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vitavitale · 3 years

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@vaenaku sent: Desperation burned through him as easily as flame did paper, but he could not and would not stand to allow V to fall victim to the fowl demon before him. Gnarled glaws dug into hellish earth and deep, vicious growl vibrated in his throat, smoke and noxious fumes billowing from his maw. [ remember that malphas bit? yes ]

Life could not have been more cruel: to dangle his own demise in front of his face like a piece of meat, to lure toward him the device of his death and subsequently excite his heart to such a level that it threatened to burst before he'd even had his chance, before she could ever lay a claw on him. That would have been the worst of all ironies; but here, in its criminality, life could be fair, could be merciful, and so afforded V time sorely needed. With flames bursting at the seams had one of his deliverers come: the wolf torn from his side by infernal powers. For a moment V believed some hellish fate had befallen him; that there would be no partnership beyond that point, that Malphas had tipped the scales irreversibly, condemning a puny slayer of demons to a premature end. V did worry for him, truthfully, in the fleeting moments he was allowed a stray thought. Through the process of reclaiming his bonded familiars, he saw not a whisker nor heard even the smallest of whines. And V did not stop to look for him. V did not chance to wait for a possibility—but he was too strongly driven to put on hold that for which he pushed his failing body. With impossible stakes to face, everything else paled in comparison. In essence, Daemon had to be forgotten. Nero couldn't keep V waiting either. If V had to drag his useless body all the rest of the way to reach the self-made demon king, he would. And he still intended to. Now that his allies had arrived, an infinitesimal glimmer of hope tickled from within. But from where he stood to watch the fray, above and out of immediate danger, he was no more helpful than the arena in which friends would battle foe. All he could do was to lean his weight upon the wall of the recess and worry.

To see them alive and mostly well was a relief. To see that Daemon had not been lost to trickery or defeat was still more heartening, but why should V have ever feared for him? He'd seen what the devil was capable of, time and time again both surprised and impressed by the punishment he could endure—and doubly so by the destruction he could inflict upon others, the awesome, horrifying damage dealt by every inch of his being. The claws, the jaws, the fumes and the fire were far more lethal than anything V had witnessed. That demon was...a demon. Through and through, when he wasn't hiding in human's skin. But even then...well, V had grown accustomed to him. V knew him by now, at least in these few crucial ways, and whether he liked to admit it or not, he came to appreciate Daemon's help (an invaluable thing), his company… Him? Why not. Was there any real harm in it? V expected he would die soon, and to find a friend in someone nigh insufferable was not at all unnatural. And perhaps that was why he worried so, because after spending over a month of steady companionship there developed some affinity, and he came to care. He did not want to see Daemon hurt, lose a limb or life. He did not want him to meet a tragic end; quite the contrary, in fact. For all of his trouble, he was good. He was good. There wasn't a lot to dislike about that; rather, it had been a while since V had known anyone he could like. It had been a while since V had known anyone.

Even Nero, the boy wonder, had been distant with him.

But in a mind ravaged by panic and doubt, perplexity had no room. V could not have wondered of his own feelings when he worried for the lives he'd put in peril. It was his mistake to have stumbled upon Malphas just as it was his own to freeze where she'd found him. He should not have led them here—and now the angry devils below were poised to destroy utterly the diabolical amalgam before them. But it was Daemon who fumed in more ways than one; V could see the fire in his eyes, he'd known what sort of magma flowed through his veins. There was an intent that was murderous and unparalleled flaring across his maw, not quite the same as in other occasions, that gave the impression he was ready to do battle to the death. That he would so readily lay down his life in defense of—

But that was reckless of him. V was...no one to die for. He understood duty and promise, but this was stupid. Daemon had surely more to live for, more to do, a life to return to once all the drama of the day was done. V couldn't have caused him to lose so much, or everything. He wasn't worth it. He wouldn't allow it; he cared more about that demon's life now than he ever had, and he would not let Daemon die for him. Even if he couldn't do a damned thing about it…

He shouldn't have come this far.

But that thought was futile. Daemon would not have listened, it wasn't likely.

I shouldn't have let him.

A potential mistake. If only V had refused him sooner, but he thought selfishly then. All that mattered was the help; but now there was more at stake. There was more for V to think about, and more and more he'd begun to see in the demon to whom he gave little credit. And he came to chide himself for his frostiness, when he initially believed Daemon to be more an irritation than an asset. To watch him now and realize to what lengths he would go to defend, protect—V felt undeserving, but he felt admiration and appreciation all the same. The sight might have moved him more than he counted on. He was weak now, of course, but that couldn't have changed the facts of the matter: he had a sense of what was happening, he knew when it started, and he knew that he could not be so free with his heart as to let it speak through his lips. He could not afford it now, it was simply too late. He feared shame for it, he knew he would make of himself a fool, and he had no way of being certain that it was only a thing in passing. V never forgot that he would breathe his last at the top of the Qliphoth. It was a belief he held firmly, and even Daemon knew it—or must have figured as much. So the battle had to be won, at any cost, and the war waged until victory was on the tongue.

Before V's eyes would his heroes do their worst, but with plumes of smoke shrouding the battlefield he could not grasp the violence in full detail. Malphas was hell-bent, and she'd done them harm—but the same was true of Daemon and Nero, and all the while the flames would burn brighter and hotter, and steel would slash away flesh, and the villain would howl her anguish, screech her fury. But this undoubtedly took its toll as much on the pair as on V: his senses had not left him and, rather, he was more aware of his body than he'd ever been. Every minute that passed took an ounce of his strength, and with every ounce gone he wished increasingly to lie down and rest, and he'd even think it would be best to do so eternally. The punishment weighed too heavily on his shoulders; he was no Atlas, not even built like one, and the longer this all dragged on, the sooner he'd collapse beneath his burden.

He worried definitely, undoubtedly, holding his breath whenever it looked like Nero was downed; wincing every time Daemon was struck; he prayed that he himself would survive this. Man's greatest horror arose when faced with his own mortality, and nothing truer applied to V. He was scared almost out of his mind, he didn't want to die. But what's a man in his position to do? He couldn't have lost his nerve now, not while others needed to see it holding firm. To imagine how Daemon might have carried on otherwise was not something V could have even pictured, for the wolf was invested, involved, and dutiful to a fault. V still hadn't deciphered why—and supposed he never would. He may as well enjoy the last he'd see of that fire-spewing fiend in action: he was not likely to do battle by his side any longer. The mere thought of that...had his heart sink so low. V wasn't ready to lose that, either. Not when he'd begun to miss the time spent in good company. It's a miserable thing to be so frail, but...here he must be strong for all, cost be damned.

#long post #vaenaku #answered ic ;#epoch: a poison tree ;#// This is such a significant moment.#// And I hate that V's about to die right when all of these feels hit him.#// The poor thing IS A MESS.#// BUT HE.../CARES/...#// AND HE JUST WANTS TO--- fuck I'm not going off in the tags omfg.

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lostinfic · 5 years

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4. England, summer

Summary: Travel writer/photojournalist AU, slow burn, mutual pining, angst, fluff and adventures around the world.

Pairing: Alec Hardy x Hannah Baxter Rating: Mature Word count: 1.5k

Prologue | Chap. 1 | 2 | 3 | Ao3

In Covent Garden, the midday sun flared off the glass roof of the market. Hardy shielded his eyes. He hated London in the summer, hated the tourists, hated the heat, hated people playing bloody Frisbee in parks. He glared at a couple sharing an ice cream in front of him on the street, with a huff of impatience, he walked past them.

He reached the red mailbox on the street corner. He pushed a manila envelope through the slot like one rips a band-aid: quickly and holding his breath. Divorce papers, signed and sent. Time to move on. He rubbed a hand over the tightness in his chest. He knew the perfect antidote was work abroad. But until he received a new assignment, the next best thing was Stanford, the travel bookshop.

An enormous map covered the entrance floor of the shop. A memory struck him: Daisy, age six, playing hopscotch on the African countries. He smiled to himself. He would call her again tonight, even if it meant leaving another sappy voice mail. Perhaps she would want to come with him to New York in October. It would be nice to show her around. And, although he wouldn’t tell her that, he hoped she would be impressed by a whole exhibition dedicated to his work. He hoped she would understand he wanted to make the world a better place, for her.

He almost called his daughter right away, but he was in Stanford for a specific reason. Hannah had said her article on the Mahal Kita resort would be out on July 25th. “You were wrong,” she’d bragged in a text message, “they let me write everything.” He’d replied something that came out ruder than he’d intended, and he didn’t hear from her again.

As he headed towards the magazine display, he mentally composed a congratulatory message, “Let’s have drinks to celebrate”. He cringed. She wasn’t interested in him, she only wanted to have sex at the airport because she was bored.

In any case, first, he had to see this article with his own eyes. Part of him still doubted she’d gotten away with it, or had written it at all. He hoped she had. His own attempts at exposing the truth had come to nothing. Two newspapers had picked up the story only to replace it at the last minute with more pressing news. He was disappointed, but not surprised. He wasn’t giving up that easily. He still talked to Ellie and Kadek. He planned on widening the scope of his investigation by looking into other resorts owned by the same company, Group Peregrine. Meanwhile, Hannah’s article could reach readers he wouldn’t. People who directly encouraged these harmful practices in the tourism industry. She could open their eyes to the human cost of their vacations.

He spotted the latest issue of Elite Travelers. The cover featured a picture of the sea in Pulau Kesuma in oversaturated shades of blue. He baulked at the price and found a seat to read it in store instead.

The lede put him on edge right away. With each paragraph, his face grew hotter and his teeth ground harder.

He called Hannah.

“Hey, Alec! How—”

“You bloody liar.”

“What?”

“You said you would tell the truth in your article.”

“I did!”

“No, you didn’t.”

“You know what? It might not be up to your standards of exposing the truth, but it’s not that kind magazine, okay? I did what I could, but the rooms were nice, I had to say it.”

“It’s nothing but praise. Praise for criminals.”

“I get it, you’re a paragon of integrity and I’m a sham.”

“You lied to me. There isn’t a word in there about the environmental impacts or the fishermen.”

“Of course, there is. It’s right there in the lede. And there are at least three more paragraphs about it.”

“I’ve got your article right here, it says: From its unspoiled site to its respect of the environment, the Mahal Kita eco-resort is, simply put, flawless.”

Hannah fell silent. He heard her sniff, and his anger vanished.

“You okay?”

“I didn’t write that… It wasn’t me, that’s not what I wrote.”

“Seriously?”

“Keep reading.”

Hannah slouched down in the hotel armchair, closing her eyes to ward off the dizziness. Hardy kept reading the article. She recognized some of the sentences, but she’d reread the text often enough to identify the missing parts.

She was in Cornwall, covering a music festival, so she hadn’t seen the magazine yet. When Duncan hadn’t asked for revisions, she’d naively thought her article was perfect. No wonder she hadn’t heard back from him about the promotion.

“Baxter?”

“He fucking censored me… You were right.” She laughed, a hollow, bitter sound.

She expected Hardy to gloat, but his voice was gentle when he spoke again, “I really wanted to be wrong.”

He stayed on the line with her, in silence, while she struggled to make sense of this betrayal. She hated Duncan so much right now, she could have ripped his head off.

Hardy told her he’d experienced censorship too. Back when Tony Blair had sided with George W. Bush about the Iraq war. An editor had cropped one of his photographs so as to leave only the angry, armed Iraqi men in the frame and remove the children they were protecting.

“I was furious.”

“What did you do?” she asked.

“I made sure the original photo was published elsewhere.”

“I just… it was important to me, you know? It felt like a big step in my career. Something different…”

“So, what are you gonna do about it?”

“What can I do?”

“You have to get that story out there.”

She could put the uncensored article on her blog and expose Elite Travelers’ dishonesty. But could she afford to antagonize her main source of income? Adios business class and exotic resorts.

“You would want to work for them again after this?” Hardy asked.

“It had never happened before.”

“That you know of.”

The moral decision weighed on her chest, pushing a deep sigh out of her. She didn’t want to deal with this right now. Arctic Monkeys would be on stage in 15 minutes, and she had a VIP pass. All she wanted was put on a flower crown, get drunk and dance with strangers under the sun.

“Would you like to go for coffee. With me. To talk about it,” Hardy said.

“No, thanks. I can’t.”

“Yeah, no, okay. Then—”

“I’ve to go. Bye.”

A week later, Hardy received a message from Hannah with a link to her blog called “Secret Diary of a Globe-Trotter”.

Secret? he texted back.

It used to be a place to write anecdotes I couldn’t tell my father ;)

She had posted her original article, nowhere near as scathing as it ought to be, but critical enough to put off some people. She also described the censorship and her investigation on Pulau Kesuma. She even mentioned him, “Alec Hardy, a remarkable photojournalist”. He thrust out his chest slightly.

So what do you think?

You did the right thing, he wrote.

I hope so. Still not sure about that.

With a fresh cup of tea, he sat on the narrow balcony outside his flat. He typed “I’m proud of you”, but changed his mind. He wanted to keep the conversation going.

I can send you some pictures I took, if you want to add them.

Of course! Will you publish them anywhere?

Expo in NY soon.

She sent a thumbs up, and he assumed that was the end of the conversation.

After a moment, Hardy gave in to his curiosity and browsed the rest of her blog. Among the clickbait-y articles (“Five booking hacks you’ll regret not knowing”, “10 sexy airport looks”) and sponsored posts, he found hidden gems: longer texts describing encounters with all sorts of people during her trips. She made these people talk about their countries and favorite, uncharted places. From a churros vendor with a surprisingly profound philosophy on family to an 80 year-old ballet dancer who aimed to dance on every street of Paris, by the end of the interview, they all opened up to her.

Rain enhanced the scent of fresh-cut grass and lulled him into a peaceful state as he read on. He hadn’t meant to spend so much time on her blog, he had work to do, but her words drew him in every time. As someone who used images to get his message across, he admired her use of language. Funny, incisive. Each paragraph a snapshot of humanity.

He felt on the verge of understanding something about Hannah, like a word on the tip of his tongue. An elusive quality that explained why, on principle, he should be more annoyed by her than he was in reality. She kept proving him wrong. In fact, what annoyed him most was how quick he had judged her.

Over the following weeks, he checked her blog every once in a while. He told himself it was to take stock of the responses to the censorship. And if he happened to look at her latest photos at the same time, well, it was purely out of professional courtesy.

This was how he found out she would be in New York around the same time as him.

_______

FYI I'm going on a trip for 3 weeks. I'd love to post another chapter during that time, but I'm not sure it's realistic. I will try. Thank you for your patience :D

ETA: I managed to write another chapter before leaving, and I scheduled it to post about halfway through my trip, on the 27th.

#Teninch fic #Hardy x Hannah #trying a different banner #which one do you prefer?#travelers AU #lostinfic writes stuff

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flamecn · 4 years

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☾ — JOHNNY STORM/HUMAN TORCH is here! HE has found themselves wandering about new gotham attempting to find their place in this challenging world. they were once a HERO who used to be associated with THE FANTASTIC FOUR.

hope they make it in this world.

the basics —

NAME: jonathan lowell spencer storm

ALIASES: johnny, human torch, matchstick, torchie, hothead

AGE: 21

BIRTHDAY & ZODIAC: unknown & aries

MBTI: esfp

PREFERRED PRONOUNS: he & him

FACECLAIM: diego tinoco

a deeper look —

FAMILY: franklin storm (father, deceased), mary storm (mother, deceased), susan storm (older sister), reed richards (brother-in-law), ben grimm, franklin richards (nephew), valeria richards (niece), peter parker (best friend), bones (cousin), marygay jewel dinkins (aunt)

AFFILIATION: fantastic four

THREE FAVORITE THINGS: building things from scratch, fresh pancakes made in the morning, spending time with his family

THREE HATED THINGS: having a bad hair day, people that kiss him thinking it’s okay just because he’s a celebrity, clothes that aren’t made of unstable molecules because he burns them all to ash eventually

EDUCATION: glenville high graduate

SKILLS:

EXPERT MECHANIC: was able to overhaul a car’s transmission by the age of fifteen. he’s able to design vehicles and ones meant for flying transportation as well. he can put it together all by himself — so his mechanical acumen went into the creation of the fantasticar.

PROFESSIONAL RACE CAR DRIVER: typically participating through nascar.

EXPERIENCE AS A MODEL & FILM ACTOR.

WEAPONS: none unless throwing his wrench counts as one

ABILITIES: PYROGENESIS: the mental ability to control ambient heat energy, and the ability to physically transform his entire body, or just portions of it into a fiery, plasma-like state. this doesn’t hurt him. normally when aflame it’s of low-intensity which is about 780 degrees fahrenheit. he’s capable of going higher if the situation calls for it. PYROKINESIS: can generate shapes made out of fire, usually done with his hands to sculpt the flames. they only maintain the shape long as he is concentrating on them. example, he can form a lasso around his enemies. THERMOKINESIS: has the ability to mentally control the ambient heat energy within his immediate environment, even when he himself is not aflame. he can reduce objects' temperatures (if they are in a normal range for existing on Earth's surface) to about 30 F, raise them to several hundred degrees, or extinguish open flames. his radius of influence is about 80 feet. the heat energy he takes from the environment is absorbed into his own body. if he takes in a critical amount while he is not aflame, he will become aflame. NOVA FLAME: the highest, hottest level johnny can create. he can release all of his body’s stored energy in one intense, omni-directional “nova-burst”, which can reach about 1,000,000 F. FLIGHT: he is able to fly, and can go 140 miles an hour. IMMUNE TO HEAT & FIRE SUPERHUMAN DURABILITY

the questionnaire —

WHAT IS SOMETHING YOUR CHARACTER LIKES ABOUT NEW GOTHAM? SOMETHING THEY DISLIKE? DO THEY MISS THE WAY THINGS WERE - OR DO THE LIKE HOW THE WORLD IS NOW? IS IT WEIRD TO THEM TO SEE MULTIPLE TYPES OF PEOPLE AND CREATURES AROUND? OR ARE THEY USED TO IT? WERE THEY ORIGINALLY FROM ONE OF THE TWO MAIN CITIES - OR SOMEWHERE ELSE?

johnny doesn’t quite know what to think about the change that happened. he’s used to the unexpected considering the nature of how his family got their abilities. they’re human mutates, so when you’re literal fire it doesn’t become weird anymore to see different creatures. johnny wouldn’t want to be judged for who he is, and therefore would never do that to someone else. it just isn’t right, so he’s frankly quite used to it. he’s actually used to defending his family against people that are quite rude — usually toward ben. his identity has always been public, the world always knew about the fantastic four and the accident. he’s from new york, so he’s glad some of places seem familiar, but doesn’t like the feeling of being lost with everything that is new. he used to know his home like the back of his hand, able to fly anywhere quickly. now he doesn’t really know where to go, so it takes a little longer getting around. johnny doesn’t like that, or the fact his favorite hair stylist is missing. he also misses his cars, but is using this as an opportunity to build new ones! he’s actually quite talented, and can even create flying vehicles from scratch too as well as the ones meant for the road.

WHERE WAS YOUR CHARACTER WHEN EVERYTHING CHANGED? ARE THEY SUSPICIOUS OF EVERYONE OR ARE THEY TRYING TO REMAIN UNDER THE RADAR? HAVE THEY REUNITED WITH THEIR FRIENDS OR ARE THEY LOST? WERE THEY AT HOME IN BED? OUT PATROLLING THE STREETS? IN THE MIDDLE OF A WAR? WHAT’S HAPPENED TO THEM NOW?

surprisingly johnny was probably in bed when it happened. he’s really into making sure he gets his eight hours of sleep a night, having a whole beauty routine. johnny tends to wear his heart on his sleeve, and rush into situations based on his impulsive decisions. this isn’t always the case, but since he’s the youngest member of the core team with the fantastic four he tends to use that as his excuse. he’s always his most focus when he’s putting something together — loving to work with his hands when it comes to mechanical engineering.

johnny tends to be a little too trusting, so that doesn’t really make him feeling suspicious just yet. he just wants the rest of his family here too — not wanting to be alone. he’s convinced reed would have some answers.

ADDITIONAL INFORMATION —

ANYTHING YOU WANT US TO KNOW? ANY HEADCANONS?

i tend to play johnny as having a naturally hotter body temperature than everyone else because of the nature of his powers. it’s somewhere around 110 degrees.

some history —

jonathan lowell spencer “johnny” storm was the second child born to franklin and mary storm. he has one sibling, an older sister named susan. their mother died in a car accident, and due to the loss their father who was a doctor couldn’t save her so he spiraled into gambling and booze.

franklin borrowed money from an underworld shark, and when he couldn’t repay them susan and johnny were threatened so he got into a fight with the criminal. the man shot himself, but their father got charged with manslaughter and sent to a penitentiary for his crimes. he didn’t defend himself due to still mourning mary.

johnny followed his sister to join scientist reed richards and pilot ben grimm on a space flight when he was just a kid. however, there was some cosmic radiation which was what transformed him into the human torch, and the four of them would end up forming the fantastic four !! his identity is public, but that has never bothered johnny.

#synergy:charintro #ᴏɴᴇ ʜᴇᴄᴋ ᴏғ ᴀ ʟɪɢʜᴛsʜᴏᴡ. [ MUSE ]

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gascon-en-exil · 6 years

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So Who’s the Queen?: A Chess of Blades Review (Part 2)

Part 1

With the general overview out of the way it’s time to jump into a critique of the real substance of this game: the four men who can fall in love with Rivian and turn him into the champion bottom he was always destined to be. As with last time I’ll be avoiding major plot spoilers but will spare no detail when I turn my discriminating eye toward the game’s scenes of sweet, tender lovemaking...or raw, kinky fucking, whatever floats your boat. Some of them could go either way.

Fun fact: my silly subtitle for the sex scenes comes from a Japanese expression jokingly proposed as an alternative source for the word yaoi. I thought it only appropriate given what I’m judging here.

Arden

It took some effort for me to ignore that this guy shares his name with the least fuckable bachelor of Fire Emblem: Genealogy of the Holy War, but eventually I managed. It helps that the two have nothing else in common, up to and including preference of sexual partners.

Arden is the best friend romance of CoB, the only one with whom Rivian has an established history. Thinking back to the similarly positioned Ian in Coming Out on Top, this is a visual novel character type that presents a unique challenge for the writer(s) in that there has to a be an explanation for why the two of them don’t shack up until the events of the game. I rather like CoB’s reasoning for this, as it’s one that plays into both Arden and Rivian’s insecurities and explains why Rivian is so prickly to a supposed close friend during the shared prologue. Arden is clingy and overly expectant, and the game allows this to feel off-putting even partway through his route (which is shared with the “secret” fourth love interest, in a scenario where Rivian decides that he and Arden have grown into such different people that reconciliation is impossible). This is an unusual but not unwelcome way to lead into what is undoubtedly the fluffiest of the romances, in which Arden has to be open about his self-conscious reservations and Rivian has to be willing to forgive. Arden’s protectiveness of Rivian also becomes less grating as the route goes on and the two start to face genuine danger, and as Rivian points out that kind of dedication is actually quite sweet when it’s wanted. The only really awkward thing about the construction of Arden’s route is that, because most of their relationship drama comes from the fallout of their youthful infatuation, it has very little to do with the main plot of a kidnapped little girl. It is at least the most morally straightforward of the routes, one that brings out both Arden’s loyalty to Rivian and to his kingdom (even though he is a bit dense about it, in the tradition of most lawful good paladin-esque type characters) and Rivian’s buried affection for his family. Like I said, it’s pretty fluffy on the whole.

The “Ow, my ass!” rating: Mild. As might be expected Arden’s sex scene is the most vanilla in the game, which is fitting because 1) it matches the more innocent passion of a childhood romance gone horizontal(ish), and because 2) Arden is also a virgin somehow, despite having spent several years in a military environment in a setting where no one cares if guys hook up with each other. There’s no lube, but I can excuse it because Arden both fingers and rims Rivian beforehand. More significantly, Rivian rides Arden’s cock which is not only the most active he ever is in a sex scene but also a great position for the inexperienced to get accustomed to the feeling of taking a dick. Don’t get the impression that this means that Rivian is taking a dominant role, however; the term “power bottom” is more about attitude than positioning, and Rivian is still very much lacking in that department. Also, they have sex on a chair and I have no idea why, since there’s a perfectly serviceable bed in the same room. I like to be able to hold onto my partner’s shoulders when I’m riding him to help keep my balance, but I don’t think that’s worth having to angle myself around the arms. Kind of a toss-up there.

Franz

According to the developer notes in the artbook Franz was the first of the love interests to be designed, and they had a specific exotic flavor in mind that in practice feels very much like how I think Anglos see Continentals collectively. German first name and French family name aside, I get a more Iberian feeling from him personally. Maybe it’s the thing about his country being known for chocolates, or maybe the (very late in coming) self-flagellation...not literal, mind you.

Even leaving aside his real world cultural inspirations, Franz is very much the aggressive rogue type of love interest, the “perverted foreigner” as Rivian describes him more than once who introduces himself by grabbing Rivian on his balcony and practically dry humping him while dropping some foreshadowing regarding the plot. The above image is a comparatively benign moment early on in Franz’s route proper, but it goes to show just how casually grabby the guy is and how Rivian is essentially forced to get used to it. That may be unsettling for some players, but I happen to like a man assertive enough to go for what he wants - although the fact that Franz is vastly hotter and wealthier than many of the men who’ve groped me certainly plays a role there too. In any case the plot of his route - that of the murder of an ambassador in which Franz is curiously interested - plays into the idea of him as a man of mystery gradually revealed to be driven by something other than sensual indulgence, and getting his good ending requires that Rivian learn to trust and care about Franz even as he’s not at all forthcoming about his identity or motivations up until the very end. Franz’s route is unique in that his sex scene appears before the determination of whether or not you’ll get his good ending and even before certain major revelations are made regarding his character. This suits his roguish appeal just fine, even though the scene itself is kind of...well, see below. Honestly Franz is probably my favorite of the love interests by a narrow margin; he’s rich, hot, aggressive, and shown to be very open-minded about kinks while also capable of genuinely affectionate moments. That’s a rare combination and prime wish fulfillment fodder.

The “Ow, my ass!” rating: Uncomfortably high, sad to say. Props to the guy for being suave enough to lead Rivian through a masquerade ball one minute and then drag him into a storage closet to fuck his brains out the next, but it’s a massive understatement when he assures Rivian that he won’t be gentle. Franz fucks Rivian’s mouth on a cold stone floor and then only takes the time to briefly finger him with spit before impaling the boy. You really have to be into the controlling top persona to enjoy his scene, particularly as there’s little to no (onscreen) aftercare. I was also left feeling disappointed at how conventional Franz’s sex scene felt, after he’d previously teased Rivian about wanting to collar him - he calls him “kitten” throughout their interactions - and enjoying the sight of a cross-dressing Rivian. I definitely enjoy the idea that Franz is into both pet play and feminization, but it turns out to be a case of telling and not showing. At least Franz retains most of his Dom demeanor up through his epilogue, as I would have really rolled my eyes if his kinky tendencies mysteriously vanished after he and Rivian made their big romantic confessions.

Linnaeus

I’m still not sure how I feel about Linnaeus. Part of this is that I’m missing out on the reference; developer notes make it clear that his appearance and personality were modeled after those of characters in the Ace Attorney series, which I’ve never played. I can at least acknowledge the allusion found in his narrative, which reaches its (non-sexual) climax not with a violent confrontation in a mysterious setting as in the other routes but with a courtroom trial. The Steam achievement for winning the trial is even called “Rivian Wright,” at that.

More than that however Linnaeus is a man whose appeal as a love interest exists (in my opinion) on a less visceral or emotional level than the others’. Archetypically speaking he’s the defrosting tsundere who initially seems to not like Rivian very much at all and only gradually comes to enjoy his company after they’ve been thrown together by apparent coincidence in the case of a foreign duchess’s stolen diamonds. Linnaeus is a haughty intellectual and very much a sadist both in and out of bed, but later explorations of his character add depth to his talents as the king’s inquisitor and zeal for bringing criminals - especially the members of the anarchistic Disciples of Ignatius - to justice. Throw in some friction with an estranged cousin who also wants to woo Rivian and might want Linnaeus’s job as well as some earnestly romantic gestures masked by smart-assery and in one case a literal mask and there’s definitely material here for a satisfying romance. There’s some hiccups - the trial is not difficult at all to win, and there’s an optional tarot card reading scene that adds nothing to the route but unneeded foreshadowing and feels out of place besides - but it’s by no means a bad story. Maybe Linnaeus just likes to screw with Rivian too much for my taste, or maybe I’m just not into tsundere types.

The “Ow, my ass!” rating: Of a reasonable threshold, but that doesn’t mean I really care for it. Linnaeus’s sex scene involves edging, begging, and light bondage, three things that I tend to find more annoying than sexy in my own encounters. I do like that he’s a kinky guy and that the game is more willing to show that than it is with Franz, and I also like that Linnaeus comes prepared not just with rope but with lube (finally!). This is more my personal taste than anything, as objectively there’s nothing illogical or inaccurate about their encounter. No doubt their future liaisons become even more maddening, as in the epilogue Linnaeus remarks that he has “instruments” he enjoys using on Rivian. That’s just...not my preferred type of Dom, I suppose? Additionally, for whatever it’s worth Linnaeus’s naughty bits are not visible in either of his erotic CGs due to angling and his fondness for humiliation, which is kind of a letdown.

And no, Rivian never gets to yell “Objection!” during this route. Another missed opportunity, Chess of Blades.

Sabre

Sabre is the guy on the left. The one on the right is Kieran - keep him in mind for later.

This is the secret love interest. His route branches off from Arden’s and cannot be accessed until you’ve completed Arden’s route once. There’s a good narrative reason for this, and on the surface Sabre seems like a great option for a bonus romance. He’s got tons of raw sex appeal, a unique role in the story, and a social status that separates him from Rivian and the other love interests, such that while the other three are each likened to a chess piece protecting Rivian as the king Sabre’s route is more akin to upending the board entirely. Rivian falls in love with a common brawler, ultimately opting to leave the treacherous games of the court behind him. There are two very large problems with this route though:

1) Sabre has the worst voice acting of any of the characters without question. He’s got the accent problem I brought up last time, in his case doubly so because he affects a thick Scottish brogue for his fighting persona which contrasts against his uncharacteristically refined normal voice, but whether due to the VA or the audio recording equipment his volume modulation is also highly erratic. Most of his lines are either screamed so loudly I was tempted to remove my headphones or are so quiet that they’re barely audible, especially at the end of some lines where he just trails off into near-silence. There is very little middle ground, and the combined effect is extremely distracting. It doesn’t help either that Sabre is lumped in with the supporting cast in the volume settings unlike Rivian and the other love interests whose voices can be adjusted individually, so muting him will mute everyone else.

2) Then there’s Kieran, who represents a more complicated issue with Sabre’s route. The two are introduced as close friends and sparring partners who share a healthy rivalry, and even though the romantic focus of the route remains on the developing relationship between Rivian and Sabre Kieran gets in some flirty banter of his own with Rivian and makes it clear that he wouldn’t turn down the nobleman’s admiration. Somewhat shockingly, this actually does culminate in a threesome, even though it’s staged more like the way some straight guys talk about M/M/F threesomes wherein the two men (tops in this case) have their way with the woman while having minimal interaction with each other. As someone who’s engaged in my fair share of threeways with two tops I don’t necessarily object to this arrangement, and in fact I like that it continues to play up the sense of rivalry between Sabre and Kieran. What I don’t like is that after they’ve had sex and Rivian has bid farewell to both of them the epilogue drops Kieran entirely. He’s not mentioned or referenced at all, and everything comes back to Rivian and Sabre rekindling their relationship a year later under noticeably more conventional circumstances. Perhaps a true poly relationship is beyond the capabilities of a visual novel with romance routes like this, but it would have been a welcome addition to the ending if it was mentioned that the two of them get visits from Kieran from time to time and that they’re all working it out. As it stands Kieran just feels like eye candy and a tool for Sabre’s development, which is a real shame since he’s an affable character in his own right (and more competently voiced, that’s for sure - funnily enough by Franz’s VA, using what sounds more like his natural voice).

Combined these two problems really limit how well this route lives up to its potential, but I found that I could grit my teeth through Sabre’s performance and use some creative license in the ending to get around its shortcomings. It definitely feels less well constructed than the three main routes, but as an alternative to Arden’s storyline it adds a fair bit. But then....

The “Ow, my ass!” rating: Off the charts - Rivian should be dead after this sex scene. True, they use lube and Kieran eats him out first, and spit roasting is a common and reasonable practice in a two tops/one bottom arrangement, but then there’s the double penetration. Allow me to remind you that Rivian is a virgin and has apparently never stretched his hole before this encounter, and yet somehow he’s able to take two well-endowed men simultaneously. I’m not buying it, and even worse the position he’s in - sandwiched between two hulking men twice his size as they drill into him from above and below - makes me wonder that he’s more likely to die of suffocation than rectal hemorrhaging. There’s a moment during the narrative climax where Kieran bear hugs a man almost to unconsciousness, so the writers clearly must have known it was a possibility - but nope, the delicate noble boy somehow survives taking two dicks at once while being smashed between two mountains of muscle. Oh, and did I mention that said mountains of muscle have no refractory periods? They both cum from the spit roasting, and then immediately Sabre is hard again and raring to shove his way into Rivian’s poor overtaxed hole alongside Kieran. Rivian’s inner monologue lampshades this downright inhuman stamina, but that doesn’t excuse it when you take everything else that’s off about this scene. I fully understand that this is a wildly hot fantasy for anyone into beefy guys, but more than anything else in CoB this sex scene is decidedly not something to try at home.

In conclusion...

Arden is sweet, Franz is hot and surprisingly romantic, Sabre comes with issues (and Kieran) but is undoubtedly sexy, and Linnaeus is...something. Good selection on the whole but too bad about Rivian’s hole.

#Chess of Blades #M/M visual novel #BL novel

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marshmallowatheart · 6 years

Text

To All The Boys I've Loved Before (Part 13)

(1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11) (12)

It's easy to get lost in the essence of Logan Echolls, especially when you're snuggled in his arms.

Veronica's relaxed against him, she listens to the conversation and quips in a remark from time to time and when she does, she feels Logan's chest vibrate in laughs and it sends ripples of warmth through her.

She ignores everything past her line of sight and she's got her head focused on the crowd of boys around them.

Next Friday, she's got a soccer game and that's unexpectedly become a line of topic.

When she's asked about the game, she says, "Got a good feeling." They're playing Pan High and she doesn't want to jinx it but she's feeling confident about the game.

"So, boyfriend," she says, bringing his attention to her. "Are you gonna be cheering me on?"

Logan grins - full-blown and toothy - and his eyes are bright with amusement. "Damn straight. The whole crowd will know that Logan Echolls is Veronica Mars' biggest fan. So you know I'll be expecting a goal dedication."

The boys roar at that, excited and teasing like teenage boys are and she laughs, fully and without any reservation. "You know it, babe," she nudges him playfully and winks.

It feels good being wrapped in the arms of Logan Echolls, joking around with the guys and being relaxed. The problem she has is that she doesn't know where's the line between real or fake. And there's the lingering words of Duncan in her mind, coated with her own knowledge that they wouldn't be here if they didn't have reasons - reasons that have nothing to do with liking each other.

--vm--

Logan suggests getting something to eat before taking her home and she shrugs, agreeing because she has time to kill before her curfew and she’s not one to say no to food easily. And well, Logan’s good company but she’s not going to inflate his ego anymore than it already is.

“God, you were amazing tonight. The guys loved you,” Logan says, leaning back on the leather booth and sipping on his chocolate milkshake. “And Lilly was pissed.”

It feels kind of surreal knowing that she’s able to make Lilly Kane jealous - except it’s not really her rather it’s the fact that Logan Echolls is with someone else - still it’s a feeling she’s unfamiliar with but admittedly kinda likes.

“In hindsight, maybe we shouldn’t have pissed her off the day before I have to spend an afternoon with her," she groans as thoughts of the worse possible ways tomorrow could play out fill her mind.

“Veronica Mars, are you saying you’re afraid of Lilly Kane?” His brow arches because he knows Veronica Mars can be a deadly force if she wants to be.

“Well, if she’s so pissed, she’ll certainly be difficult to deal with and honestly I’d rather not deal with her at all.”

His brows furrow and he’s staring at her, considering and intense. “What happened with you guys? You use to be connected to the hip.”

She looks at him like he’s fallen from another planet. “Are you really asking me that?” He gives her a pointed look and she shakes her head, disbelieving. “You’ve had her for all these years and never asked her but you’re asking me?” She huffs.

“High school happened, Logan," she says like it's a known fact. She's thought through the reasons Lilly and her weren't friends before. Puberty. Zip codes. Haves and have nots. And she realised that between 7th and 8th grade the only thing that had changed was Lilly.

"Lilly changed and I didn’t," she gives the only explanation she knows but Logan's looking at her like that's not quite right and she doesn't really know what to feel about it all but she's gone through too much in life to care about people that didn't care about her. "I don’t know. It’s not like we’ve had conversations about it.”

“It was just weird, is all,” he shrugs. He remembers them back when they were kids; happily skipping around, giggling against each others ears whispering secrets and declaring best friends forever.

”Not really,” she grumbles, picking up a french fry and nibbling on it - she wishes that the conversation about Lilly Kane would end.

He's still staring at her like he's trying to figure her out and she wants to just put her head in the hole so he can't attempt to read her thoughts. "Can I ask you a question?"

It's unsettling when someone asks to ask you question. It's nerve-wrecking when the person is Logan Echolls and he's staring at her with deep intensity.

"O-kay," she lets out as casually as she can.

"Why haven't you ever had a boyfriend?"

She stills for a second because it's another conversation she doesn't really know how to have but Logan's still staring at her, awaiting answers that she doesn't really know how to give and she kinda wants to go back to talking about Lilly again.

"I don't know. I guess no one's ever liked me like that," she shrugs and as the words come out, he's already looking at her like she's ridiculous.

"I know that's a lie because I know for a fact Casey Gant asked you to Homecoming last year and you said no."

"Wow, Logan," she blows out. "You know stalking is a criminal offense." His eyes are narrowed on her and she shrugs off his defense. "Casey probably only asked me out to get back to Ashley."

"I'm pretty sure he was into you," he says matter-of-factly. "And I've been hanging out with you, Veronica," his words are softer and deliberate. He's peering closer to her and she feels like he can see into her soul. "I know the only reason you haven't had a boyfriend is by choice."

She feels her heartbeat quicken, her cheeks feel hotter and Logan's not backing away. She doesn't know what it is about Logan Echolls that makes her feel like running away and running to him all at the same time.

She doesn't know what makes her confide in him exactly but she feels safe enough to do so, she feels like he won't judge her.

"I can't control how I feel about people but I can control how I deal with it," she takes a breath, trying to figure out how to explain this all. "You know it feels nice to like someone but it's scary," she softly admits, it's been a long time since she's let herself feel so vulnerable and open to someone other than her family. "Because the more people I let into my life, the more people can just walk right out."

“Like your mom, right?”

It’s a sore subject, one she doesn’t really like to discuss but the whole town knows that the sherrif’s drunk wife fled town leaving him and three little girls behind.

“Yeah," she whispers and nods her head because her whisper is so soft she's not sure he's heard her.

He's silent for a moment, considering and she wonders if he'll let it go now.

“You ever think that you’re better off?” his voice is deep and raw and she looks at him in surprise. She's used to sympathetic apologies and pittiful glaces but she’s never been asked that before.

He lets out a breath, like he's fighting wars with himself. “I always felt that way about my father," he admits, he's surprised at himself for saying it but he lets himself for once.

Veronica didn't know much about Logan's family. She knew what everyone knew; Aaron and Lynn Echolls were Hollywood royalty. He'd cheated on her and during Lynn's Christmas party Aaron Echolls had been stabbed by a psychotic waitress who'd claimed betrayal.

He swallows, like this is hard to talk about but he still wants to talk about it. "He was so fucked up, Veronica. The things he did," he staggers, it's harder to breath when he talks about his father like this. "But I still felt grief for him despite it all. And then it felt like we were better after he was gone," he lets out a shakey breath, he's letting it all out for the first time and then he kinda feels like shit because Veronica doesn't know the monster that Aaron Echolls was.

“I just felt like maybe you'd understand 'cause of your mom. I know it’s not the same thing but -”

“I get it,” she nods, a small appreciative smile on her lips and he instantly feels better - it's been a year and he hasn't said a thing about it to anyone else before and she's sitting across a booth with a soft smile, understanding the demons he doesn't know how to face.

He lets out a breath, a light chuckle. “You say you're scared of commitment and relationships, but you don't seem to be afraid to be with me."

She tilts her head and Logan could very well get lost in her eyes. “Well, there's no reason to be.”

“Yeah? Why's that?” the words flow out of him easily but her answer is something he's desperate to know. It's been awhile since he's expected something from anyone, he wants her to say that he's an exception to the messed up rule her mother created when she left - or something along the lines of how she can trust him. Because he trusts her, so much more than he'd ever wanted to let himself trust anybody.

"Because we're just pretending."

Everything disappears after that. She says it so plainly but it feels like she's standing on his heart and doesn't even know it.

She's not wrong. They are pretending. But everything they've said to each other, that hasn't been fake, he knows it. He wishes she realised it too.

“Right, of course," he bobs his head like he knew that answer all along. "We should get you home, don't want the sheriff getting out his shotgun, do we?"

She feels a heavy ache in her the pits of her stomach, it's not physical pain just the feeling that something is wrong. She doesn't know why she feels like she'd said the wrong thing the moment it was out of her mouth because it's something she's had to remind herself of constantly. It's the way Logan looks at her that makes her wish she'd said something different because even though she knows it was the right answer, it wasn't the whole truth but she doesn't know if she can handle Logan knowing that yet.

#veronica mars #logan echolls #logan x veronica #love #vm fanfic #vm fic #inspired by to all the boys i've loved before #to all the boys i've loved before #part 13

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mldrgrl · 6 years

Text

Speak Low if You Speak Love

by: mldrgrl Rating: NC-17 Summary: Stella has been thinking about a change of scenery and Hank doesn’t take the news as well as she thought he might.

They’d been in New York for just over three weeks since Becca’s accident. After four days in the hospital, the injured girl had been released and was adamant about returning to her own apartment. Karen had strenuously argued to bring her to Connecticut to recuperate while Hank vigorously lobbied to bring her to the loft. Stella and Fish remained mostly neutral, pacifying the concerns of both exasperated parents by reminding them that Becca was an adult and therefore the decision was hers to make.

Secretly, Stella had hoped that Becca would capitulate and choose to accept the assistance both her parents so eagerly offered. It would certainly make things easier. However, she also understood the need for autonomy and self-reliance, something she shared with her stepdaughter in spades. Deep down, she knew that Becca would heal faster without the added stress of hovering, worried parents with a known tendency to smother their daughter with attention.

Officially, Stella was on an extended leave, though she did what she could to audit files remotely and had gotten up in the middle of the night a few times to attend meetings via videoconference. Once the anxiety surrounding Becca’s hospitalization had worn off, Hank returned to work on his latest novel with renewed vigor. A routine was established where Hank and Stella checked in on Becca during the week, taking her to and from physical therapy every other day, and Karen and Fish came down on Friday nights, leaving on Sunday afternoons after they’d all had brunch at a cafe a short walk from Becca’s apartment.

Spring slid easily into summer and the weather had been remarkably beautiful the entire time. Stella and Hank had gotten into the habit of walking home from brunch, taking a leisurely stroll across the park from the west side to the east side, sometimes stopping for appetizers or drinks depending on the time of day they made it back to the loft.

The pace of their days was gentle and unhurried, something Stella was not accustomed to, but that she almost felt like she could get used to. Despite the situation, it was, she thought, oddly pleasant. The tranquility actually spurred her into action about something she’d been lately giving a lot of thought to.

They walked hand in hand, another thing Stella had become increasingly comfortable with, to the point where it became almost an unconscious act to reach for him as they entered the gates in front of the Natural History Museum. Their walks were mostly silent, save for the ambient noise of the park - birds chirping, dogs barking, children screaming, people laughing. Today, the sun played a game of peek-a-boo behind large, white, and puffy clouds. Stella could feel the warmth of it on her back through the thin cotton of her sundress. It was hotter than it had been and more humid. Spotting an empty bench under the shade of a thick clump of trees, she tugged on Hank’s hand.

“Sit?” she asked.

“Sure,” he answered.

Hank laid his arm out along the back of the bench behind Stella when they sat down. He tipped his head back and she knew he eyes were closed even if she couldn’t see through his dark glasses. She put a hand on his thigh and he cupped her shoulder, pulling her close as he leaned towards her.

“You’re getting freckled,” Hank mumbled, brushing his lips back and forth over her shoulder.

Stella turned her head to the side, but it was hard to see. She put her arms out and rotated them back and forth a few times. There was a bit of color there.

“Was this what it was like in LA?” she asked. “Perpetual sun?”

“More often than not,” he answered, leaning back again on the bench and turning his head up again.

“I think that would be very strange.”

“Yeah, well, they don’t call it Hell-A for nothin’.”

“And New York?”

“Weatherwise? Colder than a witch’s tit in winter, melt your balls off hot in the summer. Everything in between is just about damn near perfect.”

“You love it here.”

Hank shrugged.

“There’s something I’ve been giving a lot of thought to,” she said. “Something I’ve been investigating the possibility of lately, and I want to know what your opinion is.”

“Which state has the best weather?”

“No.”

A pack of dogs came around the curve of the path towards them, a harried dog walker in tow. They watched the young man stumble along as he struggled to keep up with the group. Hank grinned in amusement, but waited until the kid had been dragged away to let out a laugh.

“Looks like his first day on the job,” he said. “Poor kid.”

“It’s a job I want to talk to you about.”

“Thinking of being a dog walker, Sherlock?”

“No, but I am thinking about a change in career.”

“Oh?” Hank turned towards her and raised his sunglasses up to rest on his head. “For real?”

“I’ve been made aware of an opportunity that I don’t believe would come my way again if I pass on it.”

“What is it?”

“The UN has a security council that oversees efforts of reformation of law to war-torn countries to help them rebuild. They’re looking to put together a committee that would establish a basic set of parameters to follow to assist in transition.”

“I don’t know if I understood a word of that, but go on.”

“Council members have attended panel discussions I’ve been involved with on international law and my name was floated as a suggested head of this committee.”

“That sounds fucking amazing, but could you explain it to me in layman’s terms?”

“Essentially, we’d be writing the manual on how to establish law and order in countries that have little to no experience in governing themselves, but who wish to do so.”

“And if you’re the head of it, you’d be like the Mayor McCheese of all the countries?”

“Ah, no.” Stella chuckled a little. “No, nothing like that.”

“Wouldn’t you need to be a lawyer or something to do this?”

“No, but I’ve a degrees in political science and criminal justice.”

“You do?”

“Of course.”

“You say ‘of course’ like everyone has a degree in criminal justice and poli-sci. I thought you had a degree in anthropology.”

“I do.”

“Triple major?”

“It’s easy enough to continue courses and write a few more papers when you’ve accumulated credits. So many overlap.”

“You have more?”

Stella shrugged lightly.

“How many?” Hank asked.

“I haven’t counted.”

“What else?”

“Economics, world history, ancient civilizations, criminal psychology, sociology, theology, classics.”

“Classics?”

“Study of ancient Greek and Roman culture.”

“Well, I didn’t hear English lit in there, so...I win.”

“What would I do with a lit degree?”

“The same thing you do with a classics degree?”

“You’d be surprised.”

“Am I am asshole for not knowing any of this?”

“It certainly doesn’t come up in conversation. Nor do I offer it without cause.”

“You’re like the extreme version of an undecided major. You couldn’t decide so you took them all.”

“Not all. I’m rubbish at the maths.”

“Guess settling down and becoming an accountant would be out of the question then?”

“Absolutely out of the question.”

The sun appeared in full for the next few minutes between a gap in the clouds. The line of demarcation between sunshine and shadow crossed the top of Stella’s feet, warming her toes until she pulled them back towards the bench and into the shade.

“Tell me more about the job,” Hank said. “Not about what it is, but what it would mean.”

“The salary is less than what I’m making now.”

“Well, fuck. There goes my dream of being a kept man.”

“There is a perk.”

“What’s the perk?”

“I can choose to make my home base from anywhere the UN has offices.”

“Can I rule out Switzerland?”

“I was thinking New York.”

“Here?”

“Would you want that?”

“Would you?”

“I wouldn’t even suggest it if I didn’t.”

“Okay.” Hank paused and his face seemed to be caught between a smile and a frown. “I’m guessing there’s a catch here.”

“There’s always a catch, isn’t there?” she answered, turning her head down with a sigh.

“Lay it on me, Sherlock.”

“It’s a minimum five year commitment.”

“And?”

“There is a significant amount of travel required.”

“How much are we talkin’? Days, weeks, months?”

“As yet unknown. I’d be sent where I’m needed and that could be...it could be months at a time.”

Hank turned his head away from Stella and started bouncing his knee, shaking the bench along with it until she put her hand on his leg. He stopped bouncing, but she could feel the tension in his quadricep and she gave him a light squeeze, but that just seemed to make him more tense.

“You’re upset,” she stated. “Why?”

“Have you already accepted this job?” he asked, his face still turned away from him. “Has this all been planned out and you’re just giving me the courtesy of letting me know now?”

“No, I haven’t even met with anyone yet. There’ve been a few emails traded regarding specifics, but technically it hasn’t even been offered and I don’t know who else they might be looking at.”

“I don’t want you to take it.”

“I don’t need your permission.”

“Fine,” he spat, throwing his arm up over her head as he stood. “Do whatever the fuck you want.”

Stella watched Hank walk away and though the urge to go after him was strong, she suppressed it in order to check her own anger. She hadn’t even made up her mind, was still weighing the pros and cons of it herself, and of course was interested in his opinion, but his explosive reaction to the prospect was surprising and disheartening. Normally, when faced with such strong opposition, it only served to make her more determined, but she was not free to make her own decisions any longer.

This is what had kept her reticent against marriage for most of her life and why she was experiencing a moment of regret now. Were she single, she wouldn’t have to give much thought to taking this job if she wanted it. In fact, moving to New York wouldn’t even be an idea in her mind if not for Hank. For the first time in her life, she was happily willing to uproot her entire life for someone else, the way in which he’d done for her by moving to London. It wasn’t lost on her that he’d made sacrifices to be with her, but his livelihood was not dependent on location. If she passed on this opportunity to relocate, another may not come along.

There were some deeper truths in wanting to take this job that she did not get the opportunity to express to Hank, because all she’d gotten to was the facts. She’d gone for the head and not the heart because she herself led by logic, but Hank was guided by emotion above all else. At times it made it feel like they spoke entirely different languages.

Stella walked home slowly, her emotional state in constant flux between anger and sadness. She had often heard from those that spoke of marriage, was that it was mainly about either compromise or sacrifice. The reality of it was hitting her hard. She wanted her opinions to be heard and respected, but she was going to have to offer Hank the same courtesy. And that could mean the issue could go unresolved. If they still could not be on the same page after she fully explained her reasoning to him, then she didn’t know where that would leave them. The only thing she knew for certain was that she could not take the job unless her husband was okay with it and the fact that she did, in a sense, require his permission, was what made her angry.

When she got home, she expected to find Hank wallowing in a bottle of whiskey somewhere. The loft was quiet and he wasn’t in the main room or the bedroom. She checked the guest room and he wasn’t there either, which made her wonder if he hadn’t just stopped at a bar instead of coming home. She almost forgot about the one other place she could check.

It wasn’t until after a few years of even being at the loft that she discovered they had rooftop access. Not just any rooftop access, private rooftop access from inside the loft. She’d always just assumed that the door that was largely unnoticeable beyond the kitchen was simply a utility closet of sorts and never had cause to open it until one afternoon when she was looking for a mop and instead found a set of stairs. There’d been nothing up on the roof then except for a rickety chair, a small table, and a gorgeous view of other rooftops and the downtown skyscrapers. Hank had said he hadn’t yet got around to fixing it up and rarely went up there. Since he was now in London, it still hadn’t been done, but there were two chairs up there instead of one.

She found him standing at the ledge facing the east side. It wasn’t quite sunset, but she’d noticed it getting darker on her walk home and now she could see what looked like a storm coming in. The pretty blue that had brightened the sky earlier in the afternoon had dulled to a slate grey. It was still warm though and the humidity level had started to creep up.

There was a whiskey bottle on the little table between the chairs, but it was new and the seal wasn’t even broken. Stella knew that Hank must’ve heard her approach, but he stayed where he was with his back to her and his arms spread wide, gripping the edge of the brick wall at his hips. She slipped up behind him and wrapped her arms around his torso, locking her hands over her wrists to hold tight. It only took a few moments for him to let go of the wall and rest his hands on her arms.

“I humbly do beseech of your pardon,” Hank said. “For too much loving you.”

Stella blew out a short breath through her nose. She didn’t have any degrees in literature, but she’d certainly been exposed to her share of Shakespeare. “I had rather hear my dog bark at a crow than a man swear he loves me,” she retorted.

Hank chuckled. “I give you Othello and you throw Much Ado About Nothing back at me?”

“Seemed fitting.”

“I will not be sworn, but love may transform me to an oyster.”

Stella let go of her wrists to loosen her hold on Hank. “Look at me,” she said.

Hank turned and then leaned against the short wall. He shifted his feet apart and though she stepped up close, she kept her back arched and her head tipped back to look up at him.

“I’m not made to be alone,” he said. “And I’m sorry I’m so fucking insecure, but I-”

“Stop for a moment,” she interrupted, reaching up to place two fingers against his lips. “Let me tell you the whole of it, and then you may disagree.”

“I don’t want to disagree, Sherlock.”

“My job is not as fulfilling as it used to be for me. I do still find it worthwhile and I do still enjoy what I do, but my priorities have shifted. I attribute that to you.”

“You mean you blame me.”

“No, I credit you. You’ve made me realize that I could have more and that there are other things I would like to have more of.”

“Like what?”

“Family. What I’d had before was very fractured and cold. What I have now with you and with Becca and with Karen and with Fish, it’s warm and lovely and I can’t help but want more from it.”

Hank groaned a little and tipped his head back. “You want more of The Trout?”

“I think that you do as well and you’re not willing to admit it.”

“There are only so many barbeques I can take.”

“This thing with Becca was unsettling. It was unsettling for you and it was unsettling for me, being so far and utterly incapable of doing anything except get on the next flight out and then endure hours of the unknown.”

“I don’t need the reminder.”

“Logically I know that even if we were here, it couldn’t have changed things, but being ten minutes away and ten hours away does make a difference.”

“It does. You’re right, it does. But, Becca is my daughter and you’re my wife and that also makes a difference. I don’t necessarily want to be away from her, especially if bad shit happens, but I don’t want you to be away from me either because you’re my wife. Maybe a better man would be okay with it, or maybe I’m just a fucking codependent asshole, but I can’t do the weeks apart thing anymore. You’re asking me to accept the possibility of months or more away from you and I can’t do it.”

“I’m not asking you to accept anything, I’m only asking that you listen to why I was interested.”

“Are you not taking it?”

“I don’t know. Yes, being apart is a significant drawback, but what if I never find an opportunity like this again?”

“Is it the job that’s the opportunity or is it moving to New York?”

Stella paused, her lips parting just a little as she sucked in a breath. “The job is appealing. It sounds challenging and worthwhile. I don’t know that I’d want to take it if it did not come with the benefit of moving.”

“So, if I’m understanding this right, and feel free to correct me if I’m wrong, getting to New York is the goal, not necessarily a change in career.”

“That is something else I’ve been giving a lot of thought to.”

“You want to retire the deerstalker?”

Before Stella could answer, an enormous crack of thunder interrupted the conversation, making them both jump. The boom was so loud that it set off a string of car alarms below. It must have startled the clouds as well, for it began to rain. Stella loosened her arms and turned to move away, but Hank pulled her back.

“Don’t go yet,” he said. “It’s just a little rain.”

She blinked away a few raindrops that hit her lashes. “I’ve only been thinking that there’s an expiration date for me in what I do,” she answered. “I’ve already moved out of the field, and the further up I go, the further away from that which drew me in I get. I might like to try something different.”

“I think if the UN job was the right thing for you, it wouldn’t feel so wrong. I don’t think you’d have any doubts at all if you really wanted it.”

“Maybe you’re right.”

“What about teaching?”

A drop of rain leaked from Stella’s hairline down her forehead and along the side of her nose. She reached up to brush it away. She’d toyed with the idea of teaching before, but hadn’t seriously researched the requirements.

“I suppose that could be a possibility,” she said.

“There’s got to be a fuck-ton of schools up and down the east coast that would give their left nut for someone with your experience on staff.”

“That is something to consider.”

Hank looked up and closed his eyes wistfully. The rain speckled his cheeks. “I would really miss the fuck out of that uniform though,” he said.

Stella pinched his love handles and when she pulled away, this time he let her go. They were both getting wet. She had to tiptoe across the rooftop, afraid of her shoes slipping out from under her. Hank grabbed the bottle of whiskey from the table and then took Stella’s hand to give her something to hold onto as she stepped down the first few stairs to go back inside.

When she reached the doorway, Stella stepped out of her shoes and left a trail of wet footprints across the hardwood floor to the bathroom. Hank was only seconds behind her and he came in shaking water out of his hair like a dog after a bath. She’d already peeled the straps of her dress off her shoulders and reached back to unzip it the rest of the way. It was cooler inside the loft than it was outside and exposing her damp skin made her shiver. She leaned closer over the counter and inspected her sunkissed shoulders. Hank was right, there was not only a bloom of freckles across her chest and shoulders, but over the bridge of her nose and along the apples of her cheeks as well.

“I hate wet jeans,” Hank said, unbuttoning his fly as Stella turned her eyes to watch him in the mirror. His t-shirt had already been pulled off and tossed to the floor. “Makes me feel like I pissed myself.”

Stella left her bra and panties on and hopped up onto the counter. Hank grimaced as he tried to shimmy out of his uncooperative pants. God, how she wanted him. Sometimes it hit her suddenly just how lucky she was that she had him. He was right. Being without him for months at a time would be unbearable. Not touching him, not being touched by him, just might make her go insane.

“Hank,” she said, holding her hand out just a little and stretching her fingers towards him.

He cursed under his breath as he finally managed to step out of his pants and then he moved over to stand in front of her, leaning down with his hands pressed to the counter so that they were eye to eye. She touched his jaw with her fingertips and then traced one brow and the shell of his ear.

“I know no ways to mince it in love, but directly to say ‘I love you,’” she said.

Hank’s lips curled up into a smile. “Henry V? Are you sure you’re not hiding a lit degree somewhere?”

“Kiss me.”

“You have witchcraft in your lips,” he murmured as he tilted his head and slanted his mouth over hers.

She sighed into his mouth and let him push her head back with his until it bumped the mirror. Sometimes she was impatient with the slow way he made love to her mouth, but she welcomed it at that moment. She was glad for the gentle glide of his thick tongue over hers and how it filled her, how it seemed to caress her teeth and the roof of her mouth so that she could hardly breathe. The lack of oxygen and the increase of her heart rate made the pulse of her desire even stronger. It burned so bright she felt it could ignite and catch fire.

She decided that she couldn’t wait for him to lavish attention over every part of her body. One of his hands had meandered up slowly and began teasing her over her bra, but it just wasn’t enough. She wasn’t in the mood for a slow slide into bliss after all, she was in the mood to have her hair pulled and her hips slammed back so hard the mirror would crack. Of course, that wasn’t even possible. The counter was too long and she was too short and she wasn’t entirely sure his back had healed fully from the skiing injury to support a hard and fast fuck against a wall. The thought of it though...the very thought of it.

“Bed,” Stella ordered. “Now.”

Hank pulled her from the counter in a flash and she locked her ankles behind his back. He stumbled along, nuzzling his face across the top of her breasts so that she had to turn and be the one to guide them to the bedroom, pushing them away from walls and furniture until his knees hit the mattress and she fell back. She twisted away and crawled up to toss the pillows to the floor, but he turned her hips and dragged her back down to him.

“I’ll make my heaven in a lady’s lap,” he said, yanking her panties down over her left hip.

“Oh, shut the fuck up,” she answered, trailing off into a moan as his tongue swirled through her folds. He had the nerve to laugh and the vibration lifted her knees and made her stomach clench. She arched her neck and looked up, thinking that the headboard was sturdy and solid. He lifted his head and pushed one of her legs back to pull her panties off and then he dove back down to keep loving her with his tongue. It was good, because he was always good at what he did, but it wasn’t what she wanted.

Her eyes rolled back and a grunt of frustration escaped her before she managed to break free and scramble back up the bed. Hank’s eyes shone like he was drunk off the taste of her and he rose unsteadily up on all fours. Stella was reclined on her elbows, her shoulders pressed to the headboard. She opened her knees for him, aware of how overripe with desire she was that it dripped steadily from her, and aware that he could see it and smell it on her. He groaned, reaching down to stroke himself over his boxer briefs.

Stella inched her way higher up the headboard, which moved her away from Hank. He stalked forward on hands and knees. When he was close enough and when she was high enough, they were both suddenly on their knees and getting in each other’s way as they both tried to pull his underwear off. She finally just let him do it and took him in hand instead, eagerly stroking root to tip in anticipation. All she wanted was to get him inside of her as quickly as possible.

Outside, there was a low growl of thunder and the rain swelled. Stella leaned back against the headboard and reached for Hank, lifting her leg over his hip as she pushed up just enough to slide down onto him. He had one arm around her back and reached down to help guide himself into her. She wrapped her other leg around his waist as he hoisted her up.

“You always feel so fucking good,” Hank groaned.

“You too,” she breathed, pulling her hips back so that her low back hit the headboard.

The top of the headboard was like a natural shelf for Hank to rest his arms. They buffered her back from the wall, but it didn’t stop her hips from rattling the frame with every upward stroke he gave her. Soon, the knocking of wood against brick became a steady rhythm, coupled with the wet slap of damp skin against damp skin. She wanted the whole building to thrum with the force of their fucking, wanted it to be bigger than the storm outside.

And then she was there, stretched taut and breathless as her body hung suspended between the climb and the fall. She felt like sobbing with relief when she went over, heels digging roughly into Hank’s tailbone. Her body shook and muscles quivered and two tears leaked from the corners of both eyes and down the sides of her cheeks. Hank buried his face against her shoulder and furiously pumped his hips into her as she held on. The effort was almost painful, but he had her gasping and shaking again just before he found his own release.

Stella slid her hand through Hank’s hair, damp with sweat and rainwater. His chest heaved against hers and he blew hot and humid breath against her shoulder. The musk of sex perfumed the room, so thick she could taste it in the air. She smiled.

“God damn, Sherlock,” Hank said. He dropped his hips and slipped out of her and she unfolded her legs from around him. She felt weak and rubbery. He took her with him as he flopped back on the bed and she rolled to her side against him.

“I’m going to pass on the job,” she said.

Hank rolled onto his side and propped himself up on his elbow. He looked down at her and smoothed a few strands of hair off her sweaty cheek. “If it’s what you wanted, we could make it work.”

“Being with you is what I want. It occurs to me that I am unwilling to compromise on that point.”

“That’s good, because so am I.”

“It’s lovely to agree on something.”

“Mmhm,” Hank hummed. He traced the downward slope of her upper lip with his thumb and then brought a finger down her nose. “My most brilliant achievement was my ability to persuade my wife to marry me.”

Stella pulled her brows together in thought. “That’s not Shakespeare.”

“No,” he laughed. “Winston Churchill.”

“Oh, darling, please stick to The Bard.”

“I might be fresh out of Billy Shakes for the moment, but I might be able to bust out some Keats if I really thought about it. Just give me a few more minutes for my brain cells to regenerate.”

“I don’t need poetry, Watson.”

“Wait, wait, I got one.” Hank rolled over so he was above her, propping himself up on his elbows. She parted her thighs so he could lay between her legs and he brushed his nose back and forth against hers. “I do love nothing in the world so well as you. Is that not strange?”

“Then we are strange together.”

“Sorry for being an asshole earlier.”

“Love means never having to say you’re sorry.”

“Oh my god, Sherlock, you’re giving me shit for Churchill and then you go and quote Love Story?”

“That was terrible, I apologize.”

“Eh, not gonna lie, it’s still a turn on.”

It was difficult to kiss through the laughter that followed, but they managed.

The End

#i wrote this #hanella #stella gibson #hank moody #californication #the fall #angst #fun with shakespeare #married people fights

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thedistrictsleepsalonetonight · 6 years

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Don’t call it a fight when you know it’s a war Chapter 2

For the first night in her life as a Serpent, Toni doesn’t have nightmares.

Waking up is a surprise. She blearily opens her eyes, squinting against the light shining through the open blinds, and is unnerved when she finds a warm body in bed next to her. That shouldn’t be new, over the years she’s had quite a lot of warm bodies in bed next to her, but the thing is, they don’t sleep there. It’s two hours of pleasure, then Toni is either sneaking out in the middle of the night, or heavily hinting that they need to go home. It’s a rule with her.

And Cheryl Blossom, she’s learning, breaks a lot of her rules.

Sometime during the night, they had shifted positions, and now they’re both facing each other, with Cheryl’s hands curled up under the covers between their bodies while Toni’s right arm lies over her waist. The light isn’t directly on her face, but Toni can see right up close, and she can’t stop staring.

Cheryl is beautiful. It’s not something she’s realized the first time, and it certainly won’t be the last, but now, with a little bit of light on her face, her hair all messed up and lying over her forehead, she looks like an absolute angel. A snoozing, red-haired angel who apparently (and here Toni grins a little bit) drools in her sleep.

“What are you smiling about?” Cheryl asks, without opening her eyes, and Toni’s smile grows wider.

“Nothing.”

“Uh huh,” comes a mumble, and the sleeping girl finally opens her eyes. She blinks, once, twice, as if to focus, then opens them completely and looks at her.

“You didn’t have a nightmare,” she says, all matter-of-fact.

“No, I didn’t,” Toni replies, then frowns “Wait, how do you know that?”

“Because I put an alarm,” Cheryl tells her, simply “Well, actually, two. I googled how long it usually takes to start dreaming after we fall asleep, and there were a lot of different answers, but most of them said about 60 to 90 minutes after you fall asleep. So I put one alarm for an hour after we went to bed, and another two hours after. I woke up and you were still sleeping okay, so I fell asleep myself.”

Toni stares at her, at this girl who put two alarms on her phone just so she could help her through a nightmare, and thinks, not for the first time I don’t deserve you. I don’t deserve you, and you certainly shouldn’t be stuck with someone as depraved as I am, someone so terrible, so monstrous, so…..unworthy. You deserve someone is good, someone who would treat you the way you deserve to be treated.

And then she thinks, but as long as you let me, I will be the demon who tries to be all of that for you.

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

“I can’t kill her,” she announces in the office, two days later, and is surprised at their complete lack of reaction.

“Yeah,” Veronica tells her “We figured this was going to happen like after a week of you meeting her.”

She gapes.

“Don’t look like that,” Jughead comments, dryly “You’ve been smiling like crazy.”

“Almost as if you’re happy,” Sweet Pea adds in, trying to sound disgusted, but she can hear genuine pleasure in his voice.

“It’s disgusting,” Jughead cuts in, again.

“I think it’s cute,” Betty says, throwing a reproving look at her boyfriend, who just holds his hands up “We’re all really happy for you.”

Toni stares at the lot of them, at this band of misfits and murderers and criminals, who are happy for her, who are smiling at her because they evidently care about her, and there’s a prickling in her eyes that tells her she’s about to cry in a few seconds, but goddamn it.

“Thank you,” she manages, after a few seconds.

“Anytime,” Fangs speaks for all of them, and she believes it.

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

“FP might know,” Fangs proposes that night, when they’re knee deep in papers, trying to figure out why it is that the Serpents want her dead.

“Um,” Sweet Pea notes “Could it be that he gave the orders?”

“No way,” Jughead jumps to his dad’s defense “This one came from the higher-ups. And after he was in jail. And even if he’d been free, there’s no way he would have. I don’t think…..”

Betty puts a calming hand on his shoulder, and he relaxes a little bit, though still stiffer than usual. Toni extends her hands, placating.

“No one’s accusing your dad of anything, Jug,” she says “But he could know why, right?”

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

FP’s eyes nearly pop out of his head when they show him Cheryl’s photo “Oh God,” he says, and leans back in his rickety chair, hands over his gaunt face “Oh God.”

“You know her?” Toni questions, at the same time that Jughead asks “You know who she is?”

“Yeah,” he tells them “She’s Jason’s sister.”

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

Three words, and Toni finally understands.

She finally understands who the JJ in Cheryl’s stories is. The JJ, who was her twin brother, the one person in her life who loved her and understood her, her one and only support throughout her lonely life with her terrible parent. The JJ who died in a drug deal gone wrong.

“But I thought her dad killed him,” she says on the ride back home.

“He did,” Jughead replies, a dark look on his face “But my dad had kidnapped him for a while before that. It was…..a whole other mess.”

“Mess sums it up pretty nicely,” Sweet Pea says from the backseat, and then there is quiet for the rest of the ride.

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

“You can’t kill her just because she’s testifying!”

Tall Boy towers over her, but she faces him down “I’ll do whatever I can to get FP back. He’s our head.”

“FP doesn’t fucking approve of this!” she screams in his face “You went behind his back.”

“I went behind his back so he could be free. He’ll understand later.”

Frustrated, she runs a hand through her hair, and he sneers at her.

“What?”

“I very much doubt your loyalty to the Serpents right now, Toni,” he says her name with pure venom in his tone, and Toni flinches “Are you forgetting who your real family is? Are you forgetting who took you in when your parents died and raised you? Are you forgetting the man who was almost your father?”

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

“What do you mean I can’t testify?”

“I mean you can’t testify, Cheryl, please just listen to me, please,” she says, running around her apartment, looking for the cupboards.

“How do you know about……?”

“It doesn’t matter, goddamnit! Just…..get your clothes, we’re leaving.”

“We’re not going anywhere till you tell me what’s going on? How do you know about the trial?”

“We don’t have time! They could be on their way here to kill you at any moment, and I’ll be damned if I let that happen!”

“Who is on their way here right now?” Cheryl asks her, her voice controlled but Toni can sense the fear coiled inside of it.

“The Serpents,” Toni answers, heavily.

“And how exactly do you know about this?”

“Because, Cheryl Blossom,” a voice comes from the window “She is one of us.”

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

“Penny,” Toni calls out, standing between her and Cheryl, angling her body such that the girl behind her is mostly shielded, a million thoughts running through her head. Mostly along the lines of how could she have been so stupid and distracted and dumb to let something like this pass her notice.

“Topaz,” comes the reply, almost spat in her direction.

“Look,” she says, calmly, evaluating her options “I talked to her. She won’t be testifying at the trial.”

Behind her, Cheryl gives an almost silent indignant scoff at her lie, and while she knows that this is not the time, that Cheryl definitely hates her now, that there’s a very good chance she might die today, a part of her can’t help but want to smile at the very gall of this girl.

“That doesn’t matter,” Penny Peabody tells her “Not to me. I have my own ends to meet, and they aren’t related to either FP or small fish like Tall Boy. Nah, I have much bigger plans in mind.”

Toni slowly raises her hands, to show that she is unarmed, and making a huge show out of it, fiddles with her watch. She presses a tiny button on it, and waits for a miracle.

Five minutes, hopefully.

“You know,” she raises her voice “I, um, wouldn’t mind knowing those plans myself, you know. I might be of some help to you.”

Penny stares at her for a long second, and then bursts into laughter.

“You? A traitor to the Serpents? You think I’m crazy enough to believe that?”

Okay, that failed.

Penny stalks towards her, and she crouches into a defensive position.

“You’re not going to hurt her,” she says, and swipes for Penny’s knife hand

Everything is instinct then. Moving, circling each other, trying to avoid the sharp stings of her knife. She kicks and lunges, and gets cut more places on her body than she ever has. It hurts but something inside of her burns even hotter, the same something that would do anything to make Cheryl smile. The same something that would kill for Cheryl Blossom.

The same something that would die for her.

And it doesn’t come as a shock, the thought. She isn’t that injured, surely not fatally, but the thought of her death is on her mind. She’s anticipated it since her first kill, and this? Dying in the protection of the girl that she loves? Definitely a worthy cause.

Fortunately, tonight she doesn’t have to.

She looks at Fangs, Jughead and Sweet Pea crashing through the door, and for the first time in her life, thanks some higher power up there for keeping her alive.

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

“You’re bleeding,” Cheryl says, flatly.

“It doesn’t matter!” she says “Cheryl, please don’t testify at the trial. FP wasn’t to blame for your brother….”

“Do not,” the girl raises her voice, then, and Toni falls silent “Talk of my brother, you……”

“Cheryl,” she pleads, taking a step forward “I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry.”

“Don’t touch me!”

She freezes in her position.

“You lied to me. Betrayed me,” Cheryl explodes, her voice shaking and cracking, and Toni swears she can feel it all the way down to her own heart “Pretended to…..I don’t know, love me? And all for what? Just so you could get close enough to kill me? I can’t even……I can’t even look at you.”

“It wasn’t like that,” she insists, shaking her head “Cheryl, I……it started that way, but I swear, I haven’t pretended. Not one moment after that day at the movie. It was all real for me, okay? Falling in love with you, starting to care for you. I think I’m in love with you, Cheryl. None of it was fake, I promise.”

“I don’t trust the word of liars,” Cheryl says, finally, the tears now freely falling “Please, go.”

“Cheryl,” she starts, but is cut off.

“I want you to leave.”

But I love you, she thinks, but doesn’t say. Her love is what’s gotten them all into this mess, anyways. She takes a last look at Cheryl, standing in the middle of the room, arms wrapped around herself as she cries, and against every instinct in her body willing her to stay, walks out.

#riverdale choni #riverdale #riverdale fanfiction #choni fic #choni fanfiction #cheryl x toni #cheryl blossom #toni topaz #fanfiction

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tunesrecords · 2 years

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Affiliated Lyrics By Future Ft Lil Durk | Official Lyrics

Future And Lil Durk Lyrics

Read the official lyrics to 'Affiliated' by Future, featuring Lil Durk. Affiliated was released on May 2nd as the 19th track on Future's "I Never Liked You" Extended album, Affiliated was co-produced by TM88, Akachi and TooDope, read 'Affiliated' lyrics and sing along.

Future And Lil Durk

STREAM & DOWNLOAD AUDIO: Affiliated By Future Feat. Lil Durk

Future & Lil Durk - Affiliated Lyrics

Intro Yeah (Yeah) I'm reloading (I'm reloading) Yeah (Yeah)

Chorus: Future Yeah, I been counting money so long it make my hands ache Yeah, hundred round in the trunk, can't even stand straight Yeah, gon' pop more than one, start hallucinating Lot of diamonds on my arm, look like roller-skate My hood hotter than a sauna, nigga, whacking shit Flood that lil' bitch out in stones and got a badder bitch Posted on the corner where it's yellow tape Had to buy my bitch a gun, gang affiliate

Verse 1: Future Told her "Don't be worried 'bout none, lil' one killing shit" I take criminals where I go, but I'm legitimate Put so many chains on, it made my head hurt You can't shoot it out the car, put in leg work Why you gon' shoot him in the chest when you hit his head first? I was selling water-water and missed the school bus Had to place another order, bought more Lamb' trucks Came up breaking laws, had to get my hands dirty Used to hang with a bitch, gave my mans dirt When they searched the rental, that's when I knew the feds were lurking Watch my grandma go to prison, made my heart hurt Bought a gang of cars like a pack of Starburst

Chorus: Future & Lil Durk Yeah, I been counting money so long it make my hands ache Yeah, hundred round in the trunk, can't even stand straight Yeah, gon' pop more than one, start hallucinating Lot of diamonds on my arm, look like roller-skate My hood hotter than a sauna, nigga, whacking shit (Smurk, Pluto) Flood that lil' bitch out in stones and got a badder bitch (Let's get it, yeah) Posted on the corner where it's yellow tape Had to buy my bitch a gun, gang affiliate

Verse 2: Lil Durk I'm a street nigga, I'm affiliated with the gang wars (Facts) So many murders going on, I been hit, I ask a nigga what he changed for (Brrah) I done seen my homie die right in front of me with his gun drawn I'm fighting attempted murders, I still be walking 'round with my gun showing, nigga I'm from the mud-mud, you need a job till my people make a nigga check stub Shoot up the block and pick the shell-cases up and make the police officer work for it I'm too street, when I'm in the zone, I take drugs by the two-three (Drugs, drugs) And it's proof I don't fuck with too many niggas Pull up in the hood in two-seats Young wild niggas, I'ma stay around, ridin' hot cars with no license (Hell) Don't play, he'll kill you like a dark-skin, whole time bro ass light-skin (Gang) He'll kill you for a light ten, on a nigga ass like a tight end (Ha) Bro, I gave you only till the night end (Night end) Young street nigga duck indictments (Let's get it)

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Trenz On

source https://emptunes.blogspot.com/2022/05/affiliated-lyrics-by-future-ft-lil-durk.html

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mypralaya · 5 years

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(I really like Force of Nature and wanted to do something with them, and since they became “superheroes” in Civil War, sending them after a “bad guy” seemed like an easy way to write about ‘em. Aqueduct is my fave so he got the most spotlight, he’s a loser villain who isn’t too bright and who is really smug and gloating when he thinks he’s one, super down on himself when he’s lost. Kind of a bipolar Fabian without the creep factor, I guess There's no story, it's just kinda a "ok, if Haven survived the birth of the Adversary, presumably she'd still be wanted by the government for the crimes she did while posessed, so they'd probably keep sending super-powered peoples after her like they before with X-Factor, and I really like this government super-group so I'll send them” but there’s really nothing interesting. I guess you could read it as commentary on the deeply problematic way in which “brown lady with a funny religion is a terrorist because the government says so thus it’s okay to open fire on her when she’s not doing anything and doesn’t have any powers as far as we know yet” was handled in the comics canon, but I wasn’t actually thinking that deep when I wrote it.) With the passing of the Superhuman Registration Act, the “normal” population had believed that criminals with superpowers would be better regulated. Instead, many of the supervillains that had signed up had not only been pardoned for their crimes, but hired by the US government as their own state-sanctioned superheroes. One such squad was Force of Nature, a quartet of mercenaries, each possessed of powers focused around one of the four elements. They had been assigned to the state of Oregon—each of the fifty states now had its own assigned team of so-called “protectors”–but selected to make a special trip to Mumbai. There was a long-overdue warrant for the apprehension of one Radha Dastoor. It had gone ignored because she had not been an active threat for years, and given how many VERY active superhuman threats there were, the government hadn’t wanted to waste their limited resources on someone who wasn’t causing mass destruction at just this particular moment. They only had so many people who could deal with superhumans, after all. At least, that had been the case. Once.

Now they had a lot of them, and it was time to catch up on all those pesky “forgotten” cases while they still could. It would be good publicity, show the public that these former “bad guys” truly could be trusted to get the current criminals. Of course, it might be tough to sell anyone on Radha Dastoor aka “Haven” being a criminal. Though her terrorist crimes had been great, she’d not only concealed them successfully from the public, but been known as an incredibly kind and charitable philanthropist. Heck, her very name came from a children’s hospital she had rebuilt! So, in this case, the arrest would be kept under wraps, not displayed proudly for the masses. It would be not for PR, but for the fact that, inactive or not, X-Factor had reported incredible powers from her…powers that either needed to be contained, or put to service. She’d sure make them look good as a superhero…a sweet philanthropist, who had willingly signed up with the registration act despite not even being a US citizen, she just supported it that much. That’d be the story, anyway. What really happened was Aireo, aka Skybreaker, the wind representative on their team, blowing apart the little wooden shrine they had tracked her to near a mangrove swamp. There was no one around save for a flock of flamingos, now startled away into flight, so they didn’t need to worry about controlling collateral damage…or protecting their image in how they went about this. Standing among the remains of the shrine was a shocked woman shielding herself from the debris with her arms. Her huge mane of hair meant she was likely their target, and her face peering out at her attackers confirmed it “Radha Dastoor alias Haven!” hollered Peter Van Zante, aka Aqueduct, the water-controlling member of the squad, “By order of the US government, you are under arrest!” The woman started to move, to put her hands up, but the gesture was sadly misinterpreted as being about to do something hostile. “Don’t even try!” snarled Sunstreak, alia Andrea Rourke, who had a form of living flame. She supplemented her verbal warning by shooting one of her solar lances. Hotter than the heart of a volcano, such a thing would be deadly to a human, but given what Sunstreak had read about this lady on her case file, it was probably nothing she wouldn’t be able to shrug off. But rather than some grand display of reality-warping, the woman called Haven anticlimactically fell to the side into the rubble, having thrown herself to the ground to avoid the fire. Pushing herself up on arms, she called something up to her attackers, but her voice unheard beneath the din of the winds that Skybreaker had summoned. “Can you fly, Radha Dastoor?” he taunted, “Your records say you can do just about everything else—here, let me help you!” And with his winds, he lifted her, not a gentle levitation but a violent seizing, like a rodent being snatched up skyward by a hawk. “Alright guys, we’ve got her!” crowed Aqueduct, sounding proud despite having done nothing thus far. “We’ve only overwhelmed her”, replied Skybreaker, “Thanks mainly to me. But that’s just because we surprised her—now that we’ve lost that element, we’ve got to rely on our other four to keep her subdued. Best thing to do—knock her out!” And with that he slammed her bodily into the ground. She indeed seemed unconscious now, but just in case, the earth elemental known only as Terraformer wrapped her in a cocoon of vines. “That won’t do any good if she teleports!” said Aqueduct, remembering that Haven was supposed to be able to do that, according to X-Factor’s reports, “She could vanish inside there and we wouldn’t know!” In reply, Terraformer retracted the vines around Haven’s head, so that her face was visible and they could keep an eye on her. Since Skybreaker and Sunstreak were still in the air, it was Aqueduct who strode towards the captive Haven to examine her to be sure she wasn’t faking it. And because he wanted to contribute something to a big capture like this, after all. He’d been apprehensive when he’d read about her powers, but after her not putting up any fight, and him now surely having the upper hand, he was suddenly quite confident. Heck, now he actually HOPED she’d wake up and try something! So he could heroically foil her! It looked like he might get his wish, too–her face twitched a bit, she was clearly coming to. “Do not try to resist, Ms. Dastoor”, he said, in his most authoritative voice as she stirred, even though that was what he wanted, “We’d prefer to take you alive, but we’re authorized to use deadly force.” Haven’s dark, dewy eyes opened halfway, and she weakly replied, “Yes…I noticed.” “Don’t get smart now!” he commanded as Terraformer continued to hold her fast. “I was not making a joke,” said Haven, not sounding much stronger, let alone at all threatening. “Please, this is unnecessary. I am not resisting.” “Of course you’re not now–you’re all tied up!” Aqueduct thought he was making a pretty good joke with that, but it was really just more of a general observation. He’d never been good at the whole banter bit. “I will not resist if I am not tied up,” Haven promised, “I cannot. There is nothing I can do to fight you.” Aqueduct’s chest swelled, thinking she was saying that even her great powers were no match for him. Sunstreak and Skybreaker had landed and were approaching now. “That’s exactly what you would say to get us to let you loose,” scoffed Skybreaker, hearing Haven’s last sentence. “If I had my powers, I would not need you to do so in order for me to escape,” said Haven. There was no bite in her tone; it was simply factual, even submissive. Force of Nature all looked at each other. She didn’t have her powers? That…did explain a lot… Aqueduct looked back at Haven, and he suddenly realized how helpless she seemed. Especially with those big brown eyes and their long cow-like lashes, looking so harmless and imploring and beaten down. His proud feeling started seeping away. “Terraformer”, Aqueduct’s authoritative tone had returned, “You may loosen the restraints on the captive.” Terraformer looked at him very funny, not because of the order but the tone and the choice of words. He may? His wooded brows lifted. “You’re not the leader!” Sunstreak ejected hotly, no pun intended, “Terraformer, you keep her held fast! Of course, Sunstreak was not the leader either, they didn’t have one, and actually she didn’t think that Haven seemed that threatening either, she just didn’t like stupid Aqueduct giving orders. Him and Aireo were both way too full of themselves…which they always would have said about her. Appropriately, it was really only Terraformer who was down to earth on this team. And as for Terraformer, he kept hold of the woman, because they were supposed to capture her after all, but he didn’t do anything else. Aqueduct, meanwhile, huffy at not being obeyed, decided to draw this out just to spite the others, knowing that Skybreaker and Sunstreak were impatient to wrap things up. He addressed Haven again, “And how did you lose your powers, ma’am? Was it M-day?” She shook her head as much as she could while still within Terraformer’s grasp, and replied, “My abilities were not…mutant in nature. I’d rather not talk about it. Not like this.” Aqueduct found that he felt bad for her. Not because of her loss of powers, but because a beautiful woman looking helpless and pathetic has a certain effect on a lot of men. Aqueduct was one of those men, and the fact he was the one here with power over her made him want to use it to look heroic to her instead. The additional fact that his teammates obviously didn’t feel the same way just made him feel more so, like he was the sole good guy keeping her safe from a squad of black hats, the hero rescuing the damsel. “Very well then, I won’t force you,” he said, and was about to continue when he was interrupted. “It’s not our concern anyway!” Skybreaker practically shouted, “Our concern is taking her in! Let’s do it already and get out of here, the pollution is KILLING me!” As an Inhuman, Aireo/Skybreaker had a weaker immune system than the rest of them, making him extremely sensitive to things like that. Mumbai was the fourth most polluted megacity on the planet, so he probably was not exaggerating by much. Aqueduct supposed pissing the guy off more wasn’t worth him losing a lung. Skybreaker was a jerk, but he was a teammate. And besides, he’d find a way to pay Aqueduct back for it. “Alright Terraformer, load her up,” he said, but then added, “But be gentle–remember, she’s not resisting.”

#fic #writing

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