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cannotgiveafuck · 5 years

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Shazam Week Prompt 2

I'm a day late and expect to do again, but I'm not quitting!

Heres prompt 2: Holidays

Halloween had always been one of Billy's favorite holidays.

Before he was Captain Marvel, he would spend the day at the Fawcett Park Market, getting his face painted in preparation for trick-or-treating. The amount of candy he snagged would last him weeks, even far into December if he controlled himself.

Before he managed to permanently escape from his Uncle Ben, Billy enjoyed Halloween for the chance it gave him to be far away from the man. At least for the night. When he returned, he'd always have to hide a majority of his stash in his room, lest his uncle throw his entire loot into the garbage.

Ever since becoming the Champion of Magic, however, Billy found no time for Halloween shenanigans anymore. He had a responsibility to uphold, civilians to watch over, monitor duty to attend.

Billy Batson wasn't a kid anymore.

"What do you mean, you're not going out? You're thirteen years old! Go throw eggs and TP at some old tosser's house, get sick from too much candy, and all of that!"

Billy didn't know where to begin, everything about what he'd said was just...wrong. "John, I'm twelve. And I'm on patrol tonight. Do you know how bad it would be if the League found out I… egged someone's house? I'd be toast!"

But the thought of throwing rotten eggs at his Uncle Ebenezer's house brought on a joy he was ashamed to acknowledge.

On the other side of the mirror, Constantine took a long, contemplative drag of his cigarette. "Do you realize how mad what you just said was? You're twelve and you've got patrol for what? Fawcett? The entire bloody world?"

The familiar heat of indignation, of embarrassment, flared at his cheeks. "So what?"

When he sighed, smoke obscured part of his features, but his blue eyes - clear and crisp and so much deeper than others gave credit for - pinned Billy to his spot. It was an accusing stare. A look that challenged Billy, doubted him, was filled with more condescension than John's words could imitate. It was a look plenty of adults gave plenty of kids when they did something particularly exhausting.

Billy hated that look.

He also knew that John hated the League, that Billy was even part of the League. Against all opinions of him, John was actually quite soft for children, became rather protective and reckless for them. Billy knew John thought of him as a child, heck, the magician looked out for him well enough, and Billy appreciated it, really he did. But…

"Know much about the spirit world and Hallow's Eve?" John asked, thankfully diverting the subject. At Billy's head shake, he continued. "The veil between alive, dead, and undead becomes thin, nearly open. All the planes of existence sync up. Get the most supernatural activity around that time. And I know the lot of em throw one killer of a ball."

Immediately, Billy had perked up, always interested in learning more about the magical community. But at the mention of a party filled with paranormal creatures?

Billy knew the glee on his face was evident as John chuckled.

"Unless, of course," he added, tone teasing, "you're too busy patrolling."

Ah, crap.

[[MORE]]

-x-

"Are you sure this will work?" Billy asked as he looked at John's handiwork. It was impressive and amazing, and Billy never got tired of seeing magic in action.

"C'mon now, lad, trust me here," he said with a face that did not at all look like John Constantine.

"It's not that I don't trust you, exactly…"

They were currently in New York City, strolling down an alleyway that John was very certain lead into their destination. As they got ready earlier in the day, he had explained that the ball was a public affair, a yearly celebration that warranted total truce once entered. No murderous or underhanded conflict permitted on the property. The event was hosted by an affluent influence within the magical or supernatural community, though it took the effort of some key abilities to pull it off, to ensure the location was safe and secure.

However, just because there was no guest list didn't mean anyone could waltz on in. Unless they were a plus one, a regular human or extraterrestrial could not enter the compound. Afterall, there was still so much that neither knew or understood about the world, about Earth and her inhabitants and patrons from all walks of existence. Only those immersed in the community and its secrets could be trusted to attend.

Though, Billy was unsure how solid a definition of trust that they used.

And then there were certain individuals or groups on a blacklist. No matter if they had attended before or were invited by someone going - once someone was banned, it took a great deal of influence to be welcomed back.

That is, unless someone was clever and crafty enough at magical tricks to sneak in.

Someone like the infamous and definitely blacklisted John Constantine.

"Think of it like any other Halloween party, yeah? Some folks go as themselves and that's fine, but boring, honestly, and others wear costumes. Nobody's gonna rip off someone's mask, right?" John smiled with far too many sharp teeth, with a face that was not his own. "That's how glamour is around these ilk."

It made sense, sure. But still, Billy couldn't help but feel...weird. Don't get him wrong, it was exciting getting to join in on this adventure, but looking into the mirror and instead of seeing himself, or even Captain Marvel, he saw a strange creature. It was creepy.

Once John applied the glamour dust, Billy used his own magic to shape what he wanted to appear as - an aesthetic look inspired by his own Feyr.

With Tawny's help, Billy became a tiger themed witch boy. Pointed ears and a gliding tail, sharp fangs and claws, wild hair and catlike eyes, a magically fitted black suit with striped markings that followed onto his skin, and eerie blood splatter across his hands and face - Billy so wanted to wear this for other Halloween parties.

(He doesn't actually believe he'd ever get the chance, but well, one could dream.)

Though, he admitted, he was sort of jealous of John's glamour. A full transformation into a stylishly decorated demon - large horns, full black eyes, fancy clothing and a grand colorful coat. He looked really, really cool.

"I could've gone as Marvel, you know. Being an adult seems easier for this," Billy commented. It would have also been safer.

Great adventure aside, Billy wasn't stupid enough to ignore the dangers he was getting into. He may be magical inclined, but Marvel was the Champion of Magic. If things went south, he would prefer to have the Gods on his side. And great costume aside, something about attending a party as a kid, albeit a never aging one, seemed like it was asking for trouble. What if the glamour wasn't enough? What if his magic wasn't enough? What if someone saw right through them and realized Billy really was just a kid? If he got blacklisted from the coolest supernatural party of the year before he even turned eighteen, he would never live it down.

"You telling me that you want the entire place in chaos? That's what the Champion of the Gods would do. Half the party would swarm you for autographs and most likely try to pull you into rooms you do not want to go, and the other half would fall over themselves trying to leave the damn place. Some may even risk breaking the truce to get a piece of you."

"I thought that's what the glamour was for."

"A pretty costume can't hide the fact that he's the Champion of goddamn Magic. His energy alone would blind the lot like a beacon of divine fucking light." John stopped them before they reached a dead end wall practically oozing magical illusion. They kept a good enough distance, though he still lowered his voice. "I know you run with the big superhero league, but his reputation goes farther than you've been flying around in his cape. Near everyone knows about the Ancient Champions and their patron Gods, and half of those know about the Wizard and his lofty seat at the center of all Earthly magic. He's a bloody legend down here, so no shouting for your giant fuckall lightning, alright? You don't need to leave here with a massive target on your forehead."

Well, then. This was news to him.

"It'd be nice if you told me this before, you know, instead of when we are literally walking into the lions den!" Knowing that there could be powerfully magical beings who would want to hurt him… that seemed like important information.

"That's why I told you to stay as a kid, kid," John flicked at his forehead, infuriating and condescending all at once. Which wasn't an uncommon thing, unfortunately.

The response was immediate, Tawny's low rumble, warning John Constantine away.

"Yeah, yeah. I get it," he lead them forward and to Billy is felt like walking through a curtain to see what was covered on the other side. "Now, stay within eyesight of me, and don't accept drinks you haven't seen the bartender make. And even then, keep to what you know," John said.

Billy knew what to do, thank you very much. He's had talks with his neighbor Candy, and he's heard older teens whisper at foster homes, and him and Freddy have watched teenage party movies. He knows what to do and unlike John, he doesn't go pissing off every magical being he comes across.

He'll be fine!

-x-

He was not fine.

Billy was very much not fine at all.

He felt sick and nauseous and all he wanted to do was throw up, but he couldn't and that made it worse. Thanks to John's quick thinking, he managed to get them out before Billy's glamour wore off. Though, with how fast John was walking, he was practically dragging Billy along, making the sidewalk blur and the street lights flare painfully.

"That's what you get for accepting a drink from the eternal witch boy," John said, voice teasing. It was salt in Billy's wounds along with everything else right now.

Words seemed to escape him for the moment, so he gagged and spat on the ground at John's feet to let him know how he felt about that.

"Didn't take you for a delinquent," John continued. He sounded more amused and Billy hated it. "Not that I'm judging, mind you. I had my first taste of alcohol when I was ten."

"Didn't know," Billy muffled out. He'd tried beer before, him and Freddy had snuck out with a can each one time. They'd stolen it from one of the foster dad as he lay passed out on the couch. It was the most disgusting thing Billy had ever tasted.

"Yeah, can't blame you there. Mead tastes deceptively sweet. Either way, it was from Klarion and that's where you went wrong."

Okay, he really did not need a lecture right now. It was Halloween and he nearly blew their cover and he may have become an ally to Klarion and they almost got found out by Zatanna and all Billy wanted to do was sleep forever.

Still incapable of words, because talking required thinking and that was not going to happen - Billy groaned.

"No, no sleep yet. Gonna need some water and greasy food first, or you'll be feeling even more like shit come morning. Good thing I know a place and they won't ask questions."

At the mere thought of food, Billy felt his stomach turn and finally threw up. Surprisingly, it made him feel better.

"Hmm. Good thing you don't have monitor duty tomorrow, you're sleeping in. And no patrol, either. Consider it an extended holiday."

Halloween had never been this eventful before, at least at a personal level, but it all honesty, Billy didn't feel an ounce of regret. This was probably his favorite year yet.

Vomiting in the middle of the street excluded.

#shazamweek2019 #shazam #billy batson #john Constantine #fanfic writing #captain marvel #maybe someday ill write about what all went on at the party #im sure it was a hoot #is john a bad influence on billy? yes. does that stop either of them? no.#listen john knows kids will do dumb shit. hes not gonna stop that. hell just be there to laugh

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tomboyneedshercoffee · 4 years

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Lovedust Pt.6 || Peter Parker x Stark Reader

Summary: Y/N finds out more about how the lovedust works and it leads to her realizing her biggest fears about Peter if he’s cured.

Word Count: 4.2k

Author’s Note: There’s a lot going on right now but thank you guys for being so incredibly kind and patient with me. Shit is going to hit the fan real soon with Lovedust so stay tuned! ALSO Don’t forget to leave comments if you guys liked it or hey even if you hated it! ALSO ALSO My taglist is getting pretty big and hectic so if I missed yours, I am VERY sorry pls just message me again so I can add you asap!

Warnings: Mild language, mentions of death and nightmares, slowburn

part one || part two || part three || part four || part five || part six ||

part seven || part eight || epilogue

As your eyes fluttered open, you gave yourself a minute to adjust to the sound of rain hitting against your bedroom window. You closed your eyes as you inhaled deeply, your arm instinctively reached beside you to touch Peter, only to find that side of the bed empty.

You opened your eyes again and slowly raised yourself up to turn to see that your prediction was correct and that he wasn’t next to you. You knew it wasn’t a dream, you distinctively remembered him holding you as you fell asleep but you guessed he might’ve left soon after.

The memories of last night rushed through your head as you felt your heart drop slightly and already, you felt empty so early in the morning. You remembered everything about the nightmare but more importantly, you remembered Peter cradling you like a child as you cried in his arms.

You couldn’t wrap your head around a single feeling to describe the thoughts in your mind. As every day passed, Peter was showing you more and more how much he truly cared for you, and the thought of him not being able to keep the same energy once he was cured terrified you.

You loved this new Peter and how kind and compassionate he was around you. It was annoying at first dealing with the cringey pick up lines and weird comments about the two of you getting married but now that you realized there was more to those side effects, you found him even more endearing.

It was the small things like how he sacrificed the right side of his body so that you could fit under the umbrella perfectly or how he would willingly sit through a horror movie for you even though you both knew how much he hated them.

You even saw a change in yourself and how you treated him. The other day, you two sat side by side on the couch and shared headphones while listening to the playlist you made for him or when you would tell him a dumb joke just so you could hear him laugh.

It was selfish to hang onto the idea that Peter would always be this kind to you but you rather savored the moments you two had together since you knew better to know that nothing in life was guaranteed.

You felt embarrassed that he had seen you so vulnerable, especially since Peter didn’t know what happened to your parents and now, you felt like you owed him an explanation. You looked back at your clock and sighed once you saw that you had already missed the beginning half of school, you thought screw it, you were taking a mental health day.

“ Is it senior skip day or something?” You looked up to see your dad standing in your doorway with his arms crossed over his chest in a scolding manner but once he saw your dazed expression, he dropped the act,” Y/N? Is everything okay?”

You could feel your throat tighten as you shook your head, refusing to cry again.

“ Nightmare,” You swallowed to stop yourself from letting anymore sobs from coming out of your mouth as Tony sat next to you and put his hand on your shoulder.

“ I know kid, I know,” Tony brought you closer to him as you hugged him tightly.

You had told Tony about your nightmares but he was already well aware on what happened with your parents. You were still pretty young when your parents had passed and you’ve lived most of your life with Tony as a parent but that didn’t mean you weren’t traumatized over what happened years ago.

Tony had not only given you a good home and had locked down your future, but he was always there to listen and offer help, whether it was from himself or health experts.

“ It was Peter this time,” You said softly as you felt your dad hug you even tighter,” I don’t know why but he was in the nightmare and he-he tried to hurt me...I feel so guilty, I don’t know why he was there but my brain just made him you know?”

“ That’s not something you can control Y/N, remember what I said, your brain just picks up on different people-unless he did something. Did he do something to you? Cause I swear-”

“ No, no Dad it was the opposite,” You sighed as you pulled away and bit the inside of your cheek,” I know you told me not to hang out with Peter but...we’ve been getting closer and I think I...I don’t know. All I know was that when he comforted me after my nightmare, I felt the safest I’ve been in a long time….Things are different now. I don’t know what I could say to convince you but please don’t get mad.”

You looked down at your bedsheets to avoid his gaze and you weren’t sure if he was burning a stern glare at the back of your head or not.

“ I’m not mad about Peter, I already knew you were seeing him behind my back anyway and I should’ve known you two would’ve pulled some Romeo and Juliet bullcrap. Anyway- You’re strong enough to look after yourself, hell stronger than some of these people living here and if I may speak candidly, I know you could kick his ass if he ever crossed a line,” Your dad said as you let out a small chuckle,” I want you to be safe and happy. I would prefer you feel that way without a boy in the mix but I won’t yuck your yum.”

You wrinkled your nose but you couldn’t help but smirk,” Do you think I’m strong enough to become an Avenger?”

“ You already are,” Your dad smiled as you inhaled deeply,” but before we get too mushy, I did actually want to talk to you about the other day, you know, about Peter’s health.”

You sat up straighter in your seat as you nodded attentively at him before he continued.

“ It’s really important that you keep this between you, me and Banner, okay? I’m gonna use some big words so keep up,” You nodded again as you felt your heart beat rapidly against your chest,” you already know this but the lovedust activates a huge amount of serotonin in the body and sometimes that can lead to some major health problems. Well, with every day that passes, he runs the risk of having a ventricular tachycardia and that’s what explained how he collapsed the other day-”

“ Hold on, he collapsed? And did you say a ventricular tachycardia? Like a heartattack?” You asked as you felt your own heart stop for a moment as your dad gave you a confused expression,” So you’re telling me the lovedust could kill him? When did this happen?”

Your dad inhaled sharply as he swallowed hard,” Yesterday afternoon. We were done running tests and Banner noticed a car pull up and I said it was your friend John-”

“Josh.”

“ Yeah sure. Then we heard a loud thud and Peter just dropped. He just fainted but still, it’s a sign that things are getting worse,” Your dad said as you felt your heart completely shatter.

You felt like it was all of your fault. Even though Peter just fainted, he could’ve hit his head and died right there and you couldn’t stop yourself from filling your head with more terrible thoughts.

“ Oh my god, I never thought things would get this bad,” You said as you rested your forehead in the palm of your hands, trying to keep a consistent stream of thoughts but each idea made you think of Peter getting hurt,” and there’s still not a cure? What have you guys even figured out so far-it’s been almost a week!”

You knew your dad was trying his best but all you wanted was for Peter to get better and it didn’t help that time was against everyone. Peter could suffer a heartattack at any time of day and it didn’t make you feel better than nothing was being solved.

“ Well we have a pretty strong theory about what caused the lovedust if you’re up for hearing it,” Your dad suggested as you hesitantly nodded.

“ Our main theory is that the lovedust is effective when the patient- Peter- makes contact with the variable-you- and since you were the first person he saw, it activated his serotonin output. So it could’ve been anyone and Peter would’ve had the same reaction,” Tony said and it was so silent for a minute that you could hear a pin drop,” why is your face pale?”

You didn’t know how much you didn’t want to hear that theory until this very moment. You weren’t even sure why you could feel your throat close up again but this news made you sink back onto your bed.

Peter really didn’t mean anything he was saying. After all those late night talks about how in love with you he was, those were all just side effects. Those were never his thoughts. He never really loved you.

“ Oh...that’s good I guess,” You said quietly as Tony’s pager buzzed. You could tell Tony wanted to stay and talk to you but when he looked down at the notification, it seemed pretty urgent,” you can go, I’m just gonna stay here for a little bit.”

“ We’ll talk later, okay kiddo?” Tony patted your knee and walked past your bed, closing your bedroom door behind him.

You stared up at your bedroom ceiling as you thought about what your dad said. Peter’s condition was getting worst but now, at least they figured out something that could help them along the way. If they could figure out the properties of the lovedust than that means they could reverse it and find a cure.

What if you didn’t want them to find a cure?

You almost talked yourself out of your thought and called yourself a selfish idiot in the process, the goal was for them to help Peter. This could help Peter, you reminded yourself as you got up from your bed to get dressed.

You weren’t sure where you wanted to go but you thought that your mental health day could carry on to the outside world.

Mad....why were you mad?

You had no reason to be so upset and you kept reminding yourself as the elevator went down to the garage. You aggressively pressed the button to unlock your car and once you sat down in the driver’s seat, you started your car and backed out of the garage.

It was pouring outside and while you hated driving in the rain, you just had to leave to clear your head.

Why were you upset?

Maybe because for once in your life, you felt special.

You stopped on the brakes and you could feel your heart sink into your chest as the rain hit against your windshield.

You shook your head slowly before you slapped your hands against your steering wheel hard.

Was it awful that you loved the attention you were getting and maybe, just maybe, you were starting to see Peter differently?

You slammed your firsts against the wheel again and again as you let out a frustrated grunt through your gritted teeth.

You were mad that Peter could die. You were mad that there wasn’t a cure. You were mad that the lovedust had ruined your life. You were content without Peter meddling in your life but now that he had left such an impression, all you wanted to do was make sure he stayed as true to himself as he was now.

You couldn’t expect that from him. You couldn’t expect that once he was cured, he would act back to his regular douchebag self but anything was possible, he didn’t owe you anything.

You taunted yourself as you tried to snap out of whatever this hellish tantrum you were throwing.

Why would you be upset over a guy who had fake feelings for you all this time?

It wasn’t his fault and it wasn’t your fault either.

Anyone. It could have been anyone. It could’ve been a sockpuppet and Peter would’ve probably tried marrying the damn thing.

You snapped your head over to the passenger side of the door once you heard a hard tap come from the window. Once you saw it was Peter, you turned to face the front and unlocked the door without looking back at him.

He opened the door and sat down beside you in the passenger seat without saying anything. He was soaking wet from head to toe and while you were annoyed he was getting the inside of your car wet, you had more important things to focus on.

It was too quiet for your liking but there wasn’t anything you wanted to say to him. Frankly, you weren’t sure why you even let him in.

“ How did you sleep?” Peter asked quietly as he tested the waters.

It was clear that you were in some type of mood but Peter never knew how to approach situations like this, especially since he didn’t know why you were so upset.

“ I slept fine, you?”

“ Good I guess,” Peter shrugged as he shifted awkwardly in his seat,” are you okay? Are you upset about what happened last night-”

“ No,” You said truthfully as you leaned your head back against the headrest,” I mean, yes, I’m okay but no I’m not upset about last night.”

“ Well something is clearly bothering you and I just want to help. You know you can tell me anything, I mean it Y/N, we’re friends now. We shouldn’t be hiding things from each other,” Peter said as you let out a dry laugh.

You knew you couldn’t reveal everything to Peter about what your dad had told you but it didn’t stop you from feeling angry.

“ Okay, you want to be honest, lets be honest. When were you going to tell me that you collapsed at the lab?” You asked as you turned your whole body to face him,” my dad told me this morning.”

Peter inhaled deeply but looked you straight in the eye,” I was going to tell you... eventually. It’s not like I had time to really sit down with you, I know you’re going through a lot right now and I didn’t want to stress you out. Besides, I feel fine now, it’s not a big deal.”

It was a big deal, he could die. That’s what you wanted to tell him. His life was at stake and yet you were keeping this big secret from him. It was hypocritical and wrong and if anyone else had told you, you would’ve revealed to Peter about his worsening condition.

But it was your dad who told you to keep things a secret for now and you just had to trust him for both of your sakes.

You looked at him for a moment as you studied his face while he did the same to you. It was as if you both had so much on your mind yet no one wanted to be the first one to detonate the bomb.

“ I’m just so tired Peter. I’m tired of having conflicted feelings on whether or not this lovedust has been creating more problems than solving them… Whatever this is between us, I like it a lot but I hate feeling so pathetic to the point where I actually enjoy the feeling of having a guy give me attention only because of some space shit,” You turned your attention back to the steering wheel,” How do we carry on with our lives once you’re cured? What’s stopping you from being a complete asshole to me like before?”

“ I told you, nothing has to change. No matter what happens, we’ll always be in each other’s lives as friends or something more. I would never treat you the way I did in the past, I swear on my life.”

Peter could feel the energy in the car shift right as he finished speaking but there was nothing he could do to change the course of the conversation. The path had already been set and now, he just had to strap in and hope he could hang on.

“ How am I supposed to believe that? How do I know anything you’re saying is true? Everything this lovedust has been built on is a lie, you don’t love me Peter. It’s a fucking chemical reaction that is messing with your body,” You snapped loudly but Peter hardly flinched,” your mind and body has been corrupted by a parasite. You say you love me but if you take the lovedust away, you don’t. It’s that simple.”

“ Just because it’s a chemical reaction doesn’t mean that the way I’m feeling is a lie. I spend so many nights thinking about you and how happy you make me so for you to say that I don’t actually love you-”

“ Are you listening to yourself? You love me because of the dust, why is that so hard for you to understand? Love is supposed to be natural, this is not natural! If the way you’re feeling isn’t a lie, look me in the eye right now and tell me, did you love me before the lovedust?” You asked as you turned back to face him,” tell me the honest truth, did you love me?”

Peter felt like his body was burning up in the worst possible way and his throat felt dry as he thought carefully. It was so hard for him to see how terrible he was in the past because of the lovedust, all he could think when he saw you was just utter love.

You were visibly hurt, even if you were shouting at him he could read you like a book and there was something that he knew was there but he just couldn’t figure out what it was. It felt like some sort of test that Peter had to decipher; he didn’t have all of the pieces of the puzzle so how was he supposed to get the full picture?

“ I don’t...no. No I didn’t,” Peter said softly as you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding,” but that doesn’t mean I didn’t care about you.”

There it was, the million-dollar answer to the million-dollar question. Of course he didn’t love you, he had tormented you for years. Your dad’s “theory” was right, the lovedust didn’t matter if he had loved you beforehand. It could’ve been anyone.

So even if you might’ve known all along, why did it hurt and why were you upset?

“ Stop lying to me. You never cared about me, you loved humiliating me,” You said in a shaky breath,” you loved seeing me cry and you loved it when I got mad. I could see it all across your face, you loved making me absolutely miserable. So you can say you love me all you want now, but I know the truth. You don’t understand, this lovedust is ruining me, Peter. Do you know how painful it is to be tormented for years and all of a sudden, the same person is now in love with you just like that?”

“ Ruining you? You didn’t touch the damn thing! And you want to talk about pain-Do you know how painful it is to love you?” Peter shouted as he felt his voice crack,” If I’m not near you, I feel like I’m going to die but when I’m around you, my chest feels like it’s going to burst open and it’s painful. I’m in pain right when I wake up in the morning to right before I go to sleep everyday because the mere thought of you drives me insane-”

“ I didn’t ask for you to love me-”

“ I didn’t ask to love you either!” Peter shouted back louder, this time to make sure you would stop interrupting him,” My body feels weak all the time, I’m fucking falling apart because I love you so much. So don’t tell me that I’m lying about loving you because that’s all I feel when I look at you. Even when I’m pissed off I still love you but if you think for one second I’m going to sit here and let you attack me for my past that I have already apologized for, then I don’t want to hear it.”

Peter gave you one last look before getting out of your car and straight into the rain. Peter slammed the car door behind him so hard to where the door completely fell off the hinges but Peter was so angry that he kept walking away.

“ You fucking...ugh!” You screamed as you got out of your car and followed behind him.

You were completely livid, you both were being unfair but just because he was going through a different type of pain than you didn’t mean yours hurt any less.

You shouted after Peter but the rain was so loud to the point where you considered that maybe he just couldn’t hear you. You sped up your pace to the point where you almost slipped against the concrete.

“ You don’t get to tell me that I can’t be mad at the past Peter when it’s only been a week since you got infected!” You yelled as you grabbed Peter’s arm to stop him from walking away from you,” Just because you apologized doesn’t mean I can let it go so easily. For years, you made me feel like I would be alone for the rest of my life because no one would ever love me!”

Peter whipped his head back around to face you as you kept a strong grip around his wrist,“ And I’m telling you now that I love you and I was a fucking idiot for hurting you. Jesus Y/N I am sorry but we’ve had this conversation before so why are you mad at me?”

All you could focus on were his eyes, which were darting back and fourth across your face as if he was pleading with you. You had pushed him across the line so many times but now, Peter was pushing back because he just needed a clear answer.

You both were tired of yelling and fighting and in this moment, Peter was so close to tearing down the walls you had set up for years to keep yourself safe against him. It was eating away at you because deep down, you knew why you were mad at him, you just didn’t know if you could bring yourself to let it slip out of your mouth.

The rain sounded muffled and all you could think about was how cold you were feeling. You were somewhat forcing yourself to focus on anything other than Peter but you were trapped in his desperate gaze.

You felt your breath hitch as you could feel yourself getting choked up,” I’m mad...I’m mad because the way you feel about me right now, it’s fleeting... it’s temporary. One day when you’re cured, you’re going to stop loving me and that terrifies me.”

Peter squeezed your hand and you didn’t even realize that while you were talking, the grip you had around his wrist had moved to interlock your fingers with his. You could feel your chest tighten as you moved your eyes down to your hands and you slowly moved your gaze to meet Peter’s.

“ Why does it terrify you?” Peter asked softly and now it was your turn to plead with him using your eyes as if you were saying please don’t make me say it.

Maybe a part of Peter knew that you wouldn’t admit that maybe, there was something developing between the two of you that you just couldn’t bring yourself to admit. But Peter knew you well and even as he read you like a book, he wanted to hear it for himself.

“ I’m terrified because…” You almost said it as a whisper and even Peter was having a hard time hearing you because his heart was beating so loudly,” because I…”

You swallowed hard as you looked down at his lips and even if it was just for a second, Peter caught you staring. Peter felt his knees weaken and he was seconds away from just pulling you into his arms but it was your move.

Peter had given you all the power and while a part of him felt relieved, it didn’t stop him from reaching up and tucking a strand of wet hair behind your ear. This was the moment he had been waiting for.

He had given you all of the puzzle pieces you needed except he saved the last one just for you. He wanted you to put the last piece in so that way you two could step back together and admire all of the hard work you put into it.

You would’ve. You were going to let him know everything and unravel in his arms because finally, you could let go.

You wanted nothing more than to pick up that stupid puzzle piece and slam it into the puzzle to show him you were serious. You were going to let your walls crumble down and for once, you were going to be fearless.

But you just couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

“ I can’t,” You said softly as you let go of Peter’s hand and practically rushed back towards the building, leaving Peter alone in the rain.

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theimpossiblehologramtree · 3 years

Text

Making Queen members flower crowns would include

Pairing: Queen members x reader

Word count: (altogether) 1800+

Warnings: some sickening fluff, oh and swearing but that’s a standard, some slightly suggestive themes in john’s (implied sex) but nothing accually happens except a kiss

A/N: Hello you beautiful people! I’m back (don’t get used to that tho lol) I thought of this two years ago when i first saw Bohemian Rhapsody (SO 2 FUCKING YEARS AGO). Freddie’s is gender neutral. I tried to add a “keep reading” button but I’m not sure it works tbh because this hell of a side never cooperates.

Please keep in mind that English is not my first language.

🐝masterlist🐝

REQUEST IF YOU WANT MORE

☕buy me a Ko-fi!☕

Gifs aren’t mine. Credits to the owners.

Brian May

You were laying on Brian's lap, the sun hitting your face pleasantly. This week the weather was nice and warm, which was something extremely unusual in England, so the two of you decided to head out to the country and have a little picnic.

After what felt like hours spent in the car ("Brian, for Christ's sake, would you open the bloody window, I can't breathe!" and "Bri, I love you, but if we don't get there in five minutes, I'm going to murder you, I swear") you finally found a nice clearing, where you could relax and forget about the stresses of city life.

Brian put down a blanket on the grass, near a small stream that flew through the forest. He brought the bag with food and drinks (you didn't have a basket, so you had to improvise).

You quickly put some sunscreen on your face and laid down, keeping your head propped on Brian's lap. He put a hat over his face and fell asleep, his chest rising steadily.

After some time (that fucking wasp didn't let you sit in one place), you stood up and noticed many beautiful flowers, growing on a nearby bush. You got lost in picking up the most beautiful ones, admiring each one carefully. When you got enough, you sat back down and started tying the stems together.

Suddenly you got an idea. Careful not to wake him up, you began sticking the flowers in Brian's dark curls.

Your now decorated boyfriend woke up and stretched, not noticing the colourful addition to his hair. This made you chuckle softly, but you decided to see how long it would take him to realize.

+"What is it, babe? Do I have something on my face?"

"No, Bri, I just remembered a funny joke, that's all."

"Oh tell me, then."

"What’s the difference between a lawnmower and an electric guitar?"

"Hm?"

"You can tune a lawnmower!"

You both enjoyed the rest of the day swimming in the stream, sunbathing and eating the snack you brought. And Brian somehow still didn't notice.

Until it was time for you to get home.

You got in the car ("Open the window now, it's like in the oven in here!") and Brian looked into the rear-view mirror.

+"Hey, (Y/N), what the fuck is that? I love it."

Roger Taylor

So honestly it would probably happen during one of his concerts.

You were backstage watching the show, enjoying every second of it. Freddie was in the middle of shouting some (very inappropriate) compliments to Brian's ass, slapping his buttcheeks. The crowd immediately went wild hundreds of fans screamed in unison. You chuckled under your breath, flashing a white smile at your beloved boyfriend Roger and his bandmates. You felt an arm wrap around your shoulders. Surprised, you turned around, your eyes meeting Mary's.

+"What's up, kiddo?" she smirked and patted your back.

"Oh, nothing much. Just Freddie being Freddie," you replied, making both of you erupt with laughter.

Suddenly you felt a familiar feeling form in the pit of your stomach. Out of nowhere, your hands became shaky, your breath shallow and quick. Feeling like you need some fresh air, you excused yourself.

+"Are you sure you're okay, (Y/N)?" Mary watched you carefully, her hand supporting you in case you fainted.

"Yes, Mary, I just need some fresh air. I'm extremely tired, and I haven't eaten anything since this morning" you reassured your friend. "I'm just gonna sit outside for a while."

"Do you want me to come with you?" she asked, still not convinced about your well-being.

"Yes, I wouldn't want to spoil the gig for you. I'll be back before you know it" you squeezed her hand and, after promising her to be careful, you headed outside.

You took a walk alongside the small patch of lawn beside the exit. After taking a couple of deep breaths, you noticed some daisies grow in the green grass. Without thinking much, you sat down and started picking them up and tying their stems together.

Your fingers worked quickly, making a beautiful flower crown, mindlessly.

Meanwhile, on stage, the boys were singing She makes me - a song that reminded Roger of you. He quickly glanced to his right, expecting to see your beautiful figure standing with Mary. But, much to his surprise, he couldn't see you anywhere. It was no secret that his eyesight was shit but, bloody hell, it wasn't that bad. His blue eyes were searching for you, frantically.

When the song ended, he quickly motioned to Freddie to take a quick break, while he went to check up on you. He practically sprinted to Mary, almost knocking down his drumkit and John.

+"You dumb fuck, watch where you're going, Rog!"

Usually, Roger would reply with some snarky comment, but at that moment he really didn't care. When he reached Mary, he didn't even need to ask her about you.

+"She's outside. Needed some fresh air" the girl shooked her head towards the exit.

Roger quickly walked outside, knowing that he couldn't stall the audience for too long. But at the same time, he must have made sure you were all right.

He got out of the building and searched for you. He spotted to sitting on a small patch of grass, holding a pretty flower crown in your hands. His heart ached at this sight.

+"Hello, love" he whispered, kneeling next to you. "Are you all right?"

"Yes, I am, Rog" you kissed his cheek. "I just felt a bit off, that's all."

You felt your boyfriend press a kiss to your hair. You smiled at the feeling, leaning into his touch.

You finally placed the finished flower crown on his head, brushing away loose strands of sweaty hair from his face, your hand gently brushing his temple. He took your tiny hands in his and kissed your fingers.

+"Do you wanna go back in there, sweetheart?" he asked sweetly, looking deeply into your eyes.

You nodded and pecked his lips, "Of course, Rog, I wouldn't want to miss any more of your show."

He smiled and lead you inside, placing his hand on the small of your back. You returned to Mary and wished your boyfriend good luck.

Roger kept the flowers on his head throughout the whole gig, sending you a dashing smile and winking at you every now and again.

I just think Roger would look sososo pretty in a flower crown.

John Deacon

It was a lovely afternoon in London. You and your fiancé John decided to take a walk after the whole day in the studio, recording songs.

Taking a walk in a nearby park was a great way to destress and release the tension accumulated during the day. It was something John realized pretty early on in your relationship and took full advantage of it. He loved wandering along the pebbled pathways that swirled around beautiful trees and bushes full of colourful flowers. Being in the presence of nature made him feel at ease and helped him relax.

But the real reason why he enjoyed your walks so much was you. He adored seeing your face light up with joy when you saw a squirrel run up a branch of an old oak or when you spotted a particularly beautiful fish in the small pond. He could watch you pick up fallen leaves for ages and hear you talk to little kids in a playground, showing them the shiny rocks you collected along the way.

To be honest, he always dreamt about starting a family with you and seeing you get along with kids so well only increased that desire.

Often after a walk, he was in the mood™, which, considering his shy nature, always took you by surprise.

Oh man, he just loved taking a walk in the park.

And today was no different.

You were walking hand in hand, admiring the blossoming flowers. Occasionally, you would stop and pick them up, making a small bouquet in the process. White daisies, pink clovers and blue forget-me-nots accumulated with every step you took.

John was telling you about the new idea he had for a song, kissing your cheek every now and again.

Listening to him, you started to fiddle with the flowers, tying them in knots. After a while ("And then, I think, we could include a gong, you know?") you were done with your creation.

You put the flowers on John's head and kissed his temple.

+"What's that, darling?" he asked you, surprised.

"Nothing, but I think you look sensational, my love" you replied, smiling innocently.

You felt John's hand bring you closer to him. He kissed you, entangling his long and incredibly skilled fingers in your hair. The kiss soon turned into more heated one.

+"I'll show you how sensational I really am, pretty girl."

Freddie Mercury

So with Freddie, it was probably at one of his parties.

He invited you along to have a drink with him and his bandmates.

You usually weren't the one for big and loud parties, but he kept asking you and you gave in.

+"Oh okay, Fred, I'll do it," you said after the twentieth time he had asked you.

"Fantastic, (Y/N)!" he exclaimed, loudly clapping his hands. "Just remember to wear a costume."

But you didn't really want to dress up in fancy dresses or costumes from different eras. Calling Mary, you asked her for advice and she told you to just wear some accessories.

So before the party, you went to a small flower shop and bought a small bouquet of purple lilacs. At home, you made a flower crown, hoping that dressing up as a nymph would be enough.

When you got to Freddie's house, you were greeted by a crowd of people in colourful skirts and suits with fashionable patterns. That's when you found Freddie, Roger, Brian and John, chilling on a couch with their dates.

+"Oh, (Y/N), you look marvellous, darling!" exclaimed Freddie dressed as a king, while he stood up to embrace you in a warm hug.

"Thank you, Fred, I made it myself" you smiled shyly.

You got some champagne and joined the conversation.

Suddenly, you felt a pat on your shoulder, and, when you turned around, you saw Freddie holding out a hand to you, asking you to dance with him. You gladly accepted and got up.

+"I really meant it, darling. You do look marvellous tonight" he whispered in your ear.

"Thank you, Freddie, you can have it if you'd like" you sent him a warm smile.

You took off his golden crown and set it aside. Gently taking off the flower crown from your head, you placed it on top of Fred's. He beamed at you and put his own crown on top of your head.

+"Now you rule here, darling."

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himbeaux-on-ice · 3 years

Note

Who are your top five NHL teams and why?

Ooooo this is fun! Thanks anon!

Short list:

Habs ❤️🤍💙

Pens 🐧

Canucks 🌈🌊

Caps 🦅

Leafs 🟦🍁🟦 (no really! I know I don’t talk about them much but its true!)

Over-wordy explanations/backstory for my relationship to each of these teams below the cut for those interested!

Montreal Canadiens. My dearly beloved Nana, who half-raised me, is a lifelong diehard Habs fan who grew up listening to their games on the radio and then later as an adult watching them duel with the Leafs on Saturday nights on a black-and-white tv (also a BIG Carey Price stan). Needless to say she rubbed off on me immensely, and I remember saying to myself at some point “well, if that’s Nana’s team, that’s gonna be my team too” and it stuck for life. I also had a friend in middle school who was a RELIGIOUS Habs fan who also worshipped at the altar of Jesus Price in those early 2010’s, so I heard a LOT about all of that every lunch break as he argued with friends who were Pens and Bruins fans lol. We went on the Bell Centre tour during the annual 9th grade French class trip to Quebec, and while I was mostly focused on getting to the gift shop to buy Nana a souvenir, I swear my friend’s eyes were the size of quarters the whole time lmao. (Would LOVE to go back now that I care a lot). Basically the Habs are the closest thing to a local NHL team our region has bc we get their broadcasts (though people choose their own team allegiances for various random personal reasons), and I grew up absorbing through osmosis both the legends of yore and the latest updates on whatever Carey and PK and the lads were up to. (Also I’ve been quietly in love with Price myself since at least the 2014 Olympics lol. My first best fav ❤️) Bottom line the Habs are My Team, the “I’m gonna be here even when it sucks, even when players move on, this is attached to me in a way I can’t quite explain” team that every hockey fan has in their heart. GO HABS GO!

Pittsburgh Penguins. If you were an elementary school kid in Nova Scotia when Sidney Crosby was first released and up through the 2010’s, you had two options: love him, or hate him, but you better accept you’re gonna be hearing about him a LOT. I settled on “vague fondness” and followed Sid from a newspaper-scanning distance and vaguely rooted for him because when he brought the Cup home it felt like we all won. And like I said, lots of passionate Pens fans in my grade school classes to hear from (he’s also the only non-Habs player my Nana likes lol). Then I got into hockey properly last year and learned about Geno beyond just knowing his name, and my chronic affection for large loveable Russians got combined with my longstanding vague “I hope the Penguins win” feelings and my “time to get the full story on the Sidney Crosby’s Penguins narrative I only ever watched from a distance” research, in a manner not unlike the creation of the PowerPuff Girls ([chemical X] etc etc lol) to create a potent adoration for this team that rocketed them to second place in my heart. Also the fandom is just so damn fun and makes such great content, and that definitely feeds my level of engagement with the Pens!! Sometimes, when I want an emotional pick-me-up I watch one of their last 3 championship films just to remember what joy and optimism is — I would love to be present as a real-time fan for another adventure like that. With how much I know about them and how much I care, they’re my #2 for sure. I love those flightless fucks!!

Vancouver Canucks. So I started watching live NHL hockey games last summer around I think game 2 of the Habs’ first round series against the Flyers (I saw Price’s “Miracle Save” on twitter while following along bc I was intrigued by the fact that they made it through the play-ins, and was like “OKAY NOW I GOTTA SEE THIS SHIT LIVE”). That was really fun! Riiiight up until the Habs got eliminated. :/ And I was like “well, shit. I’m enjoying this hockey thing too much to stop now. who else is still around I can root for?” And the Canucks were the last Canadian team still in it, and there was buzz about their miraculous first-round win but also uncertainty I believe Markstrom had *just* got injured. So I started watching, ended up witnessing the Bubble Demko Miracle unfold live, had my heart charmed off me by “whatever the hell those two lil blonde bitches have going on” and a delightful underdog story, and here I am. Hitched to the Canuck wagon whether I enjoy it or not. Here for whatever happens! (Doesn’t hurt that I love me some Elton John too 😉)

Washington Capitals. I’m a person who is more likely to be really engaged with a team that has super interesting personalities, characters, and narratives around it — and my GOD are the Capitals good for that. I absolutely definitely started down this road with that mic’d up video from the 2018 final of Ovi telling Nicke “after me, I give it to you baby!” re: the Cup. Like I can pinpoint that there was a day I saw that for the first time in a gifset, squinted at the screen, said “you’re fucking with me...”, went to youtube, watched it be for reals, and was like “well. now I need to know more about ALL this.” After watching games and learning more about the team, I really enjoy the Caps’ “big dumb found family of stone-cold total weirdos” energy, their fun collective chemistry, their Cup story, etc. And oh BOY the fandom is fun during game lb’s! I love all the in-jokes and player nicknames, our delight with the quirks of our colourful wonderful broadcast crew (shoutout Wine Uncles & Co), the way we cheer for record-breaking milestones like they’re a first NHL goal! Being a fan of the Caps AND the Pens can be a bit awkward sometimes, and the team certainly has its blemishes, but my heart is big enough for two Metro teams for sure, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Toronto Maple Leafs. So like, as you can imagine from my previously described upbringing in Hab Land, “haha Leafs suck” is a punchline I have long been familiar with and trained to recite. I got a solid 3 days of laughter and entertainment out of the whole Zamboni Driver Saga last February, oh boy did I ever. But the thing is.... I have the Leafs to thank for the fact that I watch hockey now. See, the entire reason I started paying proper attention to the playoff bubble last summer was because one day, I happened to see the phrase “WHAT IS HAPPENING” trending at 16k tweets on twitter, and clicked on it like “huh?”. Turns out the Leafs were in the middle of their miraculous 3-minute comeback against Columbus and the country was losing its mind. And when they won, I was like “huh... the Zamboni Team is doing THIS??? I may have to start paying attention to this playoffs thing, because if they go All The Way I think that might be the only thing funnier than the Zamboni Incident”. Aaaaand when they immediately lost the next game and were eliminated I was like “lol, sounds about right” and was then immediately distracted by news of the Habs winning the play-in round. So then I spent several months watching playoffs and forgetting about the Leafs. And then one day in early October, looking on YouTube for more hockey to watch after the playoffs ended, I stumbled across something called a Hat Pick, and boy I actually enjoyed this shouty man’s sense of humour and takes on the game... and then when I ran out of Hat Picks and Dangits I watched some Trade Trees, which pulled back the curtain on the business side of the game... and then I discovered LFR’s, which were good background noise for doing tasks... and then I was recommended the episode of the Steve Dangle Podcast about Mitch Marner and The List... and next thing I knew I was listening to more of this podcast, because I found Steve and the guys to be insightful and funny and there was no hockey to watch, and I was trepidatious about accidentally stumbling into the more toxic corners of hockey fandom if I branched out for other content... and, well. If you spend enough hours listening to people passionately analyze every facet of a team, shout and cheer over a team, make fun of that team, nearly cry over that team... it’s really REALLY hard to not start to care about it. Leafs analysis was basically how I learned most of what I’ve learned about hockey this past year! And kudos to Steve and Adam and Jesse, their passionate investment in the Leafs and great content has got ME invested in the Leafs mainly because I want to see things go well for them. I want Charlie Brown to kick the football! I love a triumph over adversity story! Also, I think if the Leafs did Do The Thing it would basically be the combination of “Cubs win the World Series” and “Raptors are the champs” and I wanna watch the city of Toronto go fully apeshit from a safe distance. I don’t adore many their individual players as much as I do some other teams higher on this list, and I still laugh far too much when things go super comically impossibly badly for them, but I am actually pulling for the Leafs!! I want to see it all pay off for them. I want them to go all the way. Gimme that “LEAFS WIN!!!” (Unless it’s against someone above them on this list lol)

#if u get the joke in the Canucks emojis bless u #long post #asks #anon #actually I would root Leafs in a TOR vs WSH playoff series but it would break my heart to do so lol #Washington has a Cup already ya know?

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daintykeith · 3 years

Text

RUN KID RUN

Title: Run Kid Run

Summary: Dutch and Hosea are trying to teach John how to read but he runs off after they got frustrated and Arthur goes deep into the woods looking for John.

Word count: 2298

Notes: mild cursing | brief scene despicting an almost hanging | feedback is appreciated!!!

Tags: @onlytherocksliveforever

Happy late Christmas and Happy new year! I’m sorry I’m so late, this took me forever; I’ve been giving it a long thought and decided to comply to your second item in your wish list!

2) i love DUMB ASS John Marston and his better looking brother Arthur; give me a slice of life with the two of them pre-canon, or a story about them helping the other thru a tough time.

I’ve decided to combine both ideas and so this story came to be.

When Arthur was twenty-three, he saw a boy—dirty, savage and with a look in his eyes that had given up on living. This boy was with a rope in his neck, ready to be hanged. Dark gray with no reflection but death itself; no tears, no regret. Dead Eyes that held onto dear life with a fierceness reflected in his fists.

Next to the boy, an unnamed man spoke words of dead wisdom and nonsense which to the eyes of Arthur was meaningless.

“We have come to see the of law enacted. We will not sit idly by as people take the law into their own hands!”

Heavy kind of bullshit that Arthur didn’t enjoy a bit.

The crowd of the town roared loudly in excitement and agreement. For them, it was only entertainment, a show that made Arthur’s gut churn with anger. He tilted his hat lower and turned around, ready to move on. However, Dutch’s hand landed on his shoulder and stopped him.

“He looks like you did, a while ago,” Dutch said with a smirk before the gun in his hip shot the rope on the boy’s neck.

“He doesn’t.”

The boy’s shine returned in a glimpse that Arthur caught with both his eyes and heart. A will to fight and survive, to get the hell out of the mess that was about to start.

“What the hell Dutch?!”

“He was not meant to. Not yet.”

A sense of relief in his chest appeared with a long deep breath. He was glad for the boy that had gotten a chance to live, what was Dutch and Hosea thinking when they brought him into camp?

Arthur got wounded in the dirty fight they had in town for freeing the boy and he was resting in his tent, with Susan on his side cleaning his injuries. When Dutch and Hosea walked in, he asked: “What took ya’ so long?” with a warm grin that quickly faded into disbelief.

The boy stood between the two men, pouting his lips, frowning and crossing his arms as means to make himself more intimidating. The way Dutch smiled, looked and treated him with his gentle gestures and Hosea had given his jacket to protect him from the chilling breeze of that night was so familiar to Arthur; he had been in that place after all. What was that boy doing in camp? Similar to himself in the past, why did they needed to bring someone as intense and dumb as him? Wasn’t one dumb enough? He wondered.

“What’s your name, kid?” Arthur asked after he noticed Dutch’s gaze on him.

The boy stood silent.

“Come on boy, tell him.” Dutch crouched to his side and whispered words to him that Arthur wasn’t able to hear.

He remained silent.

When Arthur was twenty-four, he met the boy. A month had passed from his rescue and Arthur’s birthday quickly arrived with the cold and mean air of winter. There was no snow landscape yet, the skies had become dark and gray like the boy’s eyes and the fallen leaves

“John Marston,” the boy said with a mean streak that left Arthur with a bad taste in his tongue.

“Arthur Morgan.” He extended his hand to greet but John had already abandoned and left him with the words unsaid in his lips.

Arthur sighed and placed his hands on his gun belt; he could see John’s silhouette far away, hiding somewhere where he thought no one could see him, and grinned. A part of him still refused to acknowledge John, prouder than a bull and wilder than a cougar in a midnight sky, and another part of him found itself in that boy who slept with a knife under his pillow.

“John, come here!” Dutch called the next morning.

Arthur was laying in comfortably in his bed, with his worn-out leather hat covering his eyes, thinking about what to draw in his journal. A bird? A flower? An herb? His imagination was as dull as dishwater and his brain couldn’t tell skunks from house cats. Boredom was partly guilty of the dullness, too.

“John, come on.” From his closed tent, Arthur saw how Hosea’s figure grabbed John’s arm and took him somewhere beyond the reach of their shadow. A loud growl, from the boy, echoed through the whole camp that Arthur scoff. The boy was that stubborn?

The blue-eyed man closed his journal, stood up from his bed and walked out of his tent to do the chores of the day. As he chopped wood, he could see Dutch and Hosea, with John between them, sitting together in one of the round tables near the food station with a book in hand. This was going to be fun to see, Arthur thought.

“Okay, let’s try this again,” Dutch said firmly. “Read this part here.”

“No,” John scowled.

“Why not? It’s not that hard if you try. Here. The king in his…” Hosea slowly talked

John went silent.

“Boy,” Dutch lowly growled.

Arthur swung his axe over the log and splat it in half. When he was putting the wood aside, he peeked at John. The boy had his arms crossed, frowning and giving the book in the table a deadly gaze. Did he hate reading that much? Arthur laughed to himself and got caught by Hosea who looked at him with disapproval. Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. He tried to slowly walk away, feigning ignorance, but the older man approached quicker than he predicted and grabbed him by the shoulder.

“Arthur.” Hosea squeezed hard the shoulder blade and grinned in a way that created grimace in Arthur’s expression, “wanna’ join us? I thought I could show you the new book I got!”

Arthur grunted.

Just great. He knew Hosea’s way of scolding Arthur and thinking about it annoyed him, however, he didn’t expect to see Dutch vexed, red-faced and squeezing the book with both his hands, yelling to John.

On the other hand, Hosea was perplexed. He dragged his hands over his now tired face and sighed.

“He wasn’t this troublesome!” Dutch said to Hosea, referring obviously to Arthur.

Something in that statement made Arthur chest puff in pride. Oh boy, he really liked that. Even if he refused to acknowledge this feeling to everyone else, he liked it when Dutch or Hosea praised him.

Arthur remembered the days when Dutch and Hosea were teaching him to read. Hot summer days, mosquitoes everywhere and that smell he couldn’t forget, berries and lemon, which brought his mind ten years back, when he was a thin, small and young boy. He grinned to the loveable thought and looked at Dutch fighting with John.

“Dutch, what’re ya doin’!? Don’t ya’ grab him like that and rub his head!”

“I know he can do it, but he’s not even trying!”

Something Arthur knew is that Dutch would take as “true” whatever he assumed; and hardly took back his words—standing for what he believed, a true blessing for the wise and a curse for the ignorant. Later on, Arthur didn’t know which of those Dutch was. A true mystery until the very end.

“Dutch, calm down, you’re gonna scare ‘im…”

“But I know he can—"

“Shut up, you pair of dimwits!” Susan yelled from afar as she sewed one of Arthur’s shirt.

And before any of them could say any further word, John slammed his hands against the table and ran away into the woods that surrounded the camp.

“Get back here, boy!”

What a mess. When Arthur saw no signs of Dutch calming down or Hosea backing down, he decided to look out for the now goner.

“John! Where are ya’!?” Arthur yelled as he stomped over some broken sticks. Definitively John.

“Ya’ damn bastard, dontchu’ ever get tired?” he whispered to himself, wondering as he furrowed his brows and rushed his pace.

As he walked deeper into the woods, the stars that normally would be faded under sunlight, had come out without any shame, telling Arthur to hurry. The breeze got colder and the sky darker and even if he found clues of where he could have gone to, the boy sure knew how to keep out of sight. He was going nuts; what the hell was the kid running from?! He had nothing to run from and nowhere to go, what was he thinking?

“John!” He called once more before he heard a gasp to his side.

The moment he turned his head, he saw a terrified boy who had fallen into the ground. Unlike the first time he saw him, fierceness shone in his eyes despite of the fear that his thin body could not hide—however, that didn’t mean it wasn’t agile. He quickly got up into his feet and started running towards the glowing moon.

“Oh no, you ain’t!”

He could hear John’s broken breathing and how he gasped for the air he didn’t have; it broke Arthur’s heart.

“Watchu’ running from, kid?!”

Arthur got closer with every step he took and grabbed without any restrains John’s wrist to stop him, quite brusque for his liking but there was nothing he could do. Those iron eyes gazed at him with the loathe and anger he deserved which left a sour flavor in his mouth. John struggled to free himself from Arthur’s grip but it only got stronger.

“Lemme ask you again, kid. Watchu’ running from?”

John struggled again and Arthur grabbed his other wrist. He took a deep breathe and closed his eyes for a moment. Was it this hard for everyone else to deal with him? Being a kid in the streets wasn’t easy, it roughens you up in a way that shatters what you truly are, breaking and eventually rotting every corner in your mind. But he was no kid in the streets no more, he could finally begin living and not just survive.

“He wanted to kill me,” John replied in a quick low whisper.

Arthur raised a brow. “Dutch was shootin’ his mouth off and by now Hosea and Susan must have given ‘im a black eye for that.” He tried to sound reassuring.

“Let go!” John fought with all his strengths to free himself; Arthur tightened his grip.

“Listen to me, kid. You got nothing to run from; here you got a bed, food and people who want ya’—”

“Dead…” John interrupted.

“Let me finish! Goddamit—as I was saying. None of ‘em want ya’ to be a goner.”

“How can I trust you? They all said I was an idiot, useless. They all hate me and they’ll kill me. It’s better if I’m gone.”

“We’re family.” Arthur meant it. He had found a part of himself in the little black-haired boy that wanted to keep running; running to never look back, from all the things he didn’t deserve.

“We ain’t.”

“Listen to me you little piece of…! You became part of us the very moment Dutch cut that rope on your neck and brought you into the camp.”

“Still; that doesn’t mean I can trust you guys. You’re outlaws.”

John wasn’t buying a single bit of what Arthur was saying. Shit. At this rate he was gonna run off by himself and God knows what would happen to him.

“They took me in when I was your age.” John’s eyes widened in curiosity; “I… well, my momma died when I was real young and my daddy… let’s say I wish he did too. They taught me how to read and Hosea taught me how to draw.”

Despite of the nervousness inside him, Arthur took the journal out of his satchel and gave it to John without letting go of one of his wrists. He eagerly flipped through the pages and stopped to look at some of the drawings it contained; some of the graphite stuck into his fingers, but it didn’t stop him from eyeing with detail each illustration.

“Why didn’t ya’ read? Back then, when Dutch and Hosea asked you to.”

There was a long pregnant pause. “I did—read it, I mean. I, uh, wasn’t sure to er, say it out loud.”

“Really?” Arthur smiled from ear to ear. “See? You’re smart, John! Ya’ ain’t that bad, there’s potential.”

John blushed at Arthur’s praise and kept looking at the drawings until he reached the last one, that page that had remained blank for the whole day.

“They are family to me. Family is everything; I’d die for it.” His voice didn’t shake even once.

John closed the journal and gave Arthur a gaze full of admiration that Arthur wasn’t worthy of. He could be one nasty son-of-a-bitch, rash to anger and emotions; unfamiliar to giving inspirational speeches like Dutch would do or smooth-talking like Hosea the Conman.

“And I will…” he stuttered, “I, uh…”

“You what.”

“I won’t let them kill ya’; just in case.”

A mischievous grin appeared in John’s face. “That won’t stop me tho.”

Arthur had let his guard down. John escaped from his grip and started to run the fastest he could. Where the hell was he going to and, most importantly, where the heck had he gotten all that damn energy from?

“Cuz’ I’ll kill ya’ myself, you little piece of shit!”

“Thank you, brother” John screamed in the distance.

“You ain’t got the right to be my brother!” Yet, he wanted to say but kept it to himself.

That day, when Arthur was twenty-four, his family grew by one member. Even if mocked him every now and then and behaved like assholes, it was the most important thing to Arthur. It was everything he had—not like money or gold; those two could go straight to hell unless Dutch and Hosea gave the word.

#rdr secret santa 2020 #john marston #arthur morgan #red dead redemption 2 #pre-canon #fanfic #gift #secret santa #gifts #rdr2 #rdr2 fanfic #Hosea Matthews #dutch van der linde

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revchainsaw · 3 years

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Bumblebee (2018)

Good Evening worshippers, and welcome! Today the Cult of Cult goes a little more mainstream than usual. It's been a while since i've tackled a big Hollywood superhero film. But I do believe that these sorts of films will be remembered fondly my small groups of people in the future, especially the smaller films that are being overshadowed by the big bad MCU, films like 2018s Bumblebee.

The Messsage

Bumblebee was originally released as a prequel to the Transformers franchise that had started all the way back in 2007. However, reboots had really hit the market as a way to breath new life into struggling franchises, and the Transformers series had already gone to just about every absurd extreme you could imagine. No changes were made to the movie as it was released, but with it's more childish and heartfelt tone, and a new aesthetic that was softer, smoother, and all around just generally more pleasing to the eye, I think it was a wise choice to rebrand Bumblebee as a new beginning.

Our story is of two friends from two very different worlds and how they came together. Our first character is Bumblebee, then known as B- number sign/it doesn't really matter. Not yet Bumblebee is a soldier set with securing a safe location for the Autobots to regroup and make their home as they suffer a pretty serious defeat on cybertron at the hands of the tyrannical Decepticons. Optimus Prime, here again voiced by Peter Cullen and looking so much more like himself, assigns this task to Bumblebee promising him that they will meet him there when the time comes. Then Optimus fucks off for the rest of the run time making way for our little hero.

Bumblebee lands on Earth and is immediately set upon by John Cena and his military goon squad. It probably would have been wise for Bumblebee to avoid John Cena but in his defense, he couldn't see him. Hardy har har. In his attempt to flee his voice box is damaged, he seeks sanctuary by taking the form of a run down little VW bug, and suffers from amnesia.

Then we have Charlie. Charlie is not like other girls. She likes cars, all the retro music, which wasn't retro when the movie takes place, so I'm supposed to just think she's a rocker but it kinda seems like she'll listen to just about anything. I think in 2018 liking Motorhead and The Smiths (who are used ad nauseum in this movie) is perfectly common, but I feel like in the 80s that was a much different and much older attitude to take.

Anyway Charlie's poor family lives in a super fucking nice house and are poor because the dialogue keeps insisting they are so it must be true despite all the shit they have that actually poor people would sell blood and teeth to attain, but hell, this is Hollywood and Hollywood poor is like regular people upper middle class. Charlies family is so poor that instead of giving her a one time graduation/birthday present to buy a part for a car she already has, they just give her a moped, She also spends all her time at a pull apart where the manager (who might be her uncle that wasn't super clear) is willing to just give her a Volkswagen so I don't understand why she didn't already have the project car up and running. Whatever, it's a plot contrivance. All you need to know is that Charlie is tenacious and hard around the edges cuz her dad is dead and she's not yet mature enough to process that in a healthy way. Maybe her character arch will teach her to let others in, we'll have to find out.

There's also a wacky nerd named Memo, and some bad guys, and John Cena. They are all also pretty archetypal and contrived and don't really do anything of note that isn't just filling a beat that this kind of movie needs to walk. Charlie starts Bumblebee up, discovers he's a robot and the two begin to bond. Charlie learns to make a friend, and bumblebee is learning about himself. They get into hijinks and get revenge on a bully girl who makes Regina George look like a saint, she pretty much only picks on Charlie exclusively for having a dead dad.

The moment Bumblebee is woken back up, some technology goof em up that both he and Charlie are unaware of brings two Decepticon baddies into the picture. I don't remember their names, but since I love The Venture Brothers let's say they can be "Jet Boy and Jet Girl". Jet Boy and Jet Girl are sometimes cars, sometimes various flying military vehicles, and they make friends with the deep state and plan to get all the adrenochrome from all the orphans, or just to go find Bumblebee and beat his ass good cuz their bad guys. Let me tell y'all though, Jet Boy and Jet Girl are so bad that they don't even care that the government is listening when they reveal that they are planning on bringing a Decepticon Invasion and after they rough up Bumblebee real good they are going to destroy all life on this planet. So they start by killing a military scientist.

John Cena is after Bumblebee and he's homies with Jet Boy and Jet Girl until the military scientist butt dials him and he hears the evil plan. John Cena goes from heel to face and helps Bumblebee and Charlie save the day. It's a giant CG clusterfuck climax a la any superhero film in the last 10 years and I basically stopped watching. BumbleBee pulls a Hellraiser on Jet Boy, and then he hits Jet Girl with a freaking boat. Charlie uses her diving skills do dive down and save him, but he's a Giant Robot and he was okay and it was literally pointless for her to to except as a way to show that her character has completed her arch by doing the thing that was representative of her connection with her lost father.

Bumblebee turns into the Camaro from the first movie, meets up with Optimus prime, and the stage is set for this prequel to squeeze more prequels out. So it wasn't very creative, but was it bad? Let's find out.

Please Stand to receive the Benediction.

Best Aspect: Transform the Franchise

Bumblebee was directed by Travis Knight of Laika fame and it shows. This movie marks a stylistic change in the transformers franchise, as in it doesn't look like utter dog shit, but it also represents in many ways a tonal shift. It does hold on to a lot of gross sleaze that has unfortunately been forcibly jammed into the DNA of the franchise but it also attempts to be a more heartfelt entry. The characters of Bumblebee might all be sort of a waste of time, but at least they are doing something with emotions, even if the emotions of the characters are only explored as deeply as a children's cartoon I'm glad they are there. In the previous installments the only thing the characters did between running from action piece to seizure inducing action piece was drool over underage girls like a bunch of chimpanzees at the facility where they test experimental E.D. meds. It was nice to see that at least somewhat tampered. This transformers movie feels more like it's for kids and young teenagers, and strangely that more friendly tone makes for a much less juvenile product.

Worst Aspect: Remember I Love the 80s from the 2000s

I hope you really like Stranger Things. I do, but because Stranger Things was so successful it' s going to be everywhere. Not true Stranger Things just 80s nostalgia porn. This 80s nostalgia is going to be forced on you whether you like it or not, and it's not going to be fun. It's gonna be in your shows, in your music, in your Sunday like Bacon in 2010. It's that or Marvel Franchise Brand Whedonisms. Bumblebee is that brave movie that says, "Why not both?" It would seem fitting that a property as quintessentially 80s as Transformers should feel completely comfortable doing a period piece set in the 80's but it's so fucking half hearted it's depressing. It wasn't done to appreciate the roots of the IP, it was done to cash in on a trend and it feels it. All they did was throw up a date and insufferably force an 80s soundtrack down your throat as if that was enough to convince you that this movie needed to be set during this time. Other than that you could have told me this film was set in 2007 and I couldn't tell you any different.

Best Character: Charlie's an Angel

I liked Charlie. Sure her Arc is predictable, her taste is dumb, and she isn't exactly a master of her own destiny to any degree. But at least she is a woman in a transformers movie who's got something going on. Sure she's defined entirely by grief, but that sure is better than pretending that being able to work on cars is a feminist character trait instead of a weird fetish thing. They certainly do that thing with Charlie, but at least it's not the only thing they throw at the wall. Bumblebee is by no means out of the woods in this department, but it garners a lot of goodwill for trying. Like a racist uncle who just started his journey out of ignorance, but hasn't yet realized he has to stop asking mortifying questions to the barista at Starbucks. Okay, maybe that's an extreme metaphor. I'm saying that perhaps Charlie is not a great character but she's a great character for a Transfomers movie.

Worst Character: It's JOOOOHHHNNNN CEEEENA!!!!

Why is John Cena in this movie? I don't hate the guy, but his character seems pointless. You could remove him from the movie completely and replace him with any one of the random military goons at any point and it changes nothing. What was with that dumb salute at the end? It seems like they put him in this movie in post and it was just to pump up cast list. I wish he was given anything to work with. I can't remember his characters name, and it's not like John Cena did a bad job, I was just annoyed every time they kept giving him hero shots. I felt like I was watching a trailer for a different movie.

Best Actor: Optimal Primo!

Every time Peter Cullen speaks I want to listen. There's a reason they haven't had Chris Pratt or somebody with a bigger name come in and take over the role at this point. He's why the audience keep coming back. Peter Cullen IS Optimus Prime, and there's no changing that. He also wins twice. He's the best actor in the movie AND he's barely in the movie. Good call Peter.

Worst Actor: Mean Girls 2, Meaner and Girlier

I don't want to be cruel so I'm not going to go into to much detail, but there's an actress in this film who's performance is so mustache twirlingly evil and stupid that it ruined my suspension of disbelief when i knew going in that i was about to endure a 2 hour toy commercial about robots that turn into cars. Beldar Conehead was a more convincing human being than Tina.

Best Effect: Goo Be Gone

I really appreciated when the bad guys shot the government nerd into a blast of snot. That was pretty fun for me. Best part of the movie hands down.

Worst Effect: Live Action?

Bumblebee is a cartoon. It's a great looking cartoon but it doesn't sell itself that way. If we were doing a Roger Rabbit thing I'd have no gripes. However, I think CG is just getting worse. I'm criticizing this and it's still lightyears better than the previous entry's on the franchise. No transformation or fight sequence in Bumble Bee had me straining to make sense of what I was looking at. I think it was a great idea to start using some basic shapes and outlines to these characters, and return somewhat to their 80s designs. But at certain points, especially when there were no humans in the shot, i was pretty convinced I was watching Clone Wars. There may not be anyway around this, as the Transformers concept might not be able to be pulled off in any more effective manner. It's a minor gripe, but I just didn't think it looked like anything other than a very expensive cartoon, and in this franchise that's a compliment, because it least it looked like SOMETHING!

Best Scene: Space Opera

I am not a Transformers fan. I missed the boat on the cartoon as a kid. I would sometimes catch it at friends houses but I was more into Batman, Star Wars, and Ninja Turtles. By the time I came onto the scene the world had moved on to Beast Wars. I did one day arbitrarily decide that my favorite Transformer was Sound Wave. He looked great in this. I am a big fan of the return to form with a lot of the character designs in this. They really did keep the things that worked from the other adaptations, and they are steadily removing the things that didn't. For this reason, the scenes on Cybertron, particularly the battle with Soundwave (i prefer for personal reasons) looked great and were exciting to watch. I remember thinking Cybertron used to look like a Marilyn Manson shot a music video from inside to dumpster. This is so much better.

Worst Scene: Blocking the Box

There's a scene in Bumblebee where Charlie's family decides the best way to save their daughter was to cause a pile up of vehicles in an intersection, and it's pure contrived writing that saved any character in that sequence from being killed in a horrific traffic accident. It was stupid, played for laughs, and it wasn't exciting as much as it was anxiety inducing. I also thought that there was no reason the covert military group covering up extraterrestrial life wouldn't just disappear this family of fucking morons in their little piece of shit car. The logic of the scene was just so childish like, "No they won't hit me, I'm a good person."

Summary

Bumblebee may be remembered fondly in a decade. I think especially if the Transformers franchise were to end here. It didn't get the publicity of the other films, and that really is a shame. For my money, this was the best Transformers movie so far. I was very tempted to give Bumblebee a C, it does just enough to right what was wrong from the other movies to make me appreciate all that work. This movie has heart, and if you are at all into Transformers then l think you should see it. It's still pretty stupid, and pretty basic. It's not offering anything new to the genre, and it feels like a commercial for more movies. I really wish we could just get movies that want to tell a story. I thought it over and decided that it wasn't fair not to grade Bumblebee on it's own merits. Bumblebee is substantially better than the films that preceded it, but that's not saying a lot, when the films that preceded it are joyless exercises in self abuse.

Overall Grade: D

#Transformers #Bumblebee #Optimus Prime #Action #Adventure #Car #Super Hero #Robot #Scifi #Grade D #D #Grade: D #2018 #2010s #(D)

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deansmom · 3 years

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(ao3) dean/omc, character study, dean with tattoos, etc etc. expanded part of this.

Sonny was always more forgiving than John, about a lot of things. One thing that Dean was always grateful for, was that he felt that it was important for them to be able to be, y’know… kids.

So, Dean’s sixteen standing in the basement of some kid’s house from school, with a red solo cup in his hands. Robin’s here, somewhere, but he doesn’t know where she went. It doesn’t matter, they’re not together or anything, but he just – he thinks he likes her.

Maybe loves her?

Dean takes a sip of his beer and looks around the basement, feeling woefully out of place and also, absurdly excited to be here. He’s never been able to go to a party before.

Kyle – Kevin, maybe? – the kid who’s throwing the party, is yammering on in Dean’s ear and he tuned him out a while ago.

He feels his head bobbing along to the music without his permission and if Dean really focuses, he recognizes the voice singing. He’s heard her on the radio before in the Impala, but John never left it on for long.

Dean smiles to himself as the song changes, and this time it’s one he recognizes.

John would probably disown him and have a few choice words if he knew, but damn, he’s a teenager in the 90’s, of course he likes hip hop.

I love it when you call me Big Poppa.

“…Anyways, my brother comes home and he’s got this tattoo gun –“

Dean’s brain catches that last part of whatever this kid is saying (he’s really gotta remember his name) and it makes a lightbulb go off in his head. Huh.

“Hey,” Dean turns completely, so he’s facing the kid. “Does your brother actually tattoo?”

Kevin (Kyle? Ken?) grins, cross-faded beyond comprehension, “Hell yeah bro, he’s pretty good too.”

Some kid on the other side of the room yells before dive bombing off of the bar and the whole room erupts into loud, celebratory screams. It’s like, the perfect cliché high school party moment and Dean doesn’t even care that he’s missing it.

“Sick,” Dean remarks, feeling his own grin spread across his face. “Can he do one for me?”

Kyle (it’s a K name, he’s sure of it) claps a hand on his shoulder, shrugging, “I don’t see why not, man. Le’s go ask.”

He takes Dean’s hand abruptly and turns, pulling the two of them out of the main room in the basement and down a side hall. Dean tries to pretend that the heat spreading up his back to his face is just because it’s hot with all these kids crammed down here, and not because a cute boy is holding his hand. Especially since they’re having to shove past couples making out all up and down this narrow hallway and wow, it’s getting hard to focus.

It’s fine, right? Anybody would be blushing like this in Dean’s position. It’s not weird.

Kenny (fuck, he really should just ask him or something) drops his hand to knock on a door at the end of the hallway, “Jake!” He’s practically yelling and Dean chugs the rest of his beer when he feels the judgmental eyes of the couples turning to look at them. It’s fine, everything’s fine.

It takes a moment but then the door opens up and Dean’s brain fritzes out for a second.

Wow. Jake has gotta be the hottest guy he’s ever seen in real life.

Wait, what?

Jake glares at them, clearly amused that his little brother is fucking toasted, “What do you want Cam? You can’t make out with your boytoy in my room.”

Fuck, Dean swears internally. Not a K name then.

Cameron (allegedly) shoves Dean forward when he doesn’t say anything, “Not a boytoy. He wants a tat.”

It’s only at this point that Dean realizes he actually hasn’t said anything yet.

“Uh,” he tries, offering a hand to Jake. “Name’s Dean.”

He examines the offered hand for a moment and just when Dean’s certain the door is going to get slammed in his face, he looks up at Dean and says, “You got money?”

Dean nods, pulling his wallet out and handing over the $20 he got for doing a bunch of yardwork last weekend with some of the other boys from Sonny’s place.

Jake seems to think about it for another moment before sighing and opening the door wider, “Yeah, okay, why the hell not.” Dean nods, passing the $20 into his hand as he walks through the doorway.

Cameron makes a move to follow them but Jake stops him with a hand on his chest.

“No fucking way bro, I don’t want you anywhere near this with your drunk and germy ass.”

Absurdly, Dean feels a little lightheaded at the idea of being alone with this guy (or is it that he appreciates the consideration for his safety – he doesn’t want to think about it). He offers Cam a smile, “I’m good man, thanks.”

Cameron offers them both a salute with the same hand that his cup is in, and ends up spilling it on himself with a delighted cackle. “Aye-aye, Captain!”

Dean has to bite his lip to stop himself from laughing.

Jake however, just slams the door in his brother’s face with an amused snort, “How drunk is he anyways?”

Dean hums, looking around the room with interested eyes, “I dunno… he’s been talkin’ to me for the last thirty minutes with that same cup, but I wasn’t really listening.”

The music is much quieter in here, and he can’t make out any of the words anymore. But the room is clean with really only some clothes near the dresser, and the desk in the corner is a little cluttered, but it’s – it’s nice. It feels… cozy.

Jake makes a noise of affirmation, walking over to start clearing off at least part of his desk, “How drunk are you?”

Dean snorts, his eyes flying over all the books stacked under a record player in the corner.

“I had one beer…” He drops down onto the floor and pulls a book off the shelf, turning to grin at Jake, “You got good taste.”

It’s a well-worn, well-loved copy of Cat’s Cradle. It looks almost as beat to shit as Dean’s is.

Jake doesn’t quite smile at him, but he does look thoroughly amused at Dean’s excitement, “Yeah, I do alright.”

Dean sets it back on the bookshelf and sighs contently, relaxing back against the bed, “You don’t really look old enough to be, y’know…” He watches him move around the room easily, cleaning off the desk and pulling a big case out from the foot of the bed, “Doing this.”

There’s a muffled yell from somewhere out in the basement, and then the sound of another crash, and Dean can’t even bring himself to wonder what he’s missing.

“Eh,” Jake shrugs, going through the motions that he’s clearly done many times before. “Dropped out the same week I got an under the table apprenticeship. Been doin’ it for almost two years now.”

Dean squints, mentally doing the math, “So, you’re… what? 17? 18?”

Jake glances over his shoulder at him, smirking, “Why?”

Even Dean’s slightly impaired brain catches the implied question, and he squirms a little bit on the carpet, shrugging. “Can’t a guy ask questions?”

They both go quiet after that for a couple minutes, Dean too embarrassed to say anything else, and Jake too focused to try and carry a conversation with a kid he doesn’t know.

Maybe ten minutes later, Jake claps his hands together and it makes Dean jump out of his skin. He tries to glare at him, but judging by the way Jake’s barely containing his laughter, it probably doesn’t come across as very threatening.

“Okay,” Jake turns so he’s facing Dean in his chair. “What do you want?”

Dean nods, leaning forward and grabbing another book off the shelf, “You know the portrait?”

Finally, Dean seems to be the one with the upper hand, because Jake is staring at him like he’s grown a second head.

“Uh…” He squints at Dean, a small bit of amusement threatening to break into a grin, “No?”

Because he’s kind of a brat, Dean scoffs and flips to the title page where the autograph and self-portrait are staring back at him, “You don’t know and it’s your book?!” He leans forward, stretching as far as he can to hand the book over to Jake.

He looks at it for a moment, barely containing his smile, “You want this?”

Dean nods, scooting around so he’s facing Jake’s desk. “Yeah.”

Jake looks back up at him, feeling a little bit bewildered by the request, “You’re sure?”

It takes a lot of Dean’s self-control not to groan, so he just nods and says, “Definitely.”

They just stare at each other for what feels like an eternity, but is probably thirty seconds, before Jake laughs outright and shrugs, “Yeah, okay.”

Dean squawks, indignant, and moves so he’s sitting at the foot of the bed instead of on the floor, “What? You think it’s dumb or somethin’?”

Jake seems to consider him for a moment before his smile softens, “Nah, it’s just…” He points his pencil at Dean, “You’re kind of a weird kid.”

Dean huffs, rolling his eyes, “I’m not a kid. I’m gonna be 17 in January.”

He doesn’t say that he’s never really been a kid. He doesn’t say that this isn’t his first beer, but this is the first time he’s been able to go to a party and stay for longer than ten minutes. He doesn’t say that this is the first time he’s ever felt like a kid, but that he’s not really good at being 16. He doesn’t know how to talk to kids his own age because they’re only thinking about the SAT’s and prom and the sports team they’re on, and Dean can’t stop thinking about his little brother being alone with John.

“I just,” he says instead. “I just really like his stuff.”

And he knows that Mary supposedly liked it too.

Jake shrugs, still smiling at Dean, “Hey man, I’m not complaining. Just, y’know…” He turns around and starts pulling things out of his desk, “Cam probably doesn’t even know who Vonnegut is.”

Dean snorts, pulling his legs up onto the bed to sit with them crossed, “No offense, but your brother is kinda dumb.”

At that Jake barks a laugh, his shoulders relaxing minutely, “You’re not wrong.”

They talk while he works, about what kind of music they’re into and the other authors they’ve read and Dean even talks about Star Trek, and Jake just listens to him talk for as long as he wants. There’s no calling him a nerd or interrupting him, he just… listens. Eventually he asks Dean after a couple minutes if he’d be okay with it being freehand. He agrees because all the practice drawings Jake’s been doing look damn near perfect (and, well, he’s sixteen and doesn’t know how tattoos work).

Dean goes over to the record player and puts something on when Jake’s ready to start.

Ramble On starts thrumming through the speakers, and they can just barely hear it over the music from the party. It’s kinda nice.

He helps Jake pull the desk closer to the bed and the whole time they’re talking like it’s normal and they’ve known each other forever.

“Okay,” Jake interrupts him before Dean goes off on another tangent. “Drop your pants.”

For a second, Dean thinks that the record player is actually the source of the record scratch he just heard but nope, that was his head. Somehow, all the color drains from his face at the same time the rest of him starts to feel too hot and his skin feels too tight.

Dean makes a choking noise that was supposed to be a ‘What?!’

Jake sets a hand on his arm, biting his lip to stop from laughing at Dean’s panic, “You said you want it on your thigh, right?” He doesn’t wait for Dean to respond, he just squeezes his shoulder and says, “I need to shave it.”

Some part of Dean’s brain powers back on and he swallows, not sure why he’s so panicked, “Yeah, uh –“ He forces a laugh, “Yeah, duh, I – I knew that.”

Mercifully, Jake turns around for a moment so that Dean can pull his jeans down. He hops up onto the bed, feeling a little exposed, and ends up pulling a pillow onto his lap for, uh… reasons.

“Okay,” Dean squeaks out. He clears his throat, trying to get it back down to its normal pitch, “I mean, uh…” He gestures at his leg, “Go ahead.”

That time Jake does laugh at him and that’s fine, that’s fair, Dean likes his laugh. It’s nice.

Jake makes quick work of shaving the spot, a consummate professional – or at least, Dean assumes he is. He’s never actually gotten a tattoo before.

The alcohol that gets poured over the spot and then wiped off makes him hiss through his teeth, mostly from the temperature than anything else. Jake squeeze’s his other knee, meeting Dean’s eyes again with a smile. “Sorry, almost ready to start.”

And jesus, what a picture he makes.

Dean’s not gay, totally not gay, but wow, Jake is… beautiful. If he was a girl, Dean wouldn’t be able to stop talking about how gorgeous and full his lips are. Ever since he turned 13, Dean’s gotten shit for his lips and he never really got the appeal before, but he thinks he might get it now. Because yeah, if Jake was a girl, Dean would totally want to kiss those lips.

And you know, from a totally Not Gay perspective, the guy’s got a really nice face – a strong jaw with as much five-o’clock shadow that an eighteen-year-old can grow, dark skin that makes the color in his lips pop and the slight bit of green in his eyes glow.

And that smile? Jesus, Dean’s man enough to admit it makes his heart do the same thing it does when Robin smiles at him. It’s a really, really nice smile.

And the fact that Dean suddenly can’t not imagine Jake on his knees, sucking Dean’s –

He shakes himself out of it and he can feel the blush spreading across… well, probably across his whole face really.

“Okay,” Dean chokes out, trying desperately to pretend he isn’t getting hard under the pillow.

Jake smirks make him feel like he knows what Dean is thinking about, but he’s kind enough not to say anything. Not that there’s anything to say, clearly, because Dean’s definitely Not Into Dudes, he’s just – he’s just… hot. Like a girl, or –

The song changes as Jake finally (finally) turns the machine on. He makes eye contact with Dean, giving him another out if he wants it, “You ready?”

No.

Dean swallows and offers him his cockiest grin, pretending he isn’t freaking out, “I was born ready.” There’s a moment where it feels like Jake’s going to back out, going to call Dean on his shit, but then he leans forward and draws the first line.

He brings a hand up to bite at his fist and has to choke back a yelp.

Jake looks up at him again, not even bothering to hide his amusement, “You good?”

Dean nods, “Yeah, I, uh –“ He smiles, embarrassed, “I’m good. Go ahead.”

Thankfully, Jake just goes back to work without any further comment. It doesn’t hurt really, it just feels… weird. Dean grimaces at one pass and oh, okay, yeah, maybe it hurts a little bit, but it’s not like getting hurt on a hunt bad.

He closes his eyes and lets his mind zone out while Jake works.

Because his brain is terrible and can never be trusted, the first thing that pops into his head is that if he popped a chubby thinking about Jake, a dude, on his knees in front of him, he might actually be gay.

And well, that’s just – that’s a can of worms he’s never going to touch, at least not until John is dead. He winces at the thought, imagining that his dad dying would be a good thing, and Dean feels guilty. This is why John left him here.

If Dean doesn’t get off this train of thought, he’s going to have a panic attack in front of this really hot nice guy and he’d rather not embarrass himself. He tries to focus on the music and that isn’t even working because Dean can feel his muscles fighting to move.

Jake must notice because he takes that time to start talking while he works.

He tells Dean about high school, and the shop that he’ll legally work at when he turns 18, and about how bad his parents freaked when he dropped out. He tells Dean about his brother, about this girl that he went on a date with last week that was in love with her roommate, about the concert he went to last month – about everything and nothing, and Dean forgets… everything.

He forgets to panic and he forgets that his leg has gone numb from the vibrations of the gun. He laughs more than he has in a while, and they’re real laughs, the ones that make his whole face light up.

In return, he tells Jake about Sam, about Robin, about how he’s never stayed in one place so long, about high school and how much he really likes physics. Jake calls him a nerd again and Dean just shrugs, trying to play it cool. Really, he’s just excited to feel like he understands something in school.

It takes a total of 30 minutes for Jake to finish. He cleans it off carefully, explaining to Dean the whole time how to properly take care of a tattoo and what the healing process is like.

Some part of his brain wonders if he should be taking notes, because Dean’s a little too lightheaded to be sure he’s going to remember all of this in the morning.

He must have said something to that effect out loud because Jake laughs, “Don’t worry man, I’ve got a pamphlet in my backpack from the shop that you can have.”

He looks at Dean again with that beautiful smile that makes Dean feel like he’s floating. He opens his mouth to say something, but nothing comes out.

The record player comes to a stop with a quiet click.

Before he chickens out, Dean surges forward and tries to pull Jake into a kiss – he misses, and ends up kissing just to the left of his mouth.

They both freeze for a moment and Dean should probably open his eyes to gauge the situation, but he’s terrified that he’s about to get thrown through a wall or something.

Fuck, he’s really stupid.

Instead, Jake huffs a laugh and brings his hand up to rest on the back of Dean’s head. “Hey, Dean?”

Dean squeezes his eyes tighter and has to lick his lips, his tongue ghosting over the corner of Jake’s mouth for a moment, before answering. “Yeah?” His voice breaks, but Dean can barely hear it over the hammering in his chest.

Jake smiles against his mouth, just breathing for a moment. “You ever kissed anybody before?”

He jerks his head to the side just a tiny bit, just enough to answer the question without having to move away. He’s still too scared to open his eyes.

Jake’s hand is big, big enough that his thumb ghosts over Dean’s jaw and it makes him shiver.

“Can I kiss you?”

Dean swallows, finally cracking one eye open.

Their foreheads are pressed together and Dean has never felt so… nervous before. Excited. Terrified. Hopeful. He licks his lips again and he shivers a little at the look Jake is giving him now, “Yeah… yeah, okay.”

This time, their lips actually make contact and – oh.

Dean makes a soft noise into it, one of his hands grabbing onto Jake’s forearm. He lets Jake take the lead here and just… tries to listen to his body. It’s better than he thought it would be. Jake’s lips are soft, and gentle, and plush and his brain flashes a mental image from before behind his eyes and Dean groans into it.

The groan makes it easier for someone, Dean’s not really sure who, to deepen the kiss. Jake stands up just a little bit, crowding closer to Dean on the bed, and Dean takes the opportunity to wrap an arm around his neck.

He nibbles at Jake’s bottom lip experimentally and it earns him a moan that makes Dean feel like he’s on fire. The hand that was on his head drops down to his lower back and some part of Dean’s brain chimes in with, I bet he could pick me up.

Dean whines at the thought, actually whines, and it would be mortifying if it didn’t make Jake make a truly beautiful sound in response.

He tries to lean up more into it the kiss but Jake pulls away, his lips a little swollen and a lot pinker. He closes his eyes for a moment while they both catch their breath and Dean licks his lips, unable to stop thinking about that noise.

“Dean,” Jake starts and he sounds like he’s really trying to argue with himself here. “Dean, look, we can’t –“

That seems to snap Dean out of it because suddenly it feels like everything’s crashing down around him and now, he can’t breathe for a totally un-fun reason.

The panic is clearly written across his face because Jake moves both of his hands to Dean’s cheeks. “Hey, Dean, look at me,” he sounds a little frantic with it. “Dean, buddy, just, look at me – please?”

“I’m sorry,” Dean blurts out. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what I did wrong, I’m sorry, of course you don’t want to kiss me! Of course you don’t want to kiss me, you’re so cool and I’m just a kid and –“

He’s pulled up into another kiss and Dean’s brain totally fuzzes out with it.

God, he really likes kissing.

Long before he’s ready to stop, Jake pulls away again with a laugh and presses a kiss to Dean’s cheek this time. “Dean, I really like kissing you.” Dean thinks he probably looks really dopey right now, grinning up at him, and he feels like he’s maybe floating. “Yeah,” he giggles a little. “Me too.”

Jake presses a kiss to his forehead, so gentle and Dean feels like his heart is going to explode in his chest. “If you want to continue this…” He takes a step back so he’s no longer touching Dean and he laughs when Dean whines at him.

“Hey, no,” Jake’s grinning at him, and it’s a new grin than any of the other ones he’s seen tonight, and Dean feels like he can take on the world.

“If you, uh…” He brings a hand up to rub at his neck, looking away from Dean for a moment, “If you wanted to, y’know… continue this…” Jake gestures between the two of them and for the first time, Dean’s able to see that he’s not the only one who’s hard. That’s exciting.

“We should wait,” Jake finally says. “Until you’re, y’know… totally sober.”

Dean pouts, getting up onto his knees so they’re almost eye-to-eye.

(Has he mentioned how tall Jake is? Now that the floodgates are opened, all Dean can think about his climbing this kid like a god damn tree and wow, where the hell did that come from -)

“I’m totally sober.” He slurs the ‘s’ in sober, just a little bit.

Jake laughs, his hands coming up to rest on Dean’s hips to steady him, “Yeah okay, whatever you say.”

Dean tries to channel his little brother’s puppydog eyes, his arms coming up to wrap around Jake’s neck again, “Oh come on, pleeeease?”

A look flashes over his eyes, something a little dangerous peeking into that expression for a moment, and it’s gone as soon as it showed up. Jake smiles and kisses his forehead again, “Sorry buddy. Talk to me tomorrow morning.”

Dean sighs and pulls his arms away, crossing them over his chest. He looks adorable, not that Jake would ever tell him that.

He finally takes a full step backwards, this time completely out of reach, “So… do you like it?”

Because he’s still a little lust drunk Dean leers at him, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively, “Yeah, dude.”

Jake rolls his eyes, wondering how he ended up in this situation, “The tattoo, idiot.”

Dean blinks owlishly at him for a moment, something finally clicking in his brain, “Oh, shit.”

He really did only have one beer, but he also got high with a couple of Robin’s friends before they got to the party, so Dean just tries to crawl off the bed like that on his knees, with his jeans around his ankles. Of course, Jake catches him before he slams face first into the desk. He’s a gentleman.

Dean yelps, his hands scrambling to grab onto Jake’s jacket. “Oh, shit, sorry.” His fingers dig into the muscles there and Dean makes a noise, “Oh wow, you’re strong.”

Jake doesn’t say anything, just deposits Dean safely onto the floor and takes a full two steps back. He’s a good guy, but he’s not a saint, and Dean seems intent on having all of his firsts in one night (which Jake wouldn’t recommend).

Dean pulls his jeans up enough to hop over to the full-length mirror by the door and his whole face lights up at the tattoo.

“Dude…” He doesn’t know how to communicate how this makes him feel. “It’s perfect.”

Jake covers it for him and helps Dean pull his pants on without disturbing the covering. He keeps a professional distance, and it’s driving Dean insane, but he’s getting close to missing his curfew anyways.

Neither one of them says anything until they’re at the door and Jake’s hand is on the knob. And then because he’s Dean, and he’s terrified and he doesn’t think he’ll do this again, he pulls Jake down into another kiss.

“Thanks,” he says against his lips.

Jake smiles, “My pleasure.”

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

The next time Dean sees Jake, it’s at a diner after school one day. They make out behind the dumpsters and Dean comes in his pants when Jake holds him up against the wall. It would be embarrassing if it wasn’t so hot.

A couple days after that Dean’s got another $20 from raking Sonny’s neighbors’ leaves, and he asks Sonny to drop him off at Cam’s house to work on a school project.

Sonny agrees and because he’s Sonny, and he can read Dean like a book for some reason, he spends the whole ride over there talking about the birds and the bees. The first half of it Dean’s terrified that he somehow knows about Jake, but then he realizes that Sonny saw Robin kiss him the other day.

Turns out, Dean’s kind of a hot commodity in his age group.

“Look, Sonny, I appreciate it,” Dean interrupts before he gets to a clinical explanation of how sex with a girl works. “But that’s like…” He huffs, making a vague gesture with his hands, “A while away.”

Sonny ‘harrumphs’ a pleased, gruff noise, and nods as they pull up to Cameron’s house, “Well that’s good to hear, kiddo. But you let me know when it gets there.”

Dean squirms in his seat, “Yeah yeah, sure, I’ll let you know.” He looks over at the house, “Can I get out now?” Sonny rolls his eyes and mumbles something about ‘damn kids.’

“Thanks Sonny, I’ll be home by 10!” He yells as he gets out of the car and runs up to the door. Sonny yells at his back, “9!” Dean turns to glare at him when he gets to the door but sighs and gives him a thumbs up.

That should be plenty of time anyways.

Jake opens the front door and both of the boys wave to Sonny before he actually pulls away from the curb.

Dean pushes him into the house once the truck is out of view and grins, “I want another tattoo.” He considers the situation for a moment before adding, “Please.”

Jake rolls his eyes, “I thought you just wanted to see me.”

A moment of panic flashes over Dean’s face and Jake sighs, remembering himself, “Sorry. Nobody’s home, it’s just me.”

He pulls Dean down the hall into the living room where the TV’s playing, “See? No parents, Cam’s at practice, Ali’s at a friend’s house.”

Dean looks around the room, taking Jake’s hand in his, “Oh… okay.”

They both watch whatever’s on MTV for a few minutes, just standing there in the middle of the room. Janet Jackson’s dancing with an animated cat, and it’s really weird, and then suddenly Dean hears himself say, “Hey, after, can I suck your dick?”

Jake sounds like he’s choking on something before it turns into a slightly hysterical laugh, because he’s now spent a total of at least two hours with Dean and he’s still floored by him.

But now, Dean’s the one staring at him like he’s lost his mind (also, like he wants to eat him) and Jake audibly swallows. “Uh… maybe.”

Sure, he’s got more experience than Dean does, but this is… a big responsibility.

For God knows what reason, Jake really likes Dean.

He barely knows this kid, but it feels like he’s known him forever. Dean is smart and he’s funny and he has great taste in everything, and he doesn’t think Jake is throwing his life away or whatever for not going to college. He thinks that Jake is talented and back behind the diner, Dean had told him that he thinks Jake’s going to be really famous one day.

It was kinda nice.

They go downstairs to Jake’s room after a couple minutes and Dean pulls a piece of notebook paper out of his backpack, “Here go.” He pulls the twenty out of his back pocket and offers it to Jake with a sheepish smile, “If it’s not enough, I can make more, it’ll just take me a couple days.”

Jake hesitates for a moment, looking back down at the sketch on the paper and then up at Dean, “Don’t… don’t worry about it.”

It’s the opening chords for Hey Jude.

He doesn’t have to know Dean very well to know that a sixteen-year-old boy who wants to get Hey Jude tattooed on him probably has some sentimental value tied to it.

Dean frowns, looking nervous for the first time since the other night, “Are you sure? I mean –“

Jake kisses him briefly, damn near chastely, to head off a bickering argument.

“I’m sure.”

It’s worth it for the smile Dean gives him anyways.

It’s easier this time, now that Dean knows what to do, and that they’re more comfortable with each other. Dean tells him about the wrestling team, about this project he really is working on with Cam, about how Robin kissed him the other day.

Jake smiles without looking up from what he’s cleaning, “Oh?”

Dean sighs, flopping back down on the bed, “It was a good kiss…” He knows that Jake can’t see him like this, but suddenly he feels a little too vulnerable so he covers it up like he always does.

“Didn’t make me come in my pants though.”

Jake’s laugh is loud and beautiful, and Dean watches him from an awkward angle on the bed.

They keep talking while Jake gets everything set up, goes through the motions of preparing Dean’s other thigh, and it isn’t up until the gun’s buzzing in his hand that Dean stops talking.

Jake squeezes the knee under the Vonnegut tattoo he did last week (that’s healing beautifully), “Hey.” He smiles at Dean, “You ready?”

Dean nods, but he doesn’t really say anything.

He’s wanted this one ever since he was twelve and he met a hunter who had the EKG of her dead daughter’s heartbeat tattooed on her arm. He doesn’t have anything like that from mom, nothing that is tangibly her, but he does have this song.

And yeah, maybe Dean’s a sap or a pussy, whatever. He loves his mom.

He watches the top of Jake’s head without sitting up and sighs tiredly, “You know…” Dean licks his lips, his voice a little too quiet, “I think my mom would like you.”

Jake pauses for half a second, not sure if he heard that right, but continues tracing over the lines on Dean’s thigh.

If Dean noticed the lack of response, he doesn’t seem to care.

“I don’t know what she’d think about you being a dude,” Dean sighs, his eyes looking back up at the ceiling. “But I think she’d like you.”

Jake smiles to himself, “Tell me about her?”

This time, Dean’s sigh sounds more dreamy than sad, “I don’t really remember much… I was four when she died.” He pauses for a moment, definitely not collecting himself or anything, “But she was my best friend.”

He feels tears welling up in his eyes but he ignores them.

“She made me chicken and rice soup when I was sick… I’m not sure if they’re memories or dreams, but I think we used to play dress up when I was like 3. She’d let me try on her dresses… oh, and she let me play with her makeup.” Dean laughs, blinking away the tears, “When my dad would come home hammered and screaming at us, she’d always come and find me wherever I hid. She’d hold me until I felt safe again… even when she was pregnant with Sammy.”

Jake doesn’t say anything, but he does squeeze Dean’s knee again.

“She was so brave… I’m sure she’d hate that I remember it, but oh man,” he laughs. “I remember when I was like three and a half, mom came home from a trip and I had this big bruise on my face. She went and got dad’s shotgun from the closet and chased him out of the house.”

It’s not a good memory, but it’s the last time anybody ever tried to protect Dean from John.

They’re quiet for a few minutes and right before he starts on the second pass, Jake finally asks, “How’s… how’s your dad?”

Dean laughs again, but it’s a bitter, angry laugh.

“John’s fine. John’s great.” Dean snorts and brings a hand up to wipe his face dry, “John told the cops to let me fucking rot in juvie.” He leans up just enough to make eye contact with Jake, “Oh yeah, I don’t know if you knew that, I’m living at Sonny’s.”

Because Dean seems to need to get some stuff off of his chest, Jake just goes back to work.

Dean flops back on the bed again, “Wanna know why I got arrested?” He waits for a minute before actually saying anything. Dramatic effect and all that.

“I stole food.” He laughs and steadfastly ignores how much he’s crying now, “My fucking dad left us for so long, I ran out of food and there’s no god damn truck stops around here –“

Oops, he hadn’t meant to say that.

For his part, Jake doesn’t really react to that. Dean won’t look a gift horse in the mouth.

“…I had to get something for Sam to eat.” He sniffles, bringing an arm up to cover his eyes, “That was my big crime worthy of rotting in juvie for. Stealing some fucking bread and peanut butter from a store because my dad can’t do his only fucking job.”

Dean laughs again, “And now I’m here for fuck knows how long, and Sam’s with dad and –“ The laugh turns into a sob, “I’m not there to protect him.”

Jake lets out a breath as he finishes the last line and turns his gun off. He does a quick, cursory wipe of the tattoo and pulls his gloves off before climbing onto the bed and on top of Dean.

He’s fully, fully crying now, and Jake doesn’t like that.

So, he pulls Dean into his arms, slots a leg in between his, and uses that leverage to flip them so that Dean is laying on his chest. Dean wraps his arms tighter around Jake and hides his face in his neck, because this has to be the most embarrassing thing that has ever happened to him. Worse than walking home with sticky jeans.

Jake rubs his back while he cries and he, blessedly, doesn’t try to say anything. There’s no pity, not placating, no platitudes, just a firm physical reminder that Dean’s not alone in his grief. He does occasionally press kisses to the top and sides of Dean’s head and Dean feels so wonderfully, devastatingly cherished.

If he was a better man, it would make him cry even more.

It takes him a little while to calm down, until his breathing no longer sounds like hyper ventilating. There’s definitely a snot stain on Jake’s shirt and Dean snorts when he’s aware enough to notice it.

“What?” Jake hums, running a hand through Dean’s hair, “What’s so funny?” Dean tucks his head further into his chest and sighs, “I left a snot stain on your shirt.”

After a beat Jake just shrugs, “Easier to get out than a come stain.”

The answer takes Dean by surprise and he has to pull back so that he can laugh sufficiently.

It gives them both a new angle to look at each other, and Dean can’t even find it in himself to be embarrassed anymore. He’s sure that he looks gross, his face is definitely all snotty and red and swollen, but Jake’s still looking at him the same way he has every time. Like Dean is something weird and wonderful and exciting, and Dean’s never felt like anything but a burden before.

So, yeah. He doesn’t mind so much that he cried in front of this hot boy that Dean kinda likes.

Jake brings a hand up to Dean’s cheek and wipes a stray tear away. Because he’s secretly desperate for affection, Dean can’t help but lean into it, turning his head just a little to kiss the hand.

“Dean…” Jake sighs and looks away for a moment, clearly debating whether he should say what he’s thinking or not.

No, he decides. Dean doesn’t need a lecture.

“You’re a really good guy.”

It seems to be the right thing to say, because Dean flops down on top of him again and pulls him into a new hug. Jake makes an ‘oof’ noise at the impact before he laughs, “And you’re apparently a cuddle whore.”

Dean snorts, snuffling even closer to him, “Shut up.”

Jake presses a kiss to the top of his head, trying to ignore the tightness in his chest.

“It’s okay. I like cuddling.”

Jake doesn’t see Dean for a couple weeks.

Finally, he’s home at the same time as his brother long enough to ask if Dean’s doing okay. Cam informs him that Dean hasn’t been at school for the last week and a half. There’s a rumor going around that he got expelled, but he doesn’t actually know what happened.

So the next day, on his way home from work, Jake pulls up to Sonny’s and parks his bike in front of the sign. Sonny’s Home For Boys.

Right.

He hesitates for a moment, not sure if this is going to fuck things up for Dean, before he finally talks himself into just… asking. What’s the harm in asking?

The kids playing in the front yard don’t even look up at him, even as he hops up the front steps. Jake stops at the front door and hesitates just long enough that the door opens in his face before he even gets a chance.

He vaguely knows Sonny, has seen him around, but they’ve never actually met.

As it stands, Sonny’s just glaring at him like Jake’s existence is a deep imposition to him.

“Can I help you, son?”

Jake smiles awkwardly, “Uh, yeah, I –“ Shit. He didn’t think this far ahead.

Sonny crosses his arms over his chest, “Are you looking for someone?”

“Yes!” Jake laughs a little bit, “Yeah, I uh…” He winces, “I was looking for Dean? My brother goes to school with him and he hasn’t seen him in a little bit…”

Sonny’s face is infuriatingly understanding for a moment. “Ah.”

His posture relaxes and he offers Jake a small smile, “He’s gone, kid. His daddy came and picked him up a couplea’ weeks ago.”

Jake figured as much, but it still takes him by surprise how much it hurts to hear it out loud.

He returns the smile, “Oh, well…” He laughs, “My brother’s gonna be bummed. Him and Dean were, y’know, pretty…” Jake swallows, “Pretty close.”

Sonny’s looking at him like he knows a little too much.

“I should, uh,” Jake points back at the road, “I should probably go, then.”

He takes a couple of steps backwards, offering a hand up in lieu of a wave, “I’ll just get out of your hair. Thank you, thanks.”

Jake makes it to the end of the driveway before he hears Sonny yell at him from the front porch, “Hey, kid!”

He turns around, feeling a little bit absurd all of a sudden, “Yes sir?”

“He liked you too, you know.”

#spn fic #mackenzie attempts fics #sex work mention cw //#this will eventually be deancas but pls accept my offering #personal #tattooed!dean

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squidproquoclarice · 4 years

Text

Yeehawgust Day 9: Cattlepunk

April 1885: Hawthorne, Illinois

The rawhide thongs on his wrists had chafed, and he’d spent most of the roughly hour-long wagon ride with his head bowed trying to gnaw on them, hating the slimy taste of them, but determined. Hoping his shaggy hair, cut months ago and with a dull knife besides, hid what he was doing.

Just as he snapped he wagon came to a stop, and intent as he’d been on his wrists, he’d shut out anything else but that. He looked up, startled to see nothing but lonesome prairie, where he’d expected the sights of Hawthorne. They’d gone far enough out that he couldn’t even see Chicago in the distance, and a cold spike of fear worked its way into his gut. “This ain’t town.”

“Sure isn’t,” one of the hayseeds said mockingly. “Had to come a ways to find a tree.”

He saw it there now, a small crab apple tree, and stared at it. “You ain’t serious.”

“Not the best tree, I’ll admit, but you’re little enough,” the other hayseed said with a shrug.

“Wait, I--” They were going to hang him? Sure, they’d caught him in the farmhouse with a gold watch and money clip in hand, but holy hell. “Shouldn’t you be bringing me to the sheriff in Hawthorne?” He hated how meek and childish it sounded. He wasn’t sure if he’d be able to escape jail there, but even if they sent him to an orphanage or reform school, he could get out of those easily enough. Head back to the old haunts in the city, the places he knew and could hide.

First Hayseed laughed, keeping his gun trained on John. “This ain’t Chicago, boy.”

“Man’s got a right to get rid of predators who threaten his stock, or those who invade his home,” Second Hayseed, presumably First’s father from the blue eyes and matching scowls, said nonchalantly. “I figure we’re saving him some time and fuss taking care of business.”

Stupid. Stupid, stupid. This was what he got for listening to Hank that the homesteaders south of the city made for good pickings, and a boy could be back by evening. And being dumb enough to misjudge them all being gone from the farmhouse. He was a city boy and he knew how things worked there, and he’d survived that life for three years after running away from the orphanage. His first fucking day outside the city, he’d gotten caught and now they’d hang him. Didn’t that just beat all.

Hearing riders, First kept his gun on John, while Second turned to greet them. Two of them there. A young man, younger than Second even, big and tough looking, eyed the scene, including the rope Second clutched and had been tying into a rough noose. “You fellas sure got strange notions of a party,” he quipped, his tones an odd twang. “You bored enough for hanging a boy?”

“Move along,” First snapped. “This is none of your business.”

An equally big man on a horse came forward, dark as John was himself, but older than Twanger. “I’m afraid it is. You see, that boy there,” he pointed to John, “is mine. Took him from the orphanage a couple weeks ago to help on the farm.”

“Little shit went and run off,” Twanger said, dismounting from his horse. “We tracked him from there.”

“Please tell me what he’s gone and done, and why, I swear I’ll make certain he answers for it.”

The first tentative swell of hope started in John’s heart. He had no idea who these two were, or why they’d taken an interest. But if they were nasty sorts, he could escape them, so long as they got him out of this.

“He was thieving in our house, and fixing to steal our cattle besides.”

That was too much, and John’s temper exploded. “How in hell was I gonna steal your cattle? What you think I was gonna do with them anyhow, chase them all the way up to Chicago on foot?”

Twanger’s hand landed on his shoulder, pressing with enough force that John read it for a warning. The man leaned in close, and John could see he was barely more than a kid himself, even with as big as he was. Green eyes met his for a moment. “I’m guessing if you was on your own, you know when to shut the hell up.” He added, almost as an afterthought and all the more menacing for it, “And I swear to God if you dip my pockets, boy, I’ll beat your ass myself.”

Second gestured to the big, dark man still on his horse. “See here, this little bastard--”

“Don’t call me that!” That was too much, hearing the name thrown at him too many times in his life. Not his fault his ma and pa had been whatever they were.

Twanger’s hand tightened on his shoulder again

“Yes, he’s ours. Did he actually get away with anything of yours?”

“Well, no, but…”

“Oh, I assure you, we’ll thrash the hell out of the boy when we get him home. You see my friend Mr. Callahan here. He was a foulmouthed thieving orphan boy just like young Jedediah here, and look what some years of stern discipline have done for him. Quite the wonder now.”

First and Second eyed Callahan, and Second finally nodded. “All right, on your head be it to try to make something useful out of that trash. But if he’s ever on my land again, he’s dead on sight.” They walked off, heading for the wagon, and the three of them watched as they drove off. Callahan’s grip on his shoulder eased.

Big Man chortled, the stern look dropping like a mask. “Well, wasn’t that fun?”

“Jesus, ‘some years of stern discipline’?” Callahan said sarcastically. “Sure, Dutch, go and make it sound like you was beating me every night.” John stared at the two of them, not sure what the hell was going on just now, or what to expect. It had been a day of unexpected and bizarre things.

“Just telling a man what he wants to hear, Arthur.”

“Sure. So what are we doing with this ‘young Jedediah’ here?”

He found his tongue enough to say, “John. John Marston.” But like Arthur had said, he knew when to shut up and observe, when his life might be on the line. This was one of those times.

“Bring him to camp. We save those as need saving, feed those as need feeding, right?” Dutch grinned, looking well pleased with himself.

#yeehawgust #john marston #dutch van der linde #arthur morgan #rdr2 #writing #fic from the parking lot #there's cattle and john is the punk #even if the etymology wasn't in use yet

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suffering-and-happy-about-it · 4 years

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Nicole’s rambling: The Watch Dogs Problem

Hey, welcome to my TedX talk about one of the most ambitious games Ubisoft had ever released... And which, for most of the parts, flopped majestically - yet still has players who love it. One such player am I as well. (And I’m not coming back to the game because Raymond Kenney is my first VG crush, shut the hell up.)

I won't be dipping into the side activities (digital trips) and online mode, because I never clicked with it and I don't know much about these parts. And I don't wanna throw shit at the game because of something I don't know a single thing about. Here are my three biggest negatives in the game and the three biggest positives you should play it for.

Also: remember, this is my opinion and my opinion only. It's sure biased, non-professional, but I've played WD more than five times. FIVE. So it's not just blatant nitpicking, because, in its core, WD Is a game I love dearly.

@march-moon, here you go! :)

Let’s sort out the negatives first so we can later praise the game for what it did well:

1. Predictable and dull AI of enemies (aka going John Wick mode).

Sure, the variety of said enemies is impressive, but... When you get a grenade launcher and some good shotgun, which you can do in the first hour of gameplay if you already know your way with the ctOS bank account system (LOOP IS WHERE THE MONEY'S AT), you're more or less untouchable for the rest of the game. Most conveniently, you're starting with a silenced gun and when you know around your way with the stealth system and focus, which slows time big time for those who might not know, you can clear out Rossi Fremont under two minutes. Why? Because the AI is just dumb and stupid most of the time.

Like, sure, the big-armed guys can be a pain in the ass for the first few encounters, but when you realize all you have to do is throw two grenades at them and fire as many bullets as you have at your disposal, they are dead immediately. And the same goes for the car chases. Until you unlock the almighty power of raising the bridges and blowing up the steampipes, these are just pain in the ass.

The first few ctOS scans and police chases, as well as the enemy chases, are fun. But when ctOS finds you after ten minutes of driving around like a mad man to dodge the shit, sending you off on a ten-minutes lasting chase which simply repeats itself. Let alone that you kill half of the city's population because you fuck up to turn your car.

To close this point, it gets repetitive, especially with the gang hideouts fuckery.

2. Ubisoft lying not only about the game features, but also about the overall graphics.

This point kinda explains itself, doesn't it? It's a known fact that studios have tendencies to change their games/movies for marketing purposes - for example, Disney and Infinity War or Naughty Dog's 'The Last of Us (Part 2)'. But this being a usual marketing tactic doesn't mean that the consumer should keep their mouth shut when they don't agree with it.

Most noticeable Watch Dogs' fuck-up was an overall graphic downgrade, which, sure, is completely understandable when you have such a huge open-world game, but... Ubisoft showed you a potato mash and all you got was the potato (The biggest point that is made fun of are the trees - those who played the games know what I'm talking about.).

Also, the enhanced graphics ARE coded in the game, but are not used due to something signed off as ‘playable compatibility’ as far as I can understand, so??

But... They did lie about the in-game features too. They promised a lot more than they delivered, like the bounty hunts and stuff... Where did that go, Ubisoft?

3. The side missions and the story.

Don't take it as such... In my opinion, some of the side missions are fun - at the start. We've talked about gang hideouts, but you have fixer-car-related gigs as well and the first ten of them is very immersive since you don't already know which type of the mission you're up to. Will you be pressured by the time limit? Will you have to race through the city in a car that you can't destroy too much, otherwise it can't be sold on the black market? Will you be a decoy for some other bad people doing bad things? But when you get through this phase... It's the same game system again and again, for 46 times, I think? And the villain convoys... Well. These are fun and refreshing each time, I have to say.

Every time, you can choose a different tactic to toy around with - will you catch up with the baddies sooner, turning this mission into an intense, tight chase experience? Or will you wait for them further on the road, toying around with explosives and guns? Sometimes, they slip past you, which leads to a chase around the city, sometimes you blow up all of the cars perfectly on time, A+. But... You mastered 1/3 types of side mission content.

As for the story, it's not the worst, but it isn't something super-memorable, lifechanging. I am not talking about the idea behind the story (the utopia of having the whole city lead by a system, which enables the corporation to control people's lives without them even knowing), I am talking about the Damien-Aiden-Lena revenge story. It's your daily revenge plot based on Aiden's niece dying in a car crashed after the car being shot at because of a failed job.

The first story mission is mind-blowing. You're thrown into the game and the first thing you have to do is to infiltrate a whole-ass stadium, which feels good, not gonna lie. And the 'prison-break sequence' is also memorable as well. But other than that, it gets real repetitive real fast. 'Follow this person', 'hack this thingy', 'kill this guy', 'tilly that person' and so on is present in every act of the story, which makes things kinda come across as boring after some time. It is what it is.

There are exciting in-game moments, like when Defalt is introduced to the bunch and hacks into the Bunker base, stealing all of your data. But sadly, these story masterpieces tend to be overlooked and not acted on, which takes off some of the immersion potentials. (I know that Defalt's story was saved for the DLC, so it's not the best proof.)

! BUT THAT DOESN'T MEAN THAT THE STORY DOESN'T HAVE GOOD BEATS !

Now, the well-made things for which you should DEFINITELY play this game:

1. Chicago being a videogame city that is alive and the 'collectibles' are extra fun.

Okay, okay, let me explain. Sure, Watch Dogs' Chicago isn't the best area ever constructed in an open-world game. But... The city feels alive, it is changing around you, it never stops. You can find people making out, talking bad about their friend who is not there, you can look into their day-to-day life via something called 'privacy invasion', where you just hack into a camera and... You hear mommy calming down her kid who is crying, you can watch two girls playing Wii, presumably, and many other every day encounters.

NPCs are answering to you being into the city - asking questions on the range from 'Is that the guy from the news?' to straightaway call the cops because you are a mass murderer probably. When you stand in the middle of a road, they honk at you; when you accidentally bump into them, they call you names. It's amazing... And profiling them is even more fun. You can find profiles ranging from 'author of poetry' to 'clinically confirmed pyromaniac' and 'searches for 'feet' on the internet'. This shit is just ridiculous.

But... It's the smallest details you'll fall in love with. You can get on the "L" and it takes you on a ride. You can ride in it for the whole day, or you can get off on the next stop. When you're in the Wards or near Rossi Fremont, you can find dudes just listening to rap, chatting. Some guys force flyers into other people's hands. You can have coffee. The rain somehow feels real, and the nighttime just steals your breath away - and so do the sunsets. There's a part of the city called 'Hobotown', where the local hobos live, there are secret poker tournaments.

Chicago in Watch Dogs is a city with so many minor details that you cant find each of them in one gameplay. In each gameplay, you'll find something new, something that just makes you chuckle - but it's so thoughtful of the developers to even put it in their game. These small details are the ones that make you feel as if you were inside the game, convincing you that the Chicago you're looking at is, indeed, alive.

Then, there are the 'collectibles'. I didn't know how to call it other than that, so bear with me for a minute. There are minor 'side-missions' - for example, you're going after a killer, who is leaving you audios on the places he left one of his victims. There are QR coded which unlock audios that talk about the DedSec hacktivists. In the small 'hack 5 routers in a time limit' quests, you are unlocking one of the Blume's employees audios (Angela Balik's), talking about the files Raymond Kenney had hidden in the code back in the day, talking about the uprising of the Bellwether 'crime' prediction system.

The collectibles aren't everyone's thing, of course, and it won't take any of the Chicago experience when you don't listen to the voicemails or if you simply don't collect them. But, they can immerse you in the game world even more. And to be honest, this is one of the few games that had my ass shook about collecting the additional thingies.

2. The character cast.

Let's be honest, Aiden Pearce on his own isn't the best protagonist in the world. Don't get me bad, I like this game a lot, but he can come across as boring at times. And that's exactly when the character cast comes in to balance Aiden's character. Most of the cast has some sort of an attribute which compels to Aiden's personality very well, completes him in some way.

You have Raymond Kenney, who is a paranoid, rowdy, alcoholic genius who helped with creating ctOS - but has remorse about his history, because he caused the Northeast blackout 2003, killing eleven people. Which can show Aiden how bad can the power over the ctOS system be.

There's Jordi Chin, a prestigious assassin/fixer, who uses the game's darkest humor. Every fucking second Jordi is on screen, it's captivating, immersive and you'll find yourself chuckling at Jordi's jokes, which are definitely out of place. But he still keeps reminding you that he's in for the money, which, in the end, turns against Aiden in a way.

Clara Lille, otherwise known as BadBoy17, is a hacktivist working for the rebellious DedSec who are rebelling against Blume, the company behind ctOS. She seems to be innocent of the violence of getting revenge, but later in the game, Aiden discovers how deeply she was invested in the whole story about Lena.

Each of the characters has a personal connection to Aiden, widening his personality in various ways. Which is funny to watch throughout the story - and there's a ton of other characters I didn't even get into, like Lucky Quinn, Nicky, Jackson, Bed Bug... The characters are simply terrific.

3. The overall soundtrack.

Hear me out, this point is kinda tricky, yeah? I am not talking about the official soundtrack. The radio has some blasts I fell in love throughout playing the game - whether it introduced me to song 'Ms. Crumby' by the Audition, or made me fall in love with the Vampire Weekend, Kid Cudi, or The Vindictives. Yet, in the case of the radio, I tend to sort out a playlist consisting of 4-6 songs (YES? YOU CAN MAKE PLAYLIST INSIDE THE GAME???) which I play on repeat throughout the game.

There's also this masterful thing about the soundtrack sometimes 'forcing' itself into your gameplay, maybe more like 'self-inserting' into the game if you will. The two most memorable encounters of this are when: a) when you're helping Ray Kenney leave the junkyard and Pawnee behind and the 'ring ding piety pow' hardcore metal song plays throughout the final encounter (Jesus Built My Hotrod by Ministry) and b) when you enter Rossi Fremont, the whole time you're going through the building, the rap/hip-hop is playing, making you feel gangsta. (I think it's a song by Wu-Tang Clan, not sure tho).

But... Then it hits you. The in-game hidden soundtrack that sadly wasn't released. At least not officially. It has a reason, worry not - this in-game soundtrack reacts to the player's progress throughout the missions, so it basically plays on a loop. Which is understandable.

The most standing out instance I can talk about is when you enter the small island where the old Blume secret place is hidden on. You and Clara are on a mission searching for legendary sacred place (at least for the hackers) called 'The Bunker'. And my friends... This is when it hits you. The soundtrack feels familiar even when you're playing the game for the first time. This piece just hits differently than any other soundtrack I've heard. Not even Time by Hanz Zimmer has this effect on me, and I LOVE the Inception.

And there's more - the piece of the soundtrack which plays when you're going after Jackson is probably another great example.

BONUS ROUND: 4. The Bad Blood (DLC)

Okay, this had a lot to do with my love for Raymond Kenney and I am not worried to say it out loud. But this DLC is truly a DLC. It only uses the WD world, which was set up in the OG game, as its base - but it isn't its main focus at all. This DLC introduces us to new characters as well as to some we knew already we knew.

In the OG game, Tobias is the mad hobo who sells us cool thingies to play with - and in they managed to show Tobias' full potential, showing us how smart and hilarious, as well as paranoid, this guy is in reality. It deepened Ray's character, revealed Defalt's motivations and the history that tied both of them to the Northeast blackout.

There are also new areas to explore, new things to play with and even if the DLC doesn't do anything too revolutionary with the game's world, it's the best DLC I've played. And I may have enjoyed it more than Aiden's story. But again, I'm pro-Kenney biased, so that's kinda expected of me, ain't it?

PS: I hate Sitara or whatever her name is.

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allthefilmsiveseenforfree · 3 years

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Magnolia

I don’t know much about Magnolia or Paul Thomas Anderson, but I do know that it takes someone paying me to get me to watch a 3-hr+ drama that doesn’t star Kate Winslet, Leonardo DiCaprio, and a really big boat. This is one of my mom’s favorite movies which is why she requested it for me to review. It’s packed with a balls-to-the-wall star-studded cast (Tom Cruise! Julianne Moore! Phillip Seymour Hoffman! John C. Reilly! William H. Macy! Felicity Huffman!) and I’m genuinely excited to see how they all fit together. Cause they have to all fit together in some coherent way, right? Well...

Do you remember in Sorry to Bother You when the Equisapiens came out and things just took like...a real turn? That’s kind of what this was like. Whereas StBY pushed a thought to its most extreme, but logical, conclusion, what Paul Thomas Anderson has done here feels like a magician doing a lot of impressive illusions - sawing a lady in half, making a motorcycle disappear, pulling smaller things out of bigger things - and then for his final trick, walking onstage amidst a grand plume of smoke, dropping his pants, taking a gigantic shit, and then saying, “You’ve been a great audience, thanks a lot and goodnight!” It’s not like you can say the experience was BAD. Everything up to the finale was a really great time! But when you’re left on a note that is that bafflingly odd, it kinda colors the way you’ll remember the whole thing.

Magnolia is the story of one long day in the life of 12 people living in Los Angeles who are all connected via an extensive web from acquaintances to married couples to parents and children to paid caregivers and beyond. It’s a day that has the same kind of ups and downs as any other day until it, well, turns into something else entirely. I’m not sure how else to explain it, but if you want to know more, spoilers will be spoiled below.

Some thoughts:

Patton Oswalt cameo! I am a massive fan and thought I knew his whole filmography and OMG how did I not know that he was in this!!

Ok, in spite of my skepticism this entire opening sequence about coincidence had me hooked IMMEDIATELY. Like, this is some damn good storytelling, if this were a novel, I would not be able to put it down - that pull, that’s what it feels like.

Am I the only person whose encyclopedic memory of character actors/roles gets distracted when they see someone from something that is wildly disparate compared to the role you’re currently watching? For example, I had to pause the movie and confirm via IMDB that I did just see Professor Sprout from HP scream “Shut the fuck up!” at her husband while brandishing a shotgun.

Would people really recognize a grown ass man from being a successful child game show contestant? I’ll tell you the answer, no they wouldn’t, because no one realizes that Peter Billingsley (aka Ralphie from A Christmas Story) is the head of the elf production line in Elf.

I knew this was a stacked cast, but holy SHIT this is a stacked cast. If I had $1 for every fantastic character actor I recognize in this, I would have at least $37, and these are people in the film who have maybe 2-3 lines each. It’s a deep bench is what I’m saying.

This makes me miss Phillip Seymour Hoffman so, so very much.

Watching PSH care for and be so compassionate and gentle with his hospice patient, Earl (Jason Robards),makes my heart ache terribly. All of the people who have been unable to perform this kindness, this type of compassionate care for their closest loved ones as they lie dying in isolation of Covid...it’s overwhelming.

OMG I’m counting 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 Very Good Dogs in the old man’s house!

I know Scientology is evil and he’s undeniably a complicated and morally grey person. I know all that. But goddamn I just love watching Tom Cruise COMMIT. Particularly when he commits to just absolute fucking sleazebag slimeballs. And boy oh boy is Frank Mackey an absolute fucking sleazebag slimeball.

Related - I know Frank looks like Tom Cruise, so he could get people to sleep with him no matter what, but I honestly feel like as a human being, this flesh suit is WAY more attractive balding and fat in Tropic Thunder than he is in this shiny brown shirt/leather vest/long hair combo.

I’m getting an uncomfortable vibe about these black characters being written by an artsy white dude, because I don’t know any young black kids who want to hang around with cops and offer up information about who committed a murder in their building. In fact, the way all of the black characters are treated in this film - as liars, criminals, the disingenuous “main stream media,” and thieves - feels rooted in some racist ass bullshit. We see a lot of nuance in our white characters, but even in a film that has, shockingly, more than one key black role, we don’t get that spectrum or nuance.

There is nothing I would love more than to learn that Frank Mackey is 1) gay 2) impotent or 3) both. He’s so disgustingly over-the-top misogynistic, it honestly feels like it should all be a complete act.

I confess I am on the edge of my seat trying to figure out how all these narrative threads tie together. It’s compelling as hell, even though half the time I don’t know why these people are having these long, meandering conversations. The pacing feels so deliberate, like a puzzle coming together. There’s real craftsmanship in how every scene is plotted to feel connected rather than manic or disjointed.

This pharmacist is being unprofessional as hell. Judgy McJudgerson, mind your fucking business, Julianne Moore’s father is dying! [ETA: ope, that’s embarrassing, Earl is actually her husband.]

NO THE DOG IS EATING THE PILLS OH NO VERY CONCERNED ABOUT THE DOG.

I think I knew this, but this soundtrack is fantastic. All Aimee Mann and Supertramp, and Jon Brion’s score is this thrumming, anxious thing full of strings that underscore all these nervous conversations, and then it shifts into these low, mournful horns when things start to take a turn and everyone is reaching their lowest points.

I love this interviewer (April Grace) who is taking Frank (Tom Cruise) to task. I think it’s particularly noteworthy that she is a black woman, because the kind of misogyny Frank peddles is rooted in white supremacy.

Stanley (Jeremy Blackman) is breaking my goddamn heart here. I think he and Phil (PSH) are my favorite characters.

Jim (John C Reilly) is the perfect example of how even a cop with the best intentions, with absolute kindness and love is in heart, is abusing his power and sexually harassing a woman he encountered in the line of duty, who is eager to appease him because she doesn’t want to be charged with a crime. This movie reads a LOT differently than it did in 1999.

I normally really love Julianne Moore, but she is a screeching mess in this. I can’t stop staring at her mouth and all the contortions it makes as she delivers every line in hysterics. She’s one of the few weak spots for me here.

Listening to Frank go on his whole diatribe about what society does to little boys to break them and victimize them HAS to be the source of where Keith Raniere got at least half of his NXIVM bullshit. Like, some of these points are word-for-word.

Also if Frank makes as much money as he seems to, there’s no way he would drive a shitty Saturn sedan.

It feels like the common thread of this movie is everyone is terrible and cheats on their spouses, and you should come clean when you get cancer so you can die peacefully. Weird moral, but ok.

If Jim is a cop, how does he not see that this woman he’s interested in (Melora Walters) is coked out of her mind?

Y’know for being a quiz kid, Donnie (William H. Macy) sure is kinda stupid.

I confess I’m not taking many notes throughout this because I’m just kind of sitting breathlessly still watching all these conversations unfold because I am on the edge of my fucking seat to find out how all this is gonna come together.

Secret MVP of this movie is the mom from A Christmas Story (Melinda Dillon) who is giving the performance of her goddamn life as Jimmy Gator’s wife.

Did I Cry? On the surface it appears ridiculous, but when Tom Cruise is having his breakdown at his dying father’s bedside, I admit, that really got me. If you’ve ever been faced with that kind of hysterical, I-can’t-believe-this-is-happening, it feels like the whole world is ending kind of shock and hurt and anger, that’s what the crying looks like.

Are those......frogs?? That landed on Jim’s car? It’s raining fucking frogs???? OK for those of you sensitive to frog harm, this movie is going to take a real hard left turn for you, because I swear that came out of NOWHERE.

Um.

What.

Pray tell.

The fuck.

The climax of this movie - is when literal frogs rain from the sky.

And we finally got resolution about the dog, and the dog DID die, and I’m pissed about it. It’s offscreen but still.

I'm sorry - I know I’m fixating. But how is it possible that I knew about all the characters performing a sing-along to Aimee Mann’s (excellent) song “Wise Up” but I did NOT know that the climax of the film involves literally thousands of frogs falling to their death from the sky? How is that something that escapes entry into the cultural zeitgeist? I’m with it, you guys. I have been Very Online for over a decade, and before that, I read a lot of Entertainment Weekly, and like it just seems that this is something that pop culture really should have told me.

I think the funniest moment of this movie might be the credits in which I discovered that not only is Luis Guzman playing a man named Luis, he’s actually playing himself. I don’t know why, but I can’t stop laughing about it. That was a 189-minute setup to one dumb punchline.

I think I loved this movie but I don’t quite know. The frog thing really threw me. What I’m taking away from it is that even when it doesn’t feel like it or seem like it, we are all connected to each other, always, in ways we can’t see or know. As Wife astutely pointed out, it’s reminiscent of the pandemic - we’re all in the same storm, but we each have our own boats and our own experiences within that storm. And it’s kind of nice to remember that right now, that connection still exists even when it feels so far away. Just not if you’re a frog I guess, cause they really got the short end of the stick here.

If you liked this review, please consider reblogging or subscribing to my Patreon! For as low as $1, you can access bonus content and movie reviews, or even request that I review any movie of your choice.

#121in2021 #magnolia #magnolia review #paul thomas anderson #tom cruise #julianne moore #phillip seymour hoffman #John C Reilly #william h macy #movie reviews #film reviews #patreon review

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flamehairedwritings · 4 years

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The Fire In Your Eyes: Chapter Sixteen

Characters: Arthur Morgan x Original Female Character

Rating: The whole series will be E, 18+ ONLY for violence, gore, character deaths, animal deaths, parent deaths, swearing, grief, sexual themes and unprotected sex.

Summary: Saved by Arthur Morgan when her town is attacked, a young woman’s past comes back to haunt her when she has no choice but to join the Van der Linde Gang.

Some scenes and dialogue have been taken from the game!

Read on AO3

The Fire In Your Eyes Masterlist

Please don’t copy, steal or re-post my work; credit does not count.

Time Will Take It’s Toll

Inhaling a breath had her coughing into her arm for a few moments and clearing her throat. The explosion had knocked the wind out of her, and her lungs were still complaining about it. Her leg was starting to ache from all the running and how she’d fallen, too.

She’d managed to slip away from the men shortly after they realised the explosion hadn’t killed her, scattering to try and find where she’d gone. She’d just sat there for a little while, regaining control of her breathing, of her pounding heart, then got up and run.

He’s been looking for me.

Sniffing and lifting her head, Ada let Mags walk idly down the main and only street of Van Horn. It was, as always, quiet. A couple of men sat on the porch outside a shop, talking and smoking. A man lay by the water, sat up against a rock, asleep.

Sadie waved to her from outside the bar, her mustard coloured shirt acting like a beacon amongst the dark and dinginess of the town, and Ada raised her hand in greeting.

“You okay?” the older woman asked as she approached, gently pulling Mags to a stop.

“Yeah. Some idiot thought playing with dynamite would be fun, though.”

“Yeah, I heard. Was gonna come back to see if you were alive but I thought you’d be fine.”

Ada laughed, inclining her head. “Yeah, well, I seem to be. Think I’ve got some dust in my chest but what’s new.”

Sadie nodded her head in the direction of the saloon doors. “Want to get a drink?”

She arched an eyebrow. “Here, are you kidding me?”

Sadie smiled as she pushed her hat onto her head and mounted her horse. “Thought you might say that.”

“Hey, hey, wait a second!”

The two women turned to the calling voice, Ada stiffening, Sadie arching an eyebrow. A man narrowed his eyes at them, his hands on his hips as he stood from the bench where he’d been talking with another man.

“Yeah?” Sadie answered.

“That’s my horse!”

Ada answered this time, relieved. “No, it isn’t.”

“Yeah, it is,” the man insisted, his voice cracking. “That’s Louisa!”

“No, it ain’t,” Sadie drawled.

“Yes, it is, now you give her back, you damn wh—”

The women settled their hands on their guns.

The man froze, glanced at the weapons, then smiled quickly.

“Y-yeah, I guess not, sorry, my eyes ain’t so good,” he laughed nervously, lowering back down onto the bench.

“That’s all right, friend, no harm done,” Ada called cheerily, realising faintly that Arthur had said nearly those exact words several times.

Well, look at me.

Sadie chuckled as they rode out of the tiny town, shaking her head. “I love people sometimes.”

Ada snorted. “All right, I feel a little bad.”

“Don’t. He called her Louisa, that’s reason enough for him not to have her.”

“What do you have against the name Louisa?”

“Nothin’, just a dumb name for a horse.”

—

Charles came back for them all an hour or so after she and Sadie returned, safe and fine, and he reassured her so was Arthur.

Ada dismounted Mags, stroking the horse’s neck gently as her eyes scanned their new home. Well... The new camp would have to do, no matter what she thought, and she thought it wasn’t much of a home anymore. She’d arrived a little behind the others, just in case they’d been followed, so they’d had some time to set up but... It seemed no one had taken the care they used to in doing so. Tents and tables were set up but nothing more, the wagons hadn’t been unpacked properly and she couldn’t place that down to lack of time or people as everyone was either sat or lying down.

They expect to move on soon, she realised, very soon.

Her gaze found Arthur’s as she approached where he had been talking with Dutch, and he moved towards her.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” she answered, smiling at the sight of him. He’d shaved, thank God.

“Not much, is it?” He’d clearly had the same thoughts.

“It’ll do, I suppose.” Her arms wrapped around his waist as his went around her, holding her close.

“Are you okay?” she murmured, her fingers stroking his back.

“Yeah. You were righ’, they’re strange folks, those Murfrees.”

She snorted. “You’re damn right.”

A corner of his mouth twisted up before he lowered his head and captured her lips in a kiss she knew they both needed. It lingered, deepening as his arms tightened around her. She smiled against his lips, half-heartedly trying to draw her head back.

“Arthur...”

“Lot of caves down there, lots of secret passages...”

She arched an eyebrow as his lips went to her cheek, unable to stop a smile. “If you think I’m gonna be able to relax in those caves after what Charles told me...”

“I can make you forget all that, though...”

“Stop it...” she laughed, trying to turn her head away from his sinful lips even as her stomach tightened at the thought. It had been so long since they’d been alone, all she’d had when he was away was thoughts and memories and—

“Hey.”

They both stiffened, their heads lifting as Arthur automatically half-turned his back to shield her.

Molly, Christ, Molly, came stumbling down the path. If she hadn’t clearly been drunk Ada would have thought she'd spent the last few weeks living in luxury with her skin and clothes being clean and neat and her hair perfect.

“So, Dutch!” she called out, “Did ye miss me?!” She stumbled closer to them, Dutch only a few feet away. Ada glanced at him, finding his features stony.

“I found her, drunk in Saint Denis,” Uncle was explaining somewhat apologetically, trying to keep up with her.

“You’re back. How jolly, Miss O’Shea,” Dutch retorted sarcastically, stepping closer.

“It’s ‘Molly’, you sack of shit!” she cried, rage pouring out of her.

“Back and drunk.”

“Who made you the master, the Lord Almighty!”

“Molly, calm down,” he demanded as she waved her arms around.

The gang had gathered now, everyone staring and not knowing what to do, Ada included. She felt Arthur beside her, silent and tense.

“I won’t be ignored, Dutch van der Linde! I hear all ye conversations! I hear all ye whisperin’! But I won’t be ignored! I aren’t him!” She pointed at Bill. “Thick as shit but would probably turn ye over in a heartbeat!” She turned, swaying, and pointed at Mary-Beth who looked so distraught. “I ain’t her! Ye’re little whore!” Then, she turned to Ada, pointing at her. “And I ain’t her, ye bloody O’Driscoll, thinkin’ ye’re holy than thou!”

Ada felt her heart drop into her stomach as she stared at her, a terrified coldness sweeping over her body. Molly just turned to Dutch. “I ain’t any of your stooges!”

“Calm yourself, miss!” Dutch was angry now, truly angry.

“You don’t owe me nothin’!” She was squaring up to him now. “I don’t owe you nothin’! Nothin’! Even though I did all ye’re dirty work!”

“Okay, okay,” he said, suddenly trying to calm her as much as himself, probably.

She wasn’t having it as she turned away. “I’d spit in yer eye!” Then, she turned back, pointing at him and looking as if something just suddenly came to her. “I did! I told them!” she shouted.

The mood shifted very sharply.

“I’m sorry?” Dutch hissed, staring at her.

“Yeah, I told ‘em! And I’d tell ‘em again! Now I’ve got God’s ear!”

“You told who what?” he demanded, thunderous.

“Mr Milton and Mr Ross,” she practically trilled, waving her hand, “about the bank robbery, and I wanted them to kill ye!” She thrust her finger at him.

Something inside Ada twisted sharply.

It wasn’t her fault. Because of Molly, Lenny and Hosea had died and John had been captured... She wanted to yell at her, to kick and scratch and scream, but... she just couldn’t bring herself to hate her. She pitied her too much.

Dutch, though...

“You did what?!” He drew his gun with an anger she had never seen before, and aimed it at Molly.

“I loved you, you God damn bastard!” she shouted, tears pouring down her cheeks. “Go on, shoot me!”

Ada heard Arthur murmuring to Dutch, a hand on his shoulder, but she couldn’t look, couldn’t look away from Molly.

“She’s crazy,” Arthur was saying quietly, trying to push Dutch’s gun down, “She ain’t worth it.”

“You told on me?! You betrayed me?!” Dutch was shouting but Molly was barely listening, staring at him and talking over him, elated, “Oh, you’re not so big now, are ye?”

“Quiet!” Arthur commanded her before murmuring to Dutch, “Just calm down.”

Dutch’s gaze darted to him.

“She’s a fool,” Arthur continued, nodding slightly, “Get her outta here.”

Dutch stared at him, then thundered, to him or Molly she didn’t know, “You know the rules.”

“Oh, not so big now!” Molly was still going on, nearly screaming, “Are we, your majesty?!”

“You—”

A gunshot rang out, a bullet tearing through Molly’s stomach.

"Damn!” Bill cried as people gasped and Ada’s hands flew up to cover her mouth, holding in her cry as they all watched a dark redness blossom across Molly’s white blouse.

Susan stepped forward, gripping a shotgun, as Molly collapsed, dead, and Ada could hear Mary-Beth sobbing.

Oh my God.

“She knew the rules, Arthur,” Susan hissed, “What the hell is wrong with you?” She turned sharply. “Mr Pearson, Mr Williamson, get this body outta here and get it burnt! Now get back to work, all of ya!”

As they all moved instantly, startled into it, in her peripheral vision she saw Dutch turn to her, so slowly it was almost like a dream. Lowering her hands, knowing they were shaking, she met his gaze.

He looked at her.

Oh, God, Molly, I’m so sorry.

"She never liked me,” she heard herself saying. She had no idea how she kept her composure, how her voice didn’t shake, how she sounded so sad and calm and casual at the same time.

Maybe because her life was on the fucking line.

She stared at him as he looked at her.

A lifetime seemed to pass, then he nodded and turned away, moving towards his tent. Arthur was looking at her, but he didn’t say anything, just turned sharply on his heel and strode after Dutch, spitting out curses.

She felt sick. She felt cold and hot and angry and sad and helpless and useless.

Folding her arms, her hands gripping her biceps to hide her shaking hands, Ada watched as Bill and Pearson carried Molly’s body away. They were going to burn her. She felt tears stinging at her eyes. Because of her they’d died. And she’d called her an O’Driscoll? Where the fuck had that come from? Her mind should have been racing, she should have been relieved Molly hadn’t been made to elaborate, but...

Despite what she’d done, she couldn’t hate her, she couldn’t...

Molly, I’m so sorry.

“Hey, honey.”

She stiffened. Micah, who had been so quiet these past couple of months, who had barely said a word to her, who had seemed so disinterested, smiled as he approached her.

“What do you want.”

He laughed, lifting his hands in a gesture of surrender. “So abrupt. I can’t just say hello?”

“What do you want, Micah.”

“Nothin’.” His smile lingered. “Just wanted to ask how your day was goin’, that’s all.”

“It was fine.” She didn’t like that he continued to smile, even as he followed the direction of her gaze, watching Bill and Pearson.

“Yeah, big mess, ain’t it.”

She didn’t say a word.

“Well.” His hands clapping together made her jump, her nails digging into her biceps. “I expect things will sort themselves out soon.” He grinned. “Hope your day gets better, darlin’.”

He wandered away, humming to himself as he headed for the main fire, Charles and Uncle sat before it, silent, staring into the flames. Her gaze lifted from them and... she saw Karen, looking at her, her brow furrowed slightly. She quickly looked away as Ada met her gaze. Starting to tremble, Ada turned and saw Tilly... sat against a tree, crying, looking at her. She, too, looked away.

Oh, my God... It’s in their minds... Whether they believe it or not, it’s in their minds...

She felt like she was going to faint. Lifting her gaze again, she found Arthur striding towards her, his features tight. Lowering her arms as he approached, she didn’t have a chance to speak as his hand settled on her back and pushed her into a walk with him.

“C’mon, we’re goin’ out.”

“Where?” she asked, so relieved, moving towards Mags.

“I don’t know, huntin’ or somethin’,” he muttered, mounting Ophelia. “Need some God damn space from here.”

She pulled herself up into Mags’s saddle, and met Javier’s gaze. He just looked at her. He didn’t look away. Turning Mags around, she pressed her lips together as she and Arthur rode out of camp, clicking her tongue to urge Mags into a trot so she could take the lead.

“I know a place.”

Arthur just grunted in response, and she let silence fall, letting him work through what he needed to, and, God, she just couldn’t talk anymore. They pressed on into a canter, both eager to get away from what had once been home.

—

The crumbling sign on the wooden archway had faintly read ‘Willard’s Rest’.

Arthur could see no Willard, though.

And he was damn fucking happy for it.

The cabin was empty, though furniture still remained in the three rooms that made it up; a bed in two of the rooms, one large, one small, a table and chairs in the main room along with empty cabinets. It was fairly clean, a slight layer of dust, but otherwise fine. It was probably too far out for most travellers, and maybe too hidden, too, the trees giving good coverage at the front, the cliff at the back.

“How’d you find this place?” he asked, removing his gloves and dropping them on to the table as he returned from his perusing of the rooms to see if they were clear.

“Sadie and I came here once when we went out hunting, when we were hiding at Lakay.” Ada hissed softly as she rose, her leg stiff, having just about managed to light a fire in the hearth opposite the table. A light rain had started as they’d arrived and she was absolutely not going to spend the night in a freezing cabin.

“Mmh. This is quite a way from there.” Arthur took a seat as she stood by the fire, warming her hands.

“We just started riding and didn’t stop.” She smiled slightly. “Think we just wanted space, too.”

He nodded, stretching his legs out as his gaze roamed the room again. “This is nice. Seems like someone just moved out.”

“That’s what Sadie and I thought.”

He looked to her as she rubbed her arms and leaned against the wall. “You okay, sweetheart?” he murmured.

He could see she was shaking, and he didn’t think it was from the rain.

Inhaling a breath, Ada shrugged. “I don’t... I don’t know. I haven’t been... able to feel anything for the last few weeks and I’m afraid if I do, I... And what just happened, it...” She exhaled a faint, shaking laugh.

“I get it,” he murmured, guilt twisting at his heart again.

Silence lingered as she took another trembling breath, exhaled it, then paused again. Finally, she smiled slightly, her gaze holding his. “I’m so glad you came back. I’m so happy, very happy.”

He couldn’t help but match her smile even as the knife of guilt continued to twist. “Me, too.”

She licked her lips. “It... It was very hard without you, for me.”

She could feel the tears forming again, clouding her vision slightly, but she tried so hard to suppress them. If she started, she didn’t know if she would ever be able to stop.

Arthur saw it, though, and he couldn’t bear it. Rising, he moved towards her. “Hey, c’mere.”

She released another quiet, useless laugh as she straightened. “Oh no, please don’t, I don’t think I can...”

His hands went to her waist, pulling her into his embrace, and his arms wrapped around her. He felt her stiffen slightly, her arms at her sides.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you,” he murmured into her hair, his cheek resting atop her head.

After a few, silent moments, her hands lifted, gripping his jacket at his back. He felt it, then, her silent sobs as she held on to him, her tears wetting his shirt.

“It’s okay...” he murmured again, just holding her as she cried.

He didn’t care to recognise how long he held her for, how long she cried. He’d have done it forever, if that’s what she needed. It tore at his heart, her sobs, the burdens and fears and anxieties she was releasing with every jagged breath. He knew it would have done no good to tell her that he should have been there, he shouldn’t have left, that they should have left, run away, gone west, gone north, gone anywhere away from all of this, this crumbling society. He knew no apologies would atone for any of it. So, finally, after a lifetime, as her cries softened, he whispered one of the two things he had faith in.

“I ain’t goin’ away again, darlin’, not without you.”

“You can’t promise me that, Arthur,” she murmured, the words muffled against his chest.

“I know.” His hands caressed her back gently. “But I’m gonna do my damn best.”

Her shoulders shuddered and he thought she might dissolve into sobs again, but she inhaled a quiet breath and lifted her head. She looked at him then, holding his gaze, as if she could find the real answer, the truth, within his eyes. He didn’t know what she found but she raised her hands and wiped at her face, her palms resting over her eyes as she released a long breath. Then, her features seemed to crumble again.

“Oh, God, Molly...”

The tears came again as he held her, his heart breaking again.

“I just can’t believe she just... And how did she know...”

“She could have been lyin’,” he murmured, “Seemed to me she was just sayin’ shit about people, wanted to hurt ‘em.”

He felt her shaking her head, managing to speak through her tears as she raised her head to look at him. “I don’t think so, Arthur... Hosea knew.”

“What?”

She sniffed, taking a breath. “When Sadie and I went back to Shady Belle, a week or two after it all happened, she let me check all the rooms just in case any of you had come by and left something. I checked Hosea’s room and by his bed in a drawer was a newspaper.” She swallowed hard. “The newspaper that had me in it, the description of me and the article about my uncle looking for me.” Fresh tears began to fall. “He was an intelligent man. There’s no way he wouldn’t have figured it all out and...” Her voice broke as she continued, “and he didn’t say anything. He gave no... no indication, no hint that he knew, he just... carried on treating me the same. God’s sake...” She closed her eyes, weeping. “I wish I’d told everyone now. Not at the beginning but at some point.” She looked up at him. “Whatever had to happen would have happened. I’d like to think I would have been able to argue my case and I’d have been left alone, accepted.”

Arthur exhaled a breath as he wiped her tears away. Truthfully, he had no idea what would have happened... but...

"I’d have had your back,” he murmured, “and Sadie, Sean, Lenny, John, Abigail, and Hosea, and the girls... we know what kind of person you are.”

Her chin was trembling. “But Dutch—”

“I can’t speak for Dutch, but...” He cupped her cheek. “... we’d have been there for you.”

“I don’t know, Arthur...” She shook her head. “... I saw some of them looking at me as we left, I... I don’t know.”

“Whether they believe it or not, they know what kind of a person you are,” he repeated gently. “You did so much for ‘em while we were away. They know that. They’ll just be upset and their minds scrambled ‘cause of Molly.”

“And what a fucking mess,” she sniffed, wiping her eyes. “I just feel so sorry for her.”

“I know, sweetheart, I know...” And he couldn’t think what else to say. He was just as sad, just as enraged. No matter the rules that wasn’t how it should have gone down. She had been drunk, out of her mind, and while he couldn’t think why she would lie about being the one to betray them, she’d seemed to have revelled in revealing it, actually, she still should have been allowed to sober up, say her piece, say why, and then they could have decided what to do... and he hoped it wouldn’t have been to fucking kill her. Molly was Molly, lazy, entitled, sour, but... she hadn’t deserved an end like that, despite what she’d done.

Then again, a small, angry, exhausted, desperately sad part of him whispered that she had. Hosea, one of the greatest men he’d ever known, the man who had practically raised him, had died in a street, bleeding out in the gutter. Lenny, the future of the gang, a kind, funny, lively boy, had died running from a situation he shouldn’t have even been in.

He just held her tighter in his embrace, knowing they both needed it. She held on to him, taking in quiet, ragged breaths as the last of her sobs faded away.

Gentle rain pattered against the roof, and he faintly hoped there wouldn’t be any leaks.

“I’ll cook us somethin’, all righ’?” he murmured, against her hair a few minutes later, his thumbs gently stroking her back. “There’s some tins of somethin’ in my saddlebag, that should do.”

She nodded, and drew her head back as she exhaled a breath, the faintest ghost of a smile on her lips. “That sounds good.”

“Good.”

His heart ached and he couldn’t release her just yet so he bowed his head and kissed her. It was soft, gentle, meant to comfort her and silently reinforce his vow of staying with her. Her hands slid up his back, though, gripping at him again but in a decidedly more urgent manner, and he relinquished to her as she deepened the kiss.

I’ll go in a minute, he thought as an arm tightened around her waist and his other hand settled on the back of her neck. In a minute.

Then she moaned quietly against his lips, her tongue brushing against them.

He knew, he knew if it didn’t stop now then it wouldn’t later.

Her hands were at his jacket, pushing it off of his shoulders and he helped her, throwing it to the side and immediately returning his hands to her, holding her by the waist and pulling her closer.

They needed each other.

Her fingers undid the bandanna she’d returned to him from around his neck, moving to unbutton his shirt before it had even touched the ground. Knowing they both needed a breath, he pulled his lips from hers and brought them to her neck, kissing a trail down the soft column of her throat and back up, teasing along her jawline. She exhaled a moan, her fingers splaying across his bare chest as his shirt fell open, her head tipping back, her eyes closed.

One hand pulled her blouse free from where it was tucked into her trousers, his fingers tracing along her stomach and she gasped softly, probably would have jerked away involuntarily if his arm around her lower back hadn’t kept her tight against him.

Ada could feel his cock hardening against her thigh and she pushed against him, drawing a groan from him that had her shoving his shirt off of his shoulders and down his arms. He helped her again, his hands off of her for the briefest of moments before they were returning, gripping at her back and ass, pulling her as tight against him as possible. She was kissing along his shoulder, kissing at where his scar was, her teeth grazing over his skin with every one, and it drove him insane.

God, he wanted to feel her everywhere.

“Bedroom...” she breathed against his neck, as if hearing his thoughts, “... One with the bigger bed.”

“Obviously...” he groaned into her jaw, biting at it gently as she nipped at his skin in return with a moaned, “Shut up...”

Grunting with impatience, he turned them, pushing her backwards towards the bedroom with his arms remaining tight around her. If either of them stumbled a little they barely registered it, and his arm only moved from her to dart out and grip at the doorjamb so she wouldn’t knock into it. He was surprised he’d reacted in time, her fingers dancing along the waistband of his trousers and unbuttoning them thoroughly distracting.

Stumbling into the room, her back did knock against a chest of drawers, making her hiss in surprise, but it was swiftly replaced by a gasp as he turned her and her back now collided with a wall. Leaning her head back against it so she could see what she was doing, she went to push her hand into his open trousers when his knee pushed between her legs, his thigh pressing against her covered cunt. Inhaling a sharp breath, her hands gripped at his biceps as he braced a hand against the wall.

“Fuck...” he groaned as she rocked against his thigh, her eyes closed and her lips parted. “... I bet you’re wet already, aren’t you, sweetheart?”

“Yes...” she breathed, her hand moving to the back of his neck. Opening her eyes, her tongue darted out over her lips. “Touch me, Arthur, please...”

His hand instantly dropped from her hip and tugged the buttons of her trousers undone. Then his hand was inside, his fingers sliding over her cunt and spreading her wet lips. She couldn’t and didn’t care to stop herself from crying out, her nails digging into the back of his neck.

“Oh, Christ, Arthur...” She had to trail off with a breathy moan as his middle finger glided up her slit and circled her sensitive bud, making her hips buck.

She was wet already for him, enough so that he could press two fingers into her easily. His lips went to her neck as he instantly began to pump them, his other hand pulling her shirt open a little wider, hearing a button or two collide with the wooden floor but neither of them cared. His half-biting, open-mouthed kisses moved down to her throat and chest, and he growled against her skin as her slick walls fluttered around his fingers and her beautiful moans sounded against his ear.

“Fuck, Arthur...” she breathed out, and he could feel her nearing her release already, so wound up and ready for him, ready for the bliss he could give her.

“Come for me,” he commanded, kissing under her jaw so he could gravel into her ear, “Get my hand wet, sweetheart, let me feel you...”

Just his words alone had her clenching around his fingers, and his thumb pressed against her aching clit, rubbing in a firm circle. He wanted to see her face but he couldn’t tear his mouth from her skin, so the only warning he had was her sharp inhale, a very short silence, and then she was crying out through gritted teeth as her nails sank into his skin. He could feel her wetness around his fingers, beads of it sliding down his palm and his cock was so, so painfully hard.

As she rode the last waves of her pleasure, barely coming down, he pulled his hand away and slid his arm around her back, pulling her away from the wall. Her eyes snapping open, the next thing she knew, he’d turned them and was pushing her backwards once more. Her calves met the iron frame of the bed and she fell back, him following, her back colliding now with the soft mattress. Neither cared about the state of the bedsheets, a little musty but better than the blankets they’d had at Lakay, and their lips met instantly. It was a fierce kiss, all teeth and tongue and harsh breaths. His body covered hers and she couldn’t stop herself from focusing on his cock pressing down against her.

“I want you inside me...” she breathed against his lips before she could stop herself, rocking her hips up against him. “... I want to feel you inside me...”

And he paused. Lifting his head, he met her gaze, both their lips parted, chests rising and falling swiftly.

She thought he was going to say no or pull away, thought she’d pushed her luck... when he nodded, his thumb on her waist where her blouse had ridden up caressing gently.

“Yes,” he gravelled, then his lips were back on her but at her neck this time, biting and sucking a path down and her cry of relief was lost in her moan of delight as he licked at her nipple through her blouse and thin, cotton corset.

“Off, get it off...” she heard herself demanding breathlessly, and then his hands were pulling her blouse off, pulling it apart, actually, buttons dropping onto the mattress but she didn’t care.

Arching her back and moving her arms to help him remove it, she then kept it arched as his hands went underneath her, trying to unlace the corset.

It was nowhere near as complicated as the corset she had worn for the Mayor’s party but he still hissed out curses in frustration. Her lips twitching, she was about to tease him when he rose up on his knees, gripped her waist, and turned her over swiftly.

Exhaling a sharp breath as she suddenly found herself on her front, her hands gripping the sheets, she barely had time to react as his hand aggressively tugged at the fastenings and his other pushed her hair aside so he could mouth at her neck and shoulder. Her eyes fell shut as she hummed at the delicious sensation, her teeth sinking into her lower lip, and, with his straining cock digging into her ass, she couldn’t stop herself from rocking back against him.

He growled and swatted at her ass lightly, drawing a gasp from her.

“Can’t concentrate if you do that, woman...” he muttered into her neck and she gave a wide, breathless smirk.

“Can’t do two things at once? Poor baby...”

“You know I can, sweetheart.”

The fastenings finally undone, he tugged the corset apart and pushed her over onto her back again. Arching an eyebrow at him, even as a flush spread across her cheeks and neck, she huffed out, “Are you going to keep throwing me around?”

A corner of his mouth rose higher than the other. “Only if you keep likin’ it. Arms above your head.”

She obeyed immediately, her teeth biting at her lower lip again to try and hide a smile, unsuccessfully, though, if his own smirk was anything to go by. He pushed the corset up and over her head, letting it drop to the floor, and then he was on her again, kissing at her jaw, throat, going down, down, down, until he was at her nipples, bare for him now and hard. He sucked and licked at one, and as she moaned, the sound low in her throat, she was about to sink her fingers into his hair when his were suddenly lacing with hers, keeping them above her head. All she could do was arch her back and roll her hips, mewls and soft curses falling from her lips as he did as he pleased, moving from one breast to the other.

She was about to curse at him, her already very intense need growing, when he released her hands and moved down her body, trailing kisses down her stomach like a starving man until he was shifting off of the bed, lowering to his knees on the floor. She pushed herself up onto her elbows, her curls sliding over her shoulders, not wanting to take her eyes off of him, and watched him pull her boots off before his hands were at the waistband of her trousers, tugging them down. Ada raised her hips to help him, and even as he was still pulling them down her calves his lips were on her thighs, placing gentle, hungry kisses along them, pausing only to press a gentle, lingering one to the new, pink scar. Tossing the trousers aside once they were off, his hands curved around her knees, pulling them wider apart as his mouth moved up to her wet cunt.

She barely had time to take in a breath before he was licking and sucking at her soaking folds. Her mouth dropping open, her head tipped back and a low moan escaped her.

“Holy God...” she breathed, one of her hands moving to his hair, finally able to tangle her fingers in.

It was a little longer now, so she could easily sink them in and pull and tug, her nails gliding against his scalp. He groaned against her pussy with every tug she gave, his hands sliding over her hips, settling on her stomach. Dragging her teeth over her lower lip as hummed moans left her, she opened her eyes looked down at him, instantly meeting his gaze. He released a sound akin to a growl as their eyes locked and the flat of his tongue slid up her slit, watching her brow dip as she moaned loudly.

“Taste so fuckin’ good...” he groaned against her, and the vibration of his voice had her hips bucking, his hands on her stomach instantly pressing down.

One of them then slid up to pull and roll her nipple, and her elbow supporting her gave out as her other hand flew to his hair at his tongue circling her clit.

Her breaths were becoming shorter and sharper and she wanted to roll her hips but he wasn’t having it, his arm lying across her stomach now. He was driving her insane, his tongue dipping into her before coming back to lap at her clit and it was both perfect and not enough.

The sound she released, close to a whine, had him arching an eyebrow, and she could feel his smirk.

“Somethin’ you want, Ada?”

Her breathing hitched at both feeling his voice again, and his tone. “Come on, Arthur...”

“Oh, I don’t know what to do, sweetheart...” he rumbled as he drew his head back, his hand moving down from her nipple. “... wanna keep tastin’ you, been dreamin’ about this, but also wanna feel you come again...”

Her response, whatever it would be, even she didn’t know, died on her tongue as he slid two fingers inside her and stroked them. Crying out, her head tipped back and she pulled at his hair, pushing her hips against him.

“Oh, fuck, God, Arthur, oh, fuck...” She was almost babbling, so close, so fucking close to the edge again and and his words and fingers had only driven her there further.

He could feel her slick walls starting to flutter around him, and he groaned, kissing and sucking at her clit. “... Think I’ll be nice and make you come again...”

She breathed out a sound of relief, her gaze darting down to him as her moans became louder and higher. She tried to keep her eyes on his, but as his fingers and tongue stroked at her, only a few moments later she threw her head back and cried out, her hips rising off the bed.

“That’s it, that’s it, let me taste you...” he mumbled, scissoring his fingers slightly against her tightening walls.

She was almost pushing against his head, pushing him further against her, and he wasn’t about to complain. Lapping her up, he slid his fingers out so he could collect all of her wetness on his tongue, gliding it up her slit. When he reached her clit, her hips jerked, sensitive, and she then started to push his head away.

Chuckling lowly, he obeyed and softly kissed along her thigh as her hands fell to her sides, her eyes closed. Breathing hard, small, hummed moans left her every few moments, and when he reached her knee, he then gently lowered her legs and pushed himself up.

The sound of his boots coming off made her eyelids flutter open, and she gazed up at him, meeting his gaze. Then, a smile pulled at the corners of her mouth and he was about to return it when she pushed herself up and settled her hands on his hips. Her legs widened so he was essentially standing between them, and she gazed up at him as she pressed a soft kiss above the trail of hair on his lower stomach.

A slightly hissed breath escaped him, and one of her hands slid to the open front of his trousers.

“Can I touch you?” she murmured against his skin, pressing another kiss, and he realised she was giving him the option to stop this.

And then he realised he could let her touch him now.

Because he’d said yes.

And he wanted this, wanted her.

“Yes,” he answered, his voice almost hoarse with need.

The slow smile that spread across her lips had him wanting to taste her yet again, but he restrained himself as her hand slid into his trousers and her fingers wrapped around his hard, straining cock. His eyes fell shut with a groan as she pulled him out, and she’d remembered what he’d said because her hand left him briefly and when it returned it was wet and, God, it was heaven...

His hand found the side of her neck, cupping it, and his thumb brushed against her jaw gently as she moved her hand up and down his length.

Then her tongue was on the weeping head of his cock.

Clenching his jaw tightly as she gave small, light licks, he knew he couldn’t open his eyes because he’d just come right there.

Ada gazed up at him, watching the muscles in his jaw move, feeling his fingers flex and tighten against her neck, though she didn’t mind at all. Her other hand pulled his trousers down a little further, and the feel of her nails against his thigh seemed to bring him back into the room as his eyes snapped open.

She was about to murmur something coy when he gently pushed her hands away and shoved his trousers down to the floor, kicking the garment aside.

“Lie back,” he murmured, and she did so instantly, shifting backwards and lying on the bed.

He placed a knee on the bed and leaned over her, supporting himself with a hand by her head. He was about to speak, to tell her how beautiful she looked, when her hands cupped his face and drew him down, claiming his lips in a firm kiss. His whole body lowered against her, an arm sliding under her as the other settled above her head. He could feel all of her, all of her soft skin against him, feel how wet she was against his thigh.

“Ada...” he mumbled against her lips, and she hummed in reply, hooking a leg over his hip, opening up to him.

Christ...

Breaking the kiss gently, he drew his head back and gazed down at her. Her eyes opened a moment later, and she smiled softly, slightly breathlessly.

“What is it?” she murmured as her fingers caressed his hair.

Licking his lips, his thumb above her head stroked at one of her curls. “Are you sure you want this?” he asked quietly, now giving her the opportunity to stop.

The backs of her fingers brushed against his cheek as she nodded without hesitation, her teeth grazing over her plump lower lip. “I am.”

He nodded, and lust surged within him once more because she wanted him and there was his fire in her eyes and so he kissed her fiercely.

She reacted instantly, her arms wrapping around his neck as she released a soft sound against his lips. Shifting between her legs slightly, his arm moved out from under her and he gripped his cock, guiding the tip to her entrance.

Fuck, feeling how wet she was...

“I ain’t gonna last long,” he mumbled, breaking the kiss and meeting her gaze. “Been some time.”

She nodded and swallowed lightly. “That’s okay.”

“It might... It’s gonna hurt a little, so I’ll go slow.”

Ada nodded again, her fingertips pressing into his shoulders. “Okay.”

He nodded, licked his dry lips, then pushed the head of his cock into her.

Oh, fuck...

Oh, Christ, he wasn’t going to last long at all.

Even with just the tip he could feel how warm and tight she was.

He had to force himself to keep his eyes open because he wanted to watch her reactions, wanted to see if he might be causing any really bad pain.

And, oh, fuck, looking at her...

She was holding his gaze, her lips parted, her skin flushed, a gentle sound coming from the back of her throat. He pushed in a little further and she winced just slightly but it was accompanied by a small moan. So he kept pushing, gently, slowly, watching her and trying not to think about how fucking good she felt.

After what felt like a thousand lifetimes, he finally sheathed himself inside her.

He couldn’t stop his eyes from closing.

Lowering his face, it pressed into the crook of her neck as he hissed out breaths through his teeth. He could feel her nails digging into his skin and he focused on that because, fuck, he wasn’t going to come yet.

Ada, in turn, was staring at the ceiling, her lips still parted, every breath leaving her almost a moan... and she was trying so hard to not move because she knew, from how damn tense he was, he was trying to do the same.

It had hurt a little, but after a few moments, after she’d adjusted, it felt... incredible. The long, hard length of him fit her perfectly, and being filled by him, being stretched... A new wave of warmth settled in her lower stomach and he must have felt it in some way because he hissed out a short breath, his hands gripping at the sheets.

How long had it been for him? she thought, her fingertips brushing against his skin in the lightest of touches.

Licking her lips as he stiffened, she then tilted her head down a fraction and brushed her lips against his skin as her hips gave the smallest of rolls.

His hand darted down and gripped her hip, but not firm enough to stop her, so she did it again, then again, then again until she was rocking up against him. She could feel each of his breaths on her skin, laboured and short.

He couldn’t move. He didn’t want to. He wanted to be buried inside her forever, and he didn’t want to come because then it would be over and—

She moaned against his ear.

It was the softest of sounds, and it broke something inside of him.

Gritting his teeth, his hand slid from her hip to her thigh, and he held her leg in position around him. Then, he started to move his hips, drawing them back and thrusting inside her in a slow, drawn out movement.

He could feel all of her, every inch of her warm wetness, and she could feel every inch of him, her head tipping back as she cried out softly.

Each sound she made only spurred him on, making his movements quicken until he was thrusting hard and fast and she was moaning and gripping at him and he wasn’t going to last, he wasn’t going to last...

She heard him grunt something out, and it took her a moment to respond herself, one hand gripping at his hair.

“Hm?”

“... Gonna come...” came the tight reply, and it sent the most delicious of thrills through her.

He was going to withdraw, was going to spill his seed on her stomach, when her legs tightened around him, holding him against her, and he let her, all thought of consequences leaving his mind. Breathing hard into her neck, one hand gripped her thigh tightly as his other tangled in the sheets above her head, and he thrust into her, burying himself to the hilt each time, and she was so warm and wet and tight and she was moaning his name and—

Gritting his teeth, his hips drew back, then he thrust into her once more, burying himself deep within her, and his body went taut as he froze and his release finally came.

Low, breathless groans fell from his lips as his hips jerked, and her mouth dropped open as a rush of breath escaped her, her arms tight around him, feeling him release inside her. Her slick walls fluttered around him in response and it just prolonged his heaven-sent pleasure, and he couldn’t think, all he could do was feel, his mind blank.

He didn’t know how long he lay there on top of her, still, his face pressed against her neck, softening cock buried inside her, exhaling harsh, short breaths. It took him a little while to realise her finger tips were gently stroking against his back, and it wasn’t until she shifted just slightly that he realised he must be crushing her, and so he lifted his head and pushed himself up with a mumbled, “Shit, sorry...”

She was smiling, though, as he met her gaze, the most tender of smiles he’d ever seen. Exhaling another breath, a smile pulled at his own lips and he cupped her cheek, his thumb caressing her skin.

He bowed his head and claimed that smile, kissing her softly. Her hand settled on the back of his head as she returned the kiss with a quiet hum.

“Sorry, it’ll be better next time...” he murmured when the kiss broke, still a little breathless.

“That wasn’t good?” she answered, arching an eyebrow as her smile returned.

“No, no, I mean for you, it’ll be better—”

Her kiss silenced him, her arms wrapping around his neck and drawing him back down against her. He gave in, an arm sliding underneath her and holding her tight against him.

“Shut up, Arthur Morgan,” she murmured against his lips.

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied just as quietly, his lips brushing over hers.

Her smile was there again when he drew his head back. “... Next time, did you say?”

“In-satiable...”

She laughed as he pushed himself up with a shake of his head, the sound drawing off with a slight hiss and a wince as he slowly pulled out of her. Licking her lips, her hands went to her stomach as he moved off of her and settled on his back with a contented sigh. Then, before she knew it, his arm was going around her and pulling her against him. Turning on her side, one of her legs draped over his as she curled up against him, her head resting on his shoulder.

Gazing up at him, she found his eyes had closed, but his fingers traced light and lazy patterns on her arm. A soft smile danced across her lips... but something had resurfaced in her mind; a question that had been playing on her mind since he’d left.

“Arthur...?”

“Mmh...” His eyes remained closed for a moment longer before he looked down at her, arching an eyebrow.

Licking her lips again, she took a slight breath. “... Why were you so reluctant to do this with me?”

His gaze held hers, his jaw moving just slightly. “I ain’t... I ain’t been with someone in some time.”

“So... you were nervous?” she asked gently, her hand resting on his chest.

“No, I, well, a little, but it weren’t about that, I...” He cleared his throat after a moment as he sat up carefully, giving her room to shift from under his arm, and he leaned back against the headboard.

She stayed silent, watching him as she leaned up onto her elbow.

He looked down at his hands, rubbing his thumb across one and cleared his throat again before looking up at her. “Ada, I... There’s somethin’ I’ve been meanin’ to tell you for a while. I’m sorry I ain’t said it sooner, but... I had a kid.”

Her lips parted as her eyebrows rose. “What?”

He took a breath, his mouth moving slightly. “... Years ago, when I was younger, there was a woman called Eliza, and we... we liked each other a lot and slept together and... And Isaac came along. I couldn’t stay with ‘em, not with this life, but I sent money and would visit whenever I could.” A corner of his mouth lifted. “He was a good kid. And, then, ah...” The smile vanished as soon as it had come. “... Then I went to visit one time and when I got there... house was empty, two graves outside. They’d been robbed and shot. It was the worst thing I’ve ever gone through in my life and I just stopped... feelin’. Hardened me.” He glanced up at her. “I think you can understand that.”

A corner of her mouth lifted, her eyes shining.

He swallowed, exhaled a breath. “Then I met Mary and I started to feel again, but, it weren’t righ’. That’s why it was so hard for me to really let her go. I thought she was my only chance at somethin’ really good.” He looked at her again. “I ended it with her, you know. Called it all to an end when I went and saw her that day.”

“You did?” she said quietly, her chest tightening slightly.

“Yeah. Was time for one of us to do it. I didn’t love her that way anymore, either, I need you to know that.”

She opened her mouth to tell him he didn’t need to tell her, but he preempted it and raised his hand slightly, a small smile pulling at his lips.

“Wait a second, let me finish... I hadn’t really loved her for some time, not properly. I’ll always be fond of her, she was an important part of my life but, I didn’t, I don’t think I ever did, actually, love her.” He paused, then murmured the second thing he had absolute faith in. “... I don’t think I’ve ever loved anyone like I love you.”

Her heart stopped.

Gazing at him, her lips parted, she could feel tears starting to prick at her eyes again. “... You love me?”

“Yeah.” A corner of his mouth twisted up. “Done what I can to stop it, but... it’s just as stubborn as you are.”

Her eyes shining again, she pressed her lips together to stop her lower one from trembling. Swallowing hard, after a few moments, moments that seemed like an eternity to him, she nodded and smiled softly.

“Well... I love you, too, Arthur Morgan.”

His eyebrows lifted, his chest tightening slightly. “You do?”

She nodded, a tear dripping down her cheek as she blinked, her smile lingering. “Yeah. Tried to stop it, too, but... just keeps following me around, wherever I go, like you.”

He chuckled quietly, the sound of it slightly thick from the emotion settling in his throat. “Well... that’s good, then.”

“Yeah.”

After a moment, she sniffed then pushed herself up and moved towards him, and he leaned towards her and his hands cupped her face as hers settled on his chest and they kissed, lingering and tender.

I love you.

When he finally released her, her head settled on his shoulder and his arms went around her, fingers lightly stroking her skin.

They lay in silence, allowing their words to linger in the air.

Her eyes were closed, a smile on her lips, her heart beating a little faster.

I love you.

It had felt like the most natural thing in the world to say. No ceremony, no floods of tears, no hesitation, just saying it and meaning it.

I love you.

She felt him shift slightly, adjusting his shoulders against the headboard. Whatever was going to happen tomorrow, the day after, the rest of her life, she was going to be with him, loved and safe, and she was going to do anything to keep it that way.

She had a hundred questions to ask, about Isaac, about Eliza, about his life back then but... They could wait. Despite the years that stretched between now and those events, she could sense there was a rawness still there, a grief that hadn’t ended, and she could understand it all too well.

“Mmh, anythin’ happen with the O’Driscoll camp, by the way?” he murmured after a few more quiet minutes.

“Oh, yeah...” She shifted a little, her eyes remaining closed. “Rounded a few up, asked them about Thomas and they all went quiet, so I think they knew something.”

“Righ’.”

She inhaled a breath, her eyebrows rising a little. “But maybe not, they didn’t seem particularly bright. One lit a stick of dynamite and threw it without even looking, it exploded near me and his friends.”

“There was an explosion?!” He looked down at her as his hands stilled, staring. “Jesus, woman, can you prioritise the things you tell me and when?”

Her lips twitched as her gaze slid up to him. “Well, there was an ambush t—”

“Ambush?!”

“Well, the explosion came from the ambush—”

“God damn it, woman, you are just...” He exhaled a heavy breath as he shook his head. “... Are you okay?”

She smiled, almost in amusement. “I’m fine, Arthur.” The smile faded after a few moments, though, and he knew something else was on her mind.

Licking her lips, she curled up against him. “I heard one of the men say that Colm’s been looking for me. I just don’t know why. I can’t work out if it’s just a game for him or whether there’s an actual reason.”

Arthur had resumed stroking her skin gently, soothingly, and he released a low hum. “Well, he ain’t got you yet, though, and I won’t let him.”

Her lips twitched faintly as she arched an eyebrow. “You’ll have to get in line because I won’t let him either.”

“I would gladly get behind you...”

She laughed softly as his lips went to her forehead and cheeks, kissing sloppily.

“Stop it, my heart’s only just calmed down.”

"You sure? Lemme just check that you’re really okay...”

She laughed louder as her arms went around him as he shifted them so she lay underneath him, and he kissed and caressed every inch of her body, except where she wanted him the most.

“Insatiable, Mr Morgan...” she murmured with a breathless smile as his nose brushed against her stomach, and he pressed a kiss there, his lips trailing down.

—

He dozed off afterwards and she let him, knowing she should probably get some sleep, too, but it hadn’t come. She could barely close her eyes without wanting to scream with joy.

He loved her. She was loved, for all that she was, good and bad.

She would never be able to convey how happy she was.

Tonight had been the last barrier. The act and their words had told her he was hers and she was his, for all that they were, mind, body and soul.

On her side, her hand tucked under her chin, she gazed at him, her eyes tracing the lines of his nose, his mouth, his eyelashes, the hair that curled slightly at the nape of his neck, the sparse, light freckles on his skin, the—

He shifted as he inhaled a slow breath. Her eyes moving back up, they met his.

“Hey,” he murmured, his voice a little hoarse.

“Hey,” she whispered, a soft smile lifting her lips as she pressed a gentle kiss to his shoulder.

Rubbing at his face with a hand, he then arched an eyebrow as it dropped to his chest. “How long you been starin’ at me?”

Her smile widened. “Hours.”

He snorted. “I don’t sleep hours. You should sleep, though.”

“I will.”

He gazed at her as she didn’t move, just looking at him, her smile lingering.

She had to say it. Had to make sure it was still real.

“I love you, Arthur Morgan,” she murmured softly.

His features softened instantly, his arm sliding around her. “I love you, too, Ada.”

Lifting her chin, her lips met his in a tender kiss.

It was still real.

—

He awoke in the morning, after a peaceful, unbroken sleep, to find her head on his chest, her fingers tracing light patterns, her stomach rumbling, and aching and sore in the best way.

“I’ll cook us that meal,” he mumbled against her lips once he’d finally found the strength to stop kissing her.

She hummed and rolled onto her back as he pushed himself up and moved to sit on the edge of the bed. Watching him run a hand through his hair, she played with her ring, twisting it around and around, because as blissful as last night was, every second of it... the light of the morning sun brought with it an unspoken question that hung in the air.

He cleared his throat, his elbows on his knees. After a few moments, he then looked to her.

“We have to go back.” The words were quiet, expected, and she nodded.

“I know.”

Watching him dress, she didn’t allow herself to feel resigned, hopeless or afraid.

They would go back, and she would plan a way for them to leave this life behind.

—

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