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adamantiumdragonfly · 3 years

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No Ordinary Time: Part Two “wherever you are tonight”

"...A time when the United States is what we fight for..."

The occupants of the Grisham Hall boarding house were no strangers to the war effort. Brothers, cousins, old flames, and current sweethearts have been wrenched from their grasp, the only contact to their stolen loved ones is military-grade pencils and scraps of paper.

Estelle prides herself on her mind for numbers but a usurper from her past rears his russet head and threatens to steal her thoughts every chance he gets. Bessie has been searching for a home in every patron in that cafe but she's left seeing his face everywhere she looks. Constance hears her lover's voice on the wind, finding quiet in the graveyard shift of the machine shop. Margaret refuses to admit defeat but the distance between her letters and her love grows wider each day. Jeannette has read many stories about tragic heroes. Her childhood friend has told tales of his plans for wealth and ending the war on his own. She just hopes she has a chance to do her part first.

wherever you are tonight

Taglist: @rinadoesstuff @vintagelavenderskies @julianneday1701 @wexhappyxfew @trashgoddess600 @pilindieltheelf @sunnyshifty @rogue-sunday @thoughpoppiesblow @pxpeyewynn @50svibes

Norfolk, VA. 4th of April, 1944.

While some found the adjustment to loved ones being taken from their grasp rocky, Elizabeth Ferguson had the advantage that only a select few possessed. She had already lived through it, making the sting nothing but a fond memory. It didn’t stop stinging though, no matter how many times one felt it. A dull ache would be a more appropriate term, the bruised flesh tender, and the black discoloration fading but the strain of muscles didn’t let the memory fade entirely. It was enough to make a first-timer bedridden for a week but to a repeat offender like Elizabeth, it was a mild discomfort. She had said goodbye before and did her best not to, when given the chance.

She held onto forlorn books, ragged quilts, and threadbare shirts to keep the end at bay, trying to prevent the inevitable ache. Elizabeth tried her best to limp about when the goodbyes were unavoidable. That could be said of everything she attempted. Bessie was a trier, an all-around trier and failer. She didn’t have a wall of degrees like Estelle or a self-assured flick to her head like Vera. She was just Bessie Ferguson, who had clattered and crashed her way through twenty-one years of life. Not that she hadn’t attempted school (she wasn’t the best student) and not that she hadn’t attempted to walk with the confidence that her theatrical friend possessed (it ended in a twisted ankle and a scraped-up knee) but by god, she tried.

She liked to think that her determination was her best attribute, right up there with the dimple on her left cheek that had gotten her more than her fair share of tips when she had been employed at Charlie’s. The real Charlie had said she was one of his best workers and his gruff voice in her head still brought a smile to her lips, bringing out the money-winning dimple.

Even when goodbyes were said, Bess found ways to hold onto the people or things. She still frequented her old place of work long after she was employed in the noble service of her country. Every Friday, like clockwork, she was in the second to last booth, the red vinyl striking against the blue of her uniform.

I look like the American flag, Bess thought, examining herself in the reflection on the glass of the window. Red booths, white mugs, and a blue uniform. How was that for patriotic?

She looked different, hair sleek and uniform pressed. Was this really Bessie Ferguson who knew every waitress and cook’s name in Charlie’s Diner? Or was Bessie older now, with the WAVES blue wool on her shoulder, finer and warmer than anything she had owned in her twenty-one years. 1941 seemed like a century ago, not three years.

“Hiya, Bess,” Angie was still there, her bouffant of pin curls still perched precariously on her brow. “You got a letter from your boy, I see,”

Bess came in every Friday, with a new letter or to write her own. The grease-stained walls had brought her luck and good memories. She thought that she could imbue them into the stationary, sending them across the ocean to him.

“Yup,” Bessie said, smiling.

“About damn time,”

She had been sat without a letter for some two weeks now. The patrons and the staff of Charlie’s had been concerned, fretting more than Bessie had herself.

“He was a dear thing, that Powers boy,” Angie said, tucking her pad back into the apron Bess was all too familiar with. There was no need to take her order, Bess ordered the same thing every time. “Two sugars, right?”

No matter how tenderly she tried, the bruise was liable to be bumped or brushed. She tried not to wince at the words.

“I saved you a seat,” He would say, even though she was working. He knew full well she shouldn’t sit during her shift but he would say it anyway and she could never say no, either. His smile had seared itself into her mind, a soft glow that warmed her better than any cup of coffee ever did. He would pour her a cup anyway, from the pot she had brought to refill his own mug. “Two sugars, right?”

That had been before rationing. That had been before the war had been set to boil when it was brewing like the dark roast that soaked every inch of this diner. It had been percolating, slowly dripping and staining their country. He had been a machinist at the shipyard’s graveyard shift and she had been a waitress at his favorite diner, that served coffee with “the prettiest smile I ever saw”. It had been a romance sweeter than any baked good in the case and more poetic than Jeannette’s Shakespeare.

She had been a different person then, just a little girl in her third house in three years. Bessie hadn’t known Mrs. Grisham’s motherly touch or the soft smile of her beau. Bessie had only known how to try and try she did.

the ‘30s hadn’t treated Bessie’s family well but she knew they weren’t special in that aspect. The world had been gripped by the choking thorns of financial strain and the vines had pulled the last strains of life out of her parents. When her father had died, Bessie had thought things would be okay. The farm she had grown up on and the family she had been surrounded with was invincible, or so she had thought. She would grow up under the bows of that oak tree that towered in the yard, swatting the swarms of yellow flies and raking up the leaves in the fall. It was her home.

But Bessie watched her family home disappear from view in the backseat of a second cousin’s car, eight years old and she had never seen her new home before. Her oldest brother, Arthur, was sent some twenty miles to the west, only twelve, to provide labor to yet another distant relative’s floundering farm. Eight years old and Bessie would never see home again.

Elizabeth Ferguson hadn’t been raised to admit defeat. As the Depression stretched on and her bags were packed and unpacked, Bessie kept trying. She made her peace with every attempt, trying hard to be useful, helpful, and liked. Her name provided a blank slate, quickly covered in her current caretaker’s preferred nickname. Elizabeth. Beth. Bess. Bessie. Lizzie. Liz. Eliza. She answered to them all and she didn’t mind, truly she didn’t. She would try her best to be what that family wanted, what that home demanded but she’d end up with the suitcase in her hand and a new route to a new home.

Elizabeth had parted ways with the last relative, the last attempt at home, at the age of eighteen. April had dawned cold that year, 1941. She had found employment with the sticky floors and chrome edgings of Charlie’s, turning up on the Grisham’s doorstep. It had been Carrie, Vera, and Estelle back then. Before the war.

Before the war. She worked hard, shoes wearing thin and bones aching when her head hit the pillows. Elizabeth had worked hard and tried to cling to what she had left, the friends she had gained, and the home she had made. Maybe if she clung to them, the one god thing wouldn’t slide away from her, finding a home in some other harbor.

She hadn’t been looking for him or anyone and yet, they had found each other. Drawn towards each other, blending and blurring in watercolor of perfection. Maybe the best pieces of art were the ones that weren’t intended.

“Has anyone seen to you two?” She had asked, whirling around on the slick tiled floor. They were a grease-stained pair, smelling of oil and sleepless nights like every machinist who crossed the line from Portsmouth for a cup of coffee after work.

“No, ma’am,” The tallest, a thin, rake of a boy who didn’t seem much older than Bessie said. His voice was soft, not loud and course like the usual Shipyard folk. “We are fine to sit for a spell-”

“Nonsense,” Elizabeth shifted the bus bucket of dirty dishes to her hip, bracing it with her arm so she could retrieve the pad and pen from her pocket. “What can I get you two?”

“Ma’am, do you need a hand?” The soft-spoken one made to reach for the bucket but Bessie raised a hand to stop him.

“It’s not heavy. I’m stronger than I look.” She smiled. “Now what can I get you two?”

Faces came and went in that little diner on the corner of College and Duke, there were the regulars and there were the strangers. Elizabeth had treated them all the same, a bright smile and a warm plate. It was the least she could do and she knew what it was to need a smile from a stranger or two. These two machinists weren’t the only blue collars who sat in the vinyl booths but she fought to keep her eyes on the paper and not straying towards the one who offered her help. The orders were taken and the niceties exchanged, Bess turned on her heel, biting her lip to keep from grinning.

As she marched towards the kitchen, his companion jabbed and teased, the blush creeping up the soft-spoken boy’s face, settling into his hairline. She

These two machinists quickly became regulars, coming back every Friday. Small talk was made and a rough sketch of their characters was established. Elizabeth had never been one to chase but it seemed the work was being done for her. Mr. Wynn and Mr. Powers returned week after week. As the months dragged by and April came and went, Mr. Powers would linger.

“Where are you from, Mr. Powers?”

“Clincho, ma’am,”

“I’ve got family out that way,” Elizabeth had said. “How long you been in the area?”

“I’ve been in Portsmouth for about a year now, I reckon,”

“I’ve an aunt in Portsmouth. Over on Bains Creek,”

“Where don’t you have family, ma’am?’

“The moon,”

He had smiled, bright and warm. Elizabeth felt like she had taken a warm cup of coffee and held it tight to her chest, fingers warming on the ceramic. The dimple on her left cheek appeared in response.

“It’s Elizabeth,” She said. “Elizabeth Ferguson.”

“Darrell Powers,”

Elizabeth had never thought that sharing a smile could be something so special. She had smiled at hundreds of patrons, offering a grin here and there until the muscles in her face hurt, all for a few extra quarters thrown on the table. Elizabeth had never expected a tip from Mr. Powers, or Shifty, as he said the boys called him. Mr. Powers, he remained to her, even on their tentative agreement to a show at the cinema on some Friday night. Mr. Powers, he would be, until he walked her home from her shift, offering her his jacket in the rainstorm that sent them racing towards the nearest porch. There, standing on a stranger’s porch, in the April rainshower, Elizabeth wrapped his jacket tighter around her disheveled uniform, breathing in the smell of cigarette smoke and oil. There, the rain beating down around them and his hair slick against his blushing face, he asked her if he could call her Elizabeth.

“Liz, Bess, I don’t care,” She said.

“Which do you like better, ma’am?”

“My brother used to call me Lizzie,” She admitted.

His eyes studied her like she was some fine painting he had spent hours perfecting and the name on his lips was the signature at the bottom, declaring the work as his. The colors could run and the ink would fade but Elizabeth Ferguson would cling to that coat in its smokey comfort. She had worn it as the rain had lightened up enough to begin their route to the Grisham front door. She wore it on the front porch and burrowed her hot face into the leather as Vera pounced on her, pounding her with questions and squeals.

Elizabeth Ferguson knew what it was to lose thing but Lizzie was willing to try and hold onto this boy as tight as she could. Lizzie was going to try her damn near hardest. This boy with his soft words and bright smile would be taken from her kicking and screaming. She allowed herself to be lulled into a sense of security, taking the two sugars in her coffee and his offered hand too. Lizzie was all bright paints and newly sharpened pencils and Shifty Powers was all steady hands and fresh paper, the perfect medium for this new home Lizzie dared dream of. She was ready to start something new, something untouched by the inevitable goodbyes.

Then the bubbling brew of Europe had overflowed into the spitting flames. Steam rose and Pear Harbor shattered like a ceramic mug on hard tiled floors. Vera left, caught up in the theatrics of secrets and intelligence and Carrie joined up, bringing her soft words and soothing hands to the wounded. Estelle left her school and allowed her talented mind to be lent to the Navy, putting together pieces of puzzles and breaking codes like they were the Sunday crossword. Lizzie wasn’t brave or smart or soft like her friends. Elizabeth Ferguson was a stumbling, bumbling trier and she grasped for the remaining pieces of that home she had searched for. She had spent years searching for family in the faces of strangers, reaching for that oak tree and rope swing in houses that would never be her home and she wasn’t about to lose it. Not to war, not to an Army, and most definitely not now.

“Don’t worry about me,” he had said, gripping her hands in his own calloused ones. He had volunteered, given himself up willingly. Lizzie could have screamed. The Airborne had terrified her, the planes and the silk chutes were terrifying. Their kiss on the Grisham Hall’s front porch had tasted like possibility and tears. He left for Georgia that morning, leaving her in Norfolk with only a pen and an empty hand.

She had told him she wouldn’t if he promised not to worry about her. She had tried not to be worried but maybe he had every reason to be worried about her.

“Bess?” Angie said again, snapping her fingers. “You good, sugar?”

“Yes, sorry,” Elizabeth said, smiling sheepishly. This diner could pull her back when she didn’t have a thought for the present.

Angie shook her head. “Baby, I think they are working you too hard over there,”

“There” was the mailroom on base. “They” were the WAVES, summoning Bess to their cause. She had joined up in April of ‘43. He had been gone for a week and Bess couldn’t stare at the booth where he had once sat for hours. She didn’t mind the work, and she told Angie so. Being surrounded by all those letters and being the reason soldiers and families heard from their loved ones was the only thing that kept Elizabeth sane. She could try and offer some peace to the fellow fretting wives and friends who longed for a letter, a word, or even a telegram that told them that he was safe.

Angie wandered back to the counter, Elizabeth’s order safely scribbled in the confines of her mind, leaving her with her thoughts and her pen. Staring at the traffic that passed outside the window, her fingers gripped the pen, sketching out the twist of his head and the twinkle of his eyes as she remembered it. As his face burned into her mind.

She didn’t draw him as often as she wanted to. Elizabeth’s sketchpads were filled with the same sketches over and over, page after page, burned into her memory. She didn’t have to look at a reference anymore, the oak trees and the slopes of the house never changed. The smiling faces and the bright eyes as she remembered them didn’t shift. Every so often, a new face would grace the pages but that wasn’t a usual occurrence and was a great honor when a stranger or new face caught her attention. Flipping through the sketchpad, Elizabeth saw his face etched into the pages. She only put pen to paper and chronicled his features on the days she missed him the most. He haunted her more than she drew, hours spent with her finger on the desk tracing out his smile.

“They said you’d be here,” Jeannette Edwards stumbled through the door, arms full of books as she slid into the seat across from Bess. In the few weeks that Jeannette had lived in Grisham Hall, she had slowly acclimated herself to the Norfolk streets.

“Jeannie,” Bess smiled, closing her sketchpad. “Estelle still working?”

Jeannette nodded. “She said to meet you here and that we’d take the bus home.”

Bess folded her letter, sliding her belongings to the side so that Angie could place her order on the sticky tabletop. The mug of coffee, two sugars carefully rationed and dissolved, and the apple pie. Offering Jeannette the fork, she encouraged her to take a bite. Bess was passionate about oil pastels and pastries, making it her mission in life to share those passions with her friends. When a pie or a drawing was offered, Bess’s trust soon followed.

“Why do you rank pie, if you don’t mind me asking?” Jeannette asked, using the side of the fork to cut a piece off of the wedge of glistening golden pie.

“Every home is the same but the apple pie is different everywhere you go.” Bess explained.“Mrs. G’s is third best, this is the second-best apple pie.”

“Who is the first place?”

“Mine,” Bess smiled.

“You are multi-talented then,” Jeannette said around the mouthful of second-best pie, dipping her head towards the sketchbook she had abandoned.

“I just doodled,” Bess shook her head but she offered the book to Jeannette all the same. Watching her thumb through the pages, Bess’s heart was wedged firmly in her throat, not daring to hope for any kind words or critique.

“These are beautiful,” Jeannette said, her fingers tracing the lines that intricate leaves that had first taken hours and now took a matter of minutes. “Where is it?”

“That’s my family’s farm.”

“You must visit often to sketch it so much,” Jeannette said.

Bess smiled, taking the sketchpad back and tucking it into her bag. Reaching for the cup of coffee, she stared into its dark depths. Maybe Jeannette knew the words to describe how she felt. Jeannette was better at words than Elizabeth.

“It’s hard to forget,” She admitted.

A knock on the window beside their booth made both women jump, the fork clattering on the shared pie plate. Estelle’s face pressed against the window as she beckoned them out, her lipstick faded after the long day hunched over the papers and codes. Estelle Tran was rarely seen with a hair out of place, much less with her signature red lipstick anything but striking against her pale skin. Bess insisted she looked like a real version of Snow White, something that Estelle had always shake her head at. Disney’s princess hadn’t been college-educated, she reminded them.

Bess dropped the money on the table and gathered up her purse and hat, waving goodbye with her fistful of gloves to the cooks and the regulars who still knew her name.

“See you next Friday, Bess,” Angie called as the door swung shut behind them.

“How was work, Stell?” Elizabeth asked, looping her arm through her friend’s as she tugged the gloves over her graphite-smudged hands.

“Heinous,”

The disheveled appearance of the usually put-together Estelle was indication enough. Bessie nodded.

“Let’s go home,” she said.

It was, in moments such as this, when rest is most needed that the world decides to test you.

The bus pulled up to its spot, just as it always did. It was a route that Bess was familiar with, a routine that she welcomed. Fridays were spent at the diner until Estelle got off of work. They would then walk home or, if particularly exhausted, take the bus. Bessie hopped inside without hesitation, ready to sit in a seat and watch the world pass by while she finished the letter she had drafted in her mind. The bus driver, a new face, said nothing as she entered. But, on the days when rest is most needed, inconvenience is the Devil’s worst weapon.

“We don’t let your people on,” The bus driver said, the passengers peering over the edge of the nest, not daring to disagree.

“I beg your pardon?” Bess looked back, seeing that he was not referring to her in her American blue uniform but Estelle. Dear Estelle with her features nothing like the usual faces of Norfolk, Virginia.

Jeannette’s mouth hung wide and Estelle froze, foot perched on the step. Her face fell and Bessie could almost hear it shatter on the pavement. The Grisham girls had been informed that Estelle’s family hailed from the Indochina islands in the Pacific and had been in America since Teddy Roosevelt’s days. She was most ardently NOT the enemy. Mrs. Grisham would sniff indignantly at such a mention and Vera, before she had left, had been known to glower at anyone who dared say such a “fucking disgusting thing”.

Bessie stepped forward, ready to give the man the facts but a hand encircled her arm, pulling her out of the bus and back on the pavement before the doors swung open. Swearing so loudly and vehemently that Mrs. Grisham would have been sent to an early grave, Bessie aimed a kick at the tire of the bus before it sped off, sans three passengers.

“It’s fine,” Estelle said.

“You aren’t Japanese!” Elizabeth growled, her shoes stomping on the pavement. Bess was a trier and she was a fighter. She was ready to try fighting for Estelle, even if that meant throwing a fist at this burly bus driver.

“It’s fine, Bess,” Estelle said.

“That was a despicable thing to do,” Jeannette fumed.

“Let’s just go home,” Estelle muttered, squashing her hat more firmly over her brow and leading the way down the street.

What good was it, Bessie grumbled to herself as she followed Estelle, to serve your country when you were still considered the enemy?

Estelle worked harder than any man and she had been working hard for many years. She had been a teacher and now fiddled with codes that boggled even the male mind. And yet, she was only seen as the enemy. Estelle Tran, by seniority or by necessity, had taken the unofficial role of den mother among the women of Grisham Hall. On the third floor, nothing went on without Estelle knowing. She guarded the girls like they were her own, a grim mother hen who warded off broken hearts and bruised feelings with wise words and her own experience. Bessie loved Estelle like she was a sister and she would have gladly punched that bus driver if she wasn’t wearing the uniform of the US WAVES. Women’s work in the war was precarious enough as it was.

Elizabeth didn’t say a word, as she slipped her hand into Estelle’s, gripping it tightly as they marched through the streets of Norfolk, their heads held as high as they could manage. She knew she couldn’t fight to change every mind or man in this country but Bessie Ferguson was a trier, through and through. Home may not have looked like that oak tree or the face she had sketched so often but she’d hold onto it as long as she could.

#world war two women #grisham hall for ladies #estelle tran #Bessie Ferguson #bessie x shifty #jeannette edwards #no ordinary time #bessie backstory #flora skye writes #tildy writes #band of brothers fanfiction #hestias of the homefront

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xfanfics · 4 years

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Destiel Fic Rec List Part 1

Last Updated in October 2014. Posted in May 2020 for posterity. Listed in no particular order - the total rec list will have ~250 fics. Header graphic used with permission.

This part of the list contains: 48 fics.

Other Destiel Rec Lists: [1]. [2]. [3]. [4]. [5]. [6]. [7].

For Science! by pm_lo E | 21k | ABO, Omega!cas, Alpha!Dean,

Selected transcripts and supporting materials from Dr. Castiel Williams and Dean Winchester’s seminal study on physiological and psychological sexual response by gender designation.

Even though this is a dialogue/email text only story, I still very much enjoyed it and found it ridiculously hot. Maybe I'm just easy. (No I'm not. This fic is good, read it.)

Forget-Me-Not Blues by noangelsinthegarrison E | 68k | Firefighter!Dean, Professor!Cas, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining

Sam and Jess are getting married and Dean couldn’t be any happier for them. Honestly, they’re kind of disgustingly perfect for each other and Dean’s pretty damn excited about staying with them the week before the wedding. He’s Sam’s best man, of course, and he doesn’t even mind that Jess has her own best man to share in all the organizational duties. The more the merrier, right? Except Dean must have done something to epically piss off the universe because Jess’s best man just happens to be Castiel friggin’ Novak. He’s got even hotter since High School, but apparently no friendlier and if Cas wants to spend the week pretending like they’ve never met before? Fine. Two can play at that game.

THIS WAS SO GOOD I'M TEARING UP. tropes abound and I love it!

Cops and Robbers by kinkstiel E | 53k [WIP] | Detective!Dean, Criminal!Cas, Top!Cas, Bottom!dean

They locked eyes for a minute and then Cas leaned back as far as the cuffs would let him go, spreading his legs obscenely wide. “I want you to suck my cock, Dean.” Dean balked, mouth going dry in a second, eyes slipping to the now visible bulge in Castiel’s suit pants. “Um,” he said stupidly, face flushing red, eyes unable to pull away. Cas hummed. “Depending on how well you suck me, I might just tell you everything you want to know.” He licked his lips, smirking slightly when he caught Dean’s gaze. “And with sinful little lips like yours,” he made a low whistling sound, “I don’t doubt you’ll get every last name out of me.

So very good. Love the dark and dirtiness of it. It does get lighter and sappier towards the end tho.

Cursed or Not ❤ by Ltleflrt E | 115k | witch!Cas, shapeshifter!Dean, switching

While experimenting with magic when he was a kid, Sam accidentally cursed Dean. Now, Dean is forced to wear a spelled amulet constantly, or he'll turn into a random animal. For a little over a decade, he's learned to live with the curse, and has even found it useful in some cases, but he sure would be happier without it. When he meets a witch named Castiel, he's offered a deal. Instead of assuming all witches are bad, Dean can spend a season getting to know him. If at the end of the season, Dean still thinks he's evil Castiel will send him away with his memory wiped of the whole experience. But if he learns that Castiel is not the monster Dean assumes he is, he'll lift Dean's curse. It's an offer Dean can't bring himself to pass up.

Literally perfect. Enthralling world, magical relationship.

Surprise Package by wannaliveindeansdimples E | 3k | Hot, , Dom Cas, Sub Dean, Light BDSM

When Cas' roommate Meg has to go out of town suddenly, she leaves him an unexpected gift.

So so hot. Non extreme Dom!cas and sub!dean.

Never Have I ever by sweetdean M | 78k | Fluff, High School AU, top!cas, bottom!dean

When Jo drags Dean along to a game of "never have I ever" with her friends, he finds himself getting caught up in a lot more than just a game. “Never have I ever hung out with such an asshole,” Dean countered, positively shocked at his own sass. Cas smirked again. “Oh, are we hanging out now?fricken adorable

Road Signs by gemmiel E | 9k| Canon!verse, true form

Dean is curious about how angels have sex. Castiel shows him.

Damn. True form, soul sex, and regular sex. Yes please.

It's Brilliant, Really by snarkymonkey E | 15k | Fluff, AU, Professor!cas, Stuntman!dean

Castiel Novak is a History adjunct at Stanford University. He's also the most patient younger brother. When his older brother, Gabriel, decides to start *wooing* one of his younger waiters, Castiel reluctantly agrees to double-date with the intended paramour's older brother. What he didn't expect, however, was how much his own life would flip over such a careless decision.

Adorable. Hot, and adorable.

Gabriel's Unfortunate Mistake by JackHawksmoor E | 8k | Hot, AU

an answer to a prompt: Gabriel decides to hire a prostitute for his virgin brother Castiel as a joke, but instead accidentally hires Dean, a professional Dom. The moment Dean first lays a hand on him, Castiel knows he is lost. Dean/Castiel AU.

Um mm.... Damn. That was hot. Newbie sub!cas and pro dom!dean

Well-Beloved Unto Me by Moorishflower E | 3k | Alt!Canon, tentacles

The Winchesters don't get rewarded for all the shit they go through, so Dean is understandably wary when a few recharged and promoted angels offer him and Sam the vacation of a lifetime. Title comes from the Song of Solomon.

True form. And sex. MY FAVE.

How to Date an Angel in 12 Easy Steps by Fourthduckling E | 23k | Fluff, Alt!canon

It's not that hard to date an angel. All Dean has to do is fight off hordes of vampires, research gay porn, get sucked into a crappy Narnia, endure Sam's comments, creep out on Dr. Sexy, get harassed -- oh, and that's right-- figure out he's into Cas. Easy, right?

SQUUEEEE. Perfect and cute and cuddly.

Two Wrongs Don't Make A Right But Three Rights Make A Left by the0voice0from0above E | 45k | High School AU, Dancer!Cas, Welder!Dean,

The beautiful Garrison Ballet School becomes home to a reckless bunch of misfits after the Colt Welding Academy is severely damaged in a fire and has to close for repairs. Needless to say, Castiel and his friends clash with their unwanted guests but there's one boy in particular who infuriates him.

Dancer!au. Love it love it love it!

Rest My Angel by cobalt_wings E | 86k | Fluff, Season 9 AU

Angels are falling from the sky, and Dean is losing it. Sam is dying in his arms, and one of those burning, twisting figures blazing through the night air might be his very own angel, Castiel. What can he do to help those he loves?

Sex and domestic and lots of fucking. My fave.

One Species Too Many by wallmakerrelict E | 21k | Fluff, Alt!canon

While Dean is laid up for a month after breaking his leg on a hunt, Cas decides that it's a perfect time to adopt a litter of kittens. But even though he's gotten better since Purgatory, Cas still isn't quite the same as he was before fixing Sam's head, and being trapped in a cabin with him for weeks on end is making that all the more obvious to Dean. When Sam takes off on a hunt, Dean has to figure out on his own how to navigate his new relationship with Cas while also helping to raise a bunch of fuzzballs that aren't even cute. Not even a little bit. (Well, maybe a little bit.)

Team free will with kittens!! So fluffy and domestic but also a touch of angst.

It's A Bet by vitamindesi E | 34k | College AU, top!cas, bottom!dean

Destiel College!AU in which freshman Dean is dared by his best friends to hit on senior Castiel at a party. He wants to say no but then someone starts a bet and Benny bets a sum that is ridiculously high for a student and Dean can’t disappoint Benny, right? I deviated only, but hopefully it suffices.

So fabulous and smutty I want to cry. Literally perfection.

Your Call Cannot Be Completed As Dialed by eBob, K_K_TiBal T | 66k [WIP] | Fluff, College AU

AU in which Castiel accidentally sends a text message to the wrong number and befriends the person at the other end of the line. However, accidents don’t just happen accidentally, and sometimes two completely different people are exactly what the other needs.

LITERALLY THE BEST. So many feelings. I WANT IT TO BE COMPLETE SO MUCH. Abandoned WIP.

Equinox by luchia E | 12k | Alt!canon, time travel

In which Castiel is the weird time-traveling freak who just might be the love of Dean Winchester's life.

Confusing but perfect time travel fic.

If I run by betty days E | 4k | Hot, AU, sexting, long distance relationship

"Dean Winchester is a red-blooded American male. He lifts all the things. He aims for functional strength. He counts his macros and makes fun of curlbros. He is not a member of the Tarahumara tribe and he will not read Born to Run, no matter how many times Sam tells him to, because Starting Strength is the only book Dean will ever fucking need." Wherein a friendly competition with the mysterious ThursdaysAngel turns into a sexy selfie-trading spree that motivates Dean Winchester to train for his first marathon.

Soo. Hot. Makes me want to actually exercise?

The Little Things by Alreadypainfullygone T | 2k | Angst, Cancer, Major Character Death

Au based on 'the big C' in which Dean gets very sick, and deals with it the denial way. Meeting a homeless man on the way. Dean/Castiel Angst. Warning for trigger - Cancer. sorry if you think I dealt with it badly.

This is only 2.8k words, and yet it managed to make me cry.

Do What Feels Good by Catchclaw, cymbalism E | 12k | Hot, Alt!canon, PWP

Castiel learns to love alone time in the shower. And then he learns to share.

Fuuuuuck that was hot. Castubation and shower sex is just so hnnnggg.

All That Is And Used To Be by MisaChan E | 26k | Alt!Canon, wing!Kink

Dean never even knew anyone was living in the old estate outside of town until its mysterious occupant contracts his shop for a very specific job: a custom piano bench with grooves cut into the back. He finds Castiel and his terms to be eccentric with a capital E but the money is too good to turn down and anyway, Dean can't help indulging his curiosity about the guy and his secretive, isolated life. There are secrets that will not stay hidden and stories that refuse to be forgotten. Especially when they happen to involve Dean Winchester and the angel Castiel.

Ugh, I love this story. Concept, execution, and characterization are all perfect.

Do I Have Something Like That? by MysticMoonhigh E | 2k | Hot, horn!kink, wing!kink

based on the tumblr post I made: Does anybody know any demon!Dean fics where Cas makes Dean climax by basically giving his demon horns a hand job because I want this so badly out of lifE | I'm. I've read this about three times and I think I'm finally coming to terms with my alien biology kink. Hot. Wink!kink and horn!kink. Yes.

The Doctor Will See You Now by PetrichorPerfume E | 7k| Hot, PWP sub!dean, gentle dom!cas, wing!kink

Dean has a medical kink. Castiel is more than happy to oblige. Starring Castiel as the slightly unorthodox Dr. Novak who enjoys prescribing enforced chastity and daily tease and denial sessions, and Dean as his needy, submissive patient who will do anything for a chance to come.

Wowowwowowow. Um. This was super hot. Nnnghhhh.

Into Your Hideaway by thepinupchemist E | 176k |Angst, a/b/o, omega!dean, alpha!cas, mpreg

Driving down a deserted road in the Rocky Mountains, Castiel finds something unexpected: An omega. Not only an omega, but a naked, injured, pregnant omega. Dean doesn't talk much at first, but that doesn't change the brightness of his soul. It also doesn't stop Castiel from falling in love with him.

I just... Wow. This was an amazing story. Beware that it is possibly very triggering, because of rape, assault, violence, and general bigotry. But perhaps because of all of that, you get a story that is almost painful in its reality, and it is all the more loveable for that.

The World Crashing All Around by thepinupchemist E | 36k| Alt!canon, best friends wing!Kink, kid!fic

During a storm in September of 1987, Dean and Sam hear something hit their roof. When they brave the backyard to investigate, they find a fledgling angel. A story about best friendship, spoiled plans, and love, in four parts.

OH MY GOD. This was perfect all the way through. From soul bonds, to slow burn, to growing up together as best friends, it's all my favorite. And it even has wing kink, which is literally the best.

Share Your Burden by aTimeOfMagic E | 3k Hot, PWP, Sub!dean, dom!cas

Set at the end of 'Are You There God? It's Me Dean Winchester.' 4.02. Castiel shows Dean that he deserves respect, and Dean comes to see that Cas is not, in fact, just a 'hammer'. He also learns that his 'people skills' are definitely not entirely 'rusty'.

Damn. Um, really hot. Also, unexpectedly sweet.

Flawless by Vaerin E | 69k | a/b/o, accidental bonding, sub!dean, dom!cas

A contract is out on the Winchesters, a large sum of money the reward for throwing them off their game. A witch in the town they happen to be passing through decides to collect. She sets her sights on Dean, trying to seduce him into leaving his job to stay with her. When she can't even convince him to warm her bed, she decides to turn her job into his punishment. Knowing he fears commitment and can't stand the thought of being with a man, she works a spell between him and Castiel... the one friend he can call a safe haven. When they end up mated the next morning, not only does the Winchester family business suffer... but so does Dean's friendship with Castiel.

Cute long soul bond fic. Contains sabriel.

Chasing Normal by Donovanspen M | 16k | Fluff, First time, Cuddling & Snuggling

Dean reevaluates his definition of an 'apple pie life' and what that means for him, personally.

This is the definition of domestic fluff and smut. There's a wee bit of angst because hey, it's set in the canon verse. But so worth it.

Hold On by somuchforbaggles E | 92k | Fluff, Angst, mental illness

Castiel is sure that nothing in his life will ever change. Everything that happens to him is predictable, from the stability of his job to the unrelenting sporadic anxiety attacks, he can rely on his life to stay the same forever - until he saves Dean Winchester from the path of an oncoming train. From then on, everything changes for both of them, and the only way they can deal with it is together.

Woww. This was an amazing ride. Angsty and fluffy, then angsty again, then back to fluffy. So good.

I said to myself again by avyssoseleison E | 2k | Fluff, Praise!kink, Self-esteem issues

Dean finally lets himself be appreciated and cared for by his angel.

Praise kink is my ultimate weakness

The One Thing You Can't Lose by MajorEnglishEsquire T | 4k | Fluff, Cuddling & Snuggling

You know what I like a lot? The thought that Dean can just tug Cas anywhere at any time and Cas, who can lift tons without effort, who can demolish things with the light of his grace, who has battled and gone to war, has defended and broken, will just let Dean do it.

fluffy love

Spit Slick by VeraBAdler M | 1k | Fluff, , First Time

[no description]

A super cute fluffy little oneshot :3 (tags say 'happy sex' and 'sexy cuddling' if you need more to go on)

Late Bloomer by somuchforbaggles T | 7k | Alt!Canon, Wing!kink, Wingfic, Soulmates

On every child’s seventh birthday, a celebration is held to mark the beginning of their journey as a fledgling - a sprouting ceremony. It doesn’t matter if the child hasn't shown the symptoms of emerging wings yet, for it is scientific fact that every child grows wings in their seventh year, sometimes even earlier. Castiel is not every child.

A coming of age wing fic. With mates. Basically, I'm in love.

Sleight of Hand by aileenrose M | 64k | Angst, Human AU, psychic cas, journalist dean

Dean Winchester has interviewed them all--mob bosses, serial killers, crooked politicians. Next he plans to unveil the con-man who markets himself as Castiel, a reclusive and secretive "healer" who claims to heal the sick in return for thousands of dollars. Dean's expecting a challenge, but he never expected Castiel to be so clueless or sweet...or that he might be telling the truth.

I HAVE SO MANY FEELINGS ABOUT THIS AU. The one where Dean is a skeptical journalist/professional idiot and Cas is a socially inept healer and mind reader. There's lots of angst, but the payoff is so worth it.

Leaning In by Anonymous T | 15k | Hospital AU

Castiel never changed out his scrubs, Dean had a way of getting himself injured and Sam seemed to think it was a good pairing

Even though I have no idea who actually wrote this story, it's worth a read. I'm always up for a good medical AU.

Someone I Forgot to Be by MatildaMavis E | 36k Fluff, Angst, Human AU

Castiel is content - sort of - with his quiet life in Boston...at least, until his new neighbor moves in. It's Dean Winchester, the cliched long lost love of his life. Can these two idiots find their way back to each other after eight years, after fame and loss and heartbreak? After Dean has found love again with Cas' neighbor, Lisa? Fate can be a sadistic bitch, they've both learned that, but maybe they've matured enough to be able to handle it this time. The sparks, the attraction, the tension...or maybe not.

I thought this would be extremely painful, and it sort of was. But it was so worth it.

Didn't Get That Particular Memo by Snarkymonkey E | 5k

Dean has worked with his best friend for years and maybe it's a bit more than that for him but not for Castiel, right? Right. And really, he'd feel so much better if Castiel would just get a companion already. Because it's not like Castiel actually wants him, right? Right.

Damn, that was fucking hot.

Cas, You Had A Baby? by allthebeautifulthings9828 M | 132k | Fluff, Alt!Canon, Kid Fic, Slow Build

At some point in every angel's life, raising a fledgling is required. Castiel's turn comes rather unexpectedly when his superiors hand off a newly created infant angel to him and leave him to raise it with all of Heaven's principles of blind obedience. He's not sure what to do, so he tucks the fledgling in his coat and goes straight to Dean and Sam Winchester. Together, Dean and Castiel hatch a plan to raise the fledgling away from Heaven's control. And soon, the angel Hael arrives with news that, after Castiel disappeared, she and four other angels ran from Heaven's oppression with their fledglings. Castiel finds himself the unwitting ringleader of angels choosing to raise their fledglings with the principles of free will. Is angelic parenthood too much for his deepening relationship with Dean? Who can they really trust? (Disclaimer: This story depicts fledglings consuming honey for the nourishment of their undeveloped graces. Human babies cannot consume honey, so please do not feed it to your infants. This is fiction.)

Oh. My. God. I admit that I was skeptical at the beginning about this story, but let me tell you, it sucked me in. Sometimes, you run across a story that has wonderful OCs that you get attached to. This is one of those. And of course, the baby is adorable.

Healing by Jacqueline Albright-Beckett M | 2k | Fluff, Canon!verse, PWP

Castiel can heal more than just physical wounds.

Sensual and romantic.

Better Late Than Never by whelvenwings G | 23k | Fluff, Alt!canon, friends to lovers,

When Dean first sees Castiel, he's clinging on for dear life - and things never really get any easier. In fact, they get a lot harder; Dean's worst enemy isn't always the monkey bars. Bound together year on year by the ritual pact of being a Guardian Angel, Dean and Cas grow close, showing loyalty and bravery in the face of danger. But will they ever find the courage to admit their true feelings for each other - and will it be too late by the time they do?

i LOVE best friends to lovers fics! and this delivers on that perfectly.

Like A Candle In The Window On A Cold Dark Winter's Night by TardisIsTheOnlyWayToTravel T | 6k | Fluff, Canon!verse, asexual Cas

In which Castiel saves Dean, Dean saves Castiel, there is beer and TV watching, and if it weren't for the monsters and assassination attempts, life would be almost perfect.

A cute little fic I've read multiple times :)

How many slams in an old screen door? by dandelioness T | 15k | Fluff, Theatre AU, Asexual Cas

In which Castiel is a theatre major terrible at first impressions; Dean is a set designer who likes Cas anyway; and the most chaotic production of Les Miserables in history somehow manages to go off without a hitch. Or, just as you should never give a moose a muffin (because he'll want some jam to go with it), you should never give a blank check to a university theatre department.

This is perfect. I can't speak for the accuracy of the information and feelings given about asexuals/asexuality, but I enjoyed this fic nonetheless.

Breath of Heaven by solacesnake18 E | 9k

When Dean is wounded and dying in Purgatory, Castiel returns from his self-imposed exile to help him.

Wow. True!form cas and metaphysical sex that somehow manages to be poetic, emotional, and erotic all at once. I approve.

The Mirror by CloudyJenn M | 24k | Canon!Verse,

When Dean touches a strange mirror, he's whisked away to one alternate reality after another and it doesn't take him long to realize the universe is trying to tell him something.

One of my favorite fics, and a fandom classic. So beautiful. It's a trip, but you'll love it. The ending makes me really emotional.

Rock 'n' Roll Queer Bar by chasingrabbits E | 121k | Fluff, Human AU

Ellen and Jo Harvelle run Harvelle's Roadhouse, a bar that unintentionally becomes a beacon for wayward queer souls. Her employees: Dean, the smartass runaway with a big heart and bigger mouth; Castiel, the college drop-out turned hippie; his (surprisingly heterosexual) trouble-making brother Gabriel; and Charlie, who has been told several times that the back room is not to be used for after-hours Dungeons & Dragons games. But there's a lot of love in this place, and a new family for anyone who may otherwise be without.

Sweet little (well, not so little really) universe. Link is to the series.

A Million Ways to Go by chasingrabbits E | 91k | High School AU,

Castiel Novak is a preacher's son living in a world of black and white. Pragmatic and dutiful, he doesn't understand why anybody would want to make waves. Then the Winchesters move in down the street. Soon many of the skeletons in the Novak family's closet are exposed, and as the family faces them, Castiel begins to understand that there are many ways to see the world and so many more ways to live than what he's been told.

Wow, this was a ride. Set in an alternate!canon where Cas is a repressed preacher's kid and dean still grows up a hunter. Also, lots of Sam and Gabriel brother!feels. Not sabriel.

Like That Foreigner Song... by DevilMadeMeDoIt E | 5k | Hot, Alt!Canon, Deancest, Time trave

Dean and Cas have been together for a while now, but Dean always regrets that he has been with so many people in the past. He wishes he could go back in time and tell his 15 year old self that there is someone worth waiting for. Cas gives him the chance and the outcome is one that neither of them expected.

Oh god, this was a perfect little story. So much love.

TutorMate by faeryn M | 21k | College AU

Sam leaves Dean's laptop logged in to some app called "TutorMate" and Dean meets his brother's tutor. Cas helps him with his own work and they strike up a friendship. Before long Dean finds himself growing attached to the cute, clever Cas and flirtatiously suggests they go on a date if he applies himself to his college work. Cas agrees, but Dean discovers his online friend is not quite what he expected. (Or, in which Dean thinks he's met a cute girl and finds out he's actually met a cute boy.)

Wowowwowowow adorable. Perfect little college AU.

More recs coming soon.

#destiel #deancas #spn #spn fic rec #destiel fic rec #*#list

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writemetohell · 4 years

Text

Jack and Kath Go to the Art Museum

This is the finished version of this from @klaineharmony‘s 300x3 challenge. Pretty much the same thing but with 3,923 extra words.

It was her idea, initially.

It’s not that Jack didn’t want to go. Hell, if you’d asked him ten, even five years ago he’d be bounding up those steps two at a time and doing laps around the grand colosseum pillars. The museum had technically been open to the public for years, but Jack always known that that welcome came with restrictions. There were no dress codes per say, but one look at a building like that and you just knew there would side eyed glances and snide remarks spoken under the breath that you’d rather ignore. Jack, for all bravado, felt best sticking to places where he felt like he belonged. And there were some places where it was made clear you would never belong. Medda had wanted to take him back years ago when he’d first gotten into sketching, but their trip was ‘postponed’ after she learned about their attitude towards Negro patrons.

It almost felt like a betrayal now, him being here without her.

But Katherine had seemed so excited when she shoved the tickets in his hand.

“She’s this woman artist, Mary Cassett. They’re having a show for her in a few weeks. Bill knows the curator, I got us tickets ahead of time.”

“Oh, wow. Great Ace, that’s really swell.” He gave what he hoped was his most debonair grin as he kissed her on the cheek. All the while a creeping sense of dread began to rise in his chest.

It wasn’t an uncommon feeling. The first time it came over him was when Katherine was looking through his sketches of the Refuge. Seeing her in his penthouse, sorting through his papers with a calm deliberation, struck a type of shame in him he had never quite experienced before. It was like being gutted open like a fish, his innards exposed for all the world to see.

Now it flared up at more innocuous times, like when she checks his cartoon captions for spelling, or when they ate a meal with more than one kind of fork. Or just two weeks ago when she had asked when his birthday was. He had clenched his teeth and balled his hands into fists so tight the cuticles dug into the palm. It was like he was willing himself to stop time, or at least try to stall it for the moment being. There had been no need for him in the past to explain that he didn’t know when his birthday was. He had no formal birth certificate, and his vaguest notion to when the date actually fell were when his father would start drinking heavier than usual. His birthday had also been the last day of life for his mother. They didn’t have a certificate for that either.

Theirs was supposed to be a relationship of equals. Katherine had insisted upon it, her being a suffragette and all. He wanted to keep it that way. He just wasn’t quite sure how.

Now in a suit he’d rented just for the occasion and his arm linked in hers, they strolled together through the foreboding brass doors. For a second Jack thought his legs were going to fail him. The place was huge, far bigger than Medda’s theater, or maybe even Grand Central. The ceiling and walls towered over him, lit in a dull glow by a series of candelabras that cast gray shadows over the stone curvatures of the entryways. Jack found himself craning his neck, trying to take in all that was around him. He only stopped when he felt a gentle arm on his shoulder.

“Calm down love, it’s just a museum.”

Jack was about to retort back, but then he remembered who he was speaking to. Katherine was staring at him intently, giving a dazzling smile. And god, did she look beautiful tonight. Everything, from her simple french twist updo to her lace collared dress just screamed class. She had little pearl studs in her ears, and Jack had to fight the temptation to kiss them multiple times on there way over here (Katherine had insisted they’d take a taxi, and the constant clopping of horse hooves made for a very unromantic ride).

He was doing this for her. Hell, with that smile he’d willingly walk into traffic.

He let her lead the way- up grand marble staircases and through corridors where the history of the world seemed to loom around them. Half naked men cast in marble, forever stuck in mid movement. Oil paintings of women in practically nothing, staring longingly out from the canvas. Sallow children draped in more finery than they knew what to do with, faces devoid of emotion, as if they’d accepted their fates continue their family’s inbred bloodline. Jack thought of the kids he often saw on the streets; begging or selling cheap wares to passersby. It was remarkable how similar they looked, yet were still worlds apart. He guessed being draped in velvet could do that for you.

Off to one of the smaller rooms a couple of cordors down, they could now hear the hum of conversation. Through another door, and a somewhat familiar voice could be heard above the din-

“And it’s the woman of the hour herself! Hello there Miss Katherine.” Bill enwrapped Katherine in a huge bear hug before faltering and giving Jack a curt nod. “Jack, always a pleasure.”

Jack gave a nod back. “Same to you Bill.”

His chest was slowly beginning to tighten. Words always came easily to him in the past. Hell, words were practically the way he had made a living for most of his life. But for the first time he found himself hesitant, unsure of how to properly introduce himself.

He had an accent. It was one of the most bizarre revelations he’d ever come to terms with in the past five months. And though it was never said to him outright, he knew people of this set were taken aback by just how broad his New Yorker voice was. He had always been under the impression the most folks talked the way he did, and the few that didn’t were either faking or too displaced from the rest of the city to know any better. Which he later found out was somewhat true.

“I shorten my vowels all the time. That’s how I got through school.” Davey confided in him when they had started making more formal speeches during the strike. “The teachers told me it was the improper way to talk, and the other kids kept giving me a hard time about it, so I guess I just trained myself out of it.”

Trained himself out of it. Like the way you train a dog to take a piss outside. Jack’s mind worked at a rapid pace, thinking of something… anything to say as he followed Katherine towards a small cluster of people. What exactly did the heirs of newspaper moguls do all day?

Evidently this.

“You need to try this Cabernet. 1897, from Florence. Daphne picked it out herself.” Bill strolled over to a decked out table where a tasteful spread of cheese and sliced meats was set up. Jack followed suit, trying not to think how many people those hors d’oeuvres could feed for a week. All the while, Katherine chatted in his ear.

“....so Daphne is Ralph’s sweetheart, and Ralph’s father knows Eastman Johnson, who’s also friends with Bill’s father, who gave them the idea to start going overseas more to look for art. That’s how this whole thing started-”

“Of course Cassatt is an American artist, but her style has become so French, it’s really hard to tell the difference at this point.”

They were greeted by a man slightly taller than Bill, his eyeline nearly identical to Jack’s. But he appeared taller, with his arrow straight posture and impossibly square shoulders. He had pale blonde hair that seemed to vanish into his even paler skin, and icy, colorless eyes that bore into whoever they were looking at. Which at the moment was Jack.

“Jack, this is Ralph. Ralph Potter.” Katherine paused. “His father’s Howard Potter.”

Jack wondered if he was supposed to know who Howard Potter was. “Oh. I’m Jack. Uh, Jack Kelly.”

Ralph raised a near invisible eyebrow. “Kelly, I don’t recognise that name. Have you arrived to New York recently?”

Jack’s mouth went dry. “Uh, no. Lived here my whole life.”

Now both blonde eyebrows went up. “Ah.”

“Aaannd we have some Cab. Please try to savor it, I remember how fast you all chugged down that Malbec at last year’s gathering.”

There were polite chuckles all around as Bill passed two generously filled glasses to him and Katherine. Jack hesitated for a moment, wondering if he should let them know he wasn’t much of a drinker, but then accepted it. He only had to hold the glass after all. No sense in trying to explain to them why.

“So, tell me,” Katherine said after a long slip. “Whose brilliant idea was this? I feel like I must’ve manifested somewhere in the conversation, you know how long I wanted to feature more women here.”

“Well Katherine, you missed that conversation. It all began in Newport this past August.” A petite, dark haired woman delicately made her way to Ralph’s side and slid one arm next to his.

Katherine smiled at Jack as she took another sip. “That explains it, we were working pretty hard back in August, weren’t we love?”

The other woman’s lips pressed firmly together. “And you are-?”

“Uh, Jack Kelly.” How many damn times would he have to say his own name? He reached out his hand to shake. In return she lightly gripped it, pulling away as soon as she could.

“Daphne McAllister.”

Ralph chuckled and shook his head. “Working, I love that. It’s adorable Katherine, the way you’re so committed to your little job.”

“Well, it’s hardly a little job.” Katherine pursed her lips slightly, and Jack could see the grip on her glass tightening. “I’m a professional journalist, I have the byline to prove it.”

“It’s true.” Bill butted in. “You do not want to stop this girl when she gets her hands on a story. She can be utterly brutal when the moment asks for it. Isn’t that right Jack?”

“Um,” Jack choked a bit on his own saliva, his mouth growing unusually dry. “Yeah. That’s right.”

“And anyways,” Bill continued, “I was pretty booked in August too. And I’m pretty sure it was my idea to bring the Cassatt collection over. You two wanted Degas, if I recall correctly.”

“That was the initial plan, yes. But you put up a very good argument, my dear boy. After all, we should spend more time focusing on American artists, even if they do spend all their time abroad. Cassatt is practically a female copy of Degas, so it’s like getting the same show for a cheaper price.”

Katherine’s voice gave a sharp inhale. “Well, I don’t think that’s completely true-”

“Wait, Degas? Ain’t he the dancer guy?”

Everyone paused to look at Jack. It was like being studied under a microscope.

“Oh? And how are you familiar with Degas?” Ralph asked.

“I read an article ‘bout him when I was a kid. I thought it was swell the way he moved from painting to sculptures. I tried to do the same thing but, uh,” Jack suppressed a laugh, thinking about the dirt and straw monstrosity he tried to piece together when he was eleven. “It didn’t exactly work out.”

Katherine gently squeezed his arm. “Jack’s an artist. You should see some of his work, it’s amazing.”

Daphne’s lips were curved upwards, but the smile didn’t exactly meet her eyes. “Oh really, where would we have seen your work?”

“Um..” Jack had the lurking feeling he was walking into a trap. “I’m a cartoonist for The World.”

“You’re selling yourself short Jack.” Katherine gushed. “He does landscapes, political cartoons, he designs theater sets too.”

Ralph looked vaguely interested. “Oh, any shows I’ve seen recently? I saw the most wonderful production of Lear at the Daly’s recently.”

“No. Vaudeville. On the Bowery.” Jack hated to admit it, but he loved seeing everyone’s eyes pop open in shock at the mere mention of that street. The anxiety began to dissaperate in his chest as he turned towards Katherine. “Let’s go look around, I want you to give me the grand tour.”

They waited until they were a good ten feet away before speaking again.

“That wasn’t too much, was it?” Jack whispered

“That was perfect. I swear to god I have no idea why Bill invited them, they’ve always gotten my nerves.”

“So then let’s calm your nerves.” Jack took her by the hand lead her over to the first piece, enshrined heavy gold frame. “Tell me about these paintings. I give this lady major credit for working with oils, I can never get a perfect handle of ‘em.”

Katherine paused a moment to take in the full effect of the painting. “So, Cassatt’s American, but she’s spent the last twenty eight years all over Europe; Seville, Paris, that’s where she’s currently settled right now. It’s wonderful, she’s always surrounded herself with women artists, and most of her subjects are women as well. I love how they’re all presented in such intimate settings.”

They went from painting to painting, taking a moment to observe each piece. Pale faces, bathed in light from all corners. Women with babies, women with young children, their faces a study of the unobserved. There was a naturalism Jack had never seen, women who were neither plain nor beautiful, dressed in luxurious pastels, their eyes directed somewhere off canvas. Existing for no one but themselves.

He stopped in front of one of the smaller pieces, covertly hung in one of the back corners. A a woman breastfeeding. Her face was turned away, staring intently at the child, while the baby gazed adoringly back. The space around them was a shaded mauve, completely devoid of anything except mother and child. It was the most intimate thing Jack had seen in his life. He couldn’t relate to it at all.

He took a moment to look back at Katherine, who was studying the date on sketch of a little girl and her dog. He reached out to touch her on the shoulder, but paused before he could.

Then she turned around. “Love, could you refill my glass? I want to check out some of the smaller pictures in the corner.”

“Of course.” He knew he could’ve just given her his own glass, but the trip gave him an excuse to be with his own thoughts for a while. He was looking over the uniform line of dark bottles, trying to figure out which one exactly was the Cab, when he heard a somewhat familiar voice.

“...no I’d never met him before, why else do you think I was so shocked?”

Ralph and Daphne stood semi-conspicuously a few feet away, their backs turned, talking in hushed tones.

“But you must have heard of him? Everyone knows about Katherine’s little rebellion, she practically has a new one every month.”

“Do you think she’s with him just to make her father angry?”

“I can’t think of any other reason. Of course, this is Katherine Pulitzer. If this isn’t about her father, she probably just wants to be the center of attention. Why else would she bring him here in the first place?”

“For charity?”

Laughter could be heard, Jack’s heart was now pounding through his chest. The edges of his vision began to go red.

“What I don’t understand is where she found him in the first place. Did you hear how he talked? My god, he sounded like he came right off the streets. Where on earth did she find him?”

“Oh, you’re absolutely right, he’s from the streets.” Ralph leaned into those last words knowingly, as if he were about to divulge a dirty secret. “Remember when she said how busy they were in August? That was when she was covering the newsboys strike.”

In profile he could see Daphne’s jaw drop. “You can’t be serious!”

Ralph nodded gravely. “Well, it could be worse.”

“How’s that?”

“Did you see his glass. He hasn’t been drinking all evening.”

There was a time when Jack would have bombarded over there and given those two a piece of his mind. He would have yelled, shouted, slam his fists and use every curse word in the book to get his point across. There would have been a fight, and he would’ve won.

But now, all he could do was stand there stiffly as the rest of the world continued on without him. This new, neutered Jack had to make do with his unused wine glasses and rented suit and a spread of food that he could never touch in fear his eating habits would give him away.

Or he could just leave.

He left the glasses on the table, swiped a piece of salami, and bolted to the nearest exist. The eyes of disillusioned French children followed him as he ran.

------------------------------

When she found him he had been outside for at least a half hour, smoking. He didn’t do this a lot, on account of Crutchie’s lungs and all, but tonight was an exception. He didn’t look up when he saw her small shadow fall against the well lit steps of the building.

“There you are. I was wondering where you’d run off to!”

Jack shrugged. “I needed a break.”

She looked at him quizzically. “From the party? Yes, I guess it can be quite overwhelming. I can only deal with them in small doses myself-”

“Not that.” He took a sharp inhale and spewed the smoke from the corner of his mouth. “Why are you with me?”

Katherine’s eyes shot open in shock. “Do… do you mean here right now or-”

“No, I mean why are you with me. Because it’s been nearly five months Ace, and I have no idea where we’re going with this. I haven’t been with a… with anyone for this long. And I don’t know where this is going. Or where you want it to go.”

“I… well I….” For the first time since he met her, Katherine seemed to be at a loss for words.

Jack took one last swipe of his cigarette before dropping it and bumming it out with the front of his foot. “Okay, let’s put it this way. How much does your father have to factor into the decision of us dating?”

“I… I…. what?!” Katherine’s face went from icy pale to red hot. “You think my father has something to do with this! Let me tell you something, Mister Jack Kelly, I have worked very hard to be my own woman, and my father has absolutely nothing to do with the decisions I make! I make sure he knows as little as possible about my life! My life is my own!”

“Oh yeah, then how come I’ve never met your friends before?”

“You’ve met Bill and Dacy!” Katherine said exasperatedly.

“Yeah, Bill and Darcy, that’s it!” Jack snapped back. “You have this whole other life I never get to see, and when I do everyone makes it perfectly clear that I won’t fit in with them. And I never will. So-” He rubbed the remaining ashes from the cigarette into the steps further. “Why are you with me?”

“Are we really talking about this? Right now?” He could see Kath’s eyes fill with tears and the instant, gutting feeling of guilt grew inside him.

“Well, if you must know, it’s because I care about you. You make me feel happy in a way I haven’t felt in years. And I thought you felt the same way about me.”

“I do Ace, really.” Jack sighed and rubbed his temples. “But what about the long term? If we stay together, what will your father say? Or the rest of ‘em? If you stay with me you’ll be giving all that up. Your whole set will reject you.”

Katherine was silent for a while. “Did I ever tell you how many people talked to me after Lucy died?”

Jack’s head shot up in shock. It was rare for Katherine to bring up her sister.

“No, never have.”

“Just two, Bill and Darcy. Sure, the rest sent flowers and notes and brought hankies to the funeral. But when it came to me actually talking to me, asking how I was doing and really taking the time to listen, there were only really two people I could reach out to.” Katherine laughed ruefully. “And neither of them were my parents. That made me rethink my priorities. Especially who I spend my time with. As it turns out, most people I knew didn’t make the cut.”

Jack looked at her in shock.“How come you never told me that before?”

“I… I don’t know.” Katherine shrugged as she began to rub her arms to ward against the cold. “Sometimes I’m afraid to talk about my personal life with you, because, well… I know you haven’t had it very easy. And my problems might seem small compared to yours.”

The silence between them hung tempestuously in the air. Then Jack spoke.

“When my dad died there wasn’t a funeral.”

Now it was Katherine that looked up in shock. Jack couldn’t remember mentioning either of his parents before this moment.

“Everybody wanted to blame it on the drinking, but he’d actually stopped six months before. Me, I honestly think it was the exhaustion, doing ten hours a day just to make rent for the month. But most people wanted to call him a drunk and call it a day. People even said I should be happy he was gone, since he was no longer around to be a bad influence on me. It was like the whole world wanted him to disappear.”

He looked over at Katherine. Her face was wet with tears. “Jack, I’m so sorry. I had no idea.”

The words because I didn’t want you to know fell on his lips, but he didn’t say them. Instead he wiped his eyes on his sleeve and chuckled. “When I told Crutchie years later he insisted on having a real funeral for him. Went to Central Park ‘cause that was one of his favorite places, and Crutchie read from the Bible and everything. He even brought flowers.”

“That was really lovely of him.” She took out a handkerchief from the sleeve of her dress and passed it to him. Jack took it gratefully.

“Sometimes… I feel like there’s this bridge between us, and you can go to my side and I can go to your side but we can never meet in the middle. Or, I don’t know, maybe there is no middle. Not for us, anyways.”

Katherine sighed and rubbed her eyes. “There can’t be a middle if we’re not honest with each other. We can’t give up if we don’t even bother to try in the first place.” She took another deep breath. “And since you really want to know, I wouldn’t mind being with you long term Jack Kelly. For as long as we possibly can.”

Jack looked up suddenly. “Are you talking about-?”

“Yes! Maybe? I don’t know…” Katherine groaned and rubbed her temples. “This is hard to talk about.... I’ve never really thought of the long term before. But since I’ve met you… I can’t imagine my life without you in it, one way or another. And I don’t know what exactly that means at the moment… but it means something. And I hope it means something to you too.”

Jack’s chest tightened. “I want to be with you. But sometimes I don’t know how.”

“Maybe we don’t need to know. Maybe can just learn as we go along.”

Despite himself, Jack grinned. “Geez, if that ain’t an easy answer, I don’t know what is.”

He could feel her small hand gently grasp his.

“I don’t want an easy answer, I want you.”

For awhile they stood together, neither of them speaking. The Jack turned and looked directly into her eyes. They were hazel, he realized. He’d never noticed that before.

“So… now what?”

Katherine looked incredulously back at the doors. “Well, I don’t want to go back there. Not to the party, at least.”

An idea shot like lightning through Jack’s head. “Wait, is the rest of the place still open? To walk around in, I mean?”

A bright smile spread across Katherine’s face. “Jack, you wouldn’t mind?”

He squeezed her hand. “Well, I’d need a tour guide is all, and if you’re up for the task…”

Katherine clapped her hands in delight. “Oh my goodness, I want to hear your opinion on everything! And I’m not stopping, not until we get to the Egyptian tombs at least!”

Jack grinned. “Is that a threat?”

She leaned in and gave him a gentle kiss. “No, merely a suggestion.”

He held out his arm. And when she took it, Jack felt more whole than he had in his entire life.

They went back into the museum together, arm in arm. They didn’t have a direction. They didn’t really need one.

#Newsies #newsies musical #Jack Kelly #katherine pulitzer plumber #newsies fanfiction #My writing

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claroquequiza · 6 years

Note

Oops someone else asked about Hanzo's anxiety attack commentary! How about when he tells McCree underneath the trees what he believes his fate is?

Oh My

The click of the deadbolt was audible even over the four or five meters between Hanzo and the door, a detail he automatically filed away as a potential warning or prompt for anyone monitoring the main entrance as he stiffened just as automatically. The door opened slowly, and it did indeed reveal the cowboy, dressed in dark blue jeans and a red and white plaid flannel shirt with long sleeves rolled up to the elbow and partially untucked to ineffectually hide the belt buckle gleaming on his waist. His hair, uncorralled for once by the hat held limply at the cowboy’s side, framed his face, surprisingly long and lanky and dark in the shade.

Jack roughed up Jesse a little while tearing him a new one. Not really, but you wouldn’t know it by your appearance, Jesse.

Hanzo had, once again, expected anger to be contorting the cowboy’s face, and once again he was surprised. There was a strange mix of determination and nervousness badly hidden just under the surface of his eyes when they found his own. They stared at each other for a few moments before the cowboy stepped out of the safehouse, letting the door swing closed on its own with a loud thud. Hanzo could not help a slight twitch of an eyebrow as the noise bounced off the surrounding walls a couple of times, but the cowboy paid little heed as he ambled slowly forward, coming to a stop a couple of meters away, just shy of where Hanzo would have been forced to start looking up at him.

The cowboy studied his face for a few moments. Hanzo kept it as blank as possible.

The cowboy took in a deep breath, let it out in a whoosh, and turned away slightly, pressing his hat to his hip with a metal hand while running the other whole hand through his hair. He shook his head slightly and bit his bottom lip. Hanzo watched it all with slightly narrowing eyes. Finally, he turned back and, gesturing at the ground with his free hand, said, “Mind if I sit for a spell?”

LOL, I love how McCree is supposed to apologize here, and he knows he’s gotta, but damn it, people have done all sorts of things waaaay nicer than carrying him to a medic after they assaulted him, and a lot of them ended up having awful motivations. How can he possibly expect better from Shimada?!

Hanzo blinked slowly. The cowboy made no move, even as the silence dragged on for a few beats. An actual request, then. Unusual. He shook his head slightly, and the cowboy nodded back as he dropped down to the ground. At first he let his legs carelessly sprawl out in front of him, but after a moment he seemed to reconsider and folded them into a loose cross-legged position, his hat in his lap and his hands on his knees, despite how uncomfortable the position must have been as his jeans rode up slightly to reveal the cowboy boots.

Hanzo wrinkled his nose slightly at the garish, unpolished spurs, a needless and noisy feature--but no, he realized, the cowboy had made no noise save for crushing the detritus underfoot. Were these spurs purely for show?

I adhere to the spurs as a cat bell headcanon. And, like a cat, Jesse knows how to get around them just fine.

He shook himself out of his pointless musings, refocusing on the cowboy. He was picking at a small pile of needles by his right knee, rubbing individual needles between thumb and forefinger before letting them fall back to the ground, head bowed as if the task merited all his concentration. The scent of cedar rose from the crushed needles, a welcome change from the wet rot, even if Hanzo could scarcely appreciate it while he waited for the cowboy to reveal his intentions.

I don’t actually know what cedar smells like. I hear it’s nice.

It took a good long while, a few endless minutes, before the cowboy finally cleared his throat. “I guess you got some readin’ done after the debriefin’,” he said, without looking up.

Hanzo could not help knitting his eyebrows together. “Reading?” he asked, taking care to keep his voice level, almost monotone.

The cowboy snorted loudly, still picking at the ground. “Or ‘reviewed team data’ or ‘briefed yourself’ or whatever you wanna call readin’ my file.”

“I did not.”

Hanzo smoothed his face back into a blank mask as the cowboy’s head snapped up, his dark eyes widened. “What?”

“I did not review the file.”

There were a couple of beats of silence, the cowboy merely staring, in shock perhaps.

“Why?” he asked at last. “I woulda expected you t’want all the dirt you could find on me.”

Hanzo doesn’t do things because he’s told, he tries to do what he thinks is best. When it comes to Genji, the difference is minimal, but in general Hanzo stopped doing what he was told ten years ago. Soldier: 76 may have told him to read the files, but Hanzo found it best not to. This is where Jesse starts to realize that.

Hanzo permitted himself to raise an eyebrow slightly. So there was “dirt” in the file. He had been right not to read it, then. It would only have added to the cowboy’s grievances against him. Of course, if he could have read it anonymously, he certainly would have, but it had been sent and received by Overwatch devices--the AI would know if it was accessed. The cowboy would surely check with her; he would not take Hanzo at his word.

THE ARTIFICIAL INTELLIGENCE IS ALWAYS WATCHING. This is why it pays to be nice to Athena, as Hanzo’s going to find out in a future chapter.

But what to say for now? He looked around slightly, wondering what was appropriate to say while sitting in the relative open like this. Trusting in the constant drone of the cicadas to mask their voices, he settled on, “You say he joined a month ago, correct?” At the cowboy’s slight nod, “He did not consult anyone. I am unsure if he is authorized to do such a thing, after so little time.”

The cowboy’s lips curled into a strange smile. “Well, shit. I dunno, either, t’be honest,” he muttered, tone thoughtful with a strange edge of mirth. “I guess he must be, since he sent it in the first place.” Hanzo barely had time to consider the implications of that before the cowboy’s face dropped into a serious expression, his eyes piercing. “But you don’ really need any more dirt, do ya?”

WHAT could he POSSIBLY mean?

Well, I’ll tell you, [TEXT REDACTED]

Hanzo kept his face immobile, but he could feel his mind kick into high gear with an almost audible click behind his eyes. Dirt? On the cowboy? Hanzo had no idea what he was talking about.

Was he referring to the price on his head? It would be an odd non-sequitur, but Hanzo was at a loss to think of anything else. He had assumed it to be an open secret of little worth. He had discovered the bounty almost immediately when he had performed a quick search for information on Overwatch and its personnel during his stopover in Daisen. Jesse McCree was one of the most expensive criminals in the world, which would have interested Hanzo greatly if the cowboy were not an associate-by-duress, and if the United States’ haphazard bounty system could be trusted to properly distinguish between the criminal and the accused. Overwatch apparently did not trust it, and Hanzo certainly did not, either. The Shimada-gumi had “requested” the placement of several bounties for many of its enemies in America through its government contacts, and it had mattered little if there was an official criminal history or not. Hanzo would probably have an American bounty himself if his betrayal were not such an embarrassment for the clan.

LOL, you gotta have a good reason for Hanzo not to go for that bounty. Even if Genji invited him to Overwatch, there’s gotta be a good reason for Hanzo not to immediately shoot Jesse in the head.

Also an excellent opportunity to jab at the American criminal “justice” system. I Have Opinions, y’all, and I love dropping them into the text every once in a while.

So, if not the bounty, what?

Hanzo mentally shrugged. If the cowboy believed he had something, perhaps he did, but he sincerely doubted it amounted to anything. Sixty million dollars was nothing compared to being Genji’s comrade. What could possibly tempt him to ignore the debt he owed there? But he might as well try to find out what the cowboy was talking about, if he could.

“I do not know what you are referring to,” he said, making sure to lose some of the monotone in favor of a slightly confused edge.

The cowboy set his jaw for a moment. “Don’ go bullshittin’ me, Shimada,” he said in a low growl. “You told 76 everythin’ else--why wouldn’ you go the full mile, especially about that?”

[TEXT REDACTED]

Hanzo could feel his eyebrows creep together again. So it had something to do with the debriefing? Under the hot glare of the cowboy, he quickly ran over his entire conversation with the Soldier, trying to find what he had apparently left unsaid. The Soldier had been thorough about everything from the time Hanzo had arrived, to his surveillance pattern to the attack itself to all the cowboy’s negligence--

--but no, not all the cowboy’s negligence.

It was actually hard to think of a mistake for Jesse to commit--I don’t want Jesse to be an idiot or a fool in any way, shape, or form, so it was difficult to come up with something that was believable yet would make sense to someone as clever and intelligent as Jesse McCree. The key was his faith in teammates and his having spent years with no one at his side but the criminals he just bagged--lots of things make sense when you’re alone versus when you’re working in a team, and he’s rusty.

His expression cleared. Of course. Hanzo had omitted the detail where he had attempted to warn the cowboy about the likely schedule of the Yoneyama, a key piece of information that could have cut their numbers in half at the beginning of the battle, as well as greatly delayed the arrival of reinforcements. It was the cowboy’s fault that Overwatch had dropped in just in time to find themselves sandwiched between defenders and attackers, an unenviable position. It occurred to Hanzo that had they arrived a few minutes later still, both shifts of Yoneyama guards would have been clustered around the warehouse, possibly able to retreat into and double the fortifications of the warehouse, and who knew how that would have affected the final result.

Hanzo had not failed to mention this to the Soldier by choice--it had simply not occurred to Hanzo to say anything about it, possibly due to his disturbed state of mind, and the Soldier’s questions had not moved in that direction. Perhaps he, too, had been distracted, by Hanzo knowing next to nothing about the team.

If this was the “dirt”, then it truly amounted to nothing--it was merely a small addendum on the rest of the cowboy’s actions. Hanzo was surprised the cowboy thought it of any note, to be honest. Perhaps the Soldier had been pushed to the very edge by Hanzo’s report--he had certainly seemed to be building towards some near-apocalyptic rage when Hanzo had fled outside--and the cowboy had only barely avoided some enormous consequence by the skin of his teeth.

More likely, Hanzo decided, the cowboy suspected that he had been searching for something to discredit him, something he could blackmail him with. The thought almost made him snort. What use would that be? Overwatch was already overlooking a sixty million dollar bounty--in the face of that, what could Hanzo, half-agent and murderer, possibly say or do that could shake that apparently unflappable trust the organization had in the cowboy? However--

You’d be surprised, Hanzo.

Hanzo felt his back loosen marginally, noting that he had unconsciously began to curl forward slightly as he had been thinking. But now he could relax, just a little, because now he had a fix on the cowboy’s odd behavior from the moment Hanzo had dumped him next to his comrades at the warehouse.

After the near-disastrous battle, he knew that Hanzo’s report would inevitably result in short-term censure, but his position in Overwatch was secure overall, so he had feigned nervousness in an attempt to see what Hanzo would do if he was under the impression that he had some leverage against him. If Hanzo were more easily duped, he might have pounced on that leverage and tried to use it to some end or other, but the cowboy could then reveal the attempt in order to cast doubt on Hanzo himself, if more doubt was possible.

Clever. Very clever. Hanzo could barely refrain from shaking his head wryly as he evenly returned the cowboy’s glare. When he had first met him, it had been hard to believe that he had been part of a black ops organization for any amount of time, but Hanzo had been wise not to let his wild, ruffled, unkempt appearance deceive him. He was turning out to be something of an opponent.

I love having Hanzo respect Jesse for all the wrong reasons. I LOVE IT.

Hanzo felt his lips curve ever so slightly at the thought. An opponent, but in a game of what, exactly? Hanzo had nothing to lose except his life, after all, and even that already belonged to another, if only he would exercise that right.

Whatever the game was, though, Hanzo had little interest in playing.

Here comes the nuclear bomb.

He made a slight show of relaxing, arranging his knees into a slightly more comfortable position before speaking. “Agent McCree, it would change nothing if I went to the Soldier to amend my report,” he said, letting his face drop into an almost bored expression.

The cowboy, on the other hand, looked surprised. “What d’you mean by that, exactly?” he asked after a moment.

Hanzo gave a tiny sigh. The cowboy was his handler, so if he wanted to continue the game, Hanzo would be forced to participate, even minimally--but surely both men had better things to do with their time. Hanzo considered for a moment, before looking around them. The air was beginning to chill and leach the warmth from his skin as their surroundings darkened. If the branches above did not block the view, the first stars might have been visible in the blueblack sky. “How openly may I speak here? Are we secure?”

The cowboy frowned, looking a bit thrown by the question. “We’re--secure,” he said. “Mercy and Athena’re keepin’ an eye on the drones.” A look of understanding dawned then, and he lowered his voice almost to a growl again. “So say what you gotta say. Nothin’ and no one will overhear.”

Hanzo rather doubted that, but the alternative was going back into the safehouse, where the Soldier or the doctor were much more likely to overhear what, in the end, only the cowboy needed to know.

“You do not trust me,” he said without preamble. “You believe Overwatch should not trust me, that much is obvious. Did the Soldier tell you that I agree with you?” The cowboy sucked in a breath through his nose, which was all Hanzo allowed before he continued. Best to speak quickly, now.

“I defended your actions to him. You wished to protect your teammates from me, a proven danger. You are right to do this. I would do the same in your place. I would, perhaps, do more.” The cowboy’s eye twitched, and Hanzo smiled wanly. “In the end, however, it is unnecessary. There is absolutely nothing for me to gain by betraying Overwatch. There might be some riches, of course, but what use are riches without honor? And there is only one source of honor since I raised my--raised arms against Genji. And he will provide it, once he comes to his senses.”

“What?” the cowboy muttered, face closed, eyes narrowed.

Hanzo did not bother to hide his sigh. “The doctor tells me,” he said quietly, “that for whatever reason, he has only recently been blinded by this idea that forgiveness will suffice. It will not. You must only wait for his vision to clear, as I am.

“You worry for his safety when it does, of course, but he has defeated me each time we have met since he revealed himself. I have no doubt he will again, when he is ready.” The words were only a little forced, despite Hanzo’s pride. Even now, it sought to rise up and rage against the notion of his brother besting him, a bitter reminder that the past was not truly past. “We only need to tolerate each other for a little while, cowboy. I truly do not expect it to be long. There is nothing to do except indulge him until then. If he wishes for me to serve Overwatch while I wait for him to remember his right, so be it.”

This whole scene came from “We only need to tolerate each other for a little while, cowboy. I truly do not expect it to be long.” I originally put it near the beginning of their conversation, and the rest of the scene grew around it. I had to work to make it believable for Hanzo to be so frank with Jesse.

He paused, considering. “Also,” he mused slowly, “It was Overwatch that saved his life. I assume so, from what the doc--from what Mercy has said?” The cowboy nodded slowly. “Then I owe Overwatch, regardless of Genji’s wishes. Because of them, Genji lives, and so does this chance at redemption.”

At the word redemption , the cowboy stiffened, and his flesh hand went to cover the breast pocket of his flannel shirt. Hanzo gave no sign that he noticed, keeping his eyes fixed on the cowboy’s face. “Why tell me this?” he breathed out, as if he could not help himself.

I’m looking forward to revealing what’s in his pocketses. I knew it was going to be Something, but I didn’t decide exactly what it was until I watching @nimpnawakproduction‘s art stream as she very generously drew out this scene. She asked what was in there, and right then and there it just came to me what it going to be.

Hanzo huffed. “You fear my intentions, for Genji and Overwatch. This has been clear from the beginning. So there they are, laid bare.”

“And you think I’ll just step--” the cowboy seemed almost to choke on his words, but Hanzo would continue if he would not.

“Step aside?” The cowboy flinched , and Hanzo, in spite of himself, rolled his eyes. “ Yes , cowboy. I believe even you can appreciate the convenience, even the elegance, of allowing a problem to resolve itself.”

I’m really proud of this line. Hanzo is revealing a little bit of his newfound respect for Jesse in the most passive aggressive possible--but he doesn’t know he might as well have just gutshot Jesse.

Silence. The cowboy kept his hand over his pocket, staring, almost squinting at Hanzo through the deepening gloom.

What are you thinking about, Jesse?

What indeed.

Thank you so much for the prompt!! I hope you enjoyed it!!

#asks #behind the scenes #my fics #Anonymous

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televisor-reviews · 4 years

Text

Top 10 BEST Films Of 2018

Taking this extra year to look at the film market of 2018 has given me the space to really look at the year as a whole as, what I’d describe as, really extreme. It wasn’t great, but it wasn’t awful, and I wouldn’t really say it was mediocre either. There were lots of movies I loved but just as many I hated with surprisingly few I thought were just okay. Both the best and worst lists were pretty hard to put together because there were so many movies I really wanted to put on them. Cutting Jurassic World: Fallen Kingdom from my worst list was a serious heartbreaker for me. But that only means that I’m particularly quite happy with how both turned out, there’s some seriously game changing films on this list. And keep in mind that, despite how much I tried, I still couldn’t watch every movie from the year: so as amazing as I’m sure A Star Is Born and Best F(r)iends are, I just didn’t get around to them. If you’d like a list of every movie from 2018 I have seen (in order from best to worst), it can be found on my Letterboxd here: https://letterboxd.com/animatorreviewa/list/every-2018-movie-ive-seen/

#10. Searching Back in 2014, the world was introduced to a new form of filmmaking that told a story via the screen of the main protagonist’s computer in Blumhouse’s Unfriended. Kind of like a modern day found footage film. And while I was one of five people who really liked Unfriended and its 2018 followup Unfriended: Dark Web, I think Searching is the penultimate of what this newfound sub-genre is able to accomplish. Similar to what Cloverfield was able to do for found footage, Searching was able to use the computer screen film style to heighten the tension and breaks down a part of the audience’s suspension of disbelief to create a horrific experience for anyone who witnesses it. Which also puts a ton of pressure on the lead, John Cho, as even a moment of bad acting can break this fragile fourth wall. Pressure that Cho overcomes like it was nothing. All of this combines into an incredible experience that keeps its audience on the edge of their seats and constantly on the brink of a heart attack. I’m almost certain that Searching will be considered an important piece of 2010′s film history. #9. Bad Times At The El Royale In 2011, Drew Goddard set himself apart as a director with a very unique and interesting vision with his landmark piece A Cabin In The Woods. In 2018, he did it again with, in my opinion, an even better film, Bad Times At The El Royale with a fascinatingly put together and complicated story featuring some of the best acting from such a star studded cast I’ve seen in years. From Jeff Bridges playing against the Big Lebowski type most are familiar with to Jon Hamm definitely playing towards his Richard Jewell typecast to Dakota Johnson making up for all three Fifty Shades Of Grey movies with quite possibly her best performance. Bad Times At The El Royale is one of the most uniquely made mainstream movies I’ve seen in a while with several scenes told several times from different perspectives and each character breathed life into them with such interesting backstories. My only real problem is that the whole thing with half the place is in Nevada and the other half is in California doesn’t really go anywhere but it’s made up for as soon as Chris Hemsworth shows up to ham the hotel up. Incredibly entertaining and amazingly fascinating, this is a movie that threatens you with a good time. #8. The Favourite I appreciate that powdered wig period pieces are coming back into style with shit such as Beauty And The Beast (2017), The Age Of Adaline, and Pirates Of The Caribbean: Dead Men Tell No Tales. But among the failures of this once well respected sub-genre are good stuff too, for instance, The Favourite, a movie that actually remembers that British people spell some words with a “u”. One of my personal Favourite cliches of films nowadays is having a cast in which literally everybody is an asshole, see #9 and #1. And what I really like particularly with this is that old time-y movies about royalty can be really intimidating to hurdle, even now I have to hype myself up to watch something like Downton Abbey. But this overcomes it by being really entertaining with some great performances from the entire cast, especially Emma Stone showing once again why she deserves an Oscar! And the directing from Yorgos Lanthimos is so good, it actually makes me want to check out The Killing Of A Sacred Deer. The Favourite is a magnificently smartly fun picture that can satisfy both the most bored audience member and the most pretentious film critic. #7. Love, Simon Look, we all have biases. Some lead people to rave about how BlacKkKlansman is the best movie of the year because of how well it portrays black culture and their relationship with the police and evangelical racists. Some lead people raving about Crazy Rich Asians because it had the balls to fill its cast with Asians and Asian Americans. For me, an (at the time) openly bisexual 18 year old who masks most of my anxiety and fears with a very thin facade of comedy, Love, Simon really spoke to me while also entertaining the hell out of me. The script knew exactly when to be funny and when to be serious, when it should have a heartfelt scene and when it should go on a random tangent, and even when it’s trying to be funny or go on a tangent, it gives incredible insight into the main protagonist’s psyche. And for those moments, the context is everything. I remember cringing pretty hard at the whole “coming out as straight” bit in the trailer, but laughing my ass off when it showed up in the film. And Nick Robinson, who plays the titular character, kills it and I think he’s going to go places very soon. All of this culminates at the end, when the emotion is high and I (along with the rest of the theater) are on the edge of our seats, and Love, Simon got me to shed some tears. #6. Ralph Breaks The Internet Of the two million Disney movies released in 2018, this sequel is the highest one ranking on my list. And of the one million animated films released in 2018, this is actually the lowest one ranking on my list. Which kind of surprises me because you wouldn’t think so on the surface. On one hand, it’s just a sequel to a video game movie that lost Best Animated Picture to Brave, how is Wreck It Ralph 2 doing better than the emotional rollercoaster that was Christopher Robin or the long awaited and ton of fun that was The Incredibles 2. But then again, anyone who knows me knows that Wreck It Ralph is one of my favorite Disney cartoons, so how does it barely creep above the smart while not being funny at all Smallfoot or the only surface level hilarity that is Hotel Transylvania 3: Summer Vacation? Well, in some sense it’s much better than the original: with superior animation, a cooler concept, and finally realizing that the focus should be entirely on the real star, Princess Vanellope Von Schweetz. On the other hand, it doesn’t even come close to matching up: the humor is a tad sub par, too much is really going on, and considering the very cool concept, it should’ve done more with it. But did I still watch it a ton as soon as I could: absolutely. So who really won here: me for being a little disappointed or Disney who made a very entertaining film? The sixth spot feels about right to me. #5. Annihilation Between J.J. Abrams’s batshit crazy Nazi-zombie experiment Overlord, Steven Spielberg bringing his amazing talent to Ready Player One, Netflix throwing their hat into the “ripping off Big Hero 6″ ring with Next Gen, and do I even need to mention Marvel, 2018 was a damn good year for sci-fi in the middle of a decade that was, as a whole, great for the genre. And while Annihilation isn’t the last we’ll see from science fiction on the list, it is the one that’s here largely because of that. Flatly, I love how the science in this movie works; in general, I tend to prefer my sci-fi very grounded and that is how Annihilation works. I could kind of see how something like this bubble can exist and everything inside it really working this way. But what I really love about this film’s science is that it is a borderline horror flick. Once Natalie Portman walks through into the anti-Wizard Of Oz, the shit that goes down is horrifying. All of a sudden: up is down, left is right, and nobody knows what time it is and I loved it! This kind of gaslighting horror that I don’t see a whole lot of lately really throws the audience through a loop because for once, we don’t know what’s going on either. And for a film to really go so far just to confuse people, I have to at least respect. And to do it so well with some amazing acting on just about everybody’s part, I must love! Annihilation is a serious experience that I wished I was able to catch on the big screen. #4. Sorry To Bother You In 2018, Donald “Childish “Lando Calrissian” Gambino” Glover released his major #1 single, This Is America. Whether you love it or you hate it, you have to admit that it was saying a lot in such a unique way. The world that music video took place in was a nonsensical cartoon to somehow represent the plight of African Americans in the United States. I’m not gonna pretend like I totally understand because I definitely don’t; the point is that the portrayal struck a nerve with a lot of people and, personally, it did feel like a proper way of showing it. And Sorry To Bother You does something very similar, portraying the African American plight in a humorous, cartoonish, and unrealistic way to counteract the very serious, down to earth, and realistic parts. Do black people need to completely show themselves as white to get anything done; maybe not but we all know that people in general are much friendlier and nicer to those who sound like their ideals, usually meaning white. Are we, as a nation, (spoilers) turning poor (and considering how blacks are predisposed to being lower middle class because of reasons relating to how capitalism works, most of the blacks of the world) people into horses; I sure hope not but big companies and better off citizens do tend to think of the working class as just objects to do shit for them. Sorry To Bother You brings up a lot of the problems prevalent in modern society, especially those that directly relate to African Americans, in a palpable and entertaining way is ingenious and amazingly well done thanks to the overwhelming talent of Boots Riley and I cannot wait for his next big project. It’s definitely the best racial relations film of the year, beating out other great films like Monsters And Men, If Beale Street Could Talk, and The Oath. #3. Isle Of Dogs 2018 is a year that really threw me through a loop as far as films went. When I went to see Isle Of Dogs, I was certain that it’ll be the best movie of the year, absolutely no competition. Then, later on, when the #1 film came out, I was certain that would be it. Then the #2 spot came out and made me question everything all over again. Anyway, Isle Of Dogs is Wes Anderson being very Wes Anderson-y while combining it with the same kind of claymation he used in the fantastic Fantastic Mr. Fox and the traditional culture of Japan that’s oh so lovable. And as much as I love the Anderson style, the animation used here, and how Japanese culture is portrayed, involving my favorite animal brings my appreciation over the top. I am so down to get a million more films in which the theme of the picture is that dogs rule. This really is the kind of film that I love just about every aspect of, and though it might mostly be on a surface level way, I really don’t have anything bad to say about this film. It’s almost boring how much I enjoy this, I don’t have much to say except please watch it. It’s so good! #2. Spider-Man: Into The Spider-Verse Back in 2012, the world as a whole was introduced to a pair of directors mostly known for animation named Phil Lord and Chris Miller when they directed the surprise hit 21 Jump Street and its followup 22 Jump Street. The world then got to know them a little bit better when they seemingly single-handedly jumpstarted the beloved The Lego Movie franchise. Then in 2018, everyone learned that no matter how crazy, Lord and Miller know what they’re doing when their firing spelled doom for the financial flop that was Solo: A Star Wars Story. So when the pair brought their producing and writing talent to a Sony Animation made Spider-Man movie just a year after The Emoji Movie, I think most people were expecting to enjoy it if only because that snippet at the end of Venom was really well animated. But I don’t think anyone was expecting an Academy Award winning film. Whenever I went onto my Twitter for a solid month, all I saw were people exclaiming how Into The Spider-Verse was their favorite movie of the year and then again for another month after the Oscars took place. All of a sudden, Disney Marvel, Warner Bros. DC, and Fox X-Men (rest in peace), have a brand new and major competitor... and for good reason, this movie is incredible. I immediately accepted it as easily the best Spider-Man movie ever, but took a few watchings for me to accept it as the second best film of the year and a few more to accept it as my Phil Lord and savior. It is so much fun, so entertaining, so enjoyable with such great characters, amazing writing, and hilarious comedy all wrapped with a brilliantly animated bow. Another film I really have nothing bad to say about, this is just a fantastic film through and through. Before we get to #1, here’s some Runners Up:

Black Panther This was the year I got a little spent on superhero movies. Considering how I still put Into The Spider-Verse as my #2, clearly not that much, but I just wasn't super amazed by what Marvel, DC, or X-Men had to offer. But I don’t think I even disliked any: Avengers: Infinity War was fun but incredibly unfocused, Teen Titans Go! To The Movies was hilarious but was still just a poor child’s version of Teen Titans, and Deadpool 2 had some great action but not nearly as entertaining as its predecessor. Black Panther was the only one that really left a real mark on me, but even still, it’s not the best film of the year to handle black culture. Even as far as Ryan Coogler films go, I think I’d rather watch Creed or its sequel Creed 2. It’s good but I don’t think it deserved a best picture nomination. Instant Family Hear me out, the movie in which Mark Wahlberg and Rose Byrne adopt Dora The Explorer and her two bratty siblings directed and written by the same guys behind Daddy’s Home 2 and Horrible Bosses 2 is the feel good movie of the year, is incredibly hilarious and underrated, and even got me to shed a tear by the end. There is no excuse to let Daddy’s Home flourish and this beauty and die, I implore you to please watch it. You will not regret it, let it get big on home media, get more of these made! Vice I get that not everybody gets the Adan McKay style of making a dramedy like in The Big Short or Bombshell, but I do and I love both Christian Bale and Amy Adams so Vice was really up my alley! I just thought of it as a really enjoyable movie with a message I was predisposed to agree with. What really throws this into being a great movie to me is that Christian Bale really is that good in this, maybe one of the best performances in his career. I don’t know, I thought it was funny so I enjoyed it well enough. Won’t You Be My Neighbor? I think most people agree that this was easily the best documentary of the year. As much love as I have for Fahrenheit 11/9 for being my first theatrical documentary and Behind The Curve for being one of few docs that are incredibly entertaining, I had to eventually break down and admit that Won’t You Be My Neighbor (once again) made me cry because I grew up loving Mr. Roger’s Neighborhood that much. Especially now that we’re past A Beautiful Day In The Neighborhood leaving not nearly as big of a mark as people were expecting and we’re still watching and talking about this documentary, I think this actually has the lasting impact it earned. Green Book It won best picture, I guess I’ll talk about it. As a movie, Green Book is fine. It’s well made with some good acting, I’ll allow it being considered good. Is it racist? I’d say probably not but it does definitely feel racist. Kinda like that scene from The Office where Michael Scott does his Chris Rock impression; you know he’s not racist and he doesn’t mean for it to come across as it but it still absolutely does. Considering the message of the story is “don’t be racist/homophobic,” I’m pretty sure that it’s not racist/homophobic, it just doesn’t know how to say it without coming across as such. My real big issue is with it winning the same year that had Roma and Can You Ever Forgive Me?, it had no business even being nominated. But outside of all of that, Green Book is an okay movie. Mid90s The 2010s owes a ton to Jonah Hill and I don’t think most people realized that. He told studios how to translate old properties to a modern audience with 21 Jump Street, showed how comedians can combine their sense of humor with the serious setting around them in The Wolf Of Wall Street, and most importantly to this entry, showed how coming of age stories should be told in this day and age with Superbad. Ever since, for better or worse, coming of age films have been trying to recreate that magic. The closest to get it right, in my opinion, is The Edge Of Seventeen but still goes wrong by being much much better, but Mid90s does some really great stuff as well. I appreciate any theatrical film that’s willing to be filmed in a way that doesn’t look theatrical at all. And I also appreciate the likable but very flawed characters portrayed. Mid90s really left a mark in my mind and is a great start to Jonah Hills directorial career. Aggretsuko: We Wish You A Metal Christmas And for my pick of short film of the year, let’s talk about what might be my favorite Netflix series, Aggretsuko! As a cradle between season one to season two, this does a great job at portraying these super relatable characters in a very entertaining scenario all set during Christmas! Maybe it’d make more sense to give this honor to something more impactful like A Sister or clever like I’m Poppy: The Film or even a nice surprise like Harvey Birdman, Attorney General, but no. I refuse. I enjoyed A Very Merry Aggretsuko Christmas much more. Book Club Considering how I’ve spent literally every Worst Of list talking about how awful Fifty Shades Of Grey is, even that year it took off I ended up watching and bitching about Fifty Shades Of Black, I’d like to talk about what is easily the best film to come out of this franchise. Book Club is basically a bunch of old lady celebrities getting together, reading the Fifty Shades books, and talking about their sex lives. It’s like a feature length Gilmore Girls movie and I loved not only the idea, but the film itself was hilarious. I enjoyed the hell out of it. Black Mirror: Bandersnatch As a die hard Black Mirror fanatic, of course I was excited for a full Black Mirror movie with, from what I’ve heard, five hours worth of footage. Especially since its story was told in such a fascinating and unique way, I was interested as hell into this and I loved it! I’ve loved select your own adventure books and games for a long time now, from Detroit: Become Human to Gravity Falls: Dipper and Mabel and the Curse of the Time Pirates' Treasure!: A "Select Your Own Choose-Venture!". So one set in the well established and amazingly well put together world of Netflix’s British Twilight Zone, sounds incredible and it was! It’s just so cool! Bumblebee Laika didn’t have a movie in 2018, but I feel like we still did with Bumblebee. Getting Travis Knight, the director of Kubo And The Two Strings, objectively their best picture, to do a Transformers entry is ingenious! If anyone should know how a creature like this would move and how to differentiate any one robot from another robot, it’s an acclaimed director from Laika. Now that we’ve finally pried this franchise from Michael Bay’s claws and Paramount playing it smart with their directors, maybe we’ll finally get a series of good Transformers films... or maybe Transformers 7 is cancelled and all hope is lost. #1. Hereditary I think the 2010s get a bad wrap when it comes to horror. All too often I hear Gen X-ers proclaiming how, “there’s no good scary movies anymore!” Completely forgetting hits like The Cloverfield Paradox, A Quiet Place, and The First Purge. Every new trend of a certain genre can usually be traced back to one major film: 1930s had Frankenstein, 1980s had Halloween (BTW, the 2018 one is also great), 2000s had The Blair Witch Project, etc. I think this new trend of mixing slow and suspenseful with big jump scares and everything is dark can be thanks largely to The Conjuring. While that franchise might have started the trend, I feel pretty certain that Hereditary perfected it. Every scare is at least mildly horrifying, the loops it throws you through is abundant, at no point are you sure what’s going on, and by the end, you find yourself breathing much heavier than you remember doing. Hereditary is a trip and a half that I loved going through again and again. I think when people think back to what was the best horror film of each decade: 1930s Dracula, 1980s The Shining, 2000s The Ring, 2010s Hereditary. I loved this movie in all its horrific glory.

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haywire4 · 4 years

Text

uk election thoughts from a dude in the states

not bothering to capitalize any of this, it’s just stuff that i’m typing as i go and i’m only going back to make sure i spelled most of the words right and shit before queuing up a post

i honestly didn’t expect a labour majority, i figured things were going to be stalled about as they were, but that was a pretty hard shift

seriously, i thought that jets loss to the ravens was going to be the biggest loss i saw tonight

the brexit split really created a damned if you do, damned if you don’t situation, didn’t it? jezza tries to whip support for it, he probably loses the substantial portions of the electorate worried about the very real damage that could happen to public services and the very fake loss of EU membership prestige.

trying to go for the second referendum, though, that probably alienated a lot of people deeply concerned about the very real issues EU membership causes for countries with names that don’t rhyme with bermany, and assorted jackasses that spend most of their hours concerned with national pride above all else

a lot of people whose jobs rely on calling themselves smart, they’re already taking the chance to tut-tut those who didn’t want labour to be tory-lite, who believe things better than the status quo are possible, would like to try and use this as incontrovertible evidence that leftism is unelectable. please ignore that the wet blanket centrist lib dems have less than 20 seats total and most only got enough votes to successfully split the vote in many areas.

i mean it about the vote splitting thing, i’ve always mocked the people that talk about how dubya “had integrity and honor” while simultaneously cursing the name of ralph nader twenty years on, but the difference between nader and the british lib dems is that those jackasses had quite a visible dent in a lot of demos that probably would have gone labour, same with the brexit party, while nader’s support was built out of people that otherwise would have likely abstained from voting.

with that in mind, sometimes america’s lack of viable third parties seems like more of a blessing than a curse. it’s easy to get hammered by a couple hundred jo swinsons and similar empty suits, less so by the gary johnsons and howard schultzes of the world thinking they’re the next ross perot. would still rather have that ranked choice setup they use down in australia tho.

when contrasted with a prime minister that has written some profoundly antisemetic fiction and his party’s erection of a monument to an MP who virulently hated jews and based her support of hitler off of it, there was sort of a dark humor to the charge that the labour party was uniquely antisemetic. there didn’t seem to be much to it, just the usual protests from people who see palestinians as sub-human but won’t say it, and people who can only view jews as being innately tied to a nationality other than their own. turns out that scaring rich people who own or inhabit high level positions at media companies can get you some really interesting wall-to-wall coverage.

and yes, i did notice that widely circulated list of “suspected labour antisemites“ that was sourced from a group with aryan in the name

that’s a fun preview of what’ll happen if sanders really starts to get traction over here, by the way. you might say, “surely they wouldn’t try to paint a jewish man who lost much of his family in the holocaust as an antisemite, especially compared to a president that’s straight up signing executive orders to declare jews as their own separate nationality“ but the federalist is already dipping their toes into such matters, and many right wing talking points seem to percolate from well funded places like that these days.

also, the people that want to say that a guy who straight up got arrested for protesting during the sixties american civil rights movement doesn’t care about the black community as biden or tiny pete will eat that shit up, and comcast and GE owned outlets ain’t gonna be above saying it in more hushed tones.

apparently corbyn is stepping down as labour leader. it’s been lost to time (or i’m too dumb to remember who said it), but i remember someone saying like, “if it had been sanders taking that kind of devastating loss in 2016, i would honestly have to re-evaluate my politics, figure out i should be playing a role in all of this, if i’m still in touch.“ after three years of various clinton-worlders on doggedly insisting that they are still the only ones that understand how to win elections, corbyn having the guts to step down and say “i might not be the right person to be the face of this movement at this time“ is a refreshing, if sobering example of humility.

big feather in your cap if you’re one to talk about the limits of electoralism, you shouldn’t treat it as an “i told you so” moment, but i guess you did there. hope you have a good backup plan, there might be a good time for it soon

there was a little bit of talk from non-mainstream sources about how american trade deals were going to encourage heavy privatization of the NHS, most of which seemed to be covered up by the insistence of covering the “possibility” (as in bullshit idea) that a story about a hospital hobbled by tory/right wing labour budget cuts running out of beds and forcing patients onto the floor was made up by the parents of a patient. a lot of people asking what copays and deductibles are over in the isles today, even if it’s not going to happen overnight.

sometimes i think a little too much about the possibility of a populace that’s a combination of too beaten down and distracted to worry about the public good and creeping austerity, and times like this really remind you of the necessity of extensive public organizing in your community

another blessing in disguise, i hear a lot about how americans don’t watch the news, but looking at how a lot of corporate news sources twist themselves in knots to look impartial while trying to convince well-meaning individuals that what they’re seeing in front of them in regards to the right wing isn’t real, maybe that’s not such a bad thing. is someone getting their info from NUMTOT or random facebook pages dedicated to cropping and watermarking stolen videos really worse then getting it from ABC or FOX? prolly not tbh

in reality, whatever remains of the uk and eu in 2160 is probably still going to be kicking the can on brexit, basically just turning it into some arcane ceremony whose purpose has been long forgotten. fun!

irish reunification and scottish independence talks sound like they’re going to get real fun now, but i’ll admit i don’t know a lot about that stuff except for the dup essentially wanting the troubles 2.0 in exchange for a coalition with the tories and the last scottish thing getting rejected based on promises of staying in the EU

australia is not the UK but now is a better time than ever to say that fairy bread might be the worst food i’ve ever heard of, anyway peace out, never forget that time that david cameron fucked a dead pig to get into whatever the brit version of skull and bones is

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