and left the room, closing the door behind him.

    “What happened?” came Dani’s voice from just outside the door.

    “Lachlan was harassing her,” Brian said.

    “They were just playing,” Dani said. “They’re all drunk, it’s just truth or dare.”

    “No, I know, but…”

    “You didn’t have to run in there like there was a fire and pull her out of there like that. Everyone’s going to ask me what that was all about. Where did that come from?”

    Your ears were straining to hear Brian’s response.

    “I… I just knew she needed to get out,” he said eventually.

    “She could have left if she was uncomfortable.”

    “She gets really anxious sometimes, she just freezes.”

    You realised, then, that he must’ve heard you say ‘Nickleback’. He must have heard it and immediately known that something was wrong.

    You groaned quietly to yourself, covering your face with your hands. Your ex-friend-with-benefits had heard you yell out your old safeword in the middle of a party, and had felt obliged to rush in like a knight in shining armour to swoop you to safety. Jesus Christ.

    “She’s an adult, baby,” Dani said. “I’m sure she was fine.” You heard someone sigh. “It’s sweet that you guys are friends, but you don’t have to…”

    “What?”

    “Look out for her that much.”

    “What do you mean? She’s my friend.”

    Dani was silent for a while. “Did you guys used to…?”

    The air was sucked from the room. Your ears strained to hear every word.

    “What?” Brian said, clearly thrown.

    “Did you used to date? It just seems like…”

    “No,” Brian said quickly. “No, we never dated.”

    “You’re not lying to me?”

    “No, baby. I promise you, we never dated.”

    You grimaced.

    Someone sighed again. “Okay,” Dani said. “Good. The last thing I’d want is for you to be friends with an ex.”

    Brian chuckled. It sounded forced. “Yeah, of course.”

    “I’m glad we agree. Gimme a kissy?”

    You could’ve thrown up right then and there. A kissy?

    You could hear them murmuring to each other, and Dani’s voice had a particular whiny, baby-talk tone to it that made you want to ‘accidentally’ open the door into the both of them. But then they left, and you were even more alone than before, and you lay down on the bed and curled into a ball, feeling sorry for yourself.

    It was time to go home.

-

    By the grace of God himself, Brian offered to wait outside with you, sitting beside you on the kerb, while you called a ride home. Dani stayed inside with her friends.

    “I’m sorry about… what happened,” Brian said, and you went still as a statue.

    “What do you mean?” you said softly.

    “Lachlan, and all of that.”

    You let out a breath. “Oh,” you said. “Yeah, that. It’s fine.”

    Silence. It wriggled under your skin like cockroaches.

    You wanted to touch Brian. You wanted him to touch you. You wanted Roger there, too. You wanted them to want you, like they used to. You wanted to be allowed to want them like they used to love.

    But Roger wasn’t there. And Brian barely was, either.

    “Brian?” Dani called from the front door.

    Brian twisted around. “Yeah, I’m here.”

    “Oh, okay. Just checking everything’s good.”

    “Yeah, we’re fine. Still waiting for the car.”

    “Okay. See you inside.”

    “Yep.”

    “Miss you, baby.”

    Brian chuckled. “Miss you too.”

    You waited until Brian had turned back around to face the road, and then blurted out, “Why do you let her call you that? You hate pet names.”

    Brian frowned, looking to you. “What?”

    “Pet names. You hate them.”

    “I don’t hate them,” he said.

    “You don’t like them, at least.”

    “According to who?”

    “According to you,” you said. “You told me. And you never–” You never called me anything but my name when we were fucking. “You never said you liked them.”

    “Well, I do,” Brian said. “And why do you care, anyway?”

    “I just think it’s weird,” you said, and you were aiming for casual but you knew you sounded brash. “You don’t sound like yourself.”

    “I’ve never had a girlfriend the whole time we’ve known each other,” Brian said. “You don’t know what I’m like when I’m in a relationship.”

    “You shouldn’t change who you are when you’re in a relationship,” you said. “That doesn’t make sense.”

    “I’m not changing who I am,” Brian said, his face pinched. “What has gotten into you?”

    “Nothing,” you said harshly. “I just think you’re lying to yourself. You don’t like calling her baby, and you don’t like being called baby, and I just think it’s weird that you wouldn’t just say that.”

    “Well, I just think it’s weird you think you have the right to comment on my relationship,” Brian said. “I like calling her baby. And I like it when she calls me baby.”

    “But you don’t,” you insisted. “I can hear it in your voice.”

    “What?” Brian exclaimed. “What the fuck are you on about?”

    “I know you, okay?” you snapped. “I know you far better than she does. And I know you don’t like pet names, but you won’t tell her for some reason.”

    “I won’t tell her because I like them,” Brian said. “And she knows me, too, you know.”

    “She’s known you for, like, two months! Less than!” you said. “That’s nothing.”

    “Why…” Brian floundered. “There isn’t some – time limit on these things. You can’t judge if someone knows someone better just by how long…”

    “I just don’t get it,” you said. “Maybe that’s my fault, but I don’t get how someone can just walk into your life and suddenly they’re the most important person you’ve ever met when you’ve only known them for five minutes.”

    “You’ve clearly never fallen in love,” Brian said snootily.

    “Oh, fuck off,” you scoffed. “You’re not in love with her.”

    “How would you know?”

    “You’ve only been dating a couple weeks! Come on, Brian. You can call each other baby all you like, but I know you.”

    “I like pet names,” Brian said, his voice hard. “I just never called you one because, in case you’ve forgotten, you were never my fucking girlfriend. So, for the love of God, can you stop acting like a jealous ex.”

    It was like a stab to the gut and a twist of the knife all at the same time. All you could do was sit in stunned silence.

    Brian looked at you, almost like he was waiting for a response, and when he never received one, he sighed, stood, and left.

    Your chin wobbled, your vision blurred, and you scrabbled for your phone in your handbag.

-

    Roger opened the door. “Hey–”

    You leapt onto him, kissing him furiously. He stumbled, but kept his balance, one arm curling around your waist and the other groping for the door, pushing it closed. You spun him around and backed him up, pressing him against the door, and ducked your head to suck at his neck, palming at him through his sweatpants.

    Roger jumped. “Oh, God, okay,” he said with a surprised laugh. “You’re really…”

    You nodded, and captured his lips again, nipping at his bottom lip. “I want you so bad,” you breathed. “I want you to fuck me hard, Daddy, please.”

    You didn’t wait for him to reply, and kissed him. You slipped your hands into his underwear, and he tensed underneath you, surprised again.

    You needed him to fuck you, to bruise you, to bite you. To make you feel wanted, needed. To mark you up, to make you scream, to make it hurt. You needed it so badly that your hands shook.

    Roger put a hand to your collarbones, and you thought he was going to choke you, but instead he pushed you back, just enough to stare into your face.

    “Are you sure you want to call me Daddy?” he asked unsurely. “You seem a little…”

    “What?” you said.

    “Not yourself,” Roger said. “Are you– Have you been drinking?”

    “The fuck does that mean?” you said. “I just really need you to fuck me hard, does that not sound like me?”

    “I don’t–”

    “Roger,” you cut in sharply, and then quickly softened your tone into something whinier, needier, more enticing. “Daddy. I want you. Please.”

    Roger’s frown never disappeared. “I don’t want you to call me Daddy,” he said.

    You blinked, taken aback. “Um, okay,” you said. You could still work with that. “No Daddy.” You went to kiss him again, but he held you away.

    You resisted huffing in frustration. “Roger…”

    “This is about Brian, isn’t it?” he said.

    “What?” you said. “No. Why would it be about Brian? I want you.”

    “You’re drunk and upset and jealous, and you want me to fuck you how he used to fuck you, because you miss it.”

    A slap to the face would’ve hurt less. Your hands fell limp at your sides. “What?”

    “Is that not what’s happening right now?” Roger said, his hands dropping as well. “Is that not why you’re over? You went to that party, got yourself all worked up and upset, and now you want to be fucked how Brian used to fuck you?”

    You blinked. “N– No,” you said, and you meant it, but the more Roger said it, the more you thought that maybe he was right, and you hadn’t even realised.

    “Because it’s what it feels like,” Roger said. “It feels like I’m just an outlet for you. It’s not even about you and me anymore, it’s about you and him.”

    Oh my God. You hated to admit it, but he was right. You covered your mouth with your hands, horrified at yourself. “Fuck, Roger, I…”

    “I’m ending the arrangement between us,” he said simply. “It’s not fun anymore, and it’s definitely not healthy. You need time to… I don’t even know. But you need time, and I don’t really feel like being collateral damage. Especially not with end-of-year exams literally just around the corner.”

    No. No, no, no, fuck, not this, anything but this.

    “No, Rog, please, I’m sorry,” you said. “I wasn’t thinking, I– I can’t–” You felt tears welling up in your eyes. “Please. I…”

    Roger sighed, and pulled you into a hug. You clutched onto him, and, finally, cried. “Jesus Christ,” he murmured sympathetically, stroking your hair. “This whole thing has really messed you up, hasn’t it?”

    “I c– can’t lose you t– too,” you sobbed into his shirt.

    “You’re not losing me. We’re still friends. It just… won’t be with the benefits anymore. For now, at least. Maybe forever, I don’t know. See how things go. But I’m never going to stop being friends with you.”

    Your body shook as you cried, and Roger rubbed your back, letting you ruin his shirt.

-

    The Bee Movie played on the TV, but your heart wasn’t in it. You leant against Roger, a cup of tea in your hands, and one in his. You were exhausted from crying, and you almost found yourself nodding off. Normally there was nothing more fun than enjoying the trials and tribulations of Barry B. Benson with Roger, but now not even casual bestiality was enough to cheer you up.

    Roger didn’t say much, either. You had no idea what he was thinking, although you were pretty sure he wasn’t really watching the movie, just staring at the screen.

    “I’m sorry,” you said, your voice breaking a little.

    Roger sighed. “It’s okay,” he said, giving you a soft, sad smile. “I know you’re going through a tough time right now.”

    “I don’t even understand why,” you said, your bottom lip trembling. Not again. “I never liked him like that, not ever. I know I never liked him like that. I didn’t want to go out on dates with him, or be his girlfriend, or any of that. So I don’t get why it – hurts so much.”

    “Your thing went on for a really long time,” Roger reasoned. “And now it’s gone. I can’t blame you. I…” He bit his lip. “I… kinda miss it too, to be honest.”

    You frowned at him in confusion. “You miss… Brian?”

    “I miss…” Roger took a sip of his tea. “I miss the dynamic, I suppose. We actually got a lot closer because of it. And it was fun, you know? Especially the threesomes, those were really fun.”

    You managed a tired laugh.

    “It was just nice to have… a thing, that was ours,” Roger said. “Us three, I don’t know. This thing that was ours. I don’t know if that makes sense.”

    “No, it does,” you said. You paused, and then said, “You and Brian aren’t as close now?”

    Roger shrugged a shoulder. “Not… really?” he said unsurely. “We haven’t really hung out a lot recently. I mean, we’ve been studying a lot, so I haven’t really seen much of anyone as of late, but, like, for a while, me and Brian hung out a whole lot, just the two of us. Guess you end up feeling closer when you have to talk about your feelings all the time. And when you see each other naked every so often.” He shot you a smile, and you smiled back. “But now it’s sort of in a weird place. I mean, none of us have seen him a lot, he’s just with Dani all day and night. Which makes sense, they’re in their honeymoon phase. But I do miss… that.”

    You nodded in understanding. “It doesn’t even feel like he wants to be around me,” you said in a small voice. “Like I’m not even friends with him anymore.”

    “You are,” Roger assured you. “You just… both have to learn how to be… normal friends again.”

    “And us too,” you added.

    Roger blinked, but nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, us, too.”

    You didn’t want to say it, you knew you shouldn’t say it, but the alcohol had loosened your tongue: “You gonna miss me?”

    Roger’s eyes widened for a moment, and then he took a big breath in and out, shaking his head. “Damn,” he muttered.

    “Sorry, ignore me,” you mumbled. “I’m just being sad and pathetic.”

    “You’re not sad and pathetic,” Roger said. “But I’m not gonna miss you, you’ll still be around.”

    “You know what I mean,” you said.

    “Yeah, I know,” Roger said. He sighed again. “I don’t think… it would be good for either of us if I answered that.”

    You said nothing. It felt like Roger wanted to say more, but he didn’t.

    “But…” You looked to him, and he looked to you. “Can we still be friends like before?” you asked him. “I mean, just – with Brian, he won’t even hug me hello or goodbye, he barely looks at me, he doesn’t want to be near me, I just–” You shook your head. “I couldn’t stand it if you did that, too. Can we at least just be friends?”

    Roger nodded. “Of course,” he said.

    “Yes?”

    “Yes, of course,” he said again. “I promise you, okay? I like hugs just as much as you do.”

    You nodded, reassured. “Thank you.”

    Roger threw his arm around you and gave you a squeeze, then took his arm back.

    A month and a bit ago, he would’ve left his arm there, around your shoulders. You would’ve pressed closer into him. Probably eventually would’ve lifted your head to kiss his neck, or maybe your hands – or his hands – would’ve gone wandering.

    But a squeeze was something, at least, and you were grateful for it. You told yourself you were grateful for it.

-

Three-ish months later

    The air was just starting to cool, and, for the first time in a while, you pulled on a jacket.

    It had been a while since you’d seen your flat. You’d gone home for the summer – not for the whole time, you still had rent to pay and you didn’t want to waste it, but for a few weeks – which had been a welcomed change of scenery.

    After how your previous semester of uni had ended, the last thing you’d wanted was to hang around the flat.

    It had been an uncomfortable summer. The mid-year break, last year, you hadn’t gone home. You’d told your parents it was because of the rent thing, but in reality, it had mostly been about Roger and Brian. A month off uni, and your flatmate Lucy had gone home for the break, meaning you had a free house? That had been a wild couple of weeks.

    You shook your head. Stop, you reprimanded yourself. It did you no good to reminisce. You’d had an entire summer to sort things out for yourself, to reset, and it was a bad idea to let yourself slip. You’d barely spoken to Roger or Brian all summer, just to give yourself some space.

    You’d missed them. A lot. Maybe cried once or twice. Maybe more. But that was only for you to know.

    You doubted that they’d missed you.

    The thought still felt like a stab to the gut, and you squeezed your eyes shut, shaking your head at yourself. Stop it. Stop.

    There was a knock on the front door, and you were momentarily surprised – but you knew it was Veronica. You took a moment to get your thoughts together, then hurried to the door to let her in.

    She greeted you with a joyous cry of your name and a warm hug. “It’s been so long!”

    The two of you rocked from foot to foot, and you breathed in her familiar smell. You hadn’t seen her since before Christmas.

    When the hug eventually ended, Veronica sighed happily. “Can’t believe I’ve missed you,” she said, and you laughed, giving her a backhand slap on the arm.

    “Cow,” you said.

    “So you’ve kept the same place?”

    “Yep,” you said.

    “Lucy still your flatmate?”

    “Yeah. It works well, so.”

    “No, no, she’s lovely,” Veronica said with a nod. “Did she want to come to drinks tonight?”

    You glanced towards Lucy’s room instinctively, even though you knew she wasn’t in there. “She’s not coming back until Wednesday, I think.”

    “Ah, well, answers that question.” Veronica gave you a smile. You could tell there was a question on the tip of her tongue, and you just stood there, waiting for her to ask it.

    She sighed again, resigned. She knew she’d been sprung. “I wasn’t going to ask. I– I wasn’t sure if I should.”

    “I’m okay,” you said. “I’m fine.”

    Veronica squinted at you unsurely, like she wanted to press you for further information, but wasn’t sure if it was a good idea. “Fine?”

    “It’s been a bit rough, but I’m okay,” you said.

    You’d tell her the truth soon enough. You had no willpower when it came to Veronica. But you weren’t in the mood for a whole conversation right now.

    “So you’re all right for tonight?”

    You rolled your eyes. “Am I capable of getting drinks with my friends? Yes, I think so.”

    “Even though Dani will be there?”

    “Brian and Dani have been dating for, like, five months now – and don’t say it like that. Brian isn’t my ex.”

    “Roger’s dating someone,” Veronica blurted.

    Your heart leapt into your throat. Stop. “Oh?” you said, and it sounded warped and wonky. “Since when? Good for him. Have you met her?”

    “Once,” Veronica said. “Just last week, when I dropped by the flat. Her name is–” She let out a laugh. “Actually, this is really funny. Her name is Freddy.”

    You laughed. “What?” you squawked. “Freddy?”

    “Freddy with a Y,” Veronica said. “Roger made that very clear when I met her. As if that changes anything.”

    “God, I bet that’s confusing in bed,” you said.

    “Yeah, well, I’m guessing the ‘with a Y’ part makes all the difference for Roger.”

    “Freddy,” you mused. “What’s it short for?”

    “No idea. But she’s not as hot as you are.”

    You shot Veronica a mock glare. “Roger isn’t my ex either.”

    “Still,” Veronica said lightly. She hesitated, and then said, “Have you spoken to either of them recently?”

    “No, not really,” you said, as casually as you could muster. “Look, Ron, could we just… table this conversation for later? I’m not really up to it.”

    “Yeah, of course,” Veronica said, waving a hand. “Sorry, sorry, I’ll keep my nose out of it. Let’s just go. Are you ready?”

    You took a steadying breath. “So ready,” you said, hoping you sounded more confident than you felt.

-

    Arriving at the local pub felt like coming home. The smell of beer, the roar of conversation, the bundles of people crowded around tables. The floor was sticky, there weren’t enough places to sit, and the prices up on the chalkboard on the wall were far too high.

    You scrunched your nose. Coming home sucked.

    “I forgot how much I hate this place,” you yelled into Veronica’s ear. “We need to find somewhere less popular, Jesus.”

    “I know,” Veronica said. “I’ve mentioned it to John; he thinks the same.”

    “Next time.”

    “Yeah, next time.”

    You said that every time.

    Veronica corroborated her instructional texts from John with the view in front of her in order to find everyone else. They were tucked away in a corner booth, crammed into the space.

    You’d had enough trouble as it was, trying to fit everyone into a booth. You couldn’t even imagine how you were going to make it work with two new people in the group.

    Veronica took your hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze as you neared the table.

    There was John, at the end of the booth, facing you – his eyes lit up when he spotted Veronica, and began shifting over to make room for her beside him. At the end of the table, on a chair, was Freddie. He noticed John’s line of sight, and he turned to you, his smile wide.

    You couldn’t really see the others. Just the back of Brian’s head. But that was hard to miss.

    Freddie stood up to give you a warm hug as Veronica tossed around a few ‘hello’s and slid in next to John. “Darling!” Freddie said. “I haven’t seen you all break.”

    “I know, I’m sorry,” you said.

    Freddie waved you off. “It’s fine,” he said. “I understand.” He glanced towards the other occupants of the booth.

    “Don’t start,” you muttered, and Freddie gave your arm a swift pat.

    “Speaking of which,” he said, turning. “Roger, Brian, you remember our dear friend, I’m sure?”

    You resisted elbowing Freddie in the side, giving Brian and Roger tight smiles.

    At the same time, your eyes landed on Dani and her browny blonde Ariana Grande ponytail and her mouse face and her curvy body pressed into Brian’s side. And beside Roger, tucked under his arm, was a blonde, tanned girl. Blue eyes, like Roger, but hers were light, strikingly so, and a perfect full face of make-up. Her brows were dark and bold, and her lips looked pouty and soft.

    ‘Not as hot as you were’ your arse. This girl looked like she modelled in her spare time.

    Your jaw clenched. You resisted dragging Veronica away by her ear and having a word with her.

    Stop it. Stop it.

    “This is Freddy,” Freddie said.

    “With a Y,” Roger added quickly.

    “Yes, with a Y,” Freddie said dryly. “Roger’s new flame.”

    “Hi,” Freddy said with a smile. Her teeth were very white. She lifted a well-manicured hand to fiddle with the silver chain around her neck.

    You could see the discolouration on her knuckles. Well, at least you knew her tan wasn’t real. That was something. Wasn’t it?

    No. It wasn’t. She looked incredible anyway. Didn’t even matter that she was wearing fake tan. What a stupid thing to think.

    You introduced yourself.

    There was a pause where no one really knew what to say next.

    “Hi, by the way,” John said.

    Relieved, you gave him a smile. “Hi, John, how are you?”

    “Not too bad. Do you want to find a chair?”

    God bless John Deacon. “Let me help you,” Freddie said, and you both began wandering through the crowd together, knowing there was no way in hell you’d be able to find a chair.

    “How are you?” Freddie asked. “Actually, sod the fucking chair, let’s get a drink.”

    “Sounds superb,” you said.

    “Try again,” Freddie said when you’d gotten in line. “How are you?”

    “Fine,” you said. “And you?”

    “Good, fine,” Freddie said. “Lonely. I want a boyfriend. Everyone else is in a godforsaken relationship, so I only think it’s reasonable. Look at me, the token lonely, single homosexual in a group of straight people. Right out of an early 2000s chick flick. I may as well start wearing skinny scarves and a vest and talk about how much I love shopping. Do you think I’m sassy enough?”

    “Stop it,” you said. “If you start wearing skinny scarves, I’ll strangle you with one.”

    “If I start wearing skinny scarves, I’d practically be begging you to,” Freddie muttered.

    “I’m sorry you’re lonely,” you said. “I could be your wingwoman, if you like. We could go out together.”

    Freddie gave you a smile. “Yeah, I’d like that,” he said. His eyes scanned the chalkboard, as did yours, but it was more habit than anything else. “What did you get up to during the break?”

    “Slept,” you said, and Freddie chuckled, nodding in agreement.

    “Ate too much,” he added.

    “Yep, that too,” you said with a laugh. “Never left the house.”

    “Except to buy more booze.”

    “Or take the bins out.”

    Freddie laughed. “Isn’t summer wonderful.”

    “Oh, it’s just perfect,” you said, and it came out so bitter, with such a sneer in your tone, that Freddie cracked up. A few heads turned, but they usually did, with Freddie.

    “Did you stay here or go home?” you asked.

    “Both,” Freddie said. “Mostly here, though. Just wanted to see the family for a while, but I’m far more comfortable here.”

    You nodded.

    “Did you talk to Brian and Roger much?” Freddie said.

    You shook your head. “No.”

    That was all.

    “Well, shit,” Freddie said. “That’s all just completely fucked, then?”

    “It’s fine,” you said. You reached the front of the line, and went to order. Freddie followed you.

    You ordered a cider, then Freddie ordered a pint. “What do you think of Freddy with a Y?” Freddie asked as the bartender poured your drinks.

    “I’ve barely met her,” you said. “Didn’t know she existed until Ron told me just before we left mine.”

    “Jesus,” Freddie said. “You really haven’t spoken to them.”

    “No,” you said. “And Roger doesn’t post much on social media, either, so. And Brian posts far too much, so I know way too much about him and Dani for my liking, which is wonderful.”

    “I’m sorry,” Freddie said. “God, I’m sorry it’s all gone to shit, I really am. That’s miserable, darling.”

    “It’s fine,” you said. The bartender set your drinks in front of you, and you and Freddie collected them, weaving your way back to the table.

    “Did you… get around to dating much?” Freddie asked.

    “Wasn’t in the mood,” you said.

    Freddie said nothing. Message received.

    You arrived back at the booth. While you’d gotten a drink, you hadn’t solved the seating problem.

    You bunched up next to Veronica. It wasn’t comfortable, but it wasn’t unbearable.

    You met Brian’s eyes across the table. He gave you a warm smile. It hurt. You hated that it hurt. “I haven’t said hi yet,” he said, like you hadn’t just gone three months without seeing or speaking to each other. “How you going?”

    “Good, good,” you said, and took a swig of cider. “You?”

    “Yeah, great. Get up to much?”

    “Not really. Did you?”

    “Not too much,” Brian said. “Dani and I took a little trip south. That was nice, wasn’t it, baby?”

    “So nice,” Dani said with a cheeky, knowing little grin at Brian.

    He shook his head at her, and she giggled, then reached up for a quick kiss.

     You knew about the little trip south. Everybody knew about the little trip south. Brian had waxed poetry about it on Instagram for every single day they were away. “So lots of sex, then,” you said.

    Veronica choked on her water, and Roger burst out laughing.

    You hadn’t realised he’d been listening to the conversation.

    Dani’s face was turning tomato-red, and she hid her face behind her hand. Brian managed a good-natured chuckle, albeit a slightly forced one, and you could tell he was rubbing Dani’s knee under the table.

    “What, what was the joke?” Freddie said immediately.

    “Nothing,” you said, and turned to Roger. “So, Freddy, with a Y, how did you and Roger meet?”

    “Bumble,” Freddy said, unabashed. “About a month ago?”

    “Yeah, about that,” Roger said.

    “Yeah, Ron said,” you said. “That’s nice.”

    “So there’s…” Roger licked his bottom lip. “There’s no one you’ve got your eye on, then?”

    “No,” you said, uncomfortable. Why would anyone want you? You were messy, you were too much. You were demanding. You were easily replaced.

    You took a sip of cider. Stop.

    It had been three months, for God’s sake. Three months of no contact, and still you were left with an ugly, twisted feeling in the pit of your stomach after everything that had happened.

    None of it had even mattered. You’d always known it had had an expiration date. You were just…

    You hated feeling like this.

    “Hey,” Veronica said suddenly, raising her glass of water. “Let’s make a toast, shall we? To the new year. To– to passing our classes, and to ramen, and to… fresh starts.”

    Everyone raised their glasses, saying something along the lines of cheers, and began clinking their glasses together. You took a moment longer, but joined in.

    Veronica met your eyes to clink her glass to yours. “Fresh starts,” she said with a small smile.

    You couldn’t quite say it back, so you smiled and nodded, then took a sip of your cider.

    You could feel Brian’s and Roger’s eyes on you. You pretended to be interested in something happening across the room.

    God, you couldn’t wait for this chapter of your life to be nothing but a bad dream.

#try series #try verse #my writing #queen fanfiction #roger taylor x reader #brian may x reader #rpf #angst

[hippychick006]

15.12 - Galaxy Brain

Episode Review/Recap

This is not pretty. Not the worst episode ever, but definitely somewhere in the bottom 10. It mainly suffers from having the focus on “fan favourites” I stopped caring about seasons ago, and contempt for Sam and Dean and their fans coming through loud and clear in the writing.

Everything under a cut because some people can’t handle the truth!

Official episode summary to get us excited and want to watch live: Sam and Dean respond to a frantic call and together along with Castiel, Jack, and Jody Mills (guest star Kim Rhodes), assist in an extraordinary and heartbreaking rescue. Billie (guest star Lisa Berry) surprises everyone with a visit to the bunker.

My reaction:

“Heartbreaking rescue” 😂

Kaia is shown in the recap and since I know from the promo that Jody is also in this episode, it’s yet another Wayward af episode being forced onto an audience who were very clear they didn’t want it 🙄. The recap is sending me to sleep and my bitter Sam girl is rising since he’s barely in it.  Checks who wrote it and rolls eyes: Teleplay by Bobo the 🤡.  Dean likely isn’t going to be much better off, prepares self for Destiel pandering and Dean being used as a side character to prop up the actual side characters.  Awesome. Roll on Walker where I hope I won’t be subjected to this shit.

The radio shed scene is boring.  Done with “fan favourite” Chuck and have been for several seasons now.  Chuck’s droning on about Sam and Dean, yet it’s Dean and waste of space who are being shown sitting down together, with Sam barely in the background.  Awesome.  I just. Why?  This is like when someone says something about J2 but we get a gif that includes M.  Why are we incapable of getting just J2 or Sam and Dean?

Moving quickly on, we transition from one character I used to love but now don’t care about, to another character I used to love, but now don’t care about.  “Fan favourite” Jody is examining a dead cow. “Fan favourite” Alex calls her, she must have been busy doing something else as she doesn’t appear in the episode. Side note, Berens put the line in about vegan lasagne because the girl playing Alex is a vegan. Oh… so we’re putting in shout outs to the side characters now?  Maybe that’s why the writing is so bad. #justsaying 🤷‍♀️

Jody gets whacked on the head and is it wrong to hope she’s dead?  😔 I know she’s not dead, I know this episode is going to be TFW 2.0 rescuing her (though I predict they will end up being the ones needing to be rescued because Wayward af). It’s too much to expect some real cases, some real urban legends to investigate in the final season.  Show went too big when it should have gone home.

Almost 7 minutes in and we finally have Sam and Dean. Yay! Berens has finally remembered they are still characters on the show, but I guess he hasn’t focused on them as they aren’t “fan favourites”.  And of course “fan favourite” waste of space is in the scene because Chuck fucking forbid we get the brothers without their waste of space hanging around because he somehow has nothing else to do the last 4 seasons.

We’re pandering to “my three dad’s” fan fiction crowd in this scene, though sharing 1 braincell Destihellers for sure will be tweeting about “dads” Dean and waste of space and cheerleader Uncle Sam.  They’re talking about “fan favourite” Jack and him eating hearts. Sam doesn’t want to trust “fan favourite” Billie (good call imo).  Dean seems disconnected from this scene. Same Jensen, Same tbh.  Jared, bless him, is trying his best with this shit, even bringing out the big gun puppy eyes of doom, but I’m feeling nothing but anger.

We move from them to Jack wandering around the bunker. We see him looking at “fan favourite” Mary’s initials carved into the table… and thank you show for reminding me of that fuck up that I’d wiped from my memory.  😡🤬. We learn during this scene that Jack has been trying to contact Billie, but she’s busy so sent him a reaper.

Back with my three dad’s and Jensen can barely keep the contempt out of his expression to deliver this script.  😂

We learn in this scene that Jack trusts Death so waste of space trusts Jack (me plaintively, why???), This appears to be the part in the season that waste of space is being set up to be the tool, which they’ll forgive him for yet again. 🙄 and also 😴 and 😡, a lot of 😡

Ooh, Sam just asked the obvious question, “If Jack kills god, what about Amara.” Nobody really answers it though.

Jared side-eyeing Misha at the end of this “brother” scene. Wtf are you doing in this scene? Your contribution was what exactly? Did I get any time off during any of this for you to stand in this scene doing nothing, other than pandering to Destiel stans that could give a fuck about me, than as a cheerleader for their non ship?  He flounces out.  I wish I could leave as easily Jared, but you sucked me into this show the first time you popped your cute mop of emo hair around the door and asked, “Do I have to?”  I’m here to the bitter, bitter end my friend.

Back with Jack and “fan favourite” random reaper we’ve never seen before.  No offence to the lady, but it might have been nice to see “fan favourite” Tessa back.  I don’t think she bit the dust, did she? Anyway 😴 through this scene.

Parent!Sam goes to find Jack and hears him talking to someone. Immediately concerned, he knocks on the door, and enters.  The reaper has disappeared. Sam asks who Jack was talking to, Jack says no one,  Sam knows that’s not the case but doesn’t push it.    Sam says they’re glad to have Jack back and asks if he knows that and that Jack could have come to them first, they would have helped him. So… we’re just ignoring the whole box thing and the end of last season? Awesome, said no fan of good writing or continuity anywhere.

By the way Jack, that was your cue to be honest with Sam about the reaper.

Ah, yet another pandering moment!!  How would we have endured the last few seasons without one or two or twenty of these crow barred into every episode.  Screams from the rooftops “waste of space is a god damn angel, he doesn’t eat or drink, why the fuck are you trying to humanise him you twats.”

Anyway 😴 through that scene and I swear, I would pay to have a version of this show with waste of space completely removed from the last few seasons.  Zero purpose to this, other than setting him up to be wrong again, and taking Dean along with him, because if Jack’s anything other than a red herring, I’ll be very 😡

As an aside, I  don’t know who that is in this scene but it’s not Dean. It’s not my Dean that I fell in love with.  I hate how much this show lost its way and dragged everything down to pandering and soap opera drama.

As another aside, this scene is like an outtake with seeing who can have the deepest voice, their vocal chords are going to be permanently screwed.

However, what amuses me as always with any Dean and waste of space scene, they don’t actually talk, except about Sam or Jack and this scene is no different.

Dean’s phone rings.  It’s Jody.  I started watching this epsiode, then took a break for a couple of days and had somehow completely forgotten she was in the episode. That’s how efficient my mind is at removing the trash. 😂. Anyway she’s in trouble and tells Dean where she is and that he has to come, otherwise she dies. 

Dean and Sam drive to the location given by Jody and I’m incredibly surprised that waste of space isn’t cadging a ride in the back seat.  Seems this is a random time they can deal with things on their own without requiring the assistance of several others. Just like the good old days.  Shame they’re saving one of the Wayward failures rather than a brand new case that would have been infinitely more interesting.

Sam and Dean get to pretend they remember how to hunt in this episode, Dean covering Sam’s back while Sam helps untie Jody who is tied to a chair in the middle of a barn is the best scene in the episode so far.  Jody has plenty of time while Sam’s untying her to warn them to watch out for “fan favourite” Dark!Kaia but no, and that’s how bad this is. She barely gets a gasp and a “look out” before Sam gets whaled on.  And of course they are both going to get their asses handed to them because “Wayward af” 🙄.  Fucking hate Wayward, not content with ruining 4 episodes of season 13, they’ve come back uninvited to waste another in season 15.

What the fuck did I just see? No seriously, what the actual everloving fuck did I just see? (My swearing goes up exponentially the worse the writing is, I make no apology for that).  Samsel-in-distress is writhing on the floor, while Dean is being choked by whiny dark!kaia complaining about her spear, so of course Jody has to be the one to rescue the Winchesters by whacking her on the back with her chair 🙄.  To add insult to injury, we don’t even get a padabooty shot to make up for this atrocity we’ve had to endure.  And believe me, I could see Jared desperately trying to give us that shot. I’m 😡

Now that Jody’s been shown to be more competent than the Winchesters because “girl power rules”, Sam’s able to stand up again and both he and Dean get their guns trained on dark!kaia.

Long boring scene later – mainly between Jody and Kaia because why write for the two guys you’re paying a quarter of a million dollars per episode for, when you can write for the cheap side characters and have Sam and Dean just stand in the scene doing practically nothing.  Are you chuck damn insane with this nonsense?  Oh sorry, upshot is Kaia is alive and Dark!Kaia can see her world ending and needs to open the portal to rescue her so she lured Sam and Dean to get to Jack (for him to open the portal like he did before). 😴

Jack and waste of space are playing connect 4.  Jack wins. 😴

Sam and Jody arrive back at the bunker. We get a waste of screen time between Jody and waste of space who meet for the first time, with Sam once again being very expensive, but beautiful background.   Dean comes in a little later so he can have a dramatic entrance with dun dun dun, dark!kaia. 😴

I love how the Scooby gang are all off to the side, having a conversation but Dark!kaia is clearly within listening distance so it just makes them look like dumbasses.

Jack’s off limits in helping Kaia (Parent!Dean said no), but Sam says they’re going to look for another way.  Ummm… wasn’t that what the entirety of Season 13 was about and you needed the grace of an archangel for?  You’re just going to “check the lore” and miraculously find in half an episode what you couldn’t find in the entirety of a season?  This is bad. Waste of space is going to call plot device “fan favourite” Sergei.  How they never stumbled across Sergei before, I have no idea as he seems to be the oracle as far as Drabbernatural is concerned.

Dark!Kaia is so whiny. They are terrible at writing teenage girls, it’s actually insulting at this point.

Oh, I thought Jack had found the right spell in research, but turns out the monster needed for the spell is now extinct as they read about it in dad’s journal. Wow, I don’t remember the journal being mentioned in a long time, surprised they remember it even existed, let alone used to be the holy grail of hunting and pretty much what the show centred around in the early seasons (*whispers*, when the show was good).

Wow, they even managed to make the 30 second broment boring. This is a new low.  😴

Jody and waste of space scene because yes, out of all the scenes I could have wished to see in the final season, this was on the list. 🙄. They talk about “fan favourite” Hunter!Barbie Claire (who couldn’t be in this episode because she’s all that and a kit kat now - Supernatural who? I don’t know her.). We find out Claire loved Kaia.  I mean yeah, it’s totally normal to fall in love within 15 minutes of knowing someone. Fucking hell, someone take this pandering hack’s laptop away and save us from this trite aimed only at people who share 1 braincell who only wanted the relationship as it’s a “parallel” to Destiel.  But since Dean dancing with a lamp a couple of episodes ago was a parallel for Destiel, why are we pandering to them. (*whispers* the writers are all narcassists and put stoking their ego before good writing).

This is bad.  Did I mention this was bad?  No, but it’s really, really bad.

Jack was listening in so he’s going to do something stupid so Claire gets her “love” back. Of course he is. 🙄

He goes to speak to Dark!Kaia.  She’s still whiny, we’ll fast forward this garbage to the point Jack looks inside Dark!Kaia’s head to see what she sees, which is Kaia struggling in lizard world. 😴

Jack goes to Sam and Dean and says he’s helping Kaia because he owes her.   Parent!Winchesters are funny, neither are happy with what Jack wants to do but they support their mother killing son.

Reaper is back to stop Jack doing something that is “Winchester dumb” and Jesus fuck, how much contempt does this hack writer have for the lead characters and the 99% of the audience who love them?

Anyway the next few minutes are how stupid the Winchesters are that they can’t even fix the warding on the bunker, and I hate this writer is getting paid actual money for handing this crap in. Unfortunately, he’s got his fellow writers and a couple of hundred sycophants telling him how absolutely amaze balls he is with the rest of the c list cast tweeting around each other at how good they all were.

This is my favourite bit of the episode – not really – but it amuses me the Hellers are making mountains out of “I need to borrow your angel” (😔 pandering) and completely ignoring that no-one bats an eye or puts up a token protest that the reaper needs to use waste of space to feed the wards to keep them running as long as they need for the spell to work. No one asks what harm that might do to him, waste of space is yet again, nothing more than... well, a waste of space really. Never change Hellers, never change. 😂. I’d like to point out that if Sam has been needed to charge it, the reaction from Dean would have been entirely different. 😂

Dean makes the spell, Sam reads the words, while 2 of the 3 side characters just stand there with no purpose.  The warding going up throughout the bunker is the coolest part of this episode though.  Special effects used their $2.50 dollar store budget wisely this week.  👍

10 second broment where Sam asks Dean how Sam’s feeling about what they’re doing.

Sam: honestly?  It feels like we’re taking a big, probably stupid risk… it feels good. Disobeying cosmic entities, doing the dumb right thing, it feels like we’re back.

Note to Berens, I think you could have fit a few more dumb synonyms into that speech to let us know how you really feel). 🙄

I like how Sam checks Dean’s backpack in this scene though.  I’m wondering if that was J2 rather than writing or direction.

Yet another scene between Jody and waste of space. 😴. Jody thanks him for staying behind to look after the reaper.  Waste of space says he wants Jody to stay behind too.

Jody (out of absolutely nowhere): What is that?  Some bs male chivalry thing?

Fuck off with your sjw feminist bullshit to please the single braincellers. With shitty lines like this, it’s absolutely no surprise Wayward didn’t get green lighted.

Waste of space talks about how he’ll never be able to make what’s right, what he “took from Claire”.  Oh, you’ve remembered you possessed a child, incapable of consenting to being possessed, in order to blackmail her father to agree to being possessed again against his will.  A father and husband you got killed because you provoked Lucifer by shouting “Hey assbutt” at him and getting Jimmy blown to smithereens? And you still wander round wearing his face and clothes? No, waste of space, you can’t ever make up for that.

Anyway, the reason he doesn’t want Jody going is that if Claire loses her on top of what she’s already lost (including Kaia), then it would kill her.  Jody agrees. I meanwhile have to stop watching while I try to find my eyes which have rolled right out of my head at this point of the episode. 🙄

Found them, we’re back!  

The reaper and Castiel put their hands on a stone tablet, not sure if we’ve seen it before or it’s just a random object the reaper has handy.  🤷‍♀️. The wards are supercharged (hiding the use of Jack’s powers from Chuck so he doesn’t alert Chuck that he’s back).  Jack opens the portal and Dark!Kaia, Sam and Dean step through to lizard world.

It’s raining heavily, but not on Sam’s hair bizarrely. Denied wet!Sam so here’s a gif from a good episode.

And because I'm here for both my boys, here’s wet Dean as a bonus

They start walking to find Kaia and are set upon by those creatures from the first Star Wars movies – the ones that sell the droids and this bit is exciting, finally we get what I’m here for.  Sam and Dean are going to kick as….  Or not, because why write Sam and Dean doing what they should be doing.  The creatures don’t want to fight, they are scared of the world ending and run away. Totally anti-climactic. 😔

They find Kaia and in the most bizarre writing so far in a season chock full of bizarre writing, Kaia rushes to the guy who pulled a gun on her and forced her to do something she didn’t want to do, resulting in her getting stranded on that shitty lizard world alone, and instead of stabbing him, she… hugs him.

In fairness, it was ooc writing by I think Berens that had Dean pulling the gun on Kaia in the first place so this is just a really weak attempt at fixing the original bad writing, which only ends up compounding the problem.

Sam “the writers never bother to write in a hug for me” Winchester just stands back and smiles at Kaia.  In fairness, Sam never getting hugged goes way back and I headcanon that Sam has “back off” vibes to protect himself.  Common in younger siblings that experience a lot of loss early in their lives.

Kaia notices dark!kaia and looks about to kill her but Sam says that she helped them find Kaia.  They go to leave but dark!kaia wants to stay because she doesn’t belong in their world.  Sam says she’ll die and she seems to accept that, being left behind as Sam, Dean and Kaia run for the portal.

We see Dark!Kaia’s world pretty much ending, with her embracing it, just as Sam, Dean and Kaia step back through the portal.

Jody and Kaia hug and I think we’re supposed to feel 🥰 at that, but I care for neither of them (and Kaia was the one I originally liked in season 13, but Wayward af and the trite with Claire, plus dark!kaia episodes ruined it).

Kaia and Jack scene and Kaia looks really well put together considering the entire time we saw her in the AU, she was clearly having mental issues, but like a magic wand has been waved, she’s completely normal and healthy and no worse for 2 earth years in complete isolation in a world you have to fight to survive in every day.  Miraculous, but that’s a Wayward af cardboard cutout character for you.

Jody comes in and offers Kaia a home at Jody’s home for cardboard cut out girl!power hunters.  Kaia asks if Claire will be there and Jody says soon.  

Sam, Dean and waste of space are crammed into a frame and we wouldn’t have this overcrowding in a scene if they didn’t insist on crowbarring him in.  There would be more space in the scene if he wasn’t wasting it. I’m guessing it’s to frame Jack in the front with his “three dad’s” behind 🤮. It just looks bad.

After Kaia and Jody leave, they go back to speak to the reaper.  They’ve remembered they have two stars in this framing, Sam and Dean are together in the front of the shot, Jack and waste of space are behind.

Sam asks the reaper if the warnings worked. She snidely answers that the fact they are all still alive says it worked.  She’s killed milliseconds later by… Billie.  Oh “fan favourite” reaper, so sad to see you go. Maybe you’ll be resurrected in a later episode. We can always hope.

“Hello boys”.  Wait, isn’t that Crowley’s line (and before that Ellen?).

Oh my chucking lord, why the dramatical looks at Death and everyone being scared. This is bad. This is like that Clint Eastwood movie where they all look at each other.

It’s bad.  Who directed this?  Lol, I think it might have been Richard. He’s been hit or miss for me.  And this one’s a miss.

Sam and Dean step aside to allow Billie to get to Jack and can I just say, no parent would ever do that.  I don’t believe Sam and Dean would do that, but they do, do that (sniggers childishly at do do). They just step aside without saying a word, but who cares about them and what their characters would do.  Certainly not the writer of this episode.

Death tells them they risked everything for one girl and for what, because all the worlds are dying.

Waste of space says it’s Chuck and glares impotently at Death (I think that’s what he’s doing, he might just need the bathroom again, who knows anymore tbh), while she agrees with him, saying Chuck has been wiping out galaxies for the end.

Sam asks what her end game is.  He asks how Jack is going to kill god, what the plan is.

Long, boring monologue later, God has a book in Death’s library, meaning he can die. Billy: Everything dies” 😂

We flashback to original death in the pizza place with Dean and I wish they hadn’t. The difference between that scene and anything in the last season is glaring.  But I was right from something we were talking about a few weeks ago, because we get this quote from Death to remind us;

Death: In the end, I reap him too

Original!Dean: God?  You’ll reap god

Death: oh yes

Waste of space, “And why would god write the blueprint to his own death?” (that would have been a good line for Sam or Dean who have barely had anything to say or do this episode as it is, and they’re in the scenes just standing there getting paid a quarter of a million dollars to watch someone who hung up his acting shoes before season 7, give this line, and I can’t with this).

Anyway, god didn’t write the book, the books write themselves.

Another boring monologue, the upshot of which is Chuck had to write himself into the framework, hence he has to have a book, but it’s not explained very well and I’m fake coughing bullshit on this plot device as it doesn’t make any sense but I throw my hands up in the air. If the writers don’t care about even trying to make it make sense, then why the fuck should I put any effort in to explain it away. 😴

God hasn’t read his book and can’t unless Billie lets him. Sam asks if Jack is in god’s book. She says yes and “so are you.  I told you Dean, you and your brother have work to do, this is your destiny.  You are the messengers of god’s destruction.”

Oh great... they’re messenger boys now?  Awesome.

Back with Chuck, he’s still in Radio Shed, watching a number of televisions and all of them show worlds being destroyed.  

Chuck gets up to leave, the “fan favourite” Radio Shed employee asks if he’ll be saved.  Oh you sweet summer child! 

Chuck says he’ll be fine, but as he leaves we see a meteor hit the store (and show, if you think that was a surprise twist ending, it was flashing neon lights from the very beginning).

The episode seemed to be double the length of normal, but nothing really happened and it was boring af.

Somebody get this show a defibrillator.  Stat!  Oh wait, on second thoughts, slaps “Do not resuscitate” sign onto show.  Let it die in peace. 

#spn spoilers #15.12 #galaxy brain #spn critical #very critical

[goingsllightlymad]

Blinded By Your Light Part 5 - On Befriending.

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x reader

Summary: Y/N is the definition of ordinary. Studying at a medical school as far as she can get from her rainy hometown of Birmingham, she never expected to be shipped off the Flanders when the war was at it’s peak. Much less to meet a handsome young patient with the most beautiful pair of blue eyes she had seen in her life who as fate would have it would fall into her lap.

Wordcount: 7783 (back to the glory days of me having absolutely no self-control).

Warnings: Shit is GAY. My tiny bi ass physically cannot write Polly or Ada without it sounding like the reader is madly in love with them because guess what bitch I am and you should be too. This was as platonic as I could get it, folks. But no, because we must cater to the Straights, this is not actually Ada x reader except platonically. Sad times, huh. Also if reader had got with Ada why the everloving fuck would she end up with Tommy as the pairing states. Why the fuck would you break up with Ada. Why. (RIP to Freddie Thorne but I’m different).

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As you walked, you ran your fingertips along the bricks of the buildings that passed by. There was a part of you that was still wondering if any of this was real at all. Another part of you that prayed that it was not. The dirty little neighbourhood, the handful of children playing in the street with broken toys and trousers stained with mud like the blood of Mother Nature hung to slaughter, all of it the world you knew but oh so slightly different, colder and greyer like the shadow of a life burning away to darkness.

The sound of the city had crescendoed gradually into a muffled chorus of footsteps and hushed conversation, women in long coats and shawls making their way hurriedly down the street to the market, and you remembered the city from up on your uncle's shoulders, looking down upon the shopfronts like the world you owned alone, a tangle of memories and faces you thought a younger you might have known and loved, but now all you felt was apathy, the sadness that came with having neither family nor home, nor way to regain the feeling of belonging that you were beginning to suspect you would never find again.

You found the first house easily enough, half-run down and with a bright bloom of red upon the door that may have been paint or blood or something in between. You were beginning to get used to the sight of blood everywhere you looked, and it made you even more uneasy. When you knocked upon the door, a sweet old lady with a kind face answered, and you wrapped up her loaves of bread in paper and gave them to her, thanking her for the money she gave you in return and pocketing the small change she pressed into your palm as a welcome-back gift.

And so you found your way across Small Heath, your basket depleting quickly as you knocked and gave and went away again, reading and rereading the names on your slip of paper as though those empty words could somehow bring back all the memories that were fading in the cold light of reality. The town you had been waiting so long to return to was here in front of you, and it was not your home at all.

It was an hour or so later that you came at last to the last name on the list, Gray. A pub, The Garrison, a little a little larger than most of the others you had seen before, the curtains drawn and tied tight against the street and you wondered what they were keeping out, and worse still, what they were keeping in. You knocked on the door, scrubbed clean but you could still catch the faded mural of blood upon the sturdy wood, and stepped back into the street to wait. A minute passed, then two and three and four, and you were searching the building for somewhere safe to leave the basket when the door finally cracked open. Through the gap in the door, you caught the gleam of light on cold black metal, the mouth of a gun. You held up your free hand, trying to keep your voice from shaking as you tried to pick out a face through the sliver of gloom revealed behind the door.

"I-I have bread. I'm delivering bread. I work-I work for the bakery!" you spat out, letting out a long sigh of relief as you saw the gun lower.

"Where's April?" your aunt, the one who usually made the deliveries. The one they trusted, because she hadn't run off to Kent to fuck around with the rich kids.

"I'm sorry, she said I would be doing... this. I work there now." you held out the basket of bread as a peace offering, and the door opened wider to reveal a woman with tight brown curls and eyes that seemed to stare right through you, taking in all your secrets and reading each thought that flashed through your head. She was beautiful in a way that made you so sure that she had killed men for calling her beautiful, and in her face was a power more than that of any king that you had known. The power of the goddess, waiting behind beloved gods and knowing she was more.

"S'pose you're her niece now, en't yer?" she muttered, almost sneered, and you felt that she could feel the pain within you,

"Yeah. Yeah, that's right." you steeled, straightening your spine and forcing yourself to hold her gaze, taking in the depth of her cool brown eyes, so dark they were almost black.

"Away quite a while, weren't yer." she looked at you and suddenly you knew that you were never going to come back and slip back into what remained of your life because here she was and she knew, and so did everyone in this godforsaken neighbourhood and so did you, and there was nothing you could do to take back what you'd already done. Your entire story was written out before you for the whole word to read and you were desperately trying to tape together the pages before the words began to leak off the paper and onto your skin.

"I was... I was working." and you both knew that was not true. You were running away because you thought if you didn't get away then you never would, and this town was too small for the chaos in your mind. And now your mind was empty, the town so large you could hear your thoughts in every step you took away from the life you had tried so hard to find. You weren't working, you were caught up in a daydream that you all knew couldn't last, and you were fighting to stay asleep as the rest of the world hurt and bled and died without you.

"Not fer yer dad, eh?" she raised an eyebrow at that, and it sent a shot of guilt through your heart. She was right - of course she was - and she knew it. It was difficult to see that the thought was tearing you apart, pulling at every last trace of humanity in your cold and lonely body, hurting you over and over and a little more every time. You had left your father, and now look what had happened, and you knew it wasn't your fault but wasn't it?

"N-no. Thought maybe I'd try something new." Something new, a million miles away, somewhere new, with someone new and now you were here and he was not and you were doing the same things you did a million years ago as though you never left and there was all the world and more to remind you that you had.

"And now yer back? Wonder how that turned out for yer." and she could see and you could see and everyone in this goddamn town could see the pain in your eyes and somehow she needed more.

"It was fine, thank you. I mean, I'm glad to be back, though." you smiled weakly, and in a way it was easier to be home and tell them all the truth that you'd made up on the train here than to stay away and keep lying that everything was fine. This neighbourhood was messed up and you'd missed a thousand lifetimes of the ones you loved the most, but now you were here and you wouldn't miss another day. You had missed the worst of times, and it only made sense that you were back now and it was time for you to face what you had put off for so long.

"Shouldn't be. Don't see why anyone should be glad to be back in this shit'ole." her eyes darkened, a shadow passing over them and she seemed all at once the great and forbidding spider at the centre of this web of darkness and change. You wondered, not for the first time, what it was she knew.

"Ain't so bad, is it?" you rocked back and forth on your heels, pushing your point as you looked into her eyes as though held in place.

"And you would know? Been away quite a while, ain't yer. Don't think things have changed?" her voice was lilting and undeniably cruel, a depth to it that made it all a terrible test, designed to catch you unawares.

"So I hear. Colder than it used to be, at least." your joke was met with a small smile which took you by surprise. A soft smile, human, like she was letting you in but not too far.

"Maybe it just seems it." she looked around her at the street, grey as the sun passed behind a dark cloud, and then back to you and your basket of bread. Her eyes rested on the basket a moment, as though she had only just remembered why you were here. "How many more stops 'ave yer got left?"

"Oh this is my last." you lifted up the basket, gesturing to the last few loaves of bread and pastries left in it.

"Good. Come in and have tea." It was less of an invitation than a statement, she searched you again with her piercing eyes, glancing behind her at the front of the pub.

"...now?"

"Yes." she smiled tightly, and even before she had finished speaking she was turning on her heel and going back into the pub. There was something about her, about the building before you and the way she seemed to know so much about you and about the rest of the world you had not yet seen, that pulled you in behind her, and before you had time to think it through you were closing the front door behind you.

"O-okay, sure. I don't want to intrude or-" you found yourself in the main room, empty save for the bartender wiping down the bar, whose eyes widened as you entered and you shot him a quick smile as you passed. On the other side of the room, the woman was taking two china cups from a cabinet. She turned at your words, and fixed you with that sharp stare.

"Then don't intrude. It's just tea, (Y/N.)" she laid the cups down on a table in the middle of the room, disappearing into an anteroom and reappearing a moment later with a teapot and a bowl of sugar. She sat, gesturing at the other chair expectantly, and you sat opposite her, setting down the basket of bread beside your chair. For a moment, as she poured out two cups of tea, setting one in front of you carefully, no one spoke, the only sound the rush and squeak of the bartender's cloth against the counter as he rubbed it clean.

"Thank you." you took a sip of your tea, winced as it burnt your tongue. The woman opposite you tried not to smile at that, and you tried not to blush. "I never caught your name."

"I never gave it." she looked down at her tea, "Polly Gray."

"Probably knew my parents, didn't you." you pretended you weren't glancing up through your eyelashes as you waited for her to answer, trying to catch any emotion that might have passed across her face. But her face was impassive, and she took a while to answer.

"Once. Good people, honest. Never did them much good, but they were honest." her face was emotionless, her low chuckle bitter and all-knowing, as though she knew every last thought that had brought them to this sad fate.

"Everyone seems to know them but me. Everyone seems to know me but me." you smiled bitterly, tapping against the china of your cup with your nails, and if you knew her better you might have said that she pitied you, but any woman you might have known was gone now, and the one you saw before you was utterly impossible. Once the moment had passed you had no idea why you'd said it, but she seemed to soften to you once you had, and she wrapped her hands around her cup thoughtfully, eyes and mind wandering listlessly around the room.

"War'll do that to yer. Believe me, I know." her voice was far away, heard across a canyon as though she were anywhere in the world except for here with you, and you lifted your heavy head to look at her as she spoke. She looked quiet, dreamy, still harsh and cold but something so much more, and she reminded you so much of your mother.

"Your family?" you were trying not to pry, unsure of how far your luck would let you go, but all of a sudden you really wanted to know. She was incredible, a beautiful enigma and you were looking in through the window at this life that was so much more than your own, snatching snapshots of a lifetime filled with happiness but even more of pain, trying to piece together the story before she closed herself up again. There was something about her, about every word she said, that made you want nothing more than to hang onto every line and word and syllable, breathe it all in like air to stay alive and find out more and more and more.

"My nephews. Everyone knows the Shelby's apart from me, apparently."

The name shocked you, nearly made you dropped your teacup to the floor. You blinked, eyes wide and suddenly very much awake, trying not to let on that your entire world was resting on what she would say next, and you wondered could she know? You were almost sure she'd seen it the second she saw your face, the story that wasn't even a story, more like the scribbled fairytales of a child alone with the fever of their mind, the way your life might fit with hers in a jigsaw puzzle of impossible fate.

And then you came to, shook your head and pushed the thought aside. He said he had no family, no home to go to. He said there was nothing waiting for him but work and the inescapable cold of these bleak British winters, no aunt at all in her tidy pub with cups of tea made ready in the parlour. Wouldn't he have told you if there was something like this in his past (in his present it would be now, for you were nothing but his past, and that if you were lucky; when the letters never came it had become very clear that you were nothing to him at all)? And if he would not have told you, what did he have to hide? No, the name was a coincidence, and you knew better than to ask more about Polly's nephews as she sat, unusually vulnerable, before you. There were far too many Shelby's in England to lose your head over every one.

For a long moment you sat once more in silence, taking in the pub as you tried not to meet her eyes. You feared she might pity you, or you might pity her, and you were not entirely sure which would be worse. Pity was the cheapest thing that one could buy in this cruel age of love and loss, and you would not whore yourself out for less than love could pay you peace.

The silence was filled with the crash of footsteps down stairs in the backroom, bursting in through the doors and into the pub in a whirlwind of chaos and shouting. Through the main room came a very dishevelled girl, hair a mess, makeup smeared down her face and her dress half unbuttoned. You bit back a smirk, knowing full well it wasn't your place to make any sort of comment on the scene that was unfolding all around you. Polly was rubbing her eyes wearily with one hand, sighing exasperatedly and you wondered how often this happened. The man who ran into the room was in a similar state, his fly undone and his shirt pulled out, and you thought you had a pretty good idea of what they were doing, try as you might not to think about it too much.

Breaking into a quick jog, the girl hurried past you, throwing open the pub doors and flouncing out as the boy followed her, shouting at her to just wait a minute and listen. By the time he had passed your table she was gone, out of the door and probably some way out of sight, and he gave up, leaning back against the bar and throwing his head back in defeat. You wondered if now was the right time to tell him that his fly was still open (probably not).

"I was just sayin' how I really missed this." Polly drawled sarcastically, lifting her eyes languorously from her tea and drawing them to his pathetic state.

"Mornin' Pol." the boy muttered, looking at her and not bothering to hide his curious expression when his eyes landed on you. "And Pol's friend."

"(Y/N)." you smiled at him, and he grinned widely at you, reaching out to shake your hand and took it back when he caught Polly's glare.

" 'ey, don't you even think about it, John Shelby, so help me I will string you up fer yer brothers." she pointed at him, narrowing her eyes in suspicion.

"Right, right, well that's that then. Value my life, don't I, so think I might be headin' off." he raised his eyebrows at you dramatically and you bit back a bubble of laughter, "Haven't seen Arthur, 'ave yer?" tucking in his shirt and following your nod to his trousers, he straightened himself up.

"God only knows where 'e is now. Prob'ly gettin' high in some backstreet, best not try an' find 'im just yet." he murmured something vaguely resembling an agreement, and started for the door, grabbing a jacket and a cap from a stand by the door. In the sunlight through the window, the brim of the cap shone bright and unnatural, a thin line of silver splitting the dark fabric and your eyes were held for a long moment, until he moved away and the sunlight shifted and there was nothing there at all. Strange. "Back for dinner, yeah, else I'll have yer guts fer garters!" she called after him and he laughed out loud at that. The way she grinned at him as he left, you knew she really loved him, and the sun shone just a little brighter on the fractured remnants of Small Heath.

"Your nephew?"

"Aye, youngest but one. A right pain, him and all 'is brothers. 'S a wonder I keep 'em around." She muttered, harshly and fondly all at once in a way you had never known before.

"House full of boys, must make you the sane one." you joked, and she cracked a smile at tha, taking a long sip of her tea and never taking her eyes off you.

"If I say so myself. And what about you? No young man sweepin' you off yer feet, eh?"

"Not... anymore. No." it was drawn-out and slow, as though you hadn't quite known that you were saying it until the words were hanging before you, short and hard and filled with a sadness you didn't know you had in you. It had taken all morning and most of this early afternoon to convince yourself that you were a soldier, and in your mind were darker dawns than this morning's hellish revelations. You had lost, but you had lost before and once more would not break down the walls it had killed you putting up.

"Shame. Still, there are plenty goin' around, a girl like you won't be hard up."

"Neither was a girl like her, I dare say." you grinned, nodding your head to the door where the girl had burst out, barely-dressed. She sighed again, smiling and shaking her head, and you thought what a privilege it was to make her smile. You wondered if it brought back the way she was before, and if someday you would be as she was now - bitter, cold and loving still, the epitome of pain, and beautiful pain there too. The thought made you quite sad.

"My nephews are... misbehaving, but they are good men." and then, under her breath and you could barely catch it, "Most of them."

You knew better than to ask. You knew better than to push the boundaries of where your luck would take you, how much she'd let you see. There was a darkness in everything she did that made you sure that there was darkness inside her soul, clawing to get out, and there were things about her that you didn't want to know.

"I think I need some time to myself, just a little longer. I've seen my fair share of boys where I've been, I'm sure." and it was true, you'd seen the bodies of men not much bigger than the boys who followed when all the men were sent and used and brought back in their Sunday best. Men with graves and vicars to send them on their way, and later as the years went by more and more boys, clothes stripped from bodies long since cold and blue, buried in each other's arms as they had run away to war, one grave unmarked and no god left to go to. And you had seen the living, not men nor boys but something else and something worse and something clothed in blood and anger, named by cursing tongues. You'd seen your fair share of those who survived and were not men at all, just shells, men who fought inside themselves, were told the war was over but it wasn't, not for them. These were not men, these were not man nor beast nor body left untouched by Death's kind hand, these were pain and pain alone, the remnants of a hatred borne by few and paid in price by thousands. To think that you would someday be as they were now, the unremembered scraps of being less than human, unremembered, it was enough to last a lifetime. It was true - you had seen your fair share of boys.

"A smarter choice than any I've 'eard around 'ere in god only knows 'ow long." her eyes were kind, and you knew then that she knew all that you had seen because she had seen it too, every day in this graveyard of a town where everything seemed dead or dying, so bitter was the dull grey daylight.

Once more the room was plunged into silence, the air heavy with a million words you could not, would not, say. The two of you looking off into the distance, finishing your cups of tea as the bartender disappeared into the backroom. And when the tea was all gone, the bar steeped in gloom as the sun slid away behind the clouds outside the window, you set down your cup, clearing your throat and making to stand.

"I suppose you should be off now, eh?" she glanced up at you, scrutinising and cold as the moment you had met, as though you had seen nothing of her at all.

"Yeah, think so." You lifted the bread-basket, so long forgotten, onto the table. Polly reached into her pockets and you waved her away. " 's okay. I think the tea makes us even." There was a line on the sheet of addresses that your aunt had given you that warned you not to charge the Shelby's, and you didn't entirely want to find out why.

As she turned to call down her niece and whatever of the house remained hidden in the backrooms, you quietly took your leave, slipping out through the front door with only the glimpse of dark hair and neat dress to tell you she was real at all.

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It was not long after that you met Ada. Standing in the market, sent there by the empty bags of apples in the bakery storeroom and the way your aunt looked at you, pitying and soft as though she knew as well as you did that this town had nothing but broken memories for you. Fragments of a lifetime, never enough to hold you, enough to remind you every day why you ran away, why you tried so hard to never come back. First it was the spiders in the church rooms, big and black and sinister as you tried to push them out of mind. Then it was the dark itself, stealing in first slowly then all at once, running up your spine and over your body like a second skin, the body you would become in time to come. You had never been afraid of the dark before, but now you closed your eyes and all you saw was slaughter, the men you could not save and, even worse, then men you could and wished you hadn't. The screaming in the upper wards, late at night when you should have been asleep but the shouting called you and you couldn't stay away, not when there was pain and you were lying awake in the room not far away, not when the shadow of Death lurked in every corner, watching, waiting. Death was always there, and now in the darkness of the church you wondered if he was still, standing over you and waiting, always waiting. It sent a shiver up your spine.

You shook away the thought, reaching down to turn over the pears in the market stall, running your thumb distractedly over the bumps and craters in the smooth green skin. The market was quiet for a Thursday morning, the air thick with tense silence as you wandered around the stalls, shooting quick smiles as you passed the vendors. Gathering up the pears, a handful of apples, some cherries and a bright satsuma in your bag, you wandered up to the vendor, an old man reading behind the counter. You cleared your throat gently, smiling as he lifted his head wearily.

"Quiet, isn't it." you murmured, more to yourself than to him or to the woman you had noticed not far away, turned away and running the soft blue fabric of a blouse through her fingers.

"You'd be surprised. People come and go, don't talk to each other anymore." he grunted, gesturing at the rows and rows of stalls, the handful of people hanging listlessly around the baskets filled with fruit and vegetables and clothing and odds and ends and whatever could be salvaged from this hopeless wreck of war.

"What would you have them say?" you mused, paying for the fruit and thanking him with a smile.

"I'd have 'em be a little more thankful. We're all hurt, just some of us're making somethin' of all this hurt." the girl had a mild voice, subdued and welcoming as you hadn't seen in anything else here in this forbidding town. She turned to look at you and you knew the eyes that met yours had seen a lot more than they let on. She was like Polly, but sweeter, gentler, as though she had seen all the evils of the world and let them make her kind.

She brought the dress down, paid for it and stood beside you, stealing a glance at you in a way that made you think she hadn't meant for you to notice, and the simple act of softness, humanity, made you melt a little.

"You're not from around here, are yer?" she squinted at you, head tilted a little as she took you in. But this time it was friendly, reassuring, trying to get a picture of you because she was interested in you, not the story you'd left behind you. So you let her; you turned to face her, met her gaze unflinching.

"Just moved back, actually." at this she laughed a little, high-pitched and disbelieving, and you rubbed the back of your neck awkwardly with your free hand.

"What'd yer do that for?"

"Ask me that a week ago and I might've had an answer." you said sadly, rolling an apple around in your hand distractedly.

"Not anymore?" her eyes were wide and sympathetic, dark eyes like Polly's yet unassuming, understanding, eyes that had loved and that had never stopped. Eyes that had loved when the world would not love them back. Perhaps you were reading too much into it.

"Not anymore." in truth you lost purpose like blood and hope and love, seeping out of the cracks in your splintered soul as you walked the town day after day with your basket of bread and without your future before you. You were fast beginning to think that all these last years away from Small Heath had been nothing more than a dream, fading back into grim reality as you woke alone in the church anterooms, gone entirely by breakfast.

"Yer the baker's girl, back from France?" her words caught you unawares, and you stifled your surprise.

"You knew?" She knew, Polly knew, you wondered if the whole city, the whole world, could know. Would they smile when they saw you, the pathetic little lass who couldn't quite face it here and couldn't quite run away, or frown at the girl who saw the world and all the pain it had to bear and said she wasn't made for that.

"My aunt, she's... very good at this sort of thing." she lifted her chin with a sort of pride that made you think that there was love you didn't know yet, the love of a pilgrim for their wandering God, and it was all she had to offer.

"Polly Gray." you guessed, testing the name on your tongue like the taste of some strange medicine on your restless, fevered soul.

"The very same." she grinned, taking you by the arm and leading you away from the stall. A little bemused but not displeased at the sudden rush of affection, you gave in to her, looking up at her as she began to talk quickly about the buildings you passed, the families that lived therein. You heard her as though through the glass, in some waking dream, her words floating around your head and you were half-aware, half-distracted, taking in the street you knew and the girl you did not.

"People here are different, aren't they." you wondered aloud as a lady hurried past you, meeting your eyes briefly and quickly ducking her head. She pulled her broad hat down lower over her face and you dreamed of what she was trying to hide. Everyone in this town carried the air of a criminal, and you had no doubt many were little less than that.

"Aye, y'should meet my brothers. Right bastards they are, but good enough men." there was something about it that made you think immediately of Polly. The pride, the love, all the sarcastic purity ringing through her voice that made you think for a glorious moment that this was all some grim facade, the family behind it sweet and ordinary. Girls that would go to the market, to the pictures, chasing boys and chasing secrets. Boys that would run and play and drink in the evenings, coming home to wives and children and no secrets to keep them up at night. You could live like that, beautifully mundane. The shadow of Death loomed over your shoulder, and you would invite Him over for tea and biscuits every Sunday.

"So I've heard." and there was the lie, comforting and cruel. You had heard of the Shelby boys, dark folks who cut and killed and left the neighbourhood a little smaller every night. Tales of fights ran in the Birmingham streets in early mornings, late at night, the fairytales of a people whose God had went away. There was magic in those silvery caps and there was magic in the faces hidden underneath, and all of Small Heath knew it, feared it, respected it. Once again you reassured yourself that this was not your Tommy, because your Tommy was sweet and your Tommy was good. He had never killed a man, save all those creatures that fell before him in the war gone by. Your Tommy was not the monster that lurked in the streets, that lurked in your mind insidious as the cold and twice as bewitching.

"So everyone's 'eard. Can't get a bloody moment's rest from all this 'Arthur this, Thomas that, John whatever'. A plague upon this town, I'm tellin' yer, and I'm their sister." it was strong and it was heartfelt, and through all the emotions you almost missed the name, slipped in like it was just another word but no other word had ever sounded so sweet. It was a mistake, not a slip of the tongue but a coincidence that brought him flooding back into your senses so strong you could almost taste the harsh carbolic soap on his skin when you had lain beside him in those late nights in the hospital. You could feel him oh so near you, and you ached to have him here.

"Dating must be a nightmare, eh?" you knew it was what she wanted you to ask, still there was something quiet and smug in it that made you think there was something she was not saying, to you or her aunt or the rest of Small Heath, some glorious secret that she was bound to keep and you were just dying to know. In small towns like these, secrets were the only way to get out for good, and you knew that better than any.

"Don't even bother. Boys 'ere 're like the Black Death. Easy to find, awful to look at and even 'arder to get bloody rid of." she shook her head and you laughed, your mind straying back to the girl running through the pub, whose name you had later learnt and promptly forgotten.

"Aye, but worth a shot." you winked at her playfully and she rolled her eyes. It was nice - the empty street and you and her, and you the happiest you had been in a very long time. Nothing romantic, nothing upsetting, nothing at all but the grey sky and the greyer city beneath and the colours that were painting your mind a million shades of alive.

"So was the war, don't catch me wanting t'go back."

"You and me both." you sighed, but it was sadder than you had intended, and as you neared the street corner she turned you by the elbow to look at you face-to-face.

"You served?" the humour was gone from her voice, in its place a bleak respect that you had not heard before. You told people you had served and they would say it was a bloody shame about the war, should never have happened. And you knew it was true - the war had broken you, body and mind, and when your five-year sentence was over it had spat you out the other side, hopeless and alone. Still the war had got you out of here, and the war had made you different. Older. There was a cruel maturity in you that made you think you saw things different now, but maybe you were just kidding yourself. Most of the time you didn't know what you were doing anymore.

"Yeah, Flanders General Hospital. Was a nurse for god knows how many years." you rubbed your eyes with a trembling hand, if only to break for a moment the line of her staring at you, brown eyes deep as the river you had left behind, warmer than those summer days with him. God, did she look like him.

"Front line. Can't imagine what you've seen." she whispered, taking your hand in hers and tracing a circle over the back of it with a delicate hand. You didn't want her to imagine what you'd seen. More than anything, you wished she would never see what you saw, never live like you had, always a room and a corridor away from your own death and walking ever nearer as you fought to save a world hell-bent on its own destruction.

"Seen too much. Sometimes feels like I can never close my eyes again, all so fresh in my mind." you blinked slowly and she squeezed your hand tight in hers.

"My brothers... they were up there. Most of ‘em. Awful thing it was. Didn't come back the same at all." it was awkward and strung together like she had never said the words before, was putting them together as she looked at you, and you thought she might have trusted you a little. You thought she might trust anyone who listened to her truly.

"They never do. I didn't." you choked out the last part, the words sticking in your throat as you tried to say what had plagued your mind since the moment you stepped off the train in Kent, those short and agonising words that you knew the whole world was just waiting for you to say.

"War's changed, world's changed. Nothing stays the same."

"And all the better for it. Think I'd go insane like this forever. That being said, could definitely do without the sleepless nights." you hadn't told anyone about the nights, about what you saw and what haunted you as you tossed and turned in the endless darkness, praying for it all to be over at last. But now, out in the wan winter daylight, you felt a little better for having it all out in the open air, having it all in her hands and imploring her to keep it there, to hold it close and make it all go away. You trusted her, you loved her, and you had never met her.

"Then come and visit me. Always fun at the Shelby household." she reached up to brush your cheek tentatively, taking in the line of your cheekbone, holding you in her hand as though you just might fall apart. She took her hand away and you smiled sadly at her.

"So I've heard. With all due respect, I just got back from a warzone. Don't think I'm gonna be running on into another any time soon." you were trying not to hurt her, trying not to let her know that you had a hundred million stories for every letter of that awful name, and none of them ended happily. You wanted to see her again, but if all there was behind her was the last name that you hated, had loved and lost and missed like hell, you knew that all it would ever bring was pain.

"I might just come to you then. Seek my refuge in the house of God, eh? At least, Pol thinks so." her words weighty, and you wondered what she prayed about when she was alone at night. The war was over, anger all that was left behind in the ashes of a country burnt at its great moral stake. You knew better than to wish all the anger, the sadness and broken desperation, away because behind it there was nothing left. There was only the rage to hold your aching bones together, only the hatred that you were alive to keep you alive at all.

"Don't think God's really in there anymore. Think he jumped ship soon as all this bullshit started. A countryful of men with guns and personal vendettas to fulfil, ain't exactly the place for a god, is it." you hadn't meant for it to come out so vindictive, a silent curse but upon whom you could not say. You blamed the men in the streets, with their guns and their anger and the blood that crept upon your skin as you lay in bed, awake. You blamed the men in charge, and their soft chairs where they had sat and watched the war unfold before them like some dreadful game of chess. You blamed God as he frowned down upon you and Small Heath, sins like broken bodies in the street. And you knew you blamed yourself the most, the way you ran and the way you came back and the gun inside your pillowcase that you prayed you'd never use. The longer you spent in this grim neighbourhood the closer the gun seemed to your head. You took her arm and began walking again.

"Me mam used to say that now's when you make yer own god. Have to make do with yer own hands." her hands were smooth and slender, hands that had never touched the sickly cancer of death, hands that were made to arrange flowers and shake hands and run over you as you kissed. You thought she would be a good kisser if you ever looked at her that way. You thought it best you didn't - there was love and there was friendship and you really, really needed a friend.

"She sounds wise." you knew what to say, the way to make her open up. Her mother, the way her eyes lit up like she was talking about the end of the world, the smile in her voice that never made it to her face but glittered in her deep brown eyes. She loved endlessly, and she had lost still more.

"She was. Was a woman, 'ats why." the two of you and something beautiful in common, something yours - a femininity that was beyond not starting wars. It was about ending wars, causing love, meaning more than the awful men that were all around you.

"God knows we need more of 'em nowadays." you smirked faintly.

"Amen to that." she laughed loud, and you couldn't help but stare. She really was beautiful when she was herself, in a way that made you not want to kiss her but keep her near you, protect her, make it all okay again like no one had for you.

But the church was coming up before you and you knew you had to leave her here. You had only just met, and it would take a lot more than trust to invite her in to the darkness that lay beyond the tall church-doors. In there was a different hell, a hotter, crueller hell that she had never known, and the world was not made for good people like her.

"Well this is me." you stopped her in front of the doors, shifting from foot to foot as you tried to find a way to say the goodbye that you'd been dreading all the way here.

"I think I'll call on yer sometime." her lopsided grin made you laugh, and you tried to keep it quiet to avoid the echoes in the church that would carry your careless voice all the way to your father. Your father sat each day in the church, bowed before the altar, the only man who still believed in this dim and heathenish town. He would be there now, a saint in wrinkled robes and unseeing eyes, and you knew that somehow he would hear you here. This town was filled with men with ignorant sight, eyes that could see and hearts that overlooked, and your father alone was king. Sightless, he saw. He knew.

"Oh will yer now?" you quirked a brow at her, praying she'd stand by and let you be persuaded. You'd let her call on you whenever, let her wake you in the nights when all the town was silent, let her break apart your lifeless live and fill the cracks with her smile, her laugh, the sweetness of her hands. It was not difficult to see, and you knew she saw it too. This whole town was lonely, and you were no exception.

"Yeah, think so." she extracted herself from your hands, began to walk away and before you knew it you were calling her back, unable to let her slip away when you had just found her and she was the last good thing about this part of town.

"Don't even know my name." you teased and she flicked her hair over her shoulder, grinning wide and toying with the new blue dress that was folded over her arm. And when the sun came down upon her, brighter than any dim star in this back-alley of Birmingham, you could swear there was nothing in the world that could be so beautiful, so heavenly and good than her.

"Ada. Shelby." like it was something she was used to saying, but the last word soured her smile in a way that made you think she was anything but proud of it. Such power and she wanted no part of it; you wondered what kind of life she'd lead.

"(Y/N). (Y/L/N)." your own name a stranger to your aching lips as you took her in, painted her in the blank canvas of your new and empty life as though she were the glorious sun to rise and rid you of your slough of night.

"I'll see yer later, (Y/L/N)." carefree and cool, she threw her head back over her shoulder and hurried away, skirt swishing behind her as her boots rang loud in the vacant street-corner. She wasn't looking at you anymore, and you stepped back to lean against the church wall and watch her as she disappeared around the corner, a flurry of bright colours and sun.

"I hope you will." you said more to yourself than to her, knowing that she was already gone away, she couldn't hear you anymore. And then you breathed out, grinning like an idiot. She was stunning, another part of your soul and you for the first time since you had stepped off the train you knew that there was something in this town that really was your home. Ada, Polly, John, the strange little pub with the strange little people in a town where everything was far too big, big enough to lose yourself entirely in its labyrinth of sins. It was enough to make any lonely soul flock to their company, and who were you to differ?

And so it was that you entered once more into the ominous gloom of the unlit church, taking with you your sins and all the crimes you had yet to commit, committing yourself once more into the judgement of your dark God.

Taglist:

@actorinfluence @captivatedbycillianmurphy @stressedandbandobessed7771

#peaky blinders #tommy shelby #tommyshelbyxreader #fanfiction #readerinsert #thomas shelby #thomasshelbyxreader #xreader

[yannfredericks]

g’day folks! It has just occurred to me that I never really spoke about the incredible yolly content I was blessed with in london this may and that is, quite frankly, a crime, so here we freaking GO

ok so I never fully explained my semi-relationship with sinead and jordan (who were playing yann and polly at the time) and I probably never will to both a) respect them and b) not embarrass myself by over exaggerating it but just know that I’ve spoken to them both several times, they’re lovely lovely people who were both fully aware of the yolly ship and just so hilarious about it all and such good sports and SPOILT THE FUCK OUT OF ME with content, so without further ado:

A List of Yolly Moments from May 2019

-yann and polly walk across stage as act 4 scene 14 begins and as they’re laughing together yann wraps his arm around her shoulder and tugs her into a hug as they walk (I very nearly screamed and unfortunately couldnt focus the rest of the show, a fact jordan and sinead found most amusing)

-spoke to sinead after the show and she said that jordan often did this sort of thing to mess with her???? hello??? where was I??? (exact words were “he’s always fannying around, sometimes he kisses me, etc...” EXCUSE ME HE WHAT????)

-jordan said he does it bc he “loves her” and was “sure they’ll be more yolly moments” to look forward to and BOY was he right

-bammy set out to murder me after that and I am forever grateful

-the night he knew I was in consisted of him wrapping an arm around her, standing by her, looking at her, talking to her ANY TIME HE WAS ON STAGE which, as an avid fan of both yolly and jordan and sinead, I can confirm was NOT NORMAL

-pretty sure in the EGM scene that sinead’s character got into an argument w someone and jordan wrapped his arm around her and started arguing too, part of me swears he called her his wife, either way it was incredibly amusing

-yann annoying the everloving fuck out of polly in the wand dance, teasing her and getting up in her space, playfully rubbing in that his spell worked before hers etc

-should mention that at one point karl wrapped his arm around polly (craig (who plays karl) ships karl and polly which is HILARIOUS to me) and she was so quick to shove him off...no such complaints when yann did it tho...I see you..

-so after wand dance polly always goes “oh poor little potter!” and craig goes “he’s so embarrassing” and that’s about it as everyone giggles and mocks albus but THIS TIME after those two comments, as they’re leaving the stage yann turned back and YELLED “POLLY!!!” and I DIED pretty sure my exact reaction was to squeak and hiss “FUCKING HELL” to my friend beside me, followed by “HES TRYING TO KILL ME” and I was not exaggerating in the slightest

-so anyway they’re in love we know this, I have never seen a boy more enraptured, no matter what they were doing on stage he was watching her

-IN THE TWT SCENE HE WAS HANGING OFF HER SHOULDERS AND HIDING HIS FACE IN HER NECK AND SCARF IT WAS SO CUTE

-so polly is exasperated with him in the funniest way that so clearly tells you that they’re best friends and yet she’s simultaneously hopelessly endeared and idk what to tell you if you don’t ship yolly bc it’s there!! it’s happening!

-I tweeted a bit about Yann’s handsy-ness and sinead openly stalks my acc on the odd occasion and tweeted jordan “don’t touch what you can’t afford x” which is SO HER POLLY I couldn’t believe it I love them

-the thing about jordan and sinead is that they’re best friends off stage and my god it shows in their onstage chemistry and I am so thrilled I got to see them

-continued to be husband and wife in the second EGM, incredible content and teamwork to push the staircases off stage, we stan a hardworking couple

-(unrelated but once when jordan was on as scorpius, during the godric’s hollow scene after the malfoy hug I saw sinead in the wings give him a little wave and I just-)

-at the end of this show they had their little walk and hug moment that filled my heart with love and I can’t thank them enough for going so above and beyond for me that day :’) and jordan agreed to pay for my funeral so high fives all round x

-this hug became a Thing for the last few shoes before cast change, and on the day itself I swear they just wrapped both their arms around eachother as they did the cross... :’( I’m emo and I miss them

-I will never be able to thank jordan and sinead enough for their kindness, their good sportsmanship about the whole thing, for playing along, for making me feel like a friend and for just embracing me as I am and, of course, for being the first to make yolly canon, truly the GOAT

-honourable mention goes to jordan the first time I met him for bringing up yolly and going “yesssss this is the ship!” he had my heart from the moment he was wheeled on stage and he’s had it every day since

-cast four brought us emma may and luke who are SUPERB and apparently decided to make yolly canon of their own accord, bc while I was still mourning my OG yolly legends for that first show I saw with them they ended the show crossing the stage with a HAND HOLD!!! A CANON HAND HOLD

-this was a lot to process and tbh I still cant believe that happens canonly every night

-they have such a fun relationship on stage, polly protects him as they walk past draco and they have a little gossip

-I’ve seen emma’s polly be incredibly excited when Yann’s spell works in the wand dance, I’ve also seen her throw a fit and ask why his worked and her’s didnt bc it’s “not fair” and I love both responses

-their characters also hold hands at the end of the pumpkin placing scene and they literally skip offstage holding hands?? pure

-polly is constantly trying to get yann’s attention during the DADA scene and it’s beautiful

-in many ways their yolly feels a lot younger than jordan and sineads and they seem to play a lot more games when it comes to their relationship, like real schoolgirl crushes on eachother

-I have a friend (@karl-jenkins) who described it as polly actively pursuing yann and yann playing hard to get until craig dies and they realise life is too short to not be together and that feels really fitting for them

-jordan and sinead were more two best friends who were as close as friends can be, knowing how to push each others buttons and tease eachother with all the true love and fondness bubbling just beneath the surface ready to spill and I am irrevocably in love with both of their versions

-stage door mentions of yolly include leah mentioning that she’d heard a lot about them recently and agreeing that polly doesnt NEED yann (bc shes a boss ass bitch on her own) but that they’d be a good couple so we stan her

-me telling ryan my yann’s backstory after he LIED to me about having one for him kssjsjs and jon overhearing and being more into it than any other person I’ve encountered 

-jon, out of absolutely nowhere, saying “tell me about your yann and polly fanfictions!!!” I mean...what?

-in summary, yolly is canon and the yolly shippers stay winning

-thank you for your time and please let me know if there’s any yolly moments that you have seen yourself!!!!

#hp #cursed child #yolly #yann and polly #yann fredericks #polly chapman #harry potter and the cursed child #cursed child recaps #ccsquad #me i guess #I'm certain I've forgotten a LOT bc im sick and exhausted so I may edit this at some point or reblog to add more #but in the meantime can we just appreciate that they did THAT #for me???? #i dont deserve them and will love forever #(also as I told jon I know they did it for me bc jordan TOLD ME they did it for me so pls dont come for me) #(also I tried my best not to be Annoying about it and sinead sent me the sweetest message after cast chnage thankig me for my support so) #(and saying how much her and jordan enjoy my tweets and entusiasm so!!! I can only assume their cool w it sksk)

[vagrantblvrd]

Skies So Blue (1/1)

Summary: There’s always a problem when it comes to the crew.

Always.

Said problems range from minor inconveniences like a diet eCola shortage in the penthouse to life-threatening injuries. (Sometimes one leads to the other because the ones with an addiction to the stuff are certifiable, but that’s another problem altogether.)

Notes: An Anon wanted my thoughts on this GTA V video. :D?

(Read on AO3)

There’s always a problem when it comes to the crew.

Always.

Said problems range from minor inconveniences like a diet eCola shortage in the penthouse to life-threatening injuries. (Sometimes one leads to the other because the ones with an addiction to the stuff are certifiable, but that’s another problem altogether.)

The current problem is that Geoff’s out of town for business and he took both Alfredo and Matt, arguably the last two sane members of the crew left besides Trevor himself. And while Trevor is in charge these days, you wouldn’t notice by the way they act.

(Geoff warned him though, when he and Lindsay handed the reins over. Told him all about how they were horrible human beings and, “God have mercy on your soul, because the bastard sure as hell had none for mine,” and left for what he insisted was a long overdue vacation from the crew. Lindsay had laughed as she patted him on the cheek with a “You poor, stupid bastard,” before going off to rain chaos on the unsuspecting now she was free to do so.)

Geoff is out of town, the crew treats Trevor like a substitute teacher in an 80s/early 90s movie, and to make matters worse? It’s been a while since the crew’s pulled a heist or a job that requires more than the bare minimum from them.

They’re bored.

They’re bored and Trevor’s learned that a bored Fake AH Crew is a dangerous Fake AH Crew because they make their own entertainment.

While some good things have come out of their shenanigans in the past – improved team morale for starters – said shenanigans also draw unwanted attention from local law enforcement that’s no good for future plans they may have.

So.

“You...want me to kidnap you.”

Trevor grins, nice and friendly and holds up the wad of cash he’s offering as payment to a fine young gentleman.

New enough to Los Santos that he hasn’t heard (too much) about the Fakes aside from a few key points. (Big crew, don’t fuck with them or you’ll be sorry, yaddah, yaddah, yaddah.)

Hasn’t heard about their more outrageous exploits or what they like to do to blow off steam for their own enrichment. (Pack of idiots rolling a pumpkin around their enclosure and all.)

Most importantly, he’s just stupid enough, greedy enough, to be blinded to the amount of money Trevor’s offering for an afternoon of driving him around.

“Well I mean,” Trevor says, goes a little singsong. “’Kidnap’ is such an ugly word, you know. All these connotations to it. No, no.”

Goodness no.

“I want you to steal a car for me.”

The guy – Frank? Jimmy? Trevor doesn't remember, and if he’s being honest with himself, he doesn’t care.

See, Trevor asked around, got a short list of potential candidates for this little task that might need a reminder of how things work in Los Santos. A quick little tutorial for the ones new to town like this fine fellow who’s already ruffled a few feathers.

“...The car you will be in,” Lyle? Kyle? says, nice and slow, like he’s solving one of the world’s greatest mysteries. “That one.”

Trevor tips his head to the side.

“If you don’t want to earn some pocket money, I can always find someone else who will,” Trevor says.

Because Los Santos.

Chock full of people like this one.

The guy squints at Trevor.

Big guy. Somewhat imposing, if you happen to be easily imposed. Nose that’s been broken at least once and rough around the edges (aren’t they all, though?). Scruff going on to make him seem older and admirably suspicious because it is an odd request.

“What’s the catch?”

Trevor doesn’t mean to laugh, but he does.

“Oh, you know,” he says, big, big smile. “The usual.”

========

Gerald, Trevor’s going to call him Gerald, takes the offer.

“Sure, why the fuck not?”

It’s a lot of money just to steal a car, and Trevor was reliably informed Gerald would do just about anything for the right price.

Sold a lot of people out for less, or so Trevor’s heard. Has a habit of screwing over his partners and so on and Trevor is delighted the man’s greed has gotten the better of him yet once again. Makes having to send one of the others to pay him a little visit unnecessary later.

Birds and stones, and a delicious touch of karma because some of the people Gerald’s fucked over were theirs and that simply won’t do.

Gerald doesn’t seem to have caught on just yet, but Trevor’s sure he’ll figure it out along the way.

========

There are rules to this, of course.

The others may use any and all vehicles at their disposal, but weapons aren’t allowed.

If, for example, one of them were to get their hands on a Lazer from Zancudo, they’re not allowed to use missiles (homing or otherwise) or the cannons. (If they get their hands on tank, just. No.)

Gerald is likewise forbidden from using weapons. In case he were to get ideas, what with Trevor riding along in the backseat of their vehicle and all. (Trevor’s wearing his favorite clothes and would just hate to get blood on them.)

Other than that, it’s a free-for-all, which in Trevor’s experience always goes smoothly with this bunch.

========

“Oh, my,” Trevor says, watching a Cargobob overshoot them. “That was a close one, wasn’t it.”

Gerald swears, anger and something like panic creeping into his voice and for good reason. The crew is out in force today, Cargobobs overhead and stolen police cars behind. A generous smattering of other stolen vehicles all over the place and they’ve only been at this for twenty, thirty minutes at the outside.

Very dramatic, all of it.

Pulse-pounding adventure and danger. High-speed chases and the car’s engine is making this distressing noise, smoke coming from its engine.

Trevor waves as an SUV goes screaming past, and snaps a picture with his phone – it’s bound to turn out blurry and out of focus, but he’s sure Jeremy will appreciate the thought behind it.

“What the fuck is wrong with you people?” Gerald demands as he puts their poor car in reverse, aiming for a side street they passed. “I mean, seriously. What the fuck?”

Trevor grins and takes a picture of Gerald as he scowls at Trevor in the rearview.

For memories.

“Creative types,” he says, which isn’t stretching the truth at all. The others come up with the most...inventive heists and all sorts of shenanigans. “Wacky.”

========

After the Tank incident several years back, about the time Trevor got dragged into the madness that is the Fake AH Crew, they’re forbidden from bringing a tank into the city.

APCs and the like, however, are not tanks.

“Holy shit,” Gerald whispers, the very image of a broken man. “Holy shit.”

Trevor hmms, and checks to make sure his seat-belt is secure.

“Indeed,” he agrees, and it’s such a shame he ran out of physical room on his phone for videos because their tiny little car facing a line of Brickades is a stunning sight.

Gerald makes this noise in the back of his throat, and Trevor can see the moment he throws all caution to the wind and has his fuck it, what the fuck moment as he puts his foot to the pedal and they shoot forward.

While there are several Brickades present, there aren’t enough to create an effective blockade. More to intimidate than anything else, and Gerald squeezes their car through the narrow gap left open to them with inches to spare. (At least two, possibly three.)

========

There’s a small flock of drones buzzing around them and a Terrorbyte bearing down on them at the other end of the runway. (Not great odds, but Gerald is proving to be quite resourceful or just incredibly lucky.)

“Are those goddamned blimps?”

There’s also a parachute in the air, and by the rainbow pattern it has to be Gavin.

“They’re faster than you’d think,” Trevor says, “and surprisingly maneuverable.”

He smiles, bland little thing, when Gerald gives him an incredulous look.

========

“Why the hell do you people have so many vehicles?”

Trevor glances up from his phone.

“Sorry, what?” he asks, and Gerald repeats himself with a skosh more emphasis this time.

Trevor shrugs, glancing out his window at the freight train they're keeping pace with, occasional flashes of color as the others tries to land on one of the flatcars. They look like dolphins swimming alongside ye olde sailing ships.

Beautiful and graceful even in failure.

They’re being (gently) herded back to Los Santos, although Gerald seems to think he’s still in control of their destination and not the other way around.

“Well I mean,” he says, and shrugs again. “Nice things.”

Shiny, shiny things. Like a kid in a candy store, his crew. See something flashy, shiny and have to have it. Come up with an idea for a heist to get their hands on it or some form of shenanigans or what have you.

Gerald stares at him in the rearview mirror as though he’s realized they’re all a bunch of lunatics.

========

Like all good things, this merry little chase Gerald’s been leading the others must end.

Unlike all good things, it ends with a blockade created with a handy-dandy rocket launcher, several parked cars, and a crashed ultralight as several Cargobobs hover overhead. (They really do love their Cargobobs.)

Also, Ryan hauling poor Gerald out of the driver’s seat where he’s in the process of beating the everloving shit out of him.

Trevor can’t hear whatever Ryan’s telling Gerald as he teaches him a lesson using violence – he’d be a terrible teacher – but he can guess.

Winces as Ryan drags Gerald in for one last doozy of a punch before dropping his unconscious body to the ground, shoulders heaving a little from exertion. Sees Ryan take a moment to compose himself before he makes his way back to the battered car that’s somehow survived the day’s activities.

He unlocks the door and smiles up at Ryan when he wrenches it open like a brute.

“Hello, Ryan,” he says, bright and cheerful. Flattens a hand against his chest and bats his eyes up at the strong, burly man who rescued him from the clutches of the vile kidnapper. Says, with a terrible Southern accent, “My hero.”

Ryan stares at him for a long, long moment, and then he sighs.

All dramatic about it too, the way Geoff gets sometimes as though life is an endless bout of pain and suffering and woe is him, woe is him.

“I hate you,” Ryan says, matter-of-fact, just a simple little declaration.

Trevor smiles.

“I’m sure you do,” he says. Tips his head to the side. “But the real question is, are you still bored?”

There’s a (literal) trail of crashed and ruined vehicles behind them marking the meandering path Gerald took and who knows how much in property damage.

Chaos, panic, and so on. (Par for the course for them.)

Ryan opens his mouth, and pauses.

Unconsciously mirrors Trevor by tipping his head the opposite direction as he considers Trevor’s question. Makes this annoyed sound when he finds his answer.

“...No,” he admits.

Trevor beams at him.

“Well there you go, then!” he says.

The crew had an exciting day and Gerald got his comeuppance for fucking over one of theirs. (Most likely he hasn’t connected the dots, but if he hasn’t there’s always next time.)

“You’re a lunatic,” Ryan says, as though a sane man would be in Trevor’s position with the crew.

Trevor laughs, because yes, but also -

“Thank you, Mr. Vagabond. I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Ryan snorts and steps back to let Trevor out of the poor battered car that’s somehow survived everything they threw at it today.

Trevor looks around at the destruction, random people gawking far too close for their own safety. Looks up, and smiles at the Cargobobs circling the area.

The lone Frogger, because Lindsay.

Back down at Ryan who’s got his hand pressed to his earpiece as he talks to the others to let them know Trevor’s “mugger” has been neutralized and Trevor himself is unharmed and so on and so forth.

He feels something a lot like fondness as Ryan keeps shooting him these little looks, giving that up t some point to stand beside him. Shoulder touching Trevor’s because then at least, he’ll have some warning if Trevor slips away to start a bonus round to their little game.

Overhead one of the Cargobobs separates from the pack and looks for a good place to land to ferry them back to the penthouse, and the faint sound of sirens sound in the distance.

Good old LSPD and various emergency services leaping into action now that the Fake AH Crew has finished another one of their games and it’s safe for people to come out to deal with the mess left behind. It’s an odd agreement, understanding, they have, because this kind of game isn’t about body counts the LSPD’s learned it’s better in the long run if the crew get to have their fun.

Trevor laughs at the absurdity of it all because they’re all a little mad here, aren’t they? Keeps things interesting.

“Madman,” Ryan says with a little shake of his head and something like amusement in his voice. “Let’s go home.”

Well, the penthouse, really.

Celebratory drinks, and takeout set to embellished recounting of the day’s adventures. Plans for future rounds with a few tweaks thrown in, and this overall sense of accomplishment on Trevor’s part because the damn pumpkin worked.

#ragehappy #fahc au #Anon #Kings of Nowhere #vagrant fic #can be shippy if you want??? #i'm all for it #\o/ #(also thank you so much anon! XD <333!)

[sciencelings-writes]

What is Dead May Never Die

ENDGAME SPOILERS 

Post-Endgame Guardian Angel AU

The last thing Tony saw was his family. A selfish part of him wished that his little Morgan was there, but he was glad that she wasn’t. This would be hard on her if she even understood what was happening. His wife, his beautiful perfect wife crouched in front of him in her new cool-toned armor, trying her hardest not to break down. Behind her was Peter with Rhodey’s gray metal arm around his shoulders, both with tears in their eyes, but Peter’s were a little more apparent. He seemed to be trying he hide it with his hands over his mouth but his red-rimmed eyes were heartbreakingly obvious.

Tony knew that he was only moments away from death, he could feel it looming over him and he was paralyzed. He had never been afraid of death, only of leaving. He didn’t want to leave his wife or his best friends or his kid… kids. He didn’t want to leave Morgan or Peter. He wished he had reached out to Harley more, he could raise Morgan more, he could protect Peter more. He would do anything to stay. To not have to know what his death would do to the people around him.

He thought about Peter, and how it would be worse for him because it wasn’t the first time for something like this to happen. He regretted thinking about it, at least Peter was alive. Tony sacrificed his life to keep it that way. Peter may be traumatized and broken-hearted but he was alive. They were all alive.

The last thing Tony heard was a sob. He knew it was from Pepper, when she thought he had bit the dust. But he had a single moment left. He used it thinking about the people he loved. He was content.

He didn’t think that there was anything after death. He had always believed the grimmest of afterlives, that there was just darkness. He would just stop existing. However, he wasn’t right about that. He entered the light and there was something more. He tried to convince himself that it was an illusion, but he was glad that it wasn’t when his vision cleared.

“Good morning Shellhead, I’m glad I’m not the only one that ended up here.” An ethereal version of Natasha Romanov smiled down at him and held out her hand to help him stand up. She looked pristine and almost glowing. Her short curled hair was bright and looked like it had been animated for a Disney movie and her eyes were greener than ever. That wasn’t the strangest thing though. On her back were a pair of elegant sharp wings. If Tony knew better, he’d say she was an angel. They started out as red as her hair at the top but the feathers became more frosted white as they went down. She looked like she was part hellfire and part cumulonimbus cloud.

Tony honestly didn’t think that his friend could look more beautifully terrifying.

“You look good for being dead,” Tony took her hand and sort of floated to his feet. It was an odd feeling. Being dead felt really weird in a way that he couldn’t explain. Light, painless, warm, relaxing, he didn’t remember feeling anything like it.

“Surprisingly enough, so do you.” Nat quirked an eyebrow up.

“Oh! Are there mirrors in hell?” Tony looked around.

“We didn’t sacrifice our lives to end up in hell. We have a much more fun job.” She smirked.

“Does the job require… uh, wings? Nice foliage by the way.”

“They’re a perk. Apparently, sacrificing yourself for the universe is pretty noble in the eyes of whoever watches over the dead. We’re not just ghosts now. We got an upgrade.”

“What in the everloving Christ do you mean. Can you speak like a normal person?”

“We’re guardian angels now. Apparently, heroes stay heroes. Except we’re a little more anonymous now. I’ve never had that as a problem but you might have to get used to it.”

“Does that mean… I can..” Tony stumbled with a thought. Nat’s eyes softened.

“You can watch over your family. They can’t see you, I already tried to see Clint but he passed right through me. We can only protect them now.”

“I don’t care I just want to see them,” Tony said with a soft sob.

“You will.” Nat nodded. “It just may not be as kind to you as you think it will be.”

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Tony never thought that he would be attending his own funeral. It was just self-centered enough to annoy him. It also annoyed him to see everyone so… broken and depressed. Maybe annoyed wasn’t the right word. It felt like being stabbed in the chest even though he was already dead. He hated seeing his family all huddled together with tears on their cheeks and haunted looks from the ones who witnessed it.

He hated that Morgan didn’t understand and that Peter understood much too well. He hated that Pepper could barely hold herself together and that Harley had to stand alone at the back and barely anyone knew who he was. He hated that even people he thought hated him stood with their eyes down in respectful sorrow.

He tried to keep an eye on everyone but decided that after Peter muttered something to May and departed from the group, he decided to follow him. He realized why he followed when Peter started to sob, far away from the group, so that no one would hear his despair, except for the person he was despairing over.

Tony walked silently in front of his kid. The kid that didn’t see him. Tony didn’t care, he reached out his hand and wiped the tears from his cheeks. Surprisingly, he could. Peter’s sobs slowed down and took a shaky breath. With an ethereal hand on Peter’s back, Tony led his boy to a bench at the edge of the lake, where they could only see the floral memorial floating only a dozen feet away.

“I’m sorry Tony…” Peter whispered.

“Don’t you fucking start-” Tony stated, knowing fully well that Peter couldn’t hear him.

“I can’t- I can’t live without you… I’m not… strong enough.” Peter stammered.

“You are the strongest person I know.”

“I already lost my parents and my uncle and now you… is it going to be May next? Am I just cursed because it definitely feels like it. I’m not… god, what did I do wrong to deserve this. Was I like, Hitler in my past life? Did I like, kill Abraham Lincoln or Jesus? Oh my god did I kill Jesus.”

“You didn’t kill Jesus, the universe just wants to get even because you’re too… good. And the universe is kind of an asshole.”

“Anyway, I’m sorry that you won’t see your little iron kid grow up or you won’t… god, I remember planning on inviting you to my graduation… and… shit, you’re going to miss so much.” Peter stumbled.

“Nothing’s going to keep me away from my family, not even biting the dust,” Tony promised to deaf ears.

“When you’re up there… say hi to mom and dad… and Ben for me. Tell them that I miss them. And I already miss you. I love you Mr. Stark. You were the closest thing I had to a dad when I had thought that there wasn’t a chance of getting that kind of thing ever again. I… You helped me. So much. It’s easier to convince myself that you weren’t stuck with me.”

Tony didn’t, no, couldn’t reply. He knew that Peter clung to him like the father figure that he so desperately needed but he wasn’t aware that Peter felt guilty for even existing. When he thought about it, he could see it. After his parents had died, Richard Parker's brother Ben took Peter in. Peter wasn’t biologically related to May. He thought he was too much of a burden on her. He honestly didn’t completely understand how goddamn much she loved him.

Tony considered that the kid's guilt complex was just as annoyingly persistent as his own. He really wished that it wasn’t, that shit was self-destructive and Peter really didn’t deserve anything like that. Peter Parker deserved more than what anyone in the universe could give him. Peter Parker deserved every good thing and yet if given the chance, would give it all away to someone he deemed needed it more despite needing some for himself.

Tony didn’t know exactly how he did it, but he knew that Peter needed someone, someone he could relate to and he knew that he couldn’t let the kid be alone, without comfort. If Tony couldn’t hold his kid in his arms, he was going to find someone who could. And it had to be someone new. Someone he knew would get along with Peter. He didn’t know exactly what he did, but he somehow connected them.

“Peter?” Harley asked from several feet behind them.

“Oh shit, sorry. Was I…” Peter quickly straightened up and wiped the leftover tears from off of his cheeks as if it wasn't completely obvious that he had been crying.

“No, I just left to get some fresh air, even though we were already outside. You know he talked about you, right?” Tony’s other almost son sat by Peter on the bench, close enough to activate the emergency half hug if he needed to.

“Oh god…” Peter groaned with some exaggeration.

“Nothing too bad. You’ll be glad to know that I thought you were a nerd before I knew you were a five foot three dumbass.” Harley smiled warmly, meaning no harm in his words. He was the kind of guy that called his best friends dumb bitches as he held them in his arms.

“Yeah well that’s not hard to tell, I’m pretty sure that one local paper has me on record saying some pretty nerdy stuff as well as Buzzfeed. I think they made a compilation of the dumb shit I’ve said…”

“Yeah, Tony printed it out and hung it in the lab.”

“He did what?” Peter looked over with an aggressively confused expression.

“He did, he also has one printed of his own combacks to compare you humor to his own. They are surprisingly similar. He just tends to reference older movies than you do.” Harley shrugged.

“Okay that was like one afternoon, I didn’t do it often.” Tony sighed, still thinking to verbalize his thoughts as if anyone could hear him.

“I mean I totally got my humor from him. Captain America just isn’t as funny.”

“You’re damn right.” Tony scoffed.

“He’s only ever accidentally funny like he’s never trying to be and it just happens. It’s mostly just funny to make fun of him.” Harley explained.

“So Tony told you about Cap. I never really knew much about him, I had Tony right after the whole civil war thing and they had too much bad blood to talk about super casually. I never really got the chance to figure him out.”

“There isn’t really much to figure out. He’s the definition of a righteous dumbass but at least he’s becoming more self-aware. Also, I think you’re trying to avoid talking about Tony.” Harley's words made Peter avoid his eyes and become entranced with a single blueish rock on the ground. Harley activated the comforting half hug and Peter leaned in without a moment's hesitation.

“I guess there was a reason for that… I want to pretend that he’s not gone even though I heard his heart stop beating. I want to believe he’s still around, spying on me and sending vague texts about what the baby monitor protocol picked up, just to show that he was still watching even though I’m very sure he was constantly checking in with Karen to see if I was doing anything stupid.” Peter rambled.

“He is… was pretty clingy.”

“Hey! Excuse me for caring…” Tony groaned.

“We should probably get back to the crowd. I wanted to meet Thor…” Peter sighed and stood up.

“Yeah, and I want you to meet Morgan, she is an absolute gem.” Harley smiled. “Tony told her about you so she might immediately claim you once she figures out who you are.”

“I have high expectations then.” They started to walk away from Tony before Peter looked back a little confused.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I just… I thought I saw him… God, I’m deep in denial...”

“Come on, I think you need a nap or something…”

“Okay…” Peter sighed as his eyes scanned the area and hesitated right where Tony was. But Peter didn’t see him. Tony stood there in thought, Peter… saw him. Even if only for a moment. Only a glance. Tony wasn’t completely invisible and he was desperate to run with the hint of an idea.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Peter admitted, he was not handling Tony’s death well. He couldn’t go to sleep without dreaming of the moment when he was gone. He woke up gasping and with May running into his room to calm him down. He always said he was fine but they both knew that he was having a rough time. And she knew that this wasn’t something she could fix.

For some reason, it was different than when Ben died. It shouldn’t have been, it felt the same, but it wasn’t. When Ben died, Peter didn’t see him everywhere like he was alive.He didn’t see Ben out of the corner of his eye but he still felt the warm blood on his hands. Peter just kept seeing Tony out of the corner of his eye but when he did a double take, he was gone. Like he was never there. He was starting to think that he was going crazy.

It was only after several events that he began to realize that he may not be crazy and that something more was going on. First was the pictures. Whenever he took pictures, there was an odd little blob of light in a bunch of them, some of them blurred for no reason and sometimes there was an indistinguishable figure.

Then weird things happened when he was on patrol. He used Spider-Man as an escape even though hearing Karens voice and being in the suit was hard. He would do his normal thing of quipping with criminals who tried to take advantage of the world being in disarray and every once in a while, weird shit happened. He would have a knife thrown at him and before he could dodge, it would be knocked out of the air by nothing. He would be being shot at and not a single one would even graze his body even though the chances of that were minuscule.  

Along with the visual hallucinations, he had auditory hallucinations. He heard Tony. Well, not really. It was like he could predict what the man would say in his mind while his memory playing tricks on him. It happened constantly. When he woke up, he “imagined” Tony telling him to wake up with a sarcastically optimistic phrase, when he had a nightmare he thought of what Tony would do to comfort him and when he was alone there was always Tony’s voice keeping him company.

So, he was going crazy. Until it started to make sense. Until he started to learn more about the paranormal. He realized that Tony’s spirit was still around to annoy him. It made it a little harder to deal with the loss but when he realized that Tony was still there, he didn’t want to ignore it. He wanted to contact his deceased mentor.

Peter got prepared. He watched a bunch of ghost hunting shows to get ready for something like this and he managed to acquire everything he would need. Spend the weekend at the Starks lake home, check. A really sensitive microphone, check. An Ouija board that Aunt May forbade him to use, check. A camera to document it all, check. The Iron Man build-a-bear that Morgan let him borrow, check. His emotional support rom-com queued on the TV, check. He decided that he was fully prepared for his totally scientific experiment.

Of course before he was able to execute it, he had to have a family dinner with Pepper and Morgan and Harley and he ended up having to do most of the cooking because Harley was entertaining Morgan and Pepper had last minute work to do. Thankfully, Peter was better at cooking than May and not only did nothing set on fire, but the actual food ended up not being too bad. It could’ve been classified as pretty good. Peter told them how he used to help Ben make food because May was always back late from work and she could never make anything more complicated than pasta.

They all tried to make conversation as if they weren’t all heavily traumatized. Thankfully, Morgan was unaware of the constant haze of depression in the air and she talked as if nothing was wrong. It was refreshing. She blabbled about anything she could think of and truthfully Peter couldn’t understand most of it but Pepper and Harley, who had experience with small children, translated as if it were another language.

After dinner, Peter hung out with Morgan while Pepper and Harley did the dishes and cleaned up. It took a lot of focus to figure out what Morgan was saying but he eventually pieced together that Tony had actually told her about Peter. She latched onto him with impressive speed and accuracy. It took him two full hours to convince her to get off. And he could only do that when he promised to tell her a story which ended up being him telling her about the time Tony went in disguise to his school and used his civilian name of ‘Anthony Potts’ to check him out for a mission that ended up just being a movie marathon because he discovered that Peter had never watched Monty Python. May ended up getting mad but not for long because Tony let her join them.

Then Morgan asked him to sing. She said that her dad did it when she had nightmares and she wanted to make sure that she would have good dreams. Peter wasn’t strong enough to say no so he sang the Italian lullaby that May had put back into play after his own nightmares had come back in full force. He would be embarrassed about it but it was one of those things that helped more than he was willing to admit. It made him feel safe and nostalgic like looking at an old book that he used to love or listening to a song that had been his favorite so many years ago.

His voice wasn’t bad, it just wasn’t anything unique. It was gentle and deeper than his speaking voice but at least he wasn’t tone deaf. Peter sang until he could hear Morgans breathing and heart-rate slow down enough until he was pretty sure she was asleep. When he snuck out of the room, Pepper gave him a look which revealed that not only did she hear him but she thought it was precious. She smiled when his cheeks turned pink in embarrassment.

“Don’t you dare…” He unsuccessfully threatened.

“Come on Peter, that was adorable.”

“My fragile masculinity is on the line, Mrs. Stark.” He defended as she huffed out a quiet laugh that tried to be quiet as not to wake her kid.

“Well, I think you’re making a great big brother. How are you so good with kids? Does May have any siblings with kids?”

“No, but Spider-Man has to deal with a fair amount of children so I guess I got used to it. Even to a point where I had to take care of an infant for a full six hours after this really stressed lady left it on the subway and she cried when she saw me.”

“And the kid survived? Well, count me as impressed.” She patted the seat next to her. “Do you want to watch a movie?”

“Nah, I was planning on communicating with your husband with ghost stuff before it gets too late.”

“If a demon possesses my house then you have to call Doctor Strange. I feel like he would be able to deal with that type of thing.”

“Well, yeah, I don’t think a demon will come through though.” He flopped next to her on the couch and she automatically wrapped her arm around his shoulders. “But if one does, I’m sure we can take an impromptu trip to New Asgard while our magical doctor takes care of it.”

“I like the way you think. So, why are you suddenly interested in summoning the ghost of my spouse?”

“There has been some weird shit going on that I think is paranormal and might be Tony following me around. I don’t know, it’s hard to explain but maybe if I can talk to him, I’ll be able to find out what’s going on.” Peter shrugged.

They talked for a while, Peter trying to explain what had been going on and why he thought it was Tony, Pepper seeming a little doubtful but not explicitly so. Eventually, Pepper decided to go check up on Morgan and leave him to his ghost hunting.

Peter lit some a bunch of random candles, a handful of them being strongly scented from some store specifically for stuff like that. He set up the camera and the sensitive microphone before putting the Oujia board on the coffee table and the Iron Man build-a-bear on his lap. He took a breath before starting the session.

“Mr. Stark... If you’re here, can you uh, make your presence known?” His fingertips lightly rested on the planchette and waited for something to happen. Then the rolling piece of wood started to move without him putting much pressure on it. It pointed at the letters in the order of ‘H-E-Y K-I-D.’ Which is very much a greeting Tony would use. Peter smiled and felt oddly giddy.

“Okay uh, cool.” Peter tried to process the implications while the planchette moved again. This time it spelled out E-V-P.

“Oh, you want to talk through the microphone?”

‘E-A-S-I-E-R’

“Are you too impatient Mr. Stark?”

‘K-I-D’

“Okay fine, the microphone is already connected, go wild.”

‘D-O-N-T-S-A-S-S-M-E’

“You’re too dead to tell me what to do.”

‘R-U-D-E’

“What I want to know is if I can get you back. Not like a zombie but I want to… I want to see you. I want to talk to you. If we can figure out how you can mess with technology, we might be able to make somthing that could… be you.” Tony didn’t respond. Not using the Ouija board or the EVP. “I’m getting you back Tony. I can’t… I can’t live without you.” Peter played back the recording a second later and sobbed when he heard Tony’s voice. Not only was Peter not crazy but what he said made him feel like someone took his heart out and squeezed it.

‘I’ve never left you.’ his voice was filled with static and it took a few tries to hear the words but when he did, he froze in place.

“We’re going to find a way. Your daughter deserves to know her father.”

‘You deserve to have one too.’

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

It was not easy. It took months of constant effort and repeating tests over and over. It took weeks of sleepless nights and a couple of frustrated meltdowns but finally, Peter found something that Tony could manipulate well enough to actually show himself. He appeared in the form of a blue hologram and Peter finally saw the true form of his father figure. Tony had big fluffy wings that he said were red and gold but it didn’t translate very well with the blue hologram but they could figure that out. He couldn’t focus on the success, he had to make sure that everything worked. He made Tony talk to him and when there wasn’t any interference, he choked back a sob.

Then there was the physical test. Tony reached out his hand and Peter met it with his own, completely expecting it to pass through like it would with a normal hologram. But when their hands met, he felt it. Tony was actually there. Not quite like a real person but it wasn’t like a ghost. It was difficult to explain, but Tony was there. And Peter couldn’t control being buried in a hug. Tony used his wings for the hug too like having two extra arms and Peter had never felt safer. It took a few minutes before he was able to let go.

Tony was back, and Peter refused to lose him ever again.

#Irondad #iron dad #endgame spoilers #spoilers #endgame #peter parker #harley keener #pepper potts #pepper stark #morgan stark #my fic #guardian angel au #tony stark #iron fam #like heavy iron fam

[kiruuuuu]

Glaz/Echo oneshot in which they go out together and eat sushi. Simple enough, right? (Rating T, fluff/humour, ~3.7k words) - thank you @magehir​ for the prompt and for generally fuelling any kind of insanity 💜💜

.

“You”, Echo says with pathos while indicating the delicacies laid out in front of them with a grandiose gesture, “are about to have a religious experience.” It could be a painting with how pretty they’re laid down, a speck of colour here, a rich, warm stripe there; a still life mostly kept dark and white, simplistic, tasteful, exquisite. All it needs is a drop of grass green, a touch of a full, earthy colour, and it’s perfect. “You’re going to ascend. Before this, your life was woefully lacking and now it’s about to send you into another dimension of flavour, you’ll taste things you’ve never tasted before. Are you sure you’re ready?”

Next to him, Glaz is following his praise with a raised eyebrow, both amused and sceptical. “It’s just fish and rice”, he states, missing the point so spectacularly Echo is amazed they’re even in the same room when clearly, they must be talking to different people. Because he did not just say that.

“There are a few things I need to tell you before you even touch any of this and if you try to regardless, I’m going to taser you, so be patient.”

“I am very patient”, Glaz replies calmly and as much as Echo might want to convince himself his boyfriend needs to sit on his hands to hold back on devouring the whole platter all by himself, he has to admit that the Russian is indeed nothing but composed. He can’t even successfully weave this into his own narrative because trying to portray it as negative would earn him nothing but a snort and a slight shake of the head which he’d very much deserve. Oh would he ever. Especially after all the patience Glaz has shown him in the unsteady months leading up to their tentative relationship, and even more so afterwards – were Echo religious, he’d call him a saint.

“I’d hope so as I actually have one with me. Since you’re about as adept with chopsticks as a monkey is with a typewriter – implying that potentially, eventually, you’d get something into your mouth but it might take several generations –, you should -”

“Wait, are you for real? You brought a taser?”

Rolling his eyes at the interruption, Echo affirms: “Yes, Manu asked me to take a closer look because she might want a similar version for her drone. Moving on: you can use your hands, that’s how it’s eaten traditionally, and if people stare, just ignore them.”

“When I tell you the same thing while we’re holding hands, you complain.”

Somehow, Echo is beginning to think Glaz is getting tired of his lengthy introduction. “Listen”, he hisses, “that’s two completely different things. This is sacred, alright? No one can tell you how to eat sushi properly, don’t let anyone interfere when you’re sitting down and enjoying some. Unless you’re doing it wrong. Then it’s your own fault.”

“Sweetheart -”

“Don’t call me that.” A quick glance around the room assures Echo that no one is paying attention to them, fortunately. Even now, he’s still paranoid about anyone coming to the wrong conclusion – or maybe it’d be the right conclusion, because they are together, aren’t they? They kiss behind closed doors and spend more nights in each other’s company than not, but it’s different. Isn’t it? Two men, it’s just -

“I’m really hungry. Just tell me what to eat and how.”

Echo snaps out of his brief internal crisis to remind himself that he’s about to introduce a person very dear to his heart to one of his most important passions. “These are called Nigiri and you should dip them fish side down in the soy sauce, just lightly so the rice never touches it, and then you eat them whole. If you bite them off or drench the rice in sauce, you’ll bring dishonour over your entire family.”

“Don’t worry, they support my decisions”, Glaz responds good-naturedly and reaches for a salmon Nigiri, only to pause and sigh when Echo catches his wrist to teach him about which kind of fish to eat first. Was he raised in a barn? “Do I need to visit the kitchen and thank the chef personally for preparing such a beautiful meal for me before I’m worthy enough to even look at it?”

“What? Of course not, don’t be ridiculous.” Echo considers the suggestion for a moment. “Then again, you could -”

Glaz shoots him a look which expresses just how done he is and quickly snags the salmon with his other hand, almost drops it in the soy sauce and pops it into his mouth before Echo can stop him. How very dare he, salmon tastes too strong, now the others – like butterfish – will pale against it and probably not appeal to Glaz as much as they might have had he started out with them, he really has no idea what he’s doing which Echo supposes should be alright as Glaz has never had sushi before, and yet he could’ve listened and that’s when the Russian makes a gagging noise.

And what the fuck.

What the actual, everloving fuck.

“Oh no”, Glaz murmurs around a mouthful of literal ambrosia, grimacing and paradoxically looking like he’s not enjoying himself which is utterly impossible. Only when he downs half his water to apparently wash the taste from his tongue (and who would ever do that?), it dawns on Echo that he’s being serious. And as if he couldn’t be affronted enough, his boyfriend adds a croaked: “This… is disgusting.”

Echo blinks, uncomprehending. “You’re joking, right?”

He has to be. There’s no other way. No one would voluntarily turn down the nectar of the Gods, except for Glaz it looks like, since he’s still making a face and regarding the rest of the sushi warily. “How can you eat this? The fish is cold and still raw, aren’t you going to get sick from this?”

It makes no sense. Scowling up a storm, Echo picks up one of the salmon pieces himself and eats it – maybe the restaurant doesn’t live up to its ratings, but no, it’s delicious. The fish-rice ratio obviously isn’t as generous as in his home country, and the rice isn’t quite the same, but at its core it’s correct and tasty and why doesn’t he like it. “You’re obviously doing it wrong”, he announces, still taken aback.

“Well, I did what you told me and it’s one of the worst things I’ve ever put in my mouth, so that doesn’t really make it my fault.”

“Yes. It absolutely does, there must be something wrong with you. Don’t you Russians eat a lot of fish? How can you dislike this?”

“To be quite honest, I don’t see how you can like this, but go ahead, eat it all and we’ll stop by a chip shop on the way back so I can get something for myself.”

“A chip -” Echo almost chokes on the words. “That’s what you want to have instead? Instead of the pinnacle of haute cuisine worldwide?!”

“I don’t like it, so yes, I’d rather have something else.”

“You haven’t even… You know what, try another piece. Here, this is tuna. Everyone likes tuna. You like tuna, I know as much, so eat it. Maybe put a little wasabi on it.”

Glaz looks at him in exasperation, but it says a lot (and a lot of very positive things about him) that he reaches out nonetheless, just to appease Echo. Sometimes it worries him, the lengths to which Glaz will go to make him happy; it worries him because he’s not sure he won’t keep demanding more. “Wait, wasabi is hot, isn’t it?” As soon as Echo nods, the Russian basically slathers the piece he’s holding in the green paste, probably under the assumption that since he enjoys hot and spicy dishes and doesn’t even shy away from Blitz’ curry, he’ll be alright.

Echo doesn’t get a chance to warn him that chilli and horseradish tolerance are two completely different things because Glaz can be fast when he wants to be, and so he’s merely left to powerlessly (and maybe a tad spitefully) watch as his boyfriend’s eyes widen in disbelief after having gotten a proper taste.

“This”, he gasps and once again reaches for his glass, “is still awful and now my mouth is on fire. Why is my mouth on fire? Masaru, are you trying to kill me?”

“You’ll never get sick from properly prepared sushi, and you only have yourself to blame if you take this much wasabi. I told you it’s hot.”

“Holy crap, I’m dying, give me your wine.” Echo barely gets to open his mouth before Glaz has snatched the aforementioned drink from his side of the table and poured it down his gullet. By now, a few people around them have noticed Glaz’ predicament and glance at them now and then, making Echo’s cheeks redden. Why can’t he just -

“You’re causing a commotion”, he says quietly and is met with a wild look.

“You’re a commotion, I’m still… ow, it hurts. How can you eat any of this?”

“Quietly and more elegantly than you are right now.”

For some reason, Glaz seems to have had enough now and his tone of voice shifts from the one he usually uses for playful banter or mock indignation to genuine irritation. “I just don’t like it, accept it. I’m not going to apologise for what I like or don’t like, this is just – it’s almost slimy in my mouth, and it’s raw on top of that!”

“These kinds of things don’t normally bother you”, Echo shoots back, annoyed as well now. Glaz stares at him, incredulous over the comment, and he feels more blood rush to his face. They’ve both gotten worryingly loud by now, garnering even more attention and it makes him horribly uncomfortable to feel eyes in his back, to know that people are wondering about what’s going on; it turns him prickly and sharpens his words. “It’s an acquired taste, I should’ve figured you’re not ready to appreciate it yet with all that junk you normally eat.”

“You’re usually right there with me, so don’t pretend you’re any better.”

“This is just typical, you never show any respect for my culture.”

“I show no – Masaru, you asked me whether I had electricity growing up!”

“You made no move to learn any Japanese so far.”

“The only word you asked me to teach you in Russian was an equivalent to Yokai so you could go around and wax on about how much you love your stupid drone without anyone realising.”

“Did you just call Yokai stupid?”

“I did, and I’m also calling sushi revolting.”

Momentary outrage makes any retort impossible for Echo, so instead he just gapes at the other man like… well, like a fish out of water. They have their fair share of arguments, some of them valid, constructive and actually useful, some of them none of these things, but Glaz always makes a point out of never hurting or insulting him intentionally. He refrains from saying things out of anger no matter how upset he is and rather withdraws than to resort to name calling, so him going against this really quite important principle signifies that Echo has overstepped a line.

Well. He’s not above doing the same. “And you are a heathen and a philistine who is too blind to appreciate the good things in life.”

“Have you considered that maybe, just maybe, you are, too?”

And when Echo doesn’t respond, Glaz simply gets up and leaves, stalks out of the restaurant and leaves him staring after him.

.

Echo only calls after having drummed sufficiently on his steering wheel with his fingers, then counting until ten red cars have passed him by, and then some. Since he’s parked not directly in front of the restaurant, he felt safe staying for a while until his guilty conscience won and his hands navigated to someone in his contact list by themselves.

Though she sounds busy, Hibana picks up on the second ring. “Hey, what’s up? How’d your date go?”

“It wasn’t a date”, he blurts out without thinking, disregarding the fact that Hibana knows and probably knew before he himself did.

“Right. So how did your date go, you pure ray of sunshine?”

“That’s why I’m calling.”

“Uh-oh.” Some rustling, and then the noise level on her end drops considerably – she must’ve moved to a more private spot. “Don’t tell me you had another fight?”

“Well. He hated the sushi.” Silence. His friend quite obviously expects him to add something, anything else, but he feels he’s said quite enough.

“… and?”

“He hated it. He called it disgusting. I’ve never been so insulted in my life.”

“You’re telling me you fought because he didn’t like sushi?”

He scoffs. “Wouldn’t you have?”

Hibana allows for a brief grace period during which she quite obviously waits for him to admit to his gaffe, but when he doesn’t, she starts yelling.

.

Mute’s expectant expression turns appallingly smug as soon as he realises for whom he just opened the apartment door. His smirk is so self-satisfied Echo is this close to telling him not to bother, he’ll come back later, preferably when Glaz’ flatmates aren’t home. Or maybe just Mute – for some reason, the Brit watches him like a hawk whenever they interact. “What a pleasant surprise”, Mute announces, crosses his arms and leans against the doorframe in an obvious gesture of denying Echo entry without explicitly stating so. “How come you’re gracing us with your presence?”

“I want to speak to Glaz.”

Even slouched like this, Mute is infuriatingly still a tad taller than him and doesn’t look like he’s moving any time soon. “I bet you do. But what if he doesn’t want to speak to you and asked me to get rid of you if you showed up?”

Panic settles low in Echo’s stomach though he does his best not to show it. It’s going to be fine, they’ve had tiffs like this before and though it never turned out this way with anything as trivial as this (and doesn’t that indicate there’s a different underlying problem behind their disagreement, unsolved trouble neither of them have openly addressed yet) – so it’ll be fine. Right? Glaz still likes him enough to stay with him, but maybe he should apologise still. Just to be safe.

“Then… I’d ask you to convince him to hear me out anyway.”

“Sounds like you have something important to tell him.”

Echo falters. He supposes he does, or rather: there are entirely too many things he probably needs to tell Glaz yet not all of them fit into this context, almost none, in fact, so he’s not sure he’ll go through with it. Still, he nods wordlessly which makes Mute thaw considerably and finally step away to allow him in. “He’s in the living room. Don’t be a twat.”

The glare he sends the Brit only garners a meaningful if sarcastic smile indicating the warning is more than warranted in his eyes, and worst of all, Mute follows him when he steps inside the central room connecting their individual bedrooms. Smoke is half draped over an upset-looking Glaz and spreads out over Mute’s legs as well once he joins them, and Rook, despite seeming cosy all curled up in his armchair, changes his expression to something carefully neutral when Echo enters the room. They’re all staring at him as if he just kicked a puppy, which to be fair -

“Can I… talk to you alone?”, he addresses his boyfriend without much hope for success. The undivided attention he’s getting is leaving him flustered and wondering whether it really was such a good idea to come here – even if Hibana had been awfully blunt about it earlier.

Three pairs of eyes slide back to the flickering TV screen yet the volume is so low there’s no doubt they’re listening anyway. “I’d rather we talk here”, Glaz tells him earnestly. “Or else no one’s going to believe me afterwards.”

Alright. Fair enough. Echo knows how important Glaz’ friends are to him, has learnt it the hard way after he’d dropped a few remarks about the inefficiency as well as idiocy of some of Rook’s work routines (really, if he didn’t spend at least an hour talking to people each day he’d be home so much earlier) and Glaz refused to take his side, even defended the Frenchman. So he wants to spread his love life out before them too. Okay. Echo is… not at all prepared for this but he’ll make it work. “Fine. I just thought you might want to hear what I came to say privately.”

“You might as well practise saying it in the presence of other people, right?” Glaz is not budging and his tone of voice makes it crystal clear he feels it’s more than justified. He seems intent on humiliating Echo, or at least that’s what it seems like to him – never before has he…

“So you know why I’m here?”, he tries buying himself some more time. He thought Glaz would receive him with less anger in his demeanour but if that’s how it is, he’s going to make it count. He’s not going to back away like a coward.

“Of course I know. You came here to tell me one thing and quite frankly, it’s long overdue.”

Is it? Echo frowns but nods reluctantly. “I suppose that’s true.”

“Yes. So go ahead and tell me for the first time since we’ve known each other.”

He’s fidgeting though he’s trying not to, attempting to ignore the others who pointedly don’t look in his direction and manages to focus mostly on Glaz’ expectant face. Over months, he’s been a reliable friend and more, became a soothing warmth beside him not only when they sleep but also in daily life. If he’s going to say it to anyone in his life, it’ll be him and it doesn’t matter that his friends will hear and that it’s awkward and embarrassing because Glaz is worth it nonetheless.

And so he looks him in the eyes and says: “I love you.”

Four people freeze for a moment before turning to gape at him, aghast, with Glaz being the most aghast one of them all, and Echo has no idea what’s going on – especially not when Smoke starts laughing, Rook beams at him happily, Mute nods in a ‘not bad’ gesture and Glaz turns crimson.

“That’s not – Masaru, what the hell -” Thoroughly flustered, the Russian fights his way off the couch only to grab his wrist and drag him into his room, accompanied by excited whispering behind them.

By now, Echo is wholly confused. Did he do something wrong? Was he not supposed to…? He doesn’t get a chance to ask, however, as Glaz immediately slams the door shut, then Echo against it and finally himself against Echo to apparently try and shove his tongue down his throat and oh.

Maybe he didn’t do anything wrong after all.

Sometimes, Glaz’ passion intimidates him just like his devotion does; it’s easy to get caught up in it and lose himself yet right now he has no objections. One of his hands finds its way to Glaz’ dark hair and the other snakes around his torso while they kiss like they’re drowning and when they eventually separate again, they’re both breathless. “Does that mean -”

“Yes”, Glaz interrupts him quietly.

“So you also -”

“Yes.”

“Say it.” He earns a pained look and knows exactly how Glaz feels but he’s not going to let him get away with it. “I’m serious. If you made me say it in front of the others, it’s only fair -”

“I didn’t know that’s what you wanted to tell me! I thought you were going to apologise”, Glaz hisses.

And… well. Whoops.

On second thought, that scenario makes a lot more sense than him demanding Echo lay himself bare before his friends, especially since his inability to apologise has been an issue several times before. “Oh”, he says dumbly. It’s not like he’s complaining, not really, not when it ended up with Glaz in his arms and the knowledge that they’re both… But still, there’s something nagging at him.

“Does that mean you’re going to apologise for not liking the sushi?”, he wants to know quite reasonably.

.

Oddly enough, when he gets tossed out of Glaz’ room again with the door being slammed shut once more (though this time it separates them), none of the three people populating the living room bat an eye.

“C’mere, sit down”, Mute tells him, entirely unconcerned over Echo’s dishevelled appearance.

“Shouldn’t I -” He points towards the front door. “Maybe he wants me to leave?”

“Nah. Whatever it is you said this time can’t be worse than what you normally say”, Rook waves his concerns aside. “Especially not after declaring your undying love – you get a few freebies for that.”

After some more non-verbal insisting, Echo awkwardly weaves himself into the British cuddle puddle and nearly gets kneed in the crotch in the process. Part of him is screaming to leave and nurse his wounded pride, both from misunderstanding Glaz completely and generally making a fool of himself, but on the other hand he’d like to spend more time with Glaz. And so he stays.

“Don’t worry”, Smoke grins at him, “Glaz is gonna cool off in a bit and it’ll all be fine, forgiveness runs rampant in this flat. I ate the entire chocolate cake Manu made for us and Mark still loves me.”

This gets him Mute’s undivided attention as well as a death glare. “You did what?!”

And while an enraged Mute tries to throw his lover off the sofa for such insolence, Echo thinks back to Glaz’ previous words. He’s probably right, there are some things in life he’s not appreciating enough and it’s not only Glaz himself. It’s good friends as well.

Maybe he should call Hibana later and thank her.

Or he could invite her out for some sushi instead.

#rainbow six siege #glaz #echo #glaz/echo #fanfic #oneshot #also these two would need some time #but they could be utterly adorable and wholesome #whoever gets together with glaz mute rook or twitch #basically adopts the rest as family

[wokeastroke]

The sick, disgusting scent of rotten meat hung about the temple in a foreboding, malevolent miasma. A corpse alone does not lead to such an assault on the senses, this Woke knew. There was a distinct differences between the nearly-masked scent of the Ebonsworn, no matter how taken-care-of they boasted to be, and the overpowering smells he traveled through.

 Only his experience with the dead and their aromas gave him the strength to press on. Or, perhaps his senses had already been ravaged to the point that he did not care. Either or. After checking his plates and their straps for the umpteenth time, he lurched towards the center of the darkness, where the scents seemed their strongest. That was usually the best idea when dealing with the damned. And damned they were, he mused as the steps before the church grew nearer. To be denied such a final rest was the only thing the Lance feared. Let death come, let life cease, but God’s above do not bring him back.

 The stains of dried gore and various other bodily fluids, long since dried to the stone, well-crafted steps was an ominous sign of Woke knew one. However, they were directed outward. Rather than the flowing of captives being dragged to their fate, these were the splatters of unlucky escapees. He spat in disgust. That was most definitely a full liver that had shriveled in the air and sun. Vile.Upon his back, trusted and true, was his lance. The weapon he’d chosen for this ordeal, this cursed mission of his. At his hip was a blade, beaten and battered from well-use. It’s scabbard clacked and clicked against his thigh as he ascended and drew near the door. Finally there was his shield, however this was upon his right arm already. Better to be safe than caught unawares and mangled. He hated being mangled. With a swallow, and a resolute intake of breath, he kicked outward. 

The door was strong, but the boot was stronger. A firm plant of its base caused the wood to crumple inward and split, releasing an oppressive and violent stench. Enough to activate what little he had in the way of senses immediately. Enough to draw a loud curse from his lips before he could bite his tongue.

 “What the everloving fuck..?”

 The darkness swallowed the daylight that streamed in, as if the sunbeams themselves dared not to tread too far into the rot within. And rotten it was. Corpses piled in corners, meat mixed with fluids, with metals, all collecting on the ground in an inch-thick puddle that had already begun its escape down the steps. Insects buzzed about this domain, their domain, feasting and fucking and dying and birthing in the feast they’d been blessed with. Had he a weaker stomach, Woke would’ve added his own bile to the pile.In the center of this profane testament to decay was a figure, a skeletal mass that remained full. Where the corpses around him were disfigured, dismembered, and ruined, this one looked as if it had starved. The fluttering thought perverted Woke’s mind for but a second before he cursed himself. How do you starve to death with all of this meat? 

He squelched into the room further, elves eyes training on the bodies as he searched for his quarry. He had expected the man, Bull, to be larger than life, angry, and prepared to battle. What he had not expected was the strained voice that spoke up, that coughed through blood and phlegm. 

“How long it has been...” The rasps caused the warrior to swing around, back towards the emancipated body upon the floor. Only now did he realize it’s blind, large eyes were wide open, it’s nose flaring, it’s limbs twitching. It was trying to rise.

“A decade. At least, wasn’it? Since that fuckin’ dead sack of flesh jumped me while I was mashin’ the other one.” The voice spoke out again. It’s words were split by rattling coughs and the smacking of lips. Woke stepped closer to the corpse, squinting through the darkness. Faintly, he’d see it. The same lance tattoo he held upon his cheek. There was his man. Naked, rotten, skeletal and broken. Still it attempted to rise, speaking through its difficulty.

 “Say somethin’. Never shut your fuckin’ mouth before, why’s this any different? You’n I both know dead things ain’t fuckin’ scary. How can you be afraid of somethin’ stupid enough to die once already, right?” A pained laugh followed as the thing dragged itself through the sludge and to a wall. Woke steppes forward and answered, taking the thing by its arm and sliding it up against the wall.

 “Fuck you. I came in here expecting one of them, but I found you. I know a fuckin’ skeleton stronger-lookin’ than you, Bull.”

 “Eat me. Rather, don’t. You and I both see what happens when ya eat dead man meat. Glad you’ve at least got your tongue. That and your stupid baby-face’s about the only features worth a da-“ Bull coughed, interrupted by a hunk of gunk flying from his mouth. “-fu-hu-huck. That was a bit of the lung. Fuck.”

Woke looked out for the bit, as if he could simply put it back in. Bull waved a weak hand. “Forget it. I won’t be needin’ it, if I know what you’re here for. S’why I did all this, y’know?” 

“Did what? Mulch a ton of our boys to lay around in? Look at this fuckin’ place. I’ve seen less Lance-goo at those parties Chain said he wasn’t throwing.” Both shared a disgusted chuckle. Fuckin’ Chain. Bull shook his head, his lung rattling as he inhaled again. 

“S’why I left the clues. The steps. To get ya here, to help ya. I can’t see ya, but I can feel ya. You’re worse off’n me, and that’s sayin’ somethin’ ain’t it? Problem with you, Woke’m’boy, is that you run from shit. Ya don’t run fast but ya run reeeeaaaalll long. Don’t ya?”

The more living of the two winced in pain. Embarrassment. It was true, after all. He hadn’t even been around for the burial. He’s been halfway to Kalimdor by then, his face hidden and his armor in a sack. Running. Fleeing.

 “But it’s fine. Prolly would’a done the same. Don’t blame you. And I don’t think any of them do either.” He murmured as a hand, missing its thumb and index finger, gestures limply to the fallen in the room.

 “How could we, eh? Family messes up sometimes, don’t it? And ya forgive family. I think the two words share at least one letter. So I brought ya here. Through her. Fucked as she is, anyway.” Bull coughed our a bitter laugh. 

“Y’know, I tried my hardest. I did. But they’re all men, and she was just a girl. Not enough tit-meat there, not enough pretty face-meat. No womanly fingers. Nothin’ that would’a put Mother back t’gether right. But fuck if I didn’t try.”

There was a sob caught in Bull’s throat. Oh how he’d done his best. Melding the flesh and stitching the muscle together, searching his fallen comrades for the softest of hands. But they were all soldiers, hardened by battle. Their bodies would never be right. Woke shook his head, despite how useless it might have been. 

“You did what you could. She’s beautiful. Just like how I remember her. How we all knew her. What I don’t understand, though... is why? Why bring her back? You and I both know how fucked it is to live again. Why put her through it?” 

The corpse slumped a touch, its smile fading as it searched for the words. “Out of us all, she deserved it. A second chance. A new start. Each of us had our lives and we gave’m up for metal toys and some fightin’. But her? Well... you know what Mother was. Nothin’ filled me with more sorrow than knowin’ she’d been cut down before experiencing life outside’a war. So I gave her the chance. We all agreed on it, anyway.” He pointed to each corpse in turn. Woke blinked hard, swearing for a moment that there was a shimmer in the air over each. A remnant of the Blue Lance.

When he turned back to the deader, Bull had already slumped back down again. The rattling of his breathing has quieted, the energy he had had expended in this reunion, disgusting and melancholy as it’d been. 

“Well. Was a good choice, then. When you meet’em, let ‘em know I’m glad they were able to all agree on something. Even if it was in death. Where do you want it?” Woke stood and drew his blade, the sound of metal on metal silencing the flies for a moment. As if they understood what the pregnant silence entailed. He leveled the blade at his friend, his mentor, who he’d watched and copied until he’d formed into his own brand of Lance. 

“In the head, you pretty fool. You know nothin’ else works. Get it over with.” Bull rasped out. Fighting until the very end. Besides the meaty sound of skull giving way to steel, there was nothing else from the two. The flies resumed their meal, the room continued to stink, and Woke trudged out. It was the end of an era, of twenty years of family. The next death of the Blue Lance. Now there only lay the next. But he wouldn’t be the one to do that part, no. There were two Lances out and about. Mother would be the one to finish the job. 

[jamlocked]

For the identity ask thing: 2, 6, 15 :)

2. have you ever found a writer who thinks just like you? if so, who?

Uhhhh…hmm. I think there’s a reason I’ve lived on a steady diet of Terry Pratchett since I first read Reaper Man at age ten. But then, the very fact I start reading him young could mean that he influence the way I thought, rather than just resonating with how I thought already. Either way, a pretty bloody good worldview to identify with.

I also have to shout out to @summeringminor here; we might differ in the odd Jim Moriarty headcanon, but we’re both pretty much here for the beauty of pain and suffering. :D

6. are you religious/spiritual?

In a word…yeah. I guess. I would not call myself religious at all, though I grew up going to church most weeks. The older I’ve got, the more anti-organised religion I’ve become. Hard not to be, when you start seeing the things people do and say while using God as an excuse. But I also can’t deny that I’ve known many, many wonderful people who are religious and use that faith to do great, helpful, caring things. I will also never tell anyone they’re wrong to believe what they believe, as long as they’re not hurting anyone else with those beliefs. 

As for me, personally - well, I’m not an aetheist, lets put it that way. It’s  complicated, in that no one ever really knows, but really simple in that I have no trouble believing in a higher power. And it may just be humans and our collective power, but if so there’s no truer God than that. 

15. five most influential books over your lifetime.

…oh man. What a question. GAH. 

Okay, well, I’m just going to pick five that have stood out at different points in my life because otherwise I will have a shortlist of hundreds. 

Good Omens - Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman. 

I must have read this a dozen times when I was a teenager. I used to get to the end of it, then go right back and start it over again. I think it was the first book that made me think about religion, and the way it is in the world. I think I was about eleven when I read it first, which was also the age I was both confirmed, and stopped going to church. Reading Good Omens made me think about religion outside the confines of organised religion, and massively expanded my horizons. 

 It - Stephen King.

I was also a teenager when I read this. I think books are usually the most influential when you’re that age, probably? Anyway, I think I was thirteen. There had been lots of books - every book, practically; I used to read one a day - that I just couldn’t stop until I’d finished. But this is the first one I clearly remember not wanting to finish. It scared the everloving shit out of me, but it sucked me into a world that was so fully realised, both on the page and in my head, that I just couldn’t get out of it. That was the first horror book I read, the first Stephen King, and it opened my eyes to a whole new kind of fiction. I’d read a multitude of kid’s books, and Enid Blyton, and I’ve mentioned my early love of Terry Pratchett. I’d also devoured a good chunk of the classics by that age (I counted Far From the Madding Crowd as my favourite book) - but this was something new. I read a ton of SK after that, but none quite held the magic of It. 

Unnamed kid’s story/author unknown

Okay, so, in primary school you get set reading books for your age, et cetera, and when you get through those you’re allowed to be a ‘free reader’ - or that’s how it was when I was that age, idk. So anyway, I blazed through all the set stuff, and once I had the freedom of the library, I picked up this random book of short stories one afternoon. They were age-appropriate, of course, and this one story was about a group of kids who built their own go-karts, and had a massive race with them. Maybe once a year, maybe more often, idk. So of course, there was one kid who was better than all of them, won every time, built his own kart and no one could beat him et cetera. I strapped in for the usual kid’s fare of a new pretender showing up, and either taking the crown, or this kid - who I think was called Billy - overcoming the odds to win again. It was told from the POV of another kid, who also raced but couldn’t touch Billy. And Billy seemed like a decent guy, he wasn’t a bully or anything. 

So anyway, blah blah, they built their karts, they had the race. All was as expected. And then…a car showed up. Billy and New Pretender were neck and neck at the finish line, everyone’s screaming and cheering, and…Billy crashes into the car. God, I can still remember my shock, and how I jumped from ‘this is exciting, but normal’ to ‘omg, wtf is happening.’ But I also remember thinking, ‘but he won, and he’ll be fine.’ And the reason I remember it all so clearly is because…well, here’s Billy’s final words. ‘No, I didn’t. I lost.’

Someone told him that he won the race. But he didn’t, and then he hit the car, and then he died. And he died knowing he’d been beaten.

Like…I was young when I read this, about eight. Maybe younger. The notion that the focus of a story could not win and then actually die…I was not prepared for that. It stuck with me as the first real idea that things don’t always turn out the way you think. Good guys don’t always win, you don’t always achieve the things you think you will. A pretty hard lesson for a primary schooler, but it made me think about things in a different way from then on. 

Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance - Robert M. Pirsig

Moving on from childhood…this book. Fuck, man, this book. I was 21 or 22 when I read it, and I‘m not even going to talk too much about about it because I can’t remember the details. There’s too much in it to try and explain anyway. But I remember reading it because my best mate recced it, and it didn’t seem very promising at first. And then I got sucked in, and I just could not stop. It’s semi-autobiographical, it’s about a road trip a man is taking with his son, it’s all about philosophy and self, and then mental illness, and…God. There wasn’t a single page that didn’t make me think. It made me start a course in philosophy. It was just a wonderful experience from start to finish, and I’ve never read it since because I don’t want to break that magic. But I will read it again. I’m going to find free time, and indulge myself fully. It was just that good. 

sdlfkj I really can’t pick a fifth and I’m rambling on forever, so I’m going to go for a really simple and obvious choice. 

The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkein

My dad gave my sister a copy of this when I was ten, and she was thirteen. I remember thinking how grown up it looked because it was all black and had a dragon on the front. By the time I was twelve I had nicked it off her bookshelf, and I don’t think she ever got it back. It’s another one I read endlessly through my teen years, and it was influential because it my first introduction to that type of fantasy. I couldn’t tell you exactly why Tolkein’s fantasy feels different to Pratchett’s - maybe it’s just more Old Worlde, and of course the writing style is more old-fashioned. It just felt more highbrow, less ‘fun’, but just as enjoyable. It was like travelling back in time, as well as to a different world. I massively preferred the Discworld to Middle Earth - and still do - but I remember loving The Hobbit for its introduction to something I’d never come across before. And when I wrote my first fantasy story when I was about fifteen, it was a perfectly terrible mish-mash of pterry’s satirical style and Tolkien’s highbrow backdrop (and I am serious when I say it was terrible. It was terrible). But any time I think of books that have influenced me and what I like, what I use as a touchstone, what I think of fondly - The Hobbit is always among the first that springs to mind. 

(I re-read it a couple of years ago, and was struck by how simplistic and childlike it seemed. Inevitable, given I’m so much older and have read so much more now. But it doesn’t diminish the fond memories I have of that first love for it.)

I AM SORRY FOR RAMBLING ON FOREVER. Me and books, idk. But thanks for the ask. :)

#all about meme #books #ask meme #SORRY

[curly-q-reviews]

VALENTINES DAY SPECIAL

Below Her Mouth, 2016 (dir. April Mullen)

WARNING SPOILERS AND LOTS OF SEX TALK AHEAD TREAD WITH CAUTION

HEY Y’ALL we interrupt the regular programming for a special feature!!  i always like to do a lil valentines day special viewing for the sake of being festive and for once ive actually gotten some dating action in my life so i was in the mood to watch some sweet romance and then review it for ur reading pleasure (emphasis on the PLEASURE ehugeguehgehgeugeghe) (assassinate me now i deserve it)

to preface this, i am VERY gay.  well uuhhh bi but a very GAY bi u know??  basically i curse my attraction to men every waking moment of my life.  ive known about this since my last few years of college and am out to basically everyone whos important, and a lot of my friends are lgbtq+ so u know its official and everything.  i dont really claim to be a Gay Expert  cause i actually am still lacking a lot of uuhhh physical experience if u catch my drift HOWEVER like a true scholar i have done my fair share of research.  which mainly includes watching really shitty lesbian movies and mocking them (and every so often watching a rare Good Lesbian Movie and crying A LOT). 

if u are of sapphic inclination as well then u probably already know the kind of reputation lesbian romance movies have overall, the prime examples of which would be movies like Room in Rome and Loving Annabelle.  these movies all seem to have one thing in common, and its that the directors and writers have no goddamn clue about how to write a convincing and authentic lesbian romance.  u also always get the sense that the male gaze is the one being prioritized cause theres always PLENTY of gratuitous sex and the romance part itself is uuhhhh never really developed well or thoroughly enough at all.  these movies are usually about a straight girl who discovers her affinity for the feminine when she meets a total stranger and suddenly cant stop thinking about how much she wants to bang her.  and then in-between all the banging they somehow find the time to fall madly in love with each other but the straight girl just CANT cause shes STRAIGHT or she has a FIANCE or her PARENTS wouldnt approve or whatever the fuck the conflict of the day is and either it ends with them never seeing each other again or with the straight girl coming to terms with her not-straightness and ***follow her heart*** or whatever

really the only lesbian movies i can recall actually enjoying would be Pariah (PLEASE check this movie out its so heart-wrenching and beautiful and its like a majority-black cast!!!) and Blue Is the Warmest Color (this one i loved at first but the more i reflect on it the more problems i find with it, ESPECIALLY with how much sex is in it).  and then The L Word is a stellar tv series up until like the last few seasons which are trash but otherwise it was a great watch for me, especially while i was still figuring things out.  i feel like there are more that ive seen that were pretty good but i cant think of them at the moment WHOOPS LOL

so with Below Her Mouth i was apprehensive but hopeful going in, although i had heard rumors that it was Real Bad.  and u know i shouldve listened to those rumors and not bothered with this movie cause WOW its bad!!!  script is TRASH, acting is TRASH WITH FEBREEZE SPRAYED ON IT, and it looks like an artsy pretentious film student shot it.  natalie krill had maybe one good acting moment in the whole 90-minute run time and erika linder is really really hot and those are the only two good things i can think to say about this

fuck ok uuhhh i guess ill talk about the main characters cause OH WOW theyre basically two walking talking cliches.  jasmine (yes her name is jasmine that totally doesnt sound like the name of a character in a porn at all) is our Token Straight Girl who has a fiance and is a fashion editor.  she first sees our other romantic lead while working on the roof of a house next door to hers.  shes ur typical Lesbian Romance Movie Butch, too cool for school and unable to commit to anyone ever and is kind of an asshole but somehow this is supposed to endear u to her.  oh and guess what her name is.  just guess.  ill give u a few minutes.

DALLAS ITS FUCKING DALLAS HOOWEE WHAT A SHOCKER

the first thing we see of dallas, and this is also the first fuckin shot of the movie, is her uuhhh scissoring her girlfriend???  humping her?????  i really dont know what shes trying to accomplish but shes clearly not having any fun while doing it and her girlfriends like “i love u” and shes like “im moving out bye” and thats it

real compelling i know

so jasmine and her bff manage to stumble upon the lesbian bar in town (which dallas calls a girl party???  why??????) where dallas meets her and proceeds to be completely and utterly creepy in ways ive only ever seen men be which is the first indicator that the person who made this movie, april mullen, is maybe not gay at all (or maybe she is and just has horrible taste?? idk man).  but somehow the creepiness is a real turn on for ol’ jazzy and they start making out IMMEDIATELY but then jasmines like “i have a fiance gotta go!!!!” and yeets herself out of the situation

but of course this is a lesbian romance so u know they meet up again and proceed to have like half an hours worth of steamy gratuitous porn-style sex.  there was a lot of strap-on action involved and a lot of bizarre scissoring that i dont even think i can call scissoring cause it was more like they were just weirdly bumping their vagoos against each other and somehow that was getting them both off.  like sometimes the sex scenes in this movie bordered on tommy wiseau levels of weird. 

oh and of course the fiance finds out about this secret love affair but WOW do they really do this in the most dramatic and unintentionally hilarious way possible.  he literally comes home early from his business trip and walks in on dallas going to town on jasmine with a strap on in the bath tub, like theyre ferociously going at it.  i swear to god i felt like i was watching a comedy at times with this movie

piggybacking off of that, jesus christ this script is bad.  ooooohhhh its so bad.  dallas is given the cringiest tough guy lines, like shes drinking beers with a friend and the friend is like “oh man i gotta catch up to u” and, hilariously, dallas is like “you cant catch up cause nO oNe WiLl EvEr CaTcH mE” and i almost choked on my own saliva.  oh god wait heres another zinger, so when she first meets jasmine shes like “do u come to girl parties often (again why the everloving FUCK is she calling it a girl party????)” and jasmines like “i don’t come at all” and the next thing to come out of dallas’s suave sexy mouth is “TeRriBLe NeWs CaN i ChAnGe ThAt FoR yOu” OH my GOD

and good god shes so creepy.  like some of the shit she pulls is borderline sexual assault.  her and jasmine are just at a bar chillin and dallas reaches down and im like “oh ok shes gonna like put her hand on her knee classic move” but NOPE OH NO she just makes a beeline STRAIGHT for jasmines crotch IN THE MIDDLE OF A BAR!!!  THERE ARE PEOPLE AROUND!!!!!!  OH MY GOD!!!!!!!!!!!!!

at one point after another round of passionate lovemaking dallas brings jasmine back to her house and theyre in dallas’s truck and they just??  slap each other???  for no reason?????  except for True Love i guess????????????

jesus.  just.  this was an experience.  i would say dont bother watching it but i did at least have fun making fun of it so if thats ur sort of thing knock ur socks off, its on netflix.  but wow this basically fits the stereotype of a lesbian romance movie PERFECTLY, and when u really break it down its just a fancy porn.  i wouldnt even say its a porn geared towards actual wlw cause theres so many elements about the sex scenes that reminded me of the kind of lesbian porn thats made for straight men to jack off to.  0/10 BAD BYE

well shit ok i hope u all had a great valentines day!!  im gonna go start a roofing business in the hopes that i end up working on a roof of a house thats right next to a really hot straight girl with a fiance so i can try to finger-bang her in the middle of an occupied bar wish me luck!!!!!

#curly q reviews #valentines day special #valentines day #lgbtq #lesbian #romance #films #below her mouth #netflix

[lilxcrusha]

Red Dead Redemption Amanda: The Backstory!

I have finally gotten around to writing her backstory. And I hope this fits.

If you want to see her design, click here! 

This will send you to her backstory!

#red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption oc #red dead oc #rdr2 oc #backstory #lil crusha;amy