okay i dont know how but i guess when i was first watching doc who i accidentally skipped waters of mars and never watched it. Alright well it’s bar none the most fucked up epsiode of this show ever guys that was harrowing. the fact that the actual plot mechanics and monsters kinda didnt matter literally at all it could have been any random thing but the entire ep hinged just on ten’s internal conflict was nutso. and they just never do that again. He was so scary.. The fact that not a single person was charmed by his charm and he was doing it on autopilot for no reason and they all just got scared and disturbed by him and when gemma chan was like It’s bigger on the inside it was in a tone of absolute HORROR. yell

The Mettle Of A Man; Part Fifteen

Fandom: Fallout (4)

Pairing: Eventual Paladin Danse/Female Sole Survivor

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: Enjoy!

Part One: ArcJet

Part Two: The Prydwen

Part Three: Orders

Part Four: Finding Brandis

Part Five: Weston Water And Oberland

Part Six: Meeting Preston And Matthew

Part Seven: Radstag And Radstorm

Part Eight: The Return To Sanctuary Hills

Part Nine: Domestic Ruminations

Part Ten: Institutionalized

Part Eleven: Two Weeks, Three Days

Part Twelve: Haylen’s Warning And The Glowing Sea

Part Thirteen: Under Fire

Part Fourteen: Dichotomy

[!TRIGGER WARNING!: This installment contains allusions to torture and prolonged, vivid depictions of assault. Stay safe!]

"Call tags?" The scribe droned, not even looking up from the terminal.

  Danse only hesitated for a second. "D, N, dash, four zero seven P." 

  The scribe punched in the letters and numbers, and Danse saw the young man visibly jerk in surprise. Rheumy brown eyes stared up at the towering suit of X-01 armor and the scribe's voice squeaked when he hissed, " Danse? "

  The armored man nodded.

  "Are you insane?! Danse--er, Paladin Danse, the elder has been on the warpath ever since you went...sir, he says you're a synth, a traitor to the Brotherhood. You're supposed to be dead! I knew there was something fishy about those reports!" The scribe whispered shakily. He looked incredibly nervous. "Most of us think he's off his rocker, but you try finding a soldier with the balls to tell him that point-blank!"

  "It's comforting that you all have such faith in me." Danse said, meaning every word. "I'm afraid the announcement of my death was a bit...premature."

  The scribe blinked. "Sir, after everything that...the amount of us that would stand by you through anything is the vast majority, I promise. Elder Maxson has locked up Paladin Brandis and-"

  "Tell me he hasn't harmed Brandis." Danse cut him off, relieved when the scribe shook his head hastily. 

  "I think even the elder knows better than to assault one of the most beloved officers in our chapter." The scribe exhaled a long breath, then looked back up at Danse. "Sir, you should know that...well, it may be a bit disappointing to hear, but even if you are a synth, we're still with you, sir." The scribe gave him a salute. 

  Danse's eyes pricked with tears. He couldn't believe that he had the power to inspire such unwavering loyalty. "At ease, soldier. With any luck, this will be a diplomatic engagement. I'll take Knight Vega and be on my way."

  "I...I am unsure if it will be so simple." The scribe admitted. "Ex-Knight Vega has also been confined to the brig since you went AWOL."

  " Ex -knight?"

  "Maxson stripped of her rank, sir. Accused her of conspiring against the Brotherhood. On her end, she maintains her innocence." The scribe shrugged. "I don't understand why he doesn't just exile her or have her stand trial, but he's been dragging his feet the whole-"

  " Bait ." Danse realized. "He's been waiting for me to come back for her, of course . She's our only way into the Institute. Either that or he just wants the satisfaction of killing me himself." He moved past the checkpoint without another word, leaving the scribe to sputter. Danse hoped he wasn't being too self-absorbed when he surmised that the report of his 'death' was no doubt being utilized as a thumbscrew on Elizabeth. Maxson obviously needed a confession; hell, he might even suspect Vega of being the one that tipped Danse off in the first place. 

  No one paid him much mind as he strode across the compound. Though he did intercept a few curious glances, Danse chalked them up to the distinctive armor he was wearing instead of outright suspicion. 

  "Where is the elder?" He gruffed at a crowd of aspirants, counting on the staticky speakers of his helmet to disguise his voice. One of them grimaced.

  "In a mood." She joked, the group of aspirants nodding and laughing amongst themselves. "But if you mean location, he's been hanging around the build site a lot. Watching the progress on Big Lib, you know."

  Danse inclined his head and turned on his heel, making a beeline for the previously-mentioned location while he guiltily recalled the time that he had threatened Vega with an upbraiding for her own quips about Maxson. As he thundered back across the courtyard, he could hear the muttering start up. People were beginning to notice him. His window of opportunity was shrinking; he needed to find Maxson fast . Danse picked up his pace, half-jogging.

  Catching sight of Maxson at the very top of Prime's gantry made Danse feel minute, an insignificant David at the feet of a giant. He swallowed hard, shaking off the unsettling sensation and cueing up his helmet's speakers.

  At the whine of feedback, Ingram glanced up from her console beneath the shelter across the dusty tarmac. "Hey!" She said sharply. "Whoever you are, you don't have clearance to-"

  " Elder Maxson! " Danse roared, ignoring the red-headed proctor in favor of tilting his whole body back to project his voice upwards. " You know why I'm here! "

  " Abomination! " Maxson shouted, sounding almost gleeful . He bolted for the lift, as if he expected Danse to flee. The paladin stood his ground though, patiently waiting for the elder to arrive at the lower level.

  "Danse? You…" Ingram trailed off, scrambling across the square. "Is it really you in there, Danse?"

  "Yes, Proctor." 

  There was so much more he wanted to say, so much more to explain , but Maxson's arrival on the ground effectively cut off Danse's conversation. "I knew you would return, you traitor ." He asserted smugly as he marched over to Danse. "How kind of you to give me the privilege of ending you myself ."

  Danse held up his hands peaceably. "I am unarmed, Maxson. I'm not here for a fight. I am simply here to request the amicable release of...of General Vega." He used the Minutemen title on a whim, watching Arthur's nostrils flare in irritation.

  "Oh General Vega , is it? The Minutemen send a machine to do their dirty work? Or have you already infiltrated their ranks with more of your kind?" Maxson spat. 

  Danse shook his head. "This may come as a shock to you, Elder Maxson, but I had no idea I was a synth." He heard Ingram gasp behind him. Even Maxson looked momentarily startled at his admission and Danse seized the opening to reason, "through the entirety of my career I've done nothing to betray your trust, Arthur. And I never will. Please," Danse implored, "we need General Vega if we hope to eradicate the Institute."

  "You expect me to believe that you wish to eradicate the Institute? You were born of it!" Arthur spat venomously. "You even standing here is an affront to nature, you scum . The Brotherhood does not negotiate with-"

  "Elder Maxson, wait!" Ingram interrupted him sharply. "He's telling the truth. Vega is instrumental to gaining entry to the Institute. Our whole reason for being in the Commonwealth is to destroy the Institute. If we lose this chance-"

  "I will not be spoken down to by my own troops, Proctor!" Maxson raged. 

  "Arthur, listen to me . You and Danse having a pissing match should be the least of our concerns." Ingram raised an eyebrow. "If he meant us harm, I feel like he would have come with a battalion or two. Danse might be a little dense , but he's never lacked battlefield intelligence."

  "This thing isn't Danse, so stop referring to it as such!" 

  "Until proven otherwise, yes, he is . His DNA matched that Institute crap. It's him, Maxson. It's always been him. Sure, you might find it easier to think that the Institute grabbed the real Danse while he was out and about, but I don't think he would be reported as a missing asset if he was supposed to be here." Proctor Ingram theorized as she crossed her arms, her armor frame creaking. 

  "Just give me Elizabeth, Maxson." Danse pleaded. "This isn't a fight you want."

  "Oh, on the contrary. This is the fight I want." Maxson seethed. "A chance to prove Brotherhood superiority once and for all! We will settle this as it is written in the Litany!"

  "You sincerely wish to have a live-fire trial?" Danse asked incredulously, "a Litany trial, Arthur? As I recall, you stated before that you were above such practices."

  "We live in unprecedented times, traitor." Maxson drew himself up to his full height. "My authority has been brought into question again and again. It seems only right that I battle my chief dissenter."

  Danse was at a loss for words. Maxson's behavior was so irrational, he was almost tempted to consider whether the elder himself had been replaced by a synth. But no, voicing that fear would no doubt send Maxson into an even worse froth.

  "When I defeat you, it will finally affirm the truth of the Brotherhood: that we were meant to stand tall atop the corpses of abominations, meant to triumph! " Maxson's eyes were wild as he turned to Ingram. "Proctor, you will bear witness to our Litany agreement. And now, abomination , issue your challenge." The elder demanded.

  "Arthur-"

  " Issue it or be slagged where you stand! " Maxson screamed, spittle flying from his mouth.

  Danse had never personally engaged in a Litany trial. His memory of the terminology was hazy at best, but he still made an attempt. "As a Brotherhood of Steel paladin," he began haltingly, saluting and then extending his hand to Maxson. "I am issuing a formal challenge against your authority as elder of this chapter. Through your actions and your deeds, you have proved yourself unfit to lead in my eyes. We will engage in combat under your terms, and should I emerge victorious, I ask that you relinquish General Vega to me."

  "And when I emerge victorious, I will kill you." Maxson stated confidently. 

  "So be it." Danse knew he had very little agency in this matter. Maxson wanted to fight him, and Maxson always got his way. "Your terms, Elder?"

  "No weapons or armor. We fight with nothing but the skills we possess. The first one pushed out of the circle loses." Maxson smirked. "You might be a synth, but a bullet in your head puts you down just as easily as any feral."

  "You give me your word as Elder that you will turn Vega over to the custody of the Minutemen if I win?" Danse insisted, his heart slamming in his chest. Oh God, he would have to fight Maxson. Worse still, he would have to beat him. Arthur's prowess in combat was almost fabled , that story about the deathclaw part of this chapter's mythos.

  "I will give you nothing, creature , and it will be far more than you deserve. But certainly, if you manage to beat me, I'll see to it that your co-conspirator is relinquished to your care." Maxson sneered. "Proctor, send out the announcement that we will have entertainment shortly."

  "Sure thing, Elder." Ingram muttered, sidestepping away as Danse removed his helmet. 

  "I want everyone down here and watching, Ingram!" Arthur called as she departed. "Make sure that traitor Vega is escorted to the combat area." He then chuckled in a self-satisfied manner, no doubt taking note of Danse's stern expression. "Oh don't worry, synth . We showed your precious general all the courtesies that the Brotherhood has to offer while we interrogated her."

  Danse knew that Arthur trying to rile him up was technically a good sign. It meant that the other man was attempting to disperse some of his own nerves. However, it was difficult for him to capitalize upon with the worry of Vega possibly being injured getting added onto the pile of Danse's concerns. The growl erupted from him unintentionally, burring in his chest like a hacksaw. "Maxson, if you-"

  "Do not speak to me, freak ." Arthur hissed.

  Danse stewed as a crowd began to form. At least now they would have an audience. Hundreds of eyes watching his every move, but also watching Maxson's. Danse hoped that the scribe at the gate hadn't just been spouting optimistic nonsense. 

  The paladin emerged from his armor, standing at attention beside the frame as a vertibird whirred by overhead, descending from the Prydwen. Upon their first sight of him, the troops began talking amongst themselves. Danse reasoned that it must be quite the shock for most of them, to see him alive and well. 

  Please be alright, Vega , the paladin begged mentally. Please , Elizabeth .

  He heard her coming long before he saw her, watching the crowd part for a lone knight in power armor. "You're a fuckin' piezashet , y'know that? Just a fuckin' asshole! " Backhand roared, struggling and straining against the iron grip of the knight that was dragging her along. "Let me go , y' fuckin' cockass'n sunuva' fuck! "

  Danse blinked, a bit impressed with the vitriol the general was spitting considering her appearance. She looked like a stretch of bad road, gaunt, both of her eyes ringed yellow-green from faded bruising and her glasses absent. The whole left side of her face bore the distinct grate marks of the Prydwen's catwalks, indicating that she had been slammed against the floor. Her Vault suit was in shambles, half-ribboned and hanging off of her shoulder at a rakish angle, and her hair was a tangled, greasy mess.

  Danse catalogued it all and swiftly tucked it away for later. Compartmentalize . She's alive and ambulatory. Priority is Maxson , he instructed himself sternly. Focus . You can't afford to be distracted right now. You face the elder of the Brotherhood of Steel .

  All of that flew out the window the moment he heard Elizabeth's voice crack. "D... Danse? " She asked tremulously, "Danse, you're alive? "

  Danse nodded, not looking at her. "For better or for worse, I am."

  "I…" Backhand paused. "What's going on, Danse? I-I thought that...I thought you were…"

  Her obvious distress gave Danse an odd rush of guilty comfort. She would have missed him. Had she mourned him when she thought he was dead?

  To hell with it . 

  Danse turned to Elizabeth, carefully tipped her chin up and pressed a corner of the bandanna around his neck to her lips. "For luck." He murmured with a thin smile, cupping the right side of her face so he didn't hurt her. She just stared up at him, those eyes bright with pent-up emotions. The knight securing her coughed awkwardly and Danse stepped back, feeling Vega's gaze on him even as he moved to face Maxson.

  Ingram cleared her throat and announced above the rising hubbub, "this is a Litany trial! The conditions are no weapons or armor, strictly empty-handed combat. If Paladin Danse manages to remove our elder from the circle, the Brotherhood has agreed to release the former Knight Vega into Minutemen custody. If our elder removes the paladin from the circle, Paladin Danse has agreed to allow the elder to pass swift judgement upon him."

  "Say it how he said it, Proctor!" Danse barked, his deep voice carrying well. "He plans to kill me if he wins, don't shy away from it!" He heard Vega swear before the crowd of knights, aspirants and squires around him voiced their mixture of dismay and apprehension. "Elder Maxson has deemed me a threat to the Brotherhood and has forced my hand. So now we engage in a combat trial as it is written in the Litany."

  "Trying to turn my troops against me, abomination?" Maxson huffed as he discarded his heavy battle coat and began rolling up his sleeves. "I can't say I'm surprised, but I am disappointed. I had hoped you would meet your end with some shred of dignity."

  Danse shrugged, Backhand's lucky bandanna brushing his chin when he raised his head. "You haven't won yet, Maxson." He reminded the younger man with a sad smile.

  Arthur lunged at him suddenly, dust flying with the speed of his approach. Danse barely managed to sidestep, latching on to Arthur's wrist and shoulder. The paladin used the other man's momentum against him, redirecting him around his body and kicking his legs out from beneath him.

  "Are we beginning now, Arthur?" He asked sharply, that tactical portion of his brain considering the merits of stomping down on Maxson's groin with all his might.

  But no, no, he couldn't--Maxson was the elder -

  Arthur flailed on the ground, his face red with fury as he clawed at Danse's hands on him. The paladin released him and stepped back, not overly eager to stay within striking distance of the formidable elder. Unfortunately, Maxson didn't leave him much of a choice in the matter. The younger man darted forward again, too low for Danse to redirect him. The paladin took the brunt of Arthur's shoulder to his midsection, gasping out a pained breath even as he tried to brace his footing. 

  Arthur's shoulder drove deeper into his stomach and the younger man grappled Danse's legs, heaving him backwards off the ground . Danse frantically grabbed at Maxson's back before the younger man pinned him bodily, the two of them hitting the gravel with a bone-jarring impact. 

  Danse still hadn't been able to catch his breath and he barely got his arms up in time as Arthur cocked back for his first punch.

  Maxson tended to machine-gun when it came to his blows, pummeling his target to a pulp within the first flurry. Danse had watched him fight enough to know that this was possibly the worst position for him to be in. Here, Maxson could just rain attacks down onto him until his damn arms broke, beat him into submission without even having to get him outside the boundaries. "You will die. In the dirt . Like the dog you are!" Maxson screamed as he struck Danse. 

  He's the elder. He's the elder. But...

  Danse gritted his teeth. No . If Maxson was doing to kill him, he was going to work for it. Danse wouldn't hand him his fragile existence on a silver platter. Not anymore. Never again . Every assault, every misguided order, every time his admiration or willingness to help had been taken advantage of…

  Danse sucked in a breath and shoved Maxson in the chest with all his might, knocking the other man off of him. " Fuck you Arthur! " He spat, suddenly red-hot angry . He got to his feet and loomed over the elder of the Brotherhood, smoldering with rage.

  Maxson seemed confused, like he couldn't believe Danse was actually fighting back . He scrambled back to an upright position, the two of them circling each other much more warily now. 

  "You should have just laid down and died like a good soldier!" Maxson taunted, feinting a few jabs on the left before he swung in from the right. His fist caught Danse in the jaw, snapping the older man's head to the side as he continued, "should have just let me break you, Danse!"

  Danse, reeling from the hit, staggered back a step and dropped to one knee. No, get up . Don't let him do this to you . He forced himself back up, glancing the next punishing blow off his shoulder and then landing a check of his own that sent Maxson sprawling on his back. 

  "Get up, Arthur!" Danse shouted, his fists clenched. " Get the fuck up and fight me! "

  So fast Danse almost missed it, Arthur whipped his combat knife out of his boot sheath and rushed him with it, holding the blade low in an effort to conceal the weapon.

  The blade that killed the deathclaw . 

  The point barely grazed Danse's arm as he flinched back, razor-sharp steel easily parting the flannel and skin beneath it. 

  He was in trouble now. Maxson unarmed was bad enough, but Maxson using a weapon he was intimately familiar with absolutely spelled certain death for Danse. Never mind that they had agreed on no weapons. Danse doubted anyone was exactly refereeing a Litany trial. As long as they stayed within the circle, he was under the impression that he was on his own.

  Arthur slashed wildly at him, no longer bothering for subtlety as he openly attacked Danse with the knife. Maxson had this hideous, leering smirk on his face the whole time; he was playing with his food. 

  Danse felt like an idiot for even thinking that he had a chance at winning when Maxson buried the blade in his shoulder.

  But what else could he do? Die in the dirt , like Arthur had screamed at him?

  " You're a cheating sunuvabitch, Arthur! " Vega's voice rang out loud and clear like the crack of a whip. Danse saw her out of the corner of his eye, the woman struggling vainly against the armored vambrace that encircled her waist. " Coward! " She yelled indignantly.

  Danse smiled thinly through the pain, gripping Maxson's wrist on the knife with enough force to make Arthur grunt. His free hand clamped down on the crook of Maxson's elbow, keeping the younger man locked in that position. Maxson headbutted him to try and make some space and Danse slammed their heads together harder, baring his teeth and snarling in Arthur's face. 

  Between the two of them, Arthur would always be smarter and quicker than Danse. 

  But Danse was stronger . Danse thrived in the trenches and on the front lines. Maxson may have called him a dog as an insult, yet there was truth in his words. Danse was a bulldog , boots on the ground, chewing for the jugular until the day he died. This wasn't his first time fighting for his life against insurmountable odds and he was finally refusing to roll over for Arthur.

  Something flashed in Maxson's eyes for a split-second and Danse latched onto it. "You're afraid of me, aren't you Maxson?" He panted, maintaining his death grip as Arthur began to struggle to free himself. "Of what I could do to your leadership, your elder status-"

  " Shut the fuck up!" Maxson seethed, the palm of his free hand crashing into Danse's throat. The paladin stumbled back and dropped to the ground, his lungs screaming for air as the blade tore loose. Maxson, instead of just finishing him off, began to pontificate, watching Danse writhe and hack for air in the dirt. "You know Danse, I saw what you had with Cutler and I envied it. I searched for years , trying to find something like it. I failed, naturally. So the only solution was to get Cutler out of the picture. But you were stubborn . You longed for a dead man, entirely ignoring the needs of your leader!" Maxson hissed, grinding the heel of his boot against the wound on Danse's shoulder. "And if I couldn't have you wholly, I would break you."

  Danse knew on a technical level that the wound should hurt. His face automatically winced. But all he could focus on was Arthur's words, his confession . The heel of the elder's boot, already sticky with blood, crushed down on the side of Danse's head next. 

  "Why so quiet now, Danse? Do I behave like a man who fears you, freak? " Maxson mocked him, delivering one last kick before backing away.

  Danse laid there in the gravel, bruised, bleeding; dazed not just by pain but by the knowledge that Maxson had sent Cutler away on purpose. Maxson had sent Cutler to his death. Sent Brandis to his death. Sent Danse to his death.

  " Well , synth? For being so confident, you are remarkably silent!" Arthur needled. "Where's all that righteous wrath you threatened me with? I wanted a fight! "

  Danse noticed dimly that the crowd was entirely still around them. It was eerie, like everyone else had vanished and it was just he and Arthur.

  Danse raised his left arm, the whole limb shaking violently, and he curled his fingers to flip Maxson off.

  The crowd's judgemental silence dissolved into laughter and rowdy shouts, both for and against the paladin. He vaguely picked up Vega yelling, " Attaboy! "

  Arthur sputtered with fury. He leaped at Danse, no doubt enraged enough to slit his throat. All Danse could think to do was hike his knees up, planting them firmly in Maxson's pelvis and then catapulting the smaller man up and over his body. Maxson landed several feet away on his back, giving a pained grunt as the wind was knocked out of him by the impact. 

  The knife clattered and skidded through the dirt and gravel, out of reach for the moment. Danse floundered to roll over, trying to keep the distance between himself and Arthur while the dust settled. When it did, though, he realized something. 

  Arthur's entire body was outside the circle. 

  Danse blinked, eyes wide as he realized that not only did that mean he had won, that meant Arthur had lost. In front of everyone .

  " Freak! " Maxson shrieked, staggering back to his feet and pointing an accusatory finger at the wounded paladin. "At least Cutler had the good sense to get himself killed , unlike you and fucking Brandis! " The elder screamed, blood and saliva flying from his mouth. "You two are like goddamn radroaches! "

  "Elder Maxson?" Rhys . He sounded so hesitant, so unlike himself. "Sir, did you...did you send our squad out here purposely? "

  "It is not your place to question me, Knight! And don't act like Danse didn't tell you as much, I'm certain he wasted no time vilifying me upon your arrival to the Commonwealth!" Maxson spat ruthlessly. "Traitorous liar! "

  "I'm afraid the paladin may have been too preoccupied with keeping his squadron alive to convey any personal irritation regarding you , sir." Haylen said dryly. "Perhaps you can fill us in on what we might have missed?"

  Maxson, instead of answering, threw himself back at Danse. 

  …

  Danse hit the ground with Maxson on top of him and Backhand screamed something abusive that was extremely unflattering to the elder's lineage.

  Arthur grabbed Danse by the collar of his worn shirt and slammed the back of his head against the ground, the elder appearing to snap as he howled with rage and punched Danse again and again and again -

  Vega's fists clenched in her binds and she struggled futilely against the knight holding her, willing Danse to fight back, to do something , don't die on me!

  Suddenly a huge gauntlet was seizing Maxson by the seat of his pants, tossing the young man off to the side. 

  "That is enough ." Brandis, Brandis , how had he even gotten there?! Backhand had last seen him in the bowels of the Prydwen as she was being led out from the cell! The elderly paladin stood tall over the two bedraggled men in the dirt, cracking his knuckles in his gauntlets. "What is the meaning of this, Maxson?" He asked furiously, tone sharp through the speakers of his helmet. "You would disgrace trial by combat in such a manner? How dare you! You bring shame upon the Litany!"

  "Stay out of my way, you meddling old fool!" Maxson ordered, getting shakily to his feet.

  "Or what, you'll beat me to a pulp as well?" Brandis retorted. "You've turned against your troops, Arthur, the men and women you swore to lead with integrity. You've freely admitted to sending soldiers to their deaths because it suited you , not the needs of the Brotherhood. You've brought nothing but disgrace to our chapter, Arthur! Look around you! " Brandis exclaimed, gesturing at the crowd. "You're a tyrant , Maxson! Not one amongst the ranks would stand up to you, not one would shake you back to reality, and those that tried are now lying in the damn dirt ."

  "Be quiet! "

  "You cannot silence me, Maxson." The old paladin said calmly. "You've tried and failed before."

  "What would you have me do, Brandis? He's a synth ." 

  "Perhaps." Brandis allowed. "But all I see is a man who obeyed your stipulations and threw you out of your circle, Maxson. According to our tenets and the Litany, his requests must be met. Release Vega to his custody."

  Maxson snarled futilely. "You will regret crossing me, Brandis!" He warned. "Stand down now! "

  "I have no squadron left for you to kill, Elder ." The older paladin scoffed a little. "What will you hold over my head? Retirement?" He tipped his helmet towards the knight who had Vega. "I said, release her ."

  The knight who had been holding Backhand let her go with a mumbled apology, and without any hesitation she took off at a dead run for Danse. Her whole body ached from the heavy-handed treatment Maxson had inflicted on her, but in the light of getting Danse back it was an easy burden to bear.

  She tumbled to her knees, her hands still bound in front of her as she called his name. He groaned in reply, grimacing when she touched his arm. "Danse, holy shit ." Backhand breathed. 

  The paladin exhaled a broken laugh, barely opening his eyes. "Did I win?" He asked blearily. "Everything is spinning."

  Backhand couldn't help the sob that escaped her as Danse pawed blindly at her bound hands, the young woman opening her mouth to say something. 

  There was a commotion behind her, Brandis shouting " no Maxson! " and then a gunshot. Backhand froze as a plume of dirt kicked up bare inches from Danse's head, the paladin jerking away from the impact. 

  She pitched herself forward, bridging Danse's form with her own by propping her weight up on her elbows. "Don't move, Danse." She whispered, "I've got you, okay? If he wants to shoot you he's gonna' have to get through me ."

  "Don't try to--Vega, I order you to get out of the way! How dare you defy me!" Maxson struggled against Brandis' attempts to take the service pistol from him, waving the gun wildly in the air. " Traitors! Let the synth meet its fate!"

  "Vega, you need to... Elizabeth , he'll shoot you, please -" Danse begged, weakly shoving at her side. "The Brotherhood needs-"

  " Fuck the Brotherhood, Danse!" Backhand yelled at him. "If this is how they treat you , someone who's spent his entire career fighting for their cause, then I don't want shit to do with them!"

  The report of the service pistol cut through the air once more, and Backhand's body collapsed on top of Danse.

Part Sixteen

Longer Fics

Here are some longer (mostly Larry) fics, most have multiple chapters: Organized by length, this is mainly chaotic but oh well. 

Longer Fics (2) can be found here!

~

TGIF by dinosaursmate {explicit, 20k, smut, friends to lovers, childhood friends, OT5 friendship}

“So, you moved in today?” “Yeah.” Louis huffed. “I’ve had to leave all my friends behind in Donny and move here because my mum got a good job. And this house is bigger than the one we were in, so that’s good. But I just… I was popular, I had loads of friends, I was captain of the football team. I don’t think the school I’m going to even has a football team.” “What school are you going to?” “St. Mary’s.” ”That’s my school!” Harry stopped, and the ball hit his foot. “I’ll be your friend.” Louis smiled, and something about it made Harry’s stomach twist uneasily.

“That’s sweet, Harry. But I can’t exactly hang out with an eleven year old.” Harry’s mouth twisted into a frown, but he kicked the ball back anyway. “Okay.” “We can hang out here, though.”

Louis, 13, moves in next door to Harry, eleven. They immediately hit it off and quickly become best friends, but as they get older, things get a little complicated.

~

The Melody You Never Heard by bananasandboots {explicit, 30k, smut, friends to lovers, slow burn, OT5 friendship, camping AU}

It's one last adventure. One last chance to be young and carefree. One final weekend before they take up their internships, their corporate positions, before they enter the real world, fresh out of university. Niall's his best mate. Liam's been there for him since they were lost, little freshmen, trying to find their ways through an overwhelming first year. Harry can't disappoint them, even if it means enduring four days with Louis. 

Louis, who he does share a history with, a history he's never told anyone about, not even Niall, a history he hasn't brought up in three years because it's stupid and embarrassing and confusing.

Or, the one where Harry gets roped into a four-day camping trip with the boy who kissed him and never called back.

~

Long Before We Both Thought The Same Thing by allasavedtheday {mature, 36k, smut, friends to lovers, slow burn, OT5 friendship}

“So are you admitting you love Harry yet?” Louis pauses in the middle of his story about the movie he and Harry went to see last night to raise an incredulous eyebrow. “What are you on about? Of course I love Harry.” Has Zayn lost his mind? He’s been friends with Louis for nearly seven years and Harry for six, under what circumstances did it appear like they didn’t love each other? “Okay, let me rephrase,” Zayn says, an amused little quirk to his mouth like he knows something Louis doesn’t. “Are you admitting you’re in love with Harry yet?” Louis stares at him in bewilderment, mouth working as he tries to form a response. “I…what?”*

Or, Louis maybe, sort of realises he's in love with his best friend of almost twenty years and he maybe, sort of thinks that said best friend could love him back?

[there is a sequel to this written by the same author, it is If You Asked Me If I Love Him (I’d Lie), it’s really good!! they hide their marriage from their families at Lottie’s wedding but fail miserably]

~

Promise Not to Fall by dimpled_halo {explicit, 38k, 2 chapters, smut, friends to lovers, slow burn, hiatus fic, canon divergent}

Louis raises his eyebrows. “You want to be friends with benefits?” Harry shrugs, “If that’s what you want to call it then, yeah. Why not?” Louis brings his hand to rub the stubble on his jaw, seeming lost in his own thoughts. “Okay, I’ll agree on three conditions.” “One: no sleep overs.” Harry nods, “Okay." “Two: if either of us finds someone else we call it off no questions asked.”Harry isn’t sure why his stomach turns at that, but he agrees anyway.“ And three,” Louis’ face hardens, “you cannot, under any circumstances, fall in love with me.”Harry snorts, “Yeah, okay,” he chuckles lightly.

or- When One Direction goes on hiatus, Harry and Louis reconnect, becoming the friends they once were during their days in the X Factor. It doesn’t take long for their friendship to evolve into friends with benefits, unable to resist the physical attraction between them. Things get complicated when feelings get in the way.

~

The Sound of Your Voice From Far Away by pukeandcry {explicit, 39k, smut, friends to lovers, slow burn, canon compliant}

It'd be perfect, he convinces himself. Things with Lou are – well. They're the way they are, and there's no point dwelling on why it's got that way. But he thinks this would help -- not fix them, because they're not broken. They don't need to be put back together, they're just. Out of sync, maybe. It would help. He thinks it would, anyway, if they could just be the two of them again, to be alone together with no outside influences pressing claustrophobically in on them, just for a bit. And driving down an empty highway with nothing else but Louis beside him is the best way to do that that he can imagine.

Or, after the U.S. leg of the Take Me Home tour, Harry and Louis drive from L.A. to NYC. They figure some things out, like how to deal with the distance that's been growing between them.

~

All Eyes On You by rainbow_kings {explicit,49k, 2 chapters, smut, slow burn, established relationship, road trip AU}

Harry and Louis have been married for ten years and they have three children. When their relationship is threatened with a divorce, they pack their belongings and go on a road trip in means to save their relationship. They promise to stay on the road and only returning once they've sorted through their problems. 

~

Never Let Me Go by loveisalaserquest17 {explicit, 55k, 3 chapters, slow burn, angst, pining, friends to lovers, OT5 friendship, smut}

“Harry! I’ll tell you what,” Louis exclaims, clapping his hands together. There’s a big grin on his face. “If both of us are still single by your thirtieth birthday, we’ll marry each other.” Harry’s head snaps up, eyes widening. “What?”

Harry and Louis have been friends forever, but they couldn't be more different. One night, with a little too much alcohol, they make a pact to marry in ten years if they're both still single. Now, one month before the deadline, Louis is willing to do whatever it takes to avoid ending up with his best friend. But is he, really? | Loosely inspired by The 10 Year Plan

~

Here In The Afterglow by fondleeds {not rated, 88k, 3 chapters, 1970s AU, highschool AU, period typical homophobia, angst, fluff, slight friends to lovers, hurt/comfort, OT5 invovlement}

“If you hadn’t noticed, I don’t have many friends,” Louis whispers, the blossom of insecurity in his stomach unfurling and clawing its way into his throat.

Harry is silent for a long time, and then he speaks; a soft, slow uncurl that makes Louis’ stomach shake. “I’ll be your friend.”

1970’s AU. In a tiny town in Idaho, Louis’ life is changed forever by the arrival of a curious stranger.

~

Unbelievers by isthatyoularry {explicit, 136k, 10 chapters, smut, slow burn, football AU, enemies to lovers}

It’s Louis’ senior year, and he’s dead set on doing it right. However, along with his pair of cleats, a healthy dose of sarcasm and his ridiculous best friend, he’s also got a complicated family, a terrifyingly uncertain future, and a mortal enemy making his life just that much worse. Mortal enemies “with benefits” was not exactly the plan.

Or: The one where Louis and Harry definitely aren’t friends, and football is everything.

~

And Then a Bit by infinitelymint {explicit, 158k, 14 chapters, smut, friends w benefits, fake relationship, canon divergent + compliant, OT5 friendship + involvement}

“We’d like to give the fans what they want.” Magee states, placing his hand on the table in front of him and leaning forward. “We want to give them Larry Stylinson.”

Or, take a parallel universe where Louis and Harry were never together, mix in a two year hiatus and an impending comeback, pour in a dash of lost fans, two tablespoons of strong friendship and a Modest! employee with a good idea. Add a squeeze of pretending to be a couple, lots of kisses and a tattoo or two. Stir. Serve: the mother of all publicity stunts.

(aka Harry and Louis fake a relationship for publicity. Eventually it becomes a lot less fake and a lot more real.)

~

Given a Chance by fabby  {explicit, 173k, 12 chapters, smut, slow burn, angst, fluff, nouis friendship, exes to lovers, canon divergent}

Five years after One Direction took their last tour, the last thing Louis Tomlinson ever expected to happen while on a tea run at the local Piggly Wiggly was to run into his ex-boyfriend and ex-bandmate Harry Styles.The odds of them ever running into each other again had to be super slim, right? Wrong.

What happens when you mix ex-boyfriends with a large serving of Small Town America? Will Louis and Harry be able to set aside their differences, or will Louis be able to stay breezy as fuck in the wake of Harry’s arrival?

(or, the one where Louis and Harry run into each other five years after One Direction ends and learn how to love each other again. Featuring: Reggie as the overweight labrador, Niall as Louis’ last grip on reality, and Nowheresville, North Carolina as the setting for Louis’ worst nightmare to come true.)

~

Young & Beautiful by Velvetoscar {mature, 227k, 34 chapters, slow burn, angst, uni AU} 

Louis, to his horror, attends an elitist university in which the name Zayn Malik means something, Niall Horan doesn't stop talking, there are pianos everywhere, and Harry Styles, only son of a drug-addled, clinically insane ex-rocker, has a perfect smile and empty eyes.

~

more fic recs can be found here!

The Lily Farm - Chapter 41

AO3 | Masterpost

Rating: M (Mature) - sexual content, violence, and adult themes

Summary: To help her process Sean’s death, Mary Beth asks Arthur to take her on a hunting trip, somewhere far away. He agrees, and on their journey to the north, they find quietude and take comfort in their easy bond. They’ve been friends for a while now, but life, like the wilderness, is full of uncertainty and complications, and as they embark on their desperate search for meaning together, they endure many trials, some small, some big—all of which bring them closer to one another, and to their future.

Chapter 41: Animal Kingdom

“Have I told you yet tonight, Mrs. Morgan,” said LaBoeuf. He had removed his hat. He was chewing that cocaine gum. “You look like one million dollars.”

They were standing at the entrance to some sort of grand and ostentatious ballroom on the riverboat—Arthur, Mary Beth, Call, and LaBoeuf. The room was set with a bar at the top and about a dozen poker tables, yet unfilled. The adornments were gold, and the room was teeming with overdressed dandies and their women, posing and looking like birds. Waiters moved about obsequiously, bowing in adulation, their trays overflowing with champagne flutes.

“Why, thank you, Mr. LaBoeuf,” said Mary Beth in her fake accent. Her dress was sleek, indigo lace. Her hair was in many curls all piled atop her head. She curtsied, her arm linked in Arthur’s. “You are quite the gentlemanly Texan.”

“It’s Mrs. Kilgore,” said Arthur. He wore a slick three-piece suit and had a toothpick in his mouth. A waiter came by and offered him a cigar. “Try to get that right from now on. We don’t need to blow our cover quite yet. We only been here ten minutes.” He ran the cigar past his nose. It was obviously expensive, and Cuban. He thanked the waiter and tucked it into his pocket.

“Apologies, Mr. Kilgore.”

“It’s okay.”

Josiah had already melted into the crowd. It was not entirely clear what his role was here. Dapper liaison? Friend with friends in high places? Rogue magician?

“Mr. Kilgore,” said Call, standing stiffly with his hands clasped behind his back. He wore a huge cowboy hat and a belt buckle shiny as can be. “It looks as if the crowd is beginning to disperse.”

“Indeed it does,” said Arthur.

Mary Beth turned to him. She took his hands and looked up into his eyes. “You can do it, baby. I believe in you.”

He smiled down at her. “You listen to these men now,” he said. “You do what they say. You know I mean that in the most progressive of fashions, but they have your best interest at heart, and they are professionals.”

“Okay,” she said.

A valet came along then, a real young guy in gloves and tails. He said to Arthur in a very thick French accent, “Mr. Kilgore? May I escort you to your seat?”

Arthur puffed up then, spat the toothpick, took out the cigar, and placed it between his teeth. “Ab-so-lutely,” he said, clapping the boy to the back so hard he lurched. He turned to Mary Beth, kissed her on the hair. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” she said.

He then addressed Call and LaBoeuf, and they nodded to him reassuringly. He was off.

Almost immediately, LaBoeuf leaned close to Mary Beth and said, “Mrs. Morgan, we have spotted Angelo Bronte.”

“And?” she said, whipping her fan about.

“He is coming this way, though he is mightily distracted by this and that. He is holding a bottle of what appears to be Limoncello, a common I-talian liqeur. His entourage looks inebriated.”

“Not much surprise there,” she said. She took a deep breath. She glanced at Call. He was the stern and serious one. His brow was set so heavy as he scanned the room, it was like a fallen redwood. She reminded him of her daddy, or at least what she had known of him. His eyes finally settled upon one fixed location. When she followed his gaze, she saw Arthur, accepting his hand of five-card draw and smoking his cigar in handsome concentration. The ballroom was then cordoned off with velvet ropes and armed guards.

It did not take long then for several women of about Mary Beth’s age and stature to seize upon her. They were staples of this heathen society, and she was not. They wanted to know all about her and her beefcake husband. One of them was the daughter of a newspaper man from Philadelphia. She said her name was Heather Moriarty, something like that, and she was stoned off her rocker, swaying to and fro.

“Is that one yours?” she said, pointing across the room to Arthur. “That prime slab of beef at table five?”

“Indeed he is.”

“Well I would sell myself to the devil to let him ruffle my skirts for just one night.” She laughed wildly, and her friends along with her. Their mouths were painted a hideous pink. “Bet he likes it rough.”

“He likes it all sorts of ways,” said Mary Beth, smiling to a different tune. “Though I am not one to kiss and tell.”

“I suppose then he is as good as he looks.”

“He’s better,” said Mary Beth. “Though you’re rather narrow in the hips. Ain’t got the chops to take it, I suspect.”

Heather the newspaper debutante stood with her jaw dropped wide open as a tin can. “Excuse me?”

That is when Josiah came along, out of nowhere, as was his tendency.

“You might want to close that thing, dear girl,” he said to Heather Moriarty. “You’re going to catch flies.”

“Who are you?” said Heather.

He smiled and turned to Mary Beth, fashioned a red rose corsage from behind her ear. “For you,” he said.

The women scurried off like mice. “Ugh, thank god,” said Mary Beth. She had been sucking in her gut as hard as possible. “I was not aware I’d have to entertain the likes of high society vermin.”

“Not a fan of the women here?”

“I’m sure there’s one or two I'd love to entertain,” she said. “But wasn’t her.”

“Did you happen to pickpocket her?”

"I would have,” said Mary Beth. “If I’d let her get close enough. Wasn’t worth it.”

Josiah laughed. He addressed Call and LaBoeuf who stood in their Texan stoicism. “Ah, the cavalry,” he said. “How are we tonight, gentlemen?”

LaBoeuf tipped his hat. “Just fine. Thank you, Mr. Trelawny.”

“How is Arthur doing?” he said. “Can you tell?”

“He is biding his time,” said Call. “Ingratiating himself to the table.”

“Of course he is.” Josiah grasped his lapels and rocked back on his heels dramatically. “Arthur has always excelled at playing the lovable blowhard. People are so easy to underestimate him.” He glanced to Mary Beth. “Except for you, dear girl.”

She went red in the cheeks. “I ain’t so easy.”

There was a ruckus then, an awkward scuffle between two suited geese breaking out over the chips, coming from one of the other tables. Everybody looked to see.

“Oh dear,” said Mary Beth.

“I see the insanity has already begun,” said Josiah. “Shall we walk?”

She went with him, arm in arm. Call and LaBoeuf kept a close distance. They ignored those who inquired upon them, cordially. They did not drink or smoke cigarettes, though LaBoeuf was always chewing. Mary Beth was handed a glass of champagne when they arrived at the bar. She sipped judiciously as she looked around. Bronte had gone on his way, which relieved her for now. She did not see him anywhere, not at any of the tables. She mentioned off-hand then that she was hungry. Josiah snapped his fingers once, and a waiter appeared with a silvery plate of hors d'oeuvres. Mary Beth ate four or five finger sandwiches, absorbed in the debauchery of the room. She watched Arthur win one hand of cards and collect his chips. The men at his table were congratulatory so far. It was just as Josiah had said. They thought him a dumbass. She was very proud.

While Call and LaBoeuf had a conversation about some such to do with their lives back in Texas, Mary Beth forgot momentarily that she was on a boat. She thought about Abigail, and she wondered what had happened, if she had made her move with John, if they had given into love. It was easy to get swindled by the beauty of the room here, and the drunken, oafish herds, and in this she oddly missed Shady Belle. Their room, their bed, and the window that they would lean beside, reading in the evenings. Here, it was cold. The women were foreign beasts. They draped themselves upon total strangers, lavish ornaments of wealth, and the men smoked their fat cigars and became red-nosed and aggressive with drink. She had lived with men all her life, seen the most shameful of that vice-driven void. Booze, women, and dope. This was no exception. In fact, money, she thought, in its proposal toward validation of such behavior, seemed to make it worst. The room smelled of smoke and alcohol. It admittedly made her woozy. She leaned into the bar and closed her eyes. She wished the night would end soon so that she could go home with Arthur.

“Mrs. Morgan?” said Call, steadying her. When she opened her eyes, Josiah had gone away. When she looked around, she saw him showing magic tricks to a group of college boys across the room. He had them looking one way, and then he pulled a rabbit out of his hat. “Are you feeling all right?”

She blinked many times, looked at Call and his deeply lined face. “Yes, I’m fine,” she said, a little embarrassed, patting his hand on her shoulder. “Just the baby. It makes me want to vomit half the time.”

“Perhaps some fresh air,” he said.

She looked around, found Arthur one more time and noted his state of being. He was doing just fine. So she nodded in agreement, set down her champagne. “Yeah that would be nice,” she said.

They went to the deck. It was down a long, narrow, velvety hallway full of grinning sycophants and flickering candelabras. When they got out to the deck, they were not alone. There were many of the women, including a couple Mary Beth had seen before, smoking cigarettes and talking lofty shit to one another. They gave her dirty looks and she plowed into them with a smile and ironic curtsy. It was almost like they could smell it on her, that rambling, orphan existence, even if they couldn’t place it, and she could not have cared less what they thought of her, but she did fantasize about punching one or two of them in the face.

On the far end of the deck was Angelo Bronte and his cronies. They were throwing huge chunks of bread off the boat into the water, chiding the fish, and shouting obscenely in Italian. A huge herring had come along and landed on the rail. They shouted at this, too. Threw bread to distract it. It picked up into the sky and dipped with impressive speed, proceeding to dive in after the bread-addled fish. The men laughed and cheered.

Bronte was smoking a cigar when he finally abandoned the rail and saw her. He became ecstatically loud, boisterous in his excitement. He came over with his cronies, dressed in his tuxedo and some kind of jewel-encrusted slippers and a scarf in the colors of his Italian nation. He bandied about his cigar and drank wine from a huge goblet. He regarded her with courtship appeal, kissed her on both cheeks. His reeked of alcohol and tobacco. He said, “Mrs. Kilgore! I thought I saw you from across the room before, eh? Look at you. A fucking vision in the night. Where is your burly outlaw of a husband? I thought I saw him before, but now he has escaped me.”

Mary Beth had his watch up her sleeve. She was ready, and her Texas cavalry stood by in all of their cartoonish intimidation as well, prepared in their excellence to aid in her plan, of which she had informed them that very night in the coach on the way to the river. She smiled, very coy. “Well, Tacitus is inside, making his mark, I expect.”

“Very good, very good,” he said, chewing on that cigar. "Who are these cowboy men?"

“This is my security detail, ordered by daddy,” she said. “Texas Rangers Call and LaBoeuf.”

“Texas Rangers!” said Bronte. This seemed to entertain him immensely. “Good god I never seen something so American in all my life. How do you do, signors?”

Bronte regarded them. LaBoeuf raised his hat. “Very well,” he said. “Thank you.”

“Tacitus and I wanted to thank you for inviting us tonight,” said Mary Beth, leaning in to place her hand on the side of his arm. “We were indeed surprised, but pleasantly so, of course. The swamps sure do get boring after a while. I’ve been going out of my mind for a party.”

He sort of eyeballed her darkly, puffed off the cigar then tossed it absentmindedly overboard. “Well, bellissima, as thrilled as I am to see you here tonight, know that it was not me who sent for you. Though I wish it had been, of course.”

Mary Beth straightened up, feeling the watch in her sleeve, pressing up against her wrist. “It wasn't you?” she said. "Well, that's a surprise."

“No, it was uh…the mayor,” he said. It was off-hand. One of his cronies handed him another cigar, clipped off the end.

“The mayor?” said Mary Beth.

“Yes,” he said. “Mayor Lemieux, of St. Denis. Foul piece of shit.” He laughed. His cronies laughed. “Owes me big. I remember now. He thought the invitation would be more enticing, coming from me, seeing as he is a bore and a money-grubbing asshole of the highest degree, and I am, well, me. In any case, he said he had some sort of business to conduct with your husband."

"Business?"

"Yes. Something to do with that dreadful good ol’ boy with the mutton chops. What was his name?—the writer.”

“Evelyn Miller?” said Mary Beth.

He slapped his knee once, almost aggressively so. “Yes! Evelyn Miller. That is his name. The native sympathizer Evelyn Miller. Ha ha. I merely reached out to your associate—the magician? I cannot remember his name either, though he did have a big hat and a big fucking mustache.” He had the cigar in his mouth. It was unlit. The stars overhead seemed to be slipping down, a curtain on the night. LaBoeuf took the liberty and lit Bronte’s cigar with a match from the brim of his hat. “Ah, grazie, Signor Texas. You are a man of your order indeed.”

Call took a step forward then. He was standing very tall, imposing, and serious. He spoke softly, very close to her ear. “Mrs. Kilgore, I hate to interrupt, but might I suggest we make our way back inside? Mr. Kilgore may grow concerned if he finds you missing for too long.”

“Ah, yes, yes,” said Bronte. “Go and find your indelible cowboy. And the two of you find me again when this is all over. I’ll get you good and drunk, the most expensive way in town, eh?”

Mary Beth smiled. “We’ll do that,” she said, and she curtsied, emboldened by his candor. “But first—can I ask you something, Mr. Bronte?”

“Anything.”

“Why’d you tell us there was money at the trolley station?” she said, innocent. “Turns out there’s nothing.”

Bronte stared at her. She worried briefly that he may do something regrettable, but he did not. He looked lost, then pissed, but not at her. He puffed off the cigar, looked around, then he turned to one of his entourage and threw the wine from his goblet in the man's face. He then tossed the goblet, smacked the man in the back of the head as hard as he could, then again, and again, was shouting something in angry Italian, and the man shouted back, and after this went on for a while and Bronte's man had been sufficiently shamed, Bronte turned back to Mary Beth and said, apologetically, “You must excuse me, Mrs. Kilgore, for I must go. It turns out I was mistaken. The information I received from my asinine associate here must have been false.” He shouted some more. He smacked the man again, put out his cigar on the man’s lapel and turned him around, shoving him in the opposite direction. He looked back to Mary Beth. “I’ll see you soon, no?”

Mary Beth watched after him, not sure whether she should feel confused or relieved. “Stay outta trouble," she said.

“Oh, you, too, bellissima,” he called back over his shoulder. “You too!”

They could hear his bluster echoing all the way around the corner to the other side of the boat, and then it disappeared.

On their way back to the ballroom, Mary Beth was pensive. She was relieved about the watch, but something didn't make sense. She stopped Call and LaBoeuf in a lonesome corner across from a man chewing on another man’s ear in a drunken fashion. “What the hell is going on?” she said, her voice real quiet. “Everything we thought we knew, it was all bullshit. Is it coincidence?”

“Maybe,” said LaBoeuf.

“Has Arthur ever worked with the mayor before?” said Call. He seemed sufficiently concerned, and he was looking around, eagerly, like a hawk on the wire.

“No,” said Mary Beth. “But he did help Evelyn Miller, right before he helped you all with that bounty hunting business in the Roanoke Ridge."

"How did he help Mr. Miller?" said Call.

"He helped him and some Wapiti men from up the north by robbing a document from an oil field in the Heartlands.”

“Cornwall oil?” said LaBoeuf. He had spit out his cocaine gum. He had his hands on his hips, and he seemed to be thinking.

“Yes,” said Mary Beth. “Leviticus Cornwall.”

"Does Cornwall get on with the mayor? Do they share any connection at all?"

"Could be," said Mary Beth. "Come to think of it, yeah. I think we learnt he does. Why?"

“Mrs. Morgan,” said Call. “Do you have any idea what business the mayor of St. Denis might currently have with your husband?”

Mary Beth thought hard. She tried searching every last scrap of her memory, but her memory felt bonkers. “I don’t know. I mean, they met, at a party. Arthur did steal something from him. On orders from Dutch."

"He stole from him?" said LaBoeuf.

"Yeah, but when we saw Evelyn Miller on the street in St. Denis, he said it weren't no big deal."

"What did Arthur steal," said Call.

"I—”

There was a commotion then, in the ballroom. Some men were coming in the door, but she couldn’t see who they were yet. It was too far away, and there were too many people in between. Mary Beth tried looking for Arthur, but he was not in his spot at the table. Everybody was there at the table, except for him. “Where is Arthur?” she said.

“Hmm,” said Call. He placed his hand on her shoulder, stretching his gaze past hers. “We’ll find him. Don't worry.”

She had shimmied Bronte’s stolen pocket watch out of her sleeve. She squeezed it in her hand. She felt a funny realization coming on, but she couldn't place it. "Let's go," she said.

But then.

“Is those Pinkertons?” said LaBoeuf out of nowhere, tilting his head to see.

“What?” said Mary Beth.

“Just now, coming through the door. It is. What the hell are they doing here?”

Mary Beth whipped around, stood on her tip-toes. She saw two men she recognized coming through the crowd, and several she did not. The one was tall and ugly, with that unforgettable pock-marked face. They were grabbing people every which way, asking questions. She hid her face, and then she turned around.

“Mrs. Morgan?” said LaBoeuf.

"Shit," she said.

She was already halfway down the hall before anybody could stop her. She was headed back toward the deck. She did not know why. She just was. There were the candelabras everywhere, illuminating dark corners and flickering with menace. There were people she had to cut past, bump into, big, dumb, lovely, laughing people. She hiked her skirt up past her knees so that she could move faster.

She felt a hard grip on her arm. She wrenched it away.

It was only Call. He looked concerned. “Mrs. Morgan,” he said. “Where are you going? Don’t run off like that.”

“I gotta find Arthur,” she said, flustered. “Those is Pinkertons. What if they're here for him?”

A trap.

They heard gunshots then, jangling through the chandeliers. It startled Mary Beth. There were footsteps banging on the carpeted floors inside as people fled, women crying out, the same ones she had earlier smited. Looking forward, she could see the deck, see the black hole of the river. Looking back, she saw nothing. She thought to cry out but just as a nightmare, she was choked.

“There’s some sort of disturbance,” said LaBoeuf, catching up to them with his hand on his pistol. “I ain’t sure what caused it. Or who.”

“We gotta find him,” said Mary Beth.

People had begun to rush past them, pressing against the rails. The gunfire picked up behind. Call looked at LaBoeuf who looked miffed, but he nodded in a kind of procedural affirmation. Call then looked upon Mary Beth cautiously, with a great deal of intent. “Mrs. Morgan,"  he said. "Please do not fret. But we must get you off this boat, pronto.”

Casting Call: Vector W8

First off, I’d like to apologize for the fact that I’ve not been updating my Tumblr lately. I’ve been busy at work and haven’t had time to write something. To make up for this... I’m writing quite possibly one of my longest posts yet.

By popular demand, this is the casting you chose on Instagram for me to document: the Vector W8. Grab some popcorn, a drink or some music... and enjoy the read. This is also in some ways a car that time forgot, but it’s not a concept car... but I can break the rules because I made them.

When it comes to cars of the ‘80s, there is a debate as to what the best car of the era was. Many say it would be either the Lamborghini Countach or the Ferrari Testarossa. But I have something that is neither of those things. Today, we’re going to take a trip down memory lane and explore the car that attempted to elevate a small company to the dizzying heights of the supercar realm. This... is the Vector W8.

First, here’s a bit of background. The W8 was manufactured by a company known as Vector Motors, then known as Vector Aeromotive. The company was founded in 1971 as Vehicle Design Force by Gerald “Jerry” Wiegert in Wilmington, California; we’ll get to the full history of Vector in a post in the near future because it is honestly very interesting.

In essence, the W8 was a highly refined version of the Vector W2, one of the company’s initial prototypes (the “W” in the name stood for “Wiegert”). Wiegert wanted to put the W2 into production, but an economical downturn prevented him from doing so. However, by the ‘80s, Wiegert had eventually secured enough capital through public stock offerings and even various lawsuits, allowing him to chase his dream: to build his ultimate sports car, designed and built by his own company.

Design inspiration for the W8 (and by extension the W2) came from this green car: the Alfa Romeo Carabo (Hot Wheels actually did a model of this way back when). Its sleek, futuristic and aerodynamic design was perfect for Wiegert, especially with the aerospace theme the company was going for in the ‘80s.

Combining the sleek looks of the Carabo with the geometry and technology of fighter jets of the time like the F-15 Eagle, F-16 Fighting Falcon and F/A-18 Hornet, Wiegert and chief designer David Kostka set out to create what would be quite possibly the most insane supercar of the ‘80s, and probably still is now: the Vector W8. The term “Aeromotive Engineering” was used to describe the process of manufacturing this car, for the car used the newest and most advanced aerospace materials when manufacturing the W8.

The car passed the mandatory DOT crash tests and emissions tests. It used a semi-aluminum monocoque chassis which was epoxy bonded and riveted using 5000 aircraft-specification rivets with an aluminum honeycomb floorpan. The body was made mainly of carbon fiber and Kevlar. The car featured scissor doors, like a Lamborghini.

The beating heart of the W8 was this: a highly-modified aluminum resleevable 6.0L Rodeck twin-turbocharged racing V8 with variable boost pressure. The engine produced 625 horsepower and made 649 lb⋅ft (880 N⋅m) of torque at 4,900 rpm at 8 psi of boost pressure, and as if the Rodeck V8 couldn’t get any more ridiculous, it featured TRW forged pistons, Carrillo stainless steel connecting rods, stainless steel valves and roller rocker arms, a forged crank, a dry-sump oiling system with three separate filters and braided stainless steel hoses with anodized red and blue fittings. This engine sounded mad; click here to hear a Vector starting up and revving.

Yes, you heard that correctly; variable boost. The boost for both turbochargers was adjustable from 8 to 14 psi through a dial in the interior. And speaking of which, let’s talk about that next; because, if you thought the engine was already mad enough, the interior is on a whole other level.

As you can see, the interior of the W8 is mad. Fighter jet-inspired screen? Check. A million buttons everywhere? Check. Gauges? ...no check. And hang on... is that what I think it is? A Turbo-Hydramatic 425 transmission?

Yep, that’s right, and that just makes the car a lot more insane; this ridiculously powerful 6.0L Rodeck V8 was mated to a 3-speed Turbo-Hydramatic 425 automatic transmission. Next to it on the right was the handbrake, sort of shaped like the throttle on a fighter jet. Due to the placement of the transmission and the handbrake, the driver side doorsill is very, very wide, making it a bit tough for the driver to get in and out of the car. You will also notice that there are buttons on top of the gear stick. I’ll get to those now.

As if this car couldn’t get any more ridiculous. This is the screen of the Vector W8, with four different settings (controlled with those four buttons), marked “Main”, “Performance”, “Performance” again and “Chassis”. This is the “Main” screen, showing the odometer, fuel gauge, speedometer and tachometer.

This is the first “Performance” screen, showing engine temperature, oil pressure and temperature, the tachometer reading and various other metrics.

The third screen was the second “Performance” screen, showing the transmission pressure (because it had a torque converter) and transmission temperature as well as battery voltage.

The last screen was the “Chassis” screen, which showed a picture of the W8 which updated in real time when a door was opened, when the engine compartment was opened and so on.

On the other side, you will notice that the W8 doesn’t actually have a partition between the driver and passenger side footwells. So it is a little awkward. This car also has no glovebox; in its place is a... CD changer?

Yes, that’s right. The car came with an in-car stereo... and a Sony CDX-A2001 ten-disc CD changer which graced the entire right side of the car’s already insane instrument panel. This was a nice innovation, although it did came with one drawback; no passenger-side airbags. Good luck if you get into a crash riding shotgun.

Back to the interior though. It was upholstered in premium leather and suede, with electrically adjustable leather Recaro seats and featured a premium air-conditioning system. Some driving amenities such as power steering were excluded. The seating position for the driver was made slightly towards the center for better drivability.

The rear of the W8 was dominated by lines, and the rear sightline... wasn’t very good, mainly because of that gigantic wing. The license plate holder is located on the left and apparently may have been an afterthought. “TWINTURBO” is seen gracing the back.

The car also features a trunk which is just behind the engine.

As for the front... oh, right, the headlamps. They’re not pop-up... they’re pop-DOWN.

The car also has a storage cubby up front, although really, it wasn’t much.

Also gracing the front were windshield wipers, as you would expect on practically every other car. However, there wasn’t just one, nor was there just two: there were THREE. A moonroof was also standard. It also had sliding side windows like a race car, as well as power-adjustable side mirrors.

The logo on the side of the car was the only thing that really gave any indication as to what manufacturer it was.

The car had unique six-spoke “turbine” wheels fitted to Michelin XGT Plus tires; the car used 255/45ZR-16s in the front and very, very strange 315/40ZR-16s in rear. These wheels were apparently of a bespoke design made to the driver’s specifications. 

In terms of suspension, the W8 featured double A-arms up front and De Dion tube suspension at the rear, located by four trailing arms that stretched all the way forward to the firewall. The W8 used 13-inch vented disc brakes with Alcon aluminum 4-piston calipers.

In terms of performance, the Vector shined; it claimed to be able to do 389 km/h (242 mph) and a 0-60 mph (0-97 km/h) time of 3.9 seconds. These numbers were never officially tested, but if true, these are very impressive numbers for the time. Okay, enough about the W8’s performance and figures; let’s get to the part you’ve been waiting for, the history.

The W8 was first introduced in 1988 with a sticker price of about $185,000, priced within striking range of European competitors like the Lamborghini Diablo.

One high profile owner of a W8 was this man: Andre Agassi, although he ended up giving the car a bit of a bad rap. Agassi had insisted that his car be delivered before it was fully prepared; Vector agreed to this on the condition that Agassi not drive it and keep it in storage as the car was adjusted for the various emissions regulations in place. Agassi did not listen and drove it and ended up burning the rear carpeting due to an overly hot exhaust system; Agassi ended up requesting for a refund, which was ultimately granted. I’ll let you decide who’s at fault here.

Car And Driver magazine also tested the W8, but couldn’t complete testing because all three cars they were sent somehow managed to break down in different ways, leading to even more bad publicity. However, not all is bad as Road and Track magazine waxed lyrical about the Vector, praising practically every aspect of the W8’s performance.

Vector was still going strong in 1993, selling W8s; however, Wiegert was already planning for a successor. That successor was to be known as the AWX-3, better known as the WX-3 (Hot Wheels also made a model of this one too), where the name stood for Avtech Wiegert eXperimental, 3rd generation.

I’ll get into more details of the WX-3 in a later blog when I receive my WX-3 from the United States. Production of the W8 ultimately came to a halt in 1993 as Wiegert attempted to put the WX-3 into production; however, as the company was engaged in a hostile takeover by a Bermuda-based Indonesian company known as MegaTech, production never resumed and Vector entered a sharp decline. I’ll get into the rest of that history in another post.

In total, twenty-two cars were produced; seventeen of which were customer cars and five of which were prototypes. The car is now worth over $1 million today; so, if for some reason you ever see a car that looks like this on the roads, drop everything and take as many pictures as you can, because you have just seen one of only twenty-two Vector W8s. Okay, now that we’ve gotten all that out of the way, let’s get to the reason why you’re here.

This... is the Hot Wheels version of the Vector W8. Named the Vector W8 Twinturbo in the Hot Wheels lineup, this casting was first introduced in the 2012 HW Boulevard series in the Ahead Of Its Time sub-series. This casting was designed by Manson Cheung.

The base of the W8 features no mention of “Vector” anywhere; instead, just the SKU is displayed: W4831.

The sides feature the text “VECTOR W8 TWINTURBO” and nothing else. Black lines streak across the back to represent the engine cover.

The rear fascia is nice, although my only real gripe is a lack of rear detail apart from the engine cover.

The front fascia is also well done, with “VECTOR” and “TWIN TURBO” on the windshield, although a lack of detail on the body apart from the side reflectors leaves me wanting more. The interior is painfully cramped so I can’t get any good photographs, but what I see are the Turbo-Hydramatic shift lever, the steering wheel, seats and molded pedals (those pedals are part of the base). The distinctive screen and CD changer are absent from the instrument panel, but of course, you can’t have everything.

Folks, I believe you may have heard of the term “One-Hit Wonder” before. This is exactly an example of that; the W8 only saw one release in the HW Boulevard series and has not been seen since. As a result, prices for the Vector have been steadily climbing on eBay and I don’t see them going down for some time; why don’t you take a look for yourself?

I hope this long writeup has given you a better idea on this turbocharged thrasher, and what is quite possibly my new favorite supercar from the ‘80s; step aside, Lamborghini Countach. As usual, I’d do something like this any day.

This article is the first in a three-part series I will call The Vector Saga. The series will document the W8, the WX-3, and the history of Vector Motors as a whole.

Hello! This is your resident Spones trash talking. On the venom au, would you be willing to write how Len met his favorite symbionte? Reactions and stuff... I've een dying to know how that went :) Love this au quite a lot!! Have a good day!

Okay so picture this. It's late at night. The kind of late where the only people walking around are drunken street urchins and strangers prowling for a cheap fuck or a hit. Leonard was one such lowly bastard. He'd tried to get Jim to come and get wasted with him but Jim just said, "No way, Bones. Your therapist says I'm an enabler." So he went alone.

Leonard wasn't a particularly rowdy drunk. When he'd overstayed his welcome at one bar he'd move on to the next. It wasn't like he had work to keep him sober anymore, so he was content to burn the midnight oil until he was too tired to stand upright. Just as he was walking along to the next block the ground beneath his feet shook so hard he almost fell over. It sounded like a meteor struck in the park at the center of the city. If he'd been in his right mind he would've let it alone and continued on his way. But he wasn't, so he didn't.

He couldn't very well walk all the way so he hailed a cab and shoved a fistful of dollar bills through the little window when he was dropped off. It was quiet. Almost deceptively peaceful. Leonard made his way through the thick thatch of woods just at the center of the park, fairly certain he wouldn't find anything but keen on the adventure of it anyway. He was just the right amount of drunk to think he was absolutely invincible. This was probably the most interesting thing to happen to him in a while.

And what if he did find something? Like an alien spaceship all smoking and hot from crashing through the Earth's atmosphere. He'd go up to it thinking whatever was in there was probably dead now. And he'd get attacked by a face sucker from the Alien movies and it would lay eggs in his chest and he'd become a fucked up human incubator.

"Yeah right," he laughed to himself. And just as he suspected, there wasn't anything to find. Just a crater. Maybe about the length of a minivan. It probably was a rock that broke apart on impact. Maybe he shouldn't have gotten so close, but he didn't really see the harm. And that's about when he closed his eyes. Or, more likely, completely passed out.

When he woke up the next morning he was face down on his own bed, still fully dressed and positively leaking alcohol from his pores. His head was pounding and the sun was way too damn bright. Everything from the night before was probably a dream. Leonard rolled himself into the floor and stumbled into the bathroom. God, he looked like a sewer goblin. He should probably take a shower. Had he paid the water bill? He couldn't remember.

He decided to just get his teeth brushed and plop himself down on the couch. After about five minutes he was feeling restless. The sudden uncontrollable urge to go for a run was so overwhelming that his body was already moving before he told his brain to do anything. It took him all of ten seconds to be out the door and on the street. He was jogging along the sidewalk without having any real idea of where he was heading and all he could think was, "this is weird."

Hungry!

"Jesus!" Leonard stopped dead in his tracks so fast he almost left skidmarks. Had his conscience always sounded like that? Maybe he was still drunk. He rubbed his face hard and continued down the street. A good cup of coffee, that's what he needed. Just a few shots of espresso to sober him up. Surely that would do the trick.

The line at the Starbucks was formidable but no moreso than usual. Leonard couldn't stand still. He was fidgeting with his shirt, looking around the cafe, trying to read the menu. Then he spotted the bakery display.

Want that. Give it to me.

Suddenly his body propelled forward, knocking him bodily into the woman standing in front of him. Before he even knew what was happening he was climbing over the display and shoving muffins in his mouth.  Wow, he was either really hungry or something was seriously wrong with him. "Sorry, just couldn't wait!" He told the barista who was absolutely mortified. Leonard laughed nervously and dropped a handful of cash over the counter before promptly turning and leaving the premises.

"Oh my god, oh my god." He couldn't believe he'd just done that. What the hell had come over him? Leonard needed to go home and take something then get right into bed. Maybe he'd feel normal after some sleep. That would do the trick. A nice long sleep, then it was back to business as usual. He certainly wouldn't be visiting a bar anytime soon after this complete mess of an afternoon.

When he'd returned to the apartment he went straight into the bathroom to wash his face. Maybe he just wasn't awake yet. That would account for the irrational and impulsive behavior. Leonard felt marginally better after the cold water woke him up a bit until he looked in the mirror. The thing that was staring back at him wasn't his own reflection. It was monstrous. Large and black, big white eyes.

With a shriek he stumbled backwards and fell out of the bathroom. This was crazy. Absolutely insane. Should he call someone? He should probably call someone. Jim. Jim would know what to do. Fuck, where was his cellphone? Leonard scrambled up onto his knees and lunged for the table next to his bed. He shoved things off of it until he found his phone under a stack of magazines. Just as he was about to unlock it and call for his friend, something jerked him back down onto the floor. The phone dropped out of his hand and skidded under the bed.

Leonard scrambled to get over into his back so he could see whatever was in there with him. The thing he saw in the mirror was looming over him. It was so much bigger up close. He wanted to scream but for some reason he couldn't.

Do not be frightened, Leonard.

It was way too late for that. He was scared shitless. Was this how he was going to die? Probably. Did he deserve this? Probably. Leonard was frozen into place, staring up at his captor. Maybe this was some kind of metaphor for the way he'd lived his life. Some kind of weird ass ghost of Christmas past bullshit. No, this was insane.

"This isn't real," he said to what he instinctively knew was an empty room. He was probably losing it. Finally lost his mind, completely off his rocker. He definitely needed to be committed.

I assure you, Leonard, I am indisputably real.

"Okay, sure," he said flatly. "How'd you get here without anybody seeing you then?" The creature leaned closer and opened its mouth into a lopsided smile. Leonard flinched hard at the sight of it's indecently sharp teeth and flattened himself to the floor as much as he could without physically becoming part of it.

You found me, Leonard. In the forest. I was weakened by the impact of the crash. I asked to take refuge in your body and you agreed.

Of course he did. Leonard was a fucking idiot. King of the idiots. He brought his hands to his face and rubbed his eyes hard. Okay, okay. This was happening. Actually really happening. "What are you gonna do, eat me?"

The beast paused as if considering. Seeming to sense Leonard's spike in blood pressure it backed up a fraction. I will do no such thing. I need a host to survive, Leonard. To kill you would also kill me. The journey here was far and I require rest. Time to heal unencumbered.

"Okay, fine." Was Leonard actually taking this seriously? He supposed he was. "Go back to where you came from, then."

Very well. I shall.

And with that, the alien seemed to liquefy on the spot. It became a puddle of sludge and slid it's mass over Leonard's torso where it seeped into his skin. Leonard bolted upright and practically tore his shirt off. He touched his own skin expecting to find something wrong but it was normal. It looked fine. Did that really just happen?

Yes, Leonard. It happened.

It didn't take a genius to connect the dots here. Clearly this… whatever it was… was using Leonard's body and puppeting him around to get what it wanted. He slowly rose to his feet and gave himself another once over. He didn't seem to be injured. A million questions raced through his mind but the only one he could think to voice was, "How do you know my name, anyway?"

I am inside of your body. I have full access to your brain. I know everything you know.

"Right," Leonard muttered to himself. "Course."

Battle of the Bands (Ch.17)

Pairing: Robb Stark x Reader, Jon Snow x Reader, Viserys Targaryen x Reader, Ramsay Bolton X Reader

Summary: You just moved into the city for the first tie all by yourself. After you get your dream summer job working for a small magazine, you find yourself in the middle of the city’s rock festival: Battle of the Bands. Local rock bands throughout the city compete to win a record deal that could change their lives. Your job? Get close to them and write about them online.A single girl in the city surrounded by rocker boys during the summertime. What could possibly go wrong?

Words: 1019 // AO3 Link

Chapter One // Chapter Two // Chapter Three // Chapter Four // Chapter Five // Chapter Six // Chapter Seven // Chapter Eight // Chapter Nine // Chapter Ten // Chapter Eleven // Chapter Twelve // Chapter Thirteen // Chapter Fourteen // Chapter Fifteen 

Ramsay’s Ending (Chapter 16)

Viserys’ Ending - Here In Your Arms

“What?” Viserys reacted. “You’re not with Ramsay? But he said—

“You’re suing the whole magazine and this was all my fault. I—

“Did Robb Stark fire you?”

“No, well—

“Why are you here?” Viserys asked. His voice was different this time. It held no anger or rage, but confusion. “Did you come for me?”

“I…oh shit,” you sighed. You put your face in your hands and felt the world shake around you. What the hell were you doing there? What were you thinking? Of course Viserys would be at the fest, walking around like a normal person would.

“Hey, whoa, are you ok? Are you crying?” Viserys attacked you with more questions. “Would you look at me? Are you with Ramsay? Why won’t you answer my questions?”

“Could you give me a moment? I—I think I’m having a panic attack,” you admitted to him. Viserys took your hand.

“Do you trust me?”

“What? What kind of—

Viserys put his finger on your mouth to quickly shut you up. “I need you to trust me right now, ok? Alright?” When you nodded, Viserys hugged you warmly. It wasn’t anything like Jon’s hugs or being in Ramsay’s arms. It was perfect. You felt your anxiety slowing down and normalcy return.

Then, Viserys sang in your ear. His voice was different from the screaming rock songs. It was softer and gentler and only for you.

Well you are the one The one that lies close to me Whispers hello, I miss you quite terribly I fell in love In love with you suddenly Now there's no place else I could be But here in your arms

You looked at him softly, realizing what he sang to you.

“You love me? You’re-you’re in love with me?”

“Oh shiiiiit, I said that out loud,” Viserys touched the back of his neck for a moment. “No, yeah. I’ll say it. I’m in love with you. I’m Viserys Targaryen and I’m in love with you. So what?”

“That’s why you broke it off. Isn’t it?”

“I couldn’t stand to see you with that fucking asshole anymore. Or any them really, but it just seemed you liked them more than me.”

“Yeah. I mean, I guess I just—

“I get it,” Viserys laughed. “Girls surround me all the time.” You looked around to see Viserys by himself.

“And now?”

“I don’t know. What do you want?” Viserys asked you.

“I don’t know. I came here to just forget everything that’s happened.”

“Did Robb fire you? I’ll kill him. I really will. You’re a good writer.”

“I thought you hated my writing,” you jabbed.

“I—No. I don’t hate you. I don’t think I could,” Viserys looked down. “I thought you hated me. What you wrote, it just sounded like you hated me.”

“I don’t hate you,” you smiled. “You’re an incredible rockstar. You’re fun and wild and I don’t know when I look at you I want to giggle because I don’t know what to say.”

“Yeah, it’s adorable when you do that,” Viserys admitted. His fingers brushed yours. “Listen. I want you to come tonight. It’s the last concert. I think we have a real chance at this. It’s really important to me that you’re there.”

You watched Viserys play once more before his band won the Battle of the Bands. Blackfyre signed a five record deal and immediately went to work. You watched him pen the rest of the lyrics to the song he sang to you. In December, Blackfyre debuted the new song, Here In Your Arms, to a crowd in Chicago. After the last note played, he winked at you from the stage.

You waited for him backstage after the show He ran to you and kissed you with both hands in your hair and his tongue in your mouth. “God, you’re so fucking pretty when you wear my shirts to concerts.”

“I have to be. All these girls want you,” you winked. Viserys rolled his eyes. “What? I have to claim what’s mine.”

“What if you didn’t have to?” he asked. “What do you mean?” you punched him in the arm. “There are literally girls waiting outside that door that want to fuck you.”

“I know, but what if you didn’t have to claim what’s yours? What if I was just yours?”

“What the fuck are you—are you kneeling?” you covered your mouth. Tears welled up in your eyes. “What the fuck are you doing? Viz? Viz! Stop that! Get up! Oh my god! No, you’re fucking not.”

“Oh yes I fucking am,” Viserys laughed while on one knee.

“We’ve only been dating—

“I know how long we’ve been dating. I am aware. I was there,” Viserys laughed. He held a small box in his hand. When he opened it, it reveal a beautiful ring with white diamonds and red rubies surrounding it. “From the moment I met you, I knew you were different. I just knew, you know? I couldn’t get you out of my head. And ever since I met you, my life’s been going up since. I want you with me for every part of it.”

“Really?” you said as teas fell down your face. You couldn’t hide the big smile behind it.

“Really, really. This rockstar life is going to be insane. I need you to keep me on Earth when I’m reaching for the sky. I want that. I want forever with you so bad. Let me have it. Please give me what I want.”

“You’re so fucking spoiled,” you laughed. “You always get what you want.”

“So, is that a yes?” Viserys wiggled his eyebrows.

“It’s a yes, you fucking idiot!” Viserys kissed you intensely and you heard people clapping all around you. Life wasn’t the same after that. Never in a million years did you think you would marry a rockstar. Still, here you were, wearing a beautiful ring as Viserys brought you outside to his fans.

“I’m getting fucking married bitches!” Viserys screamed. The audience screamed back with intense joy.

Note to Self: Marry the rockstar in the end. It’s fun. ;)

How this story ends is up to you! These next chapters are the five different endings to Battle of the Bands. You can read one ending, or you can read all five. Up to you entirely. This is the first time I’m doing this and I’m really excited to see what kind of feedback I get for this story.

In this order:

Chapter 16 - Ramsay’s Ending Chapter 17 - Viserys’ Ending Chapter 18 - Jon’s Ending Chapter 19 - Robb’s Ending Chapter 20 - Your Ending

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“It’s crying!” Lena and Dewey on babysitting duty

"It's crying!" Dewey pointed at Selena in her crib. "Well no duh. Pick her up," Lena rolled her eyes and continued reading her book. "Pick her up-??? What if I drop her or something? Why cant you do it?" Dewey asked. Lena sighed and set down the book. "You know, when you took this gig you sounded really confident in your abilities. It'd be a shame if Webby and Louie found out you did absolutely nothing all night," Lena crossed her arms. "I-I uh... Well... Cant you do something to make her be quiet with that magic of yours before she drives us insane?" Dewey asked. "Absolutely not. Magic is not used on a child. Ever," Lena snapped, making Dewey step back. "Woah... Touched a nerve there," Dewey raised his hands in defense. Lena groaned. "Step aside," she passed him away from the crib and picked up the sobbing duckling and placed her on her shoulder. "Hey there little Lena number two, its okay. Auntie is here for you," Lena sat herself in the rocking chair and patted the child's back in a fluid motion. Dewey sat on the ground and picked at the carpet. "Its okay, its okay," Lena kept repeating and started rocking in the chair. "Does repeating the same stupid phrase actually do anything?" Dewey asked. Lena glared. "Auntie is here, even if your uncle is a stupid oaf," Lena smiled smugly as Selena stopped crying."I am not an oaf," Dewey huffed. "Sure," Lena moved the child onto her lap and Selena looked up at her in wonder. "Hi," Lena smiled crookedly at her. Selena laughed. "That is the most precious sound I have ever heard," Dewey scrambled over to the chair, "how'd you get her to do that?""Dunno, get out of her face," Lena said. Dewey huffed and moved aside. "You know, I have babysat before," Dewey stated. "With your older brother's help," Lena pointed out. "Yes... But I'm sure I could've handled it on my own," Dewey said. "Doubtful. Dewey, were you even aware of what just happened? You were just freaking out over her crying," Lena raised an eyebrow as Selena made a small noise and leaned forward in Lena's lap. "Yeah, so? If I were alone I'd be able to eventually make her stop," Dewey crossed his arms. "Uh huh. That would totally happen," Lena said with heavy sarcasm, "you totally would not have called Huey within the first ten seconds of her crying.""Hey! Huey has his own kid to deal with now, I know boundaries and stuff," Dewey said. "Okay fine. You'd call that uncle of yours in ten seconds," Lena smirked. Dewey glared silently as Selena made another noise and put a hand on Lena's chest. "Oh my word, her hands are so tiny," Lena touched it, which made the duckling wrap her hand around her finger. "Awwwww," Dewey admired. "Okay, that's it. I love this child now," Lena nodded defiantly. Dewey laughed. Lena picked her up and raised her in the air, which also made her laugh. "Dude, you might drop her," Dewey said. Lena ignored him and kept raising her up and down, and Selena kept laughing. "Someone's jealous," Lena commented inbetween lifts. "Har har," Dewey rolled his eyes. "Fine, I'll stop," Lena stopped and raised Selena enough so they were eye to eye. Suddenly, it was like a staring contest had begun and Lena locked eyes with her and didn't blink. Selena giggled and lightly slapped her in the face, which made Lena laugh as well."I want to hold her," Dewey complained. "Oh hush, you get enough attention," Lena hugged the small child when suddenly Selena placed her hand on her choker's amulet and suddenly start glowlying. Lena quickly pushed her away, nearly dropping her. "Take her," Lena commanded. Dewey nodded and took Selena out of Lena's arms. Selena started crying again. "What was that?" Dewey put her on his shoulder, as Lena had before. "She touched my amulet and well uh... Glowed. I dunno," Lena stood up, "all I know is I can't hold her with it on.""Can't you take it off?" Dewey asked. "No. I have to keep it on at all times. Its like your uncle Moneybags number one dime. It isn't to leave me so long as I'm alive," Lena stated bluntly. Dewey sighed. "This kid isn't going to shut up is she" Dewey groaned as Selena wailed on. "Not with that attitude. I'll be back," Lena slipped out of the room. Waves of childhood memories she had tried to forget came crashing down on her. Images of her aunt int he shadows and her own parents tormenting her with magic made her shudder. A thought occured in her mind that made her shake. What if she turned out just like them?No, she shook her head. She couldn't think like that right now. She had to tell Webby something happened. Quickly, Lena fumbled into the kitchen and got out her phone from her bag. She turned it on and texted Webby. "Hey, no need to stress, nothing is wrong. Selena accidentally touched my amulet though, and it looks like she'd be good at magic haha" Hopefully the tone sounded lighthearted enough and not like Lena was on the brink of panicking. Webby would probably actually see it as a good or cool thing come to think of it. Bah, Lena would make her understand. Magic was dangerous and it hurts more than anything. Nothing feels worse than doing something wrong and suddenly you feel a thousand needles on your skin. Lena shuddered as the same thought rang through her head, but Lena shook her head. No she would not be like her parents or her aunt. She'd be better. She would be more caring, graceful, and more loving than they'd ever be. Lena nodded to herself and started heading back to the nursery. Lena reentered the nursery and found Selena was still crying, despite Dewey's best efforts. "I swear she hates me," Dewey complained. Lena sighed. "I don't know what to do. A child should not be playing with magic like this and I can't take it off," Lena sighed. "Twist it around so she can't touch it. I don't caaareeee she needs to sleeeeeep," Dewey groaned. "Oh," Lena hadn't thought of that. She twisted around the choker so the gem faced the other way and took Selena out of her uncle's arms. "There you go little Lena," she made Dewey get up from the rocker and sat down, "its okay. You're safe. I'm not gonna let you feel scared or tired anymore. Its okay. I'm here. Get some rest. You're tired. Its okay," Lena cradled her and spoke soothingly. Dewey rubbed his eyes and tried his best to mentally take notes of every little thing she did. Selena stopped her wails and closed her eyes. "You are truly magical," Dewey said. "Of course I am," Lena stated like she hadn't just almost had a mental breakdown of panic and nervousness of her becoming like her own family. What does Dewey know anyway? "Louie and Webby should be back soon. Should we set her down in her crib and pretend like we put her to sleep and she's been sleeping for hours because we're just that great?" Dewey schemed. "No," Lena internally face palmed and continued to rock. "Ugh, fine," he huffed when suddenly they could hear the distant creaking of the garage door. "Back already?" Dewey raised an eyebrow. "Could be possible," Lena now wondered the possibility if she had made Webby freak out over the text. Either way, she'd find out. There was a soft knock on the door."Hellooooo?" someone whispered through the door. "She's sleeping," Dewey whispered back. The door creaked open to reveal both Louie and Webby. "Wow, she's in one piece. I almost didn't think that'd happen," Louie joked. "Ha ha," Lena rolled her eyes. "Awwww, look how cute you two are," Webby adored. Lena chuckled. "Yeah, she liked me and hates him," Lena gestured at Dewey, who grunted. "Ooh, that's rough," Louie patted his brother's back with a chuckle. Dewey grunted again. "Anyway I should uh..." Lena got up and carefully set Selena down in her crib and pulled a blanket over her. "Why is your amulet on backward?" Louie asked. Lena froze. "Lets talk outside," Webby said. The three other adults nodded and they all walked out quietly. "So..." Webby shut the door. "Look, it was an accident," Lena said. "What was?" Louie stepped forward, looking concerned and aggravated. Clearly, it had not been a relaxed date night for the couple. Greaaaat. "Look, I was holding Selena and she just grabbed my amulet and started glowing. I'm sorry I-" "What? How?" Louie glared."Dude, get off her case. It was an accident," Dewey, oddly enough, defended Lena."I was hugging her and she grabbed diet cause it's shiny. Sorry, your highness," Lena rolled her eyes and looked at the floor. "Look, everything is fine. We're fine. She's fine. We are all... Fine," Webby stepped inebetween the two so they wouldn't fight. "Fine," Louie grunted and took his eyes off of Lena. "Good... Now, it looks like we could all use some rest, so how about that? Call it a night?" Webby asked, trying to sound cheerful."Yeah, I'm out," Louie turned away and disappeared into the master bedroom. "Yeah, me too. I got something with Scrooge tomorrow," Dewey pointed at the door. "See ya," Webby finger gunned."See ya," Dewey chuckled and left out the front door. "So... Was she powerful?" Webby asked. "What?" Lena raised an eyebrow. "Was she strong?" she asked again. "Ooh, you mean- Webby, Look," Lena put a hand on her own forehead, "I just... Yes, but that's not exactly a good thing. Young kids and magic don't mix. I really shouldn't be around her until she's able to be taught right from wrong," Lena said. "Oh..." Webby sighed, "I... Guess... But... Weren't you fine just then?" "Maybe... I dunno... I'm not- I-its not safe around her with the amulet," Lena quickly corrected herself. "Maybe... I dunno... How about we try again in a few weeks, and see what happens?" Webby suggested. Lena hesitantly nodded. "I... Guess," Lena shrugged. "C'mon, you know you can't stay away from that cutie for too long," Webby joked. "Ha ha ha," Lena chuckled. "I am serious though. You two have a good connection. Its nice to see. Its similar to her and Lou. Its real, and you know it," Webby lightly poked her shoulder. "Alright alright. I get it," Lena rolled her eyes, "I'll be back.""Good," Webby yawned. "Looks like you should get some rest," Lena smirked. "Yeah I'm tired," she admitted. "Alright then, goodnight to you," Lena pushed her toward her room. "You too Lena," Webby smiled tiredly, "and thanks," she saluted before disappearing behind the door. "Right..." Lena said and let herself out through the garage.

In honor of the 28th and @fullonlarrie​‘s anon, I would like to take a moment to thank all of the incredible authors we have in this fandom. 

Most of my absolute favorite pieces of writing have been fan fiction. Fan fics have changed me and my life, how I see the world and other people, and how I think about things. They have distracted me from not-great things happening in real life. They have made me laugh and cry. They have made me care for characters I've never met but have felt like I've known my whole life. They have taken me on adventure after adventure after adventure. I could never possibly thank these authors enough for the things they’ve done for me personally and for everyone else who has ever read their work. I love fan fiction.

Now that I've bored you all with my rambling, here are just a few of my favorite fics! 

amaryllis by hattalove (147k)

“Where are we?” “Um. A little while out of London?” Niall tries, seemingly the only one willing to not be mysterious and provide Harry with information, and. Oh. “London London? As in, the capital of England London?” he asks, just in case he’d misheard. “No, the other London,” Louis laughs, low and biting. He comes closer finally, the moonlight just enough to reveal a sharp-cut jaw and pale skin. “Sorry, Pup.” Nobody’s ever called Harry a “pup”. Frankly, he finds it quite insulting, but he lets it slide to try and comprehend his current crisis.

or the one where harry gets bitten by a werewolf. louis is the mysterious not-quite alpha, liam and zayn have Things going on, niall is their token human, and together, they watch a lot of TV.

Atlas At Last by louisandthealien (83k)

He doesn’t know what he had been expecting out of the road trip itself besides burping contests and too much shitty gas station food with Oli and Stan, but in the brief moment before Harry ambles up his driveway, Louis idly wonders if this is about to become some sort of Gay Coming of Age story.

Maine to California in ten days. In which Zayn’s an open-shirt hippie they meet somewhere in Ohio, Liam’s the pastor’s son running away from home, and Niall’s the number they call on the bathroom wall.

It’s 1978. Harry and Louis are just trying to get to San Fran in time for the Queen concert.

 domestic monsters series by g_uttertrash (WIP - 234k+)

Harry is a witch from a long line of power, an ancient line that’s one of the strongest left alive in their hemisphere. He can cast spells without a word if need be, fly on a broomstick, and has a black cat (a kitten, really) named Felix that is his animal familiar. He can shape galaxies in his cupped hands and can destroy them just as easily. He can choose exactly how to use his power, for encouragement and support, or for more nefarious causes if he wishes to.

And as fate would have it, he’s scared of haunted houses.

(Harry is a witch who carries around a stuffed pumpkin, Louis is a vampire with too much time on his hands, and their best mates Zayn & Niall aren't exactly what they seem...)

Shake Me Down by AGreatPerhaps12 (209k) *read the tags and be careful!

Harry’s new to college, fresh out of Catholic school and conversion therapy camp, and Louis runs the campus LGBTQIA organization.

We’ll Be Seamless by waytoomanypeopleintheaddisonlee (dinosaursmate) (52k)

Green reblogged an old photo of himself. It was from back in October, a Halloween special. A pulse shot all the way through Louis because this photo was his absolute favourite, and it had taken the rest of the year for him to wean himself off of it.

Green was on his knees, arms stretched out in front of him with his fingertips digging into the surface of his bed. He was wearing a pair of cat ears on his head, his curls falling forward. His back was arched, and in the foreground of the picture, Green’s bum was high in the air, a long, black cat tail sitting neatly between his cheeks. — Louis spends all his spare time scrolling arty nude blogs on Tumblr but amongst them all, Green is his favourite.

You Might Want to Marry My Husband by Rearviewdreamer (25k)

When Harry’s husband dies, he asks one thing of him; to find love and happiness again without him. It’s a request that Harry is happy to disregard, until he meets the one person who is impossible to ignore.

Young & Beautiful by Velvetoscar (227k)

Louis, to his horror, attends an elitist university in which the name Zayn Malik means something, Niall Horan doesn’t stop talking, there are pianos everywhere, and Harry Styles, only son of a drug-addled, clinically insane ex-rocker, has a perfect smile and empty eyes.

This is no where near complete and in no particular order. These are just a few out of a very long list of favorites. x 

A totally timely and significant review of Rancid’s “...And Out Come The Wolves”

(I honestly don’t remember when I wrote this, maybe 2015. Definitely just got jacked up on something and decided that I needed to write a track by track review of an album I loved when I was a cool punk teen. It has just been sitting in my Google Drive patiently waiting to be posted.)

 I remember the first time I ever heard/saw Rancid was when the video for “Salvation” off of their second album “Let’s Go” premiered on MTV. Such an 80’s/90’s kid thing to do, discovering a new band by seeing a music video on TV, ugh. I thought the leather clad mohawked bad boys were amazing and perfect and so cool...that I immediately tried to spike my hair using gelatin (tru punx only) and got a leather jacket (did not look that cool and was very sweaty).  When “...And Out Come The Wolves” came out the next year (1995, I’m old AF) I was totally enamored and had found my #1 favorite album of all time (that lasted for like a year until music got better).  I was supposed to go see Rancid at a big show in Omaha, I lived in a small town called Columbus that was roughly 90 minutes away from the big city...but the day of my mom didn’t let me go because I had bad math grades.  I reacted the way any entitled white teen did, by laying in the garage and crying and playing their album.  That show wound up being a huge to-do when fans tore up seats in the venue and threw cushions at the band leading to Rancid not playing Omaha for a long time.  I missed out on some cool bad-ass punk rock shit, first world problems. Fast forward to today when I decided that I, Ian Douglas Terry, needed to write out a song-by-song review of this quintessential punk album.  I’m a real music nut, and obviously very good at structured writing...so here we go!  (Rock on)

1. Maxwell Murder - Oh boy, this one starts with like a subway train sound and then the beginning of a killer/complicated Matt Freeman bass line.  That dude SHREDS the bass, and even has a wild solo in this song.  That’s tight.  Why did they stop letting him sing?  He sounded like a fun Muppet on their first album and I loved his songs.  Maybe he wanted to focus on just shredding the bass and using tons of pomade.

2. The 11th Hour - This song is great.  It is poppy and upbeat and about a woman having dreams and demanding answers.  Hell yeah.  I love good punk music that supports women and feminism and figuring out where the power lies (spoiler alert, it starts and ends with you).  Remember how Brody from The Distillers left Tim Armstrong for the dude from Queens of the Stone Age? And then he got all fat and got a beard?  I can completely relate to that, and have been there sans beard.

3. Roots Radicals - This song RULES.  I had to look up what “Moonstompers” were and who “Desmond Dekker” was.  I remember trying to relate to this like it could somehow compare to living in a town with 20,000 people and the nicest Wal-Mart in the tri-county area.  Remember how there was that Spanish language cover of this on one of those “Give Em The Boot” comps that Hellcat put out? That was real tight.

4. Time Bomb - Hit single baby!  This had a huge hand in getting punk kids into reggae/ska for sure.  Killer organ solo, lots of rude boy shit going, I loved it so much.  Tim Armstrong totally re-used lyrics from the song “Motorcycle Ride” from the previous album...which is hilarious.  Like c’mon dawg...you should know your own lyrics.  I learned how to do the solo from this and felt like a guitar god (it is a very easy solo, like almost too easy).

5. Olympia, WA - I love songs like this that are about cities that the band isn’t from...so you have to fire up your imagination (or just read the lyrics) and be like, “What went down in Olympia, Washington????”.  Turns out it was mostly hanging out on different streets in New York and playing pinball with Puerto Ricans while wishing you were with a person who you were sleeping with in Washington.  Hell yeah, just like Shakespeare.

6. Lock, Step & Gone - Songs about docks were HUGE in my youth.  Dropkick Murphy’s had like eight songs about boys on them, and this Rancid song alludes to them.  I loved all of the blue collar, working class ideology that had nothing to remotely do with my comfortable upper middle class (not sure if that’s accurate because my parents were teachers, and like is there even a middle class any more?) life. This song definitely sums itself up at then end when it says “There’s a whole lot of nothin”.

7. Junky Man - Another theme that I could definitely relate to in a town of 20,000 people with like ten people who did meth...Junkies!  This song is pretty great because the dude from the Basketball Diaries does some sick poetry in it...that movie was nuts.  I like that song that he later wrote/sang about all the people he knew who died. The only way poetry can be cool is if the person is an insane drug addict with cool/sad stories to tell. Otherwise it is just loud diary reading.

8. Listed MIA - At this point I wholeheartedly agree with this song, “I’m checking out”.  I don’t know if I ever really liked this song or if this was just part of the “I accidentally left it playing after the first four songs that I liked were over”.  Lars says the derogatory f-word for homosexuals in it, because people called him that word...that doesn’t seem cool man.  I get that it rhymes with “maggots”, but maybe give white dudes in the Midwest less reasons to sing that word out loud.

9. Ruby Soho - This is one of the best songs ever, hands down.  It is beautiful and you can barely understand what Tim Armstrong is saying but it is wonderful.  I feel like deciphering his lyrics led me to be able to understand most speech impediments, so hell yeah.  This song is about loving someone a lot but having to leave them because it isn’t working out. This song was the blueprint for every romantic relationship I’ve ever had in my entire life so it might be a gypsy curse.

10. Daly City Train - Oh hell yeah, fun Reggae drums!  Through punk and ska I grew to appreciate Reggae, but through being bummed out about that culture’s deep seated homophobia and the fact that most of it is super repetitive and boring and for dad’s on vacation.  I’m just glad that 311 taught me to love those smooth Caribbean sounds again (oh god am I joking or am I serious, I can’t tell any more please save me).

11. Journey to the End of the Easy Bay - I can still play this bass line and was very proud of myself the first time I half-way pulled it off.  It doesn’t sound as smooth and nuanced as the way Matt Freeman plays it, but goddamn it I think that was the height of my skill as a musician.  This song rules themes about needing to belong and finding a place with people who thought and felt the same as you...and then losing it as everyone grows out of it.  This was most of my early 20’s. I grew up in a scene with similarly minded people, it eventually ended and I still have contact with some of those people but that point in my life will never be replicated. I finally belonged somewhere and was part of something bigger than me.  Now I do comedy and it is bleak, entitled, and sad and mostly alcoholics talking about their dicks.  Please take me back.

12. She’s Automatic - This is not a bad song but a very confusing way to describe a woman.  I get that it means she is effortless in “the way that she moves” but maybe I’m not giving Lars any poetic license because he looks like a guy who punched books. This woman sounds great though, and I’m sure they dated for three months.  Revisiting this and that era reminds me that I almost had sex with a girl at the first X-men movie...man, being punk ruled.

13. Old Friend - Back to the Raggae!  This song is pretty great, but they really missed an opportunity of selling this to a heartburn medicine company.  “Good morning heartache, you’re like an old friend come and see me again”...that would be perfect for a commercial of a guy eating a giant plate of lasagna and making a “Oh boy, I did it again!” face.  The Transplants sold a song to that fruit shampoo, maybe this is something I can retroactively help negotiate.

14. Disorder and Disarray -  I love when punk bands have songs about “business men” being evil and the industry being bad.  Like when Against Me were part of an Anarchist collective and then on a major label putting out really bad music.  Rancid was at least on Epitaph, which while arguably not “cool” it was at least run by a kind of punk dude who is responsible for the biggest/shittiest corporate garbage of a festival, The Warped Tour.  This song has a part towards the end where they talk to each other like David Lee Roth would do in Van Halen songs, that rules.

15. The Wars End - I get that this is a song about little Sammy being a punk rocker but at this point I think they should have admitted this album was fine with 10-12 songs and maybe some of these were super repetitive and unnecessary.  It's like you’re forcing it. I can’t imagine the dude who recorded it had a lot of fun and he probably fell asleep and was startled awake and had to pretend like he’d been paying attention the whole time.

16. You Don’t Care Nothin - This starts out with the exact chord progression from Journey To The End Of The East Bay….c’mon guys. You Don’t Care Nothin about being succinct and making your songs individual expressions of art! The themes even seem like something they’ve already gone over.  I’m going to eat some soup, brb.

17. As Wicked - Is this a different song or a weird breakdown?  Oh, it’s a different song.  Well...this soup is pretty good.  Chicken Noodle, but the chunky kind.  It isn’t amazing but it is good. I should really cook more.  Maybe I’ll order Chinese later.

18. Avenues & Alleyways - I don’t really have a problem with this song because it has the “Oi oi oi” chant that the bands I was in during High School would do and we had no idea why other than popular bands doing it.  It is very catchy.  It sounds like the other two songs were just building up to finally getting your attention back. Plus it has a breakdown with people clapping, that is always fun.  This has to be the last song right? It is the perfect last song on an album!

19. The Way I Feel -  FUUUUUUUCK!  What? Really should have ended the album on that last song, it had a good “anthem” vibe and at least wrapped this up into a somewhat sensible endeavor.  This song could have been stuck in the middle somewhere, or maybe just not recorded with about seven others?  The Way I Feel about this album is that there are some parts that hold up and are still fun to listen to, but the rest of it just seems like I’m being forced to read my own teenage diary and it is boring and sad. Nostalgia is a bummer, I can’t imagine having Rancid still be my favorite band.  I’d probably still wear a chain wallet and spiky bracelet and be one of those obnoxious old drunk weirdos I see at shows that stick out like crazy sore thumbs. Bummer dude.

    Oh wow, what a journey (to the end of the east bay, am I right?)...I’m glad I was finally able to get this review out so people could finally know what this album means to me and my generation of lazy weirdos. This took me six months to write and I should be congratulated for being a journalist with tons of integrity and great taste.  True punks never die, they just eventually chill out and shop at Kohl’s.

hiii lisa! so i really love how you've been linking fics to songs and i was wondering if you could do a rec list based off of your top 25 most listened to songs! (i know that's a lot so you don't have to if you don't want to lol)

Iris by Goo Goo Dolls

And I’d give up forever to touch you 

Where Your Heart Is: Louis is ready for his brand new adventure. So what if he suffers from a genetic condition that prevents him from being touched? College is going to be awesome. It has to. Karma kind of owes him right now. Forget about his overprotective mother, or Liam– his entirely too chipper step brother– or his mess of a roommate. Forget about the gloves he has to wear at all times. He’s here to expand his knowledge, write and drown himself in books – No matter how distracting ‘Hallway Boy’ may be– The obnoxious, flirty frat wannabe determined to become the bane of Louis’ existence.

Don’t Let Me Go by Harry Styles

Seems like these days I watch you from afarJust trying to make you understand 

Emperor’s New Clothes : Harry’s a pop star and Louis isn’t, and there’s a non-disclosure agreement where there used to be a relationship.

Somebody to Love by Queen

I just gotta get out of this prison cellOne day (someday) I’m gonna be free, Lord!

Atlas At Last : He doesn’t know what he had been expecting out of the road trip itself besides burping contests and too much shitty gas station food with Oli and Stan, but in the brief moment before Harry ambles up his driveway, Louis idly wonders if this is about to become some sort of Gay Coming of Age story.Maine to California in ten days. In which Zayn’s an open-shirt hippie they meet somewhere in Ohio, Liam’s the pastor’s son running away from home, and Niall’s the number they call on the bathroom wall.It’s 1978. Harry and Louis are just trying to get to San Fran in time for the Queen concert.

Right Now by One Direction

You know I can’t fight the feelingAnd every night I feel itRight nowI wish you were here with me

Love Is A Rebellious Bird : AU in which the boys still make music. Louis is the concertmaster of the London Symphony Orchestra, Harry is the New! and Exciting! interim conductor/ex-cello prodigy who “has made Mozart cool again” according to Esquire Magazine (Louis hates him immediately, which is definitely why he internet stalked him in his dark bedroom late at night that one time), and Niall is the best. Zayn and Liam are around too.

Tiny Dancer by Elton John

But oh how it feels so realLying here with no one near

Never Gonna Dance Again : Louis is a spy and Harry is a dancer. The only real thing they know is each other. 

Wait by M83

Give your tearsTo the tide

Into the Blue : AU. In which Louis is Harry’s scuba instructor and quite happy to provide the requested special treatment, pun fully intended. It can’t be all that difficult to convince Harry that they’re on the same page, right? Also, Niall and Liam may or may not be dating, and Zayn is surrounded by emotionally stunted idiots. He bears it with dignity.

Just Hold On by Louis Tomlinson

If it all goes wrongDarling, just hold on

You Are The Blood : A seventh-year Hogwarts AU in which Niall gets all the girls, Liam goes on a journey of self-discovery, Zayn falls in love, Harry wants something more, and Louis tries to figure out once and for all why he, a Muggleborn, was sorted into Slytherin. 

What Kind Of Man by Florence + The Machine 

And with one kissYou inspired a fire of devotion that lasts for twenty yearsWhat kind of man loves like this?

Baby Heaven’s In Your Eyes : A sixth form!AU where Harry is the fucked up bad boy with too many problems, Louis is the perfect rich boy with too much money and their schools are right across from each other. They meet at a party and that’s the last (and maybe the only) thing they need.

I’ve Just Seen a Face by Jim Sturgess

I’ve just seen a face,I can’t forget the time or placeWhere we just met

Nameless Night : For their 18th birthday, every person receives a letter that reads a simple date. That is the date you’ll meet your soulmate. Harry and Louis have different beliefs, live in different worlds and have different dreams, hopes and fears. Yet, they’re not so different from each other when it comes to love. When their paths cross, there is no doubt they belong together. Except for that one, essential difference: they didn’t receive the same date.

If I Could Fly by One Direction

I’ve got scars, even though they can’t always be seenAnd pain gets hard, but now you’re here and I don’t feel a thing

Butterfly Gun : Harry has never been much of a fighter, but—as always—where Louis Tomlinson is concerned, a lot of things stop being true.1940’s AU. Even after six years apart, they can’t forget their shared wartime childhood. 

Jumpin’ Jack Flash by The Rolling Stones

I’m Jumpin’ Jack Flash

Escapade : In the grand scheme of things, finding a date for a wedding should be no problem for Louis Tomlinson. He’s rich. He’s handsome. He’s reasonably well behaved. But when the wedding is for his lifelong best friend (and former boyfriend), and is happening in under a month, finding a date for the ceremony and accompanying festivities becomes more of an adventure than he ever could have planned for. 

18 by One Direction

Long before we both thought the same thingTo be loved and to be in loveAll I could do is say that these arms were made for holding youI wanna love like you made me feel when we were 18

Red Brick Heart : Uni AU. Harry had turned up at the halls of residence expecting fun, new friends, and maybe a life experience or two. What he doesn’t expect is a surprise roommate who’s loud and dramatic and obsessed with tea and is maybe, actually, all he’s ever wanted.

Half A Heart by One Direction

I’m half a man at bestWith half an arrow in my chestI miss everything we doI’m half a heart without you

Never Be : The one where Harry Styles moves to Connecticut from England for nine months as a part of a study abroad program, and he just so happens to move in with Louis Tomlinson and family.

Fallingforyou by The 1975

I don’t wanna be your friend,I wanna kiss your neck

Relief Next To Me : AU. What happens when a baker and a graphic designer meet via a very specific Craigslist post? Fate, friendship, food, and maybe more. 

Closer by Tegan and Sara

Here comes the breath before we get a little bit closerHere comes the rush before we touch, come a little closer

The Night Sky is Changing Overhead : Harry is a tattoo artist, Louis is a drama professor, and they meet during an argument at a café.

Wild Horses by The Rolling Stones

Faith has been broken, tears must be criedLet’s do some living after we dieWild horses couldn’t drag me away 

Soft Hands, Fast Feet, Can’t Lose : American Uni AU. Harry Styles is a frat boy football star from the wealthy Styles Family athletic dynasty. A celebrity among football fans, he knows how to play, he knows how to party, and he knows how to fuck (all of which is well known among his legion of admirers).Louis Tomlinson is a student and an athlete, but his similarities to Harry end there. Intelligent, focused, independent, and completely uninterested in Harry’s charms, Louis is an anomaly in a world ruled by football. A bet about the pair, who might be more similar than they originally thought, brings them together. Shakespeare, ballet, Disney, football, library chats, running, accidental spooning, Daredevil and Domino’s Pizza all blend into one big friendship Frappucino, but who will win in the end? 

No Control by One Direction

PowerlessAnd I don’t care it’s obviousI just can’t get enough of you

Switch Out the Batteries : Two years after meeting in a sex shop, Harry’s just returning to Louis from a month-long tour in the States, and they come up with a wholesome bonding exercise.

Ship to Wreck by Florence + The Machine

Did I drink too much?Am I losing touch?Did I build this ship to wreck?

Young & Beautiful : Louis, to his horror, attends an elitist university in which the name Zayn Malik means something, Niall Horan doesn’t stop talking, there are pianos everywhere, and Harry Styles, only son of a drug-addled, clinically insane ex-rocker, has a perfect smile and empty eyes.

Asleep by The Smiths

Deep in the cell of my heartI really want to goThere is another worldThere is a better world 

Here In The Afterglow : 1970’s AU. In a tiny town in Idaho, Louis’ life is changed forever by the arrival of a curious stranger. 

From the Dining Table by Harry Styles

We haven’t spoke since you went awayComfortable silence is so overratedWhy won’t you ever be the first to break?Even the phone misses your call, by the way

These Inconvenient Fireworks : Future AU in which nobody tries out for X Factor but the boys end up finding one other eventually anyway. Louis is a jaded bastard who owns a cat named Duchess and teaches drama to teenagers, Harry is an idealistic aspiring photographer/part-time footy coach, Zayn teaches English lit and wears leather jackets, Liam saves people from burning buildings, and Niall is Niall.

Skinny Love by Bon Iver

And in the morning I’ll be with youBut it will be a different kindAnd I’ll be holding all the ticketsAnd you’ll be owning all the fines

Pull Me Under : AU. As the first British footballer to come out at the prime of his career, it helps that Louis Tomlinson is in a long-term, committed relationship. Even if that relationship is fake.

He’s a Pirate from the Pirates of the Caribbean Soundtrack

Instrumental 

Resist Everything Except Temptation : The one where Louis is the commodore’s son who is forced to become a part of Harry’s crew when he is captured.

Sunburn by Ed Sheeran

You scarred and left meLike a sunburn 

Empty Skies : For three years, Harry has been running from his past. Now, he is moving to London and pledges to fulfil his only dream – making it big in the music industry. Not everyone has a place, though, and the competition is tough. As is his past catching up on him.Louis is part of the biggest boy band of the world, and getting there had meant a lot of hard work, as well as sacrificing parts of his heart and soul. He’s still happy. Maybe not as happy as he could be, but who is he to complain?

Pine Trees by Jake Bugg

You can sit in the pine treesYou can feel at homeYou can breathe a sigh of silence in the woods

May We Stay Lost On Our Way Home : On March 31st, Harry Styles disappears. Though many speculate, only two people know where to find him: Niall, his former guitarist, and Zayn, who follows where Niall leads.The fact the biggest boy band in the world broke up two weeks earlier might be related to the disappearance. The fact Harry meets a fairy named Louis in the woods is a whole other matter.

Colors by Halsey

Everything was greyHis hair, his smoke, his dreamsAnd now he’s so devoid of colorHe don’t know what it means

Gods & Monsters : The instructions were simple: seduce and destroy Harry Styles. Not once did they discuss the option of Louis actually falling in love. So, naturally, that’s exactly what he did.